#and my usual glow ofc

[elysianamethyst]

happy aarni day!!! (reference)

b&w under the cut

[st4rbwrry]

𝓢𝓤𝓖𝓐𝓡.       eren yeager.

‎𐦍 ₊˚♱ ෆ . . . 5.1k. fem!reader, set in 01’, country!eren + bluecollar!, housewife!reader, established relationship, domesticity, ovulation, oral ꒰ f + m. ꒱, kreaming + squirting, rough sex, nasty talk ofc, unprotected, daddy kink, spanking, pet names ꒰ sweetie, baby, mama ꒱, praise, hair pulling, check ins + aftercare, choking, breath + sensitivity + salvia play, minors aren’t allowed! reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated. <3

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . a lil sum i thought of randomly. this is related to the dangerously in love couple. <3 visual. visual. visual. wish i had a link for the exact position i have in my head, so here’s a small example. hopefully i explained them well. :<

part three. <3

ivory sunflowers are imprinted along the frilly apron that hugs your body cutely, the coquette lace floral dress with a baby pink ribbon to create a corset style underneath. the warm scent of strawberry pie baking in the matcha green vintage oven blooms your heart. dusting flour over the counter to roll and mush at the dough you’ve created for the chicken pot pies, one of eren’s favorite meals. the sun was fairly hot today, your eyes fixating on the two beautiful tawny cows roaming your farm, their mouths chewing at grass as the wind blows serenely.

you told eren to keep a close eye on them while he was outside, watching your husband stand halfway down the driveway with sweat dripping from his brow as he tinkers with the engine of his polished black 1968 ford f100. he’s been having troubles with it this past week, and constantly handling it became tedious. he expressed his anger a few times now, this truck being his first big purchase for himself and he was having issues only a year later.

his light blue levi jeans and classic wife-beater was streaked with grease, clinging to his muscular thighs as he crouches low, peering intently at the mechanical innards. every so often, he wipes his hands on a rag before reaching for another tool, his calloused fingers moving with practiced ease. the sun casts a glow on the definition of his biceps as he lifts and maneuvers heavy parts. angelic brown strands held back by a black cap turned backwards.

you’ve been subconsciously humming along to the 70s and 80s rock tunes he has stationed on the radio. don’t dream it’s over currently on play. meanwhile, inside the cozy farmhouse kitchen, with the tantalizing aroma of food and your chocolate brown maltipoo who eren named honeybelle sleeps on her bed by the window — although this moment was romantic and peaceful to view, you weren’t too happy of a woman.

this was one of the few days he was off from work, and he’s been outside fixing his car since your eyes opened to an empty bedside. it’s nearing nighttime, and you’d spent half your day to your lonesome. shaving your body, doing your skincare routine and deep conditioning your handful of a curly head that’s currently pinned up away from your soft features. it’s felt like such a long time since the two of you enjoyed a full day together, let alone make love. your ovulation period not making this any easier on you, feeling like a wild animal in desperate heat. the only time you really interacted today was when you brought out a fat honey-turkey club sandwich, knowing he tends to forget to eat sometimes.

brushing the crust you created for the pot pie after layering them in crisscross patterns with butter, your mind wanders off, daydreaming as the sun begins to set and the sky blooms into color palettes of saffron and coral. the air outside turns warmer, and you study your husband once more, watching the ball in his throat shift as he chugs on a pitcher of water, droplets hitting his chest. his briefs are peaking out from his jeans, feet in his black timberlands per usual. his arms have veins streaming from the middle of his forearm to his big, dirty hands. silver wedding band on his right.

those slanted viridescent eyes of his catch your stare as he glares at you over the pitcher, swallowing and giving you a movie star smile with pearly whites. you smile faintly, returning the gesture. your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, shifting in your spot as you realize you’re biting your lips and almost riding the air. your blood is thrumming throughout your body, needing him to come inside right now.

the chicken pot pies are done in thirty minutes, each crust perfectly golden brown. and within that time, he’s still outside messing with his truck. you wanted to be understanding that he needed his truck in order to head to work tomorrow to further provide for you and the home as he does, but you can’t help that feeling of abandonment in your chest. you really didn’t want to cause an argument, but this was becoming irritating.

removing your apron, you slip on your outside shoes to head towards the garage where he resides, being faced with his broad back and gruff noises of agitation.

“baby.”

“yes, sweetie,” he replies quickly, groaning as he twists the wrench.

“dinner’s done. you’ve been out here all day. please come inside,” you pout, going to wrap your arms around his waist, laying your cheek on the column of his back.

eren removes his cap, scratching at his head before smoothing his hair back and placing it on again. “mhm, baby, i know. gimme like ‘nother hour, i just gotta connect the fuckin’ valve springs to the camshaft.“

“i thought it was just overheated?”

“yeah it was, the water pump wasn’t sending coolant through. the crankshaft wasn’t movin’, ‘n the radiator cap had too much pressure so the spring in the cap compressed ‘n flew over in the coolant reservoir. glad i ran to the auto shop beforehand.”

he’s saying a lot of shit you don’t understand if being frank. sighing, you let go of him, knowing he was real intricate with his truck so he definitely wasn’t going to be done in an hour. he stops what he’s doing to turn and face you, observing your expression.

“what i say about that, mama. huh?” eren sighs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “don’t be givin’ me that face. i’m tryin’ my best right now. swear ima be in, i’ll make it forty-five instead.”

“that’s not the point,” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “fuck the dinner, i want you to be with me. you’ve been out here since eleven in the morning. not once have you come inside the house ‘n checked on me.”

his jaw clenches, your tone expected but not what he wanted to hear right now. “i ain’t tryna argue with you.”

“then don’t, help yourself to dinner.”

“꒰♡꒱.”

turning with clear attitude, you stroll back into the house, honeybelle barking softly as she follows you around. you feed someone in the house, pouring kibble into her beige bowl before patting her head and watching her scruff down the food. by this point you’d lost your appetite, huffing and puffing in your kitchen as you set the food back into the oven and made your way up the staircase.

to cool yourself down, you decide to run yourself a bath. twisting the gold faucet to fill the clawfoot tub with hot water, crouching on your knees to swish the water around to help form the bubbles. it was fully dark outside now, lighting aromatherapy candles and opening the double vintage windows that overlooked the farm you and eren spent years creating. stars in the sky and clouds camouflaging. undressing yourself, you grab a novel off of the shelf and submerge yourself into the tub, closing your eyes in bliss and leaning your head back against the spa pillow that elevates your neck.

eren manages to take approximately thirty minutes to finish up his project, starting up the truck and test driving it before he sighs in relief to see she’s back in shape. after parking it back into the garage, whistling at the cows to get them to follow him back into the barn after much needed playtime, he’s finally stepping into the house. honeybelle skips towards eren, sniffing at his ankle and wagging her tail. eren smiles, patting the top of her head.

“where’s your mommy, girl. huh?” he coed, scratching under her chin.

his eyes scope the dining area, finding the table set up just for the two with candles that were half burnt, blown out. the homemade sweet tea in a pitcher leaking with condensation, ice cubes melted. the pie you baked was set into a glass cake stand, and the pot pies are settled into the oven under the light. it was definitely clear you were upset with him, groaning and putting a hand on his head. he truly didn’t mean to take away this day from you, aware of how much you’ve missed him. hours at work are longer since the power plants needed more tending to from low employment.

just last week he had to go out of town and leave you for an entire three days to travel to another refinery. in that time you’d tend to your farm while also helping eren’s father with his. you knew what this lifestyle would mean for your relationship. things around the house including you will be secure, but having him come home exhausted to the point where you rarely spend as much time as you’d like with him was difficult. at most he had two days off a week, but a lot of times they’d call him in because someone else didn’t show up.

you’ve suggested countless of times that he should switch locations, but this one provided better benefits and he was close to a promotion that would also guarantee him extra off time. ‘it just takes time, baby.’ he’d constantly tell you. and you’re not one of those wives that complain about every single thing to make her husbands life harder, the two of you rarely even argue, but you do have your moments where you’re too stubborn.

the heavy thud of his boots sounds in the home as he heads up the stairs, softly calling your name to see where you reside. with his hand on his toned stomach under his shirt, he finds you rested in the tub, head turned away as you sleep comfortably. his tall frame leans against the doorframe, watching you with a pout on his face. you look angelic, cloud white bubbles flowing around your body, the jets in the tub keeping them in tact, slowly dissolving. the tankless water heater he installed a while back kept the water warm, making you comfortable enough to drift off to light slumber.

he makes his way closer to you, crouching before you to brush the tendrils of curls dangling in your face. your breath is light, lashes feathering against your cheekbones as he caresses your jaw with his thumb. he bends to pull the plug and drain the tub, not fond of you sleeping in water. you didn’t have it too high up, but people drown in tubs a lot more than you think.

you hum gently, eyes opening to see him looming over you, studying him in silence. sitting on his behind, he grabs a pedicure knife to clean under his nails, tattooed arm dangling into the tub and under the running faucet to remove the impurities.

“don’t like you fallin’ asleep in the tub, sweetie. you could drown. this isn’t your first time doin’ that,” his brows deepen, grabbing a nail brush and applying some of your cashmere and goat milk soap you currently smelt of with to scrub at his manicured fingernails.

you bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms over your knees. “sorry.”

eren scans your face, eyeing the beauty of your entirety. perfectly white painted toes and matching nails, dark, big curls framing your face, slowly falling from the claw clip on the back of your head. the fullness of your lips with the cupids bow curve of them. soft skin, pretty eyes . . you were all his. such a beautiful wife. so when you’re mad at him, it makes him feel like shit. the way you look at him is different as well. your eyes are dead almost, a scolding glare in them.

“this day was supposed to be for us, i know,” he breaks the silence. “old shit was being difficult, ‘n you know i gotta drive far, sweetie. gettin’ ‘n a crash isn’t somethin’ you’d want happenin’ to me, right baby?”

the frown on your face serves how you feel about that. “i’d lose my mind if something bad happened to you.”

“ ‘n i’m not tryna guilt trip you or anything like that. i understand how you feel. i miss you just as much. i think about you all fuckin’ day at work. but, as time passes, eventually i’ll be in a better position ‘n you can have me with you whenever you want. jus’ lemme handle shit, okay?”

his strong hands go to caress your ankle, the silver jewelry shining there, lifting your foot to kiss at the shape of it, eyes low and focusing on you, unable to help the heat that swims within your hips and core.

“i really just needed you so bad today,” the sound of your throat clamping up causes him to go alert. you bow your head, wanting to hide your face as the tears threaten to spill. “it’s so stupid. i spent all that time pampering myself and cooking for us — i just hated being alone, even if you were still here.”

“c’mon, baby. why you cryin’ ? none of that. i’m sorry, truly,” he’s rising up on his knees, kissing at yours.

“missed you touching me,” you whimper, sniffling and pouting. “missed your kisses. i miss you.”

ah, so that’s what it is. he doesn’t make any effort to hide the smirk on his face, scoffing lowly while dropping his head. you can be such a brat when you’re horny, and given it’s been about two weeks since he’s last fucked you, he now gets why you begged for him to be with you today. quality time was still needed, but he can tell by the way your body tenses and your lips part to release tiny gasps while he strokes the pads of his fingers across your hips . . that you’re ovulating.

“that’s all you needin’, mama? some touches?”

salvia trails down your throat as you swallow, thighs squeezing together out of reflex, throbbing from those damned eyes of his, nodding with hooded lids. “mm hmm. so bad.”

“mm, yeah?”

the butterflies in your stomach swarm as he brings his face closer to yours, his touches on your skin causes you to grind when his mouth suddenly connected with your throat, your jaw widening as you gasp and toss your head back, his mouth sloppily kissing at the right side of your body. lips moving from your collarbone, each sound coming from him emphasized as he sucks at your chest, pulling your areola into his mouth and trailing his tongue down the side of your stomach, down to your hip and the crease between your thigh and waist. every kiss and lick is rough, his groans exaggerated as you moan from every touch.

“ooo, fuck. oh my god,” your hips can’t stop moving, his tongue gliding back up before his fingers indent into your cheeks, turning your face to his so he could kiss you roughly, sliding his tongue on yours.

eren doesn’t kiss you for long, detaching your lips with a lewd slick, both of your lips pouty before he’s arching over the tub and guiding his mouth along the left side of your body, repeating his motion of sucking and licking you. your eyes gloss back, spreading your thighs further apart when he gets closer to your pussy, swallowing your bottom lip inward.

he cocks his head back to lewdly spit over your clit, the string of saliva and the vein on the side of his thick neck making your face heat up. your mouth hangs open as he takes his fingers and slowly spreads it over, grumbling, "want me all over you," before rubbing your clit in smooth circles, groaning at the weak noises you made.

you were so needy, every touch he gives you consuming, a lust and desire looming over you that only he could give you. your hips twitch and hike midair, and your positive you've made your lip bleed by how hard you bit into it, doe eyes hazily watching his face. brows furrowed as he tentatively paced his fingers, repositioning himself so he could tug you down flat in the tub, your knees pressed to your chest as he clutches onto the sides of the tub.

“hold ‘em there, be good.”

a squeal envelops eren’s ears once he cranes his neck and drops his mouth over the puffy nub, enclosing his lips to kiss at your folds. your pussy is soaked, dripping between your ass cheeks, inner thighs twitching while he licks you up. the cap on his head continues to hold his hair back, his biceps flexing from every noise you make, trying to keep his composure. he wanted to make you feel real good, you deserve it, and he’s missed you.

“b—babyyy,” a mix between a groan and a whimper flows from you, keeping your legs open and squeezing at your chest hard, slowly rocking your pussy on his face, voice shuddering from the feel of his light stubble on your soft skin.

eren spanks the back of your thigh, dragging his mouth to soothe the feel after with an open mouth followed with more of his tongue. he loved tasting you, clearly. melting on the velvet of his tongue like sugar. his chin is doused by your slickness as he buried his face deep, circling your clit in languid strokes, lower lip dropping to bring it back into his mouth. you’re never embarrassed by how loud you get, knowing you’ll be reprimanded if you do keep silent. so a pathetic, drawn out whine fills the space when he removes his mouth.

“feed it to me,” eren hisses, spanking the back of your thigh again, french kissing either side of your ass. the hungry aggression through his eyes tell you to listen, his body almost entirely inside of the tub to make sure he’s giving you what you need the right way. “c’mon, girl.”

the gruffness in his tone makes you squirm, like he’s just as pent up as you. easing your hips up, you hold your legs fully up so they’re past your ears, gripping on his arm for balance as you dip your hips so your pussy connects with his face, your face curling up as he spits and slurps, your body trembling.

“mmmahh,” you weakly moan, chest heaving and breath stuttering, his tongue occasionally dipping into your hole to taste that sweeter place, eren grunting and bouncing his head along with your movements, teeth every now and then biting at your inner thighs. “g-g’na—squirt, f-fuck, nnnngh.”

eren acts on instinct, reaching to grab the back of your neck as your body arches forward to hold you so you won’t hurt yourself, swallowing at your achy bud as you coat his throat in your juices, humming and savoring every ounce. the static of your legs as you sing out your moans makes his dick harder, straining in the confinements of his jeans.

he pulls away, your body flat within the tub as he stands and undoes the leather belt on his waist, ears perking up from the sound of his zipper and then awaits the weighty girth of his dick. blush pink tip and tan with a protruding vein trailing up the underside. you find energy to lift yourself up, clinging to the side of the tub like a mermaid on rocks. reaching for the back of his leg to pull him closer, eren’s brows lowered at the sight of your eyes setting into seductiveness.

your mouth opens instinctively, giving him those big brown irises that has his dick jump in your face. eren’s waist spasm backwards, fingers grasping the coils of your hair to stop you. “no, no. not now. y’know you’ll make me cum too quick.”

“y’know you can’t fuck me till i taste it,” you pout, evidently upset, keeping your lips parted as a need to have it. “just a taste, daddy. i want it.”

“fuckin’ hell,” eren clenches his jaw, pupils dilating, lowering his jeans and boxers to his thighs to inch his dick to your lips. “yeah, jus’ a lil taste, baby. gimme those pretty lips.”

eren moans when you waste no time intaking half of his dick, tongue licking at the underside and slurping him up, bobbing your head and letting him hit the back of your throat in nasty squelches. his head falls back then to the side as he squeezes his eyes shut, attractive neck showcasing, grunting and slowly thrusting into your throat.

“f-fuck, ꒰♡꒱. love this sweet fuckin’ mouth of yours. show me that throat, baby,” two hands go to clutch your neck, eren pulling his dick out, salvia dribbling down your bottom lip. you widen your mouth, angling your face up so he can see your tongue in it’s entirety, the tight ring in the hollow of your esophagus calling him.

“good girl, take this shit deep,” he whispers painfully, teeth clamped together in a hiss as he lays the heaviness of his dick on your flat tongue, pushing in till his pretty, leaky tip connects with the back of your throat, constricting around him. “a-ahh, yeahh.”

you let him use you as long as he anticipates, eyes drooping low, trying to focus on eye contact with your nose mushed to his happy trail, the scent of the day and his cologne seeped into his skin. you heave when he pulls back entirely, whining and riding the air. he’s so damn masculine it makes you so feminine and submissive.

“one more time, hold it,” bending his back slightly, he slides back into your mouth, gently holding your neck in place to thrust a few times more, deep melodies of grunts and hisses pouring as he furrows his brows and studies how you made his dick wet and shiny, balls slapping against your chin.

with your mouth stretched open, you take him in as deep as he likes, closing your eyes to shut off your brain so you don’t choke. eren holds you there, huffing out ‘ooh fuckin’ god, baby.’ before smoothing his hand on the side of your face after he withdraws his hips to let you breathe, his own chest knocking from holding his breath.

“love you,” eren reminds you as he peppers kisses all over your face and you smile, a continuous gesture he’d do every time to make you aware, especially when he’s too rough.

the trance you have on his dick is sickening, following it as he maneuvered around the bathroom, retrieving a towel he spread on the lower part of the tub before entering, not bothering to take off his boots. you giggle as he hovers above you, biting at your nail and shifting your body beneath him so he could slot in. the weight of his cock lays on your stomach, eren grinding to rub along your folds, coaxing your hidden clit to show. eren steadies his figure, knuckles turning white from him grasping either side of the tub and holding himself up by indenting his feet into the towel.

