#it’s a risk to stay and it’s a risk to go

[pucksandpower]

Changing the Game

platonic!Fernando Alonso x mentee!Reader

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: motorsport can be cruel, especially for young women aspiring to make it to Formula 1, but when Fernando notices a driver who deserves more than the unjust cards fate handed her, he decides to do something about it … and your life will never be the same

The roar of engines fills the air, blending with the faint scent of gasoline that clings to the paddock like a memory. Fernando walks through the chaos of the Formula 3 circuit, hands in his pockets, sunglasses firmly in place.

His presence is a subtle disruption, not loud, but noticeable. Drivers and engineers glance his way, some nodding in respect, others too focused on their tasks to do more than acknowledge him with a brief flicker of recognition.

He’s been watching the race, the sun high overhead, a burning reminder that summer has a way of dragging things out. Yet, time has felt elastic today, stretched out by the tension of the track and the surprising twist that caught his attention.

A young driver — no, more than just young — barely seventeen, the only female on the grid, had sliced through the competition with precision and ferocity. Her car, marked by the number on the side, had danced on the edge of control, flirting with danger at every turn but never losing its rhythm. When the chequered flag waved, she’d crossed the line in a solid third, inches from second, and not far from the top spot.

He’d seen talent before, of course. It’s part of his world, spotting it, nurturing it, sometimes crushing it under the weight of competition. But something about you caught his eye. There’s a sharpness in your driving, a clarity of purpose that’s rare. He wonders where you’ve been hiding.

As the cars pull into the pit lane, the usual bustle takes over. Engineers swarm around their drivers, debriefs start, and helmets are tugged off with a mix of relief and frustration. Fernando watches from a distance, scanning the crowd until he finds you. You’re standing by your car, tugging at your gloves with a sharp motion, frustration etched in the tightness of your jaw. There’s a fleeting moment where you pull off your helmet, shaking out your hair, and Fernando notices the absence of something.

Sponsors.

Your race suit is practically bare. The car too, minimal branding, the kind that signals a driver struggling to make ends meet rather than one who’s just claimed a podium finish. He frowns, tilting his head slightly as he watches you. It doesn’t make sense. A driver that good should be swimming in offers, drowning in endorsements.

He catches the eye of a paddock official nearby, someone he’s vaguely familiar with — one of those types who always seem to know more than they let on. Fernando strides over, casual but direct. The official straightens up, clearly surprised to have Fernando Alonso approaching.

“Who’s the girl?” Fernando asks, nodding in your direction, though he doesn’t really need to. You’re the only one who fits the description.

The official glances your way, then back at Fernando. “Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been turning heads all season.”

“Not enough, apparently.” Fernando gestures vaguely at your race suit, his tone making it clear he’s talking about the lack of sponsorship. “What’s going on there?”

The official hesitates, glancing around as if to make sure no one’s listening. He lowers his voice slightly, a conspiratorial tone creeping in. “She’s good, real good. But, you know … she’s a girl.”

Fernando’s eyebrows shoot up, a sharp flash of irritation sparking in his eyes. “So?”

“So,” the official continues, shifting his weight uncomfortably, “sponsors and academies, they’re … cautious. Not sure if she’s got the staying power. And you know how it is, they’re more willing to take a risk on a kid who fits the mold.”

“The mold,” Fernando repeats, his voice flat, incredulous. He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly. It’s 2019, and this is still happening. It shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow, it does.

His gaze returns to you, still standing by your car, now deep in conversation with your race engineer. There’s a fierceness in the way you talk, the way you move your hands as if trying to will the universe to bend to your will. Fernando recognizes that fire — it’s the same one he’s carried in himself for years.

But there’s more than just frustration in your eyes. There’s something else — determination, maybe, but tinged with something darker, something that’s been carved out of too many disappointments. He knows that look too. It’s the one you get when you’re tired of proving yourself over and over, and yet, you keep doing it because there’s no other choice.

Fernando’s decision is made in an instant. He doesn’t overthink it; he never has. That’s not his style. He approaches you with the same casual confidence that’s defined his career, weaving through the bustle of the paddock until he’s close enough to catch the tail end of your conversation.

“... could’ve pushed harder into turn four,” you’re saying to your engineer, frustration coloring your voice. “But the grip just wasn’t there.”

Your engineer nods, making a note on his tablet, but before he can respond, Fernando steps into the space between you.

“Grip’s one thing,” he says, his voice cutting through the noise around you, “but timing’s everything.”

You turn, eyes widening just a fraction as you realize who’s standing there. Fernando catches the flicker of surprise that you quickly mask with a polite, if guarded, smile.

“Fernando Alonso,” you say, your voice a careful mix of respect and curiosity.

“In the flesh,” he replies, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He glances at your car, then back at you. “Nice drive today.”

“Thanks.” The word comes out clipped, like you’re not entirely sure what to make of him yet. He can tell you’re used to being judged, sized up and dismissed by those who think they know better. But Fernando’s not here to judge.

“Third place,” he continues, as if he’s thinking out loud. “But you had the pace for second.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, and for the first time, a hint of a real smile breaks through. “Yeah, I did. But things don’t always go as planned.”

“No,” he agrees, “they don’t. But you’ve got talent. Real talent.”

You study him for a moment, your expression shifting from guarded to something more open, more curious. “Thanks,” you say again, but this time it’s softer, more genuine.

There’s a pause, the noise of the paddock fading slightly as you both stand there, sizing each other up. Fernando knows this is the moment where most people would make some kind of offer — advice, mentorship, maybe even a contract. But he’s never been one to do things by the book.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Do you like ice cream?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“Ice cream,” he repeats, his tone light, almost teasing. “Do you like it?”

“Uh … yeah?” You sound more confused than anything, but there’s a hint of amusement creeping into your voice.

“Great,” Fernando says, as if that settles everything. He steps back, gesturing for you to follow him. “Let’s go get some. My treat.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to figure out if he’s serious. But when you see that he is, a slow smile spreads across your face, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Okay,” you say, still laughing a little as you start to walk beside him. “Why not?”

And just like that, the tension that had been hanging over the paddock seems to dissipate, replaced by something lighter, something that feels almost like hope.

***

The ice cream shop is a short walk from the circuit, tucked into a corner of the small town that’s hosting the weekend’s race. It’s the kind of place Fernando imagines has been around for decades, unchanged except for maybe a new coat of paint every few years. The neon sign in the window buzzes faintly, its pink light reflecting off the glass as he pushes the door open, holding it for you as you follow him inside.

The cool air is a welcome relief from the heat outside, carrying with it the sweet, unmistakable scent of sugar and cream. The shop is quiet, just a couple of kids sitting by the window, licking at cones that seem far too big for them. Behind the counter, a bored-looking teenager perks up as the door chimes, her gaze sharpening as she recognizes Fernando.

“Can I help you?” She asks, her voice brightening as she tries to act casual, though it’s clear she’s a little starstruck.

Fernando nods toward you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ladies first.”

You hesitate for a moment, then step up to the counter, glancing at the array of ice cream flavors displayed behind the glass. The choices are written in chalk on a board above, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the rich, golden brown of the dulce de leche. You point to it, giving the girl behind the counter a quick smile.

“Two scoops of that, please,” you say, and then, after a beat, “with as many toppings as will fit.”

Fernando raises an eyebrow, amused as he watches you. The girl behind the counter doesn’t question it, scooping generous portions of the creamy ice cream into a cup before moving over to the toppings bar. You lean over the counter slightly, studying the options with a critical eye before making your selections — caramel drizzle, chocolate chips, a handful of crushed cookies, a sprinkle of nuts, and a final flourish of whipped cream on top.

When the girl hands you the cup, it’s practically overflowing, a masterpiece of indulgence that’s almost as impressive as your driving. You turn to Fernando, already reaching for your wallet.

“I can pay for mine,” you say quickly, but Fernando waves you off, already pulling out his own wallet.

“It’s on me,” he insists, his tone making it clear there’s no room for argument.

You open your mouth to protest, but the look he gives you stops you in your tracks. There’s something gentle in his eyes, an unexpected warmth that makes you pause. You let out a small sigh, putting your wallet away as you give in.

“Fine,” you mutter, though there’s no real annoyance in your voice. “But I’m getting you back for this.”

Fernando chuckles as he orders a simple vanilla cone for himself. “We’ll see about that.”

Once he’s paid, the two of you find a small table near the back of the shop, away from the kids and the counter. It’s quiet, almost private, with the hum of the freezers and the distant chatter of the other customers filling the silence. You sit across from him, carefully balancing your cup of ice cream as you take your first bite.

The first taste of dulce de leche is heavenly, the caramel sweetness melting on your tongue as the toppings add layers of texture and flavor. For a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything else — the race, the frustration, the uncertainty of it all. There’s just the ice cream, the coolness of it on your tongue, and the rare sensation of simply enjoying something without a care.

Fernando watches you with a faint smile, his own ice cream barely touched as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence, letting you savor the moment before he finally speaks.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “tell me about your situation.”

You glance up at him, the spoon pausing halfway to your mouth. There’s something in his tone, something gentle but probing, that tells you this isn’t just small talk. You lower the spoon, setting the cup down on the table as you consider how to respond.

“It’s … complicated,” you begin, though that word hardly covers it. You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly as you lean back in your chair. “I mean, I’m doing everything I can on the track. My results speak for themselves, right? But it’s like … it’s like none of that matters.”

Fernando nods, encouraging you to continue. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet understanding, and that makes it easier to keep talking.

“Every race, I’m out there giving it everything I’ve got,” you say, your voice growing more animated as you go on. “I’m right up there with the best of them — sometimes even better. But then I look around, and I see these other drivers, guys who are barely scraping into the points, and they’ve got major sponsors backing them. They’re signed to F1 teams’ academies, they’ve got a clear path to the top. And me? I’ve got nothing. No sponsors, no academy, no security.”

You pick up your spoon again, stirring your ice cream absentmindedly as your frustration bubbles to the surface. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. My team’s tried too, but no one wants to take the risk on me. They all say the same thing — ‘You’re good, but we’re just not sure if you’re what we’re looking for.’ Which is just code for ‘You’re a girl, and we’re not willing to bet on you.’”

Fernando doesn’t interrupt, letting you vent. He’s heard stories like this before, but it never gets any easier to listen to. The sport has its issues, and while things have improved over the years, the barriers you’re facing are still all too real.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you shake your head. “It’s so frustrating, you know? I’m out there proving myself every single weekend, but it’s like I have to work twice as hard just to get noticed, and even then, it’s not enough. My parents — they believe in me, but they’re practically killing themselves to keep me racing. They had to take a second mortgage on the house just to get me into F3 this season. And every time I don’t get a sponsor, every time another academy passes on me, it’s like … it’s like I’m letting them down.”

Your voice cracks slightly at the end, and you quickly take another bite of ice cream, as if that can somehow keep your emotions in check. But Fernando sees the way your hand trembles just a little, the way your eyes have lost some of their fire, replaced by a weary resignation.

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I know the sport is tough, but it feels like I’m fighting a battle that’s rigged from the start.”

Fernando takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not fair,” he says, his voice steady, grounding. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be this hard. But sometimes, the fight isn’t just about winning on the track. It’s about changing the game entirely.”

You look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to gauge what he means by that. There’s something in his tone, something determined and unyielding, that makes you believe he understands more than he’s letting on.

“Changing the game?” You repeat, the words feeling heavy in your mouth.

Fernando nods, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah. Look, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But if anyone can do it, it’s you. You’ve got the talent, you’ve got the drive, and you’ve got something most people don’t — resilience. You’re still here, still fighting, even when the odds are against you. That says a lot.”

You bite your lip, absorbing his words. There’s a part of you that wants to believe him, that wants to hold on to that hope, but there’s also a part that’s tired — so tired of fighting an uphill battle, of always having to prove yourself over and over again.

“I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

Fernando’s gaze softens, and for a moment, he sees a reflection of his younger self in you, back when he was first starting out, hungry and determined but unsure of how far he could really go. The difference is, he had the backing, the opportunities that you’ve been denied.

“You are enough,” he says, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt. “The problem isn’t with you. It’s with the system, with the people who are too scared to see things differently. But that doesn’t mean you stop. You keep pushing, keep showing them what they’re missing. And if they can’t see it, then we’ll make them see it.”

You blink, surprised by the intensity in his voice. There’s a conviction there that’s hard to ignore, a belief in you that you’ve been struggling to find in yourself.

“We?” You ask, your voice tinged with cautious hope.

Fernando smiles, a small, determined curve of his lips. “We. You’re not alone in this. I’ve been where you are, in a different way, but I know what it’s like to have to fight for everything. And I know what it’s like to have someone in your corner who believes in you.”

You stare at him, processing his words, the implications of what he’s offering. There’s a warmth in your chest, a spark of something that feels dangerously close to hope.

“So what now?” You ask, your voice steadier.

Fernando leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours as he takes a thoughtful bite of his ice cream. There's a moment of silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you, before he finally speaks, his voice calm but resolute.

"Now?" He sets his cone down on the table, his expression sharpening with purpose. "I make some calls."

***

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, and Fernando hasn’t been able to shake the conversation from his mind. He’s been in the sport long enough to know how things work, but hearing it from you, seeing how the system has worn you down despite your undeniable talent, it struck a nerve. It’s been a whirlwind of phone calls, favors cashed in, and quiet meetings behind closed doors. But now, standing at the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport, Fernando knows it’s all been worth it.

You come into view, wheeling your carry-on behind you, your eyes scanning the crowd until they land on him. A look of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a hesitant smile as you make your way over.

“Hey,” you greet him, a mix of confusion and curiosity in your voice as you pull your suitcase to a stop beside him. “So … what’s this all about?”

Fernando just grins, taking the handle of your suitcase from you with a casualness that leaves no room for argument. “You’ll see,” he says, cryptic as ever. “Come on, the car’s this way.”

You follow him out to the parking garage, throwing him sideways glances, clearly trying to piece together what he’s up to. Fernando’s only response is an amused smile as he opens the door for you, waiting until you’re settled in the passenger seat before loading your luggage in the trunk.

As he pulls out of the airport and merges onto the highway, the silence between you is comfortable but charged with anticipation. You keep glancing over at him, your curiosity growing with every mile.

“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?” You finally ask, your tone hovering between teasing and exasperation.

Fernando chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope.”

You sigh, leaning back in your seat, but there’s a glimmer of excitement in your eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’m trusting you, you know,” you say, half-joking, half-serious.

“And you won’t regret it,” he promises, the confidence in his voice almost contagious.

The drive is longer than you expected, taking you out of London and into the countryside. The scenery shifts from the urban sprawl to green fields and quaint villages, the roads becoming narrower and winding as they head deeper into the heart of England. It’s not until Fernando takes a turn down a private road, leading to a sleek, modern complex surrounded by high fences, that you begin to piece it together.

“This can’t be …” you start, your voice trailing off as the full realization hits you. “Is this-”

“Mercedes HQ,” Fernando confirms with a grin as he pulls up to the security gate. He rolls down the window, exchanging a few words with the guard, who quickly waves them through.

You’re silent as he drives into the parking lot, your eyes wide as you take in the sight of the Mercedes-AMG F1 Factory. It’s one thing to see it on TV or in photos, but to be here, in person, is something else entirely. Fernando parks the car and turns to you, catching the look on your face.

“Nervous?” He asks, though he already knows the answer.

“A little,” you admit, swallowing hard as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Okay, a lot.”

He chuckles, getting out of the car and coming around to your side to open the door for you. “Don’t be. You belong here.”

You hesitate, still processing everything, before nodding and stepping out of the car. Fernando grabs your suitcase from the trunk, but you barely notice, too busy taking in your surroundings as he leads you toward the entrance.

The interior of the building is just as impressive as the outside — modern, sleek, and buzzing with energy. Everywhere you look, there are people in team gear, some hurrying between offices, others deep in conversation. And then, as if the situation couldn’t get more surreal, Lewis Hamilton appears in the lobby, flanked by Toto Wolff.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stop dead in your tracks. Fernando pauses beside you, a knowing smile on his face as he watches your reaction.

“Fernando,” Lewis greets, his smile widening when he sees you standing next to him. “And you must be the young driver I’ve been hearing so much about.”

You manage a nod, but words seem to have escaped you entirely. It’s not every day that you come face-to-face with a five-time world champion and the team principal of the most successful F1 team of the modern era.

Lewis chuckles at your speechlessness, his demeanor as relaxed and approachable as ever. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite,” he says, extending his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

You shake his hand, your own grip slightly shaky. “I … It’s an honor,” you stammer, your voice finally finding its way back to you.

Toto steps forward next, offering his hand as well. “Welcome to Brackley,” he says, his tone warm but with the same underlying intensity that’s made him such a formidable figure in the sport. “Fernando’s told us a lot about you.”

You glance over at Fernando, a mix of gratitude and disbelief in your eyes. This is so far beyond anything you could have imagined when you first got his call.

Lewis gestures for you to follow him down a hallway, with Toto and Fernando close behind. “When Fernando reached out to me,” Lewis begins, his tone casual but sincere, “and told me about your situation, I knew we had to do something. Talent like yours shouldn’t be held back by anything, least of all by something as ridiculous as a lack of sponsorship.”

You’re still reeling from the fact that Lewis Hamilton knows who you are, let alone that he’s gone out of his way to help you. “I … I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, your voice soft with emotion.

“Don’t worry about that just yet,” Toto says from behind you, his tone light. “Let’s get you settled in first.”

You follow them through the labyrinth of hallways, trying to absorb everything at once. Fernando stays close, a steady presence as you make your way deeper into the facility. There’s a sense of purpose in the air, a kind of quiet determination that’s palpable even as people move around with the calm efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

Eventually, Lewis stops outside a conference room, holding the door open for you to enter first. You step inside, the space cool and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the meticulously kept grounds outside. A large table dominates the center of the room, and as you approach, you notice a folder sitting at one end, the Mercedes logo embossed on the cover.

You hover near the table, not daring to sit until someone tells you to. Fernando catches your hesitation, nudging you gently in the direction of a chair. “Go on,” he says softly. “This is for you.”

You sink into the chair, your heart pounding as you look at the folder in front of you. Lewis and Toto take seats across from you, with Fernando settling in beside you. The atmosphere in the room shifts slightly, becoming more formal but no less supportive.

Toto reaches for the folder, sliding it across the table to you. “This,” he begins, his voice calm and measured, “is an offer to join the Mercedes Junior Team.”

You blink, sure you must have misheard him. “The … Mercedes Junior Team?”

Lewis smiles, nodding. “We believe in your potential,” he says simply. “And we want to give you the opportunity to develop that potential to the fullest.”

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the folder, your mind racing. This is it. This is the chance you’ve been fighting for, the one you never thought would come, at least not like this. You open the folder, your eyes scanning the first few lines of the contract inside. It’s all real — your name, the terms, everything.

“We know it’s a big decision,” Toto continues, his gaze steady on you. “Take your time to go through everything, ask any questions you have. But know that we’re serious about this. We want you on our team.”

You’re overwhelmed, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but it’s a good kind of pressure, the kind that comes from knowing you’re on the verge of something life-changing. You look up at Fernando, who’s been watching you quietly, and there’s a look of pride in his eyes that makes your chest tighten.

“I don’t … I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis leans forward slightly, his expression gentle but serious. “Start by believing that you deserve this,” he says. “Because you do. And we’re here to help you every step of the way.”

There’s a long silence as you let his words sink in, your fingers tracing the edge of the folder. This is everything you’ve been working toward, everything you’ve sacrificed for, and now that it’s here in front of you, it feels almost too good to be true.

But as you look around the table — at Lewis, Toto, and Fernando — you realize that this isn’t just a dream. It’s real. They’re offering you a future, a chance to prove yourself at the highest level, and they believe in you enough to make it happen.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before meeting their gazes again. “I … I don’t know how to thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

“There’s no need for thanks,” Toto says with a small smile. “Just show us what you can do.”

Fernando places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his voice low and encouraging. “You’ve already done the hard part. Now, it’s just time to make it official.”

You nod, the weight of the contract in your hands feeling lighter now. “I’m ready,” you say, your voice steadying with newfound resolve.

Lewis grins. “Welcome to the team.”

***

The months following your signing with Mercedes have been a whirlwind. Every day brings something new — testing, meetings, media obligations, training sessions — but through it all, Fernando remains a constant presence. He’s there for every debrief, every important conversation, and when he’s not by your side, he’s only a phone call away. The mentorship he offers is invaluable, not just because of his experience but because of his belief in you.

Today, though, feels different. The season is winding down, and you’ve been expecting a bit of a lull, maybe even some time to catch your breath. But when Fernando calls you to meet him at a quiet café on the outskirts of town, there’s a certain energy in his voice that you can’t quite place.

You arrive at the café to find Fernando already seated at a table near the window, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head and a cup of coffee in front of him. He looks up as you approach, a small, almost secretive smile playing on his lips.

“Morning,” you greet him, sliding into the seat opposite. “You’re up to something, I can tell.”

Fernando chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the cup down. “Maybe I am,” he says, his tone teasing but warm. “How are you feeling about next season?”

The question catches you off guard. “Next season? I mean, I haven’t really thought that far ahead yet. There’s still so much to do now.”

He nods, leaning back in his chair as he studies you, a hint of something more serious in his gaze. “Well, it’s time to start thinking about it,” he says, pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket and sliding it across the table to you.

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued as you reach for the envelope. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” Fernando encourages, his eyes never leaving yours.

You do as he says, your fingers careful as you tear open the envelope. Inside is a single sheet of paper, neatly folded. You unfold it slowly, your eyes scanning the top of the page.

Carlin Motorsport — Formula 2 Contract Offer.

Your breath catches, and you look up at Fernando, disbelief written all over your face. “Is this … real?”

“Very real,” he confirms, his smile widening. “They want you for next season. Full-time seat, competitive car, the whole package.”

You’re speechless for a moment, the weight of the offer sinking in. Carlin is one of the top teams in Formula 2, a proven stepping stone to Formula 1, and they want you. It’s everything you’ve been working toward, but the reality of it is almost overwhelming.

“This is …” you start, your voice trailing off as you try to find the right words. “I don’t even know what to say.”

He reaches across the table, placing his hand over yours, his expression softening. “You’ve earned this,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve worked hard, proven yourself, and now it’s time to take the next step.”

You nod, still trying to wrap your head around it all. “But how? I mean, why would they choose me over anyone else? There are so many talented drivers out there …”

Fernando squeezes your hand, drawing your attention back to him. “Because you’re one of the best,” he says simply. “They see it, just like I do. And they know you’re going places.”

You take a deep breath, the reality of it finally starting to settle in. “Carlin … Formula 2 … It’s really happening.”

“It is,” Fernando confirms with a smile. “And you’re ready for it.”

There’s a long pause as you sit there, the contract still in your hands. Fernando watches you carefully, his gaze thoughtful. Then, as if sensing that there’s something more to discuss, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious.

You look up, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden change in his demeanor. “What is it?”

He hesitates for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I’m planning to return to Formula 1 in 2021.”

The news hits you like a bolt of lightning, your eyes widening in shock. “You’re … coming back? To F1?”

Fernando nods, his expression unreadable. “Yes. I’ve been in talks with a few teams, and it looks like everything is lining up for a comeback.”

You’re stunned, your mind racing to catch up with what he’s just said. Fernando Alonso, returning to Formula 1 … it’s huge, and the implications of it start to sink in. “That’s incredible,” you say, a mix of excitement and apprehension in your voice. “But what does that mean for … us? For everything we’ve been working on?”

He’s silent for a moment, his gaze intense as he considers your question. “It means that while I’ll still be around to support you, I won’t be able to be as hands-on as I’ve been. I won’t be able to be your full-time manager anymore.”

The words hit you hard, and you feel a pang of anxiety start to creep in. Fernando’s been your rock, the one who’s guided you through every step of this journey, and the thought of losing that constant presence is unsettling.

“But,” he continues, his tone reassuring, “I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I’ve already started talking to some people, and I’m going to make sure you get a manager who’s the best of the best. Someone who knows the sport inside and out, who can give you everything you need to succeed.”

You nod slowly, trying to process everything he’s telling you. It’s a lot to take in— the offer from Carlin, Fernando’s return to F1, the changes that will come with it — but there’s a part of you that understands. This is the nature of the sport, constantly evolving, constantly moving forward.

“I’m happy for you,” you finally say, your voice sincere. “Really, I am. You deserve to be back in F1, where you belong.”

Fernando smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thank you. And you deserve to be in F2, racing at the front, showing everyone what you’re capable of.”

There’s a pause, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. Then, Fernando’s smile turns a bit more mischievous as he leans back in his chair.

“But don’t think this means I’m going to go easy on you,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’ll still be watching, making sure you’re giving it your all.”

You laugh, the tension breaking slightly at his words. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He nods, satisfied, before finishing off his coffee. “Good. Because the hard work isn’t over yet. If anything, it’s just beginning.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of determination settling over you. Fernando’s right — this is just the beginning. The road ahead will be challenging, but you’re ready for it. And with his support, even if it’s from a distance, you know you can handle whatever comes your way.

“Thank you,” you say again, your voice full of gratitude. “For everything.”

Fernando just smiles, standing up from the table and offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a lot to prepare for.”

You take his hand, rising from your seat, and together you leave the café, the future stretching out before you, full of possibilities.

***

The hum of the F2 paddock is a mix of nerves and excitement, a constant undercurrent of energy that seems to electrify the air. It’s the first race of the season, and you can feel it. The mechanics are moving with purpose, checking and double-checking every detail of the car. Engineers are glued to their screens, analyzing data with furrowed brows. And you, in the midst of it all, are the picture of focus — calm on the outside but with a fire in your eyes that tells Fernando you’re ready for this.

He stands a few feet away, leaning casually against the garage wall, but his eyes are on you. Always on you. He’s seen you grow over these past months, watched as you’ve taken every challenge head-on, and now, as you prepare for your first F2 race, he can’t help but feel a surge of pride.

Yuki Tsunoda, your teammate, walks over, helmet in hand. He’s grinning, but there’s a trace of awe in his expression as he glances between you and Fernando. “I still can’t believe it,” Yuki says, shaking his head slightly. “Fernando Alonso, here in our garage, supporting you. It’s surreal.”

You chuckle, giving Yuki a playful nudge with your elbow. “Believe it. He’s stuck with me now.”

Fernando smirks, pushing off the wall and walking over to the two of you. “Yuki, how are you feeling about today?” He asks, his tone friendly but professional.

Yuki straightens up, clearly wanting to impress. “I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this all off-season. Just want to get out there and race.”

“Good,” Fernando nods, his eyes sharp as he assesses Yuki. “Remember, the first race sets the tone. Keep your head down, focus on your own performance, and the results will come.”

Yuki nods, absorbing the advice. “And you?” He asks, turning back to you. “First F2 race … How are you feeling?”

You shrug, but there’s a determined glint in your eyes. “Excited. Nervous. Ready. All of it.”

Fernando can’t help but smile at that. He’s seen that look in countless drivers — right before they go on to do something special. “You’ve got this,” he says, his voice low but full of conviction. “Just do what you do best.”

You give him a small, appreciative smile before turning back to the car, where the final preparations are being made. Fernando watches you for a moment longer, feeling the weight of the day. This is a big moment, not just for you, but for him too. He’s invested so much in you, not just as a driver but as a person, and now he’s about to see the fruits of that labor on one of the biggest stages.

Yuki eventually heads back to his side of the garage, leaving you and Fernando in a comfortable silence. He steps closer to you, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Remember, it’s just another race. Don’t let the pressure get to you. You’ve done this a hundred times before.”

You nod, your expression set with determination. “I know. I just need to stay focused.”

“Exactly,” Fernando agrees, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder. “And remember, I’m here. You’re not doing this alone.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between you, the noise of the paddock fading slightly as you take in his words. It’s a reassurance, a reminder that no matter what happens out there, you have someone in your corner who believes in you completely.

The minutes tick by, and soon it’s time for the drivers to head to the grid. The mechanics push your car out of the garage, and you follow, helmet in hand, Fernando right by your side. As you walk, he gives you last-minute reminders, his tone calm but firm, designed to keep you centered.

“Trust your instincts,” he says. “You know the car, you know the track. Let the race come to you.”

You nod, absorbing every word as you approach your car on the grid. The other teams and drivers are milling about, final checks being made before the start. Fernando stands with you by the car, watching as you put on your helmet and climb into the cockpit. There’s a buzz of activity all around, but for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

He leans in close, his voice carrying over the sound of the grid. “Remember why you’re here. Show them what you’re made of.”

You glance up at him, your visor reflecting the intense determination in your eyes. “I will.”

And with that, the crew steps back, and it’s just you in the car, the engine roaring to life around you. Fernando takes a few steps back, watching as you complete the formation lap. His heart pounds in his chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation. He’s been in this position countless times, but it’s different when it’s someone you’ve invested so much in.

As the cars line up on the grid, the tension mounts. Fernando’s eyes never leave your car, his mind running through every possible scenario. He knows how unpredictable these races can be, how one small mistake can change everything. But he also knows that you’re ready. He’s seen it in your training, in your focus, in the way you’ve handled every challenge thrown at you.

The lights go out, and the roar of engines fills the air. The race is on, and Fernando’s eyes are locked on the screen, watching as you navigate the chaos of the first few corners. It’s a tight pack, cars jostling for position, but you hold your ground, staying calm and composed even as the pressure builds.

Fernando barely breathes as the laps tick by, his focus entirely on you. There are moments where his heart leaps into his throat — close calls, tight overtakes — but you handle them all with the skill and precision of a seasoned driver. You’re pushing, but not too hard, balancing aggression with caution in a way that impresses even him.

Midway through the race, you find yourself in a battle for position with one of the more experienced drivers. Fernando can see the tension in your driving, the way you’re pushing the car to its limits. But he also sees the intelligence in your approach, the way you’re sizing up your opponent, waiting for the right moment.

“Come on,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes glued to the screen as you make your move. It’s a daring pass, squeezing through a gap that’s barely there, but you make it stick. Fernando lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re doing it,” he whispers to himself, pride swelling in his chest.

The race continues, the intensity never letting up. There are moments of sheer brilliance, and moments where Fernando’s nerves are stretched to their limits, but through it all, you remain unshaken. Every lap, every corner, you’re proving exactly why you belong here, why Carlin chose you, and why Fernando believes in you so much.

As the race nears its end, you find yourself in a strong position, battling for a spot on the podium. Fernando’s heart pounds in his chest, his hands clenched into fists as he watches the final laps unfold. It’s a nail-biter, the cars ahead of you just within reach, and he can see you pushing, giving it everything you’ve got.

