#let me know if ran is still in I need to know if I can live or not. please

[rmview]

saying they want to break up during a fight, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the stray kids boys impulsively say they want to break up during a fight!

contents — angst, fighting, some tears, reconciliation.

bang ☆ chan

fights with bang chan weren’t common, but when they happened, they hit hard. his naturally calm and rational demeanor made it rare for him to lose his temper, but tonight was different. the stress of balancing his responsibilities, combined with your ongoing disagreement, pushed him to the edge.

“you always think i’m not doing enough!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of frustration. “i’m doing everything i can, and it’s still not enough for you!”

“that’s not what i said, chan,” you retorted, equally exasperated. “i just need you to make time for us — just once without your work taking over.”

his jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure unraveling. “maybe we’re not right for each other,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “maybe we should just… break up.”

the silence that followed was deafening. bangchan’s eyes widened, and his expression immediately softened as he realized what he’d just said. “wait — no. that’s not what i meant,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “you said it, chan. if that’s how you feel…”

“no, please,” he interrupted, his voice pleading. he reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “i didn’t mean it. i swear, i didn’t mean it. i’m just… i’m tired and overwhelmed, but that’s not an excuse. please, don’t leave.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, desperate to fix what he’d just shattered. “you’re the most important thing in my life,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll make time — i promise. just… don’t walk away.”

felix ☆

felix hated confrontation. he was always the one to diffuse tension, his warm smiles and soothing words calming any storm. but tonight, the argument spiraled beyond his control.

“why do you always think the worst of me?” he asked, his usually soft voice laced with hurt. “i’m trying my best, but it’s like you don’t trust me.”

“it’s not about trust, felix,” you shot back, your voice rising. “it’s about feeling like i’m not a priority!”

his frustration bubbled over, and before he could think, he blurted out, “maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore. maybe we should just break up.”

the words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. felix’s freckles seemed to pale as the weight of what he’d said hit him. “no, wait,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean that. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stood frozen, your heart aching. “how could you say that, felix?”

tears brimmed in his eyes as he stepped closer, his hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. you mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you —” his voice cracked. “please, don’t leave. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

lee ☆ know

lee know was known for his sharp tongue, but he rarely let his emotions get the best of him. tonight was an exception.

“you never understand my side!” he snapped, his voice colder than usual. “you always make it about you.”

“that’s not fair, minho,” you replied, your voice quivering. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he shot back, the words cutting like a blade. “maybe we should just end this.”

the moment the words left his mouth, regret washed over him. his face fell, and his usually stoic demeanor cracked. “wait,” he said softly, his voice laced with panic. “that’s not what i meant.”

you stared at him, hurt evident in your eyes. “minho…”

“i was angry,” he admitted, his tone desperate. “i didn’t think before i spoke. i don’t want this to end. i don’t want to lose you.”

he reached out tentatively, his eyes searching yours. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i know i hurt you, but please give me a chance to fix this. i’ll prove to you that you mean more to me than my pride ever could.”

hyun ☆ jin

hyunjin’s emotions always ran high, and tonight, they overwhelmed him completely.

“you don’t understand what it’s like to be me!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. “i’m constantly trying to be perfect, and it’s never enough — not for you, not for anyone!”

“i never said you had to be perfect, hyunjin,” you replied, your voice trembling. “i just want you to let me in!”

“maybe it’s better if we’re not together,” he snapped, his voice breaking. “maybe i can’t give you what you need.”

the silence that followed was suffocating. hyunjin’s chest heaved as he realized what he’d just said. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not true. i didn’t mean that.”

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step back. “hyunjin, you can’t just say things like that.”

“i know,” he said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. “i’m sorry. i was scared and angry, but i don’t want to lose you. you’re the one thing that makes me feel like i’m enough.”

hyunjin fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he clutched yours. “please don’t go,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. just… don’t leave me.”

i.n ☆

jeongin wasn’t someone who fought often, but when he did, it was because something had truly gotten under his skin. tonight was one of those nights. the argument had started small, but it escalated quickly.