“i fuckin’ need you,” eren growls, biting at your neck before licking and shifting his hips to nudge the tip against your opening, easily sliding in slow.

the warmth fills your face again, abdomen pinching from pain and pleasure, pawing at his slightly dirty wifebeater and hiking it further up his chest you were desperate to touch. the silver chain around his neck sways in your face, squinting your eyes and dropping your jaw when he begins pounding into you with the need he expressed. the sluice of your pussy is loud, his balls slapping against the rounds of your ass while your thighs hit his pelvis.

“this what you needed, right? what you been whinin’ for?” eren grunts in your face, taking your lips in his for passionate kiss, moaning together.

“y-yesss, mmmph,” the pleasure swarming in your stomach feels foreign, whimpering from every stroke he gives you, clawing at his sides. it felt so fucking good, your eyes scrolling and your breath inordinate along with his. “dick feel so good, ‘ren.”

“mhm hmm,” his face curls up, leaving an open mouthed kiss on your cheek and behind your ear, his touches making your body burn. “i hear it, she’s creamy as fuck.”

and it was, peering down between where you two connect to see him covered in you, the sticky slaps making his eyes lose focus, rutting into you harder. so hard it makes you scream, that sweet spot being pressured and your tummy flutters.

“e—ren,” you can barely see him, whines and whimpers being your only way of communication. spreading yourself wider by holding yourself open with both hands, arching your chest into his face where he sloppily eats at your brown skin again.

“talk.”

“annngh,” your lips turn into a pout, face completely gone. every word and sound coming out brokenly. “f-feelin’ something. s’so fuckin’ deep in me. you fuck me so good. w’na cum on it.”

“mhm, cum on it. cum on your dick baby, make it creamier.”

it’s quiet at first when you cum, legs shaking almost violently as eren lets go of the tub and lays his entire weight onto you, tucking you fully underneath to angle his hips and dig his dick in deeper, rough and steady pivots making you reach for his hair to tug, knocking off his hat. his fingers grip your cheeks, big hand almost covering your whole face as he brings his forehead to yours, growling rough.

“yess. give. it. to. me. lemme hear it.”

“g-god, y-yessss, fuck. right there, right there. please don’t fuckin’ stop . . oh my god.”

a long, exasperated groan disperses, vibrating in your chest and in his ears, hiccups and gasps following as you clench and suck him tighter. he feels the throb from your orgasm, dick twitching inside of you, rolling his waist and keeping you close to let you ride it out and feel it longer.

“take your time, there we go. feel it all.”

it pulsates harder from hearing him, grasping his wrist and releasing what’s been caged within you; a cry. “oh . . my . . g-god. eren!”

it’s not that you’re hurt, it’s that you’re experiencing too much at once. overwhelming pleasure, your husband’s embrace, the way he speaks to you, fucks you, the love you have for him, how he loves you, and even the annoying rise of hormones from your ovulation. a cry bolts from you, body convulsing and your voice dying out, grinding mindlessly on his dick and kissing his lush lips.

“that’s it, it’s okay.”

eren’s kissing all over your face, soothing you and giving you time before he holds you close to his chest and turns himself around so he’s leaning up, resting his head back on the spa pillow and twisting you so your back is to his chest. he balances your weight, taking the initiative to sling your right arm over his shoulder, eren smoothing his palms up the back of your thighs before locking your knees to your chest with his forearms.

“you good, baby?” eren whispers, smooching your cheek again.

chewing at your lips, you nod. “uh huh.”

eren moans as your fingers thread through the brown coils of his hair, tugging and planting a kiss on the shell of his ear, jumping slightly from the way he patted your pussy with his dick, sinking back in deliciously slow. with your lips parting in sync, eren flattens his feet to fuck up inside of you, your walls spasming from how good it feels and the sensitivity.

collecting the tresses of his messy hair, you fist it harder which makes him fuck you harder. your tits bouncing on your chest you fondle at.

“watch us,” he says, placing both of his hands on either side of your head to force your head down to stare at how he fucked you, keeping your legs locked with his arms.

the sloppy collision of your stickiness coating his cock that plunges into you roughly, his heavy hits making the both of you whimper. eren begins to grow so weak from being in your pussy and the hard labor he’d done today, and you can tell by the slowness in his pace after a few minutes. he’s throbbing hard, knowing he’s close to cumming, wanting to making him feel it too. he also had to get up early and still eat dinner, so did you.

“ ‘ren,” slithering your head from his grasp, you guide them to sit at your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh as you tug at his hair again and nibble at your bottom lip.

moving your body further up, you arch your chest forward and implant your feet flat to the surface, snapping your ass down to fuck him instead. eren tightens his hold on you, jaw slacking and squeezing his eyes shut while placing his forehead on your shoulder. you gasp, bouncing on him and constantly groping at your chest, skin clapping louder.

“you g’na cum in me, baby?” you speak with a whiny tone, taunting him.

“y-yeah, baby. please. bounce on that shit harder,” eren sucks at your side again, retracting his hand to land a harsh spank under your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt. “fuck, you do it so good, ꒰♡꒱. do it so good.”

“mmmm,” you smile drunkenly. “this daddy’s pussy, right?”

eren whines, and you love when he gets this way, so horny he lets his guard down. makes sounds he wouldn’t usually make. his tongue on you again causes your hips to stutter, that pressure building back up, a shaky moan pressing out the harder you fuck yourself on him.

“it’s daddy’s pussy. oooh, shit baby. don’t stop, i’m g’na bust all in your p—ussy.”

“all in my pussy?” harder, faster, you pounce your ass down, knees hiking and reconnecting as you drop down completely, feeling your orgasm near and riding him by scooting your ass on him.

“all . . in it— fuck. good girl.”

weakness fills your bones, loosing your balance completely, eren bellowing out curses and grunts as he locks his hand around your neck to pull your back to him again, swiveling his hips with yours while you both ride out the wave. heaving on the side of your face after he lays his cheek on yours, warm cum leaking into you while you gush all over him in exchange.

eren softly kisses at your shoulder, embracing you in his hold and moaning from your walls clenching on him. you can’t even find the energy to speak, enduring the comforting silence and weak breathing. rubbing your arms and molding his face with yours, skin to skin a necessity for him. rocking you side by side, smiling into his forearm he used to lock against your neck, inhaling the coconut fragrance in your hair.

“we need a shower, and that chicken pie i worked hard to make for you.”

“and that strawberry pie,” eren chuckles within the crook of your neck. “i’ll eat it all just for you.”

“you better.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[kookiestarlight]

Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her. 

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings. 

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.” 

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you. 

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again. 

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime. 

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities. 

A fresh start. 

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl. 

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him. 

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing. 

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter. 

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made it to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention that sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the intrusive thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it. 

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that. 

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold. 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there. 

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them. 

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised. 

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so. 

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens. 

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind. 

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over. 

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind. 

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, “God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind. 

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch. 

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be. 

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong. 

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not.  Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him. 

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his. 

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied. 

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else. 

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet? 

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it. 

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck? 

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think  further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast. 

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine. 

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room. 

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat. 

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty. 

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd. 

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread? 

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second. 

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently. 

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears. 

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it. 

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction. 

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do. 

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay. 

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!” 

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice. 

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face. 

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue. 

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke. 

All of it. 

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop. 

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now. 

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.” 

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hobi-” 

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late.

You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close. 

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you. 

His home.

➵ taglist: @amatun28 @ahgasegotarmy116 @knjs95s @jeoncookiebar @badaspice @lachimolalajeon @tearykth @lovingkoalaface @jcrl99 @hellbornsworld @mortqlprojections @xumyboo @honeymeraki @justanarchiveforfics @iamnotdrunk420 @iveivory @k-p0p-4ever @jksjx @yoonberriez @lotustv @hannahmae18 @eclipsethemagic @bybyash @rjooniesdimples @minimoninini @satisfied18 @pinkpunkdynamite @jheneeko @sungiesworld27 @neuviloved @somehowukook @iohwa-com @lola75111 @hanversace @ot7even @rie-pdf @futuristicenemychaos @chl0buggy @happycheesecakedelusion @busanbby-jjk @minyoongi7016 @stellamalonesolaria @qyurryus-m @ex7stance @dchimminie

[rowanhoney]

🥰

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Eleven

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, Christian Horner, Lando being a complete simp.

Notes — Had some fun with some social media graphics in this chapter! Share all of your thoughts/feelings after the chapter, I love to hear your yapping!

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

Zak’s eyes were fixed on the monitors. Lando was mid-lap, sector times glowing green across the screen. The tension was high but familiar; the usual adrenaline hum of a qualifying session.

Then, from the corner of his vision, the main feed flickered to a live shot of the Red Bull garage.

And there she was.

Amelia.

She was in what had become her usual seat in the RedBull garage, laptop balanced on her legs, surrounded by telemetry screens and noise and movement; like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.

Zak felt something hitch in his chest, but he pushed it down. He hadn’t seen her in person all weekend. Probably by her design.

Then, she looked up. Not at him. At the camera.

Grimaced. Waved, awkwardly. In a way that was just so Amelia. 

And then she held up a piece of paper.

“AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND.”

It was on-screen for less than two seconds — just long enough to be undeniable.

Will, still tracking Lando’s data beside him, let out a low whistle. “Oh wow. Brave girl. Didn’t realise they’d made it official.”

Zak blinked at the screen.

The Sky Sports commentators were laughing. The F1 TV commentators sounded between shocked and amused. 

But Zak didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Lando’s car zipped through the final corner. Purple sector. P3 provisional. The garage cheered in his ear. Will was on Lando’s radio, mentioning something about the braking point into Turn 10.

Zak was still staring at the coverage screens.

Because no one had told him.

Not his daughter.

Not Lando.

And she looked… happy. God, she looked happy. Freer than he’d seen her in years.

But there was a tightness in Zak’s jaw now, a hollowness in his chest.

— 

The house was quiet, save for the gentle whir of the fan in the corner and the soft murmur of the F1 broadcast on the TV.

Tracy sat curled up on the sofa, feet tucked under her, a forgotten cup of tea cooling on the side table. She wasn’t one to watch every session, not unless Amelia was involved; which, lately, was more often than not. Still, it surprised her every time. Her little girl, in this world.

Then the camera panned to the Red Bull garage.

Tracy straightened.

There she was.

Amelia, hunched over her laptop, eyes sharp behind her glasses, entirely in her element. The graphic read “Amelia Brown, Engineering Intern.”

Tracy smiled, until she saw Amelia lift a piece of paper with bold, black writing.

“AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. Then Tracy let out a soft, surprised laugh, full of pride and amusement.

“She never was very good at sharing,” she murmured fondly, shaking her head.

And oh, didn’t she mean that. From toys to her spot on the sofa to the last slice of cake, if Amelia liked something, she claimed it.

Tracy smiled at the screen, at the quiet defiance in her daughter’s posture, the certainty in her eyes. “That’s my girl.”

— 

iMessage — 16:07pm

Max F. BRO WHAT JUST HAPPENED 😭😭

Lando ? what are you on about

Max F. GO TO THE MEDIA PEN RIGHT NOW YOU’VE BEEN HARD LAUNCHED

Lando what what are you yapping about mate

Max F. Amelia. Garage cam. “Engineering Intern” graphic. She held up a sign that said “AND LANDO NORRIS’ GIRLFRIEND” ON. LIVE. TELEVISION.

Lando ??????????????

Max F. BRO I SPAT OUT MY DRINK YOU COULD’VE WARNED ME YOU TWO WERE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST FLIRTY VIBES

Lando just saw the clip fucking hell

Max F. mate you’re smiling aren’t you

Lando yeah. a little. a lot. she’s unreal

Max F. unreal is one word for it 💀

Lando she’s so fucking cute Jesus. the handwritten sign? the little smile??

Max F. you’re in it man

Lando obviously.

Max F. she’s got guts. respect. also she might’ve just made F1 history first hard launch via broadcast overlay 💀

—

Subject: Media Broadcast Conduct – Spanish GP

From: media@redbullracing.com To: amelia.brown@redbullracing.com Date: August 18, 2020, 10:24 AM

Hi Amelia,

Hope you're well.

We wanted to quickly flag your appearance during the Spanish GP broadcast a few days ago — specifically the moment where you held up a handwritten sign referring to your relationship with Lando Norris.

While we understand this was done in good humour, we'd appreciate the chance to speak with you about the optics of team affiliations, personal relationships, and privacy within the paddock. As you know, the broadcast reaches a global audience, and we have to be mindful of how moments like this can be perceived externally and internally.

Please let us know when you’re free for a quick chat during the Belgium weekend.

Best regards, Red Bull Racing Media & Communications Team

—

Subject: Re: Media Broadcast Conduct – Spanish GP

From: amelia.brown@redbullracing.com To: media@redbullracing.com CC: adrian.newey@redbullracing.com Date: August 18, 2020, 11:22 AM

Hello,

I’m happy to discuss this further in Belgium, but just to clarify, I do only plan on having one boyfriend, so it’s not likely to happen again.

Regards, Amelia

—

iMessage — 11:24am

Amelia The PR team are being passive aggressive I think.

Lando Norris ??? You okay baby

Amelia Yes. It’s just via email.

Lando Norris Get the social media team on your side. Maybe Instagram?

Amelia I don’t like Instagram.

Lando Norris Give it a go, baby. You’re so pretty. The fans will love it.

Amelia Fine.

—

ameliabrown just posted . . .

ameliabrown My 1st Instagram Post 👍🏻

liked by redbullracing, landonorris, maxverstappen and 176,301 others

Tagged: redbullracing, landonorris

view all comments

landonorris look at my beautiful girl😍 ❤️ by ameliabrown

user9 im going to pass tf out

user62 i am seething with jealous right now

user22 SHES LIVING MY DREAM😫😫😫

user51 YOU ARE A FCKING QUEEN FOR THAT HARD LAUNCH. I WOULD HARD LAUNCH TF OUT OF LANDO NORRIS TOO

user6 my jaw DROPPED. she was nawt willing to hide her man

user18 anyone else concerned abt what redbull had to say abt it??😭😭

user51 @user18 BABY I COULDNT CARE LESS. I LOVE THEM

user7 that’s so real. like imagine lando norris being your bf, working for redbull racing, and your dad is the team boss for mclaren like ???? girl is hooked tf up

user18 @user7 don’t forget abt how much alonso has praised her in the past!!!!

redbullracing our favourite stem girlie!🤩

user93 you are my biggest inspiration! i want to study engineering and work in motorsport and seeing another woman succeed is so inspiring

ameliabrown Thank you.

maxverstappen A very nice front wing!

ameliabrown I agree 👍🏻

user18 how have you never posted on here before?!

ameliabrown I prefer twitter. I am not very good at taking photographs.

user18 agree to disagree. this is such a cute photo dump!

ameliabrown Thank you. I spent 4 hours rearranging the photos.

user7 oh my god. she has charmed me.

—

Amelia checked Twitter for the first time since the Grand Prix.

She hadn’t meant to avoid it; at least not forever. But between debriefs, logistics, travel plans, and Lando hijacking the vast majority of her spare time, social media hadn’t felt like a priority.

Now, curled up in a quiet corner of the hotel lobby with a half-drunk iced coffee and an overheating laptop, she opened the web app.

The notifications were overwhelming. Thousands of likes. Hundreds of retweets. Clips of the broadcast moment; her sitting in the Red Bull garage, holding up that very efficient sign, looping on repeat across fan accounts, meme pages, and even official F1 news outlets.

There were edits (some cute and some... a bit strange). Screenshots. Commentary. Debate.

And, of course, the most viral of the tweets.

She scrolled slowly.

She scrolled for a few more minutes. There was already a hashtag that was being attached to everything regarding them.

Amelia blinked once. Then twice.

“Oh,” she said out loud to absolutely no one. “Guess everyone knows he’s mine now.”

And with that, she closed Twitter, pushed her headphones over her ears, and returned to the CFD simulation.

—

Lando didn’t usually mind being a passenger.

In fact, outside of a race weekend, he liked not driving. Liked leaning his seat back, feet on the dash, sunglasses on, playlist humming. It was a break. A switch-off.

Except for right now. Because right now, he was gripping the door handle like it might save his life.

Amelia, completely calm beside him, was weaving through the hills somewhere outside Montmeló like she was auditioning for WRC. One hand on the wheel, the other tapping against her thigh in time with whatever Spanish radio station she’d insisted they listen to. She was humming, even.

“Amelia,” he said, as politely as humanly possible while his soul tried to climb out of his chest. “Baby. You… do know there’s a speed limit, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes on the road. “I’m under it.”

He glanced at the dashboard. She was; just barely. But then again, it wasn’t the speed that was making his stomach lurch. It was the corners. The absolutely unapologetic and fearless way she took them.

“You brake after the turn,” he muttered under his breath, wincing as they zipped past a startled cyclist.

“What?” She frowned, eyes flickering his way. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just—Jesus, okay, that goat came out of nowhere—”

“You’re being weird,” she said, completely deadpan. She straightened the car again, after having swerved around the stray farm animal. “You’ve gone all stiff. Are you having a panic attack?”

“No,” he said through gritted teeth. He took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just don’t understand how you have a driving license.”

Amelia shrugged. “I passed the test. Same one everyone has to take.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

“I used indicators. I drove under the speed limit. I checked my mirrors. Just drove normally.”

Lando gave a wild, incredulous laugh. “This is you driving normally?”

“Yes.” She said. 

“Amelia,” he exhaled, clutching the door handle again. “I like you. I do. I like you a lot. But I genuinely think you’re going to kill us both.”

She made a face, eyes still locked on the road, though she wanted to glance at him. “You’re being very dramatic about this. You’re a Formula 1 driver.”

“Exactly! I know what dangerous driving looks like. And this is it!”

Amelia rolled her eyes but eased off the gas slightly; for his sake, not because she agreed with his critiques. “Fine. You can drive next time. I don’t really enjoy it anyway. I have to focus on a million different things at once.”

“Baby, from now on I’ll drive us everywhere,” he said, placing a hand over his heart like he was making a vow. “Just get me to dinner alive and I’ll buy you dessert.”

“I was getting dessert anyway,” she replied flatly. “I’ve been wanting to eat chocolate cake all day. With vanilla ice cream.”

