#and what was the first thing in my inbox this morning?

[pupyuj]

→ “pick your poison.” || kim jiwon x reader fic.

— your mentor, the ingenious witch kim jiwon, has claimed to have made a breakthrough in her most challenging research yet and in an attempt to finally create the world's first working love potion, a few mishaps take place...

word count: 24.8k.

dynamic: dom!witch!liz x switch!apprentice!reader.

warnings: student x teacher (technically), age gap (liz is in her early 30s, reader is in her early 20s!), intoxicated sex, praise kink, thigh riding, fingering, breast worship, gagging, hair pulling, overstimulation.

requested?: nope.

a/n: EHEHE. I CANT BELIEVE WE BEAT THE DREAMLIKE WORD COUNT WHAT 😭 i was truly expecting this to be only 8k words long but as you can see, it exceeded WAY past that but i think it's exactly what this fic needed! 💕not very proud of how long this took me (a few more months in the drafts and it would have been a year 💀) but what i am proud of is how it turned out! with this setting and scenario, i was truly free to just say anything and ya'll know me, i fucking love saying ANYTHING‼️‼️ ANYWAY i hope everyone enjoys this, and as always, feel free to pour every single one of your thoughts about it in my inbox! 🥺💝

becoming the apprentice of an infamous witch has never been part of your ‘grand plan’.

the plan was to leave your comfortable little rich girl life to sneak your way into the best academy for wizardry, rightfully earn your place in society as an accomplished witch, and live amongst magic for the rest of your life! and all of that you wanted to achieve by yourself. you weren’t some wannabe runaway princess who had some bullshit excuse to want to escape your perfect life—not even your sweet mother, bless her heart, respected or entertained your dreams of being a witch. and of course that led to you resorting to desperate measures to study and use magic without guidance… or a permit.

magic, as you’ve learned, was as dangerous as it was beautiful. people with little to no knowledge of magic aren’t even allowed to get anywhere near it as even the way one interacts with it can either end well or very, very badly. in your case, it was the latter.

you can blame it all on false advertisements though. who ever knew that using a quickspell scroll would blow up a huge chunk of your father’s precious library?! it didn’t say that in the scroll itself—all you wanted to do was create a starry landscape in the room, it was the simplest form of illusory magic! but of course, your inexperience bit you in the ass. you created a spark… then an explosion that woke the entire damn mansion.

you were extremely lucky to have survived with none of your limbs blown to pieces and only a scar on the cheek. and you were even luckier that you were not jailed for attempted manslaughter and the very obvious crime that was the illegal use of magic, as that would’ve landed you in prison your entire life! you did get a mouthful from your parents and your grandparents, and even your aunts and uncles! and when your father forbade you from even surrounding yourself with magic, that was when you finally ran away.

now here you are, eight months later, living in a humble hut, sitting on the edge of your bed at four in the morning as your mentor goes on and on about how she has apparently made a breakthrough. you were barely listening—you have spent too many mornings in this exact situation to know that your wonderfully insane teacher was just… rambling. as you stare at your teacher barely awake, you start to think about how fate had a funny way of having things work out for you in the strangest way possible.

your teacher is kim jiwon, the brilliant witch who had a hand in the creation of the quickspell scrolls that greatly advanced the evolution of ‘accessible magic’ when she was only seventeen! it was one of the greatest feats of a witch from the modern era of magic. it was especially surreal to meet her in front of her hut after being chased down by decaying werewolves after messing with necromancy as she was one of your idols. it might have been strange to idolize someone who was so close to your age, albeit only a few years older, but it really was a dream come true.

enough backstory though. the past doesn’t matter to you anymore. not as much as the present, and certainly not as much as whatever future is waiting for you!

“(y/n), are you paying attention? this is very important! you and i will make it to the history books again after the dust has settled! well… me in the history books again, for the fourth time to be exact—not bragging, it’s just the truth—and you for the first time! alright—”

you yawned, “that sounded very much like bragging to me, ma’am. have you had your coffee yet?”

jiwon shakes her head, “no! caffeine is nearly not as crucial as what i am about to tell you. so—”

you sprang up from the bed, “ah, perfect. let’s go ahead and have some, then you can tell me about your findings. again.” you took a hold of your teacher’s arm and started tugging her out of your bedroom, much to her dismay.

“hey! wait, you didn’t even let me talk about it!” jiwon complains, but she doesn’t bother to resist and allows you to drag her all the way into the kitchen where you sat her down and conjured two fresh mugs of coffee on the table with a wave of your hand. you fight back the urge to smile smugly. it was hard to be humble about how fast and efficiently you have been learning under jiwon. 

if you tried to conjure anything six months ago you would have probably accidentally summoned a horde of undead for jiwon to fend off, but between her being a surprisingly amazing mentor and you being so dead set on learning, it was hardly surprising that you’ve got decent enough experience to enter the academy and pass an assessment or two. maybe even three!

“i must insist that i don’t really like being woken up so early in the morning for something so trivial as a… ‘breakthrough’ in your experiments.” you say after sitting down across from jiwon. she hummed approvingly at the taste of your coffee, and again you fought back a smile. practically wrestled for it to not show.

“listen, my love potion will change the tides! not a single witch in history, all of history, has concocted it perfectly and we’re going to change that. starting right now because i have found a way to make it all work,” jiwon leans closer and grabs both of your hands across the table, smiling brightly at you and your sleep-deprived self. “and it’s all thanks to me.” she says quietly before leaning back to her seat and sipping on her mug.

you blink your fatigue away and sigh, “again with the love potion. i don’t understand—you’re a wonderful spellcaster who has authored the spellbooks that the academy is using to teach their students as we speak. you’ve especially excelled in enchantment magic in your days as a novice! why do you need the love potion?” after your question has left your mouth, jiwon chugs down her coffee and slams the mug down on the table, making you flinch.

“i don’t need the love potion for anything, (y/n). i’m—oh, thank you,” jiwon pauses her train of thought when she notices you filled up her mug again. “i am as you say! i learn quickly and i learn well. i’m gifted with having been attuned to magic since i was an infant and that contributed a lot to me becoming the brilliant witch everyone knows today. being adept in spellcasting has always been a constant in my life but you know what else is?” there was a flicker of insecurity and… vulnerability in her eyes before she masks it with something else entirely.

of course you’ve been aware that jiwon has been perfect her entire life so none of this was brand new knowledge to you. still, you decided to entertain your mentor, “what else, ma’am?”

“potions are my greatest and only weakness, darling. potions! not potions themselves as i can easily nullify the effects of whatever concoction people want to make me drink—and trust me when i tell you that a lot of them were lethal poison, ahaha—but creating potions!” jiwon sighs deeply once again, now deflating on her seat, all sulky about her alleged ‘weakness’.

you chuckled, “yes, i bet it is so hard for you to only have one flaw.”

jiwon sticks her tongue out, “please don’t get all cheeky with me, (y/n). because what exactly did you do when you realized that a future with magic was nowhere near within your grasp before you ran away?” jiwon conjures her own coffee this time, eyes piercing yours as she waits for your answer.

you shifted uncomfortably in your chair, but answered honestly, “i didn’t accept it.”

“exactly. you persevered! even going as far as to give up the future that was going to be fed to you with a silver spoon just so you can whip coffee out of thin air! you challenged your fate and look at the results!” jiwon gleefully beams at you and you find yourself smiling back at her. her joy has always been contagious, and who were you to pass up the opportunity to rave about your own achievement?!

you still didn’t understand, but you always did admire jiwon’s never-ending journey of self-improvement. through teaching you, she’s able to hone her skills and learn new things about magic that she may have overlooked in her younger days. she always strived to know more, turned every situation into an opportunity to test her knowledge and of course, every single one of her self-tests, she passed with ease. you’d think that such a seasoned witch would be satisfied with everything that she has right now, but not jiwon.

“wake up, my faithful student! for this will be the very first time you’ll see a witch perfect the love potion.” jiwon bumps her mug against yours and chugs it down the remnants of her coffee before sending it off to the sink (that was cleaning the dishes by itself, by the way). she immediately sets off to her laboratory, which she likes to call ‘the sanctuary’. as your eyes follow your chipper teacher disappear into the other room, an adorable, furry creature jumps on your lap and greets you a good morning with a purr. jiwon’s familiar, cheddar, is your best friend in the form of a cat with the softest orange and white fur.

“looks like we’ll have a busy day, cheddar.” you leaned down and kissed the top of the cat’s head before letting it jump back down to the ground and stretch. you finished the rest of your coffee and sent it to the sink with unfortunately less care and flair than jiwon did and nearly broke the mug as it fell with the rest of the pile.

once you got yourself situated, you followed cheddar into the sanctuary and found jiwon standing gingerly in front of one of the bookcases in the corner of the room. the sanctuary was a heap of mess that consisted of books, sheets, vials, ink bottles and quills but it was home nonetheless. if you aren’t working on your spellcasting outside of the hut (where furniture wouldn’t disappear, get destroyed, or turned into something else entirely by accident), you were in here honing your craft and studying it with jiwon to watch and guide you. (and of course, cheddar would be there with you too!)

you watched by the doorframe while jiwon walked back and forth around the room gathering books and the random sheets scattered on the floor. you then realized that she must have not slept since she made this supposed ‘breakthrough’, which was probably why she was so eager to down three entire tall mugs of coffee. it wasn’t at all unlike jiwon to stay up until ungodly hours to soak up whatever knowledge there is that she needed to consume but sometimes you do worry for your teacher. she was… maybe a bit too passionate about witchcraft.

but hey, she wouldn’t be kim jiwon if that wasn’t the case.

“how is it that not a single witch and wizard in history has been able to successfully brew up a love potion? wouldn’t that be a fairly easy task to do considering what it does?” you finally asked. you always thought that people never bothered with such a potion—what use would it have after all? but after finding out that not even the most talented witch of the modern age of magic can’t do it… well, you grew curious.

“if it was, then wouldn’t you say that the spell counterpart of the potion should be easy too? you’ve seen the spell used yourself, haven’t you? the caster literally has to play cupid for it all to work! what a tedious spell,” jiwon shook her head, but she chuckled. most likely remembering all the times she has used the spell herself and made her fair share of mistakes. “naturally, the potion is just as complicated if not more, so nobody just bothered.”

you let out a laugh, “that’s it? people just gave up? i didn’t take witches and wizards to be… lazy, for the lack of a better word.”

“you can say they’re not as stubborn as i am, it’s fine,” jiwon spreads the sheets she collected on the table next to a small empty cauldron and a stack of books before she beckons you over. you do as you were told, and stare at the pieces of parchments before your eyes. “we can finish the potion before midnight if we’re swift. i will teach you everything you need to know about it first before we gather what we need.” the excitement in jiwon’s voice wasn’t too hard to miss. if she started vibrating and jumping around the room, you wouldn’t be surprised. she was so sure that this would all work… and so you trust her.

it was about an hour and a half into jiwon telling you every detail regarding the potion when you expertly led her back to the kitchen, sitting her down while you busied yourself with making breakfast for the two of you. however you managed to focus while jiwon talked on and on, you’ll never know… but what was a bigger mystery was your ability to have absorbed every single word despite being busy with another task. maybe it was months-long experience of being under her wing finally paying off, and that despite what people may say about her rambling, jiwon was a more-than-efficient educator.

on top of it all, the actual complexity of what you thought was a simple potion was a fascinating subject to you! you weren’t a talented spellcaster just yet but you were convinced that simply enchanting someone with the spell equivalent of the potion was way easier than going to such great lengths and a huge gamble. if jiwon’s formula was perfect, the person that consumes the potion will be head-over-heels in love with whoever gave them the concoction in the first place. although there was one very crucial ingredient that made you grimace upon hearing it—the hair of the person one wants to be in love with them.

“is the hair really necessary? can’t it just be like… i don’t know, a personal item?” you asked as you brought your perfectly-made eggs to your mouth.

jiwon shakes her head, “it’s just one strand, (y/n). and it’ll basically disintegrate once it’s in the cauldron! nearly every potion that needs a very specific person to target requires their hair, you should know this.”

you grumbled, “of course. but hair…?”

“trust me when i tell you that you’ll find yourself gathering stranger ingredients when making other potions. wait until you have to skin a fish alive.” jiwon teased, then laughed loudly at the sight of your bemused expression.

afterwards, you convinced jiwon that there’s no harm in taking an hour or two off from research and successfully got her to take a well-earned warm bath while you took the opportunity to clean up the sanctuary. before disappearing into the bathroom, jiwon joked that cheddar was now supervising you but you were sure that the damn cat was taking the task seriously with how it watched you intently as you tidied up the room.

in pure jiwon fashion, her bath took forever. in fact, you had a feeling that she had accidentally fallen asleep in the tub. (and you would know because of the rare times she had started up the bath for you and put all kinds of spells in it that made you feel like you were in heaven.) you half sat, half laid on one of the bean bags in the sanctuary, quietly reviewing jiwon’s notes while cheddar purred on your lap.

months ago, you would have been thoroughly confused reading jiwon’s notes and trying to decipher her strange accompanying sketches, but now you’ve become fluent in her little language. it was funny, becoming so familiar with someone who seemed like a dream to you not so long ago. you can thank fate for that. before you met her by chance, you were convinced that the great young witch kim jiwon would be living in a fancy tower in the heart of the biggest city in the world! although you should have known that someone as eccentric as her was the most likely to end up settling down in a dingy-but-comfortable hut in the middle of an unmapped forest.

as you read jiwon’s notes about the potion, you noticed that she had been keeping track of her progress as she studied. some entries were dated eleven years ago! you always knew that she was weirdly hyperfixating on the potion for quite some time, but you had no idea that it had been for that long! no wonder jiwon wouldn’t leave it alone—she can’t just accept that she can’t do this one thing! perhaps you shouldn’t have been so dismissive about her reasons for pursuing what would undoubtedly be a great achievement.

eventually, you fell asleep while you sat on the bean bag. the sheets of paper tucked in between your limp fingers sprawled down to the floor, and not even the way you fell back softly woke you up. cheddar was napping with you too! her head nuzzled on your stomach as she lay on your thigh, purring ever so softly. oddly enough, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a long time. odd, because it was on a darn bean bag with a cat on your lap and in an awkward position! and with you being so deep in sleep, you didn’t hear jiwon skip inside the room with a huge grin on her face.

“you know what, (y/n)! you were right about baths being life changi—” your mentor abruptly pauses when she spots your asleep state. normally, jiwon would shake her head and immediately wake you with how much she has been looking forward to finally creating the world’s only working love potion but instead, she finds herself smiling softly at you. she crouches down, her doe eyes examining your features closely as if it was the first time she was seeing you. in her defense, between her research, studies, and teaching you the basics of spellcasting for months, she didn’t really have the time to realize that wow!—you were beautiful. almost absurdly so!

the longer jiwon stares at you, the louder her heartbeat gets. that she didn’t quite understand and usually, anything unknown to her intrigues her but something as strange as… finding the way your hair fell perfectly on your face akin to the stars aligning in the night sky discourages her to find out more about it. instead, jiwon pries her eyes away from you and collects the scattered pieces of parchment on the floor.

the potion, jiwon thinks to herself. she huffs, gently pats both of her cheeks and puts her notes back on her table next to the small cauldron. that is what matters right now.

although jiwon would have loved to put all of her attention to fine-tuning her notes on the spell, she couldn’t help but worry about the smallest inconveniences that might befall you. for example, she worried that you might wake up with some back pains with how awkward your sleeping position was! she thought about sending you back to your bedroom using a levitation spell, but she knew you would’ve been woken up. and cheddar was all over your lap! what if you hate waking up covered in her fur? should jiwon send cheddar elsewhere? nevermind!

with a flick of her hand, a warm blanket conjures right on top of you and envelopes your upper body, eliciting a satisfying hum from you. jiwon couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she set her eyes back down on her notes, nor could she stop her ears from ringing and flushing red. but she ignores all of these sensations as if her life depended on it—nothing must stop her from accomplishing her life-long quest. not even you! you pretty little thing.

~

“out of all the days the markets decided to be busy…” jiwon sighs as she pulls the hood of her cloak down. she stares begrudgingly at the crowd before the two of you, pouting as she wondered if she could just postpone making the potion for a day. you stood beside your mentor, eyes droopy, lips dry, and still a bit fatigued since you happened to be woken up abruptly for the second time this day only half an hour ago to start ingredient-hunting. you kept your hood up, partly because the sun was blinding and mostly to avoid being recognized as the runaway rich girl whose face has been plastered on a few posters around the town.

when leaving the hut in the daylight, you made it a habit to use a disguising spell to make sneaking around the town a lot easier. but again, you didn’t have the time to do all that since jiwon had already been dragging you out the door while you put on your cloak. ah, if only it was nighttime… you would feel better wearing only your own skin.

“what are you thinking, ma’am?” you asked, and yawned immediately after. like jiwon, you were surprised that the markets were incredibly packed. usually around this time of the day, people would be in schools, or at work, or still sleeping! the thought of a wandering noble or decently-dressed businessman who just so happened to be right where you are made you anxious, but you knew you were just paranoid. you have been in hiding for eight months and things have been nothing but great on your end. your luck wouldn’t run out now… would it?

“well, we do what we came here to do, of course. i trust my cheddar to keep our hut safe if we take longer than expected. now come.” jiwon leaves your side and if it hadn’t been for your equally-as-quick-feet, you would’ve lost her in the crowd. you followed your mentor closely, careful not to raise your head too high and have your face show in the sunlight.

curse jiwon’s eagerness to make that darn potion—she was walking too fast and you could barely keep up now. you can’t even hear whatever she’s mumbling! you squeezed through a small crowd of four women, apologized to a young man after having to push him aside just to keep jiwon in your sight, and apologized even more after making an older gentleman drop a few fruits out of his wicker basket. you tore your regretful gaze from the old man and stopped in your tracks, realizing that your mentor was now nowhere to be found. oh, for heaven's sake!

how in the world were you supposed to find her now? you can’t even look up without fearing that someone might fully see your face and hand you over to a knight nearby! 

your eyes desperately search for jiwon’s blonde hair. it should be easy, it literally never stops shining! your frantic head turns made you dizzy, and the sheer amount of people coming and going from your vision made you feel disoriented. you grabbed onto the arm of a cloaked young lady, thinking it was jiwon… and you thought wrong. you muttered a quick apology and backed away from the stranger, only to bump your back into another one right behind you. whipping your head around, you were met with a well-put older man and your heart drops.

“are you lost?” the man asked. your breath catches in your throat. he doesn’t look like a person who lived in this town, not even the inner city where all the nobles and the aristocrats resided. he had the kind of poise and distinguished nature that you saw only in wealthy men that lived in the countryside. your father. his buddies. your male relatives. oh, goodness. what if he’s one of your father’s men? or worse—one of his friends, and he has spies all around him to get you. no. no way your father would rope one of his companions into looking for you! you can’t be that of an important piece to his little empire, right? he shouldn’t care!

“oh my, you look quite unwell, child.” an elderly woman dressed in elegant but fit-for-travel attire chimes in. must be a member of a small noble house in the inner city. an accomplice? shit. the woman ducks her head slightly to take a better look at your expression, which was so obviously startled and fearful. you looked pale as well and it certainly didn’t help your case. looking away from the woman exposed a bit of your face to the man standing beside her, and maybe you were indeed losing your mind but something in his eyes flashes in recognition… but the look quickly vanished and was replaced with worry.

you nearly trip over the half-untied laces of your boots as you stepped away from the man and woman, “i’m f-fine—i just need to find—”

“—oh, there you are!” an arm snakes around your waist, and from the smell of caramel and freshly-cut grass wafting into your nose, you could tell that it was jiwon. “you have to stay close to me, dearest.” jiwon whispers. she smiles politely at the man and woman and makes the most pleasant of small talks with them before tugging you away gently.

she takes the two of you into an alleyway where it was free from traffic and pulls your hood down, taking a good look at your fear-stricken face, “it’s alright, (y/n). they had no idea who you were.”

“but that man… he looked like he did know me.” you spared a glance at the ever-growing crowd behind jiwon. nobody was trying to come into the alleyway, nor did the man try to follow both of you. you looked back at jiwon, whose hands started releasing a bright, sparkly pink aura.

“that man hails from the south and owns a small fishing business. he’s travelling all the way over here to get a feel of the community and scope out a business opportunity. trust me, (y/n),” jiwon smiles reassuringly before whispering an incantation under her breath and making a circular motion with her hands. she has successfully had you under the guise of a lady of her age with silver hair. jiwon then brushes your hair away from your face. “you’re safe.”

you hold on to jiwon’s words for dear life.

the two of you walked out of the alleyway and once again joined the crowd. jiwon made sure to cast a spell that made the two of you bound to an invisible string that would tug one closer to where the other is. just in case you lose each other again. your hand itches to reach out for jiwon’s, but you wondered if that was pushing the boundaries of your relationship as teacher and student… but it wasn’t like you wanted to hold her hand out of romantic intent! recognizing that absolutely insane train of thought, you came to the conclusion that you were thinking too much about it and instead just kept up with jiwon as much as you could.

jiwon visited one stall after another. she was either shopping to restock her potion ingredients or chatting with the vendors. yes, it did require the two of you to stay in one place longer than needed but at this point, you were used to it. sometimes, you even joined the conversation just to do something—it was all very entertaining, surprisingly. while jiwon did ease your worries earlier in the alleyway, you still couldn’t help but look over your shoulder from time to time as well as instinctively turn away whenever you were met with a knight doing their rounds in the streets. one can never be too sure, after all.

eventually, you were holding two wicker baskets full of potion ingredients as you and jiwon ventured deeper into the markets. you stopped in front of a store that you have come to know as jiwon’s second home, considering the shop was owned by one of her long-time friends, jang wonyoung.

“ah, of course. it’s busy inside here too.” jiwon sighs as she enters the shop with you following closely behind. you followed jiwon as she carefully made her way up multiple flights of stairs, avoiding bumping into people as best as you could. still, however, a young boy who wasn’t looking at where he was running off bumped into your shoulder as you took a step up the stairs, making you lose your balance and fall. but then, you feel something akin to that of a rope tightening around your waist and pulling you safely up the top of the stairs and right onto jiwon’s back.

“s-sorry! i fell and the spell just… pulled me here.” you uttered, suddenly feeling warm from how close you were to jiwon. this sensation was vaguely familiar to you. cheeks hot, goosebumps all over your body, skin tingling and are you… blushing? blushing?!

jiwon merely smiles at you and takes a gentle hold of your wrist, “come on, wonyoung is waiting for us.” she safely guides you through the crowd. a few of the people that work in the shop that you have come to know smile and wave at you, some even tried to make conversation with you but you couldn’t seem to focus at all. not when jiwon was now holding your hand instead of your wrist. if you had known that she would be so casual about hand-holding, you wouldn’t have fought for your life following her through the streets earlier!

after climbing up a more fancy set of spiral stairs, you and jiwon have finally reached the small room at the very top of the shop. and as if on cue, the door swings open, revealing the beautiful and truly magical interior of the shop owner’s study. jiwon enters the office with you in tow, and as soon as you step inside, the disguising spell immediately wears off; it seems the defensive charms set up inside the room were working as perfect as ever.

you were then met with wonyoung, who was sitting comfortably by her desk flipping through books that were suspended in the air. wonyoung visibly lights up at your arrival, dropping her books on her desk neatly and removing her speed-reading glasses.

“good morning, my favorite witches! what kinds of trouble have you gotten yourselves into this time?” wonyoung stands up from her seat, walking all the way around to the front of her desk and leaning her back against it. her eyes flicker down to your and jiwon’s linked hands, and a smirk spreads across her glossy lips. 

you noticed that wonyoung’s adorable familiar, cherry, was nowhere to be found. not on the floor of her office anyway, but instead, the fluffy white bunny was hopping in the air, bumping into several floating books as she made her usual rounds around the study until she eventually ended up beside your foot. the bunny rubs its cheek against your ankle very briefly before hopping away once again.

“nothing much. we went ingredient shopping and thought of giving you a little visit! and,” jiwon clears her throat, bites her bottom lip nervously before speaking again. “i—we need access to your dungeon.” jiwon waves your joint hands and puts on a tight-lipped smile. truthfully, you have no idea what was going on. this was the first time jiwon has ever spoken about wonyoung having a ‘dungeon’! you were really hoping that it was just an inside joke between them, being long time friends and all, and that sweet, beautiful wonyoung doesn’t actually have a… you know what, you can’t even imagine it!

“oh, jiwon… i told you that if taking a young one as a student proved to be too much, you can just hand her over to me! there’s no need to throw (y/n) in my dungeon.” wonyoung sighed with her hand over her heart. you quickly took your hand out from jiwon’s grasp and stepped away, looking at your mentor in disbelief until you saw her shake her head and chuckle while wonyoung started laughing.

ah, ‘twas a joke.

“you know i would never discard (y/n)!” jiwon pulls you over closer to her side once again and gives you an only slightly awkward side hug. she pats your hair and looks at you lovingly, laughing when you eventually return her affection and bashfully put your arm around her waist and squeezed her gently. 

has she always been this doting? after your lackluster nap, did you somehow wake up in an alternate reality where jiwon was uncharacteristically touchy-feely? as confusing as it all was, you were… somewhat okay with it! if anything, this was a sign that you and jiwon are getting closer! from the scene in the crowd earlier, the binding spell, the hand-holding, and now all this… you can definitely get used to it.

wonyoung crosses her arms, “what do you need from there? i mean, yes, i’ll let you in but i need you to promise me that you’re not unleashing that elven demon lord we sealed years ago—”

“—pardon?” you asked, mouth agape in both shock and… admiration? even if wonyoung was joking or merely exaggerating whatever she has stuffed in her ‘dungeon’, you don’t doubt that they can seal away a powerful foe. you have literally witnessed jiwon defeating trolls quadruple her size and strength using only her wits!

“ah, how is the old fella? still bitter and angry that a pair of young adults ended his thousands of years old dream of world domination?” jiwon asked, giggling. oh, she wasn’t kidding? neither of them were kidding?! a part of you wanted to barge into that dungeon and see it all for yourself. who knows what other ridiculous greatness is hidden there?! infamous enemies of the old, magical artifacts, never-before-seen treasures, forbidden knowledge… if you somehow managed to be allowed in there, you would be the happiest little wannabe witch in the whole galaxy.

“nevermind that for now, jiwon. what do you need?” wonyoung asked. she was starting to get impatient, and a bit suspicious. judging by the way she warned jiwon with her eyes. you don’t exactly know what the warning was about, but you did know that jiwon absolutely cannot say the wrong answer to that question.

“right! we almost got off track there, huh, (y/n)? haha!” jiwon gently elbows your arm and you look at her with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

wonyoung groans, “jiwon.”

“do you remember ten years ago, we were twenty-two, and i… attempted to create the love potion and failed horribly?” jiwon asked with great shame. it was in her voice, her expression, even the way she stood! you almost wanted to laugh because she looked funny, and the thought of your mentor failing so horrendously that it became her greatest embarrassment in her otherwise flawless career was something worth giggling over because of course! of course kim jiwon’s biggest failure would be an inaccurately-made potion! you were willing to bet that it probably wasn’t even that disastrous and jiwon was just overreacting and being the perfectionist she always is, and has been, apparently.

“yes, jiwon,” wonyoung’s eyes flicker between you and jiwon—she was trying to piece something together but you don’t know what. surprising, considering that wonyoung and jiwon have been friends for so long. wonyoung should know that jiwon has a thirst for knowledge that can never be quenched right? why does it look like there’s something she knows about jiwon’s intent that you don’t? okay, maybe you were in over your head a bit. “whatever you want to do with it, i forbid you from doing it.” wonyoung moves away from you and jiwon, walking towards a bookshelf to the left and busying herself with rearranging the books.

“we haven’t even told you! it’s brilliant, wonyoung. i have it all figured out!” jiwon chases after wonyoung with you in tow, acting as if you were some kind of charm that will make wonyoung change her mind as long as you were present.

“right, right. do you remember what happened when you thought you had that potion ‘figured out’ ten years ago?” wonyoung asked. her tone was stern and serious, but she let out a chuckle at the memory. you looked at your mentor for answers, but jiwon was too busy scratching her head as she tried to use her words correctly.

“um… i was really happy to become the godmother to your and gaeul’s kid very early on in my life—ow!” jiwon winces as wonyoung pinches her cheek before she moves on to a different shelf. now this was a shock to you. the possibility of wonyoung being a mother didn’t even cross your mind, but now that the image is there and confirmed… it does make sense, what with how much she parents and scolds jiwon in person and through the letters they send each other when they can’t immediately see one another.

“you made me swear an oath to keep the formula as well as what was left of the potion in my dungeon forever, and being the good and responsible friend that i am, i’m keeping my promise.” wonyoung flips open a book and skims through it, not sparing jiwon a single glance as she speaks. 

again, jiwon runs over to wonyoung’s side with you still being dragged around like a rag doll, “good point! and thank you for keeping it there for all these years but since i was the one who gave you that responsibility, i have every right to lift it from your shoulders as well.”

wonyoung pauses, allows jiwon’s words to soak in, and sighs. she closes the book in her hands and puts it back on the shelf, then she finally faces her friend once again, “you’re right. but you made it very clear back then that we should never tamper with what you created ever again.” this time, wonyoung sounds anxious. you hear in her voice that she was definitely going to allow jiwon in her dungeon to retrieve the original formula, but she sounds absurdly worried.

it got you thinking just how big of a mistake jiwon ended up making that the potion needed to be locked in a dungeon—with an elven demon lord, no less!

“i know better now, wonyoung. i promise i’ll be careful,” jiwon takes a hold of wonyoung’s hand, smiling adoringly at her friend. wonyoung stares at your mentor for a good few seconds, deeply wondering if there was something more behind her intent. “i promise.” jiwon squeezes her friend’s hand tightly. and that, apparently, was enough for wonyoung to accept everything as is and trust jiwon with access to her dungeon.

you were then politely asked by jiwon to wait outside of the shop. you tried to ask questions, mostly out of concern but also because you wanted to invite yourself in wonyoung’s dungeon but jiwon was very insistent that you wait outside and keep quiet about wherever she and wonyoung had gone. you obliged, of course—perhaps going into a powerful witch’s dungeon would be too much for a novice such as yourself. perhaps jiwon was just keeping you safe. like she had been this entire day! so, you don’t let your curiosity eat away at you and silently wait for jiwon’s return.

passers-by ignored you as you stood patiently beside the shop door. it made you wonder whether or not you truly looked ‘one of a kind’ compared to the locals of this part of the outer city, so much so that jiwon altered your appearance to the point of looking like any other person around. you leaned back on the concrete wall behind you and just as you got comfortable, the building started shaking.

“what in the hells—” you stepped back as the shop door swung open and out came a few customers screaming, terrified.

“not to worry everyone! our shop owner’s just doing some hard work!” you heard an employee say from the inside of the shop. with all the dungeon talk from earlier, it was impossible to think that jiwon and wonyoung weren’t behind this panic. wonyoung’s workers seemed to be used to it though, and even a couple of regular customers ignored all the shaking and continued on shopping… was this a regular occurrence? what a peculiar world. you don’t rush back inside the shop like you wanted to. despite being worried sick for your mentor, you stood idly by outside of the shop and waited like a puppy on a leash.

you eventually just took a walk around the shop’s vicinity and played with magic, picking up a few pebbles from the ground and turning them into very small figurines of animals and other creatures. you kept the figurines safe in your wicker basket—cheddar would probably appreciate them! or she would… tear them down but either way, she would love them!

you circled back around the entrance of wonyoung’s shop and to your surprise, jiwon was on her way out. she had been saying goodbye to wonyoung’s employees one by one as she exited through the front door. tucked in her arms were some old, wrinkled parchments and she was holding a… cage? you watched, confused, as your mentor approached you with a skip in her step. how could she act like she wasn’t holding what looked like a cursed thing?! is that even safe to be swinging around in public?! perhaps wonyoung had valid concerns…

“let us go home and make history at once, darling!” jiwon once again casted the binding spell on you and herself before handing over the parchment to you. you noticed that she looked disheveled, there was dust all over her clothing as well as parts of her hair, and she had a small cut on her right cheekbone that was bleeding.

“did you… hurt yourself, ma’am?” you asked although you knew you were very much staring at a minor injury.

“oh, this? it’s nothing! as it turns out, the old man did need a new lock on his cell. so, wonyoung and i got to work, but he sure had a lot of energy!” jiwon guffaws, and you were simply baffled at how it all seemed like just another chore for her. maybe it really was better for you to stay behind and wait for her—you might’ve not been able to handle it all. ��he tried to fight back with all the power he’s been saving up for the past decade but he is well beyond his prime so it was fairly easy to force him back into confinement! but he’s not important. let’s get our priorities back into place!” jiwon loops her arm around yours and drags you back into the crowd, towards home.

you saved your many, many questions about your mentor’s strange life for tomorrow. as jiwon said, you have history to make after all!

~

upon further inspection and by having common sense, you could finally confirm that the object inside the cage that jiwon retrieved from wonyoung’s dungeon was, indeed, ridiculously dangerous. 

it wasn’t cursed, per se. curses can’t be kept in a pretty little bottle with a pink ribbon, nor did they smell like honey and fresh tulips. curses also didn’t radiate light. well, they do—but they weren’t… captivating. alluring. and… arous—

“jiwon, could you explain something to me? why is it that i… feel like i want to fuck while i look at this thing?”

a brief silence cuts the thick air around the sanctuary, and you find yourself being surprised by your own words. you have never called jiwon by her name, nor have you ever talked about such a topic with her! a blush creeps up your cheeks, and suddenly you can't face jiwon at all. something was off about that object—your entire body felt like it was on fire just by looking at it! yet you couldn’t stop looking at it, and you didn’t want to move away from it either. you stare and stare at it… until jiwon snaps her fingers right on your ear and you finally break out of a haze you weren’t even aware you were in.

“ah, i should have known better. my apologies, (y/n)! i had forgotten that not everyone is immune to my… wretched creation,” jiwon pulls you away from the glimmering bottle and takes you to her desk where it was now full of ingredients and an assortment of random items that it supposedly needed for this brew. from this distance, the object didn’t have that much of a pull on your heart and entire being. good. “that thing is my awful first attempt at making the love potion and as you can see, there are a lot of things wrong with it.” jiwon sheepishly smiles. her ears were red, seemingly from the embarrassment of letting her student see her failure.

cheddar, curious as ever, jumped up to the stool where the potion sat and started pawing at it, seemingly amused by its color. and then she started licking at the cap, making you laugh and making jiwon sigh deeply.

“cheddar, don’t touch it!” jiwon shoos her precious familiar away and the cat jumps back down to the ground and scurries off elsewhere, but you knew that it was just going to find yet another thing to make jiwon grow grey hairs about.

“may i ask why it is glowing? and why did… i feel like… that?” you asked. it was despicable enough to be thrown in a dungeon where a whole demon lord was confined in—you were sort of terrified at what it was truly capable of.

“i misjudged everything while i was working on it and the finished product made the drinker feel not love but instead… lust,” jiwon shakes her head. “don’t get me wrong, however. for centuries, potions that increased the drinker’s sexual desires have existed but mine was… well, the council considered revoking my rights to practice, research, teach, and create magic as well as throwing me in jail if it hadn’t been for wonyoung who defended me in court.” the older girl recalled the memory lightheartedly, but still, you knew that it wasn’t very fun experiencing that moment back then.

“what?! even as the single most influential witch of our time?! because of a failed potion?” you couldn’t believe your ears!

“why, yes. i mean, just think about what it was able to do with you! and you never even had a single drop of it! it’s an abomination, and i realize now that i’m a pretty awful teacher for exposing you to it… but unfortunately, it holds a few of the same ingredients and procedures to create my love potion and that is why i retrieved it from the dungeon,” jiwon smiles at you, then guffaws. “although, i did make wonyoung swear that oath… which was ordered by the council. and i was warned that i will get a little more than a slap on the wrist if i were to interact with the potion in any way… but ah, it’s been ten years! who even cares anymore!?” she keeps on laughing, and you get the feeling she did not actually find any of this funny and was actually scared for her life. as she should.

oh, heavens… if you weren’t going to be found by your father, you were going to be in jail for affiliating yourself with a criminal!

realization strikes you, “you mentioned that wonyoung had an unexpected pregnancy… did the potion do that?! does it impregnate women?!” you exclaimed.

jiwon gasps, “no! all the potion does is make the drinker awfully horny! what happened is that gaeul, wonyoung’s wonderful wife, volunteered to allow me to see if i succeeded with the potion and… she and wonyoung were very, very horribly sexually active for nearly a whole month until i was able to find a countermeasure. and yes, i know what you’re thinking—gaeul, a woman, doesn’t have the… tool to make a baby inside wonyoung so how could i have become the godmother of the beautiful and adorable jang hyunseo nine months later?” the older girl takes a deep breath and for the first time in her life, shrugs upon being asked a question. “magic, literally. something happened while gaeul was intoxicated and all of a sudden my best friend became a relatively young mother.”

your mouth hangs open at the unhinged story you were just told. a witch’s life sure is strange. is that how your life is going to be after you’ve earned the right to call yourself a witch? not the pregnancy-by-magic part, of course. who would even be there for that to happen to you?! jiwon is the only person you’re around with and… well, anything could happen but that doesn’t mean it should! what are you even talking about?! you have got to get away from that darn potion.