“Come on, come on,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the screen. “You’ve got this.”

The final lap is a blur of speed and adrenaline, but you’re right there, closing in on the car ahead. Fernando can feel the tension in the air, the entire Carlin garage on edge as they watch you make your move. It’s a daring overtake, one that requires absolute precision, but you nail it, sliding into third place just before the final corner.

Fernando’s heart leaps as you cross the finish line, securing a podium in your very first F2 race. The garage erupts in cheers, but he’s already moving, heading out to meet you as you bring the car back to the pits.

When you climb out of the car, the smile on your face is all he needs to see. You did it. You proved yourself, and in a big way. Fernando is the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice full of pride.

“You were incredible out there,” he says, his words muffled slightly by the cheers around you. “Absolutely incredible.”

You pull back, your eyes shining with excitement. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He shakes his head, his smile wide. “You did this. You took everything you’ve learned and you made it happen. This is just the beginning.”

Yuki comes over, grinning from ear to ear as he claps you on the back. “Third place in your first race? You’re making the rest of us look bad!”

You laugh, the tension of the race finally melting away as you share the moment with your teammate and mentor. But even as you celebrate, Fernando’s mind is already thinking ahead, planning for the future. This is just the first step, and he knows there are many more to come. But for now, he’s content to stand here with you, knowing that you’ve just taken a huge leap forward in your career.

As the celebrations continue around you, Fernando steps back, watching you with a mixture of pride and anticipation. He’s seen something special in you from the start, and today, you proved him right. But he knows this is just the beginning, and he can’t wait to see where this journey takes you

***

Fernando sits at the head of a sleek conference table in a high-rise office overlooking a bustling cityscape. The room is all glass and steel, exuding an air of professionalism and success. It’s the kind of setting where big decisions are made, the kind of setting where lives are changed. He glances at his watch — just a few minutes before you’re supposed to arrive.

To his left is a man in his late forties, dressed in a sharp suit that screams old money and prestige. This is Carlos Mendes, a veteran in the world of motorsport management. Carlos has a reputation for being ruthless when it comes to getting his clients the best deals.

He’s represented world champions, negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts, and navigated the treacherous waters of sponsorships with the skill of a seasoned general. Fernando had carefully chosen Carlos, knowing that you would need someone who could not only protect your interests but also push for the best opportunities.

On Fernando’s right is Sophie Duclair, a high-powered talent agent whose client list reads like a who’s who of global sports and entertainment icons. Sophie, with her sleek bob and impeccably tailored outfit, is known for her ability to secure top-tier endorsement deals that go beyond the traditional boundaries of sports.

Luxury brands, fashion houses, and even Hollywood producers trust her judgment implicitly. She’s the one who can take your rising star and catapult it into a whole different stratosphere.

The door to the conference room opens, and you walk in, dressed casually but with an unmistakable air of confidence. It’s clear you’ve grown more comfortable in these kinds of environments, but there’s still a trace of curiosity in your eyes as you take in the room and the people seated at the table.

“Good to see you,” Fernando says, rising to greet you with a warm smile. He motions to the empty chair next to him. “Take a seat. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

You sit down, glancing at Carlos and Sophie with polite curiosity. Fernando leans back in his chair, folding his hands on the table. “Let me introduce you to Carlos Mendes,” he says, gesturing to the man on his left. “Carlos is one of the top managers in the business. He’s going to help guide your career from here on out, making sure you get the best opportunities on and off the track.”

Carlos nods, his expression serious but welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a deep, authoritative voice. “Fernando has told me a lot about you, and I’ve been following your progress. You’ve got a bright future ahead, and I’m here to make sure you reach your full potential.”

You smile, a mix of gratitude and anticipation in your eyes. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Fernando continues, turning to Sophie. “And this is Sophie Duclair, one of the best talent agents in the industry. Sophie has a knack for securing deals that align perfectly with her clients’ personal brands. She’s here to help you navigate the world of endorsements and partnerships.”

Sophie smiles, her demeanor warm yet professional. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she says, her voice smooth and confident. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your rise in F2, and I have to say, the opportunities are endless. There are brands out there who are going to want to associate themselves with your story, your talent, and your image.”

You nod, clearly intrigued but still processing the magnitude of what’s happening. Fernando notices the slight furrow in your brow and steps in to guide the conversation.

“Here’s the thing,” Fernando begins, his tone serious but encouraging. “You’ve been fighting against the odds, and that’s what’s made your story so compelling. A lot of people might have seen your gender as an obstacle, but we’re turning it into an asset. You’ve already proven you belong in F2, and with the right guidance, we’re going to show the world that you’re not just a great driver — you’re a game-changer.”

Carlos leans forward slightly, his eyes focused on you. “Exactly. The motorsport world is evolving, and brands want to be associated with that evolution. They want to be seen as forward-thinking, inclusive, and ahead of the curve. You’re in a unique position to offer them that opportunity.”

Sophie picks up the thread seamlessly. “But it’s not just about slapping a logo on your car or your race suit. It’s about aligning with brands that resonate with who you are and where you want to go. That’s where I come in. I’ve been in talks with several companies that are very interested in working with you.”

You look at Fernando, and he gives you an encouraging nod, urging you to speak your mind. “It sounds … amazing,” you begin, your voice steady but thoughtful. “But I want to make sure that whatever deals we make, they’re the right ones. I don’t want to just be a face on an ad — I want to represent something real.”

Carlos smiles, clearly impressed by your maturity. “That’s the right approach. And that’s exactly why we’re here — to make sure that every move we make is strategic and meaningful. You’ve got the talent and the story, and now it’s about building the brand that reflects that.”

Sophie leans back in her chair, crossing her legs as she regards you with a calculating but friendly gaze. “We’ve already secured two deals that I think you’re going to be very happy with,” she says, a hint of excitement in her voice. “The first is with Cartier. They’re looking to expand their presence in the sports world, and they see you as the perfect ambassador for their brand — strong, elegant, and determined.”

Your eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised. “Cartier?” You echo, the name alone carrying a weight of prestige and luxury.

Sophie nods, smiling at your reaction. “That’s right. They want to work with you on a campaign that’s going to be centered around breaking barriers and redefining what it means to be successful. It’s not just about jewelry — it’s about the story you tell when you wear it.”

Fernando watches as you process this, seeing the mix of excitement and caution in your expression. He knows how big this is, and he also knows how important it is for you to feel comfortable with every step of this journey.

“And the second deal?” You ask, your voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

Sophie’s smile widens. “That would be with Chanel. They’re launching a new line of sportswear, and they want you to be the face of it. It’s a bold move for them, branching out into a market that’s traditionally been dominated by other brands. But they believe in you, and they believe that you can help them make a statement.”

You lean back in your chair, clearly taking a moment to absorb the magnitude of what’s being offered. Fernando can see the wheels turning in your mind, the careful consideration you’re giving to each opportunity.

“I … I didn’t expect anything like this,” you admit, looking around the table. “It’s incredible, but it’s also a lot to take in.”

Carlos nods, his expression understanding. “It is. But you’re not in this alone. We’re here to guide you, to make sure that every decision you make is the right one for you and your career.”

Fernando leans forward slightly, his voice low and reassuring. “You’ve worked hard to get here. You deserve these opportunities. But like Carlos said, we’re going to make sure that every step you take is the right one. We’re not rushing into anything. We’re building something that’s going to last.”

You look at him, and he can see the trust in your eyes. It’s a trust he’s earned over the months, through every piece of advice, every word of encouragement, every push to make you better. And now, as you sit here on the brink of something huge, he feels a deep sense of pride.

“These are just the first steps,” Sophie says, her tone confident and poised. “There’s so much more we can do. But it’s all going to be on your terms. You’re in control of your image, your brand. We’re just here to help you shape it.”

You take a deep breath, your gaze sweeping over the table, taking in the faces of the people who are now part of your team. “I want to do this right,” you say finally, your voice strong. “I want to be someone people can look up to, someone who represents more than just winning races.”

Fernando smiles, feeling a swell of pride at your words. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. We’re just getting started.”

The meeting continues, the conversation shifting to the details of the contracts, the timelines for the campaigns, and the strategies for maximizing your visibility. Throughout it all, Fernando watches you closely, noting the way you handle the discussions with a mix of humility and confidence. It’s clear you’re taking everything in, asking the right questions, making sure you understand every aspect of what’s being presented.

By the time the meeting wraps up, there’s a palpable sense of excitement in the room. The deals with Cartier and Chanel are just the beginning, and everyone knows it. There are more opportunities on the horizon, more doors that are about to open. But for now, it’s about taking the first steps, setting the foundation for what’s to come.

As you rise to leave, Fernando walks you to the door, Carlos and Sophie following close behind. “We’ll be in touch with the final details,” Sophie says, her tone professional but warm. “I’m excited to see where this journey takes us.”

Carlos nods in agreement. “You’ve got a bright future ahead. Let’s make the most of it.”

You thank them both, turning to Fernando with a smile that holds a mix of gratitude and determination. "I couldn’t have done this without you," you say softly.

Fernando shakes his head, his smile reflecting the pride he feels. "You’ve earned every bit of this. Now, let's show the world what you’re capable of."

***

The sun dips low over the suburban skyline, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard where laughter mingles with the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation. String lights hang from the trees, swaying gently in the evening breeze, and the faint scent of barbecue lingers in the air. You’re surrounded by familiar faces — family, childhood friends, and the newer ones you’ve made in F2. The mix of old and new feels right, like the pieces of your life are finally coming together.

Fernando stands near the edge of the crowd, leaning casually against a tree as he watches you. He’s been here for hours, blending in with the celebration, though he’s always slightly apart, his presence comforting but never overbearing. He’s wearing one of those half-smiles, the kind that makes it hard to tell if he’s deep in thought or just quietly enjoying the moment.

You catch his eye, and he raises his glass — a silent toast that you return with a small grin before getting pulled back into a conversation with one of your childhood friends. They’re reminiscing about old times, laughing about things that seem so far removed from the high-speed world you now inhabit. It’s nice, grounding even, to remember that you had a life before all of this — a simpler one where the biggest concern was which video game to play after school.

As the night wears on, the crowd begins to thin. Your parents are still mingling, clearly proud of the party they’ve thrown. Your mom’s voice carries across the yard as she gushes to someone about how happy she is that you’ve managed to pay off the second mortgage. It was a weight that they never let you see, but you knew it was there, and being able to lift it was one of the proudest moments you’ve had since stepping into a race car.

Fernando, ever observant, notices the moment your shoulders relax as you hear your mom’s words. He takes a small step forward, knowing that the night is winding down, and he’s been waiting for just the right moment.

Eventually, as the last of your friends hug you goodbye and head out, you find yourself standing near the fire pit, the glow from the dying embers illuminating your face. Fernando approaches, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Enjoying your birthday?” He asks, his voice low and warm, like the crackling fire beside you.

You nod, a content smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, it’s been really great. I didn’t expect so many people to show up.”

“People care about you,” Fernando says simply. “You’ve made quite an impact.”

You shrug, clearly a little shy about the praise. “I’m just glad to have a night to relax with everyone. It’s been a whirlwind.”

Fernando’s smile deepens. He knows how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed, and how rare these moments of peace are for you. “You deserve it. You’ve earned it.”

There’s a beat of silence, comfortable and familiar, before Fernando clears his throat. “I, uh, have something for you.”

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Fernando, you didn’t have to get me anything. You’ve already done so much.”

“I know,” he says, his tone a little softer now, as if he’s stepping into more vulnerable territory. “But I wanted to.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box, wrapped in simple but elegant paper. You hesitate for a moment, then take it from his hands, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

Curiosity piques as you carefully unwrap the paper and open the box. Inside is a delicate necklace, the pendant a tiny, intricate race helmet studded with a single diamond where the visor would be. It’s not overly flashy, but it’s beautiful and unmistakably meaningful.

You stare at it, speechless, before looking up at Fernando, your eyes wide with surprise and something deeper — something like awe. “Fernando … this is …”

He cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just … wanted you to have something that reminds you of where you’re headed. You’ve got a bright future, and I wanted to give you something to keep close as you chase it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them away, focusing on the necklace instead. You’re not sure what to say — how do you thank someone for something that goes beyond just a gift?

Fernando steps closer, his voice lowering as he continues, “I’ve come to see you as … well, like a daughter, I suppose. Watching you grow, seeing how far you’ve come, it’s been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and before you can stop yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest. The necklace is still clutched in your hand, but all you can focus on is the steady beat of Fernando’s heart against your ear.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice muffled but sincere. “For everything.”

Fernando’s arms come around you, holding you close in a way that’s both protective and comforting. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. That’s all the thanks I need.”

You stay like that for a moment longer, taking in the warmth and security of the embrace, before finally pulling back. You look up at Fernando, and there’s a connection between you now that goes beyond mentor and protégé — it’s something familial, something lasting.

He gestures to the necklace, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you want some help putting that on?”

You nod, unable to find the words, and hand it to him. He carefully fastens it around your neck, his fingers steady and sure, and when he’s done, you reach up to touch the pendant, feeling its cool metal against your skin.

“Perfect,” Fernando says, stepping back to admire it. “Just like you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re too kind.”

“No,” he replies, his voice firm but gentle. “Just honest.”

As the fire continues to crackle beside you, the night wrapping around you both like a blanket, you realize that this birthday, this moment, will be one you remember for the rest of your life. Not because of the party or the people, but because of the man standing beside you — the one who believed in you when no one else did, who gave you the push you needed to keep going.

And as you walk back towards the house, the pendant resting against your chest, you know that no matter what happens in the future, you’ll always have this — this connection, this bond, this family you’ve found in the most unexpected place.

***

The noise is deafening as you cross the finish line, but it’s the silence that follows in your mind that makes it real. The world blurs around you; the roar of the engine fades, the cheers from the grandstands become a distant echo. It’s just you and the knowledge that you’ve done it. The chequered flag waves in the distance, a confirmation that you’ve won the F2 championship.

In your rookie season.

The last lap plays on a loop in your mind: the battle with your teammate, the wheel-to-wheel tension that stretched until the final corner, the moment you finally saw a gap and took it. The entire year has been leading up to this, every race, every struggle, every doubt. And now, you’re here. A champion.

The car slows as you pull into the pit lane, your hands shaking on the steering wheel. The radio crackles with voices — your engineer shouting congratulations, the team cheering, but there’s only one voice you really want to hear.

“You did it,” Fernando comes through, calm but with a hint of emotion that he rarely shows. “I knew you could do it.”

A smile breaks across your face, one that you couldn’t suppress even if you tried. “We did it,” you correct him, because it’s true. You’ve always been a team, even when he wasn’t on the track with you.

As you roll into the Carlin garage, the world around you explodes into celebration. Mechanics, engineers, and team members swarm the car, cheering and clapping as they pull you out of the cockpit. You’re immediately wrapped in a dozen hugs, people shouting your name, lifting you off the ground in their excitement.

But even in the chaos, you’re searching for him. And when you finally spot Fernando standing just outside the crowd, his expression is one of pure pride. He doesn’t rush in to join the others, instead, he stays back, letting you have your moment. That’s Fernando, always understanding, always knowing exactly what you need.

You finally push through the throng of well-wishers and make your way over to him. For a moment, the two of you just look at each other, and in that look, there’s a thousand words unspoken.

“Not bad for a rookie,” he finally says, his smile widening.

You laugh, still breathless from the race. “Not bad at all.”

He pulls you into a hug, and this time, you don’t hold back. You cling to him, letting the emotion of the moment wash over you. “Thank you,” you whisper, and you know he understands. This victory is as much his as it is yours.

When you pull back, you see someone else approaching from the corner of your eye. It’s Toto Wolff, towering and imposing as always, but there’s a warmth in his expression that’s almost fatherly. Next to him, Williams Racing team principal Jost Capito, stands with a smile that’s equally as proud.

“Toto?” You ask, surprised. It’s not every day he shows up in the F2 paddock, let alone after a race.

He steps forward, offering his hand. “Congratulations,” he says, his voice steady. “That was an incredible race.”

You shake his hand, still trying to process the fact that he’s here. “Thank you,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jost steps forward, nodding in agreement. “You’ve had an outstanding season. You’ve shown everyone what you’re capable of.”

There’s something in their tone, something that makes your heart race with more than just post-race adrenaline. Fernando catches your eye, giving you a slight nod, as if to say, this is it.

Toto exchanges a look with Jost before continuing, “We’ve been following your progress closely, and we believe you’re ready for the next step.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The next step. It’s what every F2 driver dreams of, but it’s never guaranteed, not even with a championship under your belt. “The next step?” You echo, almost afraid to hope.

Jost steps in, his smile widening. “We want you to race for Williams in Formula 1 next season.”

For a moment, the world stops. You blink, trying to process the words, to make sure you heard him right. Formula 1. They want you to race in F1.

“Next season?” You manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Toto nods, his expression serious but encouraging. “Yes. We’ve been in discussions with Williams, and we believe you’re the perfect fit for their team. You’ve proven that you can handle the pressure, and now it’s time to see what you can do on the biggest stage.”

You feel like you’re floating, like this is a dream that you might wake up from at any moment. You turn to Fernando, searching his face for confirmation that this is real. He’s smiling, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells you he’s known about this for a while. He’s always known.

“You’ll be racing in F1,” Fernando says, his voice steady. “You deserve it.”

It’s then that the full weight of what’s happening hits you. F1. The pinnacle of motorsport. And not just racing in F1, but racing alongside the very best in the world. You’ll be on the grid with drivers you’ve looked up to your entire life. Drivers like Lewis Hamilton. And …

Your eyes widen as the realization dawns. Fernando is making his comeback next year. He’s going to be on that grid, too.

“I’ll be racing … with you,” you say, the words barely escaping your lips.

Fernando’s smile is knowing, almost amused. “Yes, you will.”

The thought is almost overwhelming. Not only will you be in F1, but you’ll be competing alongside Fernando, the man who has been your mentor, your guide, your biggest supporter. The man who helped you get to this very moment.

You shake your head, still trying to process it all. “I don’t know what to say.”

Toto places a hand on your shoulder, his grip reassuring. “You don’t need to say anything. Just be ready to show the world what you’re capable of. We’ll handle the rest.”

Jost nods in agreement. “We believe in you. You’ve already proven that you can handle anything that comes your way.”

You glance back at Fernando, and the pride in his eyes is unmistakable. This has been his goal all along — to get you to the top, to see you succeed where so many doubted you could. And now, here you are, about to step into the world of F1.

“I’ll be ready,” you say, your voice stronger now, filled with the determination that’s carried you this far.

Fernando nods, satisfied. “I know you will.”

As Toto and Jost step away to discuss the finer details with the Carlin team, you stand there with Fernando, the enormity of what just happened settling in.

“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?” You ask, giving him a sideways glance.

Fernando shrugs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “I had a feeling. But it was always up to you to make it happen.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

He grins. “And you’re an F1 driver now. Better get used to it.”

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, taking in the victory, the announcement, the future that’s unfolding right before your eyes. It’s been a long road, full of challenges and doubts, but you’ve made it. And now, you’re about to step onto the biggest stage in motorsport, with Fernando right there alongside you.

As you look out at the garage, the Carlin team still buzzing with excitement, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. For the team, for the journey, and most of all, for Fernando — the man who believed in you when no one else did, and who continues to believe in you now.

“Thank you, Fernando,” you say quietly, but with all the sincerity you can muster. “For everything.”

He simply nods, his expression softening. “You’ve earned it.”

And as you stand there, the future stretching out before you, one thing is certain: this is just the beginning.

***

The winter sun hangs low in the sky as you walk along the rocky path that leads to Fernando’s private track in northern Spain. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine trees and the distant murmur of the sea. It’s a world away from the chaos of the paddock, a place where the outside noise fades, leaving only the hum of your thoughts and the weight of what’s to come. The off-season is supposed to be a time to rest, to recharge, but this year, it’s different. There’s no time to lose — not with your first Formula 1 season looming on the horizon.

Fernando walks beside you, his stride as confident and unhurried as ever. His presence is steadying, a reminder that you’re not alone on this journey. He’s been here before, countless times, and now he’s passing on everything he knows to you. This winter isn’t just about physical training; it’s about mastering the mental side of the sport — the side that can make or break a career in F1.

He stops at the edge of the track, the silence between you stretching out as you both take in the view. The asphalt is cold and unyielding, winding through the landscape like a dark ribbon, a challenge waiting to be conquered.

“You know the driving part,” Fernando says, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an intensity to it that commands attention. “You’ve proven that you can handle the car, the speed, the competition. But F1 is more than just driving. It’s a mental game. It’s about being the predator, not the prey.”

You nod, knowing he’s right. The physical demands of F1 are immense, but the mental demands are even greater. The pressure, the mind games, the need to be perfect in a sport where perfection is almost impossible — it’s all part of what makes F1 the pinnacle of motorsport.

“Today, we start with the basics,” Fernando continues, his gaze fixed on the track. “How to be a track terror.”

A track terror. The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. To be feared on the track, to have your competitors second-guessing themselves before they even line up on the grid — that’s what Fernando is talking about. It’s not just about being fast; it’s about being relentless, unyielding, the kind of driver who forces others into mistakes.

“You don’t have to be the fastest in every session,” Fernando explains, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You just have to make them think you are. Get in their heads. Make them question their own pace, their own decisions.”

He starts to walk along the edge of the track, and you follow, listening closely. “Every driver has a breaking point,” he says. “You need to learn how to find it. Sometimes it’s in their driving — how they react under pressure, how they handle wheel-to-wheel combat. Sometimes it’s off the track — in how they deal with the media, how they cope with setbacks. Your job is to figure out what that breaking point is and use it.”

You absorb his words, understanding that this is the difference between good drivers and great ones. It’s not just about talent; it’s about psychology, about knowing how to manipulate a situation to your advantage.

“And once you find that breaking point?” You ask, wanting to hear it from him.

Fernando stops and turns to face you, his eyes sharp, calculating. “You exploit it,” he says simply. “You push them until they crack. But you have to be smart about it. There’s a fine line between pushing them to the edge and pushing yourself over it.”

His words are blunt, but you know there’s truth in them. F1 isn’t just a sport, it’s a battle, a war of wills as much as it is a test of speed.

“Take the first corner,” Fernando says, pointing to the sharp turn at the end of the straight. “It’s where a lot of races are won or lost. You need to establish yourself early. Show them that you’re not afraid to fight for position, but also that you’re in control. That’s key — being aggressive, but controlled.”

You nod, envisioning the scenarios he’s describing. You’ve raced at high levels before, but F1 is different. The stakes are higher, the margins narrower. There’s no room for error, but there’s also no room for hesitation.

“How do you know when to cross the line?” You ask, thinking back to the times when Fernando has pushed the limits, often to the point where others questioned his tactics.

He gives a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You learn,” he says. “Sometimes by making mistakes. But the key is to learn from them quickly. You have to know when to back off and when to push harder. It’s about balance, about knowing your own limits as much as theirs.”

He pauses, his gaze locking with yours. “And sometimes, you have to cross the line. But when you do, you do it with intent, and you don’t get caught. You make sure it looks like a mistake, something that just happened in the heat of the moment. And you never apologize for it.”

There’s a chill in the air, but you barely notice it, your mind focused on every word. This is what you’ve needed, what you’ve been missing. The edge that will set you apart in a field of the best drivers in the world.

“What about mind games?” You ask, curious to know more about how to handle the psychological warfare that comes with F1.

Fernando chuckles, a sound that’s both amused and knowing. “Mind games are everything,” he says. “They start long before you even get in the car. It’s about how you carry yourself, how you interact with the other drivers, with the media. You have to control the narrative, make them think what you want them to think.”

He starts walking again, this time towards the small building at the edge of the track where the team usually sets up. “The media is a powerful tool,” he continues. “You can use them to your advantage, but you have to be careful. Give them just enough to create doubt in your competitors’ minds, but not enough to give anything away.”

You think back to the countless press conferences you’ve watched, where drivers like Fernando have used their words as weapons, creating stories that unsettle their rivals. It’s a game within a game, and you’re starting to see how deep it goes.

“Never let them see you sweat,” Fernando adds, his tone more serious now. “Even when things aren’t going your way, you have to project confidence. Make them think you have everything under control, even when you don’t. And when they stumble, when they show weakness, you pounce.”

The building looms ahead, the door slightly ajar. Fernando pushes it open, revealing a small, sparsely furnished room with a table, a few chairs, and a whiteboard covered in notes and diagrams. It’s a war room, a place where strategies are formed, where victories are planned.

Fernando gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling the weight of what’s to come. He takes a seat across from you, his expression now all business.

“Let’s talk about racecraft,” he says, leaning forward. “You need to understand that F1 isn’t just about speed. It’s about strategy, about thinking two, three steps ahead of everyone else. You need to know when to attack and when to hold back, when to take risks and when to play it safe.”

He starts sketching out scenarios on the whiteboard, explaining different race strategies, how to read your competitors, how to manage your tires, your fuel, your energy. It’s a crash course in F1 tactics, and you absorb every detail, knowing that this knowledge could be the difference between winning and losing.

“You’ll have a team behind you,” Fernando says, his eyes never leaving the board as he continues to write. “But you’re the one in the car. You’re the one who has to make the decisions in real-time. Trust your instincts, but also trust your preparation. The more you know, the better equipped you’ll be to handle whatever comes your way.”

He turns back to you, his expression serious. “And remember, F1 is a long game. It’s not just about one race, or even one season. It’s about building a career, about consistently performing at a high level. You have to pace yourself, know when to push and when to hold back. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

You nod, the enormity of what he’s saying sinking in. This isn’t just about your rookie season; it’s about laying the foundation for a long and successful career. And with Fernando guiding you, you know you’re in the best possible hands.

The session goes on, the hours slipping away as you discuss everything from race strategies to media tactics, from how to handle pressure to how to deal with setbacks. Fernando doesn’t sugarcoat anything; he tells you the harsh realities of the sport, the challenges you’ll face, the sacrifices you’ll have to make. But he also gives you the tools to overcome them, to not just survive in F1, but to thrive.

By the time the sun starts to set, casting long shadows across the track, you feel a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. It’s been an intense day, but you know it’s exactly what you needed. Fernando has pushed you, challenged you, but he’s also given you the confidence to believe that you belong in this world, that you can succeed.

As you walk back towards the main house, the sky now a deep orange, Fernando falls into step beside you. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that comes from a shared understanding, a mutual respect that has grown over time.

After a while, Fernando breaks the silence with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know,” he begins, his tone light but with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I’ve been called many things in my career. Champion, legend … war criminal.”

You look at him, caught between a laugh and a raised eyebrow. “War criminal?”

He chuckles, shrugging casually. “Not literally, of course. But some of my tactics, let’s say, weren’t always appreciated by everyone. I was willing to do whatever it took to win — sometimes crossing lines that others wouldn’t dare touch.”

You smile, catching on to his meaning. “And you think I’m ready to follow in your footsteps?”

Fernando’s smirk widens. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. F1 isn’t a game for the faint-hearted. It’s for those who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty when it counts. Just remember … there’s no shame in doing what it takes to survive. And thrive.”

His words hang in the cool evening air, and as you both continue walking, you feel a sense of resolve settle within you. Fernando must notice it too because he gives you a sideways glance, the glint still in his eyes. “Just don’t forget who taught you all this when they start throwing accusations your way.”

***

The Bahrain night sky looms overhead, blanketing the circuit in a velvety darkness punctuated by the glaring lights of the paddock. The roar of engines rumbles through the air as teams buzz with last-minute preparations. Mechanics scramble, engineers analyze data, and drivers slip into their zones. The first race of the season carries a unique kind of tension, a palpable energy that’s almost electric. But amidst all the chaos, Fernando moves with calm confidence as he weaves through the pit lane, eyes scanning for one person.

He finds you standing by the Williams garage, helmet in hand, gaze fixed on the distant horizon as if trying to absorb the magnitude of the moment. It’s your first F1 race, and the weight of it all is evident in the slight furrow of your brow, the focused set of your jaw.

Fernando walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Hey,” he says, his voice cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. “Nervous?”

You turn to face him, a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes — excitement, determination, and yes, a hint of nerves. “A little,” you admit. “It’s different from F2. Bigger.”

Fernando nods, understanding all too well. “It is bigger. The stakes are higher, the pressure’s heavier. But you’ve got this.”

You nod, though your grip on the helmet tightens. “I know. I just need to keep my head in the right place.”

Fernando’s eyes narrow, the glint of the night’s floodlights reflecting in them as he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Remember what we talked about in Spain. You’re not here to play nice. You’re here to win. You’re here to make them regret ever doubting you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as his words sink in. This is the Fernando you’ve come to know so well — the ruthless competitor who sees racing as a battlefield, where only the most cunning and unrelenting survive. He’s drilled that mentality into you, reminding you time and time again that the track is no place for mercy.

“You’re not just a driver,” he continues, his tone growing more intense. “You’re a track terror. Make them fear you. Take every opportunity, even if it means forcing them into a mistake. Be aggressive. Be relentless. And if they try to intimidate you-”

“I intimidate them back,” you finish for him, the determination in your voice now matching his.

Fernando’s lips curl into a smirk, clearly pleased. “Exactly. Make them question if they even belong out there with you.”

As he speaks, Nicholas Latifi, your teammate, walks by on his way to his side of the garage. His steps falter when he overhears the tail end of Fernando’s words.

“… If you see an opening, take it. Don’t give them a second to breathe. Push them out of their comfort zone, and when they’re scrambling, that’s when you strike. Hard.”

Latifi’s eyes widen in alarm as he processes what Fernando is saying. He hesitates, clearly debating whether he should approach or back away slowly. Ultimately, he chooses the latter, retreating with a hurried, nervous glance over his shoulder.

You notice Latifi’s reaction and can’t help but laugh. “I think you might’ve scared him off.”

Fernando chuckles, a low, almost devious sound. “Good. Less competition for you.” Then, with a more serious edge, he adds, “He’s not your concern. You’re here for the big players. And don’t forget, every race is an opportunity to show them what you’re made of. Especially the ones who think you don’t deserve to be here.”

You nod, the nerves from earlier replaced by a rising sense of purpose. Fernando’s words have a way of lighting a fire inside you, a fire that burns hotter with every passing second. The crowd noise, the hum of engines, the flashing lights — all of it fades away until there’s only the track and the promise of what lies ahead.

Fernando steps back, giving you space but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “Tonight, you’re going to prove that you’re not just another rookie. You’re a force to be reckoned with. And you’re going to do it with style.”

