#busy busy day spent mostly driving
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thuesdaynightdykelife · 9 months ago
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as above, so below ᨒ
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as below, so above ༄.°
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reasonsforhope · 1 day ago
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"Kat Abughazaleh, a 26-year-old running for Congress in Illinois’ 9th congressional district, isn’t shy about her belief that politicians need to do things differently.
“We have a representation problem,” the first line of the “About” page on her website reads.
“As in, about half of Congress are millionaires and people born before the Moon landing. And that's part of the reason we're in this mess: Our leaders are out of touch.”
A journalist, social media influencer, and political commentator that GQ called “a lefty,” with a mission to revitalize the Democratic party, Abughazaleh built a following online before she launched her campaign in March of 2025. 
But now, she’s leveraging her platform — and campaign dollars — to help people in her community before ballots are even filled in.
“My congressional campaign is feeding people right now,” she starts in a recent TikTok video. 
“Part of the reason I decided to run was because I saw how much money gets wasted in politics, and I thought, ‘What if we spent it differently?’”
She adds that the campaign is focused on “direct action and mutual aid,” emphasizing that she wanted her run for office to be “dual-purpose,” in which she can get her message out and help people in the process. 
It’s a stark pivot from the traditional way of campaigning in the United States, which often includes pricey fundraising galas, attack ads, big billboards, and perhaps the most criticized and unpopular feature: massive donations from private businesses and interest groups. 
Abughazaleh has publicly congratulated the former incumbent of this seat — 80-year-old Rep. Jan Schakowsky, who has held the title since 1999, the year Abughazaleh was born — for her “decades of service.” 
Rep. Schakowsky will not seek reelection, but Abughazaleh called for others to run, hoping to participate in the “first competitive Democratic primary in the District since 1998.”
Abughazaleh has also shared that the average donation her campaign receives is $31. And according to GQ, 1,000 people signed up to volunteer for her campaign within a week of her initial announcement.
And while that volunteering does include marketing, canvassing, and getting the word out, it mostly adds up to actual on-the-ground volunteer work to help people in the local community.
“Our kick-off event, for instance, didn’t charge $500 a plate,” Abughazaleh shared in her TikTok. “People just had to bring a box of pads or tampons, which were donated to Chicago’s period collective. By the end of the night, we had gathered over 5,600 period products, which went to people who can’t afford them.”
Most recently, the campaign hosted a food drive for a local community fridge program.
“We asked folks to come out and donate food in exchange for a campaign yard or window sign,” Abughazaleh said. “And by the end of the day, we were able to fully stock the empty pantry and fill the fridge with frozen meals, produce, and eggs. That’s feeding people right now.”
“Don’t worry, we checked to make sure this is legal," she added. "And it is."
The campaign has also launched a High School Public Serve Grant program that encourages local youth to submit ideas for how to make the community better, and Abughazaleh’s campaign will support it with money, materials, volunteers, and her online platform...
“Something you’ll rarely see is concrete help in their communities during the campaign,” she said. “And frankly, to me, that just seems stupid. Not only do you get to help people — supposedly what you’re running to do — but it also shows what you’re about, instead of just providing lip service.” ...
“If every campaign adopted this model, then we wouldn’t be wasting money every single cycle. Every city, town, and village across America would be improved by their election process, and I think it would also get people more involved,” she said.
“We have local folks who have never voted in an election, but they joined our volunteer Discord server because they want to help, they feel like they have something to vote for.”
For those who might be inspired enough to run for office with this model, she says: Full steam ahead.
“Frankly, I would love it if other campaigns took our model. Use it, pretend it’s yours, I don’t care!” she wrapped up her TikTok. 
“Pair with organizations in your community that have been doing the work, talk with local experts, and try to spearhead any initiatives you can to show your values and help your constituents. It’s really that easy.”
-via GoodGoodGood, May 14, 2025
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ukiyoq34 · 28 days ago
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Try out some freaky positions!
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Xiao x fem!reader - This is mainly smut and sex positions. A late birthday thing for Xiao! mostly bc I’ve just been horny and obsessed with Sabrina
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Face Riding
His hands gripped on your thighs separating them apart with force while your hands are clasping and tugging his hair. He laps at your cunt like a dog while you’re trembling and shaking letting out whiney whispers and cries all while he slurps and takes in every juices coming out of you. The tighter you grip on his hair, the faster his tongue works. His mouth is already covered in your silk yet he refuses to stop. He’s desperately seeking for more without realizing how spent you are. You can come on his pretty face for the fifth time and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. The only thing reminding you that you’re still here on earth after being sent to your high is the soft sounds of his encouragement that you hear him mumble every now and then. The way he says it and looks up at you with his pretty golden eyes could easily make you cum just like that. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Cowgirl
His face buried between your neck while his hands grip your hips and idly rub them up and down while you move slowly and steady, enough to drive him mad before picking up the pace and slamming down on him. The bliss he feels from being fully wrapped around you is like non other. He hides and stifles out his little cries and moans through biting and sucking your neck. The way your chests are pressed against one another is enough for him to hear your heartbeat along with the way your boobs move up and down. The more he touches and feels you the more hard he gets. Once you slow down from exhaustion, he feels like he’s losing a part of himself so he immediately takes the wheel and thrusts himself up into you until you’re begging him to slow down to catch your breath. However, the slams against your ass plus the sound of your racing heart beat is much too loud for him to hear as his pace quickens until he eventually releases all his thick silky semen in you, enough till you feel stuffed and full of him ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Hook
Your hips lifted up by him while you’re laying on your back, your legs on his shoulders while he’s thrusting deep in you as if this would be the last time he’d ever feel you again. He’s filling pounding into you, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust. Enough to hit your g spot and to peck your cervix. You’re gripping onto the pillows you’re pretty head is laying down on while he watches you’re cute expressions shift and change from how he’s pounding into you and how you can feel every vein from his girthy length. It should be a crime for him to pound you so harshly while looking down on you with the most loving sincere eyes. You’ve never heard him be this noisy but this position was sure making him let out whimpers and moans of pure love and ecstasy while feeling every soft flesh of your insides. God you felt so tight but so good sucking him in like that. If there was a way to create a fleshlight from your cunt he’d kill millions of monsters just to get his hands on it. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Counter Top
all you wanted to do was to make his favorite treat after a tiring day only for it to end up being spilling over chest as he licked it off you while your legs were wrapped around his hips straddling him while he was thrusting in you. The wet sounds and the juices that were spilling on the counter top was only encouraging him to go faster and continue his violent thrust while also cleaning up the mess on your chest. His hands were too busy groping and playing around with your boobs. You could whine, cry, and moan all you want, you can be shaking and trembling like a mess but that won’t stop him. His endless stamina always leaves you wondering wether it’s a curse or blessing. With how much he’s been fucking you, you can’t help but wonder if he’s got some mating cycle but you’re too busy being fucked and getting everything wet to even care right now. Fuck he’s so thick it’s actually unbelievable. It feels like you get tighter every single time and he’s never gonna get tired of it. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Doggy style
Face buried in the sheets while his dick is buried in you, the best combination anyone can ask for. Your ass raised up high and perfectly perched for him to absolutely slam into you. This has to be his favorite positions. He’s got one hand gripping your waist while the other is pulling back on your wrist from behind. Gods you look so Devine with how each thrusts makes your body coil causing him to thrust faster and pound you harder and harder. He knows he’s fucking you dumb with how you’re blabbering on nonsense with a teary face. If only there was a mirror in front of you so he’d see both views. He’ll think of that next time but right now, he’s enjoying rearranging your insides to fit and perfectly be molded for his length. He will never get tired of your little cries and moans. He loves how you choke on your own moans and how he interrupts your words with a single thrust. It’s so adorable how you keep trying despite knowing he’ll just keep pounding into you until you’re just a fucked out little whiney girl. He drinks up this sight of you all the time. You’re always so beautiful this way and he wonders what other ways he can mold your body in while he slams into you till there’s visible marks left on your body. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Happy Birthday to my husband who’s gonna be pregnant with my 17 children yayayya
I made This at like 1 am so if there are any misspelling I’m sorry I didn’t double check this
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helioooss · 6 months ago
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fable
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synopsis: minji and y/n are both from a conservative town - and end up falling for each other. days are spent sneaking around…longing for someplace they can be themselves.
w/c: 5k+
warning: homophobia, death, mostly internalised, swearing, drinking, kissing, having to hide who you really love sucks. just angst
a/n: okay, this is important. as per recent events, and the sole reason why i’m publishing this now: i will not be continuing this story as it just feels like a fever dream to write about women loving other women - specifically (and surprisingly) in a country like america, where this is set. as of right now, there will be no part two.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
rhodes was a quiet country town, one where the land stretched out wide and the houses were all spaced apart, each standing tall with big porches and rocking chairs that creaked with the passing winds.
folks around here lived simply; big families, old traditions, and everyone knowing each other’s business, even when you’d rather they didn’t. the only real landmarks were the towering silos, murphy’s diner and the stretch of farmland that seemed endless.
most of your afternoons were spent in your pa’s garage, under the hood of a truck or fixing up your old dirt bike. you had an affinity for engines, grease-streaked hands and the rhythm of mechanical work that required no words, just understanding. keeping to yourself mostly, you were content with the company of horses, the comfort of solitude and the occasional bonfire with your old man.
it was just him and you, after all.
then there was minji. she was as close to royalty as you’d get around here. your family lived in a modest house with a big porch that overlooked acres of field. across from you was her family estate — a sprawling place with manicured gardens, stables, and a wrap-around porch that seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see. their cars were sleek and pristine (except for the old bastard her dad loved driving around), it was the kind of place people would point out as if it were a tourist attraction.
more than that, she had a charm that seemed to light up every room she walked into.
since you could remember, the two of you always walked to school together even though you didn’t really know her. it was a quiet, unspoken arrangement that had developed over the years, when parents told you to look out for each other.
conversations were rare; she was usually scrolling through her phone or listening to music through one earbud while you kept your gaze on the gravel road, hands in your pockets. you never questioned it and she never acknowledged it, but somehow, every morning, she’d be waiting at the end of her driveway and the two of you would fall into step.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the first time you really looked at minji was a fall morning in junior year and she was standing under the maple tree at the end of her driveway — her hair catching the early light, eyes focused on some distant point beyond the fields.
she looked so serene, so out of place in the rough simplicity of rhodes and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was something special; someone you wanted to know, even if you never could.
but people like her weren’t meant for people like you — so you kept your head down and fell into step beside her as usual.
and you were okay with that.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
until one day, she surprised you by initiating a conversation as you walked down the familiar road to school.
“you know, you’re kinda mysterious,” she said, her voice teasing but curious. “you don’t ever talk, even at school.”
you looked at her, caught off guard. “me? i think i’m just quiet.”
she laughed, a sound that made something in your chest tighten. “no, it’s more than that. you’re like…really the silent type.”
you shrugged, not really knowing what to say. words weren’t your strong suit; you were more at ease with tools and machines than with people.
however, there was something about her that made you want to try.
over the next few weeks, you found yourself talking to her more. she would start conversations; it was mostly small things — questions about school, comments about the weather, a shared laugh at the antics of the local town characters.
however, each word, each moment felt significant, like you were building something fragile and precious between you.
“so, what’s your favourite song right now?” she asked, a big grin plastered on her face as she kicked pebbles ahead of you.
you thought about your answer, humming. “my pa’s always singing bruce springteen, so probably one of his songs.”
she clapped in excitement, turning to you. “so does mine, which song?”
“y’know, i’m on fire — a classic,” you rubbed your nape, feeling small under her gaze. “but when we’re at murphy’s, he plays rocket man on the juke.”
“but what do you like? imagine we were at the diner right now, what would you sing?”
“well, right now, i’ve been humming to i remember everything; zach bryan.”
she nodded, satisfied. “good choice - i’ll listen to that tonight and think of you.”
and then one morning, you found her waiting by the fence at the end of her driveway, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger as she stared out over the misty fields.
you greeted her with a nod, falling into step beside her. “you look bored.”
“i always am,” she heaved out a sigh. “there’s nothing to do ‘round here.”
for a while, you walked in silence, the gravel crunching under your boots as she hummed a new tune. it was quite obvious that there was a lot going on in her mind, so you let her be.
“do you ever get tired of rhodes?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
you glanced over at her, surprised. “what do you mean?”
she shrugged, looking down at the road as she walked. “it just feels like…i don’t know. like i’m supposed to be somewhere else. somewhere bigger.”
you considered her words, feeling the pull of her restless energy. “you mean the city?”
“maybe,” she murmured. “somewhere with more people, more things to do. sometimes i feel like i don’t fit here, you know?”
you nodded, though your own feelings were mixed. it was predictable yet comforting in its own way. yet you could understand her need for more, her desire to break free of the small-town expectations that kept people in their places. “what would you do?”
“law, music; anything to get out of here,” she said without hesitation, her eyes lighting up. “it’s silly.”
“it’s not silly,” you replied softly, surprised by the passion in her voice. “it’s brave.”
she laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “i don’t feel very brave. i mean, look at me. all i do is cheer and go to parties and pretend i’m happy with all of this.”
you didn’t know what to say. she had always seemed so confident, so sure of her place in the world. seeing her like this, vulnerable and unsure, made you feel closer to her in a way you hadn’t expected.
“well,” you said finally, keeping your voice light, “if you ever want a ride out of this place, i’ll let you borrow one of my pa’s a hundred trucks someday.”
she glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “you’d really let me borrow those precious trucks?”
“maybe,” you said, pretending to think it over. “as long as you promise the old boy not to crash it.”
she laughed, the sound filling the air around you, and for a moment, the tension melted away, replaced by something easy and warm.
yet deep down you knew, she was going to leave one day.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it was a chilly afternoon at school and you were leaning against the wall outside your classroom just waiting for the bell to ring.
you’ve got your hands in your pockets, watching the last leaves fall from the trees outside. the day has been long, filled with the usual classes and quiet looks exchanged with minji as she passed you in the halls. she always offered a small, secret smile — a reminder of the connection the two of you were quietly building.
you were lost in your thoughts amongst the crowd when a shadow loomed over you.
taehyung, one of the football players, all swagger and confidence as he stands a little too close, sizing you up like you’re beneath him. you’d fixed his car a few times before; his dad’s an old friend of your uncle’s and he would stop by the garage a handful of times, always with that same arrogant smirk.
“hey y/n,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “i need you to look at my car again. it’s making this weird noise, and i don’t have time to deal with it.”
you raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. “when’s it making the noise?”
he shrugged, as if your question was pointless. “i don’t know. all the time, i guess. you’re the one who’s supposed to know about these things, right?”
prick.
you bit back a retort, reminding yourself that this is just how he talked. besides, fixing cars wasn’t just a job to you; it was something you enjoyed. “bring it by the garage after school. i’ll take a look.”
he didn’t say thank you, didn’t even acknowledge your offer to help. instead, he scoffed, looking at you like you were a servant he summoned. “good. i’ll swing by later. and don’t keep me waiting, alright? i got football early.”
before you could respond, another voice cut in. it was minji; and she didn’t look too impressed.
“excuse me,” she said, her tone icy and uncharacteristically sharp. she was standing just a few feet away, glaring at him with a look you’ve never seen on her before. “is that how you talk to people who are helping you?”
he turned to her, surprised, then chuckled, clearly amused. “oh hey, minji. didn’t see you there.”
“obviously,” she snapped, taking a step closer. “because if you had, you might have remembered that it’s rude to treat people like they owe you something.”
he seemed taken aback, clearly not used to being called out, especially not by someone like her. “what’s the big deal? it’s just y/n. she’s used to this kinda stuff.”
“just y/n?” she repeated, her voice growing colder. “y/n’s doing you a favour. the least you could do is show a little respect.”
you stood there, stunned, not used to seeing minji like this; fierce and protective. part of you wanted to pull her back, tell her it was all good, but the other part is quietly grateful for the way she was standing up for you.
he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “whatever, minji. i don’t get why you’re so worked up over this.”
“because it’s common decency, taehyung,” she said firmly. “and maybe you should try it sometime.”
the tension hung heavy in the air, a standoff between the most powerful kids in town as a few students nearby glanced over, was a rare event to watch.
“fine,” he muttered, barely meeting your gaze. “thanks for, uh, looking at the car — i guess.”
it was a half-hearted apology, but you took it, nodding slightly. “no problem.”
with one last glare at her, taehyung stalked off, muttering under his breath. as soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to you, her expression softening, worry flickering in her eyes.
“sorry if i overstepped,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “it just…he shouldn’t talk to you like that.”
you sent her a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”
she shrugged, but there was a softness to her gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “maybe not. but i wanted to. you’re too nice sometimes, you know?”
you laughed, glancing down, feeling a little shy under her stare. “guess i just don’t see the point in getting worked up over guys like him.”
“well, maybe you should,” she said, her tone teasing. “or you could just let me get worked up for you.”
“i’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the way her words made you feel.
for a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you in a way that felt natural. then minji looked around, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“wanna skip the rest of the day?”
you raised an eyebrow. “skip school? miss ‘perfect attendance’ minji wants to cut class?”
she laughed, her smile wide and free. “just this once. come on, let’s go into into town.”
you hesitated, glancing back at the school, but the look in her eyes was too tempting to resist. with a grin, you nodded, gesturing towards the main door. “alright, then. let’s stop by murphy’s.”
skipping class wasn’t something either of you did often, but today felt different — a small rebellion that felt like it belonged to you and her alone.
the two of you walked in comfortable silence down main street, minji bumping her shoulder playfully against yours every so often. the breeze danced the leaves around, the occasional folks passing by and giving you questionable looks - you didn’t say much, but the unspoken ease said more than words could.
after a few blocks, you found yourselves standing outside murphy’s diner, the familiar chipping paint and neon sign buzzing quietly in the afternoon light.
you held open the door, nodding for her to go in first. “after you, punk.”
she laughed, shaking her head as she stepped inside. “i should be saying that to you, you’re the bad influence here.”
“i think it’s mutual at this point,” you replied with a grin, following her into the diner.
the place was nearly empty, save for a couple of regulars at the counter and murphy himself, looking half-asleep behind the cash register. he perked up slightly when he saw you both, adjusting his stained apron and giving you a nod of acknowledgment.
“hey kids,” murphy called out, not quite smiling but his eyes crinkling in what could pass as friendly. “what brings you in here on a school day?”
“just felt like a change of scenery,” minji answered, sliding into a booth by the window. she glanced at you, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “thought we’d come sample your famous pie.”
he snorted, crossing his arms. “famous, huh? that what they’re calling it now?”
“sure is,” you said, grinning as you took a seat across from her. “heard you’ve got some new ‘experimental’ flavours going on. i might be feeling brave today.”
“i’d rethink that if i were you, your pa’s guts couldn’t even handle it,” he replied, one eyebrow raised. “but i’ll get you both a slice of the apple. can’t go wrong with the classic.”
as he shuffled off to the kitchen, minji leaned across the table, resting her chin in her hands. “you come here a lot, huh?”
you nodded, looking around the diner with a sense of quiet fondness. “yeah. it’s kinda like…i don’t know. a second home, almost. it’s pa’s favourite place in the world — him and murph go way back.”
she smiled, her gaze softening. “i can see that. i used to come here with my mum when i was little. she’d always get me one of those gigantic milkshakes, and then i’d feel sick for hours afterward.”
“so nothing’s changed,” you teased, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.
“not true. now i can handle my milkshakes without the regret,” she looked around, taking in the retro red booths, the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and the small posters lining the walls. “it’s got that old charm to it, you know? like it’s been here forever.”
“probably has,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t listening in. “murphy’s just as much a part of this place as the food is.”
she laughed, shaking her head. “and his infamous temper. last time i was in here, i saw him argue with some poor guy over how much sugar he was putting in his coffee.”
“sounds about right,” you said, chuckling. “you know, i think he’s convinced he’s running some kind of fine dining establishment.”
“let him dream,” she replied with a grin. “it makes this place more interesting.”
murphy came back a moment later, setting down two plates in front of you, each with a thick slice of pie that steamed slightly, the golden crust flaking off at the edges.
“your pa know you cut classes now, y/n?” he sent you a funny look, one that made you gulp. “you in luck, i keep secrets to m’self these days.”
“thanks murph,” you smiled as minji tried to suppress her laughter.
he poured you each a cup of coffee without asking, grumbling under his breath about “kids these days” before disappearing back behind the counter.
she picked up her fork, cutting into the pie and taking a tentative bite. her eyes widened, and she made a small noise of approval. “okay, i’ll admit, this is actually pretty good.”
you took a bite as well, nodding in agreement. “he’s a little eccentric but the man knows how to make a pie.”
she glanced over at murphy, who was pretending not to watch you both from the corner of his eye. “maybe we should give him some credit.”
“don’t let him hear you say that,” you warned, keeping your voice low. “next thing you know, he’ll be charging ‘gourmet’ prices.”
she laughed, covering her mouth, and for a moment, everything felt easy and light, like the two of you were just regular kids, free from the weight of expectations or small-town gossip.
you watched her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, and felt an overwhelming sense of warmth in your chest.
“so, what else do you do around here?” she asked, leaning back in the booth and sipping her coffee, eyes fixed on you with genuine interest. “besides fixing trucks.”
“not much, honestly,” you admitted, shrugging. “sometimes i’ll go out riding horses. there’s this trail out by the woods that’s perfect for it.”
“do you actually?”
“yeah,” you replied, a little surprised by her excitement. “my family’s got a few. i’ve been riding since i was a kid, how have you not seen our horses?”
“i guess i never noticed,” she said, sounding almost awestruck. “i always wanted to learn, but mum was convinced i’d end up falling off and breaking something.”
you chuckled, picturing a young minji, her eyes bright with excitement. “it’s not that dangerous, as long as you know what you’re doing.”
“well, i wouldn’t know what i’m doing, so there’s that,” she replied, laughing. “maybe someday you could…teach me?”
the question caught you off guard, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice casual. “yeah, sure. we could go sometime. i’d love to show you.”
a comfortable silence settled between you as you both finished your pie, stealing glances out the window at the quiet town beyond. it was strange, this sense of peace you felt around her, like you could share anything and it would feel normal.
after a while, she sighed, setting down her fork and looking at you thoughtfully. “thanks for bringing me here. i feel like i’m seeing this town in a new way, you know?”
“happy to share it with you,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “you make it feel different too.
minji’s cheeks flushed a little, but she didn’t look away. instead, she just smiled as you both let the quiet settle in again, savouring the feeling of being together.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
one weekend, like you had promised, you led minji toward the stables; showing her around the fields and introducing her to the horses. she was practically bouncing with excitement, taking everything in with curious eyes.
she’d been asking about the horses ever since you’d told her about them back at murphy’s, and today, she’d finally convinced you to let her come by to meet them.
“they’re even bigger up close,” she said, her voice filled with awe as she reached out, hesitating just a moment before brushing her fingers over the soft nose of your favourite horse, duke.
you grinned, patting duke on the neck. “he’s a gentle giant, aren’t you, buddy?”
duke gave a soft snort, leaning into your touch and her face lit up with a smile that made something warm bloom in your chest.
“can i feed him?” she asked, glancing at you for approval.
“sure,” you replied, grabbing a couple of carrots from the feed bucket nearby. “just keep your hand flat and he’ll be careful.”
she took the carrot, holding it out with her hand as you instructed and giggled as duke’s soft muzzle tickled her palm. “oh my god, he’s so sweet!”
“yeah, he’s a good boy,” you said, watching her with a fond smile.
seeing her here, surrounded by the horses and the familiar quiet of the stables, felt strangely right, as if she’d always belonged.
as she moved on to pet one of the other horses, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. turning, you saw your dad strolling into the stables, wiping his greasy hands on an old rag.
he raised an eyebrow when he spotted minji, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
“well, well, didn’t expect to see you bringing company out here, y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking from you to her with a look of pleasant surprise.
she turned, a bit flustered but quickly recovering with that bright smile of hers. “hi mr. l/n,” she greeted him, polite and cheerful as ever.
“minji,” he began, chuckling softly as he extended a hand, which she shook firmly. “heard a lot about you from your da. never thought i’d see you out here in the stables with y/n.”
“guess i just wanted to see the horses,” she responded, throwing a quick, slightly embarrassed glance at you. “she’s been telling me all about them.”
“did you now?” he gave you a knowing look, one that made you want to roll your eyes, but you held back. he’d always had that look in his eye whenever he saw you with friends, but this was different, he seemed more…amused.
“she’s never seen them ‘round, pa,” you laughed. “can you believe that?”
“well, make yourself at home,” he told her with a wink. “and darling, while you’re at it, i need you to run down to mrs. kim’s pet store later and pick up the order i put in. she’ll know what it is.”
“sure thing,” you replied, used to the occasional errand for him. “anything else?”
“and since you’ll be out, why don’t you stop by murphy’s and bring me one of those experimental pie slices too? been hearing a lot about his latest concoction.”
minji laughed, catching the joke. “are you sure you want to try it, mr. l/n? murphy’s experimental flavours can be…questionable.”
your dad chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “that’s exactly why i want it. figure life’s more fun with a little culinary risk, right?”
“you sound like murphy,” you said, shaking your head. “can i take the ‘88?”
“yeah, well, maybe he’s onto something,” your dad replied with a grin, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “alright, you two have fun with the horses. don’t let her talk your ear off about their ‘good temperament,’ minji.”
you huffed. “you didn’t answer my question!”
“yeah, yeah, whatever - s’long as you keep minji impressed over here.”
you rolled your eyes as he walked away, a smirk on his face as he disappeared out the stable door, clearly amused by the whole situation.
“your dad seems nice,” she said, her voice soft, watching him go.
“he is,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “he’s the one who taught me everything about taking care of these guys. treats them like family.”
“i can tell,” she said, her stare lingering on you with a look that made you feel both shy and a little flustered. “him and my dad drink in our garage sometimes.”
“talking about cars and engines, i bet.”
“when do they not?”
after a while, you finished up at the stables, promising minji that you’d let her come back to ride sometime soon. together, you walked down main street, heading toward mrs. kim’s pet store for your dad’s order.
when you pushed open the door to the shop, the familiar musty scent of birdseed and old carpet washed over you.
mrs. kim looked up from the counter, her ever-present scowl deepening when she saw you and minji step inside.
“what do you two want?” she barked, her voice sharp as ever. her parrot, archie, squawked in response, as if echoing her sentiment.
“just picking up an order for my pa,” you replied, unfazed by her grumpiness. “he said you’d have it ready?”
she grumbled something under her breath, shuffling off to the back room. archie, watching you intently, tilted his head and squawked again, “no freeloaders!”
mrs. kim had been running the pet store for as long as you could remember; she was infamous for her suspicion of teenagers and her tendency to talk to her parrot, archie, as if he were her business partner.
“archie’s in a good mood, i see,” minji whispered, fighting back a laugh.
“archie’s always in a ‘good’ mood,” you replied with a smirk. “he and mrs. kim are like two peas in a pod.”
“i heard that,” mrs. kim snapped from the back room, making both of you jump.
you shot minji a look, both of you trying not to laugh. a moment later, she returned with a small bag and set it on the counter, eyeing you suspiciously. “make sure your dad pays on time this time, y/n.”
“he always does — got the wrong person again, mrs. kim,” you replied, handing her a few bills as she huffed, muttering about “young folks” under her breath.
as you turned to leave, minji leaned over the counter, giving mrs. kim a bright smile. “thank you, mrs. kim! we’ll be back soon for more of archie’s wisdom.”
her scowl softened just a fraction, and she gave her a begrudging nod. “well, you better keep your hands off the merchandise if you do.”
“of course,” minji replied, her voice light, before giving archie a little wave. “bye, archie!”
archie bobbed his head, squawking one last time, “no freeloaders!”
the two of you finally left the store, stepping back onto the sunny sidewalk, both of you dissolving into laughter as soon as you were out of mrs. kim’s radar.
“i swear, she’s the grumpiest person i’ve ever met,” she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “but i kind of love her.”
“i know,” you said, shaking your head. “town wouldn’t be the same without her, though. she keeps us all on our toes.”
“yeah,” she agreed, a soft smile on her face. “it’s kind of funny…i always talk about wanting to leave, but when i think about leaving people like mrs. kim or murphy behind, it actually makes me a little sad.”
you looked at her, surprised by the vulnerable admission. “you’ve been around them your whole life. it’d be weird not to have them around.”
“i know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “as much as i want to get out, sometimes i think about what i’d be leaving behind. like…like little pieces of myself are tied to this place.”
“maybe that’s what makes it home,” you said softly. “all these weird, wonderful people who make this place what it is.”
she looked at you, her expression thoughtful, and nodded. “yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“archie’s a character, too,” you added, switching back to a lighter conversation. “he’s probably the one keeping her in business.”
“definitely. everyone goes there just to see him, not her.”
“well, at least your dad knows how to keep life interesting,” she mumbled as the two of you strolled back toward murphy’s diner. “between ordering experimental pie and dealing with mrs. kim’s antics, i’d say he’s living his best life.”
you chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of your pa and the quirky charm of your small town. “yeah. he’s got it all figured out, i think.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the sun was just starting to set as you sat on the porch with your dad, the last light casting a warm glow over the fields. he rocked slowly in his chair, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked over at you.
“so…you and minji been spending a lot of time together, huh?” he asked, in that familiar teasing tone of his.
you rolled your eyes, trying to act unbothered. “we’re just hanging out. she’s nice, that’s all.”
“just nice?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “funny, ‘cause from what i hear, you’ve been giving her the grand tour of rhodes and introducing her to all the horses and such. don’t usually do that with just anyone.”
heat crept up your neck. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, glancing away. “besides, nothing’s ever gonna happen. you know how this town is — everyone goes to church on sundays and thinks people like me are going to hell.”
he was quiet for a moment, letting your words settle between you.
you felt the weight of them, the ache that came with knowing this town had walls, even if they were invisible.
“and anyway,” you continued, barely above a whisper, “minji’s straight. she’s probably just being nice ‘cause she feels sorry for me or something.”
your dad shook his head, his eyes soft and understanding. “kid, that’s nonsense. i don’t think she’s the type to spend time with someone just ‘cause she feels sorry for ‘em. from what i can see, that girl genuinely likes being around you — her da says that too.”
“even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” you sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in your voice. “this town…it’s not like people here would ever accept it. i mean, they’re all so set in their ways, and they’ve known each other forever. they’d never understand.”
he sent a thoughtful nod. “you’re right that people here got their ways. but you know…folks talk, but they don’t talk bad. they care about family, about helping each other out. they got their beliefs, sure, but i don’t think they’d turn their backs on you; you’re family.”
you looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve. his words gave you a flicker of hope, though you weren’t quite sure if you believed him.
“and besides,” he added, a sly smile breaking through, “this isn’t about the town, is it? it’s about how you feel.”
“i know, but it doesn’t matter now. or ever. she’s too pretty, anyway.”
he leaned in, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “so…you think she’s pretty, hey?”
you felt your face burn as you tried to stammer out a response, but before you could say anything, the sound of footsteps interrupted. you looked up, startled, and there she was — minji, standing just a few feet away with a shy smile, her eyes flicking between you and him.
“uh hey,” she said, clearly sensing she’d walked in on something. “i didn’t mean to interrupt, just thought i’d watch y/n work in the garage.”
it was nearly impossible to find your voice, too flustered to do anything but offer a small wave. your dad chuckled, his gaze bouncing from you to minji, and back again.
“well, speak of the devil,” he began, his voice full of that familiar warmth. “sweetheart, we were just talking about you.”
shooting him a look, you plead him to be quiet but the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet.
she raised an eyebrow. “all good things?”
“y/n here was just saying how nice you are,” he continued, completely unfazed by your glare. “always good to see good folks spending time together.”
she smiled, her eyes catching yours for a brief second; something unreadable flickering in her gaze. “well, y/n, you’re pretty great company yourself.”
your pa just grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and gave you a little pat on the shoulder before he stood up. “i’ll leave you two to it, then.”
and with that, he strolled inside, whistling a tune, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to figure out what to say to the girl who had suddenly made everything feel so complicated.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the day minji returned to rhodes, the sky was heavy with the kind of grey clouds that seemed to hold a familiar quiet.
four years had slipped by since she’d left, the city pulling her away like a magnet, offering her a life she thought she wanted – or at least, a life she thought would make her forget. now, sitting in her da’s ‘72 chevy as he drove her back from the station, she felt the strange sense of both everything and nothing changing.
the truck rattled as they drove down the winding road that led into town, its worn seats and rusty interior a stark contrast to the sleek offices she was used to. it was only when she glanced down that she noticed the shiny new bolts in the dashboard, the hint of fresh paint.
“dad, did you fix the truck?” she asked, running her fingers along the smooth edge, noticing the little changes.
he chuckled, shaking his head. “i wish, y/n fixed it up. finally had the time to look under the hood,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice as he tapped the steering wheel. “opened up her own shop a year back. doing well, from what i see — helping me look after old girl here.”
she felt a twinge in her chest, an old, familiar ache she’d buried beneath years of work and distance. you. the girl who loved her in the quietest, fiercest way — the one she left behind. it was hard to picture you now, four years later, still here in the town that had once felt too small, too suffocating for her.
“she opened her own garage?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice casual, though her heart was pounding. the last she’d heard, you had been working odd jobs, fixing up trucks for people on the side, but she’d never imagined you actually staying, putting down roots here.
it didn’t quite make sense to her — you were keen on leaving, at some point.
“she did,” he nodded, his voice warm with the admiration he held for you. “that girl’s got talent and folks around here know it. opened the place up some years after her pa passed…not too long after you left, actually.”
the words hit her like a slap, sudden and jarring. “her dad…passed away?” she asked, barely able to get the words out. she felt a pang of guilt settle heavy in her stomach, a sick, sinking feeling that twisted through her. “what?”
he nodded, his expression softened with a sadness she hadn’t noticed before. “it was sudden. heart attack, coroner said. she was…well, she was left to handle things on her own. the town tried to help, but she didn’t really let anyone in. shut herself off, y’know?”
she stared at the passing landscape, her heart heavy with guilt and regret, memories surfacing of all the times she’d spent in their yard, watching you and your dad tinker with the trucks.
“sweetheart, tell your da to let that old girl rest,” he often joked, referring to the chevy. “and tell him to give it to me.”
he’d always had a way of making her feel like she belonged there, even though she was just a girl who’d wandered over too many times — looking for an excuse to be near you.
she could still remember his warm laugh as he handed her a sandwich, the smell of grilled cheese filling the air, sometimes even murphy’s pies, you rolling your eyes but smiling anyway as he fussed over them, asking if you’d had enough to eat, if you wanted something else.
she’d spent countless afternoons like that, sitting on the tailgate of an old truck, the three of you laughing and talking like a makeshift family.
and there were the stables, where your dad and her own had shown them the basics of horseback riding, teaching her how to hold the reins, how to stay calm. she could still hear his voice, patient and steady, guiding her through each step, his pride evident every time she got something right.
those moments had felt like a small slice of paradise, a simplicity and warmth that she hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.
now, the weight of her absence settled over her, a hollow ache that grew with each memory. “why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling with frustration. “i would’ve…i would’ve come back…or done something.”
her da heaved a sigh, his expression sad but understanding. “darling, it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to bring up. you were busy with college, building a life out there, we didn’t want to pull you back into something you’d left behind. and y/n, she wasn’t letting anyone in. not even us.”
“she shut everyone out?” she whispered, her chest tightening at the thought of you going through that alone. “i was her…friend.”
she’d left, chasing a future in the city, cutting ties, thinking she could escape without looking back; you stayed.
the town looked the same — fields stretching out wide, familiar old houses dotting the road, half-empty streets lined with memories she’d tried so hard to bury. she remembered thinking she needed to get out, to be someone bigger than this place. everything felt smaller, yes, but also somehow more real.
“your friends are still around, you know,” he said, glancing over at her. “danielle, hanni, haerin, hyein; most folks have moved on, but those girls are still here. might do you some good to see them while you’re back.”
she smiled faintly, memories of their laughter, their teenage dreams, filling her mind.
“maybe,” she murmured, though her thoughts were elsewhere.
he gave her a sideways glance, his eyes softening with something close to pity. “you know, darling, it’s funny how we all make a big fuss about things that don’t really matter,” he began slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “when you two were younger, we all knew. hell, everyone knew. this town may be small, but we ain’t small-minded.”
she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. she could feel the sting of shame creeping in, a bitter taste at the back of her throat. “you…you didn’t care?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
minji felt stupid — realising just how much of her fear had been rooted in an imagined rejection, an unfounded worry of not being accepted in the eyes of her own family.
he shook his head, his expression soft. “we just wanted you to be happy. you two were good for each other. anyone could see that. your mother and i, we didn’t care, not like you thought,” he sighed, looking out at the familiar fields and fences as they passed by. “but you ran off, and i think she, well, she tried to move on too. but this town has a funny way of holding on to people.”