“but enough about the past. i will not make the same mistake again. i cannot! not with a reliable, intelligent student like you to have my back on all of this.” jiwon caresses your cheek. you don’t flinch away or look at her incredulously like you usually do when she does something too weird or questionable—you don’t even feel awkward. you actually lean into her touch and you… get closer. jiwon retracts her hand, but she doesn’t move away.

very quickly, your eyes flickered down to jiwon’s lips before coming back up… only for you to see that jiwon’s own eyes had been doing the same. “careful, ma’am. i don’t think you’re completely resistant to the potion like you thought you were.” you say, grinning.

“oh, my… don’t give in to it, (y/n). this is exactly how it will get you!” jiwon replies, laughing before putting distance between the two of you. it didn’t really matter anyway—you closed the distance once again, suddenly feeling addicted to jiwon’s scent. you lazily leaned on the table, never staring at the sheets long enough and always finding yourself looking back at your mentor, who was amused, by the way. mostly because she knew that if you were in your right mind, you would detest the way you were acting under the slightest influence of the darned potion.

“fighting it is so mentally exhausting though… i don’t really feel like wrestling it.” you sighed. you summoned a chair behind you and sat on it, laying the side of your head on the table and staring up at jiwon. the older girl stared right back at you, amused and concerned at the same time. she knew she shouldn’t let you completely fall victim to the spell… but she had to admit, you were adorable like this. your face was slightly flushed—no doubt that you were slowly losing bits and pieces of control over yourself, including how you behaved.

“if you’re talking like that, then you have already lost. come on, (y/n), i need your help finishing this potion. set yourself straight, please.” jiwon sounded serious for once. no matter how much she wants to see more of this funny side of you, her study will always come first. and it was as if the last remaining bits of your normal self heard her words and ‘woke you up’. ashamed at how you were currently acting, you shook your head and did, in fact, ‘set yourself straight’.

for the next two hours, you ignored the failed potion’s pull. you wished jiwon would put it back in its charmed cage so you would have a less difficult time trying to put all of your attention on your work, but the older girl was too focused. the glass of water you brought from the kitchen just for her remains untouched, and even the sweet pastry that jiwon herself bought earlier from the markets had gone hard and cold on the next table over. you were getting worried about her, but you dared not to make her think that you’re not doing your job for a second.

jiwon has entrusted you to make duplicates of the love potion by yourself. see, when it comes to your brewing skills, you knew you were beyond decent. hell, your first time making a healing potion was perfect—even jiwon herself was very impressed considering you have never brewed anything in your life! it was the one natural talent you had when it came to magic, so it made sense that jiwon wouldn’t think that you wouldn’t fuck any of this up. however, you can’t help but question her faith in you still. something as important as creating history’s first working love potion should be a job for a skilled witch such as her! not a novice like you, no matter how talented you are at brewing!

and as expected, you found yourself stuck at a certain step.

“ma’am… i—just how are we supposed to make this potion without a… volunteer? whose hair should i put in this?” you asked, looking over at your mentor who has not said anything for the past two hours you’ve started working on the potion.

jiwon replies, “i used my own hair, and you’re the volunteer, (y/n).”

you blink. slowly. “i beg your… pardon?” yes. yes. yes! something inside you was screaming in festivities. it must be the failed potion getting the best of you again.

“i must admit… i somehow forgot about how we must put our target’s hair in the potion. i got too excited after i came back from wonyoung’s dungeon that i couldn’t have us scout for potential volunteers for this brew so,” jiwon smiles beautifully at you, acting as if she wasn’t staring directly at your panicked expression at the moment. “we must take matters into our own hands! you must fall in love with me, (y/n)! hahaha!” she joked. she then takes your hand, puts two strands of her blonde hair on your palm and nudges you back over to your station.

with your mouth still slightly agape from what jiwon had just told you, you dropped the strands of hair in your cauldron and watched as the boiling water finally showed the pastel pink color instead of red. fearful that you had made a mistake, you looked over jiwon’s table and saw that her brew showed the same colors as yours did! surely that meant you did your work correctly, right? there was only one way to find out… but you and jiwon can’t both be intoxicated with the potion, and how would that even make sense in jiwon’s case?! she can’t fall in love with herself!

you were quickly regretting ever entertaining jiwon’s briefing of her breakthrough earlier in the morning. once you were completely under the effects of the potion, you would have no control over your feelings, thoughts, the things you will and everything you would do! a nightmare scenario that you can’t believe jiwon would willingly want to go through just to ‘make history’. your head was starting to hurt just thinking about it!

“moment of truth.” jiwon hands over a small vial with a reasonable amount of the potion in it. you stared at the pink liquid for a good long while, swallowing deeply and accepting your fate once you took the vial from your mentor’s hand. your eyes flickered from the failed potion to the one in your hand, and finally onto jiwon, who was smiling and nodding. her thrilled expression did not comfort you one bit, nor did it convince you that this was a good thing to be doing considering that you just thought about all the things that could go wrong once the potion settles in your system.

with a grumble, you attempted to escape the situation one last time, “is… is it too late to go to the bathroom?”

“drink it, (y/n).”

“…yes, ma’am.”

and down it goes. somehow, it tasted a lot like peaches. so much so that you wondered if jiwon snuck a whole slice of peach in her cauldron just to make the potion taste better. it was harder to swallow than you thought—it was like trying to swallow orange juice with a dry throat. it stung, the taste stuck in the back of your mouth, and you knew you were going to smell it in your nose somehow for a few days. still, you finished the vial and put it down on the table, wiping the residue off of your mouth and taking a deep breath.

jiwon puts a hand on your shoulder and makes you face her, “does anything feel different?” she asked.

“it hasn’t sat long enough inside me yet, ma’am. i don’t know,” you answered truthfully. sighing, you nodded your head towards the door. “i’m going to have a glass of water.”

once you were out of the room, jiwon saunters over towards your station and stares at your cauldron. she can confirm that you did everything correctly judging by how carefully and truthfully you followed jiwon’s instructions, but she couldn’t help but suddenly feel anxious. she takes a glance towards the kitchen, where you’ve run off to take a break, before walking back to take a look at her own cauldron.

“eh?” jiwon’s eyebrows furrowed tightly once she notices that the potion that she worked on is now too bright and deep of a pink. it was a concerning contrast to your friendly pastel colors that remained the same and did not change like jiwon’s did. oh, heavens… there was no way she made a mistake, right? not again! but she can’t have made another failed potion that greatly increases the drinker’s sex drive (and gets people’s best friends pregnant!)  because if she did, she would know!

so, what the hell did she just create this time?!

not only was this embarrassing as hell but it was also very, very dangerous! the nature of whatever she just shoved down your throat remains unknown until you start showing signs of peculiarity which means she can’t brew up an antidote of some sorts to snap you out of it all and coming up with such a thing is no easy feat, even for her! jiwon knows that wonyoung will absolutely have her head once she tells her about this… but whatever this was, jiwon just hopes it’s not the same as the failed potion.

first of all, she wouldn’t even know what to throw at you to relieve you of your… needs. the hut was pretty far away from the nearest town, the forest is unmapped with no other living soul around, and she certainly can’t throw herself at you! that’s just wrong! jiwon has heard that things such as ‘pleasure toys’ have been pretty popular among the nearest surrounding communities but jiwon doesn’t have any! and rightfully so. she is not one to participate in those kinds of activities! 

she digresses—maybe this will all be easy for both of you to navigate. it could just be a potion that will give you boils all over your body, and jiwon knows an easy fix for that!

“yeah… yeah! it could also just be a singing potion where it would make her sing every time she opens her mouth! haha! yeah, that’s… that would be funny…” jiwon scratches the back of her neck, laughing awkwardly as she falls deeper into a pit of anxious delusion. it was when she realized that you had been away for longer than eight minutes that she thought to check on you in the kitchen. she was really hoping to find you covered in boils, or randomly belt out a note once she sees you but alas, she was incorrect.

instead, jiwon finds you sitting on one of the chairs around the table, quietly sipping on a glass of ice-cold water. she tilts her head to have a better look at your face from a distance—no boils. you weren’t singing… but you weren’t jumping on her and demanding her to have your babies either! jiwon cautiously approaches you with a spell on the tip of her tongue just in case you try anything funny, but all you did was tear your gaze away from the glass of water and look at jiwon.

the older girl stares right back at you, analyzing your eyes and the millions of emotions that just went through you upon setting your eyes on your mentor. you were frozen in your seat, mouth slightly hanging open and failing to get any words out of your throat, and you looked to be in pure awe at the mere appearance of the woman you have been living with for eight whole months.

“hi, you.” you greeted with what probably was the brightest smile jiwon has ever seen on your face.

jiwon returns the smile, albeit awkwardly, “hello, (y/n). are you feeling well?” she asked. she took note of how quickly your face got red and how you suddenly got all jittery and nervous when she got closer, but she wasn’t able to make a proper conclusion about the effects of the potion since you started bashfully giggling.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt better, ma’am.” you replied. you sounded sincere enough… even though you really were acting quite strange. jiwon doubts that you would stare at her for so long with nothing but devotion in your eyes. the only time she has seen that happen is when the two of you first met all those months ago—when she saved you from those undead wolves and took you in as her apprentice.

“that’s great to hear, but are you sure the potion didn’t… um, do anything to you? i mean, you’re acting quite differently… and can you tell me why you’re wearing my coat?” jiwon asked now that she noticed that you had yourself wrapped comfortably around one of jiwon’s fancy coats that you had no doubt wonyoung picked out for her, knowing that jiwon does not really have an eye for fashion but you digress!

“why, it’s a very cold night out here in the forest! and this is so comfortable and warm… not to mention that it smells so good,” a blissful sigh escapes your lips as you bury your nose on the collar of the coat. you then looked back up at jiwon and gasped softly. “is that your perfume…? or is that just… how you smell? because if it is… then wow.” you stood up, got up close to jiwon (who didn’t react fast enough and was thus frozen right in front of you) and grabbed her arms, pulling her close.

jiwon, flabbergasted, doesn’t do anything. she stays still as you tilted your head and put your nose down on her right shoulder, your hands slowly but surely now holding her waist, keeping her still. as a witch of her caliber, jiwon would feel very offended if all her potion did was make you sensitive and addicted to scents!

“u-um, (y/n)... you’re a bit close—whoa, hey…!” it took all of jiwon’s strength to suppress an unholy sound from coming out of her mouth when you completely pressed up against her and hugged her. strangely enough, jiwon didn’t feel like resisting against you, even though she was very much overwhelmed at the way you were behaving. she trusted that you wouldn’t hurt her, that you wouldn’t do anything that would be a cause for her to retaliate physically. your embrace was awkward and clumsy, but as seconds passed by, jiwon was feeling more and more… at ease.

“oh, jiwon… you’re so warm… i never would have known.” you whispered. there was a tinge of longing and regret in your voice. you held her like you would a lover—tight, but not so much that it would suffocate her. tight in a way that made her feel safe. protected. loved. nobody can blame jiwon for letting her guard down just for a moment to hug you back, right? it wasn’t everyday she allowed herself to feel like this after all. she doesn’t even mind that she could practically feel your eyelashes brushing against her neck due to how close you have gotten, nor did she pay any attention to the small circles you were making on her lower back with your finger.

“what do you mean, ‘never’? i could have hugged you at any moment if you so wanted.” jiwon says with a smile that she couldn’t be bothered to hold back. 

she hears you laugh softly at her words before completely resting your face on the crook of her neck, “do you mean that?” you mumbled.

“of course,” jiwon replies quite swiftly. even she was surprised about it, but you didn't give her a lot of time to dwell on it further when you raised your head to stare at her. well, her lips. and jiwon wasn’t completely clueless when it came to things like this, okay? obviously, there was only one thing you would do next if she allowed you to have that opportunity but in her state of quickly-rising panic, she looked away. “let’s figure out what that potion did to you, shall we?” jiwon gently pulls away from your embrace and sits you back down on a chair.

judging by the dazed look on your face, jiwon assumes that it was going to be hard to get you to behave properly.

meanwhile, you watched closely as she sat across from you, and of course you couldn’t resist the temptation to scoot your chair just a bit closer to still feel her warmth. you really, sincerely don’t know why your precious mentor was looking so different all of a sudden. her hair looked a lot brighter and she wasn’t even directly under the lamp above! her big, gentle eyes looked so perfect that you could stare at them forever, and the more she looked at you with so much concern and worry, the more you did feel like just staying still and taking her all in.

“well, i don’t exactly know where to start, but i’m just going to ask you questions that might be a bit out-of-pocket but as awkward as your answers might be, we will know whether or not we got it all right or… terribly wrong.” jiwon tucks some strands of her beautiful golden locks behind her hair and looks at you, carefully observing the smallest of actions that you make. you smiled at her. your hands itched to hold hers. you remembered how healing it was when she held them earlier through the crowd inside wonyoung’s shop.

but instead of listening to that tiny, innocent voice on one side of your head, something else tugs at your innate, underlying desires and threatens to bring it all to the light. jiwon continues on rambling about the love potion, reiterating the effects it should have on your entire being and state of mind and shamefully admitting that she may have made a mistake on her brew that you unfortunately just so happened to consume when that familiar feeling of hunger starts slowly washing over your senses. 

you blink and take a short glance behind you, towards the sanctuary. you could see the failed potion glowing angrily from where you sat. it was calling to you. and you recognize that it was quite terrifying to think that it would affect you this much even from such a great distance, but you realized that it was not because it was so powerful, now that you were truly examining the bottle where it has been sealed for the last decade. the cap was loose, and that’s why it had been growing stronger for the past few hours that you and jiwon were busy working on your brews.

and the culprit? the fat cat with white and orange fur that was conveniently nowhere to be found because she knows her witch will absolutely lose her goddamn mind over all of this.

“(y/n), are you listening?” jiwon tugs at the sleeve of your shirt, bringing your attention back to her. you weren’t listening, and you have come to the decision that you will not be listening for the rest of the night. it was hard to pay any attention to a single thing. what with the failed potion slithering through the cracks that the ‘love’ potion had created in your mind now that the latter was starting to truly make itself comfortable in your system.

something foreign has become a strong voice inside your head. it was as if all the hidden, unspoken things you have strongly felt towards jiwon all this time have made themselves seen. and it feels… great.

it feels great to not run away from your heart. to not turn away from what your brain is telling you you should chase after. to not deny yourself of love. of fondness. of closeness. of pleasure.

you want her… you need her… and you shall do whatever it takes to have her.

and somehow, you agreed.

“all i have to say is that we were successful, jiwon… everything is so clear to me now,” you sat even closer to your mentor. she had no idea just how much you wanted to pounce on her, but she’ll know about it soon enough. you put your hand on her knee as you leaned closer, your eyes glued to her plump, pink lips. yes… the only pair of lips you’ve wanted to have all over your body this entire time. “we should celebrate this wonderful feat.” you suggested with only one activity in mind.

jiwon looked especially delighted to hear your confirmation. her eyes lit all the way up, making it impossible for your heart to stop beating erratically, “have we really created the world’s first working love potion?! have we really, (y/n)?” she puts a hand on top of yours, squeezing gently.

“i believe so. and it’s all because of you, really… that amazing mind of yours. your drive,” feeling particularly courageous, you gently pushed jiwon’s long, golden hair to her back—it was necessary for you to see her face up close without any obstructions. she was too beautiful to be hidden away, truth to be told. but hey, if she didn’t live in seclusion in a dangerous, magical forest then you wouldn’t have found her, right? maybe it was all a blessing, and a message. one that said that jiwon was only meant to be seen and loved by… you. “i can’t believe it took me this long to finally take this leap.” with your free hand, you cupped jiwon’s cheek with your one free hand, smiling lovingly at her.

the older girl blinks, “hm? what are you talking ab—” you don’t let her finish her words. you crashed your lips onto hers, hungry and needy. her lips were everything you hoped for. pillowy soft with a burst of flavor that fed your desires and had you chasing for more. your hand slides down from her cheek to the collar of her shirt, grabbing a fistful of the soft material to pull her closer. it was then you felt her grab your wrist and move back slightly to take a breath or maybe even try to stop you, but you don’t let her separate your lips for too long.

you took a tighter hold of her shirt and connected your lips again and this time, she was less resistant and melted into you a lot easier. your hands now held jiwon’s face, controlling the kiss and even pressing your thumb firmly against her chin to make her open her mouth, which she does obediently. a moan slips out—you couldn’t tell if it was from you or jiwon but this only fueled your lust even more. it seemed to have affected jiwon too, now seeing that she had her hand up your thigh, slowly creeping up towards the hem of your shorts.

a shiver crawls down your spine. you can’t bear it. you pulled jiwon to stand up with you and started leading her towards the sanctuary where your heart screamed at you to go. you feel her hands touch you everywhere. her fingertips tug furiously at the waistband of your shorts and the slightest touch of her cold fingers brushing against your warm skin had you reeling in the best way possible. but suddenly, jiwon pins you against the doorframe and leans back. confused at the absence of warmth on your lips, you opened your eyes and… wow, she looked stunning. lipstick in disarray, hair disheveled, chest heaving up and down, and her eyes holding nothing but desperation and need. that’s a side of hers you’ve never seen before, and it was delicious to see.

“i can’t fight it, (y/n),” she glances at the failed potion, spots that the lid was completely loose, and scans the air. traces of powerful enchantment magic were scattered around the entire room, which means it was impossible to escape its effects. “i can’t resist…” jiwon mutters under her breath with a sigh of defeat. 

she knew in her heart that you bringing her into the sanctuary was intentional and she wanted to be mad at you for it and most of all, for taking advantage of her softness for you. but whatever irritation she felt was now slowly turning into love… and now all she wanted to do was pour all of that love into you in the one way she only knows now. sure, a simple kiss or even some flowers would be nice… but oh, it was all so clear to jiwon now too that she wanted to give you more.

“it’s okay…” slowly, you started leaving kisses from your mentor’s cheek all the way down to her jawline, where you have decided to leave your first mark of the night. a nice little love bite from you. jiwon looked perfect with it. she still looked reluctant, however. you had no idea she was such a fighter… but you should have expected it from the most talented person you know.

“it’s… i-inappropriate… and wonyoung would really kill me if i acted on it…” the older girl says. it was clearly her last line of defense, otherwise she would have pushed herself off of you already.

jealousy was all you felt upon hearing wonyoung’s name leave jiwon’s mouth. “don’t think about her,” you said rather sternly, shocking even yourself. “besides, she doesn’t have to know. nobody does.” and it’s all thanks to you again, you wanted to add because really, neither of you would be able to do this if jiwon had lived in a lavish mansion in the city with bustling streets all around, but you used your lips for something better instead.

you leaned in for another kiss but this time, you were a lot gentler and jiwon was less… frantic. her shoulders relaxed and her lips fell into a steady rhythm against yours as if it was part of her daily routine. and now both of you were thinking that maybe it should be. this didn’t even feel wrong! what was jiwon even talking about? ‘inappropriate’? the two of you were exactly where you needed to be. and when you pulled her further inside the room, the world was suddenly nonexistent.

you pushed the older girl down on one of her comfortable bean bags—she didn’t seem to mind. jiwon watched intently as you took off your shirt and shorts without delay, and you didn’t miss how she shamelessly licked her lips upon seeing your body. she even beckoned you back over using her fingers, grinning when you scoffed but obliged anyway. you weren’t embarrassed to admit that seeing jiwon express her need for you so freely turned you on more than the potion did. in fact, there was exactly no room for embarrassment when you’ve enthusiastically allowed jiwon to grab your hips and made you grind yourself on her thigh.

at least it was temporary relief for your core, so you didn’t complain. you held jiwon’s stare as you rocked back and forth, even going as far as brushing your hair behind your shoulder so your bare breasts were on full display just for her. that seemed to have tickled something in her brain quite nicely judging by how the corner of her lips tugged up slightly. you put one hand down on jiwon’s forearm and the other on her shoulder while you increase your pace, your moans now getting louder and a lot higher. jiwon liked that even better! so much so that she grabs a hold of your ass, squeezing lightly and still guiding you.

however she managed to act crude but appear innocent and angelic as ever was beyond you. not that you could use your brain to think anyway. nobody can blame you for that though, not when you were damn near reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy the longer you rode jiwon’s thigh. your climax only becomes nearer and clearer when the older girl unexpectedly slaps your ass and slightly digs her surprisingly long nails in your skin. you whimper weakly and quite awkwardly when an ounce of shame manages to slip through your feeble heart and mind, quickly reminding you that yeah, you are acting like this for your teacher!

your teacher that was nine years older, your teacher that was your senior in every way possible but most importantly in magical terms what with her years and years of experience that you severely lacked, your teacher that technically is the cause of your intoxication but… can you really resist those big, brown eyes? those soft lips that you have come to know so well in so little time? those hands that you have always secretly wanted to hold and be held by? no, you couldn’t.

(the potion told you so. but you knew deep in your heart it was all true.)

“you’re not going to cum just from this, are you…? you haven’t even been doing it for long either.” jiwon asked, thoroughly entertained by how carelessly you were moaning now. she must admit that she appreciated you making her sit down because she wouldn’t have traded the view of your face scrunched up in pleasure and your breasts bouncing slightly because of your constant movement for anything else. jiwon felt like a nasty pervert for just simply observing but hey, you were the one that was putting on this show for her. therefore it didn’t feel right for jiwon to be a gentlewoman and look away! especially not when the more she watches, the more she wants to devour you.

“no, i’m… oh, goodness… i’m n-not…” you were shaking your head, and yet you held onto jiwon’s shoulder a little tighter when she made the slightest move to move her thigh upward. you really tried hard to look tough but eight whole months of no intimacy practically had you begging to be touched. why, your underwear was soaked, your nipples sensitive and needy, and your eyes were telling jiwon basically everything you wanted her to do to you!

“are you sure, darling?” jiwon says with a sly smile. she knew what the stupid pet name would do to your mess of a brain, and she was right. the only thing you did was whine, falling deeper into submission the longer you chase your quickly oncoming high. at this point in time, neither of you were aware that the longer the potion bottle stayed open, the more of it got out and got stronger. well, maybe you didn’t know that, but there was certainly a constant reminder in jiwon’s head that she was actively ignoring.

she needed you too much to stop now. jiwon doesn’t want to admit it but staring at your pretty face earlier while you were sleeping made her start seeing you in a lot more different lights. one of them was that… well, she quite liked seeing you vulnerable. jiwon liked that you had a fire in you—loved it, even. it was what caught her attention when she first met you. in all of her years of being a witch, she has never once wanted to have a student. she never even thought about it purely because it didn’t interest her but your determination intrigued her, so she took you in. lo and behold, you were one resilient pupil! even when you mess up badly during lessons, you never let it discourage you. it was admirable.

so, seeing someone like you who was usually so strong fall apart before her eyes like this and knowing that the fault is her own… it fed jiwon’s ego real good.

you’ve gotten a lot more desperate—and it’s just how jiwon likes it. you grabbed her shirt and pulled it off of her body yourself. what you needed a lot more than be cum was to feel the older girl’s skin on your own, and when she held you in her arms as she kissed you hungrily, it felt exactly like how you thought it would. like heaven.

it was getting harder and harder to control yourself. in fact, you gave up on that. jiwon’s lips were addictive whether they were against your own or on your body, but especially the latter. she holds your waist tightly as she marks up your neck, covering every inch she could see with pretty, red marks that she knew would stay there for a couple days. jiwon grabs your hair and pulls hard on it, forcing you to expose more of your skin just for her to leave even more of her beautiful work on you.

her kisses eventually reached your chest and she didn’t treat it any differently than she did your neck. you had no idea that her need to let it known that you were hers was so… well, intense. even without either of the potions putting words in your mouth and thoughts in your brain, you have always considered yourself to be jiwon’s. you have never admired any other witch this much, never wanted to spend so much time with another being this much, and you certainly have never wanted to be loved by anyone this much. you would have definitely told jiwon that this wasn’t necessary but ah, you couldn’t deny that this felt nice anyway.

the room starts spinning, colors started to pop a lot more brighter in your eyes, and you were suddenly hearing just about everything—jiwon’s panting and tiny little moans, the sound of her suckling on your tit now that she finally found the time to pay attention to them, the rustling of the leaves outside the hut (heard through the conveniently open window inside the sanctuary), the magic that was oozing out of your and jiwon’s now abandoned cauldrons… it was overwhelming, but at the same time, it wasn’t enough. 

frustration builds up in your stomach due to jiwon not putting her priorities where they should matter. you didn’t bother to wonder if she was purely being a tease or if she had a specific way of going about this because you didn’t fucking care. you could roll your eyes at the way jiwon stared at you with nothing but pure glee through her bangs, you couldn’t believe she was having the time of her life witnessing your misery. perhaps you could push her off and just walk away leaving both of yourselves hot and bothered, maybe she’ll find that funny too!

but who were you kidding? at least ten people would be needed for you to be pulled off of jiwon who, despite your annoyance, was still the only one you wanted. and so, focusing purely on the pleasure you were feeling, you begged and begged for jiwon’s touch, “i need you… please…!”

jiwon, thoroughly surprised that you actually gave in, grins widely. “well… when you say it like that, how could i even resist you?” you didn’t even let yourself listen to half of what she said as you already grabbed her wrist and slid her hand inside your underwear. both of you moaned—you, now that you were finally going to get what you wanted and jiwon, because feeling your wetness on her hand made her brain go on a frenzy. jiwon’s fingertips briefly brushed against your clit, which only encouraged you to use your hips again just in case your mentor missed the goddamn cue to fuck you already.

“please… d-don’t make me beg all night…”

jiwon didn’t feel like fighting against you this time. she figured that you had enough of whatever antics she was planning for you and besides, she wanted you just as much. maybe even more.

“as you wish, dearest.”

one of these days, jiwon was going to get all the courage she needed to conjure up a cock on herself, because holy shit—her fingers were simply not enough. the feeling of your walls clenching up on her digits almost immediately after she had inserted them was incomparable to even the biggest accolades jiwon has ever received in her entire career. the sounds you made were even better, if that was somehow possible. jiwon found herself completely enamored by you, even opting to sit all the way back into the bean bag and just watch you.

every time jiwon would pull her fingers out, you would just slam your hips back down to have them inside you again. you almost looked like you wished she had a dick at this moment too, you wouldn’t hesitate to take all of her in. just like how you didn’t hesitate at all to take another finger in, even moaning purely out of joy once you felt a lot… fuller. you’ve held onto jiwon’s shoulders for dear life, not at all caring that your nails were piercing through her skin, and that blood was slowly starting to seep out of the small cuts you’ve made.

“you’re making a mess of my hand, darling…” jiwon teases all because your slick was starting to make a tiny pool on her palm, but she wasn’t complaining. if anything, it really fed her ego! the only reason you were this wet and feeling so much was all because of jiwon and her work. from the failed potion, to the questionable-but-otherwise-successful love potion—what’s not to be proud of?

“i’m sorry… it just feels too good…” you shamelessly admitted.

“don’t worry about it,” your mentor laughs at your sincerity. she hadn’t realized that you were genuinely too far gone to notice that she had been joking, but now that she does know, it was a bit baffling. but exciting, nonetheless. “you were right… this is a very good way to celebrate, hm? the only way, too?” jiwon quickly taps your chin so you could look at her and her sly grin. the fact that she was having so much fun ruining you both pissed you off and turned you on even more.

still, you agreed with her. “y-yes… ahh, fuck…! oh, jiwon…!” you were embarrassed of how loud you had gotten. it’s not like anyone else but you and jiwon would hear, sure, but perhaps that was what made it all so much worse in your head. but thinking about ways you can look jiwon in the eyes after all of this was a problem not for your intoxicated mind, which had only one goal tonight. a goal that was sure to be met very, very soon if jiwon continues on with her pace. you were barely keeping up with her—every thrust was successful in cutting off the last remaining threads of control you had of your frail mind. and you were starting to feel exhausted as well, even going as far as to rest your heavy head on jiwon’s shoulder, moaning away as she further abused your cunt in the best way possible.

jiwon had her free hand on the small of your back, giving you reassuring caresses and gentle squeezes anytime you needed them. she left deep kisses all over your neck and shoulders which sometimes came with a soft tingle considering she suddenly developed the liking to bite you. every sting that came after each kiss only further intensified the sheer need you had for jiwon, however, as you find yourself asking for more. you placed your hand on the back of jiwon’s head, pushing her closer to the parts of your neck where it felt the best for her to leave her marks. and jiwon didn’t complain at all. in fact, you heard her laughing softly while she did her work, both of them, happily.

“hm… i think this is the one mistake in my career that i’m actually happy i made,” jiwon says. she glances at the failed potion and rolls her eyes. “make that two mistakes actually.” she begrudgingly muttered.

despite the state your head was in, you found the energy to chime in. “and not three? or… fuck—is it t-too early to call this a mistake…?” a part of your heart was hoping that jiwon would disagree. but you wondered why you’d be disappointed if she said otherwise in the first place. the lust that she was feeling towards you was all because of the potion, right? but would she have even allowed it to affect her mind to such a degree if she hadn’t already been feeling something for you? fortunately, jiwon didn’t let your doubts plague your mind any longer.

“why would it be, (y/n)?” jiwon leans away from your neck and stares at you directly. her eyes have softened, even her movements have slowed, and all you thought about was how you wanted to feel her lips on yours again. especially when she looked like she was thinking the same, and wanting the same. her eyes fluttered to a close as you caressed her face. she even leaned into your touch, finding it so easy now to not run away from her loudly-beating heart like she did earlier in the day.

you kissed her, not even questioning how the action didn’t feel so wrong and somewhat dangerous anymore. it didn’t bother you quite bit either when jiwon regretfully pulled her fingers out of you and instead, wrapped her hand gently around your wrist, caressing the back of your hand as you kissed her. you pushed her back down on the bean bag as your kiss grew a lot more passionate over the seconds that passed. and as the two of you lay there while lust reignited in the air, you’d think that it was finally your turn to make jiwon feel as good as she had been making you feel this entire night.

so, you put your hand on her breast. you were slightly annoyed that there was still a piece of clothing in your way but jiwon didn’t even give you the chance to even think about pulling it off of her. the blonde wraps her arms around your waist, quite tightly, before gently flipping you over and gently laying you back down on the bean bag. and almost automatically, your legs snake around jiwon’s hips, keeping her still as her kisses get wilder.

you smile triumphantly when you felt her hands getting hasty once again, and perhaps the reason why jiwon had taken so long to just go ahead and take you before was because the older girl found the first few kisses, touches, and very action of taking your clothes off a… major turn-on. she seemed to be annoyed at the lack of clothing to tear off of you, what with how she tightly gripped your thighs and hips with her semi-sharp nails and how her eyebrows were furrowed as she kissed you.

with that in mind, you guided one of her hands towards your center as you did before—maybe the reminder that she still had a damn job left unfinished will quench the oddly specific thirst she had at the moment. the hair on the back of your neck as well as your arms stood on end as soon as you felt jiwon’s nails grazing your lips. was it pathetic of you to admit that you were already missing how she felt inside you? it might be, but with you naked laying on a bean bag with your teacher directly on top of you, there was hardly anything to be sheepish about anymore.

why would you even be embarrassed about something that felt so good, anyway?

but, apparently this time, jiwon didn’t want to be so… ‘controllable’. she pulled her hand away from your grip, and smirked when glared at her and tried to win her back by tugging her closer.

“you’ve been waiting for a while now, isn’t that right? this entire time you’ve been under the influence of the potions and in addition to the eight long months you’ve been away from your old life… don’t you want to make this just a bit more… grand? something that’s befitting a modern princess like yourself?” jiwon says. you can’t deny that her biting her lip as she looked at you up and down was the reason you instinctively clenched your thighs. “turn around, darling.” jiwon nods at you, expecting you to just immediately do as she says.

“turn… around? w-what for?” you asked. out of all the things you expected to come out of jiwon’s mouth at this hour, it was not that.

“what else for, (y/n)?” jiwon replies with a soft laugh. she doesn’t bother to wait for you to catch on to what she was saying and instead, flips you around herself, and only then did you realize what she meant. anticipation courses through your veins as you get comfortable in your new position—it wasn’t one you frequently found yourself in back when you used to sleep around with people, so it was difficult to not feel excited. you just hoped that it wouldn’t show too much because you knew jiwon would use it against you. even at such a crucial time as this!

jiwon leans down and kisses your shoulder while her hands go back to work. you bask in the feeling of her hands travelling all over your body once again, even whimpering ever so slightly when her fingers brushed against your nipples. and it was a different kind of bliss when jiwon fills you back up but this time from behind. you tried very hard to look strong, to look like you didn’t just want to lay there and allow jiwon to do the worst things in her mind to you but with the witch being so smart that she already had your favored spots figured out… it was useless to even put up a façade.

“down, girl.” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face down on the bean bag, muffling your moans but effectively making you arch your back further. fuck. it seems like jiwon doesn’t even need to put any effort in breaking you down anymore. good. her eyes would flicker up from your back (where she had made wonderful scratch marks from trying to hold you still) to your face. she could only see a small portion of your expression due to your hair being a mess on your head, but even then, you still managed to make that pool in between her legs worse.

jiwon would have loved to relieve herself, especially if she had to use you… but this was a much, much better way to do that.

at this point, there was no doubt that the potions have completely taken over your senses. you were completely infatuated with jiwon and you were quite literally salivating at every sensation her fingers gave you. you felt whole, complete. there was nothing more that could make you feel better than this, you were convinced of that. and so, you opened your mouth. yet another louder and dirtier string of moans left your throat before all the pleas you so boldly declared seconds after. jiwon was more than happy to fulfill your wishes, making sure that every thrust, bite, and kiss was worth all the trouble that will inevitably follow the two of you come next morning.

but of course it was. this was all in the name of magic, isn’t it? this was clear progress! jiwon should be delighted, and she is. and how much better could she express that than taking you to the very pinnacle of your pleasure and allowing you to finally have that release you desperately needed from no one but her?

“you are… absolutely breathtaking, (y/n).” jiwon whispered as she watched you crumble before her. one would think that she would stop as you’re cumming all over her hand, but jiwon proved to be relentless. her fingers kept on fucking you in that same merciless pace, not at all giving you the luxury of recovery even just for a second. naturally, as soon as you had finished, a second orgasm came right after. you would be embarrassed but really, you were more focused on not passing out from exhaustion.

oh, it gets worse.

jiwon raises her free hand to her lips and licks her fingers before swiftly reaching down in between your legs and rubbing her damp fingers against your clit. you grabbed her wrist with one hand, digging your nails into her skin to make her stop or at the very least, chill the fuck out while the other was kept busy with holding onto the bean bag for dear life. you were so confused because on one hand, this might have been the greatest thing to have ever happened to you in your life but on the other… it was so difficult to keep on pretending like you can take all of what jiwon was trying to give you.

your third orgasm of the night comes to fruition, just like jiwon wanted. the witch then decided to finally slow down… but she shoves her wet fingers inside your mouth. obediently, you sucked on them, licking your juices off of her digits. you think you heard jiwon praise you for being such a dirty little dog for her, but you don’t hear any of it because she goes right back into her work. somehow. but at this point, you really couldn’t keep it up anymore.