You smirk, the corners of your mouth curving upward as confidence surges through you. “With style?”

“Absolutely,” Fernando replies, his own smirk widening. “Remember, there’s a fine line between genius and insanity on the track. And you’re going to walk it like it’s a tightrope.”

You slip your helmet on, the visor clicking into place as Fernando’s words echo in your mind. The world outside may be chaotic, but inside your helmet, it’s a sanctuary — a place where you can focus, where every piece of advice, every lesson Fernando has drilled into you, comes together.

He watches you for a moment, pride evident in his eyes. He’s seen your growth, your transformation from a talented driver into something much more formidable. He knows you’re ready for this.

“Now go out there,” he says, voice clear and commanding, “and make them remember your name.”

With a final nod, you turn towards your car, the sleek Williams machine waiting for you. The pit crew is already in position, and the clock is ticking down. But before you step in, Fernando adds one last thing.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, catching your attention. You look back at him, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Terrorize everyone out there … except me.”

You laugh, the sound muffled by your helmet, but the sentiment is clear. “No promises.”

Fernando grins, crossing his arms as he watches you settle into the cockpit. The familiar sounds of the car coming to life fill the air, and the anticipation builds. The lights above the pit lane begin their countdown, and you take a deep breath, centering yourself for what’s to come.

As you drive out onto the track for the formation lap, Fernando steps back, his eyes following your car as it weaves between the other machines, each one a potential target, each one a stepping stone towards the top. He knows you’re ready, knows that tonight is just the beginning of what promises to be an incredible journey.

He’s proud of you, not just as a driver, but as the competitor you’ve become under his guidance. And as you line up on the grid, the lights glowing red above, Fernando’s final words echo in your mind.

Make them remember your name.

The lights go out, and the race begins.

***

The Bahrain circuit is still buzzing with energy even after the race has ended. The floodlights cast a bright, artificial glow over the paddock as drivers, engineers, and media personnel move about, some celebrating, others reflecting on the night’s events. The humid night air is thick with the scent of burning rubber and engine exhaust, a familiar and oddly comforting smell to those who live and breathe motorsport.

Fernando stands in the media pen, his eyes fixed on you as you field questions from a group of eager reporters. He’s barely listening to the reporter in front of him, who’s rattling off questions about his own race. He finished just outside the points, but it doesn’t bother him much. Tonight, his focus isn’t on his own performance but on yours.

You’re animated, your eyes bright, still riding the adrenaline high from the race. You finished ninth — an impressive debut for any rookie, especially in a Williams. Fernando watches as you handle the questions with ease, a slight smile playing on his lips. The way you stand, the way you speak, there’s a confidence there that wasn’t present when he first met you. He sees in you a reflection of his younger self, and it fills him with a quiet pride.

“Fernando,” the reporter in front of him says, trying to regain his attention. “Can you tell us about your strategy today?”

Fernando barely hears the question, his attention still on you. You’re laughing at something a reporter just asked, and he catches a glimpse of that mischievous glint in your eyes — the same one he’s seen countless times in his own reflection. He can tell you’re about to say something memorable, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

“Fernando?” the reporter prompts again, sounding slightly annoyed now.

“Hmm?” Fernando finally acknowledges the reporter, but his gaze doesn’t leave you. “What was that?”

“Your strategy today — what was the thinking behind it?”

“Strategy? Oh, yes, the strategy,” Fernando replies absentmindedly, waving his hand dismissively. “You know, just the usual. Push when you can, hold back when you must.” His answers are automatic, but his mind is elsewhere.

The reporter blinks, clearly unimpressed with the vague response, but before he can ask a follow-up question, Fernando’s attention is fully captured by what you’re saying.

A journalist standing in front of you, wearing a press lanyard and holding a recorder close to your face, asks, “Can you walk us through that incredible overtake on Sebastian Vettel? It looked like you had no fear going up against a four-time world champion.”

You smile, a knowing look in your eyes, and then you glance over at Fernando.

“I knew he would hit the brakes,” you say, loud enough for him to hear. You pause for dramatic effect, and then with a wink in Fernando’s direction, you continue, “Because he has a wife and three kids waiting for him at home.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before the reporters around you burst into laughter. The reference to Fernando’s famous quip about Michael Schumacher years ago is unmistakable, and it’s clear that the media eats it up. But more importantly, Fernando hears it, and his chest swells with pride.

The reporter in front of Fernando raises an eyebrow, curious now about what���s just been said. “Looks like she’s learned a thing or two from you,” he comments.

Fernando finally turns to the reporter, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yes, she has. More than she knows.”

He watches as you continue the interview, your demeanor composed, yet playful. The way you handle the press is impressive — calm, confident, but with just the right amount of charm to keep them on your side. You’re not just a racer; you’re a showman, someone who understands that Formula 1 is as much about performance off the track as it is on it.

Fernando catches snippets of your conversation, listening as you describe the overtake in more detail. “Seb’s a great driver, no doubt about it. But in that moment, I knew I had him. I could see it in his body language. He was playing it safe, so I took my chance.”

“And what was going through your mind when you made the move?” Another journalist asks.

You pause for a moment, considering the question. Then, with a smirk, you say, “I was thinking, ‘What would Fernando do?’ And then I went for it.”

Fernando chuckles to himself, shaking his head slightly. He can’t help but feel a surge of pride. Not because you’ve imitated him, but because you’ve made the decision to be bold, to take risks, and to trust your instincts. That’s what separates the good drivers from the great ones — the willingness to seize the moment, to act decisively.

You finish up your interview, the reporters gradually dispersing to chase down other drivers. Fernando finally gives his full attention to the reporter in front of him, who’s still trying to get something meaningful out of him.

“Fernando, about your race …” the reporter begins again.

But Fernando is already moving, stepping around the man with a polite but firm nod. “Excuse me,” he says, cutting the interview short. There’s someone far more important he needs to talk to right now.

He strides over to you, your helmet now tucked under your arm as you chat casually with one of the team engineers. You spot him approaching and flash him a smile.

“Hey,” you say as he reaches you. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I did,” Fernando replies, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “You’ve got quite the sense of humor.”

“Learned from the best,” you quip, giving him a playful nudge.

Fernando laughs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually use that line, but I’m glad you did. The media loves a good story, and you just gave them one.”

You shrug, your smile widening. “Figured I’d give them something to talk about. Plus, it’s not every day you get to pass a guy like Seb.”

“And you did it with style,” Fernando adds, his voice filled with admiration. “You handled yourself perfectly out there, both on track and with the press. You’re making your mark.”

The engineer standing next to you clears his throat, clearly not wanting to interrupt but feeling the need to acknowledge Fernando’s presence. “Great job out there today,” he says, offering a handshake.

“Thanks,” Fernando replies, shaking the man’s hand. “But today’s all about her,” he adds, nodding in your direction.

The engineer nods in agreement before excusing himself, leaving you and Fernando alone in the now quieter part of the paddock. The sounds of celebration and interviews still echo in the background, but here, in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

“You know,” Fernando says after a beat, “I’ve never been prouder.”

You look at him, surprised by the raw emotion in his voice. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms. “Seeing you out there today … it reminded me why I fell in love with racing in the first place. The passion, the drive, the thrill of the fight. You have all of that, and more.”

Your smile softens, touched by his words. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You did it because you’re a damn good driver,” Fernando corrects, though there’s a warmth in his tone. “But I’m glad I could be a part of your journey.”

You both stand there for a moment, the enormity of what you’ve achieved settling in. Ninth place in your first race is no small feat, especially in a car that everyone had written off as uncompetitive. But you’ve proven them wrong, and you’ve done it in a way that’s uniquely your own.

“Next time, though,” Fernando says, a teasing lilt in his voice, “let’s aim for top five.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No pressure, right?”

“Never,” he replies with a grin. “Just a challenge.”

***

Fernando leans casually against the side of the Alpine motorhome, arms crossed, eyes scanning the paddock. The next season’s first race is in a few days, and the energy around the circuit is electric, buzzing with the anticipation of new beginnings. He’s just finished an interview, the usual media rounds, when he spots you approaching, your new Mercedes gear a stark contrast to the sea of blues and pinks around you.

“Ah, there you are,” Fernando greets with a grin as you draw closer. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You tilt your head slightly, curious. “Who?”

Fernando pushes off the motorhome, beckoning you to follow as he leads you around to the back, where a young reserve driver is checking his phone, leaning casually against the wall. The kid looks up as you approach, his expression polite, maybe a touch reserved, but there’s an unmistakable spark of intelligence in his eyes.

“Oscar,” Fernando calls out, “this is her.”

Oscar Piastri straightens up, tucking his phone into his pocket. “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand with a shy but confident smile. He’s calm, almost too calm for someone his age, but there’s a warmth there, something genuine. You can’t help but notice how composed he is, how his eyes seem to study you without making you feel scrutinized.

You shake his hand, offering a cool smile in return. “Likewise. I’ve heard good things.”

Oscar chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head. “Hopefully, I can live up to them.”

The three of you chat for a while, exchanging pleasantries about the upcoming season, racing, the usual stuff. Oscar is polite, measured in his responses, but there’s a softness to him that you hadn’t expected. It’s like he’s quietly confident, but without the brashness that usually comes with it. Fernando watches the interaction closely, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he notes the way your demeanor shifts ever so slightly around Oscar — more guarded, maybe, but intrigued.

Eventually, Oscar glances at his watch and excuses himself, mentioning something about a debrief he needs to attend. You nod, maintaining your composed exterior, and watch him walk back towards the Alpine motorhome before turning to Fernando.

“Polite cat vibes,” you murmur almost to yourself, a hint of amusement in your voice. Fernando raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“What was that?” He asks, although there’s a knowing look in his eyes. He’s been around long enough to pick up on these things.

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s a lightness in your expression that wasn’t there before. “I said, polite cat vibes. You know, like when a cat is super well-behaved, but you just know there’s something more going on behind those eyes?”

Fernando laughs, a genuine, hearty sound that makes a few heads turn in your direction. “So, you think Oscar is a cat?”

“Well, not literally,” you reply, grinning. “It’s just … he’s got this thing, you know? Like he’s really nice, but you can tell he’s got claws if he needs them. And he’s so … calm. I just want to pinch his cheeks and cuddle him.”

Fernando’s laugh turns into a full-blown chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re smitten, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you say, feigning nonchalance as you fold your arms across your chest. “But it’s just … he’s different. Not in a bad way, just-”

“Different,” Fernando finishes for you, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get it. But don’t let that cloud your judgment on track.”

You shoot him a look. “Please. I’m not a rookie, and besides, I’m at Mercedes now. I’ve got bigger things to focus on than cute cats.”

Fernando smiles, but there’s a serious undertone to his next words. “Just remember, this is Formula 1. There’s no room for distractions, no matter how polite or cute they might be.”

You nod, understanding the weight behind his words, but there’s still a twinkle in your eye as you glance back in the direction Oscar disappeared. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

“Good,” Fernando replies, clapping you on the back. “Because I’m not going to let you slack off, not even for a second.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” you retort, smirking. There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you, the kind that only comes from mutual respect and understanding.

But Fernando can’t resist one last jab. “Don’t go soft on him, okay? I’ve got my eye on you.”

You roll your eyes again but with a fond smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Of course,” Fernando grins. “It’s part of my charm.”

You laugh, the sound bright and clear in the busy paddock, and Fernando can’t help but feel a swell of pride. You’ve come so far, and he’s been there every step of the way, watching you grow not just as a driver but as a person. There’s a part of him that’s protective, sure, but there’s also a part that’s thrilled to see you standing on your own two feet, ready to take on whatever comes your wa— even if it’s an Australian polite cat.

“Let’s get out of here,” Fernando says finally, leading the way back to the Mercedes motorhome. “We’ve got a race to win this weekend, and I don’t want any distractions.”

You follow him, but there’s a spring in your step that wasn’t there before, and Fernando notices. He doesn’t say anything, though, just smiles to himself. You’re going to be just fine, he thinks, more than fine.

As you walk together, side by side, you can’t help but glance back once more, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Maybe, just maybe, this season is going to be full of surprises. And Fernando? Well, he’s ready for whatever comes next, as long as you are too.

***

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the vineyard where the ceremony is taking place. Rows of chairs are lined up neatly on the manicured lawn, all facing a simple yet elegant archway draped in white fabric and adorned with soft blush roses. The air is filled with the quiet murmur of guests settling in, the occasional laugh breaking through the serene atmosphere.

Fernando adjusts his tie, glancing around with a mixture of pride and disbelief. How did they get here? It seems like only yesterday he was meeting you for the first time, a determined young driver who refused to be underestimated. Now, here you are, standing at the altar, poised to marry the man you’ve chosen to spend your life with.

Fernando is seated in the front row, just to the left of the aisle, with Mark Webber by his side. The two exchange knowing smiles as the ceremony begins, each lost in their own thoughts. Mark has watched Oscar grow from a promising young talent into a man of integrity and strength, much like Fernando has done with you. There’s a quiet understanding between them, a mutual respect that goes beyond words.

As the officiant begins to speak, Fernando leans over slightly, catching Mark’s eye. “I guess this makes us in-laws,” he whispers, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Mark chuckles softly, nodding. “Seems like it. Didn’t see this coming back when we were racing, did we?”

“Not at all,” Fernando replies with a smile, glancing back at the altar where you and Oscar stand, hand-in-hand. “But I’m glad it did.”

The vows are simple, heartfelt, and deeply personal. Oscar goes first, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“From the moment I met you,” Oscar begins, his eyes locked on yours, “I knew you were different. You challenged me, inspired me, and made me want to be a better person. In a world that often felt overwhelming, you were my calm, my constant. Today, I promise to stand by your side, through every victory and every defeat. I promise to support your dreams as if they were my own, to lift you up when you’re down, and to love you unconditionally, now and forever.”

There’s a brief pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with the depth of his sincerity. When it’s your turn, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Oscar,” you begin, your voice clear and strong, “You were the unexpected surprise in my life, the calm in my storm. From the moment we met, I knew you were special. You’ve been my partner on and off the track, my biggest supporter, and my best friend. Today, I promise to cherish every moment we have together, to grow with you, and to always be there for you, no matter what. I promise to love you with all that I am, and all that I will ever be. You are my heart, my soul, and my everything.”

Fernando feels a lump in his throat as you finish. He’s never been one to get emotional, but today, sitting here, listening to you pour your heart out, he can’t help but feel a surge of pride and love. He remembers the teenage girl who had to fight for every opportunity, the young woman who never gave up, and now, the bride standing before him, ready to take on the next chapter of her life.

The officiant speaks again, guiding you and Oscar through the final steps of the ceremony. When it’s time for the rings, Mark reaches into his pocket, retrieving Oscar’s band with a small, proud smile. Fernando does the same for you, his hands steady as he hands over the ring you will soon place on Oscar’s finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” you both say, sliding the rings onto each other’s fingers. The moment is profound, sealing your commitment not just in words, but in action.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant finally announces, and there’s a collective sigh of happiness from the gathered crowd as Oscar leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and full of promise.

Applause erupts, and as you and Oscar turn to face your family and friends, hands still entwined, Fernando catches your eye. There’s something unspoken between you, a bond that goes beyond blood, beyond words. You smile at him, and he nods in return, his chest swelling with emotion.

The ceremony concludes, and guests begin to make their way to the reception area, where a beautifully decorated marquee awaits. The air is filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as everyone mingles, basking in the joy of the occasion.

The second dance is a traditional one with your father. You sway gently in his arms as he whispers words of wisdom, of pride, and of love. The moment is touching, a reminder of the family that has always stood behind you, even when the road was hard.

When the song ends, you hug your father tightly, thanking him for everything. But as the music transitions into something new, you catch Fernando’s eye across the room. There’s a moment of hesitation, but then you make your way towards him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nando,” you say softly as you reach him, “would you join me for a dance?”

For a brief moment, Fernando is taken aback. He’s always seen you as a strong, independent force — someone who has always forged their own path. But in this moment, he realizes just how much you’ve come to mean to him, how deeply intertwined your lives have become.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You nod, your eyes shining with emotion. “You’ve been like a father to me. I couldn’t imagine today without sharing this moment with you.”

Fernando swallows hard, nodding as he takes your hand. The two of you move to the center of the dance floor, the music soft and slow. As you begin to dance, there’s a sense of calm that settles over you both, a quiet understanding that needs no words.

“I’ve watched you grow,” Fernando says after a few moments, his voice low so only you can hear, “into one of the best drivers I’ve ever known, but more than that … into an incredible person. I’m so proud of you, more than I can ever say.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back, smiling up at him. “Thank you. For everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You would’ve found your way,” he replies, his tone firm. “You always had it in you. I just gave you a little push.”

“A little?” You tease, and he laughs, the sound filled with warmth.

As the song comes to an end, Fernando pulls you into a tight hug, his hand resting protectively on the back of your head. “Remember, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“I know,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “And I’ll always be here for you too.”

***

The antiseptic scent of the hospital hits Fernando the moment he steps into the delivery wing, mingling with the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed whispers of medical staff. It’s a familiar environment, yet so foreign to him. He’s used to the adrenaline rush of the pit lane, the roar of engines, the calculated chaos of racing — but this, this is something entirely different. He’s been in countless high-pressure situations, but none have ever felt like this.

As he makes his way down the hallway, his heart beats just a little faster than usual, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Oscar, and of the tiny new life that’s just come into the world. When he reaches the door of your room, he hesitates for the briefest of moments, his hand hovering over the door handle.

It’s not that he’s nervous — Fernando Alonso doesn’t get nervous — but there’s something about this moment that feels monumental, like the start of a new chapter in a book he didn’t even realize he was writing.

He pushes the door open slowly, stepping into the room with a soft smile. The room is bathed in a warm, gentle light, far removed from the harsh brightness of the hallway. It’s quiet, peaceful, with only the faint hum of machinery and the soft breaths of the newborn breaking the silence.

You’re lying in the bed, looking tired but radiant, with a tiny bundle cradled in your arms. Oscar is beside you, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder, his eyes filled with awe and love. When you see Fernando, your face lights up, and despite the exhaustion etched into your features, there’s a warmth in your smile that makes his heart swell.

“Fernando,” you say softly, your voice hoarse but filled with joy. “Come meet him.”

He steps closer, his eyes drawn to the small figure in your arms. The baby is tiny, impossibly so, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, with a tuft of dark hair peeking out. Fernando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at the baby, his heart pounding in a way that’s both unfamiliar and entirely overwhelming.

“He’s perfect,” Fernando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “We think so too.”

You shift slightly, holding the baby out toward Fernando. “Would you like to hold him?”

For a moment, Fernando hesitates. He’s held championship trophies, gripped the steering wheel at speeds that would make others blanch, but this? This is different. This is fragile, delicate, something that requires a gentleness he’s not sure he possesses. But when he sees the trust in your eyes, he nods, carefully taking the baby into his arms.

The weight is nothing — featherlight, almost — but it’s enough to make his hands tremble just the slightest bit. He cradles the baby close, his eyes wide as he studies the tiny features: the small nose, the delicate eyelids, the impossibly small fingers curled into little fists. The baby stirs slightly, his mouth opening in a silent yawn before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

“What’s his name?” Fernando asks, his voice thick with emotion.

You exchange a glance with Oscar before looking back at Fernando, your smile widening. “His name is Theodore,” you say softly, “Theodore Fernando Piastri.”

Fernando’s breath catches, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, he’s speechless, his mind struggling to process what he’s just heard.

“Fernando?” He repeats, his voice barely audible.

You nod, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “We wanted to honor you. You’ve been like a father to me, and now … now you’re going to be a part of his life too. It just felt right.”

Fernando stares at you, his heart swelling with a mixture of pride, love, and something else — something deeper, something he’s never quite felt before. He looks down at Theodore, his namesake, and for the first time in a long while, he feels his eyes prick with tears.

“You … you didn’t have to do that,” he says, his voice choked with emotion.

“But we wanted to,” Oscar says, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve done so much for us, for Y/N. It’s our way of saying thank you.”

Fernando swallows hard, nodding as he blinks back the tears threatening to spill over. He’s always prided himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but this — this is something else entirely. This is a depth of feeling he wasn’t prepared for.

“Thank you,” he finally says, his voice thick. “It means … it means more to me than you can ever know.”

He looks back down at Theodore, his heart full to bursting. The baby stirs again, his tiny fingers twitching, and Fernando smiles, the tears finally spilling over as he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Grandpa Nando,” you say suddenly, your voice filled with affection. “That’s what we’re going to call you. How do you feel about that?”

Fernando lets out a laugh, the sound watery and full of joy. “I think I can get used to that,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “Grandpa Nando. I like it.”

You smile at him, your eyes soft with affection. “I’m glad. You’ve been a father figure to me, and now … now you get to be a grandfather to him.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the weight of the moment settling over all of you. Fernando can’t stop staring at Theodore, can’t stop marveling at the tiny life in his arms. He’s held many titles in his life — champion, driver, mentor — but this, this feels different. This feels like the most important role he’s ever played.

As he stands there, cradling the tiny life in his arms, he feels a sense of peace settle over him. This is where he’s meant to be, here with you, with Oscar, with Theodore. He’s not just a mentor anymore; he’s family. And that, more than anything, is the greatest victory he’s ever achieved.

Finally, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, Fernando carefully hands Theodore back to you, his heart heavy with emotion. You take your son into your arms, holding him close as you smile up at Fernando, your eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “For everything. For being there for me, for guiding me, for … for being a part of our lives.”

Fernando shakes his head, a small, tearful smile on his lips. “No, thank you. You’ve given me more than I ever could have imagined. You — you and Oscar, and now Theodore — you’re my family. And there’s nothing more important to me than that.”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, and for a moment, the two of you just stand there, connected by something deeper than words, deeper than racing, deeper than anything Fernando has ever known.

This is what it means to be family, he realizes. This is what it means to love, to care, to be there for each other, no matter what. And as he stands there, his heart full to bursting, he knows that this, more than any championship, more than any victory on the track, is what truly matters.

This is his greatest achievement.

[ja3yun]

Devil's Corner || S.JY

racer!jaeyun x rival's sister!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), food play - lollipops, exhibitionism (kinda), terribly described racing scenes, mentions of past trauma, anything else lmk! wc: 18k synopsis: jaeyun goes by a lot of names - leader of the lucifers, your brother's biggest rival, the number one racer in the south&west, and your non-boyfriend. on his birthday, you go to the grit track to wish him luck, not knowing your relationship is going to change forever. a/n: hi! i am not officially back, i'm still taking a break but it would be so wrong of me to miss the loml's birthday (although i'm early) <33 this isn't exactly how i wanted this to turn out so i'm sorry if it's shit 😮‍💨 anyway, i'll be back soon hopefully bc it's almost my one year anniversary. comments/feedback/reblogs are all appreciated and i love you all so much! happy jake day when it comes <3

“You know I can’t be here, Ireh,” you say, casting a wary glance around. “If Yeonjun sees me, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Will you just relax for like half a minute, please?” Ireh sighs, her voice tinged with lighthearted frustration as she tugs you closer to the grit track, the sound of revving engines growing closer. “He’s probably busy preparing for the race. You know how seriously he takes this.”

You dig your heels into the ground, stopping both of you in your tracks. “Girl, please be serious. We’re practically on the track! He could spot me in a heartbeat.”

Avoiding your older brother isn’t really in your nature; you’ve always been inseparable. You and Yeonjun are like two cubes of ice that no matter how much you whack them, they stay glued together. He always protects you, teaches you the ropes on how to navigate life even though there is only 3 years between you, and you would probably class him as one of your best friends. 

Yet, he never wants you to come to his races.

Yeonjun is one of, if not the best illegal drag racer in the city. He’s built respect around his and his crews name - Thursday’s Children - TC for short. Initially, he loved bringing you along to the races, but that quickly changed the moment you caught the attention of the one rival he despises.

Ireh turns to you, exasperation etched across her features as she crosses her arms. “So, do you want to see your boyfriend or not?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Ireh,” you retort, huffing the words out for what feels like the millionth time. But she isn’t wrong - you are here to see the boy, and though typically you wouldn’t risk coming to the tracks and getting caught by Yeonjun, there’s a reason for the risk tonight.

“Oh? So what do you call a guy you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’re willing to betray your brother and sneak behind his back?” she counters with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because you wouldn’t do that for a casual hookup.”

That’s also the kicker of this whole thing; since that day when you bumped into Yeonjun’s rival and the ban was put in place so that you never have to come into contact with him…you’ve actually been seeing him almost every day for the past seven months. Your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s Sim Jaeyun - the leader of The Lucifers, and your brother's arch nemesis.

It makes you recoil every time you think about betraying your brother, especially when someone slaps you over the face with it so blatantly the way your best friend does. It’s worse because as much as you downplay the relationship, you can’t deny that there is something so real between you both. As soon as you met him, you were instantly drawn to him - like a moth to a very dangerous and reckless flame.

To be honest, you vowed to stay away from any and all racers. Each of them is arrogant and too prideful, your brother included, but the more you spoke with Jaeyun, got to know him and all his quirks, you realised quickly that he’s the exception. 

Jaeyun is ripped straight from the pages of a romance book. At first glance, with his sharp smirk and the swagger that comes with being one of the city’s top drag racers, he gives off that classic fuckboy vibe - a bit reckless, untouchable, with that unbothered arrogance he uses to get under other crew’s skin. To a lot of people, he’s just the arrogant leader of The Lucifers, quick to brush off his competition like they’re nothing. 

But that’s only half of who he is.

When it’s just the two of you, you get to see a side of Jaeyun that he guards closely - trusting you with something he doesn’t share with the world. He’s patient and tender, his words soft and careful, and it’s almost startling how different he can be. He’s not performing or putting up walls; he’s just there with you, completely and wholly, in a way that’s so real it takes your heart a minute to stop making more space for him. If you were to say this to anyone else that knew him, or of him, they would laugh in your face - and Jaeyun would deny it in a heartbeat.

It wouldn’t be fair to say he hides his ‘real’ self from others because being the racer everyone perceives is also part of him. The intensity he brings to the track is genuine - it’s a part of his soul, he’s clearly passionate about it, loving the thrill and heat that comes from burning some rubber and shouting a big fuck you to his opponent. But with you, Jaeyun allows himself to be something more. He only shows the loverboy side of him in your company, being with you gives him a moment to embrace a side of himself that he sometimes forgets about.

Of course, he’s still cocky and boastful - he’s allowed to be; he’s really fucking good - it’s the main reason why he and Yeonjun are rivals in the first place. While TC rules the North and East of the city, The Lucifers hold ownership of the South and West, but both of them want to be on top - the best in the city, not just their turfs.

In Yeonjun’s eyes, the only one who could be deemed better than him is Jaeyun, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. So he won’t swallow it, he’ll use it as motivation instead, to beat Jaeyun in ever way possible.

Shifting your focus back to Ireh and ridding your mind of the thoughts of the leaders, you shake your head and let out the fakest laugh you think you’ve ever heard spit from your mouth. “In love with him? I am not in love with him. We’re just, seeing one another, casual, y’know?”

Ireh holds that knowing stare on you as you stand there, your mind battling with itself like it usually does in moments like these, justification and excuses bubbling up. “Listen, you can keep him as your ‘not boyfriend’ all you want,” she adds with a smirk, “but you know that label isn’t hiding your feelings. It’s written all over your face -  even now.”

You’re an open book, what your mouth doesn’t say, your face certainly will and you’re more than sure it’s telling the story of your heart that you refuse to admit. For both your sake and Jaeyun’s.

“Whatever, let’s just go find him.” Rolling your eyes, you take her arm and lead her further into the pit of people.

It’s heaving with racers, pit lizards, and those just looking to have a good time and smell the fumes. The floodlights guide you to the edge of the track while you thread your and Ireh's way through the crowd, moving closer to the edge, where you get a clear view of the grit track. Out of all the places Yeonjun and Jaeyun race, this track has a special place in your heart. There’s nothing too fancy about it, but it does have one element that outdoes all the rest; Devil’s Corner.

Devil’s Corner is infamous, a steep turn that has racers pushing their cars to the limit. They either conquer the bend or be conquered by it. It’s a sharp, merciless curve that rises slightly before plunging down at a nearly impossible angle, leading straight into a narrow stretch and to the finish line. So many have tried to beat it or show off on it - you’ve seen more than one car flip or crumpling like a smooshed tin can. 

Luckily, both your brother and Jaeyun know exactly how to handle it, masters of their art being proven each time. You never have to worry about them too much when it comes to this track, they’re usually way ahead of whatever chump tries to race them, but a little flutter of anxiety will always be there.

You squint against the harsh glare of headlights, raising a hand to shield your eyes as you scan the crowd. Among the bustle, you spot Heeseung and Jongseong leaning casually against a car with the devil printed crudely onto it, looking entirely at ease in the chaotic scene. They’re two of Jaeyun’s closest friends and crewmates, so wherever they are, he’s usually not far behind.

Heeseung is the first to notice you, nudging Jongseong with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shoots you a welcoming look. The two of them are more than just members of The Lucifers - they’re practically family to Jaeyun, and in turn that makes them your number one hype men and the only others to know about your secret fling.

Squeezing her arm, you guide Ireh across the track and into red territory, smiling brightly and suddenly forgetting about the possibility of Yeonjun spotting you. 

“Hi, boys!” you greet them warmly, letting go of your friend to hug them tightly. “How are you feeling?” Both of them have races tonight, though you could never tell with how nonchalant they both look. Going against TC always has higher stakes, but they don’t seem fussed.

Jongseong pats your head and smirks. “We’re chill, it’s only Gyu and Soobin, hardly competition.”

“We are shocked to see you though, doesn’t little Junnie usually keep you in a cage when it comes to TC Lucifer races?” Heeseung nips in.

“Well, I had to come and-”

“Support the number one racer on his birthday,” a fading Australian accent interrupts your sentence, his hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you back into him, your ass pressing against one of your favourite parts of him. 

Jaeyun’s touch is intoxicating, a magnetic pull that has you leaning back into him without a second thought, any anxiety about Yeonjun’s lurking eyes now vanished. His hands drift up and down your waist, lingering over the curves he knows so well, savouring the feel of the skintight dress you’ve slipped into just for him. You can feel his gaze, possessive, admiring, and utterly absorbed into you as his fingers press against the sheer fabric at your sides, the warmth of his skin teasing yours through the thin material. He loves it when you dress up for him because he knows it’s only for him, not one of these other fuckers at the grit track gets to touch you the way he does, gets to see you the way he does. 