“you’re always treating me like i’m a kid,” jeongin snapped, his voice louder than usual. “like i don’t know what i’m doing or how i feel.”

“that’s not what i’m doing,” you countered, frustration evident in your tone. “i just worry about you, jeongin. is that so bad?”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to worry about me!” he shouted back. then, in a moment of blind frustration, he added, “maybe we shouldn’t even be together if you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a wave. his eyes widened, and he looked at you as if he wanted to take it all back. “wait, no,” he stammered, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that. i… i don’t want that.”

your expression faltered, hurt flashing across your face. “jeongin…”

he stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i said something stupid. please don’t take it seriously. you mean so much to me, and i can’t lose you.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you, desperate to fix the mess he’d created. “i’ll do better,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “just don’t leave.”

han ☆

han’s emotions always bubbled just beneath the surface, and when he was upset, it showed in every word and expression. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he hadn’t intended.

“you don’t get it!” he yelled, pacing back and forth. “you don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough!”

“jisung, i’m just trying to talk to you,” you said, your voice shaky. “why are you shutting me out?”

“because i don’t know how to talk about this!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “maybe… maybe it’d be better if we weren’t together. maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

the second the words left his mouth, he froze. his hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stared at him, hurt and disbelief written all over your face. “how can you say that, jisung?”

he stepped closer, his voice trembling. “i’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i was scared, and i let my fear get the best of me. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only person who makes me feel like i’m enough, even when i don’t believe it myself.”

seung ☆ min

seungmin was usually calm and level-headed, but even he had his limits. tonight, the argument had pushed him to a place he rarely went.

“why do you always think i’m the bad guy?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “i’m doing my best, but it’s never enough for you.”

“that’s not fair, seungmin,” you replied, your tone frustrated. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he said coldly. “maybe we should just end this.”

the second the words left his mouth, his heart sank. he saw the look of hurt on your face, and regret washed over him. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that.”

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “seungmin, you can’t just say things like that.”

he nodded, his expression filled with guilt. “i know. i’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t take it seriously. i don’t want this to end. you’re… everything to me.”

chang ☆ bin

changbin’s temper was quick, but so was his regret. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he couldn’t control.

“why do you always have to push me?” he snapped, his voice rising. “can’t you just let me be for once?”

“i’m not pushing you, changbin,” you replied, hurt evident in your tone. “i just want to talk about what’s bothering you.”

“maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” he shot back, his voice colder than usual. “maybe we should just end this.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a truck. he froze, his eyes wide with realization. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice shaking. “no, i didn’t mean that.”

you stared at him, tears welling in your eyes. “how could you say that, changbin?”

“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, filled with guilt. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t walk away. you mean everything to me, and i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

notes: i don’t like redoing the same prompt, but angst is fun, so enjoy!

[manic-quinn]

i once had to break up with someone while we were still in love. i was going through a rough patch and they needed more than i had to give. right person, wrong time

they tried to get back together with me on 3 separate occasions in the following month

the first time they sent me this long text about how

“we could work together so that it’s different this time. you didn’t let me help you with your issues and i never communicated mine. i just can’t shake the feeling that we made a mistake”

i missed them dearly and i almost went back…but they hadn’t changed and neither had i. as much as i wanted to pretend we could work on it, i knew that it would just be a matter of time before we broke up again. breaking their heart once almost killed me and i simply couldn’t risk doing it again. so i wrote a heartfelt paragraph to say

“i wish you the best and i want to make you happy, but it’s only been a week and nothings changed. im sorry but no”

it hurt, but it was necessary. i hope they understood where i was coming from. then a few days later, they texted me again and said

“we had something special” (and we did) “i take all the blame. you were always enough, all i need is you”

again, i thought about it for a moment…but the truth is that if they didn’t have needs then we wouldn’t have broken up. i knew i was just as much to blame as them. they just wanted the grief to go away and would say anything to make it happen. if we got back together, id let them down again so i wrote a few short sweet sentences telling them that

“you have a lot to offer and you’ll find someone else. ill always be rooting for you. im sorry, but no”

the third time they insisted on calling. i told them I wouldn’t change my mind, but they insisted things would be better if we could talk over the phone. for 45 minutes, they repeated everything they ever said. trying to find anything that would change my mind.