“what do you mean?” she bit her lip, playing with the hem of her shirt.
“she left when you did, but came back,” he admitted, sighing. “think she wanted to find you, knocked on our door one night asking for your address.”
her heart dropped. “why didn’t she call me?”
“y/n and phones don’t work well together,” he laughed lightly. “we tried to call you to let you know, but you were barely answering anyone ‘round the time —“
“i’m sorry,” a tear slipped out of her eye. “i didn’t mean to; i don’t know why i acted like rhodes didn’t do me any good.”
he placed his hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently. “whatever happens, you apologise to that girl, alright? make things right before you leave her again — you two were good together.”
she nodded, unable to look at him, her mind racing with memories, with the realisation of all she’d left behind, the things she’d tried to forget.
the words settled over her it was soothing a wound she hadn’t known she still carried. she’d spent so much time running, afraid that love would trap her, would limit her to a small life in a small town.
right now, sitting beside her da, she felt a strange sense of clarity. perhaps she’d underestimated this place and the people in it.
they drove in comfortable silence until, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone riding a horse along the edge of the field that bordered the road.
her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the figure — your figure, sitting tall and steady, guiding duke with practiced ease; his golden brown coat shining against the light. you looked so much like the girl she remembered, and yet different, a little older, a little harder, like the years had carved something new into you.
when the truck drove pass, you forced yourself to remain steady, giving a small nod to her dad. yet you kept your gaze neutral, as if minji wasn’t even there, like the sight of her hadn’t stirred something deep within you.
she was just another face in the passing cars, another stranger returning to a place she’d left behind.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
everything started to change in senior year. maybe it was the way she began to linger a little longer at the gate, waiting for you even when her friends had already headed off without her. or maybe it was the stolen glances, the subtle softening of her expression when she looked your way, as if she saw something there she hadn’t noticed before.
whatever it was, you both fell into it quietly, like it was bound to happen someday.
it started as a subtle shift. you had always coexisted in the same small world, but it was only in those final years of high school that the space between you began to close. you couldn’t remember exactly when the glances turned into something more, when the quiet nods in the mornings became soft smiles, lingering a second longer than before.
the summer night was thick with warmth, the air alive with laughter, music, and the soft crackle of a bonfire that cast flickering shadows across the lake.
these gatherings always felt a little surreal, like you were watching a movie of someone else’s life from the outside, not quite fitting into the easy flow of conversation and laughter that everyone else seemed to slip into naturally.
minji was there too, laughing with her friends, her figure caught in the soft glow of the fire. she was radiant tonight, her summer dress clinging to her as she moved. you tried not to look at her too much, to avoid the tightness in your chest whenever she glanced your way or threw her head back in laughter at something one of her friends said.
she was beautiful, so bright and alive that it hurt to look directly at her for too long, like staring into the sun.
you kept your distance in front of the fire, knowing it was safer this way. you were her friend — but that was all. wanting more than that was a line you couldn’t cross, a risk you weren’t sure you could take.
and yet, it didn’t stop the ache, the impossible yearning that twisted inside you every time you saw her smile at someone else.
“hey buddy,” hanni scooted beside you, handing you another can of beer. she was one of minji’s friends from the cheerleading team. “why don’t you join her?”
you shook your head, warmth rushing to your cheeks as you took the budweiser. “thanks hanni - and i’m all good, i’m too awkward to make conversation anyways.”
she chuckled, cracking her can open. “minji talks a whole heap ‘bout you — all good things too.”
“that’s good to know,” you smiled. and for a second, minji’s eyes land on you both, motioning for you to come. “go ahead, join them.”
“s’ppose i should,” she stood up, patting your back. “come join us later, yeah?”
it was as you were lost in thought that he appeared — sunoo. he slipped into their group around, all charm and confidence and leaned close to minji, his hand brushing against her arm as he said something that made her laugh. she didn’t pull away, didn’t seem to mind his closeness and the sight of it made your stomach twist.
what he wanted was too obvious; it was written all over his face, in the way his eyes followed her, the way he leaned into her like she was already his.
there was some sort of bitterness churning in your chest. sunoo was everything you weren’t —outgoing, popular, confident in ways you couldn’t be. he could have her without hiding, without pretending and the thought of it was like a knife twisting in your heart.
you weren’t sure how long you watched them, how long you let yourself feel that raw, consuming ache, but eventually, it was too much.
without a word, you turned and walked away from the bonfire, letting the noise and laughter fade behind you as you headed down toward the jetty, where the lake stretched out into the dark, quiet and still untouched by the party.
letting your feet dangle over the water, you stared out at the lake. the gentle lap of the waves against the wood soothing but not enough to calm the storm inside you.
it was painful, this quiet longing, this want that could never be more than a secret. you wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anything but you knew you’d never be able to have her the way you wanted to — openly, without fear, without shame.
she was quiet as she walked down the jetty, her footsteps soft, almost hesitant. when she finally reached you, she sat down beside you, her legs swinging over the edge as she stared out at the water, her face bathed in the silver glow of moonlight.
“there you are,” she muttered softly, not looking at you. “why did you leave?”
you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the lake. “just needed some air.”
“is that really all?” her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, something careful and probing.
you clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit it. “i just didn’t want to be around all those people.”
she didn’t answer right away, and you could feel her watching you, her gaze intense, searching.
“y/n,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “why don’t you ever look at me? really look at me for a second longer?”
the question startled you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. you looked away, your heart hammering, feeling raw and exposed under her stares. “what are you talking about? i look at you all the time, minji.”
“no,” she murmured, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving you. “not like that. not the way you look at me when you think i’m not watching.”
you swallowed, feeling a surge of panic. you hadn’t realised she’d noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long, the way you watched her like she was the only person in the room. you’d thought you’d hidden it well, that she couldn’t possibly see the feelings you’d kept buried so deeply inside.
“minji, i…” you started, your voice barely audible, thick with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “it’s complicated.”
she didn’t look away, her gaze steady, unflinching. “complicated?” she repeated, a trace of frustration in her voice. “we both know there’s something here. we’ve both felt it…haven’t we?”
you wanted to tell her the truth, to let everything you’d been holding back pour out, but the words felt stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and doubt.
“you don’t understand,” you told her, your voice barely more than a breath. “you’re perfect. you belong in the light, with people who can stand beside you without hiding. i don’t want to be someone you have to keep a secret.”
she let out a soft, shaky laugh, her fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. “you think i care about that?” she murmured, her voice raw, vulnerable. “you’re the one person who’s ever really seen me. who’s ever made me feel like…like i’m enough.”
the honesty in her words was like a jolt, cutting through the walls you’d built around yourself. you turned to her, finally meeting her eyes and the intensity in them took your breath away.
there was something there, and for the first time, you let yourself hope — hope that maybe she felt the same way.
“minji…” you whispered, barely able to speak, your voice thick with everything you’d kept hidden. “i’m scared.”
she reached out then, her fingers grazing your cheek, her touch gentle but steady. “me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling just slightly. “but that doesn’t change the way i feel. i don’t want to hide from this, from you. not anymore.”
before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, as if she were testing the waters.
you froze for a moment, caught off guard by the rush of warmth, the softness of her touch, and then you kissed her back; the weight of all your unspoken feelings pouring into that single moment.
her hands found their way to your neck, fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, her lips warm and insistent against yours.
there was something desperate in the way she kissed you, as if she’d been holding back just as much as you had, as if this was a release, a breaking point you’d both been hurtling toward for so long.
when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, her forehead resting against yours as she closed her eyes, a small, contented smile playing on her lips.
“see?” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth. “that wasn’t so hard and scary now, was it?”
you chuckled, a small laugh, feeling a sense of relief and joy you hadn’t known you’d been holding back. “not with you,” you murmured, your fingers lacing through hers.
she leaned her head against your shoulder, her hand still entwined with yours, the two of you sitting there in the quiet, the world around you fading into the background.
“my love,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence, “i don’t care about what people think. i don’t care if we have to hide.”
you turned to her, feeling something settle in your chest, something warm and steady, and you squeezed her hand, nodding. “then we’ll make it work. one step at a time.”
she smiled, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face, and as you both sat there on the edge of the jetty, the lake stretching out into the quiet of the night.
she was worth it. and for the first time, you let yourself believe that perhaps you could have this; the kind of love you’d always thought was beyond reach.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
for the next few months, your world became a quiet paradise — stolen moments and secret meetings. there was a thrill to it, hiding from the prying eyes of the town, laughing together as you pulled her behind barns or up into the fields where no one could see. it was always careful, always hidden. there was too much at risk if people found out – a town like yours didn’t take kindly to love that didn’t fit within its old, narrow-minded lines.
every day, you moved through the halls and classrooms, blending into the background, unnoticed by most, unless they asked you to look at their truck.
since you’d started seeing minji, your world seemed to shift in small ways that you couldn’t help but notice.
take lunch, for instance, it had started to feel like the highlight of your day. you’d usually sit alone or with a few other quiet friends, minding your own business, eating whatever lunch you’d packed from home.
on some days, she would appear, just casually walking by your table, glancing around like she wasn’t really looking for anyone in particular.
she’d give you a quick nod, a hint of a smile and drop something onto the table in front of you: a sandwich, a bag of fruit, or even a little box with cookies she’d baked the night before.
“you gotta eat,” she never said more than that; she’d just let the items slide across the table before walking off, her gaze distant, like she hadn’t just slipped you a part of herself.
“what’s that all about?” jimin asked you one time, his eyes twinkled with curiosity. “you bribe her or something?”
“just payment for fixing her car one time,” you lied through your teeth.
one of the days jimin wasn’t around, she handed you a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, carefully made, crusts cut off, the kind of neat, perfect thing you’d expect from someone like her.
you looked down at it, raising an eyebrow before looking up at her with a questioning glance.
she rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile playing on her lips. “don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, her voice low so no one else would hear. “i just…made an extra, mum thought it’d be nice for me to give the neighbour one.”
you couldn’t help but grin, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching before unwrapping it. the sandwich was cut into perfect triangles, layered with fresh ingredients, something better than you would’ve ever packed for yourself. taking a bite, you could taste a mix of flavours, like she’d actually put thought into what you’d like.
“you don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said quietly, the words softened by the smile you couldn’t hold back. “i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“maybe i want to,” she replied, a hint of defiance in her tone. “and besides, it’s not like you’re any good at packing lunches.” she glanced down, brushing an invisible speck off her shirt. “consider it…payback for letting me take duke out for a stroll.”
you chuckled, shaking your head. “right, payback,” you repeated, knowing it was an excuse, a flimsy cover for something neither of you would ever say out loud, not here in this cafeteria, surrounded by people who wouldn’t understand.
“see you later?”
“later,” you nodded.
she began to walk away, but then turned around. “where’s jimin? why are you all alone?”
“oh, he’s somewhere ‘round the library.”
sometimes, in between classes, you’d find little notes slipped into the side pocket of your backpack, tucked away where no one else would see. they were simple, scribbled on scraps of paper, sometimes written hastily as if she’d been worried someone might see.
meet me by the bleachers after school.
or sometimes just a simple:
thinking of you.
each note was like a quiet reminder that, even in this place where you both had to pretend, she was still there, still yours in ways no one else could see.
and then there were moments in class, small interactions that felt like secrets passed between you in plain sight.
in history class, she’d sit a few seats ahead of you, close enough that you could catch her profile when she turned her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder. sometimes, she’d glance back, just for a second, and her eyes would meet yours. her lips would twitch in the hint of a smile, so brief that you’d almost wonder if you’d imagined it, before she turned back, her focus on the teacher, face calm and composed.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
one day, as the bell rang and students began to file out, you were gathering your things when you felt a light touch on your shoulder. you turned to find her standing beside you, her expression calm as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be waiting for you like this.
“forgot your pencil,” she murmured, holding it out to you.
you blinked, glancing down at the pencil in her hand. it wasn’t yours — it was hers, the one she’d been using to write down notes during english class.
“thanks,” you said softly, taking it from her. your fingers brushed, the brief contact sending a spark through you that you fought to keep off your face.
“no problem,” she replied, giving you a small smile before turning and slipping into the crowd, her footsteps blending with the sounds of students heading to their next classes.
after school, you’d wait by the bleachers, like she’d asked in her note, the cool breeze brushing against you as you watched the field, waiting for her familiar silhouette.
when she finally appeared, she’d slip beside you, careful to keep a few inches of distance in case anyone saw. but once you were alone, she’d let the distance disappear, leaning into you, her hand finding yours, fingers interlacing as if they’d been made to fit.
“you know, we’re pretty good at this whole sneaking-around thing,” she’d say with a smirk, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper.
you’d laugh, pulling her closer, the world fading as she looked up at you, her gaze warm and open, the side of her that no one else ever got to see.
“yeah, we are,” you’d reply, your voice thick with the happiness that came from simply being near her.
but it wasn’t perfect. minji was torn between her love for you and the life she was expected to lead. she still wore her role as the town’s golden girl, her perfect smiles and flawless routines. in school, she was still minji, the cheerleader, the girl who turned heads.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it was early morning, sunlight barely beginning to filter through the kitchen window as you sat across from your pa, both of you wrapped in the quiet warmth of the house. he was sipping his coffee slowly, his gaze flicking to you over the rim of his mug with that familiar, soft smile.
mornings with him were usually quiet, a calm routine of eggs, bacon, and the occasional weathered joke about the new mayor or murphy.
but today, he looked at you with a different kind of mischief.
“so,” he started, drawing out the word as he reached for his mug, “i hear whispers that young love might be in the air.”
you choked a little on your toast, shooting him a look. “what’re you talking about, old man?”
he shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “oh, nothing. just that i’ve seen you two running around a lot more lately. seems like every time i look outside, you’re showing minji how to fix up the old truck, or you’re off to murphy’s together. ‘bout time you made a girlfriend, don’t you think?”
“minji’s not…i mean, she’s just…” you felt the heat creeping up your neck and ducked your head, focusing on your plate. “it’s nothing like that.”
“mmhm,” he hummed, watching you over the rim of his cup. his eyes crinkled in a way that suggested he didn’t believe you at all. “nothing like that. you know, i wasn’t born yesterday, kid. i know the look of young love when i see it. and i see it whenever she’s around.”
fidgeting with the handle of your coffee mugc you shifted in your seat. “we’re just friends, pa. it’s not…it’s not like that.”
“well, friend or not,” he continued, his voice softening. “i’m glad you’ve got her. this town can be small and stifling. finding someone who makes it feel a little bigger, a little brighter? that’s special.” he leaned forward, his expression gentler now, serious. “and if it’s more than that? well, that’s okay too.”
you were quiet for a long moment, letting his words sink in. your pa, who you’d thought would be the first to disapprove if he ever caught wind of anything between you and another girl, was sitting here telling you it was okay. telling you he saw something good in it.
“and even if we were dating…it’s not like folks around here would accept it,” you finally admitted.
he nodded, considering this. “you’re right. people here can be set in their ways. but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and so does minji from what i’ve seen. besides, the world’s changing. more than you might think.” he reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “sometimes, you just have to carve out your own happiness, no matter where you are.”
you looked down at his hand over yours, feeling a sense of warmth and support that made your chest ache.
“you really think it could work?” you asked softly, almost to yourself.
“why not?” he replied with a gentle smile. “you two look at each other like there’s no one else in the world. that’s rare, kid. don’t be so quick to brush it off. your ma would be proud if she were here.”
the idea of a future, of something real and tangible with minji, flickered in your mind, fragile and uncertain. it was a thought you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on before, too afraid of what it would mean. hearing your dad’s quiet approval, his belief in something that had only been a whisper of hope in your own heart, made it feel…possible.
“so you’re seeing the town’s princess, huh?” he added with a smirk, breaking the serious moment and making you roll your eyes, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks again.
“i’m not talking about this with you, old man,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
just then, the screen door creaked open, and you glanced up to see minji standing on the porch, her hand raised in a tentative wave.
“speak of the devil again,” he said under his breath, giving you a knowing look before he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. “morning, minji,” he greeted her, tipping his hat as he passed by. “got errands to run with your da today.”
as he disappeared into the other room, she stepped inside, flashing you a bright smile that only made your stomach twist further.
“hey,” she greeted, glancing between you and the door your dad had just exited from. “everything okay?”
you nodded, forcing yourself to return her smile. “yeah, everything’s good.”
later that afternoon — the fields were quiet, bathed in the soft amber of the setting sun, the sky stretching out wide and endless above you two.
you lied beside each other on the blanket, surrounded by wildflowers and the tall grass, nothing but the sounds of the distant crickets and the soft whisper of the wind between you. it was your secret spot, the one place in the whole world where you felt like nothing else mattered.
minji was on her back, gazing up at the sky with that faraway look she sometimes got, the one that told you she was somewhere else, imagining bigger things beyond the town limits.
you turned to watch her, the golden light casting a glow over her features, her expression open and hopeful in a way she rarely let anyone see. “you’re beautiful, you know that?”
she chuckled, tilting her head in your direction. “says you.”
then the silence returned — she was in deep thought again.
“baby, have you ever thought about it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet, her voice gentle but filled with something electric. “leaving this place? just…going somewhere new, somewhere no one knows us?”
you let out a small, thoughtful hum, your eyes tracing the lines of her face. “not really. i mean, this is home. pa’s here. everything i know is here.”
“yeah, but there’s so much more out there,” she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes as she turned to you, propping herself up on one elbow. “the city is full of things we can’t even imagine. places to see, people who’d never think twice about…us.”
“and what do you imagine?” you asked softly, feeling your heart quicken at the way she was looking at you.
her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes bright with a dreamy sort of wonder. “i imagine living in a tiny apartment where you can see the city lights from the windows. going to diners at midnight, meeting new people, exploring places no one’s heard of. and not having to hide who i am, or who i’m with.”
she reached out, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of your hand. “don’t you want that too?”
you sighed, glancing out over the fields, feeling a pang of longing you hadn’t even realised was there. “perhaps. i mean, i like it here. it’s…safe, you know? sure, it’s not perfect but it’s home.”
she fell quiet for a moment, her fingers still tracing patterns on your skin and then she leaned closer, her voice soft and persuasive. “but what if we could make a new home?”
you closed your eyes, her words wrapping around you like a promise. you’d always thought you’d stay here, grow old in the same town but the way she spoke, with such certainty, made you wonder if there could be something more — something that didn’t have to end with this field, this town, this life.
“it’s a lot to ask,” you murmured, opening your eyes to find her watching you, hope flickering in her gaze.
“i know,” she whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering against your cheek. “but maybe we could try.”
“you don’t even know what it’s like out there, darling. the city isn’t…it’s not a fairy tale.”
“maybe it’s not,” she replied, her voice steady, resolute. “but i’d rather find out with you than stay here wondering. don’t you ever wonder?”
you looked at her, the conviction in her eyes making your chest tighten. “i do wonder. sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “but i’m scared. what if it’s too much? what if we…lose ourselves?”
she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering. “we won’t. we’ll have each other. that’s all we’ll need.”
and in that moment, you believed her. because if there was anyone who could make the world feel manageable, even the vast unknown of the city, it was her and her alone.
“you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “for you, i’d probably do anything.”
her smile softened, a trace of something bittersweet in her eyes. “then come with me. let’s get out of here, together. i don’t want to look back and regret never taking a chance on this. on us.”
you looked away, toward the horizon, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. “i’d miss him. my pa, your parents, murphy…mrs. kim, jimin.”
she nodded, her hand still wrapped around yours. “i know. and he’d miss you too, but we’ll visit every weekend. it’s only a plane ride away.”
you thought about the way your pa had looked at you, the way he’d smiled when he saw you with minji. you looked back at her, feeling the resolve harden in your chest, a quiet courage you hadn’t known you had. “yeah. yeah, we will.”
she grinned, the joy in her expression contagious. “then let’s do it, y/n. let’s plan it out. save up, make it happen. we’ll find a way.”
and as the sun sank lower, you lie back in the grass beside her, letting yourself dream about a life where you didn’t have to hide. and you knew, deep down, that as long as minji was beside you, you’d be willing to try.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it was a gradual thing at first, barely noticeable in the beginning. one day, minji’s texts were just a little shorter, her replies a bit slower. maybe she had a lot on her mind, you’d told yourself.
she had college applications and cheer practice and her family always had a thousand expectations. it wasn’t like she had to be by your side every second.
soon, the changes grew harder to ignore. from giving you lunches to none at all — she’d even take a spot further from your table, putting herself at a subtle distance. at parties or the diner, she’d laugh a little too loudly with her friends, her eyes skimming over you like you were just another familiar face in the crowd. her laughter, once soft and shared between the two of you, had become louder and brighter around others.
she was trying too hard, and that hurt more than anything.
and when you’d walk to school, she’d trail a few steps behind you, enough that it seemed like she wasn’t with you at all. every time she pulled back, it was like a small tear in something you hadn’t realised was stitched so deeply into your chest.
“everything okay, baby?” you’d asked one afternoon as you leaned against the locker next to hers, catching her alone for the first time in days.
she’d barely looked at you, her eyes flickering around the crowded hallway as if someone might see the two of you standing so close.
“yeah fine,” she replied too quickly, her voice light but hollow. “just busy. you know how it is.”
“righto,” you tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, shoving your hands into your pockets as you looked at her, trying to read her expression but her stare remained fixed on anything but you. “you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”
she hesitated, and for a brief second, the mask slipped. you saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty, but just as quickly, she hid it behind a bright smile. “of course, my love. there’s nothing wrong.”
she didn’t walk with you that day, catching a lift with one of the girls. and when you saw her with her friends, she barely acknowledged your presence. each day, it felt like you were losing pieces of her, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
another day, you’d been at murphy’s with her, sneaking glances at her from across the table as she sat with her arms crossed, tense. you tried to keep things light, talking about the old regulars who always had the same orders, the way murphy’s experimental pies could probably kill a man with one bite.
she’d laughed, but it was strained, and her eyes kept darting to the door, watching every person who walked in, as if terrified that someone might see the two of you together.
“are you…embarrassed to be seen with me now?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. it was softer than you’d intended, almost a whisper.
her face fell, and she shook her head quickly, reaching out before pulling her hand back as if she couldn’t bear to be caught touching you. “no, it’s not like that.”
“then what is it?” you pressed, leaning forward, heart pounding. “i don’t understand. we were fine a few weeks ago, and now…you barely look at me.”
she glanced around, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “people are starting to notice,” she whispered, eyes dropping to the table. “they’re… they’re talking, y/n. i heard some girls in my class say they saw us holding hands at the lake. and god, if people figure it out —“
“so what if they do?” your voice was harsher than you’d intended, frustration and hurt boiling over. “let them talk, minji. who cares? you said we were going to work through it together.”
“you don’t get it,” she snapped back, eyes flashing with something like fear. “you know what kind of town this is.”
you fell silent, her words cutting deep, the reality of what rhodes could be crashing down around you. it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the feeling that she was slipping away, bit by bit.
“i just…i just need some space,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not forever, y/n. just until things calm down.”
you nodded, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment. “yeah, space. if that’s what you need.”
she gave you a small, apologetic smile, but it felt like a thousand miles were stretching between you.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the morning sun filtered through your window as you adjusted your cap, tossing a few stray strands of hair under it. it was time to get back to your routine. you had thrown yourself into fixing trucks once again, focusing on the familiar sound of tools clanging and engines revving rather than the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you since the fight with minji.
you spent the day working on a 73’ mustang in the garage, hands greasy and your mind occupied with the rhythm of tightening bolts and checking fluids.
when you heard laughter coming from the living room, you paused, wiping your hands on a rag and leaning against the doorframe.
minji’s parents were over, visiting your pa, and you could hear their chatter echoing through the house. your heart sank as you strained to hear her name amidst the laughter.
“she’s been spending a lot of time with sunoo lately,” her ma said, her voice full of casual concern. “i hope she’s not getting too serious with him. that boy is trouble.”
it felt like the ground had dropped beneath you, an ache rising from the pit of your stomach. you’d been giving her space, hoping it was what she needed to make sense of everything, hoping she’d come back. but hearing she’d gone out with someone else — it hurt more than you wanted to admit, more than you were prepared for.
“y/n!” she noticed you walk in, a big smile on her face. “look at you working hard — going to open up a shop like your pa, aren’t you?”
“no, she’s moving to the city with minji, aren’t ya?” her dad laughing, elbowing yours jokingly. “that’s if this old man lets her go.”
“if she asks nicely,” your pa responded with a teasing smile. “with minji.”
“nonsense, y/n will run this town one day,” she dismissed her husband.
“one day, ma’am,” you replied politely as you ducked your head. “i have to grab something from the back — i’ll leave you old folks to it.”
later that morning, you slipped back into your room quietly, not wanting anyone to see the way your face had tightened with barely-contained hurt. a few minutes later, there was a knock on your door.
“kiddo?” your dad’s voice was gentle. he stepped inside, giving you a long look, and you could feel him taking in the tension in your shoulders, the slight clench in your jaw. “you alright?”
you nodded, brushing him off with a forced smile, though you knew he wasn’t fooled. “yeah, just tired. lot of work on the mustang today.”
he sighed, settling into the chair by your desk. “i know things have been…complicated lately. if you ever want to talk, i’m here.”
you swallowed, feeling the weight of his kindness, but all you managed was another nod, the words you wanted to say too tangled to even begin to unravel. he patted your shoulder once, his touch reassuring, and left you with your thoughts.
you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you threw your cap onto the bed. “yeah, just tired.”
he stepped closer, his voice softening. “you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”
“it’s nothing, really,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss his concern. “just…school stuff.”
after studying you for a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “you know, when your ma and i used to have arguments — i was the same.”
you forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “i’ll be fine, dad. really.”
with a reluctant nod, he left you to your thoughts. but his words lingered, echoing in your mind, and you found yourself thinking of minji, of the way her laughter used to feel like home.
the next morning, you decided to change your routine. you started leaving for school earlier than minji, avoiding the moments you used to cherish.
this time, you rolled up the blue mustang you had been working on for weeks. it gleamed in the sunlight, the chrome reflecting the admiration of your classmates as they gathered around, whispering and pointing. you could feel the admiration but it didn’t fill the void left by minji’s absence.
for days, you kept this routine, ignoring her glances, her quiet attempts to catch your eye. the tables were turning, and even when you found small notes tucked into your locker or slipped between your books, you left them untouched, the sight of her familiar handwriting too much to face.
the hurt simmered, mingling with an anger you hadn’t expected — anger that you’d let yourself believe things could be different.
during lunch, you sat at the back of the cafeteria with mina and jimin, trying to engage in a thoughtful conversation.
“so, are you gonna drive jimin and i around town?” mina asked, half-joking. “dad saw it this morning and messaged me to ask you if he could buy it.”
“maybe,” you chuckled. “i don’t know if i can let go of these cars yet.”
“that’s why you don’t got a woman,” she rolled her eyes at you playfully.
“hey!” you slapped her hand off your redbull. “leave me alone, just cause you have boys lined up in your texts.”
you could feel minji’s eyes on you, the hurt and confusion etched into her features as she watched you laugh and joke with another girl — since when did mina even sit with you and jimin?
the pit in your stomach deepened as you noticed her brow furrow, an annoyed look crossing her face as she turned to hanni and danielle.
when you quietly walked with jimin to history class, he gave you a long look before speaking.
“you know, everyone’s been talking about the car,” he started with a smile, then softened as he took in your expression. “but i think there’s something more you’re not telling me.”
you hummed, trying to wave him off, but he just gave you that knowing look. “y/n, it’s okay. whatever’s going on between you and minji…i’ve always noticed. and i’m not here to judge.
you blinked, surprised. you hadn’t expected anyone to know, least of all jimin, and definitely not for him to look at you with nothing but love and understanding.
“i’ve always known,” he continued gently, “and if you’re worried about people finding out, don’t be. no one who matters will care about that. and you shouldn’t either.”
his words sank in, easing the knot that had been twisting in your chest for days. you sighed, finally letting the mask drop for a moment. “it’s just complicated. she got worried and now…”
he nodded. “sometimes people need to figure things out for themselves, but it doesn’t mean they don’t care. maybe give her a chance to explain.”
the confession hung in the air between you, and your heart raced. “it’s not that simple,” you finally said, frustration leaking into your voice. “i heard she was going out with that asshole sunoo, but she said she only needed space.
“right, but i’ve seen her slip notes in your locker, you should stop ignoring her,” he urged, his eyes earnest.
running a hand through your hair, you sighed. “maybe it’s for the best, that we don’t talk.”
“or maybe you just need to work things out. if it doesn’t go well, at least you’ll know.”
his words lingered in your mind long after he left, weighing heavily on your conscience. that evening, as you sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you realized that you couldn’t keep running away from minji.
the next morning, you decided to walk to school like usual when you see her standing just outside your gate, her arms wrapped around herself like she was bracing for something. she looked up as you approached, her expression a mix of nervousness and apology, her gaze hopeful but uncertain.
“can we talk?” her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
you nodded, leading her over to the side of the house, away from any prying eyes. the silence stretched between you, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.
“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just got scared. scared of everyone noticing, of what they’d think, of…us.”
you looked away, the hurt still fresh. “so you went out with sunoo?”
her face fell. “it’s not what you think. i was out with hanni and danielle. i told my parents i was with sunoo because i didn’t want them to think we were dating.”
you took a shaky breath, looking down at her, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “so you pushed me away just because your folks noticed?”
she took a step closer, her hand reaching for yours, her touch gentle. “because i was scared. i didn’t know how to handle this, handle…us. but i’m not scared anymore. i don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
her words settled between you, softening the edges of your hurt. she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering, and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe her.
you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around you, holding on like she was afraid you might slip away:
“don’t pull away again,” you murmured against her hair, the words a plea as much as a promise.
she nodded, her voice a whisper in the quiet. “i won’t. not ever again.”
as you stood there, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the promise of a future that felt just within reach.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the weeks drifted by, and while things were back to a tentative normal between you and minji, you could still feel the hesitation beneath her smiles and laughter. she was there with you, present and warm but some part of her held back, like she was testing the waters but ready to pull back at any moment.
whenever you sensed it, you held your tongue, deciding to give her the space to come to you in her own time. you both kept your routines — trips to murphy’s, teasing mrs. kim until she would roll her eyes and tell you to stop distracting her. you’d sit in your usual booth, sharing fries and stories of the day, filling the air between you with a comfort that kept you going.
as the end of senior year crept closer, word spread about a big party at taehyung’s house to celebrate. when mina and jimin brought it up at lunch, your first instinct was to turn it down. you knew minji would be there, but something held you back from wanting to be part of the crowd.
“come on, y/n, it’ll be fun,” mina nudged, her grin contagious. “you’ve been working too hard on those trucks. you deserve a night to let loose!”
jimin, sitting across from you, chimed in with his usual calm encouragement. “plus, it’s one of the last times we’ll all be together like this. just for a few hours?”
after a bit of convincing, you finally sighed, “alright, fine. but if it gets too much, i’m leaving early.”
the night felt heavy with the anticipation of summer as you stepped into taehyung’s backyard, which was buzzing with energy. lights were strung up from tree branches, and music poured from a speaker on the porch, filling the air with a low, steady beat. people laughed and shouted around you, all in a celebratory mood as if they could already taste graduation in the air.
mina and jimin led the way, pulling you toward a quieter spot just beyond the bonfire. a large group had gathered but you found some space with your friends around a patio table set up under the stars.
minji’s presence across the yard kept tugging at you. she looked effortlessly pretty, caught up in animated conversation with hanni and danielle.
her laughter floated through the crowd, and every time she tilted her head to toss her hair back, it felt like your heart skipped a beat.
as you sat with jimin and mina, your attention was pulled back to their laughter and light teasing. you tried to let their words drown out the ache, listening as they joked about plans after high school.
“so, what’s next for you two?” mina grinned, leaning forward with a sparkle in her eyes. “i mean, please tell me you’re both sticking around?”
“definitely,” jimin nodded, his expression easy and relaxed as he took a sip out of his wine bottle. “my uncle’s got a job lined up for me at his mill. it’s nothing fancy, but it’s good work.”
you smiled at him, grateful to hear the certainty in his voice. “sounds like you’re gonna be the nepo baby of that mill.”
“hey,” he laughed, shrugging as he nodded his head at mina. “what about you?”
mina shrugged, looking out at the yard. “i’m probably helping out at my parents’ restaurant. not exactly glamorous, but i don’t mind. plus, i’ll be around to keep you two in line!” she shot you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
the conversation shifted as minji, hanni, and danielle made their way over, pulling up seats around the table. it didn’t take long for the topic to extend beyond the girls.
“so, what about you, minji?” jimin asked, a faint curiosity in his tone. “you’ve got big plans, i bet?”
minji’s eyes lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “i’m planning to head to seattle. there’s a really great law program there and my mum already knows people who could help me get an internship. it’ll be…different, you know?” she looked around, her gaze lingering on each of you, but it felt like she was already somewhere else, looking past the small town lights and imagining herself far away.
you forced a smile, nodding along, even though the thought of her moving on without you gnawed at you. you were proud of her, but it was bittersweet. “that sounds amazing, minji. i’m sure you’ll do great.”
for a moment, she looked at you, a flicker of something in her eyes. you couldn’t quite place it, but it made your chest tighten, as if she wanted to reach out but held back.
then, just as quickly, she looked away, her attention drawn to danielle talking about how her family needed her help with their farm and hanni mentioning the fishing company just on the outskirts of town.
“so…am i the only one leaving?” minji asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.
mina chuckled, shrugging. “yup. the rest of us are staying. small-town life isn’t so bad, right?”
“well, taehyung, sunoo — those football boys have big plans outside of rhodes too, so it’ll be alright, don’t worry about us,” danielle tried to cheer her up at the sight of her frown.
she smiled, but there was a sadness to it, like she was caught between wanting to stay and feeling like she had to go. you wished you could reach across the table and tell her it didn’t matter where she went — you’d always be there for her, but you stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the delicate balance you both shared.
“what about you though, y/n?” hanni asked. “i thought i heard your pa mention you were probably moving to the city.”
you shook your head, gently throwing sticks at the fire. “i don’t think i’ve ever mentioned that to him - s’ppose he’s just assuming i’ll try for an apprenticeship somewhere.”
“you’re not?” minji’s frown deepened, but quickly tried to mask it with a joke. “i mean…you could try for seattle with me.”
“i like rhodes,” you muttered, refusing to look at her. “perhaps, one day, but i don’t see any reason to leave now.”
before the silence could settle too long, taehyung stumbled over, clearly tipsy, with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “alright, truth or dare time!” he slurred, eyes zeroing in on minji. “you in?”
minji, slightly emboldened by her drink, smirked. “dare. give me your best shot.”
minji, ever the bold one, smirked. “dare. bring it on.”
taehyung’s grin widened. “alright, i dare you to kiss my boy sunoo for five seconds!”
the table burst into laughter and shouts, some cheering her on while others shook their heads.
but you felt a strange pang in your chest, a mix of anxiety and dread as minji glanced in your direction. her eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation there, the silent apology in the way she looked at you, as if she knew this would hurt. but then, with a resigned sigh, she turned and walked toward sunoo, accepting the dare.
you tried to steel yourself, focusing on anything but them, but it was impossible to ignore the crowd’s excited cheers, the way the laughter grew louder. you watched as she leaned in and kissed him by surprise, and in that moment, something between you broke.
“you alright?” jimin leaned over, his voice gentle amidst the noise. “you know she loves you, right?”
“i don’t know if i believe that,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.
minji laughed with everyone else, her face flushed from the alcohol, the warmth of the fire flickering in her eyes. it was weird, seeing her like this — untouchable, almost a stranger.
after the dare, an uncomfortable tension clung to the air between you. every time you tried to meet her gaze, she looked away, hiding behind the laughter of her friends.
you wanted to let it go, to shrug it off as a stupid dare that didn’t mean anything, but the image of her kissing sunoo stuck in your mind like a thorn. it wasn’t the kiss itself; it was the way she’d looked at you right before she did it, like she knew exactly how much it would hurt.
she knew, and she’d done it anyway.
the whole night felt like it was slipping out of your control and you desperately tried to ignore minji. every glance from her felt sharper, colder, and when you caught her eye again, she just rolled her eyes and turned away, as if you were being unreasonable. the hurt started to twist into anger.
“hey y/n,” minji finally said, loud enough for the others to hear. “you look like you’re having a blast. didn’t know you were such a party animal.”
her words were laced with sarcasm, and a few people chuckled, though it felt forced.
“i’m just here for the company,” you replied, keeping your tone even - swallowing the retort that sat on the tip of your tongue. “some of it, at least.”
“really? why don’t you let loose and —“
“you don’t have to be like this, minji,” you cut her off, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to wear this mask all the time.”