Instinctively, he dips his head, his lips grazing your shoulder, trailing upwards in a slow, lazy path that sends a pulse straight to your core. His mouth follows the line of your neck, leaving a trail of heat that makes you feel like the two of you are alone in the world, past all of the noise and chaos around you. When he reaches your ear, he nibbles down and whispers, “Hi, Princess.” It’s a greeting as much as a claim, you’re his princess.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this is probably the most reckless thing you could do. Yeonjun could be here any second, his protective instincts would be kicking in if he caught even a speckle of Jaeyun’s hands on you. And yet, the thrill of it only makes you want to sink deeper into Jaeyun’s touch. He holds you firmly, his grip the only thing holding you up right now.

However, you need to let go, scared of the repercussions. It’s bad enough you’re even on this side of the track, let alone in the arms of The Lucifer’s leader. So you spin around, gathering your bones and standing upright, although they almost turn to jelly again as soon as you see him.

His hair is bouncy, parted down the middle with two strands falling effortlessly on his face, pointing straight to that perfect nose that you’ve had the pleasure of riding one or ten times. His lips are curled up in a small smile, so subtle only you can see before it turns into a full-blown smirk, his kissable lips so inviting as he bites into his bottom one. You love his mouth, everything about it; how it looks, the way it tastes, it’s magical skills when it’s in between your legs, all of it.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur, smiling so fondly at him that you know Ireh is going to have something to say about it later.

“Thanks. What did my girl get me?” he asks, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over yours, his bottom lip begging to be bitten and sucked on. Every time he calls you his girl, you swear you almost get down on your knees and begin to worship him. 

Maybe you’re starting to see what Ireh and his friends mean about your non-existent label and what it should be.

You resist the urge to just devour him in a kiss as you speak. “I can’t show you it right now, not here,” you tease, poking your tongue out to wet your lips.

“Yeah? What if I ditch this race and we go somewhere that you can show me?” His voice is low and inviting, every word dripping with promise. Jaeyun leans down, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his eyes gleaming playfully. His hands roam up your back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make you shudder, his nails grazing your skin ever so slightly - a subtle incentive to consider his tempting suggestion.

Before you can even nod, though, Jongseong clears his throat pointedly, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. “Actually, mate, you really can’t skip this one,” he says in a language you can’t understand, his tone heavy with meaning meant solely for Jaeyun.

Jaeyun’s grip loosens slightly as he pulls back, and you seize the moment to break from his hypnotic gaze, turning to face Jongseong with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so special about this race?” you ask, voice laced with curiosity. “What’s at stake this time, a car?”

High-stakes wagers are nothing new. Racers love to have some form of motivation and it’s not unusual for bets to involve money, cars, or something like territorial rights over parts of the city. And while you don’t know exactly what’s in play, the tension between Jongseong and Jaeyun suggests this isn’t just any race.

“Not a car,” Jaeyun begins removing his hands from your waist, and just in time too, because over the racer's shoulder, you see someone walking over with raw fury and intensity over their features.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun spits as he approaches, his aura red. The last time you saw him this angry was when you accidentally mistook his MSCHF boots as funky vases and put the tulips that Jaeyun had got you inside them. Of course, he didn’t know they were from his rival, but you did just ruin his £300 shoes. 

Truthfully, they looked better as a vase.

Jaeyun’s hand still rests on your waist, firm and possessive, but you reluctantly take a step back, putting as much space as possible between you. You will yourself to look unfazed and relaxed, praying Yeonjun hadn’t seen Jaeyun practically dry-humping you just moments before.

Thinking on her feet, Ireh steps in, tossing a casual arm over Jongseong’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Actually, it’s my fault, Yeonjun,” she chirps, doing her best to sound apologetic yet unbothered. “I wanted to see Jongseong race, and I dragged Y/N along for moral support.” Her voice drops, filled with mock affection. “We’re dating.”

Everyone looks confused except Ireh, who is putting all those years bluffing to her parents about her whereabouts in the middle of the night to the ultimate test. They are easily fooled, but Yeonjun is not.

Glancing down at his ‘girlfriend’, Jongseong wears a look of uncertainty but also…happiness? You always suspected his crush on your best friend, this just confirms it. Like breathing, he slips into the role, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple lovingly - he’s clearly taking this as an opportunity to be close to her.

Yeonjun’s lip curls as he looks Jongseong up and down with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Slim pickings around here, I guess. I didn’t think you’d settle for a shit stain on the sidewalk.”

Jongseong’s easygoing expression hardens as he holds Ireh close, offended and possessive. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls, his tone a warning.

Amidst the brewing tension, Jaeyun’s hand sneaks to find home on your ass, his grip firm and reassuring. He’s careful though, keeping his touch just out of Yeonjun’s line of sight, but you can tell he also doesn’t care, not really. He would fight your brother in an instant if it wasn’t for you asking him to keep it in check. No one ever tells Jaeyun what to do - not the authorities, not family, no one - but he’ll make the exception for you.

“Get off our side, Yeonjun,” Jaeyun finally interjects and pausing the bickering, his voice low and steady, clearly unbothered by the confrontation brewing. He removes his hand from you and he regrets it almost the moment it happens, wishing he could glue himself to you and always feel your warmth.

“Not until I get my sister back,” Yeonjun retorts, the words hang thickly in the air as the rest of The Lucifers gather around. 

Even the mere suggestion of you being taken away stirs something in Jaeyun, a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. Now that he has you by his side, on his side both physically and literally, he doesn’t like you too far away.

But Jaeyun’s lips twitch into a mocking smile as he crosses his arms and hides his true feelings, eyes never leaving Yeonjun’s. “Take her back then,” he scoffs, tilting his head with an air of nonchalance that only stokes the fire. He turns to you, smirking and hiding that beautiful boy you know behind the arrogance of himself. “If that’s what she wants.”

The ball is in your court and you hate when people do this to you - making you choose - and this is the worst choice of all. Jaeyun is giving you the opening to stand up for yourself, something he’s been slowly but surely trying to help you do throughout the seven months of seeing him, but it’s so much harder than he realises. 

Betraying Yeonjun feels like tearing a piece of your soul away. The thought of hurting him, of driving a wedge between you twists in your gut. It’s not easy to reconcile the love you have for your brother with the undeniable connection you share with Jaeyun.

As the silence stretches, you take a deep breath, your heart racing. You glance at Jaeyun with sorrowful eyes, knowing you’re disappointing him with what you’re about to do. You take a step forward and stand by Yeonjun, looking down shamefully. You don’t dare look at the hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes.

And it’s there, only for you to see. He had truly hoped that this would say a big ‘fuck you’ and rid yourself of the shackles of Yeonjun’s overbearing brotherly role and claim the independence he’s been encouraging you to reach for. 

In all honesty, he has been respecting your wishes and he’s content with that, but he hates to see you battling with it so damagingly. Your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes, your brain whispering insults and what ifs while Jaeyun’s lips are on yours,l. It’s gotren so bad in fact that half of your secret meetups have consisted of you sitting in his lap while he strokes your back, whispering petal soft reassurances to calm you down from turmoil. 

Not exactly a five star date.

In some way, he wonders if the weight of it all is pressing harder now because you’re both crossing into a deeper territory of emotions that you can’t step back from.

“Ireh, don’t you dare bring Y/N back here again,” he warns your best friend, stepping in front of you, his way of protecting you but really he’s just locking you in the cage that he built. You can feel the heat of anger surrounding him and you feel ashamed. Not only are you in trouble but now your best friend is getting the blame for it. All because you can’t tell Yeonjun the truth.

Jaeyun pokes his tongue in his cheek and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough to make Yeonjun tense once again, narrowing his eyes.

“You want to say something else?” your brother grits out, hoping that Jaeyun will bite his bait. 

Yet, Jaeyun simply raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a playful smile on his face. “Nah, mate. I’ll save all my talking for out on the track, yeah?” The tone of his words is light but there’s an underlying tension simmering as he stops himself from saying what he really thinks. 

What he really wants to say is how fucking ridiculous it is to watch Yeonjun try to control not just your life but also those who have no obligation to bow to him. It’s clearly a trait of his - one he can’t get on board with.

However, the phrase ‘save all my talking for out on the track’ strikes you as oddly significant. You then suddenly remember Jongseong’s earlier cryptic warnings to Jaeyun about how he should stick around for the race and it all clicks into place. 

Your eyes widen as you search Jaeyun’s expression for confirmation, but he remains locked onto Yeonjun’s fierce glare, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Pulling at Yeonjun’s wrist, you draw his attention back to you, though his gaze never wavers from Jaeyun. “You’re racing each other tonight? Why?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Of course, it’s not uncommon for leaders of rival crews to face off in races; it happens all the time. But the stakes feel particularly high tonight, and a knot of worry forms in your stomach. They haven’t battled it out since that night you met Jaeyun and that almost ended with Yeonjun crashing and Jaeyun turning upside down. 

They have no limits when it comes to racing one another, and at the grit track, that can only mean bad things.

“Because Jaeyun here decided he wants this track to himself,” Yeonjun explains half-heartedly. 

The grit track is TC territory, placed technically within the east side of the city, but its location on the very edge of the west makes it up for grabs - if they can win it. For years, The Lucifers have wanted this spot, the leaders well before Jaeyun took charge could never do it. TC leaders make sure this is the one track they’re masters at, no one is ever able to beat them on it.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, closing the space between them. “The track belongs to whoever can handle it, not whoever sticks their name on it and hopes everyone just plays nice.”

“I’ve been handling it, in case you couldn’t see that,” he chides back, not appreciating the jab. “Your old leader Mingi couldn’t handle it against me, that’s the reason you became leader, right?”

Yeonjun’s smirk is cold, knowing that mentioning the former leader will get the reaction he wants from Jaeyun - and it does. Jaeyun’s easy smirk falters for a split second, his eyes darkening with a flash of barely concealed rage. Mentioning Mingi was a low blow, they both know it. 

Mingi is Jaeyun’s best friend and the night he tried to stake claim on TC turf, he ended up crashing the car, paralysing his body from the waist down. In truth, it’s the only reason Jaeyun is standing in the position he is right now, and he hates that fact.

He always admired Mingi as a leader.

Jaeyun’s voice drops, dangerously calm. “Say his name again,” he warns as the muscles in his jaw tighten. “But make sure you remember that if he hadn’t crashed because of your pathetic excuse of a trick, he would have this track, easy.”

Yeonjun’s smug grin only widens, feeding off the frustration simmering in his rival. “Is that right? Funny, because as far as I remember, it wasn’t foul play, he just couldn’t handle Devil’s Corner, and we all know what happened after that. Or maybe you’d like a reminder?”

The tension is suffocating, an invisible line drawn in the dirt between them, and everyone around senses that one wrong word could send it spiralling out of control. Jaeyun takes a step closer, closing the gap so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You better watch your fucking mouth, you know what you did.”

You don’t know much about that night, neither of the men in your life wishing to utter a word about it, but all you’ve gathered from the rumours is that there are two sides to believe; one in which Mingi was simply reckless on the corner, a freak accident due to his negligence, the other? Yeonjun and his crew planted a spike trail on the road that caused him to flip over and roll down the hill. 

The rumours were never settled because the car took such a tumble that it eventually got engulfed in flames, the tyres melting and any evidence gone. It’s one of the biggest mysteries amongst the crews and only TC will truly know the truth, not that they would ever admit it.

Do you think your brother could do such a thing? Not in a million years, but you also know his competitive streak can cloud his judgment. Either way, you’re nervous about his and Jaeyun’s safety tonight.

Yeonjun’s expression hardens, dropping all pretences of mockery. “Prove it. I did fuck all, your pathetic excuse for a leader was just a shit driver that couldn’t handle the heat.”

The words are enough to push Jaeyun to the edge. His fists clench at his sides, but before he can lurch forward and connect his knuckles with your brother’s face, Heeseung pulls him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, speaking low and steady. “It’s not worth it, Jae. He wants you to lose it.”

“And I fucking will, the prick deserves it,” you hear him argue with his friend. It’s moments like these you wish you could just walk over to him and settle his nerves. Not in the Joey King in Kissing Booth way with the cliche ‘look at me, look at me’ vibes, but let him know that you’re there for him, that this urge to win and prove something might end up even more disastrous than Mingi’s fate.

While Heeseung and Jongseong tend to Jaeyun’s flaring temper, Yeonjun shifts his focus to you, his rebellious sister. “Seriously, Y/N, I told you to stay the fuck away from these races,” he has venom in his voice but that’s still lingering from the spout with Jaeyun. Towards you, there is affection and concern, his usual feelings towards you.

“I just…Ireh wanted me to come,” you lie, using the dark night and shadows from the floodlights to mask your growing nose. 

“Okay, fine. You still should have said no,” he rebuts, suddenly giving you a quick glance over, “And why are you dressed like that? You never dress like a track hopper.” 

It’s a little insulting, considering what you wear is none of his business, and that you actually do feel good in it.

You square your shoulders, meeting Yeonjun’s scrutinising gaze. “I wanted to dress up for once, alright? Is that such a crime?” you snap, your voice sharper than you initially intended. But something about his tone, so quick to judge, grates on you.

Yeonjun’s eyes soften just a fraction, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N,” he begins, his tone shifting to something gentler. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just don’t want you getting dragged into this, especially tonight.” His eyes flick to the track, the pits where engines roar to life, and the crowd of people buzzing with dangerous energy as they wait for the next race. “You’re above all of this.”

A small pang of guilt tugs at you, but you hold your ground. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Yeonjun. Let me just stay to support you,” you lie again, stomach twisting as the truth sits, heavy and hidden.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, not fully convinced but willing to let it go - for now. “Alright, but stay out of the pit. And if anything happens, you leave, got it?”

“Got it. I’ll keep my distance.”

Satisfied, he gives a brief nod, but as he turns back towards his car, guiding you over to the right side of the track, where you belong. You look back as you watch Jaeyun eye you up, saddened at your sudden removal, but expecting it nonetheless.

You guess you’ll just need to see him once this is all over, and both of them finish this race safely.

You hope.

_____

The sound of engines revving fills the night air as you stand on the edge of the track, patiently awaiting Jaeyun and Yeonjun’s arrival. Your nerves are unsettled and your mind is very much being represented like that one scene in Spongebob where he forgets his name and the little sponges in his brain scramble for the answer.

It’s been a long time since you felt this tense, you thought coming here and hiding would be the thrill of your night, turns out that was the most mundane - and unsuccessful part.

The crowd is bigger now, all revved up - no pun intended - for the race. The stakes are high, like really high and you can’t imagine what the outcome could possibly be. 

A thrill courses through the crowd, the anticipation tangible as Jaeyun’s car pulls up on the east side of the track - your side. While most of the TCs around you murmur, assuming he’s just trying to throw Yeonjun off, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jaeyun’s tactic isn’t about intimidation; he just wants a final glance at you before the race begins, to see you in that dress that Yeonjun hates oh so much, and use it as motivation. He doesn’t want to show off per say, but if you’re impressed, it’s a bonus.

The intensity in his eyes across the crowd is unmistakable, and when he whistles, a slight, beckoning tilt of his head makes it clear he’s calling you over.

You look around to see if anyone noticed, and once you’re convinced they haven’t, you check your brother. Sure enough, he’s deep in conversation with his crew, oblivious as he checks his car’s setup. 

Is it stupid to go over and risk getting caught? Of course. But Jaeyun has a persuasive smile and dreamy eyes to match. So the next thing you know, you take a deep breath, slipping through the sea of people, and make your way towards Jaeyun’s car. His smirk widens as you reach him, his hand already extended to brush your arm.

But you swat it away, half playfully, half serious. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t a guy get a good luck kiss from his girl?”

“Jaeyun, are you fucking crazy? Look who’s right next to you!” you hiss, gesturing towards Yeonjun, who’s still unaware, thankfully. You really appreciate his attention to detail in these moments.

“Princess, you’ve been sneaking around and bouncing on my cock for seven months now. If he hasn’t caught on by now, I doubt he’s going to. He probably doesn’t even care.” He says it so easily, like all of this has just been in your mind and not a real threat.

“Yeah? Tell that to the way he glared you down not two hours ago. Or did you miss the part where he wanted to tear you to pieces for even breathing next to me?”

Jaeyun barely flinches at the mention, a hint of a pout replacing his smirk. “Come on, it’s my birthday. Don’t you think I deserve at least one little kiss?”

“Didn’t you already use the birthday excuse to get me here?” you counter, eyeing him with a playful twinkle.

“That’s for attendance,” he teases, leaning closer to you, practically hanging out the window just for a taste of you. “Kisses are part of the package.”

Unable to resist the temptation in his eyes, you check over your shoulder one last time before leaning in, brushing your lips against his in what should be a quick peck for luck, but he turns into so much more. 

Jaeyun’s hand slides up to cradle your cheek, his touch warm and possessive. His thumb brushes softly over your skin as he deepens the kiss, ignoring the chaos, this stolen moment is the only thing that matters. His fingertips, rough from years of racing, contrast with the gentle way he holds you, drawing you further into him.

His tongue sweeps over your lips and you can’t help but groan and grant him access to your mouth, praying to the gods to get a taste of him. You’re greedy for him, ravenous almost, and he mirrors your need. If he wasn’t in front of at least one hundred people, including your brother, he would be dragging your pretty ass into this car and watching your tits clap in his face.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, reality hits as Jungwon steps between the two cars, flag poised for the start. You pull away reluctantly and savour the last few pecks Jaeyun plants on your puffy, lipgloss-smudged lips. 

Yeonjun snaps to attention suddenly aware of your appearnce and his voice cuts sharply through the revving engines. “Y/N! What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, his tone edged with disbelief and frustration. “I told you to stay off the pit!”

You jump, instinctively retreating from Jaeyun’s side as you stammer out a response, just thankful that he didn’t seem to notice how seconds prior you were getting your tonsils tangled with Jaeyun. “I was just…I was wishing you good luck!” You walk quickly, rounding Jaeyun’s car, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of the kiss. But Yeonjun’s face is a mask of exasperation as you approach his window.

“Y/N, get back!” he orders, eyes widening as he glances at Jungwon, who’s counting down without a care in the world.

Only then do you realise you’re directly between the two cars, and neither Jaeyun nor Yeonjun seems willing to delay the race.

“Three!” Jungwon’s deep voice booms, the crowd roaring as the tension builds.

Your feet feel glued to the ground, panic swelling in your chest. You know that chances of you getting hurt are slim, but you’ve never been this close to the race, so close that you can feel the heat from their motors swirling your leg like those snakes on Lucy Grey.

“Two!”

Jungwon raises the flag, ready to unleash it. The cars tremble with power, the engines growling, but your brain’s too scrambled to make a move. Jaeyun sees your tense frame and panics for you, scared of even a scratch on you.

“One!”

Suddenly, you feel a jolt - a car door bumps against the back of your legs, and before you know it, strong hands grab your waist, pulling you backwards in a quick, fluid motion. You land on something soft, but before you even realise what’s happened, Jaeyun’s arm reaches across to steady you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Go!”

With a salute to Yeonjun that’s equal parts taunt and triumph, Jaeyun hits the gas, and the world blurs as he speeds off, leaving your brother gaping in stunned disbelief behind you.

The wind whips through the open passenger door as you scramble to sit upright, barely processing what just happened. You feel like you’re suddenly on a rollercoaster, the car's oomph causing you to stick to the seat like the Sticky Wall.

“Can you shut that, Princess? You’re letting a draft in,” he smirks, too pleased with himself.

But all you can do is stare back, aghast. “What the fuck, Jae?! This is not funny.”

“It’s not, you could have got fucking hurt,” he tries to play it off as a joke but you hear the seriousness in his tone. When you look at him, you also see the slight fear in his eyes.

Jaeyun knows it was stupid to drag you into his car, but he panicked, what else could he do? All the possibilities swam across his mind like a reckless current. You could have gotten scratched up by the grit, swooped under the tyres with the sheer power of the acceleration…or worse.

Not all of these scenarios make sense, but the fear of losing you makes him think even the impossible. So if he can save you even from probabilities, then he will.

You reach over and such the door, the wind making it difficult as he rounds a corner. Once it clicks into place, you relax a little, breathing out. It happened in such a blur that you can’t even figure out where on the track you are. All you know is that Jaeyun is first, and you’re stuck in this race whether you like it or not.

Without taking his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator, he reaches over you and grabs the seatbelt, fiddling with it awkwardly to secure you in. You hate to say that you’re looking at the veins on his hands as he unravels it, but you are. You could be helping him and saving him the struggle but it’s just too fucking delicious to look at.

That distraction is the only thing stopping your heart from leaping out of your throat.

“Did you really think dragging me into your car, going a million miles per hour and having to survive the grit track safer than me standing on the starting line?” you question him, disbelief and mockery in your tone.

Jaeyun furrows his brows and lets your words sink in. “Well…when you put it that way, it’s dumb,” he agrees, mentally cursing himself. “But if you think about it, now your brother won’t pull any of his tricks. Not with his precious sister in the car.”

Now that embarrassment for his rash decision is turning into pride. Maybe subconsciously he pulled you into his car as a safety measure, after all, can’t be too careful around a bunch of TCs; not when there is so much at stake.

“Really? I’m a reassurance? What if he’s already planned something and you’ve just brought me to my demise?” It hurts you that Jaeyun truly believes your brother is capable of dirty tricks, but then again, you don’t have one hundred percent faith that he wouldn’t pull something.

Jaeyun looks into his rearview mirror and sees Yeonjun hot on his tail, probably filled with enough fury to power his car without an engine. It makes Jaeyun nervous, both your words and Yeonjun’s gaining speed, but he masks it under a laugh.

“At least we would die together. What’s that song? To die by your side-”

“Is such a heavenly way to die, yeah, yeah, it’s one of my favourite songs,” you admit, heart blushing that he even remembered it considering his playlists contain an abundance of Justin Bieber and other generic pop acts - he’s not really one to appreciate the Smiths. “But I would rather listen to the lyrics than live it out, Jaeyun.”

“I don’t see a double-decker bus,” he looks at you for a split second but it’s long enough that you see the teasing glint in his eye that masks his genuine concern, and weirdly, it puts you at ease. He would never let anything happen to you, you know that deep down.

You let out a genuine laugh and whack his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, Jaeyun.”

“Princess,” he intertwines his fingers with you, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I promise, okay? You will get out of this car in one piece.” Jaeyun kisses your knuckles and it’s both stomach fluttering and impressive how he can handle a car going 80mph and still have time to dote on you.

The romance doesn’t last too long though, because he has to lock in and focus. Behind him, Yeonjun’s car looms closer, headlights glowing like the eyes of a predator. He’s tailing Jaeyun so closely that any error, even a slight miscalculation, could end it all in a brutal collision. Jaeyun glances at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face, fierce and determined.

He figured your brother wouldn’t be in the best of moods with his act.

“You think that little gap’s gonna stop him?” you mutter, gripping the seat as Jaeyun expertly rounds another bend, tyres squealing against the track’s rough surface.

“Not a chance,” Jaeyun replies with a grin. “But it’ll take him a few seconds longer. Enough for me to play with.”

He shifts gears, feeling the engine’s deep growl as he powers down a straight stretch, his speedometer needle pushing higher. Yeonjun matches his pace, but Jaeyun, ever the strategist, swerves slightly, throwing up a cloud of grit in his rival’s direction. The dust storm is thick enough to obscure Yeonjun’s vision momentarily, forcing him to fall back by a hair’s breadth.

Jaeyun accelerates, barely missing a pile of tyres on his right. Just as he slips past, Yeonjun veers to the inside lane, attempting to pass on Jaeyun’s left. The corner’s coming up fast - a sharp, unforgiving turn with no forgiveness if they misjudge. Jaeyun catches on immediately, not giving Yeonjun the satisfaction. With a calculated flick of the wheel, he forces Yeonjun to either fall back or risk veering straight into the barrier.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t about to let him off easy. He falls back just enough to avoid a crash but quickly cuts to Jaeyun’s other side, inches away, daring him to swerve first. Their cars glide nearly side-by-side, matching each other’s pace in a tense, furious dance.

It’s so scary, being in the passenger seat of a car that’s almost buckling under the pressure of how fast it’s going. Of course, you knew this was not going to be like overtaking someone on the M8, but you sure as fuck didn’t expect this. The world is flying by you so fast that you can’t begin to comprehend how either of them even drives like this.

Your brother’s car pulls up beside you both and making eye contact with him is the worst thing in the world you could do. 

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” you lip read, unable to actually hear him over the roar of the engines. He blames you so easily -  even if it is 60% of your fault because you answered Jaeyun’s beckon - but it still makes you a little mad. 

Did you want to be dragged into this? Absolutely not. All you wanted was to kiss your pretty non-boyfriend good luck on his birthday, you didn’t need all these dramatics with it; you get enough fireworks in your belly from his pretty mouth alone.

The sound of the engine thunders louder, Jaeyun accelerating and pushing his car beyond its threshold as he glides through the race. It’s all pretty intense - and oddly fun - but it’s not about to be in roughly one minute. 

“Devil’s Corner’s up,” you murmur as if Jaeyun even needs the reminder. But he only nods, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, a spark of something almost wicked in his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a determined grin, shifting gears smoothly as he sets up for the turn. “This is where your brother won’t risk it. He’s too careful with the track; it’s got him wrapped around its finger.”

“Everyone is careful around this part of the track…” you half express as a statement while also hinting that it could be a question, inquiring what Jaeyun could possibly do next. 

Your trail-off sentence steals his attention and he sees the query in your eyes. He inhales deeply before addressing the elephant in the car you’ve somehow given birth to. 

“Princess, do you trust me?”

“Of course, it’s the track I don’t,” you confess.

“Me either, but I gotta pull all the punches here; for the track, for the Lucifiers…for Mingi.” His voice cracks a little as he thinks of his friend, and the damage it caused him. 

Jaeyun's gaze hardens, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten, as though he’s holding not just the car but every ounce of the Lucifier’s pride and promise he’s made as their leader. His mind is as sharply focused on Mingi as it is on the wheel, almost as if his friend’s presence is woven into every inch of the track ahead. There’s a weight he feels, a determination to make his best friend proud, to take the track that cost Mingi so much.

"Trusting me means sticking it out," he adds, almost like a dare. “You ready?”

You swallow, nerves bubbling as you nod, barely managing a steady breath. “Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But even as you say it, you know Jaeyun’s already got a strategy, one as risky as it is relentless. He could fucking kill you right now and yet, you’re ready to put your life in his hands, because you know he’s never going to snap it.

Kind of like your heart.

Ahead, Devil’s Corner yawns open like a waiting trap, and Yeonjun knows it. You can feel the weight of your brother’s stare from the other car, his eyes sharp with worry and rivalry. He’s fought this corner countless times and knows that going at it full throttle will never end well. You catch the fleeting look on Yeonjun’s face - a mixture of fear, anger, and an unspoken warning. He’s petrified for you, not knowing how far Jaeyun will go to secure the win.

Yet, you couldn’t be calmer.

“Hold on, yeah?” Jaeyun instructs and you immediately obey, watching as the dial hits it’s peak, his car flying even further in front of Yeonjun’s.

“You need to slow down, Jae…” you warn.

“How about you put that trust into action yeah?” he snaps back, though his anger isn’t directed at you, he’s just nervously tense. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? So you don’t hold it against him. If anything, it just makes you want to take his hand in yours and offer him some semblance of comfort. 

But that would be silly right now considering there’s a death corner with you and his name on it.

As Jaeyun steers into Devil’s Corner, the entire car seems to tighten, every movement rippling through you as though you were an ant, squashed under the tyre. The pressure outside is immense, like a wall of wind trying to shove the car off the road. Inside, it’s nearly as suffocating, the tension compressing everything around you, even your heartbeat syncs with each vibration of the engine.

The curve is sharp - even sharper than you’d realised watching from the stands - and you feel the pull of gravity as Jaeyun doesn’t so much follow the turn as he cuts through it, daring the edge. Gravel spits and clinks against the sides of his precious baby.

Yeonjun is somewhere far back, but you can’t even think about him or his safety. The only thing consuming your mind is Jaeyun’s grip on the wheel and the creeping dread and exhilaration fighting for space in your lungs.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you convince yourself that it’s less scary to face it if you can’t actually see it - using the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ childlike tactic to feel brave. And in the midst of it all, as the car feels like it’s on the edge of its control, you hear Jaeyun’s voice over the noise - a steadying presence cutting through as he senses your apprehension.

“Nearly there, Princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched and his heart holding still within his chest. Although he’s fighting the battle of fear and hope inside of him, his voice anchors you just enough to brace yourself.

The car rockets through the tightest part of the bend, wheels practically skating on the track's very edge - the same edge that caused Mingi his loss of legs. You grip onto whatever you can as Jaeyun’s knuckles whiten, his hands firm and controlled on the wheel. The tension in the car mounts like a coiled spring ready to snap, the corner pulling both of you, testing how far it can go before either you or the car breaks under pressure.

At last, you feel the tail end of the car swerve slightly as Jaeyun gives just enough leeway to keep control, and you can sense him gaining ground, just barely escaping the grasp of the turn. Devil’s Corner spits you both out onto the straight stretch and for a heartbeat, there’s only the muted sound of your breathing, mixing with Jaeyun’s, heavy and relieved.

Finally, you open your eyes to see the road unwinding ahead, straighter, safer, and almost welcoming after the chaos of the corner. Your pulse is still racing, but the danger feels like it’s finally behind you - or so you hope. Jaeyun throws you a quick, side-glance, his usual cocky smirk returned but softer, almost a silent acknowledgement of the risk he just took with you by his side.

He doesn’t need to say anything, but as he shifts gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator to widen the gap between him and Yeonjun, his smirk says it all: That was for Mingi, and for you.

Once he sees the finish line in sight, he breathes out and slaps the wheel harshly. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, victory secured and only a long stretch away. 

“Holy fuck…” you breathe out, chest heaving and eyes glued to the road in front of you.

“And you doubted me,” he feigns an upset pout and tilts his head in your direction.

“Well, you still have Yeonjun to deal with.” The reminder of your brother fast approaching doesn’t rock him, instead, he laughs.

Shaking his head as if Yeonjun’s trailing position is as much of an inconvenience as a bird shitting on his windshield, Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh and squeezes. “He’s still there because I let him be there. Can’t humiliate the guy completely y’know? He’ll be my family in the future.” 

Your mouth opens as you process his words, unsure if he even realises what he just said. It’s a pass-away promise of commitment, and considering you aren’t even officially dating, you would say it’s thrown you off of Everest and has your mind tumbling down after your body.

It’s probably best to bring it up later though, you don’t want to throw him off, especially considering he’s still going 50mph.

