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kumkaniudaku · 4 hours ago

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Amen

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Inspired By: Ask #1 + Ask #2

MASTERLIST

Grief was a bitch.

A mean, ugly, unwanted bitch that had settled beside Terry as an unwelcomed guest just when he thought that he'd banished it out of his life, never to return. Over two years of joy that he'd fought tooth and nail to maintain came crashing down once grief came strolling into town without warning.

Mike was dead. He knew that. He'd reckoned with it, talked himself through the anniversary of his death once before, sent well-wishes to his aunt every time he could, cried in the shadows, mourned, lashed out, and sat in silence with the knowledge that his little cousin would never come through the door again. Mike wouldn't see another birthday. He wasn't around for the wedding or Christmas. They'd never see another football game together. Mike would never meet Nyla.

That fact came as a sobering realization while Terry watched his only daughter's chest rise and fall as she slept peacefully in her crib for the first time all day. A cold running through her daycare had finally latched on to her fresh immune system, turning his usually jovial baby into a shell of herself. He told his higher-ups that he needed to take the day to care for her in his mother-in-law's stead, but what he really needed was time alone to deal with his uninvited guest.

Leaning over the sturdy walnut railing keeping his little girl safely inside her crib, he watched her with the ghost of a smile on his lips. Mike would've loved her. Terry was sure of it. He'd make his way to Fayetteville at any opportunity and cause havoc, probably irritating Patrice but definitely doting on Nyla in a way that only he could.

Tears that had been fighting to see the world all day pricked Terry's eyes yet again. He almost let them fall but found himself blinking them back once Patrice pushed open the door and poked her head inside.

She smiled despite work wearing her thin and waved with her fingers. "Can I come in, or would that be too much?"

"Of course, you can," he answered, trying to put on a brave face to hide the true turmoil inside.

Seeing her stand there, her bright smile directed at him like he was the sun, moon, and stars, was the first time he'd felt anything other than the weight of regret. He needed her to come into the room.

Tiptoeing, Patrice approached Terry and peered over the crib's railing to look at Nyla. "How was she," she whispered before softly touching her forehead to check for heat. "Doin' any better?"

"A little. I got her to eat and play for a bit before the medicine kicked in. She should be out for the night and good enough to sit with your mom by the ceremony on Monday. But, we'll see."

"Good. Thank you for taking the lead. I know she was happy to have you around." She took a second look at her pride and joy, then focused all her attention on Terry. Worry and sadness had found a home on his brow line as they remained furrowed in thought. She leaned her head on his forearm and looked up at him. "And what about my other baby? How was he today?"

The date wasn't lost on Patrice. She noticed when Terry slowly retreated into himself the week before. She saw him looking at Mike's Instagram when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She heard the conversation with his aunt when he promised to come by and see her the next time he could make it to Baton Rouge, even though she knew that time wasn't coming. Every shift in his demeanor and thousand-yard stare showed that he was reliving a hellish time she couldn't protect him from.

No amount of soothing could pull him out of his rut. But that wouldn't stop her from trying.

Terry continued to stare down at Nyla as he answered. "I'm okay. Not too up, not too down."

"You need anything?" Terry didn't respond with words once he finally tore his eyes away from their daughter to look at Patrice. He only shook his head. "Can I give you a hug at least?"

His first dose of physical affection for the day felt like the wind was gently placed back into his lungs as Patrice pulled him closer by his shoulders. His hands found her waist first, giving the spot a short squeeze before allowing his arms to fully encircle her body.

"I love you. You know that?"

"I know." That was the one thing he was sure of. His heart and mind were splintered into a million pieces, but he knew Patrice was there to help him put each one back in their proper place. His lips found her temple for a lingering kiss as he closed his eyes to ward off the sadness, still trying to take center stage. "I, um…I... didn't have a good day today…" Terry struggled with the words, opening and closing his mouth in hopes that something would come out while Patrice listened to him try to articulate his thoughts. A deep breath and closed eyes helped him settle before he spoke. "I could use some time together. Whatever you have tonight, I'll take it. I know you have to be up early tomorrow, so even an hour is –"

His words were cut short by a simple kiss on his cheek. Patrice pulled back to look at him and flashed a reassuring smile. "Give me a few minutes to get changed, and you have me for however long you need me. I'll stay up late and everything. Dasia will understand if I cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow."

"I don't want you to do that."

"We'll play it by ear," she answered to douse the early flames of a disagreement. "Twenty minutes. You can time me."

Terry nodded in understanding and silently agreed to let Patrice out of his sight when he needed her most. Whether she was gone for 30 seconds or three days, the time away felt slow.

Terry tried and quickly tired of distracting himself in Nyla's nursery before quietly slipping out and taking the trek to wait for Patrice like a lost puppy.

He settled into the plush velvet chair in the corner and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Closed eyes heightened his sense of hearing, giving him full access to Patrice's singing in the shower.

Mike would've loved the Patrice he heard so much about. He'd call her 'big sis' and annoy her the way little brothers do. They'd argue endlessly but still find time for secret handshakes and inside jokes. He'd finally have someone on his side to pester Terry and receive sound advice from when the going got tough. They may have taken him in as their overgrown first child. They could've worked together to get him on the right path and save his life.

Unfortunately, Terry would never know. The not knowing left the door wide open for sadness to creep back in.

He breathed deep and tried to will grief away with Patrice's voice as a lullaby in the background. And for a moment, it complied. The dark, heavy cloud slipped off his back and down to his feet with every exhale, lightening the weight on his arms and shoulders until he felt close to a Terry who was safe, sound, and far from the troubles of his past.

Mike would want that. He'd like to know what Terry had going on as the last person expected to settle down into a family man. He'd probably poke fun at his older cousin for attending birthing classes and fawning over ruffled outfits in Target when what he knew of Terry was brooding, reserved, and quietly menacing. Mike had seen his cousin kick up dust with the worst of them. Seeing Terry as a man who wouldn't so much as cough too loud if his wife or daughter was around would be a sight.

As grief slowly packed its things and headed for the door, his comfort emerged from the steaming bathroom, looking like a lighthouse in a raging storm.

Patrice's humming paused once she noticed Terry sitting in the corner. "Missed me," she teased, drawing a small, dry chuckle from her husband as she made her way to their dresser. "You could've joined if you wanted."

"That's alright. I know you need your time to decompress.” He gestured toward the garment in her hand. “Need help with that?"

She could've put her clothes on with no assistance, but Patrice knew that Terry wouldn't have asked if he didn't need the distraction. She granted his covert request for her attention by quickly plucking matching pieces from her sleepwear drawer and placing them in his outstretched hands.

They spent time in comfortable silence while he slid soft cotton up her legs and then helped her into her shirt, kissing random spots of exposed skin along the way. "I didn't ask about your day. I'm sorry. I got a lot of…other stuff on my mind. How was work?"

"It was work. Nothing too important. Glad it's the weekend. Two more days, and I get to see my first graduating class of freshmen that I taught. Isn't that crazy? I'm getting old, huh?" She laughed by herself.

Terry avoided eye contact despite his faint smile, preferring to tie the drawstring at her waist in a neat bow like she preferred. "Never old. Only better."

"You're too sweet." Patrice cuddled him close when he was done and rubbed a spot at the nape of his neck to soothe him into closing tired, heavy lids. "I know it's tough, but I promise you'll be okay, babe. The sadness isn't gonna go away, but you'll learn to live with it. You'll learn to make space for all those feelings inside you at once. And I'll be here when you need someone else to hold some of them, too."

Terry sighed. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden for you, P. We have enough going on as is."

"You're not a burden, Terry; you're my husband – my friend."

To be accepted with all of the muddy waters traversing his mind and heart felt like too much to ask for in Terry's mind, especially from someone who'd spent so much time wading through all his bullshit without complaint. He owed her his life, the full weight of his love, until the day God deemed their time together but a beautiful memory forever etched in boxed trinkets and old photos.

He wanted to give her the moon as she stood stroking his pain away with her fingertips but settled for kissing his way up her sternum on the way to her lips.

One day, when other emotions had dwindled, and he was feeling more like himself, Terry would lay his head on Patrice's lap and tell her about the atrocities that had shaped the time before they reacquainted. That day wasn't today, and all he could think of was pouring his gratitude for her graciousness into making sure she was satisfied in the one area he could control.

Shorts that had only been on her body for mere minutes found a new home on the floor alongside her top. Patrice was weightless in Terry's arms as he carried her to their shared bed, his lips attached to hers for needy kisses that felt more like life rafts to keep him above rough waters than affectionate gestures.

Patrice questioning if he was sure about his actions fell on deaf ears, and soon, all of her inquiries became lost whispers in a room swirling with the sounds of desperate lovemaking. Terry left his mark on her neck and chest while he worked himself out of his clothes.

His voice came in gravelly against the shell of her ear. "I fuckin' love you, Treece. Don't ever leave me." He was pleading and caught somewhere between raw desire and tremendous despair. "Please, don't ever leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," Patrice reassured without hesitation.

Terry left soft kisses and big, salty tears on Patrice's cheeks once their foreheads met. "Please. I need you, Patrice." Grief was back and taunting him in his ear with its partner in crime, Doubt. She'll leave, just like everyone else. You don't deserve her. Lies filled his head with no shut-off valve in sight. The tears turned into sobs he couldn't ignore with breathing techniques or a change in his thought process. "I'm sorry. I just need you. I can't do this by myself. Don't leave."

Patrice quickly cast amorous feelings aside to wrap her arms tight around Terry. "Woah, woah, TJ. I'm here! I'm right here."

Grief was a bitch. Even when he threw his best punch at it, grief always hit Terry back with a haymaker that left him staggering and woozy in defeat.

The moments after his heaving, hyperventilating meltdown became a blur of Patrice's soft-spoken instruction, lavender bubble bath, and candlelight. When he came back from a mental trip to Shelby Springs to live out alternate realities, where he emerged victorious with Mike by his side, he found himself nestled between his wife's legs, surrounded by fresh hot water and scented white foam.

Patrice moved behind him, plastic crinkling as she peeled the back off of something he couldn't see before bringing her wet hands around to his face. "These'll help with the puffiness," she declared like an experienced esthetician informing a client. "I used to use this every other day in grad school. Cry all you need. No one will ever know by morning."

A 'thank you' tried to rise from his throat, but Terry quickly found his voice too hoarse to say anything worth a damn. Patrice didn't mind, though. She was content to press another cold patch underneath his eye before grabbing the shampoo rinse cup resting near the baby monitor at the edge of the tub.

Terry closed his eyes as the warm water washed over his short curls, sitting neatly behind a sharp hairline and tapered sides. His hair glistened under flickering lights provided by small flames in glass components. Patrice used her acrylic nails to work magic against his scalp, turning shampoo into a mountain of suds to cleanse the pain.

"I swear every time my Nana and mama scrubbed my head, I felt like a new person after. One time, I was going through the worst friend breakup I've ever had, and by the time Mommy finished with me, I didn't even know that girl's name. Didn't even matter anymore."

"What happens after the scrub, though? You just…go back to normal?"

Patrice chuckled as she ran another stream of water across his head to start on a second lather. "Hell no. That's where the patches come in." Terry allowed himself his first genuine laugh all day, taking a stone out of grief's stronghold. His fingertips ran back and forth over the wet skin on Patrice's legs as he sat with his eyes closed in a battle for his sanity. They let the quiet ripple of water around them fill the humid air in the room, preferring to enjoy the feel of skin on skin over extraneous conversation until Patrice began running conditioner through each of his thick strands. "I love when you wear your hair like this. The haircuts are nice, but when it's grown out, it reminds me of young you."

"Hot-headed, couldn't buckle down enough to work through being mad at not getting scholarships to still go to college me?" Terry scoffed, finding the notion of a younger, far less polished him being someone worth missing.

Patrice shrugged. "I didn't know that Terry," she confessed. The stories of his anger felt like fables to Patrice. The only Terrence Richmond she'd ever known was sweet as homemade banana pudding after Sunday service and a whip-smart boy with the world at his feet. "My Terry and his little fro was always kind. Always noble and lending a helping hand. And now he's got a baby girl in the other room with a head full of her daddy's curls after she looked like Charles Barkley for three months." Terry smiled at the mention of Nyla and how she'd inherited at least one part of him after taking her mother's entire face. Patrice watched him reach for the monitor and bring it closer to his face for a look at his second favorite girl before she continued. "My Terry is who Mike loved. I never met him, but I know he saw the best in you. We all do, baby."

More silence sat heavy as Terry wiped away fresh tears gathering at his waterline. Of course, they'd see the best in him when he couldn't see the best in himself.

Grief came knocking again with Doubt in tow, but Terry ignored them to slide deeper into the water and rest his heavy head on Patrice's chest before speaking. "Mike and me…we used to get in a lot of trouble at my granny's house."

"Yeah? Two badass kids, huh? Tell me about it."

"One time," he started, already smiling at the memory. "We got her beagle, Satchel, sick because we kept feeding him shrimp out of the gumbo. He threw up all over the back porch, and Mike got so scared that he told on us, thinking we wouldn't get the switch if we were honest."

"Did y'all?"

Terry laughed and nodded. "Wore our asses out. I hated that damn dog for the rest of his life. It wasn't his fault, but I was just a kid."

"You knew better, though."

"Whose side are you on right now?" Terry asked, looking up at Patrice with faux offense on his face.

She giggled back. "Okay, my bad!" A final round of water cascaded down Terry's shoulders and back, washing the ugly soot of regret off of his grief to reveal the love making up its inner parts. Patrice kissed his wet hair and held her lips there even as she spoke. "Can you tell me more about Mike? I wanna know him through you."

The invitation erupted a dormant volcano deep within his Terry's heart.

He told stories of his cousin and their time together until the lavender-scented bubbles evaporated into tepid bath water. Until grief felt more like gratitude for memories made. Until Patrice's stomach ached from laughter. Until the clock struck midnight, and tears started to roll again. Until Patrice had wiped his entire face with her delicate fingertips several times over without a single inkling of exasperation or judgement while they lay face to face beneath cold sheets. And until she finally closed her eyes from exhaustion and turned her back for some shut-eye.

Then, he talked to God. A long list of thank you's emerged from his heart. A thank you for keeping him alive, one for time spent with Mike, one for his daughter, and another for the only person keeping him afloat when all he wanted to do was drown.

Terry looked at Patrice and smiled. Light from the television illuminated her face, highlighting her knitted brow and slight frown as she lay in the throes of a dream he could only imagine was vivid enough to evoke such a clear expression of disgust. The thought alone produced a genuine smile.

Clicking the power button, Terry found himself in complete darkness, fighting for the words to finish his prayer. He sighed and looked back toward Heaven. "She's perfect, God. Even when she isn't. If you never give me anything else, thank you for Patrice."

"Hm?"

Patrice's groggy response to her name being called made Terry roll over on his side to calm her back into sleep. "Nothing, baby," he spoke into her shoulder before pressing a kiss on her skin. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, earning a content sigh. "I was just praying for you."

She smiled without opening her eyes. "Well, amen to that."

Tears tickled Terry's waterline, this time filled with overwhelming gratitude. A blessing like no other.

"Yeah. Amen to that."

-----

Reply if you'd like to be tagged in future work!

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge

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mim16s · 21 hours ago

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Survival in Game

Cho Hyun-ju x Autistic!Fem!Reader

This is part two of Survival in Game. In this chapter, I wanted to explore more of Hyunju and the reader's relationship in a softer, more emotional way. I hope you enjoy it! In the next chapter, we'll dive into the second game of the season.

_____

Part 1:

You held the lunchbox in your hands and, as you walked back to your bed, you saw the woman who had helped you in the last game. Your heart raced a little. You wanted to thank her and also stay close to her. You didn’t fully understand why, but something about her radiated safety. In such an unpredictable place, that was exactly what you needed.

Social interactions had always been challenging for you. Words often got tangled, and people’s expressions didn’t always make sense. But with her, it was different. Something about her seemed calm and welcoming.

Stopping in front of her, gripping your food tightly, you tried to organize your thoughts. She, already eating, paused her meal and looked up at you. There was something comforting in that look of recognition, but now that you were so close, the words vanished from your mind, as they often did in moments of anxiety.

— Do you need something? — she asked kindly, as you looked down at the floor, trying to muster courage.

— I wanted to thank you... for protecting me in the game — you said quickly, bowing in gratitude. Formality helped you organize your speech. When you looked back at her, you noticed a shy smile on her face. It was a soft smile, free of judgment. She looked so beautiful smiling that it made your cheeks flush, something you couldn’t hide very well.

— Don’t worry, you didn’t need to thank me — she replied calmly. You took a deep breath, trying to prepare for what you wanted to say. The anxiety made your head spin.

— I’d like to ask you something — you finally said, seeing curiosity spark in her eyes. — Can I join you? — The question seemed to surprise her, her eyes widening slightly. She was silent for a moment before smiling again, this time more broadly. It had been a long time since anyone sought her company. Since her transition, people preferred to keep their distance. The fact that you had approached her touched her deeply.

— Of course, sit here — she said, moving aside to make room next to her. You sat beside her, still nervous but relieved that you had managed to speak. As you stared at your lunchbox, she broke the silence. — What’s your name? — she asked curiously.

— My name is Y/N. And yours?

— I'm Hyunju — she replied, with another smile that made your mind feel at ease. Unfortunately, the calm was interrupted by shouting. When you looked, you saw three men fighting violently. Your body stiffened immediately, and fear consumed you. Instinctively, you moved closer to Hyunju, seeking the sense of security she exuded. She noticed the fight but made no effort to push you away, letting you stay close.

You had always hated fights. They scared you deeply, bringing back painful memories from your childhood. You remembered when your mother started dating. At first, he seemed like a good person, but he soon revealed his true nature. He not only abused your mother physically but also diminished her emotionally. You watched helplessly, just a child, unable to do anything as she suffered. She tried to shield you, but you always heard the sounds of violence and shouting from your room.

For years, that violence was a constant weight in your life until he tried to do the same to you. That was your mother’s breaking point. She finally realized she needed to protect you and ended the abusive relationship. However, the scars of that period remained. Those years left deep marks, and any sign of violence was enough to make you relive it all.

Now, with your emotions still raw from the game and the deaths you had witnessed, the fight in front of you felt like the last straw. The loud voices, the sudden movements—it was all too much. You covered your ears with your hands, closed your eyes, and began rocking gently, trying to calm yourself and push away the bad memories that kept flooding in.

Beside you, Hyunju noticed your reaction. Initially confused, she observed closely, trying to understand what was happening. Although she didn’t know exactly what to do, it was clear to her that you were scared, and she hesitated for a moment. Then, carefully, she placed a hand on your shoulder, saying nothing but showing she was there.

— Hey, it’s okay. They won’t hurt you — she said, trying to soothe you with her soft voice, but her attempt didn’t seem to help much. You were still caught in your internal storm, hands pressed to your ears, body trembling. Hyunju looked around, trying to think of what to do until an idea came to her.

— Look at me — she said, and you obeyed, your eyes finally meeting hers. — It’s okay, just breathe, alright?

She noticed a slight relief on your face when one of the players intervened and managed to stop the fight. With the commotion settling, she turned her full attention back to you. — It’s okay, repeat after me — she said, guiding you through breathing exercises. She took deep breaths, and you tried to mimic her, following the rhythm she set. Gradually, your body began to relax, but not enough to completely shake off the weight you felt. You instinctively hugged yourself, seeking comfort, which caught Hyunju’s attention.

— Do you need a hug? — she asked in a calm, careful tone. You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.

— May I hug you? — she asked again, waiting for your permission. Another affirmative nod. Carefully, Hyunju moved closer and wrapped her arms around you—firm yet gentle. Something about her size and the steadiness of her embrace made you feel safer, as though she could shield you from the world.

You nestled into her chest, breathing deeply as small tears slid down your face. The warmth and protection you felt there gave you the comfort you needed to begin recovering from the episode.

— It’s okay now — she whispered, holding you firmly but without pressure, giving you all the time you needed.

— I’m sorry — you murmured, voice muffled, trying to rein in your emotions.

— There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s okay — she replied softly, tightening the hug slightly, a silent reminder that she was there for you without rush or judgment.

— It’s just... so much has happened, and I couldn’t handle it — you said, sadness evident in every word. The weight of your emotions felt overwhelming, as though everything had built up all at once. Hyunju sighed softly, understanding the depth of the situation.

— I understand — she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. — There’s so much pressure here. You’ve just seen so many difficult things, and now this fight... it’s completely understandable. You have nothing to apologize for.

Her words, filled with empathy, eased some of the tension you felt. She didn’t blame you for your reaction, and that gave you a little more freedom to process everything in your own time. Her embrace felt like a silent guarantee that she was there to support you—no rush, no judgment.

Later, when it was time to sleep, she lay down on the bed next to yours, her eyes discreetly watching your movements, a silent promise that she would be there for you if you needed her. Despite her exhaustion, Hyunju couldn’t ignore the strange feeling growing within her: an almost instinctive need to protect you.

As the silence of the night enveloped the room, she reflected on everything that had happened. Tomorrow would be another difficult day, another unpredictable game that would put your lives at risk. But one thing she was certain of: she would stay by your side, no matter what.

#autistic reader #squid game #hyunju x reader #player 120 #hyun ju squid game #Hyunju x Autistic!reader #autistic!fem!reader #Park Sunghoon #Squid game x reader

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alchemagiks · 11 months ago

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these kids having to be their own emotional support... beatrice is way too fucking cold for me.

#❝ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫. : ooc.#mack is watching apt:r.#back when i watched the second game for the first time i thought she got better #but idk something about her seems colder #she still doesn't care enough about amicia for me and the way shes “caring” for hugo rubs me the wrong way too #its like shes mommy up until a certain point and shes trying to fast track to that point HER WAY...#tryna make a sacrifice for the greater good by pushing hugo and allowing fuckin vaudin to do whatever tf to that boy #but like if it were me?? if that were my family? fuck the greater good like sorry not sorry but i dont know them #plus why would you not listen to hugo when he's telling you hes having dreams about an island and a bird who helps him #THIS IS ALL HAPPENING TO HIM #mothers in games make me so... *explodes*

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cheriecoke · 1 year ago

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nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

#this is very silly #i just wanted to get it out of my drafts #i’ve had this thought for a while but #i decided i didn’t want to write a whole drabble so now you get this #kento being inexperienced at dating & not enjoying it is very special to me #and so is him having a cat tehe #selfship coded i suppose bc reader is me but it’s not that obvious i hope #kento 💋 ⋆ ˚｡⋆#nanami x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#jjk x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami x gender neutral reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

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mono-dot-jpeg · 9 days ago

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big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

#squid game x reader #squid game #cho hyunju #cho hyunju x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game season 2 x reader #hyunju x reader #hyun ju x reader

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Second Heart

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Lewis Hamilton x Senna!Reader

Summary: all you’ve ever wanted was to be able to race just like your Papai … no matter the cost (or in which always going for a gap that exists runs in the Senna family)

You sit cross-legged in front of the TV, shoulders hunched, the remote clutched tight in your little hand. The screen crackles, and there he is — Ayrton. Papai. His yellow helmet blazes under the bright afternoon sun, the car flying down the straight, smooth as a bird on water.

Your eyes don’t blink. The sound of engines growls through the speakers, vibrating all the way to your heart. It’s like he’s right there. Alive.

And so fast. So, so fast. You almost feel like you’re in the car with him, that if you close your eyes, you could taste the gasoline and the rubber, the wind whipping across your face.

“Papai …” you whisper, pressing the volume button louder.

Adriane steps into the room, the clink of her bracelets soft but steady. She pauses when she sees you, arms crossed, one hip jutted out.

“I thought you were doing homework.”

You don’t answer, too lost in the footage. The video cuts to a slow-motion shot of Ayrton weaving through the rain, tires spinning in the spray like magic. They call it genius — what he did at Monaco, at Suzuka, at Donington Park. To you, it’s just your Papai being Papai.

“Turn it off.” Your mother’s voice sharpens now. She hates it when you watch these tapes. You’ve heard her say it before, more times than you can count — It’s not healthy. You shouldn’t keep living in the past. But you don’t feel like you’re living in the past. You feel like you’re meeting him for the first time, every time.

“Just five more minutes,” you plead without looking away.

“No.”

“But I-”

“I said no, agora!”

Her tone makes you flinch. The remote slips from your hand onto the floor with a dull thud. But you still can’t tear your eyes from the screen, where Ayrton’s car crosses the finish line, the Brazilian flag draped over his shoulders as the crowd roars. Your heart beats faster. There’s a strange energy in you, like the buzz before a storm. You push yourself up to your knees, your voice small but determined.

“I want to race.”

Adriane’s laugh is immediate and sharp, like glass shattering. “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not being silly!” You twist around to look at her now, the words spilling out. “I wanna race, Mãe! Like Papai!”

Her face changes. The air shifts, heavy and strange. You see it happen — the tightness in her jaw, the way her smile falls away like it was never there.

“No.”

“But-”

“No!” She snaps, louder this time, and it makes you shrink back. “Absolutely not. Never.”

You bite your lip, feeling the burn at the back of your throat. But you don’t stop. Not yet.

“Why not?” You whisper.

Your mother exhales sharply through her nose, as if the question alone is an insult. She crosses the room in two quick strides, crouching down until her face is level with yours. Her hands, delicate but strong, grip your shoulders tighter than usual.

“Because racing is dangerous,” she says, enunciating every word like she’s trying to hammer them into your skull. “Do you understand me? It’s not a game. It took your father from us.”

Her voice wavers on the last sentence, but you don’t care. There’s something stubborn growing in you, something you don’t quite recognize yet.

“Papai loved it.”

“And look where it got him,” she shoots back, her voice sharp as a knife.

You blink, stunned by the words. She’s never said it like that before. She sees your expression — hurt, confused — and her face softens, just for a second.

“Sweetheart …” She sighs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “I know you miss him. I miss him too. Every single day. But I won’t let racing take you away from me.”

“But it won’t-”

“Enough.” Her voice is final, the way grown-ups’ voices get when there’s no more room for argument. “This conversation is over.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. She’s already standing up, brushing invisible dust from her jeans. The TV hums in the background, the commentators babbling about pole positions and podiums.

Adriane snatches the remote from the floor and jabs the power button. The screen goes black, as if Papai never existed at all.

You feel hollow.

Your mother stands there for a moment, the silence thick between you. Then she crouches again, her hands cupping your face this time, thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“Listen to me.” Her voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “I lost your father. I can’t-” She stops, swallows hard. “I can’t lose you too. Okay?”

You don’t nod. You don’t speak. You just stare at her, your little heart breaking in ways you don’t fully understand yet.

“I’m serious,” she whispers, her forehead resting against yours. “No racing. Not ever.”

And then she kisses the top of your head, soft and lingering, as if that alone could erase the conversation, the dream, everything. She walks out of the room, her footsteps fading down the hall.

You sit there for a long time, staring at the blank TV screen, fists clenched in your lap. Your chest feels tight, like something inside you is being squeezed too hard.

You think about Papai. About how he smiled in the cockpit, how the car seemed to dance under his hands, how the crowd chanted his name like a song. He wasn’t afraid.

And neither are you.

You pick up the remote again. Your thumb hovers over the play button, hesitant for just a moment. Then you press it.

The screen flickers back to life, and Ayrton is there, flying through the rain like a miracle.

You smile.

