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vaaaaaiolet · 2 days ago

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Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.

mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓

a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS

word count: 2.5k // read on ao3

The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.

Just like now.

A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”

Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.

“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”

You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”

“Enough?”

“Um…”

Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”

A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.

“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.

“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.”

In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.

Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks.

The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.

Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?”

You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.

A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.”

Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.

“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”

You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new.

So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.

“This okay?” he rasps.

More than.

You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance.

Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen.

“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”

You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal.

“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”

Oh.

“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”

You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.

“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.”

He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.

Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”

His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.

“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?”

Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too.

“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off.

Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?”

No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.

“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs.

“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.

“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”

The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault.

“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”

You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him.

Leon is all too happy to answer.

One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.

Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls.

Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”

You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”

“Just need enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”

Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again.

Tunnel vision.

“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.

All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.

That’s it.

Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”

“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”

You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”

Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first.

“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”

You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed.

“How else do you think I know?”

He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.

“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I will.”

And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold.

It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo.

Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls.

Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut.

You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again.

Your heart’s never felt more weightless.

Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop.

“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”

“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”

In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.

“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!”

He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table.

“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”

“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.

The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”

“You really think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

So you remember your promise.

You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.

You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.

You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.

Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.

You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

#📮 delivery #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #ao3 fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #vaaaaaiolet #ns/ft #resident evil #re4r leon #resident evil 4 remake #₊˚🪻kilby girl irl event

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 2 days ago

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pillow talk - spencer reid x fem!reader

a night well spent fizzles out into soft words exchanged in pink sheets.

genre: fluff wc: 1019 warnings: mentioned sex, their first time together, casual nudity, inexperienced reader, insecurities, reassurance

It was soft, comforting even. Of course intense because how else could your first time together be? It was him, after all. As you lay, heavy pants finally returning to normal, steady breaths, a hand comes up to smooth down your hair and a kiss is gently pressed to your head.

"How do you feel?" Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

It proves to be a difficult question. A response seems counterintuitive, like it would demean the moment into something that has to be assessed. An answer has to come, nonetheless.

"I don't know." And it's the truth.

He hums thoughtfully and nods, running a hand down your shoulder. "Good or bad?"

"Good... like my brain's empty. If that makes sense," you answer.

Your head, on Spencer's bare chest, does, in fact, feel foggy. Before today, you were both too scared of the intimacy. Something changed the moment you felt him move his grip from your hip to your waist, like he was worried that he might make you uncomfortable. You didn't want that. It happened only after convincing him that you wanted to go further than the usual groping and hand stuff. Now you're unsure how you feel. Having someone you've been seeing for a while suddenly inside you is bizarre and always will be. You also can't seem to shake that voice that sounds a lot like your friends, telling you that he'll leave after he gets what he wants. Your mind is simply a flurry of everything that anyone has ever told you about intimacy. With Spencer, it was different, though.

Your hand finds his and you mindlessly toy with his fingers as you murmur, "you've done this more than me, correct?"

"Correct."

"How do people usually feel?" you ask softly.

"Everybody's different. You don't need to feel good." He takes a breath and explains in a matter-of-fact tone, his hand lifting above your shoulder to gesture while he talks, "the rush of serotonin and dopamine into our system can leave some people feeling sad or tired once those neurotransmitters decrease."

You nod, finding yourself understanding. It has been a while since you've engaged in any form of intimacy.

"That makes sense."

He nods as his fingers drop to continue the irregular patterns on your arm. His chin rests on your head. "So? How do you feel?"

Again, there's no correct answer to his question. It's a complicated experience with complicated feelings attached. But one thing is for sure, "I'm happy."

"I'm glad. I am, too," he hums.

A smile floats over your lips before a thought occurs and you have an inkling as to how he'll choose to reply to it. Your head lifts and you turn so you're now partly on your side, giving you a perfect view of his face in the soft glow of the afternoon. With the curtains closed, his skin was basked in pale yellow light, the pink of your sheets contrasting the pink of his cheeks.

"Did I do good?" you grin.

He finds you gorgeous, your sickeningly sweet smile making him gaze down at you in pure awe. It's the complete and utter truth when he responds with, "very."

You can't help but tease, "best you've ever had?"

"Yes. I don't think you could've fumbled that badge of honour if you tried," he smiles, his hand gently cupping your cheek, a rough thumb wiping away invisible tears.

Something about the sentiment gets to you. After all, you're nothing but a hopeful romantic. But you're also just a girl.

"So, even if I was bad, you'd still lie and say I wasn't?" you raise your eyebrows and bat your eyelashes.

His eyes narrow but the smile on his face shows you that he's not really upset. "No... I meant that I think I like you too much to not enjoy everything you do."

"Oh," you flush. Why does he have to be so perfect?

The hand on your cheek moves up to brush some of your hair back. "Yeah, oh."

Spencer's different than the guys you've interacted with. He's everything that little girls everywhere dream of. He's Prince Charming. That's why when your lips meet his and the sheet falls back, his eyes never once glance down. Perhaps he's an agent and an individual with three PhDs but he's a gentleman above all else. He never once wants to make you feel like he's not here for you.

When your lips break apart with happy smiles on both of your faces, you take in just how silly he looks. His hair is messy from your fingers, his cheeks are flushed and—your favourite of all—he's covered up to his stomach in pink sheets. The giggle that leaves you is unnecessary and unasked for.

He can't help the smile that comes from hearing your laugh. "What?" he mutters, brows furrowed.

"You just look... so very silly in my bed," you explain, a lovesick grin on your face.

"Oh. Well, I can't help what you choose as interior design."

You sigh dramatically, shaking your head like a disappointed teacher, "I suppose you can't."

The smile on his lips only grows as you act your ass off to seem sad by his comment.

"Perhaps I should also purchase pink sheets?" he suggests jokingly, tucking yet another stray strand behind your ear.

"I really think you should. It would complement your room and it would make you think of me so that's a bonus," you nod. You're unable to stay serious, though, the corners of your mouth lifting despite your efforts.

Spencer nods back, his bottom lip pushing up as he hums decisively. "I'm sold, let's go to the store," he says with an impressively straight face.

You laugh hard, beaming up at him with nothing but pure joy. You find his commitment to the bit amusing and, honestly, endearing. He points his thumb towards the bedroom door with his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Playfully, your eyes roll and rest your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'll get pink sheets if you want me to," Spencer softly mutters.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds

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taxi-cab-to-slowtown · 3 days ago

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ALL OF THIS. but let me say one more thing: fascism is ingrown in our school system in America and probably in other places too. It has gone from looking at a book or text critically, analyzing the good and the bad and the importance of it, and become just dissecting if it is a "good" book or a "bad" book. Fascism wants you to see the black and white in EVERYTHING "that is badly written so it's bad" "that book's author is transphobic" "that gamemaker gave money to Donald Trump" etc. We think we're being progressive, we're targetting people who hate the people we think they shouldn't hate, but really we're boiling it down to its base elements and saying "this thing is bad and so this WHOLE thing is bad"

A lot of times when I say that I'm an Edgar Allen Poe fan people point out to me that he was a racist. Yes, he was, and you can see that in his work, but by aknowledging and accepting that, I can look at how harmful those racial steryotypes are, and how they were influenced by Poe's time and situation. When someone says "you know he's a racist right?" they think what they've done is proven why I shouldn't like him, but actually the way his racism influences the text is important to the analysis and seeing the influences of his texts. There's also the fact that there are a lot of GOOD things about his writing, things you miss when you pass it off as "he's a racist". For instance, a lot of his texts rebell again the idea of sexuality as sinful, and preventing love. For instance "Annabelle Lee" is a tradgedy where heaven prevents a pure romance because its jealous, that's an outright rejection of the societal norm of the time, which had sex as something uncouth. And don't even get me started on the way Poe utalizes uncouth words in his horror to pull on that feeling of arousal and disgust. For instance in The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket he says, “I at length breathed a faint ejaculation to God, and resigned myself to die." I won't get super into it more becuase this was all part of an essay I wrote but the point is nothing is EVER black and white, and when you approach it as such, that is the influence of facist thinking.

I think one reason we see facism in Gen Z in fandom spaces most often even when they are verbally left-leaning is that the school system has facism baked into textual analysis. No longer is it critical theory and exploration, it becomes "is this text good or bad" "is this character good or bad" "should this character have done this" etc. Part of this is because of the decline of the school system. Good and bad is easier to work with when you have a population of students who more and more cannot read as well as they should be able to. but also, it's because fascism in this country is getting worse and worse, and teachers can't even recongise the dangers of the types of lessons they are teaching.

Stop thinking "is xyz good or bad" and instead think "what is this text saying about xyz". We can all say that Poe is racist and that's bad, but Poe doesn't matter. What matters is the text. What is the depiction of Dirk Peters saying about racism against natives in America in the 1800s, how has this racism influenced the climate of America and American litterature today? What can we do to lessen the impact of this influence? If you label all of Poe's work as "bad racist" then you loose the importance of these texts to the whole narrative.

And that's what fascism wants.

it's true and you should say it.

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xuzuitengenx · 2 days ago

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Neuvillette x Pyro Dragon!Male Reader Oneshot

Part 1 HERE

Title: As We Meet Once Again

Genre: Angst (Potentially Fluff?)

CW and Info: NOT PROOF-READ AS ALWAYS, OOC moments, Lovers turn strangers, not following plot

QUICK A/N: ITS BEEN AWHILE SINCE I WROTE SO IM SORRY IF ITS HORRIBLE

Neuvillette thought that the Lantern Rite in Liyue was beautiful. He saw the festive decorations, families being together, and different Liyue traditions all while he was shopping (and getting scammed).

Walking with 10 boxes of tea through the city of Liyue, he took observations of Liyue. While admiring, he thought of M/N. Some decorations or gifts reminded Neuvillette of M/N or knew that M/N would've loved it.

Neuvillette knows that he should move on from M/N ever since their last encounter. Letting out a sigh, Neuvillette shouldn't be thinking about him right now as he should be enjoying this day.

He will enjoy this day.

Neuvillette knew that he had gotten lost. He was supposed to meet with Furina and the others to go back to Fontaine but he doesn't see them and the area he is in doesn't make sense as there was no transportation even remotely near.

Neuvillette began to walk around to spot any of them or even Hu Tao since Furina and her were chatting a bit.

While his mind was occupied by trying to find anyone, he accidentally bumped into someone which cause the two to tumble a bit.

"Ah—my apologies." Neuvillette quickly said as he almost dropped the boxes of tea, not taking a peek at the person.

"It's alright, Monsieur Neuvillette."

Neuvillette perked up at the person's voice. It almost sounds like...no.

Neuvillette swiftly looks at the person and there was M/N, standing in front of him with that stupid cute smile of his.

"It was really my fault. Should've watched where I was going." M/N scratches the back of his neck with a soft laugh.

Nevulliette was beyond shocked. He never thought that he would see M/N again after that day. Words were caught in his throat as he had lots of things to say, his chest felt heavier yet happy to see M/N again.

M/N took note of Neuvillette's reaction.

"Uhm..Do you need help with carrying those boxes?" M/N asks, trying to ease the tension a bit.

Neuvillette reluctantly looks away from M/N and at the boxes he was holding. This was a bad idea, right? He shouldn't indulge himself with M/N again after everything.. but maybe what if this was his last chance to talk to M/N again, he should take that chance.

Nodding hesitantly, Neuvillette agreed on M/N's help. M/N quickly acted as he grabbed 7 boxes for Neuvillette to carry less.

"Where are you heading to?" M/N asked, looking at the white hair man.

Neuvillette was stuck on his words as he doesn't know where he's heading. All he knew was he needed to go back on the boats.

"Uhm—the boats..." He spoke to M/N while not looking at M/N, his nerves getting the better of him as he cleared his throat. M/N took notice of this and realized that Neuvillette was lost.

"I'll lead the way, Monsieur Neuvillette. Just follow me, alright?" M/N said, taking his eyes off Neuvillette as he began walking.

Neuvillette started following him, watching M/N work his way through the crowd. Neuvillette wanted to talk to M/N, to ask him why he left Neuvillette, and why is he talking to him now? His heart felt heavy as his mind was just filled with unanswered questions.

Speeding up to walk beside M/N, Neuvillette tried to talk but he couldn't. Nothing was coming out as he sneaked glances at the (H/C) hair man.

"M/N– Monsieur M/N.." Neuvillette started, getting the male's attention. "Hmm?" M/N hummed, hearing Neuvillette called his name.

Neuvillette couldn't find his words, thinking about what to ask first. Gripping on the tea boxes as he just blurted out a question.

"..Why? Why did you leave me on that day..?" Neuvillette stopped walking, making the other stop too. M/N looked at Neuvillette, his face softening at the question as Neuvillette's face was determined to find the answer.

Neuvillette replayed that day in his head, his heart pounding as he waited for a answer.

M/N sighed, thinking about that day.

"It's a lot to unpack and you are on a rush so I can tell you another time–"

"I want the answer now." Neuvillette cuts him off, not caring if he is late or if he gets left behind.

M/N was slightly taken aback but quickly composed himself. He looks around and happens to see a unused table near them. Looking at Neuvillette, he gestures with a tilt of his head to move there. Neuvillette follows M/N as they walked to the table.

Setting down the boxes of tea on the table, M/N looked at Neuvillette as Neuvillette quickly set down the other boxes.

Neuvillette looks at M/N, his arms crossing to show that he was not joking around. M/N slightly smiled at Neuvillette's action. He loved when Neuvillette did this as he thought it was adorable.

"Why I left, hmm?" M/N started, thinking back as he looked away. Neuvillette bit the inside of his cheek, wanting–no needing an answer.

"Natlan was.. in a middle of a war and I needed to fight in it." M/N started, looking back at Neuvillette.

M/N sighed. "There was no guarantee that I would live to see the end of it...and knowing that information, I immediately thought of you.."

Neuvillette slowly uncrossed his arms as his determined look started to break.

"I couldn't bare the thought of you absolutely destroyed if you knew that I died in the war. So, I thought of something which was to leave you.. I thought leaving you without no explanation would make you hate me and forget about me if I did died." M/N looked away, unable to look at Neuvillette as he spoke.

"I hated hurting you..So much.. I hate seeing you cry and even making you cry. I wanted to hold you and tell you about the war but I couldn't. I wanted you to move on if I died." M/N felt guilty, still not looking at Neuvillette as he finished.

Neuvillette listened till the end, his face held a heartbroken look and his heart aching. Neuvillette hesitantly walked close to M/N, his gloved hands going to M/N's face. His hands touching M/N's cheeks and gently guiding his face to look at him.

Once his purple eyes met the (E/C) colored eyes, his heart fluttered. It's been too long since he looked at M/N's eyes that he loves so much.

"You should've told me..I would have been fine..–"

"You wouldn't.. I know you too well, Neuvillette.." M/N's hands went on top of Neuvillette's gloved ones on his face.

Neuvillette took a breath when M/N's hands went on his. Taking in his touch he so dearly missed.

"..You still could've told me..when you left me, I didn't hate you.. My heart was completely broken, yes. But, I just couldn't bring myself to hate you.." Neuvillette spoke softly, not breaking eye contact.

M/N listened to Neuvillette, still feeling so guilty.

"..M/N, somehow..I still love you after all these centuries.." As Neuvillette said this, M/N felt his heart fluttered as his eyes widen. Neuvillette saw his eyes widening and felt regret. "I'm not sure if you still feel the same–"

"–I love you too." M/N cut him off, catching Neuvillette off guard. Neuvillette's heart started beating quickly as he processed what M/N said.

Neuvillette couldn't help but to smile. "Good.. that's good.."

M/N smiled back, taking in Neuvillette's beautiful features.

There was a much needed moment of silence as the two dragons just enjoy being back within each other's company.

"HEY, I FOUND HIM!" Furina's voice broke the silence as she yelled at the others of her discovery.

Taking their eyes off each other, they looked at Furina. Nevulliette's heart clutched as he needed to go and leave M/N. Looking back at M/N as his hands didn't leave M/N's cheeks, he didn't want to leave.

M/N looked at Neuvillette, his face clearly sadden. "It seems like you have to go." M/N spoke.

Neuvillette nods, reluctantly taking his gloved hands off of M/N which made M/N take his hands away too.

Neuvillette grabs all 10 of the boxes, starting to walk away from M/N before he stopped. Looking back at M/N, his eyes fixated on the man and he suddenly asked a question—or more of a statement.

"Come back with me." Neuvillette said, turning his full body to M/N.

"What?" M/N asked.

Neuvillette took a quick breath, repeating himself. "Come back to Fontaine with me.."

M/N scratched the back of his neck, thinking about what he just said.

"Please.." Neuvillette held a pleading look, hoping M/N would come with him. M/N looked at Neuvillette's face, his heart skipping a beat.

Finally, M/N nodded. "I'll go with you." M/N walked to Neuvillette. Neuvillette sighed in relief, smiling as M/N walked to him.

"Thank you." Neuvillette softly spoke.

M/N smiled. "Of course.."

THE END

#male reader #x male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact #neuvillette x male reader #neuvillette x m!reader #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette angst #neuvillette #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 days ago

Text

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟜 – 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕔 (𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓓𝓻𝓸𝓹)

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

Part 1 𝜗𝜚 Part 2 𝜗𝜚 Part 3

𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 3 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 12/27

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚞𝚣𝚣𝙲𝚞𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warning: language, verbal + physical fighting, graphic violence, blood mentioned, pet names, jealous!rafe, kissing, angst, manipulation, multiple povs, cheating, SMUT warning later

📖 After meeting Rafe's (CurtainBangs!) twin brother Cam (BuzzCut!) for the first time, Rafe gives you a proposal you can't help but accept: sharing you. What Rafe didn't expect was his jealousy… And what you didn't expect was a text from Cam a week later wanting to see you again. Rafe told you it was ‘okay’ if Cam stopped by. During the Skype convo, you realize that Rafe has no idea that his brother is there… Cam placed the original call. Rafe thinks you’re alone, and you leave it that way

Reader’s POV:

You glance at Cam, his wide eyes on yours, reflective and remorseful, but his face only adds to your anxiety. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. You reach for Rafe’s jersey and your panties, tugging them back on as tears well in your eyes.

“Cam, why did you—why did you do that?” You whisper, your voice is shaky with nerves. “Why would you pretend to be Rafe? Why would you lie to me like that?”

He shrugs defeatedly. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“You weren’t,” you whimper, avoiding his gaze as you tug on some sleep shorts, stumbling slightly as your body trembles. The weight of your deceit is suffocating, wearing heavily on your heart. Nothing is fine…

“I’m sorry. I don't know what else to say. I just couldn't stop thinkin’ about you, and I knew he was only going to get in the way-”

“As he should, Cam! You came in here? Why the fuck wouldn’t you have stayed out in the living room? This is bad enough on its own! Just fuckin’ leave.” Cam walks toward you, wrapping himself up in your arms. You bury your head in his chest, trying to fight him away but he just holds you tighter.

“I didn’t want to make things worse,” he says quietly, his voice calm but firm. “I know you don’t want me to leave.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words don’t come out. He’s right—part of you wanted him here. You’ve been thinking about it since the second he left. But that didn’t change anything… “No,” you whimper, your voice cracking with the emotion you’re trying to hold back. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this mess,” you whisper. “You and Rafe got me into this shit, and now everything feels like it’s falling apart. Rafe and I… we were so fuckin’ happy, Cam,” you whisper as tears start to glass in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles softly against your skin. “We never wanted you to feel this way, baby. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all.”

You can hear the emotion in his words, the desire to pull away, and the desperation to hold on, pulling you in two directions.

“Just please… Just let Rafe and I work this out in the morning, alright? You don’t gotta worry about it. I don’t want to go anywhere, and I fuckin’ won’t. Rafe doesn’t want to lose you… He’d do anything for you. We got you into this mess. We will figure it out. Okay?”

You take a deep breath, completely overwhelmed by the moment. You had no idea what would happen next. Cam made it seem so easy—his thoughts about how Rafe would act if they just talked it out flowed so smoothly from his mouth; it’s almost like he believed that lie himself.

Cam was here… And a part of you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

The darkness is exchanged for the day, soft light bleeding through the blinds as the sounds of the morning creeps through the cracked window. You shift slightly, letting out a lazy stretch, watching Cam’s hand move across your hip, making you freeze. The gravity of the situation sets in. You reach for your phone, checking the time, your head quickly snapping to the door as you hear a set of keys jiggle in the lock.

Your heart skips a beat with the creaking of the hinges, Rafe’s heavy feet moving along the hardwood floor; the thud of his bag landing shortly after. You tap Cam fast before scrambling to your feet, panic flooding your body. “Holy shit,” you whisper under your breath as you walk toward the closed door.

“Baby, you here?”

You push open the door, taking a step into the living room. Rafe’s smile doubles when he sees you. You feel the blood drain from your face as his demeanor shifts. He stands there stunned, his chest rising and falling slightly as his world crashes around him with Cam standing behind you.

“The fuck is happening?”

You reach for a breath, filling your lungs with air as you search for the words that will make this better, but there’s nothing that can make this better. Rafe stands there, his face unreadable for the moment, waiting for either of us to speak before something cracks.

“I said, ‘What the fuck is happening, huh?’” Rafe’s voice echoes through the house, hitting your chest hard.

“I’ll handle this, baby,” Cam says softly, his words sending chills down your spine as he steps around you, his eyes locked on Rafe’s and Rafe’s on his. Even the simple term of endearment felt wrong–hearing him say it so casually in front of Rafe. That simple name that let Rafe know that this was anything but casual for either of you.

“The fuck did you call her?” He asks in disgust, his voice tight with anger and confusion.

“What, you gettin’ jealous now?”

“Jealous?” Rafe’s voice raises, veins protruding as he steps toward the confrontation. “I’m not jealous of fuckin’ shit. Jealous? Jealous of you and MY fuckin’ girlfriend?”

Cam doesn’t flinch, taking a step closer as well. “Well, we both know she’s not just yours. So yeah. Think I'll call her whatever the fuck I like.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and everything went dead silent for the moment.

“Rafe-”

“Don't,” Cam stops you, putting a hand up, pleading with you to stop before you can say anything, his eyes soft and gentle, taking an entirely different approach with you. Rafe’s hands balled into fists, his muscles tight; face red. “You need to get the fuck out,” he spits, his voice low and lethal.

Cam doesn't budge; his posture relaxed. He’s probably the only person in the world who wouldn’t be cowering now. Rafe’s body language matches Cam’s, their emotions like looking in a goddamn mirror.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Cam breathes.

“Rafe,” you gasp as Rafe’s fist shoots out, connecting with his brother’s jaw, making him struggle back, your stomach turning at the sound of it. Cam lunges at Rafe, pushing him back, making him hit the counter, and pictures and items crash to the floor.