“ive never felt like this before”

i tried to be gentle with them but there are only so many ways you can say

“im sorry but no”

eventually they ran out of words. they apologized and said they’d leave me alone, but ill never forget what they said before we hung up

“i wish i could’ve written this off like you did”

they thought that I had just moved on and what we had meant nothing to me i didn’t know how to explain that every time i said

“im sorry, but no”

what i really meant was

“i love you enough to let you go”

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | PART TWO

You were so immersed in reading when Belle begins to fall in love with the beast that you didn’t even hear the library door slowly creak open…

“Duchess.” Johnny’s thick accent makes you jump a little, your puffy eyes flicking up to meet his. He stood there unsure of himself as he did his best to fake a smile your way. “Is everything alright? You’re up awfully late.”

“As are you.” You raise a brow, a small smirk taking hold.

“I well yes…yes well I-“ what was he going to say? Simon had tasked him to find you when the Duke had knocked on your door a moment ago to check on you and then absolutely lost it when you weren’t there. Or, “your husband is looking for you.”

“Tell him to keep looking. He can find me himself if he needs me so desperately.” You scoff, half laugh at the absurdity of that statement alone. You couldn’t care less if that man was looking for you.

“Um it’s, he’s a little frantic.” Johnny tries to reason with you without letting on how much Simon had panicked that you’d fled. After hearing your cries ring throughout the hallways he couldn’t help but feel guilty coming to your room to apologise only for no one to answer.

“And?” You question, the lack of care so obvious in your voice. Closing your book and placing it on the candle lit end table, you stand. Johnny was unsure of what else to say so he settled for offering his arm like he had when you had first met to escort you to your room.

You had accepted and let the Scotsman lead you out the library and down the hallway where low and behold you ran into the Duke of Manchester himself.

The first thing you notice is how casual he looked. Tucked into black slacks, a sleep shirt with the front untied showing the light brown curls of hair on his chest. His under knee boots clean and still on as well as a dark red cloak with no hood. Maybe a matching set with your robe? A wedding present you didn’t know about perhaps?

“Your Grace.” Johnny had unlinked his arm from yours and bowed to your husband who had a bit of mania colouring his eyes.

“Where have you been?” He spat his tone, of what you could tell, was worry making your eyes widen in surprise.

“The library.” Your voice was much smaller than you’d like. You straightened your stance and fired back much like you had earlier, “What’s it to you?”

“You’re my wife therefore I’m inclined to know of your whereabouts.” He grunted, taking a step closer to you.

“Like this is an actual marriage.” You muttered under your breath but clearly not quiet enough as both Simon and Johnny heard, their gazes burning holes into your head.

“This is an actual marriage. Last I checked not only was my signature on our marriage license but yours as well.” Simon’s large shoulders were squared and tense as he again took another step forward.

“Like I had a choice in the matter! And now I’m stuck in a big old house with a man who doesn’t love me or cherish me or even want me! And in three months I will be all alone, no husband, no children. And again none of it is my choice!” You screech out of breath and panting after shouting in your husband’s face.

Simon’s brows were raised, lips parted in shock, the expression almost had you laughing but in this moment all you could feel was anger. Angry at the position you were in, angry at the man in front of you, angry at yourself for having verbal diarrhoea.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, you stormed passed him finished with the ridiculous conversation. Simon still in shock, let you go.

Waking the next day was humbling, you felt hot to touch and groggy as you stumbled into the morning room sitting down unsteadily to eat your breakfast. Simon watched you with careful and guarded eyes.

Silence once again blanketed the room. You glance over to see his plate full, he had waited for you and if the way he’s tearing into his food said anything he must have been starving. He had never waited for you before.

Shrugging you picked up a fork and begin to eat some of the fresh fruit in front of you, though you only got a few bites in and began to feel sick. Simon mimicked your moves, setting down his cutlery when you did. “What is it?” He casually threw your way, it was impatient with the need to continue eating.