One day, you think.

One day, you’ll race too.

***

The front door clicks shut behind you as you step into the house, dropping your school bag with a heavy thud. You bend down to untie your sneakers, already rehearsing what you’ll tell your mom — how your science project earned a gold star, how you managed to trade a snack with João without getting caught. You have it all planned, down to the way you’ll grin when she offers you that after-school snack.

But as soon as you straighten up, the voices hit you.

Loud. Sharp. Angry.

You freeze, one hand still on your shoelace.

“You have no right — none — to tell me how to raise my daughter!” Your mother’s voice is sharp, like glass breaking. She’s in the living room. You can’t see her from the hallway, but you don’t need to. You can imagine her perfectly — the tight set of her mouth, the way her arms probably cross over her chest.

And then, another voice, familiar in a strange way. Low and hard. “I’m not telling you how to raise her, Adriane. I’m telling you what she told me — how she called me crying because you refuse to let her chase the only thing she’s ever wanted.”

Alain.

Your heart skips. You know him. Everyone knows him. Papai’s fiercest rival — and, in the end, his friend. The man from the stories, from old photographs your mother keeps locked away. Alain, who came to the funeral and cried even when the cameras weren’t on him.

Why is he here?

You step closer, drawn by their words like a thread pulling you tight. You press yourself against the wall and peek around the corner, just enough to see them.

Adriane stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed exactly like you pictured. Her blonde hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, but her face is tight, her jaw locked in anger. Alain stands across from her, looking just as frustrated. His hands move as he talks, fast and insistent, like he’s trying to grab hold of the air between them and shape it into something that makes sense.

“She’s seven!” Your mother snaps, her voice cracking at the edges. “She doesn’t understand what she’s asking for.”

“She understands better than you think,” Alain fires back. “She understands perfectly. She called me in tears — tears, Adriane — because you shut her down without even listening.”

“I listened.” Her voice drops, low and furious. “And I said no.”

Alain scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “You said no because you’re scared.”

Your mother’s eyes flash. “Of course I’m scared! She’s my daughter! You, of all people, should understand-”

“I do understand.” Alain’s voice softens, but only just. “I carried his casket. I watched you cry over him. But that’s exactly why you can’t do this to her.”

Adriane’s face crumples for a split second, so brief you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching so closely. “He’s not here, Alain,” she whispers, and it sounds like a confession and an accusation all at once. “He’s not here to see this, to say if it’s right or wrong. And he’s not here to save her if something goes wrong.”

Alain’s voice drops, steady and determined. “And you think Ayrton would want you to stop her? You think he would want her to live her whole life wrapped in fear because of what happened to him?”

“She’s my child.” Adriane’s voice cracks like a whip, but there’s something desperate underneath it now, like she’s fighting to keep her footing in a conversation she knows she’s already losing. “And I will not lose her.”

Alain’s eyes narrow. “You’re not protecting her. You’re imprisoning her.”

Your mother stares at him, her breath coming fast and uneven. For a moment, everything goes still — so quiet you can hear the ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Then Alain steps forward, his hands on his hips. “If you won’t help her, I will. I’ll teach her to kart myself if I have to.”

Adriane barks out a bitter laugh, but it’s laced with pain. “You can try,” she says, her voice brittle. “But don’t expect me to come watch. I refuse to set foot at a race, and I won’t look at her as long as I know there’s a chance she won’t come back.”

Her words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe. You press yourself harder against the wall, your chest tight with emotions you can’t name.

And that’s when the floor creaks.

Both of them turn at the sound.

“Meu Deus …” your mother whispers, her hands flying to her mouth. “You’re home.”

Alain’s face softens instantly. He kneels down, arms open. “Come here, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then, without thinking, you bolt from your hiding spot and run straight into Alain’s arms. He catches you easily, wrapping you in a hug that feels like safety. Like warmth.

Adriane stands frozen, her hands still over her mouth. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mix of heartbreak and anger and something you don’t fully understand.

Alain pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’ve got a question for you.”

You blink up at him, your heart pounding.

“How would you like to come to Switzerland with me?” His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “You could learn to kart there. I’ll teach you myself. What do you think?”

Your heart races. Switzerland. Karting. Learning to drive. It feels like a dream, one you didn’t even know you could have.

But then you look at your mother.

Adriane’s face is pale, her hands still clutched tight over her mouth like they might stop her from saying something she’ll regret. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and there’s a kind of pain in them that makes your chest ache.

You know what this means to her. You know how much it hurts.

But you also know what it means to you.

You’ve wanted this for as long as you can remember — for as long as you’ve been able to understand what racing is. And here it is, right in front of you. A chance.

You swallow hard and look back at Alain. His expression is kind but serious, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“It’s your choice,” he says quietly. “No one can make it for you.”

You take a deep breath. Your hands shake a little, but you ball them into fists to steady yourself.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

Your mother makes a soft, choked sound — like someone punched all the air out of her.

“Minha filha …” Her voice breaks.

You look at her, and it feels like your heart is splitting in two. “I have to, Mãe.”

She closes her eyes, pressing her hands tighter to her face. For a moment, she just stands there, trembling. Then she drops her hands and wipes her eyes with quick, angry swipes.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice raw and broken. “Okay. Go, then.”

The words sting, sharper than anything you’ve ever felt. But you nod. You have to.

Alain gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “We’ll call every day,” he promises, glancing at Adriane, though she won’t look at him. “Whenever you want.”

Your mother doesn’t answer. She just turns away, her shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on her.

Your heart feels heavy, but there’s something else now too — something lighter. Hope.

You glance up at Alain, and he smiles, soft and warm.

“Switzerland, huh?” You say, trying to sound brave.

Alain chuckles. “Switzerland.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel like you can finally breathe.

***

Life in Switzerland feels like a dream. Every morning, the mountains rise outside your window, peaks dusted in snow even as the spring sun warms the air. The international school Alain enrolled you in is small, the kids friendly. They speak a mix of languages — French, German, Italian — and though it’s strange at first, you like how every word feels like a little puzzle to solve.

But school is just the beginning of your day. The real magic happens afterward.

Every afternoon, Alain picks you up in his car — a sleek, silver Audi with leather seats that always smell faintly like coffee — and takes you straight to the karting track just outside town. There’s a rhythm to your days now: school, then the track, where the scent of gasoline and hot rubber fills the air.

“Come on, petite championne,” Alain says every day as you hop into the kart, the nickname slipping off his tongue with an easy smile. “Let’s see if you can make me proud today.”

The kart rumbles beneath you, a buzz that shoots from your hands to your heart. The moment your foot touches the pedal, the world falls away. The wind rushes against your face, the engine purring with every twist of the wheel.

Here, in the kart, you feel free — like nothing can catch you, not even the pieces of your life that feel too big or too broken to understand.

Alain watches from the sidelines, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his face calm but focused. He takes notes every time you race, shouting tips when you pull up to the pit lane.

“Don’t wait so long to hit the brakes before that hairpin, you lose too much time,” he’ll say. Or, “You’re getting faster through the straights. Don’t get greedy on the corners, though — you’ve got to feel the grip.”

You listen to every word, hungry to learn. And when he grins after you complete a lap, clapping his hands like you just won a Grand Prix, your heart swells.

By the time you drive home, your body hums with exhaustion, but it’s the good kind — the kind that comes from chasing a dream.

And every night, after dinner, there’s dessert.

“Glace au chocolat tonight?” Alain asks one evening, pulling two tubs of chocolate ice cream from the freezer.

You grin. “With whipped cream?”

“Obviously,” Alain replies with mock seriousness. “What kind of barbarian do you take me for?”

He adds a mountain of whipped cream to both bowls, handing one to you before plopping down on the couch with his own.

As always, an old race plays on the TV. Tonight, it’s Monaco — 1988, the race your father dominated, right up until the moment he crashed into the barrier. The screen flickers as the cars glide through the tight streets, their engines howling between the stone walls.

Alain leans back against the couch cushions, spoon in hand. “See that?” He says, pointing at the screen with a mouthful of ice cream. “Your papa’s line through the Swimming Pool section — perfection. Like poetry in motion.”

You tilt your head, studying the way the yellow helmet zips through the narrow chicane. “How did he do it?”

Alain smiles, scooping another spoonful of ice cream. “He just knew. Ayrton could feel the track better than anyone else. It was like … like he was connected to the car in a way no one else could be.”

You lick your spoon thoughtfully. “Did you hate him?”

The question catches Alain off guard. He freezes, then chuckles, shaking his head. “Hate him? No.” He pauses. “Not really, anyway.”

“But you fought a lot.”

“Oh, we fought.” Alain smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye. “He drove me absolutely mad sometimes.”

You giggle. “Why?”

“Because he never gave up. Not even for a second.” Alain gestures toward the TV, where your father’s car rockets through the tunnel. “Ayrton wasn’t just racing other drivers — he was racing himself. Always trying to be faster, better. It was exhausting.”

He says it like a joke, but there’s warmth in his voice, too. You can hear it.

“And that drove you crazy?” You ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it.

Alain laughs, a soft, fond sound. “Completely crazy.”

You curl deeper into the couch, your ice cream bowl balanced on your lap. “But you were friends, right? In the end?”

Alain’s smile fades a little, but it stays, softer now. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “In the end.”

There’s a silence between you, filled only by the hum of the TV and the occasional scrape of your spoons against the bowls.

You glance at Alain, his expression lost somewhere between memory and regret. “Do you miss him?”

Alain looks at you, and for a moment, you’re not sure if he’ll answer. Then he gives a small nod. “Every day.”

You nod, too, even though you didn’t really know your father — at least, not in the way Alain did. But somehow, you miss him all the same.

The race continues on the screen, the cars weaving through the streets of Monaco, chasing the perfect lap.

“You’ll be just like him one day,” Alain says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You blink, surprised. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Alain replies, nudging your shoulder with his. “You’ve got the same fire in you. The same stubbornness, too, I think.”

You laugh, and Alain grins, pleased with himself.

“You just need to tweak your braking,” he adds with a playful smirk. “You brake like me, not like him.”

“Hey!” You protest, shoving his arm lightly.

He chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “What? I’m just saying! Ayrton would fly into corners like a madman. Me? I was always a bit more … sensible.”

“Sensible is boring,” you tease, scooping up the last bit of ice cream.

Alain pretends to be offended, clutching his chest like you’ve wounded him. “Boring? Sensible is what win me four world championships, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.

The credits for the race coverage roll, but neither of you makes a move to turn off the TV. These moments — curled up on the couch with Alain, the scent of whipped cream still in the air — feel like they could stretch forever.

And maybe, just maybe, they do.

***

Four years blur by like the laps on a familiar circuit. Days turn into months, and months into seasons. You grow taller, sharper, and faster. The kart becomes a second skin, every turn and apex something you know instinctively, like breathing. The track is your playground now — your sanctuary.

Alain teaches you everything: not just how to drive but how to think, how to be patient when you need to be and ruthless when the moment calls for it. He tells you about strategy and racecraft, how to listen for the slightest change in the engine’s pitch, how to make yourself invisible in the slipstream until the perfect moment to strike.

Some lessons come easy. Others, not so much. Like when he makes you practice for hours in the rain, your hands frozen, your kart slipping through puddles. Or when you spin out during a practice race and Alain doesn’t even flinch. He just waves his hand in the air.

“Again!” He shouts from the pit lane. “You have to get comfortable with making mistakes, petite. No champion gets there without a few bruises.”

And so you go again. And again. Because this — this dream — is the one thing you want more than anything.

Now, after all those years, the day has finally arrived. You’re old enough to compete in the FIA Karting Championship. This is what you’ve been working toward.

But Alain surprises you one quiet evening at home. No ice cream, no old races on TV — just you and him, sitting across the kitchen table with two mugs of hot tea. His face is serious, but kind.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” he says, tapping his fingers lightly against the mug. “You have a choice to make.”

You lean forward. “What kind of choice?”

Alain tilts his head, his sharp hazel eyes studying you carefully. “Your name.”

You frown. “My name?”

“Yes. You’ve been racing locally for a while, but things are different now.” Alain takes a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts. “The FIA Karting Championship is international. There will be journalists, scouts, team representatives. If you race under your real name, everyone will know exactly who you are.”

You sit back, the weight of what he’s saying slowly sinking in.

“You can use a pseudonym if you want,” Alain continues. “Plenty of drivers do it, especially when they want to build their career on their own terms.”

You blink, caught off guard. You’ve thought a lot about racing — how fast you want to be, how badly you want to win. But this? The idea of hiding your name? It’s a curveball you didn’t see coming.

Alain gives you time to think, his hands wrapped loosely around his mug. “There’s no shame in it, petite,” he says gently. “It’s not about denying who you are. It’s about deciding how you want the world to see you.”

The words hang between you. He’s not pressuring you — Alain never does that — but you can feel the weight of the decision anyway.

You toy with the edge of the mug in front of you, tracing the rim with your fingertip. “Do you think … if I use my real name, people will only see Papai?”

Alain shrugs, but his expression is thoughtful. “Some will. There are people who won’t be able to separate you from Ayrton. They’ll compare you to him before you’ve even taken a proper lap.”

You nod slowly. You’ve known this would happen — how could you not? But hearing it out loud makes it more real.

“At the same time,” Alain adds, “it’s not something to be ashamed of. Ayrton was … well, he was Ayrton. If anyone has the right to be proud of their name, it’s you.”

You bite your lip, the edges of uncertainty fraying inside you. “What would you do?”

Alain smiles softly. “It’s not my decision to make, ma chérie. This is about you. Your future.”

You stare into your tea, watching the steam curl toward the ceiling like tiny ghosts. A part of you aches at the thought of hiding your father’s name — like you’d be denying him, pretending he didn’t matter. But there’s another part, quieter but insistent, that wants to know what it’s like to stand on your own. To earn your place without the shadow of a legend following you everywhere you go.

You tap your fingers against the table, the rhythm matching the beat of an engine in your mind. And then, suddenly, the answer clicks into place.

“I think …” You take a deep breath. “I think I want to use a different name. Just for now.”

Alain raises his eyebrows, curious but approving. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, more certain now. “It’s not because I’m ashamed. I’m not. I want people to know one day. Just … not yet.”

Alain leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s the plan?”

You grin, the excitement building in your chest. “I’ll race under my mother’s last name. And when the time’s right — maybe after I win a few championships — I’ll tell them.”

Alain chuckles, shaking his head. “You think they’ll like the surprise?”

You laugh, a full, bright sound that feels like relief. “Can you imagine their faces?”

Alain grins, clearly amused. “I can already hear the headlines.” He adopts an exaggerated announcer voice: “The karting prodigy who stunned the world by revealing she’s Ayrton Senna’s daughter!”

You burst out laughing, the tension from the conversation melting away. “They’ll lose their minds!”

“And you’ll love every second of it,” Alain adds with a knowing smirk.

You grin, unable to hide the spark of mischief in your eyes. “Maybe a little.”

He shakes his head fondly, ruffling your hair as he stands up from the table. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Comes with the territory,” you say, beaming.

Alain gathers the empty mugs and places them in the sink, still chuckling to himself. “Well, I think it’s a smart choice. Gives you time to find your own rhythm.”

You nod, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Yeah. It feels right.”

Alain leans against the counter, crossing his arms as he looks at you. There’s pride in his eyes — quiet, steady, and unmistakable. “Your papa would’ve been proud of you, too,” he says softly.

Your throat tightens, but you smile through it. “Thanks, Alain.”

He nods once, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on,” he says, nudging his head toward the living room. “Let’s celebrate with some dessert. I think we’ve got tarte au citron in the fridge.”

You follow him, your heart light and your steps easy. The road ahead is still long — there will be races, wins, and losses. But for the first time, it feels like it’s yours to drive.

And that? That’s the best feeling in the world.

***

The drive from Switzerland to Imola is quiet. You sit with your thoughts, the hum of the engine beneath you and the road stretching endlessly ahead. Alain offered to come with you, but you declined. This is something you need to do alone.

It’s not that you didn’t want his company, it’s just … how do you explain to someone — even someone who knew your father so well — that you need to meet this place on your own terms?

For eighteen years, you told yourself you weren’t ready. Maybe you never would be. But here you are, taking deep breaths as you steer your way closer to the circuit where it all ended. Where everything about your life changed before it even really began.

When you finally arrive, the gates to the Imola track feel strangely peaceful, nestled under a canopy of autumn leaves. The air is crisp, and the sky is that soft, pale blue you only get in early fall. You park the car and head toward the Ayrton Senna memorial, your footsteps crunching through the leaves littering the path.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your pulse loud in your ears. You try to steel yourself — this is just a monument, just a place. You’ve been to a thousand race tracks in your life. But this one is different. This one holds pieces of someone you never got the chance to know.

As you approach the monument, you expect silence. You expect to be alone. But then you notice someone sitting there — another figure crouched near the bronze statue of your father.

The man shifts, startled by the sound of your footsteps on the gravel. His head turns, and you recognize him almost immediately.

It’s Lewis Hamilton.

He blinks up at you, clearly not expecting company either. There’s a moment of awkwardness, both of you standing there, caught off guard in a place meant for solitude.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry,” you say softly. ��I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Lewis waves off the apology, his face softening. “No, no. You’re not bothering me.” He pulls himself up a little straighter, brushing leaves from his jacket. “I always stop by here before Monza. Helps me … I don’t know. Reset.”

You nod, unsure what else to say. There’s something strange about seeing him here — Lewis Hamilton, one of the biggest names in motorsport, sitting quietly in front of your father’s monument like he’s just another fan.

“I came for the same reason,” you admit. “I’m Brazilian. Wanted to pay my respects.”

At that, something shifts in Lewis’ expression — understanding, maybe. “You’re Brazilian?” He repeats, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That explains it. Every Brazilian racer I know carries Senna with them like … well, like a second heart.”

You laugh softly, kicking a stray leaf with your shoe. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Lewis shifts, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks back at the monument. The wind stirs the leaves around your feet, scattering them across the ground.

“He’s always been my hero,” Lewis murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Even before I really understood what racing was, I just … knew he was special.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze fixed on the familiar features of the bronze effigy — your father’s intense, focused expression captured in metal. It’s strange, standing here with someone who feels the same reverence you’ve always felt but never quite known how to express.

Lewis glances at you again. “What do you race?” He asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

You tuck your hands into your jacket pockets. “Formula Renault 3.5.”

His eyebrows lift, clearly impressed. “That’s a serious series.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool, though there’s a flicker of pride in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been good so far.”

“Good enough to think about Formula 1 one day?” Lewis asks, a knowing smile on his face.

You grin. “That’s the plan.”

He chuckles, the sound warm in the cool air. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for you. What’s your name?”

For a split second, you hesitate. But you remind yourself — he doesn’t need to know everything. Not yet. “Just … Y/N,” you say casually. “For now.”

Lewis tilts his head, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but he doesn’t press. “Y/N. Got it.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to fill the silence. But it’s not uncomfortable — just … quiet.

“You said you come here every year?” You ask after a moment.

“Before Monza, yeah,” Lewis confirms. “It’s become sort of a ritual. Helps me feel grounded, I guess. Reminds me why I do this.”

You nod, understanding more than you expected to. There’s something about this place — this simple, quiet memorial — that strips everything else away. The politics, the pressure, the noise. It leaves only the pure love of racing behind.

Lewis stands then, brushing dirt from his pants. “Well,” he says, “I should probably get going. Got a long weekend ahead.”

You nod, though part of you wishes you had a little more time to talk to him. There’s something easy about the way he carries himself — no arrogance, no pretense. Just a racer who loves what he does.

Lewis glances at the monument one last time, his gaze lingering on your father’s face. “He would’ve loved to see how many of us still race because of him,” he says quietly.

Your throat tightens, but you manage a small smile. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

He gives you a nod, something warm and reassuring in his expression. “Take care, Y/N. I’ll be watching.”

With that, he turns and walks down the path, his footsteps crunching through the leaves. You watch him go, the wind stirring around you again, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and autumn.

For a long moment, you stay there, standing in front of the monument, just you and the bronze figure of your father. You don’t say anything — there’s nothing that needs to be said. But in the quiet, you feel a strange sense of peace.

Maybe it’s the years of racing, the laps you’ve turned, the lessons you’ve learned. Or maybe it’s just knowing that people like Lewis exist — people who carry your father’s spirit with them, even though they never knew him.

You brush a hand over the cool surface of the monument, tracing the edge of the plaque with your fingers. “I’m gonna make you proud,” you whisper.

And this time, you believe it.

The wind picks up again as you turn away from the monument, heading back toward the car. Monza is waiting. And so is the rest of your story.

***

The paddock feels like a world unto itself — buzzing with life, engines roaring in the distance, team personnel hurrying from garages to pit walls.

You’re barely a day into your first GP2 weekend with DAMS, and it’s already overwhelming. The DAMS crew is friendly but businesslike, and the constant stream of engineers, mechanics, and journalists passing by your garage is a reminder that you’ve officially stepped onto the big stage.

Your heart pounds as you adjust the collar of your race suit, nerves crawling under your skin. You spent the morning doing seat fittings, debriefs, and media duties, but now you’re finally free for a few minutes before the next round of meetings.

Alain walks beside you, calm and collected as ever, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He’s been like a steady lighthouse in the chaos of this new chapter, guiding you through the storm with quiet assurance.

“Remember,” Alain says as you both weave through the paddock, “it’s just another race. Keep your focus. Don’t let the noise get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” you mutter, scanning the sea of faces for anyone familiar — or anyone dangerous, like a journalist with too many questions.

Alain smirks knowingly. “That’s why you have me.”

You can’t help but grin, a flicker of relief easing the tension in your chest. Alain’s been by your side for so long now that the idea of navigating a race weekend without him feels unthinkable.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot someone you weren’t expecting: Lewis.

He’s walking toward the McLaren motorhome, surrounded by team personnel and a PR officer trailing closely behind, clipboard in hand. You see the moment recognition flickers in his eyes — he stops mid-step, gaze locking on you like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“Y/N?” He calls, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Alain glances sideways at you, bemused, but you can’t help the small, slightly guilty smile tugging at your lips. You wave at Lewis, feeling a little awkward but genuinely happy to see him.

Lewis strides over, his PR officer groaning softly but trailing after him anyway. “I thought I’d see you around here eventually,” Lewis says with a grin. “Didn’t think it would be so soon.”

You shrug, playing it casual. “Surprise.”

His eyes flick to Alain, standing quietly beside you. “And you … know Alain Prost?”

Alain raises a polite eyebrow, but there’s an amused glint in his eye, as if waiting to see how you’ll answer this one.

You shift on your feet, aware of Lewis’ confusion. “Yeah, he’s … been my mentor for years.” You keep your explanation vague, not ready to drop the full truth just yet.

Lewis frowns slightly, processing the unexpected connection. “You’ve been working with Alain Prost?”

You nod. “Since I was a kid.”

Lewis lets out a low whistle, looking between the two of you with new appreciation. “Wow. That explains a lot.”

Before you can respond, his PR officer steps in, clipboard clutched tightly in one hand. “Lewis, we really need to-”

Lewis waves her off without breaking eye contact with you. “Five more minutes. It’s fine.”

The woman hesitates, then sighs in frustration and backs away to give him space. Lewis turns his full attention back to you, his easy grin returning.

“So, GP2, huh?” He asks, hands on his hips. “How’s it feel to finally be here?”

“Terrifying,” you admit with a laugh. “But also kind of amazing.”

“That’s how you know you’re in the right place,” Lewis says, his tone encouraging. “The nerves mean you care.”

Alain watches the exchange quietly, and you can tell he’s measuring Lewis, sizing him up — not in a competitive way, but in that protective way he’s always had with you. It’s subtle, but you know Alain well enough to see it.

“I’ll make sure to catch the feature race,” Lewis promises, his grin widening. “I’ll be cheering you on.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to show how much that means to you. “Oh yeah? You sure you have time to slum it with us junior drivers?”

Lewis laughs, genuinely amused. “Come on, now. I started in GP2, remember? I know exactly how tough it is.”

“Guess I’ll have to put on a good show, then.”

“You better,” Lewis says, mock-serious. “Otherwise I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

The two of you share a quick, easy laugh, and for a moment the chaos of the paddock fades into the background. It’s just two drivers, standing in the middle of it all, sharing a moment of understanding.

“You’re going to crush it,” Lewis adds, his voice low and certain.

Something in his tone makes you believe it — makes the nerves that have been simmering all day settle, if only for a moment.

Alain clears his throat softly, a reminder that time is ticking. “We need to get back to the team,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

Lewis nods, taking the hint but not before offering you one last smile. “Good luck, Y/N. I’ll see you out there.”

You return the smile, feeling lighter than you have all day. “Thanks, Lewis.”

He gives Alain a respectful nod before turning to leave, his McLaren team falling into step around him as he disappears into the paddock.

As you watch him go, Alain leans in slightly, his voice quiet but laced with amusement. “Friend of yours?”

You smirk, still watching Lewis disappear into the crowd. “Something like that.”

Alain chuckles, and the sound is warm, familiar — like the engine note of a car you’ve driven a thousand times.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your shoulder gently. “We have work to do.”

You follow Alain back toward the DAMS garage, the nerves still there but tempered now with something else — excitement, anticipation, maybe even a little confidence.

Because this is your moment. Your chance to show the world what you can do. And with people like Alain and Lewis in your corner, you know you’re not facing it alone.

***

The Bahrain sun beats down relentlessly, the heat pressing against your skin even through your race suit. Sweat clings to your brow, mixing with the overwhelming, heady cocktail of fuel, rubber, and victory. You’re breathless, exhausted — but none of that matters.

You did it. You won.

The feature race trophy feels almost weightless in your hands as you stand on the podium, the sound of the Brazilian anthem thundering in your ears. The cameras flash, the crowd cheers, and for the first time since you entered GP2, you allow yourself to savor the moment. You close your eyes for a second, letting the anthem sink deep into your bones, and think of your father.

When the rose water sprays, it feels like you’ve broken through a barrier — proof to yourself and to the world that you belong here. That you’re not just someone chasing the shadow of a name, but a racer in your own right.

The post-race chaos is a blur — interviews, debriefs, more interviews. It’s not until you’re finally allowed to step away from the DAMS garage, damp with sweat and floral liquid, that the realization hits you again: you won your first GP2 race. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath it, there’s a quiet hum of contentment.

You round the corner of the paddock, searching for a quiet moment to collect yourself — when a familiar voice calls your name.

“Y/N!”

You turn, and there he is: Lewis, dressed casually in his McLaren team kit, that signature grin stretched across his face. His eyes are bright under the paddock lights, and his presence feels like a cool breeze against the heat of Bahrain.

Before you can say anything, he’s already jogging up to you, wrapping you in a quick, spontaneous hug. The smell of his cologne lingers in the air between you — spicy and warm, like cedar and citrus.

“That was incredible!” Lewis says, pulling back to look at you. “Seriously, you drove like a pro out there.”

You grin, still catching your breath. “You saw the whole race?”

“Of course I did.” He says it like it’s obvious, as if there was no way he could have missed it. “I told you I’d be cheering you on, didn’t I?”

“Guess I didn’t disappoint, then,” you say, teasing.

“Not even a little.” His grin softens into something warmer, more personal.

The way he looks at you — like he’s genuinely proud — makes your chest tighten, but not in a bad way. It’s strange, but comforting, the way he’s here, grounding you in the whirlwind of it all.