“j-jiwon… enough, please…” you mumbled so pathetically weakly that it actually did the damn trick. between your roughed up state, tears, and the most adorable pout known to humankind, jiwon couldn’t find it in herself to push your limits even further. so, she pulls her fingers out of you and allows you to melt into the bean bag.

jiwon, dazed, takes a thorough look-around at the sanctuary and spots the failed potion that is still, as one can imagine, raining enchantment magic fumes. something tugs at her mind to keep ruining you, to continue on wanting you, to completely and just utterly finish what she had started… but jiwon resists this time. looking at you and your roughed-up body, she knew she had done enough. you didn’t need to suffer any more stress about this entire mess tonight, and hopefully, never again!

and so, jiwon makes a move to leave you so she could start the search for the cap that cheddar had successfully taken off of the potion bottle and lock the stupid thing back in its charmed cage so it wouldn’t do any more harm to you or her, but you somehow found the energy to turn yourself back around and grab jiwon’s arm, successfully getting her attention. you couldn’t find your voice, so you merely shook your head at her and gave her a look that you hoped would get the message “stay with me” across.

jiwon doesn’t leave you, thankfully. she brushes your hair away from your face and from where you lay, you can still see her desire burning deep behind her affection. in a way, it flustered you. so much so that you couldn’t exactly meet her eyes when she caresses your cheek.

“you can’t walk, can you…?” jiwon asked, and you would have laughed at her sudden bashfulness if it wouldn’t have made you urinate on the spot because this sure was quite a shift in behavior! you shook your head as an answer, still embarrassed by how you would sound had you actually tried to speak. “we can’t stay here… but i can’t carry you either. do you think you can try to walk? i’ll help you.” jiwon said.

“can’t you just… magic the numbness and exhaustion out of me?” you asked with all the strength you could muster. as expected, your voice was hoarse but you chose to ignore that. you were thankful that jiwon did so as well.

your teacher laughed at your proposal, “it would come at a cost, (y/n). you know this! if i proceed with a spell that grants you temporary relief of your… affliction, it’s all going to hit you the next day like a full swing of an ogre’s oversized baton. i would know.”

“but i can’t move… are you sure we can’t stay here? we had fun, didn’t we?” you asked without even realizing what you had just said. but it was too late to take them back now.

jiwon pauses. there was a hint of interest in her expression before she just laughed softly, “don’t start. you were the one who wanted out, remember?” she says. she then leans down with the very obvious and innocent intent to kiss you, until she remembered that you both had somewhat of a grasp of your minds now and stops.

“i think you’ve done worse things than not asking permission to kiss me tonight.” you teased, cupping her cheeks with both your hands and pulling her closer.

jiwon sighs defeatedly, “don’t say it like that…!” she says, but you kiss her before she goes off on a whole tangent about whatever she was thinking.

it was funny how she made such a fuss about how the two of you couldn’t stay in the sanctuary because of the potion, but now it seemed like she didn’t want to leave anymore. you could physically feel yourself falling into the potion’s trap once again—there was no way that your libido would be ramping up at an alarming rate on a normal day because of a kiss! the familiar surge of desire washes over you, despite your best efforts to ignore it. but jiwon was just one step ahead of her own damned creation.

she pulls away from you and gently but firmly states, “no.”

jiwon grabs the blanket that she conjured for you earlier in the morning and wraps it around your body before urging you to get up. you do as she says, having had enough of the potion being in control of you as well. as much as it was a pain in the ass to drag yourself out of the sanctuary because of how numb your legs still were, it was very much worth all of that trouble because as soon as you stepped out of that room, your mind was a lot more clear.

“most of the magic is still inside the room, thankfully. it should be easy to clear out the rest of the hut but for now… i think it’s best if we shut off this one area for a while.” jiwon mutters before sealing up the archway that led to the sanctuary with a spell. it was completely inaccessible from everyone except jiwon and whoever she chooses can venture inside.

you could tell that even though jiwon was fully committed to helping you get settled under the comfort of your bed, she wanted to take action and get rid of the potion as fast as possible. but you, once again, managed to wordlessly convince her to lay on your bed with you. she doesn’t resist when you pull her underneath the covers with you, and neither does she resist waiting for even a second until she holds you in her arms as you drift off to a nice, well-earned sleep.

jiwon doesn’t sleep until a couple of hours later, mostly due to the fact that she was still mildly under the potion’s influence and found it hard to focus on anything but your bare body laying almost on her own. but she was also thinking about how your relationship as teacher and student would suffer at the hands of this… study. of course, jiwon would totally respect your decision if you decided to part ways with her after this because who in their right mind would even think that this whole debacle was something one can move on from quickly? let alone, at all?!

but it would be a shame. a great shame, indeed. she has bonded so closely with you in just over the course of eight months, thanks to your shared love for learning. watching your eyes shine so bright after every spell casted, after every potion brewed, after every lesson successfully learned, made jiwon remember just why she fell in love with magic in the first place.

she had been in a dark place before she stumbled into you—she had become a legend to many and yet she felt so… empty and lost. jiwon had achieved many great things and it just seemed like there was nothing much she could do in her life anymore. but then she met you, listened to your wishes of wanting to study and practice magic to become a witch, and it all clicked for her because of course! if jiwon had nothing to learn from anything anymore, she could pass her knowledge on to those who deserved it!

and it turns out, as everyone knows now, you did deserve it.

jiwon was willing to deal with whatever repercussions she has to face the next day, but if this was the last time she was going to appreciate you without her pride getting in the way of her feelings, then she might as well do so until her drowsiness finally decides to pull her away from you.

~

three days later, you and jiwon anxiously sat in the dining room in front of an inexplicably-but-understandingly furious wonyoung and her sweet wife gaeul who was smiling kindly to alleviate any fear you were definitely feeling under the weight of wonyoung’s stare, bless her heart.

“i don’t know what i expected to happen, honestly,” wonyoung sighed as she leaned back on her chair. she had many words to say to you and jiwon but she didn’t want to waste anybody’s time by nagging your ears off. especially not when she had just been graced with the information that the potion has been sitting in the sanctuary for three whole days without any attempt from jiwon to get it back in its cage. well, any successful attempts, that is. “but i did expect you, jiwon, to be the most careful you have ever been. which, by the way, you promised before you left my shop with the thing and would you look at that!” your mentor’s best friend laughs, but you didn’t think she was amused at all.

“i know, i know, alright? i was stupid. trying to create the love potion in the first place was stupid and getting my student involved is probably the stupidest thing about all of this but please, spare me the talk, wonyoung.” jiwon said. she was embarrassed to have to recall the events of that night and spell it all out for her best friend, but there was a tinge of irritation there too. in fact, jiwon has been restless and frustrated for days on end. she hadn’t been looking forward to alerting wonyoung about the incident, much less asking for her help to clean it all up. and with the knowledge that wonyoung will probably want to hand the potion off to the authorities for good and potentially tell them about that night as well, it made a lot of sense for jiwon to be so… unlike herself.

what didn’t make sense, however, was how she had gotten so distant towards you.

you could say that it was inevitable considering how awkward the situation really was. who would even look at their subordinate in the eyes after a night like that? no doubt jiwon was ashamed of herself. you just felt bad that you couldn’t comfort her and tell her how you really felt about it all now that you were finally in your right mind. all because she wouldn’t let you.

gaeul was quick to sense the tension between her wife and her friend so she was quick to attempt to lighten the mood, “at least the two of you are unharmed, alright? nobody is hurt, suffering from any side effects, or pregnant, heaven forbid.” she said, laughing, but she immediately pauses and looks at you. “are… are you?” she asked.

“no! no, of course not,” you answered fairly quickly, which loosened jiwon, wonyoung, and gaeul’s tight shoulders and undoubtedly, chests. “we… concluded that pregnancy or any other anomalies, no offense—i’m s-sure you both are amazing mothers—would only occur if the potion was consumed and the drinker had very, very strong feelings of love for the other person.”

“so, neither of you consumed the potion,” gaeul said to which you and jiwon nodded. but she still looked confused. “but wonyoung said the two of you are deeply in—”

“honey. if i may?” wonyoung interrupts her wife with an obviously forced laugh. you chose to ignore how your mentor’s cheeks quickly grew pink at whatever gaeul was insinuating. “jiwon, i don’t want to get you arrested and condemned for the rest of history and be a cautionary tale for young witches and wizards aspiring to specialize in enchantment magic, so… what are we telling the council?”

jiwon momentarily forgets that she was upset at the world and sheepishly smiles at her best friend, “do we have to…?”

“jiwon.”

“just think about it, wonyoung! the legal chaos we would all face! (y/n) included! she’s not an official practicing witch—she would get reprimanded to hell and shoved back into her family with yet another magic-related crime under her belt, which we know she doesn’t want to happen at all. you and i broke the law so heaven only knows whatever’s facing us on the dark side of justice and with gaeul being your wife and the very first… victim of the potion, she would get in trouble too!” jiwon frantically explained. you shuddered at the thought of some knights dragging you to your father’s doorstep and this time as an actual criminal. you can’t even imagine the yelling you would receive, let alone the punishments.

wonyoung was silent, but visibly conflicted. she knew her and gaeul’s daughter would also suffer the consequences should the four of you get… arrested. hyunseo was only ten years old, she does not need her parents going to jail at such a crucial time—which is exam season.

“jiwon is right,” gaeul says. and of course, wonyoung doesn’t fight it because not only did she agree that jiwon was not at all crazy this time around but she also cannot say ‘no’ to her wife. “but there is still the problem of what in the world are we going to do to return your hut to its former, humble glory.”

to your surprise, cheddar jumps up on your lap, probably sensing how down you have been the entire morning due to your dear mentor refusing to hold a conversation with you for more than three minutes. jiwon had forgiven the cat for being the main reason things went haywire that night, but that didn’t stop cheddar from being the cute troublemaker she has always been. but you were glad about that because at least not everything changed after that mess of a study. you caressed the cat’s soft fur, hating how your mind was forcing you to think back on how jiwon’s hair felt all tangled up in your fingers as you kissed her three nights ago.

it was useless to try and ignore the truth about what you felt for your teacher. the love potion, the one that you drank as per jiwon’s request and not the other one, only worked so well because it amplified the pre-existing romantic feelings you already had for jiwon. the very same ones you tried to convince were just deep admiration because she just so happened to be the most talented witch you know. perhaps that was all it was in the beginning, but you knew they developed into something else overtime. you just refused to acknowledge it, for obvious reasons.

add that to the list of reasons why you are particularly bummed about jiwon’s behavior towards you as of late.

“(y/n)? are you okay?” gaeul asked. when you looked up, the three older women were looking at you, worried and alert.

“y-yes! sorry…” you mumbled, embarrassed at how you spaced out during a very important discussion. jiwon holds her stare at your face, probably searching for the real problems but you don’t give her the chance to worry about all of that when there are much, much bigger things to sweat over.

“let me get this straight. you want to enlist two of our friends to cover up this mess—one being yujin, who works directly under the council’s orders as a knight, and the other being rei, the most prized professor of an elite magic school and is a daughter of two council members?” wonyoung says, holding back any and all of the urge to call her best friend ‘dumb’.

“are you implying that they would let their best friends get whisked off to prison just to save their behinds? surely you have more faith in them than that, wonyoung,” jiwon jokes, but wonyoung was still not convinced that any of this would work. you were getting a very strong sense of deja vu right now. it was amusing to think that this is the way the two of them have always been since their younger days—jiwon always doing the most with her talents while poor wonyoung has to basically babysit her. “also, yujin never does her job correctly and even rei has bent and broken a few sacred rules. they’re no stranger to crime!”

wonyoung looks at you, her wife who reached out to hold her hand, and then back at jiwon, who looked like a drowned kitten trying to beg her best friend to go along with her plan. she shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and glances at her wife one last time before admitting defeat and giving in, “i’m going to hell for this.”

later that morning, while gaeul and wonyoung got busy trying to find a way to break the news to their friends, you retreated into your bedroom in hopes of taking a really short nap since you didn’t get a lot of sleep the previous night, or at all. your head has been filled with nothing but worries, it was impossible to even want to fall asleep. for the past three days that jiwon tried to clean up the mess by herself, you were doing absolutely nothing. sure, you could have helped, but jiwon didn’t want you to and frankly, you didn’t know how you could. so, you have just been watching your teacher stress over it all while you waited until you could do something, but it seems like today was not that day once again.

you sat on your bed, now contemplating if you should sleep or see if the witches needed anything from you, however little it was worth. it was hard to be in your room and not think about how jiwon held you in her arms as you slept that night. the side of the bed where she laid still smelled like her, and you felt like such a pervert for even noticing that but it was the truth!

“(y/n)...?”

speaking of which.

you flinched at your mentor’s unexpected appearance, “oh my—! you scared me, ma’am.”

“is this a bad time?” jiwon asked. you shook your head, but you didn’t tell her that this was what you have been waiting for for three whole days. you were hoping that it didn’t show too much either. jiwon carefully approached you and at first, it seemed like she was just going to loom over you as she talked but then she suddenly decided to sit down beside you. it baffled you to think of how awkward things had gotten between the two of you, but you had to find a way to be fine with it because again, what did you expect?

whenever jiwon was anxious, she never knew what to do with her hands, so she tended to fiddle with the hem of her shirt. seeing her do exactly that while she flips her brilliant mind upside down to find the right words to say to you was comforting in an oddly specific way that only you could understand.

“first things first, i’m deeply sorry to have put you through… all of that,” jiwon didn't look at you while she spoke. she couldn’t. “i should have known better, especially since you didn’t. even though the night ended with as little of a mess as possible, if you can even believe it, i practically forced you to be in danger and i did unintentionally put you in such a… demeaning position, what with making you as the volunteer for the love potion and of course, not shielding you from that other abomination.”

you smiled at jiwon even though she couldn’t see it because she had her eyes glued to the floor, “it’s all fine, really. we were just trying to—”

“and because of all that, i don’t think i should be your mentor.”

oh? 

oh, wow.

is this what heartbreak feels like? if so, you weren’t very fond of it.

you took a deep breath, refusing to let your emotions take over you just to discern whether or not jiwon was joking. she decided to look at you now, and those warm brown eyes that you’ve fallen hopelessly for were filled to the brim with guilt. your heart sinks… but you were never one to just give up on anything just like that.

“it… it was one incident, jiwon. worse things have happened while we were doing other studies! i-i almost started a wildfire right in our backyard, i accidentally summoned a supposed-to-be extinct species of a monster that nearly killed you before you conquered it, and you technically were the reason i fell and broke my leg during broom practice because you got competitive over a stupid race!” you were more than willing to tell her other happy accidents that happened throughout your short journey as teacher and student, but you knew in your heart that jiwon herself remembers it all.

it made you angry just how much you wanted to stay with her. truth to be told, you probably didn’t need her to learn magic and become a witch. you could just find another teacher, or do everything on your own like you initially wanted to do.

but… this was jiwon, damn it.

“(y/n), hey,” the older girl holds your hand, laughs when you try to pull away and only holds it tighter. “let me finish, darling.”

and now you feel really dramatic for being on the brink of tears.

“my dear friend, rei, is a teacher at one of the most prestigious private schools for magic in the city, as wonyoung mentioned before. it’s actually the one i graduated from but that’s not important. anyway, the headmistress adores her and allows her to be in charge of admissions and if you think you know where i’m going—no, you don't, so keep your pretty lips sealed tight,” jiwon said. she grins and laughs when you close your mouth like she demanded. “rei runs her own little gathering of the gifted kids that she stumbles into during the practical part of the entrance exams, and i told her about you.”

you nodded, very slowly, “o-okay…? i’m afraid i don’t understand.” you truly didn’t.

“what i mean is; congratulations, (y/n) (l/n), for you have just been accepted at everybody’s dream school and you’re under the direct care of its best teacher! woo!” jiwon starts clapping with the widest smile on her face, which slowly starts to drop when she notices the blank look on your face. “why aren’t you happy? i thought you’d be happier…” your mentor mumbles, scratching the back of her neck.

“no… i-i… there’s just… a lot to unpack here, is all,” you decided to put some distance between you and jiwon for the sole reason that you didn’t want anything to distract you from putting the right words together. not her scent, not her eyes, not her lips, not her hands—nothing. you wished you could express how truly happy you did feel that jiwon believed in your abilities so much that she somehow got you admitted to the school that all the legendary witches graduated from, but there was just this one big question that you knew wouldn’t stop bothering you unless you asked… so you did. “are you… getting rid of me?” it wasn’t easy dragging it out of your throat.

“what? no, (y/n)... this is nothing at all like that.” jiwon replies. she tries to get close to you again but you raise your hand up, stopping her from moving. jiwon respected your wishes and kept her distance, though you didn’t miss the look of hurt on her face. “i understand how it might look and feel like that, okay? i’m desperate to cover everything up, i’m dragging my best friends into my mess, and now i’m sending you off to an academy—i get it. but i’m… taking care of you, (y/n). you want to be a witch, remember? i’m helping you get there. to your dream.”

“but you’re my…” you hesitate and completely halt your thoughts. it’s true that both potions were a pain in the ass to endure but at least it made you brave. it was annoying how you couldn’t just bring yourself to spit everything out, but this was hardly the perfect time for confessions of any kind.

jiwon shakes her head, “i’m really sorry,” her words were but a whisper. “the incident really opened my eyes to… the dangers of you having me as your mentor. i… i don’t know what i’m doing, or if i’m teaching you the correct things o-or if i should at all. magic needs to be handled like glass. it’s fragile, it’s unpredictable, and it’s deadly if not used properly. you’re not going to learn that from me, (y/n).”

you knew she was talking about her reputation and how she ‘unfortunately’ lives up to it. jiwon is no doubt special, perhaps one of the most special witches to have graced these lands, but all that talent, that hunger for knowledge, the ability to want to achieve everything and be willing to do anything for it all came with endless troubles, accidents, and controversy. she was never able to do anything in a simple way but hey, that was the best thing about her. if she hadn’t been a literal blessing to the mystic arts, she would be condemned to hell for all of the stupid and reckless things she has done.

so, you understand. you do, and it fucking sucks.

“i apologize if i’ve made you upset, but believe me when i tell you that this is a good thing. and don’t even tell me that you’ll refuse to attend the academy just because i told my teacher friend about you. some people get admitted for worse and dumber things. but you,” jiwon leaves your bed, moves in front of you and crouches down. she takes a hold of both your hands, and was visibly relieved to see you accept her affection. “you deserve to be there, (y/n). truly.”

your lips quiver and you feel a lump in your throat forming until you hold jiwon’s hands tighter and are able to channel just enough grit in your head to believe that yes. you can do this.

“okay.”

jiwon smiles, and at the very same second that she opens her mouth to probably tell you more about how amazing of a witch you’re going to be with proper training and whatnot, you pull her in for a warm hug. she didn't wait a second before hugging you right back, and it was healing. you would have pulled away a lot earlier if you didn’t feel jiwon gently threading her fingers through your hair and nuzzling her face closer to the side of your head. it didn’t feel like she was aware of what she was doing, but that was more than fine to you.

anything to be in her embrace for a little while longer.

it took everything in your power to not profess your love to her right then and there. you felt safe and secure… but you knew that those exact feelings were nothing but a trap and its sole purpose was to ruin everything good you and jiwon had built up in this one conversation. you keep your mouth shut, but you hugged the older girl just a tad bit tighter. maybe if you bring her heart close to yours, she would feel just how much it beats for her. you wouldn’t need to rely on your words, which you knew almost always failed you when it mattered most.

“i will see if gaeul and wonyoung had managed to get a hold of our friends,” jiwon says as she pulls away. you almost didn’t want to let go of her. “are you coming?”

you flashed her a brief smile, “do you mind if i joined later? i haven’t gotten a wink of sleep lately.”

there was a flash of concern in your mentor’s eyes—she noticed how your smile faltered, how you quickly looked away from her knowing gaze and how you scooted away from her touch. her heart aches at the thought of how she might have hurt you, but she had already said everything she needed to say. there was no use in apologizing to you again. so, jiwon merely smiles back at you, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before leaving your bedroom.

instead of sobbing into your pillow like you expected yourself to do immediately once your mentor was out of earshot, you take a deep breath and slap your cheeks. perhaps a little too roughly than you should have, but the pain distracted you from the whirlwind of depressing emotions that wanted to take over your entire being and ruin your day even more. you figured you were well past the point, or age, of throwing a tantrum and crying over something so small. of course, that didn’t mean that you weren’t allowed to be sad about it all. in fact, you absolutely had every right to be sad!

but look at the bright side—you were going to become a witch! if there was anything you learned from jiwon, it was that every nice thing that might come out of a situation outweighs all of the bad. no matter how ‘bad’ it all really is.

plus, there was only really one bad thing that had been plaguing your mind this entire time. for every night that you have spent in this hut, you always went back to the day you ran away from home. you wondered if you had actually told your parents that you were going to seek a way, any way, to study magic with or without their help. would they have given you their support after years of stomping all over your passion? would your father finally stop being such a big obstacle in your path and just let you go on your merry way? would your mother take it upon herself to get you to your dream considering your entire life, all she ever wanted was for you to be content?

well, you’ll never know now. but you could make everything a lot easier for you, your parents, and everyone affected by your actions.

“i can’t see them right now. father would most likely be too angry to listen to me if i speak to them directly, and mother… well, she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it,” you approached your desk. it was littered with parchment, spellbooks, and quills, much like all of the tables in the sanctuary. “a letter. that’s… something. i just need to tell them that i’m okay.”

you dipped the quill into the pool of ink and got to writing. greetings, explanations, apologies, promises, gratitude, love—everything you wanted to tell your parents not only for the past eight months but even your entire life! you were careful not to mention jiwon. you knew that your father would most likely overreact and frankly, your mentor had enough to deal with on her plate! you didn’t want to add ‘dealing with your father’ onto that pile!

as you were fully immersed in laying your heart out on the parchment, you hadn’t realized that jiwon had returned to your bedroom. she spotted your busy hand gliding across the pages and stopped herself from bothering you, opting to watch you from the doorway instead. from your less-than-healthy posture, the creasing of your eyebrows, the slight pout on your lips, and how your hair fell on your face, jiwon is reminded of all the countless nights she caught you studying up until ungodly hours, which would then lead to jiwon going to your room the next morning and seeing you passed out on your desk, drooling and everything.

it was strange—knowledge was everything to jiwon. she loved the hunt for the answers and the search for information that she needed and didn’t need just for the sake of learning more and more. but this… this yearning for your touch. your lips. your voice. your embrace… and your heart—pursuing forbidden knowledge was supposedly jiwon’s favorite thing but figuring out that her adoration for you was more than a teacher simply enjoying her student’s company… well, that was forbidden knowledge jiwon had wished was kept from her.

because looking at you now with all of this knowledge of her feelings for you without any way to express it, jiwon was in pain. and regretfully, she left. if jiwon can’t even handle seeing you with only a few days left until rei takes you to the academy, how would she fare with not seeing you for months? years? forever…?

meanwhile, your movements paused and you turned around, thinking that someone had been watching you while you got busy… but all you saw was a lone shadow retreating elsewhere. you don’t pay it any mind and continue on writing your letter with a heavy heart, but you wouldn’t dare address the way you felt disappointment towards your mentor, whom you expected to come running back into your room and right into your arms.

perhaps you should focus on more… attainable dreams from now on.

~

your mentor’s little troupe was not short of personality, you can say that much.

apparently, jiwon’s friends had insisted that they come to the hut on a long weekend to scope the situation as they were too busy with their jobs and thus, that wait until that weekend was the most anxious week of your life. you’d think there would be nothing for you to fear knowing everything that has happened but upon the realization your future professor might not even like you upon her arrival, you find that there are indeed some things left for you to have you pacing around the kitchen past midnight.

multiple midnights before that weekend, in fact. even cheddar had to intervene one night—aggressively hissing at you and hitting your ankles with her soft paws until you settled yourself back in your bed. and on another night, jiwon unexpectedly witnessed your pacing when she came out of her room to have a cup of water. she, too, nagged at you to go to bed. at least she was a lot nicer about it than her damn cat.

you made a joke about asking jiwon to cast a spell that would take you to dreamland but clearly it was in poor taste, what with jiwon now hating the idea of using magic to hurt you, physically or otherwise. especially otherwise. you made a different joke about casting it yourself instead, which jiwon liked even less.

safe to say you were able to sleep immediately after that encounter, wanting to erase it from your memory as soon as possible.

it wasn’t until you actually met rei that you could finally breathe—the woman was lovely! she approached you like a friend and not at all an instructor. you had been fearing that she would ask you to cast a spell or two as some sort of showcase for your talent and you knew you would have embarrassed yourself as well as jiwon, so you were thankful that all rei wanted to know about you was your name and your favorite color.

all of that led to you having a heliotrope colored bracelet adorned with the academy crest on your wrist. when you had asked rei about why she had given you such a nice little gift, you thought she would tell you that it was a way for the members of her special class to differentiate themselves from the rest of the student body… but rei was truly just a sweet, kind woman that wanted you to feel right at home with her as soon as possible.

and then there was ahn yujin. boy, was she a wonder. she could have been straight out of a fairy tale that you used to read when you were a kid—a rebellious noblewoman who left her family to pursue greatness she wouldn’t have achieved had she kept her head down and accepted her destiny—if she hadn’t also been… such a klutz. yujin looked dignified when she finally arrived at the hut on her horse. she even stepped off flawlessly and offered her hand to rei, who she had been riding with, to help her down. like a prince! but then she approached you, shook your hand, and what came out of those adorable pair of lips was a horrible, tasteless joke that only someone as strange as your mentor would laugh at. and did!

no wonder they were friends. no wonder they were all friends! they all laughed at yujin’s terrible joke!

still, you appreciated both rei and yujin for wordlessly assuring you that you can treat them like you had been treating jiwon, gaeul, and wonyoung. like friends. highly respected and powerful friends, but friends nonetheless!

it took the five of them three days to clear up the sanctuary. the failed potion was once again sealed back into its dastardly cage with wonyoung and jiwon now promising that they will never ever take it out of wonyoung’s dungeon for as long as they will live. gaeul and yujin made a bet that it would take either of those two ten years until they pull the potion out of the dungeon for something stupid. rei betted on eight. and you silently betted on twenty years because you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of wonyoung’s wrath and you do have faith that jiwon would keep her word this time around.

on the night jiwon decided to have a lovely dinner with her friends after successfully cleaning up what was essentially her workplace, you were deeply lost in your thoughts. all because of one naoi rei, who had informed you that very same day that the two of you would be leaving for the academy in two days. she also happened to tell you that right after you finally summed up the courage to send away your letter to your parents.

so, you had a lot in your mind and you wanted to process it all just to avoid another breakdown at night. you politely excused yourself from the table after you finished your food, deciding that the best course of action was to get some fresh air with cheddar in tow.

to be frank, you wanted to be alone but your mentor’s adorable familiar has been strangely attached to you these past couple of days.

“i’m gonna miss you, my best friend.” you say as you kiss the top of the cat’s head. cheddar only snuggles deeper in your chest, purring at the warmth your arms provided for her in the bleak, chilly night. you looked up at the stars (which you can now see after jiwon so kindly took down some trees nearby that completely obscured the sky—but don’t worry, she planted them elsewhere) and sighed, realizing that nothing could really help you clear your head.

the one thing that weighed heavily of course was how different things would have been today if you just stopped jiwon’s pursuit of making the love potion all those weeks ago. maybe the two of you would be having another stupidly fun broom race, maybe she’d be telling you more bizarre stories she has of when she was a young witch, maybe… you’d even be finding out about your feelings in a ‘normal’ way!

“ugh,” you groaned. “is this really how i’m going to live from now on? pathetically dwell on what could’ve been?! i mean—come on! i have a brighter future ahead of me now! this is no time to think about other things!” you shouted at absolutely no one.

“oh, cheddar… did jiwon tell you? i’m going to that fancy school of witches and wizards-to-be that i’m definitely a few years too old for. not to mention how bad i actually am at spellcasting… wait… jiwon wouldn’t send me there just to embarrass me, right? she couldn’t have!” you start panicking. it wouldn’t be totally impossible. every single person in your life has always discouraged you about your dreams—why wouldn’t this time be any different? just because jiwon is your teacher?

the thought of it all just added yet another layer of bitterness to this… parting of ways.

the doors beside you swing open with a gentle creak and out comes jiwon wearing a pretty coat that was vaguely familiar to you. it was perfect for the night air. her blonde locks glisten underneath the moonlight, some lighter streaks made it look like she had glitter in her hair, making her shimmer more than ever. once her warm eyes land on your own, you turn your head away, heart fluttering slightly.

“i-i’m not here for another pep talk. i just… well,” jiwon seems to ponder her next choice of words before she takes the space beside you. “i’m just here to make the most of your company before you’re gone.” she admits.

her honesty surprises you, making you look at her with slightly widened eyes. jiwon doesn’t say another word, however. nor does she even look back at you—she just stares off into the distance, into the fireflies waltzing underneath the trees and around the beautiful flowers that you and jiwon have grown together in this backyard.

unlike the many periods of silences you have had to suffer through with jiwon after that fateful day, you were too annoyed with being sad to mope under the moon with your mentor. instead, you decided to actively look for something to do… and it just so happens that you noticed something worrisome on jiwon’s hand. it was slightly red and angry, as if it had been… burned?

“are you hurt?” you reached for the older girl’s hand. 

she flinched at your touch, but doesn’t pull her hand away from your grip. jiwon smiles sheepishly, “ah… i must’ve had a minor incident while cooking our meals with gaeul tonight. no worries! i can just snap my fingers and it’ll be like it didn’t happen at all!”

you don’t allow jiwon to move an inch away from you, “let me.” you boldly uttered under your breath. with a quick incantation, green light emerges from your palms and within a few seconds, jiwon’s hand was completely back to normal.

the blonde girl grins at your success, having remembered your previous unfortunate attempts at the basics of healing magic before. “i see you’ve gotten good at that.” jiwon says. she doesn’t let go of your hand, and neither do you let go of hers.

you raised your joint hands to your chest, exactly where your heart lay swelling with pride and pain at the same time. a bittersweet smile spreads across your lips as you speak with barely contained tears in your eyes, “i had a good teacher.”

~

…that should’ve been the end of it all, really.

you’ve said your goodbyes, had your final time together, and by the end of that conversation in particular, you were ready to leave everything behind and start looking forward like you were always meant to! but somehow, here you were in your bedroom struggling to drag one last baggage out of the hut due to an… ongoing distraction.

at first, it was just the impatient tapping against the floor as you packed up the very last trinkets scattered about in your bedroom, then it was the low hum of magic as your doorframe is sealed off from the rest of the world, and now it was your beloved mentor’s lips working feverishly in sync against yours.

in your defense, jiwon’s lips were the best you’ve ever tasted, so can you really be blamed for allowing her to pull you onto her lap for the second time in your life?

but jiwon seems to have caught herself off guard by her own actions, judging by how she suddenly froze and disconnected your lips from hers in record time. her eyes were wide with regret, but with the tiniest bit of desperation that let you know that whatever excuse she was about to spit out is, as the young—younger—ones are saying nowadays, bullshit.

“sorry… i’m sorry, i just w-wanted—”

you cut her off, too blinded by your desires to really care anymore, “save it. we’re already here.” and within a second, she was kissing you again.

now one would think that something diabolical would occur in that bedroom now that both of your feelings were all over the place in this very last day that you would see each other for however many years to come, and truth to be told, you thought something akin to that night would happen… but when jiwon lays you down on the bed in the most gentle manner, you found yourself wanting nothing more than to stay near her warmth just like this. her touch felt electrifying, just enough to incentivise you to take it a step further… but you don’t.

you keep still underneath jiwon with your hands sitting idly on her back, making extra sure to not ruin her clothing too much to avoid suspicion. you were certain that your inevitably messy makeup would give it all away later on but that’s very obviously a problem for later!

“i will miss you dearly,” every ounce of sincerity dripping from jiwon’s words and as well as the look of pure, precious love in her eyes melts your delicate heart. there was the familiar sensation of burning in the back of your eyes that you refused to acknowledge. this was hardly a time to start sobbing! “i have been wanting to tell you… but i was afraid. can you believe that?” jiwon laughs, you do too.

“i suppose it is quite difficult to grasp the concept of you being fearful of anything at all when i’ve watched you take down monsters of every kind right in our backyard.” you smile at the memories, and it seemed like jiwon thought of them too with how her eyes lit up like a blanket of stars in the night sky.

“banishing and eliminating cursed creatures is completely different from confronting the inner workings of my own heart!” jiwon says. upon hearing her words, your heart skips a beat. maybe two or three, really. it should go without saying out loud that jiwon very obviously feels the same way as you do… but any verbal confirmation, no matter how big or small, was always going to make you lose your composure. this instance being the very first didn’t help either!

you were so hung up on jiwon’s tiny confession that you didn’t realize that she had left the bed, pulled you up, ushered you out of your now deserted bedroom along with your luggage (that she made sure floated right behind you as you mindlessly walked in the dining room), and dropped cheddar in your arms. you pester yourself to return to reality as you hold your furry best friend, who seems to have gained a bit of weight in the last two days all because of your departure, allegedly!

“oh, don’t you worry about me, cheddar. i’ll make you proud.” you mumbled into the cat’s thick fur before giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head before putting her down. the cat rubs her face on your ankles before scuttling away, making you feel just a tiny bit worse about leaving. 

but everything else is quickly forgotten when you feel jiwon take a gentle hold of your hand and give you a kiss on the cheek, “come. rei has been waiting.”

exiting the hut, you were met with the image of your future teacher standing by a massive carriage as she gingerly commanded the driver and his help to put your belongings in the vehicle properly. your last baggage zips away towards the carriage immediately, and you don’t even hide your amazement with the fact that rei probably saw you coming before you even knew she was outside the hut.

rei waves at you, points at the carriage, winks at jiwon before disappearing inside the vehicle. “i’ll let you have your moment,” has never been screamed so loudly… and silently at the same time.

a beat passes. you feel reluctant to release jiwon’s hand and yet you say, “i shouldn’t keep her waiting even more…” your mentor merely hums. you weren’t looking at her, you were afraid of what you might end up doing in front of people, but you see her nod her head in agreement. slowly. she was reluctant herself.

you feel jiwon loosen her grip on your hand, which you took as your cue to start walking away but she immediately stops you. she grabs your arm, effectively halting your steps, and her face was beet red as she could barely stammer out, “s-say… after you have finished your studies and become the best practicing witch in that academy—second only to yours truly, of course—and served your time as rei’s most gifted apprentice… would you return to my side?” jiwon asked. easiest question of your life, but the older girl doesn’t let you speak. “not as my student… but as an equal. m-my… partner.”

an overwhelming wave of joy washes over you, and you nod eagerly. you wanted to hug her, you wanted to kiss her until the day ends and another begins but you were able to calm yourself enough to stay where you were standing. and you don’t try to hide the tears that built up in your eyes this time, “of course. just don’t go anywhere.”

jiwon raises your hand to her lips and kisses it like it was the most precious thing she has and will ever hold, “i wouldn’t dare.”

when the hut and everything that surrounded it was nothing more than some figures in the distance, and when you started to see very clearly what future has in store for you and your magical dreams, it was safe to say that you were now less troubled about your ‘grand plan’ from all those months ago getting derailed by becoming the apprentice of an odd, but loveable, misfit of a witch.

[ladamedemartel]

You are my joy. You are worth tens of thousands.

memes!

The emeralds were exquisite. It had been ages since Aurora had worn something so grand, and, she doubted if even in her mortal days she had had as many jewels as adorned this one single piece. She continued to marvel at them, feeling Tristan press a kiss into her temple. Perhaps his fingers itched to place the necklace on her, but Aurora was not ready to stop looking at her gift. A Christmas gift. Their second Christmas since the compulsion had broken for whatever reason. Lucien had sworn that he would give her answers by Christmas, but he had yet to appear, let alone offer any explanation for why they had suddenly been freed from Elijah's chokehold; they knew it was not a spell, for they had long ago learned that they could bend mortals to their will as Elijah had bent them and the gift had not disappeared when his hold had broken over them. Still, while she wished for answers(if only to ensure that they did not fall prey to such a scheme again), the emeralds were certainly a more dazzling gift.

"Knowing you, I expect I'll get tens of thousands between the next few Christmas'." If there weren't tens of thousands already scattered amongst the boxes before her. Aurora felt a bit badly. There were two presents for her for everyone one that she'd gotten for Tristan. As much as she had wanted to get him more gifts, the thought of Mikael lurking around the corner had dissuaded her as she would have been devastated to leave too many things behind when they were only starting to rebuild their lives as their own once again. Perhaps, if Tristan had gotten her this many gifts, they truly would be safe, at least for a little while.

@lordofthestrix

[cubtales]

୧(՞o̴̶̷̤ ̫ o̴̶̷̤ ՞)و if you see this know i love u very much!