The fight became a storm of punches, shoves, and sheer chaos as you watched in horror, neither of them showing any signs of backing down at all as you yelled and screamed for them to stop.

It was a fair fight–each landed jab met with equal force. Your hand clasps over your mouth as you watch your boyfriend go at it. You’ve seen him fight plenty; Rafe always gets the upper hand and fast. But not now… They don’t stop; their faces a mess of blood and bruises, lips split, noses bleeding, but neither seems to care.

That tension… That frustration that you felt all week was clearly felt by the boys as well. Mixing their jealousy on top of it… this was bound to happen. You try to stop them one last time, knowing the only way to tear these two dogs apart would be to leave.

Tears well in your eyes as you grab your keys and head toward the door,. Just as you reach the it, everything stops; just the sounds of their heavy breathing fill the space around you. “You can’t be serious?” Rafe pants, his voice breaking with anger. “Gonna fuck my brother. Walk out and not say shit to me?” Rafe’s voice bellows through the house. You turn around, matching his darkened eyes as tears of shame and sadness slip down your cheeks.

“You guys are scaring me, alright?” You cry. “I just wanted you to stop.”

“M’sorry, princess,” Cam pants, and Rafe shoves his fist against his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt as he pulls it tight.

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Yeah, bitch? Or what?” Cam spits with a cruel smile as he steps closer, pushing his forehead against Rafe’s.

“STOP! Just fucking stop, alright?” You scream, making both of them turn to you. “Look at you guys. What the fuck is happening right now?” You ask, your voice laced with tears. “This whole situation is a fucking mess. And you both ruined everything. EVERYTHING!”

You turn your attention to Cam, walking toward him, pressing your finger into his chest as your heart hammers. “You lied about that fucking phone call, Cam.”

“What phone call?” Rafe asks weakly.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You continue. “I trusted you… You pretended to be your own brother. You came into the room and blindsided me mid-conversation. I can’t help how I feel about you, alright? I’m sorry that I feel something for you after that night. But I fucking do. Okay? Okay?” You scream, turning your attention from Cam to Rafe. “You know that I love you, Rafe… But you also know there’s something between him and me, and I can’t fuckin’ stop. And Cam… Jesus Christ. You keep putting me in situations, tempting me where if I turn you down I lose you.”

“I’m sorry I-” Cam starts.

“No fuck you. Keep your fucking sorrys to you self. And you,” your eyes cut to Rafe. “You ruined everything. If you wanted me to yourself, why would you put me through this in the first place, huh? You made me fucking beg for this, Rafe. And then, even after I begged, you said ‘it wasn’t enough,’ you wanted me to beg some more. If I meant so much to you, why the HELL would you even suggest this? You knew I was worried. You said ‘that night wouldn’t change anything,’ and I fucking believed you.”

“Just calm down, alright-”

“I told you I was worried!” You interject, voice shattered as you choke out your words. “I said that this isn’t something you do with a girlfriend. This seems like something you would do with some random girl at a bar. Not someone you wanted to be with forever. You said, ‘It was just going to be a fun night…’”

“I didn't think this would happen…”

“You messed me up, Rafe. I caught feelings for your brother and I love you. You put me in this situation, and now we’re fucked.”

Rafe’s face goes pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he looks at you, trying to comprehend what you’re saying.

Your bottom lip quivers as you blink away your tears, tugging off Rafe’s gold family ring before resting it on the counter. His eyes soften with hurt and anger. “You’re actin’ like you didn’t just sleep with my brother when I told you last week that I was jealous.”

“Yeah, Rafe? And when I told you ‘we don’t have to do that again’ and ‘I won’t talk to Cam,’ you said that ‘it wasn’t necessary and you just want me to remember who I belong to’.”

“Mhmm-yeah,” he huffs as he steps a little closer. “And I told you ‘I didn’t want him talking to you without me,’ and you fucked him…” His nostrils flare as tears brim in his waterline.

“We didn’t,” Cam mumbles.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Rafe screams back at his brother before turning his attention back to you, taking a deep breath. “You did somethin’ I know you did,” he softens his tone, hurt and accusatory, cutting right through you. “I need a fuckin’ answer, alright? Me or him?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, not giving him the quick answer he was looking for.

“JESUS FUCK. I can’t believe I’m even askin’ you this twice. ME OR HIM?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“How the FUCK you not know, huh? I am so fucking sure about you. How the hell do you not know?”

“Because, Rafe… We’re not going through the same shit. You have no idea what this feels like for me. I’m fuckin’ spiraling. I didn’t tell you about the text I got from Cam this morning. It was eating at me all day… I didn’t know whether to respond or let it go. And, I knew that if I didn’t say anything, he’d come regardless because you two are the fuckin’ same. So, when he called pretending to be you, I told him about the texts. He told me ‘I was fine,’ he told me to ‘stop worrying,’ and that he would talk to him… And then when he got here, he told me it’s okay and that you have me… You’re both fucking liars. The second I found out that he wasn’t telling the truth, I should have told you… I should have asked him to leave. But I didn’t want to.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice thick with frustration.

“I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing, Rafe. Why did we do this in the first place? Why are you jealous? Why are things different with me? I don’t know why I feel this way, just like you don’t know why all of a sudden this little thing the two of you do for fun all the sudden turned into the bad fuckin’ idea it was. I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving? Where are you goin’?” Rafe asks as you storm down the front porch, the two boys trailing close behind you.

You grab the car door, tugging it open, but Rafe grabs it, his piercing blue eyes burning into yours. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” you breathe.

“You said ‘you love me,’” he struggles to push the words through his tight lips. “You said ‘you loved me, and you’re fuckin’ leaving me.”

“Oh my god. I love you, Rafe. We were fuckin’ perfect… Excuse me for needing a moment to think about how that got taken away.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he pleads, his knuckles turning white with his grip on the door. “I can’t lose you. Please.”

“Don’t leave,” Cam steps in. “Please. I’ve ruined enough, okay? I’ve fucked up so much shit for the two of you. I should have known this would eventually happen. I know how Rafe talks about you… He loves you so much. We weren’t thinking. I’ll go. Just–Just don’t leave him,” Cam begs, holding back his emotions too.

“I’m not choosing either of you… I just need some time to think.” You tug on the door; Rafe fights against you monetarily, “Give me some fucking time to think, Rafe.”

He submits as he sees the look in your eyes and the pain all this caused. “I’m sorry, princess.”

𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻, 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻…

iMessages

Rafe: I messed up baby

Rafe: I never should’ve put you in that position and I’m so sorry

Rafe: I love you more than anything

Cam: I’m sorry for everything that happened and for lying to you. I knew by the way Rafe talked about you that it was dumb in the first place, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know where this was headed even before we started.

Cam: I saw you before we met. I acted like I didn’t. But I saw the two of you on IG. I saw how fucking pretty you are. Got an idea of what he kinda girl you were… listened to his stories and shit i knew this was going to be trouble before it even started.

Rafe: I keep replaying everything over and over. Everything that you told me. You were so worried and I said I would take care of you. I’m supposed to take care of you.

Cam: I’m sorry for lying to you. I can’t believe I did that shit.

Rafe: Im begging you for anything. Please

Rafe: Saw you in the library. You look so pretty baby. I miss you so much

Cam: Merry Christmas

Cam: It hurts to hear Rafe talk about you. I’m sorry

Rafe: just want you to know that I’ll do anything to fix this

Rafe: Give me 5 minutes alright? Just 5 minutes I won’t take any more of your time.

Cam: If you’re ever willing to talk to me, just know I’m here. I can meet you anywhere. Anytime.

Rafe: When you’re ready I’ll be here. I hope you’re taking care of yourself

Rafe: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me

Rafe: You’re always on my mind. I’m so fucked up about this.

Rafe: I love you

Rafe: im sorry

𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 31𝓼𝓽…

Rafe’s POV:

Apparently, there’s a party goin’ on here tonight… Smiling, laughter, and clinking glasses fill the air, but the only thing I can see is her, all the sounds around me fading into the back as my racing thoughts take the front seat.

She’s beautiful. Fuck, she always looks good. She smiles and laughs; if I didn’t know her well enough, I’d buy it… I can’t believe I lost her–fumbled the best thing I ever had. She was everything to me. Our relationship was so fucking good. Now, it’s gone.

Cam stands next to me, sipping his whiskey. He looks out at the crowd, his eyes following her, too. The tension between us is thick. He feels the same way I do. He misses her. We both fuckin’ do.

“Somethin’s off, huh?” Cam asks, his voice gentle as he picks up on the same thing I did.

I sigh deeply, running my fingers through my hair. “Yeah. That ain’t her,” I answer against the rim of my glass. ‘Not her…’ He knows what I mean: that little light that’s usually in her eyes has dimed, her forced smile not even reaching her eyes. “I fucked everything up.” I rasp, feeling the bite of the liquor burn down my throat, numbing my nerves slightly.

“We both did,” he mumbles, his voice tight as he rubs his hand over his buzzed head.

The night goes on, and I still can’t take my eyes off her. She hangs out with her friends, floating between conversations, and suddenly, my world turns upside down. A guy? Someone new? I recognized him from campus, a hockey player… Heyward? I don’t fuckin’ know. Regardless, my stomach twisted in knots seeing her with someone else because, for a split second, she looked happy, and that should have been enough, but it did nothing but make all those thoughts in my brain louder. It does nothin’ but break my heart even more.

She found someone else.

Cam and I exchange glances, quietly watching, living the same nightmare.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Cam said quietly, his voice full of longing.

I clench my jaw, fists tightening at my sides. “I feel the same way. But we can’t force her to choose. Looks like—” I clear my throat, battling back my tears. “Umm… It looks like she found someone else anyway.”

“No way, man.”

“Regardless, we need to give her space and let her figure it out. And if she comes back around, we just have to promise each other that whoever she chooses is just that. Alright? None of this sneakin’ around bullshit,” I whisper, trying not bring up the past, but for the first time, I get a taste of what it felt like to be him… I don’t even think I could follow my own orders if she chooses Cam. I don’t fuckin’ blame him, honestly.

“I think I love her, man,” Cam whispers.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew it was fuckin’ true– I knew after that first night they were together this shit wasn’t gonna end well for me. But hearing him say it out loud… That’s a hard pill to swallow. I shut my eyes, breathing deeply before letting out a deep sigh.

“‘Course you do…”

Got nothin’ to lose. The only thing that I had I threw away. Every day we’re not together feels like a wasted moment. Every night I spend time alone, hurts a little more than the last. I gotta make this right…

I walk up to her, my heart racing in my chest. She looks up at me, fluttering her lashes, surprised to see me here. And with my arrival little light flickering in her eyes dims entirely, and I know it’s my fault.

“Can we talk,” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

She hesitates, then nods, giving me a gentle smile. “Okay,” the word passes her lips as I hear her voice for the first time in too long… I extend my hand, and she takes it, following me out of the thick crowd, out of the swanky hotel bar into the lobby of the Ritz.

Cam steps away from the reception desk, thanking the clerk before stuffing his wallet in his pocket. He turns toward us, eyes locked on her, that same look in his eyes as mine. We gotta fix this.

Reader's POV:

The three of you walk into a dark hotel room, the city lights glittering outside the windows as the New Year’s Eve fireworks pop and crack in the sky. Cam flicks on a light, and Rafe pops open a bottle of champagne, filling three flutes.

You take a breath, feeling your heart patter and your stomach flutter. The night took a turn; one moment, you were chatting and drinking with your friends, and the next, the boys whisked you away for a chat. You’d be lying if you didn’t expect to see them; after Rafe had liked a picture of you getting ready on Instagram, it was only a matter of time.

These men take what they want and don’t go down without a fight…

Rafe passes you a glass, looking down at you with a nervous smile. He hands one to Cam as well, who looks down at you with that same reflective face.

“Thanks for agreeing to come up here,” Rafe breathes, and you give him a nod before taking the champagne to your lips. “I know I keep sayin’ it, but. I’m sorry,” he says softly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “We shouldn’t have put you in that spot. You were right; all the girls were just hookups before… Nothing serious. Nothing like you,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, too,” Cam starts next, his eyes brimming with guilt. “I lied… to him, to you. I told him I understood where he was comin’ from. I told him he had nothin’ to worry about, and I knew I was lying. I manipulated you… I shouldn’t have done that. And, I’m sorry I let on that I didn’t know her…” Rafe doesn’t say anything at first, his face hardening as he realizes the last apology was for him, not you. He blinks a few times, repeating the words in his head.

“Cam-” Rafe starts.

“When I first met her, I acted like I didn’t know her. But that wasn’t true. After you started datin’, I followed her on social media and learned more about her. I knew somethin’ like this could happen…” Cam continues, his voice trailing away with remorse. “And, I’d be lying to you if I said ‘I wasn’t hopin’ for it to happen.’ I didn’t think about what would happen beyond that… This shit. I don’t know. I was hoping it would work out. I didn’t back off when you asked me to, Rafe. I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry.”

Rafe’s expression darkens for the moment. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, choosing his battles, a mixture of sadness and betrayal in his eyes nonetheless. “So what? You thought you were just gonna come in here and break us up? What the fuck-”

“No… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Cam answers truthfully.

You sit there silent, stunned by their admittance, their utter vulnerability. They clearly had a while to cool down and think it through. But you knew you were blameless; the weight also hung heavy on your shoulders.

“I should’ve told you to leave, Cam,” you say softly. “I could have stopped it the second I knew the call earlier was you and not Rafe. You were walking out of the door, and I pulled you back in…”

“Holy shit,” Rafe mutters under his breath weakly before looking away, downing the rest of his champagne. “I was really confused. I was overwhelmed; the last thing I should have done was that. I’m so, so sorry, Rafe,” you whisper as a few tears spring from your eyes.

Rafe takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, rolling out the tension in his neck before turning around again. He walks toward you, cupping your cheeks in his big hands, lifting your gaze to his. “Don’t apologize to me,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “You told me you were worried… You told me that you loved me… I said I’d take care of you, and look how it turned out. Nothing would have happened if I just listened like I should have.”

Rafe’s eyes lift from yours, looking over his shoulder at his brother. You turn around, watching Cam take a few paces, his big arms crossed over his chest for comfort, trying his best to keep his feelings at bay.

“I can’t stay here,” Cam says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have told him ‘no’ ‘cause I was in too deep from the start. I should have backed off… If I had done that, the two of you would have been fine. You’re a good girl, and Rafe loves you. I should’ve respected that from the start.”

“Cam…” You breathe, your voice trembling, just knowing what’ll come next.

“I just want you both to be happy,” Cam continues, his gaze sincere but heavy as he blinks some tears away, running his eyes along the sleeve of his suit. “I know I made this harder. I’ll be fine. But I’ll always have love for you. I’ll control myself from now on. I promise you both. I swear.” Cam reaches out for you, pulling you into a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Your eyes pinch shut, and you feel a sense of reserve wash over you despite the sadness. You missed what you had with Rafe but weren’t sure how to balance it all.

“Later, man,” Cam draws away before pulling Rafe into a hug. “Key card is on the nightstand, alright. I’ll see you at the house tomorrow. You two have a great night,” he smiles, speaking sweetly even though you can tell he’s just holding on by a thread.

𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚎…

𝜗𝜚 𝓒𝓪𝓶 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝜗𝜚 𝓒𝓪𝓶 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂𝓼

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @littlelamy @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy @rafestoothbrush @bloodibambiidoll @laniirackssss @jkrafe @wtfdudesblog @alejstarkey @rafe-cameronswife @rafe-cameronswife @rafedaddy01

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loneisland · 3 days ago

Text

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄

Would people still adore you if they uncovered the secrets you’ve been burying so deep? You've been walking a tightrope, flirting with danger, but now that A is on the loose, the stakes are higher than ever. Be careful—someone’s always watching.

🗝️ — fem! reader x various blue lock characters, pretty little liars au, early 2010s settings, specific warnings for each drabble

— 𝜗𝜚 CORPORATE AFFAIRS

Dating daddy’s coworker? Bold move. Wonder how he’ll feel when he finds out you’ve been mixing business with pleasure. Tick tock… – A

Who knew your father’s mixers were as effective as blind dates arranged by random friends? Oliver Aiku might be your dad’s colleague, but you’re determined not to let him slip away too soon. Too bad A doesn’t seem to want you to have it your way. The game’s just beginning.

— 𝜗𝜚 DESK DUTY

Lucky you, sneaking around with your professor! Other girls have to hit the books, you get to hit his desk. – A

Oh, you know you shouldn’t. Yukimiya Kenyu is nothing if not sweet, and there’s a nagging guilt in the pit of your stomach, knowing you’re pulling him deeper into your web. But don’t worry—A will make sure you feel just guilty enough… maybe even a little more. The stakes are rising.

— 𝜗𝜚 TARGET PRACTICE

Heads up, BFFs! It’s open season on cheaters, and I’m hunting… — A

It was all a giant accident. You’d accidentally dragged this Itoshi Rin out of the bar, accidentally tangled yourself up with him, and accidentally woken up beside him the next morning. Calling him back? Another accident. But cheating is a dirty game, and A isn’t about to let you forget it.

— 𝜗𝜚 OUT OF BOUNDS

Poor you. Always eyeing your brother’s best friend. But remember, if you kiss, I tell. – A

Summer breaks were meant for bikinis, poolside lounging, and flipping through gossip magazines under the sun. Toss in your brother’s best friend Itoshi Sae—a little too close for comfort lately—and suddenly, things get a whole lot hotter. Now A has everything they need to make this summer unforgettable—for all the wrong reasons.

— 𝜗𝜚 THE THINGS WE DO

Breaking hearts and family rules, one crush at a time. Keep digging yourself deeper—this hole’s just getting juicier. Kisses. – A

You love your sister—well, most of the time, anyway. The only problem is, you love her boyfriend Michael Kaiser a whole lot more. It’s messy, it’s wrong, but it’s yours to bear. Or at least it was, until A decided to dangle your secret by a thread, ready to unravel everything with a single pull.

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34tmyh34rt · 3 days ago

Note

König wanting to be tied up but he’s nervous to ask

Tying up subby König

Smut Ahead!!

A/n: This scared me to be completely honest, like how do I write this 😭 BUT I CAN DO THIS.

Sorry for the wait, I wanted to make sure that this was good for all of y’all :)

Tags: gn reader, afab reader, fat friendly fic, no pronouns except for ‘you’, sub König, dom reader, bondage, degradation (m receiving), after care included, slight obsessive König, toxic masculinity mentioned, gender roles mentioned, König being a wuss, what color have we agreed his eyes are??? also this fic is a lil silly, don’t take me too seriously, gets better as you read lol

König’s huge and beefy. He’s not made to be gentle, vulnerable. When you’re in military you gotta have muscles, not feelings. But lord does this big man just want to be put in his place.

Whenever he had the time - or privacy - bondage was always his favorite to pleasure himself to. The lack of control, putting your body in the hands of someone else, having to take everything you were given.

The soldiers he worked with didn’t have much of a filter, using any chance they could to compete in some stupid testosterone pissing match. They boasted about coming back home to their submissive wife that they could fold into a million positions. Talking about how strong and dominant they were - but König couldn’t help but wish for the roles to be reversed.

Being a dom never really did it for him, he didn’t get all the hype. He’d much rather be the one being played with like clay. Pushed and pulled in all directions, used like a doll, treated like a slut. But he could never tell the other men this! No, he’d be ridiculed! I mean, he breaks open doors for a living! He can’t whimper and beg!

But oh lord does he.

He loves his relationship with you. He doesn’t think he could ever find anyone who cares for him as much as you do. God you’re just so fucking perfect. You understand him so well. You don’t make fun of him, you know that he comes with a lot of fucking baggage. You’re so patient with him, especially when his anxiety is taking over.

He’s been too scared to go too far with you in the bedroom. He won’t even let you touch him, worried that he’ll turn into subby mess right under your hands. He’ll finger you or eat you out, never using his dick. If you ever complain or feel bad about the only one getting pleasured, he’ll just tell you that you deserve to feel good, so why don’t you just sit back and let him play with your body?

You guessed that he was just too anxious or insecure to actually fuck yet. You remind him every day that you love him and you’d never leave him, I mean, even that bulge is impressive. If he let you suck his dick once you’d be his forever. He’s so fucking hot and god won’t he just fuck you already!! Nothing could turn you off of an absolute hunk of man like him.

You’ve been begging more and more every day, even resorting wearing only his shirt and your underwear, hoping he’ll rip it right off of you and take you right then and there. Crawling into his lap and grinding down. But of course he’ll just effortlessly pick you up and set you down next to him, giving you a kiss on the head as a sort of apology and racing to the bathroom to deal with his massive… problem

You rolled your eyes, seriously?!?!?

You know that he’s jerking off. This is ridiculous, he obviously wants to fuck you, what the hell is going on? You can’t do this anymore! That’s it, you’re confronting him and getting a goddamn answer.

Your knuckles knock against the wooden door of the bathroom, “König. Get out here. Right now. I know you’re jerking off in there.”

König felt heat rush from his tummy to his cock, goddamnit now he was even harder. He strained against his pants painfully, a soft whimper tumbling past his lips. You’ve never been so demanding before. He hate how much it turned him on.

With a large hand clumsily hiding his bulge, König stumbled out of the bathroom. He was sheepish, refusing to look you in the eye. He looked so fucking pathetic. And he still looked sexy.

“König,” you drawled out his name, frustration evident in your tone - it sent another rush south, König’s eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the sound, “Are you gonna keep beating your dick in the bathroom or are you going to fuck me?”

You could practically hear König gulp, his hand squeezing down over his hard on. His wide eyes flickered down to your lips, you looked so hot when you were angry.

He nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze from you. He’ll probably last long enough, he just has to go slow - that’s all! He just has to keep focusing on being strong and manly and he won’t melt at the feeling of your pussy around his cock! Oh god, who is he kidding, he can’t stay dominate around yo-

“You want me to top you, don’t you?”

His heart dropped. How do you know? He’s quiet, he never has told you anything about his preferences! He’s in the military! He acts like all his peers, right?

His thoughts are racing and you can tell. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes moving back and forth - something you realized that he does every time he’s deep in thought. You let out a small giggle, “König, don’t be so oblivious, baby.”

You walk up to him, hand reaching up to hold his face. The simple touch has him sinking into your hold. “God look at you, it’s not hard to tell. You always liked it when I took charge,” you leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “You want me to tie you up? Ride your cock until you can’t see straight? Prove to you how much of a slut you are?”

His knees almost buckle under him, you’re all he could ever want. He’s fantasied about you so many nights, worried that he’d never be enough for you. Worried that he wouldn’t live up to your expectations. But that’s okay, you have all the time in the world to prove to him what a good boy he is.