“Come on,” Lewis says, gesturing toward the paddock hospitality area. “You deserve a proper celebration. We’ll grab something to drink, at least — water, preferably, because you look like you’re about to melt.”

You laugh. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m not passing out just yet.”

“Still,” he insists, walking beside you. “Gotta take care of the winner, right?”

You follow him, your steps lighter than they’ve felt all weekend. It’s easy with Lewis — talking, walking, just existing in the same space. You can’t tell if it’s the lingering buzz of the win or something else entirely, but there’s a sense of ease between you that you haven’t felt with anyone in a long time.

He leads you to one of the quieter corners of the paddock, where a small group of McLaren personnel are relaxing. Lewis grabs two water bottles from a nearby cooler and tosses one your way.

“Catch.”

You catch it easily, the cool plastic a relief against your palm. “Thanks.”

Lewis leans against the back of a chair, his posture relaxed, but there’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “So … how does it feel?”

“To win?” You twist the cap off your bottle and take a sip. “Like … I don’t know. Like I can finally breathe again.”

He nods, like he knows exactly what you mean. “First win’s always special. But there’ll be more. I can feel it.”

You tilt your head, amused. “You think you’re a psychic now?”

Lewis chuckles. “Nope. Just good at spotting talent.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no denying the warmth his words spark inside you. You glance away for a moment, trying to shake the strange flutter in your chest.

“So,” he says after a beat, “what’s next? A second win in Spain?”

“I mean, that’d be nice,” you say, grinning. “But I’ll settle for finishing with all my wheels intact.”

“Good plan,” Lewis agrees, laughing. “That track’s a nightmare.”

The conversation drifts easily from there, flowing from racing to random paddock gossip to stories from his early days in GP2. You’re both standing close — closer than two people probably need to stand. But it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact, it feels … nice.

He pauses for a second, watching you with that thoughtful expression he gets sometimes, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on beneath the surface.

“You’re really something, you know that?” He says softly, almost like it’s just for you to hear.

The words catch you off guard, and you feel your cheeks warm under the intensity of his gaze.

“Just doing my best,” you say, trying to play it off, but your voice sounds quieter than you intended.

Lewis’ eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and there’s a flicker of something between you — something unspoken, but not unwelcome.

Before either of you can say anything more, a loud cheer erupts from a nearby group of mechanics, jolting you both back to the present. You laugh, the moment slipping away like sand through your fingers.

“Guess the celebration’s already started,” you say, motioning toward the rowdy crowd.

Lewis grins. “Looks like it. You coming?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t want to celebrate, but because part of you likes this quiet bubble you and Lewis have found.

“I think I might stay here for a bit,” you say, leaning against the wall and taking another sip of water.

Lewis doesn’t move to leave. Instead, he stays where he is, like maybe he feels the same pull to stay in this moment, too.

“You know,” he says after a beat, his voice low and a little more serious, “I meant what I said earlier. About you being something special.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s no teasing in his expression now — just quiet sincerity.

“Thanks,” you say softly, the word not nearly enough to convey what you’re feeling.

He holds your gaze for a second longer, then gives you a small, crooked smile. “Guess I’ll just have to keep watching and see what you do next.”

“Guess so.”

And just like that, the air shifts between you — charged with possibility, like the moment before a green flag drops.

You don’t know what’s coming next, but for the first time in a long time, you’re not afraid of it. Not when Lewis is standing here, smiling at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world.

And somehow, you think, this might just be the start of something worth chasing.

***

It’s late in the evening, and the Monaco paddock has fallen into a rare lull. The energy of race day — mechanics scrambling, journalists hounding drivers, engines screaming — has settled into a quiet hum. Most people have retreated to their yachts or hotel rooms by now, leaving only the occasional team member wandering through the maze of garages and hospitality areas.

You sit with Lewis on the edge of the harbor, the two of you tucked away from prying eyes. The water laps gently against the docks, and the principality’s golden lights reflect across the surface like scattered coins. Neither of you say anything for a while, content to let the quiet fill the spaces between you.

It’s been like this more often lately — stolen moments between races, conversations that drift into the small hours of the morning, and the unspoken pull that keeps you near each other, even when there’s no real reason to be.

Lewis shifts beside you, resting his forearms on his knees. “You ever just sit somewhere and wonder how the hell you got here?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You glance at him, the glow of the streetlights catching the sharp angles of his face. “All the time.”

He gives a small laugh, running a hand over his braids. “Monaco’s something else, isn’t it?”

You nod, hugging your knees to your chest. “Feels like the kind of place people dream about … like it’s not even real.”

He looks over at you then, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Not sure what’s real sometimes.”

There’s something heavy in his voice, something unspoken. And for the first time tonight, the quiet between you doesn’t feel as comfortable. It feels loaded, like you’re both waiting for the other to say something neither of you know how to say.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You okay?”

Lewis exhales slowly, glancing out over the water. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

He hesitates, like he’s not sure how to begin. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately … about the future. About what I want, and where I want to be.”

You shift closer to him, sensing that this isn’t just idle talk. “What do you mean?”

He leans back on his hands, staring at the water like it might hold the answer. “I’ve been with McLaren my whole career. Since I was a kid. But … I don’t know. Lately, it feels like I’m stuck. Like I’ve hit a wall.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

He looks at you then, and there’s something raw in his expression — something vulnerable. “I’ve decided to leave McLaren at the end of the season. I’m signing with Mercedes.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unexpected. You blink, trying to process what he just said. “Mercedes?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“But … McLaren’s your home.”

Lewis shrugs, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. “It was. But things change. And if I don’t take this chance now … I think I’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

You stare at him, your mind spinning. “Do people know yet?”

He shakes his head. “Not many. Just a few people on the team. I wanted to tell you before it got out, though.”

You chew on your bottom lip, absorbing the weight of his words. “That’s a big decision, Lewis.”

“I know.” He looks at you, his gaze steady. “But it feels like the right one. Even if it’s scary as hell.”

You let out a breath, feeling a strange mix of emotions — pride, worry, something you can’t quite name. “Well … if it’s what you want, I guess it’s the right move.”

He smiles, but it’s a small, almost hesitant thing. “Thanks.”

The silence stretches between you again, but this time it feels different. Like something has shifted — not just because of what he said, but because of the way he’s looking at you now.

“You’ve been there for me a lot lately,” he says softly. “I don’t think I’ve said how much that means to me.”

Your heart beats a little faster. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me.” His voice is low, and there’s something in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

He shifts slightly closer, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, the subtle brush of his shoulder against yours.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look up at him, and the world seems to narrow down to just this — just the two of you, sitting on the edge of the harbor, the night air thick with something electric.

And then, slowly — almost hesitantly — he leans in.

For a split second, you think about pulling away, about the million reasons why this might not be a good idea. But before you can overthink it, his lips brush against yours.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away. But when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

It’s not the kind of kiss that demands anything — it’s the kind that promises everything.

When you finally pull back, your heart is racing, and your mind feels like it’s spinning in a thousand different directions.

Lewis looks at you, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admits, his breath warm against your skin.

You smile, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disbelief. “Yeah?”

He nods, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you move, caught in the quiet aftermath of the kiss. The world around you feels distant, like it’s just the two of you, floating in your own little bubble.

Finally, Lewis pulls back slightly, though his hand lingers on your face. “So … what now?”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound light and easy. “I have no idea.”

He grins, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your chest feel warm. “Guess we’ll figure it out, then.”

You nod, your heart still racing. “Yeah. I guess we will.”

And somehow, even though nothing feels certain — his future, your career, whatever this thing is between you — there’s a strange sense of peace in the not knowing.

Because whatever happens next, you know you’ll face it together.

***

The air in the McLaren garage is thick with anticipation. Cameras are set up, media personnel are adjusting their equipment, and there’s a palpable buzz in the air as the press conference prepares to start. You stand just behind the curtain, your heart racing. You can hear the hum of voices in the room beyond, reporters murmuring to one another, waiting for the big reveal.

The past few months have felt like a whirlwind — a blur of contract negotiations, meetings with McLaren’s team principal, and the quiet, creeping excitement of finally getting the chance to do what you’ve always dreamed of. But now that the moment is here, the weight of it is settling in. You’re not just about to become the first woman in F1 in decades, you’re about to step into the spotlight as Ayrton Senna’s daughter.

You take a deep breath, glancing down at the McLaren-branded polo shirt you’re wearing, the crisp fabric somehow making everything feel more real. This is happening. After all the years of hard work, all the sacrifices, you’re about to make history.

Alain stands beside you, his face calm, but his hand on your shoulder is firm and reassuring. “You ready?” He asks, his voice low, but steady.

You nod, swallowing down the nerves. “I think so.”

“Just remember why you’re doing this,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “This is about you. Not your father. Not anyone else. You.”

You offer him a small smile. Alain’s always been good at grounding you, at reminding you that you’ve earned this, regardless of who your father was. He’s been there through it all — your highs and lows, your victories and failures. And now, here he is, standing beside you as you take this monumental step.

The curtains part, and the team principal, Martin Whitmarsh, steps onto the stage. The room quiets as he approaches the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us today,” he begins, his voice carrying through the room. “It’s not often we get to announce something of this magnitude. Today, McLaren is proud to welcome a new driver to our team for the 2013 season. Not only will she be the first woman to compete in Formula 1 in over 20 years, but she’s also someone with a legacy that speaks for itself.”

There’s a murmur of curiosity from the crowd, and you know the moment is coming. The reveal. The truth that you’ve kept hidden, even from the people closest to you.

“Please join me in welcoming, Y/N Senna.”

The sound of your name, followed by your father’s, echoes through the room like a ripple of shock. For a brief moment, there’s stunned silence. Then, the cameras start flashing, the murmurs turn into a roar, and all eyes are on you.

You step onto the stage, trying to steady your breath. The weight of the announcement, of who you are, feels heavier than you expected. But you push through, meeting the gaze of the journalists, the photographers, the team members standing off to the side. You can’t see him from here, but you know Alain is watching from the wings, his quiet support steadying you.

Whitmarsh continues speaking, but the words blur together as your mind races. It’s not until you hear the murmured whispers in the back of the room that your attention snaps back.

“Senna?”

“Ayrton’s daughter?”

“Why didn’t anyone know?”

As the press conference wraps up, and you’re led off stage, the questions start flooding in. Journalists swarm, desperate for a quote, for more insight into the mystery that you’ve kept hidden for so long.

But before you can respond to any of them, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Y/N.”

You freeze, your heart dropping. You know that voice. You turn slowly, and there he is — Lewis, standing just a few feet away, his face unreadable.

The PR team tries to shuffle you away, but you shake them off, making your way over to him. “Lewis …”

He cuts you off, his expression dark. “You’ve been racing for all these years, and you never thought to tell me? Not once?”

The sting of his words catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond, but he continues, his voice low but sharp. “I thought we were close. I thought we were-” He stops, running a hand over his face. “You let me fall for you, and you didn’t even tell me who you really are.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. “Lewis, it wasn’t like that-”

“Wasn’t it?” He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours, hurt and confusion written all over his face. “I get it, okay? You didn’t want people to treat you differently because of your name. But me? I thought we were past that.”

“I didn’t want to use my father’s name to get ahead,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I wanted to make a name for myself, first. And I didn’t tell you because … because I didn’t want it to change how you saw me.”

“Well, it’s changed everything now,” he snaps, his voice tight with anger. “I thought I knew you, but clearly, I didn’t.”

You take a step back, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. “Lewis, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Didn’t mean to hurt me? You’re Ayrton Senna’s daughter, and you never even mentioned it once. How could you keep something like that from me?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “I didn’t want it to come between us.”

“Well, it has,” he says, his voice quieter now, but still laced with pain. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

You stare at him, your chest tightening. The distance between you feels insurmountable now, like a chasm that you don’t know how to cross.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Lewis looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening slightly, but the hurt still lingers in his eyes. “I need some time,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I just … I need to figure this out.”

You nod, the tears finally spilling over. “Okay.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart heavy and your world spinning.

As you watch him go, you can’t help but wonder if things will ever be the same between you.

***

The air at Imola is still. The late-summer heat clings to your skin, and the only sounds around you are the distant hum of cicadas and the soft crunch of leaves underfoot as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You stare at the stone memorial, the bronze relief of your father’s face, the flowers people have left here over the years. Some are wilted, some fresh. There’s even a small Brazilian flag tucked against the base.

You exhale slowly, your hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your jacket. It’s been exactly a year since you first stood here, heart in your throat, hoping to find some kind of connection, some kind of clarity. The weight of the past year presses down on you now — signing with McLaren, the media frenzy, the fallout with Lewis.

And Papai. Always Papai.

You kneel, brushing a hand over the smooth stone, fingers tracing the engraved letters. “I made it,” you whisper. “I’m almost there.” Your voice catches on the words, a lump forming in your throat. “I wish you were here to see it.”

You close your eyes, trying to imagine what he’d say if he were standing beside you. Maybe he’d be proud. Maybe he’d tell you to push harder, go faster, never settle. Or maybe he’d tell you to slow down, to find a way to reconnect with your mother before it’s too late. But he’s not here. That’s the problem, isn’t it?

A soft rustling sound pulls you from your thoughts. Footsteps, deliberate but hesitant, approach from behind, crunching through the dry leaves scattered on the ground. You turn, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Lewis.

He’s wearing a hoodie, hands tucked into the front pocket, his brows peeking out from beneath a baseball cap. He stops a few feet away, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. There’s something guarded in his expression, but there’s warmth there, too.

You straighten slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. “What are you doing here?”

Lewis shrugs, his gaze flickering to the memorial and back to you. “Monza’s coming up. Thought I’d stop by first … like I always do.”

The tension between you feels like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence stretching out like a canyon.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” you finally say, your voice quieter than you intended.

He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I didn’t think I’d see you here, either.”

You bite your lip, looking away toward the memorial. “I needed to. Before the race. I … I haven’t been here since last year.”

Lewis shifts, the soft scrape of his shoes against the ground. “I remember.”

The air feels heavy between you, thick with all the things you haven’t said to each other. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, but they feel tangled, impossible to untangle without breaking.

Lewis is the first to speak again, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what happened. About everything.”

You swallow hard, your hands clenching into fists in your pockets. “Me too.”

“I was angry,” Lewis admits. “Hurt, too. But … I get it now. Why you didn’t tell me.”

His words catch you off guard, and you glance at him, surprised. “You do?”

He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know what it’s like to feel like you have to prove yourself, like the world’s already decided who you are before you even get a chance to show them. I just … I wish you’d trusted me with it.”

“I wanted to,” you say, your voice cracking slightly. “I did. But … it’s complicated.” You look down, kicking at a stray leaf with your shoe. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure out how to be his daughter without being defined by it. And now … now it’s all out there.”

Lewis steps closer, closing the gap between you. “You’re not just his daughter, Y/N. You’re you. And that’s who I fell for.”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten. You blink quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. They spill over anyway, and you wipe at them angrily with the sleeve of your jacket.

“It’s not just about the name,” you whisper. “Racing … it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But it’s also what took me away from my mom.” You take a shaky breath, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She can’t even look at me without seeing him. I haven’t had a real conversation with her in years. The last time we talked was my birthday. And it was just a two-minute call.”

Lewis’ face softens, and he reaches out, gently brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, sniffing quietly. “It’s not your fault. It’s just … hard, you know? I love racing, but it feels like it’s cost me everything else.”

He takes another step closer, his hand lingering on your cheek. “You’ve got me,” he murmurs.

You look up at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Do I?”

He smiles softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Yeah. You do.”

The world feels like it tilts for a moment, everything narrowing down to just the two of you standing here, beneath the shadow of your father’s memory. And before you can think too hard about it, before the doubts can creep in, you lean in, closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft at first — tentative, like neither of you wants to break the fragile peace that’s settled between you. But then his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens, the weight of everything unsaid dissolving in the warmth of his touch.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other.

“I missed you,” Lewis whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“I missed you, too,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away.

Eventually, Lewis pulls back slightly, his hand still cradling the back of your neck. “So … what now?”

You smile, a small, genuine smile that feels like the first one in a long time. “Now … we go win at Monza.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Damn right we will.”

You laugh softly, the sound light and free, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts.

As you stand there, hand in hand with Lewis, you glance back at the memorial one last time. “I think he’d be happy,” you say quietly.

Lewis squeezes your hand gently. “I know he would.”

And just like that, the knot in your chest loosens. You’re still Ayrton Senna’s daughter. But you’re also yourself. And that? That feels like enough.

***

The crowd roars so loudly that it feels like the earth itself is shaking. São Paulo is electric, the grandstands packed with people draped in green and yellow, waving flags, and chanting. You’ve been in big races before, stood on podiums, and tasted victory. But this … this is different.

This is Interlagos. This is home. And for the first time in your career, you’re leading an F1 race in front of your people.

“Alright, Y/N,” your engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “Five laps to go. Everything looks good on the telemetry. Just bring her home.”

Your heart pounds against your chest as you navigate the tight curves of the circuit. Every bump, every rise, every dip feels familiar. You’ve studied this track since you were a child. This is where your father was a legend — and now, it’s where you can make your own history.

The tires hum beneath you, vibrations pulsing through your hands and feet. The sky is dark with heavy clouds threatening rain, but the track is still dry, for now. Behind you, Sebastian Vettel is chasing hard in second place, his Red Bull a glimmer in your mirrors, but you don’t think about him. Not now. This is about you. About crossing that finish line first.

Four laps. Then three. Every second feels like an eternity. You can hear the crowd over the sound of the engine, their voices rising every time you fly past the grandstands. “SENNA! SENNA!” they chant, over and over, as if your name — your real name — was always meant to be called alongside your father’s.

“Two laps, Y/N. Gap to Vettel is two seconds. Stay focused.”

Your grip tightens on the wheel. You shift gears, your mind and body moving in perfect sync with the machine around you. The wind whistles past your helmet as you race up the hill toward the final turn.

On the final lap, it starts to drizzle — just enough to slick the track and make things dangerous. Your car twitches as the tires search for grip.

“Be careful, Y/N,” your engineer warns. “You’ve got this. Just stay calm.”

You breathe in. Breathe out. And then the chequered flag waves ahead of you, and the world explodes into color and sound.

“P1, Y/N! P1! You’ve won the Brazilian Grand Prix!” Your engineer’s voice is hoarse with excitement. “That was incredible — you just won at home!”

Your heart leaps as tears spring to your eyes. You punch the air, screaming into the radio, not caring who hears. “YES! YES! WE DID IT!”

The car coasts into parc fermé, the engine humming its final notes as you switch it off. You rip off your gloves and helmet, letting the cool air hit your damp face. The grandstands are still shaking with the cheers of thousands. Your name — Senna — is on every banner, every poster, and every fan’s lips.

You climb out of the car, adrenaline still surging through your veins, and jump onto the chassis. The crowd roars even louder as you throw your fists into the air, pointing toward the sky. The thought flashes through your mind: This one’s for you, Papai.

You jump down and make your way to the barriers where your team waits, already celebrating with hugs, fist bumps, and slaps on the back. You push through the throng of mechanics, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. And that’s when you see her.

Among the sea of McLaren team uniforms, standing stiffly with her arms wrapped around herself, is your mother.

Your steps falter for a moment, shock flooding through you. She’s here. She’s really here. You blink, wondering if the tears in your eyes are playing tricks on you, but no — there she is. Adriane.

She’s thinner than you remember, her hair streaked with more silver now. She looks out of place among the mechanics, but she’s here. Her eyes, so much like your own, are filled with something you haven’t seen in years — pride. And something more. Regret.

For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or run the other way. Then her face crumples, and she takes a tentative step forward, her arms reaching for you like she used to when you were small.

That’s all it takes. You close the distance in an instant, throwing yourself into her arms.

“Mãe!” The word leaves your mouth in a sob, and before you know it, you’re both crying, clutching each other like you’re afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into your hair, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, minha filha. I was wrong. I should’ve-”

You shake your head against her shoulder, holding her tighter. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

She pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands like she used to when you were little. “I didn’t think I could do it,” she admits, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so afraid I’d lose you too. But then … then I watched you out there today.” Her voice cracks, and she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “And I saw him. I saw Ayrton. But more than that, I saw you. My daughter.”

You can’t speak — your throat feels too tight, and the tears won’t stop. So you just nod, leaning into her touch as the noise of the paddock fades into the background.

Adriane pulls you back into a hug, and for the first time in years, you let yourself feel it — the warmth, the love, the mother you thought you’d lost. And somehow, standing here with her in your arms, it feels like you’ve come full circle.

After a long moment, she pulls back and wipes her tears, a shaky laugh escaping her. “Look at us. Crying like fools.”

You laugh too, sniffling as you wipe your own face. “It’s okay. It’s a good day to cry.”

A voice cuts through the noise — your team calling you for the podium ceremony. You glance over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment settle on you. You turn back to your mother, hesitant. “Will you stay?”

She smiles, her eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You nod, squeezing her hand one last time before you let go and jog toward the podium. The crowd’s roar is deafening as you step up to the top step, your name flashing on the giant screens around the circuit. The Brazilian flag rises slowly, and as the national anthem plays, you close your eyes and let the moment wash over you.

It feels like home. It feels like peace. It feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Later, after the champagne has been sprayed and the trophies have been handed out, you find Lewis waiting for you in the paddock, a grin stretching across his face.

“Not bad, Senna,” he teases, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “Not bad yourself, Hamilton.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, the chaos of the paddock swirling around you, but all you can feel is the steady beat of his heart against yours.

“Your dad would be proud,” Lewis murmurs, his voice soft in your ear.

You smile, closing your eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think he would be.”

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, casting the apartment in soft golds and pinks. You let yourself in quietly, the cool metal of the front door clicking shut behind you. Training was brutal today — your arms ache, and every muscle feels like it’s been wrung out. All you want is to find Lewis, maybe curl up on the couch together and recover with some takeaway.

You kick off your sneakers, already untying the knot in your ponytail, when you hear voices from the living room. You pause mid-step.

Lewis is talking to someone — no, two people. You creep forward on silent feet, heart quickening as the voices grow clearer.

“-I love her more than anything,” Lewis says, his voice low but certain. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Your breath catches. You flatten yourself against the wall, just out of sight. It feels like you’ve stepped into some kind of dream, one where the pieces of your life are rearranging themselves into something both surreal and perfect.

Then you hear your mother’s voice — gentler than it used to be, softened by time and the walls you’ve slowly chipped away.

“You want my blessing?” Adriane says, her words slow, as if she’s tasting them, feeling their weight.

“I do,” Lewis replies. “I wanted to ask both of you. It felt right.”

Both of them? You inch closer, daring to peek around the corner. And there they are — Lewis, sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, looking more serious than you’ve ever seen him. Across from him sit your mother and Alain, side by side like a pair of mismatched bookends.

Alain leans back, arms folded, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s trying not to smile. “You realize what you’re getting into?” He asks dryly. “She’s more stubborn than Ayrton ever was.”

Lewis chuckles, but it’s a little nervous. “Yeah, I know.”

Adriane tilts her head, studying him like she’s trying to see through to his soul. “And if she says no?”

Lewis’ face softens, a quiet kind of love settling into his expression. “Then I’ll still be with her. Because I don’t need her to marry me to know she’s it for me.”

Something cracks open inside you. It feels like standing on the podium in Brazil all over again — overwhelming and humbling and impossibly full. You press a hand to your mouth, as if that will steady the emotion threatening to spill over.

Your mother leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. There’s a moment of silence so thick it hums.

“When Y/N was seven,” she begins slowly, “she told me she wanted to race. I told her no. I thought if I kept her away from the track, I could protect her from the same thing that took Ayrton from me.” She sighs, her gaze dropping to her hands. “But all I did was push her away.”

Alain clears his throat, glancing sideways at her. “It’s not easy,” he murmurs, more to Adriane than to Lewis. “Loving someone who belongs to the track.”

Your mother nods, her eyes glassy. “But you’ve made her happy. You’ve given her the space to be who she’s always wanted to be.” She pauses, blinking quickly. “And I see Ayrton in that. In you.”

Lewis rubs the back of his neck, clearly moved but trying not to show it. “That means more than you know.”

“And you promise me something,” Adriane says, her voice gaining strength, as if she’s gathering all her fears into this one request. “That you’ll never try to stop her. Not when things get hard. Not when it scares you.”

Lewis leans forward, looking her dead in the eye. “I swear. I’d never take that from her.”

Your mother exhales, like a weight she’s carried for years is finally lifting off her shoulders. “Then you have my blessing,” she says quietly.

Alain smirks, slapping Lewis on the back. “Looks like you’re in for the ride of your life.”

They laugh softly, the kind of laugh that comes with hard-won understanding.

And that’s when the floorboard under your foot creaks.

All three heads whip toward the sound, and you’re caught, frozen halfway between hiding and stepping forward.

Lewis’ eyes widen, and then a slow, guilty smile spreads across his face. “How long have you been standing there?”

You step fully into the room, arms crossed but fighting back a grin. “Long enough to hear that you’re plotting something.”

Alain chuckles, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I think that’s my cue to leave.” He winks at you, patting Lewis on the shoulder as he makes his way toward the door. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Alain,” Lewis mutters, rubbing his palms against his thighs, clearly nervous now.

Your mother rises as well, hesitating for a moment. She looks at you, her eyes soft. “I’ll call you later,” she murmurs, reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly before following Alain out the door.

And then it’s just you and Lewis, standing in the golden light of your apartment, the door clicking shut behind your mother and Alain.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice light. “So … what was all that about?”

Lewis steps closer, and suddenly the nervous energy from earlier melts away. He takes your hand, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your palm.

“Y/N …” he begins, and there’s something so tender in the way he says your name that it makes your heart skip a beat. “I wanted to do this the right way. To ask the people who mean the mos to you.”

Your breath catches as he drops to one knee, right there in the middle of your living room.

He pulls a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that catches the light like starlight on water. It’s simple, elegant, and perfect.

Lewis looks up at you, his dark eyes filled with love, nerves, and hope. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you at Imola. And I want to spend every day from now on making you as happy as you’ve made me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, tears already welling up in your eyes.

“So,” he says with a smile that’s both warm and a little crooked. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

For a moment, all you can do is nod, words caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. Then you finally find your voice.

“Yes,” you whisper, your smile breaking wide and free. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Lewis’ grin lights up the room, and he stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. You kiss him, slow and deep, and in that moment, it feels like everything — the years of struggle, of loss, of love — has brought you to exactly where you’re supposed to be.

When you finally pull away, breathless and giddy, Lewis leans his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face.

“Guess Alain was right,” he murmurs, grinning. “This really is the ride of my life.”

You laugh, pure and full, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “Buckle up, Hamilton,” you tease. “It’s only just getting started.”

2K notes · View notes

hoshifighting · 6 months ago

Text

Racer!Reader x Racer!Mingyu 一 Rivals to Lovers

Synospsis: Racer!Mingyu, the new kid, is determined to beat you in the college underground race. Does he have the guts to defeat you, his senior, the reigning queen of the racing scene? Before the race starts, a photo of your boyfriend cheating on you is spread to the students. When you look up from your phone, there's Mingyu with his piercing eyes. [...]

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” Mingyu teased, leaning against the doorframe.

WC: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, illegal racing, rumors, smut, angst, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), squirt, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, body fluids (cum), kinda of rage make out?, chocking, spanking, dirty talk, sex pic and etc.