He looked at her then, still half-terrified but entirely smitten. That warm, indulgent smile pulled at his mouth. “That sounds good, baby.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes still forward, nodding a little. “It does.”

— 

Lando drove them back to the hotel. Amelia climbed into the passenger seat with the calm satisfaction of a girl with a belly full of chocolate cake and ice cream. She had her knees pulled up to the seat, leaning into Lando’s side as much as the seatbelt would allow.

His hand drifted to her thigh at the first red light they came across, thumb brushing back and forth, the occasional tight squeeze that made her smile.

“I like you like this. Fed and sleepy,” he murmured, head tilted just slightly toward her.

She made a quiet sound in reply, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and leaned in closer. “I much prefer when you drive,” she told him. “It’s much more efficient. You don’t flinch at your own braking.”

He laughed. “That’s because I brake like a normal person.”

“You brake like a professional driver,” she corrected. “I’m just a normal driver.”

“Sure, babe. That’s what we’ll tell the insurance company.” He teased. 

She gave him a soft shove. 

“…I was thinking,” she started, slightly hesitantly. “Before we fly to Belgium, I want to go see Fernando. He texted again earlier. He- uh, I told him that I told you about him coming back to the grid next year. He was okay with it. Made fun of me for being a terrible secret keeper.” She flushed slightly.

Lando glanced at her, then back to the road. “He’s in Spain?” He asked. She nodded. Without hesitation, he asked, “you want me to take you?”

She blinked at him. “You’d want to?”

He nodded. “Yeah, baby, of course. I’d like to meet him properly. Not just in the paddock, like… really meet him. He’s important to you, and I mean, he’s Fernando Alonso. I grew up watching him race.”

A pause. Her voice was small but unguarded. “He was the first person who ever took me seriously. Let me have full access to his data, made sure his engineers listened to me. It was nice.”

Lando squeezed her leg. “Then I definitely want to meet him.”

She didn’t say anything else, but she reached across the console and tangled her fingers with his, settling their joined hands on her lap. Lando glanced over, just briefly, and smiled.

“I’m glad I didn’t die on the way to dinner,” he said, teasing.

“I wouldn’t risk killing you,” she replied, all logic and deadpan. “You pay for my food.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, eyes still firmly on the road. “Unbelievably romantic. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. 

— 

Lando hovered just behind her, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, expression caught somewhere between polite interest and mild nerves. He was in Fernando Alonso’s house, after all. Not exactly neutral territory.

“Amelia, mi niña!” came the booming voice from across the space. Fernando appeared, all wide smile and familiar presence that made the hairs on Lando’s arms stand. “Finally! You keep me waiting too long.” The Spanish driver exclaimed. 

Amelia lit up, in that subtle way she did, just the slight lift of her eyebrows and the way she tilted forward a little as he pulled her into a tight hug. “You said Wednesday. It’s Wednesday.”

“So punctual, like a human calendar,” he teased, then pulled back and looked over her shoulder. His dark eyes zeroed in on Lando. “And this must be your boyfriend.”

Lando stepped forward, extending a hand. “Hey. Yeah, I’m Lando. It’s really nice to meet you, man—”

Fernando didn’t take the hand. He just stared for a moment. Then said, “As you know, I will be driving alongside you again next year. And I have taken a year off, so I may be… rusty. I would hate to be involved in any kind of racing accident with you, Norris.”

Lando stared at him. “Right.”

Amelia frowned. “Fernando. He’s been very nice to me.”

Fernando ignored her. “Do you like espresso?”

Lando nodded hesitantly. “I—I mean, yeah.”

“Good. Come. I will show you my sim rig and my data sheets, and then we’ll see if you are worth her time.”

Amelia made a small noise. “That wasn’t part of the plan—”

“Plans are for people without passion!” Fernando called over his shoulder as he marched off toward the far side of the large house. 

Lando shot Amelia a look, equal parts amused and alarmed. “Is he serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she said, already walking after him. “But don’t worry. He only makes people run laps around his karting track when he really doesn’t like them.”

“That’s… not actually reassuring!” Lando exclaimed. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him and shrugged. “You’ll be fine. He offered you espresso.”

—

The jet hummed. Amelia was curled sideways in one of the oversized brown leather seats, legs tucked under her, iPad balanced on her knees. Charles sat across from her, nodding along with increasing confusion as Amelia spoke at a pace that could only be described as alarming. She was scrolling through graphs like a woman possessed, pointing at coloured lines and spiking data curves with growing excitement.

“—and then, if you look at the delta between laps fourteen and twenty-two, there’s a consistent 0.04 offset in throttle trace on exit, which shouldn’t happen unless you’re compensating for aero loss, probably from floor damage, but the thing is, the slip ratio here doesn’t match the expected degradation arc, so I think your downforce coefficient might’ve been slightly off due to a micro-blister pattern. See? Look… here.”

She spun the laptop toward him, tapping the screen.

Charles blinked. He followed her finger. He saw… a line. Maybe two. Some colours. Lots of numbers.

He was usually pretty good at reading his own data, enough to hold a solid conversation with his race engineer during debriefing. But clearly, Amelia operated on an entirely different level. Her brain didn’t just read the telemetry; it devoured it, translated it, turned it into a second language he was definitely not fluent in.

“…Oui,” he said eventually, smile tight and unsure. “Yes. That’s… very interesting.”

She beamed, clearly thrilled that he understood.

He did not.

Not even a little bit.

Across the aisle, Max leaned his head back with an amused exhale. “Amelia, let Charles sleep before his brain combusts.”

She turned, brows furrowed in confusion. “He asked about his Sector 2 drop-off in FP3. I can’t tell him how to fix it, but I can explain what he did wrong.”

“A lot, apparently,” Charles muttered, rubbing his temples.

Max smirked at him, and then turned back to her. “Come talk to me instead. I know you’ve got a list of critiques to walk me through.”

Amelia perked up, snapping her laptop closed. “Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that late-braking overtake attempt into Turn 8 at Silverstone. You lost at least 0.2 from the correction alone. Also, your throttle mapping in low-speed corners is still slightly erratic, less so than last year, but it could be cleaner.”

Max nodded at her indulgently. “Very helpful. And from Spain?”

Amelia hopped up from her seat and moved to the one next to Max, angling her iPad toward him. 

Charles turned slowly to Lando, who was sprawled out, watching the whole exchange with a cheesy grin. His eyes were warm and utterly enamoured. 

“…Is she like that all of the time?” Charles asked. 

Lando nodded. “Yeah. Isn’t she great? Like a walking Google search engine.”

Charles just took a deep breath. “She frightens me a little.”

Lando nodded. “Me too.”

Amelia, oblivious to their conversation, was already pulling up a new graph on her screen and gesturing wildly at something. Max was squinting at the scene and nodding. 

The jet hummed steadily beneath them. Outside, clouds drifted lazily past. Inside, amid banter and baffled glances, was something warm. Familiar.

Lando leaned his head back, smiling softly, gaze remaining on her. 

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching her. 

—

The paddock was still settling. Trucks being unloaded, media crews trailing cables, mechanics in Red Bull polos jogging back and forth with crates of components. Amelia was in the hospitality suite, sitting between Max and Jos at a back table, just going over some Spa telemetry from last year, when her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She hesitated. She hated answering the phone. She exchanged a look with Max, who gave her an encouraging nod, and then answered.

“Hello?” She cringed at the pitch of her voice. 

A clipped voice responded. “Miss Brown. This is Laura Marchand with the FIA’s Competitive Integrity Division. I need to inform you that we’ve received a formal inquiry regarding your involvement with cross-team data access. We’re conducting a preliminary review. You’ve been named directly.”

Amelia’s brain blanked. “What? What are you talking about—”

“This isn’t a disciplinary action, but I’m obligated to inform you that the inquiry has been escalated internally.”

Click.

Silence.

Amelia slowly lowered the phone.

Jos didn’t speak, but Max immediately caught her expression. “Who was that?”

“Somebody named Laura… she— she works for the FIA.” Her voice came out small. “Someone filed a report about me. A— sporting integrity, data.” She was fumbling with her words. Her hands were shaking. “They said it’s been escalated.”

Max’s jaw locked. Jos leaned forward, eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

“Who would do that?” Max asked sharply. “That’s—bullshit.”

Jos didn’t ask who. He already knew.

He gave Amelia a steady, quiet look. “Did Christian try to talk to you about this kind of thing? Insinuate this being a concern of his?”

She nodded once, tight.

Max swore under his breath, hands flexing on the table.

Jos sat back for a moment, thinking. Then, without raising his voice, he said, “You need to go.”

Amelia blinked. “Go?”

“To get your father,” Jos said. “And Norris.”

Her eyes widened and panic thickened her throat. “Why? What does my dad have to do with—?”

“Amelia.” Jos’s tone was gentle, but absolute. “Listen to me, yes? Go and get them. Bring them back here.”

She hesitated. Her stomach was clenched.

“Why?” she asked again, quieter, more nervous. 

Jos didn’t smile, but his voice softened. “Because we’re going to work this out. Together.”

Max stood. “I’ll stay here with my dad. Go, Amelia.”

Amelia didn’t move for a second. Then she stood, slowly, shakily, and walked out the back of the hospitality unit, her feet carrying her in an all too familiar direction.

The calm before the storm had passed.

Now the clouds were rolling in.

NEXT CHAPTER

[grimmsbride]

⠀⠀⠀ ▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ Promises, promises. Johnny Storm

summary. out of desperation you make a deal with the literal fiery devil. let’s see if you can keep up your end of the bargain.

tags. johnny storm is ooc (based off my interpretation of him in the game & little things i remember from the movies). reader is a healer. mentions of usual game mechanics. not proofread. smut. porn with little plot. face seating. oral sex (fem. recieving). reader is chubby/curvy & black girl coded (all are free to read ofc). attempts dirty talk. like one pet name. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. entire plot is inspired by that one luna snow & human torch comic by; CEO OF MILFS on twitter.

author’s note. trying to get back into tumblr writing with marvel rivals, i’m sorry for being so mia everyone. i hope you enjoy and as always please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes.

I’m tired.. The statement was simple running through your mind, jogging closely behind a salivating Venom and your other teammates. Being a hero was a daunting job, one you didn’t regret— but daunting nonetheless. And having to use your abilities to heal wounds was even harder; the concentration that went into it— nevermind the fact some people were just so demanding at times.

A heavy sigh escaped you, hands caressing the air to heal Venom, hearing his tongue-filled thank you shortly after. The time was ticking, only about a minute and thirty seconds left, with zero progress to the last objective. Your teammates were dropping like flies and it seemed like they took even longer to come back from recovering.

Between the match looking quite bleak and the tiredness running through your body, you wanted nothing more but to find a corner and hide; awaiting that familiar feminine voice to tell you, the team had lost.

Caught up in your thoughts, you jumped in surprise the moment something slammed into the wall beside you; concrete crumbling from the impact. You spun around, gasping as a familiar silhouette came into view.

“Johnny!” His name escaped your lips urgently, rushing over and stepping carefully over the debris. Your eyes scanned his body, noting the fact his skin was back to normal as he laid amongst the rubble. A hiss escaped, lowering to your knees and gently scooping the man closer.

You couldn’t deny the level of affection you held for the infamous Human Torch. Despite his frat boyish and overly flirty ways, you knew there was a good heart underneath all that flame.

Not that you would ever admit it anyway.

“I got you, Johnny.” You mummured, hand rising right above him and healing him, the pink glow covering his body like a comforting blanket. You watched happily as his eyebrows undid from his pained crease, watching his own gaze focus on your face.

A boyish grin crossed his features, “Hey, thanks…” He spoke, albeit strained. Though soon he coughed, a hand rising to cover his lips. “I—I think you missed a spot with your healing.

Your eyebrows pressed close, eyes scanning up and down his body for a moment. “Where?”

Like the overgrown child he was, Johnny pointed right to his lips, even making an effort to pucker them in your direction. You gave a loud groan, basically tossing him off you and back into the rubble where pained laughter escaped him.

“Be serious for once, we’re about to lose.” You huffed, slowly dragging your body to standing whilst patting your bodysuit free of rocks and debris. You glanced down at your watch spotting the fact you had forty seconds left. Forty, and your teammates progress wasn’t far at all.

You gritted your teeth, glancing down at Johnny who seemed all too comfy on a bed of rocks.

“Johnny— come on! We have to help the others.”

Johnny gave an unenthused expression, tucking his hands behind his head. “Let the time run out, we can’t do much like this anyway.”

You crossed your arms, struggling not to strangle him right then and there. “I thought the Fantastic Four always fought to the end. I wonder what Reed would think of this..”

The threat went unnoticed, Johnny seemingly tuning you out. Now with only twenty seconds left, it seemed the anxiety began to stir within you, debating on whether to leave him behind and go back to your team.

It would be best, even without some extra firepower you going back to healing would help expeditiously.

Still..

With nothing left to lose, and clenched fists, you stared down at the man with a serious expression. One he caught quickly.

“Wha—“

“If you get up right now, help, and we somehow win this; I’ll sit on your face for however long you want.”

All was silent for a moment, Johnny slowly removing his hands from behind his head, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Suddenly, the air around you was getting hot— way too hot.

A loud flame on! thundered from Johnny’s throat, skin coated in flame as he blasted from the debris and back to the fighting area. You didn’t actually expect that to work, at all. You expected some laughter and him continuing to ride the time out. Not the sudden burst of energy.

But you couldn’t complain.

You chased close behind, hands rising to heal your teammates as they came into view. Sweat trickled down your body, eyes flickering between the time and the objective. It was reaching overtime, it growing closer and closer— more stressful as the seconds passed.

Your team was pushing though, whether with the extra fire or not you couldn’t tell— nor was it a main concern right now. You just needed to keep healing, even when your eyes grew blurry and body ached; you had to keep healing.

Flame began to consume your opponents, their numbers dwindling as you pushed and pushed, the seconds draining but oh so fulfilling.

Finally you made it , the objective clearing as a triumphant you win! echoed around you.

As this reality set you couldn’t help but smile, feeling your body relax slowly. Only to tense the moment you remembered.

You made a promise. And unfortunately for you. Johnny didn’t seem like the type to forget those so easily.

. . .

You dragged the towel along your body, drying your skin completely whilst standing in the middle of your bedroom. After the match you made your way quickly to your quarters, far too excited to wash off the sweat and grime that accumulated from the battle. The water was way too soothing, you nearly extending your shower but not wishing for your skin to get pruny.

With a heavy sigh you placed your towel off to the side, sliding on some panties first before going for your night gown; a pale pink cami style night gown that hung at your ankles, silky and soft against your fresh skin.

You lowered to your bed, legs crossed as you slid some shea butter along them. Focused on smoothing the lotion evenly, you jumped the moment someone knocked on your door, eyebrows creasing in slight concern.

It was getting late, and you weren’t exactly prepared for guests nor were you in the mood to hold any ounce of conversation.

But with another knock you were rising, lips curling into a grimace as you waltzed over to the door in lazy strides. Soon enough you were infront of it, fingers locking around the knob as you turned and pulled, opening the door to reveal the one and only Johnny Storm.

He was dressed in a simple pair of sweatpants and a black tshirt, hair tousled yet still neat enough. Johnny’s gaze traced your attire, smiling to himself.

“Nice gown.”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing. “What do you want, Johnny? I wanna some sleep after today.”

The man wore a disgruntled expression and despite your best efforts — which really weren’t any — he crept into your room, busying himself with picking up some random knick knack upon your vanity.

“So soon? What about your promise?”

You rose a single eyebrow, trying to make sense of what he said. Silently you stood, arms crossed and staring straight ahead in thought— Johnny waiting ever so patiently, his own gaze settled on your form.

Finally it hit you, like a train, all at once— the stupid promise you made in the heat of battle.

You began to sputter, instinctively shutting the door behind you in fear of what someone might hear;

“Ar—are you seriously going to hold me to that? For what I said in the heat of the moment— that wasn’t a pun.” You added quickly the moment you noticed that damned smirk creep onto his face.

Johnny placed your random item off to the side, shrugging a little as he took you in.

“I mean.. you sounded pretty serious back there..” He hummed, eyes rising from you up to the ceiling. “And I did..” The man stretched the word to really get his point across;

“Hold up my end of the bargain.” Again, Johnny shrugged as if it was no big deal, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed.

“So how about it [Name]? Looking to keep your promise?”

You couldn’t handle the way he was staring at you, your gaze quickly looking at anything but him. From your vanity to your ceiling, your eyes danced about as if the answer was written plainly in the air. You expected to be in bed by now, cuddled up under blankets and sleeping away the stress of the day.

Not being propositioned for a statement you said randomly without a single thought.

As your eyes flicked back to the man, you noticed how he stood patiently— for once. Fully waiting for your reply. Maybe even a hint of excitement resting in his eyes.

Your teeth dragged across the inside of your cheek, rising a single hand and pointing towards your bed.

“Lay down..” You tried to sound much more confident than you were letting on, but you were sure your voice wavered with each word. Though it didn’t seem to faze the man, as Johnny was more than ready to abide your command; basically running over to the bed and dropping to his back— bouncing a little from the impact.

You took in a sharp breath, bending as your hands ran across your thighs for a moment, under your dress, and hooking onto your panties. All under his watchful gaze you slid them down, the fabric bundling before landing against your floor.

Stepping out of them, you glanced up spotting the excited smile practically glued to his face. Slowly you stepped closer, approaching your bed and going knee first onto the comfy blankets. Carefully you crawled up and over him, soon standing right over his torso, collecting your night gown in both hands.

Johnny stared up at you, hands going to glide across your exposed legs, awaiting your next move.

You clenched your dress, lips pursing as you spoke, “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Sit and find out.”

Johnny spoke far too quickly, voice devoid of his usual playfulness. You couldn’t deny his words sent a shiver down to the right places, your anxiety simply churning even more.

But, you couldn’t turn back now. Or rather, you didn’t want to. So with a careful step, you inched until you were directly standing right above his head, slowly bending your knees.

Just when you were an inch above his face, strong arms suddenly locked around your waist, quickly pulling you down the rest of the way. You couldn’t help but gasp, face flushed with warmth the moment you felt his gentle breathing right against your center.

“I—I’m not too heavy…right?”

You jumped the moment his annoyed grunt tickled against you, deciding it may be best to shut up right then and there instead of focusing on such trivial things. Rather you began to focus on his lips, and how they gently pressed against you.