[miss-multi45]

Did you not say you were on your period ? And you needed a certain fire ghoul to assist you ?

WOAH...IFRIT?!??! UUUHHHHHH....

[sceletaflores]

HALF YOUR BRAIN JUST AIN’T THERE!

|| pedro masterlist || update blog || inbox || taglist || ao3 ||

｡𖦹°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x babysitter!fem!reader

｡𖦹°‧➵ WC: 11k

｡𖦹°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no outbreak au, pov switching, trailer park joel awooga wooga, tommy miller appearance because daddy i love him, joel is kinda sleazy and pervy, large girthy age gap (53/early 20s), and it’s very much brought up, finding joel’s porn drawer because he’s vintage, reader is called jailbait like once, reader is also a little creep lmao, just two freaks coming together praise, masturbation, fingering, brief allusions of fisting, the BAREST hint of ass play, p in v, rough sex, riding, pussy pronouns, spanking, finger sucking (told you i can’t stop), erectile dysfunction? yeah we don’t know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he’s twenty, porn with too much fucking plot, no use of y/n.

｡𖦹°‧➵ NAT’S NOTE: i blame tommy gunn for this…and my period for rearing its ugly head and making me act like an animal. i don’t know i guess my brain is just fully rotted, but y’all’s are too so here’s a nice little gift from me to you, i’m lovingly placing this on your dash xoxo. this isn’t really based on manchild sorry for the false advertising babies, i just thought the lyric was super cute and it’s been stuck in my head so yeah here we are lmao. hope y’all love it, mwah!

｡𖦹°‧➵ NAT’S HEADPHONES: Manchild - Sabrina Carpenter

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics! plus the delicious icon from @iamasaddie!

joel miller needs a babysitter, you’re back in town…

Gruene hasn't changed much. Not really.

You're not sure how much different it'd be after only a couple years away, but still. Something in you had expected it to feel even smaller—like the way old t-shirts shrink in the wash when you’re not paying attention.

The air felt the same when you first stepped out of your beat up Chevy, heavy and humid like a wet mouth. The pavement in front of your house still burned the bottom of your shoes, and the cicadas were buzzing in the dry grass like they never stopped.

You left for college thinking you’d never come back. And yet, here you are. Spending summer back in your hometown, a little more than half a degree under your belt, flat broke, and bored to death.

Your room’s the same, maybe just a little smaller now that you’ve lived other places, slept in other beds. All the posters are still up, faded from the sun and curling at the corners. Your mom left your old tennis trophies on your dresser, like maybe she thought you’d want to see them. You don’t, not really. You appreciate the effort anyway, at least she didn’t turn it into a yoga room or a place to keep extra boxes and Christmas decorations.

You try not to spend too much time at home, even though you technically don’t have anywhere else to go. You kill time with long drives down the streets you memorized years ago, past beat up gas stations with sun bleached lotto signs and eighteen wheelers parked in the back.

You try your hand at some half-hearted job hunting at a few different places that promise to call but never do. And you sit in the back booth of an old diner where you and your friends used to sneak fries from abandoned tables and smoke paper wrapped joints in the alley out back.

Every place you go feels like a ghost town version of what you remember. Familiar, but all hollowed out.

“You know who might be looking for help?” Your mom says one morning, standing at the stove fussing over a pan of bacon. “Joel Miller, you remember him don’t you?”

You pause, your fork stuck hovering just above the plate. “Sarah’s dad?”

“Mhm. I ran into him at the market a couple weeks ago and we got to catching up. He’s needing to pick up some extra work, and it’s just him, you know. Sarah’s starting high school in the fall but he’s still not wanting to leave her on her own. He looked stressed, poor thing.”

You hum warily, pushing your eggs around your plate to distract from the way your stomach flutters.

Joel Miller.

You haven’t heard that name in years. Not since you stopped babysitting Sarah, not since you left. It has something low and guilty stirring somewhere deep inside you.

You shouldn’t be surprised that it’s floating back into your life like cigarette smoke—all pungent and sour and impossible to ignore. In a town of less than two thousand people, you were bound to circle around some old memories sooner or later. And Joel Miller was a big one.

Mr. Miller was a few years older than your mom, a single dad that lived with his daughter in the trailer park a few miles past the city limit. You met him when you were seventeen and trying to save as much as you could for college, when your puny part time job flipping burgers and serving ice cream cones wasn’t cutting it. 

He needed someone to pick up Sarah from school and watch her until he got home from work, you needed the extra money. It seemed like a perfect fit.

But Joel was always…different. He scooped you up off the gravel and carried you into his living room to bandage up your knee when you took a bad fall outside his trailer. He never ratted you out when he caught you smoking one of his Marlboros in his backyard after you put Sarah to bed one night. He drove you home when you got too drunk at a field party and couldn’t stomach the thought of calling your mom. 

You can still remember the way his truck smelled—gasoline, sunbaked leather, sawdust. 

He didn’t say much, just kept his gaze trained on the road as you watched him through glassy eyes while Johnny Cash floated through the cab. He looked back once, slow and quiet, like he was really thinking something over. 

It’s been a long time since you thought about that night, but the reminder of it resurfaces sharp and sudden, like a thumb pressed into a bruise.

Now, your mom’s pouring more coffee into your cup and saying his name like it’s no big deal, like she didn’t just drop a live wire into your lap. Like he didn’t take up way too much room in your seventeen year old imagination.

“You should go down there and talk to him sometime,” she says, casual. “It might be a good way to make some money while you look around for something else.”

You bite back a grimace, conflicted. “Isn’t Sarah old enough to stay home alone by now?”

Your mom shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Maybe, but like I said Joel’s always been a little…anxious about leaving her on her own too many nights. She’s at that age, you know—boys, phones, lord knows what else.”

You frown, stabbing at your eggs. You only remember Sarah as the sweet little girl who’d beg to stay up and watch Disney with you, who was more interested in her Barbie dolls than any screen. You used to braid her hair while she did her times tables, let her wear some of your lip gloss when she begged.

You take a sip of coffee, the burn of it trickles down from your throat to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “You really think he’d hire me again?” 

Your mom shrugs again, plating the bacon. “I don’t see why not. Sarah always loved you, Joel too. He’s asked about you once or twice, said you were a real good girl. Very responsible and all that.”

You try not to laugh at that. 

Good girl. Responsible. Right.

You nod vaguely, standing to clear your plate into the trash even though it’s still half full. “Maybe,” you mutter. “I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, alone in your room, you find yourself scrolling through Facebook like an angsty teenager. 

You kicked your sheets off a while ago, cracked your window open to let in the cool breeze swirling outside. Crickets sing quietly in the background, only drowned out every once in a while by the sound of cars passing your street.

Joel’s profile is still public, but it’s sparsely updated. A new truck photo here, a blurry picture of Sarah’s eighth grade promotion there. She looks the same, maybe a little older. Her hair’s longer, but still curly as ever.

There’s no recent pictures of Joel anywhere. Not posted by him or any of his friends. You can’t tell if the feeling that blooms inside of you is disappointment or something else entirely.

You’re about to exit the app when finally, a tagged post catches your eye.

A post by an account with the name Henry B. attached to it. It’s just a grainy photo of someone’s backyard littered with wood pallets and stray tools, Joel standing in the middle of it all with a few other people you don’t recognize.

His account is tagged in the caption underneath. Big thanks to my buddy Joel Miller for the extra set of hands tonight. Saved our ass! It’s dated June 13, 2023.

You pause, your thumb hovering over the screen. So he’s still handy, you think distantly, chewing on your bottom lip.

You remember that much. There were always new projects cluttering the yard in front of his trailer. A crib for the expecting couple a few doors down, a rocking chair with ornate vines and flowers carved into the armrests, a soccer goal for Sarah to practice with when she started getting serious about it in the fifth grade.

You zoom in on the picture, just a little.

The angle’s weird and it’s overexposed as shit. Joel’s face is half shadowed by an old Longhorns baseball cap, but even still—there’s that jaw. That mouth. That same broad width of his shoulders you used to trace with your eyes when he’d lean on the doorframe after he got home from work. 

It’s still an older picture, and you can’t help but wonder how much he’s changed since.

You breathe through your nose, one long uninterrupted breath before you close the app and toss your phone face down on the mattress.

Joel Miller was handsome when you were in high school and stupid and still biting your nails. 

He was a late forty-something, tired around the eyes. Always in pair of ratty, stained jeans and those soft, worn down flannels with the sleeves rolled up. Sarah’s dad. The hot one, according to the girls at school. The divorced one, according to the snooty moms at the PTA. He was tall and strong, thick arms with dark hair dusted along veiny muscle. Big hands that were calloused and rough to the touch when he slipped you a couple folded twenties at the end of every night. 

You haven’t seen him since the summer after you graduated, but sometimes you still think about the way he used to look at you.

Like he shouldn’t.

Like he knew he shouldn’t, and did it anyway. 

You can still feel it. That heat, that weight. The way his eyes always lingered a little too long when you bent down to grab your homework off the coffee table. The way his voice got low and syrupy when he asked what you were doing that weekend.

You were young then, but now?

Now you’re not sure who you are, not entirely—but you know you’re not that same girl. You’ve lived. You’ve done things he couldn’t even guess at.

You’ve grown up. And you wonder if Joel would notice too.

You don’t plan on going. Not really.

The next day, your mom leaves a note taped to the fridge that says she’s out running errands and won’t be back until later. You stare at it for a while, then glance at the clock.

It’s barely noon.

You have nothing to do. No plans. No job. So you get into your boiling hot car, roll the windows down, and drive.

You’re not sure what makes you do it. 

Maybe it’s the antsy feeling that’s been worming around under your skin since you got here. Maybe it’s the way Joel’s name has been bouncing off all the corners of your mind like a moth against glass ever since your mom said it.

Either way, you find yourself veering onto a familiar exit off the highway, tires crunching under gravel until it turns to dirt when you pull into the same trailer park on the edge of town. The same one you spent most nights back in high school.

You sit in your car for a little longer than necessary, keys still in the ignition, engine ticking quietly as it cools.

The place hasn’t changed much either. Same sloped roof, same white paneling, same wind chimes clinking together on the porch. There’s a pair of muddy work boots by the steps, and your stomach knots.

You didn’t bother calling ahead. You don’t even know if he has the same number. You’re regretting that now.

You should leave. You really should. But you’re already pulling the car door open and stepping into the dry afternoon heat. The air’s thick again, the sun sitting high and mean in the sky. Your shirt sticks to the sweaty skin along your spine as you walk through the gate and up the short gravel path.

You hesitate at the foot of the stairs, clenching and unclenching your fists a couple times like that’ll magically relive all your nerves. You wonder, and almost hope, if Sarah will be the one to open the door. If she’ll even remember you.

Then, the screen door cracks open before you can knock.

Joel’s standing there. He looks the same as the last time you saw him.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters, opening the door wider. He’s in jeans, barefoot, nothing but a tank top clinging to his chest, a dark patch blooming at the collar where it’s damp with sweat. “Look at you.” 

No, not the same.

Older. Broader, somehow. More worn in, like a favorite jacket that’s been well loved. His hair’s longer than you remember, messier. His beard is thicker too, dusted with more gray, and there’s a little more weight around his middle. But his eyes are just the same—dark, steady, and sharp in a way that makes you feel instantly, achingly seventeen again.

He looks you over once. Not quick. Real slow. Real deliberate. A single drag of his eyes from your flip flops to the shorts you maybe shouldn’t have worn. His gaze sticks when it reaches your chest, lingers there a beat too long before flicking back up to your mouth. And then, finally, your eyes.

You shift your weight, offering a small smile. “Hey, Mr. Miller.”

His eyes narrow, and there’s the ghost of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “Don’t start with that ‘Mr. Miller’ bullshit. You’re grown now.”

Your stomach tightens.

“I, uh...my mom said you might be looking for help,” you say, fighting the urge to squirm where you stand. “With Sarah, I mean.”

He leans against the doorframe, one hand gripping the wood above his head. The movement lifts his shirt just enough to show a strip of his stomach, a trail of dark hair disappearing under the waistband of his sweats. “She did, huh?”

You nod, still frozen in place at the bottom of the steps.

Joel lets the silence hang in the air, heavy and charged. Then he huffs a quiet breath through his nose—half amusement, half something else—and steps aside. “You comin’ in or what?” he asks, jerking his head impatiently, giving you another long, lazy once over. “Ain’t polite to keep an old man waitin’, kid.”

Your heart beats wildly against your ribcage, and with one last quick, steadying breath you hope Joel doesn’t notice, you climb the stairs.

Joel hadn’t expected to see you again. At the very least like this, showing up at his place in the middle of the day—standing at the bottom of his porch like a mirage in the heat, older and more grown in all the places a man like him shouldn’t be noticing. 

And sure as hell not in those shorts.

He watches you walk past him into the living room, slow and uncertain, that little sway in your hips you maybe don’t even mean to have. Or maybe you do.

Either way, it’s a goddamn sight.

Joel closes the door with a soft click, dragging a hand over his mouth like that’ll help wipe the look off his face. It doesn’t. The look of you—bare legged and smiling, sun kissed and back in his house after all this time—sticks to the inside of his skull like syrup. 

You look around the room with a small smile, eyes scanning the familiar furniture. Some of it’s new, some of it’s the same. Joel’s never been much for decorating. You pause in front of the bookshelf he built a few years back, Sarah’s old school pictures still sit in a few mismatched frames next to a couple of paperbacks.

He clears his throat, scratching at his beard so he has something to do with his hands as he walks to the kitchen. “You want somethin’ to drink? Water, iced tea? I think I got Coke in the fridge somewhere.”

“I’m good, thanks.” You follow slowly, looking younger somehow in the kitchen light. You rest your hip against the doorway, eyes watching him as he walks to the fridge. “I won’t stay long. I just figured I’d stop by real quick and see if you still needed some help.”

Joel pulls the fridge open anyway, grabbing a beer from the half empty six pack. He cracks the tab with a soft hiss and leans back against the counter. “Sarah’s mostly independent now. She don’t need a sitter like she used to, but I still get caught up workin’ late. Don’t like the idea of her bein’ here by herself too often. 'Specially not with some of the boys sniffin’ around lately.”

You laugh, soft and bright. “Well, I’ve got time,” you say, toying with a loose thread on your cutoffs. “I don’t know how much help you actually need, but my schedule’s pretty much open. I can do evenings, weekends, whatever you want.”

Joel has to bite back a grin. Whatever he wants. 

If you only knew the half of what he really wants.

Joel shifts his weight against the counter. “It wouldn’t be every night,” he says, shaking his head. “Just the evenings I pick up extra hours, or if I get called out for a job.”

You nod. “I can help. You don’t have to worry about paying me a whole lot. I’ll just be happy to keep busy.”

His mouth pulls into something that might be a smile. “I’ll pay you,” he says, almost gruff. “You’re doin’ me a favor.”

The silence that follows feels familiar. Not awkward—just full. A little tight around the edges. 

He’s always known how to talk to you, but now there’s something different to it. You’re not seventeen anymore. Not biting your lip and looking away when he catches your eye. You’re standing there calm as you please, looking straight at him, like you already know he’s thinking things he shouldn’t.

Joel watches you from across the kitchen, beer can sweating against his palm. The ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, stirring warm air that doesn’t help much with the heat climbing under his skin. You’re standing there across the way from him like nothing’s changed, like you never left. Like no time has passed at all.

Except that it has. And it shows.

“You still in school?” he asks, voice rougher than he means it to be.

You blink, head tilting to the left. “Yeah. I’m up in Chicago now, Northwestern.”

“Big shot,” Joel whistles low, nodding appreciatively. “That’s a ways away from here.”

You shake your head, smile small and bashful. “It is. It’s expensive as hell too, my scholarship’s the only reason I’m there.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, impressed. “Smart girl.”

“I try.” You shrug, but there’s pride under it. “I’ve got one year left, usually I stay for the summer to try and make as much as I can in the city. I—I just needed a breather, I guess. Some time to figure shit out, you know?”

There’s something soft in your tone when you say it, an openness he didn’t expect, and maybe shouldn’t pry into. But part of him wants to. Always has.

“You don’t seem like the type that needs figurin’ out,” Joel says, voice a little quieter now. “Always thought you had your head on straight.”

Your smile flickers into something crooked, something secret. “That’s because you didn’t really know me.”

He chuckles, deep and rough. “No, sweetheart. I think I knew you just fine.”

Your eyes lock for a second too long after that, thick enough with heat and history to make the air feel heavier than it already is.

You look away first, your eyes flicking to the living room. “I, uh–sorry, do you mind if I use the bathroom?”

Joel gestures vaguely with his free hand. “Go ahead, you remember where it is.”

You push off the doorway with one last grateful smile and duck down the hallway, footsteps silent against the linoleum. Joel watches until you disappear around the corner, his gaze dipping low without shame.

He waits until he hears the click of the bathroom door shutting behind you to exhale a slow breath, setting his beer down on the counter harder than he has to.

Jesus Christ.

She’s not a girl anymore, he thinks to himself. And you’re not, you’re far fucking from it.

But that feeling, that ugly one churning deep down in Joel’s gut, it’s still there. It feels just as dangerous as it used to, maybe even worse now. All because of you. 

The look of your glossy lips forming around the words whatever he wants. The shape of your thighs, those damn shorts clinging to you like a second skin. The way you were looking at him, eyes all wide and shiny under his shitty kitchen light. 

Joel can’t help himself, he thinks back to a few years ago. You, curled up on his couch every night when he got home from a long build, looking so soft in the hazy glow of the TV. Barefoot and sleepy, blinking up at him in those skimpy little after school clothes you’d always throw on.

It was a vision, something to settle his aching bones.

He thinks about how he started looking forward to it, coming home to you. It was sick, he knew that much, the fucked up little game of house he played, projected onto you. An old man like him leering at you, thinking of you long after you’d left, waving sweetly from the window of your moms car.

Joel should’ve known better. Should’ve done better. But that never stopped him before, not when it came to you.

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. Two quick raps, followed by a heavy creak.

“Joel?” Tommy’s voice fills the trailer before he can even move, loud in the quiet. “You home?”

Joel sighs, brows pinching together as he pushes off the counter. He didn’t even hear the damn truck pull up.

Tommy rounds the corner, sweaty and covered in dirt. He’s got a ratty bandanna hanging from his jean pocket, sleeves pulled up around his shoulders and a pair of aviators covering his eyes.

“You ever heard of callin’ before you just barge in on someone?” Joel doesn’t try to hide the annoyance in his tone, brow arched as he stares at his brother.

“Hello to you too, jackass.” Tommy just walks past him like he owns the place, opening up one of the cabinets above the sink. “You gettin’ memory loss already, old man? You said Saturday.”

“Yeah, well now ain’t a good time, Tommy.” Joel cuts his eyes to the hall, to the light bleeding out from under the bathroom door.

Tommy just snorts, still rifling through the cabinet. “Yeah right, you got a woman over or somethin’?”

Joel doesn’t answer, eyes still fixed on that thin sliver of light glowing under the bathroom door like it might give him away.

Tommy catches on, turns slow with a shit-eating grin already stretching across his face. “You do have someone here.”

Joel gives him a hard look, one that should tell him to shut the hell up—but Tommy only laughs, knowing.

“C’mon,” he drawls. “Didn’t know you were even seein’ anybody. You been holdin’ out on me?”

“It ain’t like that,” Joel mutters, too fast, too defensive.

Tommy tilts his head, chewing on that like a dog with a bone. “Huh. So she’s not yours then?”

Joel doesn’t get the chance to answer. Before he can shoot back with something mean enough to shut him up. From down the hall, the bathroom door opens with a quiet click, and then—

Then you're back, smoothing your hands down your thighs as you reappear around the corner, voice drifting back into the space.

“Jesus, that sink is still running freezing cold water? I nearly put my-oh…” You’re clearly caught off guard, your eyes catching on where Tommy stands in front of the sink. “Tommy?”

Joel watches it click in real time—your eyes lighting up with recognition, mouth parting into a surprised smile like you’ve just stumbled on an old friend. Which, in a way, you have. Tommy was around a lot back then. Backyard beers, watching football on the TV, leaning against Joel’s truck while you wrangled Sarah inside for dinner.

“Well shit,” Tommy says, slow and low, pulling his sunglasses down. “That isn’t the little babysitter, is it?”

You smile, sheepish and sweet, and Joel feels something sour twist in his gut. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” Joel watches Tommy take a good long look at you just like the one he did, eyes wide as his gaze rakes from your head down to the bare skin of your legs and back up all over again. “No kiddin’.”

It makes the space behind Joel’s ribs burn with something hot and ugly, Tommy’s eyes on you. Shameless and obvious as all hell. He might just be the biggest hypocrite in the country for it, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” Tommy goes on, leaning in like he can’t help himself. “You home for the summer?”

“Yeah, just for the summer,” you say brightly. “I thought I’d see if Joel needed help with Sarah again.”

“Oh, I bet he does,” Tommy says, and Joel’s had about enough of this.

“We were just finishing up,” Joel cuts in, his voice sharp enough to slice through the air. “She was about to head out.”

You don’t seem to notice the tension, if you do, you ignore it with grace that makes it worse somehow.

Your eyes flick to him, and for a second, Joel thinks maybe you notice something’s off. But your smile is still easy. “Yeah, I should probably get going.”

Joel gives a short nod and steps toward you before Tommy can open his mouth again. “I’ll walk you out, honey.”

You look between the two brothers for a second longer, then nod and head back into the living room, Joel right behind you. The sound of Tommy’s boots are hot on his heels, following.

You bend down to swipe your keys off the coffee table, not by much, just enough for your shirt to ride up and your shorts to dip low. Joel nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of lace. Bright pink, thin. A pathetic little scrap of fabric clinging to either side of your hips.

Joel’s throat goes dry, heat rolling under his skin like a slow burn, thick and unrelenting. You straighten back up, smooth the hem of your shirt down, but the damage is done. He feels that familiar ache stirring low in his belly, his cock twitching with interest in his sweats.

He doesn’t look at Tommy, he doesn’t need to. The quiet crunch of a beer can bending under a tight grip is all he needs to know that he isn’t the only one taking that lace peeking out from under those damn shorts as a neon sign flashing all the wrong kinds of welcome.

Joel barely has enough wherewithal to drag his eyes up to your face when you turn back around—that sweet, oblivious smile still pulling at your lips.

“Okay.” Your fingers toy with your keys, the metal soft and jangling in your palm. “Ready.”

Joel gives you a short nod, jaw tight. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.

Tommy, of course, steps in the silence, voice syrupy. “Hey, don’t be a stranger, alright? Good seein’ you again, sweetheart.”

You glance over your shoulder, lips parting into a lazy little grin. “You too, Tommy.”

Joel holds the door open for you, watching the way the light hits your shoulders, the back of your thighs, the little shadow that dips right at the curve of your spine.

The cicadas are buzzing, your car parked half crooked along the curb. You walk slow, gravel crunching under your sandals. Joel stays beside you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The sun’s lower now, soft gold spilling across the lawn.

You open the car door, pausing with your hand on it. “That was…fun.”

Joel nods, biting back a frown. “Yeah, sorry about him. Tommy hasn’t got much of a filter.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s okay, I missed you guys.”

Joel’s heart kicks hard in his chest. He’s not sure what to do with that. 

“You know where to find us,” he says finally.

You nod, climbing into the car. The engine kicks up and the window rolls down.

“Thanks for the talk,” you say. “And the job, I’ll call you?”

Joel leans down a little, arms resting on the open window frame. You’re so close like this. Too close. He can smell the sweet perfume mixing with the bright tang of sweat on your skin.

“Of course,” he says, eyes flicking down to your lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

You smile. “It was nice seeing you, Joel.”

Joel watches you drive off, his reflection shrinking in your side mirror until he’s nothing but a speck in the dust your tires kick up.

He lets out another long breath, turning to walk up to steps. When he comes back inside, Tommy’s on the couch now, feet kicked up on Joel’s coffee table.

Joel shuts the door a little too hard behind him.

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“I told you,” Joel says, low and firm. “Now ain’t the time.”

Tommy’s grinning. “No shit it ain’t the time. Jesus, Joel. She’s what—twenty? Twenty one?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel says, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Oh, well never mind then, that makes it fine,” Tommy says, laughing. He cracks open the beer in his hand, taking a slow sip. “You’re outta your fuckin’ mind, you know that?”

Joel clenches his jaw, not bothering with an answer. His heavy silence speaks louder than any words could.

Tommy watches Joel closely, taking his silence for what it is and grinning wide enough to show off the sharp point of his canines. “She filled out real nice though, didn’t she?”

Joel shoots him a warning look, brows pinched together. “Don’t.”

Tommy holds his free hand up in surrender, but he’s still smirking. “All I’m sayin’ is—I remember when she was this pretty little thing runnin’ around here. Now—” He makes a vague gesture at his own chest. “—jailbait’s a whole lotta grown.”

Joel takes a step forward, hands clenched into fists at his side. “Watch your goddamn mouth.”

Tommy raises a brow, and the air goes real still between them for a beat. Joel knows his little brother—knows he’s testing the waters, seeing just how deep the river runs.

Joel shakes his eyes off him, walks to the kitchen and snatches his forgotten beer off the counter.

He hears Tommy chuckle again, more to himself than anything, his voice is louder so Joel can hear him. “You better watch yourself, man. That one? She’s trouble.”

Joel downs the rest of his beer in one long, bitter swallow, eyes peering out the window—locked on the road your car disappeared down. His voice, when it comes, is low and final.

“You got no idea.”

It’s almost too easy, falling back into the routine of it.

A few nights a week, just like before. Joel calls. You come over. The knock on the door doesn’t even feel necessary anymore, since Sarah already knows it’s you when she yanks it open and launches into talking before you’ve even stepped inside. 

You know where the snacks are. The remote. You know how to work the tricky thermostat and still have all the emergency contacts scrawled on a paper tacked to the fridge memorized.

It all comes back like muscle memory—like no time has passed at all. 

Sarah’s older now, a little more sarcastic. Witty and bolder in a way that surprises you sometimes, just enough edge in the way she talks to you that reminds you how much time has passed since you used to sit on the same couch and color. She’s brimming with the kind of secrets she’s aching to spill to someone she knows won’t tell her dad.

You’re still not quite a “grown-up” in her eyes, but you’re not a kid anymore either. You’re in that sweet spot—a cool older girl with her own car who lets her say things like shit and dickweed when Joel’s not around.

You’re not supposed to let her stay up this late, but you both pretend not to notice the clock. She’s curled up next to you on the couch, draped over the armrest only half watching the reruns you turned on with her chin propped on her palm.  

"Can I ask you something?” Sarah says suddenly, grinning. 

You narrow your eyes at her, mock suspicious. “You can, but I’m not promising I’ll answer.”

She laughs, kicking you gently with a socked foot. “Did you ever, like, sneak around when you were my age? Steal beer? Hook up with anyone?”

“Jesus, Sarah.” You raise your eyebrows, but she’s too amused to be embarrassed. You toss a throw pillow her way lazily. “You know your dad would kill me for answering that, right? He’d think I’m giving you ideas or something.”

“That’s not a no,” she sings, smirking.

“No comment.” You shake your head, smiling in spite of yourself. “I don’t need to give you any blackmail material to use on me later if I piss you off.”

“Please,” she huffs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I’d never narc on you like that. Besides, Dad still thinks I’m eight, I don’t even think he knows that I know what “hooking up” means.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you turn your attention back to the TV. “You’re his baby.” You shrug as a new episode of Daria starts. “It makes sense that he’s treating you like one.”

“Gross,” Sarah huffs again, letting her head fall back against the cushion to stare up at the ceiling. “He’s just so overprotective sometimes. I mean, I guess I get it but, come on? I’m basically in high school now, I’m not really a baby anymore.”

You glance over at her, and she isn’t. Not really. Not the gap toothed little girl who used to fall asleep on your shoulder watching Finding Nemo. She’s growing up in the kind of terrifying, beautiful way that makes your chest ache a little—already too smart for her own good.

She cracks her eyes open a bit, peering across the way at you. “Bet you noticed that when you were my age, right? When guys started looking at you differently.”

You blink. It’s not the words that shake you—it’s the timing. The way they hit, low and close to the bone. 

Because yeah, you did notice. You still do. Especially now. Especially here.

Before you can say anything, the alarm you set on your phone blares loudly, cutting through the quiet.

“Alright!” You push her feet off your lap and stand, happy for the distraction as you clap your hands together. “That’s curfew.”

Sarah groans, but she rolls off the couch with no argument and starts down the hall. 

You busy yourself with tidying up the living room as she brushes her teeth, pointedly ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. Her words ring in your ears like church bells, her voice tolling a little too close to something you’ve pointedly ignored since you got back. Something half buried and dangerous.

Bet you noticed that when you were my age, right? When guys started looking at you differently…

You breathe out slowly, shutting off the TV and dropping the remote onto the couch a little harder than necessary. You shouldn’t read into it. She didn’t mean anything by it. Just a kid mouthing off, reaching for connection, for understanding. 

But it rattles you more than you want to admit, especially here—especially in his house.

You swallow hard, clearing the dirty dishes off the coffee table and walking into the kitchen. You just won’t think about it anymore, it’s that easy.

You're just being ridiculous. Paranoid. That's all.

A little while later, you’re still tidying up.

The dishes are all done, washed and drying in the rack next to the sink. The living room looks better than when you got here. It’s damn near pristine. 

Sarah went to bed almost half an hour ago. You crane your head down the hallway as you fold an old blanket, her door is cracked open enough that you can see the light from her alarm clock shining in the dark. The soft sounds of waves drone quietly from her noise machine.

You smile, a warm fondness blooming in your chest.

That fuzzy feeling doesn’t last long, not when your eyes drift almost on their own, landing on Joel’s door. 

Joel’s room.

It’s cracked open too, just like Sarah’s, but there’s no light shining from inside. You keep folding the blanket, distracted. It’s not like you haven’t been in Joel’s room before, you have. Passing through it with clean loads of laundry or sneaking his phone charger from the plug near his nightstand when your phone died.

But you’d never gone in alone, and you’d never stayed long. Sarah was always hot on your heels, catching your wrist in her tiny hand to drag you back out—following you around like an overexcited puppy. Not to mention it was always in the light of day, never at a time like this. When the moon is shining high in the sky and the stars are scattered across vast velvety darkness like spilled sugar.

You drape the folded blanket along the arm of the couch, eyes still glued to the door. The cogs in your mind turn and turn, spitting out an idea that has your stomach clenching with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

You gnaw on your bottom lip anxiously, eyes cutting to the clock above the door.

11:53

Joel told he’d be a while tonight, before he left. He said they’d be short a man, that the job would drag on because of it.

That’s not an excuse, you know that.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

Your feet are moving before your brain can catch up to how bad of an idea this really is.

Your steps are silent on the linoleum, barefeet not making a sound. The wood of his door is dark and shiny, cool against your hand when you lay your palm over it. You give Sarah’s room another sideways glance, you can see the shape of her beneath the covers. Sound asleep.

The door creaks when you push it open, just barely. The sound isn’t enough to scare you off, and you step inside. The carpet is plush under you, it silences your steps even more as you walk to the nightstand and flick the light on.

Your heart pounds against your ribs as you take it in. The messy, unmade state of Joel’s bed. The covers are thrown back, there’s a dip in the pillow where his head rests. The nightstand has a paperback open and laying face down, a pair of wiry reading glasses resting next to it.

The room smells like him. 

That scent that used to cling to you by accident when you were younger—clean cotton and cedar, a little motor oil and sweat, and whatever body wash he’s been using for years. It hits you all at once.

It has something stirring in your core, the familiarity of it. You look around some more, greedy eyes taking in every tiny detail you can. There’s a few paintings and framed pictures littering the walls. Pictures of Sarah, of Tommy, all kinds of different Texas landscapes. 

An old guitar rests on the wall across from you, you can see that it’s a little beat up even from where you’re standing. The glossy wood chipped and well loved.

Then your eyes land on the dresser.

It’s old, stained a light brown. You wonder distantly if he built it himself.

Your gaze catches on the top drawer, the pull handle worn with use.

Again, you know it’s wrong. That you’ve already crossed every line imaginable by just being in here, but you seem full to bursting with bad ideas tonight. 

You’re across the room with your fingers resting gently on the handle before you can even blink. Slowly, like something’s pulling you on a leash, you slide it open.

Socks. Boxers. Old, ratty belts. It’s nothing special, but heat climbs up the back of your neck all the same.

The next drawer has shirts, old band tees and fancier button downs that really should be hung up. You press your hand against one of them, feeling the starchy fabric beneath your skin.

The third drawer sticks a little, enough that you need to yank on it harder than the last two. It slides open with a dull thud. You wince, your eyes flicking to the door like Joel could be standing there, catching you rifling through his underwear like a sick little perv. 

The darkness of the hallway is all that greets you. Quiet, empty.

You take a steadying breath, but your hands don’t stop trembling as you tug it the rest of the way open.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re looking for, but then, you see it.

There, tucked toward the back under a couple old flannels, a small stack of magazines. 

Playboys. A couple Hustlers. From the look of them, they're mostly 90s, maybe early 2000s. It’s so vintage, so Joel. The covers are glossy, edges curled and worn. 

Your breath hitches. The heat between your legs is instant, sharp and impossible to ignore.

You pull one out, heart hammering, and flip it open carefully. Your eyes skim over picture after picture, some of the pages sticking together as you thumb through them. The scent of paper and dust and something faintly musky drifts up, and the centerfold you finally land on is obscene—posed, yes, but raw in a way that makes your thighs press together. 

Legs spread wide on a bearskin rug, pink mouth parted, full bush and glossy nipples.

She’s brunette, hair poofy and curled up to Jesus like they used those big old school rollers. Her eyes are the same color as yours, half lidded and covered in a sparkly blue shadow.

You glance down at the caption under her photo. 

“Turn-ons: Older men. The kind that know how to use their hands.”

A shiver rolls down your spine.

You should be laughing. Maybe grossed out. But instead—

Instead you imagine Joel, sitting in this room, flipping through these pages alone. Hand between his legs. That rough, big, calloused hand. Not fast, not frantic. No, you imagine him slow.

Measured.

Probably gritting his teeth, because he seems like the type who doesn’t let himself sound desperate even when he is. Grunting softly. Breathing hard. Coming into a tissue or his palm or maybe just letting it land on his stomach. Because there’s no one here to see. No one to touch him. Just him and the sound of paper turning.

You shut the magazine too fast. Slide it back in place, heart pounding.

Before you can push the drawer closed, your eyes catch on one of the flannels that covered Joel’s little secret.

It’s an old one—soft looking, broken in, a faded green and black. You should put it back, lay it down exactly where you found it so there’s nothing even hinting at you digging around in places you shouldn’t.

Instead, your hand closes around it, and without letting yourself think too long, you hold it up to your nose.

God. It smells like him. Like his detergent, like summer sweat and wood and something faintly smokey. Warm and safe and so damn inappropriate in every possible way.

It’s too much, it’s not enough. It’s obscene.

You can’t help yourself, you push the rest of the flannels back over the magazines, but the one in your hand gets tucked under your arm.

You don’t even try to justify it. You don’t even look back.

You don’t touch yourself right away.

You wait. You ride the buzz all the way home. Eat a popsicle standing barefoot in your kitchen, flannel in a heap on the counter like a loaded gun. You pretend to forget about it. You go about your night like normal. Shower. Brush your teeth.

Then you’re in bed and it’s just there. Laying on your mattress.

You unfold it. Run your fingers over the soft, worn fabric. You should feel guilty. You do, but that doesn’t stop you from pressing it to your nose and inhaling a deep lungful. You crawl into bed, tearing your shirt off and kicking your shorts down your legs all at once.

You lay back against your sheets, flannel still clutched in your hands. You rub it along your chest, over your peaked nipples, down your stomach. Rubbing Joel’s scent into your skin like it’s your own personal brand.

Your free hand slides down your body, down the lacy fabric of your panties. You’re already wet. You’ve been wet since the minute you opened that drawer.

You close your eyes, fingertips teasing along the wet expanse of your pussy as you let your mind go there—

To the thought of Joel finding you like this.

His flannel draped over your face. Your hand between your thighs.

Would he be mad? Would he punish you for it?

Would he take it back? Rip it out of your hands?

Or would he make you put it on—just so he could see you wear it while he ruined you?

You want to come like this. Wrapped up in something of his. Want to ruin yourself in it. You dip your fingers into your underwear and finally—finally—brush them over your clit.