Mingyu. A name that had once been just a murmur in the shadows of the racing world is now on everyone's lips. This new kid, this prodigy, decided to go against the grain, to take on the best and make a name for himself.

And somehow, you're the one he's set his sights on. The competition is obvious, like the electricity in the air before a storm, and the entire college is buzzed with bets. It's impossible to ignore the excitement at the thought of the race tonight. It's been too long since you've felt this alive.

The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline is already in your nose, a scent that brings back a flood of memories. The first time you felt the wind rush past you on two wheels, the rush of adrenaline when you crossed the finish line ahead of the pack.

The races had been your escape, your way to prove to the world that you were more than just another face in the crowd.

And now, as you lace up your boots and slip into your worn-in leather jacket, you know that this race will be different. It's not just about the thrill anymore. It's about pride, about maintaining your title, about showing Mingyu that he's bitten off more than he can chew.

The stakes are higher than ever before. You can feel it in the way Mark's eyes darken every time he looks at you, in the way he clenches his fists when Mingyu's name is mentioned.

As you swing your leg over your bike and rev the engine, you push those thoughts aside. Tonight, there's only one thing that matters: the race, the roar of the engines, and the taste of victory.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle inside his helmet, the gleaming visor reflecting the neon lights of the college parking lot that's been transformed into a makeshift race track. He's young, fearless, and he's got something to prove.

You've watched him from afar, studied his technique, his daring moves that have earned him the title of 'the rookie to watch'. He's good, really good, but he's never raced against someone like you. You're the old war-horse in this game, a veteran who's seen it all and done it all.

And now, the moment has arrived.

The girl in the quadriculed flag raises it high, her arm muscles taut with excitement. You and Mingyu lock eyes for a brief second, a silent promise of a fierce battle to come. And then, with a nod from her, you both speed off into the night. Your bike responds to your touch like a well-trained steed, the engine purring as you lean into the first turn.

But this is your turf, and you're not about to let some newcomer take your crown without a fight.

As the race extends, the wind whips through your hair, and the roar of the engines fills your ears. The world around you is a blur of lights and shadows, the only thing clear being the track ahead and the figure of Mingyu on your tail.

You push harder, feeling the bike protest under your command, but she holds steady. You're the lead, with Mingyu playing the role of the eager suitor, eager to overtake. You can't help but smile beneath your helmet. It's been so long since someone's made you feel this alive. The thrill of the chase is intoxicating, and you're going to enjoy every second of it.

As you cross the finish line, you pull a dramatic wheelie, the tires screeching and smoking against the asphalt. You circle around, revving the engine, feeling the power beneath you, and as you come to a stop, Mingyu pulls up beside you.

You both remove your helmets, and the chilly night air kisses your sweat-drenched skin. His eyes are on you, focused and intense, drinking in the sight of you. Your hair is a wild mess around your face, the wind from the race playing with it like it's alive.

You swing your leg over the bike, the leather of your pants hugging your thighs tightly. You stand there, arms crossed over your chest, looking at him. He's tall, with a muscular build that's clear even through his bulky racing gear. His face is a mask of determination, and there's something about the way he carries himself that makes you want to knock him down a peg.

"So, what's your name, kid?" you ask, your voice carrying over the din of the engines.

Mingyu's face cracks into a smirk, and he extends his hand towards you. "Mingyu. Kim Mingyu," he says, his voice deep and sure. But you don't take the bait. You keep your arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

His smirk falters a little when you ignore his outstretched hand, and he slowly lowers it.

The crowd around you goes quiet, watching this silent exchange like it's a scene from a movie. They know the history, the tension, and the unspoken challenge that's just been laid down.

"Well, you must know me," you say, the leather jacket creaks as you tighten your grip.

"I know of you," he says, his language tinged with a hint of an accent. "But I'm not here to bow down to reputations. I'm here to make my own." You can't help but respect that.

The crowd around you is hushed, waiting for the next move. Mark is there, his eyes on you, a silent question in his gaze. You give him a nod, reassuring him that you're okay, that you're in control.

The rivalry between you and Mingyu has only just started, and it's going to be one hell of a race.

Mark storms over, eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell are you two talking about for so long?" His voice cuts through the cheers of the crowd, drawing their attention. You feel the tension between him and Mingyu, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

Mingyu just watches him with that sly grin, clearly enjoying the show. His gaze flickers over you, lingering on your leather pants, and you feel a shiver of annoyance and something else you can't quite name.

"Hey, Mark," you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there's an edge to it. "Calm down. We were just talking."

"Talking? That's what you're calling it?" Mark's voice is loud, drawing even more eyes to your little drama. He turns to Mingyu, his face red. "And what are you looking at?"

You roll your eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "Mark, walk."

He stares at you, eyes wide in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, walk," you repeat, your voice firm. "Just go cool off."

For a moment, it looks like he might argue, but then he glances at Mingyu, who’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the spectacle. With a huff, Mark turns on his heel and stalks off, the crowd parting to let him through.

Mingyu chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. "What an obedient boyfriend you have."

You shoot him a look, half warning, half curiosity. "Don't push your luck, Mingyu."

He raises his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. "Just calling it like I see it. But seriously," his tone shifts, becoming more sincere, "you were amazing out there."

"Thanks," you say, the word coming out more curt than you intended. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension from Mark's outburst. "So, why did you want to race me, really?"

Mingyu’s expression becomes thoughtful, the cocky façade slipping just a little. "Because I wanted to see if the rumors were true. And now, I know they are."

You can't help but smile at that, feeling a rush of pride. "Well, you gave me a good run for my money."

"Next time," he says, his voice low and filled with promise, "I'll be the one crossing the finish line first."

"We'll see about that," you reply, walking out with your motorcycle by your side, glancing at him over your shoulder.

[...]

Mingyu, the new kid, had something different, something that pushed your limits in a way no other rival had before. It was exhilarating, but also stressful. And your boyfriend’s incessant comments about Mingyu didn’t help.

Every time he brought up how Mingyu looked at you, how rude he was, how he thought he was the most incredible thing, you rolled your eyes. Mark’s jealousy was nothing new, but you’d never seen him so uncomfortable around someone before.

For the past month, you’d heard from other students that Mingyu had been spreading rumors about how he was going to win this race, no matter what. It was irritating, but also a challenge you couldn’t ignore.

As you were heading to your P.E. class, you saw Mingyu and his friend walking down the hallway. He spotted you immediately, a grin spreading across his face.

"Look who's here, Y/N... without the leather jacket?" His eyes roved over your tight gymnastic clothing, clearly enjoying the sight.

You smiled around the scrunchie you held between your teeth as you tidied up your hair, then pulled it free to tie it up. "Look who’s here, Mingyu... still talking big?" you teased back, not missing a beat.

He laughed, a rich sound that echoed down the hall. "Only because I’ve got the skills to back it up."

"Oh, really?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "All I’ve seen so far is a lot of talk."

"Maybe you just haven’t been paying close enough attention," he replied, leaning casually against the lockers. "I’ll make sure to give you a front-row seat next time."

You finished tying your hair and gave him a mock look of concern. "I’d hate to see you disappoint all those fans you’ve been bragging to."

He smirked, undeterred. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered. You might want to start thinking about a new title because that crown is coming my way."

"Big words for someone who hasn't beaten me yet," you shot back, stepping closer, your confidence unwavering.

"We'll see about that," he said, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes held yours for a moment longer, the air between you crackling with tension.

Mingyu doesn't look the least bit afraid of you, of your reputation, of what you can do on this track. He's bold, maybe even a little cocky, and you can't decide if you like it or if it just makes you want to wipe that smug look off his face.

You've always been the one everyone looks up to, the one they whisper about in the halls. But now, there's someone new, someone who doesn't seem to know his place. And that's what makes him so intriguing.

You know Mingyu will be back, and he'll be better next time. And you can tell your boyfriend, Mark, is not happy about this new rivalry一about the way Mingyu makes you feel alive again.

"You've got to get your head out of the clouds, Y/N," Mark says as you look to the ceiling, "This isn't just a game anymore."

You pull back, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mingyu," he says, his voice tight with anger, "he's different. He's not like the others."

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off. "He's just a freshman with a fast bike," you say.

"He's been watching you," Mark says, his eyes searching yours, "studying you. He's got a vendetta, and I don't like it."

You swallow hard, pushing the thought away. You can't let Mingyu get under your skin like this. "I've got this," you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

But Mark's not convinced. He's noticed the way your mind has been elsewhere, the way you've been pushing him away. The way you've been turning down his advances, lost in thought about the new kid on the block. He's been frustrated for a few weeks, trying to get you to focus on anything other than the race.

As the days pass, the tension between you and Mark grows thicker. He tries to initiate sex, but your mind is always elsewhere, replaying the race, thinking about Mingyu's next move. You know you're hurting him, but you can't seem to stop.

The thought of Mingyu, of the way he looked at you, of the way he talked about winning, it's like a drug. And you're hooked.

The next day, you're in the garage, wrench in hand, making some final adjustments to your bike. You've always been meticulous, but with Mingyu on your mind, you're even more so. You can't have anything going wrong on your bike when you face him again.

The door to the garage opens, and you look up, expecting it to be Mark, but instead, it's Mingyu. He struts in, his leather jacket and bike helmet hanging casually from his hand.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I see you're still playing with your toy."

You roll your eyes, not bothering to hide your annoyance. "What do you want?" you ask, not looking up from your work.

"Just thought I'd come by and say congrats," he says, leaning against the workbench. "You put on a good show last night."

You raced a senior from your class last night. You won despite the slippery concrete caused by the rain. Again.

You slam the wrench down, the sound echoing in the empty garage. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for your approval," you reply, your voice icy.

Mingyu laughs, a sound that grates on your nerves. "You don't have to be so defensive," he says, his eyes scanning the garage, "I just wanted to talk shop, maybe pick up some tips from the queen herself."

You stand up, wiping your hands on your greasy rag. "What makes you think I'd share anything with you?"

He shrugs, his smile never wavering. "Call it a peace offering," he says, holding out his hand. "Truce?"

You stare at his hand for a moment, weighing your options. You know you need to keep your enemies closer, especially one as talented as Mingyu. You take his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Fine," you say, "but don't get any ideas."

"Oh, I have plenty of ideas," he says, his eyes glinting with mischief, "but I'll save them for the track."

You can't help but laugh, despite yourself. He's got nerve, you'll give him that. You spend the next hour talking bikes and racing strategies, and for the first time since the race, you feel like you're not just a competitor but a fellow enthusiast. It's strange.

As Mingyu leaves, you can't help but feel a blend of emotions. There's the excitement of the challenge he represents, the thrill of the rivalry that's been ignited. But there's also a nagging doubt, a fear that maybe Mark is right.

Maybe Mingyu isn't just a racer looking to make a name for himself. Maybe he's got something more planned, something that could threaten not just your title but your relationship.

You shake the thought off, telling yourself you're just being paranoid. After all, it's just a race, right?

[...]

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the makeshift circuit that’s been built for tonight's race. You take a long sip of your Gatorade, savoring the cool taste as you mentally prepare yourself for the competition. The grandstand is buzzing with energy, students excitedly chattering about the upcoming event.

As you sit there, focusing on your breathing, Mingyu appears and casually sits down next to you. You chuckle, unable to help yourself. "Are you following me, kid?"

He rolls his eyes, a familiar gesture by now. "I’m not a kid."

"But I’m your senior," you counter, grinning at the way his face sours. He’s always so easy to tease. "What did you plan?"

"Huh?" He seems genuinely confused, his attention now fully on you.

You smirk, leaning back a bit. "What do you have up your sleeve, Mingyu? Some oil on the floor, a pin in my tire...?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "I don’t need tricks to beat you."

"Good," you say, your voice dropping slightly, more serious now. "Because neither do I."

Before the conversation can go any further, your boyfriend, Mark, appears. "What’s he doing here?" he asks, his tone accusatory.

"Just talking," you reply, trying to keep your cool.

"Talking, huh?" Mark scoffs. "Seems like he’s always around, doesn’t it? You’d think he’s got nothing better to do."

"I think you’re overreacting." You breath tired.

Mark's eyes narrow. "Just remember who’s waiting for you at the finish line."

Mingyu’s jaw tightens at this, his posture stiffening. He looks like he’s holding back something, a secret or a truth he’s not ready to share.

You glance at Mingyu, noticing the shift in his conduct. "What’s that look for?" you ask him, curious despite yourself.

He shakes his head, the tension in his body evident. "Nothing. Just focus on the race."

You button your jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the leather settle around your shoulders. Checking your shoelaces, you make sure they’re tight, ready for the race ahead. The buzz of your phone breaks the moment, a single notification lighting up the screen. You glance around, noticing other students doing the same, pulling their phones from their pockets.

It’s odd, almost synchronized.

The feeling in your gut is like a rock, weighing you down, making it harder to breathe. You glance around, noticing the smirks and knowing looks from the other racers, the whispers that seem to carry on the wind.

You click on it, and your heart sinks like a stone. It's a picture of Mark, your Mark, kissing a girl. A girl with auburn hair and a laugh that's nothing like yours. And he's wearing the shirt you gave him just this week, the one with the funny racing pun on the back. The same shirt he wore to bed last night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You stand there, frozen, as the world carries on around you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar of the bikes—it’s all just background noise now. You look up and see everyone watching you, their expressions a combination of pity and shock. They all know now. They've all seen it.

And as your eyes meet Mingyu's, you realize that he knows too. There's something in his gaze, a glint of satisfaction that makes your blood boil. Did he do this? Did he send this to you? The thought is like a knife twisting in your gut, but you can’t be sure.

With trembling hands, you slip the phone back into your pocket, trying to compose yourself. You don’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. But as you button your jacket and tighten the laces of your boots, you can’t help but feel like you’re tying up the loose ends of your life.

Everything’s changed in the span of a single message. Your heart is racing, but it’s not from the thrill of the chase anymore. It stems from the agony of disloyalty and the rage at being played for a fool.

And as you turn to face Mark, who’s pushing his way through the crowd, his eyes searching for yours, you know that the real race has only just begun.

Your breath comes in shudders as you hop on your bike, putting on your helmet. You’ve give all the signs that you are going to race tonight. The crowd is abuzz with anticipation, their eyes locked on you.

You roll the bike's accelerator, the roar calling for attention so the race can start. The flag girl gulps, her nervousness evident, and you look over your shoulder to see Mingyu approaching.

The girl stretches the flag, and you brace yourself. The lights go out, and suddenly, you're off, the wind in your hair, the roar of the engines filling your ears. Mingyu is right beside you. You can feel the bike responding to your every move, the tires gripping the asphalt like a vice.

Inside your helmet, your breathing is loud and ragged, a stark reminder of the adrenaline and anger coursing through you.

As you race, your thoughts race too. Mingyu planned everything. He sat by your side to watch you unravel from Mark's jealous crisis, and then those messages minutes before the race start—meant to destabilize you. It’s like a puzzle clicking into place, each piece revealing the depth of his strategy.

The bike protests but holds steady as you apply more pressure. The track is a blur, but your focus is razor-sharp. Mingyu is still there, matching your speed, but you’re not going to let him win.

You replay the moment when you first saw the message, the image of Mark kissing another girl. It stings, but it also sets you aflame. How dare he think he can break you? How dare he underestimate you? You’re not just racing against Mingyu; you’re racing against the doubts and whispers.

Mingyu pulls ahead slightly, his bike edging past yours. You grit your teeth, leaning forward to reduce drag, pushing your bike to its limits. The sound of the engines is loud, the wind whipping past you.

You glance at Mingyu. He thinks he won, that his plan worked. But he doesn’t know you.

You see the final stretch approaching, the finish line within sight. You dig deep, finding that last reserve of strength. You and Mingyu are neck and neck, the crowd’s cheers blending into a single roar. The world narrows to just this moment, just this race.

As you cross the finish line, you throw all your weight into one last burst of speed. You cross the line a split second before Mingyu, the crowd exploding into cheers.

You slow down, the realization of your win sinking in. You did it. Despite everything, you did it. But still, there is no taste of victory in your mouth.

The cheers fade as you lean forward, gripping the handlebars, and ride your bike away from the circuit, leaving a cloud of dust behind you. The streets blur past you, seeking an escape from everything. Your dorm or campus are the last place you want to be tonight.

After what feels like hours, you spot a cheap motel by the roadside. Its flickering neon sign is a welcome sight, a promise of anonymity, and a place to rest. You pull in, park your bike and walk to the reception. The clerk barely looks up as you hand over cash for the night. Key in hand, you head to your room.

The room is small and poorly illuminated, but it’s a refuge from the chaos of the night. You lay on the bed, the springs creaking under you, and pull out your phone. The screen is still lit with notifications, but you don’t want to see any of them. Whether it was Mingyu or someone else who shared those photos, you don’t care. Not tonight.

[...]

The weekend drags by, each minute feeling like an eternity. You don’t go to class, don’t leave your dorm except to grab food from the vending machine, because, you can’t face the pity in your friends’ eyes.

You clean obsessively, organizing your bookshelf, scrubbing the floors, folding clothes into neat piles. It’s a futile attempt to regain some semblance of order in your life. It feels like you’re erasing him from your life, one item at a time.

The notifications on your phone keep popping up, your friends and classmates checking in, asking if you’re okay. You manage to reply with short, curt responses. "Yeah," you type, "Just need some space." The lie feels heavy on your fingertips, but it’s easier than explaining the tornado of emotions inside you.

As the day stretches on, you start to feel a little more in control. You’re not going to let this beat you. You’re not going to let Mark or Mingyu ruin what you’ve built.

So you sit there, in the quiet of your room, and you start to plan. You’re going to show up to class, to the next race, with your head held high. You’re going to leave the drama behind and focus on what you do best—race.

On Thursday, you walk into class, a box in your arms. The whispers start as soon as you enter the room, the eyes are on you like a spotlight. You find Mark’s usual seat and drop the box in front of it, the thud echoing in the stunned silence.

The box, with his things.

You don’t wait for his reaction. You don’t need to. You turn and walk out, leaving the whispers and the weight of his backstabbing behind.

At lunch, you sit with your friends, the same table you’ve shared since freshman year. They all look at you, their eyes filled with concern. "You okay?" one of them asks, tentatively.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. "Yeah," you say, your voice stronger than you feel, "I just needed some time to sort things out."

They all nod, understanding without needing the details. They know the score, they know what happened at the race. They know about the picture, the rumors, the cheating.

"You've cried enough," your best friend says, her voice firm but gentle, "It's like that bruise on your knee from when you were seven. It hurt like hell, but it's healing now."

You manage a small smile at the memory. It’s true. You’ve shed enough tears over Mark to fill an ocean. But here you are, breathing, standing, moving forward.

"Let’s talk about something else," you say, changing the subject. "What's new with all of you?"

They exchange glances, clearly surprised by your sudden shift in tone, but they follow your lead. They talk about their classes, their weekends, their plans for spring break. You listen, really listen, letting their words wash over you like a balm to your soul.

"Oh, and apparently none of Mark’s friends want to talk to him," someone says, almost as an afterthought. "They had no idea."

"Good," you say. "He’s not worth their time either."

Your friends nod, respecting your wishes to not delve into the drama further. You don’t need their pity or their empathy. You just need them to be there, to be the rock that grounds you.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and you all stand up, collecting your trash. "Thanks, guys," you say, your voice genuine.

"For what?" one of them asks.

"For not treating me like I’m made of glass." you reply, smiling.

They laugh, you know they’re worried, but you also know they trust you to handle this. You’re the same person you were before the race. You’re strong.

The sadness has morphed into something else, anger simmers just under the surface, a slow burn that’s been building since that message. You’re not just mad at Mark, but at Mingyu too. You don’t know his role in this, but you can feel his influence, the way he’s been poking and prodding, trying to get under your skin.

And now, it’s like a game of chess, and you’re the pawn in the middle of the board. You can’t help but wonder if he’s been playing you from the start. If all those smirks and smug looks were just part of his plan to take you down.

The bell rings, and you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. As you turn to leave, you feel a hand wrap around your arm. You turn, ready to snap, and find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Come on, don’t be grumpy. Running away from me, princess?” he says, a sulky look on his face.

You remember avoiding both Mingyu and Mark all day, doing everything to keep your distance. You start to leave, but he holds onto your arm again, making you huff in frustration.

“You should thank me, don’t you think?” he says, his tone teasing.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mingyu smirks. “First, I let you win last Saturday,” he says, lying through his teeth. You remember how he was right on your tail during the race, clearly giving it his all.

“And I got you rid of that asshole,” he adds.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. “So, you’re admitting you orchestrated this whole thing, huh?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, I warned him it would happen.”

“He knew?” you ask, your voice rising in disbelief.

Mingyu tilts his head slightly, like he’s stating the obvious. “Of course he knew. Y/N, he was cheating on you for a whole semester. At the first freshman party I went to, I saw him with Sayla. She’s from my class.”

“What?” you nearly shout, drawing the attention of nearby students. Mingyu gives you an exasperated look, like it’s common knowledge.

You grab his arm and drag him around campus, heading for the grandstand where you can talk in private. Once there, you turn to him, your eyes blazing with anger.

“I saw the photo, and I know it’s real. But Mingyu, if you’re lying about this, I swear I will fucking kill you.”

He shakes his head, his expression serious. “Why would I lie to you? If I need to tell you something, I’ll say it to your face.”

“Tell me from the beginning,” you demand, crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes but starts talking. “Well, it was my first party here, a freshman party. I needed to go to the bathroom, and there they were, making out.”

You make a disgusted face, which seems to amuse him. “But in the photo, they weren’t in a bathroom,” you point out.

“Yeah, it happened plenty of times. When I found out he was your boyfriend, I went to a frat party and took that photo,” Mingyu explains.

“That one?” you ask, referring to the incriminating photo.

Mingyu nods. “Yeah, that one. He saw the photo and came to have it out with me. I might have told him that if he didn’t tell you, I would, and that I would love to take care of his girlfriend.”

You scoff. “So that’s why he was so sick-jealous of me?”

Mingyu closes his eyes and nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You curse under your breath, feeling the weight of betrayal all over again. “This motherf—”

You stop, looking at Mingyu, who’s watching you with a confused expression. “What do you mean by ‘take care of his girlfriend’?”

Mingyu smirks. “I was interested in you. But when I found out you were dating, I backed off. When I saw your boyfriend slacking, I needed to make it clear to Mark that I was going to reach out to you somehow.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the audacity of it all making your blood boil. “So, you’ve been planning this from the start?”

“Not exactly,” Mingyu says, shrugging. “But I saw an opportunity and took it. Your boyfriend was a dick, and you deserve better.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “And you think you’re better?”

Mingyu’s is smug. “I know I am.”

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in you?” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Mingyu steps closer, his gaze intense. “You’re fierce, competitive, and you don’t take shit from anyone. You’re exactly the kind of challenge I like.”

You roll your eyes, though a small part of you is flattered? “You’re still an asshole.”

He grins. “Maybe, but at least I’m honest about it. Can’t say the same for Mark.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process everything. "Mingyu, just stay out of my way. I don’t need any more complications.”

“What can I say? I know what I want.” He shrugs before leaving, again, with that stupid smirk on his face.

[...]

You were dragged by your friends to every party on campus, parties you didn’t even know existed, every day a new one. According to them, you needed to enjoy your new ‘single’ life. And with all the guys on campus now aware that you were single, your DMs were flooded.

Tonight was one of those nights. Everyone saw you parking your motorcycle in front of the frat house, the rumble announcing your arrival. You danced with your friends, met new people, but your happiness didn’t last long.

You caught a glimpse of Mark and Sayla. Sayla was wearing one of his baseball jackets, his arm draped over her shoulder. Everyone stared at them, the ‘new’ couple making a fool of themselves.

You didn’t expect Mark to be so bald-faced about it. Your blood boiled, your head felt like it was on fire, and you wanted to leave the party. But if you did, you’d look weak. So you stayed, trying to enjoy the party with your friends, but it was impossible. When Mark kissed Sayla, one eye open in your direction to gauge your reaction, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed your helmet and stormed out of the party, your friends calling after you, warning you not to do anything stupid because you were hot-headed.

And you were, for real.

Arriving back on campus, you pulled out your phone, fingers fumbling as you dialed a number. Your steps echoed, the dress you’d chosen for the party riding up with each step, making you pull it down in frustration.

The phone rang, and rang, until finally, a voice answered, “You calling me? Y/N, what a—”

“Where are you?” you cut him off, voice trembling with rage.

“Damn, what happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” The voice was playful, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Where. Are. You.”

“Hell, I’m at my dorm, wassup?”

“Open the door,” you demanded.

“What?”

“Open the fucking door,” you said before hanging up.

Moments later, the dorm door opened, revealing Mingyu with the phone still in his hand, wearing only black shorts that showed a peek of his white underwear. He looked confused, but when he saw you—eyes almost black with rage, in your little dress—he swore it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe.

You pushed him inside, slamming the door shut behind you and tossing your cell phone on the table. You kissed him, rough and urgent, your fingers tangling in his hair. Mingyu moaned between kisses, the realization that you were kissing him sinking in. His hands found your waist, one hand sliding up to your neck, choking you slightly, making you gasp.

A smirk played on his lips, between breaths. “About time you admitted it.”

“Shut up,” you muttered before kissing him again, harder this time.

Mingyu's grip tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re so damn hot when you’re mad,” he murmured against your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you demanded, your fingers tugging at his hair.

He obliged, kissing you with a fervor that matched your own. His hand slid down your back, gripping your ass and pulling you against him. You could feel his bulge pressing against you, a reminder of how much he wanted you. You broke the kiss, breathlessly, your eyes locking onto his.

“What’s your plan, Y/N?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You smirked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “To make sure I don’t think about Mark ever again.”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with craving. “I can help with that.”

“Good,” you said, pulling him back into a kiss, your hands exploring his body, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, fingers fumbling from his big chest, to the defined lines of his abs.

Your hand slides from his lower belly to his cock, squeezing his clothed erection slightly. You feel him twitch in your hand, a broken sob leaving his lips.

“Fuck, you got hard so fast,” you murmur against his mouth.

He moans, his breath hot and heavy. “Can’t help it when it’s you.”

You grin wickedly, turning around to show him the long zipper at the back of your dress. “Help me,” you say, your voice low and inviting.

Mingyu nods, his eyes dark with desire. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he catches the zipper and slides it down, his happiness akin to opening a Christmas gift. The dress falls away, and you hold your breasts in your hands, turning to face him, your fingers playing with your hardened nipples, watching his eyebrows furrow.

His hot hand covers yours, and you let him take over, feeling the heat of his touch. He pushes you toward the bed, his lips trailing kisses down your neck before biting gently, his notorious fangs grazing your sensitive skin.

You moan, the sound going straight to his cock. His hands move desperately to your panties, fingers fumbling with the lace until they’re off your legs. He opens your legs with his hands, giving your wet folds a not-so-discreet look.

Mingyu licks his fingers, meeting your eyes before sliding them inside you. You scream at the sudden stretch, feeling his big fingers filling you. He looks at you, to see if it hurts, but then he feels you getting wetter and wetter, your pants filling the room. His hand stills, and you roll your clit against his palm.

His fingers start to slide in and out, the wet noises are sinful as he finds your g'spot. You gasp, your body arching from his bedsheets, your both hands finding his forearm, stilling his fingers curled in this position.