Your own parted as the softest oh escaped. The feeling foreign but not at all unwanted. Your eyes fluttered closed, breathing softly as the gentle ministrations continued, Johnny purposely warming you up, slowly.

And when it seemed like you would get enough of just his lips, his tongue poked through, prodding at your lips before sliding them open with a slow lick.

You shook, clenching your night gown tight as those licks continued. His tongue was thick and long, slithering from your entrance right to your clit; paying special attention to that little bud. You were growing hot, eyebrows creasing closer as the pleasure grew. You weren’t experienced in this sort of thing; no one has ever gifted you the pleasure of cunninglingus, yet here you were; with a fellow hero nonetheless.

Your coworker, really, one whose tongue was doing wonders.

“Johnny..” His name fell from your lips in a soft moan, it etching into a groan the moment you felt a hand of his move towards your ass, a warm palm gripping a handful. There, Johnny’s rhythm sped up, his tongue twirling, creating a sloppy mess of your cunt.

Filthy sounds echoed from between your legs, a combination of your pussy and the downright sexy groans that the man was humming right into you. His fingers gripped your skin tightly, assuring you didn’t move an inch as he kept up his treatment.

Your legs began to shake, his hair tickling your thighs as your stomach tightened. A hand released your nightgown to instead grip your headboard, even leaning forward to rest your forehead against the cool wood. The pleasure was clouding your mind, hips slowly moving; grinding right down on his face— without a care if he could breathe anymore.

Johnny’s enjoyment was clear in the way his tongue went flat, gifting you a perfect surface to ride upon. The man was in pure heaven, having such a pretty thing right on his face, unable to move unless he says so. And albeit muffled because of your thick thighs, your moans were the perfectly melody to his already splendid front row seats.

The Human Torch wondered how loud he could get you with just his mouth. Maybe enough that someone bangs on the wall, begging for some peace within the night. Johnny couldn’t help but grin to himself, lips slowly circling your swollen bud, sucking eagerly.

“Fu—fuck…Johnny, Joh—johnny please!”

That’s it.. The man thought to himself, far too happy. He wish he could speak properly, muttering sweet praises and teases; wishing to mock you for being so loud yet encourage it in the safe breath. For now though, Johnny settled on humming along to your moans; the action causing the sweetest vibration.

Your hips increased in ferocity, chasing that high as the band within your stomach continued to tighten. Your eyes were going hazy, struggling to keep your voice at bay. It seemed your night gown went completely forgot, pushed up on your waist whilst your free hand went for his hair, tugging at the perfect locks; feeling the man grunt in response.

The harshest moan escaped you, hips grinding to a stop as you came; a sticky mess painting his face. Your chest rose and fell, heavy breaths escaping as your eyes shut close in an effort to relax.

Which, proved useless the moment you realized Johnny hadn’t stopped. At all. Not for a second. His tongue remained on your cunt, licking you clean of your orgasm and then some.

The pleasure bordered on torture now, quickly turning into overstimulation that had you babbling for mercy;

“J—johnny..! Ple..please I need a break..!—“ You reached for his forehead, pushing weakly at the space. The man didn’t move an inch, him even making an effort to snake a tight arm around your leg so you didn’t move off him.

Tears sprung to your eyes, using the headboard to steady yourself as tremors ran through your body. You could only sit there, paying the price for your poor choice of words in sobs and moans, the tears now streaming right down your warm cheeks.

Johnny was somehow able to peek at you, something he instantly regretted the moment he saw your features. So beautiful, face flushed, eyes glossy, and with the tiniest pout. He felt himself getting harder right in his boxers, struggling not to use a hand to stroke against the growing bulge. But the man knew if given the opportunity you would probably jump right off, so instead he settled on moving his hips uselessly in the air— hoping the friction would relieve even an ounce of tension.

“So fucking wet…I might drown.” Johnny managed to say right into your pussy, a loopy chuckle escaping him; as if drunk off your taste. But with the way his eyes were rolling back, he just might be.

“Jo..johnny, Johnny, please..”

“Fu..fuck..” The man muttered, sucking you up with such vigor as if his jaw was made of metal. “Keep.. saying my name, baby. Let me hear you.”

You obeyed his request easily, his name falling from your lips in a desperate mantra. With each call it pitched, your eyes going blurrier— possibly even rolling to the back of your skull. That familiar feeling broached your stomach, only harsher than before; a feeling that nearly scared you if it wasn’t for the pleasure that quickly washed over.

With shaky legs you were riding his face, your own a complete mess with tears, pressed against the cool wood of your headboard. Your eyes pinched closed, broken gasps and heavy moans escaping you— voice going raw the moment it all came crashing down.

Heavier than before, surely soaking Johnny completely with your mess. You struggled to breathe, eyes pinched closed as the hold on his hair and your headboard loosened.

You whined the moment you felt movement, worrying he would pick back up but pleasantly surprised to feel the man gently pushing you down to rest on his chest, hearing a sharp breath escape him.

Your head went slack, eyes opening to land on his face. Johnny was a mess, skin coated with your arousal and his saliva, marking up his lips and cheeks. Along with that, he was a little red, hair even messier than before.

Yet he still grinned easily, gliding his hands up and down your thighs, soothing you a little.

“See? I knew you could do it.”

You rolled your eyes slowly, shifting a little and moving in an attempt to crawl off. Yet you didn’t move an inch as his arms tightened, refusing to let you go.

You caught his gaze, Johnny chuckling softly at the look of confusion painting your features. His hand rose, thumb curling to your waist.

“You said for as long as I like..”

“John—“

The man gave a playful pout, head tilting up at you.

“You wanna keep your promise.. don’t you?”

[egomiso]

hi 😀 can i get rin w/ a reader who gets overstimulated easily 🙊

hi pookie, ofc i gotchu LOL

you thought staying over at Rin's place for a sleepover was going to be the usual, watching movies until you fall asleep. you never expected it to take such a turn... but sometimes a wrong turn is needed.

chara: rin itoshi x f!reader warning: nsfw content: overstimulation, unprotected s*x, praise, established relationship +20 charas, bimbo/naive mc, virginity loss

The night had a chill in the air, with the moon glowing in the dark sky. Funnily enough, it felt almost cozy, as your feet stepped upon dry leaves, causing a crunching sound.

You climbed up the driveway, your grip on a pink bear plushie tightening as the weight of your bag dragged you down. Perhaps you packed a little too heavy tonight, but anytime you packed for any overnight trip, you always forget at least one thing. Better safe than sorry, right? Knowing you... you probably still left something at home.

Just as you were about to ring the doorbell, your feet caught the crevice of the path. Tripping over it, the momentum sent you forward, making you topple over.

As if Rin Itoshi could sense the danger, he opened the door, wide eyed in concern.

You were sprawled on your knees to the ground, blinking in confusion for a moment. The prickling of pain on your knees stung, despite you having worn pants. Rin sprung into action instantly, rushing to your side and picking you up, bridal style.

With him suddenly so close to you, you had grown flustered, cheeks warming at the feeling of hands curled on your torso and legs. His beautiful, attractive face was so close. Dark bangs swayed across his forehead majestically, right above the teal of his eyes, to the long lashes that radiated from them. All of it... all of him was pretty.

"You can be such a fool, [Name]."

"Y-You don't have to carry me. I can walk."

His grasp on you only tightened as he shook his head silently, bringing you inside of his abode. The interior was the same as the last time you came by, very neat and modern. He went down the narrow hallway and into the living room to set you down on the couch. Despite your protests, he ignored you as he took care of you, placing your bag to the side and taking your shoes off to set them near the door.

When he returned, he had a first aid kit in his hand. It seemed he washed them as well from the way the sleeves of his sweater were rolled up.

"You don't have to do all this," you tried again. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh really." His eyes shot up to you, narrowing sternly. You froze, grinning sheepishly. "The moment I opened the door expecting to see my girlfriend, I instead see her toppling over like some sad puppet."

"I'm sorry..."

He sighed, scratching at his head. "Don't be sorry. You just make me worry. So the least you can do is let me treat you."

"Y-Yes sir!" You saluted him and he finally cracked a smile, turning away to try and hide it.

"Dummy."

Rin rolled the lengths of your pants up to expose the skins of your legs. There were minor cuts and bruises lined up along your knees, but overall, it wasn't the worst thing ever. But for fear of getting scolded by Rin again, you kept your mouth shut as he did his work. With an alcohol wipe, he cleaned at it expertly. The pain stung bad at the contact of it, your eyes tearing up and your mouth trembling. Quite the low pain tolerance you had.

It didn't go unnoticed. Your boyfriend swiped at your tears smoothly. "It's okay... It's almost done. You're doing good."

You nodded, clenching at your bear.

Then he went on to bandaging you up. His fingers moved expertly to apply the ointment gently, careful to cause you no further pain. Rather than pain, the touch of it sent tingles along that area, spreading slowly down your limbs. You liked his touch, the warmth of it, as if Rin Itoshi was the armor of your protection.

Eventually, he bandaged you up, the skin contact less frequent, leaving you... disappointed? You furrowed your brows at your thoughts.

"What's wrong?" Rin Itoshi saw your expression.

"I..." You couldn't seem to voice it, embarassment sinking into your system. "Nevermind."

"No, say it," he said bluntly, his inability to let anything go coming back tenfold.

"I don't know! I just... liked the feeling of your fingers. I like your touch, okay?" you blurted, unable to keep secret of anything when it came to Rin Itoshi.

He was quiet for a moment and you were afraid you had scared him off. But when you grew the courage to look at him again, his face was not what you imagined. Cheeks flushed in red, his arm was covering his face as his eyes narrowed to the ground. You had never seen him so flustered. The temptation to snap a photo of him in such a state was blooming, but you controlled yourself, knowing he would only kill you.

"You shouldn't have said that," he muttered. Finally, he moved towards you, his hand placed against your thigh.

"Oh!" His touch sent more tingles, the feeling of it even better than before.

You were pushed deeper into the couch as his face grew closer, the turquoise of his eyes darkening. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered, his gaze taking in the soft plumps of your lips. You were so innocent, so light, so soft, so pure -- how could he dare to ruin you? He had held back for so long, to be the boyfriend you needed and not act on such carnal desires, but when you said those words, something vile in him had flourished.

"O-Of course."

He kissed you with fervor, taking you by surprise. Other times you had kissed him, it was gentle and sweet. He had kissed you like you were a fragile doll, making sure to allow you time to breathe. This time... it was different.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, sliding along yours to taste you. Lips pressed against one another in rough fashion, the heat of his body stemming from him. You held the back his head, running through soft strands of hair, becoming one with the boy named Rin Itoshi. His hands rubbed at your thighs, the feeling of it causing you to quiver. To your surprise, you liked it. You liked it a lot.

He broke the kiss, staring at you for a moment, still kneeling between your legs.

"Is something the matter? Do you want to watch The Shining now? You've been looking forward to it all week."

Rin shook his head. "I want to try something new today."

"A new movie?"

"Not a movie. I... want to make love with you."

"Make love..." you trailed off, unable to process the phrase for a moment. Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor when you finally understood. "Y-You mean... like s-sex?"

"Yes," he said, growing red once more. He kissed your hand. "If you are not ready, we don't have to though. I will always wait for you."

You looked at your beautiful Rin, kneeling there in front of you, with genuine love despite the cold exterior he always donned with others. You knew your boyfriend would never intentionally hurt you and only uplift you instead. He had been nothing but the best, looking out for you no matter where you were. You trusted him a lot... and you loved him a lot.

So making love was something you were okay to try, if it was with him.

If you loved him this much already, you could only imagine how much deeper you'd fall tonight.

For Rin. Only if it was Rin Itoshi, your beautiful star that shined so bright.

"I can try," you told him, covering your face with the plushie. "I'm... embarrassed though. I don't know where to start."

The plushie was ripped away from your grip as he stood there, eyes glowing in love and adoration. A hand landed on the top of your head, ruffling the masses of your [h/c] hair. "You do not need to be embarrassed. We can go slow, okay?"

You nodded in agreement.

He started to undress you, peeling your sweats off to leave you in your panties. You followed his lead, also undressing him, eyes looking elsewhere as you grew unconscious.

"You're so fucking beautiful... [Name], look at me." His voice was stern, but laced with a warmth that you could only tell. So you did as told, taking him in from the strong, lean build he grew from soccer, to the muscles on his abdomen, and then finally to the large outline on his boxers. Oh god, it was looking at you! You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of it, feeling nervous but intrigued.

He pulled your arms from the self-conscious hug you gave yourself.

"Do not hide yourself from me. I want to see all of you."

You gulped and nodded. "Okay."

"Do you want to touch it? You keep looking at it."

You flinched, caught like a deer in headlights. "Oh, um..."

He pulled his boxers off, revealing his large penis that was clearly already hard. For some reason, looking at it made you feel tingly from down under. Rin guided your hand to it, so you grabbed onto it. It was warm and it was veiny under your fingers. Immediately, he reacted at the touch. Curious, you started rubbing at it, to receive faces of Rin you had never seen before. Wide eyed and tongue out from slightly panting, he gripped the side of your face in return.

From his harsh breaths to the soft moans he let out, it was incredibly fascinating. You... wanted to see more.

"Wait." He stopped you. "It's my turn."

He pushed you to the couch and the two of you tumbled against the cushion, his form towering above you. Legs tangled along one another, naked and all, and you had never felt so close to him. His body heat clouded your head, intoxicating you under a spell. Slowly, his finger crept into your panties, sliding through the folds of your pussy. The feeling of it was foreign, so you tensed up.

As he kept stroking at your vagina with his fingers, it started to feel good. The focus he reserved for the field was presenting itself here on his face, the furrow of his brow lowered in concentration. It was hot. And so, so, so good. "Mmph!" you released a shuddering moan. Horrified by the sound you made, you covered your mouth.

Rin Itoshi took your hand off in return, watching you patiently. "Let it all out. I want to hear you when you feel good."

As he sped up his fingers and plunged them deeper, your body began to shake, your nails clutching at his back. "Ahh... too much... too good. Rin. Rin!"

"You're doing great," he said, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

Your pussy was growing wet, dripping past the cloth of your underwear. The heat was overbearing, the throb of your vagina loud in your ears. So much was happening at once, your head reeling to catch up to process everything.

"Rin! I can't...!" you mewed, limbs shaking and trembling at the high from the feeling of his fingers stuck in your pussy. When he finally pulled them out, you stared at the white substance that coated his fingers. White substance that came from your body. "What is wrong with me?"

"Hey." His sharp voice interrupted your flurry of doubts. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. "There is nothing wrong with your body. This is normal and a human body's miracle. You are my blessing, [Name], do you understand?"

You nodded. "Okay."

"Did you feel good?"

"Yes..."

"Then that is all that matters."

"Did... you feel good too?"

"Of course. Do you want to feel good together?"

"Yes. I want to feel good with you."

He blinked at you for a moment, surprised. He ruffled your hair, a soft smile adorning his beautiful lips. "I forget how fucking cute you are sometimes."

To see him shower you with this much love and affection, your heart could only swell even bigger for him. Your sweet, blunt Rin Itoshi. Your talented soccer player, who just needed love the most when the world betrayed him. He was yours as you were his. For him to feel good from your touch, this was the most vulnerable kind of love you could give. So sharing the loss of your virginity with him was undoubtedly the easiest choice you could make.

He held his member up and slowly brushed up against your vagina, making you quiver. "Let me know if it hurts. But follow my lead.”

He spread your legs out and gave you a quick kiss. His dick inserted into the chambers of your vagina, the walls of it closing around it. Your legs trembled, your mouth hanging lopsided. His penis was much larger than two of his fingers, the weight and girth of it enough to set you on fire. It felt so good, but painful... until it wasn't.

Was it because you were comfortable with Rin that it wasn't as painful as you expected?

"Rin! It doesn't hurt," you said, cheesing up at him.

He brushed a strand from your check. "Good. Because this is where the fun starts."

His cock started to ram into you, and it dug into your core. You could feel it, throbbing in there, sucking you whole. You howled at the motion, not because of pain, but how aroused it left you. "Rin! Wait..." You were arching your back, toes curling as he pounded into your vagina, deeper and deeper and deeper. "S-So good."

He groaned slightly, his grip on your shoulders firm. "Good girl... tell me... where it feels good."

You couldn't stop shaking, your mind muddled in euphoria and lust combined. "I... can't..."

"[Name]."

"I-It's too much."

"Do you want to go slower?"

"...No."

A smirk crossed his face, so cocky and arrogant, like the true star he was. "That's my [Name]. Now tell me where it feels good."

"There! R-Right there."

He shoved his dick deeper at the spot you mentioned, accurately hitting the shots like the way he did in soccer. Your eyes lulled back as you panted heavily, overwhelmed but also feeling so much pleasure from this new type of love. It was a double-edged sword, but it was so worth it, seeing your boyfriend enjoy you. If it was for him, you'd do anything.

"Shit," he groaned, his member assaulting your cunt left and right, in every direction. He kept it going, tireless and nonstop, due to the stamina he built up from years of his sport. It felt so good, his dick pulsing alongside your twat, a mixture of warmth and wet.

"I'm... coming soon."

"C-Coming?" you asked, whining once more when he thrusted into you.

"Naive girl," he grunted. "I have to punish you for this."

He grabbed your ass and you moaned, unable to handle it anymore. You were reaching a high, climbing up a ladder to reach a climax. A blissful of feelings released, oxytocin spreading throughout your system. You convulsed at the intensity of it, gripping onto Rin.

Rin Itoshi reached his climax as well, gritting his teeth. As he pulled himself out from you, he stared at you as if you were the goal he had just conquered. Winning meant everything to him, after all, for it was life or death out in that battlefield.

But... actually, it was you who had conquered him. You, who had stole his heart, in your clutzy fashion.

He simply could not win against you anymore.

Rin Itoshi laid down beside you, hugging you like it was the last day on earth. He, who had never believed in luck, felt like the luckiest man on this planet to have met you. He, who could not rely on anybody else after the deception of his brother, found himself searching you. He, who scoffed at the idea of love, was now so submerged in love when it came to you.

You had dozed off already, tired from this little escapade today. He shook his head at your ability to fall asleep so easily, staring at every crook and crevice to burn your beautiful self into his mind.

"I love you, my little fool."