“be like what?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow, her tone turning defensive. “it was just a kiss. you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend or something.”
the words landed like a slap. you clenched your fists, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing you lose control.
“you know what? forget it,” you muttered, standing up. “i don’t even know why i came here — have a good night everyone.” you turned to walk away, ignoring the glances and murmurs from your friends.
it was jimin who finally broke the silence after you left. “what’s going on between you two?”
danielle and hanni exchanged a look, each of them glancing toward minji, who suddenly looked uncomfortable, the smugness gone from her face. she shrugged, avoiding their gazes. “nothing’s going on. y/n’s just dramatic.”
they all saw through her, the way she fidgeted, the way her eyes darted toward the direction you’d gone, almost as if she were second-guessing herself.
“maybe you should apologise,” danielle suggested gently, nudging her. “it seemed like it really hurt her.”
“apologise for what?” minji shot back, but her voice had lost its edge. “it was just a stupid dare.”
“doesn’t seem like it was ‘just’ anything,” hanni said, her voice soft. “not to y/n, anyway.”
minji glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. she could feel their eyes on her, and for the first time that night, the laughter and noise of the party faded into the background, leaving her alone with the uncomfortable feeling she’d been trying to ignore.
the cool night air hit your face as you stepped away from the party, heading for the quiet of your truck. each step felt heavier, the hurt and anger swirling together.
you opened the door to your truck, about to climb inside, when you heard the crunch of footsteps behind you. you didn’t need to turn around to know it was her.
minji stood there in silence, her face partly shadowed, looking hesitant but unwilling to let you leave. she climbed into the passenger seat without a word.
the air in the truck was thick, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the silence between you. the moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow over minji’s profile as she sat with her arms crossed, her expression hard, lips pressed into a thin line.
she was angry, but so were you, though you could feel it simmering low, contained, refusing to boil over the way it wanted to.
the way you both wanted it to, maybe.
you kept your eyes on the road, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. in the corner of your eye, you saw her glance at you, her eyes narrowing when you didn’t turn to meet her gaze.
she shifted in her seat, her fingers drumming impatiently on her knee. “are you really not going to say anything?” her voice cut through the silence, sharp and demanding. it was more than a question — it was an accusation, as if your silence itself was a betrayal.
you felt her eyes on you, waiting for some kind of response, some kind of reaction. but you just kept driving, eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw set, trying to steady your breathing.
“what do you want me to say, minji?” you finally replied, voice low and steady, though you could feel the anger straining beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. you didn’t want to look at her, because you knew if you did, you wouldn’t be able to hold back.
she let out a scoff, shaking her head. “god, you’re so…frustrating. i kissed someone for a stupid dare and you’re acting like i did something terrible.”
you really tightened your grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white. “you knew what that would do to me,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper, the words laced with hurt you hadn’t meant to reveal. “you looked right at me and you did it anyway. in front of my friends.”
“it was just a kiss,” she snapped, her tone dismissive. “it didn’t mean anything.”
you swallowed, feeling the hurt settle heavy in your chest. “maybe it didn’t mean anything to you, but it sure as hell did to me,” you shook your head, finally allowing yourself to look at her, your gaze steady, unflinching. “i thought this meant something to you too. what we have, all of it.”
“don’t you dare put this on me,” she shot back, her voice growing louder, harsher. “you’re the one who can’t handle a party game.”
“this isn’t just about a party game, and you know it,” you said, voice barely controlled, trembling with the effort of holding back. “you hurt me. i know you’re scared, but you have nothing to prove to them. you don’t owe these folks anything —“
“yeah right,” she laughed bitterly, throwing her head back as she cut you off. “that’s what this is about. this stupid, small-minded town.” her voice dripped with disdain, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something cold and sharp in her eyes that you’d never seen before. “well, newsflash, y/n: maybe i’m tired of hiding. maybe i’m tired of sneaking around and pretending that this —”
“say it, minji,” you dared her when you see the hesitation in her eyes.
she gestured between the two of you, her expression hardened, “this isn’t what it really is.”
the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sting of betrayal mingling with the anger that had been simmering all night. “and what exactly do you think this is?” you paused, looking over at her. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’ll forever be ashamed of me.”
she didn’t reply right away, and the silence that followed was heavy, oppressive. she looked away, out the window, her jaw clenched, lips pressed together as if she was holding back something sharp, something cruel.
when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, colder. “maybe it’s not you i’m ashamed of, but the fact that i have to pretend this is even a real thing.”
the words cut deep, slicing through the fragile hope you’d been clinging to. you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep the hurt from swallowing you whole.
“so that’s it then?” your voice broke slightly, but you forced yourself to keep going. “i’m just some…some phase for you? something to keep you entertained until you find someone who fits your perfect little picture?”
she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “don’t twist this around. you’re the one who’s always so serious, who never lets anything slide. i mean, look at you,” she gestured towards you, her expression almost mocking. she was too intoxicated, letting words she’d been thinking all along out of her mouth. “acting like this whole thing is some grand romance when really, it’s just…it’s just something that happened. something that shouldn’t even be happening.”
you felt your heart shatter, the pain too real, too raw — you expected to hear it from other people, but not her.
“if that’s how you really feel, then why did you even start this with me?” you asked, defeated, eyes stinging as you fought to keep the tears from spilling over. “why make me think, no, why make me believe that maybe we could be something real? you made all these fucking plans with me!”
she looked away again, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. “maybe i wanted to see what it felt like,” she said quietly, her tone devoid of warmth, of the softness that had once made you feel like you were the only person who mattered to her. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. it’s…it’s too much.”
the words hung in the air, each one sinking into you like a weight, pulling you down into a well of hurt and betrayal. your breathing was shallow as you fought to keep yourself together.
“if it’s too much for you,” you said, your voice barely steady, “then maybe you should just get out of my fucking truck and out of my life.”
you didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, so final, but the pain was too much, too consuming to keep buried any longer as you stopped just outside of her house.
she looked at you, her eyes wide, almost shocked, as if she hadn’t expected you to push back. for a moment, she seemed lost for words, her lips parted slightly as she stared at you, something flickering in her stare that you couldn’t quite place as you pulled over two streets away from her house.
then, without another word, she reached for the door handle and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. you watched as she walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the night, the sound of her footsteps fading into the silence. the weight of her absence settled over you, a hollow ache filling the space where she’d been.
you stayed there for a long time, sitting alone in the truck, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you’d known, on some level, that it had always been fragile, that the love you’d built together was built on a foundation of secrecy and fear. but you’d hoped – god, you’d hoped that it could be something real.
that argument was the beginning of the end. there was no formal breakup, no final conversation. instead, there was silence – a painful, hollow quiet that replaced the laughter and stolen kisses. when you’d pass each other on the path or catch her gaze in class, all that remained was a shadow of what once was.
by the time graduation rolled around, minji was gone. she left town for college like she always said she would; moved away from the place that had both cradled and confined her.
life went on, as it always does. but some nights, when the world was quiet, you’d find yourself looking out at the road, half-expecting her to be there, waiting for you with that same, soft smile she’d given you all those years ago.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the familiar truck continued down the road, disappearing into the distance and you felt the weight of the moment settle over you like a heavy shroud. part of you had wondered, late at night when the world was quiet, what it would be like to see her again.
you’d imagined it in so many ways, but now that she was here, the reality felt more painful, like reopening a wound that had barely healed.
you nudged duke forward, resuming your path as if a brief glimpse of her hadn’t thrown your world off balance. you’d built a life here, a solid one filled with people you could count on and things you could control.
and minji, with her polished city clothes and her unfamiliar confidence, felt like a reminder of everything you’d once wanted to leave behind.
but you knew better. people left, that’s what they did, and you’d learned to carry on, even when it hurt. so you kept riding, eyes fixed on the road ahead as you turned towards home.
if only you could leave her memory behind.
it had taken years, but the garage was finally yours; a modest place, the kind that carried the scent of engine oil, worn leather and old, dusty tools handed down through generations. you’d started small, fixing up neighbours’ cars, trucks, the occasional tractor, and word had spread quickly in a town where people tended to hang on to things, even if they didn’t always work quite like they used to.
it wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but to you, it was everything — a place of your own, where you could pour yourself into work, let your hands keep busy and your mind focused on the quiet, familiar rhythm of repairing, restoring, and rebuilding.
it was a legacy, a continuation of the path your pa had set for you before he was gone.
after he passed, the garage became both a refuge and a reminder. he’d built this place from the ground up, had filled every corner with memories, with laughter, with the little lessons he’d taught you when you were still too small to hold a wrench properly.
now, it was yours alone, and that emptiness weighed on you like a shadow, even when you filled the space with the sound of clinking metal and the low hum of the radio.
some days, the silence grew too thick, too heavy to bear and that’s when you’d look up and find familiar faces showing up, as if they knew you needed them without you ever saying a word.
jimin was one of the first to start coming around. he was a friend who’d been there through it all, the good and the bad, someone you could count on without question. he’d always swing by after work, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves to lend a hand, his jokes filling the quiet spaces you couldn’t quite bring yourself to break. he was steady, like the tools on your workbench —reliable, unassuming, and never in a rush to leave, always lingering a little longer, making sure you were okay before he headed out.
then there was mina; popular and easygoing, but she’d stayed around town, unlike so many others. sometimes, she’d show up with a little bag of homemade pastries or the restaurant’s leftovers, claiming she had “extras” but always pressing them into your hands, eyes a little too soft, a little too knowing. she’d bring along her own car troubles too — things you suspected weren’t even that urgent — just so she’d have an excuse to hang around, helping with small tasks, keeping you company on those long, quiet afternoons.
danielle would come by, too, cheerful as ever, dropping off fresh fruits from her family’s farm. she’d place the basket down with a grin, insisting you take more than you needed, saying you had to stay healthy to keep the shop running. her laughter filled the garage, bringing a brightness that seemed to cut through the gloom. you’d find yourself laughing with her sometimes, even on the hardest days, grateful for her boundless energy, for the way she always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t say it.
hanni, haerin, and hyein were more like a trio of mischievous siblings (even though they were just neighbours), popping by whenever they felt like it, always claiming they were there to “help,” though you knew better. they’d come under the pretense of lending a hand, but more often than not, they’d be perched on your workbench or leaning against the open garage door, teasing you, nudging you to take breaks. hanni, would try to be serious, her sharp humor balancing out her kindness, while haerin would poke at your tools, asking questions about engines and oil, her curiosity both a help and a hindrance. hyein, the youngest, mostly just wanted to be around you all, wide-eyed and eager, trailing behind her older friends like a loyal shadow.
their visits had become a routine, a way to fill the space your pa had left behind, a way to keep you tethered to the world outside your own thoughts. they never mentioned minji or him. they’d remind you of simpler times, of the days when the garage was filled with laughter and your pa’s steady voice guiding you, his hand on your shoulder as you learned to tighten a bolt or change a tire.
you’d watch them joke and chatter, and for a moment, it was almost like he was still there, watching over you.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it was one of those clear evenings, the kind that settled in with a comfortable chill once the sun dropped behind the hills. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room, and the soft murmur of voices filled the cozy space.
you’d gathered everyone for dinner, an impromptu plan that had somehow grown into a tradition — a way to fill the quiet of your home, the emptiness that seemed to linger ever since.
mina, jimin, danielle, haerin, and hyein had all shown up with bottles of wine, dishes wrapped in foil, and enough energy to keep the house feeling alive. you’d done your best to clear off the table, moving aside spare bolts and tools, making room for the laughter and conversation that had been sorely missed.
the smell of dinner mingled with the wood smoke from the fire, filling the house with an almost nostalgic warmth.
as the night wore on, the conversation turned, naturally, to the topic you’d been bracing yourself for — minji.
“weren’t you ladies with her at murphy’s the other night?” mina said, glancing around the room, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “she looked, different. polished, but, like…still minji.”
murphy’s. after your pa passed, you hadn’t found the heart to go back. the place had started to feel hollow, too full of memories that were just a little too close, a little too painful to face.
danielle chimed in, nodding eagerly. “yeah, she looked good. better than good, honestly.” her voice took on a slightly teasing tone as she gave you a sidelong look, as if waiting for a reaction.
you stayed quiet, watching the flames dance, their glow reflecting off the glasses set on the table. you could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken curiosity hanging in the air.
then all knew — everyone in town had known, even if it wasn’t spoken out loud, and with minji back, those old stories were beginning to stir up again.
“she’s a top lawyer now,” hanni added, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “one of the best in the country, from what i hear. apparently, she’s only here for the summer, staying to help her dad with the estate and everything.”
jimin leaned back, eyebrows raised. “top lawyer, huh? guess that makes sense.”
“yeah, remember her talking about all the things she wanted to do?” haerin said, her voice wistful. “back in high school, she used to say she wanted to change the world or something like that. and now look at her.”
there was a murmur of agreement, a mix of pride and wonder in the air, as if everyone in that room felt a little piece of ownership over her success.
a part of you couldn’t help but remember those late-night talks, the quiet moments when she’d let her guard down, telling you about the things she wanted, the dreams she couldn’t quite share with anyone else. she’d always had that fire, that need to be something bigger, to leave her mark on the world.
“i’m proud of her,” you smiled, although bittersweet. “but she didn’t have to what she did.”
they all fell silent for a moment, their glances shifting to you, sensing something unspoken in the air. you could tell they wanted to ask, to know what it felt like for you to see her again after all these years. no one said it out loud, respecting the quiet way you kept yourself guarded, the way you stayed just a little apart from the conversation, even as you listened intently.
“it’s weird,” danielle said softly, her gaze warm as it lingered on you. “her coming back, i mean. like we’re all sort of older, different, but somehow still stuck here.”
“speak for yourself,” jimin grinned, nudging her with his elbow. “i’m thriving, thank you very much.”
they laughed, breaking the tension, and you managed a small smile, grateful for the ease they brought into the room, for the way they tried to keep things light, even if the weight of the past lingered in the spaces between the words.
as the conversation shifted to other things; haerin’s new job, hyein’s plans to travel, jimin’s latest attempt at dating — you found yourself half-listening, lost in the memories that had resurfaced with minji’s return.
they stayed late, laughter and soft conversation filled the room, each of them lingering, as if they knew you needed them there. and when the night finally wound to a close, when the last bottle was empty and the plates were cleared, you found yourself alone again, silence settling over the house like a familiar weight.
this time, it felt like something had been stirred, like minji’s presence had reignited a part of you you’d tried so hard to bury. and as you sat there, watching the dying embers glow faintly in the hearth, you couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you had been waiting for this moment all along.
the living room was dimly lit, you sat there, nursing a bottle of whiskey, lost in thoughts that never seemed to find closure. the ache of loss hung in the air, mingling with the scent of wood smoke and worn leather from the couch.
the shadows from the dying fire flickered against the walls, casting a warm, ghostly glow over the photos of you and your pa. your gaze lingered on one picture — faded, creased at the edges — of you both standing by his 88’ ford, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his face lit up in a laugh. it felt like a lifetime ago.
outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows slightly; a soft reminder of just how quiet and isolated your life had become.
the knock at the door was gentle, uncertain, as if the person on the other side was almost afraid to disturb you. you exhaled slowly, pulling yourself up and crossing the room to answer it — half hoping it wasn’t a neighbour or even an old friend needing a favour.
what you weren’t prepared for was seeing minji stand there, eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression raw and vulnerable in a way that took you back to simpler days.
“hey,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice breaking the silence. “can i come in?”
you held her gaze for a long moment, your heart warring with itself. part of you wanted to shut the door, to protect yourself from whatever mess might follow. the other part, softer and rooted in all the kindness he had taught you, couldn’t do that.
stepping aside to let her in, you nodded, even though every nerve felt on edge.
the silence settled thickly between you both as she took in the room, eyes skimming over the quiet remnants of the life you’d built after she left. she glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey, then at the photos on the wall.
“i’m so sorry,” she said, looking down at her feet, as if the weight of the words was too heavy for her to meet your gaze. “no one told me…about your pa. i didn’t know.”
the pain in her voice was real, but you couldn’t let yourself soften just yet. you crossed your arms over your chest, glancing away, feeling the familiar sting in your throat.
“he was here one day, gone the next,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “he’d been fine. we were working together in the shop, laughing over something stupid, and then…then he was gone.”
the ache in your chest sharpened as you spoke, the whiskey doing little to dull the edges of grief. “i try to tell myself that maybe he’s with ma now. that they’re together, wherever they are — it’s the only thing that gives me any kind of peace these days.”
her shoulders sagged as if the weight of your words had settled on her too. she looked up at you, eyes shimmering with tears that she made no attempt to hide. “i’m so, so sorry, y/n,” she repeated, voice breaking. “i should’ve been here. i should’ve known, or at least tried to be there for you somehow.”
you held her gaze, fighting the urge to reach out, to pull her into a hug the way you would’ve years ago, but space between you too had grown wider over time.
“it’s a little late for that,” you murmured, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “you left me without a word, told me what we had was a phase.”
she winced, nodding slowly, accepting the hurt behind your words. “you’re right,” she said softly. “leaving you was the hardest thing i ever did and i wish i could take back every hurtful thing i said that.”
“seemed pretty easy,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “leaving me behind and all that.”
she shook her head, biting her lip as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “it wasn’t easy, y/n. it tore me up but i thought you’d be better off without me after everything i put you through.”
you looked at her, and for a moment, the memories of all those nights you’d spent together, sneaking around the town, feeling like the only two people in the world, flashed through your mind.
“i did love you, minji,” you said finally, each word coming out slow, deliberate. “and for a long time, i thought that was enough. people change. things change. that phase of my life…it’s over now.”
the words seemed to hit her like a physical blow. she looked down, a shaky breath escaping her as she tried to keep her composure.
“i know,” she whispered. “i guess i just…just wanted you to know how sorry i am. for everything. for leaving, for not coming back sooner, for being too afraid to face everything i left behind.”
you nodded, feeling the weight of her words but knowing there was no going back, no undoing the years you’d both lived without each other. “thanks for saying that,” you murmured. “it doesn’t change things, but…it helps.”
she nodded, feeling defeated. “thank you for hearing me out - i know you didn’t have to.
you nodded, offering her a faint, bittersweet smile. “it’s what the old man would have wanted. he always had a soft spot for you.”
a sad smile crossed her lips, and she looked down, the weight of lost time pressing heavily between you both. she reached out, hesitated, then withdrew her hand, knowing there was nothing left to be said.
you walked her towards the porch, the silence between you now comfortable in its own way, a quiet kind of closure. as she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time, her eyes lingering on you with an expression that seemed to carry all the regret and love of years past.
as the door closed behind her, you exhaled, feeling the finality of it all. you knew that, somehow, you’d finally let her go.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the end.
458 notes · View notes
ooffies · 7 months ago
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Brushing their hair!
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author's note: hi everyone! It's been awhile since I last wrote but I've been itching to post/write again. This has been sitting in my drafts for like a four months so don't mind if it's a bit rough. I hope you enjoy!!! :)
Characters: Leona & Jamil
Warning: None!
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Jamil Viper:
Jamil’s long, silky hair was always such a treat to brush. Sure, it takes a very long time to work through but he enjoys these rare chances to relax. You enjoyed it as well, perhaps even more! Finding any excuse to allow your boyfriend to take a break.
If you’re not brushing his hair first thing in the morning, more likely than not all the tangles will already have been brushed out. During the day he is often busy scampering from place to place, either housewarden duties or student activities. So, this activity is often reserved for the end of the day, allowing you both to unwind from the stress from the day.
This activity is often spent in a comfortable silence. Jamil’s eyes closed, muscles relaxed and sitting cross-legged on his bed. He simply enjoys your company, the feelings of your fingers and the brush running through his hair. In an almost sleep-like state but never actually falling asleep. Causal small talk isn’t unwelcome though, he enjoys hearing the little details about your day, recent gossip or whatever stupid shenanigans the headmage put you up to. But he often doesn’t talk much about his day unless asked, preferring to be the listener since you are the most interesting thing to him.
As much as it was a treat, brushing Jamil’s hair was a task you had to be meticulous about. Well… It was more like you wanted to be meticulous about it. Making sure to gently brush through every long strand with utmost care and precision. And once you were done, he’d lay his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through it and braiding it as you please
Brushing hair is a mutual form of affection with him! Although he never outright asks to do it, he will always do it when you ask him. Or if he sees you have a tangle, he’ll just grab the brush without a word and get to work. But styling your hair is his favorite! For whatever type of hair texture you have, Jamil has learned to work with it. Memorizing all different braids, twists and other things you enjoy having done to your hair.
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Leona Kingscholar:
More often than not, this man has tangles in his hair, despite it mostly looking flawless on the outside. Just lift up a few layers of his thick hair and you’ll find yourself a tangle or two. He enjoys the pampering of getting his hair brushed by you. He will complain if you brush too hard but he’s never too serious about it.
You can brush his hair whenever really. While hanging out in his room or the gardens, helping him put it up for spell drive practice, you kinda have free reign over it. But he will only ever let you style it to your heart’s content when you're in private. Sure, throw it up into the occasional ponytail or redo his braids in-between classes but pigtails and all those cute clips you have are only to be put on in either of your rooms, far, far away from the public eye. He’ll surely complain about how stupid and childish pigtails look on him but will he stop you? No, he won’t. Cause you're his beloved partner and you're giving him affection. It’s your partner privileges to play with his hair as you please! Just make sure to give him a little extra smooch or two while at it if you want less complaining on his end.
If he’s not napping while you're brushing his hair, you two are chatting away. He prefers listening to you talk but he’ll still be willing to tell you more about his day as well. This chit chat can range from basic chatter to discussing future plans and dreams. Or maybe it’ll take the direction of something nostalgic like childhood stories or something silly like the stupid prick who kept beating him on an online chess website. Whatever it is, he’ll never miss the chance to talk with you!
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© ooffies 
Please do not repost or translate my work without permission and credit. Thank you!
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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago
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Peach VI
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Peach V | Peach VII
Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. You two FINALLY admit your feelings for one another and seal the deal. But how far are you willing to go for this love?
Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)
A/N: This is it! I hope the smut is up to par. When I tell you I’ve agonized about this. But thank you to all who were in my inbox and dms giving me encouragement this week. Love you bunches! ❤️
This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach V. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, eye fucking, Steve Rogers is an artist, y'all!, sending (almost) nudes, phone sex, possessive Steve, references to shibari, mutual masturbation, pining, references to sex in a car, the "L" word, oral (f recieving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple play, size kink, pleasurable pain with sex, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, Lil bit of Dom Steve if you squint, references to murder. Something big may or may not happen after the last line.
Not Beta'd. All errors my own.
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-------
Steve Rogers left you in your hotel room, a quivering, emotional, mess.
He’d made you cum, hard, but you felt that he was holding back, that if you’d told him how you felt it would have been so much better.
Or maybe that was all in your mind. Steven Grant Rogers was on your mind a lot since you met him as Grant Stevens in Atlanta.
A lot happened in a short amount of time that caused you to deny your feelings for him. And now you were no longer trying to keep him out. 
He was definitely a distraction, but now you couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer. You just needed to be a woman about it and tell him.
What’s the worst that could happen? You weren’t going to marry the guy, you just want to explore these mutual feelings. It shouldn’t be complicated.
Right?
You still had the rest of the week in New York to stress out about it, so that was a plus. The afternoon was ahead of you and the next day was the Summitt.
After that, you had your one on one with Steve.
Bucky told you about Steve being an artist himself during your meeting with him. So, for your meeting with Steve, you requested that you see some of his artwork, and he agreed.
You were curious to see what he could create, and you were anxious and turned on at the thought of him as a creator.
You were so into Steve Rogers.
And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that.
—--
Steve had to stop himself from going back up to your room three times after he left. He finally exited the hotel and stalked down the street back to the Rebirth building to his car and pulled out his phone, dialing Bucky and pulling out of the garage.
He needed a drive and a little alone time to clear his head and come down from you, but he also needed his friend’s help.
“Wassssaaaap! Did you get the–”
Steve cut Bucky off.
“Remember that shopping trip we took a few weeks ago? For the ring?”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah. Meet me on 47th street.”
—-
That afternoon, you just kept your distance from Sharon and ignored her, focusing on the task at hand and all business. You didn’t want to waste energy on her.
Your energy was spent on thinking about Steve and wondering if he was thinking of you too. You wanted to text him, but you were chilling. You didn’t want to seem to eager.
You were successful in your self control until 11 pm as you tossed and turned in your hotel king bed. Doubts, but mostly need and desire, coursed through you. 
You were going to find out exactly what Steve was doing right now and who he might be with. You shook your head at how much you cared; it was definitely not something you regularly did. You weren’t used to feening for someone.
You were choosing violence as you posed on the bed in front of the mirror. You sat on the bed, crossed your legs and snapped a picture.
You weren’t naked, but your panties were skin tone and your sleep bra was sheer and you were feeling needy.
Before you thought too hard, you sent it to Steve, then jumped in bed and pulled the covers over your head with that feeling of dread and panic when you don’t know if you’ve done something supremely reckless or not.
Steve was ready for the Summit, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Sleep was elusive, so he was self medicating, sketching your body from memory of mostly touch.
His phone vibrated and he almost didn’t pick it up, but when he saw your name, his heart sped up.
He clicked through to your message and his heart started hammering in his chest. 
Sorry, wrong thread.
The picture you sent along threatened to give him a heart attack. He zoomed in a couple of times and then read the message again. What the fuck?
——-
In less than a minute your phone was ringing. You picked up immediately.
“Don’t fucking play with me, Peach.”
Steve’s growl got you wet, but you instantly regretted your horny decisions.
“It was a mistake.”
“It absofuckinlutely was. You’re joking about it being the wrong thread, right? That is mine, correct?”
You shivered at his double meaning and at his possessiveness.
“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”
Your voice was needy and that awakened a hunger in Steve. He was beyond frustrated that he wasn’t there to spank your ass raw, but he remained quiet.
You sensed his mood.
“If I were there, I’d make it up to you…”
You were testing the waters, experimenting to see if he would give you what you wanted despite his annoyance.
If he would give you what you needed.
“What would you do?” 
Steve’s baritone was silk in your ear.
“What?” 
You suddenly found that you couldn’t breathe.
“What would you do if you were here?”
“I’d kiss you,” you rushed out in a whisper.
Steve paused, letting your sentence hang in the air.
“And?” 
There was an edge to the question. 
“And… My lips. All over you.” 
Fuck, he was hard. Just a few words in your husky voice, and Steve delirious, imagining his hands in your hair as you kissed him.
“Where?” he asked mercilessly, his voice broken with lust.
“Everywhere…your face, your neck, your nipples, your abs. Your cock.” 
You were definitely not a virgin, but you were blushing through the phone although your hand was rubbing the skin at the edge of your underwear.
“Want you in my throat.” 
Steve had to concentrate to stay hard. 
“Oh? What if I want more than that?” 
“You can have whatever you want...” 
A sense of power flooded Steve’s body, both heady and intoxicating at your admission.
“You should be very careful when you make that offer, Peach,” he said softly. 
“I trust you.” 
Holy fuck. Why did that mean everything to him?  He cleared his throat.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered.
“Okay.” 
You complied so readily, it made Steve even harder.
Your clit was so hard as you circled it.
“Are you wet, Sweetheart?” 
You moaned and Steve reached into his sweats and curled his fingers around his aching cock.
“My pussy is so messy for you, Mr. Rogers,” you whispered, thrilled and afraid of how much you wanted him. 
Steve rolled his eyes as his cocked jerked for you.
“Such a good little slut.” 
“Fuck…” 
You realized the breath you’d been holding as you listened for his voice.
“Your pussy is so beautiful Peach. And god, you taste so good. Just like a sweet peach.”
Steve knew he had you in the palm of his hand. But fuck, you had him in yours too. 
“But your cunt is so tiny. I’m gonna needs to get you ready for me, Baby.”
“Is it going to hurt me?” you whined. 
Steve was about to explode at your little innocent voice asking the most nasty question.
“Yes, Peach. It is,” he growled as your anticipation reached 100.
Your breath sped up and so did your fingers. Steve grunted, his fist moving faster, thumb swiping the copious dribbles of precum dripping from his slit.
He should have known it was over as soon as he opened your message.
Hot sex was happening.
Electronically.
As the coil in your belly wind tighter, you realized with both joy and dismay that you were addicted.
“Steve, “m so close…” 
“Of course you are.” 
Steve soaked up your cute little sex sounds, thirsty for more. 
“You know what I’m thinking about, Doll?” 
A shaky breath was your only response. Steve continued.
“I think I want to tie you up. Silk ropes all over you, pretty little knots. I’d tie your arms behind your back, so those tits would sit up pretty for me to slap, lick and suck. That ass would be tied up so sweet and open so I could eat it.”
Your eyes rolled at the sensations his words and your fingers were sending to your clit. 
“I’d fuck your throat and cum all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I want to see it drip down your delicious nipples, your belly, your hungry pussy, your pretty face. I need to see all of you covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine…Mine.” 
You gasped, and then moaned and your entire body tightened up then released.
Your mouth hinged open as you came. 
“Mine,” Steve hissed, tightening the knots around you both and jerking his cock until cum spurted out. He listened to your breathing and knew that you’d just cum as well. 
Suddenly, he missed you.
“You good, Peach?”
You hesitated.You heard the yearning in his voice and you wanted to be in his arms, but you lied to him anyway.
“Yeah.”
Steve smiled at you. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see.
“Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.”
“Night Steve.”
—---
You needed a distraction.
Steve looked so delicious this morning, sitting on stage and serving art intellectual in a dark turtleneck and brown corduroy suit. A suit that was tailored to the detriment of everyone who looked at him. 
Holy shit.
This man was wearing a corduroy suit and he made it look damn good.  
And he made you feral.
You decided to give your cousin a hard time to prevent yourself from becoming a simp.
“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”
She didn’t look at you as you yanked her chain. She just continued to follow Bucky’s every move and lit up when he glanced her way. She was gone, girl.
You teased her some more until you saw Steve. You sighed and gazed at him, straightening your spine as you remembered how he made you cum twice yesterday. And he’d hardly touched you. 
As if sensing your gaze, Steve’s head turned. Those mesmerizing blue eyes locked with yours, and the rest of the world disappeared in an instant. For a moment, you were frozen. Pinned in your seat by his magnetism.
This feeling was so heady.
When you realized you’d been caught staring Steve down, you tried to change the unspoken subject.
“Bucky is pretty much the man.”
“Fucking-A.” 
Her chuckle was all-knowing. Then she read you.
“Steve is the shit too.”
You couldn’t front anymore.
“He’s amazing. I had no idea about everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”
She was speechless and so were you. You both continued enjoying the forum when your phone buzzed.
You look beautiful today. You’re my favorite thing to study. Can’t wait for today’s art experience. Meet me at the Laguardia Place entrance immediately after the talk. Sunlight is precious.
You were his favorite thing to study!
You waited on the edge of your seat until the end of the summit. Then you were up and walking out toward the entrance post haste.
The hair on the back of your neck raised when you saw Steve watching you from the door of Rosenthal Pavilion.
His smile when you made eye contact knocked the breath out of your lungs.
In that moment, you realized that you were in love with Steven Grant Rogers. 
Holy hell.
His deep voice greeted you as you arrived.
“I’m anxious to get started.”
Steve searched your face and found a different look from the partially closed off expression you’d showed him since Thanksgiving.
Your face was open and trusting. His heart did a funny thing in his chest. It was almost too good to be true.
Could you love him, too?
He tempered his mood with sensible words, filling the space that he wanted to fill with romantic declarations.
“I’m going to take you to my favorite artistic landmark in the city. I’ve loved it since I was a boy.”
You smiled up at him and took his hand.
“Let’s not waste any more time.”
—--
The driver that was taking you and Steve to your meeting place was the same one who picked you up from the airport. The one that your cousin knew so well. 
You stared at the back of his head and then glanced over at Steve. He raised his eyebrow at you because of the look on your face. You grinned back, then leaned forward to tap the driver on the shoulder.
“So… Nico…” 
Your eyes cut over to Steve with a mischievous look. His heart beat out of his chest at the joy you were serving him along with your chaos. 
“You ever drive my cousin and Bucky around the city?”
Nico stole a look at you and smiled.
“Yes ma’am. All the time.”
“Do they ever do the nasty back here…?”
Nico laughed heartily as Steve shook his head.
“Peach…”
You shushed Steve.
“Hush, I’m trying to get the dirt. Now Nico, tell the truth…”
Steve sat back and listened to your unhinged behavior on the drive over to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Your spirit and your laugh made him warm inside, despite the cold day.
—-
Nico stopped the car at the Washington Avenue entrance to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Steve got out, shouldered his backpack, and then reached for your gloved hand with his own.
For some reason, you felt like a princess as you stepped on the path. The air was crisp, and there were traces of snow lingering on the ground.
You came out of the car chattering and laughing, making Steve’s heart light.
“I know Nico wouldn’t crack, but I could tell from the way he went red. Those whores….”
“Literal Freaks,” replied Steve. “Bunny is an appropriate nickname for him, because he and your cousin…” 
Steve shook his head and rolled his eyes, although he fantasized about christening the backseat of the Lincoln for you and him.
The wrought-iron gate creaked softly behind you as you entered the Garden, and you looked around in wonder as the gravel path crunched beneath your boots. A magnificent metal and glass structure was in front of you.
“This is the Steinhardt Conservatory. Wait until you see the inside.”
Steve smiled and took your hand as you stepped through the glass doors into sudden warmth shaking your head at him. 
There was a heavy scent of flowers and a haze of the waning rays of sunlight beaming through the glass panels overhead. It gave everything golden highlights, including you and Steve. 
You squeezed his hand as you looked around in awe. 
“Beautiful,” you murmured.
And then you noticed that he was looking at you. 
“Yes…”
You grew warm as you looked into his gorgeous blue eyes.
“It’s like a completely different world in here.”
“It’s our world for the moment. Just you and me.”
He wanted to add the word Forever, but he didn’t. You felt it though.
You started on an indoor path and Steve pointed out the unique flowers and plants in his warm baritone. You were impressed, again, with how much he knew.
Steve Rogers was not a stereotypical mobster. This was a man who followed a path in life that landed him where he didn’t want to be and was trying to make up for it. 
As he spoke, Steve drew you into his enthusiasm, and you found yourself smiling and relaxing, asking questions and marveling at the vast indoor space. 
When you came to a small alcove furnished with a wooden bench and beneath a sprawling magnolia tree, Steve stopped and took his backpack off his shoulder, and then taking off his coat and draping it over the bench as you did the same.
"Please, sit." 
His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the subtle command.
You hesitated. 
"Why?"
"So I can sketch you."
Your stomach did an odd little flip. 
"Here? Now? I wanted to see your sketches, not be your sketches."
You performed on stage in front of hundreds with barely no clothes on and you were so nervous to let Steve Rogers sketch you with winter layers of clothes on. What was wrong with you?
Steve raised his eyebrow and his gaze swept up your body slowly, making you shiver. Clothes couldn’t stop the intimacy of that look.
“Too late for that.”
You raised your eyebrow at him and you felt irrationally happy. Steve had drawn you.
“Do you not trust me?”
You regarded him, guardian your reaction because you didn’t want to seem too eager.
“I do Steve. I trust you.”
It was true.
Steve smiled. 
“Then please, sit down.”
You gave in with a sigh and lowered yourself onto the bench. 
"Fine," you muttered. "But no weird artistic liberties. I better have a nose."
Steve chuckled, flipping open the sketchbook. 
"I make no promises."
You watched as he proceeded to balance the sketchbook against his bended knee. Then he looked at you seriously, holding your gaze for a moment before his attention returned to the page, and his pencil began gliding effortlessly across the paper. 
His thick fingers were surprisingly agile, moving with long, sure strokes. But then again, you shouldn’t have been surprised, with the way his fingers had previously made you feel…
For a few moments, the only sound was the soft scratch of his pencil against paper. 
You attempted to sit still, staring at the plants around you. You also tried to pretend that you weren’t aware of the way he studied you with that relentless focus, switching his gaze between you and the sketchbook.
After a few minutes, Steve made a soft noise, something between a hum and a chuckle.
“What?” you asked, turning your head and narrowing your eyes at him.
“Nothing.” 
He didn’t look up. But he spoke.
“It’s just... you’re trying so hard not to move, but you’re fidgeting anyway.”
You caught the hint of humor in his tone and it made you a little too happy again, so you decided to cause problems. 
"Well, maybe if you didn’t look at me like that.”
"Like what?" 
His lips curled into a knowing smirk, looking up at you quickly, then back down.
You fidgeted again.
"You know…"
Steve chuckled, deep and low and shook his head.
"Oh. Am I ‘sparkling my eyes at you again?’”
You scowled at him and he laughed.
“I'm an artist, Peach. I study form." 
His eyes traced up and down your body, lighting you on fire again.