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise at your reaction, and he repeats the motion, pressing against your sweet spot again, making your eyes fill with tears.

''R-right here! Please!"

“Did your boyfriend never find this spot?” he asks, his voice serious.

You shake your head negatively, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Mingyu's expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “That asshole didn’t know how to please you,” he mutters, then his voice softens as he coos at you.

You sob, his fingers curling repeatedly on the spongy spot. “Aw… don’t worry, my love. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He continues to stimulate you, watching your every reaction, your pleasure nourishing his own. His fingers work you expertly, and you start to get embarrassed by how wet you are getting.

But you can't stop your hips from rubbing against his hands, you can't stop yourself from constantly moaning his name, and you can't help but wonder how you survived without feeling the pleasure Mingyu was giving you.

Your body tenses so much, you're afraid of getting injured, and the pleasure builds, making your vision blurry, catching only Mingyu's silhouette. “Mingyu…,” you gasp, your voice shaking.

He's in love with your sensitive form. He slides his fingers out, brushing against your clit, making you moan, wanting the stimulation again, but then he munches on your pussy, making a throaty moan leave your mouth, tears wetting your cheeks. You don't even know if you're sobbing or moaning. You can only focus on his warm mouth sucking everything it can.

Mingyu moans against you, like he's getting stimulated too, and when you manage to squeak out, “Gonna' cum,” he moans even more, the vibrations going to your clit as you arch your back, squeezing your tits.

He opens your legs—quivering pathetically around his head—with the strength of his arms. He only stops when he feels your clit throbbing incessantly inside his mouth, all sensitive.

You don't know how long it took before you were in your mind again, but you can feel Mingyu kissing your whole body. For him, it was a maxim to calm you down, but mainly to appreciate every bit of your skin. When you open your eyes, he's kissing your hand, his thumb gently caressing it. You don't look much, or you will blush. For him, it could finish like this: you cummed, satisfied, and he gets satisfied. But then you mumble, eyes lidded, “Fuck me, please.”

His eyes almost fall from his skull. He watches your legs spread, and you slap weakly at your pussy, inviting him. Mingyu almost falls back with your tease. His hands, lowering his shorts and underwear in one go, desperate to go over you.

"Wait."

He stills, and you smile at his obedience. You turn around, on all fours, wiggling your ass at him, and you hear a suffered moan behind you, making you scoff.

He squeezes your ass between his hands tightly, then slaps your meat, making you hiss. Then another one, making you moan. Then another one, making you drip a line of your cum on the sheets.

Mingyu feels like a crazy creature. He pumps his veiny cock before sliding on your wet folds to spread your cum. And then slides inside. You were so tight, so tight that his blood pressure almost falls down.

“I need to thank your boyfriend for keeping it tight.” He groans after bottoming out.

You widen your eyes at the comment, he sounded so sincere. And you laugh, your hand covering your face, and he chuckles too, seeing that he can't hold his tongue around you.

He can feel you clenching around him every time you laugh, making him moan synchronized with you. He starts to move and your laughs turn into moans, laughed-moans.

“Shit, you’re so tight, you are squeezing me,” he cries, his thrusts slow and deep.

“Didn’t think you’d be this talkative,” you manage between gasps, your body responding to every move he makes.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

His pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You grip the sheets, your back arching as he hits just the right spot. “Right there, Mingyu. Fuck, right there.”

He obeys, his thrusts becoming more precise, each one sending thrills through your body. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. “So fucking good.”

"Seriously, Mingyu," continue betwee moans, "you have no filter."

He grins, thrusting harder. "You're too much."

"Too much for you?" you tease, pushing back against him.

"Never," he mooans, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "I could do this forever."

You moan at his words, that feeling on your stomach tightening. "God, Mingyu..."

He leans over, his breath hot against your ear. "You like it when I talk, hm? When I say, how good you feel?"

You nod frantically, your mind a blur, you were cock-drunk, moaning his name like it was the only word you ever knew.

He chuckles darkly, thrusting deeper. "Good, because I’m not stopping until you can’t even say his name."

He stops his hips inside you, balls deep, and you can feel his tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips to make you feel it deep. Your arms quiver, making you fall with your chest on the bed, face on the sheets. You've never felt someone this deep before. Your hand reaches the bulge Mingyu makes on your belly, and you writhe.

He dirty talks, "You like to feel me here?"

You answer with a throaty moan. He closes his eyes to your rough moan and says, "Fuck, I need to see your pretty face moaning my name."

He turns you to lay on the bed again, one of your legs on his shoulder, and the other stretched by his hand. Since when were you this flexible? you think. When he slams inside you again, your messy cunt clings to him for dear life.

You moan all sly, and Mingyu is inches from your face now, and he teases you, "Look who's all sensitive right now. Where's that grumpy girl from the race? Hm? You just needed a good cock fucking you right to get you relaxed? Right, babe?"

You want to clap a hand on his mouth to keep his cocky talk out of it, but your pussy betrays you, clenching around him the moment his dirty words start to fall from his lips. Instead, you give some wet kisses on his lips. He reciprocates every one of them.

You ask him to touch you, and he looks in your eyes, asking, "Where?"

You guide one of his hands to your clit. He collects some of the lubrication that formed a ring at the base of his cock and starts to massage the swollen bud, circling it. Your nails scratch his back, and he hisses, eyes closing. He ruts desperately into you, your pussy casting a spell on him, all wet and good for him.

You glance around the space, the warm illuminated lamp, the scent of his cologne everywhere, his tanned body sweating to give you pleasure, his muscles clenching as he holds you, his hand on your clit, his cock filling you, his eyes focused on every one of your expressions, his moans every time you clench.

You prepare for every detail when your eyes suddenly blur. You feel it coming... fuck. You're cumming, but something else is coming too.

The realization hits you, and you say, "No, no, no, shit!"

You hold his bicep, your head thrown back, the veins on your neck popping. You try to stop, but you can't. You squirt all over him and his bed.

Mingyu stops inside you, mouth open. Now he gets desperate, taking his cock from you and cumming on your belly, so far that it hits your tits too. He lets your legs rest on the bed, and you cover your mouth.

"M-Mingyu, your bed! I'm sorry, let me put this to wash and—" You start to get up, feeling a rush of embarrassment and responsibility for the mess.

Mingyu, still catching his breath, quickly moves to stop you, his hand firm but gentle on your shoulder. He gives you a little push, making you lay back on the bed again. "Hey, relax," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's just a bed. We can clean it up later."

You look at him, your cheeks flushed. "But it's such a mess," you protest weakly.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I like it messy," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Besides, I think I like you better like this."

"But seriously, Mingyu, your bed—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering embrace. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "The bed can wait," he murmurs. "Right now, I want to focus on you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making your pulse quicken. "Mingyu," you whisper, feeling the heat rise in your body again.

He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says softly. "Especially when you're all flustered and breathless like this."

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Then why don't we make a little more mess before we clean up?" he suggests, his voice a seductive whisper.

[...]

Your ex's message lights up your cellphone on the table beside the bed: "Where are you?" Mark asks. You can't help but scoff at the audacity. The nerve of him to ask after everything he's done. A surge of defiance washes over you, fueled by the memory of him flaunting Sayla around like some trophy.

Mingyu's rhythm doesn't falter as he thrusts into you from behind, his hand gripping your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the pain on your scalp, but loving the pleasure that comes with it too. You reach for your phone, you know exactly how to answer Mark's question.

With a quick swipe, you open the camera, positioning it just right. The screen captures the sinful scene—Mingyu's defined body behind you, your flushed shoulder peeking into view, and your hair being pulled by Mingyu.

You snap the photo and attach it to the message as a single view photo.

Letting the image speak for itself.

"Here's your answer," you mutter under your breath, hitting send.

Mingyu's grip tightens, his pace quickening as he senses the shift in your mood. "What did you just do?" he asks, laughing.

You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "Just answered a question," you reply, your voice breathless.

Mingyu's eyes darken with approval. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Let's give him something to really be jealous about."

The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with the chorus of moans and gasps that fill the room. As Mingyu's hand slips down to tease your clit, your phone buzzes again, another message from Mark.

But you don't bother to check it.

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rimunagenius · 8 months ago

Text

It’s Time You Switch

ʚ pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

ʚ word count: 4.4k words

ʚ prompt: “Fuck your boyfriend, he a bitch. I think it’s time you switch.”

ʚ warnings: RPF!! , smut!!, voyeurism, dirty talk?, face riding, fingering, oral reader!receiving, basically porn with little plot

ʚ rimunagenius speaks: in which Paige turns straight girls ;) i have not written smut since my wattpad era so im sooo insanely rusty but i also have never felt the touch of a woman romantically sooo idek if this will be any good…suggestions are welcome to make it better!! and for future works!!

| Masterlist | Women’s Basketball Masterlist |

"I don't know what I did to him, though. That's what I can't let go. He's being so dry and cold." You told the team as you did dynamic warm up before practice started.

Coach G just shook his head, listening to all your guy problems. This was just another boy for him to hate on campus. At this rate, the whole male and female population at UConn was on his shit list.

"I say, you dump him." KK said, patting your back mid walking lunge. "He's been doing this for months now, it's time to drop him, girl boo.” You told KK a lot of things. She was just a freshman but she become a quick and good friend.

You met her in a class you had been taking and started talking, soon finding out you were both on the same team. It shocked her, but after finding out you stayed off social media, the press release of her committing was new news. You were a senior and she was a freshman, but this friendship was like you two knew eachother forever.

"Yeah, I agree with K." Paige said, from the other side of you. A soft, comforting smile on her face.

"You know what could fix this? A girls night." Aaliyah smiled, her eyebrows wiggling suggesting you guys go out.

"I know you're not planning to go out, get drunk on the night before a game." Coach yelled from his seat on the bench.

"But Coach, c'mon! My girls feeling sad." Paige feigned a pout, grabbing your shoulders and pointing your face, you pouting your lips and batting your lashes.

"Nah, it's okay. I don't really want to go out anyways. Staying in is the move." You sighed, the stretching finished.

You talked about it all practice—sad about it all practice. After, Paige suggested you come over to her place, a sleepover. You begrudgingly agreed. Telling her she needed to take you home to get some clothes; Paige shutting it down because you could borrow hers.

That was the first mistake. It didn't feel like a mistake in the end but that was the first step to a very confusing day afterwards. The second, sharing a bed with the blonde.

You both decided to lay in her bed, get fat on snacks, and watch all the movies you could before getting sleepy and tapping out for the night. I guess Paige had another tapping in mind.

"You know he doesn't deserve you so why do you stay with him?" Paige disregarded the movie, turning her head slightly to look at you.

"He does deserve me, he's just struggling, I guess." You shrugged your shoulders, dwelling on the fact that you couldn't figure out what he was actually struggling with.

"Fuck your boyfriend. He's a bitch for the way he's acting with a pretty girl like you." Paige got passionate about defending her friends. Especially when someone in their life wasn't treating them right. She was more of a protector. A fierce one.

"Paige, that's a little mean."

"It's true. It's time you switched. I'm telling you, girls are so much less complicated. They're easier to read and better at communicating." Paige smirked to you, knowing you wouldn't shoot for it.

"Please, if I knew how, I would." You rolled your eyes, looking down, shoving a potato chip in your mouth.

Paige's eyes went wide. There's no way you were actually serious. You looked like the straightest of straight girls, a very attractive one. Which is why she thought it sucked you didn't swing that way. "No way, are you serious?" She laughed.

"Yeah, but I dont even think I like girls like that." You furrowed your brows. You never actually thought about it. You had no idea if the "girl crushes" you had were actually crushes.

"What does that mean?"

"Like, I've seen girls and thought they were super attractive. I'd wonder what it'd be like to kiss them, and I used to say i’d treat them better than their actual boyfriends, but I didn't think that far." That set it off for Paige. That's how it started. First you thought about what it'd be like to kiss a girl, then to date, and then to fuck.

"Have you ever thought about dating them?" Paige already knew where this was going.

"Yeah sort of. But I was always with him that it was whatever." You looked to Paige.

"Well it's time you switch." She smiled smugly at you, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm down to show you how." That was the most forward Paige had ever been with a girl. She knew it was swaying you, the contemplation clouding your vision, deep in thought.

"What do you mean 'show me'? Like how to fuck?" Your brows furrowed as you questioned the blonde beside you.

"That's exactly what I mean..." Paige's eyes watched yours, waiting for the green light.

"Okay." Suddenly the air in your lungs disappeared when Paige grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. She wanted this for so long. You and her had been bestfriends all throughout your childhood. She had even told Geno he couldn't give her an offer without giving you one. Your skills in basketball were exceptional, your work ethic and athleticism and ability to work with people around you. You and Paige made a great team.

She had admired everything about you for as long as she could remember. She was just waiting on you. You moaned into the kiss, opening your legs so she could slot her body between yours, achieving the best angle to kiss you.

Something in you felt like this was all muscle memory. Like you two have done this before. Her hands moved to your hips, her grip firm but so soft. You two kicking the snacks off the bed, not caring about the mess that was to be made.

"Imma take your clothes off...that okay?" Paige's lips trailed down the collumn of your neck, moaning at the sensation your body sparked throughout her body.

"Yeah, okay. Please." Instantaneously Paige's fingers dropped the the waistband of your pajama shorts, and the waistband of your underwear. The feeling of lace pulling a groan from the blondes throat. Ridding you of your pants and underwear, her hand grabbed the hem of your shirt—her shirt, sliding it up.

You sat up, pulling it off, panting softly. You couldn't believe this was happening. The least you expected from this sleepover was hooking up with your bestfriend, in her bed, on a friday night. You then grabbed Paige's face, needing her lips on yours like you were a woman starved.

Paige was a sweetheart; a golden retriever, kind, and good person...but when it came to her game, on and off the court, she was literally a cocky fuck boy who could prove they could get into your pants. She was a respectful woman, one of the best even, but the second mutual interest was involved; game over.

While making out, her hand cupping your breast over the padding of your bra, the only clothing you seemed to have on left, she bit your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it with her teeth. Your back arched, moaning at the sensation she was able to wash your body in, she quickly unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off when you were flat on your back.

Having the soft skin of yours exposed, she slowed her movements, dodging your face when you tried to kiss her again. "Show me how he got you off." The sentence shocked you.

"Huh?" You looked at her, her eyes having the same challenging look. She knew she'd do ten times better than he ever could. Plus, it helped that her anatomy and your anatomy were the same...meaning, she knew where everything was.

"You heard me, show me what he did for you, so I can show you that I can do it better." Her long hair falling on her shoulders, she slid her Huskies t-shirt off, leaving her in a black sports bra.

You shifted on the bed, nervous but willing. She already had you naked, you were already so wet so you knew when you try and fail to get yourself off like how your ex did, she'd make it better. Paige always made it better.

You reached your hand down, sliding your fingers through your soaking wet cunt, gathering as much as your slick as possible, gasping softly. The feeling of your fingers ghosting your clit, you remembered that you were supposed to be doing this how he did, so you disregarded the spot your body ached and pleaded for physical contact, and jumped straight to inserting two fingers.

You looked at Paige, a look in her eyes you've never seen before. "Wait, he didn't even—?" She was confused but really focused nonetheless. You knew she wasn't really paying attention to what you were doing, she was; she was literally getting soaked at watching you play with yourself, but she just couldn't take her eyes off your pretty pussy. She would never be your 'friend' again after tonight.

You shook your head at her question and continued in fingering your self, curling your fingers at the right spots, maintaining the even yet somewhat hasty pace. Your panting started to get louder, your eyes fluttering closed every now and again. Slowly coaxing yourself to your high, you spread your legs wider, reaching your hand out, signaling Paige you wanted her to grab your hand.

She placed her hand in yours and she was immediately pulled on top of you, your mouth finding hers. Your hand never wavered in the work you were doing on yourself, which is why Paige swallowed the loud moan induced by your orgasm, as you slowly started to slow the rhythm of your fingers, riding out the small orgasm.

You don't know why you did it, you only were conscious of it after you had placed the fingers that were previously inside of you, into her mouth. Your jaw slack, jus a tiny bit, watching and feeling her lick your fingers, swallowing any trace of your she can hope to find. You couldn’t believe you were behaving like this. So dirty but so willing.

Paige moaned at the action, not trying to deny that what you had done could've made her come alone. She started to drag her lips from yours, to the corner of your lips, to your cheek, all the way to and down your neck, sloppy and lazy but sensual kisses were left in her wake.

She wouldn't dare leave any marks behind, your guys' team would calculate what went down her tonight. So she settled for non-visible hickeys. When her lips met your breasts, she took her sweet time with both. Her tongue swirling around your taught nipple, her free hand kneeding the other.

Your back was already arching off the bed, hands tugging at the sheets below you. The soft cries leaving your lips egging her on.

She moved across the other breast, a trail of purple and red trailing the way, her hand switched places. You couldn't take this...you needed her somewhere else. You loved this but holy was she dragging it out.

Before you could even ask—beg, her to move where you were so desperately wanting her, her hand was already spreading your leg open, lips following a foreign, yet so familiar path, all the way down to the curve of your thighs.

She started slowly, opting to tease you, but also educate you like she promised. You understood the significance of foreplay, hell you craved it in your evidently clear soon to be previous relationship, but you couldn't take the ache your pussy had for Paige. It's like it knew you needed her all along. It didn't help that you hated the prolonged attention, but also loved it. Watching her worship your body was something so unexplainably attractive.

The way she slowly placed soft kisses from your knees, massaging the soft skin of your calf's along the way, all the way up your thigh. The closer her lips got to your center, the more antsy you became. You needed her mouth to connect already. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, my god. Paige...please." You sighed, your panting growing more and more viscous.

"Please what, gorgeous?" Her lips ghosted over your wet folds as she moved to the other leg, now blatantly teasing the fuck out of you, while she smiled and kissed every expanse she could.

"Please just eat my pussy already. I can't take it." You almost cried begging her to finally do something. She had you masturbate infront of her for christ sake.

"Whatever you want." She looked into your eyes, her pupils blown, a blissed out smile and haze on her face. Almost immediately after, her face disappeared in between your legs. Paige licked a stripe up your soaking cunt, from the entrance all the way to the most sensitive nerve ending.

The sound that escaped your mouth was borderline pornographic as the built up arousal finally was being tended to. The feeling of her slick tongue running one more stripe through your folds before swirling around your clit was something you absolutely could not imagine. Your mind in a foggy mess.

"You taste so sweet, baby." The name leaving her mouth ignited fuzziness that you felt in your toes all the way to your scalp. Her voice hoarse, mouth glistening from you, you could never get this sight out of your head; nor did you want to.

"Ohhhh, my god." It came out like a pure cry. The choked moans mixed with tears and strained sobs, elicited a newfound hunger in Paige.

Her mouth doing double time, her tongue swirling and licking perfectly paced, her lips sucking and kissing all the right places at the right time, started to build up the coil in your belly. The feeling growing more and more intense the more she praised you from between your legs. "You're doing so good for me, baby." You couldn't even breathe.

The coil snapping, the tension in your belly now releasing, a gushing mess now painted Paige's gorgeous face, your mouth agape.

You couldn't help but scream...almost. Your moan so loud, Paige covered your mouth with her hand. "Shh, don't want the neighbors to hear." Paige panted softly in your ear, before cracking the signature smirk.

The smugness she had while she saw the aftermath of what seemed to be the best orgasm you have ever had in your life. Your breathing still shallow, your chest heaving, the pattern of the way it rises and falls mesmerizes Paige. Her ego being fed tremendously watching the way you fell apart just by her going down on you.

She couldn't help but want to brag to your ex that he couldn't even make you feel half of what she just did. The accomplishment of getting you to look like this in her bed, your breath fanning over her face as she hovered over you, the accomplishment in having you like this, with her in her bed, was truly a miracle.

Paige loved it. She could go this whole night just fulfilling your needs, showing you everything you missed out on in your pointless one sided relationship. She intended to.

"Oh, my god. That was—" You stopped, your breath finally returning. "That was fucking amazing." You looked at the blonde who seemed to be content watching you fall apart.

The smugness on her face but the adoration of you being here, pure evidence that she was enjoying every second of it. "It was. Didn't know you were a screamer." The cocky Paige returned, forgetting keeping the moment remotely intimate. You smacked her arm that rested next to your body, and grabbed her face and kissed her.

You caught her off guard, her mouth open due to a small gasp, and took that as your chance to slide your tongue in her mouth. You two made out like horny teenagers. You two weren't that far from being teenagers, that was only a couple years ago, but you two made eachother feel like two young kids, absolutely enamored with the idea of each other that you couldn't get off of eachother.

You two made out, you slowly turning yourself so you could be on top. Paige knew what you were trying to do, allowing you to take control for now. You oulled apart, looking down at her, picturing this, saving it for the foreseeable future. Chasing your lips, Paige grabbed your face, pulling you into a deepening kiss. You two literally couldn't get enough of eachother.

Before you could even get the rest of Paige's clothes off, she grabbed your hips that were resting on hers, and pulled them forcefully over towards her chest. You gasped and yelped, suprised at the sudden force she was using. Hesitant to follow, you saw her hungry gaze go between your eyes and your now—again, soaking cunt.

There was no way. "Paige, no. Don't even think about it." You warned, a small intimidating look. It normally had an affect on Paige on the court, knowing when she saw it, you talked a big game and backed it up. But right now, in the bedroom, you were hers and she had the control.

Tonight was to show you what you were missing out on, and how to get a girl going. There was no way she'd let you have the control, no matter how much she wanted it. She'd save that for another night. Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself, but there was going to be another night with you.

"What are you talking about?" The smugness returned, along with a feigned clueless look. You couldn't take her serious with the fact that your thighs were damn near putting her in a chokehold, her hands inching you closer and closer to where she wanted you...where she wanted you to sit, preferably.

"Paige, i'm not about to sit on your face." You tried scooting back, forgetting that Paige was actually stronger than you. The ferocity in which she pulled your hips, your pussy ghosting her lips at the force and aim in which she yanked you, a small gasp escaped your sealed lips.

You yanked your hips back, giving her a pointed look. "I was trying to literally fuck you, not trying to sit on your face. Let me make you feel good, baby." Paige knew she could get away with calling you baby, you probably weren't thinking much of it when she said it. But Paige said it with conviction, just the way you did right now.

The name only egged her on when you used it in this context. The only context Paige wanted to hear it in. "Your making me feel good by letting me make you feel good. I promise i'm fine, I just want you to sit this pretty pussy on my face. Will you let me?" Her eyes sincere, the smirk playing on her lips slowly convincing you by the second.

"You promise?" You whispered, suddenly conforming to the blonde underneath you. Something about the way she talked easily convinced you.

"Yeah. Promise." You stared down at her, unsure. Not wanting to crush her, your thighs being pretty full, the muscle you've built over the years, and just the general size being something you've been insecure about since you were a little girl. She knew that.

That's why when she saw the look on your face, she kissed your thighs. In whatever spot she could reach. She gave you a reassuring nod, smile on her face. Albeit you didn't know what kind—cocky or comforting. Either way, when she said what she did, you immediately obeyed.

"Sit on my face." You then moved both knees eye level with Paige, falling back slightly, your pussy ghosting her lips again. The second you put your full weight on her face, her mouth got to work.

The sensation and new angle elicited some explicit sounds. 'Didn't know you were a screamer' kept replaying in your head when you tried to quiet down the moans only Piage seemed to be able to pull from you, escaped your lips.

Her hands cupped your ass, pressing your body down impossibly closer and harder into her face. She seemed to be pushing so hard, you were scared you were going to suffocate her. Her tongue teased your entrance, swiftly ghosting in and out of it, before lapping at your folds and clit perfectly.

She ate you like a woman starved. Like if this was her last meal. You had enjoyed every second of this exchange. You reached your hand down slowly, softly moving your hand in slow circles on your clit, overstimulating yourself.

Paige took notice of your fingers now getting to work, a gravely groan reverberating into your wet pussy as she looked up at you, and quickly closing her eyes in bliss. She decided that since you wanted to touch yourself, she'd slide a finger or two into you. To really get you going. Wasn’t the most ideal positioning but she was going to make it work.

Her head bobbed subtly, effectively getting her tongue into the small space where her fingers were about to make an appearance. Inserting one finger, Paige watched, felt, and listened to the way your body reacted to her movements.

Using each reaction to her advantage. The small gasp you let out when she inserted herself into you, the way your breathing reluctantly changed pace, so she inserted another, noticing how your breath picked up. That's when she curled her fingers methodically to the pace she set for herself, matching the pace you set while you continued rubbing circles in your clit.

It didn't take long for Paige to brung you closer to the edge while her tongue picked up the slack for your fingers. You stopped your movements and let her do the work, she could tell it was good by the volume your pants and moans were sounding. She was working overtime while you ran your hand over her hair, eventually looking for another anchor to grip to while you violently come undone by your best friend. "Oh, my god. Right there. Don't stop." You panted, your jaw dropped.

Your legs started to shake, Paige's pace relentless while she finger fucked you in her bed, while she simultaneously ate you out. This wasn't the way you expected to spend your night, and neither did Paige, but holy fuck was it worth it.

"Don't you dare stop—Oh!" The coil snapped once again, a guttural cry and moan left your lips. You swore that any person who was passing by Paige's apartment would've thought you were filming porn. The moans you moaned were insane and absolutely the biggest turn on for Paige. She wouldn't lie and say she didn't already get off on just hearing you.

Yeah, she worked at you, and saw your oh so pretty parts, but listening to the affect she had on you, the comparison made between her and your ex and the ego boost that came with it, were just the perfect amount to get her off on just pleasuring you for the last two hours.

Your breath uneven, slowly moving your legs away from her face, your chest still heaving. She chuckled softly, before looking over to you, while you laid yourself next to her. "That's how it's done, baby." Paige held her hand up, trying to signal a high five.

You looked at her blankly, her seeing the absolute fucked our face you had, and then pulled you closer to her. Your body resting against hers; the stark contrast of your overheated body, compared to her cold and cool body.

The contrast easing the overwhelmed feeling you harbored just a little easier. "You did so good for me, baby. You looked so hot while I made you come. Couldn't believe it." You smacked her chest, feeling a little cringed that she had to see you and all the faces you could've made while you had the most earth shattering orgasms.

"Paige. Oh my god, stop." You laughed, she did too, You two laid there for a minute before she broke the silence.

"You're not going back to him, right?" Her voice now withdrawn from the cockiness and confident undertones, and just pure nerves and concern. She hoped you'd say no. That you'd choose to stay with her, and tell her he was just there until you realized your feelings for her were the same as the ones she's had for you all these years.

"No, I'm breaking up with him tomorrow. You think i'd go back to him, when he couldn't do half the shit you did with your tongue alone? Yeah, right." You looked up at Paige, your bestfriend. You couldn't believe this is what your relationship evolved to in a matter of two hours.

"Soo, that means..." Paige was hopeful. She just wanted you to say what she's been wanting to say for years.

"Let's date. I love you, you obviously love me," She looked away, embarrassed, and playfully pushed you away. You grabbed her arm, pulling her back so she could look you in the eyes. "Do you want to be my girlfriend? Serious."

"Serious. I'll be your girlfriend. Finally." Paige kissed you, slowly. Melting into eachother, the weight of the new relationship status now sinking in. You two were ecstatic.