He couldn’t even think, stumbling as you dragged him into your shared room. You quickly tore off your shirt and pants, only allowing him enough time to take off his shirt before throwing him down on the bed, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thick, muscular thighs.

You looked so pretty on top of him. He loved being under you, he wish he could spend the rest of his life right here.

You playfully rutted your heat down on his rock hard cock, König threw back his head. He let out a loud whine, fingers digging into your hips. “You know König, I’ve been planning for this for oh so long. I’ve seen how squirmy you get whenever someone’s tied up on TV. How you grab something to cover your lap. But you’re just so obvious, huh baby?” You squished his cheeks between your fingers. Your voice was so condescending and he couldn’t help but thrust his hips up into you.

“God, you’re such a whore for me König.”

He whined, loud. His pretty pink lip caught between his teeth, brows drawn together. He watched as you opened up your bedside drawer and pulled out a bundle of delicate black lace. His face flushed, cock throbbing against you.

He stayed perfectly still for you as you gently grabbed his hands, leading them up the headboard, and tying them together in a neat little bow. The intricate fabric looked perfect next to his bulging muscles. You ran your fingers up and down the sprawling vine like veins in his arms, you could feel him quivering beneath you. His shallow breathes and occasional low moans tumbling past his mouth.

He gave an experimental tug to his bindings, he could barely move. A rush of blood flowed down to his cock. You were so strong, tying him up so tight, leaving him to your mercy.

You could feel him harden even more, a smirk gracing your face, “You like that baby? You like being tied up under me?” His head quickly nodded, his pretty blue eyes looking up at you.

“Maybe I should just leave you here…” you trail off, leaving kisses along his collarbone, “all desperate and whiny… I mean, it’s only fair after making me wait this long.”

You don’t think you’ve seen König so panicked before. His eyes were blown wide, hands tugging at his bindings so he can hold onto you and keep you right where he needs you. “N-no! Schatz please… please! Bitte mein leibling… I- y/n, I can’t-“ His words slurred, strung together by his thick accent.

“Come on König, stop blabbering. I know you can beg me better than that.” Your words shut him right up. You could see him process, his mind clouded with lust.

“Liebling… ich braunche dich, I need to have you t-touch me…” he pleaded for you, lips trembling and dick pressing against your thigh. “I want to be inside of you so bad, maus… fuck, I’m so hard for you y/n…” How could you deny him when he was begging you so sweetly?

“Only because you’re being such a good boy for me.” You smirked as you oh so slowly unbuttoned his pants. He thrust into the air uncontrollably, even the slightest touch drove him mad. “Ah-ah, stay still König.” His teeth dug into his lip at your words.

You pulled him out of his boxers, his cock slapping up against his tummy with how aroused he was. Pre cum slid down to his base in pretty droplets. You wrapped your hand around him, barely covering him entirely from just how big he was. König let out small breathy whimpers, the heat of your hand was just so warm and nice against his hard on.

You gave him a small lick at his tip, the flavor of his cock spreading deliciously across your tongue. König let out a loud, drawn out groan. More and more peals dribbled from the slit and you quickly caught them in your mouth. König pulled down on his restraints as you slowly took the head of his dick in your mouth, sucking gently.

He loved when you treated him so sweetly, so softly. So lovingly. But lord could he not wait for you to fuck him up.

You started bobbing up and down on his cock effortlessly, taking him nice and easy. You looked up him through your lashes as you hollowed your cheeks and it sent his stomach in knots. It felt so good, the warmth and wetness of your mouth was like heaven. Your teeth grazing the skin of his dick, a small reminder that he was under your mercy and control. To another man it might be threatening to think that their pleasure could so easily be turned into something so painful if the person blowing them off only clamped slightly…

But it just pushed him closer to the edge. Being placed in between those pretty jaws of yours, so sweet but so dangerous. Of course you’d never hurt him, at least not more than he could handle - or enjoy.

He thrusted up into your mouth only for your hands to hold down his hips. Your eyes glowered at him in warning, you were in charge of his pleasure. He whimpered as a sort of apology, too enraptured in the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips to form words. Your saliva pooling at his base and mixing with his pre cum.

He couldn’t wait any longer, his stomach tightening in short spasms. “Maus, I- I’m gonna… ‘M gonna cum…” His breath came out heavy in between his words, your mouth never ceasing as you watched him stumble his words out.

Your lips pulled off his cock with a small ‘pop’, hand lazily moving up and down on his length. “Yeah? You gonna cum? Am I making you feel that good?” His eyes watered, your words so teasing and mean but so arousing. You let out a little chuckle at his state, feeling him twitch in your hand, “Go ahead, cum for me. Cum for me like the slut you are”

You brought your head back down on his dick, moving fast and rough. He loves the way you talk to him, the way you treat him. Like he’s yours. He pulled harder on the lace holding him in hopes of grounding himself, hoping to somehow deal with the overwhelming pleasure you were giving him.

You let his hips thrust into you as he chased his orgasm, loud whines and strings of your name leaving his mouth. You kept your gaze on his face as his brows pinched and eyes closed tight. You felt his cum spill past your lips and leaking down onto his lap. You kept sucking his off long past his high came down, aftershocks twitching throughout his body.

“W-wait it’s, it’s too much- ngh! Oh my god…- y/n!” You giggled watching him squirm with overstimulation. You laid one of your hands down on his hips, pressing down against him. The other hand traced up and down his cock. It was still hard, pressed against his tummy and smearing left over cum on his skin. He jumped with each ghost of your fingers and whined for your teasing to stop.

You eventually slowed your hand, grinning at the mess König had become beneath you, “Alright pretty boy, so fucking sensitive, huh? But if you’re too sensitive for me to even touch you, how am I going to properly fuck you?”

Standing at the edge of the bed you slowly pulled your underwear down, looking at every twitch of König cock as he watched you. You climbed into his lap, your bare cunt hovering above his dick.

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and he gazed at you as though you were sent by god just for him. “Du bist so schön, meine Liebe.”

König’s lip quivered as you lower yourself down onto him. His hard cock stretched out your walls so wonderfully. So hot and thick, and all yours. You threw back your head at the feeling of König disappearing into you inch by inch.

“König you feel so fucking good baby, filling me up soooo much”

König searched for your eyes, needing to know just how good he was making you feel. Him. Not anyone else, him. He felt like he’d cum just at the thought of pleasuring you so well.

His hands shook in his bindings, he craved the feeling of your skin. He needed to run his hands up the curves of your tits, and down the fat of your hips. He needed to grab your stomach and grope your thigh. He just needed to touch- but he was a good boy. He wouldn’t beg you to untie him, no, he needed to prove he could be nothing but a toy for you to use. This was all about you.

God, you.

Your hips met his and the final stretch lodged a moan through your pretty lips. König involuntarily bucked into you as a tear rolled down his cheek at the bliss of being inside of you.

You reached down a hand to dry his face, your other hand pressing down against his lap,

“Aw, Baby, it’s okay. Don’t get too excited though, you keep still.”

Your voice was soft but firm. So melodious. It sounded like honey to König and you could feel him throb inside of you as he held back another thrust.

You teasingly rolled your hips with his full dick inside of you, head thrown back and thoroughly enjoying yourself. König’s teeth burrowed into the soft plush of his lip, overwhelmed by the sight of your heavenly state and the overstimulation to his cock.

His jaw dropped open as he felt you slowly rise up until only the tip was encased in your warmth, and then quickly falling back down to his hips. You watched as König whimpered, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through him.

You picked up the pace with each movement, up and down, up and down. More and more whines tumbling past König’s lips as they harmonized with your own moans. Your slick and his cum mixed together over his hips and the insides of your thighs. You reached a hand forward, tracing patterns on his stone hard stomach. It was like chiseled marble, perfectly sculpted all for only you to see and to touch.

He jumped, the muscle in his tummy jumping at the feeling and relaxing at your chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are, König.” You leaned forward even more, lips teasing his ear. “It’s gonna make fucking you a lot harder for you and a lot more fun for me.”

You straightened your back, mean grin gracing your features. König’s eyes reached the back of his skull, too pleasured to feel real fear at your words. It only pushed him further to finishing. His stomach muscles spasming in preparation and his body tensing.

You suddenly stopped, his cock fully encased in your tight warmth. A twisted cry came from König, desperate for you to continue but not daring to thrust his hips into you. You leaned against your arms propped on his chest, staring deeply into his eyes as he stared back.

Your voice was low aa you spoke, “Are you gonna cum again, König? Cum for your first time from my pussy? Cumming like the pussy drunk slut you are?”

A small sob left König, tears falling from his face. It was as all so much, almost too much. Having you be everything he’s ever dreamed of. He nodded his head, your word bouncing around his skull.

“Y-yes meine liebe, please. Please, let me. I love you.” Another sob, “Ngh, I’m- I’m your slut y/n, I’m your whore.”

“Awww.” You smiled wickedly at him, crashing your lips against his as you continued to ride him. His cock reached all the right places, leading you to your own release. You bit at his lips and even his tongue, his moans filling your mouth. Drool dribbled down his chin and slid down his neck.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, gripping him like you never wanted him to leave. The sound of your skin connecting was like music to König’s ears. The sound of accomplishment. The sound of his love in physical form. The sound of you taking him and putting him right where he fucking belonged.

His tummy tightened again, dick pulsing inside of you. You felt your own stomach pool with pleasure. You momentarily broke from König’s mouth, saliva stringing you together. His tongue lolled out, desperate for your connection to resume.

“Cum for me König, cum with me and prove to me that you’re mine and only mine.” Your lips reached his yet again as your hips moved faster and faster. You even allowed König to sloppily thrust into you. Each time your bodies met it felt like heaven, pushing you further and further to what you knew would be an other worldly orgasm.

All that mattered in this moment was you, it didn’t matter if he fucked before or if he’d cum from someone else before. It felt like he was doing it for the first time. Like this was the only time that mattered. The only person that made him feel this fucking good. This fucking loved.

The pleasure rose and rose, until it snapped. Euphoria rushing over your bodies in waves. A strangled cry pushed into your mouth from König. You could feel him filling you up, warmth spreading throughout your body. You did a few more slow lazy thrusts before pulling yourself off of him, sitting up and looking down at the mess you made.

God he was pathetic, tears drying against his face, lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes looking at you with pure admiration.

You lazily crawled off the bed, leaving König whining for you. When you returned you had a warm wet towel. You sat next to König and gently cleaned him off, careful to not overwhelm him too much. You could feel him jump underneath you every now and then from his overstimulation. When you were done you quickly cleaned your self off and laid the towel on the bed side table, turning back to König who watched your every move with a soft gaze.

You untied the lace around his wrists, holding them in your hands and massaging them lightly. “Does your skin hurt at all baby?”

“N-no. Well, not unbearably. The sting… feels nice.” His voice was husky and low. You smiled at him, before lying down and cuddling up to his chest. He was damp with sweat and his flesh was feverishly hot under your hands. His arm snaked under you and held you tight against him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much maus, thank you… thank you for making me yours.”

A/n: oh. my. god. It’s finally over. I finally finished it. Sorry for being gone for so long! Hope this makes up for my absence :)

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mejaemin · 1 day ago

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200 - lee minhyung

wc: 1.2k

summary: mark cannot lose you, so in a desperate effort to let you know, he does so in the way he knows best

warnings: fighting, they make up dw, i mentioned a crude joke towards woman being made but it was never explicitly said

an: what did i eat today that made me to a triple upload ?!?! and none of those three were pre written ?!?! crazy.. but anyway here’s my first (solo) work for markle sparkle !!! lowkey i prefer the minhyung version of 200 over the regular.. but anyway pls enjoy this !!! also tysm to @viasdreams for helping me come up with an idea for what the argument should be about 😙😙 ly queen

listen 🎧! : 200 - minhyung’s version

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

mark is so done.

it’s been about a week since “the incident”, and a week of going through extreme withdrawals and torture on his end from being shut out. within your circle of friends and quite a few people outside of it, your “argument” has become quite a popular topic amongst the people.

it’s honestly very petty of you, but you can’t help it. your whole situation just doesn’t sit right with you. for reference, you were hanging out with mark and his friends last week, nothing new. it started when his one friend started making sexual jokes, and of course it’s gross but boys will be boys, so you chose to distract yourself in your phone rather than torture yourself with listening to that nonsense.

the real problem arose when said jokes started turning strange, almost feeling objectifying towards women. it was quite uncomfortable to have to sit in the middle of a conversation, but thankfully you didn’t need much incentive to leave when mark started laughing along with the group. you immediately snapped your head around to look at him, giving him a look, and you could tell that was all you needed to do because he was immediately leaning towards you, but you paid him no mind and just left.

he was following behind you, and you ignored him all the way until you were halfway down the block. he grabbed your wrist, and maybe your hormones were a little off balance because you did make it out to be a little more than it should have been, but you turned around and snapped at him. in public, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, you and mark had an argument about why it was so inappropriate for him to laugh at such crude jokes. of course, in the heat of the moment it went nowhere, and ended with him driving you home (he drove you to the hangout, and despite being angry he still didn’t want you walking) in silence.

as soon as you got home, you bid him a very upset goodbye before sitting in your frustration. you managed to calm down, able to admit that you were a little harsh on him, but upon remembering the fact that he just couldn’t get why you were upset made you upset all over again. thus, you got heated all over again and decided to block mark on everything until you were able to be calm about things again (that was an excuse, and the real reason you did that was just to be petty).

the next few days he tried contacting you many times, even through other people, and you completely ignored it. at some point you did start feeling bad, but you were already too deep into it to go back now. so, you kept on, even going to the length of ignoring him when you saw each other on campus. he truly looked like a kicked puppy, well, as far as you could tell without making direct eye contact, and it sucked, but you kept walking. he had yet to admit he was in the wrong, and maybe you both were, especially you for not letting him admit it, but oh well.

after about a week and a half of avoiding your boyfriend, you’re laying on your couch, alone, scrolling through your phone when you get a notification from one of mark’s friends. the text doesn’t say much, simply a pair of eyeball emojis followed by a screenshot of mark’s profile on spotify.

he’s a music major, and you’re aware of the fact that he sometimes posts his projects on spotify or other platforms.. however, this time is a little different. the numbers on his account are way larger than they were the last time you checked, and there’s a whole other album added onto it. immediately you’re going to your own app to look at his profile, and you see that it’s for real. the numbers next to all his songs have changed from under a thousand to ten times that, and there’s an ep with five songs under the ‘latest release’ section.

immediately disregarding whatever grudge you were holding, you play it. the first song, titled 200, begins with the quiet strumming of an acoustic guitar, and you hook it up to your speaker to really feel it. he starts with his vocals, and your heart picks up. despite being more involved with rap, you always told mark you loved his vocals. you always asked him to do more songs with them, because to you they sounded godsent. it seems that after all this time, he’s finally decided to listen. there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s talking to you, the lyrics full of love and mentions of little things that have always been staples in your relationship. it’s really the cutest, and your heart hurts at the fact that you’re ignoring him while he releases a song all about your relationship while simultaneously reaching a notable point in his career.

immediately grabbing your things, you get into your car and make your way to mark’s apartment. on the way, you unblock him on everything and send him an apology message before driving to him, as close to the speed limit as you could. he tries calling you, but you ignore it in favor of the fact that his apartment is close and you’re already almost there. on the way you listened to the rest of his ep, and all the songs are including the same things, all about love with one of them even including an apology with him nearly pleading for you to come back to him.

as soon as you get to his door, you unlock it with the spare key he gave you and let yourself in. he’s in the kitchen, his back facing you, and you waste no time in running up to him and closing him in your arms.

“oh my god, markie, i’m so sorry..” you squeeze him tight in your embrace, and although he’s startled and more than a little upset, he turns around and returns the favor.

“it’s alright, babe, come sit.” he pries you off of him, leading you to the couch where he sits down with you, keeping an arm around your shoulder.

“i heard your songs and i just, i’m sorry. i feel really stupid, and i shouldn’t have ignored you, and i really hope you can forgive me.” you ramble, saying anything and everything to help explain just how terrible you felt.

his thumb rubs reassuring circles into your shoulder as he turns his head to face you completely. “it’s okay, baby, i forgive you. and i’m sorry too, i was being immature and there was nothing funny about what he said.”

you nod, feeling a little more relieved, yet still very stupid now that you saw how easy everything was discussed. “so… we’re okay?” you ask, eyes meeting his with an unsure look.

he turns his body to face you fully, using one hand to hold your face and lean in to kiss you. “of course. let’s not do that again though, okay? i was on the verge of death, bro, i swear.”

seeing how quickly he returned to normal, you giggle, nodding as you lean back into his arms. “of course, mark, it was torture for me too. now.. you seriously made five songs about me in the span of a week and a half all because of this?” you tease, and that’s how you spend the rest of the night, celebrating his success and loving each other like the way he says in his music.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

#mejaemin #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #mark lee #mark lee x reader #lee minhyung #lee minhyung x reader #lee mark #lee mark x reader #mark lee nct #nct mark lee #mark nct #nct mark #— reqs ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

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natashashill · 3 days ago

Text

want me, want me not

pairing: agatha harkness x rio vidal x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none(?) minor angst, happy ending

a/n: i completely changed some timelines of AAA but hopefully this still works?

summary: based off this req

You suddenly shoot up onto a dusty path trying to get the taste of dirt off your mouth, when you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

Billy floods your vision as he goes to greet you in a hug, while you still process your new surroundings.

“Billy, hi! I’m so glad you’re here but where am I?”

He animatedly tells you about the Witch’s Road and introduces you to the rest of the coven: Jen, Alice, Lilia, Agatha, and Rio.

Lilia struck up a conversation with you and you told her all about yourself and how you knew Billy. She seemed very kind and you were glad to have someone in your corner.

Jen was rather cautious of you, and while she started being polite to you, you could tell she wasn’t willing to talk to you very much. She carried a harsh energy and you were a little nervous to see what would happen if you got on her bad side.

Alice got along quite well with you. She was easy to talk to, and you found yourself engrossed in her stories. You hoped you could connect with her outside this road or whatever you were in.

Agatha was something you couldn’t explain. You were captured by her from the moment Billy introduced you to her, but she wouldn’t even give you the time of day.

That leads you to Rio, who was rather odd. She didn’t outwardly show any displeasure but it was almost as if she didn’t want you around. You weren’t sure what was going on but you decided you weren’t going to pry.

When you were all gathered around the fire sharing stories, you sat next to Lilia while you waited for Agatha to be done checking on Billy. You wanted to go see him but she wouldn’t let anyone come near him while he slept. It seems you kept staring at them because when you momentarily glanced back to the group, Rio caught your graze. You quickly turned away, hiding the small blush appearing on your cheeks.

Rio walked away after that, and you could only assume she was talking with Agatha. You focused your energy back to the group enjoying some of the banter between Jen and Alice. You let yourself fall into the conversation, sharing some stories of what you and Billy have gotten into outside of school. Everything was going great until you could overhear loud murmuring between Agatha and Rio.

You use this opportunity as the group wonders what’s going on to check up on Billy. You just barely reach him, when you see Agatha storming over to you, with Rio grinning as she trails behind.

“What are you doing?”

“I was just checking up on him. I wanted to know how he was.”

Agatha scoffs, “He’d be fine if he gets some rest. It would be best not to disturb him, go back to the group.”

You try not to show how much her words hurt you and start to walk towards the group when you turn back around.

“He was my friend first you know. What do you even know about him. You don’t have to be so rude either, I’ve been nothing but nice to you since I arrived here, and it’s not like I asked to be here.”

With that, you return back to the group sitting next to Lilia. You start to laugh over some of Jen’s stories about her brand, completely unaware to what’s going on between Agatha and Rio.

“You like her, admit it.”

“I do not. Stop getting jealous Rio. She’s just someone who happened to show up. Why would I be interested.

“Really? Just someone? You haven’t taken your eyes off her since she’s arrived and it’s not like she’s subtle about her interest in you either.”

Agatha scoffs and tries to escape this conversation, but Rio grabs her wrist. “She’s your type Agatha. Admit it to yourself, even if you won’t admit it to me.”

“So what about you then? It’s just me that has some sappy feelings for Y/N. Don’t act like you’re above this situation.”

“I don’t know but it’s pissing me off. I hate that we can’t just avoid this situation and never see her but at the same time, I don’t want to see Y/N getting hurt, by us or anyone else.”

Agatha, being Agatha scoffs, “Maybe you have some hidden feelings for her. Why don’t you go run up to her and spill your guts.”

Rio only rolls her eyes and watches Agatha return to the group. She takes a breather for herself and ponders on what Agatha said.

Does she have feelings for you?

Agatha’s words cut deeper than they should have. You were just some pesky girl who shouldn’t be here. Sure, you were pretty but that doesn’t mean anything. She should be annoyed you’re here, right?

She rejoins the group as well to some conversation about scars when she hears Agatha talk about hers. She laughs at the recollection.

“I have a scar,” Rio declares.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“A long time ago, I loved someone and I had to do something I did not want to do even though it was my job -” Agatha turns away at the pointed look sent at her “and it hurt them. She is my scar.”

You get up and walk away at this point. Your eyes brimming with tears at their declaration. It’s obvious they have feelings for each other and you can’t ignore the fact that of course they like each other, and not you. They couldn’t even spare you a second glance from the moment you got here.

“What’s got you all worked up, hon?”

You turn around to find Agatha walking up to you, her face masked with something you can’t figure out. You quickly wipe off your tears, not looking for another reason to get ridiculed.

“Nothing, I’m just worried about Billy.”

She scoffs at that and even you knew that it was a pathetic lie. You wince before turning around to face her.

“You were just so concerned at the particular second Rio declares that she has feelings for me? Quite a friend you are. Interesting though, because Rio pointed out to me how you might have a slight crush. And-”

Crap. Does she know? Is she here to tell you off about your crush? You need to think of something fast.

“Look, I don’t know what she said but that’s not true. Why would I like someone who’s been a bitch to me. I’m sorry if it’s caused problems between you two, but you can go run along and rejoin as a happy couple-”

“Do not interrupt me again. As I was saying, I think you would like to know that me and Rio haven’t been able to get you off our minds.”

Your jaw drops at that.

They like you?

You stare dumbly at her, trying to figure out if she’s pranking you. You see her start to approach you and soon she’s invading all your senses.

Her face is just inches from you, the unmistakable smell of her perfume enters through your nostrils and short circuits your brain, and her hand comes up to rest on your jaw.

You’re all but staring at her when a familiar voice calls out. You let out a huff and Agatha shoots you a small smile before turning around. Yet, her hand never leaves your face.

“Hey guys! What are you doing?”