He smirks and revs the engine once more, pushing the car just shy of its limits. “Why so worried? I’ve got a perfect record of keeping you safe, don’t I?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Oh, you mean the ‘perfect’ record that almost just got me toppling over into the ditches of Devil’s Corner?” You roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he grins, then he pulls his attention fully to the finish line up ahead. It’s close enough now that the crowd is visible, and he salutes them with a quick flick of his hand. 

God, he’s so hot when he’s like this. How lazily arrogant his entire racing persona is. You adore his softer side, of course you do, but this side of him gets your own motor running.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t ready to concede. He surges forward, lining up beside you both in a final, determined push, his car engine roaring with a fury that sends chills down your spine. You see him shoot a glare, not just at Jaeyun, but at you as well. But Jaeyun merely returns the look, cool and unbothered, and then, with one final roar of his engine, he edges past the line first, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.

Jaeyun’s car barrels across the finish line with a triumphant howl from the crowd, cheers blending with the echo of his engine as he cuts through the air, a living victory. The thrill radiates off him; he punches the air, letting out a victorious whoop as his foot remains steady on the accelerator. He finally glances over at you, his face alive with pure elation, his cocky grin fully in place. But instead of slowing down, he maintains his speed, the wind whipping through the car as you look back at the receding crowd.

"Wait - where are we going?" you ask confused, looking back as you pass by everyone and leaving them in the wake of victory.

Jaeyun flicks his gaze over, eyes dark with both mischief and longing. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Y/N, but you still owe me my birthday present,” he says hick and low, each word like a steady drumbeat against your pulse.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your own voice steady. “Don’t you want to celebrate with everyone? You just won the Lucifers the grit track and Devil’s Corner.”

He lets out a laugh, deep and incredulous. “Celebrate with everyone else? Princess, I’d be out of my mind to spend one more second without seeing what you have for me. I would be fucking insane, actually.” He eyes you hungrily, already imagining all the possibilities under your dress or up your sleeve. His tongue brushes his bottom lip in a glazing swoop, a promise lingering in his gaze that leaves your cheeks feeling warmer than they should.

He shifts gears, and you glance back to see the track and the crowd becoming distant figures in the rearview mirror, your brother among them. “Besides,” Jaeyun adds, leaning closer as he cuts through the night, “Do you really wanna see Yeonjun right now?”

“...No.”

“Good, then trust me.”

_____

The car halts, tyres crunching over gravel as you take in the scene before you. Below the dark sky, the city sprawls out like a tacky but beautiful Christmas night with glittering lights, each window and streetlamp reminiscent of a fairy light. Below, the river carves an almost silver line through it all, shimmering under the moonlight. It’s too beautiful for you to describe and give it the credit it deserves.

Jaeyun doesn’t speak at first. His hand finds yours, fingers slipping through as he releases a slow, steady breath. He wasn’t aware how badly his muscles were suffocating his bones until now. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, an absent yet soothing gesture, and he finally lets himself relax, the hard lines of his jaw softening as he looks at you. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the relief etched on his face - a look so different from the racer who stared down Devil’s Corner only 20 minutes ago.

For a moment, you both just sit there, silently letting the thrill of the night settle. You turn to him, sensing his guard finally lowered, his eyes holding something warmer, deeper than his usual confident smirk.

“It’s so pretty here,” you murmur softly, nodding towards the city.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, bringing your lips to his hand and kissing your knuckles softly, the tingle from the spark shooting all over your body. “I’d say the view is pretty fucking perfect.”

A blush creeps on your face, his eyes glued onto you as he mumbles the words into your skin, each syllable fluttering to your heart. Of course, he means you. He has seen this exact city view a million times, often coming up here after races to cool off and regather himself. 

It’s the first place he drove to once he heard about Mingi.

It’s the first place he drove to once he met you.

It’s the first time he’s shown someone this spot.

Letting go of your hand, he quickly offers you a small smile before undoing his seatbelt. “C’mon, let's get a closer look.”

With that, you follow him and you both settle against the hood of the car, your shoulders brushing as you take in the sprawling lights below, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. The city glows, pulsing like a heartbeat, life so obvious yet subtle. You tilt your head toward him and nudge him softly.

“So,” you say, half-smiling, “how does it feel?”

“What?” 

“Winning the grit track.”

He shrugs, and his gaze becomes distant, falling somewhere into the night. The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable, the city’s buzz helping to fill the contemplative silence between words. 

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, surprising you into a pause.

“What do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard. After all, this entire night was about winning the territory, claiming a stake over it and expanding the Lucifers’ ground. It sounds like a shitty action movie on Tubi now that you think about it, but that really is what the crews strive for. So for Jaeyun to say he doesn’t care, when he did what his past leaders couldn’t, throws you for a new one.

“The track…he can keep it,” Jaeyun says with a dismissive wave, almost as if he’s letting go of a heavy burden. “It was never about winning a stupid bit of dirt road.” He pauses, biting his lip as he searches for the right words. “I wanted to prove that TC had something to do in Mingi’s accident.”

The words leave his mouth in a rush, and you feel the weight of his pain and loyalty colliding in that confession. Jaeyun’s gaze stays trained on the city, brow furrowed, his jaw set, the ease on his bones only lasting the skip of a jump rope. 

He truly believes that Yeonjun was involved - that he orchestrated some plan to knock Mingi out. You’ve seen Jaeyun’s loyalty; you know Mingi is more than a friend to him, practically family, and Jaeyun’s heart has no room to consider the idea that Mingi could’ve just…lost control.

You scoot closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, sensing how vulnerable this confession has left him. “Look, Jaeyun,” you start, hesitating. “I don’t believe my brother would do something like that. But just because you made it through Devil’s Corner safely this time doesn’t rule out anything, yeah? There’s still a chance he had nothing to do with it…but maybe he did.”

He looks at you, contemplation written in the lines around his eyes, but doubt remains.

“I just can’t accept that it was some accident, you know?” he finally says, his voice tight with frustration. “Mingi was solid. The guy could practically drive in his sleep, and suddenly he spins out there?” His shoulders tense as he talks, each word laced with an anger born of grief and unresolved questions. He wants answers, and you sense how deeply he’s embedded in this conviction.

“Okay, so what if…” You hesitate, not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth right now, but knowing Jaeyun needs something to hold onto his faith in Mingi. “What if Yeonjun did have something to do with Mingi’s accident? He could have been planning it tonight but called it off because I was in the car with you?” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jaeyun lets out a harsh laugh, but it’s not at you. “Then I could have got you fucking hurt, and what kind of man does that make me?”

It’s as if any reasoning or justification for his actions has suddenly all surged to his mouth and left a bitter taste, one that he finds hard to coat over with some mints. In his mind, he convinced himself for the moment that he was saving you, but in actuality, maybe he was just protecting himself. 

He could have lost you.

That though makes him stand up and walk closer to the cliff edge, not enough to cause you alarm, but enough that indicates he’s in the need of feeling free from his mind.

And that’s something you can definitely help with.

Pushing yourself off the car, you reach out to him, lacing your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly from behind. Instantly, he cups your linked hands in his and melts into you, closing his eyes in relief as you kiss his back ever so gently.

“We can’t know what happened that night, Jaeyun, no one ever will. But it’s also not your battle.”

“But I-”

“No. End of story.” You twist him around to face you, your hands dipping your hands into his back pockets. “Mingi and Yeonjun raced that night, the outcome was what it was, and we have to move on. The longer we sit in the past, in this mindset of what if and what could have been, you prolong everyone’s pain, especially yours. And I won’t sit back and watch you do it.”

It’s tough, and you wish you could have laid it all out a little more prettily, but a dagger of truth won’t sink into skin if it’s covered in padding and fluff. 

Jaeyun’s eyes portray a man trying to will himself to argue with you, that fight for his friend still very much alive. Yet, he knows you’re right. He isn’t helping himself by wallowing in the past, he’s only hurting himself and creating a deeper hole in his chest, one that is consuming him alive.

But no one has told him to get the fuck over it. Not until now.

“I know for a fact that Mingi does not want you dwelling on it, especially not tonight. You won the grit track, I’d say he’ll be over the moon with that, wouldn’t you?”

The last nudge is enough to make Jaeyun nod, a small smile creeping on his face. “Yeah. I saw him before the race and all he asked was ‘don’t fucking die and get us that track’.”

“See? You achieved both of those requests, I would say that’s worth celebrating,” you grin widely up at him, relieved to see his jaw loosen and shoulders unravel themselves. “It’s also your birthday…which is another reason to celebrate.”

Jaeyun checks his watch and sucks in a breath, his playful demeanour slowly coming back to the surface, much to your delight. “It’s actually past my birthday now.”

Widening your eyes, you drag his wrist to your face, reading the clock's arms as they disappointingly read 12:04am. The sadness is plastered all over your face, your eyes looking glassy due to both regret and the cold wind nipping them. 

Jaeyun immediately notices your solemn expression and pouts, holding back a laugh. “Princess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t even get to give you your presents.” You are never one for being late with gifts, in fact, you take birthdays so seriously that gifts are often in your friend’s hands early in the morning. Every birthday is precious to you, well, maybe not your own, but you love to make others feel appreciated and seen on the one day that is reserved for them. 

The racer looks at his watch again and reaches for the dial, twisting it back as the small arrow rounds anti-clockwise to the 11. Happily, he flashes the watch’s face in front of yours. “Look, now it’s 11:05pm. You have 55 minutes left.”

A laugh bursts out of you, the heartache over the small inconvenience now lifted by his antics. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to lift you up so easily, it’s his superpower. 

“Okay, which one do you want first?” you step back and place your hand on your hips, exhaling the drama from tonight out of your system. No more racing, no more brother, no more bad thoughts. Just you and Jaeyun celebrating the final hour of his birthday.

“There’s more than one?” he asks in a smug tone. 

“There are three in total. One is your main present and two are tiny little things,” you explain.

Nodding, Jaeyun feigns ponder as he taps his chin. “Well, I think I should save my main for last, so let’s start with the ‘tiny little things’” he repeats back to you, knowing that they won’t in fact be tiny, their significance probably vastly bigger than any other gift he has ever received throughout his previous 21 birthdays.

Holding up a finger, you tell him to wait before you open the right backseat door of his car and retrieve two carefully wrapped gifts. You put in far too much effort in folding each corner perfectly and twirling every bow to sit neatly, but looking at your work now, you can safely say it was all worth it.

Confusion crosses Jaeyun’s pretty face as he points to his car. “When did you sneak into my car and put them in there?” he asks with piqued confusion. He would notice bright yellow wrapping paper with orange ribbons in a minute, the colours bouncing so brightly off his black interior.

“I didn’t,” you shrug as you confess, holding out the two gifts. “I shoved them both under my seat when you paid for the gas yesterday.”

“Your seat, huh?” he repeats with a lace of amusement, taking the top box from your grasp.

“Well, do you drive other women about?”

“Don’t ask fucking ridiculous questions. You’re the only girl.” 

You curse your stomach for flipping out like it’s on an Alton Towers ride, the statement probably meaning nothing significant from his lips. He always says pass away comments like that, and each one you desperately try not to read into too much, your heart having a hard time already with calling this relationship between you both casual, never mind your brain popping up with conspiratorial thoughts that he could see you as something more than his non-girlfriend.

Gently, his hands peel the wrapping paper off, and reveal the first gift. 

“Lollipops?” he laughs out, though joy shines from his features. 

“Well I saw you were running low, and it is my fault you need to stock up on them, so…” you explain sheepishly, your foot carving out nonsense lines in the gravel.

Since you started hooking up, Jaeyun quit smoking. You hate the taste of the cigarette on his tongue and the smell of it in his car, and he caught onto that instantly. The way you would spray your perfume ‘randomly’ after he flicked the butt out his window, or how you offered him a chewing gum coincidently a few minutes before you climbed into his lap and licked into his mouth. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

So he stopped. Cold turkey without a second thought. He still had the itch though, muscle memory constantly bringing something to his lips for a drag. That’s when you gave him a strawberry Chupa Chups and he never looked back. His dentist hates you for it, but his doctor couldn’t be more delighted. 

Taking a cola lollipop from the assorted selection, he unwraps it and places it into his mouth, humming as the beautiful taste hits his tastebuds. His tongue swirls the ball of goodness and he instantly smiles at your reaction, deciding to play on it.

You curse him, his smirk widening as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth just wide enough for you to watch the cola lolly get coated in his saliva, his tongue enveloping it the exact same way he does with your clit when he’s buried face first between your thighs.

Squeezing your legs together in order to stop the flow of arousal from dripping down your leg, you thrust the other present into his chest, retrieving the box of lollipops from him in the process. The further these things are from his mouth right now, the better.

“Okay, now this one,” you urge, clearing your throat and hating the way he pushes the sweet to the side of his mouth, the stick pocking out the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. Somehow, it only made him hotter, like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

God, now you’re even more horny.

Jaeyun nods and flips the gift over, inspecting what it could possibly be. But he’s never been good at guessing, so he quickly tears the paper off, a little more forcefully than the lollipops. A black box adds another layer of suspense and curiosity. “Did you get me a diamond necklace?” he jokes, but once he peels open the lid, nothing is funny anymore.

His eyes flicker between you and the gift. “Y/N…”

“It’s not much, I know. But I thought it was fun,” you explain, scared that it’s not enough.

Picking it from the box, Jaeyun inspects it carefully. To most, it’s just a keyring, but to him, it’s the most thoughtful gift he has ever been given. The mini replica of his precious car, clearly hand-decorated by you stands out - the red decals and perfectly selected interior act as a mirror to the real thing; even the license plate has his famous J4K3YUN etched into it. The black Honda Civic replica sits so tiny yet powerful in his hands. 

It was the first car he could afford. Everyone laughed at him - even Mingi - when he turned up to his first race. It’s a shitty little car with not much horsepower, but considering he was only seventeen when he started racing, he could hardly afford to put his student loan into a BMW or Aston Martin. Instead, he modified it, just enough to put his name out there.

His baby has never let him down since. All those times everyone has pestered him to trade her in have never crossed his mind. Even you know how much she means to him. Why else would you have given him an oversized keyring of it?

You know him, and that squeezes Jaeyun’s throat, stopping him from expressing thanks.

“If you pop open the boot, it has something inside,” you point out, excited. He’s made modifications to the real thing, but you got crafty with the mini-me.

“Can anything even fit in this?” he laughs but nonetheless, opens the boot - and it is not what he was expecting. 

The interior has been prettily painted pastel pink, with glitter and gems perfectly placed inside, crowding the minuscule space. The first initials of your names are enveloped in a shakily drawn heart. It’s pretty and so very, very you.

Jaeyun’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you interpret it as pure adoration, injecting some pride into your chest. He likes it - thank fuck.

“I thought it was fun, since y’know, on the outside you’re all tough and metal but inside you’re just a sparkly pink princess.” You place the lollipop box on the hood and step closer, inspecting your work once more - as if you haven’t been scrutinizing every detail of it over the past month. 

Throwing his head back in a laugh, he blinks away the joy in his tear ducts and nods, sighing out in defeat. “I’m not so sure ‘princess’ is the word I’d use-” he starts, only for you to interrupt.

“Oh, you are,” you insist, taking the lollipop from his mouth and placing it in your own, “You’re the prettiest princess to ever exist, actually.”

“I think that title is reserved for you, baby,” he grins fondly, eyes raking over every feature of your face as you savour the taste of the cola sweet. “Thank you…so much, Y/N, no one has ever gotten me something so thoughtful. I really love-...it. A lot.” His throat tightens, words tangling up in his chest, but thankfully, you don’t seem to notice

Nodding, you give him a soft kiss, careful not to poke him with the lollipop stick, before taking the gift back, carefully placing it and the lollipops in the car for safekeeping. “Now, do you want your big present?” You wiggle your brows and shut the car door, almost skipping back to your spot in front of him.

Jaeyun was so caught up with everything tonight that he forgot that this was the reason he whisked you away as soon as the race ended, at least, it was the shallow reason. The deeper reason is something he won’t speak out into the night air.

Placing his hands on your hips, glides his hands up and down your sides, the warmth from his palms blissfully welcome. You love this dress, the way you feel in it, how it makes you look, but it isn’t exactly good for fighting the nipping cold away, especially considering the wind is much thinner up on the cliff.

“My big present…” he repeats, bringing his face down to yours, his hot breath creating a rose tint along your cheeks. “I think I want that more than anything right now.” His confession is raw and more than surface-level lust. He has so many emotions running through his body right now, and he knows that your present is going to be exactly what he needs.

“You need to unwrap it then.” The smirk on your face is contagious and your voice is low. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what your gift is, but he’s in for a treat nonetheless.

Jaeyun does pause for a moment, his hands fiddling with your zipper at the back but hesitant. “I think my gift might freeze to death if I unwrap it here, don’t you think?” 

You hadn’t…thought about that actually. To be honest, when it comes to Jaeyun’s cock, that’s probably the only thing you think about. Rain or shine, snow or fog; if his dick is close to being inside of you, you’ll face any weather.

His fingers pinch the zipper and tug it down slowly, the winter air biting up your spine, but the shivers that are rippling through your body aren’t from freezing; the opposite in fact. The ghost of his fingertip creates a heated surge through your body, your skin igniting with pure desire. 

Pushing the dress off your shoulders, your tits are laid bare in front of him, nipples hard and much more delicous than any lollipop Jaeyun could ever suck. They’re perfect, so perfect that he has a hard time putting his love for them into words.

“No bra?” he asks cheekily, that cocky boy everyone loves swimming to the surface of the night. 

Shaking your head, you close your eyes as he cups them delicately. “Dress didn’t look right with it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jaeyun’s thumbs flick over your hardened buds as he backs you up to the hood, you ass perched against the edge, a welcomed seat considering your legs could turn to jelly at any moment.

Truth be told, it was the main reason you didn’t wear a bra, with the tightness of the dress, it didn’t allow much more room for any extra padding. But you can’t lie and say that you also didn;t adorn one because it would save time.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation, will I?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of your throat before travelling down, sending waves of warmth through you with each kiss.

You feel the cool press of the hood beneath you as he lifts you up to perch you, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples now you’re at the perfect height, his tongue tracing lazy, agonising circles that make your breath catch. He shifts to the other, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as he bites gently, eyes smouldering with a dark intensity that only makes you want him more. 

With each flick of his tongue, your mind fogs over, the chill of the night air long forgotten. His mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he works his way down, fingers slipping under the fabric gathered at your hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines along your waist.

“Are these new?” he hikes your dress up so only your waist is covered and your new panties are on full display for him. It’s incredible how he noticed initially through touch alone, his mind cataloguing each thong, brief, and lacey panty you own. 

“Yeah, got them a few days ago.” You don’t need to tell him that you bought them specifically for his birthday, he will know just by the Ivory colour alone.

A playful smirk curves on his lips as he takes in the sight of your new lingerie, his fingers grazing over the delicate lace with a possessive tenderness. “I thought so,” he murmurs, voice low and almost reverent as his thumb hooks under the fabric, dragging it down with aching slowness, leaving your cunt exposed, yet you feel anything but vulnerable.

There is a thrill of anticipation that crackles between you as his hands linger, his thumb tracing a line along your thigh. You’re so consumed with how close he is to your heat that you almost miss his other hand coming up to remove the cola lolly from your mouth. 

“Open up,” he instructs, which you blindly follow, releasing the delicious treat from your mouth. “Good girl. Now, spread open for me.”

“Jaeyu-”

“It’s my birthday, Princess. I still have,” he checks his rewound watch, “36 minutes left, so until then, you gotta do what I say, yeah?” 

That sounds perfect to you if you weren’t aware of how much of a tease he is. He’s going to torture you on the hood of his car, you know it, but you relent anyway, giving him a sharp nod and breathing out slowly.

Your legs spread wide, your feet finding stability on his bumper. The compromising position could mean anything, your mind flashing with all the possibilities of what he could do to you.

And by fuck, does he have a sweet, sweet plan.

A glint of mischief flickers in his gaze as he tilts the lollipop, the cola sweet glistening in the moonlight as he brings it down to hover just above your entrance. The sticky sweetness clings to the night air, and you feel your body tense with anticipation, each nerve heightened by the thrill of surrendering control.

He runs the candy along your inner thigh first, slow and deliberate, leaving a faint, sugary trail that he follows with his mouth. The coolness of the lollipop contrasts sharply with the warmth of his breath, sending shivers skittering up your spine as his lips and tongue trace after, claiming every inch of sweetness he’s left on your skin.

Finally, he presses the lollipop between your folds, teasingly dragging it up and down without quite giving you what you need, his eyes fixed on your reactions, devouring every tremor, every bite of your lip and jerk of your hips as the lollipop circles your clit. The sensation is maddening, the blend of sticky from the sweet and your own juices only heightens the ache building within you, and he seems to revel in the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. He wants to take his time.

The lolly ghosts your entrance before he presses it ever so slightly inside, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation. His mouth follows close behind, claiming you with a slow, deliberate kiss that has your toes curling against the bumper, his tongue tracing the sweetness lingering on your skin.

A wave of heat radiates through you as Jaeyun continues his maddeningly slow pace, the lollipop pressed just at your entrance, teasing and coaxing you in a way that has your pulse racing, much like how it was when you were near death on Devil’s Corner. 

He dips the lollipop in a little further, the rounded edge pressing in just enough to make you gasp and claw at his car bonnet, and then he draws it back out, running it up and over your clit with agonising patience. The pressure of the sweet gliding over your most sensitive spot has you squirming, but his hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving on his lips as he swirls the lollipop slowly, tracing lazy circles that leave you breathless. The candy, now coated in your own slick, sends shockwaves through you, and you feel yourself clenching, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more. Jaeyun seems to notice, and he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling against your inner thigh.

With one last, lingering drag of the candy over your clit, he brings it to his mouth, sucking in the mix of flavours. Your sweetness mixing on his tastebuds with the cola makes his eyes roll and contemplate opening up a business just for him that sells pussy flavoured lollies. Specifically, your pussy, of course.

“You’re fucking delicious, Princess,” he moans out, sucking the pop with fervour. You’re so jealous and you curse ever buying him them. But not really, the scene of his tongue lapping it up eagerly, mixed with the saliva that's glistening on his lips only adds a series of precious memories that you can happily store in your wank bank.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it just rough enough for him to growl. “Please, I’m trying to cum for you before your birthday ends.”

“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh and tosses the almost obsolete lolly away, the stick hidden by the gravel that swallows it. “I can make that happen.”

“Good-”

“If you beg.”

You freeze, resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. If there is one thing you hate most in the world, it’s begging for a man. You can submit to Jaeyun, sure, that’s easy enough. But there’s something so humiliating about having to plead for your own pleasure. He never makes you beg, usually too fucking impatient himself to play that game, so this is not exactly in your forte.

“I’m not begging. No way.” You cross your arms and shake your head adamantly. 

Jaeyun’s smirk widens as he sees your defiance, his gaze darkening with something that borders on both amusement and challenge. “Really now?” he murmurs as his thumb traces slow circles on your inner thigh, inching achingly close but not quite where you want him. “You’re gonna stand by that?”

His eyes roam over you, taking in the way your body reacts despite your stubbornness, and you can feel the tension building in the air as he leans in, his lips hovering just above your core, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. The anticipation sends shivers racing over your skin, but you keep your arms crossed, refusing to relent. 

“I know you hate it. You’re so powerful, baby. I adore that about you,” he continues in a low murmur, voice laced with a teasing edge, “But just once, for me?” He pouts, bottom lip overtaking his entire face and somehow making him look even more irresistible.

That fucking pout.

With a small laugh, he shifts down, pressing soft and tongue-focused kisses along your thighs, each one closer than the last. His breath is warm, and you can feel the control slipping from you with every careful movement.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, eat me out.” 

“Come on, Princess. If you’re going to beg, I want to hear you properly.”

“Jaeyun,” you whine, already flushing up with embarrassment.

“How about,” his mouth places one feather-light kiss on your clit, a gasp of pleasure drawing from your lips, “I beg you to beg me? Then we’re both on the same boat.” 

Now, while you don’t like to beg, you love to hear Jaeyun beg. There have been countless times when you’re on your knees, much like he is now, and your mouth is a hairline away from his tip, and he’s thrashing under you, moaning out pleas and needs in a higher pitch, wanting nothing more than you to consume his painfully hard cock in his mouth.

Jaeyun doesn’t have humility when he is with you, he’ll scratch and claw at the bedsheets, whine out your name in desperation, and have you take full control if you want to. You wish you could be more like that, because fuck does it look beautiful, and you know he will love it if you’re a crying, pleading mess under him. 

It would be the perfect birthday gift, actually.

So with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Okay. But only if you go first.”

Jaeyun smirks and rubs some heat back into your legs. With soft, kitten-like licks, he plays between your folds, giving you an inch of what's to come. “Princess, please beg for me. I’ve been such a good birthday boy, have I not? I need to hear you want me, the same way I need you. This pretty pussy deserves to be devoured, and I can only do that if you beg for it. Please, baby. Pretty please with a lollipop on top.”

God, he is so fucking good at it. Somehow he still sounds so strong and assured even when you can hear the cracks in his voice and the tremble on his lips. His hips buck the air, mimicking what he wants to do with you, his cock leading him, thinking with his second head.

Whimpering, you look down to see him adorning that pretty pout once again, and you crumble.

“I nod. Jaeyun…please make my cum on your tongue, let me give you the best birthday gift. I want you to lap me up and never stop, make you remember this birthday for the rest of your life. Please, baby.”

You don’t cringe, instead letting your desperation take charge, which gladly works. Jaeyun groans loudly at your filthy words as they echo over the cliff, giving the city indication of what’s taking place. His cock is so painfully hard against his jeans that he wonders if it has the ability to tear through the material like Hulk when he transforms. It certainly feels like it could.

“Good girl,” he praises, before giving you what you crave.

Connecting his mouth to your core, his skilled tongue has you keening, head falling back against the car hood as he licks a broad, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. His lips close around you, his tongue flicking and swirling as he loses himself in the taste of you, his hands spreading your thighs even wider to hold you firmly in place.

He slurps and devours you, humming into your hole in pure lust. Jaeyun loves nothing more than being buried in pussy, he could spend the rest of his life between thighs, your thighs. The added tints of cola still lingering on your skin only heighten his arousal, the sweet tang mixture enough for him to dig his nails into your thighs and bury further in.

Arching your back, your thighs fight his grip as they try and clamp around his head, the way his tongue dips into your hole, rimming it with teasing strokes before shooting back in makes your head dizzy, the November air suddenly feeling like a July breeze - welcomed and just right.

“Fuck,” you hiss out as he bites at your folds, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth, another way of tormenting you yet giving you everything you could want. His bottom teeth drag up to your clit with his puffy bottom lip trailing behind it like a soothing balm. 

You’re starting to wonder whether it’s his birthday or yours.

With precision, Jaeyun latches onto your clit and suddenly, you’re seeing more stars in the sky, body lurching forward as you trap him there. The tension coils tightly in your stomach, and he takes his time, alternating between sucking and licking, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back just before you can tip over, savouring every second of your mounting need.

“Jaeyun, please…” you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, and he hums against you, sending a shudder through your entire body. 

“See? You can beg so easily,” he mocks playfully, smirking as your thighs act as earmuffs. Despite the barricade, he can still hear every plea and mewl that falls from your lips, indicating that you’re close.

So, he picks up the pace, his hands gripping under your ass to push you further into his face. His round nose nuzzles your nub as his tongue swirls around inside your cunt, the tip of his tongue committing every bump and nook to memory - not like he hasn’t already. He knows everything about you, that’s what happens when you spend seven months doting on and worshipping the same person.

Grabbing tightly onto his hair, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to pull apart, the threads of rope straining as your climax tugs. “I’m cumming…fuck, Jaeyun,” you warn, but it’s not breaking news to the man causing the euphoria. He’s licking, sucking, and biting with ferocity because he knows you’re falling apart

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your body, his tongue flicking over you with such skill it has you trembling. “Come on, Princess. Let go for me,” he whispers, his words like a command, and your body is happy to obey.

And then, it hits you - the release crashing through you, sending shudders of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You can’t stop it, your back arching as you clutch at his hair, your thighs trembling as the wave washes over you, and Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He keeps going, worshipping you like he’s addicted to your taste, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

Your chest heaves and your body goes limp as he cleans your pussy, making sure he takes every drop of his birthday gift. You taste heavenly, your cum swirling in his mouth as he slurps and sucks, the shocks jolting up your spine each time he nudges over your clit.

Once your legs release his head, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, mouth covered in your essence. “Thank you, baby,” he praises, his chest filled with a cocktail of emotions, the first as foremost one being adoration. “With 10 minutes to spare too,” he laughs, glancing at his watch.

Jaeyun stands up, kissing you with passion. He transfers your juices onto your mouth and you groan at the taste. All those days of downing pineapple and cranberry juice always pay off. His tongue licks yours, taking over your entire mouth as he claims you. His lips are sweet but his touch is anything but, you know he’s desperate, if his actions weren’t enough, the painful bulge that’s bucking into your sensitive folds is enough to tell you.

Swiftly, your hands move to his buckle, undoing it amongst the breathtaking kisses. It doesn’t take you more than a minute to undo his jeans and push them just low enough that his ass is on full display and his hard shaft can spring free. His cock is so pretty, like a work of art; six inches of pure joy. You’ve lost count of how many times this cock has made you come undone, the curve of it hitting perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for you. In some ways, you think it is.

Spreading your legs once again, you wrap your hand around his cock, the heat from it a stark contrast to your still cold hands. The sensation elicits a hiss from the birthday boy, his lips pulling from yours as he looks down. Your hand just fits around his length, and that makes his tip twitch. He’s proud of his size, but somehow he loves it even more when in the clasp of your fingers.

You press it against your wet core and he loses any sense of control he had left.

With a primal growl, he grabs your hips and lines up at your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. Between your outfit, the rush of the race, your cries of pleasure from his tongue work, and the overwhelming tightness in his heart, he needs to be inside you. Now.

Jaeyun slides in fully with one thrust, both of you creating a beautiful harmony of moans that echo like a choir in the night. His cock fills you up to the brim, his balls sitting comfortably against your ass. You feel like fucking heaven, in fact, if he was to die right now, he would do so happily. Those pearl gates could only mirror the happiness and alleviation that he feels as he buried himself to the hilt inside your warm hole.

His forehead rests on your shoulder, his lips peppering a succession of kisses just above your collarbone as he begins to move his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each bump of your walls hugging him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Princess,” he mumbles, officially lost in the act of pleasure. He’s not thinking about anything else, just how your wet heat feels enveloping him.