You decided to clean up, showering, again, her inevitably joining you. When you both settled and were ready for bed. Too tired and fucked out to continue the movie—restart the movie—you two had started a while ago, it was quiet and dark in the room when Paige suddenly whispered, "I knew you weren't straight."

"Paige, got to sleep! Oh my god." You chuckled before smacking her with the pillow under your head.

"Jeez! Sorry! But I called it."

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wileys-russo · 24 days ago

Text

summer christmas II a.russo

third little christmas fic installment! summer christmas II a.russo

"less, you're being a little bit dramatic." you chuckled, laid on the bed watching your girlfriend rifle through her suitcase grumbling and mumbling under her breath. "i am not! this is just wrong, its all wrong." the english woman shook her head with a huff as you merely smiled in amusement.

"baby you're just hot and bothered, you'll adjust in a few days! you've barely been here twenty four hours." you assured, pulling yourself to sit against your headboard and crossing your legs underneath you.

"exactly, and in that twenty four hours i've slept for about two of them!" the normally soft spoken blonde snapped, yanking a red bikini out of her bag and tossing it into the ever growing piles of clothes on the floor beside her.

"that's just the jetlag babe. it was the same when you came here last time, unfortunately the flight and the time differences don't change lessi, i tried speaking to someone about it but apparently mere mortals can't change geographical lines and locations." you teased gently with a grin, perfectly manicured eyebrows furrowing together in a scowl sent your way shortly after.

"it wasn't anywhere near this hot when we were here in august, i'm going to melt!" the girl groaned, kicking her case closed and flopping down backwards on the end of the bed, face buried in her hands.

"thats because again its summer right now less. i also spoke with mother nature but she won't drop the temperature, turns out she's nearly as stubborn as you." you sighed sarcastically, laying down so your head was near hers as she rolled onto her side.

"you are not cute." the blonde warned as you winked, poking her nose as she smacked your hands away and rolled onto her back again.

"this is like opposite day on repeat! its supposed to be freezing cold and you wear hundreds of layers and drink hot chocolate and get cosy and have a fire and chop down a tree an-" your british girlfriend rattled off her regular traditions, ticking them off with her fingers.

"we can still do that stuff! well maybe not all of it, but we can watch christmas movies and go look at lights and have iced chocolates! we can take my nieces to the carols in the park, we can also go to the beach everyday and out on my brothers boat and we can stay out later because the sun doesn't set till after nine, and my mum got us all matching pyjamas! they're just...summer ones." you tried to assure, moving onto your stomach and looking down at her with a few encouraging nods.

"but its not the same! i've never had a hot christmas, all of its just wrong." alessia moaned, arms covering her face as you deflated a little and wriggled back to sit up, fiddling with your fingers in your lap for a second as doubts began to swirl around in your head at her words.

the two of you played at arsenal together and quickly clicked when alessia transferred, having met at a few social events the last couple of years you'd been in england and gotten close with some of your english teammates who'd gone above and beyond to make you feel welcome.

it helped having steph and caitlin around, and then now kyra, plus the rest of your matildas teammates scattered throughout london whom you regularly made efforts to catch up.

you and alessia had only been seeing one another for about a year and a half now but if you asked anyone who'd spent time with you during that period they'd tease you acted as if it had been much much longer.

last year you'd spent your first christmas in england with the russo family, finally having a reason not to go home which as much as it broke your mums heart she was overjoyed you'd met someone, bonus being it someone as kind and thoughtful as alessia was.

but this year you'd promised to come home for christmas, not having much of a chance to see your family all season between the olympics, international games, league games and champions leagues matches that had kept you more than busy the last twelve months.

you'd not expected your girlfriend to come with you, the two of you more than accustomed now to having to spend time apart playing for different countries. but when alessia teasingly floated the idea over dinner, feigning offence you hadn't asked her, it had all blossomed from there and now here she was.

you were much more used to the long haul flight home than the blonde was though, having done it dozens of times over the years for international commitments among the league games in england.

you'd come home pretty much the very day your break started, just under a week earlier than alessia to allow her to spend a little bit of the december break with her own family before she flew herself to australia.

but ever since you'd picked her up from the airport yesterday you could tell she was rather miserable.

there'd been turbulence and two screaming babies on the flight despite the fact the striker had flown business, which meant she'd not slept anywhere near as much as planned, and adjusting to the time difference hadn't been kind.

so slowly those doubts that you'd made a wrong choice asking her here grew louder and louder, until you just had to say something or else it felt as it you might burst.

"do you wish you'd stayed in england?" you asked quietly, attempts to mask the insecurity in your voice null and void as your girlfriend shot up, guilt written clear all over her face which sank as it caught the obvious nerves in your features that she regretted her choice to come home with you for the holidays during break.

"what? baby no of course not. i'm so excited to finally meet your whole family and spend time with them and with you, i'm so sorry for being so negative. i'm just tired and grumpy but that is not at all fair to take out on you." the blondes hands moved to settle either side of your face, bright blue eyes scanning yours as you gave a small nod, clearly not believing her.

"oh my love, really i am excited! we're going to do all that stuff you just said and i want to learn about your traditions and what you like doing for christmas. a summer christmas is just new for me thats all! but new things aren't bad things." alessia pushed, thumbs stroking your jawline and feeling the obvious tension in your body drop just a little at her words.

"less are you sure? it wouldn't be easy but we can find a flight back for you before christmas eve." you questioned, the taller girl nodding enthusiastically and leaning in to press her lips sweetly against yours a few times.

"more than sure, there's no need for that at all. this is no different to when you stayed in england with me and had a winter christmas last year, and you were nothing but cheerful and sweet and lovely the entire time." the blonde promised with another nod, stealing a few more kisses as the corners of your mouth upturned a little.

"mm theres that smile, welcome back." the striker grinned happily, a laugh finally leaving you as she practically tackled you back to the bed, moving on top of you as her hair fell around the pair of you like a curtain.

"i wasn't the one with the smiling problem russo." you poked her as she winced sheepishly. "i know. but from now on, i will embrace these new experiences with open arms!" the english woman announced, laying down on top of you and kissing all over your face.

"i'm happy to hear that." "yeah? i'm happy to say it." "good, because its thirty two degrees outside right now and the air cons only in the living room." you scrunched your nose up as the blonde faltered, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

"thats fine! i'm fine. lets just go to the beach!"

it turns out you and your girlfriend clearly had different expectations of what open arms and a beach day meant, as alessia lay on the beach recharging herself in the sun and you'd spent the entire time begging she get in the water with you.

"lessi come on! what happened to being open to new experiences?" you groaned, stealing her sunglasses and slipping them over your nose as she squinted up at you, sheltering her eyes with her hand.

"give!" the blonde demanded, making grabby hands as you shook your head and shuffled back on your knees. "swim!" you countered, smacking her thigh gently as she sighed heavily.

"swimming in december feels illegal." "not going in the water when you're at the beach is illegal." "babe the waves are huge, i'll get...what did you call it again?" "mm, dumped? we're not going surfing alessia!" you laughed, pushing her hand away where she reached for her sunglasses back again.

"but tanning feels so nice!" the blonde whined, arms covering her face. "you'll have plenty of time to get sunburnt like a little lobster baby, i promise." you cooed sarcastically, your girlfriend shoving you and finally sitting up on her towel.

"that was one time." "lessi its every time, you refuse to wear sunscreen!" "sun cream, and because it feels...sticky." "well does crying about how much it hurts to shower and peeling off your burnt skin feel better?" you countered quickly, the striker opening and closing her mouth.

"come on!" you hopped up to your feet, holding out your hand toward her and wiggling your fingers impatiently. "you know your persistence is incredibly irritating." alessia gave in, grabbing your hand as you pulled her up to stand.

"and here you used to find it endearing." you teased, the blondes hand smacking against your ass as you blushed and pushed her. "theres families here!" you warned as the girl smiled, simply shrugging and interlocking her fingers with yours as you tossed her sunglasses onto her towel and lead her down to the waters edge.

"how do you get in without being smashed by the waves?" her grip on you tightened as another set came rolling in. "timing. you see how the waves all crash here? thats the breaking point, once the last wave crashed you move past that, and then you just duck dive under the big ones until you get out the back!" you explained, the english woman staring on clueless as you laughed.

"come on, on three we run into the water. one, two..." again her grip on your hand tightened but she nodded none the less. "go!" you raced off but felt her hand slip out of yours, glancing back as alessia shook her head and remained rooted in position.

"how is it thirty five degrees and the water is freezing cold?" the striker scoffed having stepped one foot in and recoiled immediately as you grinned at her from the shallows.

"i swear babe if you say something about mother nature when i get out there i'll drown you!" the blonde warned seriously as you held up your hands, glancing over your shoulder.

"okay now, go baby!" you encouraged, waving for her to run to you, a moments hesitation passing before she gingerly waded in, wincing every few steps until finally she'd made it past the break point, the water barely up to her hips.

"jesus christ i'm going to get hypothermia!" the older girl wrapped her arms around herself with a shiver making you roll your eyes. "but i'm the dramatic one?" you questioned in disbelief. "no not dramatic baby, sensitive." the girl patted your cheek condescendingly with a pout as you narrowed your eyes at her.

"dickhead." you poked her with a shake of your head. "do you want to know a secret to adjusting to the water faster?" you asked as your girlfriend nodded eagerly.

"well its quite simple, you just get your head wet!" you grinned and before the taller girl could blink you'd barreled into her, sending her toppling over into the water as she surfaced with a gasp.

"oh you're dead." you squealed as you were tugged down into the water with her, plunged in head first before you popped back up with a cough, having swallowed a lungful of water in the purpose.

"hey you said snowball fights was a big thing in england?" you questioned, the two of you moving into water a little deeper as alessia nodded. "well we can do that too." you promised as the girl looked at you clearly confused.

"how? theres no snow." "no, but there is sand!" you grinned, smacking a handful of wet sand from the ocean floor into her hair as she gasped.

"are you fucking kidding-" "wave! duck!" you interrupted, grabbing her by the arm and pulling the pair of you under, tugging her out to swim even deeper past where the waves started and you could relax a little more.

"it was a joke!" you laughed as your girlfriend launched at you once you did, latching onto you and forcing your head back underwater with a grunt, the two of you wrestling in the water before you yelled for a truce.

"maybe this isn't so bad." the blonde admitted, swimming up behind you, arms circling your waist and her chin making a home on your shoulder as the pair of you stared back toward the beach, the water now calm and bright turquoise, sparkling where it was hit with the sun.

"thank you for agreeing to come." you turned your head, capturing her lips in hers with a soft smile. "thank you for asking me to come." alessia squeezed you appreciatively before you both turned back to your people watching.

"are they playing...cricket?" your girlfriend asked in bewilderment watching a young family race back and forth across the sand. "yeah! beach cricket, an aussie classic. but not surpassed by backyard cricket, which you'll get to experience on christmas day." you explained as the blonde hummed curiously.

"really?" "yeah! we have a tournament every year with the whole family even my nan and pop, between lunch and presents." "so we do christmas lunch, not dinner, right?"

you nodded, answering a few more questions about what the next few days had lined up for the pair of you, stopping your explanation of why santa was left a beer and not milk when familiar lips started to trail across your neck.

"you're going to get us in trouble if you leave a mark russo." you chuckled in warning, relaxing in her hold as the striker merely hummed, your eyes closing as your face was bathed in sunshine and soft kisses were peppered down your jaw.

"well your mums already made it very clear that i have permission." you groaned at that, pushing her away and pulling a face. "well you've ruined the mood with that haven't you." you huffed, starting to wander back in until fingers hooked into the sides of your bikini bottoms and tugged you backwards.

"i'm sorry! i've just never met a woman who took such healthy interest in her daughters sex life." alessia teased, your response swallowed with her mouth pressing to yours with a cheeky grin.

"its not funny! its humiliating she has no boundaries and we're stuck with her for the next week." you groaned, head resting against her shoulder as the girls thumbs traced circles against your hips, the two of you staying in your childhood home where everyone would be gathering for the holidays.

"baby its not that bad. she's just very...progressive! and supportive." "you know i think if you were a boy she'd have left condoms on the side table and the book of karma sutra on the bed."

"santa came get up get up get up!" you groggily lifted your head feeling three little bodies jump up and down on top of you, alessia stirring next to you with a tired exhale.

"are you awake yet? wake up!" one of your nieces shouted in your ear as you tiredly lifted a hand and made a thumbs up, the three young girls belonging to your older brother taking that as a yes and jumping down, racing off to wake up the rest of the family.

you exhaled tiredly, dragging your hands down your face and jolting as your door swung open again. "hope no ones naked! merry christmas girls, up we get!" your mum sung out, flinging open your blinds as you groaned.

"jesus christ mum come on!" your cheeks flushed red at her brash words feeling alessias body vibrate with a small chuckle beside you as the woman shrugged, flicking on your light and striding on out again.

"i think i'm adopted." you grumbled, rolling over and burying your face in your girlfriends shoulder. "well thats quite the wake up." the brit rasped out with another chuckle, hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

"merry christmas less." you pulled back and rested your head on your pillow again, bright blue eyes and a tired smile staring back at you. "merry christmas love." she repeated, pecking your lips quickly given neither of you had brushed your teeth yet.

"get up!" you both winced as a hand smacked against the wood of your door, your brother flipping you off in the doorway as you rolled your eyes and forced yourself up into a sitting position, alessia rubbing her eyes and exhaling, face still puffy with sleep.

"how is it already hot?" the english woman groaned in disbelief, the two of you sleeping under a thin sheet and even then barely able to touch one another bar a bit of hand holding when you were dozing off due to the thick humidity of your childhood bedroom.

"welcome to your first summer christmas." you laughed, running a hand through her hair as she hummed, the two of you gradually getting out of bed and already hearing the commotion of your family downstairs.

"mum no photos! its seven in the fucking morning." you groaned, wincing at the obvious click of her phone camera shoved in your face as you and alessia stumbled into the kitchen.

"oi you watch your fucking mouth!" your dad chimed in with a point making your girlfriend laugh and your eyes roll as the pair of you followed everyone into the living room.

"look look! this ones for me!" your eldest niece gasped, all three of them already riffling through the mountain of presents as you sent her an encouraging smile and collapsed onto the corner of the sofa.

alessia took a seat beside you as you slung one of your legs over hers, the pair of you exhaling in relief at the air con blasting right above you and wishing a merry christmas the rest of your family who were lounging around the room, your dad taking charge to handing out presents.

"oh thank you!" your girlfriend smiled appreciatively as he handed the pair of you one each, labeled from santa which you knew meant they were from your mum which was what you whispered in the blondes ear who chuckled and squeezed your knee.

though as you began to unwrap yours you realized very quickly you may have been a little too quick with your excitement, catching the word 'dental dams' on the side of the box and stuffing it down the side of the sofa before anyone else could see.

"oh my god mum!" "what? santa just wants you to be safe darling!"

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo #christmas fic #woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine

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withwritersblock · 6 days ago

Text

You are in Love

~You are in Love by Taylor Swift~

Author's Note: requested! sorry for blue balling you all! But I couldn't figure out how to really finish this, if that makes sense? Summary: Y/N needed a plus one to her friend's wedding. She invites her best friend Warnings: brief mention of former verbal relationship abuse, implied smut Word count: 15,031 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

They were neighbors first. She knew Jack for a long time. Their interactions never passed a polite conversation and a small smile and wave. The conversations never lasted long enough to even get to know one another.

That ended when Luke moved in. He was a talker. Jack was always trying to end the conversation so they could leave but Luke and Y/N could talk forever. It was easy and never forced neighborly chat.

Jack swore it was because Luke was attractive to her. But their conversations were very platonic. But that was because her boyfriend marked his territory from the first time Y/N and Luke met. Jack didn’t even know another person lived in Y/N’s apartment.

But the second his little brother arrived, her boyfriend felt it was important to make his presence known.

It was only a month into Luke’s rookie season when he offered to have Y/N and her boyfriend come to one of their games. Without hesitation, they agreed to go. After that, the four of them became “friends”. Luke, Jack, Y/N, and Jonathan.

They would travel to bars together and they would hang out at each other’s apartments. It was safe to say that they were all becoming close. But Jonathan definitely did not like Luke. He was fine with hanging out with him but he thought Luke was attracted to Y/N. Who wouldn’t be, she was the definition of stunning.

Jonathan and Y/N had been together since she was a junior in high school. It had been almost four years of them being together. But it was obvious that their relationship was not perfect or good. They would put on a front to show that they were happy.

Luke was definitely attracted to her but when they first met he had no intention of romance. His intentions went strictly platonic. His intentions got even more platonic after he found out she was in a long term relationship. He’s not the type of guy to hit on another guy’s girlfriend. Any passing thought he had disappeared.

Tonight was the last hang out before Jack flew to get his shoulder surgery. They were all hanging out at the Hughes’ apartment. They were sprailed out in the living room, drinking some beers as they watched Quinn’s game on the screen.

Luke delicately rested his hand onto Y/N’s arm as he stood up from the couch. She smiled softly towards Luke. “Do you guys want anything else?” he asked as he walked towards the kitchen. Jonathan fought back spits of anger as he tilted his head back to stare towards the ceiling.

“Nah, we’re good,” Jonathan offered.

“Actually I was hoping–”

“We’re good,” he interrupted her, his face was practically bright red from anger. Y/N pulled her head back as she met Jonathan’s gaze. “We’re good, we don’t need anything else,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked softly before clenching her jaw. He huffed as he rolled his eyes.

“What’s wrong with me?! What’s wrong with you?!” he shouted.

“Dude,” Jack mumbled.

Jonathan stood up from the floor. His back was pressed against the couch as he pointed towards the front door. He quickly began to walk out of the apartment, the beer still in his hands.

Y/N took a deep breath as she tilted her head back. Shutting her eyes for a moment while she contemplated on following him. She would probably get screamed at if she didn’t follow within the next five seconds.

Jack pursed his lips forward as he awkwardly looked down towards his lap. “Are you okay?” he asked Y/N as he watched her reluctantly stand up from the couch.

“Nope,” she let out as she walked towards Luke, handing him her half dranken beer.

“Y/N, hey,” he said softly as he awkwardly took a hold of the drink.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she expressed as she walked fast out of the apartment towards her own apartment.

Jack tilted his head back as he looked towards Luke who was still staring towards the door she left from. “What did you do?” Jack asked as he saw Luke awkwardly place her beer onto the counter.

“I–I don’t know,” Luke stuttered as he pulled out another beer for himself and for Jack. As Luke walked back towards the couch, their was loud muffled voices coming from her apartment. It was hard to make out the words being said but it was definitely Jonathan yelling towards her. Luke’s eyes widened as he felt his heart start racing.

“Should we go over there?” Jack asked softly as Jonathan’s voice got louder and clearer.

“I’m tired of seeing you throw yourself at every fucking guy on the planet!” Jonathan shouted so loud they could hear it through the wall.

“I–I don’t know,” Luke mumbled as he swallowed hard.

It took another ten seconds before they both stood up from the couch, placing their beers onto the coffee table. Luke led the charge towards the door, pulling the door open. His body ran hot. He was seeing red. How could anyone talk to a girl like that? Let alone someone they called their friend.

“Do we just walk inside?” Luke let out softly.

“You’re the one that’s acting all macho man!” Jack said as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip. They stepped into the hallway the same time Jonathan pulled her apartment door open.

“I’m fucking done! We’re done! I’ll get my shit tomorrow! I’m staying with Veronica!” he shouted smugly as he slammed the door shut. He smirked once he saw Jack and Luke. “She’s all yours boys, have at her! I’ve got a much hotter–” Jonathan began before he met Luke’s gaze, “Much hotter woman who isn’t a massive–”

“Fucking finish that sentence and I’ll break your arm,” Luke let out simply as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jonathan’s mouth clammered shut before he shoved passed Luke and Jack, storming down the hallway.

Jack and Luke instantly walked up towards the door. Carefully pushing the door open. She was sitting on the couch, her face in her hands.

She didn’t lift her head as another sob fell from her lips. Both of them sat on either side of her, wrapping their arms around her shoulder as they held onto her tightly as she sobbed. Luke glided his hand along her upper back as Jack kept his hand on the center of her back.

They shared glanced as they both took deep breaths. She was still sobbing. Not caring that she’s technically only known them from less than a year and how embarrassing this probably was. But she didn’t care. She took the comfort, she needed the comfort.

Nine months later

She was sitting on her bed, staring towards the light blue floral maxi dress hanging from her closet door. It was form fitting, a dress that Jonathan wouldn’t have let her wear. Because God forbid another man found her attractive. But she was wearing it tomorrow.

Tomorrow she had a wedding to attend where she had checked plus one on her reservation card. The reservation card was sent out six months ago. Out of habit she would check the box. She didn’t think she would have a date for the wedding after everything that happened with Jonathan.

She forgot that she said that she would bring a plus one until the bride, her freshman roommate, Anna, gave her a call and briefly mentioned it. Now she has to have a date to the wedding for tomorrow.

Standing up, she took a hold of the fabric of the dress, letting it cascade against her hands as she smiled softly. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she quickly pulled it out to see a text from Luke.

–Luke: let me in pleaseeee

A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she left her bedroom. Y/N took fast steps towards the front door as she pulled it open. “Hey,” she said as she allowed him to step inside of her apartment.

“Thank god you’re home,” he mumbled as he happily plopped down onto her couch, he took up the whole thing. “Jack’s been gone for like a day and I’m bored out of my mind,” Luke explained as he ran his hand over his eyes. She chuckled softly as she shoved his feet off of the couch. He sat up slightly as she sat down beside him.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” she asked shyly as she twisted the rings on her fingers in a different cadence. He pursed his lips forward as he tilted his head to the side to meet her eye. His cheeks flushed slightly.

“Nope,” he said as his gaze fluttered all over her features. She nodded as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Do you remember me telling you about my old roommate Anna?” she questioned. He hummed as a reply as he awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair. “Apparently, I’m supposed to bring someone to her wedding. I checked plus one without actually having anyone so now I need a date to this wedding,” she explained in what felt like one quick breath.

Luke nodded slowly, “What suit should I wear?” he asked softly. Her eyes widened slightly as the corner of her lips curled upward.

“Wait really?”

“I don’t have anything better to do,” he let out somewhat teasingly. Her soft smile widened as she giggled excitedly. She tapped her fingertips against his shoulder several times, joy pouring out of her frame.

“Okay this is going to be so fun!” she said as she leaned away. “I might’ve forgotten a little detail,” she mumbled as she shyly looked down towards her lap.

“What’s up, Y/N?” he asked while laughing.

“The wedding is in Connecticut,” she said while awkwardly twisting her rings on her hands again.

“Doesn’t Anna live in Jersey?” he let out while laughing.

“I don’t understand it either but if we leave today, she has a hotel room that we can stay in,” she explained as she had a hopeful grin on her lips. He tilted his head back against the couch as he rolled his eyes playfully.

He took a deep breath, “Let me guess you want me to drive?” he let out as he pursed his lips forward.

“I can drive,” she said as she looked into his light eyes. Her cheeks suddenly heated up as she watched his gaze dip towards her lips for a second before lifting back up to meet her eye.

“I hate your driving,” he mumbled as he stood up from the couch. She scanned his frame for a moment before he held out his hand towards her. “Let me see your dress so we can try and match,”

Looking up towards him, she fought a grin forming to her lips as she happily took a hold of his hand as he helped her up from the couch. Luke started walking towards her bedroom, still holding onto her hand as he guided her towards her room. Her eyes landed onto their hands, it felt as though electricity was coursing through her veins.

After a few seconds, Luke pulled his hand away from hers to push open her bedroom door. Y/N awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest as she rested her hand against her own cheek. It was instant heat radiating from her skin.

Luke was not a guy that put too much thought into the idea of physical touch. Holding hands for a few seconds didn’t mean anything to him. There was no other intentions, he swore. Luke walked towards the closet looking towards the light blue maxi dress and his eyes widened slightly.

He glanced towards her, his lips curled upward slightly. “That’ll look pretty on you,” he mumbled as he looked back towards the dress.

Compliments fell from his lips so easily that they didn’t have any hidden meaning. He was a gentleman afterall, compliments were him being nice. Not being interested in her. She knew that. She knew that. He was just nice, that’s all.

“Thank you,” she mumbled before taking in a much needed breath. “Do you have anything that can work with that?”

He pressed his lips together as he tilted his head back thinking. He nodded as he met her eye. “I’ve got some options,” he mumbled. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he quickly took a photo of her dress. She furrowed her eyebrows as she smiled softly. “I gotta know if it matches,” he said nonchalantly as he ushered her to walk out of her bedroom.

“I’m going to finish packing while you do that,” she said as she stepped aside.

“Okay, what time are we leaving?” he asked as he poked his head back into her room. His eyes scanned her frame subconsciously.

“Whenever we’re ready,” she mumbled as she still kept her arms shyly crossed over her chest.

“Okay!” he called out as he walked down the small hallway towards the front door. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully as she took the dress and placed it into the suitcase very delicately. She was planning on bringing a steamer anyway, but she wanted to make sure it was perfect.

Obviously, it didn’t need to be perfect. It’s not like she has anyone to impress, or leave speechless.

An hour passed and Luke reentered her apartment, unannounced this time. He had rolled his suitcase next to her kitchen countertop as he leaned against it. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. Quickly, he pulled it out to see Jack was calling him.

He brought the phone towards his ear, “Hey,” he let out softly.

“How’s your break going?” Jack asked sarcastically. Luke chuckled while rolling his eyes.

“I’m actually getting ready to drive to Hartford,” Luke let out as he watched Y/N walk out of the hallway rolling her suitcase behind her. She smiled towards him as she switched her gaze towards her own phone in her hand. Luke continued to watch her, admire her frame.

“Connecticut?” Jack asked while laughing.

“Yeah, Y/N needed a plus one for her old roommate’s wedding,” Luke explained. At the mention of her name, she lifted her gaze meeting Luke’s gaze. He smirked before he dropped his gaze towards the floor.

“Can’t wait to hear how that goes,” Jack said sarcastically.

“Sharing a hotel room, huh?” Quinn chimed in.

“That sounds like it’ll be a good weekend,” Jack expressed teasingly.

“I mean it’s been a long time coming, right?” Quinn shot back.

“Oh yeah, weddings have a lot of romance in the air,” Jack let out through laughter.

“Alright!” he said while laughing, “Goodbye, good luck tomorrow,” Luke forced out as he hung up the phone, silencing the eruption of laughter from his brothers. Luke shoved his phone back into his pocket as he looked towards Y/N. “Ready?” he asked softly as he awkwardly chewed on his bottom lip.

“I think so,” she expressed as she shoved her own phone back into her pocket. “Did you pick a suit?” she asked as she took a hold of her suitcase and began walking towards him. He nodded as he fought off a grin as he looke deeply into her eyes.

“I might’ve packed three of them,” he muttered as his cheeks pinked up. A soft chuckle fell from her lips as she walked up towards him.

“Of course you did,” she mumbled as she walked towards him. He scanned her features as he swallowed hard. “We’re going to have to get gas before we get going,” she offered.

Nodding slowly, “No we don’t, I’ve got a full tank,” he offered as he pulled his keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of her face.