“I’m feeling a little under the weather is all.” You say standing from your seat, Simon once again copies. The chair screeching as it moves when he stands, he almost rushes to you to place his large hands to your forehead and cheek.

He frowns at what he finds, “Johnny!” You flinch at how loud he shouts his voice echoing in the room, Johnny comes running his head peaking into the room with a questionable gaze. “Send for Doctor Garrick immediately.” Johnny’s eyes widen as they flicker to you and Simon’s hands on your face.

You push them away with a shake of your head, “Don’t be dramatic Simon, I’m fine. Some more sleep will send it away.” You stand firm but your husband’s frown deepens.

“I am not dramatic.” He defends, but it sounds like a child arguing. It makes you scoff. Simon raises a brow and brings his hand up to pinch your cheek something that makes you blush. Where had the cold arse of a man gone? Since when did your husband pinch your cheek or make you blush?

You push Simon away, a big push, your hand against his shoulder but he barely moves, doesn’t even flinch. It only hits now how big and muscular your husband is, how strong he is. But it only gives you another reason to be disappointed that he’s not really yours.

“So is that a yes or no for the Doctor?” Johnny asks and before you can argue no, Simon is already saying yes. You simply huff with a roll of your eyes and leave the room.

The Doctor comes and unfortunately for your ego, you’re feeling worse in the evening when the man arrives than you had been at breakfast. He’s a handsome man with kind eyes, he takes your temperature and does some other tests before concluding you’ve over exerted yourself. You’re instantly arguing you haven’t been doing anything that could make that possible. You completely miss the side eye he gives Simon at the implication you haven’t been doing what couples usually do on their honeymoon.

Kyle, which he asks you to call him, goes through other ways this could be possible. Stress being a big factor, at this you fall silent. Simon is hovering in the corner of the cozy room, he had fluffed the pillow on the chair you sat in and lit the fire so it would be warm for you. Even going as far as to fetch you a blanket for extra comfort. You wonder, did your shouting really make him change over night?

“I’d like you to rest and avoid stress. Wouldn’t want you ending up with a cold or worse the flu. Even with medicine making its advances, there wouldn’t be anything I could give you for you to survive those.” Kyle says in an unemotional and practical manner. He bows to you and nods to Simon before leaving. Your eyes drift over to the hulking man stood in the corner, he has a smugness in his eyes but it doesn’t match the worried expression that’s been plastered on his face since you said you felt under the weather this morning.

“So,” you begin awkwardly, it makes Simon step forward closer to where you’re sat in the comfortable arm chair in front of the fireplace. The orange hue flickers over the both of you bathing you in a sweetness. “I suppose if I must avoid stress, I must avoid you hmm?” You joke trying to lighten the mood.

Simon smirks slightly, his hand coming to rest on the edge of the fireplace mantle. “I think it simply means no more fighting me.” He offers his own joke, a small smile pulling at your lips to which he matches. There’s a tension between you two you haven’t felt before, his brown eyes flicker to your lips something that has you instinctively biting your lower lip.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you believe he’s going to leap forward and kiss you. There’s electricity in the air, it crackles around you and pulses in a way that has your chest rising and falling a little quicker than usual. Simon’s left foot shuffles forward and like he’s fighting his own body the rest of him refuses to move.

“Fighting you is kind of fun though.” You reply, your little tit for tat banter building, “sometimes.” You add but Simon is already grinning, looking as though what you said is the best piece of information he’s ever retained.

“I do like you when you’re feisty.” He replies. Before you get a chance to fully take in what’s been said, Johnny comes through the door.

“Your graces,” he bows to you both.

“What is it Johnny?” Simon’s grin is gone, replaced with a thick frown. He seems annoyed to have been interrupted, you think to yourself. Again a blush rises on your cheeks and ears.

“You have received an invitation to the Price Ball tomorrow night.” He informs you both.

“Ah. Right, John said his new Viscountess was planning one.” Simon nods, running a hand over the stubble growing on the lower half of his face. It made him look a little rough but you sort of liked it better than when he was clean shaven. “Reply back that we will attend only if the Duchess is feeling better.” Johnny nods and leaves.