You clenched your thighs together to fight the flow of arousal threatening your thighs. This was dangerous. Steve was dangerous.
"You're insufferable, Steven."
“Well, can you suffer on a little longer, so I can capture more detail?”
You cocked your head in that adorable way.
“What details do you need?”
“I need…” 
Steve looked at you like he needed all of you. 
And he did. 
“I want to capture the way your nose crinkles when you're annoyed, or how you're gripping the bench like you're about to get up and run.”
You unclenched your hands and sat back.
“You’re making me nervous.”
He tapped his pencil against the sketchbook. Then he looked down again to continue drawing.
"Interesting."
"What is?"
He licked those red lips of his and your eyes tracked the movement.
"The fact that I make you nervous."
The way he was looking at you made butterflies riot in your stomach. That special electricity was buzzing around you both. 
Suddenly, his pencil stopped. Then, without warning, he reached out, brushing his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your face slightly.
You stiffened.
"Hold still," he murmured. 
His thumb ghosted over the curve of your jaw and settled at the edge of your throat.
Your breath hitched.
Steve’s eyes were dark now and his voice was softer when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it now, hinting at something rough beneath the surface.
“You always do this?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“React like this when someone touches you.”
You pursed your lips together and shook your head. 
Just you.
"You’re doing it again," he mused as he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb.
"What, Mr. Rogers?"
You were about to combust. He clenched his jaw and increased the pressure of his fingers on your neck.
"Fighting it."
"I- I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"You do," he intoned, his voice stern.
"Don’t hide from me, Peach." 
Your pulse beat beneath his fingertips.
"You think I don’t notice how you react to me?" 
Steve’s hand grasped your throat, pressing more firmly before he let go.
"Hold. Still," he murmured, those blue, blue eyes stormy.
His fingers tilted your face up with authority now. You froze for a moment as his thumb came up to pull your chin down to open your mouth.
“Breathe.”
He slowly pulled his hand away and you had to stop yourself from chasing his touch. 
Steve clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself. If he had to guess, you were wet and ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you right now. But he willed himself to be patient. 
He picked up his pencil again, rolling it between his fingers, like nothing had happened. 
"Good girl," he offered to the page as he returned to his sketch.
Steve knew what he was doing. Knew exactly how much he affected you. You waited impatiently, clenching your thighs together desperately as his pencil continued to scratch on the paper. 
"Done," he said, as he lifted the sketchbook toward you.
You gasped as you looked at the page. 
The drawing was stunning. Steve had captured you with uncanny accuracy, from the curve of your parted lips to the shading of the different colors in your eyes. The hollow of your throat seemed to pulse, and you could almost see the indentations of his fingers. 
The portrait was beautiful. And it told you everything you needed to know about how he felt.
“This is… how can I thank you?”
Steve’s heart flipped in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you toward him on the bench.
"Steve…"
His eyes went to your mouth.
"Say that again," he murmured, barely above a whisper.
Your whole body was burning, but you stayed quiet. You were paralyzed with the possibilities.
"No? Too shy now?"
His voice made you impossibly wet. If you gave in, you were about to get everything you didn’t know that you wanted. And that scared you.
You let out a shaky breath. 
"Steve."
Something flickered behind his eyes. Something hot.
“Have I told you that I love the way you say my name?”
His hand came up again against your side, slowly, more deliberate. His fingers moved over the curve of your side, and slid against your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple.
He continued, tracing over your cleavage and finally landing against your throat again, pressing against your pulse and driving you crazy.
"You're shaking," he murmured, voice low, thick with need.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and gave you a kiss against your throat. And he lingered, lips warm against your skin, before pulling back just enough to smile against your skin.
Your whimper told him so much. 
"You act so tough, but you’re so easy to ruin."
You raised your arms and pulled him close, fingers playing at the nape clutching the hair spilling over his collar.
“You made me this way, Steve. And I don’t want you to stop.”
His now dark blue eyes searched yours as his fingers tightened on your waist. 
“What does that mean, Peach?”
He’d pulled you closer, his eyes on your face as he waited for your answer. The anticipation was so much. He huffed and then dove into the curve of your neck, inhaling and tasting you there, as if he couldn’t help himself. His large hands palmed your breasts, pressing your nipples insistently.
“Oh…my….Steve!”
You squirmed in his grip.
“I asked you a question. Do I need to stop touching you so you can answer?”
“Please, no, Steve. Need you...”
You were the queen of changing the subject.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
His lips were on the curve of your jaw, so close to your lips. You whined. He cocked his eyebrow, the question not so silent.
You huffed, making your decision to go for it as your hands came to the side of his face so that he knew your intentionality. You wanted to look into his eyes when you said it.
“Moment of honesty? I want you Steve. I feel…I want to be yours. Really been yours since you put your hands on me in Atlanta. I can’t categorize or control this feeling. So I’m giving in. Are you ready for the chaos that is me being yours?”
Steve’s eyes lit up and he reached for you, pulling you into his lap as his lips crashed into yours. His hands were everywhere. He tugged you closer as he kissed you and both hands came down to grab your ass and pull you onto his erection. His desire for you was apparent.
When you broke apart, you chased his lips and then kissed him again, greedy.
“I’ve been ready. Been yours for a while, now Peach. Since the day I saw you…”
His voice was gentle and he was looking at you like you were fine porcelain. You felt so safe in his arms. He pulled back to look you in the eye.
“And this feeling? This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be.”
He kissed you again and his mouth took possession of yours in a way that was tender, yet full of promise. 
“I gotta let you know that if you’re mine, I’m gonna give you what you need. When you need it. Do you want that? Do you trust me with that?”
This was the important question.
“Yes, please. I want that, Mr. Rogers, sir. And I trust you.” 
"That’s so fucking hot… but I’m trying to behave. Even though I reserved the pavilion just for us, we’re still in a public place,” he murmured. 
His voice was calm, controlled. But those sea blue eyes told a different story.
"You call this behaving?"
You rolled your hips against his cock. Steve kissed you again and let out a sexy chuckle, then stood you both up, leaning down to whisper in your ear.
"If I wasn’t," he murmured, "you’d already be begging me for more." 
You linked your arms around his neck and looked up at him as the cutest woman on earth.
“What if I don’t want you to behave? Like you said, you have the pavilion reserved. You can bend me over the bench and fuck me raw. Right here.”
Steve’s pupils took over his eyes and his jaw clenched. Your stomach dropped as he looked as if he was about to do just as you suggested. But he took a deep breath and smiled.
“We’ll explore that kink later. Our first time needs to be in private.”
Steve reached for your coat and helped you with it before putting his own on and gathering his things. He took your hand and led you out and across the grounds. He pointed to a familiar building. 
“Your hotel is right there. Or do you want me to call Nico to take us to my place?”
You looked up at Steve as your breath vaporized in the cold air.
“We need my hotel. I’m ready. Right now.”
—--
You were in your room again, not entirely sure how you arrived, the journey through the park hurried and full of anticipation. You weren’t thinking too hard, you just knew you needed Steve. Immediately.
You were pushing his coat and blazer off his body and feeling his chest. The steady thrum of his pulse tapped a staccato in your palm.
“Your heart's beating so fast,” you whispered. 
“You do that to me, Peach.” 
“Really?” you questioned, suddenly unsure of yourself.
“You have no idea how much power you have, do you?” 
“Me?” you asked in a small voice. 
Steve nodded.
“You drive me crazy. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” 
It was confession time.
“It’s you that has the power, Steve. I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice gets me there.” 
You felt tongue tied as you told him your raw feelings, all the while taking off your and his clothes. 
“Sometimes I — I think I'm going to cum just from hearing you speak. Today, at NYU, I could hardly sit still. You're like a drug, pulling all my attention.” 
Steve’s shirt was off now and you were in your bra; he pulled you near him to get his mouth on you.
“When I'm near you, I'm so hard it aches.”
 “Really?” you whispered. “Are you aching right now?” 
Steve groaned as you pulled back to unzip your skirt and take off your boots. He leaned back against the wall and palmed his crotch over his pants. 
“Like you wouldn't believe.” 
Steve couldn’t believe that he had you here like this, giving yourself to him. He had to tell you the truth.
“Look at me, Peach.”
You looked into his eyes.
“I’m In love with you.”
His rough voice pulled an involuntary sound from you. 
“You're mine, Peach You always have been.
Your breath caught in your throat and your heart thudded against yor ribs.
“Oh god, Steve. I- I love you too.”
Your smile blinded him. If he blinked it was because of that. Not that he was going to cry. 
Not at all. 
He laughed as an expression of joy and then your lips met.
The kiss wasn't soft or sweet. This was feral, sharp, and intense. You moaned into his mouth, sucking his bottom lip into yours as he unhooked your bra.
“I fucking want you,” you whimpered into his mouth. 
Steve smiled against your lips.
“Good, cause I fucking need you, my sweet Peach.”
Steve stood, looming over you, all big and fucking magnificent. The vision of him, all lithe muscles covered in smooth skin, and light feathering of hair making its way down his torso, between the defined planes of his abs and into his waistband, was… Good Lord.
You licked your lips, mouth instantly dry. 
Steve’s mouth hooked up on one side as his fingers worked his belt and fly. His pants fell in a matter of seconds, and there he was, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.
Steve was all thick thighs, and long, powerful legs, his hand slowly stroking himself over the sizable bulge in his underwear. 
You gaped at him. 
Then, he pulled his underwear down, eyes on your face for your reaction. It was classic, your mouth hinged open and your eyes were like saucers. There was no way anyone could be that perfect.
His dick was long and wide, at least eight or nine inches, and curved eloquently (if a dick could do that) against his abs. It was so pretty and your mouth watered for it at the same time your pussy clenched, as you were thinking he was correct. You would struggle to take him.
His smirked deepened as he reached for you and pulled your panties down slowly, his short fingernails scratching your legs and making you shiver.
For a moment he just stared, drinking in the sight of you spread before him
“Fucking sublime,” Steve breathed, the words filled with reverence. 
“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby.” 
He leaned over you and set about doing just that, kissing you deep and filthy, tongue diving to claim every inch of your mouth. You cried out, scratching at his broad shoulders as he suckled and nipped, worshiping your breasts until you were mindless with sensation. 
Steve took his time tracing your torso with his lips, teeth and tongue, learning your body and  paying attention to every sigh of pleasure as he climbed down your body.
The press of his mouth to your pussy made your back arch, and a ragged moan escape your mouth. Steve growled into you, the vibrations running through your soaked cunt.
He parted your pussy lips with his thumbs, and dove to lick your clit with the hot velvet of his tongue. 
Slow, thorough licks made you writhe beneath him. 
“That’s it,” he whispered, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves. 
“Ride my face, Sweetheart. Fuck my mouth ‘til you cum all over it.” 
You arched like a bow as he latched on to your clit and sucked, two thick fingers thrusting deep to stroke along your inner wall. His practiced fingers found your g-spot and massaged it ruthlessly, curling and scissoring until you sobbed his name.
“Love when you call my name, Peach.”
He looked at you like you were something to be worshipped, and then continued what he was doing. When Steve bit down gently on your clit, your orgasm crashed over you in a burst of white light. 
You shuddered through the aftershocks, trembling as Steve lapped at your folds. Each lick sent a jolt of electricity through you, on the edge of too much. 
Rising to his knees, the thick, heavy length of him rose up again, even more swollen and glistening at the tip. 
Steve notched the thick head of his cock at your entrance and his eyes crossed as he slowly sank into your tight, dripping heat. 
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
Inch after thick inch, he claimed you, stretched you, with a delicious push/pull of pleasure/pain. His length was one thing, but his girth was everything.
When he bottomed out, you both groaned at the intensity of the connection. He looked you in your eyes as your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you got used to his size.
“I’ve never felt so full, Stevie…”
You quivered in his arms. And he knew that he was utterly possessed by you. It was more than just physical; it was an overwhelming sense of rightness. 
“Perfect,” Steve rasped.
“So fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Like you were made for me.”
He dropped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, pausing to suck hard at your pulse point. 
“Please,” you whimpered, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. “Move.”
“As you wish.” he whispered, brows knitted together. 
You whimpered and your hands grasped the sheets as he started to move. He bent and sucked your nipple hard, causing a jolt of electricity through your body. Your brain was cloudy and you scratched his back as your eyes shuttered closed.
“Open your eyes, Peach,” Steve ordered darkly. 
As he looked you in your beautiful eyes, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer. He started increasing his pace until he was fucking you roughly, pushing your knees to your chest. 
“Yes.. feels so good Steve. Oh my godddddd, fuck me!”
Steve’s eyes roamed your body as he did as you asked. Your beautiful breasts bounced. The bed knocked against the wall and you gasped for breath, your face transfixed on the eye contact between you and Steve.
He was lost, one hand gripped your hair, and the other braced on the headboard. He fucked you hard, grinding against your clit with every stroke. 
You were whimpering, on the verge of screaming as you two made noise up and down the hotel hallway.
He leaned up and grasped your throat, gritting his teeth as he asked a question.
“You want me to cum inside you? You trying to have my baby?”
“Unnnnnnghhhh! Maybe….” 
You opened your eyes and pouted up at him.
“Paint my walls, Steve...”
Steve choked on air as he spurted hot cum into your welcoming pussy, but he pulled out, shooting the last jet of cum on your clit and pussy lips. Then, like a heathen, he bent between your thighs and started licking. 
You sobbed, writhing as he devoured you. 
“Need to eat you more than anything, my sweet, sweet Peach. 
“Steve, Stevie… oh my god!” 
You clutched his hair, tugging sharply. It was too much.
“Oh my God. Please Steveeeee!” 
He raised his head, grinning as you fully collapsed, limp and spent. Your pussy was tender, your face flushed, your eyes gleaming. 
You were beautiful.
You looked at him and shook your head as he took you in his arms. 
“Are you mine?” 
“Yes,” you whimpered out. 
“I would die for you, Y/N L/N,” Steve murmured against your temple, panting. He held you tight, carding his fingers in your hair.
“I promise to keep you safe, and give you everything you need, I promise you that.”
“I believe you, Steve. I trust that.”
You and Steve stayed up late, ordered room service and talked about a lot of things, music, your parents, his friendship with Bucky, Nat, and Steve, everything.
You laughed and cried, and then settled back in his arms in the dark to sleep, his hand rubbing your hip as his breathing began to slow.
“Steve, can I ask you a question?”
It had been nagging at you for a while.
His sleepy voice answered you.
“Shoot.”
You chuckled.
“That’s just it. Have you ever… have you ever killed someone?”
Steve stirred, pulling you closer to him and moving his mouth next to your ear.
“Hmmmmm. I’d have to marry you before I answered that question.”
Your heart slammed against your chest and your eyes went wide in the dark.
“What?”
You tried to keep your voice even. You didn’t know what this feeling was that came over you. Steve continued, seemingly calm and not spiraling like you were.
“You can’t be compelled to testify against your spouse. It was a joke, Peach.”
You were silent for a good while.
“Oh.”
Steve stirred, leaning up against his elbow.
“Do you… are you saying that you want to get married?”
Steve thought about the ring that he had at his penthouse.
You laughed.
“Nah… what we looking like just up and getting married like that? We hardly know each other.”
“True. But when you know, you know.”
Steve kissed you and the small amount of logic in your brain was rapidly dissipating.
“Would it make us look crazy…?”
You could sense Steve’s smile in the dark.
“…Or would it be so beautiful?” He replied.
Steve wrapped you up in his arms and settled down again. Your mind spun as his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm and you spoke again. 
He was probably asleep, but you had to get it out.
“If you ask me, I’m ready…”
The light switched on and you were staring into the beautiful blue eyes of Steve Rogers.
——
I’m so anxious about this one! Please let me know how you feel? Reblog, comment, like. TIA!
Read Peach VII
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radiance1 · 2 years ago
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Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers.
Killer Croc was the first born, just a about 5 years older than Jack. Their father was a large man, much larger than should be possible considering he never had a meta gene.
But oh boy would it have not surprised them if he did. Because that man was strong, 10 feet tall, and shrugged off things that would injure most people.
Like a brick to the head.
Anyways.
Croc was entranced with his younger brother; he was so small so much tinier than he had any right to be, and cuter than a button. He babbled like most babies do, but Croc wouldn't think twice before calling his baby brother the best baby of them all.
His dad could fit him in the palm of his hand easily! Which was just one of Jack's many great qualities in his opinion!
Croc and Jack's parents weren't really on the best of terms, Croc could tell. He didn't know why, really, but he didn't want his baby bro to feel unloved in any sort of way, and it's not like he really had friends to hang out with, plus his parents were busy with jobs.
So he mostly spent his time taking care of and playing with Jack. Changing diapers, feeding him, lifting him up and down with his tail, just the normal sibling stuff.
He feels kind of bad for his dad though, whatever kind of job he had didn't even let him come home most days, and when he did he could barely even walk upright without falling asleep and jolting awake. He still made time for them, however, when he got those rare few off days.
He's honestly surprised that man managed to drive a car properly in the state he was in.
Their mother was often out of the house, Crocc didn't know what she was doing but he just thought it was like his dad. Unlike his dad, however, she didn't really like him. He didn't really know why, nor did he really care either if he was to be honest.
Around a year later the tension between their parents got so thick it could be cut with a butter knife. Then it turned to arguments in the rare times they both were in the house, he didn't even know his parents could make such cutting remarks to each other, and then both of them being in the house less than before.
Then when he turned 10, and Jack 5. They got divorced. Croc was left with his mother and Jack got taken by his father. His mother didn't take the divorce well, really, probably because at the same time she got fired from whatever the hell she was doing and was left jobless.
Then she dropped the bomb on his that his dad wasn't even his actual dad and Jack is only his half-sibling and then promptly abandoned him in the sewers with the rats and what was most likely very poisoned water due to it being the sewers and Gotham.
Well. Fuck.
Croc thinks that Jack doesn't even remember him due to how young he was, nor did he ever see his dad again cause, y'know, being abandoned in the sewers and all.
Then multiple years later he ran into his brother again and got DAMN was he tall. Not taller than him, but it was basically the equivalent of a gut punch to Croc, because he remembers his baby bro being so tiny, so baby.
He blames his father's genes for him being 8 feet taller now. A head shorter than him, sure. But he wants back his small baby bro alright.
Then he finds out his baby bro has a family.
And fuck did he not want to involve himself anymore in fear of being a catalyst for tearing said family apart due to being, well, him and all. Then he was promptly (quite literally) dragged over to meet said family despite his stance on the matter.
Then he finds out he's just treated like a normal person with zero amount of fear. His wife? She had to have a giant in her family too because she was 7 feet tall and was smart enough to kick his ass.
His daughter? 6 feet tall and their first meeting she accidently became his therapist. Also, he was sure she was a meta of some kind, probably something to do with wolves.
Then finally, their son.
It felt like he was thrown back to his childhood when he saw him, he looked so much like Jack did, and he was so, so tiny just like his baby bro was. He had to physically hold himself back from doing anything with the kid because he feared he would accidentally break him or something.
Then he found out that apparently his nephew was half-dead and that his brother and his wife hated ghosts with a passion, built a portal to the other side, had their city attack by the ghost king and then promptly found out about their son's half-dead status and had to do a major revamp of basically everything they knew and acted upon.
Which they're still working on.
Oh and also their daughter is a werewolf, she had a meta gene from someone of his dad's side and only recently activated it.
All of that which was a lot to take in for old Killer Croc, also he knew his niece had something to do with wolves.
So, Killer Croc in all of his life from the point of being abandoned at up to now, decided to go screw the bats and whatever they're attempts of figuring out what the fuck's going on with him (look at you Red Hood.) and decided to try and integrate himself into this family and brother's life again as best he can.
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oddlydescriptive · 1 month ago
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Reset, Chapter Thirteen
Series Masterlist
Thanks for being patient and supportive, guys. I am going to try to get two out on top of this, as this is technically last weeks chapter, but I am doing my best. I had some really awesome people reach out and check-in on me this week and honestly, I needed it. I put a lot of pressure on myself with every chapter- i feel like it's been so good up to this point so with each chapter I am pressuring myself to keep the quality up and sometimes it's just a lot. Your guys' support means everything to me.
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The car’s quiet except for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper from the back seat. Just a daytrip- a quick jaunt to London for a sim technology conference. A few presentations, more than a few handouts, a mediocre lunch service. A stop-in before Brazil. Necessary evil. For RedBull. For Redline. Just business.
Christian drives with one hand on the wheel and a tired sort of ease, eyes focused on the dark stretch of motorway that cut back toward Milton Keynes. Max sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed, cheek propped against his knuckles, watching the world smear by through the window- headlights, hedges, the vague shape of trees pressed up flat against the night.
In the back seat, you’ve turned the quiet into something else. Not noise, exactly. But motion. Intent. Working- of course you’re working- your laptop balanced between your knees, a mess of pamphlets and printouts spread across the leather seat like a dealer laying down cards. Brows drawn, your mouth slightly parted in concentration as you thumb through the stack, cross-reference a spec sheet from another, then type something with sharp, purposeful taps.
Every so often, you pause- chewing at your thumb, the nail already raw from a day’s worth of absent-minded worry- before returning to the keys with renewed precision. Max can hear it: the rhythm of you cataloguing, organizing, making sense of all of it. Like it wasn’t enough to have gone to the presentations, shaken hands, taken the obligatory photos- no, you needed to digest it. To dissect it. To turn just business into something useful before the car even hit the roundabouts.
Max doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t need to. He can feel the energy coming off you like static- tired, but alive. Like you’d spent all day holding yourself still and were only now allowed to exhale, alone in the backseat with your chaos.
He shifts in his seat, jaw tight. It was easier when you weren’t in motion. Easier when he could convince himself you were a moment. A blip. Not someone with velocity.
Christian’s phone buzzes against the dash, screen lighting up with a name. Max’s eyes flick to the center display: Franz Tost. Christian exhales through his nose. Not annoyed. More... contemplative.
Max feels it immediately- whatever this is, it’s not for public consumption. Not immediately. Not without decision. Christian reaches for the phone, thumb hovering over the screen a beat too long. "Should I- " he mutters, mostly to himself, then glances in the rearview mirror.
Whatever he sees must make up his mind. He hits accept and toggles it to Bluetooth with a practiced flick of his thumb. "Franz," he says, slow and even. "You’re on speaker. I’ve got company."
A pause. Static. Then Franz’s voice comes through the speakers- faintly German-accented, clipped, all business. "Ah. I see." Christian doesn’t reply. Just keeps driving, one hand steady on the wheel.
"I’ve looked through the numbers," Franz says finally. "Not exactly standard."
"It’s what was offered," Christian replies.
"That’s clear. Still surprising."
Christian lets out a soft huff of breath. "It’s lean."
"Very."
Behind them, the rhythm of keystrokes falters. Then stops. Max hears the soft click of a laptop being closed. Paper shifts. Something about the silence feels intentional- weighted. Max can feel it. The way you’re listening now. Still as stone. Like even the creak of leather beneath you might give something away.
“Do you think… the dynamics of the workplace will be an issue?” Franz says, voice low, deliberate.
Christian shrugs like it’s nothing. Like they haven’t all spent months navigating politics sharp enough to draw blood. “I have yet to be concerned. Besides, if we were worried about workplace dynamics we’d start letting robots drive the cars.”
There’s a pause- thin, wire-tight. “Pipeline?” Franz asks.
Christian doesn’t even blink. “Not an option. We’ve already had this conversation.”
“And Helmut?”
Christian’s fingers shift against the leather steering wheel. “Aligned.” That one lands hard. Max feels it settle in his chest like cold water, the kind that bites deep, spreads slow. The shape of it starts forming before he can name it. Something real. Something decided. Like he can feel what’s coming before he knows it.
Franz exhales, measured. “So we’re settled, then.”
Christian glances briefly toward the passenger window, then back at the road ahead. The lights of the motorway slide past in rhythmic blurs, gold and white and rain-slick. “We’re settled,” he says.
In the backseat, you don’t move. You’re leaning forward now, just slightly- one hand braced against the center console like it might pull you closer, the other curled in your lap, knuckles pale.
You don’t say a word.
You just listen.
Christian adjusts his grip on the wheel, his tone suddenly lighter. “She’s in the car,” he says, like it’s an afterthought. “If you want to say it yourself.”
A beat of static follows. The sound of breath caught somewhere in the ether. Then Franz, as calm as ever, as clinical as a scalpel: “Welcome to Alpha Tauri.”
You freeze.
No sound. No movement. Just a single breath drawn too sharply through your nose. One hand lifts, slow and instinctive, pressing against your mouth like you can catch the words before they settle. Like you can hold them inside a moment longer, keep them suspended.
Christian smiles, not unkind. “We’ll let it sink,” he says. “I’m sure she’ll be calling you shortly.”
The line clicks off.
Silence rushes in- not gentle, not still, but dense, like a pressure front collapsing inward. It doesn’t settle so much as press, heavy against Max’s chest, coiling in the space between words that never arrive.
Christian says nothing. His hands stay steady on the wheel. Max doesn’t move. Even the road quiets. The tires hum low beneath them, more suggestion than sound, a soft whisper across wet asphalt.
It hangs there. The weight of it. The finality.
You’re on the grid.
Max is still chewing on the words when he hears it.
A sharp crack- plastic slapping leather- your laptop shoved aside with zero ceremony, skidding half off the seat before your bag catches it. Papers follow in a loose explosion, fluttering across the backseat like confetti fired from a gun. Handouts, notes, color-coded madness- gone, scattered.
And then- 
You scream.
Not a yell. Not a cheer. A full-throated, spine-snapping howl as you slam the window control. The glass barely halfway down before you’re already half out of it, one arm braced on the door frame, the other thrown back like you’re summoning gods.
“FUCK YEAH!” you roar into the night. “I’M ON THE FUCKING GRID!”
Christian twitches behind the wheel, startled. Max blinks. Then you’re laughing- wild and sharp and goddamn unstoppable- as the wind slaps your hair across your face in tangled streaks. Your voice rips through the air outside the car.
“SEE YOU IN BAHRAIN, MOTHERFUCKERS!” you shout, head tipped back like the stars are listening. “I’M ON THE GRID, ASSHOLES! YOU HEAR THAT?!”
Your joy carves itself across the motorway. A minivan swerves slightly in the next lane. A lorry honks, long and confused. Someone flashes their brights from behind. You don’t care.
You’re laughing too hard to breathe, shoulders shaking, half-out the window and fully alive, clinging to the door like the car can’t hold you anymore. Like you might just launch.
Max stares straight ahead. Jaw slack. Heart pounding. Vision tight. Christian chuckles, low and amazed. “Guess it’s sunk in.”
You make a sound- something between a gasp and a growl, half-feral, wholly triumphant. “Fucking- yes.” Then you fall back into your seat, limp with joy, breath hitching, face flushed and lit from somewhere deep. Your hair’s a wreck, your papers are gone, your voice is probably halfway to hoarse- 
But Max has never seen anyone look more alive.
He was still angled toward you- barely- just enough to see you in the mirror’s corner. And God, it was like looking directly into the sun.
He’d seen you a lot of ways. Snapping. Spitting. Glaring at him across conference tables with a heat that made engineers forget their talking points.
He’d pressed you, more than once, just to make you crack. Just to see if you would. He liked the fury. Liked knowing it was in you. Liked proving to himself you were human. Mortal. That the clean professionalism and perfect posture was just a veneer. Poking, needling, pressing on every bruise until something bled. 
And you had snapped- sometimes with anger, sometimes with ice. You’d lashed back at him, sharp and venomous, and every time he’d told himself good. That’s what she is. That’s all she is.
But this?
This was the first time he’d seen you raw with joy.
You look alive in a way that almost hurts to witness. Like if Max blinks, you might burn out entirely. Like he’s seeing something he was never meant to. Not in the wild. Not without armor.
In the driver’s seat, Christian chuckles, low and warm. “You get it all out?”
You don’t lift your head- just groan through a smile, breathless and giddy. “For now.”
Christian glances back, a casual flick of the eyes that still carries weight. It’s not mocking, not patronizing. Just... paternal. The kind of look that says you’re still a kid to me, no matter how many contracts you’ve signed or late nights you’ve spent grinding data until your hands cramped. The kind of look older men give young people when they forget, for a moment, that the person in front of them is already pulling weight like someone twice their age. “You should call your friends,” he says. “Go out. Get a beer. Raise hell.”
You blink up at the ceiling of the car, dazed and glowing. “God,” you rasp, voice still wrecked from screaming, “a beer sounds incredible.”
Then you turn your head, just slightly, and aim it at Christian with a deadpan delivery so dry it nearly evaporates in the air. “But Christian… my only friend is a thirty-seven-year-old man who’s probably eating dinner with his wife and children right now.” Your words are casual. Inevitable. Like you’ve already made peace with it.
Christian laughs- but there’s a stutter in it, like it catches halfway through.
Max doesn’t laugh at all.
The silence after your sentence lands just a little too sharp. Not cruel. Just honest. The kind of silence that fills a room when everyone realizes they knew, but didn’t think about it long enough to feel it.
Christian recovers first, though his voice is a shade softer now. “Yeah,” he says, smiling again, but less brightly. “That’s right. I forgot.” He looks forward again. “Eighty-hour weeks don’t leave much room for socializing.”
“Shocking, I know,” you mumble, dragging a hand over your face.
You don’t sound bitter. You don’t look like someone who got lucky. You look like someone who fought. Who scrapped. Who bled. Who won. For the first time all night, Max turns. Really turns. He looks at you. And doesn’t say a thing.
Because it hits him- not as thought, but as truth:
You’re not going anywhere.
You’re not fading. Not flinching. Not folding under the weight of it all like he used to tell himself you would- had to, eventually. That the system would grind you down the way it does to everyone who shows up too bright, too earnest, too unwilling to play the long game.
But you haven’t gone quiet. You haven’t disappeared. You’re not dissolving under pressure like a sugar cube in rain.
You’re here. 
And not just physically, not just taking up space in the backseat of a car you didn’t drive, but here, in the way that matters. Unshakable. Bright. Absolutely alive. Max feels it settle- not like a punch, but like something heavier. Slower. A recognition that doesn’t ask for permission.
For the first time, Max knows- really knows- that whatever he believed would happen to you, isn’t going to happen. Whatever he wanted to believe- whatever petty, bitter hope he might have nursed- that somehow this would be temporary, a half-season-long disruption, a footnote… that you would do- or not do- something to send you packing and out of Redbull, out of Formula, out of Jos’s fucking mouth… he knows better now.
You’re not going to get overwhelmed and disappear.
You’re not going to say the wrong thing in a meeting and lose your shot.
You’re not going to flame out under pressure, or back down when the paddock sharpens its teeth, or get so disillusioned you hand back your badge and walk away quietly like a shadow that never mattered.
No.
You’re going to fight. You’re going to stay. You’re not passing through.
You’re arriving.
And it’s happening right in front of him.
He watches you, sprawled in the backseat with your hair still tangled and your smile too big for your face, like you’ve cracked open and joy is leaking out in every direction. Your papers are a mess. Your laugh is too loud. Your voice is still hoarse from screaming at the motorway.
And he can’t be mad about it.
Not right now.
Because it’s hard to be bitter when you’re watching someone’s dream wrap itself around them in real time- hard to resent the way your eyes keep slipping closed like you’re trying to hold it all in, to stretch the moment before it passes.
It makes something ache in him. Nostalgia, maybe. A memory long buried.  And God- he remembers what that felt like. 
The first time the call came. When he got his call. When everything he ever wanted was suddenly, actually his- and nothing had gone wrong yet. 
When someone outside the walls of home- outside the garage, the track, the echo chamber of expectations- just said it, plain and certain: You’re good enough. No stopwatch. No lecture. No icy silence after a second-place finish. Just a voice on the other end of the line saying, You belong here. You, yes you. 
When for one, fragile moment, it wasn’t about consequences. Wasn’t about slammed doors or missed dinners. Wasn’t about endless laps in the cold, and the rain, and the dark until his fingers felt closer to shattered glass than part of his hands. Wasn’t about waking up too early and going to sleep too late, body humming with exhaustion and nerves because he couldn’t afford to mess it up again. 
When it wasn’t about making up for the weekend before. Or the one before that. It wasn’t about hearing that voice- sharp, cold, disappointed- repeating the same five words on loop: You should’ve done better. 
When all the pressure hadn’t calcified into armor. When his name hadn’t yet become a shield. Before the PR machine. Before the politics. Before the paddock turned love into leverage and every podium into proof he deserved to be there.
It didn’t matter that it took Jos all of forty-five seconds to get on the phone and start planning his promotion from Toro Rosso. 
Because that one single moment was his. And you’re standing on the edge of that moment right now, drunk on it- without even needing the beer.
And Max- 
Max feels something sharp twist in his gut. It’s not hatred. It’s not even resentment.
It’s longing.
Melancholic. Jealous, if he’s honest. Not of your talent, or your seat, or even your rise- he has his own throne, his own empire. But of the feeling. That raw, high-voltage, maybe this is really happening kind of magic that only happens once. Maybe twice, if you’re lucky.
He didn’t realize how long it’s been since he felt it. How much he misses it.
And now here you are, soaking in it like it’s sunlight, and he can’t look away.
He remembers that version of himself. Bright-eyed. Hopeful. New. A kid that joked with Carlos and followed Danny around like the ground he walked on held secrets worth learning. 
And somehow, that’s what he sees in you. Even now. Even after everything. And for the first time in a long time, Max doesn’t can’t bring himself to resent you for it. Maybe he will. Maybe tomorrow. That’s okay.
But not tonight. You can have this one. He’ll allow it. 
The car settles again. But the silence isn’t heavy now. It’s expansive. Open. Like someone cracked the seal on a room that had been airless for too long. Only the rhythmic click of the blinker breaks it when Christian changes lanes. The faint drag of tires. And every so often, your laughter- quieter now, but still alive, still glowing. It’s a small sound. Crooked. Half-choked, like it sneaks up on you before you’ve decided to let it out.
Like the disbelief keeps reappearing in your chest, uninvited, and all you can do is laugh it off.
Max doesn’t turn back again. Not directly. But every time it happens, every time that sound breaks through the quiet- low, giddy, almost disbelieving- his eyes flick to the mirror. Just once. Just long enough to catch the outline of your shoulders trembling with it. Then he shifts back to the window, like it’s nothing.
Like it doesn’t land.
It does. It lands hard. That laugh- it gets under his skin, sure, but deeper than that. Under everything. Under the detachment, under the static, under the thick layer of contempt he’s wrapped around you for months. He doesn’t know how to describe it. Only that it sounds like something he’s never been allowed to feel.
Freedom.
They drive like that for ten more minutes. No one speaks. Christian hums softly under his breath, barely audible, the sound light and tuneless. You’re still stretched across the back seat like gravity let go of you. One boot perched against the center console, your head tilted just so against the cool window, your body loose with joy.
Max doesn’t check the mirror again- eyes forward- and that’s when he clocks it. The exit they always take- the familiar loops that gives way to the roundabouts toward the factory- slides past on the left, untouched. Christian doesn’t slow. Doesn’t glance. Just keeps driving, calm and unhurried, like this is exactly the plan.
Max straightens a little. Frowns. “You missed- ”
“Got anywhere to be?” Christian asks, voice casual- too casual to be innocent. Max glances at the clock. It’s late. But not late enough to matter. Not like he’s missing anything.
There’s no warm meal waiting for him at home. No one checking the time, waiting for the plane to land, watching the door, asking him how the event went, if he learned anything useful at the presentations. He’s not getting texts. Not really. There’s always someone to talk to, sure. Always someone to entertain the idea. But no one waiting.
And that’s what it comes down to. There’s no one waiting for Max Verstappen. So he shrugs, voice even. “No.” And it’s the truth. He has nowhere to be.
No one to be there for.
Christian just nods once. Says nothing else. Doesn’t explain. Doesn’t need to.
He flicks the indicator, turns onto a narrower road without hesitation. The headlights carve through a tight lane lined with old brick, terrace house fronts with trimmed hedges, and lampposts glowing, warm. It’s not unfamiliar, exactly. It looks like any other suburban stretch near Milton Keynes. Just unexpected.
From the back seat, you must notice- slow and half-alert- blinking off your daze like it’s something you can set aside. Max can hear your diagram confetti rustle as you sit up. “Where are we going?” Christian doesn’t answer. Just keeps driving, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth like he’s enjoying whatever surprise he has planned. And then the car slows. 
A small pub sits ahead- not some posh gastropub or dimly lit cocktail den- but a squat, weathered building tucked just off a residential bend. The paint on the wooden sign is chipped, peeled in layers down to bare grain. Warm light glows behind the glass, spilling across the wet pavement in patches that flicker against the cooler silver of streetlamps. Each time the door opens, muffled music and laughter leak into the air, caught and swallowed again when it slams shut. It’s not dingy, but it’s old- dated in the way that means history. Too lived-in to be a tourist spot, but too loved to be a complete shithole. Everything about the place looks aged and uneven- the kind of pub that’s been there longer than the people inside it. 