Completely forgetting about what’s going on, you run over to Billy. You’ve been worried about him, even if a certain duo of brunettes were driving you crazy. When you turn back to look at Agatha, she’s already gone and you resume with a small frown on your face. You return with Billy and see her involved with Rio, paying absolutely no mind to your return.

The next trial starts and you’re starting to think whatever happened in those woods was just a fleeting moment. You’re practically given the cold shoulder during this trial, and you can’t help but feel hurt by it. The trial is clearly centered around you, and yet somehow you can’t seem to be given any attention by them. Thankfully, the coven manages to solve everything before the time runs out, but it doesn’t change how you feel. You exit first through the tunnel, not willing to spend any additional time around them. Rio and Agatha exchange concerned glances and make a note to check up on you.

You sit against a tree, completely out of breath from your last trial. Billy comes to check up on you, but you play it off as fatigue and he manages to get the rest of the group to give you space.

You let your emotions stew, feeling nothing but bitterness at the two women who had caught your attention.

Why couldn’t you be what they wanted?

Simultaneously, Agatha was rambling to Rio about you. You were a precious, sweet girl. She couldn’t possibly go after you right? Would they be okay with that or is this just some desperate attempt to fill their void. She shouldn’t have gotten that close to you. It only made her desire for you worse and now you know the truth about how they feel. She can’t escape this anymore and you know too much. She should hate you for how you get under her skin but all she wants to do is keep you close to her.

Rio cuts off Agatha’s blabber, having enough with the overthinking. She sends Agatha a small smile, while taking her hand.

“You’re clearly thinking about her, and so have I. Maybe it’s time to take a chance on her, even if it would be easier to hate her.”

Why couldn’t this just be easier for her? That’s all Agatha thinks before storming over to you, frustrated with your isolation.

“What are you doing here by yourself? It’s safer as a group. What if the Salem Seven suddenly appeared? You would have no chance against them alone.”

You frowned at her but made no effort to respond. Of course the first thing she says to you would be a lecture. You can’t take it with her hot and cold efforts. You just want to get off this road.

“Maybe she wants someone to give her some attention Agatha. Oh don’t look at me like that sweetheart, I saw you stare at us throughout the trial like we’ve abandoned from you, I know that look. You want us to give you attention? We’re here. “

You stare blankly at Rio as she manages to capture your thoughts exactly. Had she known from the start? You refuse to let your guard down around them, too hurt to let them in that easily.

Agatha stares between Rio and you, trying to figure out if what Rio had said held a semblance of truth.

Before she can say anything, you speak first.

“So you came here to rub it in then? You came to expose my silly feelings and go back to your lives revolving around each other, is that it? I don’t need that, it’s one thing to not like me, but you don’t need to jerk me around.

Agatha gently interjects, “Like I said before-”

“I don’t believe you. You say that you like me but you don’t show it. It’s always just you two in your own little bubble and I barely exist to you guys outside our talks. How do I know that you aren’t just playing around with me?”

Agatha uses this opportunity to press her lips on yours, shutting you up while trying to show her feelings through this kiss.

“I’m sorry you felt this way. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, I- we just weren’t sure. We didn’t want to get involved in something we weren’t sure about what to do. So we did what we did best, and tried to ice you out. That won’t happen again. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and I- we will do better for you.”

Rio joins her and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before presenting a flower for you. You softly take it while smiling and allow yourself to get caught between them.

notes: nonnie i hope this lives up to your expectations, it took me quite a few tries to make this

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x you #rio vidal x you #agatha harkness #rio vidal #talia’s fics ໒꒱.*

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evieelyzabethh · 2 days ago

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What would be worse would be a yandere Jayce back in the apocalypse universe or a yandere Viktor who turned into the herald, why not both. What would it be like if the two were in love with the reader, but never declared themselves... well until these events, perhaps magic corrupted that love and turned it into something dark, perhaps a yanderes fight, perhaps a reconciliation between the two... Could you make a fanfiction of this, perhaps if possible with a female reader?

This came at such a perfect time because I've been having a lot of yandere Arcane thoughts, and it is too far from October to wait to do it for some sort of Halloween event. Needless to say, get ready for Yanuary (everyone say thank you mina for coming up with the name) because I am about to be insufferable. I'll certainly do more with these concepts a bit later, but for now I will leave some headcanons...

tw for obsessive behaviors and Herald!Viktors very flawed line of logic

While both loves start out pure, intentions take a turn for the worst after the world starts to go to shit. While I don't think it's canon, I am a firm believer that Viktor died during that explosion and what is left of him is a persona puppetted around by the Arcane. All of Viktor's raw ambitions; notoriety, an able body, and desire to help the Zaunites all become corrupted. Viktor deeply regrets taking a back seat to negotiations surrounding the fate of those from the Undercity, his pride was too great to beg for scraps from those seated at the table, and thus his genuine want to help those from his home gets sidelined because of his pride and want of glory.

Love is not a corruptible force. When Viktor died, so did his love for you, but those intense feeling certainly linger. That admiration turns to obsession, the need to be adored turns into desperate overcompensation. He feels it is his calling to save the world, he develops a very focused tunnel vision and a savior complex that motivates his every action to not only save the world, but more importantly, save his world. To save you, to preserve you. His dream is to keep you infinitely, that really is the root of his Glorious Evolution. He wants perfection in the human form, the human mind, the human capability. He wants to perfect the human condition, he wants forever.

You must see it his way, you must be his accomplice, he wants you to be by his side every step of the way. The Sky he hallucinates is nothing but an astral projection of a perfected version of her, at times a manifestation of his humanity and why he kept going. She was his regrets, his comfort, she was the bad he was making good. But you. You are what he is striving to build. You are his goal, his muse. Every bit of him that respected you then yearns so deeply for you now. And he hasn't found you yet, you disappeared before he woke up and even Jayce didn't know where you were, but he is sure that if he were to find you, you would understand.

Jayce going yandere would occur after his trip to whatever hell dimension he was left to. Time works differently everywhere, he was only gone for months in the main verse, but it could've been years for him. Years in not just solitude, but a wasteland of death. Jayce is someone who so thoroughly, and at times naively, believes in humanity's capability for good. It's his passion. Him signing his notes, his dedication to his craft, his willingness to learn the ways of politics, his kicking Heimerdinger off the council, his gullibility, his willingness to move wherever the wind from someone's lips takes him, it's all because of faith and a passion for good. Now, everywhere he looks isn't just death, but remnants of war.

Everything he's worked tirelessly to avoid has not only come true but disproves his entire way of thinking. It takes more than him to save the world, it takes more than the help of others to save the world, it may take more than even exists to save the world. Even worse, it may take him not existing to save the world. While Viktor's yandere nature is built from a need to preserve what is right, the only thing that is right, Jayce is a man who is completely and utterly lost.

He doesn't know what's right anymore, but he knows he needs to do something to make it right. He doesn't cling to the thought of you for guidance, he clings to you because it's all he knows. You could've been the worst person in the world, but he would've hoped for you in the end of the world because you were there. You were real. His dream may not have been, but he touched you, and you believed in him, and you were as magical as a wish but as tangible as a physical star. You were bright, and you were warm, and you were real.

And he sits there in that cold, damp cave, nothing but stones, insects, and death around him, and every time he scrawls your face it looks a bit different. Your smell gets mingled with mildew and dampness as that slowly becomes his home, the drops of rain and rock start to sound like the twinkling sound of your voice, everything becomes you. Not for the sake of his sanity, that left him when time began to wave through him until he was convinced he would begin to vomit tick marks, but for the sake of survival. You were his faith. He would've worshipped the ground you walked on, and though you were nothing but dust here, he could find you everywhere. He went through a transcendental awakening; belief needed faith, and faith was all he had. You had to be real, why else would the insects chirp, why else would water flow, why else would he bleed, if not for you, if not because of you. If he believed, then you were real, and he would get back to you one day and be rewarded by his conviction.

When he finds his way back, he is searching for you immediately. Even when his surroundings blend and his ears bleed and he's overwhelmed by life once again, he is convinced that he will find you. You have to be out there. You can't be dead. He's lived in a world without you for too long, he would finally break if he couldn't be with you again. He's possessive. You have only existed in his mind for years; this world has had you all to itself while he suffered endlessly and eternally only wanting you. He's feels entitled to you. He knows you don't need his protection, but you are ignorant to what's out in the world. It's not a matter of if he finds you, it's when. A believer as devout as him wouldn't just go to the ends of the earth, he's already done that. If he must, he'd go beyond. He's been through hell; he is more than deserving of heaven. He knows he was wrong for believing in humanity when he had his God in front of him the whole time.

As for who's worse, it really depends. Physically, Jayce. He doesn't realize his strength, he hasn't had to worry about the delicateness of flesh in a while. His hands have held nothing but harsh rock. He would never intentionally hurt you; he would spiral if he even accidentally caused you any harm. He's far more fragile that Viktor, he's more prone to outbursts, though his violence is always inflicted inward. He believes he's ruined; he only wants to be saved. Viktor is the complete opposite. He would be worse mentally. Like Jayce, he would never physically harm you, but he's not above manipulation. He won't give up on you, you're too precious, but you have to see it his way. Why won't you see it his way? He'll just have to make you.

These two are diametrically opposed. An immovable obstacle and unstoppable object. They would butt heads forever over you, they wouldn't be able to reach a compromise or any sort of agreement. Viktor is dangerous. His evolution is actively killing people, Viktor himself is already long gone. Jayce would sooner die than let him have you and Viktor wouldn't mind killing Jayce and leaving his dead body to rot. Jayce isn't worth saving to him, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't teach it to drink. If Jayce doesn't want his salvation, he isn't worth convincing, he can die painfully in that clumsy mortal vessel and decay on the hill he chose. He can't have you; he doesn't deserve you.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #arcane x you #eviesmadness🪻#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane headcanon #jayce arcane #jayce x reader #yandere arcane #yandere x reader #yandere

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itendtothinkalot · 2 days ago

Text

grumpy x sunshine!

summary: beomgyus open to his feelings about u! at work, he's always doing anything to make ur life easier...too bad, u find him absolutely infuriating. what happens when u tell him finally tell him to leave u alone...??? only to realise...maybe u do need him after all

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 8k words

warnings: nothing much

You and Beomgyu had always kept things strictly professional or at least, that’s what you told yourself. But unbeknownst to you, Beomgyu was already halfway in love with you. Every time he saw your face, his heart did a little dance, and when he woke up, your name was the first thing on his mind. You filled his thoughts at work, and even in the quiet moments of his day, he’d find his thoughts wandering back to you. To him, you were the most stunning person to ever grace the Earth, and it wasn’t just your appearance, it was everything about you. You were perfection in his eyes and everyone knew how much he liked you.

Meanwhile, you had a completely different view of him. You saw him as the gum stuck to your shoe—the kind of annoyance that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried to scrape it off. He wasn’t bad, not really. But he was like a persistent cockroach, always popping up in your space when you least wanted him there. He was too positive, like a walking ray of sunshine who just couldn't take a hint. You'd rolled your eyes more times than you could count at his over-the-top enthusiasm, his constant energy that never seemed to falter. Sometimes, you swore he was just too happy for his own good.

It started small, as always.

You were juggling three things at once—the printer spitting out half-printed pages, your phone buzzing with emails, and a cup of coffee precariously balanced on the edge of your desk. Then Beomgyu appeared, like clockwork.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. That coffee looks one nudge away from disaster,” he said, effortlessly sliding it back to safety.

“I had it under control,” you muttered, not even sparing him a glance.

“Sure you did,” he said with a laugh, already grabbing the stack of half-printed pages. “Let me fix this for you. You keep working.”

You wanted to protest, but he was already fiddling with the printer, somehow coaxing it to cooperate within minutes. By the time he handed you the neatly printed pages, you were too annoyed to thank him.

"Anything else you need? A snack? Maybe world peace?" he teased.

“No, Beomgyu. I need space,” you snapped, but he only smiled like you’d just told him the weather was lovely.

“Alright!” Beomgyu beamed, stepping away from you.

—

Later that week, during a team meeting, you realized halfway through that you’d forgotten your pen. As you fumbled through your bag, Beomgyu leaned over and slid one across the table to you without a word.

You scowled. “How did you even know I didn’t bring a pen?”

He shrugged. “You always forget on Mondays.”

“Oh, is that so?” you sputtered, even though it absolutely was.

–

And then there was the time he rewrote the entire client presentation the night before because he noticed an error you’d missed.

You didn’t even know about it until the boss praised your flawless work. Beomgyu, seated next to you, just gave you a thumbs-up like it was no big deal.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you hissed at him afterward.

“Doing what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Being... helpful, doing too much...like you owe me something.” you said, the word tasting like poison.

He laughed, that stupid, bright laugh that made your coworkers glance over and smile like he was the office mascot. “I thought you liked being less stressed.”

“I don’t need your help,” you said, glaring at him.

“Okay,” he said easily, but the next day, he still managed to fix the coffee machine your work life depended on before you even noticed it was broken.

—

Deadlines loomed, emails piled up, and every little thing seemed to grate on your nerves. It was one of those days where nothing went right, especially after your boss had sent you a text the previous night, calling you an "egghead" who was only surviving because of Beomgyu. And honestly, you couldn’t disagree with him.

Today, though, you’d finally reached your breaking point.

“Good morning!” Beomgyu chirped, balancing two cups of coffee in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other. “I got your favorite—almond croissant. You need fuel for the big presentation later!”

You didn’t even look up from your computer. “I didn’t ask for coffee, Beomgyu.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “I know, but—”

“I didn’t ask for anything!” you snapped, your voice louder than intended.

Beomgyu froze, his smile faltering. He placed the coffee and croissant on your desk carefully, as though afraid any sudden movement might set you off further. “Okay. Got it. Sorry.”

But you weren’t done.

“No, you don’t get it,” you said, standing abruptly. “You’re always here. Always hovering, always ‘helping.’ Do you think I can’t do my job without you? That I’m some kind of charity case who needs your constant attention?”

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you saw something crack in his usual sunny demeanor. “That’s not—”

“You’re suffocating me, Beomgyu,” you interrupted, your voice trembling with frustration. “I don’t need your coffee, or your pastries, or your stupid jokes. With you here, constantly helping, are you suggesting I'm incompetent?"

"What—no! I..."

"Just... leave me alone.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Beomgyu stared at you, his expression unreadable, before nodding once.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “If that’s what you want.”

And then he turned and walked away.

You expected to feel relief. But instead, as you watched him disappear around the corner, a strange, hollow ache settled in your chest.

—

The next day, Beomgyu didn’t greet you with his usual bright smile. He didn’t bring you coffee or fix the fucked up printer. For the first time in... well, forever, he stayed on his side of the office, quietly working at his desk.

By the end of the week, it was clear he was actively avoiding you. The absence of his energy was almost suffocating.

“Is Beomgyu okay?” Soobin asked. “He’s been... acting strange.”

“Maybe he’s just busy,” you replied, your voice tight. But deep down, you knew better.

The weekend came and went, and when Monday morning rolled around, Beomgyu wasn’t at his desk.

It wasn’t like you looked for him. Of course not. You were perfectly capable of handling everything on your own.

But when the office coffee machine sputtered and died on Tuesday morning, you found yourself glancing toward the door, half-expecting Beomgyu to stroll in, toolkit in hand, ready to save the day.

He didn’t. You scowled at the machine and settled for tea.

When the new team project was announced, you instinctively braced yourself for Beomgyu’s usual barrage of ideas. He always had a way of throwing out wild suggestions that somehow worked—like adding gifs to a formal presentation or using memes to lighten the mood in meetings.

But he didn’t say a word.

Instead, he just slid his chair closer to yours and whispered, “I’ve got some ideas if you need them.”

You didn’t need them, of course.

Except you kind of did.

And then there was the day the office printer jammed again.

You stared at the blinking red light, willing it to fix itself. Beomgyu wasn’t even in the office yet, but the thought of him walking in and making one of his stupid jokes about “printer diplomacy” flitted through your mind.

“Just hit the damn printer,” Yeonjun joked.

You frowned. “No, you have to press the reset button twice and then open the tray.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “Wow, since when did you learn printer mechanics?”

You froze. You hadn’t. Beomgyu had. And you’d apparently been watching.

—

At some point, you noticed how much of your day was shaped by him. How the absence of his easy banter left your mornings feeling quieter. How the little acts of care—an extra pen, a fixed spreadsheet, a correctly formatted email—were missing.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him.

You were just as capable on your own, with or without him.

But when he passed by your desk one afternoon and didn’t stop to say anything, just giving you a polite nod instead, you felt a pang of something uncomfortably close to disappointment.

“What’s his deal?” Taehyun asked, noticing the unusual lack of Beomgyu’s energy.

“Maybe he’s finally taking the hint,” you muttered, but even as you said it, the words felt hollow.

—

The next few days arrived and Beomgyu hadn’t. It was strange not having him in the office. Almost excruciating.

By Thursday morning, the office felt impossibly dull. It wasn’t like you missed him, you were just noticing how quiet everything was without his relentless chatter and boundless energy filling the air.

The coffee machine was still broken, and no one had stepped up to fix it. You stood there, staring at it with almost anger. Beomgyu had fixed it so many times before you’d even noticed it was broken.

You frowned. You didn’t miss him. You missed the convenience. That was all.

But as you walked back to your desk, you caught yourself glancing toward his empty chair. The space around it seemed oddly barren, as if his absence had drained all the color from that corner of the room.

Later that day, as you worked on a project, you opened your notes to find a little sticky note stuck to the corner of the page.

"Don’t stress too much—you’re doing amazing! - Beomgyu <3"

You stared at it, your chest tightening. He’d written that weeks ago, probably when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t the first time you’d found little notes like this, but you’d always dismissed them as just another one of his overly cheerful habits.

Now, though, it felt different.

—

The memories started creeping in after that.

The time Beomgyu had stayed late to help you finish a project, even though he’d had plans. You’d been hunched over your desk, frustrated and on the verge of tears, your computer screen mocking you with an endless sea of spreadsheets.

“You okay?” his voice had come from behind you, soft but with that familiar, ever-present warmth.

“I’m fine,” you’d muttered, not even turning around.

He’d ignored your dismissive tone, pulling up a chair beside you. “Alright. You talk and I’ll type.”

You’d been too exhausted to argue, and as the hours stretched on, his presence felt less irritating and more... comforting. At one point, your head had slumped onto the desk in defeat, and Beomgyu had chuckled, brushing your hair away from your face.

“You work too hard,” he’d murmured, his voice softer than usual, almost... tender. You looked up, startled by the genuine concern in his eyes. For a moment, the air between you seemed to shift, thick with unspoken words. His gaze held yours a second too long, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, your body leaning just a little closer, your breath catching in your throat.

It felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the space between you charged with something you hadn’t expected. And just as you were about to close the distance, his phone rang loudly, shattering the fragile moment.

Beomgyu pulled away, glancing at his phone and groaning, declining the call.

It was so brief…so fleeting…that you could almost convince yourself it hadn’t happened. You’d blinked, snapping back to reality, and cleared your throat.

“We’re not getting anywhere if you keep staring at me,” you’d said sharply, the irritation in your voice masking the strange flutter in your chest.

Beomgyu had grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Just checking to see if you’re still alive.”

–

Then there was the time he’d noticed you were having a bad day—the kind of day where everything felt heavy, and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. He hadn’t asked what was wrong or pried for details. Instead, he’d quietly placed a piece of chocolate on your desk, tapping it lightly to get your attention.

“What’s this?” you’d asked, glancing up at him.

“A peace offering,” he’d replied with a wink. “From the universe. Delivered by yours truly.”

You’d rolled your eyes, but a small smile had crept onto your face despite yourself

—

And then there was the umbrella.

You’d been in a rush that morning, the sky dark, and of course, you’d forgotten to grab your umbrella. By the time you arrived at work, the rain was coming down in sheets, and you’d resigned yourself to staying put until it let up.

But Beomgyu had appeared at your desk, soaked to the bone, holding a bright yellow umbrella.

“Here,” he’d said, grinning.

“You’ve an extra one?” You asked.

He nodded.

It was only later, when you noticed the water pooling around his chair and the way his shirt clung to his skin, that you realized what had happened.

“You gave me your umbrella?” you’d asked.

He’d shrugged, his usual grin firmly in place. “What’s a little rain, anyway?”

You hadn’t known what to say to that. You still didn’t.

—

Now, sitting at your desk with the weight of his absence pressing down on you, those moments replayed in your mind on an endless loop. The way he looked at you during that late night at work. The way his fingers had brushed yours when he handed you that chocolate. The way his eyes had crinkled with delight when he saw your surprise at the umbrella.

You’d called him annoying. You’d pushed him away. But now, for the first time, you let yourself wonder: had you been lying to yourself all along?

Because if he was so annoying, why had your heart raced when he leaned in close? Why had you noticed the way his lips curved into a soft smile when he thought you weren’t looking? Why had you missed him so much it ached?

–

By the middle of the second week, the silence in the office was unbearable.

Beomgyu hadn’t just been the loudest person in the room, in fact he’d been the heart of it. Without him, the air felt stale, the chatter subdued. Even the irritating squeaks of the office chairs seemed less lively.

You sat at your desk, staring blankly at your screen, the cursor blinking as though mocking your inability to focus. Tasks you normally powered through felt tiresome, and even your coworkers had started to notice.

“You alright?” Kai, your desk neighbor, leaned over, his voice tinged with curiosity. “You’ve been awfully... quiet lately.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, brushing his off.

Kai raised an eyebrow. “Are you, though? You didn’t even snap at me when I borrowed your stapler without asking yesterday. That’s not like you.”

You turned to glare at him, but even that lacked your usual bite. Kai just smirked, crossing his arms.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, “things have been... different around here since Beomgyu stopped coming in. And you’ve been different. Almost acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Your chest tightened at the mention of his name, but you forced yourself to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m fine,” you repeated, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.

“Sure you are,” Kai said, his smirk widening. “If ‘fine’ means staring off into space and sighing dramatically every twenty minutes.”

“I don’t sigh,” you snapped, but your cheeks burned.

“You do now,” Taehyun chimed in from across the room. “Honestly, it’s kind of weird. We didn’t think you’d notice he was gone.”

“Why wouldn’t I notice?” you shot back, your voice sharper than intended.

“Well, you always seemed so... irritated by him,” Kai said, his tone lighter now. “But I guess even you can’t resist missing him a little.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you buried your face in your hands, willing the heat in your cheeks to dissipate.

–

That night, you found yourself scrolling through your phone, staring at Beomgyu’s contact name. You hadn’t reached out to him since the blow-up. A small part of you wanted to believe he was being dramatic, giving you space just to make a point. But two weeks? That wasn’t like him.