You can’t say your thoughts aren’t also only consumed by the tip of his cock poking your cervix so deliciously, his balls slapping against you almost mimicking a spank each time. His thrusts pick up pace and you both lose yourselves in one another, chanting praises and curses to convey your feelings.

Jaeyun’s hands roam over your body as his cock pounds into you, switching from holding your hips in place to kneading your breasts, each one serving their own purpose. He wants you still so he can keep hitting that perfect spot over and over again, the squishy spec in your cunt his main target, but your tits bouncing in the moonlight keep distracting him, his cock losing power as his brain gets clouded in the movements.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he confesses, kissing the valley between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

Your heart hammers harder, the pulse resounding in your ear as you smile gratefully. “So are you, Jaeyun.” And you mean it. He’s the most beautiful person inside and out, you’re never going to meet anyone like him again, and that’s what terrifies you.

Jaeyun locks his eyes on yours, his hips finding a new determined rhythm. He presses his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose with yours in a kiss. How is it possible to feel so adored and cherished by a man you have no label with? That’s the question running through your mind as you stare into his soul, begging for him to answer.

And in some way, he does. His pupils shine with nothing but your reflection, showing just how deeply you're ingrained in him. Though neither of you may voice exactly what this is, you both know it.

As you lose yourselves in each other, that familiar coil tightens low in your belly, heat pooling with a desperate need for release. You dig your nails into Jaeyun's shoulders and bury your face in his neck, signalling you're close.

Gripping your waist, he matches your rhythm, pushing you both to the edge—metaphorically this time, thankfully. He's already brought you close enough to danger tonight; there’s no need to test fate again.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he urges, jaw clenched as he holds back his own release. He’s never been one to finish before his girl.

With his coaxing and the delicious sensation of him deep inside, you reach your climax once more, this time more intense than you expected. You bite down on his neck to muffle your moans, and like a domino, he spills into you. 

His white ropes soothe your cunt, painting your walls with his adoration of you. The best decision you ever made was getting an IUD. You know it’s not full protection, but for the feeling of his seed filling you up like a cream piping bag, you’re willing to take the risk.

Jaeyun holds you close, his breath mingling with yours as both of you come down from the high, eyes blazing secret confessions into one another. The steady thud of his heart under your palm feels grounding, almost comforting in the quiet aftermath. You shift slightly, feeling his warmth begin to fade in the cool night air, yet he doesn’t let you go just yet, keeping you wrapped up in him.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper softly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. 

Mirroring your expression, he melts into your pepper kisses as you trail down his neck, paying extra attention to the skin you marked up with your canines. His large hands glide up your back and hold you close to him. “Thank you.” It’s simple, but he’s biting his tongue, the moment too perfect to destroy with his post-nut brain.

You sense his apprehension and lean back, gazing into his eyes and studying the specs of his brain that you can make out. “You okay? You’re usually cracking out a joke by now,” you ask playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of concern in your tone.

Jaeyun bites his lips together, preparing himself to possibly make the biggest mistake of his life. He pulls out of you, jerking his cock clean enough that he can get away with it, before tucking it back into his trousers. 

Oh no.

Your mind does everything to convince you that this isn’t going to end the way you think it will. The efforts to soothe your racing mind falter just at the finish line. This is it. He’s going to hit you with the ‘this has been fun but it’s not what I want anymore’ or ‘hey, so this was great but you’re not what i’m looking for’. Whatever concoction of those sentences he wants to spin, you know it’s going to hurt. You’re in too deep.

And you would much rather be humiliated with your clothes on. So you jump off the hood of the car, your slick glistening in the night lights like a snail trail. Suddenly, the acts you just took part in have turned from euphoric to sickly.

“Listen-”

“I meant it,” he interrupts, not even letting you end this before he can. “I really mean it when I say you’re the only girl for me.”

You’re waiting on the but, yet it never comes. Instead, he’s biting his lip nervously, looking at you but not into your eyes, his focus on your forehead like a sniper in the woods. And you feel like you’ve been shot, just not in the hurtful way you were expecting, it’s almost like you’re on the receiving end of a blank and the shock is ringing in your ears more than anything.

You stand dumbfounded, zipping up your dress at the back. “Huh?” It’s stupid and not what you want to ask, but your flabber has been gasted.

Jaeyun groans and rubs over his face. “I don’t want anyone else. And I know you’re annoyingly loyal to Yeonjun, but I can’t pretend that this isn’t more than what it is.” He steps forward and cups your flushed face, the cold now settling upon it once again. “I. Love. You. I have for fucking months, and…I don’t know, I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

I. Love. You.

It’s such a simple and common phrase, yet hearing it in his accent, from his mouth, directed at you, you find it foreign. 

Jaeyun hates the silence that follows, the horns from the cars down below act like a mocking laugh to the moment. He knows its risky, confessing his feelings so bluntly, but if he had to keep them in any longer then he might have buried them forever and harboured an even deeper resentment towards himself and your brother.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, I get that. But can we call a spade a spade and admit that we love each other?” He insists, now finding his confidence. Go big or go home, he supposes. He’s convinced you love him too, you look at him the way he does you, and even if it’s only a tiny speckle of love that you hold for him, he needs you to admit it. For his sanity, and yours.

You can’t process a single thought beyond his words, their weight pressing down on you, making it impossible to breathe for a second. The world falls quiet around you, the buzzing city and distant hum of traffic fading as your mind hones in on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lip as he waits.

“Jaeyun,” you manage, though it barely comes out above a whisper, “This isn’t…this isn’t exactly what we agreed on.” Stupid. Why the fuck are you saying that NOW.

“I know, but I also know you feel it too.” His thumb moves tenderly across your cheek, brushing over the spot where a tear might fall if you let it. “And if there’s even the slightest chance that you feel what I feel, I just need to know.” He pauses, his voice softening as he meets your gaze fully. “Because you’re it for me. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you completely. You deserve to be loved, and although I might not deserve to be the one to give you that, I want to try.”

You want to look away, to retreat and give yourself a chance to think, but his eyes are pleading with you to stay present, to face this. And the truth is, in some corner of your heart that you've tried to ignore, you know what he's saying is true.

But Yeonjun…If he finds out, he’ll never forgive you. It’s one thing to be in a fun fling with his rival, it’s another to be completely and utterly head over heels for the boy.

The silence is thick, but there’s an odd comfort in it. You reach up, covering his hand with yours, grounding yourself in his warmth. “I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, voice trembling. “And I…I don’t know how we’d make it work without hurting Yeonjun.”

Jaeyun’s grip tightens, his confidence anchoring you. “I’ll make it work. I’ll do everything to make sure he accepts it. I’ll step down as the Lucifer’s leader, I’ll get on my knees and beg, baby I will do whatever it takes to get him on our side. I don’t want to come between you both, I know how precious he is to you, and you to him,” he pauses, breathing out and collecting his thoughts before he goes on a desperate faffing rant, his point losing focus. “I love you, and that means loving every part of you.”

“In the car…” you begin, voice unsure, “You said something about how Yeonjun would become your family, you meant-”

“Yeah, listen. Don’t freak out about that. I was jumping the gun with that one…but I mean, is it so unplausible? For us to be together? To imagine a future with you?”

“There’s a big difference between jumping into dating and leaping into marriage, Jaeyun.”

“Okay? So we’ll hold back on the leaping for now,” he laughs, pressing his forehead to yours, “but tell me you’ll jump.”

His breath mingles with yours, warm and steadying, grounding you in a way that makes your hesitation falter. "Jaeyun," you begin, your voice so soft it barely carries the weight of what you’re feeling. "It’s terrifying to even think about, you know that, right? Yeonjun is…he's been there my whole life, my protector, my brother…you’re asking me to risk that.”

"I know." He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles along your cheek, calming and reassuring. "And I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t believe with every part of me that we’re worth it. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready; whether that’s now, or tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. I’m in this, Y/N. All the way. I just need you to say yes."

Your lips part, the words catching in your throat, suspended between the comfort of safety and the thrill of the unknown. Slowly, you reach out and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Alright," you say, a tremor of nerves mingling with the glint of determination in your eyes. "I’ll jump…but you’d better catch me, Jaeyun."

A grin breaks across his face, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rivalry, the fear, even Yeonjun. It’s just you and him, exactly how it should have been from the beginning.

"Always," he whispers, voice filled with quiet conviction. Then he closes the distance between you, sealing your promise with a kiss that’s soft, lingering, and brimming with all the words neither of you dared to speak out loud.

But maybe it’s time you do

“I love you too, Jaeyun,” you confess, eyes boring into his heart.

His eyes widen for a split second, and you see the disbelief flicker across his face, not quite sure he heard you right. But then his gaze softens, and a smile breaks across his face, one so genuine and unguarded that it sends warmth flooding through you. His hand tightens around yours, squeezing his happiness into your veins and bones.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that leaves your heart aching. “I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants, kissing all over your face, causing you to scrunch up and laugh, attempting to push him away but failing - not that you’re going to complain about that.

There’s a sense of relief, a lightness you haven’t felt in so long, as if all the weight of secrecy and uncertainty has lifted. For once, you’re not worrying about the consequences, about what could go wrong or who might get hurt. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the truth laid bare between you.

“Yes, okay, we love each other! Enough!” you giggle between his million and one kisses.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with reverence. “I’m never letting you go now, you realise that, don’t you?”

You nod, a smile creeping across your face, and pull him in for another kiss, this one filled with the promise of everything that lies ahead. “Oh I know. Just wait till I tell your crew,” you laugh, pushing him away. “‘Oh, Y/N, I love you sooooo much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me-'”

Your imitation is cut short, his hand flying over your mouth as he suppresses a laugh, trying to portray fear that isn’t truly there. “C’mon! You can’t ruin my reputation like that,” he whines, giving you that signature pout. 

“Oh but I will-” Without warning, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he carried you to the backseat. “Jaeyun! Put me down!”

“I’m going to fuck every word and thought out of that pretty brain of yours so you never utter my soft side to a soul,” he playfully jabs, opening the backseat and tossing you inside.

“Well…I have a lot of thoughts…and words,” you reply, biting your lip as you settle across the seats, legs already accommodating for him.

“Then it’s gonna be a long night. I suppose I’ll need to turn my clock back some more, don’t you think?”

____

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[vnti-vntiety-recs]

The Cat Burglar's Heist

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration 'Choose your own adventure' story

Dragon x fem!reader— hate fucking, rough sex, marking, fire breath play, restraints (tail)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

You stomp out of Minotaur Boss’ office in a blind rage. Your vision blurring with either anger or arousal, you’re not exactly sure. The sound of the door slamming open doesn’t attract any attention, your coworkers far too busy fucking to watch how hot you look when mad. But you can’t help but watch them, eyes drawn to the carefree way they drown in their pleasure. Caring more for satisfying themselves than continuing to work their job.

It was simply astonishing. They all hold a freedom you’ve never known. Not until yesterday when you got here, that is. The longer you stare the hotter your body grows, your pussy gushing with arousal. You feel your world spin, trying to accommodate to your new reality as you would have to accommodate a massive cock. Your thoughts quickly stray away from your mission, the arousal overtaking the anger brewing within you.

For a moment you seriously consider joining one of them. If this is your new life, who’s to say you shouldn’t take advantage of it? You bite your lip, slowing your pace as you walk past a pair of Cat Hybrids who look like they’re in heat.

No—

You can’t risk getting too distracted right now. You had to go confront your Dragon Headhunter and maybe, just maybe, you can blow some of this steam off on him. In whatever form that may take. With a deep inhale you try and clear some of the lust clouding your mind. You turn back toward the conference room, intent on going in, when you immediately bump into a man devouring someone like it’s his last meal.

A small yelp leaves you as you go flying back, not wanting to interrupt, but you quickly lose your footing and once again go tumbling to the ground. You briefly wonder if that sexy Secretary Bunny will catch you again. No! Focus! But then a pair of hands are on you and your heart, and your pussy, flutters.

The stranger’s hands quickly switch you around, causing you to plop firmly in his lap as you straddle him. A moan freely slips past your lips as you already feel his fully hard cock beneath you. As your head snaps up to look at your new rescuer your jaw drops, your eyes sweeping over his infuriatingly and impossibly perfect features.

But unlike everyone else you’ve met in this city… he appears perfectly human. That is until his eyes flicker, his pupils forming a small flame to reflect his burning desire. He wasn’t a human, he was a robot. No wonder he’s the most perfect specimen you’ve ever seen. You glance down, eyes trailing his form when you notice his IT badge. How ironic.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the main event falling right into my lap,” he purrs, voice smooth as silk as he leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw.

A small whine leaves you, his skin impossibly smooth against yours. Your eyes flutter and you hate how easily you melt against him. An IT Robot shouldn’t be so damn comfortable. You find yourself baring your neck to him, seeking more of his touch. His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin and you shiver, unintentionally grinding against him. Or was it on purpose? Fuck, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Technically you got me into your lap,” you sigh with bliss, your brain only growing fuzzier the longer you stay in his embrace.

It was like he knew exactly where and how to touch you. You were sure it was just from some strange programming he’s downloaded but who were you to question it? The IT Robot’s touch slips beneath your shirt and his large hands caress your curves reverently.

“And what else can I get you to do with me?” IT Robot’s voice rasps and curls into your ear as if putting you under a spell. A spell called his cock. He rolls his hips as he speaks, pressing his hard length roughly against your clothed clit.

“Nngh… N-nothing! I have to go, but damn I wish I didn’t,” you say through gritted teeth.

You force yourself out of his lap, your body vibrating and your cunt pulsing with need. You push the office chair he was sitting in away from you and he laughs. The chair stops as it bumps into another person but his eyes don’t stray from you.

“You’re always welcome, doll.”

It takes all the strength left in your tired and yet still somehow horny body to turn away from the sexy IT Robot but you do. You keep your eyes firmly trained on Conference room D, determined to see this through. Your Dragon Headhunter is the only one right now who deserves the impact of all your pent up emotions.

As you near the door, you stop short, surprised when it opens. For a second you wait with bated breath, wondering if maybe the Dragon Headhunter is looking for you too. You don’t even question the way your pussy floods with arousal. But your stomach drops as a Fae walks out of the conference room and sneaks off, not even seeing you staring after them.

Your fury returns tenfold to the point where you can’t even think straight. You rush for the door, barging in and smashing it closed behind you. The Dragon Headhunter jumps from the noise, lazily glancing over his shoulder at you. Your eyes automatically widen, a gasp leaving you as you finally see him in person. You’d video called dozens of times yet it all paled in comparison to seeing him face-to-face.

He was broad and painstakingly attractive. His scales glimmer in the sunlight that streaks in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His suit fits tight against his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination of what lies beneath. The fabric clinging to his thick ass and strong thighs. A slow smirk forms on his lips. The sight has you shuddering where you stand and it only serves to make you more angry.

“Well, if it isn’t my newest treasure…”

Your eyes flash, focus returning back to his face. Just in time too to see the smug look painted across his face. You’re in front of him in an instant only to push him back. The creature barely even moves. He sways, although you know he only did it for your benefit.

“Where have you been? You have no idea what’s happened today?” you ask lowly, hands shaking from your anger. Sure, the dicks been great, but this wasn’t how you expected your new life to start.

It’s Dragon Headhunter’s turn to look you up and down, noting your disheveled appearance and lustful expression. It has his smirk growing somehow wider across his face. He crosses his arms, admiring what he’s done to you, what this city has turned you into.

“I believe I have an idea.”

The air grows thick between you and the Dragon Headhunter. You can barely breathe, only managing short shaky breaths as you stare each other down. Your skin burns under his gaze but you refuse to squirm and let him win.

“Of course you do. ‘Cause you fucking tricked me into coming here. Why?” You ask firmly, finally demanding answers from him. You won’t be leaving here without them. And you’ll do anything to get them.

You slowly walk up to him, trying your best to intimidate a beast such as him. But all you do is make yourself feel smaller as he towers over you. The height different has your pussy clenching around nothing. His nostrils immediately flare and you know he can smell how turned on you are. You cry out and push him back again with all your strength.

“Why?!” You demand with a ragged shout.

Without a single word, Dragon Headhunter swoops down and claims your lips in a searing kiss to shut you up. A low moan rumbles through your throat and the Dragon responds with one of his own. One that has you turning to mush in his arms. Your mouths clash together as they fight for dominance. The Dragon’s claws sink into the flesh of your wide hips and he whirls you around, pressing your ass into the conference room table.

Dragon Headhunter ravages you, his tongue swirling through your mouth as if trying to taste every last bit of you. He pushes against you harder and harder until he growls and lifts your plush frame up like it’s nothing and drops you easily on top of the table. You grunt and throw his arms off of you, forcing him to kiss at your pace. His claws sink into the wood and screech loudly as he drags them down, trying to resist grabbing at you again. But as you suck his tongue into your mouth he can’t take it any longer.

He pushes you all the way down on the table with as much as a small shove. You cry out as you go flying back, glaring at him. Dragon Headhunter starts furiously trying to shred off your clothes. You grunt and wrestle against him to get your clothes off without ruining them. He doesn’t bother, shredding his own clothes with a few swipes of his claws. You two glare at each other even as lust fills your gazes. He jerks your legs open to reveal your glistening folds and smoke leaves his snout with his huffs.

“This is where I fucked that pathetic little fae and now it’s where I’m gonna give you their sloppy seconds,” he snarls in your face and you grit your teeth. Your stomach churns with a jealous rage.

Before you can snap back at him, Dragon Headhunter snaps his hips forward, impaling you on his massive cock with a solid stroke. Fire shoots from your core and burns through your entire body. A fierce scream echoes off the walls and your pussy spasms around his girth as your body tries to adjust to being split open on his cock.

But the Dragon barely lets you take a breath before he’s rearing back and snapping his hips back against yours. You groan lowly, actually thankful for all your previous lays today as they helped prepare you for this. Your pussy opens up for him, allowing him to drive in even deeper inside you with each movement. Letting your fury fuel you, jerk your hips, meeting his thrusts. The Dragon’s eyes roll back in his head.

“F-fuuuuck— augh— knew this fuckhole was gonna be good without even seeing it. Looked like a damn slut who’d take anything given to them,” he says darkly, his tongue slipping as he gets more and more lost in the pleasure of your cunt.

Your eyes narrow at him, no matter how good he’s making you feel. Each pump of his hips brushes along every nerve in your core and it sends you flying, your body shaking with unimaginable pleasure. Your sopping cunt sucks him back in with every thrust, needing him inside you despite everything.

Wanting to drive him to the brink of insanity, your hands snap out and sink in between his sensitive scales. The Dragon throws back his head and lets out a ferocious roar. Then he falls forward, elbows caging you in and rutting up into your perfect pussy.

“Tell me why you sold me on this job. Did you think I was right for it?” you ask lowly, your breaths mingling with your close vicinity. Needing to ask and know the truth.

Dragon Headhunter chuckles and your pussy flutters around him, making him groan. He leans in and bites down on your neck, marking you with the memory of this moment. Then he leans back enough to look in your eye to deliver the blow.

“Nah, I just wanted this sweet cunt,” he says breathlessly, his words so simple yet infuriating. You dig your nails into the flesh beneath his scales the Dragon groans in pain, his hips surging forward into your tight heat.

“Fuck you.”

Dragon Headhunters eyes burn brightly, finally matching the anger in your own gaze. He smirks wickedly, flashing his fangs at you in a clear threat.

“Gladly.”

His tail whips out, quickly wrapping around your wrists and pinning you to the table. With a growl that sends chills up your spine, the Dragon picks up his pace, fucking up into you with a stamina your poor human body can barely handle as it jerks up with every thrust. A loud mewl rips from your throat as his cock bullies into your cervix with each stroke. His eyes gleam devilishly as he watches how much of a mess he’s turning you into.

But it’s not enough. His free hand flies to your puffy little clit and rubs your bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. Your jaw drops, all the sensations building up inside you have you nearly losing your mind.

You scream in relief a when you finally fall off the edge. Your body shaking, hips rising off the table with the force of your orgasm. For a moment you see white and you hear the Dragon roar once more as he follows right after you. And when you open your eyes you gasp to see fire shooting out from his throat, teasing you. The heat it emits just turns you on even more, prolonging an already intense climax.

It’s only once you finally come down from the high of a lifetime do you seem to gain common sense again. You huff, your anger still palpable but more half-hearted as you tear yourself away from him. You slide off the table, heading toward your discarded clothes, needing to get out of here.

“I’m leaving,” you announce, quickly sliding your clothes back on. Ignoring the way your combined release drips out of you and pools in your panties.

“You’re under contract, sweets,” Dragon Headhunter replies, his tone filled with amused arrogance.

You whip around to face him yet unable to reply. He’s right. You’re stuck here. But is it really that bad that you are?

Seeing your hesitance to reply, thoughts clearly spinning through your mind, Dragon Headhunter smirks and saunters up to you in all his naked glory. “Welcome to Free Use City. Embrace it.”

Leaving the conference room you think over what he said. This was your chance at a fresh start and you wanted to make the most of it. In a Free Use City you guess that meant fucking strangers. Truly embracing the city for what it was and what it offered. You could do that! In your office building alone there were hundreds of people to choose from. You look around the office, wondering if IT Robot’s offer was still on the table. He’s bound to know everything about pleasuring a human. Or perhaps you could find Bunny Secretary and see if you could throw yourself at him again. And well… there was always that Demon Guard you passed on the way in. You’re sure he could show a sinful time.

[resonanteye]

your personal stories are not data. here are some studies regarding the terminally ill, chronic illness, elderly couples, gender disparities.

unmarried MEN, specifically, in that study. single men have a harder time- a study later in this post shows that it's likely because *women are most caregivers* and *without one, people struggle*

having a partner seems to help everybody, being alone looks like it's worse no matter what your gender is.

in older couples, gender isn't as much a difference. but in younger couples? men are more likely to leave someone who has cancer, or who survives it.

cancer sucks for everyone, though in different ways.

men are more likely to leave if it's mental illness, brain cancer or the like.

(unless you're Nordic)

but yes, more often, women are caregivers:

women are often pressured into this, whereas men get greater recognition for less effort:

so yeah getting old and getting sick is bad for everyone involved; there's different issues for people because of gender, these are generalities and common situations across the population NOT directed at YOU in particular; and yes I will say that someone being sick doesn't mean you have to stay.

we're all going to be either dead, disabled, or just plain old eventually.

note that for every "my dad stayed my grandpa my partner my uncle" post, there's also someone directly saying "if my bitch got sick I'd leave" in the comments/rbs and any place online you find this conversation. so again your anecdotes aren't data. I could go find more and more studies but I'm not a scientist, I'm just telling you what those people have published about this.

[smitethestate]

So in terms of what we need to look out for first with the new Trump presidency, I think the first threat to a huge number of people is going to be mass deportation efforts.

One thing to consider about Trump and Project 2025 is that Trump's first priorities will be himself, his money, his power, and his ego. He doesn't care about anyone or anything but himself. He doesn't care about Project 2025. So what comes first will be about his image and what the people who can bribe him the most want.

Immigration is a huge thing with him, tied up in his ego and his racism. All immigrants, even those who have gained US citizenship, are at risk.

If you are an immigrant or have loved ones who are, look up organizations like the Immigrant Defense Project. Find immigrant defense lawyers in your area. Know your rights and which of them will be stripped when he invokes the Alien Enemies Act on 1798. The ACLU and other human rights orgs will be fighting him every step of the way, but prepare for anything. He will be giving ICE a lot more power. He says he won't tag in the military for this but don't believe a word he says, ever.

For the rest of us, if you're looking to help, you can join or revive local groups that work to alert people to ICE arrests and move to intervene. Forming crowds around arrest vehicles has worked many times to stop arrests from happening. That rules.

If you can't or don't want to join an org, get in touch with your immigrant neighbors, coworkers, etc. Start chatting with them, let them know you want them to stay and you're available to help. We must be in community with our migrant neighbors to effectively help them.

Start thinking about what you're willing to do. All the way to do you have an attic or other hidden space in your home where you can hide people? Are you willing and prepared to be arrested? Defying the government puts you at risk of imprisonment, and you need to be prepared for what that means, both in a practical sense and mentally/emotionally.

Speak with your partners, roommates, friends, and comrades about this. Know who is at the most risk to be arrested and what they will likely experience in prison. For example, BIPOC and disabled people are at a much higher risk when dealing with police and ICE agents. Under no circumstances would I recommend trans women/transfemme folks risk jail or prison time. Be prepared to risk sustaining psychological trauma. Draw and maintain the boundaries you need around any activism, resistance, or revolutionary activity.

I'll go more in depth on what migrants have to expect during the first 100 days of the second Trump term in a later post.

Please add more ideas and resources below if you have them, or make your own post and alert me so I can boost.

[deathbyday]

✧.⁠*⁠Daisuke x implied F!Reader - getting caught hc’s*⁠.⁠✧

Written By: DeathByDay

warnings: NSFW

(set in the Tulpar, not in the comfort of a house)

…..

- first off, you guys getting caught wouldn’t be intentional.

- i genuinely believe that Daisuke would be the one to whimper and whine, so of course, he’s loud.

- if you’re the type to be loud as well, then you’re both 100% getting caught.

- if you aren’t that type of person, then it’s more so a 50/50 chance of getting caught with your pants down.

- i don’t really see him having a kink for public sex? but i think just the thought of risking it just for pleasure gets him hard.

- but if you like public sex, then he’d be down to try it. obviously not when other people are around, but when people are nearby and have a chance at hearing you two.

- the only way to really keep him quiet is to either make out, or keep a hand on his mouth.

- again with the thoughts, you having to shut him up because of how loud he can be makes him aroused.

- if you aren’t into public sex : the two of you would be in bed just doing your business.

- i’m pretty sure (i apologize if i’m wrong) everyone’s rooms are close to each other, which makes it a pretty high chance of getting caught.

- i’m talking; if one of you make too loud of a whine or moan, someone’s definitely going to hear and go check on you both pretty high.

- and that someone would be captain Curly.

- he’d be up later than usual, just doing his job. then he heard you two.

- he couldn’t quite make out the noise, so he got closer to the sleeping quarters thinking a pipe bursted or whatnot.

- he got closer to the sound and realized it was coming from Daisuke’s room.

- Curly would knock, but nobody would answer and the noise would continue. so, he opened the door.

- safe to say you two weren’t allowed to be alone with Daisuke for a few weeks.

- you guys didn’t care and continued seeing each other at night, making sure to stay quiet.

- if you are into public sex : then you guys could be doing it anywhere. the lounge is your go to spot to have fun.

- you both definitely did it on the couch once or twice without getting caught. the third time though? can’t say the same.

- this time, Anya would be the one to catch you guys in the act.

- she’d come into the lounge to grab a coffee around 5am to start her day to see you two on the couch, almost fully nude, Daisuke undoing your bra/pulling down your boxers.

- she couldn’t look you two in the eyes for a long time.

…..

authors note

this isn’t proofread at all.. so i apologize if i spelt anything wrong. but nonetheless, thank you for the request! i hope you all enjoyed reading this <3

[preggomancer]

real quick.

I've seen a lot of people on here responding to the recent news that america has decided to fuck everyone forever, and here's my two cents.

I completely understand if people feel personally uncomfortable engaging with pregnancy content considering what's on the line. Much love to all who can't engage in this space right now, truly.

At the same time, it's important to remember that literally all sexual content is, and always has been, politicized. You are not a bad person for engaging with a fetish. Sexual fantasy does not represent your morality and indulging in those fantasies in a safe and consensual manner is not an immoral act.

You are not a bad person for being horny while bad things are happening. You are not a bad person for not feeling bad 100% of the time because bad things are happening. The world sucks shit and it is your duty to wrest joy out of its slimy grasp.

Most importantly: we must not self-censor. Fascism relies on at-risk groups preemptively giving up ground that hasn't even been demanded of them. It's scary out there, but there is also a lot of fear-mongering going on. We can't throw everything out the window now. We are here, we are queer, and we're staying put.

[gwens-love]

Not Haunted anymore

<-Part 2 ~ Part 4-> (coming soon)

Summary: Driven by love and desperation, you risk everything to bring Agatha back. But some things are not so easily won, and the line between life and death is fragile.

Warnings: emotional themes, loss and grief (kinda but not really)

Word count: 3.2k

~ghost!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader~

~Rio Vidal x fem!reader~

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The seasons blurred as you waited, relentless in your hope. Green leaves turned gold and fell, the air crisped with the upcoming winter’s chill, but you stayed rooted in your goal. You wouldn’t let go… not like Rio had.

Today, the autumn sun brushed against your face as you sat outside with a familiar book, its pages worn from the weight of your gaze. You’d read it countless times, but it didn’t matter. This was for Agatha, and you couldn’t allow yourself to give up, not when the ache in your chest grew stronger each day.

Rio’s visits had become rare, just twice a week or so, and even then, her presence was hollow. She barely taught you anymore, simply standing beside you with empty eyes, as if all the fire… the life she might have had… had flickered out. Without her guidance, you had to teach yourself. You fumbled, grinding herbs too forcefully, botching incantations with poor pronunciation. But each mistake only spurred you to keep trying.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Time slipped through your fingers until spring arrived, and with it, a slow, creeping despair. You’d tried every spell, every book, every herb. You’d even sought out real witches, though they’d leave at the mere mention of Agatha’s name. Nothing worked. Each failure sank into the silence of the house, thick and suffocating, leaving you unable to think clearly.

Frustrated, you searched for your headphones, anything to drown out the quiet that had taken root here. And then… a knock at the door.

Your heart leaped. You dashed downstairs, hope clawing its way into your chest. When you swung open the door.

Rio stood there, framed by the soft glow of twilight. You stepped back, swallowing the knot of words lodged in your throat, and gestured for her to come inside.

Rio steps inside, a spark in her eyes that you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity. She looks almost… alive again. It’s startling, seeing that glimmer, that hint of joy tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What’s got you so happy?” you ask, confusion knitting your brows.

Rio turns to you, her grin widening, a rare, genuine warmth filling the air between you both. “I found something,” she says, her voice barely containing her excitement. “After all this time, I think I found a solution.”

Your heart races, hope swelling in your chest even as doubt pulls at you. “A solution? You mean…?”

She nods, reaching out to take your hand. “Yes. A way to bring Agatha back. I found something powerful… something no one’s tried before.”

A flicker of caution surfaces in your mind, but the desperation you’ve held onto for so long outweighs it. “What do we have to do?”