Simon said a week into your marriage that whatever Ton event that was being thrown during this London season you would both have to attend no matter what and now he’s making exceptions and excuses to his close friend for you?

“Hey.” Simon catches your attention, his voice soft and he crouches next to the chair. His eyes search yours for a reason as to why you look upset, it’s as if he wants to find the culprit and destroy it. That maybe be pushing it a little but it’s the vibe he’s giving off.

You just stare at him for a moment before you speak, “I don’t understand why you’re being so nice.” You make sure your voice is quiet, the question feeling unsafe to say out loud.

Simon looks down, a shuddering breath making its way out. It surprises you as much as his answer does, “I don’t want to be alone either.” It’s mumbled but very clear.

“What?”

He snaps his head up, eyes locking with yours with an intensity you’ve never seen before. “When the next two months are over, you’re going to stay with me and it’s going to be your choice this time.” Simon takes a hold of your hand, kissing the top of it before holding it in between the both of his.

“I will make every effort to make it so darling.”

To be continued…

Taglist | @callmecurious97 @corvusmorte @xheera @lilynotdilly @watyousayin @lunamoonbby @captainsarcasmandsass @myspaceisra @c1garette-nightmares @lucinda-reads @emmylous-world @svnh6021 @lucifers-demonic-breast-milk @alucardsdaddyissues @fruitymoonbeams-blog @misscaller06 @stupid-little-birdie @vivanlasbaleadas @sozainturpal @3-opossums-in-a-ballgown @softangxlicss @aninnai @hbaasaad @alucardsdaddyissues

[4chensungs]

don’t kiss and tell

brothers best friend!jisung x fem. reader

after the incident of your brother finding out you hooked up with one of his friends, you promised to yourself to never look out for him anymore. but who says he’ll give up on you that easily?

wc. 2.8k

warnings. smut (mdni), jisung is down bad, body worship like crazy in here, tit sucking, fingering, ass slapping, unprotected sex

part 1 for context here <3

IT HAS BEEN one whole month since you last talked to jisung. one month since you saw him probably for the last time in a hot minute.

the last few weeks have been extremely unusual; you keep questioning yourself how was he doing, if he's even ever going to appear at your house again to hang out with you brother, like he always did. he's probably not.

and fuck jaemin, fuck him for screwing your bond with him. it's useless, pure jealousy and he's so stupid!, stupid for being this mad with one if his best friends of years, simply because he thinks you're still a child.

on the other hand, jisung is being not so subtle in the way he still wants you. he keeps liking the pics you post on your instagram stories, sometimes even replying to them. and it's the sad fact you're not giving him a single reply.

his mind wanders to the thought of you being already completely over him, wanting to distance yourself fully right now, thanks to your brother.

but your heart knows that's not what you want, and it keeps giving you a warning that the next time that you see him, these feelings will come back stronger than ever.

you miss him. so bad, thinking about him makes you sick.

you're laying in bed, scrolling quietly through your phone when the damn notification appears. why does he keep trying? you sigh out loud.

the__and.y liked your stories.

you ran your hands through your hair, turning off your phone to stare at the ceiling to collect your breath. you can't, your brother is still furious with both of you.

jisung ♡: why do u keep ignoring me in every existing social media

is he really going to do this? at this late at night?

jisung ♡: i miss you

you kept reading his messages and not replying. you didn't contact him for a month.

maybe, just maybe, things may have gotten lighter with jaemin. perhaps he's not really remembering this whole thing, yeah?

you: i'm sorry jisung

you: idk if this is right i really don't know

you: im confused

you turn off your phone again while waiting for his reply. let's give it a try.

jisung ♡: why wouldn't it be right

jisung ♡: jaemin can't control your life, you can do whatever you want

hm.

you: i felt bad that day and he's still so mad with you

you: idc if he's mad with me, he's my brother at the end of the day

you: i worry about you and how hes fucked up your friendship

jisung ♡: baby you know what's fucked up

jisung ♡: you trying to convince yourself that you don't want this because of him

jisung ♡: say to my face that you don't want it

you want this so fucking bad. to be in his arms again, and the thrill of being with him behind closed doors. god, that's all you want in every way.

you: ji

you: i want to see you

jisung ♡: that's right

jisung ♡: i've waited for this princess

jisung ♡: waited so long

you: i need you

you: i don't care anymore

you really don't give a fuck - your brother can hold his protectiveness instinct for himself, he actually can. you can't control what your heart aims for.

and it screams for park jisung.