You hovered over the call button, your thumb trembling. Then, in a burst of frustration, you tossed your phone onto the couch and leaned back, rubbing your temples.

Why couldn’t you just admit it?

You missed him.

You missed the sound of his voice, the way he always greeted you with that infuriatingly bright smile. You missed the way he’d pop up at your desk with some ridiculous joke or a cup of coffee just the way you liked it.

You even missed the way he teased you, pushing just enough to annoy you but never enough to truly upset you—until that day.

—

It was the kind of day that felt like it was dragging on forever. The office was busy, but everything felt distant, like you were in a room full of voices, but none of them were quite reaching you.

Suddenly, you felt a presence at your desk. You looked up, and your boss, Mr. Choi, stood there with a thick folder in hand. His usual stern expression softened a little as he slid the folder toward you.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, his voice carrying that slight hint of approval you rarely heard from him.

You blinked, momentarily confused. “What’s this?”

“A project I’ve been holding off on for a while. But after some conversations, I think you’re the perfect fit for it.” He paused, his eyes briefly darting to the hallway before focusing back on you.

You could feel your heart skip a beat. This was the project you’d been hoping to get—an opportunity to make a significant impact. You felt a wave of excitement flood over you.

“Oh my god, thank you! I’ve been waiting for this,” you said, grinning widely as you accepted the folder. “I won’t let you down.”

Mr. Choi gave you a small, approving nod. “I’m sure you won’t. But,” he added, “you should really thank Beomgyu for this.”

You frowned, not quite following. “Beomgyu?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Choi said, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was about to let you in on something secret. “He’s been talking you up to me for the past couple of weeks. Saying how impressed he is with your work, how passionate you are about your projects. I’ve had a lot of positive feedback from him—so much that I decided it was time you got something bigger to work on.”

Your heart stopped for a second.

“Beomgyu... has been talking about me?”

Mr. Choi raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding your shock. “Yeah, he really has a lot of respect for you. He believes in your abilities. Honestly, I think he’s been pushing for this project on your behalf. He doesn’t ask for anything in return, just wants to see you succeed. So, if I were you, I’d send a thank-you his way.”

You stared at the folder in your hands, the weight of Mr. Choi’s words sinking in. Beomgyu had been talking about you? He had been saying all those things about you behind your back?

Why hadn’t he ever said anything like that directly to you?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized—you didn’t need him to say those things to you. His actions had always spoken louder than his words. He’d been helping you all along. The small gestures, the support he’d given without expecting anything in return, were just his way of showing how much he cared.

But now, hearing it from Mr. Choi, it was like a slap of reality. Beomgyu had always been there, silently cheering you on, always rooting for you—even when you couldn’t see it.

You felt a sudden, sharp pang in your chest.

You couldn’t wait any longer. The truth was clear now. The realization hit you harder than you expected—Beomgyu wasn’t just a coworker. He wasn’t just an annoyance. He was the one who had been there for you, in all the small ways, every single day.

You knew exactly what you needed to do.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your things and stood up, your decision already made.

You didn’t know what came over you. One moment, you were sitting at your desk, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions, and the next, you were rushing out of the office. Your coworkers glanced up, confused, as you grabbed your things and bolted toward the exit.

Your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t breathe properly without him around.

Beomgyu.

It had been over a week since Beomgyu last showed up to work. Not a single word, not a message. You’d told yourself it was fine—that he needed space after everything. But then, today, hearing your boss’s words, you knew the truth: Beomgyu wasn’t avoiding you because he was mad at you. No, it was worse. He’d been avoiding you because he was sick.

And you missed him.

The rain had started just as you’d left the office, a steady downpour that soaked you through as you hurried to his apartment building. You didn’t care about the stares or the curious glances—nothing mattered except seeing him again. When you reached his apartment, you rang the doorbell, your wet hair clinging to your face, your clothes plastered to your skin. You were probably irritating him, but at that moment, nothing else felt important.

Beomgyu opened the door slowly, blinking in surprise when he saw you standing there, drenched. His face was pale, his hair disheveled, and his eyes were a little glazed, like he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. He looked sick. But when his gaze landed on you, a small frown creased his forehead, his lips parted in surprise.

“You’re—” Beomgyu blinked, his eyes scanning you, noting how soaked you were. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice thick with confusion and concern.

You didn’t think. You didn’t even pause. You rushed forward and kissed him.

At first, Beomgyu froze, his eyes wide in shock, but then, as though some instinct took over, he leaned into the kiss. His lips were soft against yours, and the warmth of him, the way his body seemed to melt into yours, made your heart race. But just as suddenly, he pulled away, his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back.

You blinked in surprise, your chest tightening with confusion and hurt. “I’m sorry! I didn’t— I just—” you stammered, words tumbling out in a rush.

Beomgyu sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “No–it’s not that! I’m just sick,” he said, his voice a little clearer now, but still strained. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. In fact, I'd be living out my number 1 fantasy. But I’m awfully sick, and I don’t want to get you—”

You didn’t let him finish. You grabbed his face and kissed him again, this time with more urgency. It was as if you couldn’t stop yourself, like all the emotions you had been holding in for so long came pouring out in that single moment.

When you finally pulled away, your heart was pounding, and your breath was shallow. You looked at him, eyes wide, and whispered, “Make me sick. Make me cry. I don’t care anymore… just don’t disappear without saying anything. I like you. A lot." You whispered the latter.

Beomgyu blinked at you, his expression one of shock and something softer—something that made your chest tighten. He sat down on the couch with a groan and patted the space next to him. “Alright, you’ve got me,” he said with a small, tired grin. “But before we go any further with this whole emotional breakthrough thing, I need to wrap you up in this blanket because you’re literally dripping water all over my floor.”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he pulled you down into the blanket with him, wrapping you so tightly that you could barely move. You could barely stop laughing either. “What is this?” you asked, amused despite yourself. “You’re sick, and you're still trying to make me feel better?”

“Of course I am,” he said, his voice warm but groggy. “That’s what boyfriends do, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

He grinned. “Well, if you’re gonna confess your undying love for me, I think it's only fair I start acting the part.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "I didn’t say anything about a boyfriend."

Beomgyu’s grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Well, I think it’s safe to say that after that kiss, you’ve got yourself one."

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, trying to hide your flustered reaction. "You’re quite the narcissist," you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrayed you, soft and a little breathless.

Beomgyu leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower. "Maybe, but you wouldn’t be so shy if you didn’t feel the same way."

You shot him a quick look, heart racing, and tried to compose yourself. "You’re impossible," you said, but it came out more fondly than you intended.

“Alright, fine, Mr. Boyfriend, what’s next?” you teased, settling deeper into the blanket cocoon.

He gave you a sly grin before standing up with a dramatic sigh. “I’m making you hot chocolate,” he announced like it was a grand gesture. “Even though I’m on death’s doorstep with this flu, and you’re the one who should be taking care of me.”

You chuckled as you watched him shuffle to the kitchen, holding onto the blanket as if it was his last line of defense against the cold.

Moments later, he returned, holding a mug of hot chocolate with way too many marshmallows. “Ta-da!” He placed it in front of you and sat back down, carefully covering both of you with the blanket again.

You took a sip, the sweetness warming you from the inside, and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Just wait,” Beomgyu said with a wink. “I’ll be excruciatingly sweet to you when I recover.” He then shifted closer, resting his head against your shoulder.

You laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I think I need you more than I realized."

"Good," Beomgyu mumbled, already half asleep. "Because you’re stuck with me, remember?"

“Beomgyu, about our argument–”

You opened your mouth, ready to apologize again, but before you could get the words out, Beomgyu cut you off. His lips gently pressed against yours, soft and reassuring, as if telling you everything you needed to hear without saying a word.

"I know," he whispered against your lips when he pulled away, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion but filled with something deeper—something comforting. "I know, and it's okay."

You blinked, stunned by the simplicity of his words, and the way he made everything feel like it would be alright. He already understood.

"Now before you start apologizing to me again, let's get you out of those clothes and into mine," Beomgyu winked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You gasped, your face immediately turning a shade of red that could rival a tomato. "BEOMGYU!" you sputtered, half-laughing, half-shocked.

Beomgyu smirked, unphased by your reaction. "No, I meant it literally. You're dripping rainwater all over my very expensive new sofa," he said, gesturing dramatically to the puddle forming on the couch.

You blinked, your embarrassment quickly shifting to confusion. "Oh," was all you managed to say, suddenly feeling a lot more self-conscious about the wet patches all over you.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, his usual playful tone now laced with a hint of fondness. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said, winking again. "But first, let's get you changed before you flood the entire apartment."

—

The next morning, you woke up to a horrible reality. The warmth from last night’s kiss lingered in your chest, but unfortunately, it also seemed to have carried over to your immune system in the form of a nasty cold. You were now sniffling, with a sore throat and a headache that wouldn’t quit. But of course, you couldn’t worry Beomgyu.

You were lying in his bed, tangled in his blankets, his warmth still wrapped around you like a security blanket. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing was the only thing that filled the silence. You blinked, disoriented for a moment, before it all came flooding back—last night, the confessions, the kisses... and the way you’d ended up here, curled up in his bed after well another few hours of kisses and giggling.

For a moment, you just laid there, savoring the peace of it all. Beomgyu’s arm was slung across your waist, his face relaxed in sleep. You couldn’t help but smile. This felt right. So right.

Beomgyu stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open, a sleepy grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. "Good morning," he mumbled, his voice all groggy and cute.

"Hi," you whispered back, trying not to sound too giddy. It was still early, and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene of how perfect everything felt. You nuzzled into his chest, just content to be there for a few more minutes.

He chuckled, running a hand through your hair. “You look so peaceful when you sleep. Almost like you’re not the same person who yells at me for delivering them a croissant.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling. “You’re one to talk. I wasn’t the one who couldn’t stop snoring last night.”

Beomgyu shot you a playful glare, but his smile was so bright that it made your heart flutter. "You're lucky you're cute," he teased, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

As you both got out of bed and started getting ready for work, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation in your body—a lightheadedness that made your movements a little slower than usual. Your head felt like it was swimming, and there was a dull ache at the back of your throat.

You tried to shake it off. It was nothing. Probably just a little tiredness. Beomgyu had been so sweet last night, and you didn’t want to ruin the mood by worrying him over something as trivial as a cold.

But as you went to grab your shoes, your vision blurred for a second, and you swayed slightly. You grabbed onto the wall for balance, but Beomgyu, ever the observant one, caught sight of it immediately.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" His voice was instantly filled with concern, his hands reaching out to steady you. His brows furrowed. "You don’t look too good."

"I'm fine," you said quickly, straightening up. "Just... a little tired, that's all."

Beomgyu didn’t seem convinced. He reached up to check your forehead with the back of his hand. "You’re a little warm," he muttered, looking suspicious. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

You gave him a smile that felt a little more forced than you intended. "Seriously, I’m fine. Just… didn’t sleep enough."

—

When you showed up at the office, your coworkers immediately noticed something was off. Soobin, Kai, and Taehyun exchanged glances as you walked past them with a box of tissues, your face flushed and clearly a little worse for wear.

“Whoa,” Soobin said, his voice full of concern. “You look like you got hit by a truck. What happened?”

Kai leaned forward, peering at you from his desk. “Are you sure you should be here? You look like you’re about to fall over. Is that a fever I see?”

You groaned, sinking into your chair and reaching for your cup of tea. “I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice scratchy. “Just a little… under the weather.”

“Under the weather?” Kai raised an eyebrow. “You look like one of them sewer rats in Ratatouille. What’s going on?”

You shot him a half-hearted glare, still too embarrassed to admit what had actually happened. You were definitely not going to tell them that a kiss had made you sick—no, that would just make you die of embarrassment. “I don’t know, just caught a bug, I guess.”

Just then, the door to the office opened, and there stood Beomgyu, looking completely refreshed. His cheeks were rosy, his hair perfectly styled, and there was a spring in his step that made you want to crawl under your desk and hide.

“Good morning!” Beomgyu called, completely oblivious to your sickly state, and grinned at everyone like he hadn’t just been sick the night before.

You let out a tiny groan under your breath. “Good morning,” you managed to reply, but it came out more like a croak.

Beomgyu noticed you right away, his smile faltering as he walked over. “Hey, you okay? I told you to stay home.”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. Really. Just… a little tired.”

Beomgyu leaned closer, his expression softening as he checked your forehead with his hand. “You’re burning up. You should go home and rest.”

Of course, that only made you more embarrassed. “I’m not going home,” you muttered, your voice raspy. “I’m fine. I can work.”

Beomgyu shook his head softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I told you you shouldn’t have stayed over to take care of me,” he said gently, tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.

You let out a dramatic sigh, almost pouting. “But you were sick. I couldn’t just leave you there all alone.”

Soobin, who had been watching the entire exchange like it was drama, suddenly raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of you. “Wait a second,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He pointed between you and Beomgyu like he’d just discovered a treasure chest. “You two were… together last night?”

Beomgyu blinked, clearly not following. “What? No, I—”

You froze, eyes widening, before you snapped your head toward Soobin. “What? No! We—uh—we just… we were just... uh—”

Kai, who had been pretending to mind his own business but was clearly eavesdropping, leaned over dramatically, his arms crossed, giving you a knowing look. “Oh, don’t try to deny it now. The way you’re both looking at each other? So obvious. You kissed, didn’t you? Probably did a little more than that.”

You froze, blinking in disbelief. “I—ugh—this is not happening. Shut up, you fiends.”

Taehyun, who had been listening in from his desk, leaned back in his chair, grinning like a cat who’d just eaten the canary. “I knew it! The way Beomgyu’s practically glowing this morning, and you’re over here looking like you’ve been hit by a new disease? Classic case of ‘love-struck sickness.’”

Beomgyu, who had been leaning casually against the desk, now looked unbelievably proud. His chest puffed out a little, and a smug grin spread across his face. “Well, since you guys are aware of the little exchange. I guess I can brag that I kissed her. And I’ve gotta say, I’m not at all sorry about it.”

"BEOMGYU!" You exclaimed.

You groaned, face burning, as Beomgyu made an exaggerated show of brushing his hair back with one hand. “It was a pretty great kiss, too. I mean, who can blame her?” He glanced at you with a teasing wink, clearly so proud of himself. “She couldn’t resist. Honestly, I’m kind of impressed with myself, too. Guess I’m just that irresistible.”

You stared at him, mortified beyond belief. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

Beomgyu only laughed, completely unfazed, leaning casually against the desk. “Hey, what can I say? I’ve got game even when I’m sick.”

Your coworkers exchanged knowing looks, and you could feel your face turning fifty shades of red as they all started laughing. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but notice how much lighter everything felt now that you’d finally stopped pretending.

And as Beomgyu grinned at you, his pride practically radiating from him, you realized… maybe, just maybe, you kind of liked it.

—

The day dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Your head was spinning, your throat felt like sandpaper, and your body was starting to ache. But you refused to acknowledge it, not wanting to worry Beomgyu further. You did your best to push through, but by the time lunchtime rolled around, you were barely holding it together. The heat from your body had risen to a feverish level, and you could feel it in every bone.

You made it through the morning meeting, but when you got back to your desk, your vision blurred again. Your hand trembled as you tried to type, and the cold sweat on your forehead was beginning to drip down your face.

Beomgyu, ever the observant one, noticed the moment you faltered. He was standing in the doorway of your office, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in concern. “Okay, that’s it,” he said firmly, walking toward you with determination.

“I’m fine,” you protested weakly, trying to straighten up in your chair.

“No, you’re not.” Beomgyu didn’t give you a chance to argue. He grabbed your bag off the chair and slung it over his shoulder, then gently lifted you out of your chair. “You’re going home. Now.”

You tried to pull away, but you didn’t have the energy. You felt like you could barely stand, your body growing weaker by the second. “Beomgyu, I’m fine,” you muttered, though it sounded more like a plea than anything convincing.

“Nope,” he said, his voice brokering no argument. “We’re done here. I’m taking you home, and you’re not going to work like this.”

“But... but I was going to get ice cream on the way home,” you murmured, trying to argue. “Maybe some chocolate or...”

Beomgyu stopped in his tracks, his expression immediately hardening. “You’re not getting ice cream. You’re not even getting out of bed until you’re better. Do you understand me?”

He was being so stern that it made you pout. “But I want it,” you complained weakly.

“No.” Beomgyu’s tone was firm, like he was scolding a child. “You’ve been taking care of me but not yourself! You’ve barely eaten today, and you’re just running on fumes. I’m not letting you make it worse by stuffing your face with sugar.”

“But—”

“No.” He interrupted you with a pointed finger, like he was laying down a final rule. “You’re going to rest. You’re going to hydrate. You’re going to take care of yourself. No exceptions.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, but you weren’t in the mood to argue. You knew he was right. You just felt so weak and drained, and the idea of doing anything for yourself felt like too much.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely audible.

Beomgyu looked down at you, his expression softening but still serious. He rubbed the back of his neck before pulling you gently toward him. “You should’ve taken better care of yourself,” he said, his voice quiet but full of concern.

You groaned, a bit frustrated. “Well, it’s your fault.”

His eyebrows shot up. “My fault?”

“Yes,” you said, trying to muster some energy to tease him. “You kissed me first! I wasn’t even planning on getting sick. I was perfectly fine until you—”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened, and before you could finish, he interrupted you with an exaggerated sigh. “No, no, no. I did not kiss you first. You kissed me first, remember?”

“Excuse me?” You blinked, trying to keep your focus, but your fever was making it hard to think straight.

“You kissed me, and I just... responded,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “You were the one who attacked me at the door, not the other way around.”

“Beomgyu...” You couldn’t help but laugh weakly despite yourself. “You’re such a liar.”

He didn’t let you go. Instead, he lifted you in his arms, ignoring your protests. “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting you home. And I swear, if you try to make me feel guilty for that kiss one more time, I’ll... I’ll throw you in bed and make you take your medicine, whether you want it or not.”

You rolled your eyes, even as you leaned into him, grateful for the warmth. “You’re really something else.”

“Only for you,” Beomgyu said, his voice softening, the teasing edge gone as he carried you toward the door.

Once you were in his car, he kept his eyes on you, making sure you were resting, making sure you were okay. When you arrived at his apartment, he didn’t waste any time getting you to the couch. He insisted you stay wrapped in his blanket, and after a few minutes, he came back with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

“Drink this,” he said gently, handing it to you. “I’m not going to let you off the hook, so don’t even think about avoiding this.”

You glanced at the soup, then at him, trying to muster up a pout. “I still want ice cream.”

Beomgyu stared at you deadpan. “You’re lucky I’m not forcing you to take the medicine I bought.”

You blinked at him. “You bought me medicine?”

“Of course, I did. I’m taking care of you,” he said, crossing his arms and sitting beside you. “Now, drink the soup.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, slurping a little of the warm soup. It actually felt good against your sore throat, and soon enough, you felt a little more human.

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll take care of myself... But only because you’re being so over-the-top about it.”

As the last bit of warm soup slid down your throat, Beomgyu stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he went to grab the cough medicine. The bottle was a little too big, and the label had a cartoonish cough syrup mascot that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

"Here, take this. It’ll help you feel better, I promise."

You obediently took the medicine, but the moment it hit your tongue, something in your brain snapped. It wasn’t the usual medicine taste that made you feel better; no, it was something else.

It'd been a few minutes since the medicine had started to kick in. You started to giggle, this time uncontrollably, feeling the lightheaded, giddy rush of the cough syrup hitting your system.

“Beomgyu, you’re—” You hiccupped between giggles. “You’re so hot. Sexy. Kind of like a Ryan Gosling, except way hotter.”

If you weren't sick and fully aware of your behavior, you'd probably kick yourself. A ton.

Go figure, cough syrup had turned you into... well, a giggling mess.

He blinked, taken aback, and raised an eyebrow as he sat back down beside you on the couch. “What did you say?”

“You’re like, ridiculously hot,” you said with a giggle, your fingers reaching for his shirt, tugging at it gently. “I mean, look at you. That shirt… wow.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flushed just a little, though he tried to hide it behind a soft smile. His white dress shirt—loose enough to show off the muscles in his arms—was half unbuttoned, revealing just a hint of his collarbone. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, the casual elegance of the outfit doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he looked so good.

You couldn’t stop laughing as you reached up and tapped his chest, your touch playful. “Like, seriously. You look so good, I can’t even—” You started giggling again, barely able to finish your sentence.

Beomgyu gave you a soft, amused smile, leaning back into the couch as you leaned closer, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You’re not making any sense, baby,” he teased, his voice smooth.

"I’m serious," you whispered dramatically, pressing your face into his chest as you clung to him. You couldn’t help it, your body was buzzing with warmth, and Beomgyu’s closeness was making everything feel even more intense. “Like, you're telling me...Choi Beomgyu...is my boyfriend?"

Beomgyu chuckled softly, but it was clear he was trying to rein in his amusement. He loved the attention, but he also needed you to rest. “Okay, okay. I’m flattered,” he said, rubbing your back. “But I need you to fall asleep, okay? You’re way too giggly right now.”

You pouted, your giggles fading into small chuckles as you settled back against him. “But I just—" you hiccupped again, “I just...can I touch you? I want to touch you.” You said, placing your hands on his arms.

Beomgyu sighed, but there was a warmth in his eyes as you traced small patterns on his arm with your fingers. “I know you do, but I need you to rest. We’re not getting anywhere with you all giggly like this. You’re supposed to be resting, remember?”

You stuck your lip out in a mock pout. “I can’t help it… You look so... nice.”

“You really can’t help yourself, huh?” Beomgyu laughed softly. He let you snuggle into him, his arm around you as he shifted you into a more comfortable position. “Alright, alright. I get it. But I’m not letting you get up for anything else until you’re asleep. No more giggling.”

You nuzzled into his chest, feeling ridiculously warm and happy. “Fine,” you murmured, your voice soft and drowsy. “But you look so good… even when you’re being all mean about my ice cream.”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, but there was something endearing about your persistent giggles. He gently kissed the top of your head. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. You just need to rest, okay? That’s what I’m doing, too. I’m not going anywhere.”

You lifted your head just slightly, enough to look up at Beomgyu with a mischievous grin. “You know,” you said, your voice still a little giddy, “I’m actually feeling better now. So, maybe we can go back to making out instead of sleeping? I mean, you are really cute right now…I’m cute, you’re cute, we’re all cute.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow at you, his lips twitching as if he was trying not to laugh. He was clearly tempted by your playful tone, but he knew better than to give in. “Nice try,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “You’re not getting out of resting just because you’re feeling a little better. You’re still sick. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

You pouted dramatically, rolling your eyes and flopping back against his chest. “I’m not sick anymore, though! Come on, just a little make-out session? You know you want to…”

Beomgyu’s lips curled into a small, teasing smile as he ran his fingers gently through your hair. “You’re impossible,” he chuckled. “Resting. Right now. You’re not going anywhere.”