Christian pulls into a small space right outside. The engine goes quiet. For a moment, no one speaks. Max flicks his eyes toward the pub, then toward the rearview mirror.
“What are we doing here?” you ask, voice hesitant, caught somewhere between confusion and quiet amusement as you lean up between the front seats and look out the windshield- like maybe the side windows had tricked you- like you maybe weren’t parked in front of a neighborhood pub.
Max watches you from the corner of his eye- your gaze flicking between Christian and the battered old pub with a strange mix of suspicion and something softer. You sound like you want to laugh, but you’re not sure yet if it’s safe.
Christian doesn’t miss a beat. “We’re getting a beer.”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like it doesn’t mean anything. But Max knows it does. Small as it is, this- this- is Christian giving a damn. Maybe not loudly. Maybe not in words. But enough to drive off-course. Enough to stop here.
You just blink at first. Max can see it- how the words take a second to sink in, like your brain needs time to register the gesture for what it is. You look out at the pub again- at the weathered door, the faded signage, the people slipping out of it, hunched against the cold, heads ducked low in the kind of wet that soaks you before you feel it.
Then your mouth tugs upward. Slow. Like you’re not used to smiling for no reason.
“This place is…” your voice trails as you scan it again, and Max sees the way your shoulders twitch- something uncoiling, piece by piece, not quite sure if it’s allowed. “...perfect.”
You don’t bounce out of the car. Don’t flash your teeth or strut toward the door like a woman who owns the world.
But you do move with purpose. Like maybe the world is giving you something tonight, and you're not going to waste time questioning it. You step out into the night, trailing behind the glow leaking from the pub’s front door like you’re trying to catch up with warmth before it changes its mind.
Christian follows a beat later, stretching like an old dog before straightening his jacket. He gives the place a once-over with that strange brand of affection older men save for even older bars. Like a decent pint is something personal. 
Max stays where he is. Hands resting in his lap. Still. Watching. Hesitating.
He doesn’t know why he hesitates. He doesn’t hate pubs. He’s been to plenty. But this place… this moment… it feels like it wasn’t meant for him. Not really. Like he’s accidentally stumbled into someone else’s memory being made.
And you look so happy.
Not in the way he’s seen before- not the polished post-race smiles, not the forced cheer of sponsor events. This is different. Bare. Quietly radiant. You’re not floating just out of orbit of this world anymore. You’re walking right into it, like it finally has space for you.
Max breathes out through his nose. Slowly. Then he moves.
Deliberate. Grounded. Shoulders drawn tight under the weight of something he won’t name. He climbs out of the car, planting his feet on slick pavement, the cold nipping at any exposed bits of skin- his face, his ears, the sliver of skin where his pants are tailored just so to the tops of his shoes. His hands slide into his coat pockets, fingers curling into the seams.
Not because he’s cold. But because he doesn’t quite know what to do with them when a night starts to feel this gentle.
“This place looks like it hasn’t passed a health inspection since the ‘80s,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Flat. Observational. No real teeth.
You glance over your shoulder, eyes catching his for a flicker of a second. Your mouth quirks. “It’s personality.” It’s teasing, it’s just two words- but it might be the first time you’ve ever said anything that borders on being friendly to him- not professional, not heated, not frustrated. Not what he makes you to be. Just… what you are. Warm. Kind. Like you’ve forgotten what a pain in your ass he is.
Christian just laughs, the sound low and amused, and claps Max on the shoulder with a firm pat that borders on a shove. “One beer. You’ll live.”
Inside, the air smells like fryer grease and varnished wood, like carpets that have soaked up too many rainy shoes and Sunday pints. A tapestry-patterned grid of carpet stretches out beneath scuffed tables and mismatched chairs. There’s a low hum of conversation, football playing on two TVs mounted high in the corners, sound just under the level of speech. One chalkboard lists drink specials in smudged white chalk; another advertises upcoming game coverage on SkySports and a Sunday poker night in barely-crooked block letters.
It’s not a shithole.
It’s just... used. The way good things are.
Max pauses just inside the doorway, his eyes scanning the room like he’s trying to map out exits. There’s a stiffness in his spine, a quiet discomfort that doesn’t read as fear- just unfamiliarity. The place is too normal, too small, too honest. Nothing here needs polishing. A dozen patrons, maybe fewer. Mostly older men, coats still on, eyes half-lidded as they nurse their drinks like they’re waiting to be tired enough to sleep.
No one looks up. No one gives a shit who just walked in. This place doesn’t want anything from him. And for reasons he doesn’t understand, that feels... almost comforting. Max exhales through his nose. Something tight uncoils in his chest, just barely.
“This,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else, “is my kind of place.”
Christian beelines for the bar the second they’re inside, already tossing a half-wave at the barkeep like he’s a regular, or just pretending to be one. His voice disappears into the low hum of the room- easy, warm, familiar.
And just like that, Max is left trailing behind you.
He doesn’t mean to. Not really. It just sort of happens. One step after the other, unthinking. The carpet firm underfoot. The air too warm against his face. He watches the way your head tilts slightly as you scan the room, the subtle pause in your step when you realize he’s following you- not like a bodyguard or a shadow, but like someone who didn’t make a decision fast enough and now doesn’t know how to back out.
You don’t say anything.
But your shoulders pull a little tighter for half a second, the way people do when they’re trying to decide if they’re being hunted or accompanied. Then, with a misdirected kind of purpose, you veer toward the left. Max follows.
The side room is empty. Blessedly, perfectly empty.
Same worn tapestry carpet, same faint scent of beer and furniture polish, but quieter. Detached. A few scattered tables and chairs. A dart board. One pool table- it doesn’t match either of the ones out front. And a jukebox against the wall- an actual jukebox. Old-fashioned. And mechanical. Not touchscreen, not curated. The kind that requires real coins and real commitment.
You hover near the doorway for a second, then walk in, slow and casual, pretending you’re assessing options but already choosing. You pick a table in the back- half-tucked near a radiator that clicks softly under the window. You don’t look at Max, but you know he’s there. You can feel him behind you.
He hesitates in the doorway again, just for a beat, before stepping inside. His steps are slower now. Intentional. He slides into the chair across from you, because like fuck is he going to sit next to you. And then it happens.
That terrible, silent, brutal minute where neither of you says a word.
Because no one made you sit here, together. There’s no team debrief. No overbearing fathers. No media duty. No camera crew waiting to catch the dynamic. No podium to share. Just... a table. A chair. And the awful weight of silence.
Thick. Ugly. The kind that knows it’s silence. The kind that grows louder the longer it stretches.
You glance toward the main bar, then back at Max, your expression flickering into something a little too neutral. Your voice is light but strained, like you’re trying to casually toss something into the void to break the tension.
“Do you think Christian’s ordering for all three of us or… do you think I should- ?” You gesture vaguely toward the door, a half-lifted hand that immediately regrets existing.
Max blinks at you. “He’ll get three.”
You nod a little too fast. “Yeah. Right. That makes sense.” And that’s it. Nothing else. Just those sad, wrinkled words sitting in the air like a damp napkin no one wants to pick up. 
Silence again.
It’s impossible to tell if the talking or the not talking is more awkward.
Neither of you looks at each other.
Christian returns- mercifully- carrying three pints with the kind of practiced balance that says this isn’t his first pub trip. The tray is plastic, probably older than all of them, and each glass is filled to the brim with a different shade of gold.
He doesn’t say much. Just slides the drinks onto the table like he’s delivering a verdict and claims the seat beside you, sighing as he shrugs off his jacket.
“Here we are,” he says. “The best thing I’ve done for either of you all week.”
Your hands are already around the glass before he finishes talking.
Pilsner, probably. Crisp. Cold. Head still holding. You stare down at it like it’s a religious experience.
Max watches as your fingers tighten around the glass. Your shoulders are still a little hunched from the lingering discomfort of whatever the hell that silence was, but now there’s something else bubbling up behind your eyes. Energy. Relief. Joy.
You lift the pint slightly, almost toasting with yourself, and then just laugh- a short, breathless thing as you shake your head. “I’m trying to think of something to cheers to,” you say, voice warm and hoarse. “But all I can think about is how fucking good this is going to be.”
You grin down at the glass. “I haven’t had a beer since I moved here. I- God.” You cut yourself off with another soft laugh, this one less strained. “It just looks so good.”
You say it like it’s more than beer. Max watches you. You’re entirely infatuated with your glass, which makes it easier to do.
He hasn’t seen you like this. Not really. Not happy, not glowing, not vibrating with the kind of low-key anticipation people usually outgrow once the world teaches them better.
He shifts in his seat and picks up his own pint. Ale. Bitter. Familiar.
Christian raises his glass and taps it gently against yours with a knowing grin. “Then stop thinking and drink it.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You lift the glass with both hands and knock back a third of it like you’ve just been pulled out of the desert. It’s aggressive, almost theatrical, except it’s not. You don’t even seem aware of how intense it looks- just drink until the foam’s down your throat and the glass is heavy again on the table.
“Fuck,” you breathe, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth. “That was exactly as good as I knew it was going to be.”
You sit back in your chair with a soft thump, spine loose, mouth curling like the weight of the day finally slipped off your shoulders. Max watches it all with a kind of passive disbelief. Not judgment, not exactly. Just… surprise.
You don’t look like yourself.
At least, not the version of you he knows. The one clipped and coiled, always tucked neatly into meetings, simulator data, tight-lipped PR nods. This is different. This is you opened up, like someone’s unzipped your skin and let something feral crawl out.
And it’s… weird.
Not bad. Not good. Just wrong somehow. Off-kilter. Like seeing your teacher at the grocery store in sweatpants, or hearing someone usually stiff and composed let loose a bark of laughter that doesn’t belong in their mouth.
“Best beer I’ve ever had,” you say into the foam, laughing softly to yourself. “Not even close.”
Christian’s grinning, already halfway into his own pint. “That’s because this is your first proper pint.”
“Hm. Probably.” You nod, like he’s just confirmed something sacred, then shift your attention toward the jukebox across the room. “Wonder if that thing still works.”
Christian cranes his neck, squinting toward the machine. “Not unless you’ve got change.”
Without missing a beat, you grab your purse off the floor and haul it into your lap, already unzipping a side pocket. “I’ve probably got a few twenty-pence pieces in here. My order at the work vending machine always gives me 20p back.”
You dig around, knuckles disappearing into the depths- keys, old receipts, some rogue stick of gum. Then the jingle of metal.
Max watches, eyes flicking from your hands to your face and back again. You’re buzzing. Not just from the beer. From something else. Movement. Relief. The sheer absurdity of the moment. 
And he can’t figure out if it’s entertaining or uncomfortable. He doesn’t like you. Not really. But seeing you like this- unguarded, messy, alive- it feels like catching a stranger undressing in a room you weren’t supposed to enter.
He doesn’t look away.
But it doesn’t sit right, either.
A scatter of coins clatter into your palm. Mostly 10ps and 20ps, one suspiciously sticky quid. Then, with a pleased hum, you stand and cross toward the jukebox, slotting the first coin in with a satisfying clink.
Max follows, slow and curious, hovering beside you, scanning the vinyl list for something that he’d like to listen to. 
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. He just assumes.
Of course you’ll hand him one. Why wouldn’t you? That’s what you do. If he asks for a file at the factory, you get it. If he shows up late to a meeting, you fill the gaps. You’re polite. Accommodating. Always willing to smooth over his edges, like that’s part of your job description.
So he holds out a hand. Expectant. Waiting.
You turn. See his outstretched palm. And for a moment you just blink at it. Then you burst out laughing. Not a scoff. Not a bitter exhale. Laughter. Full-bodied, surprised, involuntary.
“Oh my God,” you choke out, grinning wide. “You really just assumed I was gonna give you one. Like, full faith.”
Max blinks. Hand still out, suspended in the air like a loose wire. You just shake your head, still laughing, and tuck the rest of the coins into the back pocket of your pants. “What?” he says, flatly.
“What?” you echo, eyes wide and tone syrupy-sweet, the kind of sweet that makes your teeth ache. “Oh, sweetie, bless your heart. You must’ve forgotten- we’re not at the office. I don’t have to kiss your ass here.”
Max freezes, not because the words sting, but because they don’t. And your tone- it’s like creamed sugar. It’s too gentle. Too soft. Like there’s a knife slipped under the lace of your reply.
And he doesn’t know exactly what just happened.
But he’s pretty sure you made fun of him.
He stares at you like you’d just malfunctioned. Max leans in, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His tone is measured, almost too calm- because the idea that you wouldn’t hasn’t even occurred to him. “Just pass me one.” he says.
You don’t even bother to lift your eyes. “Why would I do that?”
He blinks, as if surprised by his own impulse. Like he’s just remembered he’s supposed to ask. “Because I want to pick a song?”
You finally meet his eyes, and in them you catch something warm- a glimmer that isn’t full mockery, but rather a spark of amusement, light and unexpected. “And I want to own oceanfront property in Arizona. Guess we both have dreams.”
Max blinks.
You're serious.
He stares at you, genuinely gobsmacked- more from the unexpected tilt of the moment than from your words- because it’s not just that you’re refusing, it’s that you’re enjoying it. That the second you’re off Red Bull property, the second you're not in your work clothes and obligated to keep things diplomatic, you put your foot down. 
Over a twenty pence coin.
For months, you’d always given in to him, you’d always played the part as best you could, no matter how he acted: polite, professional, bending just enough so he could assume it was his idea.
But now?
Now you laugh- loud, unreserved laughter that rings out clear as you fish a single coin out of your pocket and hold it up like a prize. It’s the kind of laugh that feels raw and real, and it cracks the weight of the past wide open. The idea that you might hand him a twenty-pence piece simply because he wants one is absurd- so absurdly funny that it seems the universe itself has tipped the scale.
Max’s mouth parts in a tentative “You’re serious?”
“Oh, deadly,” you reply, your tone light but edged with challenge.
And it’s not just a boundary- it’s a message.
I don't owe you anything.
He narrows his eyes, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Come on.”
With a casual flourish, you hold the coin between two fingers, letting it catch the light- a tiny sun in your grasp. “If you want a song that bad,” you say, your voice sweet and teasing, “I’ll give you one. But you have to get on your knees, right here, and tell me I’m the best support driver you’ve ever had.”
The room between you shrinks in that moment. It’s more than the clink of coins or a request- it’s a defiant echo of balance, a playful wager that recasts every past slight into something strangely equal. And in the soft glow of the jukebox’s failing neon tubes- Max, for a brief, unguarded moment- is wrestling with that truth.
He lets out a breath through his nose- almost a laugh. Almost. No chance. Max Verstappen is not going to beg.
That’s the one thread he clings to, even as the night starts to loosen around the edges- warm light, cheap beer, and the comforting weight of anonymity settling over the room like a blanket no one asked for but doesn’t mind.
But asking again doesn’t really count as begging, right? It’s not like he’s on his knees or anything. He’s mulling it over when ‘just one beer’ unanimously becomes ‘just one more.’ He doesn’t remember saying he’d stay this long. But he doesn’t remember not saying it either. He also doesn’t remember asking for a second round, but one shows up anyways- probably Christian’s gesture of good will or penance or plain old morbid curiosity, but either way, Max doesn’t argue. He takes the pint and lets the chill hit his hand, then his throat, and plans his next move through half-lidded eyes.
It’s not that you’re being mean. Not really. You’re just… unbothered. Casual. Infuriatingly in control of this very stupid, very small situation.
He waits until you’re halfway through your second beer to try again.
Max hovers just behind you with his mug, arms crossed loosely, watching as you slot another twenty-pence piece into the old machine, your fingers dancing along the laminated list like you’re selecting fine wine instead of vintage trash-pop. He’s scowling, hovering just close enough to keep asking. Needling. Pestering. Because now it’s a matter of principle. 
“You can’t possibly need all of those.”
“Probably not,” you hum. “Think I’ll hang onto them just in case. Unless?”
When two locals approach the edge of the room- one in a Saints jersey, the other nursing a cider- and ask if you and Max want to team up for doubles on the lopsided pool table, you glance at him for just long enough that he thinks his respectable performance might have bought him some leverage. Wrong. Denied. Kneel. He scoffs. 
“I’m Max Verstappen.”
You shoot him a look so full of icy amusement that it could be a patented cooling system. “Kind of embarrassing if you can’t afford 20p then, you think?” There’s something so pleased in your voice, like you can’t believe he’s gift wrapped you a third opportunity to tell him no in the same night. Like you’ve already collected the return on your little shenanigans, and now Max is shoveling over interest for free. 
He doesn’t get it. He really doesn’t. You’ve always been accommodating. Tolerant. Even when he was an asshole- especially then- you still handed him things without making it a fight. You played the part. Took the hits. Smiled through clenched teeth.
Every appeal he makes, you swat down without lifting your voice, without raising an eyebrow. Just that same calm, clipped response- get on your knees. It becomes a rhythm. A bit. A game that neither of you acknowledges as a game, but plays to win.
You make your next selection, humming under your breath again, and Max stares at your hands- at the last few coins still gleaming in the half-light. They might as well be orbiting stars. Unattainable.
The worst part is that now he really wants to play a song. Not even to win. Not even to prove anything. He just wants the satisfaction. The hit of dopamine. The petty victory of hearing his music next.
And you’ve made it a hostage negotiation.
He paces. He sighs. He sits down on a barstool for thirty seconds, then stands back up. Sighs again. Another drink. Maybe his third. Or fourth. Time gets weird in warm places with sticky floors. Fuck, he wants to play a song.
And then it happens. Something cracks.
He groans- loudly, dramatically- and drops down to one knee right there in front of the jukebox, his jeans collecting samples of whatever filth settles on the floor of a place like this. “Fine,” he spits. “You’re the best support driver I’ve ever had.”
His voice drips with so much sarcasm it practically coats the walls. “Truly. Couldn’t have done a single thing without you.” You stare down at him like he’s a sewer rat that’s learned to tap dance. Amused. A little revolted. Deeply entertained.
And then you grin. It’s not cruel. It’s not even smug. It’s pure, unfiltered delight.
Then, without fanfare, you flick a twenty-pence coin toward the floor. It falls soft on the carpet. Rolls. Spins to a stop just out of his reach. You don’t say a word. But the look on your face- God- you don’t have to.
You’re glowing. Not in the clean, polished way people look when they’ve just won something shiny and official. No, this is something messier. Deeper. Satisfaction pulled from the pit of your stomach, slow and earned.
Max stares at the coin.
Then at you.
Then back at the coin.
And fuck- it’s humiliating. Which might be why it’s perfect. After everything he’s put you through- the weeks of sabotage, the debrief interruptions, the psychological bruising dressed up as excellence- you get to watch him bend.
He reaches down and picks it up.
You laugh. Low and loose and entirely unbothered. Like the idea of him groveling for your spare change is the funniest thing you’ve seen all week.
And maybe it is.
Because he feels it. In his spine. In the back of his throat. The shift. The tilt. This isn’t just a joke anymore. This is power. Yours. 
And for a moment- a long, stretching second longer than either of you probably intends- he holds your gaze. That coin is still cold in his palm. Small. Silly. Heavy in ways it shouldn’t be. Then he turns to the jukebox. Scrolls deliberately. Finds the most obnoxious ABBA song in the catalog. Hits play.
Out of spite. Out of principle. Out of sheer, fucking petty survival.
Your laughter follows him as he walks back toward the table- bright and alive and echoing like it’s chasing him down. And God help him- 
Max doesn’t even mind.
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The car hums low beneath them, dark outside now- later than it feels. Streetlights streak through the windshield in rhythmic bursts, washing Christian’s hands on the wheel in gold every few seconds. The roads are mostly empty, quiet, tucked in.
The silence in the car isn’t awkward.
It’s something else.
Max slumps slightly in the passenger seat, just enough for his spine to ease off the tension that’s been riding him all day. He’s not drunk, not entirely. But there’s a looseness in him now- beer-soft and slow, like someone’s untied a knot in the center of his chest without asking his permission.
His gaze drifts, half-lidded, unfocused- then catches the rearview mirror.
There you are.
Sprawled back in the seat again, just like you were earlier, but this time you’re warm with victory and booze and something that looks dangerously close to peace. Your head’s tilted toward the window, eyes half-closed. One sneaker up on the seat, your jacket unzipped, your fingers idly fiddling with a keychain that had come in your convention bag. 
Max forces his eyes forward. Then a beat later, they drift again.
Back to the mirror. Back to you.
He keeps doing it. Keeps catching himself. Keeps looking. And every time he does, the image plays again in his head like someone queued it up and hit repeat:
That coin.
The way you held it between your fingers like a king holding court. That smirk. That casual little toss to the floor, like the indignity of him crawling after it might scratch the surface of what he actually deserved. And fuck- maybe it did scratch the surface.
Maybe that’s what’s been clawing at him all night.
Because in that moment, on the grimy floor of some shitty pub, he had deserved it. And you’d known it. Had looked at him like yeah, fucker, I’ve got you. Like pulling him down to the floor made up for every interruption, every data sabotage, every small, cruel, calculated erosion.
And the worst part?
It worked.
He hadn’t felt humiliated. He’d felt- God, he doesn't even know. Exposed? Levelled? Something so real it almost hurt.
You’d leveled the field with one coin.
He rubs at his jaw, tilts his head like it might shake the feeling off. His eyes flick back to the mirror.
You're still there. You’re always fucking there. Soft now, somehow. Not unguarded, not entirely, but less braced. Like the night gave you something back. Like you won something that didn’t come in a contract or a race result.
Max shifts in his seat again. Clears his throat. Doesn’t say anything.
But he looks.
════════════════════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════════════════
You’re folded into the backseat, the hum of the road under you and a pub buzz still warm in your veins. Not drunk, not really. Just soft around the edges. Floaty. Like your body hasn’t caught up with your life yet.
You’re going to be in Formula One.
You say it again in your head- quietly, like a secret. Not because it is a secret anymore, but because something about the shape of it still feels fragile. Like saying it too loud might undo it. Pop the balloon.
Formula One.
God, you can’t wait to tell your mom.
The thought hits you hard enough you blink at the window, like the reflection might steady you. You picture her face. The way her eyes will go wide, her mouth open just a second before the joy breaks loose. You can already hear the way she’ll say your name- half disbelief, half vindication, all pride.
You feel it rise in your chest, tight and hot. You would cry, probably. If you were capable of that sort of thing- of happy tears. So you settle for smiling into the dark window instead.
And then- eyes.
You catch them by accident. Just a flicker in the rearview mirror. A flash of blue. Max. It’s not a look. Not really. Not loaded. Just… brief. The ghost of eye contact. But the second it happens, both of you look away. Like it burned.
You turn your head, pretend you were adjusting your jacket. He shifts in the front seat like something itched. And that should be it. Should’ve passed. But you don’t mean to- you swear you don’t- but your eyes flick back up to the mirror, just once, just to check if he’s still-  He is.
Staring.
Not in that cold, calculating way you’ve come to expect. Not annoyed. Not unreadable. Just... watching. Quiet. Caught.
So you stare right back. You don’t know why. Pride, maybe. Challenge, probably.
Fuck, why is it electric? It’s not charged with romance. There’s no tenderness to it. It’s something else entirely. Like striking flint. The glint of blade against blade. 
He doesn’t look away. Neither do you. You don’t move. And in that breathless little standoff- somewhere between the motorway and the factory- you realize something terrifying. 
He might see you.
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Series Masterlist
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mapis-putellas · 8 months ago
Text
[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]
Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑
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Your date with Alexia ends up lasting the entire day. After getting ice cream -the second activity Alexia had planned- you'd ended up taking a small road trip to the nearest beach just a few miles away. Due to the time of day it was still relatively crowded, but you'd managed to find a small unoccupied area near the water where Alexia had promptly laid out the hoodie she'd brought from the car for you to sit on.
She'd sat herself opposite, cross legged, just like you, with her knees flush against your own. It was kind of perfect honestly, just sitting with her talking about anything and everything. She even teaches you a few more Spanish words, high-fiving you and intertwining her hands with your own whenever you got something right.
Had it been just an excuse to touch you? Maybe? But you certainly hadn't minded.
You'd then spent at least an hour walking hand in hand down the shoreline, comfortable conversation still flowing smoothly between you. It was only when the sun had started to set did you make the joint decision to call it a day, the car ride back feeling a lot quicker than the initial journey there. She'd pulled up outside of your apartment just as the clock strikes nine pm, leaving the car running as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out. You watch her round the vehicle before reaching to your open door, not hesitating to take the hand she offers you and allowing her to help you out of the car.
You'd stared at one another for a few moments before you had step forward to loop your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug, Alexia responding almost immediately by securing her arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off of your feet.
You cup the back of her head, effectively bringing her with you when she sets you back down and pressing your lips softly against her own. A few murmured assurances about a second date had briefly filled the silence, and then you'd both bid one another a rather reluctant goodbye, you waving her off from your place on the sidewalk.
You had entered your apartment feeling both ecstatic and sad. Ecstatic because this was officially the best date you'd ever been on and sad because it was over. That continues as you get ready for bed, but a text from Alexia sweetly bidding you a good night immediately cheers you up.
Throughout the remainder of the week, you and Alexia text pretty frequently. It's mostly in the evenings when she was free and the conversation was mostly pretty friendly with the occasional i hope to see you soon thrown in. It bums you a little that nothing had been brought up about a second date; especially when you'd asked her to let you know when she was free so you didn't plan something when she was busy. But it could simply be the fact that she had no free time and was waiting for a day to be available. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway, so not to drive yourself insane with the what ifs.
About three days after your first date is when she FaceTimes you for the first time. It was a little after eight at night, so you were in the bathroom getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes softly against the counter. You pick it up, blinking a little in surprise when you see the name on your screen but not hesitating to press accept.
"Hey." You smile, propping her up against the back of the sink as you continue wiping off your makeup.
She was in her car, you think, though it didn't seem as though she was driving. It was slightly dark, but you could make out the fact that she was wearing the same football kit she'd been wearing the day you'd met. Man, she really liked football huh?
"Hola, amor." She greets, reclining her seat back slightly so she could get more comfortable. She props her elbow up on the door, resting her head in her hand. "How has your day been?" She wonders.
You shrug slightly as you wet your face before uncapping your face wash, pouring some out onto your hand and rubbing it onto your skin. "It's been alright," you shrug. "work was long but productive. I ate some dinner and read my book and now I'm getting ready for bed. How was your day?" You quickly rinse off your face before drying it off with a clean towel.
Alexia sighs softly. "My day was good, gracias, amor." She offers you a tentative smile, one you don't hesitate to return. You bend down a little, resting your elbows against the counter and resting your face in your hands. Alexia tilts her head to the side, looking inquisitive as you stare at her.
"What is it?" She whispers after a few silent moments, and you sigh softly as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"Is it weird to say that I missed you?" You admit a little more bashfully than you would have liked, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red.
Alexia's features soften as she holds her phone a little closer to her face. "No," she shakes her head. "It is not weird. I missed you too. I have been trying to find a free day for our second date but I have been..."
"Busy," you nod, letting out a soft sigh as you pick up your moisturiser. "I know, I understand. I just wanted to tell you."
She nods. "Actually, I call because I have a question...for you."
"Ask away." You assure.
"I have training tomorrow, and I want to ask if...you could, wanted, to go with me?"
"Football training?" You ask, turning off the bathroom light and making your way into your bedroom.
"Sí." Alexia nods.
"You want me to go with you to training?"
"Yes. If you want to. Of course you do not have to, it will be boring, just sitting in the stands but..."
"I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you Alexia. Of course I'll come with you." You were quick to say as you settle against her headboard of your bed, propping your phone up with a pillow in front of you. "Just know I have no idea how any of it works." You warn somewhat seriously.
Alexia laughs. "That is okay. I will explain it to you." She assures.
"You will, huh?" You grin, reaching back to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Your tank top slips up your body at the action, slightly exposing your torso, and you pretend you don't notice the way her eyes not so subtly flicker down to get a look. She clears her throat softly just a few seconds later, a sheepish smile slipping onto her lips when she realises you'd caught her in the act.
"Promesa." She says after a few seconds, and you hum softly as lean back against the headboard of your bed.
"Wait," you abruptly sit back up. "does training count as a second date?"
"Uhhh..." she sends you a guilty smile.
"Alexia! I was supposed to plan the second date!"
*
It was only when Alexia pulls up outside of a large looking stadium the next day do you realise that maybe this whole football thing was a lot more serious than she'd been letting on.
You look around as you exit the car, seeing many others in matching football kits as Alexia grabs a large duffel bag out of the trunk. Some look right at to with a look of confusion on their faces, making you wonder if Alexia really had permission to bring you here after all.
You turn, ready to question her, but Alexia subtly shakes her head as she gestures you towards the entrance of the stadium. Though your confusion deepens, you comply and follow her inside, your eyes widening when you take note of people with cameras and phones filming everyone who passes as Alexia grasps your hand and pulls you out of the way of everyone.
"Alexia, what's going on? You said this was football training-"
"Sí," she cuts you off, squeezing your hand. "It is football training. I...I play for Barça."
"I-okay? I don't know what that means. Why are there people taking pictures? Why are there cameras?" You whisper the last part, not wanting anyone to overhear.
Alexia sighs lightly. "Vale. I...I am Alexia Putellas."
You raise an eyebrow as you lean back against the wall, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I know your name, dummy."
"No," she shakes her head. "I do not know how to explain in English. I do not know the right words. You have your phone, sí?"
You nod, your eyebrows furrowing.
She swallows heavily as she gestures for you to pull it out, and you comply. "Google my name. That will explain and I will answer the questions you have."
"I am so confused." You mutter, unlocking your phone and typing Alexia's name into google. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the results that greet you, lips parting in silent surprise as your body becomes entirely still. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog of bewilderment that had clouded your vision.
Alexia Putellas didn't just like football like you had assumed. She was a famous footballer.
You jump reflexively when you feel her hand gently come to rest on your arm, wincing a little when Alexia rips her hand away a though she'd been scolded.
"I..." you have absolutely no idea what to say.
"I know," Alexia murmurs. "I am sorry, I should have-"
You shake your head, holding a hand up to stop her from talking. She complies, but grows more antsy the longer you remain silent. You swallow heavily as you lock your phone, stuffing it back onto your pocket with a little more force than was maybe necessary.
"You're...famous. You're a famous footballer and you didn't think to tell me before bringing me here?" You didn't sound mad, just...confused, and maybe a little hurt too.
Alexia adjusts her kitbag on her shoulder before softly clearing her throat. "I wanted to," she promises. "but, I did not know how to say it. So I thought-"
"That bringing me here would tell me for you." You cut in, and Alexia visibly winces.
"Sí." She murmurs. "I am sorry."
You sigh lightly. "It's okay. I have...more questions, but you apparently have training and I don't want you to be late."
Alexia nods. "Are you still..."
You nod. "I'll still watch." You say, smiling a little at the breath of relief that slips from Alexia's lips as she tentatively holds out her hand. You take it, feeling the way she squeezes tightly as she leads you outside and towards the stands.
She offers you any of the seats, and you decide on one that was close enough to be able to see what was going on but far enough away where you wouldn't be too easily noticed. The last thing you wanted, or needed, right now, was questions. Questions you had no idea how to answer. You sit down with your bag on the seat next to you, expecting Alexia to head off to training but blinking in surprise when instead she crouches down before you and rests her hands on your knees.
"I am sorry, again," she murmurs, still evidently feeling bad. "I did lot mean to lie to you. I was just-"
"I know," you assure. "Like I said I'm not mad at you. Just confused. But you'll explain everything to me later, right?"
"Sí. Yes. Promesa," Alexia nods, "but I still-"
"Ale." You gently cup her cheeks, trailing the pads of your thumbs over the warm skin. Brown eyes flicker up and meet your own, lips quirking up into a hesitant smile. "we've only known each other a week. Been on one date. It's a big thing, telling someone this. I understand, truly."
Alexia shifts softly as she leans into your touch. "But you seemed upset," she whispers. "You jump when I touch you." 
"Because I wasn't expecting it," you admit with a soft smile. "I didn't flinch because I was upset. I flinched because it genuinely made me jump."
"Oh," Alexia mumbles, "vale. That is good then. I-"
"Alexia!" Someone calls her name.
You both turn your heads, spotting Mapi's familiar face staring right back at you. You wave, genuinely happy to see her again and Mapi grins widely as she returns it before she once again gestures for Alexia to come over.
Alexia nods in acknowledgment before turning back to face you. "I have to go now, you have food yes? And drinks?"
"Sí." You nod, taking the hands on your knees and giving them a soft squeeze. "I have entertainment too. I have a book, my iPad. I'll be fine. Go do what you gotta do."
Alexia nods, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before standing up. She goes to walk away before abruptly stopping and unzipping her bag before rummaging through it, turning back to face you just a few seconds late with a hoodie in her grasp.
You shake your head softly. "Ale, it's hot. I don't nee-”
"Just in case, amor," She folds it up before placing it on your lap. "I do not want you to get cold."
You know full well you wouldn't get cold, but the thought of Alexia worrying that you would and offering you her hoodie fills your stomach with butterflies.
"Okay," you accept. "Thank you."
Alexia nods, sending you one last smile before hurrying down to the large field. She was immediately greeted with Mapi's knowing smile, Alexia rolling her eyes playfully as the rest of her teammates approach her. Someone says something promoting every single pair of eyes down there to meet your own, and you stare wide eyed for a second before bravely bringing your hand up for a cautious wave.
Some wave back. Some smile. One in particular; a brunette with her hair tied back into a ponytail slips away from the group, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way towards you. You wince internally when neither Alexia or Mapi seem to notice, hoping to god your terror wasn't noticeable as she makes it to the seat next to you and sits down.
"Hola," the brunette grins. "Soy Aitana. Eres la novia de Alexia?"
You stare at her blankly.
She frowns. "No hablas español?"
You somehow manage to understand this and promptly shake your head.
"Ahh," she nods before pointing to herself. "I am Aitana." She says slowly, accent thick, before pointing to you. "You are?"
"I'm Y/n."
"Ahh. And you are Alexia's girlfriend, sí?"
"Aitana! Vuelve aquí!" A voice you don't recognise calls out, but Aitana ignores it as she looks at you expectantly.
You swallow heavily before shaking her head. "Um, no. I'm not her girlfriend."
"You are not?" She frowns, and you shake your head again.
"We've only been on one date. This is the second." You explain.
Her frown deepens. "El entrenamiento de fútbol fur su gran idea para una segunda cita? Idiota, Alexia." She grumbles to herself.
You didn't understand the first part of her sentence, but you sure did understand the second. She thought Alexia was an idiot.
"Aitana! Ahora!" Calls that voice again, and Aitana waves them off as she sighs heavily and turns in her seat a little to face you.
"I will talk to her." She reaches her hand out to pat your leg in what you assumed was an action of reassurance, and though you didn't quite know what she planned to talk to Alexia about, you find yourself nodding your head in hopes it'd get her to head back to training before she got you both in trouble.
"Aitana!"
"I am going now, but we will talk later, yes?" She questions as she rises to her feet, and you nod somewhat dumbly as she turns makes her way back down to the field. She skips right over to Alexia who was in the middle of talking to someone, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. The second she has it, she begins talking, waving her hands about animatedly as she gestures from you to the field around you placing her hands on her hips.
Alexia watches on in mild concern and confusion before her eyes flicker over to you. Her eyebrow raises in silent question, and you nod assuringly, not at all affected by Aitana despite how enthusiastic she'd been.
Her other brow raises, almost as though she was asking if you were sure, and you nod again, this time throwing her a double thumbs up for good measure.
Alexia nods, turning back to face Aitana. As she begins to talk, you rummage through the small bag you brought and pull out your iPad. You'd download a few new books this morning that you knew would occupy you for the entirety of the time you were here, and as you select one, you lean back a little in your seat in hopes of getting a little more comfortable.
*
Alexia's training ends up lasting a little over four hours, and you surprisingly manage to keep yourself appropriately occupied for little over three of them. You read your book, play a few games and even make a good dent in the snacks you'd brought. It was part way through the fourth hour that you start becoming a little restless.
In an attempt at distracting yourself, you try and follow along the little scrimmage match that Alexia and her teammates were having, but it ultimately proves ineffective when you have absolutely no idea who was winning or what was even going on.
Eventually, you're forced to stand, shrugging on the hoodie that had been on your lap ever since Alexia had put it there before beginning to pace, subconsciously bringing the sleeve to your face to take in her scent. It smelt just as you remember.
You manage a total of five laps before your name was called, your eye's immediately flickering towards the direction it had come from. It was Alexia. She was stood at the edge of the field, gesturing you over with a smile on her face, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing your things and making your way down.
She immediately throws an arm over your shoulder the second you were close enough, pressing a rather sweaty kiss to your forehead in which you just about manage to refrain from wiping away. You completely miss the smirk that graces her features at the sight of you in her hoodie.