"you can't ignore him forever, you know that?"

"who says I'm ignoring him? I texted him yesterday saying he should come this weekend." jaemin huffed, acting oblivious to the fact that the only reason why he invited jisung over was because of the boys' annual end of year party.

chenle deadpans at him with his stare, letting out a chuckle, "if you didn't invite him I would've done it myself." he paused, turning his head to look at the man, "that would be bullshit."

bullshit. jaemin swore he almost threw chenle out of the car in the harshest way possible - clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, "yeah, it was just fine when he fucked my sister behind my back."

"i'm pretty sure they did not fuck."

if you didn't then why were you both half naked. in his car. at your backyard?

"i'm telling you, I saw it. she was literally on top of him and she was fucking moaning his name, chenle. that's fucking wrong." your brother spat while still not looking at his friend - eyes focused on the road.

chenle keeps going, "cut this off, jaem. you can't see her as a baby anymore. let her live."

jisung is indeed coming to your house again - sooner than you thought. but it did take some days for you to find out, tho. you brother wasn't the one who told you.

in the same day, the last messages jisung sent you before you went to sleep.

jisung ♡: dress up prettily for me tomorrow

jisung ♡: will you?

you: what??

you: you're coming???

jisung ♡: jaemin told me to go and yeah i didn't expect it as well

jisung ♡: dreaming of you again

jisung ♡: kissing your sweet lips holding you so close to me

jisung ♡: it'll be all mine princess

you: go to sleep ji

you: silly

jisung ♡: i'll show you what's silly tomorrow

—

the sound of the boys laughing and loud pitching talking in the living room did quite mess with your head, anticipating the moment when he comes. it's crazy how you got so dolled up for him only, he's the reason why you're even going out of your room this night.

if it wasn't for jisung, you'd probably just greet the guys and come back to your own quiet place, drowning in your thoughts, alone. just like you always used to do before he appeared in your life.

a knock was heard on your door just right after you finished your makeup. unexpectedly, you meet a very tipsy jaemin.

"what the fuck is this outfit?" he spats, crossing his arms in front of his chest - his body unbalanced. for a split second, you closed your eyes and thanked all the existing Gods under your breath. he's drunk.

you smiled, "felt pretty today. you smell like beer, don't talk to me."

"hey, hey, hey." he grabbed your arm before you could close the door and kick him out, "come say hello to my friends. don't be rude."

you fixed your hair and outfit and went to the living room, being find with chenle, jeno and donghyuck's figures sat around the big table, nestled with all the different kinds of drinks and alcohol.

your breath hitched when jisung was nowhere to be found.

after greeting the guys, you decided to wait in your room - not sure on how, or when will jisung get there and you'll finally get to release all of your wants. show him how much you miss him and vice versa.

not much time had passed before another knock was heard on your door. you were sprawled on bed, dim lighting decorating the ambient.

"come in."

you said that because you thought it was your brother. jisung carefully opened the door, eyes peeking first to check on you.

that scene truly felt like a movie. you slowly got up, a smile starting to pop up in your lips as you walked to him.

your voice trembling, "hi, ji."

you opened the door fully for him to enter your space, he wasted no time to step in and pull you into a hug.

a mess was happening in your head, so ridiculously dizzy from him - the masculine smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, his hands holding your body flush to him while yours gripped his black t shirt, so simple and casual but yet made him look so attractive.

or maybe that’s just because you miss him a lot.

jisung leaned away from your embrace, gently taking your hair out of your face while holding eye contact - hands flew to your hips.