You whined again, poking his chest with your finger. “But you’re not resting, either! I mean, look at you, sitting there all hot in your shirt... It’s like a sign!”

Beomgyu rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re really gonna keep going with this? You’re so stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn, I’m charming,” you said, winking up at him, but your eyes were already starting to flutter. Despite your protests, the weight of exhaustion was starting to settle over you again, and the warmth of Beomgyu’s chest was pulling you into a calm, sleepy haze.

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping him as he kept talking to you, though you were barely listening now. “Seriously. You need to rest. No more ice cream, no more giggling, just sleep.”

Your eyes closed fully, the last of your playful energy draining away. The next sound that filled the air wasn’t another whiny protest—it was a soft snore.

Beomgyu paused, his words dying on his lips as he heard the unmistakable sound of you falling asleep. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, completely knocked out in his arms, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, guess that’s one way to get you to listen," Beomgyu murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

#txt fic #txt oneshot #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #beomgyu au #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu au #choi beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines

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cvnt4him · 1 day ago

Text

Diaries of Spider-Man.

ch1

Dear diary; what was I thinking?!

synopsis; the disastrous "adventures" of a teenaged spiderman.

This is a WIP, please let me know your thoughts and if this is what you would like to see from me<3

“let's do this one.. last.. time...”

“my name is izuku midoriya, and for the past 3 years, I've been the one and only spiderman. Annnd, I'm pretty sure you know the rest..”

₊˚⊹

Izuku jots away in his notebook before taking a step back to read what little he's written. the groan that escaped his lips was quite audible. He was rather disappointed in what he's written.

When his therapist "prescribed" him to journaling or writing down his thoughts in a notebook which he didn't want to refer to as a diary, his initial thought was;

‘theres no way in hell writing things down would help me.’

However for the past three years, izuku found himself writing everything he could down in those measly little journals his therapist gave him. Each and every year the thick and huge diary journal she gave him would begin to get fuller and fuller of all of his little adventures or simple daily routines.

Izuku was nothing if not a stubborn little shit at times. Of course he would disagree heavily but facts don't lie. You can't tell this energetic know it all anything. He's really smart and well put together. Most of the time. Upon becoming spiderman he hasn't had a lot of time for much. His consistent tasks of being spiderman are always heavy and time consuming. He doesn't have time to study for his driver's test, his normal class tests which define if he passes the grade and gets into college, or even dinner half the time?!

To be frank; the poor thing has been through a lot the past years. Too much honestly. Izukus "power" awakening was an honest mistake. Like your typical movie spiderman, he was bitten by a radioactive spider whilst he was doing something he knew he had no business doing

₊˚⊹

To go back exactly three years 4 months and 17 days ago, you would find a 14/15 year old izuku breaking into an abandoned home with none other than his typical, usual, partners in crime.

Katsuki bakugou and y/n l/n.

Izuku knew it was a bad idea from the beginning, however he always followed the two of you into stupid situations that could eventually get you killed. In this case, it almost did. Izuku helped you get through the window the three of you had busted by letting you climb onto his shoulders, katsuki who had laid his jacket over the glass so none of you would cut yourselves, grabbed you by your arms and pulled you in, the both of you then helped izuku in with basically the same method.

“woah.. spooky.”

“ heh.. it reeks in here.”

You giggled at katsukis exclaim, making izuku pout slightly. He sighed to himself, not wanting to admit the blonde was correct.

“ you guys i- i really don't think we should— ”

“ hey check it out! there are spray paint cans in here!”

Katsuki yells running to the other room with numerous cans of spray paint. You followed him like a dumb lost puppy leaving izuku to groan and follow behind you both.

There were many graffiti stamps left behind from many different people, obviously they had left behind their spray paint for some odd reason, that's what really intrigued izuku.

“ tch, hey deku, get over here so we can sign our names!”

Izuku jogs closer to you two shivering to himself at all the spiderwebs covering the cans. It was dusty and quite eerie inside of this place. Izuku truthfully wanted no part. You and katsuki signed your names right next to each other with little quirky doodles next to them, izuku soon followed suit. He picked up the green can of paint and signed his name ‘izuku’

“ no no, put deku! ‘ts way better than ‘izuku’!”

The way katsuki could make izuku feel bad about his given name should've been studied. And they way you were quick to agree hurt the poor boy even more. He soon crossed out izuku and put ‘Deku’ big and boldly. It was all alone compared to how closely the two of your names were.

The two of you had long began to explore elsewhere, leaving izuku wondering where you two went off to.

“hey! Come in here izu- I mean deku!”

You yell out catching his attention, he follows the sound of your voice to find you two the small critter crawling up his back going completely unnoticed. Some time passed and it only got later and later, izuku was still hesitant about being there but the two of you just kept going deeper and deeper inside of the manor.

Izuku rushes inside of the next room, breaking contact with whatever artifacts caught his eye. He looked for the two of you calling out your names with no answer, he was confused and quite scared, where could the two of you have gone?

“ boo!”

Izuku jumped back falling down to the ground and scraping his little hands.

“ow..!”

Izuku winced at the sudden sting of not only his hands but the pinch of his skin itching and being very irritated next to his neck, he slapped it and the arachnid soon fell into his hands. With a shutter he threw the spider out of his hands feeling rather jittery after the encounter.

“ are you alright, izuku?!“

You were quick to rush over to him. It was simply supposed to be a little harmless joke, he wasn't supposed to get hurt. You helped him up and dusted him off as well heading katsuki suck his teeth in response.

“ yes, i- I'm fine. I've gotten bitten by a spider however.. one unlike any other I've ever seen.. we should head back so I can tell my mom.”

“ oh, oka-”

“ no.”

Katsuki was quick to shut down before you could get out your sentence. You both turned to look at him he seemed angry a bit as if something completely ruined his mood.

“ if you tell your mom we could get in trouble, she might tell my mom who might tell y/ns. you don't want us getting in trouble, do you deku.”

The way katsuki used the nickname against him made his stomach feel sick. He gulped down the rising bile in his throat and coughed lowly.

“ katsuki he got hurt, shouldn't he-”

“ no! I'm not getting in trouble because wimpy deku wanted to be an easy scare!”

“thats not fair katsuki!”

The two of you started bickering, leaving him out causing him to sigh. He felt a bit weird.. kind of dizzy and out of breath as if he'd been running. It was growing warm and he had began sweating, hyperventilating as if he needed to catch his breath.

The sounds of him caught your attention and suddenly the boy looked quite weak, frail of some sort.

“ izuku..? are you...alright?”

Katsuki sooner looked over to see izuku hardly keeping his balance, he wouldn't admit it but he was quite worried at the sight of him.

“ let's go.”

Was all katsuki said as he grabbed izuku by the hand and ran back towards the broken window the three of you came in.

The two of you got izuku home in one piece for the most part, he was dizzy and hardly standing up on his own, the running had him so our of breath it was almost like he was having an anxiety attack. He probably was to be honest, izuku was a very anxious boy. His anxiety levels were very high at all times, with the growing symptoms in his body and the bite from the spider he was so worried about what was happening to him he most likely started having a panic attack whilst running. Luckily he was home now, you and katsuki beat on his door as you heard him mom yelling she was coming.

She opens the door with a smile to see the three of you out of breath with a dead looking izuku, the sight startled his mother causing her to pick up her son and rush him to the hospital. Both yours and katsukis parents had been called and had quite a talk with inko who was worried sick about her son, yelling at your parents and explaining how she has no idea what happened.

You two didn't speak to each other once. Not even looking at each other. Both your parents had taken you and katsuki back home. After that night you'd never spoken to katsuki or izuku ever again..

Izuku was completely fine however. Those symptoms may have been bad but that was all it was. He was able to go home that same day and the doctors called it a simple panic/anxiety attack. His mother was worried sick for no reason.

From that moment forward things only began to get weirder for this normal teenaged boy.

₊˚⊹

Izuku sat at his desk reading his old journals of how he believes he got his powers, scoffing to himself at the memories. He had all his books all over his desk in a completely messy pile nose buried in his book as someone walked over and bumped his desk back into him, it lightly hit him in the stomach causing him to drop the journal in the desk and the desk of the books that were formerly there onto the floor.

He scoffed in annoyance looking up to see you with a shit eating grin on your face as you scowled down at him, not even apologizing as you walked out of the classroom.

Izuku seen as the classroom was completely empty, just him and his messy books all over the floor. He sighed and crouched down picking them up and shoving them into his backpack. His phone vibrated in his back pocket, he picked up up to see w text from his friends.

‘ hey! Meet us in the front?’

That singular text from ochako was all he needed for a small smile to form on his freckled cheeks. Just as he was about to put it away there was a pop up from the news channel he had downloaded on his phone, something about a criminal stealing from a jewelry shop.

He sighed to himself and texted her back explaining he wouldn't be able to meet them and that he'd just head home. However that wasn't the case. He ran out the back door of the school pushing through some students earning some angry and annoyed remarks spat at him; but he didnt have time to care. He ran behind some building and quickly slipped his suit on. He'd rather skip the embarrassing details..

Just as he was about to 'web away' he got a call from none other than katsuki bakugou. Izuku jumped and nearly dropped his phone at the sudden ringing, he quickly answers without thinking, lifting his mask over his mouth to speak,

“ oi nerd, y’heard about that criminal stealing that diamond or whatever?”

The normally volcanic boy has a soft tone still laced with a bit of redness and sass.

“ yes, kacchan, and before you called I was just about getting there so if y’dont mind!!!!”

The blond scoffs on the other side, chuckling as he snorts at his sass. Izuku groaned at the sound of him laughing and simply hung up swinging away as quickly as he could.

“ look up there! It's spiderman!!”

People squealed and yelled at the familiar colors of izukus suit, black along the sides and a deep green painting the front and back of his skin tight suit, and a big white spider over the chest. He'd made the suit when he was younger and had started working out he'd wanted to show it off but as of now he thinks it's quite unnecessary..

He swung through the crowds waving and smiling under the mask, as tiring as being spiderman was he was always thankful for the love he'd gotten. They truly made him feel valuable, izuku struggled with self confidence a lot, it's common in people like that to enjoy attention from all.

It wasn't that izuku needed to be humbled or anything but....izuku swung down an alley that reports seen the criminal go down, supposedly the diamond they had stolen was a very important artifact from ancient times or whatever, moral of the story was he needed to get it back to where it belonged! Izuku could do that!

He dropped in front of the criminal with a hero stance making him appear big n bad in front of them.

“ stop! give me that diamond, criminal!”

Izuku was obsessed with action movies when he was younger, his favorite actor was custom to working in them. He always imagined being a superhero and technically he is! However within these three years the fame and glory really went to his head ..

The criminal halted, izuku tried stepping closer to retrieve the diamond in a cool manner, speaking to the cloaked person in a soft voice trying to get them to come to their senses like some kind of......main character. To izukus surprise they pulled out a crossbow. He was stunned at the size of it,

“ how- how did that fit inside of your— ”

Before izuku could get the rest of his sentence out the criminal shot the arrow, it completely piercing izukus shoulder. He yelled out in pain nearly falling to his knees, that then made him realize that was no joke, this person being unlike any other petty thief hes gone up against.

As the criminal kicked izuku to the ground with a bare boot while he was holding his injured and punctured shoulder they quickly made haste and ran past him out of the alley, crowds soon coming up after the person ran away and seeing izuku clutching his shoulder run pain, all of them having different emotions on his face it would be an understatement to say he was embarrassed.

What had he thought that he was just invincible? Izuku struggled into his knees hearing whispers from the crowd and quickly tried his best to attempt swinging away with a singular arm, his left to be exact and that wasn't his maiden arm either. Izuku was fully right handed and did everything with it, with his right arm basically out of commission he did his best to swing with his left hand but...

He eventually wobbled and hit a sign, he was going at a high speed as well trying to hide his shame and find the person who did this to him, as his body came into full contract with the sign knocking every little bit of air out if his body the arrow got pushed deeper, making izuku groan in agony once more. Blood wetting his skin and suit as it dropped down, he didn't take the arrow out before because he thought about how it would cause him to bleed out and wouldn't be any good...now he wished he had.

He held onto the large sign and tried to swing away once more, he eventually got the hang of it for a little while managing to drop himself behind a building. He leaned against the wall of it and groaned, he wanted to take his suit off but it wouldn't be a good idea, anyone could've followed him or even tried to see who he was. It wasn't a good idea.

With every ounce of energy and strength in his body he pushed himself up from sliding to the ground and called who he knew he could.

“ yo?”

“ ka..kacchan... I need your...your help..”

₊˚⊹

AN: this is js a WIP lemme know what y'all think n if I should add or like yk leave out some things!!!!

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formula-ghost · 13 hours ago

Text

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 5: Valentine (FINALE)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The end of the 2024 F1 season brings regret and a newfound desire for reconciliation—but is your relationship with Franco beyond saving?

WORD COUNT: 13k

WARNINGS: Sadness. Angry Hispanic mother. Creepy men in bars (not Franco ofc). Drinking, drunk Franco is a media menace. Use of the word whore jokingly. Smut 18+ MINORS DNI. Hickeys, hair pulling. Dom Franco and sub reader, use of good girl, light choking, Oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

SERIES TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

A/N: My baby is now complete!! I did not plan for this to be the ending originally, but as I was writing it just kind of came about, and who am I to anger the writing Gods? Honestly, though, the beginning of this chapter destroyed me trying to find a way to redeem Franco. Fun fact, I very loosely based my depiction of Franco off of my real life ex, which explains why he is so horrible lmao (but unlike my real life ex, Franco has been redeemed!). I cannot express how grateful I am for everyone’s support throughout the writing of this story. More to come, but for now, enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

All this love, I'm so choked up, I can feel you in my blood

All this lust for just one touch, I'm so scared to give you up

Valentine, my decline is so much better with you

Valentine, my decline, I'm always running' to you

Valentine, Valentine

The block button did nothing to assuage Franco’s obsession with you. In fact, it only made it worse.

If he hadn’t blocked you, he would at least know that you weren’t contacting him. But since he pressed the button, there was now the ever present question of if you had reached out, and if the digital barrier he erected had led it to be lost forever.

But why would you reach out after what he had done?

Truthfully, it took everything in you to not call him. You had both said things you didn’t mean—at least, you prayed that Franco didn’t mean them—and you wanted nothing more than to just make up and act like it never happened.

But the words kept echoing in your mind at night when you couldn’t sleep. You were a distraction.

All the years of supporting him, all the sacrifices you made—all for nothing.

You couldn’t help that you loved him. And the Franco you knew and loved didn’t mean those things. He couldn’t.

So you checked your phone’s international clock. It was still night where you were at home, but morning in Abu Dhabi, where he’d be completing his last F1 race tomorrow.

There was still time. If you called and made up now, you could be there for the final race. You could be there at the end, just like you had been there at all of his beginnings.

So you swallowed your pride, tapped on his name in your contacts, and pressed call. But it didn’t even ring before it hung up. You knew what that meant. He had blocked you.

At first you wanted to puke. You wanted to burst down the stairs of your apartment and run into the street screaming. You wanted to throw a bottle of wine on the walls and cry in the wreckage.

But after a few hours of getting all the crying out, a strange peace fell over you.

It was just… over. That was that.

In the morning, however, the grief came back from a familiar notification. His mother.

You had been putting off her messages ever since your argument with Franco. You couldn’t bear to tell her what had happened. But she was worried about you, evident by her increasingly concerned messages.

You finally gathered the courage to type up a response.

Hi Mami, you began—she had forbidden you to call her by her name, instead telling you to call her Mom—I tried to talk to Franco like you asked. It didn’t go well, and we both said a lot of hurtful things. It ended on bad terms and he ended up canceling all my passes and flights, and I think he blocked me. I’m sorry, I tried to get through to him. Thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me over the years <3

You read over what you’d typed. It was honest. You could have spared her more of the details, but why? Franco would have to live with the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t your problem.

It was only a few moments later that she responded. Oh dear, I am so sorry. I am ashamed of Franco—that is not the son I raised. I hope you know we all love you, and I wish you all the best.

You liked her message and left it at that. But she called you later that night.

She began, “YN, words can’t describe how sorry I am. What happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” you began, carefully choosing your words. You weren’t quite sure how much you wanted to tell her. “He was already upset when I got there. He kept accusing me of lecturing him, but I was just trying to tell him I was worried. He said… that I was a distraction.”

“I can’t believe him! You have never been a distraction. You’ve been there for him when we couldn’t, we’ve always been so grateful for you.” Her admission nearly brought tears to your eyes. “I just… Dios Mio.”

The conversation was short, but vulnerable.

“YN, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You had feelings for him, didn’t you?” She asked it as if it were a statement, rather than a question.

You were silent for a beat before answering. “I did. I… I do.”

“Oh, dear, I wish I was there to give you a hug.” You could feel the care in her voice, a soothing comfort. “I want you to know you’re always welcome here, no matter what my idiot son says.”

You chuckled, thanking her for her kindness before ending the call. You were truly grateful for her invitation, but you couldn’t imagine being in Argentina without Franco. The call had felt more like a farewell.

In Abu Dhabi, Franco was having his own farewells. It was bittersweet; he had worked so hard for so long to get here, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He just wanted to go home.

Home—the only place he felt like he had left. His Madrid apartment would feel empty without your laughter echoing in the halls. But back in Argentina, the people still loved him, and he could come back to a warm, home-cooked meal.

It was the only thing on his mind as he was forced to retire the car early, ending his last F1 race of 2024 with a DNF. But he didn’t care about that at all when he stepped off his flight from Abu Dhabi to Buenos Aires.

Unfortunately for him, what was waiting for him at home was not peace and a warm meal. It was a very angry Hispanic mother.

He came through the door, jet lagged, struggling with his luggage. She didn’t help him.

When his father and sister ran up to give him a hug and help him in, she didn’t move an inch. She just stayed in the kitchen, silently chopping vegetables with her recently sharpened knife.

After putting away his bags into his room, Franco made his way to the kitchen to greet his mother, who didn’t even look up from her cutting board.

“Hi Mami, I’m home,” he said tentatively.

“Welcome home,” she replied, no warmth in her voice.

“Aren’t you excited to see me?” he joked. He knew he was dodging landmines. He knew she had every right to be angry—he had gotten caught up in everything after Singapore, and after his controversy, he had been dodging her calls and texts, other than to arrange plans to come home for the holidays. Others may have gotten over their frustration, or chose to ignore it for the sake of the holidays. She was not that kind of woman.

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she said, her voice flat. “Dinner is almost ready. Can you set the table for five, please?”

“Five? There’s only 4 of us.”

“Well, isn’t YN going to join us?” She already knew the answer. She just wanted to see him squirm as he answered it. He had nowhere to run anymore.

“Uh… no. Not this year.”

“And why would that be?”

“She’s, uh, busy.” His mother didn’t respond. He had to fill the awkward silence. “And she’s probably mad at me…”

She paused, holding the knife in an iron grip. She lifted it from the cutting board to point towards him. “And why would that be, Franco?”

“Mami…”

“Do not lie to me.” Her voice was cold as ice.

“Mami, it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to enjoy the holidays and forget about this whole season.”

“I’m sure you do,” she concluded, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Franco sighed, getting down the plates to set the table for his family. But he stopped in his tracks when he turned and felt a slipper to the back of his head.

“Ah! What was that for?” The blow didn’t hurt anything but his ego.

“You know what you did,” his mother seethed. “You can’t run from this forever. Now get out of my kitchen.”

Franco obeyed, muttering under his breath.

“What was that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing!” he chirped, setting the plates on the table.

During dinner, it wasn’t any better. His father and sister, oblivious to his mother’s rage, chatted as if nothing had happened. They had been angry at his…questionable dating decisions, yes, but they clearly had let it go in the meantime and decided to just enjoy the time together as a family. His mother, however, had not.

And whenever anyone asked about it, she said she was fine. But she was clearly not fine.

As Franco took the dishes into the kitchen to help clean up after dinner, he sighed, knowing that his mother was right. He couldn’t go the entire holiday ignoring it—she would make sure of that.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The bed of his childhood home was warm and comforting, but he couldn’t relax under the weight of it all.

Maybe some fresh air would do him good. That’s what he reasoned when he slid open the back door and inhaled the cool night air. He sat cross legged on the back terrace, just taking in the sounds of the serene night.

That was, until he heard another person closing the door behind him. His mother.

“Not now, Mami,” he said, not even turning to look at her.

“I’m not going to chastise you.” She handed him a mug of something warm. For a moment they just sat next to each other, sipping their drinks in silence.

Franco began to speak unprompted. “YN has every right to be angry at me. I…ruined everything. I was so cruel to her.”

His mother just gave him a reassuring hum.

He continued, “She had feelings for me. I know I should have known it sooner, but I was in denial. But I had feelings for her too. And I got distracted. But it wasn’t her fault. I was so worried about my future that I ignored how she had always been there in my past.”

The mug in his hands trembled and his voice wavered. “She was always there for me. Every race, every win, every failure. She was always there.”

His mother reached for him, lovingly stroking his back as he confessed.

“She probably hates me now. I don’t blame her.” A tear fell into his mug. He turned to look at his mother, her expression far more sympathetic than it was at dinner. “Can I fix it?”

“I don’t know. But first of all, you owe her an apology.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you would have already done it.” He was silent. “It’s possible that she will forgive you. Or, she may not. You have to accept that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Franco,” she began, “you did this. You have to suffer through the consequences of your actions. And if you are lucky enough that she forgives you and wants you back in your life, it’ll be a hell of a lot of work to regain her trust.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

He paused. “I’m scared. Scared that it really is beyond saving.”

“The longer you wait, the more likely that is to be true.”

This time, he actually knew what he needed to do.

Neither of you knew the parallels between you two; each of you pining for the other’s love, wanting nothing more than just to speak to the other. And when he unblocked you and called, it was like the stars aligned.

You didn’t answer.

He didn’t panic at first. It was close to the holidays, in the middle of the day in your timezone. Maybe you were with your family.

But as one missed call turned to two, and days of no contact turned to weeks, Franco began to know the bitter taste of his own medicine.

You had seen him call. And yes, you were with your family at the time. You told yourself that was the main reason why you hadn’t answered. As if seeing his contact on your phone didn’t shatter your heart into a million pieces.

But later that night, when you were finally alone, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. He hadn’t left any voicemail or text, just his name and a missed call icon.

What would you even say to him? He knew you were angry. And you knew you couldn’t just act as if nothing happened.

So despite your desperation to speak to him again, you just let his calls keep coming and coming over the weeks.