Rio’s fingers tighten around yours as she leads you to sit beside her. Her eyes shimmer with a strange, almost feverish excitement as she slips a worn, heavy book from her satchel, bound in dark green leather. The cover is cracked from years of wear, the pages yellowed and fragile.

“I found this,” she murmurs, flipping through the brittle pages. “It’s a rare text, almost lost. The rituals in here…they’re powerful, more than anything we’ve tried before.”

You stare at the book, trying to process her words. “Where did you even find something like this?”

Her face shifts, a flicker of something dark passing through her gaze. “It wasn’t easy. Let’s just say I made some… arrangements. But it’ll be worth it. I know this will work.” Her hand shakes slightly as she finds the page, turning it toward you. The cramped text and curling symbols are written in an ancient language, nearly unreadable. In the center is an intricate illustration of symbols, all intertwining to form a complex pattern.

You feel a pang of unease. “Why hasn’t anyone done this before if it’s so powerful?”

Rio hesitates, her voice softening. “Because it demands a lot. Complete focus, and an unwavering intent. If either of us falters…we might not bring her back at all.”

A chill runs through you as you take in her words. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken doubts and fears. But beneath it all, there’s a longing that eclipses everything else. You can’t give up, not after coming this far.

“What do we need to do?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay steady.

Rio’s lips curve into a smile, one tinged with determination. “The ritual has to be performed under the midnight moon. We’ll need specific herbs, a lock of Agatha’s hair, and our most precious memory of her. Each of us has to bring something deeply tied to her… something that binds us.”

She starts gathering the necessary items, and together you arrange everything carefully: candles placed in a circle, bundles of sage and rosemary, and a small, carefully wrapped lock of Agatha’s hair. Rio’s hands are steady as she lights each candle, murmuring under her breath words you can’t quite catch.

Finally, she looks up, her eyes meeting yours in the dim candlelight. “Are you ready?”

The weight of her question settles over you, and you swallow, feeling the gravity of what you’re about to attempt. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you take your places across from each other, kneeling on either side of the circle. The scent of herbs fills the air, mingling with the warmth of candlelight that flickers, casting shadows against the walls. Rio instructs you to close your eyes, to focus on Agatha—her laughter, her voice, the warmth of her embrace. Memories rush through your mind: afternoons spent learning from her, her steady guidance, the spark of her wisdom.

“Now,” Rio says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hold onto that memory, and don’t let go. We need to anchor her spirit.”

You nod, clinging to the image in your mind, willing it to hold strong. Rio’s voice begins to chant, low and melodic, as if each word is stitched with power. The air grows thick, humming with energy, and you feel it settling over you, heavy and electric.

The candle flames flicker and bend, stretching toward the center of the circle as if pulled by an unseen force. Shadows swirl around you, shapes dancing at the edge of your vision. You keep your focus, letting Rio’s voice guide you deeper, pulling you through memories of Agatha until it feels as if she’s right there, just out of reach.

Then, the atmosphere shifts, a chill sweeping over you, sending a shiver down your spine. You feel a presence, delicate and familiar, almost tangible. Your heart pounds, each beat echoing in your ears as you dare to open your eyes. Rio’s chanting has stopped, her eyes wide, locked on a faint, misty form beginning to coalesce within the circle.

There she is, Agatha, her form fragile and translucent, like moonlight made solid. Her eyes meet yours, filled with something between longing and sorrow. For a moment, everything else falls away. She’s here. You’ve done it.

“Agatha…” you breathe, reaching out instinctively.

But her gaze shifts, and a faint smile graces her lips. Her voice, barely more than a whisper, reaches you. “I’m… here, but not for long.”

Rio stiffens beside you, her face a mixture of triumph and desperation. “No, we can’t lose you again. There has to be more, something else we can do.”

Agatha’s gaze softens as she looks between you and Rio, the faintest hint of pride in her eyes. “You’ve come so far… but some things are not meant to be tampered with.” She steps back, fading slightly, her voice lingering. “Hold onto what we had. Let that be enough.”

And with that, her form shimmers and dissolves into the candlelight, leaving you and Rio in the quiet, empty space once more. The silence is deafening, your heart aching with a finality you hadn’t prepared for.

Rio reaches for your hand, her fingers squeezing yours. “Maybe… maybe this was enough,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with the pain of letting go. The two of you sit there, fingers intertwined, letting the last traces of Agatha’s presence linger in the air, knowing that she’ll always be a part of you etched in memory, bound in love.

As Agatha’s form begins to fade, a surge of panic grips you. This isn’t enough. You refuse to accept the soft, fleeting memory as all you’ll ever have of her. Agatha deserves more, she deserves life, a real, tangible presence beside you once more.

“Wait!” you shout, reaching into the circle, your hand trembling with determination. Rio’s eyes snap to you, filled with confusion and alarm.

“Y/N… what are you doing?” she whispers, her hand tightening on yours, trying to pull you back. But you shake her off, stepping into the center of the circle as your own magic swells around you, a warmth that’s different from Rio’s shadows and quiet whispers. Your power surges forward, bold and unyielding, like spring itself, a magic tied to life, rebirth, and creation.

“I’m not letting her go again,” you say, your voice steady and fierce. “Not when I… I can bring her back. Really back. She won’t be just a memory, just a spirit tethered to the shadows. She’ll be alive.”

Rio’s eyes widen, understanding dawning as she takes in the intensity radiating from you. “No, Y/N, the spell, Agatha warned us. You can’t use magic to bring someone fully back… It’s unstable. She’d be caught between worlds, between life and death.”

But you don’t listen. Your mind races through everything you’ve learned, everything Rio taught you, and you taught yourself, as you push deeper into your power, calling on the energy that runs in your veins. It pulses through you, responding to your desperation and longing.

You focus on Agatha, feeling her presence, fragile and wavering in the circle. Your fingers extend toward her, reaching into the space where her form hovers like mist. Her gaze catches yours, and for a moment, you see fear and a trace of sadness there.

“Agatha,” you murmur, feeling the magic coil and tighten within you, a warm, consuming force. “I’m not letting you go. You deserve to be here, to live again, to touch the earth, to feel the sunlight. I’ll make it happen. I swear it.”

The warmth of magic..? spreads, spilling out of you and filling the circle. You feel it pull, tugging at the edges of reality, bending the boundaries between life and death. Agatha’s form flickers, the mist growing thicker, denser. Slowly, her outline sharpens, her features taking on a warmth and solidity that wasn’t there before.

You push harder, feeling the strain of it, the raw power searing through your veins, demanding everything you have. Agatha’s form steadies, her gaze wide with a mixture of hope and terror as she realizes what you’re doing. She reaches toward you, her hand solid, her fingers brushing yours for the first time in what feels like eternity. The warmth of her touch ignites something within you, giving you strength to go even further.

But something is wrong. A strange, dark edge creeps into the magic, twisting it, contorting it as you push past the natural order. You can feel the boundary between life and death fraying, splintering under the force of your power. Your breath catches, but you refuse to stop, willing Agatha into full life even as you feel the cost beginning to weigh on you.

Finally, with a gasp, Agatha stands before you solid, alive, and breathing. Her chest rises and falls as she takes in her surroundings, her eyes full of wonder and disbelief as she looks at her hands, her body. She’s here. She’s real.

But the strain hits you like a tidal wave, and you stumble, your body weakening as the energy drains from you. Rio is beside you in an instant, catching you, her face pale with fear. “Y/N… What have you done?”

You barely hear her, your gaze locked on Agatha, who’s staring back at you, her eyes filled with a fierce, overwhelming gratitude. She steps closer, reaching for you, her hands warm and real, and the sensation fills you with joy and relief.

But there’s a heaviness in the air, a sense that something is shifting, that the world itself is groaning under the weight of your defiance. You can feel it in the marrow of your bones, like a tether pulled too tight, ready to snap.

Agatha pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you, and you sink into her embrace, feeling the pulse of her heart against your cheek. But as you hold her, you sense the tremor within her, the fragility in the life you’ve given her. She’s here, but she’s bound to you in a way that feels… unnatural, tethered by a force that defies the very fabric of the world.

And deep down, you realize that she is alive, yes, but at a cost. The magic inside her isn’t stable; it’s restless, hungry, feeding off the very essence that holds you together.

Rio’s voice is barely a whisper. “Y/N… what happens now?”

You meet Agatha’s gaze, knowing that the life you’ve given her is bound to your own, and that the two of you are now entangled in a way that defies the natural order. You know that, in time, this magic may demand a price, a sacrifice you’re not yet ready to name. But for now, Agatha’s here, alive and breathing, and that’s all that matters.

“We take it one day at a time,” you murmur, feeling the weight of what you’ve done settle over you. For now, it’s enough.

Agatha’s solid, warm arms are still wrapped around you, her heart beating under your cheek as you cling to her. But then your knees buckle, the ground tilting beneath you as a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness crashes through your mind. You try to hold on, but your strength drains away, leaving you weak and barely able to stand.

“Y/N!” Rio’s voice is frantic as she catches you, lowering you gently to the floor. She kneels beside you, her face pale and stricken, shock etched into her features.

“You’re a witch…?” Agatha whispers, her hand trembling as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “How… I had no idea. You never told me.” Her voice is filled with wonder and disbelief, her eyes wide as if seeing you for the first time.

You try to speak, to explain, but the words slip away as exhaustion claims you, your body numb and drained from the sheer power you poured into the spell. A murmur ripples through the room as Rio hovers beside you, concern written in every line of her face.

“She didn’t just use magic,” Rio murmurs, almost to herself. “She wielded the magic of life, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. That’s not just any spell. That’s…”

“A witch of life,” Agatha finishes, her voice soft with awe, as if saying the words aloud makes them true. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Apparently not,” Rio mutters, but her hand clutches yours tightly, grounding you as the room continues to spin.

You blink up at them, struggling to focus, as the last of your strength ebbs away. The world fades around you, but you catch Agatha’s expression, a mixture of astonishment and fierce pride. “You did this,” she says softly. “You brought me back. Y/N… how?”

But before you can answer, your vision blurs, the edges of your sight darkening as unconsciousness pulls you under. The last thing you feel is Agatha’s hand clasped in yours and Rio’s whispered promise: “Rest now, Y/N. We’ll figure this out… together.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The darkness closes over you, leaving their shocked faces lingering in your mind, a moment that feels both surreal and unforgettable, knowing you’ve revealed a part of yourself that you didn’t even fully understand.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the weight of blankets and the soft warmth of sunlight spilling through the window. You blink, adjusting to the light, and try to sit up, but a sharp, aching fatigue pulls you back down. Your body feels heavy, as though you’ve been asleep for days.

As you take in the quiet of the room, you hear muffled voices outside the door. A moment later, it opens, and Agatha and Rio slip inside. Agatha’s face lights up with relief, and Rio’s expression shifts from worry to quiet awe.

“Y/N!” Agatha crosses the room, her hands reaching for yours, her touch grounding you as she squeezes your fingers. “Thank goodness, you’re finally awake.”

You blink at her, struggling to make sense of everything. “How long was I… asleep?”

Rio answers, her tone gentle. “A week. We weren’t sure when you’d wake up.” She takes a deep breath, searching your face before adding, “You used a lot of magic, more than we even thought possible.”

Magic. The memory hits you like a wave, pulling you back to that moment when Agatha’s spirit had shifted to flesh and bone. The spell, the power coursing through you, the almost unbearable force of it all. Your pulse quickens as the realization sinks in. “Wait… I’m not a witch. I don’t even know how to cast spells. That shouldn’t be possible.”

Rio and Agatha exchange glances, as if waiting for the right way to explain. Agatha sits down beside you, her fingers still tangled with yours. “Y/N… you are a witch. Or maybe, you became one,” she murmurs, studying your face. “You’re a life witch, it’s close to a green witch, but you can interfere with not only the life of plants, but with animals and apparently humans too.”

You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around it. “But… I’ve never been able to do anything like that. I wasn’t born a witch.”

“That’s the strange part,” Rio says softly, her expression intense. “The magic, it just… appeared in you when you needed it. Like it was meant to be there all along, waiting for the right moment.” She runs a hand through her hair, disbelief flickering in her eyes. “Y/N, I’ve never seen anything like it. You summoned the magic of life, the rarest, most ancient form of magic there is. Only a few witches in all of history have had that ability.”

A strange, chilling wonder fills you, making you shiver. You stare down at your hands, the memory of that unstoppable power still fresh, almost like a dream. “But I… I don’t know how to control it. I don’t even understand it.”

Agatha’s fingers tighten around yours, grounding you again. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t know everything right now. What matters is that you brought me back. You saved me, Y/N.” She smiles, warmth and gratitude shining in her eyes. “You did the impossible.”

Rio nods, her face softening as she looks at you. “You’ve tapped into something few ever do. It’s overwhelming, I know. But we’ll figure it out together.”

You meet their eyes, still grappling with the reality of it all. The power, the spell, the unexplainable magic that had surged through you. The witch you’d become, without even realizing it. A new part of you, mysterious and powerful, waiting to be understood.

For now, though, you’re not alone. Agatha and Rio are here, guiding you, grounding you. Whatever this magic is, wherever it leads, you’re ready. Together, you’ll uncover its secrets, and maybe, finally, understand the path fate has set before you.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

Fin <3

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange

[marysfics]

Through the Dust

Alexia Putellas x DownhillRacer!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Other Chapters: click here

This is a multichapter fic, and trust me, you’re in for one wild ride. No warnings so far. Just awkward fluff for now.

Word count: 2k

Chapter 2: "The Unsteady Ground Between Us"

You spent the night nursing a bruised shoulder and sore muscles, wincing as you applied ice to ease the swelling. But none of that discomfort compared to the restless buzz in your chest, the memory of that moment when you locked eyes with her—Alexia, as you’d learned from some fellow riders who were as intrigued as you were by the famous visitors. Her gaze had stayed with you, imprinted in your mind, sparking a strange thrill every time you thought back to it.

The next morning, the trails were less crowded. The early sun was low, casting long shadows across the mountain, and the chill of dawn clung to the air. As you prepared your bike, checking the tires and adjusting the suspension, you felt a familiar prickle on the back of your neck. Someone was watching you.

You looked up, and there she was again—Alexia, standing with her teammates just a few yards away. She had a distant look on her face, as though she hadn’t expected to see you this early. Her mouth was a straight line, her arms folded across her chest in that careful, almost protective way. But her eyes—those expressive eyes that seemed to flicker between fascination and doubt—told you a different story.

Your heart did a strange little leap. You weren’t used to feeling self-conscious, not on the mountain, not with your bike and the rush of the course to distract you. But with her here, it felt like every move you made was amplified, as though you were performing for an audience of one.

“Go talk to her,” Mapi’s voice teased Alexia from the sidelines, jolting her out of her stare. “You’ve been staring since yesterday. She’s going to think you’re some kind of creepy fan.”

Alexia scoffed, her cheeks flushing as she quickly turned her back. “I wasn’t staring,” she muttered, brushing off Mapi’s remark as if it was absurd. But her heart pounded in a way that felt foreign and dangerous, like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Mapi laughed, nudging her shoulder. “It’s okay to be interested, Ale. She’s clearly interested in you too. I saw the way she looked at you after the fall.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “I don’t get it, Mapi. She risks everything for what? A thrill? A medal? I don’t… I don’t understand her.” But even as she spoke, she could feel the lie hidden in her own words. She wanted to understand, wanted to know why anyone would choose to be so reckless, so daring. There was something almost… alluring about it.

Or maybe, she thought with a jolt, it’s not just about the sport.

The next few hours passed in fragments. You caught Alexia watching you again between your runs, her gaze intense, almost assessing, as though she was trying to solve some unspoken mystery. You couldn’t deny that the attention thrilled you, even if you tried to focus on your training, forcing yourself to ignore the way her presence made your heart stutter.

During a break, you decided to take a walk along the edge of the trail, needing a moment to clear your head. The thrill of speed, the adrenaline, the freedom—all of it was different with Alexia here. She seemed to add a new layer of complexity, a subtle tension that wound its way through your focus.

As you rounded a sharp corner on the trail, your tires screeched as you had to brake hard to avoid colliding with someone standing right in the middle of the path. The abrupt stop sent your balance wobbling, your back wheel skidding on the loose gravel. You barely managed to steady yourself, irritation flaring as you pushed a foot against the ground to keep from tipping over.

“Hey!” you blurted out, breathless and annoyed, “Are you kidding me? Who just stands right on a blind—”

But the words died on your lips as you saw her face.

Alexia turned to you, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in your frustrated expression. She looked so different from how she did on the field or even in the company of her teammates. Her gaze softened as she registered your surprise, her posture a little awkward, as if she’d been caught somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

You fell silent, the rush of anger melting into something else entirely. The sight of her here—alone, bathed in the soft, dappled light filtering through the trees—disarmed you completely. She didn’t look like the superstar you’d seen between her teammates, the assured captain who commanded attention on the field. Instead, she looked… almost uncertain, her brow slightly furrowed as though she was lost in thought.

“I’m—sorry,” she said finally, her voice quiet, and you noticed the faint trace of a Spanish accent, the unexpected softness in her tone. “I didn’t realize this was such a dangerous spot to stop.”

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers closing around her wrist in a quick, instinctive movement. Before either of you had time to react, you gently tugged her to the side of the trail, out of the dangerous blind spot and safely off to the edge.

“Come on, you can’t just stand there,” you said, your voice softer now, the frustration melting as you became hyper-aware of the warmth of her skin under your hand. Your fingers lingered, and for a brief, suspended moment, neither of you moved.

Alexia looked down at where your hand held hers, her eyes wide, surprise flickering into something more as her gaze lifted to meet yours. She didn’t pull away, and you didn’t let go. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you standing there, the forest around you quiet and still.

Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Her expression was caught somewhere between surprise and… something else, something intense that you couldn’t quite read. You realized, with a jolt, that your hand was still on hers. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you released her wrist, feeling the loss of warmth as your fingers slipped away.

“Sorry, I just…” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly flustered. “Didn’t want you to get, you know… run over.”

Alexia’s lips quirked into a small smile, a hint of color rising in her cheeks as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice so soft it barely reached you. Her gaze lingered on you, her usual composure faltering as she looked at you with an expression that was open and unguarded, her eyes filled with curiosity and something deeper—something hesitant, almost like uncertainty.

For a moment, you were both silent, the sounds of the mountain fading into the background. You were caught in the intensity of her stare, feeling your heartbeat quicken as her presence washed over you, grounding you yet somehow leaving you breathless.

“Guess I’ll stay out of the way,” she finally said, her smile growing as she held your gaze a beat too long. Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes told a different story, a silent question you couldn’t yet answer.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “You… you don’t have to, really.” Your voice came out quieter than you’d intended, and suddenly you felt a strange flutter of nerves. You cleared your throat, looking down and kicking at a loose stone on the trail. “I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

The words hung between you, and when you glanced back up, you caught the look in her eyes—a spark of surprise, her expression softening as if you’d given away more than you meant to.

For a moment, her teasing smile faltered, and she looked at you with a gentleness that caught you off guard. Her gaze softened, her lips parting just slightly as if she wanted to say something but was searching for the right words.

“Oh,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. She shifted a bit closer, her smile turning into something warmer, something real. “Thank you.”

You felt your cheeks warm, the air thickening with a tension that felt as fragile as it was electric. The confident Alexia you’d seen yesterday, was nowhere to be found—instead, here she was, looking at you as if you’d just broken down a wall she’d been guarding carefully.

Summoning the courage, you took a deep breath, feeling the words form before you even fully decided to say them. “Hey, if you’re interested, I could… show you around sometime?” You hesitated, a little shy but hopeful, the invitation hanging there, vulnerable and unpolished. “I mean, if you’d like to see the mountains up close…”

But before you could finish, a voice cut through the stillness.

“Ale!” Mapi’s voice rang out from down the trail, unmistakable and playful as it echoed off the trees. You both startled, the moment between you snapping back into reality. Mapi appeared a second later, jogging up the path, eyes scanning until she spotted Alexia. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere.”

Alexia’s expression shifted, a small flash of reluctance passing over her face as she glanced back at you. She looked like she wanted to say something, her eyes lingering as if memorizing the moment.

“I—” she started, but Mapi gave her a nudge, clearly in a hurry to drag her back.

“You coming, or what?” Mapi teased, oblivious to the moment she’d interrupted. “The team’s waiting.”

Alexia exhaled, a faint crease in her brow as she looked back at you. “Maybe… another time?” she said, her voice soft but warm, as if she, too, wished things could’ve paused just a little longer.

“Yeah,” you replied, managing a small smile even as the moment slipped away. “Another time.”

----------------------------------------------------------

End of chapter 2.

[princecroutons]

Croutons' Medical Bills + Preventative Care GoFundMe!!! ($907/$4000 CAD)

GoFundMe | PayPal | Ko-Fi

On 11/5/2024 I had to bring Croutons' in to the vet due to a urinary blockage from a build up of crystals. The very next day we had to return to the vet where he was admitted and stayed from 11/6/2024 to 11/8/2024 where he recievced a urinary catheter to help flush his system. The very next day (11/9/2024) after watching him strain to pee and be in pain we brought him back again.

We were told that he was most likely blocked again - they'd given him an ultrasound and found there were far less crystals, and upon giving him an xray couldn't find anything blocking it. Because he was in pain and there was a huge risk of him continuing to reblock so we had to make a choice; Either we drain his bladder and take him home with some heavy sedatives in hopes that its spasms that can be relaxed... or we say goodbye. We chose to take him home.

That same night (11/9 -11/10) we stayed up with him until 11 am and cheered him on every single time he was able to pee. I slept 3 hours to stay up with him the rest of the 10th - 3am on the 11th with success!! He has been peeing with more consistently with less and less straing with more and more pee each time! He's been staying hydrated thanks to his cat fountain. We're not out of the woods 100% yet.

Around 400$ is still needed to cover the remaining vet bills ($3010) And right now the 4k is going to be used to for any possible emergency visits, check ups, medication, food, and other preventative care!

Thank you all for the support so far!

[weaselle]

Early human match ups with animals

Wolves: have a very similar social structure and lifestyle as early humans, benefit greatly from group dynamics -- teaming up with humans allows them greater access to food at less risk, safer sleeping, higher pup survival rate, better protection from the environment. One wolf eats about as much food as one person, so it's a normal member to add to the group in terms of resources.

Cats: have some amount of social overlap (cat sisters often help raise each other's kittens, and grouping approaches common in some cat species, notably in lions, but also for example in cheetahs, where brother cheetahs often stay together for life in groups of up to 4). Humans are HUGE prey attractors for them, drawing in rodents in large numbers - also meaning people don't have to give up their own food to feed them. Human housing is safer from the elements, keeps competitors and dangers like snakes and larger cat species away. Associating with humans gains special grooming and healing unavailable to wild species, such as draining and cleaning abscesses caused by infected bug bites or, very importantly, feeding and caring through a major illness or injury. A wild cat with a broken leg will often die, a human's cat with a broken leg will live to hunt again.

Goats (which we actually turned into Sheep): Herd structure similar enough to human social structure as to be compatible. Guaranteed food during winter and other times of scarcity -- and none of it is human food. Higher offspring survival rate, robust protection from predators and the elements. Horses : same. Cows: same. Deer/caribou: same but a little less so, actually surprisingly good at both fight and flight (cows, specialize in fight, horses specialize in flight) often travel more distance for resources so have better access during lean times; can match but less beneficial to the deer.

Other animals be like

Big cats like Tigers: Why the fuck are there so many of you in one place. This cold doesn't bother me at all because i'm so big my core stays warm. Just what do you think i need protection from? I'm super capable of feeding myself, and even if food is scarce? you have to sacrifice enough food to feed several people to keep me fed, which is a bummer for your group if food is scarce, and i cannot eat your stored food like dried fruits and grains. Your lifestyle is incompatible with mine, i hate everything about being forced to live with you and also it doesn't benefit me at all. Lions: yeah, plus I already have all the group dynamic benefits you could offer me, you're actually the weakest link in my group, be careful or we might outnumber you, being near us all the time greatly increases the number of times murderous male lions attack this group

Bears: Listen. Even if i get injured i'll just eat something that doesn't run from me until i heal (some brown bear populations spend a couple months a year mainly eating moth colonies, they will eat anything, including moss and fungus). This makes me a direct competitor for ALL you food, btw. Speaking of which it takes like 15 people's worth of food to keep me fed. If i get angry someone is definitely going to die. Protection? from what? The most dangerous thing to a bear is another bear, so also you can't really have more than a couple of me in any group, and staying near me greatly increases the chance of some territorial wild bear rolling up to camp with murder on their mind. What do you meeeean keep wandering around actively instead of sleeping in one spot for months at a time? My life is literally worse with you than without you, and your life is probably worse with me around too.

Weasels: Fuck off you can't keep up with me i eat half my body weight in food every day and bite everything near me. Try to contain me and see what happens i'm made out of teeth and murder and cleverness, and destruction of property and theft are my favorite games and i'm basically always bored unless i'm hunting or fighting or fucking with something. What do you meeeean hold still for 30 seconds now i'm mad and you'll basically have to kill me to stop me from going after whatever i want forever. I will absolutely try to murder every other animal you associate with no matter what size it is, and i will totally also eat all of your other food too because i love fruits and fungus and anything else you like to eat probably - you can't keep me out of your food stores and what i don't eat in the moment i'll steal and hide in my own stash for later. Excuse me now i have to sleep for 18 hours i do not understand why you want to keep doing things for so much of the day.

Don't ask me about ferrets they must have been bought with rodent hunting opportunities like the cats, total fluke if you ask me (ferrets are, in fact, domesticated, after more than two thousand years of human intervention. And it's kind of weird that it happened but i think they were the exact right size to make it work)

I think it's a common misconception that domesticating animals is somewhat like enslaving them. It really is more of a symbiotic relationship. No wild animal would have willingly put up with early humans if they didn't get something out of it. Wolves wouldn't have stayed with us and become dogs if they weren't getting food and safety out of it. Many large herbivores that are now domesticated could and would have easily trampled their early human captors or broken their enclosures open if they didn't have a reason to stay. Sometimes individual animals still do if we don't give them what they need.

The animals that have stayed with us for thousands of years have evolved to cooperate with us better. Dogs have additional facial muscles around their eyes that wolves lack in order to mimic human facial expressions. Sheep grow their wool perpetually while their wild counterparts don't because a bigger fleece means they're more likely to be allowed to breed and be kept around. Domestic dairy cows produce much more milk than wild bovine species and domestic hens lay more eggs. Do you know how energy costly producing eggs or milk is for an animal? It's pretty intense! They wouldn't be able to do that if we hadn't given them the food and safety from predators and the elements to.

And we really need to show these animals respect and gratitude for what they give us by taking excellent care of them. They gave up a lot to be with us, often including the means to take care of themselves in the wild. That's a huge reason why I'm not against using animal products, but I hate factory farming. They are still living, breathing creatures with needs and feelings. They deserve a comfortable life and, when the time comes, a humane death.

[alessabriel]

And it didn't.

Summary: with the scars left by civil conflict, of broken relationships and shattered bridges the years passed, and she was finally caught up with the consequences of what she did.

Cw: NO CAITVI, angst for Caitlyn, post arcane 2 and my soft imaginings, Vi x Reader.

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Caitlyn had lost herself and neither time, nor regret could bring back the people she lost what was important to; I saw the one she pushed away so many times because of that stupid instinct to see her down for being from Zaun who contaminated and infected her, Jayce who even though I told her everything was resolved I still saw that resentment in her eyes and did not blame, her father still loved her and was there for her but in his eyes at times there was a disappointment so palpable that it hurt to see her because she had destroyed what her mother worked so hard for costing lives in Zaun. She knew that her owner and suffering was not justification, it would never be, just as she knew that she had made many decisions that were wrong and even today, at 35 years old, they still haunt her, stalking her in every free moment to think, in every corner of her psyche and heart, it is a curse that would never leave her and she accepted it, she let the remorse bite her skin, scratch her bones fragmenting them until it reached the organs underneath and stay there forever. Not that all Zaunites' looks at her were better or let her forget what she had done in the past, they all looked at her with a well-hidden and civilized rancor, which, in contrast to what happened years ago showed that Zaunites were not animals.

"It's in your blood, it will always be in your blood!"

These are words that still to this day follow her relentlessly, spoken to a woman who stood by her side unflinchingly, daring to wear the uniform of the very beings who murdered her parents, who oppressed her for years and who were part of Zaun's continuing misfortune. Vi wore the uniform and became an enforcer for her, and a with it at that moment, after a shared kiss hurt her and it was not the blow that hurt the most, but hearing Vi cry at the bottom of the well and left her without looking back, at that moment she never regretted it and thought she deserved it for not letting Vi go, she herself pushed her away. Now, as Sheriff with Piltover restored and Zaun in better condition after joining forces to drive away Noxus and his threat, she is surprisingly alone. She had managed to catch Jinx and served her sentence, helped restore Piltover as part of that sentence but even with everything Jinx was never left alone but was supported by all of Zaun and, to her own selfish pain; For Vi, Vi was in the process of Jinx's improvement and her mental treatment, when she was imprisoned and released by herself, she watched as Vi received her and although there was an uncomfortable air Vi saw her with a filial love and bright, shy accompanied by Ekko, Sevika, Isha and another person who did not hesitate to embrace Jinx. Even Jinx even with all the crimes on her list, she had so many people surrounding her and she on the other end just and Sheriff was alone, she knew it was her own fault.

There was a sea of guilt that was always at her feet, threatening on her worst days with a huge swell, monstrous waves that threatened to swallow her whole and sometimes she wished they would but, it would be selfish not to bear the consequences of her actions.

The council had been renewed for the sake of progress since they all had such archaic and cruel ideas by the next leaders of those same houses who were young, people who saw beyond prejudices and painted a difference, a before and an after. A renewed council, like Piltover, with Jayce and Mel at the head, but there were two representatives of Zaun who never showed up leaving two chairs together empty in their name. They had all changed, Piltover finally after seeing how hundreds of Zaunites risked themselves to drive Noxus away without caring about coming back alive showed them how much damage they inflicted on their twin city.

Damage she contributed to, added to, and how it tainted her mother's contribution so that the Zaunites could breathe.

She hated herself but dared not ask for forgiveness, because she did not deserve it and she knew it.

She lives each day mechanically in the Enforcers base office, and with documentation up to her neck, in a cold and monotonous rhythm until that day came, a day where Loris was coming to visit her as she had not agreed to stay in the Enforcers corps with the others but rather, was sentinel in Zaun an organization created by two people in Zaun along with other creations that Zaun did not have before.

"Wow, you're still dating the paperwork Sheriff?" questions Loris, walking into the office with a lazy smile looking at the paperwork by the pile.