"They want to meet you. Is that okay?" She murmurs quietly, gesturing to her teammates who were talking amongst themselves just a few feet away. You glance between them and Alexia as you lean slightly into her side, a rather hesitant look on your face. Alexia's facial expression was much the same, almost as though she'd tried to talk them out of it but had ultimately failed to to do.
"You can say no, amor. I will not be mad, and they will not either.” she assures softly, and you let out a quiet exhale through your nose before nodding your head. Getting it over and some with would be the easiest option, right?
"Vale, come on then."
**
Tags:
@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics
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gunnerfc · 7 months ago
Text
Steph Catley x Arsenal!Reader | Praise (18+)
Warnings: smut MINORS DNI!, bottom reader, service top steph, oral (r receiving), fingering (steph receiving), praise kink, there’s a little plot but it's mostly smut!
Summary: you know how much Steph’s praise kink affects her, and you use it to your advantage
WC: 1.6K
You panted, your hands resting on your knees, attempting to catch your breath. The training had gotten more rigorous with the upcoming Champions League matches. You internally cheered when the staff called it a day, thankful to be heading home. 
You huffed as you stood up straight, immediately greeted by Kim, who wanted to go over a few different tactics. The two of you were walking while talking, and as you passed Steph, you gave her lower back a light tap while throwing her a quick “Good job today, baby.” 
Your attention was back to Kim as soon as you passed the defender, meaning you missed the blush coating her cheeks. You had spent most of the morning praising her for little things, knowing how much it worked her up. Steph had spent each second since you left the house earlier waiting to be back to earn more of your praises.
You were both quick to gather your belongings, throwing quick goodbyes to your teammates before heading to your parked car. You sent Steph a small smile as you opened the passenger door for her. The defender gave you a quick kiss as a ‘thank you’ and had to force herself to not let it escalate. 
You smirked to yourself, knowing Steph’s thoughts were preoccupied with you, knowing that once you arrived home, you two would be busy. You made your way around the car to the driver’s seat, quickly starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. One of your hands left the steering wheel in favor of resting on Steph’s thigh, right below where her shorts ended. 
The Aussie’s breath hitched when your hand hit her skin, and she had to hold back a moan when you squeezed her thigh. “Have I told you how proud of you I am lately,” you hummed as you stopped at a stoplight, turning your head slightly in her direction.
“Mhmm,” Steph hummed, not trusting her voice at that moment. Her eyes locked with yours, and you could see the effects your constant praising had on her. You grinned a teasing grin just as the light turned green, prompting you to refocus on driving. 
Steph could feel the wetness growing between her legs while her mind conjured up various ways to pleasure you to earn her more praise. The defender sighed softly when you finally arrived home, and neither of you wasted any time heading inside. 
You aimlessly threw your training bags to the floor once you were inside, your lips meeting Steph’s as soon as the door closed. She moaned into the kiss, her hands moving to grip the sides of your shirt, finding the piece of clothing offensive. 
You smiled into the kiss before pulling away slightly to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor to be picked up later. Steph’s hands were quick to trail all over your bare torso, her hands moving up to the sports bra covering your chest. “Take it off, please,” She whined, needing to have you bare. 
You pulled the bra off your frame, letting it join your shirt on the floor. You expected her hands to replace the fabric, but a loud groan left your mouth when her lips were wrapped around one of your nipples. You moved a hand to hair, pulling it free from the bun she wore to training, letting your hand tangle in her hair. 
You arched into her mouth, whining when you felt her teeth graze your nipple. “Feels so good, baby,” you whined, pushing her closer to your chest. Steph moaned around your nipple before pulling away, a string of spit connecting her bottom lip to your breast. She quickly moved to give your other breast the same treatment, earning multiple whines from you. 
When she finally pulled away from your chest, panting slightly as she reconnected your lips, you guided the two of you further into the house to the couch. You let her push you down as she dropped to her knees in front of you. You broke apart, your head tilting back to rest against the couch as she littered your bare torso in kisses, light hickies forming here and there.
Your hips bucked as she kissed above the waistband of your shorts. “Be a good girl and take ‘em off,” you groaned, lifting your hips so it was easier for her to listen. Steph quickly complied, hearing you call her ‘good girl’ sent a wave of arousal through her. The act of being so good for you and pleasing you was enough to drive her crazy. 
She pulled your shorts and underwear off, tossing both to the floor next to her as she pushed your knees apart. You whimpered softly as the cool air hit your wet cunt, your chest heaving as you waited for the defender to make her next move. 
Steph trailed kisses from your knee to the inside of your thigh, bitting softly right before she was face to face with where you needed her most. “Please, baby, don’t keep me waiting,” you whined, bucking your hips closer to her face. 
Steph had to force a moan down as she kissed right above your clit. Hearing you mumble a quick ‘fuck’ spurred her on, taking the sensitive bud into her mouth. You moved a hand back to her hair, pushing her further into you as her hands wrapped around your thighs. “More, Steph,” you moaned, rolling your hips. 
The defender pulled away from your clit with a quiet ‘pop’ to tilt her head down slightly, her tongue slowly running through your folds. She sped up as she looked up at you from between your thighs, her eyes locking with yours as you moaned loudly.
“Feels so good, just like that,” you praised, your thighs shaking slightly as the defender worked her tongue inside you. Steph whined at your praises, her thighs closing tightly as her arousal was building. Her whine sent a wave of vibrations through you, earning another moan from your lips. 
Your thighs tightened around her head as she fucked you, your hips rolling in time with the thrusts of her tongue. “S-so good,” you whined, your eyes closing as your back arched off. You whined, feeling her nose bump your clit each time she moved up, the feeling adding to your pleasure. 
“You’re so good for me, baby,” you moaned, chest heaving as you felt yourself nearing your release. “Make me feel so good,” your voice was weakening with each movement of her tongue. 
Steph moaned into you, hearing your words, her need to make you cum was spurring her on. “Cum for me, please,” the defender begged, pulling away from you slightly before reattaching her lips to your clit. 
With a broken whine, your orgasm hit, and you came, coating her mouth. Steph didn’t let up, working you through your orgasm before you whimpered at the overstimulation. She pulled back, letting go of your thighs as she stared up at you from her place between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her desperate ones. 
“C’mere, baby,” you panted, reaching a hand out to pull her to straddle your thighs. Her lips met yours in a messy kiss, both of you moaning at the taste of you. Your lips moved against each other as you moved your hands to grip her hips. 
“Please,” she muttered against your lips, her desire was driving her crazy. You smirked before kissing her again, one of your hands slipping into her shorts and underwear. 
“You’re so wet, baby,” you teased as you ran two fingers through her soaked folds. Steph whined above you, resting her forehead against yours as she waited for you to hurry up.
Having decided she earned it, you pushed your two middle fingers inside her until your knuckles stopped you. “You’ve been so good,” you cooed as you pulled your fingers out slightly before thrusting them back in. 
“So good,” Steph repeated with a whimper and small nod, her hips grinding against your fingers as best as they could. You sped up your thrusts, knowing it wouldn’t take much to make her cum.
Broken moans fell from her lips as she chased her orgasm, her hips stilling after a rough thrust of your fingers. Steph’s voice cracked, whining your name as she came around your fingers. Her body slumped against yours as your fingers slowed before you pulled them out of her completely. The Aussie whimpered at the empty feeling as she gasped, trying to catch her breath. 
You wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her body close to yours. “You okay, my love,” you coaxed as you rubbed her back. You felt her nod against your shoulder, a whispered “yeah” following after. 
Steph leaned back so she was able to face you, her eyes heavy with the exhaustion from the long and rough training session. You smiled up at her before moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. You leaned up to kiss her, a much softer kisser than any of the previous kisses. “I love you,” the defender mumbled tiredly against your lips. 
“I love you, too,” you whispered back before leaning away from her. “Let’s go get cleaned up and get something to eat, hmm,” you offered, loosening your hold on her body.
Steph nodded and removed herself from your lap, standing on weak legs as she laced her hand with yours to pull you from the couch. The two of you spent the rest of the evening relaxing, cherishing the time, knowing you would have to repeat the long session tomorrow.
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vampirevatican · 6 months ago
Note
Can you do a Judd birch alphabet? You can decide if it’s nsfw or not
I've decided to do both, so here's the...
SFW & NSFW JUDDPHABET
Affection
He's affectionate but it's mostly through actions. (i.e. dinner date from the valentines day episode) I think he'd have his hands on you in public but in subtle ways. Finger in the belt loop of your pants, arm around your waist, arm on the back of the couch when you both sit together.
Best friend
He's a good guy at his core. you can not talk me down from that hill So I think he'd make a great friend. Hell quite a few alt people are and that usually comes from their beliefs.
A great listener, doesn't solve the problem unless you're looking for a solution, would offer to go torch some abandoned building or some other crimes but is only dead set if you are and it'd actually help you feel better.
Cuddles
He's big spoon, loves when you guys get ready to sleep and you get as close as possible without him having to do it.
Dirty secret
He's actually a softie. You can't tell me that he's not. The raccoons, melon ball, Judd has a soft side and it's canon.
Experience (NSFW)
No, yeah, he's experienced. Sexual and Romantic. Two girlfriends shown in the show, or rather at least one girl that he planned a dinner date for that was kinda fancy? Which makes me think they would've had at least a year together.
Favorite position(s) (NSFW)
Speaking of the letter 'E'
Face down, ass up is his usual go to. To get more specific? I think he'd love doing the mating press so he can really drill in. Big boy go deep... However also, rapid fire
69, The bicycle, hoisting you up on counters or bending you over. It depends on the amount of horny and where but one thing is for sure, he wants to bury himself into the hilt.
Gentle (NSFW implied)
I say, he's gentle when he wants to be. Ofc great at aftercare but outside of the obvious I think he's attentive to emotions of others, maybe not empathetic but what is he if not an observer.
Hair (NSFW implied)
So I've been over how he doesn't use a 16 in 1. Now let's talk about how I think he maintains his hair, and... a brief headcanon on the situation downstairs.
So getting general around 6 to 12 weeks he'll re-dye his hair. Probably at the 6 mark and with the sides of his hair, maybe even back, then we have the 2 to 4 week timing of him shaving it again. Notice how I say he does it. Sure he could get someone else too and depending on his schedule he sometimes does.
As for his junk... I don't think he shaves, maybe trims?
I love you
He's not about to say it first, and if he is then it's probably in response to you doing something he didn't expect or some random cuddle session in the back of his van.
Jacking off (NSFW)
Id love to bring in the concept of his own hormone monster but it's not necessary. He doesn't wank it often but when he does it's either built up or an in the moment thing.
Kisses (NSFW implied)
He's such a... good kisser 🎶~
Speaking wild... He's great at making out, imo, very passionate and heated.
Speaking soft? I like to think he'd kiss your forehead if you're small, or like the top of your head?? Before pulling you closer to him. Is it spur of the moment or he notices you being pouty, yeah.
Little ones (is he good with kids)
Again see letter 'D'. I swear he's good with kids. ffs he also helped out Andrew, reluctantly ofc, but i swear this dude is great with kids.
Mornings
Picture with me waking up in his bed, sharing the bathroom together and heading downstairs to a greeting from his supportive parents. Very cute, usually chill, and yes he drives you home or you head out with him. Nice breakfast into little adventures with your punk rock boyfriend, isn't that fun!
Nights
I love to think when it's not spent in his or your bedroom then it's his van or at some abandoned building. Lots of cuddles, maybe some arson or bne of an old abandoned business but if y'all were caught by the owner you'd be in trouble because you're defacing the property.
Open
I don't think he's an open guy, unless he's actually comfortable around you. It definitely takes some time but the more he learns about you the more you learn about him and it starts subtle af too. That is til y'all are a few drinks or blunt hits deep and everything starts to bleed
Pace (NSFW)
What pace do you need or want him to go? Naturally I think he'd have a steady pace and rhythm but if you needed it to be different then he'll adjust.
Questions (does he ask about you?)
See letter 'O'. I feel like he's direct but also would ask others about you if you aren't close enough yet and he doesn't have much of a choice. Mainly out of curiosity or wanting to do something for you.
Remember (and from those questions what does he remember?)
I say everything because again, he is an observer. Any little thing you like, stuff you hate, your fashion taste, favorite food, color, music genres. He knows it.
Stamina (NSFW)
For a dude that exercises, and is built the way he is i think it only makes sense for him to have really good stamina. Which means multiple rounds... if you're up for it.
Toys (NSFW)
For those who've been liking my works from last year about this man. Im going to call the knife a toy, but ofc he's definitely open to using a vibrator or other things in the bedroom
Ugly (the good, the bad and the ugly - headcanon negative traits)
So the canon aside, i feel like if you guys got into a genuine argument he'd shut down or double down. Not a huge red flag, and a better option to calm down and walk away but for those who can't handle that he ready for a breakup and him saying some real mean shit.
I can't see him being controlling or possessive but there's a possibility of it ramping up and if you two don't get to the route of it then... hwoof. especially if you aren't okay with it
Volume (NSFW)
He doesn't get loud... At all. But by god do I want him to be. Mfer can make you scream but him?? He be up in your ear mummering nd shit.
Warning (would be protect you? even from himself?)
Absolutely! If he's going out to do something really bad then he's not bringing you along, no matter how badass you are. Y'all get into an argument? Like I said before. I think he'd warn you or before taking the gloves off he'd address how this is just anger, and if you two wanna continue then he's okay with it as long as you know this is just being genuinely pissed
X exes (what's it like being his ex?)
Friends, friends with benefits if he's not dating someone else and you're okay with it. Things slip back into friend territory if y'all separated on good terms. Bad terms? No y'all do not talk... At all.
Yelling
Again he's not known to raise his voice but that doesn't mean he's not capable of doing so and I'm a firm believer that it'd be scary as fuck. Seeing you scared, if you do get scared, or even tear up bc if you don't do well with confrontation then he'd stop. If he was still mad or irritated then he just walks off to cook down, but if not then he instantly apologizes.
Zzz (going to bed together)
See the letter 'C', but anyways. I swear he's a cuddle bug, i need him to be. But he'd never admit it.
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moongreenlight · 7 months ago
Text
Like 800 words of a Ghoap x Reader fic I've been sitting on for way too long. School is hard. Life is busy. I love you and miss you.
Premise: Ghost is a porn director, Soap is an actor, you're Ghost's girlfriend.
mdni. nsfw below the cut.
Ghost abusing his authority over Soap and getting him to come in early/late to shoots so he can get a few ‘warm-up’ shots in (bending Soap over the chaise in his dressing room) or randomly calling for ‘emergency shoots’ (he wants to take a shitty iPhone video of Soap on his hands and knees gagging on his cock).
It started out as a means to end Johnny’s bitching. He refused to take performance boosters, citing some bullshit argument about how “if athletes cannae use them, neither can I.” A non-argument, Ghost thought. But still, he found himself bullying the man into a tech room and letting him grind on the toe of his boot until he spilled his mess on the floor. It didn’t solve the problem. Like giving a begging dog table scraps. 
Johnny apparently needed his cock milked before any shoot where he was expected to come on camera. Howled like a bitch in heat until Ghost appeased him, and even after that it was touch and go. 
But then there was his dove. Dutifully waiting for him every night. Sweeter, more soft than Soap. Less whining, similar resistance, but took easier to his guiding hand. Never had any issue with his work. Never a flare of jealousy when he spent most of his day staring at writhing naked bodies. 
Simon figured out somewhere in his balancing act that he was able to work out some of his aggression on Johnny. Brat takes it better. He doesn’t get a feeling like stones are being slowly added to the pressure on his ribs when he sees Soap’s big blue eyes get teary. He’s gentler with his dove. Takes his time because he can. 
He’s fantastic at keeping his work and private lives completely separate. Fucking exemplary. You’d think they were entirely different planets the way he seemed to turn completely off to them. 
Ghost finds himself net neutral on the situation. It’s like picking between his left and right hand to fist over his cock. More an issue of convenience. Not like he’s got a standout sex drive, it mostly just happens as appeasement. Get Johnny to quit sodding griping, keep the dove happy in her cage. 
But of course, worlds collide. They always do when they revolve so close to one another. There’s bound to be a rotation in the axis that sends them smashing into one another.
And of course it happens on a day where Johnny is entirely out of control. Whining in scenes, ruining takes, wasting film and time; time he’s paid- fucking handsomely- to be pleasant for. 
Ghost hears her before he sees her. Standing next to one of the cameras with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, glowering down the barrel at Soap who was making a sour face and rubbing oil onto the back of some actress with a thin towel covering her modesty. His ears are tuned to the frequency of her voice, picking it out with ease amongst the dull chatter that had flared since the cameras stopped rolling even from all the way down the hall. 
She was chatting with the receptionist who no doubt chose to walk her where she needed to be to bask in the warmth that was her company. His bird had that effect on people. Always sweet and sunshine. Saved the sharp wit and snark for home or to be whispered in his ear. Trained perfectly by his expert hand. 
He didn’t bother looking away from Johnny when she walked in the door. Now engaged in some sort of silent staring contest. Ghost glaring down the crook of his nose at the smaller man. He couldn’t quite pick out if the look in Johnny’s eyes was disdain or desire. They were synonymous at this point. Shame he couldn’t sort out that attitude of his properly now. Save everyone the fucking tantrum.
He calls for a cut. Gruffs out a tight 5 and reset. Tosses his cigarette to the ground and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He doesn’t have the time to turn around before he hears two planets collide. 
“- you lookin’ for a role, bonnie? Ye know, I’ve got connections ‘round here. Make ye a star in fifteen minutes.”
Her laugh is honest and amused. It cuts straight through the sound of the studio and rings like church bells. 
“Oh, I dunno. I’m a terrible read.”
He looks over his shoulder and sees Johnny tying the belt of his robe in a lazy knot over his hip. More decorative than anything seeing as the plush thing is cast open all the way down his torso. Exposing, with painfully obvious intention, the gloss of oil on skin and the whorls of dark hair that decorate his chest. 
“Dinnae believe that for a minute. ‘Sides, pretty girl like you hardly needs to talk. Bet we could work out a scene where you only have to open your mouth for-”
He’s cut off when the receptionist knocks her shoulder into his and throws him a warning look on her way out. It doesn’t strike the chord it should, but it fulfills the end goal all the same.
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aliwritex · 1 year ago
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SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY dr3
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summary: you and your boyfriend get horny over each other in country clothing
warnings: nsfw, pinv sex, face sitting, daniel in a cowboy hat, cum eating?
wc: 2.4k
notes: i took way too long to write this, the actual smut is quite short sorry
Daniel really got into the entire cowboy thing the second he set foot in Texas, he loved the aesthetic of it, the hat, the boots and everything in between. And so did you. It always looked good on him, and he started to get cocky when he realized what it did to you.
He had been building it up, really. On thursday morning while you were finishing your makeup in the bathroom of your hotel room he walked in to put on some cologne and quickly comb his hair with his fingers before covering it up with a cap. You stopped doing your mascara the second he walked in, watching and taking in how good he looked in his outfit.
“Hurry up, babe, we gotta go” he said with a hand wrapped around your waist after leaving a peck to your cheek.
“yeah, almost done” you lifted your face to nuzzle at his beard before he pulled away “Can you get my bag and put my phone in it?”
He had you hot all day, making you watch as he changed from his normal clothes into the navy alpha tauri shirt that fit him so well. Anytime he had between interviews he’d be with you as you tried your best to not just jump at him and take him in his drivers room. You knew he didn’t like to engage in those activities during race weekends, they got him too distracted and he preferred to keep all his focus on his driving, especially now that he had just gotten back. You respected it, but god was he getting to you.
The next morning you thought you were safe when he just threw on one of the team shirts and some black jeans but you were proved wrong when he pulled out his favorite cowboy hat out of his suitcase. You couldn’t help yourself and tricked him into a heated kiss the second he put it on. One of his hands lifted to hold on to his hat as the other descended to your ass and squeezed it. You let out a sigh into his mouth that brought him back to reality and made him pull away.
“No, babe, c’mon.” he said as you kissed his jaw.
“I know, I know” you pulled away, tidying up his shirt with both hands on his chest. “but you just look so hot, couldn’t help it.”
He smiled down at you before slapping your ass and collecting his things so you could leave.
On sunday you were doing your make up on the floor, in front of the mirror, because the light was better, when you heard it. You knew it was coming but you really didn’t want to believe it. There was no way to avoid it really so you just learned to accept when he did things like this. As soon as he walked out of the bathroom you saw it, he had ruined his beard again. I seemed worse than the previous year, mostly because he did it wrong, his lines all messed up and squiggly.
“I really do have to live with this, no?” you asked as you got up to stand in front of him, he nodded with a big smile on his face. “This one is bad, let me fix it”
“What? No! I just spent ten minutes working on this” he gestured to his face and you lifted your hands in defeat, sitting back down to finish your make up. You two left the room a couple minutes later, you in blue jeans and a white tshirt, him in jeans and a texas jersey and you both with matching cowboy hats and boots.
On race day you usually just sat back and tried to leave him alone unless he asked for you, he always had a lot to do and had to concentrate. That weekend wasn’t different, you stayed out of his room, really only talking to him when he passed you around the paddock, you had brought a book to keep you busy for the morning before he met you for lunch.
“I love you, baby, good luck” you whispered to his cheek and planted a kiss to his lips before he stepped away, he got in the car minutes later.
You watched the race from the garage, nails in your mouth and foot tapping as you saw him win and loose positions. With just a few laps to go he battled for the third with Alonso, at that point you were about to break all your nails from being between your teeth for so long, your heart racing as fast as him. Everyone in the garage screamed as he over took the Aston Martin, taking the last spot in the podium, only one lap to go, the mechanics running over to jump onto the grids to watch as Daniel passed them, heading for the checkered flag.
As soon as he passed the line you were running to see him on the podium. You watched as he stood up there, proud and with a big smile on his face as he waited for the national anthems to finish. As soon as they were given the champagne bottles he started spraying all over Max, then it was truly a mess, next time you saw your boyfriend he had his shoe in his hand and was bringing it to his mouth, you shook your head in disgust and disapproval but he couldn’t see you, and it wouldn’t have stopped him anyway. You took a thousand pictures of him, covered in sweat and champagne before people started leaving and you could finally move from where you were stuck.
You met him when he was making his way to the interviews, he ran to you with the biggest smile on his face and kissed you almost harshly form all the adrenaline. His arms held you tightly, almost lifting you off the ground as he laughed in your ear.
“I got on the fucking podium!”
“You did! I love you so so so much, baby, you’re the best. Now go, the fastest you’re done with this we can celebrate.” you kissed him again before letting him go.
You walked to his room to wait as he did all the interviews and in about forty minutes he came in. You jumped up from the couch, hugging and covering him in kisses, on his cheeks, his forehead, his lips and his neck.
“Wow, wow, slow down, cowgirl” he pulled away when you kissed him deeper “need a shower first, yeah?”
“Don’t care, Danny, you’ve been killing me all weekend.”
“I know i’m hard to resist but let’s get to the hotel first. Don’t wanna take you here, wanna take my time.” he kissed your jaw and grabbed a towel, making his way into the bathroom and leaving you to wait.
Your mind started to go places that made your entire body warm up in a second. It didn’t help he you had to watch him when he came out of the shower, body and hair damp, his curls falling on his forehead as he got dressed, it was all too much for you. Luckily in no time you were in the backseat of the car, Daniel in the front passenger seat as Blake drove you back to the hotel.
“Yeah, yeah, thanks mate, see you in the morning” you heard your boyfriend say to his friend at the door as you laid all of yours and his bags on the floor of the room. The second the door clicked closed you had his back against it. “Hold on, this feels wrong.” he pulled you up by the ass, guiding your legs to wrap around his hips and turned your back to the door. “That’s more like it.” he said before attacking your neck with kisses and nibbles.
“Danny, couch” you communicated the best you could, too distracted by his touches to form a full sentence.
He pulled you off the wall and walked over to the couch, sitting on it. With your knees on each side of his hips you could now grind against him and feel him growing against your thigh. Your lips were a mess over his own, your lip gloss now all over them and probably on his mustache too. Daniel reached for the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling your shirt from it to take off. You stood up from his lap as started to pull off your boots.
“Think you can keep them on?”
“The boots?” he nodded “If you help me” you threw yourself back on the couch, this time on your back, by his side and threw your legs over his. He carefully started removing your jeans without having to get rid of the boots, once you were out of them he pulled you back onto his lap. “Want the cowgirl to ride you, then?”
He nodded against your neck, his beard – or what was left of it – tickling and making you squirm on his lap. He groaned as it made your ass go right over his cock, his hands falling to your waist to guide you over it again. You pulled his shirt over his head and threw it to the side before burring your hands in his hair and pushing his face to your chest. He reached to unclasp your bra and take it off so he could properly attach his mouth to your breast, his tongue sliding over your nipples alternately.
“C’mon, Danny, can’t wait anymore.” He nodded against your chest and lifted you up to your knees with a hand in your waist, his other hand reaching to lower his shorts and boxers a bit. The sight of his cock rested against your clothed core turned you both on immensely, it showed just how deep he could reach into you. You lifted yourself from his thigh and pulled your underwear to the side, watching as he aligned himself with your entrance. As soon as the tip went inside you started feeling the stretch but you could barely think about it when you saw the satisfaction in his face.
“So fucking tight, baby, shit” he said as he watched his cock finally bottom out in you. “So beautiful when you take me”
You practically melted at his praises, he knew how much you loved it, he knew it made you clench around him and he knew it sent goosebumps all over your body. Daniel’s hands dropped to your hips, his eyes looking up as he started to rock you back and forth on his lap. You threw your head back at the way his groin caught your clit, giving it the slightest stimulation. You started bouncing slowly as he caught your tit in his mouth, practically mouthing it entirely, your wrists rested on his shoulders, finger tips reaching to scratch at the short hair on the back of his neck.
“Will you turn around for me, baby? Let me see your ass bounce on me?” he mumbled against your chest and you nodded before pulling away and getting up.
You turned your back to him and sat back down on him, your knees folded under your thighs. He pulled your back closer to him, pushing your hair to the side to nibble at your neck. You rested your hands on his knees to start bouncing, Daniel helped you with hands on your waist, guiding you up and down. Now that you were slightly folded over he could indeed see your ass bouncing on him and the way it hit his thighs with force. You were trying your best not to fall face first on the floor and Daniel was holding on for dear life on your waist but the heels of your boots digging into his thighs was distracting and it was driving him insane.
Daniel was embarrassed by how close he was to his orgasm but you had done a number on him with your ridding and he had been holding back all weekend too. His eyes fell shut and he threw his head back, one of his hands dropping to your clit to try get you there with him but you were going too fast for him to keep his hand steady.
“Baby, fuck, slow down, i’m too close”
“‘t’s okay, Danny, let go, babe”
He groaned, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close again. You could hear every sigh that left his lips and feel his beard ticking your neck. Your hand lifted to his hair, fingers locking and pulling on it, he let out something that sounded almost like a growl and bit down on your shoulder to try stopping it. His cock twitched and his hold got tighter as he came inside you, dropping his head to your shoulder.
You stilled your hips as Daniel held you down on him, his lips now kissing the spot he previously bit. “Can I keep going?”
“Don’t think I can take that right now” he explained before pulling you off him and laying you down on the couch, next to him. His fingers made their way to your middle, sliding up and down against your folds and spreading his cum all over them. They easily slipped inside you, curling upwards immediately.
“More” you moaned.
“What do you want, baby?” he asked as he folded over your body.
“Your mouth. Please”
“Wanna ride my face?” he teased and you nodded, his fingers slipping out of you as he moved to sit on the floor.
Your boyfriend had his back against the bottom of couch and his head laid on the seat when he gestured for you to sit on him. You knelled with his head between your legs and lowered yourself onto his mouth. He could taste his own cum mixed with your wetness as he buried his tongue inside you. Daniel’s hands wrapped around your legs, the points on your boots resting on his shoulders as he ate you out feverishly and in no time had you squirming on top of him.
“So close, Danny, ‘m coming” you moaned, hands gripping at the backrest of the couch. He nodded at your comment, the bumping of his nose as he did making you reach your high and close your legs around his head tightly. “Fuck. So fucking perfect, love” you told him after kneeling up from his face.
He slipped away from between your legs and pulled you down to sit across his lap. “Thank you for waiting all weekend, that must’ve been really hard with how hot i looked.”
“Why do you have to ruin everything?” you laughed, cuddling up onto his hairy chest.
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bratzkoo · 10 days ago
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our three year plan pt. 2 | wonwoo
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Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut Rating: PG-15 to NC-17 Word count: 3k~ Warnings/note: wonwoo's pov that i wanted to write so treat this as chapter 1.2
summary: you think your life is ruined when your parents announced that you’re marrying the heir of a tech chaebol; jeon wonwoo. so you offered him a plan, pretend to be in love until you can fake a catastrophe to break the engagement.
jeon wonwoo thinks his life just got better when his parents announced that he’s marrying the heiress of the medical group. his long time crush and basically the woman of his dreams. so when you offered him your plan, he’s going to use it to make you fall in love with him
masterlist | prev. part | next part
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The first week of cohabitation passed in a strange dance of politeness and careful boundaries. Y/N and Wonwoo established routines that minimized awkward encounters—she took early morning showers, he preferred evenings; she often worked night shifts, he was typically gone before dawn for early meetings. When their paths did cross, conversation remained cordial but superficial.
Wonwoo cooked dinner most evenings he was home, leaving covered plates in the refrigerator with neatly written reheating instructions when their schedules didn't align. Y/N found herself oddly touched by this thoughtfulness, though she reminded herself not to read too much into it. This was, after all, a business arrangement.
On Friday morning, Y/N was enjoying a rare day off when her phone chimed with a message from Wonwoo:
My parents are expecting us for dinner tonight. 7 PM. I can pick you up at 6:30.
Reality crashed back. Of course their arrangement would include family obligations. She texted back a simple confirmation, then spent the next hour staring at her closet, suddenly aware that she had no idea what to wear to dinner with her fake future in-laws.
Another text from Wonwoo arrived as if he'd sensed her dilemma:
Casual elegant is fine. My mother appreciates understated sophistication. Don't worry too much—you'll impress them regardless.
Y/N wasn't sure if she should be grateful for the guidance or unnerved by his perception. She settled on a simple navy dress with subtle gold accessories—professional enough to show she took the dinner seriously, but not trying too hard.
At precisely 6:30, Wonwoo's Tesla pulled into the driveway. Y/N had expected him to honk or text, but instead, he came to the door, knocking politely as if he were picking her up for a real date rather than a performance for his parents.
When she opened the door, she was momentarily taken aback. Gone was the casual Wonwoo she'd grown accustomed to seeing around the house. In his place stood the corporate heir in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, his usually tousled hair styled neatly, his round glasses exchanged for contacts that somehow made his gaze more intense.
"You look nice," he said, his eyes briefly taking in her appearance with what seemed like genuine appreciation.
"So do you," she responded automatically, then caught herself. This wasn't a date; there was no need for compliments.
The drive to his parents' estate was mostly silent, but as they approached the imposing gates, Wonwoo cleared his throat.
"Before we go in, we should discuss how we met."
Y/N blinked. "We've known each other since childhood, haven't we? Through family connections?"
"Yes, but that doesn't explain how we fell in love," Wonwoo pointed out. "They'll want the story. My mother especially."
Love story. The words hung between them, a reminder of the lie they were about to perform.
"What do you suggest?" Y/N asked.
Wonwoo's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "The closest to the truth is usually the most convincing. We reconnected at the tech-medical conference last year. The one your father keynoted."
Y/N vaguely remembered the event—a three-day bore of corporate networking that her father had insisted she attend. "I don't recall seeing you there."
Something flickered across Wonwoo's face. "I was there. We even spoke briefly during the reception." At her blank look, he added, "You were more focused on the doctor from Johns Hopkins who was discussing rural healthcare initiatives."
The specificity of his recollection surprised her. "You remember that?"
"I notice things," he said simply. Then, returning to the matter at hand: "We could say we reconnected there, kept in touch, and realized there was something more than friendship."
It was as good a story as any, Y/N supposed. "Alright. The conference it is."
As they pulled up to the house, Wonwoo reached into his pocket and withdrew a small velvet box. "One more thing."
Y/N's heart skipped uncomfortably. "Is that—"
"An engagement ring," he confirmed, opening the box to reveal a stunning platinum band with a modest but flawless diamond. "My mother will expect it."
When Y/N hesitated, he added gently, "It was my grandmother's. It seemed better than something impersonal from a jeweler."
The sentiment behind the gesture caught Y/N off guard. Using a family heirloom for their fake engagement felt wrong somehow, more deceptive than she'd anticipated.
"Wonwoo, I can't wear your grandmother's ring for this."
"Why not?" His voice was soft, his expression difficult to read in the dim car interior.
"Because it means something to you. It's... too real."
Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, then said, "Maybe that's why it's perfect. The more authentic elements we include, the more convincing our story will be."
His logic was sound, yet Y/N couldn't shake her discomfort as he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her. The weight of it felt foreign, intimidating.
"Ready?" Wonwoo asked, his hand lingering over hers for a moment before he pulled away.
Y/N took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."
"So, Y/N," Mrs. Jeon said as they settled in the dining room, "Wonwoo tells us you reconnected at last year's innovation summit. How romantic."
Y/N glanced at Wonwoo, who gave her the smallest encouraging nod. "Yes, though I must admit I was quite focused on the presentations. Your son had to be quite persistent to get my attention."
Wonwoo's eyebrows rose slightly at her improvisation, but he recovered quickly. "Y/N was the only person there more interested in the actual innovations than the networking opportunities. It was... refreshing."
The warmth in his voice sounded so genuine that Y/N almost believed it herself.
"And now here we are," Mr. Jeon said, raising his wine glass. "To new beginnings and stronger alliances."
The business-like toast reminded Y/N of the true nature of their arrangement, grounding her. This wasn't about romance; it was about corporate synergy.
Dinner proceeded with surprisingly little interrogation. The elder Jeons seemed content to discuss business matters, occasionally drawing Wonwoo into the conversation but largely ignoring Y/N except for perfunctory questions about her family.
It wasn't until dessert was served that Mrs. Jeon turned her attention fully to Y/N. "Wonwoo mentioned you work as a nurse? How... unusual, given your background."
The slight pause conveyed volumes of judgment. Y/N felt Wonwoo tense beside her.
"I find direct patient care deeply fulfilling," Y/N replied evenly. "There's something irreplaceable about being on the front lines of healthcare."
"Surely there are more appropriate ways for someone of your position to contribute," Mrs. Jeon suggested, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Board work, perhaps, or fundraising."
Before Y/N could respond, Wonwoo cut in. "Y/N's practical experience makes her uniquely valuable. In fact, her insights have already helped shape some of our medical technology initiatives." He turned to her, his expression softening. "Her perspective is precisely why she's so important—to the company and to me."
The declaration, delivered with such conviction, momentarily stunned Y/N. It was a masterful performance, supportive yet plausible within their fabricated narrative.
"How sweet," Mrs. Jeon murmured, clearly unconvinced. "Still, once you're married, priorities naturally shift. Children, social obligations..."
"We're in no rush for children," Wonwoo stated firmly. "And Y/N's career is as important as mine. That's non-negotiable for both of us."
The tension around the table thickened. Mr. Jeon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should discuss the engagement announcement. We're thinking next month's charity gala would be an appropriate venue."
Y/N barely registered the rest of the conversation as Wonwoo and his parents discussed event details. Her mind was caught on Wonwoo's defense of her career—delivered with such natural conviction that even she had momentarily forgotten it was part of their act.
Later, as they drove home in silence, Y/N finally spoke. "Thank you. For what you said about my nursing."
Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, his profile illuminated by passing streetlights. "I meant it."
"You did?"
He nodded. "Just because our engagement is arranged doesn't mean I don't respect what you do. My grandfather was saved by a dedicated ER nurse once. I understand the value."
It was the most personal thing he'd shared with her, and Y/N wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Still, thank you. Your mother clearly had other ideas about a suitable daughter-in-law."
"My mother has many ideas," Wonwoo said with a slight smile. "Fortunately, this is our arrangement, not hers."
The "our" lingered between them, a reminder of their strange alliance. Y/N twisted the ring on her finger, still uncomfortable with its presence.
"I can get you a different ring if that one bothers you," Wonwoo said, noticing her gesture.
"No," Y/N said quickly, surprising herself. "It's beautiful. I just... I'm not used to it yet."
As they pulled into their driveway, Y/N realized this was true of more than just the ring. She wasn't used to any of this—the house, the pretense, the strange intimacy of sharing space with a man who was simultaneously a stranger and her supposed future husband.
"My mother will call you tomorrow," Wonwoo said as they entered the house. "She'll want to schedule lunch, probably with your mother too. To discuss wedding plans."