[llamagoddessofficial]

LLAMAAAAAAAA

WRITE MORE ABT FARMER (when you get the chance ofc)

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

Your life. Hand it over

---

It was the thickest rain you’d ever seen. It didn't fall like normal rain, it fell in layers, great arcs of water that thrashed the ground one after the other, stormy waves hitting a shoreline. The roar of it landing on the world around you was almost deafening - a problem, considering it was three in the morning, and you were walking in almost pitch black. Any other night you would’ve been guided through the seemingly-endless farmland by recognising the hedges and hearing the animals... right now, you were guided only by the weakened blueish light of your headlamp, and the best that your memory had to offer.

You spotted it, in the near distance. The tiny light of another lamp was flickering back and forth in the rain, moving with the speed and efficiency of a hard-at-work man who couldn’t wait to get out of the terrible weather and go back to bed. You quickened the pace, marching down the field, your waterproof pants were coated in cold mud up to the calves; you were glad you couldn’t feel it. The only wet part of you was your face, and hands - you needed the latter out to hold the big metal flask you were carrying.

You didn’t mind the wet and cold. You stomped on regardless. All you cared about was the sight of that head lamp, getting closer and closer in the relentless wind and rain. You could just about make out the things he was looking at, illuminated by his lamp... the part of the fence he was doing his best to repair.

Before you knew it, you were within shouting distance. But there was no point, he wouldn't hear you. A particularly strong gust rushed across the field, you felt a carpet of rain hit you in the back, and the wind shoved you ungracefully forward. You let out a little yelp but managed to stop yourself from falling over.

... You heard your name over the rain. He had noticed you. You looked up - his headlamp was angled slightly downward, rather than straight ahead, so it didn’t dazzle you like you expected it to. Sans was dressed in his usual farm gear, his heavy boots and thick waterproof pants, and the rain had washed his green jacket cleaner than you’d ever seen it before. His hood was pulled securely up over his skull and he had a fence post the size of you in one hand like it was nothing.

... And he was looking at like he’d seen a ghost. It was rather comical.

“There you are!” You picked up the pace for the last few steps, jogging over to him, before you finally came to a stop. Phew, you’d been walking for almost five minutes in the storm. It felt good to finally see him. Despite the cold, you were pretty flushed from the exercise, hot under the combination of your sweater and coat.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” His green eyelights glowed under his hood, like two soft fireflies, a much more pleasant colour than the cold lamplight both of you were bathed in. It was as if only the two of you existed in the whole world... two headlamps in an endless sea of dark and wind and water. “it’s two in the morning,”

“Three, actually,” you chirped. It was somewhat hard to hear him over the rain hitting your hood, but you just stood a little closer to him. Your hurried breaths formed clouds, you could see them in the combined lamp glow.

He put down the fence post. It dropped with an heavy thunk. “did papyrus send you?”

You just held the big metal flask out to him. It had a black strap attached to the side of it that was sodden by now. He accepted it, seemingly out of instinct, staring down at it before glancing back up to you.

“... uh... thanks. what is it?”

“Soup!”

He blinked. “soup?”

“Yeah. I woke up to the rain, and I figured you’d be out here, because you’d mentioned the fence needed fixing properly before the storm hit." You pulled your coat sleeves over your now-free hands. "Though I did ask Papyrus if you’d actually headed out before I left. I’m not that crazy.”

He was still staring. The rain continued to roar, you had really hoped it would've eased up by now. But it seemed to be only getting worse. Probably for the best Sans was repairing the fence now, before everything completely flooded come morning.

“I know, I know," you continued when he didn't reply. "I’m dumb for going out in the rain, I’ll get wet. But I’m fine, see? I put the waterproof pants on over my boots, like you said. It’s been raining like hell and the only part of me that’s wet is my hands!”

“you... came out all this way, to bring me soup?” he said, softly. You almost didn't hear him.

“Yeah. Pumpkin soup. Knowing you, you didn’t eat anything before you left.”

He had gone quiet. That wasn’t like him. He was looking at you very intently, with great big eylights. Another gust of wind sent a wall of rain into the two of you. You visibly swayed, but Sans didn't seem affected by it.

Was he upset that you might get cold? He didn't look upset, his eyelights were so round, almost sparkly.

“I promise I’m not cold," you pressed. "This is the coat you lent me. See? It’s - ” 

Sans moved forward a step. It was all he really needed to close the gap between you. He put an arm around you, despite the flask in hand, and swept you in against him; you were too startled by the sudden movement and proximity to move or do anything. His free hand came up, sliding between your coat hood and the side of your cheek, cupping your face.

He leant in and kissed you.

...

For a moment, you couldn’t hear the rain. You couldn’t hear anything at all. All you could think about was how smooth his hand was, how nice he smelled, how hard your heart was beating, and how warm he was. After so long walking around in the rain, being pulled in close to him felt incredible.

He felt so strong, too. All night, you'd been pushed around by any breath of wind, no matter the direction. In his arms? Nothing moved you. Nothing could shake you.

... Your eyes closed. Maybe it was the dark and gale and rain, maybe it was how early it was in the morning. But you just didn’t want him to let you go.

...

Sans pulled back. Your eyelids fluttered open again. There were raindrops on his skull, and the lamplight was dancing over his bones. His eyelights are such a pretty colour. He was looking at you like he wanted to pick you up and walk home with you.

...

Then, in an instant, the reality of what he just did appeared to hit him. So close to him, you could watch in real time as his eyelights shrank into pins in his sockets, and his smile twitched in what you could only describe as total internal panic.

... You, too, started to do the worst possible thing - think.

Sans just... kissed me. Sans just kissed me.

... You both just stared at each other, he was still holding you. You had no idea for how long. Sans’ eyelights kept flickering between your eyes and your nose, and you kept staring blankly at him, dazed and suddenly very confused.

...

“I-I should, head back,” you started, nervously.

“yeah. uh... yeah.” His hand came off your face, and he let go of your waist, stepping back again. You immediately missed the warmth. “thank you for the soup."

You nodded.

"i’ll..." He sounded shaky. He held onto the flask with both hands, maybe to stop himself from fidgeting. "see you later?”

"You too," you stammered.

... Wait. Shit.

No idea what else to say or do, you stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, trying to formulate something to say or some interesting witty way to turn that fuck-up into a joke and end the conversation - but you had absolutely nothing. Your head was spinning, your heart was still beating a mile a minute, you couldn’t believe that had really just happened. So you just turned right around and started walking.

...

Holy fuck, you thought, pulling your hood tight over your head. What the hell am I going to tell Papyrus?

[ladywhistlewrites]

Hi can I request a wife x Anthony bridgerton story where reader is finally pregnant and how she would tell Anthony and the family

hi darling, ofc!! (omg thanks for sending an ask)🩷

Anthony Bridgerton x female wife! reader

warnings: mentions of period/blood, pregnancy

***

The morning light filters through the delicate lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you stretch beneath the covers. It’s early, and the house is still wrapped in the serene quiet of dawn. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar tug of routine urging you to start the day. As you move to rise, a sudden realization freezes you in place. You glance down at the crisp white sheets beneath you and feel a jolt of surprise and anticipation. There is no sign of your monthly visitor.

Your heart begins to race. Could it be? After all these months of hope and disappointment, dare you believe it? Your hands tremble slightly as you press them to your abdomen, a wave of tentative joy washing over you. You have to be sure. Quietly, so as not to wake the household, you slip from the bed and dress quickly, your thoughts a whirlwind of hope and possibility.

Making your way down the hall, your steps are light, almost as if you are floating. Each breath feels like a prayer, a silent plea for your dreams to be true. As you approach Anthony’s studio, you hear the soft scratching of his pen against paper. He’s been up for hours, as is his custom, losing himself in work before the household stirs.

You hesitate for a moment at the door, gathering your courage. Then, with a bright smile breaking across your face, you push it open and step inside. Anthony looks up, his eyes lighting with surprise and pleasure at the sight of you.

“My love,” he greets, rising from his desk. “What brings you here so early?”

You can barely contain your excitement as you close the distance between you, your hands reaching out to grasp his. “Anthony, I have news. The most wonderful news.” Your voice trembles with emotion, and you see his eyes widen, a spark of anticipation igniting within them.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone eager, almost breathless.

“I… I think I’m pregnant,” you whisper, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “I checked the sheets this morning, and there was nothing. I haven’t felt any of the usual signs. Anthony, I believe we are finally going to have a child.”

For a moment, he is silent, the words hanging in the air between you. Then, with a cry of joy, he sweeps you into his arms, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. Laughter bubbles from your lips as you cling to him, the room a blur of motion and happiness.

He sets you down gently, his hands framing your face as he gazes into your eyes, his own brimming with tears. “My love, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “We are going to be parents.”

You nod, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the depth of his joy and the love shining in his eyes. He kisses you then, a tender, reverent kiss that speaks of promises and dreams and the future you will build together.

In the hours that follow, you and Anthony make plans to share the joyous news with the rest of the Bridgerton family. The day seems to fly by, a whirlwind of preparations and secret smiles, your heart soaring with the knowledge of the life growing within you.

As evening falls, the dining room is a picture of elegance and warmth. The table is set with the finest china, gleaming silverware, and fresh flowers that fill the air with a sweet fragrance. The soft glow of candlelight bathes the room in a golden hue, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

The family gathers, their faces alight with curiosity and affection. You can barely contain your excitement, your eyes meeting Anthony’s across the table, a silent communication passing between you. Finally, as the conversation lulls, Anthony rises, his hand reaching for yours.

“Everyone,” he begins, his voice steady but filled with emotion, “we have some wonderful news to share. We have just learned that we are expecting a child.”

For a heartbeat, there is silence, and then the room erupts in joyous exclamations. Daphne and Eloise rush to embrace you, their laughter mingling with yours. Benedict and Colin slap Anthony on the back, their congratulations hearty and sincere. The younger Bridgertons dance around the room, their excitement infectious.

Violet, her eyes shining with tears, crosses the room to you. She takes your hands in hers, her smile radiant as she draws you into a warm embrace. “Oh, my dear,” she whispers, her voice trembling with happiness, “this is the most wonderful news. I am so happy for you both.”

You hold her tightly, the love and acceptance in her embrace filling you with a profound sense of belonging. “Thank you, Violet,” you whisper back, your voice choked with emotion. “We are so blessed to have all of you to share this with.”

As the evening unfolds, the room is filled with laughter and celebration. Glasses are raised in toasts, and stories are shared, each one adding to the tapestry of joy that weaves through the night. You sit beside Anthony, your hand in his, your heart full to bursting with love and happiness.

This is the beginning of a new chapter, a future filled with promise and hope. And as you look around at the faces of those you hold dear, you know that this child will be welcomed into a world brimming with love and joy, surrounded by family who will cherish them always.

***

hope you like it!!🩷

[written-and-readen]

you know what. time for me to be a whore (3.1 spoilers)

thinking of non-relationship reader coming over to anaxa's new temporary place in okhema to drop off some stuff only to hear strange noises. they move to check it out before cerces shows up and is like "i wouldn't do that if i were you. anaxagoras is simply... preoccupied."

but reader is still a dumbass and wants to check on him (cerces tried, alright) only to walk in on him "relieving some stress" from everything that's happened.

...ofc maybe a talk about respecting privacy and boundaries is in order later but ooh boy

Knock Before You Enter

Anaxa x reader

Summary: You go to visit Anaxa after the incident at the Grove of Epiphany and accidentally interrupt him while he’s busy.

Warnings: nsfw (18+), male masturbation

a/n: The way my jaw DROPPED while reading this

You readjust the box of scrolls in your hand as you climb the stairs to where Anaxa's supposed to be staying. Aglaea had directed you to a house at the edge of Okhema, one further from the city's noise, after giving a brief rundown of what had happened. You're sure the professor would be irked that you'd had to speak even a word to Aglaea, but that's something that could be omitted easily enough without raising suspicion. Honestly, you're just relieved he's alive. Hopefully, seeing how you'd salvaged some of the Grove's resources would lift his mood a little.

As you approach the door, you hear something coming from the other side. It sounds like heavy breathing. You set your box down next to the door to check it out, but before you can lean your ear closer, a voice speaks from behind you.

"I suggest not going in there." You jump and turn to face a woman with branches entwined in her long hair and a faint golden glow surrounding her.

"You're Cerces, aren't you?" You ask in awe, and she nods in reply. As amazing as it is to finally see the Titan of Reason in person, you have to curb your excitement for now. "I didn't know you could separate from Anaxa. Is he in there?"

"He's a little preoccupied right now. I do not wish to be around him, and I'm certain he feels the same." That tracks. Anaxa wasn't really known for his agreeable personality, especially concerning the Titans.

"You too should probably not interrupt him," Cerces advises.

"We're friends though. I want to make sure he's alright." Anaxa may dislike the Titans, but you're no Titan. Before the incident at the Grove, you’d drop by his office when possible. Although he often scolded you for interrupting his work, especially when you didn't knock, he’d let you keep him company. You're sure he wouldn't mind a visitor, and you made a promise to yourself to keep it short so he could get some rest.

You push open the door, and your hand hasn't even left the doorknob before you see Anaxa. His eye meets yours, slightly hazy compared to their usual sharpness, and his turquoise hair has strands falling in front of his face. His jacket is draped over the back of the chair he's sitting in, exposing his shoulders and making their rise and fall clearer as he breathes heavily, mouth slightly agape.

His right hand, unadorned by his rings, is wrapped around his leaking cock. You hadn’t noticed how long his fingers were until you now saw them curled so prettily around its length. That's the best word you can come up with in the moment: pretty. He looks so pretty like this—

In an instant, you pull the door shut again. You’ve never seen the Sage so….uncomposed, and it has you losing your composure as well. Your heart has gone from normal to max speed, your cheeks are aflame, and for the life of you, you cannot forget the image you just witnessed. Anaxa's recurring reminders of how you should knock before entering ring in your head before Cerces' voice breaks through them.

"I did warn you, didn't I?"

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x fem!reader 8

prev

wc: 2168

cw: drowning and resuscitation, near death experience, inaccurate medical descriptions, happy ending ofc

me: i have a delicious lifeguard!james request in my inbox which will for sure be the next part but i really wanted to get this part out first sorry anon!!!!! ik this is a little less horny than most of the other parts but i kinda loved the idea of the softness and love of their relationship developing after being braindead horny?? but as always pls feel free to send lifeguard!james reqs bc he's my man fr im feral for him

TAG: @stanzie

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

the pool was packed. you didn’t know what was different from any of the other hot, sweaty days you’d encountered, but suddenly there was hardly a sun bed free or an inch of space in the pool.

it was disappointing, sure, but nothing your friends couldn’t handle, snatching a piece of grass a bit further from the pool to lay your towels down. it did mean you didn’t have the benefit of an umbrella to hide under, and the direct heat was driving you all mad.

“do you think we’ll even fit?” you asked, not hopeful when you could barely even see the water.

“we come here every other day, they have to make room for us,” lily joked, tucking her magazine back in her beach bag.

“you could always ask james for help,” mary teased with a singsong emphasis on his name. you rolled your eyes, attending to your sun cream to hide the girlish grin that was fighting its way out.

“yeah, bat your eyes at him and he’d clear the whole facility,” marlene laughed, jumping up and holding a hand out to help you stand, “now let’s go fight the old ladies for a spot.”

“hiya,” you called up to james on the elevated lifeguard chair. he brightened as soon as he noticed you, pushing his dark sunglasses up to his forehead so he could make direct eye contact.

“hey, good looking! not in your usual chair?”

“got beaten out by hilda. embarrassing, really. got eyes on any spots for us, baywatch?” james took his duty seriously, scanning the pool for any spots of blue for you to occupy.

“how about down there by the wine mums? good bit of room and i’ll be able to keep an eye on you.” he winked, gesturing down to the group of middle-aged women.

“okay perv,” you replied light-heartedly, but you couldn’t help your smile when he used your nickname for them. the wine mums were a group of women your friends adored from afar. they weren’t drunk as the name suggested — no alcohol allowed inside the pool fences — but all year round they could be found about town, gossiping and laughing well into the night over glasses of red or white. you couldn’t go an encounter with them without at least one of your girls wistfully dreaming about you all becoming wine mums like them in thirty years. it made your heart glow that james had picked up on the nickname.

you slipped into the pool, sighing contentedly as the water immediately brought you relief. there was a group of children playing some sort of ball game, maybe a casual version of water polo, which habitually splashed you all, but you weren’t in the mood to care.

the chaos only became unpleasant after another group of schoolboys came barrelling in, joining in on whatever game had started. even the wine mums climbed out of the water, muttering complaints about their behaviour.

the pool was overrun with adolescent boys, jumping and thrashing and tossing a few balls around recklessly. james had blown his whistle several times, but he couldn’t exactly stop them from playing around.

the next several moments happened like you were watching from an outside perspective. the exact moment you opened your mouth to speak, the ball smacked into the back of your head with an aggressive thwap, dunking your face under the water, your lungs filling with water as you gasped and floundered. in the most evil twists of fate, the mob of teenage boys flocked over to you in hunt of the ball, pushing you down to the pool floor.

if you were in your right mind you might’ve acted differently, more rationally. but you weren’t in your right mind. you were under the water, being pummelled by at least six pairs of feet with water filling up in your lungs. you weren’t the dramatic type, but you were genuinely scared for your life, the possibility of resurfacing in time rapidly dwindling. your already blurry vision under the surface darkened and you tried to make peace with the fact that you weren’t getting another breath in.

the next thing you knew, your chest was heaving and something warm was resting over your mouth. your eyes shot open, body jerking even more dramatically. james potter, in all of his wet, hot glory, was giving you mouth to mouth as you lay helpless on the hot pool tiles. you’d clearly been out for a few minutes as someone had been able to lay a towel beneath you so your skin didn’t blister and burn on the scorching terracotta.

you hacked and coughed a few more times as james gave you a few inches of space, water spitting up and out of you, splashing pathetically on the floor. you noticed the alarming silence that had fallen over the facility, and looked up to face two dozen pairs of eyes fixated on you. it made you nervous in a way attention never had, fighting your body’s automatic reaction to expel water in order to keep some of your dignity.

“alright, everyone, show’s over. give us some space.” james’ usual boyish mischief was long gone, serious expression only intensifying as you locked eyes. “you go with lily to the medical room. i’ll see you there soon to make sure everything’s really fine, but i’ve gotta wait until someone comes to cover, the pool can’t be unsupervised.”