A dark part of you enjoyed having his attention. You waited to see his icon pop up, just to let the call go to voicemail. It made you feel wanted again.

And you were wanted. When he tried to sleep at night, he wanted you. When he talked with his manager about future plans for the next season—back down to F2—he wanted you.

Both of you knew it was a delicate balance. He couldn’t keep calling forever. At some point you’d have to answer, or he’d have to stop. But you loved the dark thrill of pushing it.

And this continued for weeks.

The calls lessened as the F2 season began. Franco was back at work. You had finally let go of the need to watch his races.

But there was another contact you hadn’t ignored: Lily.

She called you out of the blue one day. “YN! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

The last time you saw her—it must have been Austin—felt like years ago.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you replied.

“Do you… wanna talk about how you’ve been?” It was late January now. You had spent the weeks just passing time, lost, but somehow also at peace with all of it.

“Um… not if you don’t want to ruin your day,” you joked. Humor was a good coping mechanism, you had learned. You’d grown tired of explaining to people why Franco was no longer in your life. You had once been so intertwined, and now, nothing. You were thankful that she didn’t press further.

“Well, we should go out,” she suggested. “I know a great new club in Madrid, and Rebecca and I will be there the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Day. The bane of your fucking existence. Worst holiday ever.

But you had spent Christmas in a daze, and New Years alone. You didn’t know if you could do another holiday like that, so acutely aware of Franco’s absence. So you agreed.

But Lily’s phone call wasn’t as out of the blue as you had thought.

One thing about Franco was that he was determined. If he wanted something, he was going to get it. So yes, he called and called and called and let all his calls be missed.

He couldn’t just text you or leave a voicemail. What he needed to say was too important. He needed to see you.

So he called up the only other woman he knew besides you and his own mother: Lily.

He pitched the idea simply. He just needed her to arrange something where you and him would meet. Lily was skeptical.

“Franco, you know when a woman isn’t answering your calls, it’s usually because she doesn’t want to talk to you, right?”

“I know,” he signed. “I know she’s pissed at me. She has every right to be. I just want to apologize to her.”

“Then why not, like, send her a letter or something? Trying to organize an event where she’s forced to see you is kind of…creepy.”

Deep down, he knew Lily was right. “It’s not like that, though. I just need to see her, say it to her face. If she gets angry and never wants to see me again, I’ll respect her wishes. But I love her too much to not try.”

Lily was a hopeless romantic if nothing else. And Franco was charismatic and too smooth to deny with his one-liners.

So she agreed. Besides, she knew you needed a girls night.

And you realized it too when Rebecca and Lily came over to your apartment to get ready a few weeks later.

You vented to them as they helped you apply your eyeliner and zip up your dress—yes, THAT dress—about how hard the past few weeks had been.

“And then,” you explained, as Rebecca dusted a brush along your cheekbones, “he told me that I didn’t need to be there! As if he wasn’t the one who begged me to go!”

Rebecca made a sour expression. “Girl,” she said, “Good riddance to him.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you nearly gasped. You looked fucking amazing.

Yes, you were wearing that dress that always reminded you of him—his favorite color, bought while on vacation to see his family. But if he couldn’t see your beauty, someone else would. And right now, that someone was Lily, as she snapped photos of you all before you left for the club and posted them on her story.

As you entered the club, you felt the bass in your bones. Yes, this was exactly what you needed.

You drank. You danced. You felt the eyes of tipsy men on you.. And for a while, all your troubles faded away.

You approached the bar for your second drink of the night. A man walked next to you, presumably to order his own drink. You recognized him as someone you’d danced with earlier.

“You look great tonight,” he said, eyeing you up and down. His tone was too sleazy for your liking.

“Thanks,” you said, hoping a short response would end the exchange so you could get your drink and make your way back to Lily and Rebecca, who were waiting for you in a booth.

“D’you always dance like that?”

“Like what?”

He smirked. “You’re cute when you play dumb like that.”

You genuinely had no idea what the man was going on about. “Sorry, I need to get back to my friends.”

You turned to leave, but the man grabbed your arm. “Don’t you need to get your drink? Stay a minute.”

You grimaced, but a surge of anxiety kept you frozen to your spot. You turned your glaze to the floor, silently beginning for an out.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Uh…” You were unable to answer. You feigned ignorance. “Sorry, it’s loud in here, I can’t hear you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know your name to take you home tonight.”

“What?” You wanted to puke.

The man started to reach his arm out toward your waist. You stepped back and bumped into someone. You cursed your own awkwardness. When you turned to apologize, you saw a familiar face.

Franco. Fuck. You felt your stomach drop.

“You know this guy?” The man behind you asked.

“She does,” Franco answered for you. You were grateful—you were unable to speak, choked with anxiety.

“You let your girl act like that?”

“Fuck off, mate.”

The man took the hint and shrugged, taking his drink and disappearing into the crowd.

Your eyes were still glued to the floor. “Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, “it’s the least I could do.”

The bartender handed you your drink. Part of you just wanted to go back to Lily and Rebecca and act like all of this never happened. But by the look of Franco’s face, one of grave seriousness, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the other part of you was thankful. Thankful that Franco had saved you from that creep, yes, but also thankful that the stars had aligned to bring you and your best friend back together. What were the odds?

Wait. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned.

“Franco, what are you doing here?”

Now it was him who looked to the floor in embarrassment. “Lily told me you were here. I asked her to help me talk to you.”

“So you… arranged to find me in a club, because I wasn’t answering your calls?”

Franco may be Latino, but he sure had the audacity of a white man.

“When you put it like that, it sounds bad…”

You rolled your eyes and walked away. He followed you through the crowd.

“YN, wait! Why won't you answer my calls?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.” That wasn’t true. You actually had a lot to say, you were just too afraid to say it.

“Okay, I get it. I fucked up. But will you just listen to me? Please?”

You just kept walking.

“YN! Please!” You had nearly reached the booths, and he was still following you. You just kept ignoring him.

“YN—” You slammed down your drink on the table, startling Lily and Rebecca. When Franco came into view behind you, they exchanged knowing glances.

You turned around to face him. “Are you really begging?” you whispered in a hushed tone.

“Yes,” he said, his voice equally low.

Lily got out of the booth, standing next to you. “What’s the harm in just hearing him out?” she said, low enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the thumping bass.

You swallowed. The harm? You would fall for him again. And he would hurt you again and again. You’d lose him again. A never ending cycle of pain.

But his pleading expression in front of you was too much to bear. You couldn’t say no to the man you still loved.

“Let’s get some air, hm?” he said, and you nodded, silently following him back to the crowd. He led you to a staircase where a bouncer nodded and silently let the both of you pass.

The staircase led to the roof of the club, with a beautiful view of the city. The space was clearly set up for patrons to enjoy, but there wasn’t a soul there besides you and Franco.

The view took your breath away. You had seen so much beauty when you had traveled the world with Franco for his races, but this was home, and he was warm next to you as he snaked his arm around your waist, silently taking in the sight next to you.

You relaxed into the touch. For a moment, you just let everything fade away into the peaceful scene.

But as you smelled Franco’s familiar cologne and relished the feeling of his touch, you couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in your throat. It felt like it was choking you. You moved forward, forcing his arm away, and leaned against the railing on the edge of the rooftop.

“Say what you have to say,” you said plainly.

“I want to apologize.” His opening sentence was simple, yet powerful. “YN, I was horrible to you. I lied and I betrayed your trust. I blamed all my problems on you, when you were the only one who was ever there for me.”

You watched the cars on the road below, like ants in a colony.

He continued, “And you were right, about everything.”

The silence in the air was thick.

Your voice was shaking when you began. “Franco, you made me feel like I was insane. You… you accused me of using you. You called me a distraction. You said I was disgusting. You uninvited me from the last races and you blocked me.”

“You tried to call?”

“Of course I did.” The tears in your eyes threatened to mess up your mascara that Rebecca had so carefully applied. “I tried to call you before Abu Dhabi. I wanted to forgive you and be there for your last race.”

“Shit, YN… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you now.”

It was him, now, who had eyes full of tears. “YN, I…I love you. I can’t lose you. I know I hurt you, and it kills me. But I miss my best friend. My friend who skipped prom to come to a race. My friend who helped me dry my clothes after she found me trying to use an oven to do it. My friend who is the only one that really gets my sense of humor.”

You finally broke down at his confession. He reached out to hold you.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

He let you cry it out, before pulling back and looking at you. He gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears and fix your smeared makeup.

“I can’t ask for everything to go back to normal,” he said, looking you in the eyes. His eyes were teary, too. “I know I can’t. I did things that are beyond awful. But I promise you that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do whatever I can to regain your trust. You’re too important to me.”

All you could do was bury yourself in his chest. He wasn’t expecting the sudden gesture, but he slotted his arms around you like they always belonged there. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You don’t know how long you stood there, warm in his embrace. You could have stayed there for years.

You were brought out of the perfect scene by the sound of a notification on your phone. You broke the hug after a moment to check it. A text from Lily: everything okay?

You chuckled. “I think Lily is worried about us.”

“Well,” he asked, “is everything okay?”

He wanted an answer. You didn’t know if you could say it.

But is this not what your entire journey had been leading up to? You had begun writing in your journal to communicate what you feel. And now, you had no choice.

You were strong. You had changed.

“I want to forgive you,” you said. “But it won’t be easy. It’ll take time.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“And I can’t promise that I won’t be scared or insecure.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll do. I’ll listen, I’ll show you—”

“Franco.” You cut him off. “I know. I love you.”

You couldn’t name the expression on his face. Like relief. Or love.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You were scared of what door that would open, of how much you truly wanted him to. So you didn’t speak. You just reached up to caress his cheek and tell him with your actions.

Your lips met his, and all the sorrow melted away. You could feel the vibrations of the club under your feet, the gentle pumping of blood through his veins, faster now that he could touch you. He pulled you in by the waist, and you brought your other hand to the back of his neck, making the space between you infinitesimally small.

But you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. You couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly you wanted it.

When you opened your eyes, he had that expression you had grown to yearn for; it gave away how badly he needed more of you. You could feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the thought of his wanting.

“We should go back down before Lily gets too worried,” you said. He smiled and nodded, but as his expression of desire faded away, you saw the familiar signs of anxiety. He didn’t know how far to push, how comfortable to act.

You grabbed his hand. “And then, you should dance with me.”

His tentative smile grew more relaxed. “Of course.”

Turns out, there’s nothing an honest conversation and a little alcohol couldn’t fix. And in the aftermath of the former, you definitely indulged in the latter—maybe a little too much.

You went downstairs to retrieve your drink that Lily and Rebecca had so kindly watched for you. It was a little watered down from the ice melting, but it would do the trick.

Rebecca helped you fix your makeup as Lily glared at Franco for making you cry. He knew he’d have work to do to earn back their trust, too, but he was more than willing.

So when you were ready, he wasted no time taking you out to the dancefloor to give you the night of your life.

The only problem was that Franco was not a frequent club goer, and therefore unable to handle his liquor. And you all had a lot to drink that night.

You finally cut him off when he threatened to get on the table and start stripping.

“Oh, Lord, Franco, I’m cutting you off, you’ve had too much to drink,” you slurred. You were tipsy yourself, in no state to talk, but at least you were committed to staying clothed for the night.

“What are you gonna do? Fuck me about it?” he joked, sticking his tongue out playfully.

You don’t know if the blush on your face was from the drinks or his taunting. But God, even when he was wasted, he looked so good. As the night had progressed, he had become more disheveled, his shirt buttons coming undone to expose his toned chest and a sheen of sweat from all the dancing. He leaned over, running a hand along your cheek. “Bet you would want that, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, time to get you home!” you told him. Lily and Rebecca had left a bit earlier, satisfied that their mission was accomplished.

You got up and tried to corral your drunk friend out of the club. He didn't want to cooperate, though.

“No, YN, I don’t want to go home! I missed you, dance with me!” He reached out to grab your waist, his hands wandering up and down your body.

“Franco, you’re drunk,” you said, moving out of his grip. “I’m calling an Uber and getting you home.”

It’s not like his touch was unwelcome. But you were in public and he was inebriated, unable to consent to what he was actually doing. You knew it was time to go.

You finally dragged him outside as you waited for the Uber on the corner. You hoped the cool night air would sober him up a bit.

“Have I told you that you look fucking gorgeous tonight?” he slurred. You ignored him as you watched the little car icon drive closer and closer.

“I always loved that dress on you,” he continued, “but it’d look better off of you.”

“Our Uber is here!” you said through your blush.

But even in the Uber, he was relentless.

“I missed youuuuu” he cooed in your ear.

“I missed you too, but could you not be a whore for 5 minutes?” you laughed. You hoped the humor would distract him. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

“But YNNNNN, I want you so fucking badly. Every part of you, even the parts that you’re ashamed of—fuck, especially those parts. I want to know the version of you that you’re scared to be. I want you to use me like a toy to get what you want. And when I read what you wrote I was… fuck, I couldn’t stop myself. Every day I’d read it and touch myself and wish it was you. God, I just need to fuck you so badly—“ he practically moaned in your ear as his hand again reached to your waist.

You grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His doe eyes looked up at you, deceptively innocent, hiding behind them the true depths of his lust.

You moved his hand away and let go. He was silent and still.

“Franco, you are drunk. I am going to get you home and you are going to get some rest.”

“I know you’re mad at me. You should be, I’m a fucking idiot,” he slurred. “But you can take it out on me, on my body—“

“Franco! We are in public,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Is being horny a crime? You can arrest me, put me in restraints—”

The Uber pulled up in front of your apartment and you wasted no time getting Franco out of the car and up the stairs. You made sure to tip the driver well.

Franco didn’t even let up as he collapsed on your bed, dizzy from stumbling up the stairs and into your apartment. He grabbed you, pulling you back to the bed, burying his face in your hair.

“You smell so good,” he muttered. You wrestled free from his grip, throwing a pillow back at him playfully.

“I am not going to fuck you when you’re this drunk. Get changed and go to sleep.”

He pouted, but complied, undressing agonizingly slowly behind you. You had turned away to give him privacy, but your mind wandered as you heard the shuffling of his clothes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, still behind you.

“You didn’t,” you said, and it was true; you loved that he wanted you, just…not in that setting. “Just sleep it off. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, come here,” he said, patting the side of the bed. You turned and jumped, seeing that instead of changing into the pair of old pajamas that he had left at your place many months ago that you had laid out for him, he had just stripped down to his underwear.

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face turning a bright red. “Put some clothes on.”

“But it’s hot in here!”

“Then I’ll take the couch.”

“YN just snuggle with me—”

You cut him off by closing the bedroom door.

A few hours later, you were convinced that you had the world’s most uncomfortable couch. You couldn’t sleep a bit.

You filled the hours by scrolling on your phone. The F1 gossip pages were calling your name.

The reappearance of YN! The former friend (and suspected ex girlfriend) of Williams reserve driver Franco Colapinto was featured in a post from a nightclub in Madrid with current Williams wags Lily Muni He and Rebecca Donaldson. Several attendees also caught videos of her dancing with a mysterious man that is definitely not Franco. YN hasn’t been publicly seen since the 2024 Brazilian Grand Prix, which fans assume has something to do with Franco’s fling with a controversial Argentine actress.

Above the caption was a slideshow: the pictures of you, Lily, and Rebecca on the first slide, and the next being a video of you dancing with the creep. You cringed at the memory.

The top comment made you chuckle: I can’t believe Franco fumbled his 2025 seat AND a baddie.

You scrolled to the next post.

Former F1 driver for Williams, Franco Colapinto, spotted in a nightclub in Madrid getting very handsy with best friend YN!

The two have not been seen together since the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2024. At the time, fans speculated that the two were dating, but sources close to the driver reported that a falling out regarding Franco’s dating controversies during the season led him to cancel her VIP pass for the last triple header.

But luckily for Franco x YN shippers, the pair seem to be quite comfortable with each other again. Do you think they’ll make it official soon? Comment your opinion below!

Fuck. Someone had gotten a video of you trying to get Franco out of the club, and without context, it looked bad.

You were pushing him off of you, yes, but not because you didn’t want his touch. You were just afraid of this exact scenario happening. You prayed a silent apology for his manager.

Your scrolling was interrupted by the sound of Franco waking up and stumbling into your kitchen for a glass of water. Even with only a few hours of rest, he had slept off the drunkenness, but was left with a horrific hangover.

You probably should have just pretended to be asleep until he went back to bed. But, against your better judgement, you got up to meet him at your kitchen counter.

He still hadn’t put any clothes on. Typical.

“You alive there?” you joked.

He downed his entire glass of water. “Barely,” he grimaced. “Worth it, though.”

You gave him a half smile. “You’re probably gonna have a million notifications from your manager. I tried my best.” You handed him your phone to watch the video.

“Jesus, that’s how I looked? I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mind. But it’s a good thing that you probably don’t remember what you said.”

“Oh no, I remember.” You blushed. “And I don’t regret a word. I meant everything I said.”

“Franco, when we were in the Uber, you said I could use your body as a toy.” You cringed as you repeated his words back to him.

“I know. Offer still stands.”

“Franco…”

“YN, be honest with me. If I was sober, and we were alone, what would you have done?”

You swallowed. He was sober. You were alone.

He saw the thoughts cross your eyes. He broke the space between you walking to the other side of the counter. He pulled you in by the waist until all that separated you was the thin fabric of your pajamas and his underwear.

The breath had been taken from you. “Talk to me,” he said. You couldn’t. The anxiety choked you. “YN, I’m tired of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“Don’t do this to me, Franco,” you pleaded. “I want this but … we shouldn’t.” You looked away. You couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze

“Why not?”

“Because… we just made up. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m here to stay. Trust me. If I promise that everything will be okay, will you trust me?”

You paused. “… I can’t. I don’t trust you. Not yet, at least.”

You had to be honest with him, but it broke your heart to say those words. You didn't know yet if he was genuine, or if his fling with the actress hadn't worked out and he was using you as a placeholder. The thought made you want to puke.

He loosened his grip on you. Your words felt like a thousand knives going through his chest, but he knew he was going to have to face the very real consequences of his actions.

“I understand,” he said. “Just let me hold you. I know my words don’t mean much anymore. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to earn back your trust, and I mean it.”

He buried his face in your hair. “Come back to bed with me.” You knew the request was innocent, so you allowed it, snuggling up into his warm chest and falling asleep as the sun began to peak in the sky outside. “I’m letting go of you. Never again,” he murmured. Both of you knew that it wasn't about the sex, or about how right you felt curled up next to him. It was something deeper, more intimate, than the bare skin that he now innocently wrapped his arm around.

When you woke up, for a moment, you thought you had dreamed the whole thing. But the soothing sound of Franco’s soft snoring proved you wrong.

Over breakfast, you laid out boundaries. You both needed to take things slowly, build up the trust that had been lost.

But when you woke up a week later on Valentine’s Day to a bouquet of pink roses on your nightstand, you couldn’t help but blush darker than the petals, remembering the reference from your diary.

Franco had planned to take you out, and of course, you wore his favorite dress.

The night was perfect—a little too perfect. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help remembering the salacious ending to that diary entry, replaying the fantasy over and over in your mind. But as he took you home for the night, Franco was ever the gentleman, perfectly keeping his hands to himself.

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you.

You had only made it to your apartment for a few seconds when the sight of Franco taking off his suit jacket was too much to bear. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a frantic kiss.

He wasn’t complaining, of course.

He took your actions as a sign, gently pushing you into the wall behind you until you were pinned. His lips never left yours, instead deepening the connection, tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

When you did come up for air, there was a faint hint of your lipstick on him. He chuckled. “Mi amor, what was that?” he teased, stroking your cheek and he looked down on you. He rested his arm above your head, leaning his body into yours. You could feel both of your chests breathing heavily with a growing desire.

“I wanted you.”

“I thought you wanted to wait?” He was right. You didn’t want to rush into physical things so early. Franco had been nothing but respectful and apologetic all week, but still, only those few days had passed.

“...Yeah,” you said. You were frustrated at him. For being so fucking attractive. For making you want him so badly.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he teased, “I’m sorry that I’m so irresistible.” Only a week since you all had made up, and he was already back to reading your thoughts.

“Oh, hush.”

In the following weeks, Franco’s return to racing made resisting him a lot easier. He had asked you to come to a few races, but you had declined. The memories of his time in F1 were too fresh, the wounds not quite sealed. Besides, you didn’t want to be seen in public with him just yet. You hadn’t exactly made your relationship official—though neither of you were talking to other people—and you were anxious for the public eye to be on you again.

That was, until Franco got a very exciting phone call.

Carlos Sainz had gotten in a minor biking accident—nothing major, just a sprained wrist, but enough that he needed to take a week off to heal—so Franco would be back in his car.

When he asked you to return to the F1 paddock with him, this time, you couldn’t refuse.

So that’s how you found yourself in a hotel room with your best friend (and now sort-of boyfriend).

Before bed on Wednesday night, after a long day of meetings, he wanted nothing more than to come back to the hotel and lay in your arms. And that’s exactly what he did.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. “You nervous for tomorrow?” you asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully, “not one bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, I have nothing to lose. Nothing could be worse than the end of last season.”

“Franco, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though.” He chuckled. “I can’t fuck up any worse than I already did. For a while there, I lost everything.”

You stopped playing with his hair to crane your neck down and kiss the top of his head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

He sat up, looking you dead in the eyes, his expression as serious as it could get.

“I love you.”

You were taken aback for a moment. You had both said it back in February when you confessed, but it was different now; more real, vulnerable.

“I love you too.”

“I want you to be mine.” His gaze traced the line from your lips to your eyes, finally meeting you where you couldn’t look away.

“I already am.”

“Then I’m yours, too. And I want the world to know it.”

You finally broke the stare, looking down at the comforter. “I’m nervous about what people will say.”

“YN, who gives a fuck what they say? They’re not here. They don’t know us.” You knew, deep down, that he was right, but that did nothing to temper your anxiety.

Franco playfully grabbed you and pulled you to sit on his lap. You let out a yelp that dissolved into laughter as you saw the smile on his face.

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my girl, yeah?”

You smiled too. “Yeah.”

“And I'm yours. You wanna prove it?” he teased, pulling down the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck. “Show them all what’s yours, hm?”

“Franco,” you said, blushing, “everyone will see.”

“That’s the point, mi amor.”

“Your manager will kill me if you show up to media day covered in hickeys.”

“I’ll cover them up.” You knew better. He absolutely would not cover them up. He’d wear them like a badge of honor.

But Franco’s refusal to be media trained was one of the many qualities you loved about him.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he teased. He was right. Right now you wanted nothing more than to cover him in love bites, claiming him as yours.

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could read you so well.