Tilting her head to the side, she pursed her lips forward fighting a grin. She rolled her eyes playfully as she began walking towards the door. “Come on, Lukey,” she let out teasingly as she walked towards the door. He chuckled dryly as he followed after her, taking a hold of his own suitcase.

~~~

They only had thirty minutes left of their drive and it was safe to say this was her favorite road trip yet. Luke was an amazing driver, so she didn’t have an ounce of anxiety with him behind the wheel. She couldn’t say anything like that about Jonathan.

She was in control of the music. Luke didn’t mind because they had pretty similar music taste. She would sing along softly to the songs but if Luke was confident, and not so confident, in the lyrics he would sing loudly. He mostly did it to hear her giggle. Her giggle was everything to him.

Rihanna was playing loudly in the car and Luke was trying to sing the lyrics, pretending to know what he was singing along to. She was laughing as she was singing along. He held his hand towards her and she happily dropped some pretzels into his hand. He tossed them into his mouth as he continued to dance slightly.

Through laughter, “You are an awful singer,” she mumbled out. He glanced towards her, smirking through a mouth full. He tilted his head back slightly against the head rest. “Like so bad,” she said while covering her mouth.

“Well play something I know!” he said while laughing.

“Fine, fine!” she let out, “You listen to depressing country music, so if you want to kill the mood. Then I’ll play something you know,” she teased. He smirked as he nodded, urging her to change the song. “Depressing country music it is,”

After a few seconds the song switched to Love You Anyway by Luke Combs. Luke smiled widely as he glanced towards her before he switched lanes. He held his hand towards his mouth mimicking a microphone.

“If your kiss turned me to stone, I’d be a statue standing tall in Ancient Rome. And if your touch shattered me like glass–” he sang with a country twang in his voice. She giggled as she watched him sing as he bobbed his head back and forth to the slow beat.

He was adorable as he continued to stare ahead, singing along to the song. He was right he did sound somewhat better.

“There’s just some things that leave a man no choice. Like a compass needle needing it’s true north. Even if I knew the day we met you’d be the reason this heart breaks. Oh I’d love you anyway,”

She fought the grin and the soft laughter falling from her lips. He was fully invested in a dramatic performance. It was probably the cutest thing he’s ever done.

He finished singing, looking towards her for some sort of approval. “Definitely better,” she said as she clapped her hands together.

“Thank you, thank you,” he let out grinning as he pulled off on the exit. “Alright, I need a performance now,” he offered as he glanced towards her as they were waiting at a red light.

“I don’t do solo performances,” she teased.

“Come on!” he begged as he tapped his steering wheel. “Please! I just sang my heart out,” he whined as he pouted his lips. Rolling her eyes playfully, she took a deep breath as she began to search for a song of her own. “Yes!” he cheered as he bit his bottom lip with a grin on his lips.

She pressed play on Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. She began to dance slightly as she brought her hand towards her mouth as she started singing, “I am unwritten. Can’t read my mind, I’m undefined. I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand,” she sang not too seriously.

Luke was bobbing his head along as he watched her, he glanced in front of him as the light switched to grin. “Staring at the blank page before you, open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find. Reaching for something in the distance, so close you can almost taste it. Release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin–” she continued to sing.

Luke was tapping along on the steering wheel as he was lip syncing. She was pretending to sing badly but even without trying she sounded beautiful. She was an amazing singer, something she always hid. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Soon she put her hand in front of his mouth mimicking a microphone. He pouted before he sang the chorus loudly with her.

After another fifteen minutes, they finally arrived at the hotel. It was a short cab ride from the wedding venue. Anna’s family rented out the hotel so that all of their guests could have a room to stay in. Luke parked pretty far from the entrance since all of the guests were practically already there.

She led the charge with her suitcase behind her. She was practically skipping towards the entrance. He rolled his eyes playfully as he followed after her.

They walked into the lobby, she walked straight up towards the desk. Luke trailed behind her, glancing towards an entire lobby of people he had no idea who they were.

“Are you here for the wedding this weekend?” the desk attendant asked with a forced smile. Y/N nodded encouragingly. “Okay, name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she let out she glanced towards Luke as he walked up beside her, his shoulder brushed against hers.

“Perfect,” the desk attendant said as he crossed off her name on the paper in front of him. He spun around pulling the key cards from a collection. “Rooms are already assigned, here’s your keys,” he said happily as he handed the key cards towards Y/N and then Luke.

“Thank you so much,” Y/N mumbled as she glanced down to the card that said their room was 805. She switched her gaze towards Luke. “Ready?” she asked softly. He nodded as his eyes flickered all over her features. Her lips curled upward before she began to walk towards the elevator. Luke was following after her like a lost puppy.

She pressed the button for the elevator, “This is going to be so fun,” she said as she was practically exploding with excitement.

“You really like weddings huh,” he let out as he continued look over her features.

“I really do,” she let out happily as the elevators door opened. “Come on,” she mumbled as she walked into the elevator. Luke chuckled as he followed her inside. She pressed eight as she stepped back as the doors shut.

His eyes were still admiring her features. He stared towards her lips, admiring the gloss and the soft smile on her lips.

After a few seconds, she shifted her gaze to meet his eye. She watched his gaze flicker up towards her eyes. Their eyes remained connected without saying anything. Her eyes squinting slightly while her breathing was starting to quicken. Her lips parted as she was going to say something but the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

At the same time their eyes shifted towards the brightly lit hotel hallway. Swallowing harshly they both began to walk into the hallway. He clenched his fist as he pressed his lips together as he followed her towards their room. She bit her bottom lip as she kept her gaze onto the floor.

She stopped in front of the room, staring at the 805 on the door. She dipped her card into the card reader, unlocking the door. She pushed it open as Luke rested his hand onto the center of the door holding it open for her. She smiled softly as she walked inside. Her eyes landed on the king size bed. One bed.

A dry chuckle fell from her lips. Luke walked up behind her, placing his suitcase beside the wall. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip as she stared towards the bed with a card on it.

Letting go of her suitcase, she reached towards the card. “Y/N and guest. Enjoy,” she read aloud fighting laughter climbing into her throat. “There’s a heart,” she said while chuckling holding it behind her showing it to Luke.

He cleared his throat as he took the card from her hand. Staring towards the perfect cursive handwriting. “I can go see if there’s a different room available,” he mumbled as he kept staring at her name.

“We can make it work,” she mumbled as she spun around meeting his gaze, “As long as you keep your hands to yourself,” she let out teasingly. He rolled his eyes as a sudden laugh fell from his lips.

“Right back atcha,” he teased as he stepped around her, flopping down at the center of the bed. “What time is the ceremony tomorrow?” he asked as he adjusted the pillow beneath his head.

“We have to be there by four,” she expressed as she rolled her suitcase beside Luke’s. She stood at the end of the bed staring towards him.

“What?” he asked softly. She shook her head as she sat down on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes in the process. “How rich is Anna exactly? This place is nice,” he asked as he continued to look around the small hotel room.

“Her family owns like Haribo or something like that,” she explained as she stood up from the couch, pulling her suitcase towards the bed. She quickly rested it beside Luke.

“Actually?” he asked as he watched her unzip her suitcase. She flipped it open and instantly pulled out the dress. It cascaded down as she held it out in front of her. Luke’s gaze landed on the dress, picturing it on her gorgeous frame.

“I’m not sure, I just know they own something,” she said while laughing. He smirked as she walked towards the bathroom door, hanging it from the top of the door. After a few seconds he stood up walking towards his own suitcase to try and decide what suit would be for the best.

“Is there a specific color I should avoid?” he asked as he slammed his own suitcase onto the bed.

“I would definitely say white–” she let out teasingly.

“No I mea–” he trailed while rolling his eyes playfully. “I’ve got a suit that would be perfect but it’s a cream or off white or whatever it’s called. But I don’t know if that would be weird,” he questioned. “I’ve worn it to other weddings but I don’t really know Anna and I don’t know if she would be mad.”

She nodded as she watched him pull out the cream suit jacket, it was one of her favorites. Her lips curled upward just as there was a knock on their door. Her eyebrows fell into a harsh furrow as she walked towards the door. She looked through the tiny peephole to see Anna standing outside the door.

Y/N smiled widely before she pulled the door open. “You made it!” Anna cheered excitedly, instantly wrapping her arms around Y/N. Loud giggles fell from her lips.

Luke rounded the corner to see what was going on. Anna met Luke’s gaze while still hugging Y/N. “Oh my god,” she whispered as she pulled away. “He’s so much hotter than Jonny,” she said, “So much hotter,” she fanned herself.

Y/N eyes widened as she awkwardly chuckled. She pointed towards Luke as he laughed nervously too. “We’re not–he’s not–we’re just friends,” she explained while nervously crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m Luke,” he held out his hand towards Anna. She happily shook it. Anna’s eyes widened as she stared towards the one bed.

“Oh my god! I didn’t think–I just assumed. There’s no other rooms available. I’m sorry!” she said panickedly as she pointed towards the bed.

“Oh that’s amazing suit jacket, that’ll be a great color on you,” she expressed genuinely before she looked towards Y/N.

“It’s okay, Anna. We don’t mind, it’s cool,” Y/N offered as she delicately rested her hand onto Anna’s shoulder. Anna stared towards her while taking in a deep breath. “We promise,” she muttered.

“Oh so that note was probably super awkward,” Anna mumbled. The three of them chuckled. Luke awkwardly pressed his lips together as he stared towards the ceiling.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Anna pulled it out to see her fiance, Brandon, texting her saying there was a few more guests arriving.

“Okay, I have to go but I’m so happy you came! Lots of people I have to see and like no time. I love you, have fun this weekend! We’ll see you at the reception!” Anna expressed as she quickly hugged Y/N before smiling politely towards Luke.

Anna left the room nearly as quickly as she entered it. Y/N swallowed harshly as she forced a small grin towards Luke. “So, that’s Anna,” she mumbled. Luke laughed as he looked back down towards his suit.

“She seemed like she’s fine with the cream–off white– suit,” he let out awkwardly. She laughed as she pushed him slightly.

“I’m starving, can we find a place for dinner?” she switched the subject quickly. He smirked for a moment.

“I’ll get to googling,” he offered as he flopped back down onto the bed.

~~~

They returned from the restaurant an hour ago and they were getting ready for bed. Luke was in the shower while she was steaming her beautiful dress. A dress she has been wanting to wear for almost a year.

The TV beside her was playing a random episode of Friends. She listened along as she placed the hand held steamer onto the small desk beside her. She smiled towards it. Weirdly, the dress holds a lot of power over her. All she wanted was for it to be perfect.

This weekend had to be perfect.

The shower turned off and she spun her head around staring towards the bathroom door. There was small amounts of steam coming from the small crack at the bottom of the door.

“Oh shit,” she heard Luke say from the bathroom. “Dammit,”

Swallowing harshly, she bit her bottom lip. Almost instantly Luke pulled the door open. Steam poured out of the bathroom behind him. His hair was soaking wet. His body was only covered by a towel loosely around his waist. There were small droplets all over his frame. Her eyes widened as she scanned his frame. Her body froze as she suddenly felt weak looking over him.

Her eyes trailed up his frame as she soon met his gaze. “I um–” he let out as he stepped towards her. “I forgot my clothes in my–” he mumbled as he looked into her eyes as he gripped the towel tighter on his waist. “My clothes are in my bag,” he let out softly as he continued to look into her eyes.

Slowly, she nodded as a hum fell from her lips. He took a deep breath, his gaze dipping towards her lips. He cleared his throat as he slipped past her. Spinning around, she rested her hands onto the small desk beside her. Her hands clenched into fist as she let out a breath she was holding. Her shoulders slumped as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She could hear Luke rummaging through his bag. Her fist delicately hit the desk. He shuffled past her as he stepped back into the bathroom. She took a deep breath as she walked towards the bed. She sat down as her feet dangled off the end of the bed.

She took a deep breath as she stared towards the ceiling. “I can’t–” she mumbled as she swallowed harshly. It took another minute before he stepped out of the bathroom. This time a pair of black sweats and a lose black t-shirt on his frame. Her eyes widened as she kept her gaze ahead.

He walked around her as he laid on the bed. Luke leaned up on his elbow as he looked passed her towards the screen. Her body straightened as she took a deep breath. She could feel him laying behind her. She clenched her fist as she tilted her head back.

“Y/N,” Luke let out.

She stood up from the bed instantly. “I’m going to shower,” she mumbled as she walked towards her suitcase taking a hold of her own set of pajamas before she walked into the bathroom. Quickly, she shut the door as she pressed her back against the door. She let out a huff of air as she shut her eyes again. Carefully, she placed her pajamas onto the bathroom counter.

She walked towards the walk in shower and turned it on. The water was already hot, steaming as it shot out of the shower head. Stepping back, she took the ends of her shirt and pulled it over her head and tossed it quickly towards the floor. Her breathing was fast as she took the remainder of her clothes from her frame.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the shower. Letting the steaming water burn against her skin. Washing every thought out of her mind as she tilted her head back. Her eyes shut as images of Luke shirtless flashed into her mind. Swallowing hard, her eyes opened trying to push the image from her mind.

Despite shoving the thought away it found itself back in her mind. Shutting her eyes, Luke’s body came back into her mind. The muscles that look like they’re sculpted by hand.

Clenching her jaw, she forced her attention towards her body wash to shower as fast as possible.

It took another twenty minutes before she was done with her shower. Stepping out of the bathroom, her entire frame got hit with what felt like a wind of cold air as she reentered the tiny room.

Luke was scrolling on his phone as he was still sprailed out on majority of the bed. He lifted his gaze as he saw her walking towards the bed. “How was your shower?” he asked softly as he dropped his phone face down.

“What?” she forced out, her eyes widened.

“How was your shower?” he repeated slower.

“Fine,” she mumbled as she climbed onto the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Luke looked over her side profile, watching her brush her wet hair away from her face as she stared straight ahead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Luke let out while laughing. Her eyes widened as she looked down towards him, he was still laying and leaning on his elbow.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Wa–Water was hot, really hot,” she mumbled, swallowing hard. “Really hot water,”

“Yeah?” he let out as he smirked slightly. She hummed before she shifted her gaze back towards the TV, tapping her fingers against her knees. Luke nodded slowly before he climbed off of the bed. “It’s late,” he mumbled. “Are you cool if I turn off the light?” he asked as he walked towards the light switch beside the bathroom door.

“Yeah,” she muttered as she took a hold of the comforter and climbed under the covers. She laid facing the wall. Luke looked over her frame for a moment before he flicked the light switch off. He walked around the bed and laid onto his side again. He climbed under the covers as he was sitting up slightly.

She tossed the comforter lower on her frame. Luke looked over her, watching her body rise and fall. He took a deep breath, tilting his head back against the headboard. He chewed on his bottom lip as he shifted his gaze towards the TV.

“I’m gonna watch this a little longer, is that okay?” Luke ashed as he shifted his gaze towards her. Y/N adjusted the pillow beneath her head.

“I don’t mind,” she mumbled as she forced her eyes shut, needing sleep to overtake her body. He nodded as he kept looking over her body. He took a deep shaky breath as awkwardly fidgeted with his fingers.

~~~

She woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring beside her. She stirred as she reluctantly reached towards her phone that was rested on the night stand beside her. Luke jolted awake before he rolled onto his stomach with a groan falling from his lips.

“Oh my god, turn it off,” he mumbled as he covered his head with a pillow. She chuckled softly as she turned it off. She snuggled deeper into her pillow as she rolled over to face him. Well the pillow that was covering his head. “Why is your alarm so obnoxious?” he questioned, his voice rasped as he spoke.

“How else am I supposed to wake up?” she shot back as she stretched her arms up.

“To peaceful bird sounds and twinkley noises, not whatever the hell that was,” he expressed as he pulled the pillow from his head. He rolled onto his side to face her, holding the pillow against his chest.

“Is that really what your alarm sounds like?” she asked as she chuckled softly.

“Absolutely, I like to wake up in a good mood,” he offered before he rolled onto his back, staring towards the ceiling. “Now I’m in a bad mood,” he muttered as he fought off a grin on his lips.

“I can fix that,” she offered as she looked over his side profile. He swallowed hard as he shifted his head to meet her gaze.

“Yeah?” he asked as his gaze lowered towards her lips briefly. “Fix it how?” he asked teasingly.

She watched his gaze meet her eye again. She pursed her lips forward as she stewed on it for a few seconds. “There’s a breakfast buffet downstairs that opens in ten minutes,” she offered. He smirked as he raised his eyebrows. He fought off a chuckle as he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling.

“You do know the way to my heart,” he let out teasingly as he stood up from the bed, whipping the comforter off of his frame. She smiled teasingly before she followed in pursuit. “When do we need to start getting ready?” he asked as he turned on the sink while also reaching towards his tooth brush. She took a hold of hers as well.

“I want to show up by three-thirty, so shoot for that,” she expressed as she applied toothpaste to her toothbrush.

“And you set our alarm for nine in the morning,” he let out while shaking his head. She chuckled as she rolled her eyes playfully. “Disrespectful,” he muttered before he began brushing his teeth while fighting off a grin.

After another ten minutes, they were walking side by side down in the lobby towards the buffet.

His phone started vibrating in his pocket, he pulled it out to see Quinn was calling him. “I’ll meet you in there,” he expressed as he held up his phone, showing it to her. She nodded encouragingly before she entered the huge dining area.

He brought his phone towards his here, “Big day!” Quinn shouted into the phone.

“Yeah, first game of the tourney, right?” Luke let out before taking in a deep breath. He spun around watching her search for an empty table. He watched her look towards his direction. He looked down towards the floor as his heart jumped into his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever–not what I was talking about!” Quinn said while laughing, “Isn’t tonight the wedding of Y/N’s old roommate,” Quinn expressed.

Luke chuckled dryly as he lifted his head up again to look back in her direction. Yet she wasn’t where he last saw her. A small frown formed to his lips as he forced his gaze to the ground again.

“Did you seriously say whatever about the Four Nations Faceoff?” Luke questioned.

“You have been pining after this girl for almost a year and you two are going to a wedding. Where you are sharing a hotel room for fuck sake,” Quinn expressed excitedly.

“Quinn,” Luke let out while laughing.

“Y/N inviting you to this wedding was practically handing you a condom. You just gotta use it!” Quinn said through laughter. Luke was sure he could hear Jack and a few other guys laughing in the background.

“I cannot believe you just said that!” Luke said as he tossed his head back, “What the hell does that even mean?” he let out while laughing, “You know what, I don’t even want to know! Good luck today,”

“You too, big guy,” Quinn teased before Luke hung up the phone.

Luke dragged his tongue across his bottom lip as he fought a grin. He tapped his thumb against the screen a few times before he shoved it into his pocket again. He lifted his head up as he began walking towards the dining area. Y/N was already sitting down, waiting for Luke. Her plate full of food.

He walked towards her, delicately resting his hand onto the back of her chair. Tilting her head back, she met her gaze. “How’s he doing?” she asked softly. He took a deep breath as he bit his bottom lip for a second.

“He couldn’t care less I think,” Luke muttered as he glanced towards her food. “That looks amazing. I’ll be back,” he said walking towards the line. She chuckled to herself as she glanced behind her watching him walk away. He shifted his gaze behind him, quickly Y/N looked back down towards her plate; avoiding his gaze.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. Shutting her eyes, an image of Luke standing in front of her. His body was only covered by the towel. Her gaze lingered on the muscles tensing from the cold air. All she wanted was to glide her hands across the lines of the muscles. Instead of him walking away from her, his hands took a hold of her cheeks desperately leaning towards her.

Forcing her eyes open, she swallowed harshly. She clenched her fist as she took a deep breath. “I can’t,” she reminded herself as she poked her food with her fork. “I can’t think about it,” she mumbled before she brought a forkful of food towards her mouth.

She kept her gaze on her plate despite the incoming steps towards her. “Everything looked so good,” he offered as he sat down beside her. She hummed as she kept her gaze onto her plate. “Suprised you didn’t get coffee,” he muttered. She hummed again before shoving a bite of food into her mouth.

He nodded as looked over her features suspiciously. “Are you okay?” he asked again as he poked the scrambled eggs on his plate. She hummed again as she avoided his eye. He pursed his lips forward for a moment as he looked over her; avoiding his eye. “You’re doing that thing again,” he asked before he took a bite of food.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows harshly before she shifted her gaze towards him. “What thing?” she mumbled before she took another bite of food. He smiled softly as he took a deep breath.

“You go all quiet and avoid looking at me,”

“I do not,” she muttered lowering her gaze again, “I’ve been told I don’t shut up actually,” she shot back. He chuckled while rolling his eyes playfully. He continued to look over her features. Taking note of the soft grin on her lips as he watched her lift her gaze back up towards him. Tilting her head to the side, she met his eye.

“Which is why it’s weird when you do the quiet thing,” he let out.

“Just eat your food,” she said as she kicked him under the table. He laughed before he took a dramatic bite of food.

~~~

The ceremony was starting in an hour and she only had thirty minutes left to get ready. A robe covered her frame as she was leaning into the mirror as she was applying the final touches of her makeup.

Luke was standing beside her as he ran his fingers through his hair with some gel in his hands. He was almost ready, he was procrastinating on putting on the suit. It was something he’s always done before game days. Luke felt good for all of five seconds while wearing suits, so he avoided wearing them for as long as possible. But tonight was special. She loved that suit.

She met his eye through the mirror as she pulled out her lip gloss from her travel bag. He smiled softly towards her as he rinsed the gel from his hands. She applied the gloss onto her lips as she continued to look towards him through the mirror. He smiled softly as he dried his hands off before he began to walk behind her. Delicately, he rested his hand onto the center of her back as he squeezed passed her.

“I’m going to get changed,” he said softly as he slipped passed her. Her posture straightened as she pressed her lips together to even out the gloss on her lips. She hummed as she watched him walk out of the bathroom while delicately shutting the door.

The light blue dress came into view. A soft smile formed to her lips as she looked over it. Y/N took a step back as she began to undo the robe. Slowly, she let it slip from her frame before she adjusted her matching underwear. Y/N reached towards the dress and pulled it off of the hanger as she began to unzip the dress and pull it from the hanger.

After a few seconds, she was able to pull it up her frame. Her eyes lit up as she put her arms through the thin straps. It remained unzipped in the back as she admired the color against her skin. Her eyes were brighter as she admired herself in the mirror. Blue was not usually a color she wore. Her business casual attire was constantly neutral tones only.

Her hair cascaded down her back as she glided her hands across her shoulders. Smiling to herself, she felt beautiful. She felt beautiful and sexy and the dress wasn’t even fully on yet. Reaching behind her, she took a hold of the zipper, she began to pull the zipper up her back.

She was only able to get it halfway up but it began to squeeze her body in an amazing way. She turned to her side admiring the way the dress showed off each curve of her body. Her hands glided along her frame, the fabric was smooth against her hands.

It was everything she was hoping for and more. Except she couldn’t get the damn zipper up all the way by herself. She took a deep breath as she clenched her jaw as she attempted to reach for the zipper again. It moved a milimeter before she realized that she would need help.

The dress was perfect, her hair was perfect, her makeup was perfect. She was perfect. Tonight had to be perfect.

Swallowing hard she glided her hands along the dress again before she took a delicate hold of the door handle and pulled it open.

“Luke,” she let out softly.

“Yeah?” he called back.

“Can you help me with something?” she asked as she took a step out of the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked towards the bathroom. Stopping short as his gaze scanned her frame. He bit his bottom lip as he continued to admire her. “Wow, you look–” he trailed off as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, “Gorgeous,” he muttered.

She took a deep breath as she smiled softly as her own eyes looked over his frame. The suit was cream colored with a hint of blue. It was such a unique shade of white that his eyes were the brightest she’s ever seen. His undershirt was more blue but it was still cream-like. He smirked as he watched her eyes look over his body.

“I can’t get the zipper all the way up,” she said nervously. He nodded as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Can you help with that?” she questioned barely above a whisper. He nodded again as his eyes flickered all over her features.

It was impossible to speak. He was speechless. His gaze lingered on the clear gloss on her lips. Her beautiful lips that he hasn’t stopped thinking about. Her lips that he’s dying to feel on his. He forced his gaze to meet her eye. Her eyes squinted slightly.

Slowly, she spun around pulling her hair over her shoulder. Y/N took a deep breath as she felt Luke’s hesitant hands hover over her frame. It was electric as tension and desperation coursed through her frame.

Her body straightened as he rested his hand delicately onto her waist as his other hand took a hold of the zipper that was nearly zipped up. Her eyes shut as her breathing picked up.

He glided the zipper up her frame as his slender fingers grazed the smooth skin of the center of her back. It was fully zipped up and it fit her frame perfectly. His hand kept a hold of the zipper as he watched her tilted her head back slightly.

It was a moment that lasted longer than it should’ve. Him being that close to her and her unsteady breaths. His hand on her waist was twitchy and hesitant. Almost as if it didn’t belong there. It was intoxicating having him that close, her vision was blurring. Yet, it felt right.

His fingertips glided down the center of her back before he reluctantly pulled his hands away from her waist. Her body instantly ran cold without his touch on her skin.

Luke pressed his lips together as he took a deep breath. Y/N turned around to face him. Her gaze stared towards his chest for a few seconds before she looked up and met his urgent gaze.

“Gorgeous,” he let out barely above a whisper.

She smirked as she took a deep breath, “I was shooting for stunning, but I’ll settle for gorgeous,” she teased as she watched a wide toothy grin form to his lips. “You look handsome,” she offered as she scanned his frame again.

He nodded, “I was shooting for sexy but I’ll settle for handsome,” he shot back as she pushed him backwards while chuckling. His hands landed onto his collar as he was adjusting it. “Are you ready to head out?” he questioned softly.

“I will be in like two minutes,” she mumbled as she walked towards her suitcase to pull out the white strappy heels that matched with the light blue. Luke sprayed himself with his cologne three times all over his body. She smiled softly as the smell took over the hotel room. It was the one she bought him for his birthday back in September.

It was a bourbon and oak cologne that she thought he would hate. It was sweeter than a typical men’s cologne. It had hints of vanilla. She thought that alone would force him to leave it on his shelf and never wear it. Except, he has worn it nearly every day since she bought it.

Luke placed his cologne into his bag, watching her struggle to slip the heel onto her foot. He smiled to himself as he walked towards her, awkwardly holding his hands in front of her to help her. Meeting his gaze, she rested her hand onto his shoulder for stability.

Once the heels were on, she met his gaze. His cheeks were pink as he was scanning her features. “And we’ve reached stunning,” he expressed. A shy smile fell on her lips as she pushed him away from her teasingly.