“i get it,” you sighed dramatically, leaning on lily as she helped you up, “duty calls.” james shot you a look that was clearly meant to be unimpressed, but you could see the hint of amusement in the twitch of his smile.

“i’ll see you soon.”

lily escorted you inside the tiny, outdated medical room, sitting you up on the examination table.

“that was hands down the most dramatic thing that’s ever happened to us,” she said, sitting in the seat usually saved for the parent.

“you’re telling me,” you managed a laugh, “what happened?”

“god, it all happened so fast we could barely keep up. you got separated under that group of dickheads and it was all so loud we couldn’t get them off of you so we had to call james for help. now, i’m only saying this because you’re okay and i know you’d be mad at missing it, but it was the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” you interrupted her retelling with a snort, not not disagreeing with her. “he was full baywatch; olympic level dive, across the pool in seconds, carried you out of the water bridal style like some sort of superhero. i could’ve been watching a movie! did some legit looking cpr while absolutely ripping those boys a new one for being so irresponsible — think one of them cried.”

you laughed at lily’s dramatic recount, imagining it like you’d been conscious to witness.

“i’m so upset!” you jokingly whined, “nothing fun ever happens and the one time it does i’m unconscious! i didn’t even get to see him use all those stupid muscles.”

“you know you can just ask, right? you all tease me for my ego but never use it for good.” james rounded the corner, looking extremely satisfied with himself. you and lily exchanged mortified eye contact at being caught, but both dissolved into embarrassed giggles as james’ disarming nature charmed the room.

“do you want me to stay?” lily asked as james gathered his things to examine you.

“it’s okay,” you shrugged, “i trust the doctor.”

“good, i think marlene and mary are pretty shaken up, i should probably walk them home. call me tonight to prove you’re still alive.” you agreed easily, making lily promise to assure all your friends you were perfectly fine.

that left just you and james alone in the medical room, tension blossoming between you.

“are you okay? really okay?” he asked, beginning the checkup.

“yeah,” you answered, hesitating to think through your reply, “shaken up a bit i think. and my lungs hurt. but you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“good.” james smiled, listening to your heartbeat for abnormalities.

you sat in silence for a few minutes, observing as james did his thing, admiring the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused.

“thanks for saving me,” you broke the silence first.

“don’t thank me, it’s my job.”

“no, seriously. i could have died, james.” james looked up with a start, his eyes finding yours. he couldn’t remember if you’d ever called him by his real name and not some nickname to tease him. he liked the way it sounded coming out of your mouth.

“you know i never would have let you drown, who else would stare at my body all day?”

“shut up.” you swatted his bicep, secretly grateful for the tone shift. you wanted james to know you were sincerely grateful, but it was hard to sit in that vulnerability. you liked having the power in conversation, controlling it so you always had something witty to say. today had been one big knock down, leaving you to feel powerless and out of sorts, like nothing you did was right.

james had you taking deep breaths in and out, describing how they felt and if you could feel any water in your lungs or other disruptions in the process. his hand on your back was burning a print into your skin, his presence beside you a reminder of everything wonderful about him.

you suddenly groaned, throwing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. when james asked for an explanation, you almost couldn’t provide one.

“that is so not how i wanted our first kiss to go.” mouth to mouth? definitely one of the least sexy kisses of all time. blowing air into an unresponsive mouth was certainly not what you’d consider a successful make-out, and you were sure james agreed. to your surprise, james looked amused rather than disgusted or judgemental, his casual demeanour once again bringing you peace.

“nah, that wasn’t a kiss. a kiss is supposed to be fun. and consensual. that was just me saving your life.” you rolled your eyes to cover your smile. you both pretended you couldn’t see the other’s giddy grin at the implication that you did in fact plan on kissing james.

“so what’s the diagnosis, doc?” you changed the subject again, nervous sitting so close to him in a private room (especially when his bare chest was still out in his work uniform, glistening with sweat).

“you’re all good to go, but i’d go to a doctor if you feel weird. be cautious for a few days.” james held out his hand to help you off the bed.

“well if it’s really that bad, i could call on you, right? i’m sure the good doctor wouldn’t mind supervising my bed rest, hm?” your flirting was back with full force, paired with some batted eyelashes for good measure. you delighted in watching james understand the implications, blush rising to sit on his already sun-kissed cheeks.

“what about we start with me walking you home, hm? i don’t think your mother would be pleased with me supervising any activities happening in your bedroom.” you laughed at that, tipping your head back as james took the moment to take your beach tote and sling it on his own shoulder.

“that’s why i have a window, stupid.” you let yourself be led home by james, the two of you laughing and talking until you reached your front door.

you stood on the first step of your small porch, making you closer to level with james’ towering height. you could tell he was about to say something, no doubt flirt or make a dumb joke, but you beat him to it, wrapping your arms tightly around his midsection.

you’d clearly caught him off guard as james took a moment to react, but matched your energy, wrapping you tightly against him until you could practically feel each individual muscle in his body — not that that would be a bad thing.

“i’m really glad you’re okay,” he said softly as you finally pulled away, “you had me really scared there, lovely.” you only smiled in response, unable to produce the same openness that seemed to come so easily from james. you liked to have the last word, though.

“you really earned your title today, baywatch.” you kissed his cheek softly before disappearing into your house to giggle in a way usually entirely unlike you. you were scared this thing you had with james wasn’t just about his lifeguard’s body anymore.

[kingkaizen]

Hellur, saw your post about bllk and I enjoyed it LOL, I was wondering if you could do a fluff one for Sae about how he'd plan his proposal to his beloved?? You can add the same characters you did on your first post!! Teehee

∘ a/n: im so happy that you enjoyed my writing <3 thank you for this adorable request hun! i only included 3 of the boys so ofc lmk if you'd like me to write these for some of the others too!

∘ ft: sae, barou, + karasu

∘ includes: proposals <3

Sae Itoshi

➳ when it comes to proposals, sae isnt one for huge romantic gestures

➳ he believes that matters like this should be intimate, something for just the two of you to witness

➳ sae would choose a setting that would be deeply meaningful to your relationship, making the entire proposal that much more special

...

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple. The beach was quiet, besides the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore. Sae had insisted on taking you here, a place that had always been special to the two of you. It was actually the place where you both said ‘I love you’ for the first time, and a place where countless evenings have been spent with just one another. 

Tonight felt different, though. Sae had been quieter than usual—not unusual for him, but there was a nervous energy about him that you couldn’t quite place. As you walked along the shoreline, your feet sinking slightly into the cool, damp sand, Sae suddenly stopped. His hand, warm and steady, gently tugged at yours to make you face him.

“You know,” he began, his voice softer than the breeze, “I don’t say this enough, but you’ve changed my life in ways that I can’t begin to express.” His aquamarine eyes, always so sharp and calculating, were unusually tender as they met yours. He reached into his pocket, and your heart skipped when he pulled out a small velvet box.

“I’m not good with words, and I’ve never been great at showing how I feel. But you…” He paused, taking a deep breath as his mind raced. “You make me want to be better. For you, for us, and our future.” Sae dropped to one knee, the damp sand clinging to his jeans, but he didn’t seem to care. He opened the box, revealing a simple yet elegant ring, the kind of understated beauty that matched his taste—and yours.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice steady but low, as if the weight of his emotions were grounding him. “Be with me, always.” The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat and the sincerity in his eyes. The setting sun cast a warm glow around him, and for a moment, he looked almost ethereal.

Your answer came easily, your voice catching with emotion as you nodded, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Sae. Always.” He wasn’t one to show too much emotion, despite the years that you’ve known him. So, seeing his walls come completely down for you in this moment was something that tugged at your heart.

Relief washed over his face, and a rare, genuine smile tugged at his lips as he slipped the ring onto your finger. Standing, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as the waves lapped at your feet.

And just like that, Sae Itoshi’s heart, once so guarded, was now entirely yours.

Shoei Barou

➳ barou would definitely want a proposal that is a bit over the top, something that truly matches the vibes of your relationship

➳ nothing he ever does is half-assed, and that’s exactly his mindset going into the planning of it all

➳ he would take you somewhere beautiful and away from home to give you the ultimate experience

...

The evening air was warm, carrying the faint scent of tropical flowers and saltwater. Barou had brought you to an island paradise, a destination that took your breath away the moment you arrived. The resort he chose was as grand as you’d expect from him—luxurious villas, infinity pools, and views that stretched endlessly over turquoise waters. But tonight, Barou had completely outdone himself.

He insisted you dress up for dinner, though he refused to say why. As the sun began to set, a private car picked you up, driving through winding coastal roads until it stopped at a secluded cliffside overlooking the ocean. A pathway lined with lanterns and petals led you to a table for two, illuminated by string lights hanging above. The view was spectacular—stars just beginning to sparkle in the darkening sky, the ocean glowing softly with the last light of the sun.

Barou was already there, waiting for you, dressed sharply in a dark suit that made him look every bit the king he always claimed to be. He didn’t say much, but the way he glanced at you, his usually intense eyes softening, made your heart race. Dinner was amazing, but you could sense he was distracted. He barely touched his food, and his fingers occasionally drummed on the table. It wasn’t like him to look so nervous and out of it.Then, as dessert was served, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden platform, startling you a bit.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and commanding, as he offered you his hand.

You followed him to the edge of the cliff, where the ocean stretched endlessly before you. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled the air, a dramatic symphony that mirrored the tension building in your chest. Barou turned to face you, his expression unreadable at first. But then, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

“You know me,” he began, his voice rough but steady. “I don’t like to share what’s mine. And you… you’re the only one who matters to me.” His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the fierce intensity in them made your knees weak. He dropped to one knee, his large frame somehow looking vulnerable against the vast backdrop of the ocean. Opening the box, he revealed a dazzling ring—a bold design, just like him, but beautiful in a way that made your breath hitch.

“I don’t do things halfway,” he said, his voice softer now but no less firm. “I want you by my side—forever. Be mine, please.”

The words were straightforward, even blunt, but you could hear the raw emotion laced beneath them. This was Barou—unapologetically himself, but giving you all of him at this moment.

Your eyes filled with tears as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

A rare smile broke across his face, fleeting but genuine. He stood, sliding the ring onto your finger, and pulled you into his arms with a strength that left no doubt you were his world. As the waves roared below and the stars lit up the night sky, Barou kissed you, a promise sealed in the most perfect moment.

Karasu Tabito

➳ karasu’s proposal would be one that is both well thought out yet playful

➳ his proposal would be more on the creative side, almost making it some type of game 

➳ he would set it up to be like a mini treasure hunt where the prize is something that you were not expecting

...

The day started like any other adventure with Karasu – spontaneous, lively, and full of surprises. He handed you a small, hand-drawn map over breakfast, his signature playful grin lighting up his face.

“Today’s mission,” he said dramatically, “is to find the greatest treasure in the world. And no, it’s not me, though I know I’m a close second.” You rolled your eyes at his antics, but your heart fluttered with excitement. The map was detailed yet vague, with landmarks you recognized scattered across the city including the movie theater that has seen many of your dates, the park where you had your first picnic, and many more.

Each stop held a small clue — sometimes a riddle, sometimes a quirky message written in his bold handwriting. At the café, a barista handed you a folded note: "You’ve made it this far, adventurer. But can you find where our journey truly began? Hint: The world’s greatest hot chocolate awaits you."

Your heart raced as you pieced together the clues, each one leading you closer to a final destination that Karasu refused to reveal. His energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top commentary every step of the way. Finally, the map led you to the park, where a secluded gazebo sat adorned with fairy lights and flowers. The setting sun bathed everything in a golden glow, and your breath caught at the sight. Karasu was already there, standing in the center with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Congratulations!” he called, throwing his arms wide. “You’ve solved the mystery and found the treasure!”

You laughed, walking toward him. “So, what is it? Jewelry? Hopefully some food?”

He chuckled, pulling a small, intricately decorated chest from behind his back. “The real treasure is in here,” he said, his voice softer now. When he opened it, your heart stopped. Inside was a ring, a stunning piece that sparkled like the stars starting to appear in the sky.

Karasu dropped to one knee, his usual cocky demeanor giving way to something raw and genuine. “The greatest treasure isn’t in a chest or on a map,” he said, looking up at you. “It’s you. You’re my greatest adventure, my best friend, and the only person I want to annoy for the rest of my life.”

He grinned, but his voice cracked slightly as he asked, “So, will you marry me? Be my partner in crime forever?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, barely able to get the words out. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

Karasu jumped to his feet, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around, his laughter ringing out like music. “I knew you’d say yes! Who could resist me?” he teased, though the sheer joy on his face betrayed his bravado.

As the lights twinkled around you and the stars shone overhead, you realized that life with Karasu would always be full of laughter, surprises, and love.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week Four: Azriel

Warnings: 18+ [MDNI], enemies with benefits (mates), fem reader, choking, p in v, reader is kinda a brat, dominant Azriel, no use of Y/N, pet names, slight angst at the end, it's my writing — that's a warning within itself (cringe), all actions are with consent ofc

A/N— Week four was originally Vox (Hazbin Hotel). Refer to this post for the reason why it's not. Azriel was intended to be week five, but he's been moved to week four. The style for this one is also a little different than the others. . . Oopsies. . . Your honor, they're actually in love with each other but they're idiots. . .

Word Count: 2.8K

“Let me in.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine despite the massive argument the two of you had been in less than an hour ago. It was over something so petty that you didn't even remember what it was about, but you were still heated over it.

The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a feeling only he could evoke. It both drove you wild and pissed you off at the exact same time. 

“I know you're in there. Let me in.”

After every argument, Azriel found his way to your door. After every argument, it always ended the same way. There were never apologies. Apologies didn't exist between the two of you. The thought of one alone was highly amusing.

You reached the door with a scowl, twisting the brassy colored knob in your firm grasp. The door swung open, revealing the very male you knew it'd be.

His gaze roamed unabashedly over your form. From your hair to the silken midnight blue nightgown that hugged your curves in all the right places, all the way to the soft glow of your skin in the warm light of your bedroom.

“What?” You hissed, eyes narrowing.

He hummed approvingly, noting how you were still heated from the argument. “Are you going to let me in, or just glare at me?” His voice was deep and raspy, telling you everything you needed to know. The reason why he'd come, just like the other times.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning on your heel to return to your vanity. The door was left wide open; Azriel stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him, watching closely as you walked away from him.

“Do you have any idea how mad you made me out there?” Azriel asked as he walked towards you, his steps quick, but quiet. His body moved with ease, like a prowling animal, every muscle rippling with every step.

“You started it. You pissed me off.” You sharply bit back, stopping in front of the mirror to take off the last remnants of the lipstick that Mor had wanted you to try because she thought it would look good on you. She was right, as usual.

He came up behind you, his large frame towering over you in the mirror. Azriel's hands landed on your hips, pinning you against the vanity in front of you. His hard chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “I may have started it, but you don't know when to shut your little mouth.”

"I thought you liked my mouth wide open." You snapped with a small, barely noticeable rumble of a growl, glaring at him in the mirror as he pressed against you. 

He chuckled and he slid his large hand up your body, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hand almost covering your entire neck.

"I do. But I also like it when you're a good little princess and shut up and listen. I like it when you're good for me." He moved his other hand, letting it run over your thigh.

He moved his lips over your neck, letting his tongue trail over your sensitive skin, feeling your pulse in his hand. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you open that pretty mouth of yours to say something you'll know will piss me off, hm?"

His hand on your thigh moved higher, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your nightgown, running his hand over the smooth skin of your hip.

“Don't act like you don't fucking love it.” You growled, fighting the urge to react to his touch. He didn't deserve to see you melt into his touch. Ha. No.

A dark chuckle fell from his lips, his breath warm on your skin. “You're right. It makes it more fun when I shut you up. . . I like it when you can't hide how much you want me.” His teeth grazed your neck. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

A low chuckle came from him again, he didn't expect anything different from you. You were stubborn and defiant. But he liked it, loved it even. You were the only one who dared to talk back to him, to fight and argue with him. It drove him crazy.

"Such a filthy little mouth." His hand fell from your throat and he spun you around to face him, lifting you up, sitting you on the vanity and standing in between your thighs.

His hands ran up your thighs, his hands disappearing under the fabric of your nightgown, gripping your hips and tugging you closer against his front. He moved his lips to your ear again, his chest now pressed up against yours as his breathing quickened.

"You know, for someone who was so angry a moment ago, you seem to be enjoying my touch now. Your breathing, the way your heart is racing, the way your legs are opened wide for me.”

You growled at the clear smugness in his tone, your eyes narrowing into a glare once the brief shock from his quick movements wore away.

"You know, your little growl sounds more like a moan to me, love." He grabbed your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was. His mouth moved down your neck again, gently nipping and sucking your skin.

"You can stay defiant, but your body is telling a different story.”

Your slender fingers gripped the collar of his clothes and forced him to look at you as your legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. "Stop. Playing. Games. Azriel." You snarled.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he stared down at you with his darkened gaze. He leaned close, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Why don't you just admit you want me, princess?” 

"Maybe I should just go ask Cassian if he'd want to —”

The moment you mention Cassian's name, something snapped inside of him. His grip on you tightened, and he let out a low possessive growl. His hand slid up, wrapping around your neck. "Not. A. Chance. He's not allowed anywhere near you, do you understand me?”

"It seems I've struck a nerve." You spat, a dark grin spreading across your face as you stared up at him.

He let out a low growl, his grip on your throat tightening a bit more. "Cassian won't be able to give you what you need, sweetheart. I know how much you want me right now, and deep down, you know you can't deny it. You're mine."

His hips ground against yours, making you feel the further evidence of how much he wanted you. "You're mine, princess. Say it.”

“Choke.” You muttered darkly.

His hand tightened around your throat, constricting it in a way that had you releasing a soft moan despite the glare set on your face.

He chuckled again, watching that expression on your face. "I can tell how much you want this." His voice was low and gravelly against your ear. His hips continued to grind against yours, putting just the right amount of pressure where you wanted it.

You groaned, which turned into an almost embarrassingly needy moan very quickly. You glared harder, hating the way he reduced you to a writhing mess so easily. . . Knowing what was imminent, you reached down and began unlacing his pants at a tantalizing slow pace.