"Let's just say they're nice dates" replies Caitlyn, inviting him to sit down, it's the little visits and sincere interactions he has that let him see that he kept too good people away from his surroundings because even Seb kept her at a distance, Maddie walked away from her after he had used her to forget Vi; spoiler he never could, Vi as soon as the conflict ended and the trials came she didn't return to Piltover, so Loris was the only one who still maintained some pleasant air between the two "Something going on? You usually come over on Fridays when I go out for a drink together."

Caitlyn looks at her former partner and notices it, a nervous uneasiness almost shy about how she keeps herself hidden and how Loris tries to keep the air light, jovial and pleasant. Loris was a very short time active part of the Enforcerd but damn but he was a good element and the Sentinels would take a good element. She watches silently as her former partner takes a seat, but it never goes unnoticed the conflicted eyes of the man in front of her and she honestly can't blame him as Loris is one of Vi's best friends and continuing to talk to her feels like some sort of betrayal, or so Caitlyn assumes.

"Well, I'm not wasting your time with my humble visit Sheriff" she concedes, lightening the mood and tension, pulling out a simple envelope sealed with wax and a unique flower that only grows in Zaun "Consider coming, she asked me to deliver it to you."

Caitlyn with that, spends the rest of the day dreading opening the letter leaving it on her office bookshelf as if it has the toxic and poisonous in it, so at the end of her day with the evening light streaming in through the glass she plucks up her courage. She sits up from her chair and takes the letter, it is made of a soft and in plain sight recycled paper but it has a fresh floral scent, with some fear creeping up her joints she opens it using the letter opener seeing how the black wax falls on her desk next to the small single flower of Zaun that she takes and keeps it, inside the envelope is a paper folded in three and when she opens it something stirs in her gut with such force that she feels her organs pushed into her bones and the physical exterior of her body, she restrains herself and swallows the bile to start reading, though she knows that doomed her because she suspects it is.

† Violet and [R] †

Just reading that line generated an immense, monumental dismay in him, had he stopped loving Vi? She didn't want to know the answer because it would hurt, because when she pushed Vi away, making her feel guilty for everything, guilty for not being able to stop loving her sister in spite of everything, what was she thinking back then? Making her choose implicitly only served to further establish the imbalance and mistrust in whatever it was they had, and lo and behold the consequences years of loneliness and minimal, if any interactions with Vi that were for matters merely concerning both cities. At the very thought, the very image of it tightens her chest.

Vi was getting married and he was inviting her to his wedding, with a +1.

She dropped into her chair, tossing the pretty invitation on the desk before scrunching up her face, stressed, hurt, regretful and with an amalgam of feelings of self-pity and cruelty towards herself for the past, for the hatred her being since she was a child had harbored towards Zaunitas which only incubated until it exploded that fateful day where she took it out on Vi, took it out on a woman who knew how to read her better than she did herself and prevented her from doing something she would regret more. He knew he could not give, if he would fail as Vi said but his pain did not allow him to see, understand, or comprehend. His hands tremble running it over his face in an attempt to get rid of that mutilating feeling in his chest, and he feels the pain climb up his bones, Vi was going to marry someone and by name it's a woman; [R]. A short, concrete text, a wedding which will be held in the newly opened temple of Janna, signed below in sweet, flowing calligraphy in Violet's name, next to another straighter, linear calligraphy signing with [R]. They sure did that cute thing of writing each other's name would Vi love her? Would that unknown woman love Vi? How long had they been in a relationship? Did they love each other? Why was Vi inviting her?

She doesn't want to go.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[SHOULDER KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 2,846

tags: sfw, toothrotting fluff, non-sexual nudity

a/n: this is so devastatingly self-indulgent,, pls don't judge me. But also, this is for all of you who said there aren't enough Ford fics out there <3

Winter. Snow was falling, but it wasn’t soft. The winds were strong and managed to blow snow in your face no matter which way you turned or how much you covered it up. This was supposed to be a short and simple hike through the woods with Ford. When you had left the house this morning it had been just that, with snow falling softly and all. But now the weather had turned like it held a grudge against you two personally.

The twins had decided to have a little break on their sea adventure for the holidays and while Stan decided to visit the kids and Shermie, Ford had decided to come home to you. Even Soos and his Abuelita had left to spend this time of the year with Melody and her family, meaning you and Ford had the Shack all to yourselves. It also meant that there was nobody home to make sure the Shack stayed warm while you two were out.

Finally, you had made it back to the Shack, and when Ford opened the door you quickly got inside, spreading snow across the floor. You shivered as you took off your snow-laden coat and shoes, the cold having seeped inside your very bones.

Ford wasn’t much better off - his nose and cheeks burned a bright red and his eyebrows and eyelashes had little white crystals hanging off of them. He was a human furnace of a man, but even he was shivering now, rubbing his hands along his arms to generate a little warmth.

“We need to warm up as quickly as possible, I don’t want to risk either of us getting hypothermia. You should go and take a hot bath while I’ll put more wood in the furnace so the house can warm back up. I’ll take a bath after you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Sorry, won’t work. While you were gone we had some problems with the hot water. Now there’s only enough hot water for one hot bath or shower at a time.”

“Oh.” Ford’s eyes darted around the room for a moment, trying to find a solution. “Then I guess I’ll just get some extra blankets and try to warm up like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Or you could just take the bath with me. That way we won’t risk either of us getting sick?”

You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, Ford on the other hand could feel the heat rising to his face even more now, his turtleneck suddenly feeling a little tight around his neck. It wasn’t a secret that Ford was… uncomfortable when it came to nudity.

During your few months of relationship with the man the furthest you had gotten was one very fun make-out session where, in the heat of the moment, Ford had pulled your shirt over your head and immediately turned bright red at the sight of you. You had pulled him back in with a smile but when you tried to pull his turtleneck off of him as well he had pulled away, ending the moment abruptly.

You had tried to talk to him about it afterwards and he had confessed that he felt incredibly self-conscious about his own body after all the things Bill and his time hopping dimensions had done to it. After lots of kind words and soft kisses he had hugged you and shown you the scars around his wrists from the chains Bill had kept him in.

But none of that mattered now and you hoped he knew you wouldn’t think worse of him for any of it. You just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get sick. “No. You go.” You could tell he was trying to sound determined, but his own shivering wouldn’t quite let him.

You shook your head. “You take a bath, I’ll get some blankets.” Ford looked at you with pleading eyes. “I won’t take a bath before you. Either we take one together-” You had to pause as a more intense shiver overcame you. You continued with chattering teeth. “-or I’ll take one after you.”

“But you just said-” The look on your face was unwavering, he couldn’t win this one. With a sigh he agreed. “Okay. You get the bath ready. I’ll take care of the furnace, then I’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” You nodded and quickly made your way to the bathroom.

Ford felt silly for being afraid of your reaction to his body. He was a normal guy! Apart from the six fingers of course, but you had shown him again and again that you loved that part of him. Why would this be any different? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of all those negative thoughts as he placed another log in the fire.

With every step he now took towards the bathroom he could feel his heart hammering stronger and louder inside his chest. He was about to reach for the doorknob when he stilled in his movement. There was something he hadn’t even considered. He would also get to see you naked.

Ford’s cheeks, after having cooled down a little, now turned tomato red again. No. No, he couldn’t do this. He was just about to turn around when the door in front of him opened. “Ford? Why are you just standing there? Come in.” You gently took his hand that was still hanging outstretched in the air and guided him inside the room.

The bathroom had already begun to heat up a little through the warm water evaporating and filling the air. You quickly closed the door behind him, shivering again as you felt the fresh air entering the room. Ford just stood there, unable to move, just watching you as you moved around the room, getting shampoos and towels ready and finally turning off the water.

You turned to Ford. The crystals on his eyebrows and lashes had melted away, but his face was still flushed and he looked very tense. You moved over to him, gently put your hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ford. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. I want you to know that I’m as worried about your health as you are about mine, but if you leave now I won’t judge you for that or think any worse of you.”

One of your hands found his cheek and he instinctively leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and brought his own hand up to yours, moved it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to your wrist. “I’ll stay.” You smiled and when he let go of your hand you moved back towards the bathtub, taking your sweatshirt off in one swift movement.

Ford watched your movements with awe. You turned to face him again and he struggled to focus on your eyes. It made you smile - you thought it was adorable how much he wanted to stay a true gentleman, even though you were more than okay with him checking you out properly.

“Suggestion: I get in first. Then, if you’re not comfortable with me seeing you naked I’ll close my eyes while you get in as well. How does that sound to you?” Ford couldn’t help but smile at how considerate you were and also admire you for your self-confidence. “Sounds perfect.”

You nodded and quickly started undressing further, looking forward to the warm water thawing your tense muscles. Ford quickly averted his eyes which earned him a quiet chuckle from you, but you didn’t say anything. When you were done, you carefully stepped inside the tub and sighed as the warm water engulfed your shivering body.

The way it was now the water reached to just above your nipples. But, knowing Ford, you had made sure to create enough foam, so you couldn’t see through the water, leaving just your shoulders and upwards visible. When Ford realized that you had settled into the tub he turned to face you again and you smiled an encouraging smile at him before closing your eyes.

Ford hesitated a moment but eventually found the courage to take off his turtleneck. His heart beat rapidly in his chest but when he pulled it over his head and realized your eyes were still closed he relaxed a little. He felt bad for not trusting you enough to see him shirtless while you trusted him enough to sit naked in front of him with your eyes closed. He took another deep breath to steady himself and took off the rest of his clothes.

After you heard what you assumed to be Ford’s pants dropping to the floor you lifted your arms out of the water and placed them on either side of the tub, inviting him in. You heard two footsteps and then felt the water moving slightly. It took all your concentration to keep your eyes closed, not because you wanted to gawk at him, but rather because you wanted to help him sit down safely without hurting either of you.

You managed though, and soon enough Ford sat between your legs in the bathtub. A deep sigh left Ford’s lips as well, as he felt the warm water around his cold skin. He was careful not to lean too far back, trying desperately to touch you as little as possible. When he was as comfortable as he could get, he spoke up again in a tiny voice. “You can open your eyes now.”

The sight in front of you made your heart flutter. It felt so domestic somehow. His gray hair and strong shoulders in front of you - all you wanted to do was reach out, pull him close and never let go. But you restrained yourself, you had to go at his pace. For a moment you just admired him, studied all the scars and tattoos you hadn’t seen before and committed them to memory.

“Please say something.” Ford’s voice didn’t quite manage to break you out of your trance. “I love you.” As soon as the words left your mouth you froze. You didn’t mean to say that - you had never said this to each other before. “Sorry, I don’t know wh-” “I love you, too.”

You were shocked, to say the least, your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your ribcage. With Ford facing forward you couldn’t look at him, but you could tell from the red of his ears that he was blushing. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to anticipate whether or not your next words would ruin the moment. “Can I touch you?”

His breathing picked up its pace and he nodded. Slowly, you lifted one of your hands from the side of the bathtub and moved it to his shoulder. Ford’s breath hitched when your skin touched his. You let your thumb draw slow, soothing circles on his skin and after a few seconds you heard Ford let out a long breath, relaxing a little.

After a few moments like that you slowly let your hand wander up his shoulder until your fingers came into contact with one of his scars and you could feel Ford tense under your touch. With a feather-like softness you let your fingers trace the scar. “Bill.” Was the only word he managed to get out. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” You assured him and he relaxed under your touch again.

A few more moments passed with your one hand tracing gentle patterns on his shoulder, until Ford raised his other arm out of the water and put it on top of your other arm. He took your hand and slowly moved it forward, pulling you along with it. You didn’t protest as you felt him wrap your arm around himself, holding it against his chest and gently kissing your knuckles.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to gently pull him towards you, encouraging him to lean into your chest, while never stopping the soothing strokes of his shoulder with your other hand. A smile formed on your face when you both had settled into a comfortable position, his back to your chest and your head looking over his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, neither of you saying a word, just enjoying the moment.

You looked downward just enough to look at his shoulder and then leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to your boyfriend’s skin. Ford gasped, not expecting the sensation, but quickly relaxing into it. You could stay like this forever.

After some more time enjoying this moment, you noticed the water losing some of its warmth. Ford noticed this as well. “We should probably start getting ready soon.” He said but didn’t move an inch. You chuckled lightly. “Yeah…”

You took a deep breath, taking in as much of this moment as you could. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” Even with all that’s happened to lead you up to this point, Ford blushed again. It was adorable. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-If you want to?”

With a smile on your lips you gently guided him into a more horizontal position, cupped some water in your hand and let it flow over his head. Once his hair was sufficiently wet you grabbed a bottle of shampoo and put some on your hands before messaging it into his hair. Ford's eyes fluttered shut and he practically melted into your touch. You loved to see him so relaxed and it filled you with pride to know that you were the cause for this.

After you had rinsed his hair with water he was about to sit up straight again but you stopped him. “Your hair needs conditioner.” He didn’t protest and let you go through the same motions again. “I could get used to this…” Ford breathed the words out and you almost didn’t catch them. But when they registered in your mind your heart swelled with affection for the man.

“All done.” Your voice made him open his eyes and sit back up. He was no longer leaning against your chest and you noticed that the foam was starting to dissolve. You could see a little more of his back now, but you tried not to stare.

“I-ehm…” Ford started but didn’t know how to voice his question. You understood him though. “How about I close my eyes for you to get out and then I face the wall to wash my own hair while you get dressed?” Ford chuckled lightly, the tension of having to ask an uncomfortable question immediately lifted by your genuine respect for his boundaries.

“They’re closed,” you told him and he stood up, got out and wrapped himself in a towel. As soon as you heard both of his feet hit the ground you turned in the tub and faced the wall, presenting Ford your back. You wet your own hair and when you were reaching backwards for the shampoo bottle you couldn’t reach it. Seems like you didn’t think this one through fully.

“Here.” You felt the bottle gently hit your hand and took it from him. While you were busy washing your hair, Ford realized that neither of you had brought any fresh clothes into the bathroom. He quickly left to get some for himself and then some for you as well. When he came back you were just putting conditioner into your hair.

“I brought you some clothes as well.” You halted. “I knew I forgot something. Thank you.” Ford chuckled and quickly got dressed into some fresh pants and a different red turtleneck. When he was done you were just about to stand up. Ford picked up the towel and held it in front of himself. You stood up, your back still facing him, and he wrapped his arms around you and the towel along with it.

Ford pressed a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck before letting go of you. “I’ll make us both a hot chocolate.” You just hummed in response.

When you stepped out of the bathroom the house felt warm again and the smell of hot chocolate filled the air. You let the smell guide you to the kitchen where you found Ford. Your arms snaked around his waist, hugging him from behind and you nuzzled your face into his turtleneck.

When he was done preparing the drinks he turned around in your arms, cupping your face in his hands. “What have I done to deserve you?” He sighed dreamily and you smiled a crooked grin at him. “You made us hot chocolate!” You both chuckled and took the drinks to the living room where you both settled into the old recliner.

Once the drinks were emptied and you were just about to drift off into sleep in his arms, you heard Ford whisper in your ear.

“Thank you.”

[locomoqo]

Could we get something related to gun trying to convince the reader who he loves to stay with him. Reader is conflicted with her feelings because she loves him but she’s aware of his job and how dangerous it is for the both of them. Angst & comfort please!

love me like a sailor

— gun park x reader

details: angst with comfort, established relationship

A/N: 1.2k words whewww, also i hope i did gun's personality justice here🥹 i rlly do believe he'd soften around someone he loves (i have a feeling this didnt come off as angsty as i wanted it to be bleh)

The room is dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the floor as the evening light fades behind heavy curtains. Gun stands in front of you, his usually impassive face softened by an emotion he rarely shows—vulnerability. The tension between you both is almost suffocating, a thick silence hanging between breaths. Your heart is heavy with the weight of a decision you don’t want to make.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. You clutch your arms, holding yourself together because you’re afraid that if you let go, you’ll fall apart. You look up at him, eyes filled with the conflict that’s been tearing at you for weeks. He’s been distant lately, lost in the chaos of his work, and you can’t pretend any longer that it doesn’t scare you.

Gun’s jaw tightens, his usually stoic expression cracking for a brief second. There's a flicker of something fragile in his eyes. He steps forward, a little too quickly, as if he's scared you might vanish. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says, his voice quiet and distant—just like it always is.

You meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, hating that he makes it sound so simple. “But for how long?” you ask, your voice breaking. “You’re always chasing danger, always fighting, always risking everything. I can’t... I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk out that door.” The words spill out of you, each one a stab to your own heart. You hate how weak you sound, how vulnerable. But you can’t help it. You can’t stop loving him.

Gun’s brows furrow, his usual mask slipping as he takes a step closer. He towers over you, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes that contradicts his imposing presence. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you but stops, hovering with uncertainty as if he’s not sure he has the right to touch you anymore. “I don’t know how to be different,” he admits, his voice raw and low, twisting your heart. It's true, fighting has become part of who he is, it's all he's ever known. “This is who I am. But if it means losing you, I’ll—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head, feeling tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your edge. I don’t want to be your weakness.”

You see frustration flare in his eyes, the helplessness he fights so hard to conceal. His hands drop to his sides, curling into fists as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you think I want to be this way?” he asks, his voice suddenly fierce, desperation cutting through his words. “Do you think I don’t know what it does to you every time I leave? I’m trying, damn it, but I can’t just walk away from who I am. I’ve built my life around this, and I can’t change it, not overnight.”

He stretches his hand out, catching yours before you can pull away. There's an urgency in his grip—an unspoken plea hidden beneath his cold facade. The anger fades from his face, replaced by something hollow and broken. “You’re not my weakness,” he insists, his hold firm but gentle. “You never have been. You’re the only person who makes me want to be better. For you.” He swallows, eyes locked on yours. “I know it’s dangerous. I won’t lie to you about that. But I can protect you. I will protect you.”

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice, but you know it’s not enough. You pull your hand back, wiping away a tear before it can fall. “What if something happens to you?” you ask, your voice cracking. “What if I lose you?”

Gun’s expression tightens, and he reaches for you again, his hands settling on your shoulders with surprising gentleness. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he says firmly, his voice steady, as if daring fate to contradict him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He almost adds, “Not if it means leaving you,” but the words die in his throat.

“...I don’t want to leave,” you say, your voice hoarse, and it’s the truth. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to be without the man who’s somehow become the most important part of your life, the one who knows you better than anyone else. “But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself either.” Your voice wavers, and you turn away as a sob escapes before you can choke it down.

Gun’s fingers gently tilt your chin back, his touch tender in a way that takes you by surprise. “Look at me,” he commands, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the raw fear in his eyes—the fear of losing you. “I’m not asking you to ignore the danger. I’m asking you to stay with me.”

Your chest tightens, and you shake your head as tears finally spill over. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Gun’s hands come up to cup your face, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His touch is achingly gentle, his thumb brushing away the tears that fall down your cheeks. “Then don’t watch,” he says, his voice teetering on desperation. “Let me be the one who takes the risks. I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything if it means I can keep you by my side.” His voice is so soft, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Isn’t that enough?” His eyes, usually so cold and distant, search yours, desperate for any sign that you might stay.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud echoing in your ears. The tears come faster now, and you let yourself lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your skin. There’s a sadness in his gaze that cuts you to the core, but there’s also hope—a fragile, flickering flame that refuses to die.

Your hands tremble as you cling to the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling into the material. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “but I’m scared, Gun. I’m so scared.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. His hold is firm and unwavering, like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. “Then be scared,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, “but don’t go.”

It's the first time you’ve ever heard him beg, and it shatters something inside you. You stay there, wrapped in the security of his embrace. He’s far from perfect, and so are you, but in this moment, you find a sort of peace—a hope that, maybe, love is enough.

Gun pulls back slightly, his hands still cradling your face as he stares at you with an intensity that steals your breath. “Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You don’t know what the future holds, or if his promise is one he can keep, but in this moment, as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you find yourself nodding, your resolve crumbling in the face of the man you love. Gun exhales shakily, a soft, relieved sound, and pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. For the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—everything will be okay.

[jifloulette]

It reminded me of you.

relationships with blue lock boys as kpop songs . . .

pairing -> itoshi rin, bachira meguru, yoichi isagi x gn!reader (seperate !)

warnings -> some angst on some parts, swearing here and there, might be ooc ? not proofread !!

word count -> rin and yoichi's is 0.7k, bachira's is 0.9k

author's note -> please click the links on the song names !! it'll help you understand why i chose that specific song ^^

. . . itoshi rin !

♫ now playing . . run2u by stayc - - - next in queue . . save me save you by wjsn

You knew the risks of dating someone cold and stoic like RIN ITOSHI, hell you were even surprised that he liked you back. You knew damn well that you were going to get hurt in the process, but you didn't care. All you wanted to do was to be with him. It doesn't matter if he's happy (you might not see it on the outside but being his s/o made you know how he is if he's happy), disheartened or upset. Your friends warned, fuck, even your classmates who you didn't even know or liked told you so. They just didn't know him like you did. Yes, you've gotten hurt before but he would ALWAYS apologize. You've learned to become patient for him during his breakdowns, he would say things like "I fuckin' hate my lukewarm brother." and "I need to become fucking better, how else am I.. gonna beat him..". You were confused whenever his breakdowns happened, it wasn't a weekly thing for him to do that, it only happened whenever you noticed him become tense and pressured. You didn't know why he hated his brother, I mean the Itoshi Sae? But you've never asked him about it, knowing he'd get agitated.

You were the first ever person he fell for, the first person he genuinely liked being around. RIN ITOSHI was scared for the first time again, scared that one day you might leave him too. Scared that he might scare you away because god, he knows how he acts whenever he's feeling distressed. He couldn't understand it, why have you stayed this long with him? Why did you treat him so differently? Weren't you just using him for his money and his fame? He knew the answers to all of his questions when one day, he just couldn't take it anymore. He'd accidentally lashed out his anger on you, the one person who he actually cared for. RIN ITOSHI had accidentally hit you, it didn't hurt much, yet it still alarmed you. He realized what he did just in time before he held you in his arms, apologizing over and over again as he cried onto your shirt. "Baby.. it's okay, really.." you said to him while caressing his hair. "N-no.. it's not! I'd accidentally hurt you, the one person I genuinely cared for..! H-how is that okay?!" RIN ITOSHI replied, you carefully asked him if he wanted to talk about why he felt like this to which he hesitantly said yes to. "I wanna know what happened, Rinnie.. don't try to hide it. I'll always be by your side", just by saying those words, RIN ITOSHI poured his heart out on his vent to you, saying that he felt distressed because he heard some of your classmates saying that his brother will always be better than him. He told you the reason why he hated his brother, he recalled the night where his brother said some things that was too painful to say out loud. After he was done, you held him in your arms once more, RIN ITOSHI couldn't take it anymore. He cried once again, asking you why you had stayed with him this long, why were you here listening to his vents, were you just getting dirt to gossip about him? You asked him saying, "Rinnie.. you wanna know why I've been here with you for so long?", he looked up at you with his beautiful teal eyes and simply nodded, "The only reason why I'm here with you is because I love you. Not for your fame, not for your success, and certainly not for your money but for you..", RIN ITOSHI was surprised, you really weren't using him? He had doubted you for a bit but oh, your tone while you said that to him made him believe that what you were saying is true. That's all that he needed to hear before hugging you tightly again, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Thank you so so fucking much, y/n.. you don't know how much I love you..", the black-haired boy in front of you said.

RIN ITOSHI now believes that true love exists, and true love is wherever you are. He didn't care if you saw him at his most vulnerable state, he knew you wouldn't gossip that to your other friends. RIN ITOSHI now knows the answers to all of his questions, he knows that you will stay with him until the end of times.

. . . bachira meguru !

♪ now playing . . love is lonely by NMIXX

BACHIRA MEGURU was convinced that you were his special someone. You were convinced that he was your special someone too. For all of BACHIRA MEGURU's life, he'd been lonely. Only sharing his love and appreciation to his mother who held deeply in his heart. The second you went up to him, asking if he was okay, he felt skeptical. He wasn't stupid, so he'd ask you if someone ordered you to come to him just to record him at his weakest. You were taken aback yet you knew what the others said about him and his "monster", you really could care less about what they said about him. "Huh? No.. I came here because I saw feeling down after classes ended." you replied, you took your hand out and asked him if he wanted to come with you to go to a place that was special to you. He was reluctant at first but eventually gave in. He'd noticed you in class before, you weren't like the others. You genuinely had a pure heart.

You ran in front of him while holding his hand still. BACHIRA MEGURU swore he felt a big, genuine smile starting to grow on his face. Were you the person the monster inside him was looking for? You introduced him to a small bench, not that far from the school. You told him how you discovered this place as you were randomly walking home and decided that it was gonna be your special place. You had brought fairy lights to hang on the trees that were around the bench. The two of you sat on it and it was as if fate that you guys fit perfectly on it. You went on rambling about how you'd always wanted to be his friend but you were to shy to ask him, and how he'd been the first ever person you had brought along to go here. He didn't even notice how there was light pink tint starting to grow on his face. Ever since then, you and BACHIRA MEGURU had been together as if the two of you were cursed for all eternity to be together, he wouldn't mind if that was the case.

It wasn't long before he had started to fall for you, just the way you would talk to him, take care of him, comfort him, and treat him as if he were an actual person were just a few reasons on why he'd fallen for you. If he could, he would rant on for hours and hours on why he likes you so much. Before he knew it, it had already been 6 months since the two of you had met. You'd asked him to go your guys' special place to which he had ecstatically said yes to. He obviously wanted to at least look good for you, even though you said that whatever he would wear, he'd still look good. The second he arrived at the bench, he saw that you weren't there which was strange.. He thought maybe you were just playing games with him. "Y/n! You can come out now~!" BACHIRA MEGURU shouted playfully, yet you still didn't come out. He noticed an envelope on the bench with a heart sticker on it, he knew that he would want you to open it knowing that only you and him knew about this secret hangout spot and thought you had left it for him to find. He noticed a handwritten "To: BACHIRA MEGURU, my best friend in the whole entire world" on it, and when he opened the envelope, a long piece of paper was in it. He slowly unfolded it and read the contents of the letter. "Dear Megu, I'm sorry I couldn't come to you face to face to tell you what I've been feeling recently. The thing is, the second you held my hand that late afternoon, I fell for you. Call it stupid but god, I immediately fell for you. The fact you didn't hesitate to come with me just made me blush thinking about it. I've always knew I liked you before we were even friends, but I just thought of it as infatuation. You really did prove me wrong because you were the person I've been meaning to find ever since I watched romance movies and discovered what love is. The fact you listen to my endless talks about whatever really made me fall for you even more! In the span of the 6 months of our friendship, you became someone that I loved being around with. I want to end our friendship though.. and maybe start having a new relationship, a romantic one. Soo.. what do you say? Will you accept?", the letter said and god did he fall for you even more. The fact that you loved him the same way he loved you, oh who was he kidding, he's head over heels for you. As he was coming to the end of the letter, a pair of hands slowly hugged him from behind. He knew it was you, he recognized your touch all too well. The second you hugged him, he turned around and picked you up. "Oh y/n! You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day!" You were surprised, you really didn't expect that unpredictable action of his. Your smile became as big as the entire world to say the least, your eyes having some sort of sparkle in it. "So, do you accept..?" you asked gleefully, to which BACHIRA MEGURU replied by kissing you.

BACHIRA MEGURU had finally found the true meaning of love, it was the embodiment of you. The hardships of his life he had left behind due to you. He went inside the school campus with a smile on his face knowing you would be there waiting for him. BACHIRA MEGURU had finally fallen, he had let himself fall for you.

. . . isagi yoichi !

𝄞 now playing . . cool with you by New Jeans

If there was one word to describe how ISAGI YOICHI felt whenever he was with you, it would be comfort. Just being beside you, it would bring him to ease knowing that you were right there with him. You guys could be scrolling on your phones, showing each other different videos that reminded you guys of each other and he would already fall deeper in love with you. You understood him better than anyone else could, you knew what to do and what to say whenever he felt sorrowful. Whether it be losing a really really important soccer match or if he felt insecure and unconfident. Maybe that's why he liked you so fucking much. Your presence just soothes his soul, he didn't know how to explain it, it just did.

ISAGI YOICHI didn't always need for you to tell him how much you loved him, he could always feel it, as if the two of you were somehow telepathically connected. Just simply holding his hand, caressing his hair, and telling him how good he was at playing soccer was all he needed to know. People could see how deep the connection the two of you had, even before you guys were together. Whatever emotion he was feeling, it was almost as if you felt it the same way he did, maybe that's why the two of you had such a strong bond with each other. The two of you could go days and days doing the same thing over and over again but it wouldn't bore him, not when the person who he cherishes most was with him. Sometimes, ISAGI YOICHI finds himself zoning out during classes just thinking about you! He just can't help it, he's totally the type to chat you "I miss you" the second you part ways after walking home from school. He really cherishes every moment he has with you, even if he's not physically next to you, just seeing you makes him relaxed. That's definitely his motivation whenever you watch his games as well, just seeing you cheer your heart out for him, he can't help but drive himself to win, just for you.

Even if he knows how much he means to you, he sometimes can't help but doubt himself, he finds himself wondering if the effort he's putting into the relationship is the same as the effort you put in. "Baby.. do you think that sometimes.. I'm somehow lacking something in our relationship..?" the deep blue-eyed boy in front of you asks, "Huh? Love, of course not! You've given so much into our relationship, what else could I ask for?" you reply, your hand cupping his cheek. "'m sorry baby, I just felt down.." ISAGI YOICHI says, "Oh baby.. don't you ever think that you're dragging our relationship down, okay? I know you love me the same way I love you." you remind him, kissing his forehead. You see him blush and the tip of his ears turn red and you pinch his cheek as you tease him for being so so cute! "H-hey..! Why'd you just randomly pinch me!" the dark blue haired boy says, "Well, you're just so so so cute and I can't believe you're mine~!" you playfully respond. His face becomes even redder now that you said that. You chuckle at the sight of him and you pepper his face with kisses, on his lips, his neck, his jawline, his forehead, you bet that you didn't leave any part of his face untouched. It was moments like these in where he thought that the two of you were the only ones in the world, he has an album of memories in his brain stored with each and every memory the two of you had ever made. God was he crazy about you.

ISAGI YOICHI believed, no, he knew that you were his soulmate and that you knew that he was yours. He would find comfort whenever you were with him, and though he isn't the most verbally talkative lover, you knew how much he adores you. (Please let him daydream about how ethereal you would look at your guys' wedding, he would very much appreciate it, even if you find it funny)

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