The gasp you let out is sharp.

It’s not just his cologne. It’s his scent. That hot-skin smell that clings to the inside of his hats and his truck and his work boots. It’s Joel, soaked into the fabric like he’s holding you down.

You rub slow circles over your clit, hips twitching. You can’t stop picturing him. Not just his face, but the sounds he’d make. The weight of his body over yours. The way his voice would rasp against your ear if he caught you doing this.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, so desperate you’re gettin’ off with my dirty laundry?”

You slide two fingers inside yourself and gasp, mouth falling open. You imagine his hands instead. Rough, thick, calloused. Bigger than yours. Slower. Crueler.

“Oh fuck, Joel—” you whisper without thinking, the name catching on your teeth like a sin.

You come hard, pressing the flannel to your face, thighs trembling, biting down on soft cotton as you ride it out. It rolls through you in hot waves. Shame, lust, guilt, need—all tangled up.

When it’s over, you lie there panting, the room silent except for your heartbeat in your ears. You relax your jaw, the flannel falling from between your lips, fabric soaked with your spit.

You drift off with it clutched to your chest. Still wet between your legs. Still aching. Still imagining what he’d do if he ever found out.

And you sleep better than you have in weeks.

You don’t think anything of it when you see Joel’s truck parked in front of the trailer. It’s not out of the ordinary, he’s almost always there to make sure you get in safe before he leaves.

You climb the creaky steps and knock like usual. Three little raps, your knuckles against the thin aluminum of Joel’s door, already shifting your weight to the side as you wait for Sarah to yank it open and start catching you up on all the latest gossip from her last summer soccer practice.

Only—it doesn't swing open. Not right away.

You frown, Sarah’s usually opened the door before you can even raise your fist to knock again. It’s only then that you notice how quiet it is. 

No music thumping out from her window, no light flicked on in her room. No hum of the TV playing. No voice yelling “Just a second!” from down the hall. Just the light hanging above your head buzzing faintly and the dull thud of your knuckles against the door.

You knock for a fourth time, less sure.

A few more seconds go by. One, two, three, four. 

You count all the way to ten before the door creaks open, the screen with it. Joel fills the frame, one shoulder leaning against it. The light floods out from behind him, a warm yellow glow spilling into the dark and haloing around his broad shoulders. 

He’s not dressed in work clothes, just an old grey short sleeve and a pair of jeans that ride dangerously low on his hips—a beer bottle held loosely in his left hand. He doesn’t even have shoes on.

You’re hit with a violent wash of déjà vu, your traitorous mind thinking back to the first day you saw him again. 

“Hey,” you say as casually as you can, shifting on your feet. You peer around him into the living room. Empty. “Where’s Sarah?”

Joel doesn’t move, head tilting as he watches you. “She’s stayin’ over at a friends.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” The corner of Joel’s mouth raises slightly, it’s not quite a smirk, but it’s close. “I texted. You didn’t check your phone?”

You shake your head slowly, but you can’t help the way your brows furrow. You had checked it, right before you left your house, like you awake do. No calls. No texts.

“I must’ve missed it.”

Joel gives you a lazy once over, eyes dragging down your front like a slow lick. “Huh,” he says, but it’s far away. “Guess you might as well come in anyway, wouldn’t want you to waste your time comin’ out here for nothin’.” 

He steps aside, holding the door open expectantly. 

“It’s fine, really.” You laugh, but it’s awkward. “I can just go—”

“Come inside.”

He says it low. Not a suggestion.

You hesitate for half a second, nerves suddenly scraping just beneath your skin. But you step in anyway, brushing past him into the cool dimness of the trailer, the familiar scent of cedar, beer, and Joel hitting your nose all at once. 

The door shuts behind you with a heavy click.

Joel walks past you, sets his beer down on the coffee table before his eyes find yours again. You can see his face better in the light of the living room, his eyes are hard. Dark in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. It has your stomach clenching tightly, the sour edge of alarm churning with arousal inside you.

“It’s good you’re here. We oughta talk.”

You open your mouth, then shut it. His tone is strange—off—but not angry. Amused, almost. You wring your hands behind your back anxiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low, rough, “I been meanin’ to ask you somethin’. Just been waitin’ for the right time.”

You frown. “Ask me what?”

Joel drags the silence out. He watches you try not to squirm, mouth tilted in another half smirk. 

"You go through my shit, baby?"

Your heart trips three times over in your chest, stomach dropping down to your feet. “I—what?”

Joel huffs hard out his nose, that smug smirk spreads. It’s all teeth now, feral and amused. “Did I stutter?”

You’re shaking now, hands trembling in time with the frantic beat of your pulse. “I just thought—I didn’t think you—”

Joel clicks his tongue, cutting you off. “Yeah that’s the problem, ain’t it? You didn’t think.” He takes one slow step toward you, eyes locked on yours, heavy and dark and hot enough to burn.

“It’s real funny,” he says offhandedly, too casual—like you’re talking about this week’s forecast. “There’s only a few people who’ve been in and outta here lately. And I know Tommy ain’t the one riflin’ through my drawers, takin’ shit that doesn't belong to him. I ain’t dumb, baby.”

Your mouth opens and closes desperately, mind racing to say anything. To lie, to defend yourself, to beg for forgiveness. Nothing comes out. Your throat works around nothing, and your hands are clenched so tightly behind your back they’re going numb.

Joel just hums. A low, throaty sound that vibrates down your spine. His fingers curl under the hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly, just enough to show the little strip of skin above your shorts. “You touch yourself in it?”

The question punches the air from your lungs. You don’t need to ask him what it is.

“I—Joel—”

“Don’t try lyin’ to me.”

Your face burns. You can’t bring yourself to nod, let alone speak. You don’t have to. 

Joel laughs—dark and low, like he already knows the answer. He trails his hand along the skin of your stomach, his touch featherlight. You can’t hide the shiver that wracks through you, goosebumps pebbling along your skin.

His hand falls away, only so he can drop down onto the couch behind him. Legs wide, thighs spread, jeans tugging tight across them as he leans back like he’s settling in for a show. His voice is pure gravel. “Go on, then. Show me what you did.”

You just stand there. Eyes wide. “What?” 

Your voice shakes, quiet and small in the tension. 

Joel shakes his head, sighing like he’s dealing with a stubborn child. He hooks one finger in the waistband of your shorts, tugging. You move without thinking, stepping into the space between his spread thighs.

“See, I don’t wanna have to ask you again, baby. So, are you gonna show me?” he says slowly, his touch dipping low enough to brush over the lacy edge of your panties. “Or am I gonna have to make you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, heat flooding your body in less than a second. “Joel—”

He cocks a brow. “What’s wrong, sweet thing? You were bold enough to sneak into my room, go through my drawers, take what don’t belong to you. Don’t get shy now.”

You feel it then—that impossible to ignore, deep, slick throb between your legs. Shame and heat twisting up your insides. Your whole being pulses with heat, phantom flames lapping over your skin.

You don’t know if you’re more humiliated or turned on—your body doesn’t seem to care either way. Joel hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

There’s no way out of this. And you’re not even sure if you want one.

You bite your lip, cheeks burning as your fingers trail down your belly, under your shorts and down between your thighs. Already wet. Slick with the shame of it, slick with how bad you want him watching you.

Joel swats your hip, not hard enough to sting. Just enough to make you feel it. “No ma’am, none of that shit. Shorts off.”

You freeze, your hand still buried under the waistband, your pulse thudding in your ears like a war drum. Apparently, you don’t move fast enough, not for him, and Joel’s already leaning forward, hands on your hips as he yanks them down himself—your shorts and panties in one brutal tug.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he mutters, almost to himself, dragging the fabric down your thighs and letting it pool at your ankles.

Your breath hitches as he sits back again, arms draped lazily over the back of the couch, dark eyes fixed on the wet heat between your thighs like he’s starving.

You step out of your clothes, naked from the waist down, cheeks burning, heart beating so hard it’s making you lightheaded.

Joel tips his chin toward the floor. “Go on.”

Your stomach flips. You’re sure he can see it, the way your chest heaves, nipples pressing hard into the thin fabric of your top. Your hand drifts between your legs again, slow and shaky. Joel’s eyes follow every motion. Every tremble.

Your middle finger dips down and slides through your folds, slow. You let out a shaky breath. You brush over your clit, and twitch, hips jerking without meaning to.

“That’s it.” Joel nods, his hands clenched into fists. “See how easy it was, sugar? Feel’s good, doesn't it?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice threadbare. You’re rubbing yourself faster now, pressure building fast. “It feels so good, Joel.”

Joel groans at his name falling from your lips. “I bet it does. Bet you fucked your fingers into that tight little cunt while smellin’ me on the collar of that damn shirt. You nasty little thing.”

You nod, barely, lips parted as you circle your clit again, breath hitching on contact.

“I should spank your ass red for that,” he growls. “Should bend you over my lap like a fuckin’ child. You need discipline, don’t you?”

Your knees nearly give. “Joel. Please—”

He cuts you off again, gesturing lazily to where your hand disappears between your thighs. “Open her up. Let me see.”

You press two fingers between your folds, spreading them apart so he can see your glistening pussy, sticky and swollen from just a few strokes.

“Goddamn,” Joel groans, reaching down to adjust the thick shape of his cock hard under his jeans. “She’s fuckin’ drippin’. That for me, baby?”

You nod, lips slack as your thighs tremble.

“Yeah,” he drawls, stretching the word like out taffy between his teeth. “That’s real pretty.”

You moan at that. Loud and desperate. Your touch dip that much lower to push one finger inside. Then another, like you just can’t help yourself. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, your pussy welcoming them in like it’s done this a hundred times thinking of him. Slick drips down your thighs, shining under the light of the lamp.

Joel licks his lips slowly, deliberately. “Look at that.” He leans forward, pupils wide and dark as an oil spill. “Just a little rub like that, a little stretch and you’re already makin’ a mess.”

You whimper, hips rocking against your hand. “Joel, I—”

“Give yourself another finger. Show me how you take it”

You grind down onto your own fingers, mouth slack with soft moans that breathe to life before you can muffle them. You press in a third finger. The stretch burns, but you don’t stop. You’re panting now, skin dewy, hips jerking forward to meet your hand. Joel watches like a man starved.

He grins, smug and handsome and infuriating. “Yeah, three feels nice don’t it, honey?” He reaches out, his hand sliding up your thigh in one slow motion, lazy and unhurried through the slick. “Bet you could take my whole fuckin’ fist if you wanted it real bad.”

A pathetic little whine fills the air, more of a mewl than anything. It takes you a second to realize you’re the one making the noise, so desperate and gone from the tiniest amount of touch. It makes your walls clamp down harder around your fingers.

Joel sees. Joel knows.

And it’s all he needs to finally break.

“Come here,” he growls suddenly, jerking his head impatiently.

You scramble over, straddling him, bare thighs spread over his denim clad ones. Joel undoes his belt with one hand, the clink of the metal making your pulse trip. He pulls himself out of his soaked boxers, hard and straining, the rosy head drooling precome onto his shirt when it slaps up to rest against his stomach.

Your mouth falls open at the sight of it, flushed and big. Bigger than you’ve ever seen, outside of guilty late night porn searches. 

Joel chuckles darkly, taking himself in his hand. He strokes himself slowly, twisting his wrist over the head. “You think you can take all this?” he taunts meanly, dragging the tip through your folds, wetting himself with your slick. “You’re just a baby, sweetheart. You think you can handle this dick?”

You moan as he rubs himself over your sensitive clit, warm and wet. Your hips twitch down, desperate for more. Your pussy clenches around nothing, overwhelmingly empty.

He slaps your ass, hard. He kneads the tender skin in his rough hand after, dragging out the sting. “How old am I? Tell me, honey. Say it.”

You gasp, eyes screwing shut in embarrassment. “Fifty–ah! Fifty three,” you breathe, not looking Joel in the eye as you say it.

You can’t, not with the humiliation coursing through your veins like pure kerosine. It’s white hot, burning so bright, but it’s still not enough to stop your pussy from dripping sticky all over his cock like a broken faucet.

“Damn right,” he growls. “Old enough to be your fuckin’ daddy.”

Joel thrusts into you in one brutal push.

You scream. Your nails dig into his shoulders hard enough that you feel the thin material of his shirt straining under it. The stretch feels like it’s tearing you in two, like your fingers didn’t do anything to prepare you for his cock carving a place for itself inside you.

Joel kisses you, sucks the noise right off your tongue. He tastes like beer, like sweat and salt and something that’s only him. You moan into his mouth, your fingers threading into the soft hair curling at the nape of his neck.

He pulls back, a string of spit connecting your lips until it bends and breaks under the weight of gravity. “Come on, darlin’.” He slaps your ass again—once, twice—and you squeal, the burn sharp and perfect. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you couldn’t keep those thievin’ hands to yourself, huh? Well now’s your chance. Fuck me, give it to me good.”

You don’t ease into it, too worked to even think about starting slow.

You bounce on his lap like you’re possessed, thighs slapping, slick drenching his jeans. Joel groans with every roll of your hips, low and drawn out. He lets his head fall back against the couch, the tan column of his throat on display.

“Been waitin’ for this,” he pants. “Since the day you showed back up. Actin’ all grown. Look at you now. Cryin’ on my cock.”

You’re drooling. Dizzy. Brain turned to static as you ride him, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know you’ll bruise.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, raising his head to watch you. “This pussy wasn’t made for boys your age. Needs a man to stretch it out. To ruin it.”

You whine, your pussy tightening around the throbbing length of his cock. Joel notices, of course he does.

His hands grip your ass, urging your hips up and down faster. “You like that, sweet thing? You like lettin’ an old man fuck you raw like this?”

“Yes,” you whine, tears burning at your water line. “I love it, want you to come inside me so bad Joel, fuck-”

“I know, baby.” Joel kisses your cheek, softly. Too soft, too tender. “You ain’t ever gonna want some college boy after this. You’re gonna be thinkin’ about how Mr. Miller fucked you open better than they could.”

Your moan is muffled by his fingers pushing between your slack lips, filling your mouth. You whine at the taste of yourself coating his skin, sucking obediently as he presses them down on your tongue.

“Gonna make you mine,” he pants. “Mine. No more sneakin’ around, no more stealin’ my shit—you want something, you ask for it like a big girl, and I’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

You shake your head, babbling around his fingers. “Yes—yes, only you. I’m yours—”

You can feel your orgasm building deep in your belly, the coil of pleasure tightening and tightening until it threatens to snap.

Joel rips his fingers from your mouth with a dark growl, reaching back down to grip your ass again. He spreads you open, the cool air making you gasp. One finger, wet with your own spit, rubs over your rim. 

He doesn’t push in—just teases, circling, pressing, tugging—enough to make you clench and cry out as he starts pounding up into you. His hips lifting off the couch and filling the room with the loud noise of skin on skin as his balls slap against your ass with every thrust. Your pussy squelching around him with dirty, wet noises would make your ears burn if you weren’t so far gone already.

“You gonna let me play with this too?” he murmurs, lips brushing against your. “You lettin’ me train this hole next?”

That’s it. It’s all you can take.

You shatter with a scream, pussy squeezing so tight it makes Joel snarl and buck wildly up into you. He grabs your ass, choking out a strained string of  “fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He curses, pulls you down hard onto his cock one last time as he spills inside you, so deep you swear you feel it behind your ribs. His head drops to your shoulder, breath ragged as he comes and comes. 

It feels endless, spurt after spurt of hot spend flooding your walls until it’s forced to leak back out along the fever hot skin of his cock, slipping down his balls to drip onto the couch.

It’s filthy.

It’s obscene.

It’s exactly what you wanted.

You both lean into each other, breathless and spent as you come down. Sweat drips down your back, rolling down your spine as your hands stay buried in his hair.

Joel strokes your thigh lazily, still inside you, watching the mess drip down where you’re spread open around him.

“You’re stayin’ the night,” he says simply.

You can’t fight the tiny, secret smile you press against the sweaty skin of his throat as you nod wordlessly, thighs still shaking violently around his hips.

You’d never make it to the door anyway.

MINI NAT'S NOTE: what's so funny to me about this is that i didn't realize how much i actually missed writing for joel until i took a little mini break to work on my other frankie and harry fics like it’s so dramatic truly, but baby we’re so back! back and hopefully pissing off the joel age gap haters!

shoutouts to baby rylea for giving me the flannel idea cause this fic might have been lost without it. it was rescued from being just another abandoned wip and instead turned into a literal monster which was never supposed to happen but uh that's chill i guess…two fics over 10k words in one month? that’s literally unheard of over here. ALSO my first venture into ass play to spite @ebodebo and @yuenity sooo that’s fun. i love them both really LMAO

once again it's four a.m because i just can't function like a normal person. thank you to femme bot by charli xcx, pink red bull, and ofc my geeky bar for letting me power through and finish this mess. okay i'm done now sorry for talking so much, i just love yapping to you guys :(( thank you so much for reading, love you!

[lnfours]

heaven | ln4

summary: loving you was easy to him, like second nature, like breathing. and it’s finally time for you to know.

warnings: nothing but heart clenching, feet kicking, and giggling into your pillow fluff. this is kind of short (i apologize 🥲) but nonetheless the lando brainrot has been back in full swing!

💌 - message from jordan: hi guys! long time no see :,) this came to me while watching the race yesterday morning, and beings im a sucker for a toothache-inducing-sweet romance, i figured this would be the perfect comeback fic. nothing too crazy with this one, but i still hope you enjoy, nonetheless <3 i’ve missed you all v much and i can’t wait to post some more of the things ive been working on while i was away! sending you all my love, always. talk soon! 🤍

masterlist | inbox

the filtered sunlight from the curtains in the hotel room casted shadows that illuminated the sleeping boy’s face next to you. his face was squished against the pillow, an arm lazily thrown across your stomach. he was always finding a way to be touching you, even when he was unconscious.

you watched as he slept peacefully next to you, tan skin a contrast against the bright white sheets. he had finally reached a break in his busy schedule, two weeks of having him all to yourself. he had even gone the extra mile and decided to take you on a little getaway, somewhere where it was just the two of you. alone. making up for the time he had spent away from you.

his curls were messy on the top of his head, you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and brushing them from his forehead. however, you slightly started to regret it when you felt him move next to you, a soft sigh leaving his lips. not out of annoyance, but out of comfort at the feeling of having your nails scratch his scalp.

“like what you see?”

his morning voice was raspy and sleep coated and hot. you couldn’t help the smile growing on your face as he blinked his eyes open, squinting at you in the bright room as he tried to get his eyes to adjust.

you nodded, your fingers now trailing down the side of his face and resting on his cheek, your thumb tracing over one of your favorite moles that littered his skin, “always.”

he leaned into your touch, smiling sleepily at you before pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand, humming as his eyes searched yours, “missed this,”

you smiled back as he pulled you closer towards him, giggling as you nuzzled your head into his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head, “me too.”

lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair as you took in the smell of his leftover cologne that clung to his skin. you two laid like that for a while, basking in the feeling of having each other close after the weeks he had been all over the world. you knew what you were signing up for when he asked you on your first date a few months back, but you were certain that each time he left, it was only harder and harder to let him go.

you adjust your body so you could look up at him, his eyes meeting yours again. you smiled, thinking back to the very first date you had ever went on. how he had asked your friends what your favorite flower was so he could bring them to dinner. how he always managed to make you feel like the only person in the room. always gentle, even after a bad day. he made you feel valuable. seen, heard, loved.

he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling softly down at you, “what’s going on in that pretty little head?”

you sucked in a breath, “just thinking about you, about us,”

a hint of worry flashed through his eyes and you immediately clarified, “not in a bad way! i swear,”

he raised his eyebrow, playing with some strands of your hair slightly, “what is it then?”

you sucked in a breath, a feeling in your chest rising that you couldn’t quite describe, “i love you, lan.”

his eyes traveled back to yours immediately, the three words neither of you said before now ringing in his ears. he had known for a while now that you were the one for him. he had never felt this way about anyone before, never felt the need to settle like he does with you. with you, he pictures the white picket fence dream. the house, the kids, and hell, even the dog he had always talked about getting when the time was right.

you made him feel like he had found the missing piece to the puzzle that was his soul. and he was yours, too.

he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. the usual witty, jokester brit now all of sudden feeling a sense of realism. this was his future, the woman laying in front of him. the one he got to call his own. the woman he loved.

“i love you,” hearing him say it back made your heart clench in your throat, “more than anything in the world.”

you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to your lips, kissing him with as much love and passion you could shove in it. he kissed you back, sweetly and slowly. just like he always had, but this time it felt different. it felt like page turning to a new chapter of his life. the chapter he desperately wanted to share with you.

you giggled into his mouth when his hands found your hips, pulling you on top of him. the material of his shirt from the night before meeting his bare chest, legs tangled under the covers. you had pulled away to catch a breath, running your hands through his hair, nothing but love filled gazes staring right back at each other.

his own little slice of heaven.

[houseofaegon]

ooo maybe needy/desperate bob with reader. (saw this on another blog where he has an oral fixation with readers breasts, so maybe a breeding thing going on there as well?) if youre feeling up to it, maybe he DOES knock the reader up (by accident or on purpose, your choice) and him just taking care of the reader/what he'd do

Yours ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. unprotected p in v, oral fixation (breasts), breeding kink, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms & test scene, found family, fluff, emotional comfort, soft and needy!bob.

Summary: What started as another desperate night tangled in Bob’s arms becomes something so much more. Two weeks later, something in your body changes—and Yelena and Bucky are the first to notice. When the test confirms it, you’re terrified. But when you finally tell Bob… he drops to his knees. Because he meant every word he’s ever said. And now it’s real. He’s yours. And you’re his. Forever.

Author's Note: oh my god i'm screaming rn, i'm getting bombarded with request of bob with a breeding kink ughhhhhh and i am not complaining, keep them coming cause its hot as fuckkkkkk!!! this one's shorter lol. i've been writing a loooott these past few days jeezzzz, i'm so obsessed with bob i can't take it anymore. bob being a dad is all i need in this life. my baby deserves happiness!!! <3 i might’ve taken a lot of inspiration from the headcanons i posted yesterday about bob having a breeding kink lol im giggling like an idiot right now. thank you for the request!! i have so many in my inbox now i promise i will get to them soon, im writing a lot of them right now so i will probably be posting them these next days <3 ty again for all the love and support!! i love u all

Bob's hands were already tearing your shirt off.

You’d barely even started to lift it when he groaned and got impatient—fingers grasping the hem, tugging, mouth already on your skin before it was halfway over your head.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, lips grazing the curve of your breast as it bounced free. “You're so beautiful.”

You could feel him shaking. His mouth closed over one nipple like it was instinct, and he moaned, deep and wrecked.

“Bob—” you whimpered, back arching up as his tongue swirled slow and messy around your hardened nipple.

“I can’t help it,” he groaned into your chest. “They're so perfect. So full. You were made for me.”

You were already wet. Just from this. From his mouth, his need.

He sucked, switching sides like he couldn’t get enough. Like he’d die if he didn’t taste every inch of you.

“You want it again, baby?” he asked, voice thick. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes—Bob, please…”

He was already pushing your legs open, pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself. He didn’t tease. Just lined up, pushed in slow, groaning.

“Gonna make you mine all over again,” he whispered, thrusting deep and steady. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t be able to think straight.”

His mouth never left your chest. Kissing, sucking, moaning into your skin.

“You're everything,” he whispered. “You’re mine.”

He came with your nipple in his mouth, deep inside, holding you down as he spilled into you with a low, broken groan.

“Look at you,” he whispered, resting his hand on your lower belly, still buried deep inside you. “So fucking full of my seed. Gonna have you leaking for days.”

You laughed softly, breathless. Teased him—called him obsessed.

He just grinned, kissed you again, slow, messy, tender. He pulled you into his arms and tucked you beneath his chin.

You fell asleep on his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

Neither of you knew what you'd done.

Not yet.

But you would soon.

Two weeks later, you couldn't sleep. Something in your body felt off, too sensitive, achy, warm in ways that lingered longer than they should. It hit you in waves: nausea in the mornings, dizziness in the evenings, a strange heaviness in your chest that wasn’t just physical.

You knew the signs. But you didn’t want to believe it.

The gym was warm. You were mid-spar with Yelena, sweat clicking your back, knuckles stinging with every hit, but something wasn't right. Your chest felt tight. Too tight. Your balance, off. The world tilted just a little too much as you threw your next punch.

You stumbled.

“Whoa—whoa, easy there.” Bucky was at your side in a flash, strong arm wrapping around your back, catching you before your knees hit the mat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, too quickly, breath catching in your throat.

Yelena wasn’t convinced. She stepped forward, arms crossed, that sharp look in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay, dollface? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I’m just lightheaded,” you muttered, brushing them off. “Didn’t eat breakfast this morning, that’s all—”

But then your stomach twisted. Your throat burned. And you turned.

You ran.

Straight down the hall, straight into the nearest bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet before your stomach gave out.

Bucky was right behind you, kneeling next to you without hesitation, one hand rubbing your back, the other gently pulling your hair our of your face. “Hey. Breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

Yelena stormed in seconds later. “Move over, Barnes. Let me see her face.”

You slumped back against the wall, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Sweat beaded at your temple. Your hands were shaking.

Yelena crouched in front of you, her expression surprisingly sof.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “We’re going to ask this one more time. Are. You. Okay.”

You looked between them—Yelena’s raised brow, Bucky’s furrowed one—and sighed.

“I don’t know.”

That afternoon, you were sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor with Yelena beside you, both of you hunched over the pregnancy test box. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the tub, arms crossed, visibly trying his best not to panic.

You held the test in your hands—upside down, because you couldn’t look yet. You weren’t ready.

"Okay, so hypothetically, if you’re pregnant, what’s the plan? Hide it? Cry? Run to Russia and live off-grid? Because I vote off-grid. Maybe Monaco or Hawaii.”

"Yelena," Bucky muttered.

“What? I’m being supportive.”

You stared at the stick, hand trembling. “I can’t do it. I can’t look.” You handed it to Bucky.

He looked confused. “Me?”

"Please, Bucky. I can't do it."

He sighed, gently taking the test from your hand.

There was a long beat of silence.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until you looked up at him. His eyes met yours. And that was it.

You knew.

Bucky didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to.

Your hand flew to your mouth. Your heart dropped, rose, twisted.

Yelena blinked, leaning in, yanking the test from Bucky's hands. “Wait—wait. No fucking way.”

You didn’t speak. Just nodded slowly.

Yelena’s jaw dropped as she stared at the test. “You’re actually pregnant?!”

You nodded again, and then—Yelena shrieked, the test flying off her hands and landing on the floor.

“Oh my god! That golden retriever of yours did it?! I knew your boobs looked bigger!”

“Yelena!” Bucky barked.

But she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, pulling you against her like you were made of glass.

“I got you, babe,” she whispered. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

And Bucky—he didn’t say much. But he sat beside you, one big hand landing gently on your shoulder.

“I’m here too,” he said, quiet. “Whatever you need. But you gotta tell him."

Bucky and Yelena left your room a couple minutes after that. The test was still in the bathroom. Your hands were trembling.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in your head. Your legs felt like they might give out.

You sat on the edge of your bed, clutching a pillow to your chest, trying to calm your breathing when the door opened.

"Hey, baby," Bob's voice was warm. He sounded so happy.

You looked up. He was still in his tactical suit, unzipped halfway, sweat in his collarbones, golden curls messy from his field training. Walker and Ava's voices echoed down the hall behind him, fading away.

Bob's smile widened when he saw you. "You okay? I missed you. You didn't text after your traning—I figured you were tired, but…”

You cut him off.

“Bob,” you said quickly. “Wait.”

His smile faltered.

“I—I need to tell you something. Just… listen, okay?”

His face went still. That happy smile was gone, replaced by a look of concern.

You stood slowly, your hands shaking.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something—"

You cut him off again.

"I'm pregnant."

Then the world stopped.

Bob froze where he stood, eyes locked on you. He didn't move. Didn't blink. It hit him slowly, like a wave. First, his mouth opened, then closed. Then again. His breathing picked up.

"Please say something," your voiced cracked. Eyes filled with tears almost instantly.

“Are you serious?” he said, voice cracking, almost breathless. “Baby—please tell me this isn’t a joke. You’re really…”

You nodded, heart pounding. You were crying already.

“I’m pregnant, Bob.”

He walked towards you and dropped to his knees.

Just like that.

His hands found your waist as he pressed his face to your stomach—nothing even showing yet—and sobbed.

“Fuck,” he choked. “Oh my god. Baby, you’re pregnant. You’re really pregnant.”

You ran your hands through his hair, gently cradling his head.

He was shaking. Laughing through tears. His whole body trembling as he kissed your stomach, again and again and again.

“A baby?” he whispered. “Oh god. I’m gonna be a dad.”

He looked up at you and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, voice breaking again. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

He kissed you—fierce, messy, wet with tears—and rested his forehead to yours.

You sobbed, a big grin on your face as you held his face softly.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised. “Of both of you. I promise, baby."

And the way he hold you in that moment? You knew he meant it.

Because he meant it. Will all his heart.

He'd always wanted a family, someone to love, someone to care for. And now he had you. Forever.

⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe @misaki-evans (if you want to be tagged in my future works lmk! <3)

[piastriprincess]

caught  up  in  circles ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  time  loop  ,  f1  med  staff!reader  ,  strangers  to  lovers  ,  slow  burn  . tw  one  crash  ,  z*k  br*wn  and  chr*stian  h*rner  mentions  lol word  count  9.9k author’s  note  this  one  is  for  my  piastri  princesses  !  aka  it’s  all  about  oscar  and  entirely  self - indulgent  but  i  hope  you  all  like  it  too  !  inspired  by  palm  springs  -  one  of  my  favorite  movies  which  for  some  reason  made  me  think  of  osc  the  last  time  i  was  watching  it  <3  this  is  lowkey  long  as  hell  but  in  my  opinion  it’s  worth  it  .  as  always  let  me  know  what  you  think  ,  and  my  inbox  is  open  for  requests  !  i’m  hoping  to  have  an  event  up  in  the  next  couple  of  days  too  .  love  you  all  MWAH  !  title  is  from  time  after  time  by  cyndi  lauper  .

Oscar always wakes up before his alarm goes off.

He doesn’t bother checking the date anymore. Sunday, May 25, 2025 — the 82nd annual Monaco Grand Prix. It’s sunny outside, a cloudless blue sky stretching endlessly over the glittering harbor. It seems like the perfect day for racing, though it will grow overcast around the 32nd lap and rain will cover the Fairmont Hairpin by lap 41. Lance Stroll always hits the turn going too fast on his inters and skids into the barriers. Oscar knows everything about the day, down to his bones. After all, today will be the 57th time he’s lived it. 

By now, his morning routine doesn’t run on instinct so much as muscle memory. He brushes his teeth, calls his mum and tells her he loves her, listens to her tell him you’ve got this, Osc (which is entirely ironic to him now, because he affirmatively does not “got this.” In fact, he thinks this might be the first time he’s ever done anything 56 times without improving at it even an ounce). He shaves, not because he needs to, but because he knows his stubble will start itching by the time he gets to the media pen. He puts on the team kit that’s always neatly folded on his chair when he wakes, even when he leaves it crumpled on his bedroom floor the night before. At least reliving the same day over and over means he never has to do his laundry.

Here’s what he knows so far (a list, meticulously kept in one of his McLaren notebooks). He’s tentatively titled it Oscar Piastri’s Guide to the Time Loop. 

Number one: the loop resets every day when he falls asleep. 

It doesn’t matter if he makes it past midnight; doesn’t matter if he drinks an absurd and frankly dangerous amount of Red Bulls and drives from Monaco to Woking in one caffeine-crazed night; doesn’t matter if he flies home to Australia after the race, pinching himself to stay awake for the entire twenty-hour flight. The second his eyes close, he wakes up back in Monte Carlo, the sunlight streaming through his curtains. 

Number two: he can alter the day. 

There are some things that are always the same, of course. The team polo on his chair. The rain on the hairpin. The offhand crack Lando makes about him having no social life — a joke that was funny the first time, but gets increasingly cruel every time it repeats. But things can change, too. He can walk a different way through the paddock. He can have different conversations, though nobody remembers them when the day resets. He can drive the race differently, drive it better. Although, even in 55 races (his gearbox crapped out before the start of the race on Day 16), he hasn’t won yet. 

Number three: he can’t die. 

Can’t even get injured, really. He’d gotten a couple bruises and scrapes that seemed to heal overnight, but he’d actually confirmed the theory just a couple loops ago. He made a desperate push to pass Charles on the Nouvelle Chicane, and the back end of the car just… slid out from underneath him. There was a moment, brief and terrifying and calm all at once, that he thought that might be it. The only way out. Then he slammed into the barrier, and the carbon fiber crumpled like paper around him. It’s all bits and pieces, what he can remember after that — fire licking up the back wing, the frantic radio messages in his ears, the flashing lights of the safety car, the med staff swarming the track. Someone he’d never seen before pulling him out of the car, speaking to him in a slightly panicked voice. Blinking up at their face through the haze of pain before he lost consciousness. When he opened his eyes again, he was back in his bed on Sunday morning, not a scratch on him. 

The analytical conclusion Oscar has come to, after 56 days of testing, note-taking, and driving in circles both literal and existential, is that he’s trapped. Inexplicably, inescapably trapped in a day that never really changes, and he can’t for the life of him figure his way out. 

When he gets to the paddock on Day 57, everything is the same. He takes pictures with a few fans as he walks in, jogs slightly to catch up with Lando up ahead, who throws an arm around him like it’s second nature and claps him on the back. They qualified P2-P3, a solid result for the team. (In the first grand prix, on what Oscar’s now calling Day 1, Lando surprised him, pipping him to second place after an absolutely vicious overtake at the first corner. Oscar hasn’t let him pull that move again for 56 days.)

Today, he just chats idly to Lando as they walk about the upcoming race, about team strategy, about the stupid TikTok that marketing is forcing them to do later in the day. Then they round the corner towards the team hub, and Oscar nearly trips over thin air, because someone is standing there. 

No one is supposed to be standing there. Oscar’s learned to control variables, gotten used to experimenting and predicting what’s coming next, because nothing ever changes until he changes it. And never, not once in the fifty-six Sundays that came before this one, has a stranger been standing in front of his driver’s room, spinning their lanyard around their fingers with their eyes fixed on him like they’ve been waiting for him. 

“Hey, Piastri,” the stranger says, voice tight but polite in the way that his own gets when he’s trying not to freak out in public. He walks closer, and panic slices cleanly through him. Because you’re not a stranger. He knows your voice, your face. You’re the person who pulled him out of the car after the crash. The last thing he saw before the loop reset. 

“Can I ask you a weird question?” you continue, voice pitching higher, teetering on the razor’s edge of fear.

He thinks he might forget how to breathe. “Shoot.”

“You crashed two days ago,” you say, and his pulse spikes under his skin. “Pretty spectacularly, actually. I pulled you out of the car, but you were already going under. I was—I was sure you were dead.” You pause, running a hand through your hair. “Cried about it twice. It was, like, the worst day at work ever. And now…” You trail off, like you’re afraid to say it, like you think Oscar is going to laugh and call you ridiculous. “I think I’m going insane, or else I’m having the worst recorded case of deja vu in human history, because this is the third day in a row I’ve woken up on Monaco race day, and no one remembers anything that happened the day before.”

“That’s not a question,” Oscar says, dumbly, heart hammering beneath his ribs.

You look up at him, eyes wide like he holds the keys to the universe. “Yeah. My question is: what the hell did you do to me? And how do I make it stop?”

For once, Oscar’s got no answer. Just a cold, creeping realization settling into his chest. 

Number four: He can pull people into the loop?

DAY 58

Oscar’s rational. He’s reasonable. He doesn’t believe in magical thinking: he believes in statistics, logic, in systems that can be measured and tested and solved. Oscar works hard for what he achieves. He doesn’t ever let himself hope, doesn’t think there’s a need for it when you have skill and diligence on your side. 

But when he wakes up the next morning before his alarm, staring up at the ceiling like he has every day for the past 58 days, he really hopes you’ll be at the paddock. 

Which, statistically speaking, is not likely. The rest of your conversation yesterday had… not gone well, to say the least. He’d tried to ease you into it quietly, carefully, like a doctor delivering bad news to a patient. He’d pulled the small McLaren notebook from his back pocket, frayed at the corners now, dog-eared from overuse. He’d held it out to you, as if it might bridge the gap. “Here. I started this on Day 3. It explains everything.”