The fabric came loose in your grasp and he immediately shed them, along with his underwear, tossing them somewhere in the room before he slid a hand back under the hem of your nightgown, expecting to meet the lace fabric of your panties. He let out a low growl when, instead of fabric, his hand immediately met your slick folds. 

You gasped softly as he ran a finger through them before gently thrusting two fingers into you, while his thumb rubbed gently on your clit, his other hand finding its way back to your throat as if it was magnetic. 

He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, listening to the sweet sounds you tried and failed to stifle. 

“You're so desperate for me, aren't you? You need me, don't you?” 

You could only moan softly as his fingers curled deliciously within you.

“Say it. Say you need me. Say you're mine.” 

"Yours." You gasped out a moan. "I'm all yours — GODS, I need you, Az. . ."

He loved hearing those words from you, loved hearing you admit how much you needed him. . . Loved seeing you completely surrendering yourself to him. "Good girl. That's it, princess. I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.”

He dipped his head down, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin on your neck, as his hand continued to move in that steady rhythm between your thighs. "You're all mine, princess. No one else gets to touch you, to make you needy and desperate for release like this. Say it. Tell me you're mine.”

"I'm yours." You moaned, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction than what he was giving you. 

You hated how in control he was.

You hated the way his fingers alone made the heat within you build, threatening to snap.

You hated the way you didn't really hate any of it.

He grinned as he continued to leave marks on your neck, moving down to your chest. "Louder, princess. I want you to say it, louder. I want you to admit how much you need me." His hand between your legs moved faster, applying more pressure, knowing it will drive you crazy.

You let out a loud, needy moan. "Need you so bad, Az. . . So bad. . . Please. . !" You gasped.

You needed him. You hated how much you needed him, but at the end of the day, the two of you were mates, destined to be, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh words exchanged could turn into soft, reassuring words. . . Unlikely, but possible. . . Maybe. 

"Good girl. That's it, princess. I like it when you're needy like this. I love knowing that you're all mine. I love hearing you begging for me." He says against your chest, his mouth moving down to one of your sensitive mounds. He continued to suck and lick, his hand between your legs still moving steadily, but he could feel how eager you were, how impatient you were getting. "Be a good girl for me, princess. Tell me what you want. You need to ask for it.”

“Fuck me, Az. . . Please. . .”

He chuckled, a low, possessive growl coming from his chest. There was an intense look on his face as he slowly moved his hands away from their placements — stealing his fingers away from your core before you could come around them —  gently grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward off the vanity. With ease, he pushed you up against the wall next to the mirror, pressing himself against you.

He moved his hips forward, letting you feel how hard you made him, letting you feel how much he'd been wanting you. "I'm going to make you remember who you belong to. Who you've always belonged to." He looked into your eyes, his expression full of desire and possession, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You glared slightly but gasped softly as he pressed forward, entering you inch by inch. 

He let his mouth roam over your neck again, moving down to the top of your chest, gently nipping and sucking on the skin, leaving marks that would be visible in the morning. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly moved in and out of you.

"You're mine, princess. You're mine, not only in this room, but out there too. Everyone needs to know who you belong to.”

"Fuck you." You ground out, fighting back a moan at how he was making you feel. But the moan spilled out anyway.

He grinned against your skin, knowing he was getting to you. "That's it, princess. You can try and be defiant, but you'll eventually break. You'll break for me, like you always do. That mouth of yours is always going to end up wide open, just for me, whether you admit it or not." He moved his head up, looking into your eyes, his intense stare holding you captive.

You moaned as he hit a certain spot before growling and capturing his lips in a fiery, lustful kiss. It was new territory, but something within you told you to do it. . . Perhaps it was that taunting golden string tethering your souls together. . . Or maybe you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.

He quickly took control of the kiss, pushing your head up against the wall as he dominated you. His hips moved harder and faster against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, combining with the sound of your and his moans.

"You're mine, princess. No one else can make you feel like this.”

You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was right. No one could. No one would.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching your face twist into ecstasy and pleasure, hearing your moans and sounds fill the room. He loved how shamelessly you gave yourself over to him, how you couldn't fight it, no matter how much you'd tried before. He loved how you were his.

He moved his hands from your hips, one gripping your neck again, his fingers lightly closing around your throat, the other moving to your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, giving him a deeper angle to work with.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned louder. Gods, he knew your body far too well. Your desires. Just the right way to push your buttons — just the right angle to thrust mercilessly into you. 

He loved the sound of your moans, the way your body was responding to him, the way your eyes rolled back when he pushed you right to the edge. He knew you better than anyone else, and he loved that he had this power over you, that you willingly gave into that power, even if you didn't like it a few minutes ago. He knew you needed this, just as much as he needed you. 

He leaned forward, whispering against your ear, his voice low and gruff. "You're mine... say it. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

"Shut up." You moaned out with a slight groan.

He chuckled against your skin. You could always try to resist him, but you'd never be able to win. He loved how stubborn you were, but he also loved being able to take that stubbornness away from you, to make you completely surrender to him.

"You just can't help defying me, can you, princess? But then again, I know exactly how to set you straight, don't I?" He tightened the grip around your neck, his fingers pressing against your pulse point, knowing how wild it would make you. 

"Fuck — I'm yours." You moaned pathetically. "I fucking hate you, but I'm yours. . .”

"That's right, princess. You're mine. Now, and always. You can hate me and fight me all you want, but deep down, you know that you belong with me..” He continued to move against you, faster and harder, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He moved his hand down, his thumb gently tracing slow circles against your clit, adding even more sensation and pleasure. 

You knew he could tell you were close. He always could. The way your breath caught. The way you subtly met his thrusts. The way you clenched around him so sinfully and your eyes fluttered closed.

"Give in, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel all of this.”

Then pleasure crashed into you as the steadily growing, hot coil snapped and you fell over the edge right into an orgasm, your breathing heavy as you slowly began coming down from the high.

Seeing you completely lose yourself sent him over the edge, his release intense and powerful, his body going taut as he let himself go inside you, his forehead falling against yours as he leaned against you, trying to catch his breath.

He took a few moments to regain his bearings, his body still pressed up against yours as his hands gently held your hips, still holding you in place.

There was some part of you that wanted to ask him to stay, but as he slowly separated the two of you, setting your feet back on the smooth hardwood floor with shaky legs, before going to locate his clothes that he had hastily discarded in the heat of the moment, you knew this was how it was. 

He dressed, sparing a quick glance back at you before leaving your room. Wordlessly. Leaving you with his cum slowly spilling out of you. . . You also knew that you'd have to start another argument with him tomorrow. . . Just so you could have him close again.

Because even you knew that you didn't truly hate him.

[airybcby]

HIYAA i really wanted to send a request for your more than married event 😛 can i request Karasu and 🍑🍦thank you xx

HEYYY!! ofc !

a karasu tabito peachy ice cream :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you can hear it in the silence

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — karasu tabito x gn! reader, gn! reader, best friends to lovers, nickname like 'babe' used (once), they are the silliest billies, flirting, oblivious friends to lovers

♡ synopsis — karasu tobito had always just been your best friend, but could this program change that?

When you stepped into the apartment for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see lounging on the couch was Karasu Tabito.

He looked up from his phone, his signature smirk appearing the moment he saw you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s my lucky partner.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Tabito? You’re in this program?”

“Surprised?” he teased, leaning back like he owned the place. “What can I say? I thought I’d add ‘model husband’ to my list of talents.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your bag down. “Yeah, that’s a real stretch.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. It was so him—effortlessly charming, with just a hint of mischief.

You and Karasu had been friends for years, ever since middle school. He was the kind of person who lit up every room he walked into, his confidence and humor making him impossible to ignore.

But while most people saw only his cocky, carefree exterior, you knew there was more to him than that. You’d seen him at his lowest, too—nursing injuries, doubting himself, pushing harder than anyone else to chase his dream.

And now, here you were, thrown into a “marriage” with him.

“What are the odds?” he said, still grinning as you unpacked.

“Apparently higher than I thought,” you muttered, trying not to think too hard about how small the apartment was—or how close you’d be to him for the next few weeks.

At first, it wasn’t much different from hanging out as friends.

Karasu made it easy, cracking jokes and treating the whole thing like some elaborate prank. “You know,” he said one evening while you cooked dinner, “we could totally mess with the other couples. Pretend we’re, like, madly in love or something. Really sell it.”

You snorted. “You think you can pull that off?”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d wounded him. “I’m offended. I’m very convincing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

Without missing a beat, he turned to you, his expression shifting into something softer, more serious. “Babe,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re the only one for me.”

You froze, heat rushing to your face. “Okay, stop,” you said, shoving him lightly.

He laughed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

As the days went on, the lines between “pretend” and “real” started to blur.

It was in the little things—how he always made sure your coffee was exactly how you liked it, or how he stayed up late to help you with the program’s assignments, even when he didn’t have to.

And then there were the moments you couldn’t ignore, like the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, or how his teasing felt less like a joke and more like a test.

You tried to brush it off. After all, this was Karasu. He flirted with everyone.

But then one night, everything changed.

It was late, and the two of you were sitting on the couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “This whole thing. I’m glad it’s with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Tabito…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I know I act like an idiot sometimes, but…you mean a lot to me. More than I probably let on.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m tired of pretending it’s not true. And because I’m an idiot who doesn’t want to lose his best friend without at least trying.”

“Trying what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “This. Us. Whatever this could be.”

You kissed him first.

It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t part of the simulation. But the moment your lips met, everything else faded away—the program, the rules, the fear of ruining your friendship.

It was just you in this moment, save for the little point total displayed in your living room going up by 10 points.

For the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The program ended a week later, and you both stood outside the apartment, staring at the door as if crossing that threshold would change everything.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What now?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. “Now we figure it out.”

He grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Good. Because I’m not letting you get rid of me that easily.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

Whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together.

GOD I LOVE HIM

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[shuenkio]

𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾? | 성훈 -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

Paring: Sunghoon X M!reader

Synopsis: A friend benefits but you have the audacity to ask him to be your boyfriend again when he thought he's already yours?

Genre: Fluff. Cw: a bit freaking at last.

Non proof read. English is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

You have always been a hater of friends with benefits for your whole life but it seems like when it was Sunghoon, he was your exception. Why not though when the Park Sunghoon guy is the most hottest and gorgeous man you've ever seen in this whole campus. Ofc you did accept his deal without even thinking.

On the other hand, Talking about how Sunghoon got his nose on you, it was like lightning struck love, the first sight he saw in you he must get you around his fingers, instantly, the thought to own you was so powerful but not until he realizes if he ask you to be his, just by the first appearance of you, would probably be so weird to even sound so that's why he come up with a deal instead. "Friend with benefits." They both fucked, make out, kissed, hang out like a real damn couple and that's not enough to make you feel the spark, to know is was all Sunghoon silly intentions, oblivious even when the taller is completely obvious but not until—

It's been a long time, days turn into week, week turn into months for 12 times. It was a cold evening when Sunghoon asked you out as usual for a date. Excited about consuming you, once the clock strikes 7, you're all good to go, all fit and clean. As if he's your soon-to-be boyfriend.

"aren't you giddy than usual? Take the wrong medicine again!?" Stare down at your sight, scanning with his brows tied together, either he was suspicious or he was weird out by your sudden side. Shrug your small shoulder, you adjust your top while palm close together, smiling at him like an awkward puppy. Sunghoon jotted his lip unsure before driving them both to the destination.

The dinner went off smoothly, the atmosphere was your favorite. A warm glow from candles and fairy lights bathes the cozy dining table. A linen-covered table holds elegant plates, steaming dishes, and crystal glasses. Soft music hums in the background, blending with quiet laughter and the clink of silverware. Plush chairs invite lingering, as wine pours smoothly and the evening unfolds in gentle warmth. you finished your dinner before Sunghoon does, to gather your heart and encourage to ask him something you've always wanted to. It's like he was a quiz you were the student, both nervous and excited, can't explain how much your cheeks hurt from the thought of him, would accept you even if there's a low chance you think he'd rejected you, but give it a shot right? At least worth a try.

Your peculiar behavior is odd enough to make him dizzy, to ask what's exactly what's wrong with you for real.

"okay m/n tell me what's going on with you? You need more money? Robux? Or what? You weird tf out of me" Sunghoon claim, swirling his glass of wine as he gulped down into his throat, clicked his tongues off of the strong tastes.

"you won't be mad if I have to let my thoughts out?" Your jaw tense up, feeling anxious that you could bite off your finger nails. The answer is only to burn Sunghoon's curiosity more. He finally let out a deep stressing sigh, composing himself to what will come toward him with your sweet mouth.

"I think I like you... Boyfriend?" face burning, quickly hides behind your hands, fingers barely able to contain your own nervous tremble. Your heart races—too fast, too loud—as the weight of this confession lingers between them. Sunghoon roots in his seat, with an easy posture, raises an eyebrow and glances at you with a half-smile, as if the situation is no big deal.

"Wait," Sunghoon says nonchalantly,

"I thought we already were dating?am I dumb or you are" He shrugged casually, as if the confession wasn’t anything new, Sunghoon tone light and carefree. He messaged his temple, so stunned with this encounter.

"I mean... You think we are? I— that's good" face turning crimson, scratches the back of your head awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Your gaze flickers everywhere but at him, unable to hide the nervousness building up inside. You just nod slowly, unsure if he'd just made things more complicated or clearer.

"you're still not sure, maybe I should fuck until my dick leaking nonstop of you instead to know if we dating or not— aigoo"

Funtalk: I might do my experience this week 😝 guess who in skz? Well idk too—

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Eight

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, fluff (iktr), Jos Verstappen, mentions of being touch starved.

Notes — Lando Norris (Rizzless, full of yearning & very dumb).

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2020

The house was too quiet.

Not just empty, but hollow. 

Amelia sat curled up on the carpet of the living room, knees tucked to her chest, her golf ball rolling in one hand; forward, back, forward, back. The familiar weight and texture helped, but only a little. Her thoughts were louder than usual. Less cooperative.

She had the lights dimmed. She always did when her parents weren’t home. No overheads. Just the little amber glow of the corner lamp, warm enough not to audibly hum.

It was nearing 1 a.m. but she hadn’t moved in hours. Alex’s latest simulation results were still open on her laptop, long since idle. A blanket had fallen half off the couch behind her. Her phone sat face-down on the rug, and every so often she’d stare at it. 

Her brain kept doing it… that thing where it picked up one moment from months ago and turned it over and over like a stone with a crack in it. Lando smiling at someone else across the paddock the day after he stopped answering her texts. Lando walking past her in the paddock, head down, pretending not to see her.

She knew, rationally, that not everything was her fault. That sometimes people made decisions for reasons they couldn’t articulate, and sometimes those reasons had nothing to do with her. She knew that. But her brain didn’t care about logic at 1 a.m.

And so she sat there, golf ball in hand, spiralling quietly. 

Then, without planning to, she reached for her phone. Flipped it over. Opened their last thread, months cold, and started to frantically type. 

—

iMessage — 12:35am

Amelia If I asked you to come over right now, would you?

She stared at the message. Thumb hovering. No. That wasn’t right. It didn’t explain. He wouldn’t understand.

She deleted it. Started over.

Amelia: I’m overthinking again. I’m trying to blame myself for things I logically know aren’t my fault. But I’m stuck in it. And I don’t want to be alone. I know it’s late. I’m sorry. But if you’re awake, and if you still care, I’d like you to come over. Please.

She paused. Shook her head. Deleted it all.

She didn’t even know if he was in the country. That would be a better place to start.

Amelia: Are you in Woking?

Sent.

She dropped the phone onto the carpet and curled tighter around herself, her golf ball now tucked under her chin. She didn’t expect a reply.

But two minutes later, the screen lit up.

Lando Norris: Yes…?

Her fingers shook, but she didn’t let herself hesitate this time.

Amelia: I’m home alone. Come over. I am still angry at you, but I’m ready to talk to you now.

A beat. 

Lando Norris: Ok im omw like right now

She exhaled. Just once.

And waited.

— 

By the time Lando arrived, twenty-five minutes later, Amelia had turned off every light in the downstairs of the house. The golf ball was on the kitchen counter. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands. She didn’t meet him at the door; just unlocked it and left it slightly open before retreating to the living room.

She heard it click shut behind him, heard the rustle of his shoes coming off, his jacket too, and then his tentative footsteps.

“Hey,” he said from the hallway.

“Hello,” she replied, without looking up.

He hovered. “Do you want to shout at me?”

“No.” She frowned. She hated shouting, didn’t do it unless she couldn’t control it. 

Lando let out a soft, nervous laugh and made his way into the living room. She was curled on the far end of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, legs tucked tight. Her face was mostly shadowed except for the flicker of the lamp light.

He stood there, just looking at her, like he couldn’t believe that he was really stood there and the whole thing wasn’t some vivid dream. “You meant it? That you’re ready to talk?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” she said flatly. 

“Right. Yeah, obviously,” he murmured, sinking into the opposite end of the couch, careful not to get too close. “Sorry. I just… when you texted me, I didn’t even think. I just got in the car.”

She looked at him then. Really looked.

“Did you speed?” she asked, sharply.

Lando blinked at her, a bit startled. “No!”

“Because if you crashed on the way over here, I’d feel responsible,” she said plainly. “And I don’t want to feel responsible for you right now.”

He winced. “Okay. That’s… yeah. Okay.”

Silence fell between them. Amelia ran her thumb across the edge of the blanket, grounding herself with the texture.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” she asked, abruptly, because he obviously didn’t realise that she’d been waiting for him to fill the silence. “Why didn’t you just say, ‘I don’t want to be your friend anymore’? Why did you ghost me?”

Lando let his head drop back against the couch. “I know. I was just… a proper idiot,” he muttered. “But I didn’t know what to say.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What does that even mean? You’re here, aren’t you? So you need to say something, or maybe you should just leave.”

He let out a deep breath, scrubbing a hand through his hair, looking at her, his eyes soft and hazy. “It means I’m twenty and stupid and scared and people were telling me what to do and I listened to them. And then I missed you so much it made me sick, but by then I didn’t know how to fix it.”

She frowned at him. “Who was telling you what to do? Our dads?”