Y/N groaned. "Already? We just got engaged."
"In their minds, we've been together for months," he reminded her. "And big weddings take planning."
The reality of their situation hit Y/N anew. This wasn't just about living together and attending occasional family dinners. There would be an actual wedding—a ceremony, vows, everything.
"I need a drink," she muttered, heading for the kitchen.
To her surprise, Wonwoo followed, reaching into a cabinet she hadn't explored to produce a bottle of expensive scotch and two glasses. "I think we've earned this."
They settled at the kitchen island, the warm amber liquid burning pleasantly down Y/N's throat. "I'm starting to think three years isn't going to be as simple as I imagined."
Wonwoo swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Nothing worth doing ever is."
"Is that what this is? Worth doing?" Y/N challenged, emboldened by the scotch and the surreality of the evening.
"For me, yes," Wonwoo said simply, his eyes meeting hers with unexpected intensity. "Is it for you?"
The question hung between them, heavier than it should have been. Y/N broke eye contact first. "It's necessary. That's enough."
Wonwoo nodded slowly, accepting her answer without pressing further. They sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks, until Y/N's curiosity got the better of her.
"Why did you agree so easily? To my plan?"
Wonwoo considered his glass for a long moment before answering. "Let's just say it aligns with my own interests."
"Which are?"
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Three years is a long time, Y/N. You'll figure it out."
There was something in his tone—a certainty, almost a challenge—that sent an odd shiver down Y/N's spine. Before she could pursue the matter, her phone chimed with a text from Seungcheol:
Emergency at the hospital. All hands on deck. Multi-car pileup on the highway.
Y/N was on her feet immediately. "I have to go. There's a major trauma situation."
Wonwoo stood as well, concern evident in his expression. "Do you want me to drive you?"
"No time. I'll call a taxi." She was already heading for the stairs to change into scrubs.
"I can be ready in two minutes," Wonwoo called after her.
Y/N paused, surprised by the offer. "You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to." Something in his voice made her turn back to look at him. "But I want to. Partners help each other, fake or not."
The sincerity in his expression gave Y/N pause. Maybe there was more to Jeon Wonwoo than she'd initially assumed. "Okay. Two minutes."
As promised, Wonwoo was ready and waiting when she rushed back downstairs in her scrubs. They drove to the hospital in focused silence, Wonwoo navigating Seoul's late-night traffic with calm efficiency.
When they reached the emergency entrance, Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, then hesitated. "Thank you."
"Text me when you're done," Wonwoo said. "I'll come get you, no matter what time."
It was such a simple offer, yet somehow deeply touching. "You don't need to wait up. I can—"
"I'll come get you," he repeated firmly. "Be safe."
Y/N nodded, strangely affected by his concern. As she rushed toward the ER doors, she caught sight of Seungcheol waiting for her, his expression changing from relief to confusion as he noticed the Tesla pulling away.
"Was that Jeon Wonwoo?" he asked as she approached.
"He gave me a ride," Y/N explained, already focusing on the chaos of the emergency department ahead. "What's the situation?"
Seungcheol studied her for a moment longer before switching to professional mode. "Five critical, twelve moderate injuries. Two ORs running simultaneously. We're assigned to Trauma Bay 3."
Y/N pushed all thoughts of Wonwoo and their complicated arrangement from her mind as she entered the familiar controlled chaos of the emergency room. Here, at least, she knew exactly who she was and what she was meant to do.
Yet even as she worked alongside Seungcheol with their usual seamless coordination, a small part of her remained aware of the unfamiliar weight on her left hand—the grandmother's ring that she hadn't thought to remove before rushing out.
Seven hours later, exhausted but satisfied after a successful mass casualty response, Y/N stumbled out of the hospital into the pale light of early morning. She had texted Wonwoo that she was taking the subway home, not expecting him to actually come at 5 AM after a single text.
Yet there he was, leaning against his car in the parking lot, two cups of coffee in hand.
"I said I'd come get you," he said simply, offering her one of the cups. "No matter what time."
Y/N accepted the coffee, too tired to argue and secretly grateful not to face the subway. As she slid into the passenger seat, the events of the previous night—the dinner, the ring, their conversation—seemed dreamlike compared to the visceral reality of her hospital shift.
"How was it?" Wonwoo asked as they pulled away from the hospital.
"We saved everyone," Y/N said, sipping the coffee—prepared exactly as she liked it, she noted. "One patient was touch and go for a while, but pulled through."
Wonwoo glanced at her, genuine admiration in his expression. "What you do... it matters. Real, immediate impact. That's rare."
The simple acknowledgment of her work's value touched Y/N more than she expected. Her parents had never understood her choice to practice nursing rather than pursue administration or medicine. To have Wonwoo, essentially a stranger, recognize it so easily was unexpectedly validating.
They rode in comfortable silence, Y/N fighting to keep her eyes open as exhaustion caught up with her. By the time they reached the house, she was half-asleep, roused only by the gentle stop of the car.
"Come on," Wonwoo said softly. "You need rest."
He walked beside her to the door, close enough to catch her if she stumbled but not touching her. The consideration in the gesture wasn't lost on Y/N, even in her fatigue.
Inside, she headed straight for the stairs, pausing at the bottom to look back at him. "Thank you. For the ride. And the coffee."
Wonwoo nodded. "Get some sleep. I'll be quiet when I leave for work."
Y/N started up the stairs, then turned back again, a question that had been nagging at her finally surfacing. "Wonwoo? At the conference last year... why do you remember me focusing on that rural healthcare presentation? We barely spoke."
A shadow of something—vulnerability?—crossed his face before he composed it into his usual calm expression. "Like I said, I notice things. Especially things that matter."
Before she could process his answer, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with the distinct feeling that there was much more to Jeon Wonwoo than their arrangement had led her to believe.
In her room, she removed the engagement ring, studying it in the morning light. Beautiful, valuable, with history and meaning—yet ultimately a prop in their elaborate performance. As she placed it carefully on her nightstand, Y/N wondered if she was making a terrible mistake.
Three years was indeed a long time to pretend. What if the lines between pretense and reality began to blur? What if this arrangement cost her more than just her freedom?
What if Jeon Wonwoo had ulterior motives she couldn't begin to fathom?
These questions followed her into sleep, where she dreamed of warm eyes behind round glasses and a voice that said, "I notice things. Especially things that matter."
Especially you, the dream voice added, though the real Wonwoo had said no such thing.
Across the hall, in his own room, Wonwoo sat at his desk, adding another entry to his journal:
Day 8 of Our Three Year Plan.
She still doesn't remember me from the conference, but that's alright. I remember enough for both of us. The way she challenged the speaker about resource allocation. The passion in her voice when discussing patient dignity. The fact that she was the only person in a room full of executives who cared more about outcomes than optics.
She wore my grandmother's ring today. It looked right on her hand, just as I knew it would.
Three years is a long time, but I've waited longer than that already. I can be patient for what matters.
And she matters. She always has.
He closed the journal, unaware that across the hall, Y/N was dreaming of him, the first cracks already forming in the wall she'd built between their arrangement and her heart.
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apollabarnes · 2 months ago
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part one
tommy probably needs therapy.
he's known this since he was discharged from active duty and assigned to train new pilots. there's a joke that goes around el segundo about how if everyone went to therapy, they'd have to change the rules — a strike, but for pilots' mental health. it's more acceptable to make a joke about how a near-miss might actually take the next time than it is to say you're having a rough go of it.
tommy's gone to a lot of exercise classes that promote mindfulness. (hot yoga was actually how he'd met victor.) he's done book clubs that only read self help books. he's popped into basically every support group that meets within driving distance.
it's basically all crap. there are a few things that tommy has found helpful, but he can get up, go to work, go out with friends, have relationships — he's pretty functional by all definitions of the term.
then he and evan break up.
there's a text he never sends to hen asking why she laughed at him instead of warning him that buck's speed was apparently hypersonic. his heart feels like it's been shredded by an x-15's engine. the rest of him feels like he's stuck hovering in the vomit comet, weightless and wondering if this is the time he loses his lunch on the way back to the ground.
it's not a great feeling.
he's gone to the mandated first responder therapy sessions after bad calls before, knows the lingo and how to fly under the radar when it comes to the therapist deciding whether or not he "needs help". he doesn't need the tips for breathing and centring yourself, or to ask for help, or to reconsider the building blocks of his coping mechanisms. tommy is cool, collected, unflappable.
ah. well. that explained why evan thought that.
going to a therapist, even without seeking a diagnosis, means that he'll probably get questions about it at his next recertification. might get grounded. flying is the one place tommy knows that he's useful. no one is as good as he is. it's not even an exaggeration to make himself feel better.
he's grabbing lunch at the local deli when he sees a flyer for an al-anon family group.
…huh. family implies that it's not him that has a problem if he runs into anyone he knows at the meeting, and the whole anonymous part of it means that anyone who wants to bring that up would also have to disclose that they were also going to those meetings. it's a gentler, kinder mutually assured destruction than he's used to.
he goes.
by the time he leaves the first meeting he's got a few more things to think about.
tommy's still not interested in actually talking about it, so he bounces between meetings every time he thinks someone is going to ask him if he wants to talk.
four months after he starts going to meetings, tommy finally talks. it's mostly about the fact that he thinks his father fucked the family up so bad he doesn't know how to have a normal relationship. it's amazing how many people feel the same way. he gets some good advice about ways to pull himself out of that mindset.
two weeks after that, he's bouncing between meetings again and when he walks into the room he sees athena grant on the other side of it. yeah, he definitely isn't going to be doing that. tommy takes a step back and disappears down the hallway, hoping that she wasn't paying attention to the people walking in. he's nearly back to his truck before he hears her voice.
"hey." it's only decades of pretending that doesn't have tommy hunching up and protecting himself — he doesn't think that athena would take him out at the ankles, but he's spent months successfully distancing himself from everyone except howie and it's just. a lot.
"first time?" she asks gently.
"here." and he's never coming back, if this is the one that athena goes to. there's the uncomfortable temptation to ask who she's here about, but he stamps out the urge. it's none of his business, it's anonymous, he should let her get back to it and try again another day.
"let's get a coffee."
part two // part three
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yoonguurt · 1 year ago
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Summary: A failed relationship and an ailing mother forces Y/N to move back to her hometown, despite not wanting to.  She knows in her heart that everything will be the same as the day she left. Nothing ever changes in a small town. Except when it does. A new neighbor, a new hardware store, and two new additions to the town bring the holiday magic into Y/N’s life. The question is, will the magic stay or will the ghost of Christmas past ruin everything?
Pairing: non idol!San × reader
Genre: fluff, angst, smut
Trope: strangers to lovers
Word count: 15,207 (yikes)
Warnings: mentions of death of a parent, mentions of cheating (not San or reader), mentions of depression and antidepressants, reader's mother is in poor health. Smut warnings under the cut.
A/n: this is the longest fic I have ever written and I genuinely had fun writing it. I'm so proud of this. Thank you to @kwanisms for making the banner as always
@anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @millennial-fangirl @kpop-stories-21 @twisted-tales-of-all @skyechild @staytinyville
Smut warnings: Switch!San, switch!reader, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, marking, protected sex, they just soft for each other.
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You step off of the bus, leaves crunching under you feet as you look around, noticing that the town looks pretty much the same as the day you left. Some of the buildings are more run down than they used to be, the roads are a little less maintained, but it’s nothing major.
You sigh and readjust the bag on your shoulder, tightening your grip on the suitcase beside you. Your thoughts drift, reminding yourself to call the moving company to confirm the arrival date of the rest of your things. Your thoughts shift to Joshua and you hear bits of your final conversation, before blinking away the tears starting to form and take your first step.
You had sold your car, knowing you wouldn’t need it in such a small place, your mother can no longer drive so you can use her car if needed. You look at your watch, not having a cell phone since not only was it on Joshua’s plan, but you didn’t want an easy way for him to contact you.
You start walking along the sidewalk, keeping your head down and lost in your thoughts. Your childhood home isn’t that far from the main square and you still know the way like the back of your hand.
A few people stop you and make small talk, surprised that you’re back in town and seeming to be staying for a while. You try to be polite, though avoidant when they ask questions, only telling them that your mother needed you here so you came. Your patience is being tested, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. God, you really don’t want to be here.
After finally getting away from the nosey town people, thinking that no one in this town has anything better to do than worry about other people’s business, you smile as you pass the local diner. You know you’ll be the talk of the town for a while, but the memories of all the time spent in that dingy diner drift through your mind.
Your first date, your first job (well sort of), your last hangout before leaving town. You remind yourself that you really need to stop by and talk to Lou as soon as possible. Out of everyone here, you’ve missed him the most and you know he’ll be happy to see you.
You make it to your mother’s neighborhood, looking around to see what, if anything has changed. Everything looks mostly the same, your mother’s house is in desperate need of paint and good lawn care, though. You notice the house to the right of her mother’s has changed.
There is a swing set in the yard, a small inflatable pool and a tricycle scattered throughout. You guess that the older lady that lived there must have moved. Of course she would have, it has been 12 years since you left. That lady may not even be alive anymore, that thought bringing a ping of hurt to your heart. She was always such a wonderful lady. You shake the sad thought away before stepping up to the front door and pulling your key out and unlocking the door.
You call out to your mother, letting her know that you made it. You hear your mother’s voice sounding out from the kitchen. You kick your shoes off beside the door and walk down the short hall, making a right into the kitchen to see your mother standing at the island in the center of the room, a smile on her face. You greet your mother with a hug and accepts the mug of coffee she hands you.
You look around as the two of you talk about your trip, noticing that there are many repairs that need to be made. Cabinets need to be painted and finished, the counters need to be fixed, and the wallpaper is peeling. You briefly wonder what else needs to be fixed.
You think you noticed the railing along the stairs was tilted. You sigh again, knowing that there’s no way you can leave these things the way they are. You know these things are bothering you, but in her current state you also know that she can’t fix them herself.
Your mother’s questioning about Joshua brings you out of your thoughts, and you force a small smile. “ He’s fine, mom.” You know that your mother can tell that there is something you aren’t saying, but decides not to push the issue right now.
After finishing your coffee, you excuse yourself, telling your mother that you are going to unpack your things and you make your way back down the hallway, making another right to go up the stairs.
As you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, taking a look around the upstairs of the house. Your childhood bedroom is to the left of the stairs There is a door to the right before you get to your room, your mother’s old sewing room. You remember sitting on the bean bag chair on the floor of the room reading while your mother sewed.
The next door on the left is the bathroom, you think about how many days you spent hours in there, trying to make sure you looked your best for school. Your bedroom door is the last door on the right, the room across the hall is an old storage room that you’re sure has many of your childhood toys. Your mother has always been a sentimental hoarder.
Before entering your room, you turn and take a long back down the hallway. There aren’t as many rooms down the right side of the hall. Your parent’s room is the only door on the left, the master bedroom with their own bathroom and there’s a small alcove with a bay window on the right.
Your eyes pause on the door at the end of the hall, your father’s study. You stare at the door for a moment before turning back to face your door. With one more sigh, you open your door, throwing one last look at the door at the end of the hall, and head into your room, closing the door softly behind you.
You let your eyes drift around the room. The desk that you used for homework is set up against the back wall and you quickly take your laptop from your bag, setting it on the desk and plugging the charger into the wall.
You had found a job as a remote legal assistant, mostly fielding emails to the correct parties, getting video calls of meetings that you needed to type the minutes for. You were very thankful that your former boss had put you in contact with someone that had the position available. Without being able to stop them, your thoughts drift to your old life.
You had left your hometown not long after graduating, knowing that the small town life wasn’t for you. You had quickly found a job as a receptionist for a law firm, and you were damn good at your job. And you loved your job. You regret that you didn’t visit more, really only making the two hour drive back home for the holidays. You had still talked to your mother every day, but you knew that she would have loved to see you more.
After being with the firm for a year, a new partner was welcomed into the work family. Joshua had immediately caught your attention. Not only was he gorgeous, but he was soft spoken and polite. A true gentleman. He had a wonderful sense of humor. He was just amazing.
For two years, your life had been everything you had wanted. Until the death of your father. His death hit you hard. You essentially shut down for a while, you can admit to that. You know that Joshua tried to bring you out of your grief, but you hadn’t let him in.
Though you could realize that those things happened, that didn’t excuse Joshua’s actions. It didn’t excuse you walking into Joshua’s office on day to find him fucking his assistant. No, there was no excuse for that. You had come to tell him that you would need to come back home for a while, your mother wasn’t doing well and you needed to get her settled. Now, your visit has become a permanent residence.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts and focus your attention back on your room.
Your bookcase sits left of the door, mostly empty. Your face falls into frown. You didn’t read much when you were a teen, too busy with parties and friends. You had picked up on the hobby after you had moved. The thought that the bookcase would be full once the rest of your things arrive lifted your spirits a bit.
Reading had become one of your most treasured hobbies. When you had a bad day, you could lose yourself in a fictional world. The thought that you didn’t know if you could take away the worries and doubts you have currently makes your heart sink a little bit, but you swallow the sadness down, determined not to let yourself breakdown again. You had done her crying the night she left and you promised yourself that that was the last time you would cry over Joshua.
You look around your room again, smiling at how it looks exactly like you left it. Your queen size bed still has the zebra print bedspread you had gotten when you were 16 and you cringe a little. “The first thing I’m buying is a new bedspread and sheets.” Your voice is a whisper despite being the only one in the room.
Your slight grimace fades into a smile when you see the handmade quilt your aunt had given you as a Christmas present folded and placed at the foot of your bed. You take a step forward and rub your fingers along the fabric, her eyes watering a little at the memory of your aunt giving it to her. You really need to call her and see how she’s doing. You huff a small laugh, remembering that even in this day and age, both your mother and aunt still have wall phones, thinking that they really are sisters.
After taking a shower and changing into a tank top and sweats, you make your way back downstairs to check on your mother and help her make dinner. You pop your head into the kitchen, clearing your throat to let your mother aware of your presence. “Need any help?” Your mom smiles and nods. “I would love some.”
The two of you make small talk as you bumble around the kitchen, cutting vegetables and preparing everything your need. You turn to face your mother, only to notice that she is winding, but trying to hide it. “Mom, sit down. I can handle the rest of this.” She opens her mouth to argue, but you throw a stern glare at her and she sighs and sits at the table, a slight pout on her face. What an adorable woman.
The food is ready in no time, and you make a plate for each of you.
“Wanna eat in the living room? Maybe we can watch The Thornbirds?” Your mother quickly agrees, glad to be spending time with you and watching something you both love.
You eat quietly, paying attention to the movie like you haven’t seen it a million times. When you’ve finished your food, you set your plate on the coffee table, fully intending to wash it once the movie is over. It hits you just how much you have missed spending time with your mom like this. You pull your feet onto the couch and throw a blanket over yourself as you lay your head in your mother’s lap, simply enjoying how much better it makes you feel.
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“Y/N. Wake up, sweet girl,” your mother’s voice wakes you up.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep but you guess that the comfort of snuggle up to your mother must have lulled you into slumber. You stand slowly, stretching with a grunt. Your mom stands as well, much more slowly than you had.
“Mom, is it your feet?”
She nods and tells you that it’s fine, but you make sure to help her up. You wrap your arm around hers, helping her up the stairs. “I can do this on my own, you know?” Her voice has a bit of her trademark attitude and you have to bite back a laugh. “I’m sure you can, but you’re not.” That makes her fake angry front break and she giggles.
Once you make it to your mother’s door, you let go of her arm. “I’m glad to have you home. I love you,” she ends with a kiss to your forehead and you tell her that you love her too before turning to return to your bedroom. You hope that your bed is as comfortable as it used to be as you climb in, getting comfortable. Sleep comes quickly, though your dreams are filled with arguments and tears.
You wake up later than you had planned the next day, though you don’t feel guilty about it. Your new job doesn’t start until next month so you don't necessarily have to be up early.
You hear your mother moving around downstairs and you make a stop by the bathroom to potty and brush your teeth before heading downstairs. You can’t help but stop at the top of the stairs, your eyes stopping on the door at the end of the hall. The thought of walking into the study crosses your mind, but you quickly dismiss it, knowing that you aren’t ready for that.
You peek in each room looking for your mother, eventually finding her on the back porch, a cup of coffee in her hand as she sits on the porch swing. She flashes you a smile and wishes you a good morning. “Though it’s almost afternoon. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,” she laughs at her own little joke.
“Morning Ma,” you greet her. “I’m so glad you made coffee. I’m not used to that bed anymore so I tossed and turned all night.” She hums in acknowledgement and you turn, moving forward to the kitchen to get your coffee.
While in the kitchen, your attention is brought back to the state of disarray of your mother’s home. You make the decision that today you'll go into the main square and get yourself a new bedspread and some basic necessities. Tomorrow you can go to the hardware store and look into what you’ll need to fix the kitchen up.
You make your coffee, and return to the porch and talk to your mother about your plans for the day, asking if her mother needs anything.
“All I can think of is that my medicine should be ready at the pharmacy. Do you mind picking it up for me?”
You agree and the conversation turns to what happened to the older lady that lived next door. “Oh. Her son had to put her in a home after she fell. I heard she passed after about a year.” Although this was what you expected, knowing that this is what happened still hurts.
“There have been a few people in and out of the house since then. Right now, there’s a young man around your age and his son. I don’t know much about him, but he seems like a nice boy.” Maybe more changed around here than you thought.
You take your time enjoying your coffee and chatting with your mom, getting a shower afterwards and getting ready to run your errands. The hot water feels amazing on your skin and once again you take your time. You’re used to being in a rush when you get ready and it’s nice to just be.
Looking through your clothes, you choose a pair of black skinny jeans and a band tee. You complete the outfit with your black combat boots, the ones that have little metal hearts on the side. A lot of things have changed since you left town, but you still sure hasn’t.
When you decide that you’re ready go, you stop by the back porch to tell you mother that you’re heading out and telling her that you’ll see her later.
The late fall air feels crisp and you take a deep breath, simply enjoying it. The fresh air is definitely something you’ve missed about being home. The city is great in many ways, but the air quality certainly isn’t one of them. It’s also nice to step outside and not hear sirens and horns everywhere immediately.
There’s something peaceful about being able to feel the breeze and just walking in silence.
As you step off the front porch, you find yourself walking to your mother’s car out of habit. You had already decided to walk, though you have second thoughts when you remember that you’ll be carrying a bed set home.
You stand firm in your decision to walk, thinking that the walk could be the replacement for a gym trip that you totally would have gone on in the city. (That’s a lie. You hate the gym, but it sounds better in your head.)
As the slight breeze hits your back, you think about grabbing a jacket. If your back gets cold, you’re fucked, but you take the risk instead of trudging back inside. Plus, you remind yourself, the weather here is finicky and it could suddenly warm up and you could be sweating.
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As you walk to the square, you feel as if you’re repeating the day before. Multiple people stop you, they obviously haven’t heard the gossip from the people that stopped you yesterday. Or they just want to see if they can get something else out of you, which is entirely possible.
As you make it to the center of town, the sidewalk traffic slows down and you breathe out a sigh of relief. You notice that the hardware store has barely changed, only the name is new. You glance through the window, the inside still looks exactly the same. There’s a little boy grinning and talking to anyone he see. The boy is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His little afro bouncing a little as he runs around.
Smiling softly at the image in front of you, you turn your head back to the sidewalk as you press on. Just past the hardware store is the pharmacy. It looks as if it hasn’t changed a bit and you are certain that an older version of the pharmacist sits inside behind the counter. You make a mental note, reminding yourself to stop and get your mom’s medication on your way back home. The thought of carrying medication around the home goods store makes you uncomfortable, so you feel resolute in your choice.
You lower your head as you pass the diner, not ready to be stopped yet. You still need to stop in and see Lou, but you think that you’ll do that tomorrow. The home goods store is a couple buildings down from the diner. It still baffles you that this town has such a large store, though it wouldn’t be considered large by most people’s standards, and you’re kind of shocked it has lasted as long as it has.
The bell dings as you open the door and you cringe slightly, hoping no one notices that it’s you who walked through the door. You walk down the main aisle, looking at the signs on the edges of side aisles trying to find the bedding aisle. Honestly, you don’t have high hopes about the selection they’ll have, but you guess anything is better than the zebra print monstrosity that is on your bed currently. You finally find the bedding aisle and you are pleasantly surprised to see both sides of the aisle are full of options. You look over the choices in front of you, realizing that you were correct. Most of the options are different brands of the same plain sets. When you resign yourself to having to get a plain white set, you find something that perfectly suits your taste. It’s black in color and has a large sun with smaller stars and moons floating around randomly on the rest of the comforter. You discretely jump in happiness when you see that they have one queen sized set left and you quickly snatch it up and make your way to the register, remembering half way there to grab some new body wash and basic necessities. Luckily, the store is fairly empty and you don’t recognize the young girl at the counter, so you feel relief at someone probably not knowing you. You’re very glad to know that your assumption was correct, the girl barely pays attention to you and you’re able to quickly pay and leave.
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As you carry the bedding, you groan internally, annoyed at yourself for not stopping at the pharmacy before you went to the home goods store. The bedding is slipping from your hand and the angle is awkward. This is not one of your best decisions.
'Mistakes have been made. '
Readjusting you grip on the bedding, you pick up you pace, doing your best to make it to the pharmacy as quickly as possible. As you turn towards the door of the pharmacy, you let out a groan when you realize that you going to have a time getting this open with your hands full.
Resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to put the bedding down to open the door, you’re surprised when a hand and a soft “Let me,” comes from your right. You turn your head and you have to hold in your gasp gasp.
An absolutely beautiful man is smiling a bright smile, briefly reminding you of the boy you saw earlier through the window of the hardware store. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead and you have the thought that you want to run your hands through it.
His shoulders are broad, but his waist is tiny. He’s gorgeous.
He pulls the door open, gesturing with left hand in an “after you” motion. You smile, slightly shyly which is very unlike you, and thank him. He holds the door open for you before he steps inside him self. “You’re welcome,” he replies. “Just couldn’t stand to see a pretty lady struggling,” he adds, giving you a smile and a nod, turning while you continue straight toward the counter.
A friendly older man smiles as he asks you what he can help you with. You were right when you guessed it was the same man that worked here before you left. People tend to stick to the same thing forever in small towns.
You give him your mother’s name and tell him that you are her daughter and are here to pick up her medication. He gives you a nod and steps away to locate the medication. You quickly set the bedding down, giving your arm a stretch so it doesn’t get stiff.
The pharmacist comes back with the medication for your mother and gives you the total of the purchase. You pays pausing to ask him a few questions about the medication before you grab your things and head toward the door. You notice the man from earlier standing in front of the vitamins, looking a little confused.
You step forward, voice not too loud to scare the man. “You need any help there?” He startles a little and you chuckle a little and apologize, telling him that he just looked like he was confused. He laughs shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I-uh, came to get my son’s vitamins, but they’re out of the ones I usually buy. I’m trying to find a suitable substitute.”
You give him a firm nod turning to look at the options. You asks him what kind he normally gets and he tells you the brand. You scan the shelf, unaware of the eyes on the side of your face, before making a small “aha” and setting your bedding down again and reaching out to grab a bottle.
“These are just as beneficial as the ones you normally get, but they’re cheaper. Plus, they’re gummies so he’ll probably like them more,” you explain as you hand him the bottle. He smiles widely at you and you can feel your breath catching again as he thanks you.
“No need for thanks. Just returning the favor.” He gives you another big smile and follows you to the door, opening it again so you can step outside. You thank him and tell him to have a good day as he turns back around to pay.
The rest of your trip home is without incident, much to your relief. You walk through your mother’s door and call out. “Mom! I’m back!” You take your things upstairs to drop your things off in your room. You go back downstairs to find your mother. She asks about you day and you decide to bring up her medication as you hand it to her.
“Momma, why didn’t you tell me things were so bad. Mr. Jones told me a bit about these medications. Antidepressants, medicine for chronic sinus issues and face pain, and pain medication for your feet.” You watch her face as she processes what you’ve said, not pushing her to answer you immediately. You want her to be able to take her time.
After a moment or two, she speaks. “I’ve been handling things the best I could. You had your own life and I didn’t want to worry you more than necessary.” Your eyes begin to water and you hug her, apologizing for not being around more.
“Oh dear, I’m not upset with you for growing up and going on your own path. But I sure am glad to have you home.” The two of you stand in each others arms for a bit longer.
You think it’s finally time to break the news to her mother that you and Joshua are no longer together and the reasoning behind your breakup.” Mom, Josh and I aren’t together anymore. I found him with another woman a week or so before I came back.”
She tilts her head and pulls you back into her arms, asking if you’re ok. You softly tell her mother that you’re ok, still hurt, but ok. You mother suggests that the two of you cook together and watch another movie and you smile and agree.
After eating and watching the movie, you had decided to watch Ma and Pa Kettle, an old favorite of yours, you help your mother to bed and change your bedding. You take a look at what feels like a brand new bed, beyond pleased to have the god awful zebra atrocity gone from sight.
You check your email before bed, noticing an email from Joshua. You delete it without even reading it, not even thinking twice about it. You order yourself a new phone, already tired of not having one and climb into bed.
You wake up earlier than you did the day before and go through the routine of brushing your teeth, showering, and having breakfast and coffee with you mom. You definitely picked up your coffee addiction from her.
“Just a reminder that I’m going to the hardware store today. Gotta get started on fixing this kitchen.” She nods telling you to take the car today, and you agree with a laugh, telling her that you had already planned on it. “Are you dead set on these white cabinets?” Your mom smiles softly.
“The kitchen is your project, my baby. You do whatever you want with it. The house will be yours eventually, might as well have it the way you like it.” You smile despite the painful thought that one day your mother won’t be here. “Besides, you did always talk about designing the perfect kitchen.”
You give her a wide smile, glad she remembers how much you always talked about designing the kitchen in your future home. You tells her that you will see her later as you grab the keys to the car and steps outside.
You hear laughter from the lawn of the house next door and turn to see a little boy running to the car in the driveway, and a man hunched down chasing him, wiggling his fingers like he’s going to tickle the boy. The sight warms your heart and you briefly think that they look familiar. You smile to yourself and makes your way to the car.
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You park the car in the small lot in front of the hardware store, sitting for a moment before getting out and stepping to the door of the building. Pulling on the handle, you find that the door won’t open. You check the hours on the front of the glass, it says that the store should be open by now. You heave a sigh, something that has become quite common lately, and turn to head back to the car.
“Are you trying to get into the hardware store?” A voice comes from behind you. You turn to find the man from the pharmacy the day before, a set of keys in one hand and the hand of a small boy in the other. You give him a smile and nod, waving at the boy. You bend down a little.
“Well, hello there.” The boy smiles and waves back. “I’m so sorry. Normally, I’d have opened up by now, but a certain little boy didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” As he finishes his sentence, his eyes flicker down to the boy, who is still wearing his bright smile.
You laugh and tells him that you understand and there are still some days where you don’t want to get out of bed. The man laughs his beautiful laugh again and opens the door, making the same motion with his hand as he did the day before.
Once you get into the store, the man snaps and makes an oh sound. You jump a little and look at him with a confused look. “This is the second time we’ve met and I still haven’t introduced myself. I’m San and this is my store.” He’s wearing a small smirk as he speaks.
You give him your name back, trying not to let your tummy flutter when he says that it is a pretty name. You squat down to the boy, making sure you’re face to face. “And what is your name, cutie?”
He gives you a big smile. “I’m Mason Choi and I’m four.” He holds up four fingers as he speaks. “My address is--”
“Ok, buddy, you don’t have to tell her all of that,” San interrupts with a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. You stand back up to full height, asking San where you can find the paint, and he points you in the right direction before you both go your separate ways.
You browse the paint aisle, taking your time looking through the colors. You aren’t sure you’ll be able to pick one for certain, but you know she’ll be taking home some swatches. You spend a few minutes thinking about the overall theme you want for the kitchen, trying to think about what would go best with what you have in mind. you gets a memory of what she wanted to do as a child, softly smiling at where your thoughts have drifted.
“You must really like that color.”
A voice comes from you left, a laugh following. You turn to find San there, giving you a smirk. You laugh softly and tell him that you were just thinking about a childhood memory. “When I was little, I wanted to design my mom’s kitchen. When she asked me what I wanted to do with it, I had a solid plan. Bubblegum colored walls, with white paint dripping down and splats of bright colors randomly placed around. I wanted the walls to look like ice cream.”
He gives a big laugh and you feel your insides churn again, internally cursing yourself. “What even brought that to mind?”
You tell him that you’re here to pick out paint, but you needed to think of a theme first.. He nods his head as if telling her to continue. You tell him that you current pet project is to redo the kitchen and that it’s in desperate need of a remodel.
“Do you plan to paint first?” His question isn’t judging, merely asking as if he’s trying to help. You think for a moment before shaking your head. “I should probably replace the cabinets and counters first, a slight blush coming to the surface of your cheeks.
You should have thought of that. And why are you blushing? You don’t blush. What is going on?
“In that case, you’re probably going to want to look into what kind of style you want the cabinets you want. There’s many different styles. Same goes for the counters. So many different patterns for counter tops.”
He pauses for a moment, allowing you nod to let him know that you are paying attention. Honestly, you don’t think you could pull your attention away from him.
“Now, I don’t have pre built cabinets here, but I’m sure I could track down a catalog somewhere that you can look through.” You give him a shake of your head, telling him that he doesn’t have to go through that much trouble, you could just do a search online. He gives you a sideways smile, telling you that he’s going to do it anyway. The smile is so fucking adorable that it has you smiling with him.
“So, are you going to be doing this yourself or is your dad or boyfriend helping?” The mention of both your dad and a boyfriend makes your smile fall and your body stiffen a little.
“No, it’ll just be me.” He gives you a shallow nod, his smile falling slightly too. He quickly recovers, though, keeping his cheerful mood. “If you need any help, please just ask. I don’t mind helping at all.” You smile and tell him that you will definitely keep that in mind.
Mason runs up to San, telling him that someone has come into the store asking for him. San bends down and thanks his son with a kiss on the cheek and stands to take his hand. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.” You tell that you will and he gives you a wink as he heads to the front of the store.
You look at paint swatches for a while longer, lost in thought. Your stomach eventually begins to rumble and you make the decision to finally brave the diner. You make you way back to the door, throwing San and Mason a smile and a wave before leaving.
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You walk to the diner, stopping to take a deep breath before making you way in front of the windows and to the door.
Pulling the door open, you’re hit with the smell of greasy burgers and fries and you sigh, suddenly overcome with a homey feeling. The diner holds many memories, both good and bad, and you figure it’s time to face them head on.
You slide into the booth in the back, it was always your favorite. You glances down, seeing the menu on the table, knowing that you don’t even have to look at it to know what you want.
A middle aged woman comes up to you and asks if you’re ready and you nod. You go with your favorite, a bacon cheese burger with extra pickles and a tea. Lou makes the best burgers. Before the waitress can leave, you ask her to tell Lou that it’s Y/N. The lady gives you a confused look before nodding and walking off to the kitchen.
You can hear the waitress yell Lou’s name before her voice lowers. You smirk slightly, counting down in you head. Only a second later, a tall man with a big belly comes barreling out of the kitchen area, throwing his apron on the counter.
You stand up from the booth, waiting beside it as the man makes his way to you. Lou greets you with a hug, telling you that he’s missed his best waitress. You laugh at his antics.
“Lou, I never actually worked for you.”
He brushes you off with a wave of his hand and asks how you’ve been. You tell him that you’ve been better, but you’ve also been worse. He gives you a sigh and a nod.
“You’ve always been so quiet about how you actually feel. Come on and tell Big Lou what’s going on.” You sit down, motioning for him to sit across from you. He holds his finger up in a hold on signal and walks back to the kitchen. You smile as he walks away, thinking back on your time knowing the gentle giant.
Lou has owned the diner for as long as you can remember, though you knows that it can’t be as long as it feels since the man is in his late 40s. He’s a man that looks gruff and unfriendly, but once you really get to know him, he’s a great person to have in your life.
Lou has always been your group of friends’ confidant in a sense, always listening, never talking unless asked. With you in particular, he always dragged what was wrong out of you. When you first boyfriend broke up with you, you went to the diner, obviously upset but refusing to talk about it. Lou told you that if you were going to sit and mope, could you at least take an order to a customer since he was short staffed.
You remember that you had looked at him like he was a crazy man and he just gave you a toothy grin. That had made you smile as well and you grabbed the plate and took it to the customer. That had started the tradition of you coming to the diner when you were sad and Lou giving you things to do to take your mind off of it. He always paid you out of the money out of the register, even though you told him that he didn’t have to. You always ended up telling him what was wrong and he always gave the best advice. It was an unusual friendship, but one you greatly treasured.