You hadn’t taken it. You’d just stared at him like he’d sprouted three heads. 

“It’s not just you,” Oscar had said, as gently as he could. “It’s the same Sunday for me, too. This is the 57th time I’ve lived it.”

You’d let out a laugh, shaky and high-pitched. “That’s—that’s not possible. You’re joking.”

“I assure you, I’m very much not,” he’d said dryly. “The first time I ever saw you was Day 55, after the crash. And this morning, you’re here. That’s never happened before.”

You’d blinked, color draining from your cheeks, fingers tightening around your badge like you were about to bolt. “So you think it’s my fault?”

“No,” he’d assured you, instantly. “No. I don’t know why it’s happening. We’re just both… stuck. That’s all.”

“You sound like you’ve made peace with that,” you’d said, crossing your arms over your fireproof scrubs, and something in Oscar’s chest had ached at the way your voice trembled around the words. 

“Not made peace with it,” he’d shrugged, pasting on a smile that didn’t quite fit on his face. “Just ran out of ideas.” Just haven’t won yet. Haven’t proven myself yet. 

“This can’t be happening,” you’d muttered, knuckles going white where you clutched at your medical badge. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. Or we’re both concussed, or something.”

“I get it. I freaked out at first too,” Oscar had replied. 

“No, you don’t get it!” you’d snapped, eyes all wildfire. “We’re trapped in time, and you’re acting like it’s another day at the office?”

He’d had to bite back his smile. “Well, it sort of is another day at the office. For both of us.”

“I’m going to fix this,” you’d said, ignoring him. “I’m going to get myself out of this.”

“I’ve tried everything. Tested everything,” Oscar had started to explain, but his voice died in his throat when you looked at him. Really looked — bottom lip stuck out slightly, color high in your cheeks, gaze shaky but defiant. The sight of you made his brain go still. 

“No way can you test your way out of this. You might have started this, but I’m going to finish it,” you’d said, and stormed off without waiting for another word. 

So. The chances don’t seem great that he’ll see you today. But when he gets to the paddock, he still walks past the medical centre to see if he can catch a glimpse of you, scans every face, just in case — the team members, the med staff, the engineers, every person in the paddock holding a camera or a clipboard or a latte. He even searches the grandstands, is almost late for the driver’s parade. He’s halfway through making up some stupid excuse to Lando before he realizes it doesn’t matter, he won’t remember it anyway. 

You’re not here. 

It’s to be expected, really. Oscar tried to break out of the loop by force when he first figured it out, too — stayed up for a full 24 hours after the race, drove as far as he could out of Monaco, wrote down every little detail he could remember about Day 1 and tweaked it as much as he possibly could over the next few days. None of it works, but you don’t know that yet. He gets it. It’s fine. 

Except there’s something about your absence that makes his chest ache. 

The lack of you unsettles him in a way he’s not used to. It’s an odd reaction, Oscar can admit to himself. He doesn’t actually know you. But he’d gotten used to being the only one stuck, found a way to exist in the repetition. Until yesterday, for the first time in nearly two months, when the world suddenly cracked open just enough to let someone else in, to remind Oscar what it was like to be seen. And now, just as suddenly, you’re gone again, and the loneliness feels so much worse than it did before. 

He races like shit, somehow gets passed by drivers who have no business overtaking him on a circuit that makes it nearly impossible to drop places. Not that any of it matters. 

Not without the only other person who might remember it.

DAY 60

“Osc, where are you going?” Lando asks when he turns right toward the team hub and Oscar starts walking to the left. They’re leaving the morning strategy briefing, which has quickly become Oscar’s least favorite unskippable part of the day (and he’s tried — the team always tracks him down, explaining that it’s crucial he attends. He doesn’t know how to tell them strategy is somewhat pointless when you’ve done the actual race every single day for two months.)

“Med centre,” he answers without thinking. It’s become part of his routine over the past few days. Brush teeth, call mum, shave, drive to the paddock, look for you. But of course, no one else knows that.

“Med centre? Oscar? Are you okay?” Zak’s voice rises about an octave, behind them, and Oscar has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

“He’s fine, he’s just aura farming,” Lando giggles, and Oscar’s mouth twists into a grin instead. In a day that loops over and over again, he has to find moments that aren’t completely monotonous. He’s taken to setting up jokes for Lando, letting him hit the punchline. Oscar always laughs, even though he knows exactly what his teammate is going to say half the time. Seeing the pleased smile on Lando’s face is good enough for him to keep doing it. 

“Thinks if he walks around the paddock locked in, it’ll add to the whole vibe,” Lando continues, egged on by the grin on Oscar’s face. “Mate, you know the only reason people think you’re mysterious is because you never actually go anywhere.”

The smile fades. Well. It’s nice to know that even when Oscar’s acting weirder than normal, the joke about how he’s the most boring guy in Monaco sticks around. 

“Whatever, man. See you later, yeah?” Oscar mutters, hopefully sounding good-natured enough as he goes. He’s got more important shit to do anyway — namely, tracking you down.

He walks by the med centre exactly six times, nearly trips over himself when he sees someone swinging their paddock pass around their fingers. But it’s still not you. He’s starting to worry you’re not coming back. Or maybe, he thinks as he walks dejectedly back across the paddock, you figured out how to get out. And now he’s stuck and alone. By the time he opens the door to his driver’s room, shutting it behind him and leaving himself in the darkness, the surroundings are the perfect fit for his blackened mood. 

“So, that didn’t work,” you say from somewhere inside, and Oscar nearly jumps out of his own skin. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, flipping the lights on to see you sitting cross-legged on the small bed he uses for mid-practice naps, eating Tim Tams. The absolute audacity you have to invade his space, sit on his bed, eat his snacks — he should be annoyed. But for some reason, the sight of you makes just relief spread through his body. “You came back,” he says breathlessly, immediately regretting how stupidly eager the words sound coming out of his mouth.

“I’m back,” you confirm, grinning up at him unfazed as you pop another biscuit in your mouth. “And I think I owe you an apology for how I spoke to you last time. I may have overreacted a little.”

“S’alright,” he says affably. “I did the same thing at the beginning.”

“You drove a moped off the cliff at Pointe-Saint-Martin to see if you could hit the water hard enough to shake yourself out of the loop?” you ask.

Oscar just stares. “You did that?”

“Kind of a mix of Groundhog Day and Palm Springs,” you shrug. “Thought if it worked for them, it might work for me, but I just ended up half-flooding a boat and seriously pissing off a fisherman.”

“Probably needed to drive faster then,” he replies. You roll your eyes in response, but you’re smiling. He can’t quite tell how to read you. It leaves him feeling off-kilter, like when the car snaps around a corner in a way he’s not expecting.

“Clearly taking lessons from time-travel movies didn’t work. But you’re still stuck here too, and I don’t think either of us can do this alone. Time to compare notes, Piastri.” You waggle your fingers in the space between you. “Hand over the book.”

He pulls the notebook out of his pocket automatically, passes it to you. Watches quietly from the doorway as your eyes scan over the pages. He doesn’t mean to stare, he really doesn’t. But your hair keeps falling in your face, and you keep tucking it behind your ear impatiently, and something about the sight makes Oscar’s heart stutter in his chest a little bit.

You look up suddenly, and Oscar goes pink to the tips of his ears, shaking his head slightly as if to clear the thought from his brain. “You weren’t kidding,” you say. “This is extensive. Borderline obsessive.”

“Borderline?” he deadpans, and you laugh. It’s a light sound, almost musical. Oscar can’t remember the last time he made someone laugh without planning for it in advance.

“Okay, completely obsessive,” you agree cheerfully. “But also kind of impressive.” He doesn’t quite know what to say to that; he settles for sitting carefully next to you on the bed as you flip through a few more pages. “You really think winning is the way out?”

Oscar shrugs. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only goal I haven’t managed yet. Once I get it perfect, it’ll have to end.”

You grin. “That’s such a driver answer.”

“I do happen to be a driver,” he replies dryly, and you bump your shoulder against his. 

“Yeah, but not everything’s about the checkered flag, Piastri,” you say, handing the notebook back to him. He clutches it in his lap, hands curling around it like a lifeline. “What if it’s about… changing? Growing? Something that matters more than racing, at least.”

Nothing matters more than racing, Oscar wants to say. But you’re looking at him like you’re trying to figure him out, running over what you know of him in your mind like he’s a puzzle you’re desperate to solve, and he wants to say something that will make you realize you’ve been looking at the pieces all wrong. To unbalance you the way you do to him. 

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” you say, leaning forward, elbows on your knees, and Oscar realizes he’s been silent far too long. “You keep trying to win the race, and I’ll help however I can. But only if you agree to try things my way too. Half careful, half chaos. Deal?”

Oscar hesitates, and you raise your eyebrows like you’re daring him to say no. “Okay,” he says, pretending it’s a reluctant confession. “Deal.”

You grin, and Oscar has the distinct feeling he’s lost ground that he didn’t know was up for grabs until you extend your hand out to meet his. “Shake on it.” 

When he takes your hand, your fingers are warm against his, and something shifts in the air. Nothing big. Probably no one else would feel it.

If Oscar believed in things like that, he’d almost say the loop was taking notice. 

DAY 63

Oscar walks away as quickly as he can. Behind him, Lewis Hamilton is yelling, because someone has dyed Roscoe a shocking papaya orange. Non-toxic, pet-safe, temporary fur dye, of course — the bulldog will be completely back to normal in a few days, no worse for the wear. 

Not that Oscar has anything to do with it.

His phone buzzes in his pocket as he picks up his pace, and he pulls it out to see a notification from you: well done agent 081. come to the pit wall to receive your reward :)

The two of you text, now. You’d scrawled your number on a fresh page of his notebook in a glitter gel pen before you left his driver’s room the other day. The messy cursive, the careless heart drawn next to it, stood out against Oscar’s cramped, boyish handwriting. “So we can talk strategy,” you’d said, easy as pie. “Scientific purposes only, of course.”

He’d traced his fingers over the numbers later, at home after the race (P4, nothing to write home about. His lines were perfect, but his front right tyre got stuck on the car during his pit stop, and it all unraveled from there). Spent a little bit too long trying to think of something to say, ended up just sending Hi, this is Oscar Piastri. 

You’d responded immediately: i figured lol. u dont need to be so formal oscar!!! 

Then another, before he could overthink again: meet me tomorrow at medtent before the race. time for chaosssss >:)

When you said chaos, you meant it. That first day, you’d convinced him to hang signs reading CAUTION: VENOMOUS SNAKES all over the Red Bull garage. (“It’s a metaphor, Oscar,” you’d insisted. He had to admit, seeing Christian Horner scream into his phone until he turned purple was kind of worth it.) The next day, it was reprogramming the Alpine coffee machine so it only dispensed hot water. Oscar had told you it was stupid, but watching Pierre get increasingly frustrated, his accent getting thicker and thicker as he tried to explain the problem to any mechanic who would listen, he’d laughed so hard he’d doubled over, tears pricking mercilessly at his eyes. 

You’d leaned against him, wheezing like you couldn’t catch your breath from how hard you were giggling, and that was the moment, Oscar thinks. The moment he knew you were friends.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s made a friend. 

When he gets to the McLaren pit wall, you’re sitting on the base of it, head tipped back, soaking in the Monaco sun. You place a hand on your brow, squinting slightly like you’re trying to make him out, and then you wave him over.

“So. Now that we’ve done my idea, what’s your plan today?” you say, pulling two sandwiches wrapped in Ferrari-red napkins out of your bag and tossing the larger one to him. You’ve started sneaking into the different hospitality suites before lunch, figuring out which garage has the best to offer and forcing Oscar to rank them with you. “It’s caprese, by the way,” you add as he catches it. “Scuderia knows what’s up.”

“It’s gonna be a clean start. Pit stop at lap 39 to switch to wets. Overtake Leclerc late,” he repeats automatically as he unwraps the sandwich, taking a bite. It’s good — fresh mozzarella, a perfectly ripe slice of tomato. Miles better than the chicken salad bites McLaren insists on. 

You hum around a mouthful of your own. “You tried that already,” you point out as you swallow. “Like, four times now.”

“Five,” he corrects, and you shake your head fondly. Something about the gesture makes his breath catch in his chest. “But, uh, I’ll tweak the timing a bit. Try an overtake in the tunnel, or something.”

“You know it’s okay if you don’t figure it out right away, right?” you say, taking a sip from your water bottle.

Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem. We have all the time in the world.”

You scoot closer to him, knee settling against his. “Well then… play the long game. Maybe don’t drive yourself crazy over the race before you even start, okay?” Oscar huffs a laugh under his breath. But he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t pull away from you, either. 

“Well, well, what’s this?” someone drawls very poshly from above. Oscar looks up, and there’s George Russell towering over them both. He’s wearing that stupid Mercedes cooling jacket, a deeply self-satisfied smirk on his face. Oscar knows George thinks he looks sick in the jacket. Oscar thinks he looks like an oversized alien. “Don’t tell me you’re making friends with the med staff, now.”

You smile sweetly up at George, despite the fact that he’s essentially just referred to you as the help. “Russell, right? Nice to meet you. What time does the mothership leave?”

Oscar snorts, nearly choking on his water. 

George, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. “Toto usually beams me up around midnight,” he replies, deadpan. 

You laugh at that, bright and unguarded, and something twists uncomfortably in Oscar’s chest. It’s not jealousy. He’s not jealous. It’s just that he’s supposed to be the one who makes you laugh. Not George Russell, with his perfect hair and dimples and ridiculously plummy accent. 

George notices Oscar’s scowl, and the smile on his face stretches even wider, if that’s possible. “Not friends, then,” he sings teasingly. Oscar goes red up to his ears, staring into the middle distance and taking another aggressive bite of his sandwich. “See you at the driver’s parade, Piastri.” 

As George saunters off, you turn your head to watch him go. “He’s kind of funny,” you muse. “In a weird, wax-figure-come-to-life sort of way.”

“Debatable,” Oscar mutters. 

“Relax, Osc,” you grin, leaning back on your elbows and letting the sun stream down on your face. You nudge your knee against his, and he feels it everywhere. “You’re still my favorite.”

The pit stop goes off without a hitch, but even with the perfect weather strategy he can’t seem to get past Charles in the back half of the race. He’s P2, again. After the race, you text him a YouTube compilation of all of Charles’ angsty radio messages from seasons past set to sad violin music.

Somehow, the loss doesn’t sting as bad as it usually does. 

DAY 71

Someone is pounding at his door when Oscar’s eyes open. It’s so different that for a minute he thinks he broke out of the loop, somehow. But when he checks his phone, it’s still May 25, just about an hour and a half earlier than normal. He drags himself out of bed to the door, pulls it open, and there you are standing on the other side, sunglasses pushed to holding a white paper bag filled with pastries and two cups of coffee. You’re not dressed in your usual race gear, switching it for a filmy black sleeveless top and denim cutoff shorts that expose miles of your bare skin. 

Oscar is suddenly, painfully aware that he’s only wearing boxers. You seem to be realizing that fact, too, if the way your eyes drag torturously down his bare chest is anything to go by.

“Hey,” he croaks, cheeks flushed as he takes you in. “What are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, looking back up at him. Your eyes meet, and for a moment the air sparks between you, electric. Then you just smile mysteriously before you push your way inside, handing him one of the coffee cups as you go. “New pre-race hypothesis. Get dressed and come with me.”

Ten minutes later, Oscar’s sitting in the passenger seat of your tiny, beat-up car, watching the sun rise through the windshield. You’re an unexpectedly cautious driver, too slow around the corners, hands planted firmly at 10 and 2, eyes fixed on the road. It’s nice to know that even after weeks of spending May 25 together, you can still surprise him. (Even if his hands are itching to take the wheel from you, see just how hard he can push the Mini Cooper down these famous streets). 

You pull to a stop near the harbor, the car’s brakes squealing at the effort. Oscar makes a mental note that when you both get out of the loop, he needs to take you to a mechanic. Or maybe a dealership.

“C’mon,” you say, getting out of the car and walking towards the dock. You’re moving in that sort of effortless way you do when you have a really ridiculous idea, the kind of way that makes Oscar follow you against his better judgment because he just wants to see what you’ll do next. He’s jogging slightly to catch up, sipping at his coffee, when you slow ahead of him, touching your pockets like you’re looking for something.

“Hold this for me?” you ask as he catches up to you, passing him your cup. At the moment he takes it with his free hand, almost reflexively, you pluck his phone out of his hoodie pocket and toss it over the railing. 

“What the fuck,” Oscar says flatly, watching it land with a soft plop! in the azure water. 

You toss your own phone in after his. Oscar grabs the railing, watches the twin black mirrors swirl around each other, sinking deep into the harbor. “So I might’ve lied a little,” you say sheepishly. “This isn’t a pre-race hypothesis. This is an instead-of-race hypothesis.”

“You’re not serious,” he says, and you just grin, wild and unapologetic. 

“Oscar Piastri’s first-ever DNS,” you sing, turning and walking down the dock towards a frankly massive boat, waving off the dockhand like you own the fucking thing and starting to untie the knots holding it to the dock. “You coming or not?”

Unleash The Lion, the stern reads in script as big as his head. 

You’re going to commandeer Max Verstappen’s fucking yacht. 

“Max will kill us, you know,” he says as you step onto the back of the boat, pulling yourself up to the deck.

“Max won’t remember this tomorrow,” you reply over your shoulder as you rifle through the boat’s glove compartment. 

“He could,” Oscar protests, mostly just to argue, because he likes the way your eyes flash when he challenges you. “Who knows? This could be the day the loop resets. Then I’ll get fired, and we’ll both go to jail.”

You grin down at him, wicked light gleaming in your gaze as you dangle the keys over the side of the boat. “Monaco prison is probably pretty nice. D’you think they’ll let us be cell mates?”

He sighs, looking up at you. The morning light kisses off your cheekbones, your skin glowing golden and sun-warmed. How is he meant to say no to you, looking at him like that? “I hate how persuasive you are,” he grumbles halfheartedly, taking your hand and climbing up the back until he lands ungracefully on the deck. 

“No, you don’t,” you reply cheerfully, turning the key in the ignition. The yacht roars to life, and you pilot it out of the harbor with confidence that feels somewhat unearned, given you’ve basically stolen the thing. 

That’s the problem, Oscar thinks. He really, really doesn’t. 

An hour or so later, you’ve lowered the anchor, far enough out that no one will catch you for the day. Monaco is a distant speck behind you, though if Oscar squints he swears he can still see the paddock. You’ve pulled him to the bow of the boat, laying next to each other on deck chairs with a pilfered bottle of champagne between you. Your sunglasses are sliding down your nose, the boat rocking gently in the waves. It might be the bubbles talking, might be the fact that his edges have been softened by sun and champagne and you, but Oscar can’t remember a better day in a long time. 

“Not bad for our first grand theft yacht,” you say, and Oscar laughs in spite of himself. “Although next time, we should probably bring sunscreen.” You look over at him with such fondness that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest, and touch your finger to the tip of his nose, gently. “You’re gonna be scorched.”

He’s warm, but it’s definitely not from the sun. “I’ll be fine,” he says, aiming for a light tone. You touched his nose, and he’s melting down like a complete weirdo. Get it together, Piastri, he tells himself. You’re a Formula One driver, for god’s sake. 

You don’t seem to notice. You just hum, unconvinced, then go quiet for a beat. Too quiet. The kind of quiet Oscar’s learned to recognize as very dangerous when it’s coming from you. 

“I’m bored,” you say, finally. “New plan.”

Oscar sits up so fast he nearly knocks over the champagne bottle. “This isn’t enough for today?”

You just smile mischievously at him. “Wanna go for a swim?”

“We don’t have bathing suits,” he says, dumbly. But you’re already peeling your shirt over your head, stripping to your underwear, and racing barefoot on the hot wood, your laugh trailing in the air like the kind of song he wants to learn every word to. 

Oscar’s brain short-circuits somewhere around seeing your bare shoulders. He has to stare at the sky and think about Zak Brown for a minute before he can strip off his joggers and follow you. 

When he climbs the ladder to the top, you’re already at the edge, toes curled over the lip of the roof, the sea breeze teasing at the ends of your hair. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes dancing, and then you leap. 

It’s not graceful by any means, but you look glorious — arms thrown wide, a yell of pure exhilaration tearing out of your lungs as you plunge feet-first into the sparkling ocean below. Oscar scrambles to the side, watching for you to come up. For a second, there’s silence. Then, you resurface with a whoop that seems to echo to the horizon, and you’re smiling so wide it makes his chest ache. 

“Come on!” you yell, treading water fifty feet beneath him. “Don’t make me swim all the way back to push you off.”

“You’re insane,” he calls back, but there’s no heat in it. Just that strange, subtle warmth still blooming in his chest. He steps to the edge, glances over his shoulder once at Monaco sparkling like a jewel on the coastline, at the tiny smudge that might be the paddock, that might be his real life. 

And then he jumps. 

For one perfect moment, he’s airborne — weightless, untethered. Free. The wind rushes by him, salt air biting at his sunburnt skin, and then the sea swallows him whole. The water is cool, soothing around him, and when he surfaces, gasping for air, you’re already swimming towards him with a smile on your face. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you say breathlessly. 

“More to me than meets the eye, I guess,” he replies, steadying his eyes on you, and your cheeks flush under his gaze.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of warmth and motion. The two of you let your skin dry in the sun, pass another bottle of champagne back and forth until there’s nothing left, talk about everything and nothing. He tells you about his first karting race, how he was older than all the other kids when he started and cried because he still didn’t think he was ready. You tell him about a trip you took to Japan when you were younger, how you took pictures of the temples on your digital camera and still dream of the scent of the cherry blossoms in the air. 

Later, as the sun starts to sink over the horizon, blue bleeding into soft pinks and golds, you sit together on the bow, your legs dangling over the edge, shoulders touching. Oscar’s tongue feels looser than usual, whether it’s the champagne or whether it’s you to blame, so he doesn’t think, just asks the question that’s been playing on his mind all day. “Why do you think you’re in the loop?”

You turn to look at him, like it’s the last thing you expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I have to win the race,” he says, and you roll your eyes fondly. “But — what do you have to do? Why are you here?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I suppose there’s something I have to learn, too.”

“Like what?” Oscar asks, pressing his shoulder against yours. 

You sigh, staring out at the horizon. You don’t look at him when you speak. Oscar wonders if you won’t, or you can’t. “I’ve always been good at a lot of things,” you say. “But I never committed to anything. I just kept bouncing from place to place, from project to project. Now, I love working here, but it just feels like I figured it out too late, and now I’m stuck. To get a permanent job with the team, I’d have to go to med school, and…” you pause, teeth sinking into your lip. “What if I try and fail? What if I’m average?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but no words come. Instead, he watches the way the fading light reflects in your eyes, golden catching on the edge of something tender and raw. He wants to tell you you’re not average, you’re brilliant. That the past few weeks with you in the loop has been the most alive he’s felt in months, maybe ever.

But he doesn’t.

“Today is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this,” he says, the words falling ungracefully off his tongue. “Taken a risk like this. Everything in my life has been planned out. I made it to Formula One off of being consistent, composed, controlled. I’m perfect because everyone expects it. But — racing used to be fun. I used to love it.”

You tilt your head toward him slightly, enough that he can see the pout of your bottom lip. “You don’t love it anymore?” you ask softly, like he’s a scared animal you’re trying not to spook. 

Oscar shrugs, chest tightening. “Feels like I’ve been trying to win for so long that I forgot why I wanted to in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what the loop’s for,” you say, leaning back on the cushions. “Not to win. To find the joy again.”

There’s a long pause where neither of you speak. The silence feels suspended, like the whole world is holding its breath along with you both. Oscar lies back next to you, his heart thudding a little too hard in his chest for such a quiet moment. 

You both lay there for a while as the stars slowly reveal themselves one by one, scattered like glitter across the indigo sky. You start pointing out constellations, making up ridiculous stories that make him laugh lowly, helplessly. He’s lying close enough to you that your arms are pressed together, breath syncing in the quiet. 

When he turns to look at you, you’re already looking at him, eyes half-lidded, and you’re so beautiful in the moonlight that it almost makes him lean in to kiss you. But something holds him back. Fear, maybe, or uncertainty — not knowing if you feel it too, or if it’s the champagne, or the loop, living another borrowed day that doesn’t quite feel like his own. 

He looks back at the sky. You sigh next to him, shifting closer so that your head rests on his shoulder, and his heart stutters in his chest.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches the pale moon reflect off the waves until he drifts off into the blackness.

When he opens his eyes next, he’s in his apartment, sunlight streaming through his curtains. Oscar swears under his breath, picks up the phone that should be sitting at the bottom of the harbor. Sunday, May 25. Just like always. 

He flops back onto his bed, pressing a pillow over his face. His skin is still sticky from the salt water. It’s not even the fact that he didn’t break the loop that hurts today. 

It’s waking up without you.

DAY 80

Oscar’s nervous, which is completely irrational. He’s lived this day eighty times now. Done press completely hungover, slipped past Charles Leclerc on his home track, crashed full-speed into a barrier and nearly died. But none of that made his palms sweat the way they’re sweating now. 

You’re in his apartment. You’re having dinner in his apartment. 

The race had gone fairly spectacularly for him, all things considered. He’d made a few mistakes, taken the chicane a little too wide, and still Charles barely beat him. Oscar’s about to figure it out, the perfect race so close he can almost taste it.

You, on the other hand, had quite the busy day. Stroll’s crash started it, but in lap 60 there’d been a major pileup at the back of the race — one of the rookies hitting the brakes just a little too late, slamming into another driver. By the time he found you after the race, you looked exhausted, muttered something about how you wished this particular loop was over already, couldn’t fathom the idea of driving home, cooking dinner for yourself, going to sleep alone. 

Oscar invited you over before he could think too hard about it. 

He drove you back to his place, cooked dinner while you showered — some pasta dish his mum had taught him ages ago, surely worried that he’d try to survive in Monaco solely off of frozen dinners and takeout. He’s dug up some candles from a dusty box in the closet, uncorked a bottle of wine he thinks Charles gave him for Secret Santa last year, and is just putting the plates on the table when you emerge from his room, fresh-faced and hair damp. You’re wearing one of his McLaren hoodies and a pair of bike shorts, and for a moment Oscar forgets how to form sentences. 

“Smells amazing,” you say, sitting on the floor across from him. “Thanks.”

You chat idly for a while, but Oscar can’t shake the feeling that the air between you feels different tonight. It’s in the way your laugh sticks in his brain longer than usual, the way he can feel his gaze searching your face like he’s trying to memorize it. It’s almost simmering, like there’s some invisible boundary you’re about to break through. Things have been different since the day on Max’s boat — the glances between the two of you weightier, the touches softer, gentler. But there’s something about tonight that feels inevitable, like the weeks of being together are all pinpointing into a logical, tidy conclusion. 

“You’ve barely touched your pasta,” you point out, nudging your knee against his under the table. 

Oscar just shrugs, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Not hungry.” He is actually, the feeling turning to a pleasant ache in his stomach. If he’s honest with himself, he’s just too busy looking at you to bother with the food. 

You raise your eyebrow, slurping up a noodle. It leaves a small smudge of sauce on the edge of your mouth. “You okay?” 

“Hold on,” he says, leaning over the table. “You’ve got —”

You flush, hand flying to your cheek, but Oscar’s already there, leaning over the table and brushing his thumb against your lip carefully. You blink up at him, breath catching slightly, and then, unmistakably, your eyes flick to his lips. The moment stretches, fragile and loaded like the night Oscar stargazed with you, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to make the same mistake twice. 

And then — because he’s been thinking about it for hours, days, weeks — he kisses you.

Your lips are soft, warm against his, and you taste like vanilla lip balm and red wine. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, and you let out the tiniest sigh against his mouth before kissing him back. It’s slow, soft at first, then deeper, like the buildup of all the days circling each other has finally burned down to this single point of gravity, rooting you both to the spot. Your hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, like you’re trying to pull him closer to you. 

It’s perfect. And then you break away, foreheads pressed together, and Oscar opens his mouth. 

“Well, that’s a new variable,” he breathes, dazed, and you flinch away from him like you’ve been slapped. 

“Oscar,” you say, voice sharp, and for someone with world-class reflexes and awareness he’s definitely caught the shift in your tone too late. “You just kissed me, and your first thought was fucking data?”

“No, I —” he stops, runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to reset his brain. “That’s not what I meant.”

You breathe out disbelievingly, the sound shaky as it leaves your lungs. “Yes, it was,” you say flatly, standing up, and Oscar scrambles to his feet after you. 

“No,” he pleads, but you’re already heading towards his bedroom, throwing your things back in your bag. “I just thought, if the loop’s trigger is emotional…”

“Don’t,” you spit, words like venom. “Don’t reduce this to numbers and logic. Don’t treat it like it’s another page in your stupid fucking notebook.”

He opens his mouth to try to fix things, but nothing comes out. Even from across the room, he can see the tears slipping down your cheek, and he knows the damage is already done. 

“I thought it was real,” you whisper. “I thought we were real. And the first time you actually let yourself feel something, you turn around and treat it like evidence to be catalogued.”

“It was real,” he blurts desperately, and you scoff. “Please,” he begs. “I’m trying, I’m just — I don’t know how to do this. It’s — it’s never mattered like this.”

Your lips press together, jaw tight, and Oscar can still taste the red wine against his mouth. “Well, maybe don’t kiss me again until you figure it out.”

You don’t wait for him to reply. You turn on your heel, slamming the door behind you and storming down the hall like you’re leading an army of one to battle against his stupid, broken heart. 

Oscar doesn’t know how long he stands there staring at the door, the silence ringing in his ears, before he blows out the candles. He leaves the dishes on the table, crawls into his bed and stares at the ceiling. The notebook sits on his dresser, taunting him, but he doesn’t reach for it. 

Nothing about this day is worth remembering anymore.

DAY 81

Oscar doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to sunlight through the curtains and silence and the distinct feeling that his chest has been scraped hollow. 

He’s never felt more stupid in his life. He had you, in his apartment, lips pressed to his, the thing he’s been dreaming about doing for weeks, and he completely fucking bottled it. 

But if there’s anything to learn from being in a time loop, it’s that he’s got a chance to fix things. To learn from his own mistakes, and do something better. He sits up in bed, watching the boats in the harbor for a long moment. Then he gets up, gets dressed. Leaves the notebook sitting on his dresser, untouched. And goes to find you.

Except, clearly, you don’t want to be found. He searches the entire paddock, but you’re like a ghost. Your station at the med centre is empty, half-cleared out like you came to work before deciding seeing Oscar would hurt too much. You’re not in his driver’s room, stealing his snacks, or by the pit wall watching the team principals flit around with a scary kind of efficiency. He even tries going to the med centre HR to ask for your address, but the woman behind the desk is very particular about her employees’ privacy, won’t give him your contact information no matter how many times he drops that he’s a driver, just hands him a pamphlet about respecting workplace boundaries. 

The day wears on, sun arcing high in the sky, and Oscar has to accept he’s not going to see you before the race. Maybe he’ll crash on the first lap, he thinks. Knock himself unconscious, reset the loop. He doesn’t care what it takes. He just has to find you.

Like a vision, or some sort of twisted prophecy, he turns the corner to the garage, and you’re standing there. Always standing where you’re not supposed to be, he thinks for a moment, mind racing wildly. The thought feels hysterical in his head. You’re wearing your fireproof scrubs, eyes red-rimmed, arms crossed over your chest, and you look like fate. Or his future. He’s not sure which. Oscar doesn’t waste another second before he runs to you. 

“It was real,” he blurts, before you can open your mouth to speak. “I think it’s been real for me since the minute you pulled me out of that car. I’m shit at feelings, and I’m sorry, because I’m about to be even worse at—” he gestures between the two of you, the confession he’s word-vomiting into the space between you. “—this, but... I’ve spent my whole life being cool, calm, collected, trying to perfect things, trying to keep everything under control, but I can’t control love, and you fucking — you turn me in circles, and I don’t want to live another day, of the loop or anything else, without you around.”

You just stare at him, and he runs a hand over his face. Out of all the ways he’d been thinking up to profess his love while he was looking for you, this had to be one of his worst. Did he even say it? He thinks back, unsure. 

“I love you,” he adds, sighing. “In case that wasn’t clear. I’m really fucking in love with you.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say to him in response, voice trembling. 

“I know,” he says, helplessly. “But I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

You shake your head, but there’s a ghost of a smile on your face. “Of course I’ll have you,” you say, eyes bright with tears. “I’m really fucking in love with you too.”

Oscar files the sound of your voice saying those words somewhere deep in his chest. Closes the distance between you and smashes his lips to yours. It’s not sweet, not soft — it’s raw, wanting, hot with need. You squeak against his mouth, your hands flying up to cup his face, and when your tongue slides against his, his knees actually buckle.

You’re both giggling when you come up for air, dazed and giddy. “Wow,” you say, fingers resting against your lips, like you can’t believe it’s real. “Glad I came back in time for that.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes. “What took you so long?”

You look up at him, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “Well, I wasn’t gonna show up because I was still pissed at you,” you crack, and he laughs. “But then I decided I couldn’t let you drive alone. And I was late,” you say slowly, “because I just applied to med school.” 

His heart skips a beat in his chest. “You did what?”

“You were right,” you say simply. “I’m not stuck. And maybe I’ll fail spectacularly, but I’ll never know if I don’t try.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Oscar says, and you just smile. Someone from inside the garage is calling for him. He’s running out of time.

“It’ll be a colossal waste of time if we don’t break out, though,” you huff out a laugh. “So now it’s on you.” You pause for a moment, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You got this,” you say, and for once Oscar believes it. “Go have fun out there.”

Ten minutes later, he sits P2 on the grid, heart beating hard in his chest. For the past 80 days, he’s been in this exact same position, obsessing over the perfect line, how to time the pit stop, where he can shave a tenth of a second off his time. 

Today, when the lights go out, Oscar’s thinking about you. 

He lets Lando pass him on the first lap again, for the first time in eighty days. Drives like a maniac to pass him back three laps later, waving to him as he goes. It’s a risky move; Tom is half-screaming, half-laughing at him through the radio, and Oscar’s cheeks hurt from smiling underneath his helmet. He nearly takes it on two wheels around the Tabac corner, back skidding out from underneath him. The car is responsive as he pushes to the limit; the drive feels messy, imperfect, alive. He’s never had so much fun in a Formula One car.

When the last lap starts, he’s leading the race. The sun’s starting to come back out again, the rain drying on the track. Oscar’s cruising. 

By the time he gets to the hairpin, Charles Leclerc is in his mirrors. 

It’s an all-out battle to the finish, red car and orange dueling side by side. Oscar presses his foot to the pedal as hard as he can, thinks if this race is the one that breaks the loop, it’ll probably go down in history as the most exciting Monaco GP of all time. 

They get to the Nouvelle Chicane, and Charles slices around it with the elegance of a ballerina, the power of a heavyweight fighter. Oscar’s in his dust before he even knows what’s happened. 

He finishes behind the Ferrari by a half second, and he’s never been so happy to lose.

He pulls into parc ferme, rips off his helmet, searches the crowd wildly. The paddock is bustling. It takes him a minute to spot you running towards him, your scrubs unzipped to your waist, smiling and crying all at once. 

This time, Oscar doesn’t wait. He jumps off the car, reaches you in three strides, and kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again. It’s all adrenaline and aching sweetness, teeth knocking, the taste of tears on both your lips like you’re both tumbling toward something you can’t name.

You break away first, pressing your forehead against his, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You were amazing,” you say, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry you lost.”

“I don’t care,” Oscar laughs wetly, because it’s true, and because eighty Sundays ago he would have died before he said something like that. “That was the best drive I’ve ever had.”

“You found the joy,” you say, a giggle bubbling out of you. 

The sound nearly coaxes a laugh out of him too, but he shakes his head instead, smiling at you softly. “I found that a long time ago. Standing outside my driver’s room spinning their med badge like a weapon.”

You make a noise at that, somewhere in between a sigh and a sob, and he pulls you into his chest, holding you like you’re the first-place trophy. “I love you, you know,” he says into your hair, and he can hear you mumbling the exact same thing into his race suit. 

You walk back to Oscar’s apartment together, a silent agreement that he’ll skip the post-race interviews, just this once. You sit on the balcony he never uses, watch the sunset over the harbor. He doesn’t let go of your hand for a single moment, like he needs to feel your touch under his fingertips to remind himself he’s still here.