He nodded slowly. “And Max—” She sucked in a sharp breath, and he immediately clarified. “Fewtrell. Not Verstappen.” Her jaw unclenched, but only slightly, the tension in her shoulders still high and wired. “Your Max told me I was an idiot,” Lando went on, voice softer now. “My Max just… didn’t get it. I don’t think he meant any harm, he just… he thought this was all just a bit of fun, y’know? A risk.” He looked at her then, eyes searching. “But it wasn’t. Not to me. And not to you either. I know that now.”

“That’s so stupid.” She said, her voice quiet, staring at him with… something burning in her chest that she didn’t recognise. “I- I was never a risk. I would’ve been happy just to be your friend.” She told him, then shrugged. ”You were just stupid and didn’t talk to me… are you planning on still being stupid?” She asked. 

He grinned weakly, shuffling closer to her end of the sofa. “Not that stupid. Just, like… medium stupid now. My normal level.”

She didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched. A little. Maybe.

“I need to know what you want,” she told him, voice low, a little uncertain. “I need clarity. Definitions. Parameters.”

“Okay,” Lando said instantly, sitting up a little straighter. “I want to be your friend again. But I also want to be the person you come to first when you need something. And… I want to take you on dates. And I want to be allowed to be jealous when I see you with other guys.”

Amelia blinked at him. Frowned. “That’s not very logical.”

“Nope,” he said, with a crooked smile. “But it’s honest.”

She went quiet, considering. Calculating. “You want exclusivity.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I want you.”

She tilted her head slightly, watching him like she was trying to determine if he was being serious. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“I know,” he said, quieter now. The grin softened into something more sincere, if a little self-deprecating. “But I’ll prove I’ve learned my lesson, yeah? I won’t let anyone else’s opinion get in my head again. Just… we can let this be ours. The only people that matter in this are me and you.”

Her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the blanket in her lap. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “That sounds… nice.”

Lando’s eyes softened. “I can make it nice for you. I promise.”

She looked at him for a long time, visibly sorting through every word, every possibility.

Then, finally, she swallowed and said, “I want you to hug me.”

Lando looked stunned, eyes going big. “What— I— Right now?”

“Yes.” She nodded. 

He didn’t hesitate. He shifted over, cautiously, as if afraid she might change her mind. He wrapped his arms around her, gently at first, but she tensed.

“No,” she said. “Tighter.”

He pulled her closer, arms firm around her now, cheek pressing into her hair. She didn’t resist. In fact, she melted into him with a shudder of… relief? That’s what it felt like. 

Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. “I still don’t forgive you.”

“I know,” he murmured, and then kissed the top of her head, just because he could. “I’ll keep being sorry for as long as it takes.”

—

Amelia sat across from Adrian, a half-finished plate of risotto in front of her, her attention fixed on the data tablet between them.

“I’m still not convinced about the changes to the front wing,” she mumbled, tapping twice on the screen to enlarge the image. “We’re losing more downforce at medium-speed corners than we’re gaining on the straights.”

Adrian leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. “Eh. I accounted for that. It’s a tradeoff, but one I’m willing to make on circuits like Baku. The trick will be making it modular enough to swap depending on track characteristics.”

“Or,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “we build in a collapsible adjustment into the lower element. Something passive. Nothing movable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to trick the air?”

She shrugged. “I want to learn how to communicate with it.”

Adrian chuckled, a quiet, almost imperceptible sound. “You are dangerous when you’re well-fed, Miss Brown.”

“And you’re indulgent with your compliments when I’m right about something,” she shot back, just as quietly.

They were silent for a while after that. Amelia swiped between sketches on her iPad, adjusting airflow lines and drag coefficients with brisk finger movements. Adrian seemed to procure a pen out of nowhere in order to scribble onto a napkin.

Then came the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Amelia looked up and immediately went stiff. “Dad.” She said. 

Zak Brown stood at the edge of the table, hands in his pockets, his usual confidence dampened into something smaller, more hesitant. “Sorry to interrupt. Adrian.”

Adrian nodded politely. “Zak.”

“I was hoping,” Zak said, directing the next part at his daughter, “to talk. Just for a minute.”

Amelia didn’t answer immediately. She just stared at him, expression unreadable. She looked more like her mother in that moment; sharp, poised, utterly unmoved.

Adrian glanced at her, then stood, placing his napkin beside his plate. “I’ll go check on the, ah, the thing. Don’t let him steal my dessert, Amelia.” 

She gave him a tight nod. “I won’t.”

Zak slid into the vacated seat. He looked so out of place in the sleek Red Bull setup.

“You look good,” he offered, gently.

“That’s irrelevant,” Amelia said flatly. She folded her hands in her lap, her expression unmoved. “What do you want?”

Zak blinked. “I just wanted to talk. No team hats. No politics. Just me. Your dad.”

Her jaw flexed.

Outside, the drone of engines buzzed faintly. A plane banked overhead. The world kept spinning.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she said, each word cut with the precision of a scalpel. “You were mad at me for joining Red Bull. Now I’m mad at you for thinking that you had any right to be mad at me for doing it.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“If you didn’t believe in me, you could’ve just said so,” she continued. “But instead you decided to hide how valuable I was — you even managed to hide it from me.”

Zak looked stricken, like he hadn’t expected the blunt edge of her precision to turn on him. “It wasn’t like that,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to hold you back. I didn’t.”

“You didn’t hold me back,” she corrected. “You just… made me feel like less than I am.” She pushed her plate slightly away and picked up her tablet again. “If you want to speak to me next time, send an email. Don’t come to my workplace uninvited.”

Zak hesitated. His lips parted, some apology or explanation balancing on the edge of his tongue, but it was too late. She was already reading again, eyes back on CFD simulations, focus recalibrated.

Eventually, he nodded and stood. Quietly. Almost like he knew he was walking away from something that might never be the same again. 

Adrian returned a moment later, setting a fresh cup of coffee down in front of her.

“Thanks,” Amelia murmured, not looking up.

He sat down again, resuming his notes. 

They fell back into silence.

Only this time, it was heavier. And Amelia, despite her fixed stare on the airflow diagrams, felt all out of sorts. 

— 

Max had finished the Styrian Grand Prix on the podium, but it wasn’t enough. Not to him. Not with how close the win had been… close, but not close enough.

She’d sat with him after the race in his driver’s room, quiet while he paced, letting him unload every frustration, every tenth he felt he’d lost. She wrote it all down, every word, every critique, in the little black notebook she kept just for days like this.

Tomorrow, she’d take it to Adrian. They’d sit down, just the two of them, and dissect the upcoming update package slated for three races from now. She already had ideas, ways to tweak the beam wing, something about airflow around the bargeboards that had been bothering her all weekend.

But for now…

The movie played quietly in the background, some old comedy Lando had picked from Netflix, but Amelia barely registered the dialogue. Her legs were tucked beneath her, her back propped against the headboard, while Lando sprawled out on his stomach at the foot of the bed, idly flicking a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in his mouth.

He missed half of them. She didn't say anything. She liked the way he grinned every time he caught one, proud of himself even for something so silly.

Amelia’s hands were clenched into fists beneath the throw blanket. Not from anger, but from restraint.

She wanted to touch him.

It was driving her slowly, irreversibly mad; how close he was. The slope of his shoulder. The way his hair flopped messily across his forehead. The familiar line of his jaw. Her brain kept imagining her hands pressing there, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades, her arms slipping around his waist.

She hadn’t touched anyone in days. She hadn’t touched him since Woking.

And her skin itched with it. That deep, crawling, ache-for-pressure kind of need that always built when she tried to push it down.

“I miss you being in my garage,” Lando said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Her eyes flicked to him. “You still see me every day in the paddock.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at her. “It’s weird not having you with my engineers. They miss you too, you know. The McLaren team. They still talk about you all the time. Especially Chris.”

Amelia stared at him. “Chris used to say all the time that I was intimidating.”

“Yeah,” Lando grinned. “He still says that. But now it’s in a weirdly affectionate way. Not sure I like it.” He pulled a face.

Amelia allowed herself a small smile, eyes flicking over him with quiet curiosity. Ah. There it was; that little edge in his voice. The subtle shift in his posture.

So he really was serious. That jealousy he’d mentioned before wasn’t a passing joke. It was real, simmering just beneath the surface, slipping out in moments like this.

He was a very jealous man.

And apparently, not very good at hiding it.

Thinking about his jealousy had been a distraction, brief, fleeting, but now even that was tangled up in it. The way he got all possessive and fidgety when she mentioned other people, the way his jaw tensed when she told him about her relationships within the Red Bull team, the way he looked at her like she was already his, and no one else had a chance.

It should’ve annoyed her. It did annoy her. A little. But mostly… it just made her feel warmer. More aware of him. Of how close he was, right there beside her on the hotel bed, limbs relaxed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, expensive watch catching the soft light from the TV.

She clenched her toes. Pressed her knees together. Tried to focus on the movie. On the background music, on the plot, on literally anything else.

It didn’t work.

“You’re really quiet tonight,” Lando told her, eyebrows raised slightly. “What’s going on in that smarty-pants brain of yours?”

Amelia hesitated. Thought about brushing it off. About lying. But that wasn’t how they’d agreed to do this. They were supposed to always be honest with each other.

“I want to touch you,” she said plainly.

Lando froze. Then blinked. “Uh. Okay.”

She winced slightly, pulling the blanket higher. “Not like that. Not; well. I mean. Not necessarily. I just—” she exhaled sharply. “My brain wants pressure. From you. And I can’t focus on anything else.”

His face shifted; concern, understanding, something tender blooming behind his eyes.

“You could’ve just said something,” he murmured, sitting up. “You know you don’t have to ask twice with me.”

Her voice was small. “I don’t want to cross a line.”

He reached out then, slow, letting her see his hand coming before it landed lightly on her blanket-covered shin. “Hey. You tell me what you need. You’re the boss here.”

She stared at his hand for a moment. “Can I lie on you?”

He blinked. “Like…on me?”

“Yes.” She nodded. 

“…Okay, yeah. Yeah. That’s, uh, that’s cool.”

Within seconds, she was curling into him. Her cheek pressed to his chest, her arms wound tight around his waist, and he stilled completely; like she was something precious and breakable.

“More,” she mumbled into his chest. He smelled good, like mens body wash and Dove bar soap. “Tighter.”

He obeyed instantly, arms coming around her, pulling her flush against him. She melted. Her muscles unspooled. Her fingers unclenched.

Lando dipped his head to press his cheek against her hair. “Is this good?”

She nodded, face buried in the soft fabric. “Yes.”

—

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2020 F1 Grid

George R. Can someone tell Amelia she left her iPad again please 😭

Charles L. She left it on a tyre stack next to the Ferrari garage earlier today

Carlos S. She treats technology like it’s disposable

Alex A. Not me tempted to open it and check her car design sketches...

Max V. Don’t. I’ll come get it, George.

Lando N. I’ll get it.

Valtteri B. 👀👀👀

Pierre G. Hold up what

George R. That was awkwardly timed

Charles L. Lando I thought you had ghosted her?

Alex A. He def ghosted her. That was a thing.

Max V. He did.

Daniel R. Uh oh. Maxie is angry 😬

Lando N. Okay yeah I did, but I apologised. We’re cool now, okay? So leave it out.

Carlos S. Grid never forgets

Sebastian V. Lando, she has forgiven you? Are you… friends now?

Lewis H. Is Max okay with this? Because I’m not okay with this.

Max V. No. I am not okay with it. DAT IS LETTERLIJK MIJN ZUS. ALS HIJ HAAR WEER PIJN DOET, VERMOORD IK HEM. (That is literally my sister. If he hurts her again, I will kill him.)

George R. Hands up if you just Google Translated that

Charles L. LORE DROP

Kimi R. Ah Max, is she another of Jos’ love children?

Alex A. They’re not actually related guys

Daniel R. No, just emotionally adopted Verstappen-style. Honestly, that’s more terrifying

Lando N. I SAID I’M BEING SERIOUS ABOUT HER NOW, OKAY? I’M NOT STUPID ANYMORE. I MEAN IT.

Lewis H. You’re twenty.

George R. Statistically, you’re probably still stupid

Daniel R. I’m not taking sides, but also… Max’s unhinged brother energy is kind of beautiful

Charles L. Agreed. Threatening murder in Dutch has a certain poetry

George R. So who is coming to get the iPad?

Max V. Me. She needs it for her work. At Red Bull. Where she belongs.

Lando N. Fucking hell, mate I get it Don’t need to rub it in.

— 

The hum of the Red Bull garage wrapped around Amelia. The RB16 sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights, half a dozen mechanics orbiting around it. She stood off to the side, tablet in hand, stylus between her teeth, watching the numbers stream in from Max’s first systems run.

She was mid-sentence on a note to Adrian, something about rear tire temps in sector three, when a quiet, unmistakably firm voice cut through her concentration.

“Amelia.”

She turned. Jos Verstappen.

She hadn’t seen him up close since the day she signed with Red Bull. Now, in the garage, he looked the same; flat expression, arms loosely folded, presence heavy despite his silence. 

“Mister Verstappen,” she said, adjusting her posture. “Hello.”

His eyes swept over the tablet in her hand, then to the car. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’m always busy,” Amelia agreed. “That’s the job.”

“I heard the changes to the under-tray and rear brake ducts came from you,” he said. “They’re working very well. Max is impressed.”

She squinted. “Of course they’re working. I ran the data half a dozen ways before I even suggested the update. I don’t like to waste people’s time on bad ideas.”

His mouth twitched. “You’re very confident.”

“No,” she said, finally glancing up from her tablet to look at him. “I’m correct. That’s different.”

Jos let out a low, quiet huff of amusement. “I like people who say what they think.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t see the point in saying anything else. It’s inefficient.”

That made something flicker in his expression; curiosity, maybe. Or calculation.

“Max appreciates honesty,” he added, watching her closely.

“I’m not honest for his sake.”

He paused. Then looked back to the car. “You’ve helped improve it. That’s obvious. Which is why I’ll ask this directly.”

She glanced up again, wary now. “Okay.”

“I want you focused entirely on Max,” Jos said. “Not just as a Red Bull employee. As part of his team. Private. Full-time. I’m prepared to make it official. I’ll buy out your Red Bull contract if I need to.”

Amelia blinked once. “No.”

He didn’t flinch. “That’s a quick answer.”

“Because I’ve thought about this before,” she said simply. “And my answer’s the same. I’m not leaving Adrian.”

“You could build your own legacy with Max.”

“I can still do that while working for Red Bull,” she replied. “Adrian lets me experiment. He listens when I speak. And I want to learn everything he knows before I try leading anything on my own.”

Jos’s jaw ticked. “And you think that outweighs the opportunity I have put in front of you?”

“I think long-term. Adrian Newey is the greatest car designer alive. Every day I work with him is an honour. And if Max wants a championship, he’ll get it. I’ll be part of that. But I will do it with Adrian or I will not do it at all.”

“You're ambitious,” he muttered, after a heavy pause. “But not greedy. That’s rare.”

She didn’t answer. Just turned back to her tablet, fingers swiping across the screen.

Jos studied her. His gaze was heavy, pressing. Then, finally, he said, “If you were my dochter, I wouldn’t let your talent go to waste. I’d protect it. Nurture it. Push you toward bigger and better.”

Amelia looked up again, cool and unreadable. “I would not be able to work with Max if I was your daughter. That would be a conflict of interest.” 

That finally made him laugh. Quiet and sharp and vaguely dangerous. A glimmer of respect in the way his eyes narrowed. “I’ll respect your decision,” he said at last. “But I’ll ask again.”

“I’ll probably still say no.” She shrugged.

Jos gave a single nod. Then turned and walked away without another word, disappearing into the back of the garage. 

Amelia scrunched up her nose, muttered something under her breath, and went back to her data like nothing had happened.

She didn’t notice the wide-eyed engineers still watching her — silent, stunned, impressed. 

— 

Ted Kravitz’s Qualifying Notebook – Hungarian Grand Prix 2025

"Alright, let’s get into it. We’re here at the Hungarian Grand Prix, and there’s something on everyone's minds right now. Well, a couple of things, but one of them in particular is the ever-growing interest in Amelia Brown."

He flicks through his notes briefly. 

"Now, Amelia is the new kid on the block for Red Bull. Already making waves after just a few races. We’ve seen some huge improvements to the car's performance, especially with that under-tray and rear brake duct work she introduced. The engineers and Max, they’re all praising her contributions. But let’s be clear though, this isn’t just about her technical brilliance. It’s about her presence on the grid."

Cut to some shots of Amelia in the garage, clipboard in hand, as she discusses the car’s setup with Adrian Newey, looking fully unaware of the chaos surrounding her.

"Now, there’s something interesting happening here. When she first joined Red Bull, everyone was wondering how this would affect the dynamics, and we’ve certainly seen some whispers. Most notably, there’s been talk of Jos Verstappen eyeing Amelia pretty closely. I mean, this guy is never shy with his opinions, and his recent conversation with Amelia raised some eyebrows."

Cut to a clip of Jos and Amelia talking in the garage, with Jos gesturing animatedly and Amelia, typically blunt, responding with equal intensity.

Ted shifts, looking across the paddock, scanning the crowd of drivers and engineers.

“And let’s not forget that there’s still some tension between Amelia and McLaren, her father’s team. No doubt about it. There’s been a fair amount of speculation about her change in team and what exactly went down, but no one’s talking specifics. We know McLaren won’t love losing someone of her calibre to Red Bull, but Amelia's made it clear that it’s all about the opportunity to work with Adrian, not about the politics. Still, you can feel the strain."

Cut back to Ted, his face becoming more animated as he looks towards something happening across the paddock.

"But here’s the kicker, folks. As I’m talking about this tension, I see something that maybe changes the narrative just a little bit."

The camera follows Ted’s eyes as they zoom in on Amelia and Lando, who are sitting casually on a wall near the McLaren and Red Bull hospitality areas. Lando’s laughing at something, and Amelia, her arms crossed, is smiling; not just her usual polite smile, but a real one. 

"Well, well, well... Looks like there may not be as much tension between Amelia and McLaren, or between her and Lando, as we thought, eh? That, my friends, is a sight we didn't expect to see so soon. Seems like the ghosts of the past are being put to bed, at least for now."

He grins, looking almost conspiratorial with the camera.

"And that’s all we’ve got for now, folks. The grid’s about to get busy with pre-race preparations, but keep an eye on Amelia. She’s making her mark, and I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of her, both in the garage and in the paddock. Could be a very exciting future ahead for her in this sport and beyond.”

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