Quickly, she pulled out her own perfume bottle from her own suitcase and sprayed it all over her frame. It was a beautiful mixer of rose and vanilla. “Okay, let’s go! We are going to be late,” she expressed. He chuckled while rolled hos eyes playfully.

~~~

The wedding venue in itself was gorgeous. The ceremony side was outside. It was an old garden house that was refurbished into a wedding venue. It was covered in vines and gorgeous white and pink flowers. The floor was a shiny concrete that look slick and new. It was beautiful. Luke and Y/N were sitting beside one another near the outmost aisle. She was sitting on the inside as he was awkwardly resting his hands into his lap.

The ceremony was going to start in a few minutes and she saw a few of her college friends walking towards her and Luke. Y/N smiled a wide grin. “Y/N!” Chloe cheered. Y/N stood up from her seat and happily wrapped her arms around Chloe for a hug. “I’m so glad you came!” she expressed as she pulled away.

“Me too,” Y/N mumbled as she pulled away. “Chloe, this is Luke,” she muttered as she pointed towards Luke behind her. Luke stood up as he adjusted his suit jacket. Chloe’s eyes widened as she nodded approvingly.

“Ten out of ten,” Chloe let out teasingly. Y/N mouth fell open as she fought off a grin.

“Oh no, we’re just friends,” Luke interrupted as he delicately rested his hand onto the center of her back. Chloe’s eyes widened as she nodded slowly. She took note of the hand on Y/N’s back. “Nice to meet you,” Luke offered his hand towards her. Chloe quickly shook his hand. Sharing awkward glances between them.

Some music erupted inside of the ceremony room, signalling that everyone should get ready for the bridal party to come out. Chloe’s boyfriend jogged down the aisle of seats. Luke, Y/N, and Chloe all sat down in a row.

Luke looked towards her, taking a deep breath. After a few seconds, she shifted her gaze to meet his eye. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

His eyes squinted slightly, “For what?” he asked softly.

She smiled softly, “For coming with me,”

“Of course,” he let out with a dry chuckle as the music switched towards the typical bridal music. Their eyes remained connected as the bridal party began making their entrance into the venue. “Y/N,” he let out softly.

Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze towards the bridal party. Awkwardly, he pressed his lips together as he tilted his head back.

The ceremony began with the usual wedding speech. The sun was starting to set behind the alter. From the glass being somewhat clear, it created a beautiful hue of orange and pink. Anna and Brandon were stunning.

“Today is a celebration. A celebration of love, of commitment, of friendship, of family, and of two people who are in it for forever. You don't have to have a ceremony to have a marriage. And when you think about it, the whole thing is kind of weird, right?” Anna’s brother began, who was officiating the ceremony. He continued on cracking a few jokes here and there. Anna didn’t want anything serious, her brother officiating the ceremony was the perfectw ay to make that happen.

“You fell in love by chance, but you're here today because you're making a choice. You both are choosing each other. You've chosen to be with someone who enhances you, who makes you think, makes you smile, and makes every day brighter. You're about to make promises to each other that you intend to keep. You're going to vow to take care of each other, to stand up for one another, and find happiness in the other.”

You’ve chosen to be with someone who enhances you.

Her gaze shifted towards Luke during the speech, his gaze was already on hers during it. Meeting his soft gaze, her lips curled upward. A barely audible chuckle fell from her lips as she tilted her body into him; bumping him. A toothy grin formed to his lips while he rolled his eyes playfully.

The rest of the ceremony went by beautifully. Anna’s brother’s words were clearly something that Anna wrote for him to say. Anyone that knew him, knew he had to study those words. But it was beautiful and unique to Anna and Brandon.

Anna could barely get through her vows. She spent most of her two minute speech, trying to stop crying. Through the tears, she was able to express all of her love and admiration for her partner. “My everything, my world. I want nothing more than to spend forever with you. I love you, B,” she concluded as she carefully handed the paper towards her maid of honor.

“Anna,” Brandon began as his voice shook, “There was a time in our lives where we were convinced that we were just friends. That part of our life lasted seventeen years. In case you guys didn’t know, we’ve been friends our entire lives because our parents we’re best friends. You’re my soulmate but I thought we we’re those platonic soulmates. That was until we went to prom as just friends and then I kissed you. So that whole just friends thing went right out the window.”

The entire ceremony began chuckling along as Anna rolled her eyes playfully.

“But you’re my best friend and the love of my life. I never thought that I would fall in love with the girl I’ve seen eat worms at the age of six or the girl who fell off of the monkey bars and broke her arm trying to impress the playground yard at the age of nine. I never thought that my best friend and I would fall in love. But everyone in our lives did. It was as if destiny refused to change our path, the path that allowed us to fall in love and stay in love. I want nothing more than to grow old and wrinkly with you. I am so in love with you Anna Julie Grimes,”

Y/N tilted her head back slightly as her eyes began to get teary. God did she love weddings. Delicately, she raised her hand up and tapped away the tears that were fighting to fall from her eyes. She took a deep breath as she watched Anna wipe tears away from her face.

Y/N sniffled as her lip quivered. Luke rested his hand onto her clothed thigh forcing her gaze towards him. She met his eye as she smiled shyly. He dragged his thumb across the fabric of the dress as she looked back towards Anna and Brandon. Luke kept his hand low on her thigh.

After a few more seconds, Brandon kisses his bride in the most dramatic fashion. He dips her back. Everyone began to clap and cheer for the newly weds. The bridal party began to walk down the aisle the same order they arrived in the ceremony.

Anna and Brandon kissed several more times as the bridal party was leaving. Y/N wiped her tears again as she was smiling widely. As Anna and Brandon started walking down the aisle, all of the guests stood up and clapped as they walked out of the venue.

Hesitantly, Luke rested his hand onto the center of her back. His thumb gliding along her skin. Her body stiffed, not used to his hands on her skin like that. She turned to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

“You really love weddings, huh?” he let out teasingly. She fought off a smirk as she tapped beneath her eye again.

“I really do,” she mumbled as she looked into his soft gaze. He ran his hand back and forth slowly. Their eyes remained connected as they talked quietly about the ceremony in itself.

Chloe glanced down towards Luke’s hand onto Y/N’s lower back. A teasing smirk on her lips.

The reception started two hours ago and it was safe to say that majority of the guests were tipsy from the open bar. The food was incredible and now all of the guests were on the dance floor. There was not a single person sitting down.

It was as if they were in a night club with everyone clustered together dancing and singing along to the songs that the DJ was playing. To her suprise, Luke was fully invested in dancing, she thought he wouldn’t want to partake. He looked ridiculous but she was convinced that she also looked ridiculous.

Resting her hand onto his chest, she leaned towards him, “I’m going to get another drink,” she whispered loudly into his ear. He nodded.

“I’ll come with you!” he shouted, a smirk toying to his lips. He held out his hand towards her and she gladly accepted it allowing him to guide her through the crowd towards the bartender. He was holding her hand tightly as he glanced behind him every time making sure she was okay. Every time their eyes met, her stomach erupted into butterflies.

Once they left the crowd, she thought that he would drop her hand. Except he didn’t. He kept a hold of hers as he slowed down. He stopped short waiting for her to walk beside him.

They reached the bartop, the bartender immediately looked towards their direction. “I’ll take a beer and she’ll have–” he trailed off as he met Y/N’s gaze. Her mouth fell open as she looked into his eyes. His eyes were so bright despite the darken venue. She watched as his gaze lowered towards her lips as he bit his bottom lip.

“Vodka cranberry please,” she offered as she forced her gaze towards the bartender. Slowly she slipped her hand away from Luke’s. His gaze immediately dropped down towards his hand without hers. He pressed his lips together as he rested both of his hands onto the countertop. She followed in pursuit as she bobbed her head back and forth to the Wocka Flocka Flame song in the background.

“Having fun?” he asked softly as he inched towards her. His shoulder bumped into hers.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she mumbled. He smirked. She loved when he did that. His cheeks would also flush slightly every time his lips curled upward like that. Her heart would pound so hard against her chest.

She was tipsy, her thoughts always toyed the line of what it would be like to kiss his perfect lips. A mental pros and cons list of what would happen if she did.

The bartender slid over the beer and the short glass. Luke forced his gaze towards the bartender, sliding over a fifty dollar bill. The bartender’s eyes widened but he didn’t oppose on the tip.

Luke brought the beer towards his lips, taking a long sip while making eye contact with her. She took the tiny straw towards her mouth, sipping urgently.

He rested the beer onto the bartop as he reached up and unbuttoned another button of his undershirt. His cheeks were flushed red as his forehead was glistening with sweat. She didn’t slow down, desperate to intoxicate more and more of her thoughts.

His eyes widened slightly as he chuckled, “Woah,”

“Was thirsty,” she let out teasingly, the glass was empty and she happily placed it back down onto the countertop.

“Guess I gotta catch up then,” he mumbled bringing his beer towards his lips.

“You’ll need like four more,” she let out. He shook his head while drinking it. The bartender wandered back towards the pair, looking towards her expectantly. “Can we have two vodka cranberries, please,” she let out. The bartender nodded as he began making the drinks again.

Luke finished his beer, nearly instantly and placed it down. He leaned against the bartop on his elbow as he looked into her eyes. “This is crazy,” he let out as he pointed towards the dance crowd. Even Anna and Brandon’s older relatives were apart of the dance floor.

“I expect nothing less from those two,” she explained while chuckling. Y/N brushed her hair off of her shoulders. Tilting her head back as she shut her eyes for a moment.

“If my wedding isn’t a party like this, there is no point,” Luke expressed as he looked towards Anna and Brandon dancing like no one was watching. Anna was scream singing in Brandon’s face. They were in love and it was so evident from how they were looking and dancing. Luke dropped his head towards the floor as he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip.

The bartender placed two of the short glasses in front of them. Y/N happily took a hold of it and instantly brought it towards her lips. He smirked before he brought the tiny straw towards his mouth. He took a cautious sip before he nodded. Shocked that it was good.

“Alright, I need all of the couples on the dance floor for a little slow dance,” the DJ spoke as he slowly changed the song to Easy by James TW. Luke took another long sip before he placed the mostly dranken glass onto the countertop.

He held out his hand towards her. She squinted her eyes slightly as the corner of her lips turned upward. “Luke,” she let out barely above a whisper.

“We’re dancing,” he expressed as he let her take another long sip of her drink before she placed it down.

“Okay,” she mumbled as she took a hold of her hand. He guided her towards the dance floor where people were dancing together. Anna and Brandon were in the center while the couples surrounded them. They found a spot, where Luke dropped her hand waiting for her to initiate.

A shy smile formed to her lips as she delicately raised her hands up and rested them onto the base of his neck. Her thumbs glided along the skin beneath his jawline as he slowly wrapped wrapped his arms around her lower back. His hold at first was hesitant but she slowly got closer to him. Subconsciously, she glided her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I’m surprised,” she muttered as her gaze flickered all over his features. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“About what?” he questioned softly.

“From your dance moves earlier, I assumed you had no rhythm but here you are,” she let out teasingly. A chuckle fell from his lips as his arms around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to him.

“I have incredible rhythm, thank you,” he shot back.

Soon her arms wrapped around his neck, getting closer to him. He smirked as he stared towards her lips. “Found a way to my heart now it’s like you’ve here the whole time, ‘cause girl, you make it, oh, so easy. Oh so easy to love you,” the lyrics rang loudly throughout the room.

“Not as good as me,” she teased. He pursed his lips forward as he fought a grin while shaking his head.

Their eyes remained connected for a while. She never wanted to look elsewhere. His blue eyes were so intoxicating as he didn’t look away. Usually by now she would look away, overly shy. But the alcohol in her system or his hands around her waist gave her the confidence to fully look into his gaze. There was something different with the steady gaze he gave her.

His cheeks were flushed red while they continued to sway to the new slow song, This Love by Taylor Swift. She took a deep shaky breath while her lips curled upward slightly.

Luke’s lips parted as he contemplated on saying something. One of his hands glided along the exposed skin of the center of her back. His thumb very delicately glided along her skin. Her body erupted with goosebumps.

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” he let out softly.

Her smile widened as she looked into his eyes while her heart jumped into her throat. All she could muster up was a nod as she rested her head against his shoulder. Words were impossible but being this close to him felt so right. He tilted his head against her head as they continued to sway back and forth to the lyrics.

“Been losing grip on sinking ships. You showed up just in time. This love is good, this love is bad. This love is alive back from the dead. These hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me,” the lyrics rang out.

Her eyes shut as she took in the familiar scent of the cologne he wore; every day since she bought it for his birthday. She could hear her heart pounding against her chest.

They’ve never been this close, their bodies pressed against one another. Yet it was familiar, like their path allowed them to be this close. All she ever wanted was to stay in this moment, their bodies swaying in perfect sync.

“Y/N,” he mumbled against her ear. Slowly, she lifted her head off of his shoulder, their faces mere inches away from own another. Taking in a deep breath she pulled her hand back, gliding it along his neck before she took a hold of his cheek.

Her manicured thumb glided along his cheek. Their noses bumped into one another as his breathing was uneven. Her lips curled upward slightly as her eyes shift upward, meeting his gaze. His eyes squinted slightly before she looked back down towards his lips. Her eyes fluttered closed, trying to obtain any amount of courage she has.

She couldn’t wait any longer while pulled him towards her. Her lips met his with so much need and desperation that Luke froze for only a second. His lips parted, deepening the kiss instantly.

His hands tightened along her waist as he pulled her against him, kissing her back instantly. His lips tasted like the vodka cranberry he just drank as his tongue met hers. Her entire body felt like fire while his lips were perfect against hers.

There was no moment where they were trying to figure out what each other liked. It was as if they knew exactly what the other person wanted. He pulled back taking an urgent breath before he reached his hand up and tangled his hand into her hair as her arms wrapped around his neck.

A soft moan fell from her lips as her hands found his curls again. Her fingertips glided and tugged at the short curly pieces at the base of his neck. He pulled back, his eyes flickering open as he watched her lean towards him again.

Looking around him, he noticed the other wedding guests. The reminder that they weren’t alone, surrounded by a hundred people he didn’t know. He chuckled softly as he raised his hand up, delicately brushing a few pieces of hair away from her face. She took a deep breath as she finally opened her eyes meeting his gaze.

“Luke,” she mumbled out.

“Can we–” he trailed off as she instantly nodded as her hands glided down his chest, gripping the suit jacket.

He chuckled dryly as he stepped back, tilting his head back slightly. He grinned as she held out her hand towards him. He gladly rested his hand in hers as she began guiding him away from the crowd.

Her gaze stared towards her phone in her hand as she was ordering an Uber to take them back to their hotel. After the order was placed, she raised her hand up towards her cheek, feeling the heat rising against her skin.

Luke admired her frame. Her hips swayed as she walked in front of him. There was an overwhelming sense of urgency in the way she guided him out of the venue. He was drunk but his mind was the clearest its ever been.

She was everything to him.

She’s everything that he’s ever wanted.

She’s everything that he’s ever needed.

They stepped outside, the Uber was nearly there. The cold air hit her skin yet her body was so hot it didn’t matter. She leaned against the wall outside of the venue and Luke stepped in front of her. Luke pulled his hand away from hers as he scanned her features. Looking up towards him as he took a hold of her chin. His thumb glided along her jawline as he looked into her eyes.

Her hands rested onto his chest for a moment before she glided her hands up towards his neck.

He leaned towards her delicately pressing his lips against hers. Her phone vibrated in her pocket as she reluctantly pulled her head back. His eyes flickered open as he glided his thumb across her swollen bottom lip.

“Fuck,” he let out barely above a whisper. She smirked as she glanced behind him, noticing the car behind them.

“Uber’s here,” she mumbled. He hummed before he leaned towards her pecking her lips for a few seconds. He walked towards the Uber, introducing himself as they both climbed into the back seat.

The Uber took off to the hotel that was only a few minutes away while Luke reached over and took a hold of her furthest thigh from him. His hand was running along the fabric of her dress soothingly.

Y/N tilted her head to the side looking over his side profile, admiring the redness of his cheeks. “Luke,” she mumbled. He turned his head to meet her gaze as the driver turned up the radio. He took his hand off of her thigh as he raised his hand up and rested it onto her neck. Luke pulled her towards him, kissing her so delicately before he leaned forward; pressing his forehead against hers.

It only took another minute before the Uber driver pulled up to the hotel.

They climbed out of the car together. She began walking ahead of him. Luke glided his hand across his chin as his eyes trailed her frame.

She glanced behind her, almost double checking that he was following after her. Of course he was. They entered the hotel lobby and walked straight towards the elevator. Luke pressed the elevator button several time before he reached towards her, taking a hold of he waist.

Y/N giggled as her back pressed against his chest. He brushed a few pieces of hair away from her neck. She pressed her lips together as she tilted her head to the side. Luke pressed wet kisses along the side of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands wrapped around and rested onto her stomach.

The elevator doors opened and Luke instantly guided her into the elevator. Another giggle fell from her lips as she instantly pressed eight. He guided her towards the back of the elevator, forcing her body against the wall. A sudden gasp left her lips as she watched his swift movements. The elevator doors closed and he instantly took her lips with his.

A rush of heat coursed through her body as he began to suck on her bottom lip. A breathy moan left her lips as he popped her lip out of his mouth before he devoured her lips once more. Her stomach tightened as pleasure coursed through her body. His body pressed against hers, desperate to get as close as possible.

The elevator dinged as it pulled open. Reluctantly, he stepped back, his chest rising and falling quickly as he scanned her frame. He grinned as he walked backwards holding his hand towards her. She smirked as she took a hold of his hand, letting him lead her towards their shared hotel room.

Luke was pulling out the keycard from his pocket as he continued walking down the hallway. They reached their hotel room and he instantly unlocked the door.

The hotel room was nearly pitch black. Luke pulled her inside, a soft giggle fell from her lips. Her back pressed against the door as she met his gaze. Slowly, Luke pulled the suit jacket off of his frame while looking into his eyes. He tossed it towards the floor as he reached towards her taking her face in his hands as he continued to look into her eyes.

“Should we talk about this first?” he asked softly as he searched her gaze for answers.

Shaking her head slightly, she took a hold of one of the buttons on his undershirt. She began to unbutton his shirt, “I’d rather not talk,” she expressed as she tugged at his shirt. He stepped back, kicking his shoes from his frame as he continued to unbutton the shirt for her.

Without hesitation, he pulled the shirt from his frame, tossing it to the ground. Luke instantly stepped back towards her, taking a hold of her cheeks as he devoured her lips. Quickly, she kicked off her heels as her hands glided along his newly exposed skin.

He took a hold of her waist, guiding her away from the door, towards their shared bed instead. They tripped over his suit jacket over the floor, causing giggles to fall from their lips. She pulled her lips away from his as she glided her hand down his chest teasingly. His lips curled upward as his hands glided along her frame.

Slowly, she turned around, pulling her hair away from her back. He glided his fingertips across her upper back while he carefully took a hold of her zipper. Hesitantly, he rested his hand onto her waist. He didn’t tug the zipper down instantly, suddenly nervous.

“Please,” she mumbled as she tilted her head back slightly. A soft blush formed to his lips as he tugged the zipper so slowly down her back. He glided his hand along the skin, toying with the clasp of her bra before he slowly pushed the straps of the dress from her shoulders.

Carefully, still facing away from him, she pulled the dress frome her body. Stepping out of it, she kicked it away from them. Luke took a hold of her stomach pulling her back against him. “Luke,” she mumbled as he pressed wet kisses along her shoulder, towards her neck. He hummed against her ear before she slowly turned around to face him. His eyes widened as his gaze lowered. Her body was only covered by the lacy light blue bra and underwear.

Standing so exposed in front of someone like this, she was used to overwhelmed. A wave of insecurity used to wash over her. But right now, she’s never felt so beautiful. Subconsciously, her arms began to cover her frame. Luke instantly took a hold of her arms, pulling them back down to her side.

His lips curled upward, seeing her like this; seeing her in a light that is only for him to see. He took a delicately hold of the strap of her bra, pulling it forward as he glided his hand down. Letting it clasp back in place.

Her gaze was shifty, afraid to fully look into his eyes. He reached towards her, resting his hands onto her cheeks’ forcing her to meet his gaze. “So fucking beautiful,” he mumbled as his thumbs glided along the hot skin of her cheeks. He leaned towards her pressing his lips so delicately against hers.

Slowly, she pulled away from him as she carefully sat down onto the bed. She looked up towards him, her eyelashes fluttering. He stepped back, unbuttoning his pants in the process as he grinned towards her. His chest was hurting from the intense unsteady breathing. She leaned back, scooting back on the bed as a soft chuckle fell from her lips.

Without hesitation, his boxers the only thing covering his frame, he climbed on top of her. Their lips connected instantly. Her hands instantly found his curls as she tugged on the small strands. His hands started roaming her body, delicately gliding along her silky skin.

“Luke,” she mumbled against his lips. He pulled back briefly before he began to trail wet kisses from her lips down her neck. She tilted her head back giving him more access. His tongue circled momentarily as slowly climbed lower down her frame. “What does this mean?” she found herself asking as her hands ran into his curls. He hummed against her collarbone as he toyed with the clasp of her bra.

“I thought you said no talking?” he muttered as he looked up towards her as he unhooked her bra with one hand. She bit her bottom lip as she helped him pull her bra from her frame. “Just be here with me, right now,” he mumbled against her skin. “No overthinking, no thinking at all,” he pressed his lips against her collarbone.

“Yeah, yeah; let’s do that,” she mumbled breathlessly. He chuckled against her skin, sending a vibration through her body.

~~~

It was early the next morning when she finally woke up. She stirred slightly, taking in a deep breath as her eyes slowly flickered open. Glancing down, she saw familiar hands around her stomach. She felt his lips, softly brush against her shoulder.

Flashes of last night entered her mind like photographs. The way his hands gripped and glided along her skin. His lips pressing and sucking against her skin. The breathiness of his voice and the soft moans coming from her own lips. Her vision blurring from the overwhelming amount of desire as he continued to make her feel so good. His lips and hands felt like they were meant to touch her frame, please her.

“Morning,” he whispered before he continued to brush his lips delicately along her skin. Slowly, she rolled onto her back, meeting his tired gaze. She raised her hand up and delicately glided her hand along his skin.

“So last night wasn’t a dream,” she mumbled while looking into his gaze. He smirked slightly as his fingertips glided along her skin of her back in an inconsistent pattern. Leaning towards him, she kissed him; mainly to see if the magic from her intoxicated mind was still there.

As soon as his lips connected with hers, the sensation was almost more magical then the night before. She hummed as she pulled away, every ounce of tension in her body faded as she looked into his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly as he continued to glide his hand along her skin. She shook her head as she began to kiss him again. He chuckled against her lips as she carefully push him onto his back. Her hand glided along his chest, the more she deepened the kiss. She could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest.

She pulled back, meeting his gaze, “What’s this?” she asked softly as her hand continued to carefully glide along his chest.

“What?” he asked softly, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” she asked. He glanced down towards her hand on his chest.

He smirked, “I can’t really control it,” he let out teasingly.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“A little,”

“Why?” she asked softly as she continued to look into his eyes. His lips fell into a pout as he shook his head slightly. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered.

“What are we doing?” he asked softly as he ran his hand across her cheek. His thumb gilded along her lower lip. Y/N hummed as she looked into his eyes deeply. She didn’t reply right away as their eyes remained connected. Simply enjoying the moment of them being this close.

“Right now, I just want to stay like this,” she explained as she inched towards him, wanting his lips on hers again. Luke nodded as he looked all over her features, “I don’t want to talk about anything yet,” she mumbled.

“But–” he muttered as he glided his hand to the base of her neck. Her lips fell into a pout. “We’re going to have to talk about it eventually,” he expressed. She nodded as he quickly leaned towards her kissing her desperately.

“Okay,” she mumbled against his lips as he slowly climbed on top of her, a giggle falling from her lips.

They were only fifteen minutes from their apartment complex and neither of them have talked about what has happened. The music was loud and they were singing along to the songs. Their hands were kept to themselves. Suddenly aware that the bubble they have been in since the wedding won’t last.

Reality was around the corner and wedding bliss was completely gone. The tension between them was high, she missed having his lips on hers. She knew that last night meant more. It was obvious to both of them that they had feelings for one another. But it was difficult to finally say the words.

Luke swallowed hard as he reached over and turned down the music.

“I was listening to that,” she mumbled as she tilted her head to the side to meet his brief gaze.

“Y/N,” he let out with a soft smile on his lips.

“I know,” she muttered while chuckling softly. “I just don’t know what to say,”

“I would maybe start with something like “Oh my god Luke, you’re like the best kisser ever,” or something,” he let out mocking her voice slightly.

She barked out a laugh, “I would never say anything like that,” she teased.

“So it’s not true?” he said with a smirk.

“I would never stroke your ego like that,”

“Funny, you did a lot of that last night–”

“Luke Hughes!” she scolded smacking her hand against his shoulder.

“And this morning,” he let out, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Oh my god, Luke,” she let out again while shaking her head.

“There you go,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully while looking back down towards her lap. Slowly, she spun the rings on her fingers as her heart was pounding so loudly. She chewed on her bottom lip as she searched for the right words.

Usually she would run. She hated confrontation or real conversations. Maybe that’s because Jonathan was never good at it. She was always afraid of speaking her real feelings, finding the right words.

Luke took a deep breath, realizing it was more serious than what he was letting on. It was important, this moment was important. Probably not perfect timing on his part because all he wants to do right now is kiss her. Except he was flying down the expressway going eighty miles an hour.

Y/N fist clenched as she shook it slightly. She tilted her head back, staring towards the car in front of them. “I am not good at this,” she muttered while letting out a long breath.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly as he glanced towards her for a second.

“I’ve only been in one relationship and it was bad. Not even just at the end. It wasn’t good from the start. I don’t know what’s good. I don’t know how to be–” she trailed off as she dropped her gaze towards her lap. “I know but I can’t say it. I don’t know how to say it,”

“I don’t know either,” Luke let out while taking a deep breath, “But I do know that I am in love with you,” he forced out. His eyes widened slightly as his mouth forced shut. He stared ahead as he pulled off the exit towards their apartment. Her lips curled upward as her heart jumped into her throat.

“In love?” she asked with a smile.

He scoffed before he let out a sudden laugh. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know,” he teased as they pulled up to a red light. Their eyes finally met as he tilted his head to the side.

“I’m not pretending,” she mumbled, “I thought–I didn’t– I thought you were just…” she stopped talking as she continued to look into his eyes. “In love?” she asked a grin toying to her lips.

“I thought I was obvious,” he let out teasingly as the light switched to green. He forced his gaze ahead. “Like embarssingly obvious,”

“And how were you obvious?” she questioned teasingly.

“Well there was the constant flirting with you,”

“It was not constant,”

“It was almost all of the time, actually,” Luke let out while chuckling.

“Maybe you’re bad at flirting,”

“Maybe you’re oblivious,” he turned his head meeting her gaze as they landed at another red light. “I was kind of just waiting until you were ready,”

“Ready for what?” she asked softly.

“Ready for this,” he muttered as he leaned towards her, kissing her desperately for only a few seconds. He kept his hand onto her cheek, gliding his thumb across the skin momentarily before he pulled away from her.

“We need to get home,” she mumbled as she tilted her head back as she bounced slightly. Her body was full of adrenaline as she saw their apartment complex straight ahead.

“Yeah?” he let out teasingly as he drove ahead. All she come muster up was a hum as she chewed on her bottom lip. He pulled into the parking garage towards their apartment complex. He parked his car in his parking spot and instantly climbed out of the car. She followed in pursuit.

He jogged around towards her side of the car, looking deeply into her eyes. Luke stepped up towards her as her back pressed against his car. Her heart jumped into her throat as she looked into his eyes.

He reached his hand up and delicately took a hold of her cheek, “I’m in love with you,” he whispered again. Her lips curled upward as she scanned his features.

“Yeah?” she teased. He rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head slightly before he leaned towards her kissing her urgently.

Her hands instantly found his hair again, pulling him closer if it was even possible. “I’m in love with you too,” she mumbled against his lips.

He pulled back as he tilted his head to the side, “Thank god,” he mumbled before he devoured her lips once more.

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