“D’you think we did it?” you mumble later when you’ve both found your way to his bed, voice slurring around the edges from exhaustion. “Broke the loop, I mean.”

“Dunno,” Oscar says, his fingers brushing through your hair slowly. “I’ve thought we did, before, and obviously we hadn’t.”

“Me too,” you say, but there’s something hanging in the air between you. An unspoken confession, like you’re both afraid to jinx it. This time feels different. 

You yawn gently, burrow tighter into his side, and his heart feels like it might crack open in his chest. “M’getting pretty tired,” you say. “So I think whatever the answer is, we’ll know pretty soon.”

There’s silence, for a moment. What do you say when your entire universe hangs in the balance?

“If this was the last day, if we really figured it out,” Oscar says finally, breath catching in his throat as he stares at the ceiling, “I really liked spending forever with you.”

DAY 82 DAY 1

Oscar wakes up to the beep of his alarm and the sound of rain on his roof. 

You’re there, too. Curled against his body, still asleep. Oscar watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, listens to the soft sounds of your breathing. You smell like that jasmine perfume you started wearing around Day 68 and you’re snuggled in one of his old McLaren hoodies and you’re so real that he thinks he might die of happiness. 

It is Monday, May 26, 2025, and Oscar Piastri is so in love with you that he’s stooped to watching you sleep like a total weirdo and using ridiculous hyperbole to describe his feelings instead of waking you up to tell you the news. He nudges you gently, and you stir. 

“Osc?” you mumble disbelievingly as your eyes flutter open, like you’re not sure if you’re still dreaming or not.

“We did it,” he whispers back to you, and the smile on his face is starting to hurt his cheeks. “We’re out.”

You don’t even respond — well, with words, anyway. You just drag his face to yours, kiss him like you’re making up for 81 days of lost time. You still taste like vanilla, and your mouth, your tongue work against his in a way that makes it hard to think of anything else. 

“We’re out,” you repeat as you pull away from each other. You’re looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and Oscar can’t resist kissing you again. Small pecks this time, scattered from your lips to your cheekbones, each one like a drop of water for a man dying of thirst. He thinks absentmindedly that kissing you might be his new favorite thing.

“God, I can’t believe this is real,” you giggle as his lips brush down your collarbones, and Oscar laughs, because he was just thinking the same thing about you.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, and you sigh it back sweetly, your pulse thrumming beneath his lips. 

Forever isn’t an easy concept to swallow for a man who’s just been stuck in a time loop. But Oscar thinks if you’re by his side, he could definitely get used to it. 

[enhani-ki]

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki part ii

warnings: smut, power play, cursing, etc.

read part one

you assumed that after having sex with ni-ki, your biggest opp, it would be awkward and uncomfortable…

but never this empty.

you arrive at your office monday morning to find your inbox startlingly free of his scathing one-liners. there's no "nice dress. shame about the brain." no "can you actually type without making typos?"

his favorite mockery is gone, somehow leaving you strangely bereft.

you tapped your pen against the wooden surface of your desk, scanning for any hint of his sabotages. the folder you thought you'd need for the managerial position, his file on your "possible fraudulent activities" are also nowhere to be found.

because according to him, you fucked him so good that he destroyed every single thing he had that could ruin you.

relief flares that he stopped, of course. but unlike him, you still do your best to make his life miserable, leaving yourself doused in guilt — feeling like an asshole.

an entire weekend passed. you swore you weren't dying for his banter, and yet whenever your phone buzzes, you leap out of your skin.

nishimura riki: stop messing with my report. are you fucking insane?

minutes passed.

nishimura riki: you must be missing me.

your lips twitched into a smirk. hell if you know how to respond.

i didn't do it, dumbass.

really? that's the reply? he'd know you were lying (or worse, honest). the cursor kept blinking in your reply box, taunting you. you typed, erase, typed again, erase — you racked your brain, thinking of a good comeback.

you: you're so stupid. also, my life has been so peaceful without you. please stay right where you are.

nishimura riki: i can come by your house and make your life hell again. if you want.

of course you want it. you'd kill him… or you'd kill for him to come over right now but shit, even the line between those urges were already starting to blur.

you spent your lunchtime writing a status report. your fingers snapping across the keys but your mind drifts to that shameless first night with him.

the night where you wrestled with him for that fraud file of yours. the heat of his breath when you kissed him, when it finally landed on your skin…

you remember all of it. every time you lean over to pull a document from the printer, you imagine the wide arc of ni-ki's arms behind you, the precise angle of his jaw, his thick lips devouring you while telling you how much he hated you for existing…

it's all fucking there.

and as if reading your thoughts, your phone lit up again.

nishimura riki: i want to see what i'm missing.

you: fuck you. you literally work five feet from me.

nishimura riki: and new skirt? goddamn

your stomach clenched. so he… noticed? he noticed your above the knee with the slit at the side that shows just enough thigh to be questionable but still professional according to the office dress code new skirt?

you: your point?

nishimura riki: you look good and i want to see it up close.

a shiver runs down your spine. ni-ki's words became so direct, so suggestive, you can't help but to swallow hard and bite your lip. you sighed, immediately closing the report window before anyone could see you blush.

you check your company messenger during break. you noticed nishimura riki's presence: his avatar pops into view with the status "ready to crush it."

how fucking pretentious.

you just hoped ni-ki would do something back so you could stop feeling guilty whenever you sabotage him, then it would all go back to hell. the hell you not-so-secretly love. the hell he seemed to have loved before — and now forgotten.

@you @ni-ki i expect great results from the two of you. focus on the work, not drama.

you sat on your couch, sipping a cup of lukewarm green tea when your phone buzzes.

nishimura riki: we're stuck together for the next couple days.

you smirked when you realized how he can't stop texting you. you plop your head back against the cushion, totally interested.

you: yeah. happy?

nishimura riki: ecstatic.

ni-ki signs off with a kiss emoji, making you scowl in disgust and throw your phone onto the cushion. he'll see how you haven't responded and he'll definitely laugh about it tomorrow.

you came into the office projecting confidence the next morning. ni-ki is already there, beating you in punctuality. he's leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone but smiled immediately when your eyes met.

"you're late," he drawls.

"shut up," you fired back, tossing your bag under the table. you saw another folder you've been dreading. ni-ki's opened it already— hands off, though.

"fuck... i couldn't sleep," he said, casually looking at your eyes.

who asked? is what you would've said but instead, it's: "why's that?" you leaned in, "last i heard, sleeping without protection was your specialty."

he nodded slowly. his urge of choking you to death using his necktie suddenly crossed his mind, like it always does whenever you talk back.

he never followed through, of course. because every time he pictures it, the ending is him fucking you instead. he saw you submitting not because of trust, but because you can't help it.

ni-ki sighed and quickly pulls your chair close to him, making your pulse quicken. "hmm, what do you mean 'heard'? we both know you know that for a fact," he teased, his hand trailing up to squeeze your thigh. "also, did i ever told you how bad you needed practice?"

heat blooms across your cheeks. didn't he say you fucked him good? this fucking guy keeps challenging you — mentally and sexually.

you scoffed and opened your mouth to retort but your boss already knocked on the door, barging in to start the meeting.

the day isn't even done, yet you and ni-ki have exchanged more messages than you have with anyone else all week:

nishimura riki: did you catch the way that idiot glanced at your legs during the meeting? that mf is gonna keel over later once you unplug your laptop.

that 'idiot' is notoriously stiff when it comes to 'office decorum.' the thought of him being flustered at your skirt is thrilling, but:

you: you know i'd rather see how you react when i ask you to take off my skirt.

nishimura riki: come to my office then, i'll show you.

you stood up as soon as everyone's too busy to notice your absence. you opened ni-ki's door without so much as a knock. the tall guy is leaning against the edge of his desk, shirt already untucked, tie loose — completely losing his patience.

you walk towards him. he traces a finger along your jaw, tilting your face up, brushing his thumb over your sexy lips.

"show me," you whispered, sliding both hands flat against his chest.

ni-ki leaned in. "hmm, watch me," he replied, turning you gently by the hips, pulling your ass against his crotch — where you can feel the rigid outline of his cock through his trousers. you pressed yourself back, grinding on him as his hand tightens on your hip.

"we have a meeting at six, right?" he murmurs in your ear. "let's get you naked under this skirt."

"i already am…"

unbelievable.

"you really are a fucking tease, huh?"

your breath hitched when you feel his tip nudging against your folds. ni-ki slowly slid inside your welcoming heat — his cock was so big and hard, making your knees buckle as you can practically feel him rearranging your guts without even moving.

ni-ki moaned, "oh, y/n—" biting his lower lip before pressing one more searing kiss to your neck. "i could stay like this all day," he said.

you let out a shaky gasp, head dropping forward with a whimper. your fingers reached back, grabbing his hands — his big, warm hands that are locked around your hips. "ni-ki…"

"let's not sin so much today," he groaned softly, hips giving one teasing rock that makes your whole body jolt before he pulls his cock out. he stepped back and adjusted your skirt like a gentleman — making you feel full and hollow in the same instant.

that same afternoon, you decided to head to the break room for water. you stop short when you saw ni-ki with the boss' niece, who came to visit the office.

she's laughing, batting her eyelashes at him while grinning so hard. you didn't mean to eavesdrop, but she mentioned something about wanting him to show her around — and that guy just casually folds his arm around her shoulders.

"look at you, you social climber," you interrupted, clapping your hands slowly, it echoed like a gunshot.

ni-ki glances at you lazily over the girl's shoulder. the niece looks startled, she gave you both a sheepish laugh before excusing herself.

"how long have you two been planning world domination?"

"are you jealous?" he asked, chuckling as he drags out a chair for himself. "'cause i'm telling you that's pathetic."

"wha—?"

"don't worry, y/n. it's just been few days, i'll make sure to find some time for my favorite brat."

you scoffed, grabbing your water a little too aggressive. "wow... you sound so proud of being passed around like a party favor."

"passed around?" he repeated, raising a brow. "jealousy already doesn't suit you and now you're possessive too?"

you shot him a sharp glare but he just leans back in his chair, spreading his legs like he's offering you a seat.

ni-ki sighed, "fine, i'll come over tonight," he declared so casually, it made your jaw drop.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me." he stretched and yawned. "you don't have to agree. i've already made up my mind."

"you're crazy."

he stands up, brushing past you as he grabs a protein bar "leave the door unlocked for me, okay?" he whispered, leaning in to give your cheek a quick kiss.

the sound of your skins slapping were obscene. ni-ki's breaths were heavy, his muscles tensed doing his best holding back from losing control. his necklace kept bouncing against his chest every time he slid in and out of your wet cunt. he hit it deep and slow, making your toes curl.

you looked down and watched at where your bodies met.

"oh, my–" he groaned when he felt your walls flutter around his cock. "this feels so fucking insane right now."

your arms tightened around his shoulders. "you haven't fucked me in days," you breathed out, looking up at him, admitting, "i was so stressed out."

"yeah, i know," he replied, "and look how mean you've gotten."

"kiss me..." you asked shyly — too quiet for ni-ki who was busy thrusting, far gone in the rhythm he was chasing to even hear it.

frustrated, you reached up and grabbed his hair — hard. your fingers got tangled so deep in the roots of his bleached strands, yanking him down without warning so you could force his mouth closer.

"ah—f-fuck—!" ni-ki hissed, jolting from the sharp tug. his hips slowed down for a second.

his palm slapped your arm away, the sound echoed a little loud in the room. it wasn't as harsh as what you did, but it was firm because he was hurt. a very clear response to pain.

your eyes slightly widened when he snatched your wrist, flipping you like you're a dead weight. one second you were just looking up at him — now, your face was pressed into the pillow, ass up. ni-ki's hand stayed flat on your lower back, keeping you in place.

his fingers dove straight into your hair, fisting it tight, pulling your head up until your back arched and your spine hit his chest. it forced a cry out of your throat, you quickly hold on to the headboard for your own control.

"it hurts, right?" he muttered, brows furrowed. his voice sounded pissed. "you dumbass."

your mouth parted to argue but you were too breathless and stunned at how fast he turned the tables on you.

ni-ki let go of your hair roughly. your cheek sank back into the pillow. his hands slid down to your hips, spreading you wider. it was careless and he moved confident as he positioned you just how he wanted.

your moans started crumbling into soft sobs — not from pain but from realizing how you weren't too used to getting caught off guard, let alone losing control.

your thighs started shaking, your breath had gone shallow, and ni-ki noticed it right away.

"shit—" he cursed under his breath, the movement of his hips started faltering before slowly pulling out from your pussy. he leaned down to kiss the back of your neck gently. "can you sit up?"

you nodded weakly. he helped you, pulling you gently onto his lap, seating you over one of his thighs while holding you carefully. "did i scare you?" he asked, worried and cautious.

"no...not at all." you replied, shaking your head in assurance.

ni-ki sighed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. he place a long kiss your temple, "i'm sorry, y/n." he continued, "do you want to stop?"

you sniffled and pulled back to look him in the eye like you're a little offended, "hell no."

a small grin broke across his face. he's amused, relieved, but mostly turned on all over again. ni-ki buried his face into your neck, laughing softly. "good," he murmured, lips dragging across your skin.

"ride me."

each movement felt better than the last. his cock dragged against the deepest part of you, his blunt tip kept hitting your cervix, making you gasp in pleasure.

ni-ki sat back against your headboard, his thighs spread wide, letting you straddle him fully. his hands never stopped moving – gripping your waist or holding your nape, the other catching the bounce of your breast. his thumb grazes over your nipple, and sometimes, he'd lean in to suck it, groaning at the way your pussy clenched in response.

his hair was messy. he was so loud – groaning through his gritted teeth – that goddamn chrome necklace catching the low light as he tip back his head to moan.

you can't stop staring. you can't stop running your fingers through his hair, brushing the strands back, or cupping his jaw just to see his face better.

"ni-ki..." you whispered.

his eyes blinked open, resting his forehead against yours.

you were moving fast and steady, sinking down on his dick over and over again while your bodies stayed too close — noses brushing, stealing each other's air.

"you– you're so handsome," you breathed out, barely even realizing you said it.

"me?"

"yes," you whispered. "you."

he grinned and leaned forward after hearing that double down. ni-ki gave you a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your fingers threading through his hair again as your hips rocked in desperate circles.

you pulled back to suck on his jaw next, under his ear, then down to his neck — biting softly, marking him. you wanted to leave something there. something that would remind him how much you wanted to do this over and over again.

now, you're sitting in the center of your mattress, blinking stupidly slow as you try to process just how many times he made you cum. "g– god," you mumbled, "i think my spine broke."

ni-ki huffs a soft laugh, still catching his breath too, resting his head on his arm while his other hand would caress your stomach or squeeze your boobs. "you're fine... it's hurting because you are still talking too much."

"o– ow..."

ni-ki sat up and hugged you. placing soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, and then to your temple. "fine, let's have it checked later. just lay down with me for now."

you nodded, laying down, pressing your back against his chest. you felt his smile against your skin, smug and fond. ni-ki palmed your breasts again... he can't stop touching you even if he wanted to.

"mm, you're such a baby," he murmurs against your hair, "what happened to the terrifying monster who's always mean and yells at me in meetings?"

"dead," you replied quietly, leaning against him. "she died."

ni-ki chuckled again after seeing you blush. he grinned before peppering kisses on your cheek again and he doesn't say it but he adores this messy, clingy, soft version of you.

the one only he ironically gets to see.

you sniffled, pressing your face to his neck. "ni-ki..."

"what?"

"i wanna see bisco."

"oh..."

"i– i wanna see your dog," you sniffled again, voice sleepy and soft. "even if he hates me…"

ni-ki smiled and whispered, "okay, baby." brushing your hair off your sweaty forehead, "i'll take you to see bisco as soon as he gets home."

later after a doctor's consultation, the dog-sitter also dropped off bisco. you're already in his apartment, in his shirt he basically forced you into wearing.

"wait–!" ni-ki reached out to get bisco but it ran towards to where you were. "bisco!" you gasped, eyes lighting up as you rushed toward the tiny white ball of fur that sprinted right away from you.

"bisco, come on! we brought you snacks!" you tried coaxing, crawling on your knees to look under the couch, but the little thing lunged out and bit your wrist – not hard but more of a warning chomp – "fuck– ow!"

ni-ki leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smiling like a proud dad watching the chaos unfold. "i told you he's dramatic."

you didn't care. you kept following bisco around the room, letting him bite, bark while you giggled and chased him with unearned affection... which ni-ki found strange because before, you probably would've fought with that small dog, until it fears you for rejecting you.

finally, bisco ran out of energy and jogged towards his bed, completely ignoring you like a diva.

you pouted and walked back to ni-ki, dragging your feet like you'd just been dumped. "why is it sweet to everyone but me, huh?" you mumbled, melting into his waiting arms.

ni-ki laughed and tugged you in, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "i don't think he hates you, y/n," he murmured, voice soft as his hand roamed slowly down your ass. "give it some time."

"or he knows you've been giving someone else all your attention." you added, rolling your eyes. "right? i knew it, he's jealous."

his lips found yours. "no," kiss. "he's not," kiss. "jealous," kiss. the kisses are so different from before. no clashing of teeth, no busting a lip open, or bruising... it feels like forgiving each other.

and usually, this groping and kissing would spiral into sex, but today, you both weren't even thinking about it. there's just the need to be close, not just to get off.

ni-ki was so distracted by you that he doesn't even know when did he stopped trying to win in everything.

he had plans too, you know? he thought about getting his lick back but whenever you come around, the noises in his head disappears, the urge to get even fades, and suddenly, there's nothing even left to fight for.

he pulls back just enough to see your face. you blinked up at him, tired and sleepy, your lips were still swollen from all the nonstop kissing.

but still, you're so goddamn kissable.

you gave ni-ki a kiss again when you saw him staring – once, twice – "i gotta go," you whispered eventually.

"this early?"

"yeah, i'm getting hungry."

"we can cook–"

"stop–"

"–y/n..." he interrupted, cutting you off. ni-ki opened his mouth then closed it before clearing his throat. "no. nothing. just…" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. his eyes kept darting down to the floor like he couldn't believe he was about to say it. "just take care, okay?"

you tilted your head, "t–thanks…"

what the hell?

you're still mean and you still drive him insane, ni-ki took a deep breath – he swore he hates being this kind of guy but fuck it.

now or never.

"do you wanna have dinner with me?" he asked. he said it a little too fast, it's obvious that he was shy. "outside."

"huh?" you blinked. "you mean like–"

"yeah," he said, pressing his lips together, swallowing thickly. "like a–"

"...like a date."

ni-ki braces himself for the teasing and for your usual sharp reply. he knows you'll probably laugh in a few seconds but right now, you're just staring at him, eyes wide in surprise and that alone slightly gave him a little hope.

and he thinks, if this is how he loses, then fine.

let's let it be you.

a/n: my biggest opp 3k notes special! thank you so much for all the love and good comments. the first part came out on march 1 so it's been three months... there's so much (an understatement lmao) drafts for this and lots of scenes did not make it. as you can see, it's not so much focused on the smut and i honestly don't know if anyone will see this or if this part two this is good enough.

i teared up writing this T_T burning blue - mariah the scientist

tagging: @asaheyow @n4mh0pe @sunghoonsarmpit

[cherry-coffees]

Caitlyn x jealous!reader ♡

cw: 1.7K words | jealousy, best friends to lovers, social media references, a few suggestive comments but nothing crazy

You shouldn't be jealous. You know you shouldn't be jealous. Caitlyn is your best friend — has been for years — but, despite your massive crush on her, nothing had ever happened between the two of you. As despairing as it is, you have no claim over her.

And yet...

Feelings of envy can't help but develop in your chest, coiling around your heart to squeeze it painfully.

Caitlyn spends most of her days tucked away in her office, dealing with all sorts of important things that keep Piltover up and running. And her downtime? It's all spent with you, getting brunch at cute cafes or going out to bars some nights. During the few times she goes out to shop or get her mind off things, you're the one who has to drag her outside of the Kiramman manor, claiming that fresh air is healthy and whatnot.

You shouldn't care about the girls that swarm like bees to a honeypot whenever she goes out. You shouldn't care about the way they giggle, batting their lashes at her as they ask for help reaching something on a tall shelf. They fawn over her height, her position as Commander of Piltover, and wow, I bet she'd be so good in bed.

Not that you can blame them, really. Caitlyn's eyes are a weapon: one flash of blue would have any girl on her knees. It's just—

You're the one who Caitlyn calls in the middle of the night, who gets the privilege of being her best friend and, consequently, smothered in affection. Her fangirls don't have her love, not like you do.

You're curled up at your desk one afternoon, a blanket strewn across your lap and your face illuminated by the glow of your laptop. Oh, how much better it would be if you were in Caitlyn's lap right now. But she's out, gone to some event that had requested her presence. Normally, you'd have gone with her, but the idea of getting out of bed this morning had seemed so unappealing at the time. Caitlyn, wanting you to be rested, had excused it with a wave of her hand and an "I'll see you tomorrow for dinner."

You exhale, chin resting on your palm as you scroll through the various emails in your inbox. As much as you didn't want to leave the house, you miss her. Your sweet, lovely best friend who you've been hopelessly pining after for ages now. You can't help but wonder what she's doing right now.

Thus, the fastest way to find out is through social media.

Caitlyn's social media is dry, containing only a few posts of very practical things. One of her training routine, a few of events she'd been to recently, and another of a meal she was particularly proud of cooking a few weeks ago. To no surprise, there's no updates to be found. You roll your eyes, navigating to her tagged photos. Surely someone had to have posted about her being at the event today.

Your heart sinks at the first one.

It's a recent post: uploaded only a few minutes ago. The location tagged is the same event Caitlyn's at, and sure enough, Caitlyn is front and center, smiling politely at the camera. The girl next to her is beaming, almost glued to Caitlyn's side. When you swipe to the second photo, it shows the same girl hugging her. Caitlyn looks respectful, like she's just greeting someone, but the girl's hand placement draws your eyes. Her arms are wrapped around Caitlyn, her hands finding her waist and completely pressing up against her.

And the caption?

Finally met my wife!!

Oh, fuck no.

You grit your teeth, blinded by seething hot rage. Who is this girl? Or, more accurately, who does she think she is? She has no right to be hanging off Caitlyn's arm like she's flaunting her.

You can't help but click on the girl's account, scrolling through her story posts. She's recently posted a few more photos of Caitlyn, one flooded with comments like:

omg i can't believe i'm meeting Caitlyn Kiramman

she's so hot nghh need her in my bed

she could bend me over and i'd take it

You have no claim over Caitlyn. You know this. She's perfectly capable of flirting with whoever she wants, being with whoever she wants. But that small, ugly feeling in your chest tugs on your heartstrings, whispering possessive thoughts that cloud your mind.

That's your Caitlyn. Yours.

Suddenly, you're feeling a lot less tired than you were this morning. Jaw clenched and irritation coursing through your body, you barely pause to yank on a dress and grab your keys on the way out.

Maybe you should go to that event after all.

|------» ~~~ «------| 

Caitlyn's the picture of elegance at the event: dressed to match in navy blue and tipping her bubbling champagne glass to a few Noxian aristocrats in greeting. She doesn't like formalities, never has. She'd much rather be at the sharpshooting range, her trusted rifle in hand, running through the trees like a bird glides through air. These events were her mother's thing — not hers.

She waves politely at an Ionian ambassador from across the room, a forced smile drawn across her pretty features, when she feels a tap on her shoulder. Eyebrows contorting in surprise, Caitlyn turns, expecting to find another noble or fangirl of hers. The former, she hopes.

Much to her confused amusement, it's you.

You stand with your arms crossed, fierce gaze meeting her shocked stare. You're wearing the nearest formal attire you could find in your closet: a fitted, crimson red dress that falls to the tops of your knees. Your hair is slightly tousled from your (admittedly fast) walk over to the event location. You don't acknowledge it. Instead, you blink up at her, your expression completely blank. "Hi."

"Oh," Caitlyn's breath catches in her throat. Despite your slightly rushed appearance, you're a vision in her eyes. Always have been — not that you'd ever know it. "You—? You came."

"Of course I came," you shrug, dragging the toe of your shoe along the polished, wooden floors of the room. "I can't leave my best friend alone in a place like this."

"But—" Caitlyn pauses, crinkling her nose like she does when she's trying to figure something out. Cute. "But how did you know where the event was?"

Shit. That plan went out the window.

"Um," you hesitate, mind working to come up with some excuse as to how you knew her location. Caitlyn hadn't told you before, and at this point, your only option is to come clean.

Sort of.

"I got it off a social media post," you wave a hand airily, like a nonchalant response you hope she buys. Plenty of people in Piltover had posted about the event; there's no need for her to guess which one you saw specifically.

"Really?" Caitlyn tilts her head, taken aback that anyone would care where she is. As smart as she is, she's oblivious to people's interest in her: Piltover's Commander. Her gaze moves up from your face, darting around the room before she settles on pulling you into a more private corner. "I didn't think people cared much about what I do."

You scoff, unable to stop your eyes from rolling. She can be so dense. Caitlyn knows she's hot, but she fails to recognize that every girl from Piltover is waiting for a chance to swoop in and snatch her up for themselves. And tonight, you just can't keep your comments to yourself.

"You haven't seen all your fangirls' videos yet."

"My fangirls—?" Caitlyn pauses, her hand coming up to rub the side of her face as if mulling the idea over. Then her eyes land back on your face, and the realization hits her like a brick.

Your hardened stare, your slightly pursed lips, and your fidgeting hands all convey one emotion. One that Caitlyn's seen you wear only a few times: once when she went on a random date with a girl from a bar, and another time when she had been venting to you about her ex, and—

Oh.

"You're jealous."

The words fall from Caitlyn's lips before she can stop them. But she's certain: she knows you well enough to figure out your body language. Benefits of being childhood friends, she supposes. Although now—

You freeze, eyes wide and muscles tense like a deer in headlights. "I— well, I don't think it's jealousy exactly."

"Then what is it?" Caitlyn raises an eyebrow. She's competitive in nature, and she's not about to let you dismiss her. Nuh-uh, no way. Not when she knows she's right.

You fumble a few more seconds, glancing around the room helplessly as if something could save you. Nothing does. Damn it.

"Fine," you admit, gritting your teeth in annoyance. "I'm jealous."

Caitlyn hums, a small, smug smile spreading across her face. "There we go, darling," she muses, and you have to fight the flush that threatens to color your cheeks at the nickname. "If only you'd admitted that ages ago."

"Oh." Your breathing stutters, caught off guard by her insinuation. Surely she can't mean—?

"There's no need to be jealous," Caitlyn steps forward, her hands smoothing the hair that frames your face. You hadn't realized she was so close to you before. "I only have eyes for one girl."

You hesitate, mind whirling with possibility. It can't be that girl from earlier. With all the pet names and explicit comments she had made online, it sure seemed like it. At least, that's what the possessive feelings inside your chest are telling you. It can't be her, can it?

It's Caitlyn's turn to sigh at your oblivious head, her hands moving up to take gentle hold of your forearms. She tugs you forward until your chest is against hers and her arms slip around your waist.

"In case you don't understand—" she murmurs into your ear. Her tone is low, almost causing your heart rate to speed up from the way it sends shivers down your spine. Caitlyn would know this if she leaned down a little lower, pressed her lips to your neck to feel your quickened pulse. You almost hope she does.

"—you are the only girl I have eyes for."

totally not self projecting, nope nope nope

hope you enjoyed lovelies <3 wherever you are in the world, stay safe!

~Cherry 🍒

[chow0w]

Hi, I love you’re redesigns so much, and I am wondering if my favorite character (Waspy) is on the character waitlist or if you have already redesigned her?

Thank you!! I actually tried to do her a few times before, but it was kind of a struggle since I want her to be super devious but never knew how - until today. @kingfisher298 and @nickyblurrymind33 also wanted to see, so I am proud to finally announce my redesign of Queen Wasp! I apologize in advance.

Edit: (putting this up here so nobody misses it, but I was informed this morning that the person who’s request I replied to is actually an extremely problematic individual. I didn’t know this at the time and would’ve blocked/used someone else’s request if I did, and I deeply apologize for this mistake.)

Getting the obvious out of the way, yes, she is creepy. Very creepy. When making this redesign, illustrating Queen Wasp in the scariest way possible was the main thing on my mind. I wanted to create a design which would accurately reflect (and justify) every thought Blue has ever had in regards to Wasp, as well as truly vilifying her even down to the first impression. She is described as incredibly tall and lanky: and as much as I tried to make this visible through her build, I did end up shortening her neck + making her head bigger to give her a more passively intimidating vibe. I think it would be way creepier if she was so large that she could still tower over other dragons even with the posture I drew her with. I imagine the bottom of her mouth is about how tall an average dragon is.

I took a lot of inspiration from the ichneumonid wasp, a parasitic insect which A) looks disturbing, and B) lays its eggs in caterpillars. Not only is that horrifying in itself - I also thought it fit Wasp very well, given that she injects hivewing eggs with the breath of evil to gain control over them. Her ribcage and bones are well-defined through her patterns, since I had her plant-only diet in mind when creating this and imagined she would be rather malnourished. Outside of the oodles of spikes I added to her limbs and spine, I also decided on giving her three stingers instead of one - because one isn't enough for someone as evil as her. (I also thought that the single stinger looked really stupid while I drew this.) You may have noticed the breath of evil along her stinger! Whilst I did originally plan on making this a consistent feature in her design, I waited until the end to add it and by that time it just clashed really hard with the other details in place.

I'm a fan of how Queen Wasp was presented as a villain, and I really wish she stayed the main antagonist through the entirety of arc 3. I was really hoping to get more story on social justice for silkwings + a chrysalis-focused rebellion type thing, but I'm not entirely unhappy with the ending since at least we got to meet Freedom. Either way, this redesign is definitely one of the more abstract, but I'm personally pretty happy with how it turned out!

As always, thank you all so much for your constant support! It's super cool how quickly this community has grown, and I'm so thankful to all of you for tuning in every weekend to see what I made! To anyone who'd like to join, here's the link to my server! We have tons of art-related stuff, as well as an active contest with cash prizes (You also have the option to get a free commission instead, but let's be so forreal. You probably want money. I respect that.)

If you want to submit a request for redesign, check out my pinned post to see which WoF characters are already on the waitlist - or head straight to my inbox and ask!

later (─‿‿─)♡

[youngsadlesbian]

hi, one of my favorite writers!

i never noticed your requests were open, so is it okay if you write about wanda x fem!reader where they have been in a relationship for almost 6 years, the longest in their friend group, their friends assume the worst because they love eachother like bestfriends. what i mean is that when their friends see them sleeping together, they both face the other way. or when they watch a movie, their isn’t much snuggling. but when they’re actually alone, they feel more comfortable with eachother, that their friends walk in on them being clingy to eachother. being a lowkey couple isn’t so bad compared to what their friends think type of trope!

thank you for your time, and i love your works. xo !

BEHIND CLOSE DOORS

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: after nearly six years together, your relationship with wanda is the longest-lasting one in your friend group. but to everyone else, you two don’t look like the typical couple. you don’t snuggle at movie nights, you sleep facing opposite directions at group sleepovers, and your friends quietly assume your spark is gone. little do they know, you and wanda are simply a lowkey couple—comfortable and deeply in love when the world isn’t looking. but when your friends accidentally stumble upon one of your private, clingy moments, they realize just how wrong they’ve been.

a/n: i had this request in my inbox for a long time and only noticed it these days. sorry for the delay and i hope you like it.

word count: 1,1k

warnings: fluff <3

“You and Wanda are basically like an old married couple,” Kate teased, nudging you with her elbow as you all sat around the coffee table for game night.

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” you replied, raising a brow as you stacked your deck for Uno.

“No! Not bad, just…” Kate trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words.

“Predictable,” Yelena finished bluntly, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I mean, you don’t even sit next to each other during movie nights,” Natasha chimed in, smirking from her spot on the couch.

Wanda, who was sitting across from you, laughed lightly. “So? We’ve been together for six years. We don’t have to be glued to each other.”

“Yeah, but where’s the passion?” Kate asked, gesturing dramatically. “The fire? The hand-holding and constant cuddling?”

“We’re not 16,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wanda.

Your friends dropped the topic after that, but you could still see the curious glances they exchanged. You and Wanda didn’t fit their idea of what a couple should look like, but you didn’t really care. You and Wanda were fine just the way you were.

Living together for the past three years had only made your relationship stronger. You and Wanda had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that worked perfectly for both of you.

Your mornings started with quiet moments—Wanda making coffee while you scrambled eggs, sharing small smiles across the kitchen. Evenings were spent unwinding on the couch, reading, or binge-watching whatever show caught your attention that week.

You didn’t feel the need to be overly affectionate in public or around your friends because your bond didn’t rely on outward displays. It was in the little things: Wanda setting aside the last slice of pizza for you, or you remembering to buy her favorite tea when the supply at home ran low.

But your friends didn’t see those moments. They only saw the surface.

The first time your friends openly voiced their concerns, it was at Natasha’s apartment after a late-night movie marathon.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yelena started, her tone making it clear she was about to say something controversial.

“Here we go,” Wanda muttered under her breath, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“It’s just… are you two, like, okay?” Yelena asked hesitantly.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been together for so long, but you don’t act like it,” Kate interjected. “You’re more like… roommates or best friends.”

Wanda exchanged a look with you, her lips twitching in amusement. “Just because we don’t make out in front of you doesn’t mean we’re not fine.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We’re just not into PDA. That’s all.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two even hold hands.”

At that, you and Wanda burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Wanda said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys are ridiculous.”

But the concern on their faces didn’t fade.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you and Wanda finally addressed the conversation.

“Do you think they really believe we don’t love each other?” you asked, pulling on a sweatshirt as you got ready for bed.

Wanda was already under the covers, scrolling through her phone. “Probably. But who cares? We know the truth.”

You climbed into bed beside her, resting your head on her shoulder. “Still, it’s kind of funny.”

“They think we’re boring,” Wanda said with a dramatic sigh, wrapping an arm around you.

You laughed. “If only they knew.”

Because behind closed doors, you and Wanda were anything but boring. You loved snuggling up during quiet afternoons, Wanda’s fingers tracing patterns on your arm as you watched TV. You teased each other endlessly, sharing inside jokes that no one else would understand.

And when it came to physical affection, it wasn’t something you felt the need to flaunt. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was in every kiss goodnight, every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you” before falling asleep.

\*/

The incident happened a week later. Your friends had come over to your apartment to hang out, and you had no idea they were still around when you wandered into the kitchen to find Wanda.

She was standing by the counter, scrolling through her phone, when you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind.

“Hi,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Wanda smiled, setting her phone down to place her hands over yours. “Hi.”

“I missed you,” you admitted, resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You were in the living room five minutes ago,” Wanda teased, turning her head to kiss your cheek.

“Still missed you,” you said with a grin.

The sound of a dramatic gasp made both of you freeze. You turned to see Kate, Yelena, and Natasha standing in the doorway, their jaws practically on the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Kate said, pointing a finger at you two. “You do like each other!”

Yelena burst out laughing. “This is amazing. I feel like I’ve just uncovered the world’s greatest secret.”

Natasha smirked. “So much for ‘just best friends.’”

Wanda rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Get over it, guys.”

But your friends didn’t let it go. For the rest of the night, they wouldn’t stop teasing you about how “different” you were when no one was watching.

After that, your friends seemed to accept that your relationship didn’t need to look like anyone else’s. They stopped questioning why you and Wanda weren’t overly affectionate in public, and they stopped assuming the worst.

And while you still preferred to keep most of your relationship private, you didn’t mind letting a little bit of your affection show.

“See?” Wanda said one day, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked into Joe’s Bar. “A little PDA won’t kill us.”

You grinned, squeezing her hand. “It’ll definitely keep them off our backs.”

From then on, your friends never doubted the love between you and Wanda again. Because whether you were holding hands in public or sharing quiet moments at home, your connection was undeniable.

[shurisneakers]

“i can’t seem to understand you” with bucket bucky - hello i love you!!!

um hello i love you mORE

am i going back to my roots?? yes. i never left. here's an avengers 2012 style fic with my new forced family morons.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mild thunderbolts spoilers, swearing, breaking and entering, mr avoidant over here

my masterlist over here and my silly little inbox for more requests, should you please

"First he leads us into the ass-kicking of our lives, now he's got us breaking into a random flat," Ava snipes, trailing behind the group. "What's the plan now, Bucky?"