You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Lou sliding into the booth, your burger on a plate in one hand and a plate full of cheese fries in the other. “Lou, I didn’t order cheese fries,” your voice is teasing. He just tells you to hush and eat you food. You laugh a big laugh and start to dig in.
“Alright Peanut, spill the beans.”
You take a breath and repeat the story of your relationship with Joshua. You vent about your mother’s health and how you’re worried about her. You talk about the kitchen remodel. For the first time since your father’s death, you talk about it and how you handled it when it happened and how you’re handling it now. You mention your thoughts of going into his study, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it.
By the time you’ve finished spilling your guts to Lou, you’ve finished your burger and are starting to work on the fries. You flick your eyes up to Lou’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to the spew of information you’ve given him. His eyebrows are furrowed, obviously deep in thought. You stare at him for a moment, waiting patiently. He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. He looks at you with a serious expression before opening his mouth.
“So, you looking for a job?”
The question makes you burst out laughing, the first whole hearted laugh you’ve had since finding out Joshua was cheating on you, probably since you lost your father. You laugh until your stomach hurts and you have tears gathering in her eyes. Lou reaches across the table to pat you on the hand.
“You’re a strong woman and you’re gonna get through all of this and come out stronger on the other side. Now, what is this boy’s name and where does he live. It’s for science.”
You give his hand a slight slap and tell him to get back to work. He stands and gives you another hug and you move to go pay for you food. Lou moves in front of the register, shaking his head and pointing to the door. You giggle and shake your head, knowing this is a fight you won’t win and leave. As you reach the door, you hear Lou call your name. You turn back to face him, an eyebrow raised.
“Go into the room, Peanut.”
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Deciding to head back home, it’s been hours since you left that morning and it’s well after lunch time, you make you way back to the hardware store to grab your mother’s car, noticing San’s car is gone.
You wonder if he is only open a few hours a day, but quickly dismiss the thought, deciding that it’s none of your business and continue on your way back home.
Turning into the driveway, you hear laughing from next door again, thinking that you’re glad your new neighbors are so cheerful. You hear a small voice calling your name and you turn to see Mason smiling wide and frantically waving.
You says his name with as much enthusiasm as he had said yours and start waving just as frantically. San stands in the background smiling at the two of you just standing in the middle of your yards just waving like crazy people. He steps forward with a “howdy neighbor” and you laugh and say hello.
San gives you a wink, saying that it looks like you’ll will be seeing each other a lot and you laugh and agree. Mason cuts in and asks if he and San can go have their lunch now, and San agrees, picking him up and saying goodbye to you before heading inside. You watch as they walk through their door, thinking that this man and his flirtatious nature are going to be problem.
Not entirely an unwelcome problem, but a problem regardless.
You step through you own door, calling out to your mother. You hear her voice coming from the back porch and you slip your shoes off and walk toward the back of the house. Your mother asks how your day has been, and you tell her about your time at the hardware store and lunch with Lou. She gives you a smile, telling you that she’s glad that you met with Lou, and saying that he always asks about you.
“I met the new neighbor, he also owns the hardware store.”
Your mother huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I know, dear. It is a small town after all.” You roll her eyes with a laugh. You mention San telling you that he would see if he could find a catalog with cabinets for you to look at, and your mother hums and nods, asking if you have figured out what you want to do with the kitchen. You shake your head. “San brought that up too, but I need to think about it for a bit. I’m gonna go look at the kitchen and see if something comes to me.”
You walk into the kitchen, glancing around while in thought. You do your best to envision what you want the kitchen to look like. After standing around just looking at the cabinets, it hits you. You look around, picturing what you want. You wanted dark gray cabinets with silver handles.
As you look around, the thought of making a little nook comes to your mind. Cabinets and drawers on the bottom, a counter, the area is boxed in, like a little alcove. On the very top, you envision putting potted plants. Your vision is sort of a forest-y vibe.
Smiling to yourself, you turn around and makes you way back to your mother. Before you leave the room, you make yourself a cup of coffee.
When you get back to your mother, you tell her about your idea for the kitchen and she gives you a smile and tells you that she loves it. You notice your mother getting tired and you offer her your arm and tell her she should take a nap.
She immediately disagrees, but you insist and tell her that you will make dinner and wake her up when it’s ready. Huffing, your mother relents and grabs your arm and pulls herself up. You helps her to her room and tell her to have a good nap and leave her room.
You stand outside of the door, looking at the door to your father’s study. Lou’s words float through your mind and you take a hesitant step forward. You step until you have your hand on the knob, but you quickly let go and turn around and head to your room to grab your laptop before going back downstairs.
Feeling like it’s a bit early to start on dinner, also knowing that your mother needs a nice nap, you grab yourself another cup of coffee, deciding to sit on the front porch this time. You tell yourself that it definitely isn’t with the hopes of seeing San, you just want a change.
You grab one of the wicker bucket chairs on the front porch, sitting in it with your laptop on your lap and your coffee on the small table to your left.
Opening your email, you find two more emails from Joshua. Taking a deep breath, you open the first one. You know that this is the first step in healing and moving on. The email is exactly what you expected it to be. Josh says he’s sorry and that he does love you and he wishes you would email him back.
You close out of the email, still feeling hurt, but not as bad as you had expected. Before you can open the second email, a voice calls out to you making you look up to see San.
“You’re drinking coffee this late in the afternoon?” he asks. You let a little giggle follow. “It’s never too late for coffee.” You have a teasing glint in your eye as you respond. “I think that I have to respectfully disagree.”
The two of you talk for a while, before you remember your vision for the kitchen. You tell San that you have an idea and he tilts his head and motions for you to continue.
You tell him about how you wants everything to look and he nods as you talks. After you finish, he tells you that it sounds like a really neat idea and he will look around for that catalog. You thank him and ask where Mason is. He tells you that he’s down for a nap.
“I know it’s a bit late for a nap, but I never let him sleep too long or he’ll be up all night.” You laugh and tell that him you couldn’t even imagine what it’s like to deal with a toddler that’s wide awake at three am and San laughs with you. You bite you lip and ask if his mother is watching him while he’s down. San stiffens a little, shakes his head. “No. It’s just me and Mason.” You remember you mother mentioning that he was a single father so you aren’t sure why you even asked.
“Oh God, I’m sorry. That was none of my business.” San assures you that it’s fine and that he and Mason are doing well on their own.
“It looks like it. From what little I’ve seen, you seem like a great dad.” He blushes a little and thanks you. You giggle at his sudden shyness and tell him that it’s not a problem. He checks the time on his phone.
“I better wake the little guy up.” You nod and he gives you a smile and turns to head back to his yard. You stop his movement with a call of his name and he turns to face you.
“Would you two want to join my mom and I for dinner? Think of it as a belated welcome to the neighborhood celebration.” San gives you a large smile. “I’ll ask Mason, though I’m positive he will agree. It would seem that he has already taken a liking to you.”
You giggle and tell him that you’ve taken a liking to Mason too. “If you guys decided to come, just knock on the door. It should be ready in a couple of hours.” He nods back at you and you end the conversation by telling him that you’ll make sure there’s more than coffee to drink and you open the door and step inside, San’s beautiful laughter ringing out behind you. You gently wake your mother, telling her that you have invited San and his son for dinner.
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By the time dinner is ready and you take a shower, there’s a knock at the door. Since you’re already right by the door, you open it to find San and Mason smiling at you. Your eyes wander over San. 'Damn he looks good.' He's dressed casually in some jeans and a black tee while Mason is wearing sweatpants and a dinosaur shirt.
You squat down to the child's level. “Wow,” you say looking at the dinosaur on his shirt. “I love your shirt!” Mason smiles up at his dad before looking back at you. “What's your favoritest dinosaur?” you ask.
“Raptor!” he enthusiastically answers, even going as far to try to make a raptor noise. You give him a laugh. “Well, my favorite dinosaur is a Spinosaurus, but I don’t even know what they sound like!” you said, sounding impressed. “You sound like you know more about dinosaurs that I do.” Mason nods.
“I’m a dinosaur expert!”
His enthusiasm warms your heart and you stand, inviting them to come inside.
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You show them the way to the kitchen. “Ma, this is San,” you say, formally introducing them. San smiles, stepping forward to shake her hand. “It's nice to officially meet you,” he says as Mason steps forward to proudly introduce himself before you could.
“And I'm Mason!”
Your mother smiles at him. “That's a lovely name, Mason. It's nice to meet you.” Mason thanks her with a smile which she returns before offering San two plates and asks him what they would like to drink.
“Just water is fine.” He makes Mason’s plate and gets him set up at the table before making his own. “Mom go ahead and sit down,” you say as you make her plate and place it front of her before you make your own.
You take the seat next to your mother, San is sitting to your other side. You all chat idly, talking about nothing in particular. San brings up the kitchen remodels and you perk up and start pointing and showing San where you wants the little alcove to go, not noticing your mother watching on fondly.
San listens before offering once again to help you, telling you that he can even draw up your idea for you to see before you starts on it. You give him a nod as your mother asks if he’s an artist and he laughs while shaking his head.
“No ma’am. Before having Mason I was in school studying to be an architect.” Your mother tells him that that is a good field. “If Y/N won’t accept your offer to help, I certainly will. If I left everything to her, this kitchen would be torn apart for months.”
Your cheeks burn, again with the blushing, telling you mother to hush with a slight slap to her shoulder. You all finish dinner, San offering to help clean up but you tell him absolutely not and that he should get Mason home since he’s falling asleep on your mother’s shoulder.
“You have a good point there,” he says while looking fondly at his son.
“I'll walk you out,” you announce before walking them to the door, San holding Mason. “Have a good night,” you say softly as San crossed the threshold. "You, too,” he says just as quietly.
“And thank you for dinner.”
“I'll have that drawing for your kitchen done soon,” he adds with a smile. You thank him and watch as they walk next door.
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A few days later, you wake to your mother knocking on you door. You tell her to come in, rolling on to your side to face the door. Your mother smiles before coming to sit on the edge of your bed, running a hand through your hair. You hum in content, asking her mother what’s up.
“The rest of your things are here. The van is waiting outside. You also got a package this morning. I sat it on the table by the couch,” she says fondly as she smiles down at you.
She leaves and you quickly get dressed and brush your teeth, not wanting to keep the moving van waiting any longer. You step out of the door, greeting the man waiting by the van. He greets you back, opening the back of the van revealing a few boxes. You thank him and you start to help him unload the van.
“You need any help?”
You turn to see San standing not too far away, arms crossed as he leans on Mason’s swing set. “Yes please!”
Once all of the boxes are out of the van, you pay the driver his tip and the man leaves. San lifts a box and asks you where to take it. You momentarily get lost in admiring the way his arms flex as he grips the box before shaking you head and giving him directions to your bedroom. You take a box and follow him.
“You can just set it on the floor at the end of the bed,” you instruct and he does as you ask before you both move to get more boxes.
Once all of the boxes have been put in you room, you offer him some water and he accepts. As you makes her way to the kitchen, he tells you that he will be right back. You watch as he walks out the front door, not being able to stop yourself for look at his ass as he walks away and continue into the kitchen to get his glass of water ready.
San returns soon with a baby monitor and a piece of paper in his hands. “Mason is asleep and I should still be in range to hear him if he wakes up.” He lifts the monitor as he speaks. He hands you the piece of paper and you take it, looking a little confused.
Looking at it, it’s the design of the kitchen. You're happy that it looks exactly like what you pictured. You smile at him. “San it’s perfect! You’re really talented!” The tips of his ears turn slightly red, causing you to giggle softly.
You suddenly remember the package you mother told you about and perk up, telling San that you’ll be right back as you go to get it. You bring it back into the kitchen, setting it on the table and telling San he can sit if he wants. He joins you at the table, making sure to set his glass on a coaster.
You grab a knife and open the package carefully. Once you gets it open, you pull out her new phone. You sigh in relief, going as far as to kiss the box. San laughs from across from you.
“I haven’t had a phone for a while and I’m so glad to have one again.” He asks if you broke your or something, and you go quiet for a moment. “No, I didn’t break it. I left it with my ex boyfriend when I left him.”
“I'm so sorry,” San immediately apologizes. “I didn't mean to pry.”
You brush his apology off, telling him that it’s ok and that it’s been a little rough, but you’ll be ok.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” he asks and you nod.
“Joshua and I were together for two years when my dad died. I didn’t handle his death well and closed myself off,” you start to explain, San listening patiently. “And then when my mother’s health got worse, I went to his office to tell him that I would be coming back home for a little while to help get her situated,” you continue, hesitating as you reach the catalyst for your leaving.
“I found him and his assistant... together,” you continue, not noticing the way San's expression shifted. “Apparently, Josh couldn’t handle me being so down and unavailable so he found someone who was,” the last part comes out a little bitterly but you are beyond caring.
You had been fiddling with your phone the entire time you talk, trying to get it up and running. After you finish talking, you look up to see San’s jaw clenched and a serious look on his face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that shit. You deserve a hell of a lot better than that.” You tell him that it’s ok and thank him, ending in a small cheer when you get your phone ready to go.
You sit in silence for a moment before you look up at San.
“Could I ask you something?” San looks up at you and nods.
“Where's Mason’s mom?”
You notice how San stiffens a little but he relaxes. “So, I moved from Korea to study abroad. I told you already, but I was majoring in architecture and I was very excited to start my new life here,” he starts to explain.
“I met Anora in one of my classes and we really hit it off and started dating. After a year and a half, we found out she was pregnant.” You could hear it in his voice, the way he spoke about his son with such adoration.
“I was thrilled, but Anora was far from happy. Even though she really didn’t want to have Mason, but she stayed.” You can hear the sadness in his voice. “She decided after four years that being a mother wasn’t the life she wanted and she left right before his fourth birthday, almost a year ago.”
You felt your heart break for them. San sighs and continues. “I just felt like we needed a new start so I bought the store and the house and here we are,” he finishes his story to your stunned silence.
You stay silent for a moment before apologizing. “So, how is Mason handling all of this?” Your voice is soft and a little hesitant. San makes a face before answering. “He’s handling it well. Even when Anora was around, it was still pretty much the two of us. I stayed with her, hoping I could get her to fully accept Mason, but that was useless.”
You apologize again and San tells you that it’s ok. “Honestly, I feel like we're better off.” You nod in agreement. “I think can agree with that. I said it before, but you’re doing an amazing job at being a dad. Mason is a very lucky kid.” San smiles, looking down at his hands resting on the table. “Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciates that.”
“You're welcome,” you reply and without thinking, you reach across the table to give his hand a squeeze. There’s a beat of silence before you take your hand back and San clears his throat and nods his head toward your phone.
“So, do I get to be the first person to get your new number?” You laugh and nod, taking his phone to type your number into his phone. After you exchange numbers, San pockets his device and looks up.
“I should probably get back to Mason, even though I haven’t heard a peep from the baby monitor.” You walk him to the door, thanking him for helping with the boxes.
“Really,” he starts. “It's no trouble. We're neighbors after all. And isn't that are neighbors for?” he adds with a wink.
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Over the next month or so, San helps you get what's needed for the remodel, at a discount even though yourefused, and on weekends thetwo of get to work in the kitchen while Mason plays around with your mother. Mason's presence in your lives seems to brighten her mother's days and you have become very fond of the boy yourself.
San is a complicated story. You’re also very fond of him, perhaps too fond you think sometimes, and he seems to be equally fond of you. When you aren't talking in person, you’re texting. You’ve spent every weekend for a month working on the kitchen, often times working close together.
San teaches you the basics, even though you already know them but he doesn't need to know that. He's even taught you about how to get the grooves you want in the wood on the side of the arch way of the alcove. The fact that he stood behind you, chest to you back, to show you flustered you a bit. (But we don’t really need to talk about that. Nope. No need to talk about how you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back. Not at all.)
By the time the kitchen is finished, it's the middle December with Christmas just around the corner. You stand in the entrance of the kitchen with San, looking around at the space the two of you have created. You’re absolutely in love with it.
“San I love it. Thank you so much!” You wrap your arms around his neck in a hug, surprising him. He just stands there for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you in return, giving you a squeeze. He slightly buries his face in your neck. “There’s no need to thank me. I really enjoyed doing this with you.” His breath on you neck makes a shiver run down your spine, but you try your best not to let it show.
You separate, slowly, and look at each other for a moment before a squeal interrupts your moment. Mason comes running into the kitchen, crashing into you and hugging your legs. You laugh as you stumble a bit and bend down to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
You don’t see the way San's eyes shine as he watches you with his son, happy you’ve clicked so well. Mason directs his attention to San “Daddy did you ask her yet?” . San shakes his head, a slight blush on his cheeks as you quirks an eyebrow up. “So the Christmas festival is next Saturday. Would you like to come with us?” You eagerly nod your head, gaining a smile from San and a giddy squeal from his son.
Your week is filled with emails for work. Joshua still sends you emails, but you rarely open them, more often than not, completely ignoring their existence. Not because you’re still hurt, you’ve moved on, but because you genuinely do not care to know what he has to say.
Though, a particular subject line draws your attention.
An email sent the day before. “See you soon” and you quickly click the email, reading it in a slight panic. Joshua goes on about he misses you and he just wants you to talk to him and that he’ll be coming to see you that upcoming weekend, the same weekend as a date you'd set up with San.
Your first thought is to go to the diner to talk to Lou.
You quickly put your shoes on, opting to drive to get there faster. You pull in to the diner parking, rushing to get inside.
“Lou!” Your voice is louder than you meant for it to be, but you don’t pay any mind to it. You notice how they diners enjoying their food look at you, but at this moment you really don’t care. Lou comes out of the kitchen, looking a little annoyed at someone yelling in the diner. His face changes as soon as he sees you and the panicked look on your face. He quickly discards his apron, yelling into the kitchen that he'll be back soon and ushers you to your booth in the back.
He asks you what's wrong, trying to keep the worry in his voice unnoticeable. “I got an email from Joshua,” you rush to explain. “It said that he was coming here this weekend. Before you even ask, I’m not worried I’m going to go back to him. I’m over that part of my life and I have moved on from him, it's just...” You pause and Lou takes the opportunity to finish for you.
“You really like San and don’t want Joshua to ruin anything before it can really start.” You nod, knowing that coming to Lou was the right choice. “I’m going to the festival with San and Mason on Saturday.” You know that you’re wearing a massive smile, but you have no embarrassment about it. Lou smiles back and you.
“Have you told him about Joshua yet?” His question throw you off a little, even though you should have known he’d ask. “I’ve told him that Joshua is my ex and how things ended between.” Lou nods for a moment.
“And the email?”
You shake your head. “I saw the email and came straight to you.” He smiles widely and you can tell that your confession has made him happy. “Peanut, you’re a smart woman. You know what you need to do.” You nod, knowing that he’s right. He usually is, it’s why you come to him. You thank him with a hug and leave, deciding to walk to the hardware store to talk to San.
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The bell dings as you walk in, and Mason yells your name and runs up to you. You smile down at him, picking him up and giving him a kiss on the cheek before asking where his dad is. He wraps one arm around your neck and points with the other, telling you that San is on the paint aisle.
You thank him with another kiss on the cheek as you set him down. You make your way to San, feeling a little nervous as you watch him look through paint swatches. “San.” You try to keep your voice from wavering, but you aren’t sure you succeed.
He turns to face you, his face breaking out in a wide smile. “I was looking at swatches, trying to decide what color would go best with the kitchen.” You can feel yourself smile, despite the anxiety flowing through your body.
“We need to talk,” you start, internally cursing yourself as you see a flash of panic cross San's face. “It's not like that!” you continue quickly. “But it is important.” San nods, searching your face, no doubt noticing how serious you look. “Okay,” he nods slowly as he leads you to his office while he calls out to Mason to tell him to go into the break room and play so he knows where he is.
“You can sit there if you want.” He points to the chair in front of his desk as he moves behind the desk, grabbing the chair there and bringing it to sit beside you, facing you. “What’s wrong?”
You take a deep breathe before speaking, trying to calm your nerves. “I was looking at my email today and when I noticed an email from Joshua.” You can see his jaw tense, but he says nothing, letting you continue. “He’s coming here this weekend.” Your voice drops in volume, almost sounding small.
San is quiet for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, matching the feel of your small voice. “Do you still love him? Are you planning to leave and go back with him?”
You feel sad that the thought even crosses his mind. You obviously haven’t been as clear showing your feelings as you thought you were. “No. I really like you, San and I don’t plan to leave. There was a time in my life when I wanted to escape this town, but I don’t want to do that anymore.”
You can see him visibly relax as he breathes put a sigh of relief and telling you that he feels the same and that you can deal with Joshua’s visit together if you wants or he can let you handle it. You don’t say anything, only thanking him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, telling him that you should head back home.
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The closer it gets to Christmas, the stronger the urge to go into your father’s study gets. You talk to San about it as you text and he tells you that it's ok to still need time, but it's also ok to want to go into your father’s favorite place. He once again offers his help, telling you can be there for moral support if you needs and though you don’t tell him, you think that San is a great man and thank him.
Saturday comes quick and even though you’re anxious about Joshua’s arrival, you’re also excited about spending the evening with San and Mason. By dusk, Joshua still hasn't arrived and you hope that maybe he has changed his mind. You gets ready for the festival, deciding to wear jeans and a sweater.
A knock on the door has you almost sprinting down the stairs your thoughts swirling. You feel like a teenager waiting for her prom date. Opening the door to find San and Mason both giving you big smiles, you smile back and give them both hugs, unintentionally hugging San a little harder. “You ready?” San’s voice is light and cheerful and it makes your heart flutter. You give a nod and call out to your mother, letting her know that you’re leaving.
The festival is simple, a few decorations and booths with games and food trucks. Of course Lou has a stand with all of his best dishes and hot cocoa and coffee. The three of you stop by and you give Lou a hug, thanking him again in a whisper. He squeezes you in return, his way of telling you that you don’t need to thank him.
You grab a cup of coffee as San grabs both him and Mason a cup of cocoa each. As you reach into your wallet, preparing to pay, you notice San moving quickly to hand Lou money. Lou scoffs and tells him that there’s no way he’s letting them pay. You both try to argue, but Lou shuts you both down with his trademark eyebrow raise.
After getting your drinks, you walk around the festival a bit, stopping to play games when Mason finds one he wants to try out. By try out, he means that San has to play and try to win the toy Mason wants.
You hear your phone going off and you’re quick to grab it in case your mother needs you. You do find a text from you mom.
Mama: Honey, Joshua just came by looking for you. I didn't tell him where you were but just be on the lookout for him
Your breath catches, drawing San’s attention and you show him the message instead of speaking, not wanting to clue Mason in that there is a problem. All San does is grab your hand and gives it a tight squeeze before he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a kiss on the top of your head.
You walk around a bit more, stopping to get Mason a corn dog when you hear your name being called. You stiffen. You knew that voice and would recognize it anywhere.
You're brought back to reality by San giving your shoulder a squeeze, silently letting you know that he’s there if you need him. The two of you turn around while Mason is preoccupied with his food and find Joshua standing and glaring at San.
San looks unfazed, other than the tightness in his jaw. Joshua steps forward, eye San before turning to look at you.
"Y/N, can we talk?” You notice how his eyes flicker over to San once more. "In private?” he adds.
You lean further into San's side, taking a deep breath and filling your nostrils with the scent of San’s cologne, which calms you a little.
“Whatever it is, you can say it say right here.”
Joshua narrows his eyes, heaving out a sigh before speaking.
“Fine,” he says softly. “You left me no choice. Since you refuse to answer my messages, I came here to see you.” You say nothing, letting him get it all out.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I’ll say it a million times if that’s what you want. I miss you so much. You’re all I can think about. Please let me make it up to you. I know I can do it if you’ll just let me.”
You stare at him for a moment, not saying anything. “No.” He looks taken aback and you take the opportunity to continue. “I don’t love you. I don’t hate you either. I don’t really feel anything for you. I’m happy where I am. I’m happy having San by my side.” San acknowledges you statement with a long kiss to you temple.
Joshua goes to take a step forward, only to be cut off by Lou. “I think the lady has said what she needs to say. It’s time for you to leave.” Joshua looks at you one more time, searching your face for any change of your mind before he begrudgingly leaves.
After the confrontation with Joshua, San decides that it's time for you to leave and he gathers Mason, who throws a tiny tantrum before listening to his father and taking his hand. You walk in silence for a moment, hands intertwined until San breaks the silence. “You ok?” You smile and squeezes his hand, looking into his eyes. “I’m great.”
When you get back to your house, you’ve accepted it as your home now and you’re proud to call it that, you ask San if he can help you with one more thing and he immediately agrees. You all enter the house, Mason immediately calling out to your mother.
“Nana! Where are you?” Both you and San freeze, eyes wide. This is the first time Mason has called your mother that. Your mother steps out of the kitchen, equally surprised, but she quickly schools her expression and opens her arms catching Mason in her arms as he jumps to her. You look at San, tying to gauge his reaction, only to find a soft smile on his face and he watches your mother with his son. You squeeze his hand and tilt you head toward the staircase and he follows you up the stairs.
You walk to the end of the hall, standing in front of the door of you father’s study. San kisses your temple before speaking. “Take your time, love. There’s no rush.” With one last deep breath, you turn the knob and open the door and you step inside while San waits in the opening of the door.
The room looks the same as it always has. Books are tucked neatly on the bookcase, your father’s large desk in the center of the room. You walks over to the desk, running your fingers over the top of the desk slowly.
There’s a thin layer of dust and it’s the first time you have every seen dust on the desk. Your father always kept his study perfectly clean. You look around at all of the pictures on the wall. There are pictures of your parents on their wedding day. A picture of your dad with his parents.
You notice a single frame on the desk and you carefully pick it up. It's a picture from the day you were born, your father holding you with a bright smile and tears in his eyes. Your own eyes start to teat up and you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, San moving to prop his chin on her shoulder.
“It’s ok to cry if that’s what you need to do. I’m so proud of you for coming in here. That took a lot of strength. My strong girl.” Your stomach flips at him calling you his and you turn to kiss his check, San turning to face you at the same time and your lips meet The kiss is sweet and gentle, just barely there.
San turns to to face you completely, his hand coming up to cup you check before giving you another slow kiss as your arms wrap around him. The kiss only last a moment, Mason’s footsteps coming up the stairs making you pull apart.
He stops at the door of the study, quickly asking San if he can stay the night with Nana and San looks at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “If it’s ok with your Nana, I don’t mind.” The sound of San calling your mother Mason’s nana makes your heart skip a beat.
You follow Mason down the stairs, listening as he asks if he can stay the night. Your mother doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course you can, my little monster.” Mason laughs and hugs her legs with a squeal. She turns to you and San, immediately noticing your intertwined hands. She smiles at the two you and gives you a slight nod of her head.
San tugs on your hand gently, looking at you with both lust and care as he leads you out of the door and across the lawn to his front door. He quickly unlocks it, letting you go in first. As soon as he steps through the door, his lips are on yours and his arms are around you.
You fist his shirt, pulling him as close as you can get him. It feels like the two of you are kissing forever, like the only oxygen you need is each other’s breath. San’s hands slide down to your hips, pulling your further against him, moaning slightly when you bump into his already hardening cock.
He pulls away, eyes flickering between yours. “Do you want to go to my room?” You aren’t sure you’ve ever nodding so fast as you take his hand and follow him.
You're able to take a brief look around San’s room before his lips are back on yours. His kisses are soft, gentle as his hands slowly find your waist. He tugs you closer to him, it's obvious he can't seem to get you close enough. His hands slide down, firmly kneading your ass.
You moan against his mouth, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He takes the chance he's been given, immediately deepening the kiss. His wet muscle dances with yours, slow and passionate. He steps forward, softly pushing you backwards until the backs of you legs hit his mattress, pushing you further back to lie flat.
He separates from you long enough for you to scoot until you're fully on his bed, him immediately climbing on top of you and connecting your lips again. One hand rests on your hip as his other cups your face. He pulls back, just far enough to speak against your lips.
“You're so pretty.” His voice is a whisper, but you still manage to hear him, and you give him a smile and peck his nose. “So are you.” He smiles, rubbing his nose against yours as his hands fall to the hem of your sweater.
“Can I?” You murder a soft ‘yes’ and he doesn't hesitate to lift it over your head. He stares at you in silence and you feel like you should be self conscious, but you aren't. You just let him admire you.
“Gorgeous.”
You aren't sure he meant for you to hear his words, so you don't say anything in return, just let out a whine, prompting him to snap out of his daze. He brings his hands up to cup your breasts over your bra, his touch firm but still soft. He looks up to your face, quirking an eyebrow up and you nod and sit up, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp what's between him and your bare skin.
He flings the fabric over his shoulder, not even bothering to see where it lands. His hands come back to your chest, gripping you once more. San gives your nipples attention, pinching them in between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to arch your back with a soft moan. The sound of your pleasure makes him let out a moan himself, obviously enjoying that you're enjoying his actions.
Leaning down, he wraps his lips around one of your perked buds, his tongue immediately making its presence known with a flick. His hand continues to massage your other breast.
After a moment, he switches sides. “San. Please. Need you.” Your voice is in a quiet whine, as much as you enjoy what he's doing, your core throbs with need. He pulls back, releasing your nipple with a pop. His eyes are blown out with last, but his gaze is still soft and caring.
He slides his hands down your body, finding the button of your pants and flicking it open. He backs off the bed, immediately falling to his knees as he grabs your pants by the hem, slowly pulling them down.
The tension in the air is thick and you can tell that he's enjoying the teasing nature in which he undresses you. Your pants find the floor like your sweater and bra. His lips are on your ankle before you realize what is happening, slowly kissing up your leg.
He places a barely there kiss on your clothed core before kissing down your other leg, only to stick the tip of his tongue to your skin and lick his way back up to your hip. The unexpected action causes you to shiver with want, and you look down at San only to find him staring back at you with a smirk.
He grabs at your panties, continuing his slow pace in pulling them down. Part of you wishes he would hurry, but the greater part is enjoying the build up. Once your panties are off, he once again takes a moment to just look at you.
Slowly, he brings a finger to your core, sliding it from your hole up to your clit. You let out a soft moan, his groan coming not long after. “Look at that, baby. You're soaking. I've barely done anything, love. Is this all for me?” His words shoot a jolt through your body, causing your core to throb even harder.
“All for you, San. All yours.” Your words seem to spur him into action as he leans forward, his tongue making the same movement his finger had. Your moan is louder this time, his own moan right against your pussy has you bucking up into his face.
His hands find your thighs, wrapping around them to speak you open for him. He brings the tip of his tongue to circle your throbbing bud while your hand finds its way into his hair. He hums against you, his way of telling you that he approves of what you're doing and you give a slight tug. You can see his hips buck against the mattress, prompting you to give one more tug.
He dives into you, sliding his tongue up and down your pussy a few times before coming back to your clip for a brief moment before repeating. Your moans echo throughout the room as brings his finger to your entrance, sliding on in slowly. Your hips buck on their own as he pulls back out, a second finger joining as he slides back in.
His mouth is working hard against you and his fingers search for a moment before they find what he's looking for. A loud moan rips from your throat as he pushes against the spongy part inside of you. “Right there, baby?” You only manage a nod and he goes back to eating your can't, doubling his efforts as his fingers speed up. Your mind is swirling as your orgasm builds. No one has ever been able to work you up this quickly.
You're babbling now, vaguely aware of what you're saying. “Feels s'good. Please. Please.” He pulls back just enough to mumble against your core. “Come on, angel. Let go. Cum for me.” The vibrations against you coupled with his already fucked out voice causes the dam inside you to burst as you coat his fingers. He works you through your orgasm, fingers slowing down as your high fades. You look down to find him staring at you in awe. You mumble for him to climb back onto the bed and he immediately grants your wish.
Your hands move with purpose as you pull him to you, grabbing his shirt and ripping it from his body. Your breath catches as you look at the ridges and planes of his chest. He's well built, looking like a man cut from marble. “Fuck.” The words come out breathy and as you look back to his face, you can see a slight blush.
You place a soft kiss on his lips as you push him gently to lie on his back. He offers no resistance, letting you move him as you please. You spread his legs enough for you to fit in between his thighs as you bend down to kiss down his throat. He lets out a soft whine when your lips find his chest and you take the opportunity to give him a slight bite and his hips buck upwards. You can feel his hardened length against you and your core gushes with a fresh wave of wetness.
Your hands find his jeans, making quick work of getting them off of him, pulling his underdogs down with them. His cock hits his stomach and for a moment you're in awe. He's above average, but not huge. Long and thick, but you can't help but think that's it's the prettiest dick you've ever seen. His voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Baby. Please do something. I'm dying here.” You give him a slight chuckle, cupping his election with a gentle squeeze. His moan is load and oh so beautiful.
You scoot yourself down until your face meets his cock, your tongue peeking out to give his tip a kitten lick. This time he whines, obviously not able to take the slow treatment he had given you. You lick from his balls to his tip slowly, circling your tongue around the mushroom head of his cock.
Without missing a beat, your mouth engulfs his length, sliding down as far as you can take. Your hand wraps around what your mouth can't fit and you slowly start to bob your head. Just as yours had done, his hand finds your hair, giving a slight pull and you moan around him.
His hips buck again, causing his tip to hit the back of your throat and you hold back a gag. You let him slowly buck into your mouth as words tumble from his mouth. “Oh god. Fuck. So warm. Feels so good.” You pull off of his length as his thrusts get faster and he whines at the loss of contact.
You sit back up on your heels, watching the way his chest rises and falls heavily. You make eye contact as you speak, wanting to see his every reaction to your words.
“Condom?” He scrambles to his knees, reaching into the drawer of his bedside table and pull out a foil packet. He rips it open with his teeth, moving to place the rubber around himself. You stop him before he can, taking it from him and sliding it slowly down his length yourself. His groan comes from the back of his throat.
Once the condom is snug around his cock, you push him back down, climbing on top of him. You slide his cock up and down your pussy, getting him slick with your juices. On the slide back down, you push his tip into you.
Your moans come simultaneously, making a beautiful song of pleasure. His hands find your hips as you rotate them, letting your walls adjust. “Wait. Baby, give me a minute.” His eyebrows are furrowed as he pants. After a moment, he gives your hips a squeeze, letting you know that you can move.
Lifting your hips, you rise and fall back down slowly, enjoying the way he feels inside of you. You keep your pace slow, wanting to savor every moment of pleasure. The more you move the more San whines. His hands are clawing at your hips, his nails leaving little marks on your skin. He's babbling again and you clench around him.
“So fucking good. Fit me perfectly. Like you were made for me.” You lean forward, placing your lips on his as your pace increases slightly. At this angle, the tip of his cock nudges the place you need. It isn't long before your hurling towards your second orgasm, San's name repeatedly falling from your lips. With one thrust from San, your falling over the edge with a moan.
San makes quick work of flipping you over, his length never leaving your core. His pace is faster than you had expected, but his strokes hit deep. You've had no time to recover from your orgasm, but the sensitivity you're feeling only improves the way you feel. San is letting out of string of grunts as his balls hit against your ass. Your nails are digging into his back as you hold on to him.
“You're so perfect. So glad I get to have you like this. Wanted this for a while. Dreamt about it.” It's like he can't stop talking and you can't say that it bothers you. His hips start to stutter as the tension builds in your belly.
“San. I'm gonna come again. Cum with me. Please, baby. Please.”
Your words seems to have the desired effect as he delivers one last hard thrust, your name leaving his mouth in a groan as he fills the condom. Your high hits you at the perfect time, syncing with his. He falls on your body for a moment, panting heavily as you both come down.
He slowly pulls out of you with a wince, looking down to see your cunt still slightly pulsing. He gives a sweet kiss to your clit, giggling and apologizing as you whine and try to back away from him. You watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to clean you up. He takes great care to get you well cleaned. “You want to take a shower?” You nod and make grabby hands at him and he lets a loud laugh and connects your hands to pull you up gently.
The shower is filled with soft touches and even softer kisses as you clean yourselves. Once the water is turned off and you've dried yourselves off, San offers you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, which you eagerly accept.
You crawl into bed, finding yourself in his arms immediately. It's quiet, but comfortable. “So. You're mine now, right?” The fact that he even has to asks makes you giggle a little. Tilting your head up to face him, you place a kiss to his jaw.
“Yeah. I'm yours.”
Christmas the next morning is spent in your mother’s house, the four of you enjoying dinner and opening presents. And finally in your life, everything feels right.
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[ONE YEAR LATER]
A year flies by, bringing new challenges and experiences and you're beyond happy. You watch as Mason plays on the floor by the tree with your mother, who's helping him unwrap his presents.
“Mommy, look!”
Your heart soars at the boy calling you mom. You can feel San smiling as he stands behind you, arms around your waist. As you talk to Mason about his new toy, you don't notice the look your mother gives your boyfriend. Behind you, he smiles, slowly reaching into his pocket, trying not to draw your attention. Your mother smiles wide as she watches San pull the ring box out of his pocket slightly.
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