“Oh, hush,” you said, grabbing his chin to bring him into another drawn out kiss.

You trailed the kiss down to his neck, finally giving in to his request. Yes, he was yours. And now the world would see it.

You relentlessly nipped at the rough skin, enjoying the soft but labored breaths that came from Franco. You kissed his earlobes, his jaw, his collarbones, until you found that perfect spot on his neck. He gasped when your teeth met his skin, softly moaning when you gently sunk your teeth in and sucked to leave a bright red mark.

You pulled away, and his expression was one of deep wanting. Sitting on his lap, you could feel him hardening under you, desperate for whatever he could get of you.

You rested your hands on the hem of his shirt. “This is getting in my way,” you complained.

He wasted no time in taking it off.

He slid his hands under your shirt too, drawing you closer to him, burying his face in your neck and smothering it with kisses. You gently grinded down on him, giving both of you the friction you so desperately needed.

But you didn’t want to be the focus of the night. You took back control, running your hands through his hair and roughly pulling it, forcing his head back.

His doe eyes on you were full of lust. He paused for a moment.

“Sorry, was that too much?” you whispered, embarrassment beginning to flush your face bright pink.

“Oh no, I..” he panted, “I liked that a lot.”

You smiled, and went right back to your attack on his skin. He ran his hands up and down your back underneath your shirt, teasing with the clasp of your bra.

You felt his phone buzz in his pocket. You both ignored it.

“YN…” he exhaled, a breathy moan. You pulled back, seeing the red flush on his face. You could feel his excitement beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his hands tugging at your top.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer. You figured that you’d sit down and talk before your first time. You all hadn’t gone beyond heavy kissing—Franco had been respectful of your desire to wait. But it had been months now, and he’d gone above and beyond to prove that you could trust him.

His phone buzzed again. And again, you both ignored it.

“You don’t have to if you’re nervous,” he said. “We only go as far as you want.”

You nodded, silently giving him permission. He leaned in to softly press one last kiss to your lips before moving to pull off your top.

Only for his phone to ring, ruining the moment.

Your shirt remained on as he fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and turn it off. But the caller was James Vowels.

You both saw the contact info and knew that the mood had been ruined.

“I’m sorry, amor, I have to take this—” he apologized as you climbed off of his lap and he answered the call.

As he spoke, you took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened, and what was about to happen before you had been cockblocked by the William’s team principal.

After only a minute he hung up the call, continuing to apologize. “I’m so sorry, they need me right now.” His voice was full of urgency.

“It’s okay, go,” you assured him, your tone genuine. He placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before grabbing a Williams quarter zip from the floor to cover up the darkening marks on his neck.

He raced down to the hotel conference room, hoping that his…little problem would not be visible in what had sounded like a very important meeting. The tone in James’ voice had been one of immediacy, and Franco had no idea what to expect.

And when he finally made it to the room, he was met with faces both new and familiar: James, his manager, and…Aston Martin employees?

He made a confused face and he gave the group a cursory nod and sat down in the last remaining seat, next to his manager.

“Oh, Franco, you’re here,” James said, exhaling. “We have some exciting news.”

His manager had a smile that beamed across the room. “We’ve been talking to these lovely folks from Aston Martin,” she said, gesturing to the other side of the table. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but soon they’ll be putting out a statement. Fernando Alonso is retiring.”

Franco gave them a polite smile, unsure of what that information had to do with him.

“So, Aston Martin would like to offer you the seat for 2026.”

Franco felt the air leave his lungs. “I…uh…yes,” he said, too stunned to really speak. “Yes, I want it. Where do I sign?”

“Well, not so fast,” his manager responded. “We have a lot to discuss regarding the new contract, brand deals, buying you out of your Williams contract…”

But Franco was on cloud nine. His manager’s words faded into the background. He felt like heaven had opened up, and the absolute novel of a contract that now sat on the table in front of him was dropped directly there by God Himself. He could even hear the chorus of angels singing.

His presence there was merely a formality, it seemed, as the Aston Martin officials and his manager talked back and forth on minute details for what felt like hours. Nothing would be set in stone today, of course, but she wasn’t lying when she had said that a mountain of work laid ahead of them.

As the time droned on, the officials filtered out one by one, leaving only Franco and his manager alone in the conference room.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You really earned this.”

“Thank you,” he replied, genuine.

“Look, go back to your room and get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. But this is strictly confidential, you hear me? You can’t tell a single soul. Not even your own mother. Not even YN.”

“I hear you.”

“And, tomorrow, maybe cover that up better, yeah?” she said, gesturing to her neck. But Franco felt no shame.

“Well, can’t help that you all called at a very inconvenient time.”

His manager grimaced. “I didn’t need to know that. Get some rest,” she laughed, shaking her head. Even she was too happy to truly scold him.

When he finally returned to the room hours later, you had already fallen asleep waiting for him. He quietly undressed and got in bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face to gaze on your sleeping form.

You were perfect. He had gotten the seat and the girl; what else could a man ask for?

The morning was chaotic. You had both overslept.

“I’m sorry about last night, amor,” Franco said as you applied concealer to his neck. “It was urgent, and they kept me there for hours.”

“What was it about?” You gently dabbed a makeup sponge across the reddened skin.

“I can’t say. Strictly confidential. But it’s amazing, you’ll see.” He beamed, but you made a face at him. Smiling flexed his neck muscles and made it harder to cover up the evidence of your intimacy.

At the paddock, it was chaos as usual. It was the return of the Franco Colapinto—now triumphant, having had a solid season in F2 so far—and this time, he walked in with you on his arm.

The only problem was that Franco kept tugging at the neckline of his quarter zip, and the friction was causing the hastily applied makeup from the morning to smudge, revealing the marks beneath.

Thankfully, no reporters said anything. But the fans online certainly were.

Steamy! Franco Colapinto arrives today at the paddock with suspected girlfriend YN in tow, and the driver appears to have several red marks on his neck. YN and Franco have not confirmed any relationship other than being friends, and this is the first race she has attended since Brazil 2024.

COMMENT: Franco showing up to the paddock absolutely covered in hickeys was not on my 2025 bingo card

COMMENT: Okay but that is so on brand for him. This man simply does not give a fuck and I love it.

You chuckled to yourself as you read the comment. But you tensed up as you felt Franco’s manager walk up next to you. You were already anticipating the earful she’d give you.

“He’s a natural at this, ain’t he?” she asked, more a statement than a question. In the distance, Franco was making a reporter laugh.

“Yeah,” you said. Franco’s manager always made you nervous, for some reason.

“I’m so proud of him.”

“Me too.” You paused, unsure of whether to broach the subject. “You’re…unusually chipper today.”

His manager laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But even I have to relax sometimes. I mean, he’s doing a great job.”

“I heard there was some exciting news. Franco wouldn’t tell me what, though.”

His manager’s casual smile now stretched from ear to ear. “Oh yeah, big stuff. But top secret.”

“I can’t wait to hear.”

Media day went smooth as butter. Practice 1 and 2 went perfect. With the arrival of Carlos Sainz, the Williams car had vastly improved, and Franco drove like an expert.

Such was evident by his P8 finish in qualifying the next day; his highest ever qualifying in F1.

Since your night had been interrupted the day before, your wanting of him hadn’t lessened; in fact, it had grown stronger ever since you realized how you truly were ready. But quali day had taken it out of him, and you knew he needed to rest before the Grand Prix tomorrow.

And on that next day, as you watched him climb in the car from the Williams garage, you hoped that he’d put that rest to good use. You said a prayer for his safety even more than his success.

You held your breath through each lap, silently cheering him on through the knots of nervousness in your stomach. But it seems like your prayer was working; he was gaining places, P8 to P5 only a fourth of the way into the race.

He boxed halfway, and your eyes traced the lines of his car and helmet as he pulled into eyeshot of you and sped away in only a few seconds. He wasn’t looking at you, of course, but it didn’t matter. Your heart felt like it would burst with love.

At first, you didn’t even notice the cameras capturing your sentimental expression. That was, until you glanced away from his car in the distance and looked toward the screen. You were shocked to see your own reflection, captioned with your job title and ‘Franco Colapinto’s partner.’

He really was yours, now. You smiled at the camera and waved before it cut away to the action. Franco just kept gaining. He had dropped a few places after boxing, but made up for it in no time. P4.

You could hear the commentators through your headphones.

“And really, Franco Colapinto is stunning us all here. As we all remember, he had a rather disappointing end to the 2024 F1 season, but he seems to have come back with a vengeance. A podium is a real possibility for him today.”

Your smile couldn’t be contained. He was going to do this. You knew it.

With only five laps left, he overtook for P3. The garage cheered. You cheered with them. But it wasn’t over yet. It was a tense, wheel to wheel battle. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

He was able to inch just slightly enough ahead to cinch the spot as he crossed the checkered flag.

The William’s garage erupted in applause.

You ran to meet him as he pulled up the car, catching him when he jumped into the arms of the crowd of William’s employees. He nearly ripped off his helmet and balaclava, grabbed your jaw and brought you into a rough kiss.

You broke with a smile. “I love you, I’m so proud of you!” you said, unsure if he could even hear you in the chaos.

“Te amo, YN,” he said, tears of happiness clouding the edges of his vision. He continued speaking in Spanish, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd. He had to break the embrace to go to the podium.

As he stood up there, you beamed with pride below. He really had made it.

After the podium, you hid away in his driver’s room, waiting for all his media obligations to be over so you could go back to the hotel together. To pass the time, you scrolled. The internet was losing their mind over your hard launch.

And even better, people had already uploaded videos of you and Franco exchanging words of love at the barriers. His words were difficult to make out, but a few dedicated lip readers had attempted to decipher the message. But there was no internet consensus just yet.

You made a mental note to ask Franco what he had said later, but for now, you were sure he was exhausted.

Your assumption was proven correct as he walked into his driver’s room, rolling his shoulders and sighing. But upon seeing you, his face lit up. You greeted him with more hugs and words of praise.

As you both stood there, holding each other, it was like the world around you melted away.

“YN, can I tell you something?” he muttered into your hair, hand snaked around your upper back.

“Anything,” you answered, your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. You can’t let my manager know that I told you.”

You hummed in response, but he broke the hug to look at you, indicating the seriousness of his statement to come.

“I got a contract for 2026.”

Your eyes went as wide as dinner plates. You were speechless.

“Franco… that’s, oh my God, that’s amazing!” You thought you were going to burst with love for him.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” he explained, “but she’s been negotiating the contract, and they’ll probably announce it in a few weeks.”

You reached your fingers up to run them through his curls. “You’re incredible.” He blushed.

“I think we should go back to the hotel and celebrate, hm?” he teased.

“You don’t want to go out?”

“We can if you want,” he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “but I think the world has seen enough of us today, yeah?”

So you celebrated in your hotel room alone. The bottle of champagne that decorated the desk of the room was left untouched—but you sure as hell weren’t.

The podium had emboldened him. He explored the curves of your body over your clothes with reckless abandon. You wordlessly helped him remove his shirt, trailing your eyes of the muscles that were sure to be sore in a few hours. You traced the marks you had left the other day, now beginning to fade.

“My turn,” he joked, bringing his lips to your neck to give you your fair share of love bites. He brought one hand to gently hold your neck, while the other inched further and further up your shirt, teasing the edge of your bra. You felt like you could drown in his touch. You closed your eyes and fell deep into bliss.

“YN,” he whispered, “are you sure you want to do this? Are we ready?”

You swallowed, nervous. “Yes.”

But he could sense your anxiety, and was hesitant to continue. He pulled back, raking his eyes up and down your form. You couldn’t help your nervousness. But having read your darkest fantasies, he knew what you really wanted.

“You know, the reason I read your diary is because I knew there was something about you that you try so desperately to hide,” he said, his voice soft and smooth as honey. “I wanted to know whatever part of you that you try to hide away from the rest of the world,” he let his hands trace down the length of your arm, and leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, “and that part of you is that you’re a needy girl who’s desperate to get fucked.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulgarity of his words, a side to him you’d never seen.

He brought his hand from your arm to your neck, gently tracing the curve towards your chin. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course.”

His voice was soft and tender, but when his hand grabbed your chin and forced you to face him, his expression was anything but. “You just needed a man who can fuck you like the desperate girl you are.” Your eyes widened at his words, and you could feel the warmth rush to your cheeks in a rosy blush.

His eyes met yours. “Just say the word, mi amor. Do you trust me? Will you let me fuck you like you want… no, like you need to be fucked so badly? I can do it. I’m not afraid. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head and closed the gap between you, placing his lips right below your ear. The kiss was soft and made you release your breath. “Say it, YN. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

“You really want this?” you said, your voice almost trembling with anticipation.

His lips near your ear were going to be the death of you. “Of course. Can’t you feel how badly I do?” he whispered. You could feel him beneath you, hardening with every second that went past. You imagined the feeling of grinding your hips down on his length, recalling the memories of only a few days before.

Oh God, how badly you wanted to. You wanted to give him everything. You could feel his soft breath on your neck, his hands now resting on your waist, tentatively waiting for your permission to resume roaming the curves of your body. But your breath was caught in your throat.

“Franco…” The soft exhalation of his name was all you can muster. “What, amor?” he replied. You swallowed and closed your eyes, knowing your next word would let the floodgates of your desire open.

“Please.”

His lips met your neck in a kiss that was tentative at first, like you were something fragile that could be broken by his touch. But the feeling of his soft lips finally meeting your skin caused you to draw in a breath.

“You want to take the lead, or should I?” he asked.

“You,” you answered simply, too distracted by the absolutely heavenly feeling of his velvet lips on your neck.

He hummed in response. “If you ever want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“I will.”

He placed one final kiss on your neck and helped you take off your top. You felt his eyes undressing you more than his hands.

He wordlessly turned you around to sit on his lap, your back against his chest. His hands traced lower and lower down your stomach until they met the lacy waistband of your shorts.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take these off for me?” he purred.

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” You could tease him right back. He let out a dark laugh, kissing your neck from behind.

“Little brat…” he cooed, but you took no offense. He slid your shorts off, and you were left with only your bra and panties. He ran his hands up and down your now exposed stomach. His touch was warm and inviting as it traced down to the now wet fabric of your panties.

He began slowly, just tracing the skin through the fabric, inching lower and lower. He could already feel how wet you were. “Doesn’t take that much to get you going, hm? So wet just from my words.”

You blushed in embarrassment at his teasing. “Shut up…”

“Oh, amor,” he kissed your cheek, your face now turning away from him. “It’s okay. I know how badly you needed this.”

You let out a breathy moan as he began to outline your pussy with the feather-light touch of his fingers. He tentatively dipped his fingers under the fabric, spreading them around your growing wetness as he circled your clit.

Slowly and carefully, he put a finger inside you curling it up to hit that sweet spot. With his other hand, he roughly groped at your chest. He unclasped your bra with one hand, tossing it across the room, and let his free hand paw at your chest and circle your nipple.

“See, bébé, what a reward you get when you use your words and tell me what you want?”

“Yes,” you moaned, breathy and full of desire.

“And what do you want?” he asked.

“I want… you.” The words stuck in your throat, your mind too preoccupied with the pleasure of his thumb swirling softly around your clit and the two fingers now pumping in and out of you. You were vulnerable, at his mercy, but you trusted him.

“You want me to…?”

“I want you to… to fuck me.”

“Good girls get what they want. You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Can you do one more thing for me?” He smirked, removing his hand from your sensitive bundle of nerves. You already missed the friction.

“Yes, anything,” you promised.

“Get on your knees for me.”

You obeyed. The sight of you on your knees below him, gazing at home longingly with your big doe eyes, made his cock twitch. But he saw something beyond obedience in your face.

He knelt down next to you. “Are you still nervous?” he asked.

You laughed. “I’m always nervous.”

He brushed your hair out of your face, removing all the barriers between the two of you. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. I’m just… not as experienced as you. What if I'm not good?”

“You’ve already been so good for me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll guide you.”

You watched him with your innocent eyes as he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and took off his pants. You dug your knees into the pillow beneath you as he shed his last remaining layer of clothing.

He had no right to tease you for being so wet, when his own arousal coated him. His cock was dripping precum, so hard that it nearly hurt.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and again, you obeyed. He gently led you to him as you pressed your tongue to the bottom of his length and licked up to the sensitive head.

He moaned. “I don’t think you need any help, do you?” You just hummed as your tongue traced the lines of his veins up and down his shaft, before you took as much of him as you could, closing your mouth to trap him in the warmth.

He grabbed your hair to gently guide you to a good rhythm. You looked at him in admiration, but his head was thrown back, eyes closed in bliss.

He moved your head faster, and you gagged a bit at his cock filling your mouth. You dug your hands into his thighs. Franco cursed in Spanish under his breath.

Soon, he pulled you away. You were embarrassed. Did you do something wrong?

“God, you feel too good. I can’t finish yet. I want to take my time with you.” He led you back to the bed, finally taking time to gaze at your form laid bare before him.

For a moment, he was silent, just taking in the sight of you. “You’re beautiful, YN.”

You blushed. “You don’t need to flatter me, you already got in my pants,” you joked.

“It’s not flattery,” he replied as he crossed the room to grab a condom from his bag and put it on, “it’s true.”

He returned to the bed, climbing on top of you. “You’re perfect. Every part of you.”

The vulnerable praise made you uncomfortable. “Franco…”

“Touch me, amor.” You obeyed, bringing your hands to his broad shoulder, bracing for what you knew would come next.

“You may not think you’re beautiful, but I do. And I’ll make love to you as many times as I need to until you believe it.”

You blushed and brought your hands to your face. You were not immune to his Argentine charm. He gently pulled your hands away, kissing your wrists, so he could see your face.

As he guided himself to your entrance, he slowly and carefully slid inside you with a deep groan. His eyes rolled back into his head at the heavenly feeling of your pussy, and your breath hitched.

He stopped to give you a moment to adjust to his length. You felt filled and warm; all his.

For a moment he just stayed there, still, looking down at the sight of you stuffed with his cock, ready to be ravished.

“You alright?” he asked, softly tracing circles along your hips with his hands. You nodded through the sweet burn of being stretched on him.

But he could feel the tension in you. “Just relax, YN,” he cooed at you. “I’m going to take good care of you, hm?”

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and you whined. He whispered something in Spanish, too fast and incoherent for you to understand, but with a soft enough tone to recognize the love behind the gesture.

His thrusts at first were slow and shallow, giving you time to adjust. As he gently fucked you, he leaned down to softly whisper sweet nothings into your ears. You felt safe in his arms.

But soon the softness faded away into lust. You both wanted it, and you showing him by how you sang a chorus of noises the faster he fucked you. His rough thrusts brought forth sinful noises from the both of you, lost in your pleasure. “It’s okay, YN. I know how badly you needed this,” he cooed, his own breath strained. “And I needed it too. I needed to feel you wrapped around me. You feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.”

His words weren’t lost on you. “Fuck, Franco…” you begged between his thrusts. You dug your nails into his back as he continued his unrelenting pace.

“Talk to me, pretty girl,” he said, slowing down for a moment. “You okay? Is it good?”

“So good,” you responded. “Don’t stop.”

He wordlessly continued, pumping his full length into you with reckless abandon. You were sure that your nails in his back would draw blood with how roughly you clung to him.

All you could do was take it, all of him, and let the moans and gasps fall from your lips with every touch.

As he sped up, his tone changed, becoming something rougher. He was clearly emboldened by the noises that left your mouth with every movement.

“I love hearing your pretty little noises. I want you to scream for me. Fucking scream my name,” he commanded. You didn’t have the strength in you, too distracted by how good he felt, burying his cock in you.

“F- Franco,” you gasped. He pulled back so you could see him and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes.

“What’s that, love? Did you say something, or am I fucking you too good that you can’t even speak properly?”

“Franco, I—” you were cut off by your own whine, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed at you, “let go. Cum for me.”

You wanted nothing more than to obey him, and you came closer to the edge hearing his command.

“I want you to look at me when I make you cum,” he instructed. You nodded at him.

But he slowed his pace down to a torturously slow speed, savoring how every inch of him went in and out of your drenched pussy.

Even with his switch, you could feel that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to explode as you held his intense gaze. Any self consciousness you would have had was cast aside by your desperate need to obey him.

And when he moved his hand from your hips down to your sensitive clit and began to rub, you couldn’t help but follow his command, climaxing in his arms.

He held you as you let the waves of pleasure come over you, not letting up his soft assault on your bundle of nerves. Even as you began to buck your hips involuntarily from the sensitive touch, he just whispered, “It’s okay, mi amor. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He softly shushed your whimpers of pleasure, gently running his free hand up and down your curves. “Are you okay to keep going? Because you know I’m not done with you yet.”

You didn’t know if you could handle any more, but you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him to stop. You’d waited too long for this, wanted it too badly, to go back now.

You nodded, so he kept going, hitting every spot inside you just right, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He was careful not to overwhelm you, taking an even and steady pace, but neither of you could help so heavenly it felt to have him inside of you.

Franco chased his own release, sitting up so he could see your whole body as he fucked you. He held onto your hips hard enough to leave marks, but you’d gladly wear them with pride.

It didn’t take long for him to pull out and rip off the condom, pumping his hand up and down his length.

“YN, I’m so fucking close,” he moaned. “Where—”

You didn’t answer him, just leaning down to take him in your mouth. He grabbed the back of your head, roughly pushing you closer to him.

“Don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum, don’t—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he climaxed, filling your mouth and letting out a low and low groan.

You pulled away from him and swallowed the stickiness that coated your mouth.

He collapsed on the bed next to you. “Fuck, YN.” You laid down next to him. “That was so good.” His chest was still heaving with the intensity of his orgasm.

But as he turned to you, the lust left him, growing into something softer as he brushed your hair out of your face. You were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into him, taking in the smell of sex and his cologne. You couldn’t get close enough to him.

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he assured. You were too overwhelmed to say anything. He just held you.

Eventually, you both got up to take a shower before you both got ready for bed. Snuggled close to him, you felt the quiet warmth of his presence protecting you, and it lulled you to sleep quicker than anything else ever could.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you checked your phone. The internet sleuths had finally deciphered what Franco had said to you—a heartachingly sweet confession of love. He had said you were his life, his everything. He couldn’t have done it without you.

Within the thin crack of light from blinds and the streetlights outside, you could see Franco’s backpack, with your diary still in it. If you wanted to, you could have stolen it back. But instead, you left it be, snuggling deeper into the bed to get close to the man you loved who slept peacefully beside you.

It was true that more work needed to be done until you all could fully communicate with no difficulties—no language barriers, no journals, just heartfelt words. But you knew you both could do it. You loved each other too much to not.

So you smiled as you felt his arm sleepily wrap around you and pull you close. You were safe. You were home.

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