"It is not his fault we got our asses kicked," Yelena squints as she looks up the brick wall.

"I don't need you defending me," he grumbles, jumping to catch hold of the fire escape.

"I'm not defending you," she says. "I'm calling all of us useless."

"We will break into tiny, New York apartment, and recover before we fight again," Alexei says. "Take nap, small lunch, then crush our enemies."

Bucky drags the fire escape ladder down to the ground, before wiping off his hands.

"No lunch," Bucky replies. "We're not staying that long. We just need a place to come up with a plan."

"Oh, we're taking the ladder? I figured you had another U-Haul around here to crash," John looks at the rackety old thing. "Can this thing even hold all of us?"

Bucky rolls his eyes, beginning the ascent. "Climb. Or don't. I don't care."

"Move." Ava shoves past him, following behind Bucky.

They crept up the side of the building, quiet enough for trained fugitives, loud enough to be annoying.

By the time they reached the third floor, Bucky was already prying open a window with enough force to snap the lock.

The window behind them hasn’t even clicked shut when a voice cuts through the room like a blade.

"You've got to be joking," your voice snapped from the doorway, sharp enough to stop all movement.

They all freeze.

You’re standing in the hallway, barefoot, holding a bat high up.

Yelena raises a tentative hand. “Uh-- hello?”

“Don’t.”

She puts her hand back down.

"What the hell Bucky?" you grit. "What the fuck are you doing here? And who are these people?"

"You guys know each other?"

"Hi," Bucky grunts, ignoring Walker and also the redness creeping up his neck. "These are--"

"The Thunderbolts."

"No." He glares. "They're helping me take down Val."

"Val? Congress Val? We're against her now?" you ask exasperatedly. "Last time we talked, you just got elected. Are you still in Congress?"

"You're in Congress?" Ava pipes up. "Didn't you kill JFK?"

"Not the point," Bucky groans.

"And they still elected you?"

"I'm not in Congress anymore."

"Oh goodie. Since when?" you ask.

"This morning." He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't get time to call."

"Sure. You had time to break into my apartment, though."

"About that--" He glances back at the group who were standing around, clearly enjoying the beat-down he was facing. "We just need a place while we regrouped."

"To be clear, he did not tell us that he knew you. We thought we were going somewhere random," Walker juts in again.

"Oh, he's here too. Hello Craptain America. Which sewer did you crawl out of to be here?"

"I didn't even do anything," he mumbles stepping back.

"You've done enough."

"We'll leave if you just say the word," Bucky cuts in. "Swear. But we just need a few hours, and we'll be out of your life."

You stare at him for a few seconds. "Is someone gonna come break down my door looking for you?"

"No," he says.

“A door would not stop him anyway,” Alexei added, sounding entirely too cheerful. “But we will protect you. Not well. But we will try.”

You glance between all of them for a few seconds.

"Fine," you say at last. "If anyone comes looking for you guys, you're replacing anything they break."

Bucky lets out an exhale, as they all walk past him to sink down into various seats.

You turned without saying anything and walked down the hallway to the bedroom.

A minute passes.

Then footsteps.

He sees you leaning against the dresser, arms folded, phone still in hand.

Bucky stands in the doorway for a second, hesitant.

You look at him. “You gonna say something, or are you just here to breathe loud and feel sorry for yourself?”

He blinks. “Hi?”

“Try again.”

He sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

"No way, really?" you drawl. "But this is everything I've ever dreamed of."

"I don't get it. I can't seem to understand you." You shake your head. "You bring me flowers, disappear for three months, we kiss, you raincheck every dinner I cook for you and now you show up here with four assassins."

"You're mad," he says, observant as ever.

You stare at him. Bucky dutifully matches your gaze, forcing himself not to fidget.

"Bucky, why are you here?" you ask, voice deflated.

"I told you."

"You wanted a place to lay low. Is that all?"

He doesn't say anything. You search his face for anything, any sign.

He shifts on his feet. “I just needed somewhere safe.”

“And I’m what? A checkpoint?”

“No,” he says, too quickly, before adding in something more quieter, “You’re the first place I thought of.”

You sigh, folding your arms. “Are you in or are you out, Barnes?

His mouth is pressed into a thin line, arms crossed over his chest.

"Because if you are, and this is how it's going to be, I'm not interested. You're cute. I like you. But this isn't enough for me."

"'M sorry," He looks at you, softer now. "Things haven't been good. Didn't want to get you caught up in it."

"Yet here I am."

"I'm sorry about that too," he adds. "

You look at him for a long moment. At the cut above his brow. The dust on his jacket. The way his hands are clenched..

"You kept the bat." The corner of his lips quirk up into a smile.

“You should be grateful I didn’t swing it.”

“It’s got good balance,” he admitted.

He looks different up close. Same face, same eyes but worn thinner. Like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Maybe weeks.

You sigh. "Should I order pizza?"

"Yes," they all chorus from the living room. It catches you by surprise.

"Stop listening in," he barks.

"The walls are like, paper thin, man," Yelena says. "You should have thought of that before you brought us to your situationship's house."

“What the hell is a situationship?” he muttered, directing it toward you now. “Actually scratch that. I don’t care. Whatever it is, that’s not what we are.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still folded. “No?”

"But there is a 'we', yes?" Alexei calls.

You look at Bucky. He looks back sheepishly, somewhat even helpless.

"Nope," you reply, moving past him to go to the band of morons out there. "There is no 'we'."

"I mean--" he mumbles.

"Classic lover's quarrel," he hears Alexei continues, like he's explaining this to someone. "Melina and I had them many times."

You roll your eyes. "How long do you have? Pizza's gonna take a while."

“You don’t have to feed us.”

"If you're gonna fight against this guy--"

"Bob," someone calls.

"Bob. If you're going to fight against Bob, you're gonna need more than a granola bar. When’s the last time any of you had a vegetable?"

You're met with a series of shrugs.

"Grown adults," you exhale, shaking your head before walking back into the bedroom to find your phone.

You thumb through the menu.

Something soft brushes against your hand. You swallow the thickness in your throat, refusing to tear your gaze away from the phone.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s almost too soft. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t move.

“I mean it. I’ll make it up to you.”

You glance at him.

"Look, I'm not trying to guilt you into--"

"It's not that. I've been meaning to." He swallows.

"Bucky--"

“I missed you,” he said, not quite looking at you. “I wish I could say I’ll get everything right from now on. I just… I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You swallow. Slowly.

“And it didn’t feel good. Not talking to you. Everything was happening, and the nightmares were back, and I kept thinking 'I should tell you this.' But then I didn’t. And it got worse.”

“You don’t get to drop that on me if you're gonna fuck off again.”

“I won’t.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Then you tilt your head. “You know you owe me, like, three dinners.”

He gives you a small smile. "I'll buy you dinner for the rest of your life."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Congressman."

His eyes drifted toward the bat, still propped against the wall.

“You really were ready to clock me, huh?”

“I was aiming for Walker, but yeah. You were next.”

He smiles, and it's probably the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Are these your friends now?" you ask finally.

"They're not even my co-workers."

"Didn’t think you had co-workers anymore. As of, you know. This morning."

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “new job. No salary. No benefits at all, really.”

"You're gonna buy me dinner like this?"

"I'll figure it out."

You snort despite yourself. “You're gonna get someone killed.”

He shrugs again. “Probably me.”

He reaches out. Just lightly. Two fingers brushing against your pinky where your hand hangs.

Without thinking, he shifts just slightly closer. Not enough to close the space, but... there. He's back up in your space, and he fills it like he never left at all.

“I think about you,” he says, voice quiet like it's the one thing he wants to keep only for you both, "All the time."

"Sap," you say, but it feels airy. "Your 100 year old charm won't work on me. This doesn't fix anything."

"I know."

His fingers twitch like he’s about to pull away.

You catch them before he does.

“You disappear again like that,” you say, “I swing the bat next time.”

He smiles, head tilted. “Sure thing.”

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

[giannaln4]

Lucky Bracelet

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Making friendship bracelets was one of your favourite things to keep you entertained during race weeks, and you just had to make a special one for your boyfriend.  (1.5k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, a couple sexual innuendos

a/n: guys look at me! two posts in one week? crazy. i'm honestly trying to clean up my inbox since i still have a few requests from before my break 😭 so if you sent one, i'm getting there, i promise! now, this is a little bit cheesy and there are a few weird time skips so I apologise for that, but i really hope you like it! pls let me know what you think 🫶🏻

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of people and the double amount of cameras was not something you liked, but it’s something you had to put up with given the amount of attention your boyfriend got; it was something you have learnt to deal with. Not that you were fully used to it now, but at least it didn’t make you as anxious as it used to when you first started dating.

At least now you found something that helped you get your mind off the intense atmosphere that surrounded you during race weeks: making friendship bracelets. You made a few when you went to see Taylor Swift in concert late last year, and it stuck with you since then.

You travelled with all the materials you needed: colourful beads and cotton threads, tape, scissors — the whole deal. It wasn’t like you made an insane amount of bracelets every time you accompanied Lando to a race, but if you were bored or overwhelmed, you knew you had something to do.

Today was one of those days; Lando was specially busy today, and given your shy and quiet personality, you didn’t know that many people around, so you decided to lock yourself in Lando’s drivers room and get to it, carefully picking the letters and colours you would use.

Lando hated to leave you alone. He was aware of the many things he had to do, but he didn’t expect them to take that long, so as soon as he got a little bit of free time to catch lunch, he went looking for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted one of the mechanics. 

“Hi mate, how is it going?”

“All good, thanks. It’s a bit hot outside but still nice.”

“And yet, you are wearing a hoodie.” He teased him.

Lando let out a laugh, well aware of his reputation. "Well, I still have to keep it in style, don’t I?”

“You do, we know.”

“Anyway, have you seen Y/N?” 

“She must be in your room. I haven’t seen her since the two of you got here this morning.”

He smiled, knowing exactly what you were up to if you hadn’t left the small space all day. “Thanks.”

Lando made his way to his room, carefully knocking on the door before coming in. He didn’t want to scare you and make you drop all your beads, which has happened more times than he would like to admit.

“Come in,” he heard you yell from inside.

He opened the door and gave you the sweetest smile you have ever seen. “Hey, I’m back.”

“Hey, what took you so long?” You dropped everything you were doing to direct your attention at him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know we would have to be there all morning, but I’m back for lunch.”

“It’s okay, and thank God, I’m starving.” You took a piece of tape to hold your bracelet in place and started to get up.

“What are you making here?” He asked you as he got closer to the small table, analysing what you had on display as the bright-coloured beads caught his eye.

“No, it’s a surprise.” You responded, quickly hiding your unfinished creation with your hands. 

“A surprise you say?” He came behind you to wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your head. 

You melted into his embrace and hummed in response, using one of your bags to hide it instead so you could hug your boyfriend back. “You can’t see it until you win this race.”

“Mhm, I see. What if I don’t win? When do I get to see it?” He questioned, not wanting to jinx his weekend, but he was still curious. 

“The next race you win.” You said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Got it. In that case, I’m gonna have to win this race.” He grabbed your hips to turn you around, kissing you on the lips once you were facing him.

You went to eat your lunch together as you normally did, enjoying each other’s company as you talked about anything you could come up with. Before you knew it, he had to go back to his duties, and even though you tried hard to act normal about being left alone so he wouldn’t feel guilty, he still noticed. He knew you better than you knew yourself, anyway.

“You can come with me if you want, that way you don’t have to be alone.”

“No, it’s okay. I know there are millions of people and cameras when you do these things."

He couldn’t help but feel guilty; he knew you were there to support him, so he hated to be apart from you when you did. “I’m sorry, love. I know you don’t feel comfortable when there are a lot of people around. You know you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, you could always stay home.”

“If you don’t want me to come, just say that,” you joked.

“No, it’s not that,” Lando replied immediately. “I do want you here, I always do, but I hate that you feel like you have to hide.”

“Lan, I’m not hiding. Sure, I do prefer to stay inside, but it’s not because I want to hide from the world. Besides, that’s why I always bring something to entertain myself with. I’ll be fine, I promise,” you reassure him.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. “But if you want to go back to the hotel, that’s okay.”

The rest of the weekend went on a lot quicker, even though he was just as busy. Qualifying and race days were a lot less boring since you got to see the cars from the garage, enjoying the full wag experience. 

As the race went on, you couldn’t help but feel anxious and excited at the same time. Lando started from pole (which made you assure him the night before he would get to see the bracelet after the race), but you still had the need to crack your fingers every once in a while. There were only a few laps left, and he had led the entire race so far, and with the gap becoming bigger, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

Once he finally crossed that finish line with a 21-second margin, everyone in the garage cheered and jumped, celebrating Lando’s achievement. A lot of people gathered outside to see him get off the car and celebrate his third win himself, shouting his name and patting him in the helmet to congratulate him.

When it was time for the podium, you decided to go get the finished bracelet you kept in your purse and held it close to your heart, feeling extremely proud of Lando for the amazing race he just had. You couldn't stop the few tears that left your eyes; it made you so happy to see him accomplish his dreams. 

The whole thing was finally over, and you waited for him right there so you could finally express how proud of him you were. 

“Congrats, baby,” you said, hugging him as if you hadn’t seen him in months. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Lando couldn’t erase the big smile off his face as he hugged you back. 

“That’s a cool trophy you got back there.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that.” He said, puling away and looking down at you. 

“You don’t?” You asked confused.

“No, I’m still waiting for my real reward.”

“Oh… we can go back to the hotel-”

“No!” He interrupted you, laughing loudly at the fact that your mind went there. “I mean my bracelet, didn’t you say I would get it if I won this race? Well, I did, and now I’m claiming it.”

You laughed, your cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “Right, uh- it’s not that great compared to your trophy.”

“I’m sure it’s better than any trophy I could ever get.”

Man, he really knew how to be the sweetest boyfriend in the entire world. You pulled the bracelet out of your pocket, hiding it in your fist before dropping it in his hands. 

The colours were the first thing that caught his attention. Fluoro green and black beads. He inspected these first, until he got to the little letters that read ‘MY WINNER’. He almost couldn’t contain his tears; he was so endeared by you and how much you supported his passion.

“I love it,” he whispered, lifting you up and kissing you emotionally before putting you back down and sliding the bracelet in his wrist, admiring the way it looked there. “Thank you.”

“See? I told you you would get to see it today.”

“It must be a lucky bracelet, then. I’m never taking it off.”

You giggled at this, loving how Lando reacted to the bracelet you made with much love, but you still thought he was just messing with you. “You must be tired.” You teased him.

“Mhm. Now, about my other reward-”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes as you let out a loud laugh, holding his hand as you made your way to the car.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 7] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: smut (+18), oral (f!receivig), protected sex (congrats!), fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), kissing, flirting, wine, flowers

A/N: you've been waiting for me and I really wanted to give you this chapter. today i had my last class before the break. my first year of college is behind me! yeeey! i'm really happy and proud of myself. this week, between studying, working, and creating projects - i wrote this thing for you. i hope you like it. your comments and messages are honey to my heart. thank you for being with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

New York greeted you with rain, but the sun was still shining in your heart and head. The whirlwind of work you fell into right after your return made your head spin. However, that's how a few days ended with your phone turned off and no one answering your emails.

Right after you got back, Susan quickly told you how Mrs. Kruger-Waltz had almost forced her to tell you the name of the hotel you and Castillo hadn't stayed at.

"I'm sorry." she said. "She was... She was just awful."

"Maybe she just knows what she wants. She knows her position." you replied, scrolling through your email inbox. "You know, if she was a guy, no one would care so much."

"Are you defending her?" Susan looked at you in surprise.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I just noticed it."

You had some time to think about what happened in the hotel restaurant and what Harry did next. Diane was hard and mean to you, but then again she wouldn't have achieved the same status by being sweet and loving, would she? She moved in a man's world and accepted their rules, played their game.

"Harry would never do that." Susan commented as she sat down at her desk and went back to work.

"Harry's some kind of unicorn or gem." you chuckled and Susan smiled back. "We're lucky, my dear."

"I'll buy him a mug for Boss' Day."

"Good decision."

Castillo hadn’t been in the office all morning and hadn’t returned until after lunch, and even then one of the accountants had entered the office right behind him with a stack of papers under his arm.

The soft hum of a computer and Susan’s typing filled the room. It took you almost an hour and a half to go through your email. You were in the middle of checking Harry’s presence at some meeting when you heard the sound of an incoming message. You reached for your phone and read it.

[Harry Castillo]: sent a picture.

You frowned and clicked on the message. A picture appeared on the screen, the one Harry must have taken of you when you weren’t looking. The wind blew through your hair, and you shielded your eyes with your hand, pointing at something. You felt a pleasant tickle around your heart and were about to reply when another picture appeared. One of those “hand-held” ones. Harry was wearing black sunglasses and was smiling, and you followed him, sipping your iced coffee.

[You]: Really? When did you take it?

[Harry Castillo]: I like it. You can't blame me. I have more.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. This guy was impossible.

[You]: You have a meeting with your accountant. You should focus on work.

Three dots appeared, bouncing off each other. Finally, his answer showed up.

[Harry Castillo]: Boring. You're much more interesting. What are you doing this Friday?

“Is everything okay?” Susan leaned over her computer.

“Umm... Yeah. I just...” You looked up from your phone and waved her off to let her know it was nonsense. “I got a text.”

“Did that text make you laugh?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand. “Please tell me his name, how tall he is, where he lives, and how much he makes. Handsome?”

“You’re scaring me,” you replied quickly. You typed, “I have to check my schedule. I’m really busy. I have a lot of work to catch up on,” and sent it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure.” She winked at you.

Harry must have been really bored — his reply came just seconds later.

[Harry Castillo]: I’ll wait patiently.

[Harry Castillo]: Wait! I’m your boss. So I want to tell you that as much as I appreciate your work, I'd like to spend a nice Friday night with you even more. Dinner and wine?

Damn! You were so unprofessional! Your cheeks burned with fire as you typed the next words.

[You]: Will there be kissing?

The dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared. You imagined Harry trying to text while talking to his accountant. Finally, his message lit up your screen.

[Harry Castillo]: A lot.

Excitement and fear filled you as you prepared for your date with Harry. It shouldn’t be like this. You’ve known each other for over a year, you’ve spent hours talking, you’ve watched him date other women, and you thought he was the coolest, most charming man in the state. But uncertainty was building under your skin as you put on your dress and applied your lipstick.

What if this evening wasn’t what you both expected? Maybe you’d just given in to the hot LA sun, and here all the excitement would die down and it would just be awkward? You’d seen the women Harry had dated, and you weren’t sure if you fit the mold.

But there was something about Harry that made you want to give in. You wanted to take the first bite, jump in, and never look back. The risk was enormous, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When you stepped out onto the sidewalk, he was already leaning against the car door. The sleeves of his black sweater were pulled up slightly, and when his gaze landed on you, it lingered there for a moment. As if he wanted to remember the sight for a long time.

“Hi,” he greeted you as you approached him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. You’re not bad either.” He smiled gently.

“I reserved a table for us. You weren’t there yet.” Harry said, stepping away from the door and opening it wide. Before you could get there, however, he reached into the backseat, and a bouquet of spring pink peonies appeared before your eyes.

“For you. Since it’s a date, it has to be flowers.”

You must have had a surprised look on your face because Harry just smiled. You took the bouquet from him, still unable to believe he was taking all this so seriously.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” You managed to choke out.

“Not like you.”

Your cheeks must have already turned the shade of flowers, but Harry didn’t say anything to that. You slid into the backseat of the car, the door slamming shut quietly. A moment later, Harry was sitting next to you, and the car was gliding through the streets of the city, which was melting into the setting sun. Despite all the stress, it turned out that the tension you expected did not appear. Quite the opposite. You talked freely - about the coming week, about the film you wanted to see at the cinema but did not have time to go, and many other things.

If it weren't for the driver's voice announcing that you were already there, you wouldn't have even noticed the car had stopped. Harry got out in a flash and as soon as you grabbed your bag, he opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you.

"What's this place?" you asked as he led you into the glass building and through the elegant lobby.

"You'll see for yourself," he replied, clearly enjoying himself. "My friend recommended it. I think you'll like it."

"Have you been here before?" your gaze wandered to the crystal chandelier above you, but you made your way to the elevators.

"No, I was waiting for a special occasion."

You were that occasion. He didn't want to say it, afraid of embarrassing you, but as soon as he found out about this place, he wanted to take you there immediately.

Harry loved watching him take you to such beautiful and exclusive places as this. Simple awe, your eyes widening as if you wanted to see even more, and he could give it all to you. In return, he never asked for much, your presence was enough.

The elevator quietly and quickly took you to one of the top floors, and when the doors opened, you found yourself in the vestibule of an elegant restaurant. Dim lights, soft music, and pleasant smells filled the air. Harry had to take your hand and pull you towards the young man standing in the doorway, because your eyes wandered over the decor.

“We have a reservation. Castillo.” he said.

“Of course.” The man glanced at the tablet, then smiled. “This way, Mr. Castillo. Ma’am.”

The soft carpet muffled your footsteps as you walked along the tables. The guests hidden in their booths paid no attention to you at all. Harry’s fingers were still intertwined with yours as you walked out onto the glassed-in terrace. One of the tables was set up at the back, a little further away from the others, and that’s where the man led you.

“Please sit down,” he said, smiling and gesturing to the chairs. “A waiter will be here in a moment to take your order. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, please. I hear you have some great chocolate soufflés.” Harry replied, pulling out a chair for you.

The man's face lit up. "Yes, sir. They'll be perfect for dessert."

He nodded and left you alone. Harry sat down across from you. The soft light of the lamps reflected in his dark eyes, and a smile never left his lips.

"Congratulations." You said, resting your chin on your hand and looking out the large window at the city covered in the last rays of sunlight, night already lurking around the corner. "This place is really... wow."

"I'm glad you like it. I wanted it to be something special."

You looked at him in silence for a moment, as if you were thinking about something. Only after a moment did you speak. "You could take me to a hot dog stand and I'd love it too, Harry. You know that, right?"

He knew. God! He nodded, because he knew it. He once took you to a really expensive restaurant, and on the way back you told him to stop because you wanted fries. “How was I supposed to eat these micro-portions? You could take me here and I’d be so much happier.” It was adorable.

You never looked at him through the prism of money, and it was refreshing. Harry could be sitting next to you in sweatpants, eating takeout, and you treated him the same way you did when he was wearing a suit worth several of your salaries.

The waiter showed up a moment later to take your order, you and Harry went over each item on the menu in detail, sharing your thoughts, and then he brought you wine.

“I wonder,” you began, sipping the sweet wine. Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “how is this different? We’ve been to places like this before. Maybe not in this kind of atmosphere, but still.”

He thought for a moment before answering. “I think,” he began slowly and carefully choosing his words, “that today I can look at you without shame. And you look stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really?”

“I brought you flowers too.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“And we’ll kiss.”

You looked at Harry like he was crazy, but his spontaneity and sincerity were simply endearing. “I do it very well, don't I?”

You sighed and took another sip of wine. “Very much. I don’t understand… If you’re doing it so well, why am I here? So many women…”

“Stop it.” Harry said quietly, his voice low and firm, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You blinked, not knowing what to say, so you decided to stay silent. Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. The atmosphere between you changed – not tense, but something different, more intimate.

“You’re here because I want you to be here. Not someone else. Not any other woman. You. It’s not about how many people I could be with—it’s about how few people make me feel this way.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t get a word out. It was hard to say anything when your heart was pounding in your chest and Harry was looking at you so intensely. He reached out and took your hand before you even noticed. He stroked it with his thumb.

“I know you have a lot of doubts and worries, but I’m not doing all of this because it’s a ‘date.’ I really want this. Every bit of it.”

You let out a breath you had been unconsciously holding in your lungs. “You’re so serious.”

He nodded. “Dangerously.”

“Then I guess I should think about it seriously, too.”

Harry smiled. He lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. Light flickered in his dark eyes so intently focused on you. Something had changed between you. It wasn't about flirting anymore, but about certainty and safety.

The waiter's arrival pulled you out of the bubble that had closed around you for a moment. It was nice. You sat there, eating really good food, drinking wine and looking at the city that was slowly getting brighter with the glow of the lamps. You didn't feel any worries or fear anymore, because what had appeared between you and Harry was like a warm balm that enveloped both of you. Everything seemed fine and normal, and he did everything to make you feel at ease.

“Oh my!” you sighed as you entered the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind you. Harry looked at you intrigued. “I left the flowers in the car. They’ll definitely die there.”

“Oh no!” he frowned as you told him the truly devastating news. “We can’t let that happen. I have a vase at home if you’re interested.”

The words came out of his mouth so naturally that no matter what you answered, it would be the right answer. No pressure, a simple hint that you understood immediately, and the decision was yours. He waited, you could see it in his eyes.

“Crystal?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Hmm... I don’t know if I have a vase.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips lifting into a gentle smile. “You’re going to risk their lives?”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back the smile that crept onto your lips, but you failed miserably. After a moment, you both burst out laughing.

"I shouldn't," you finally said. "They're such beautiful flowers. Besides..." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Besides, we haven't kissed yet."

That was the sign Harry had been waiting for. In an instant, his warm hand rested carefully on your cheek, and the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. He quickly managed to look into your eyes, and you already felt his soft lips on yours.

Jesus! How much you missed his lips. He kissed you gently, carefully, as if testing the water, but when you touched his neck, wanting to get closer, he completely lost himself. Two steps, you felt the cold wall of the elevator behind you and Harry's solid, warm body in front of you.

A soft tongue broke through the barrier of your lips, causing you to moan quietly. The bastard smiled.

“Do that again and I’ll lose myself in you.” He whispered, but didn’t give you time to respond, stealing your breath again. Colossal hands held your waist tightly, your fingers slipping into his soft hair. It was just you and Harry, nothing more.

You didn't remember how you got to his apartment. Your brain had shut down all rational reasoning the moment you got into the car, when Harry took your hand, when he kissed the back of it tenderly, and when you drove through the city with impatient smiles on your faces.

There was no doubt - you knew what you were getting at, but you also felt no pressure or hesitation. If such a thing existed, Harry would have accepted it without resentment and, like a true gentleman, would have driven you to your apartment without complaint. Desire and excitement hung in the air that almost quivered between you.

You hadn't drunk enough wine to be drunk, unless you could be drunk on his presence and how he treated you - with respect, care, tenderness.

His lips were on you again when you entered the apartment, as if he had missed the taste of them in the few minutes of travel.

"F-flowers, Harry..." you managed to whisper.

He looked at you, confused. He completely forgot you were holding them in your hand. That fucking vase was in some cabinet, now he had no idea which one.

However, you solved that problem in a flash, throwing them on the wooden table by the wall, your hands once again grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. He wanted you. Jesus! He wanted you like he hadn't wanted anyone else in a long time. The wall behind you appeared suddenly, but thank god for that, because otherwise you would have slumped to the floor.

"Are you sure you want this, baby?" he asked, pulling his face away from yours for a moment, Harry's eyes dark as night. "One word and..."

"I want it." You whispered and saw the relief on his face. "I want you, Harry."

He wanted to hear it. Kisses landed on your neck as he pulled you away from the wall and slowly led you towards the bedroom. The switch by the door turned on the small lights by the nightstands. The bedroom was large, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city at night and a bed covered in white satin sheets. You paused for a moment.

Harry's hands slid up your arms, sending warm shivers down your spine as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I can't believe you're here with me. Are you actually real?"

You placed your hands on his chest. The strong beating of his heart was palpable beneath your fingertips. "Yes, I am."

His hands moved to your back, slowly and meticulously to the zipper under your neck. Harry tilted his head. "May I?"

You nodded, not trusting your lips. You held your breath as you felt the zipper slide open, slowly sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall gently to the wooden floor.

"You're stunning," he said, and you knew he was serious.

It was all in his eyes, which, with admiration, as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, moved from your face, through your cleavage, the curve of your breasts and lower, lower... He took a deep breath. "Forgive my lack of eloquence, but I have no idea what to say now."

"Then maybe don't say anything, Harry." You suggested. Your hands grabbed the hem of his sweater and slowly pulled it up. He had a beautiful body and you really missed seeing him like this. Small freckles on his chest, broad shoulders and strong arms, soft stomach. You realized that it had been a long time since you had stood in front of someone so exposed and vulnerable, but with Harry you felt no shame or embarrassment.

He kissed you again, hungrily and lovingly, pulling your hips to his so that you felt the distinct bulge in his jeans. There was no point in waiting. The belt was unbuckled, you tugged on your jeans to slide them off.

“On the bed, darling,” he mumbled in a low, deep voice. You sat down obediently on your heels, watching Harry take off his jeans, leaving them carelessly next to your dress, and a few seconds later he was by your side. Gently, without breaking the kisses, he pushed you onto the satin sheets. Sweet weight on you, hands exploring your body as if he wanted to memorize the map of your body. His lips slid down to your neck, collarbone and cleavage. The scent of your skin mixed with the scent of your perfume and went to his head.

“I want to taste you, baby. Will you let me?”

He felt you shiver under his fingers, tensing nervously. Dark eyes lifted to you, watching you carefully.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked.

“No, it’s just… It’s been a while since I last did this.”

He smiled softly. “Baby, I’ll take care of you, I swear. If you tell me to stop, I will.” You bit your lip lightly. “I want you to feel good, baby.”

You nodded. You couldn’t help but give in to those eyes and smile. Fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slowly, carefully, slid down.

The first kiss on your stomach, another below your belly button, then on your mound, and then you sighed softly as you felt Harry’s hot lips on the inside of your thighs.

“You’re already throbbing, baby…”

You buried your face in your hands, feeling the warmth creep up your neck. Harry brazenly lay between your legs, throwing one over his shoulder and teasing your sensitive center with his warm breath. The first lick, a gentle kiss, and after a moment he sank into your pussy as if it would save his life. Tongue and lips worked hard and you couldn't cover your face anymore, trying to grab anything that would give you stability. A loud gasp escaped your throat as he sucked on your clit.

You were so turned on, your body so hungry for what was building inside you, that you couldn't control anything. Harry placed a hand on your stomach, trying to hold you down as you tried to lift your hips, maybe even escape from what you were feeling.

“Stay like this, baby. I’ve got you.”

And he really did have you. When he looked up, saw you like that, he knew he’d never forget you. Eyes closed, lips parted, gasping for air, chest heaving in sharp breaths. You were on the edge, and with one thrust he pushed you towards that abyss, to watch you fall apart under his lips and tongue. He already knew that this sight would stay with him forever.

You weren’t fully conscious. The orgasm that had shaken your body was still pulsing under your skin as Harry kissed your thighs and with a scoundrel’s smile he hovered over you again.

“You’re so sexy…” he said, “I could spend hours there.”

“You can’t.” you panted, shaking your head, “I want you inside me, now.”

You lifted yourself up, kissing him hard and pulling him with you onto the bed. He was so hard in his boxers that when you slid your hand in there, wrapping your fingers around his cock, he sighed through clenched teeth.

“Condoms.” he groaned. “I have…”

“Where?”

He nodded towards the nightstand, and you arched your back and reached over, pulling out a foil packet. You opened it deftly as Harry pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard and already leaking cock.

The condom was slid on in a quick motion, and soon the tip was brushing against your entrance. Your gaze moved from the space between your thighs to your faces almost simultaneously. No words were needed.

Harry slowly pushed himself into you, stretching you pleasantly, all the way to the base. You needed a few seconds for both of you.

“Jesus…” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’re squeezing me so hard. I can’t get over this, I don’t want to.”

Gentle hands stroked his shoulders, slipped into his soft hair. You were so warm, he could feel your heartbeat, he could feel all of you. This moment should stop, he wanted to feel this forever.

“Move, baby, please.”

Your sweet voice was like an order he wanted to fulfill. The first movement of his hips and you both sighed quietly. Harry lifted himself up on his elbows to see your face, to kiss you again, his cock moving hard and confidently inside you. You quickly found a rhythm together, trying to remember to breathe, but it was hard when you wanted to taste each other’s lips at the same time so much.

“It feels so good, Harry…” you moaned quietly, “Just like this.”

He grabbed your thigh with one hand, squeezing his fingers tighter. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face, his hips slamming harder and he felt your walls tighten around his cock. You were close, faster than he expected, but Harry knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t last long either. You opened your eyes unexpectedly.

“I want to be on top.”

You surprised him, but he agreed without hesitation. He pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, and a moment later you were on top of him, positioning his cock so that it would slide inside. God! His eyes almost rolled back as he pushed himself deeper into you than before. You rested your hands on his chest and started moving, setting a fast rhythm.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he saw you tilt your head slightly, closing your eyes and letting out quiet moans that you were no longer suppressing. His hands on your hips set the rhythm, strong and determined

“Harry…” you moaned “I’m so… So close.”

“I can feel it, baby. Let go, I've got you. I've got you…”

He lifted himself up, wrapping his arm around your body and using his other hand to press you harder, as if he wanted to go even deeper. His lips sucked on the spot on your collarbone. He wanted to mark you, you were his, more than ever.

A shiver ran through your body, your nails digging into Harry's shoulders, but he didn't let go. He pressed you harder against his body, helping you through it. The fire must have burned your thighs, but you didn't stop. A few more strokes and Harry came with a groan, clenching his hands so hard he had to leave marks.

Your hot bodies were sticky with sweat, but you were still as close as lovers could be. It was only after a few long moments that Harry lifted his head, his eyes full of delight and pleasure. His hand cupped your cheek, as if he was afraid you were real.

Words weren't needed, you felt the same. The kiss was soft and sweet, mixed with smiles, quiet giggles, careful movements of his hands. You felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

And it felt good.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[airybcby]

Call It What You Want To

(soft launching with the bllk boys)

a / n — i love soft launches and blue lock…so why not combine them?

content — fluff, cutesie stuff, bllk characters x fem! reader, pretty much gn! but i did use ‘she’ so just to be safe, + your faves if you want!!

synopsis — soft launches with the boyfies <3

✿.｡. “ nobody’s heard from me for months , ” .｡.✿

is NEVER on social media. has accounts of course, but never posts on them. usually the most they do is repost things about soccer on their stories. so when they post these pictures as their first post EVER? it’s inevitable that their fans are going to go insane.

they preferred posting these pictures, neither of your faces showing. you’d both decided to keep your relationship “private but not secret” , if someone were to find out it was you in these photos? so be it. they would never dream of hiding you from the world.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ RIN ITOSHI, barou shouei, sae itoshi, jinpachi ego

they don't have many posts, but the ones they do have no less than a million likes each. their fans are adoring, so when they post a new photo, thousands of people get the notification and within seconds the post has 200k likes.

their fans are insane, and that's putting it lightly. they find your account within a minute all by looking at your phone case and finding your account.

the both of you wake up the next morning and find yourselves not only trending on twitter, but also with thousands of edits made of the two of you. AND A SHIP NAME??

so much for a soft launch.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YUKIMIYA KENYU(im biased), shido ryusei, MICHAEL KAISER, hyoma chigiri

a chronic poster. i mean literal photo dumps GALORE. they had many fans, obviously with them being a famous soccer player, but also because of how 'real' they were. they would constantly post stories in the bathroom and ranting- all that fun stuff.

their fans had no indication that they'd been in a relationship at all. which was strange because due to their openness, their fans began thinking they deserved to know every little thing about them.

they just wanted to keep you their little secret for a little bit, so they posted these very inconspicuous photos and had the internet up in a frenzy.

soccerluver44: WHO IS THIS??

urmomshouse: no way

and thousands of comments just like that flooded their inbox.

this was fun, they thought. maybe for a little while longer they'd keep you their little secret. the thought crossed their mind as they pressed the 'your story' button, posting a photo of them sitting on the sink with your arms wrapped around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ MEGURU BACHIRA, isagi yoichi, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

not a constant poster, but definitely has a social media presence. they mostly post about their upcoming games and where to get tickets and watch. they definitely don't post about their personal life, so when people log on and see a soft launch??

the world goes into a state of shock. the comments are limited, so no one besides people they follow back (most of which who already knew of the relationship) are allowed to comment.

they did this on purpose. they saw no point in having strangers question them when the caption said it all

" spoiling my girl <3 "

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ REO MIKAGE, tabito karasu, jyubei aryu, DON LORENZO

✿.｡. “ i'm doing better than i ever was ” .｡.✿

took myself to the computer version to do this since there's a photo limit on the mobile version.

hope yall liked it though, i've never done anything like this before!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!