"you look gorgeous. more than ever."

your arms secured their hold around his neck, feeling your cheeks burning red from his words, "just for you." you announced.

he nodded, "all for me."

you both smiled like two idiots in love as he leaned down to kiss you, mouths melting so sweet at first - tongues brushing here and there, hums being heard throughout the kiss, "so pretty in this dress." he mumbles in between.

his back hits the door as he closes it, left hand leaving your hips for a mere second just to lock it.  making absolute sure that no one will be able to interrupt.

jisung grabs a hold of your thighs to help you walk further into your room, so familiar to him.

all the times you've sneaked out, when jisung slept by and left jaemin's room in the middle of the night when he was in a deep sleep. all behind his back with so much carefulness.

when he lays you down he's quick to trail his wet kisses down to your neck, firm hands caressing your whole body, going up and down in motions.

you arch into him, playing with his black hair strands as his face rests on your chest, meanwhile his lips keeps smooching your hot skin.

you sigh in contentment, knees pressing together - trying to give him a sign that you're needy, so painfully needy for him.

"jisung i want- mhhm" your words get cut off by your own whine when his hand grabs the top of your dress to pull it down, hanging it just below your bra.

"don't want to take your dress off.. youre looking too beautiful like this." his deep voice quietly said.

you smile at his sweet comment, holding back all your whines combined with the feeling of his fingers messing with the lace of your white bra, throwing your head back with no shame when he pulls the fabric down to expose your breasts, still not taking it off your body.

"so pretty, princess. i could admire you all day."

cool air is fast to hit but it's soon replaced by jisung's hot mouth, circling your breast with his tongue, hand massaging the other while his mouth does wonders on your soft flesh.

when he reaches for your nipple you whine even louder, his saliva pooling and soaking your whole breast when he sucks it into his warm hot mouth, humming nonstop.

"you're crazy ji-jisung."

"should i stop?" he teases, leaning his mouth away from your nipple and replacing it with his finger, rubbing it.

"no for fucks sake.. but I'm trying so hard to keep quiet." your voice trembled slightly.

jisung looks at you then laughs, “they’re so wasted right now, no one’s conscious in that room, love.”

you pout at him, he softly traces your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you again, “I promise you, it’s okay. but I need you to tell me it’s okay with you.”

his soft and caring voice did turn you on even more, it shouldn’t, but it made you wetter. eyes holding so much love and appreciation looking at yours - “I want this. I want you, ji.”

jisung smiles one more time, giving you a nod and resumed his work, mumbling a deep “fuck” under his breath when he tested the waters, hand went under your dress to feel your core.

he pulled the ends of your dress up to your stomach, your thighs ridiculously pressed together. you should be ashamed of how wet you were, but you’re not, not even a single bit.

he gives your thighs a caress, “let me spread them, hm?”

your breath hitches when he brings your knees to your chest, spreading you all open and full for him. jisung mentally coos at the scene in front of him.

just like your bra, white lace panties with a wet dark patch decorated in the middle, like a gift for him. it drove him crazy.

“did you miss me that much, princess?” you can only moan as response when he touches the wet patch with his finger before pulling the lace to the side, holding it in place with one finger, while his middle finger travels up and down your cunt.

wet, so fucking wet, “fuck. love, i might cum just by looking at this.” he cursed and cursed again, eyes wide open and looking straight at your puffy displayed cunt, so wet just for him. he knew that and so did you.

“oh fuck baby i can’t-“ jisung’s fingers spread you open to admire you better - in love, genuinely in love with how your pretty pussy shines for him, glistening and begging to suck him in.

he leans down fast enough to give your clit a quick kiss, “can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.” still caressing your core.

you moan his name desperately at his nasty but sweet comment, tons of whines and “jisung” ‘s leaving your mouth.

“ji please. want your fingers.” you manage to say.

“of course, gotta prep my beautiful girl.” he smiles, an expert finger circling your clit before diving down into your entrance. covered with slick, your cunt invites him just as soon.

experienced fingers pumping in and out continuously, you whine with your eyes closed at the sound of wetness.

jisung’s in complete awe, stoping his staring at your hole to kiss your face, first at the corner of your mouth, then at your lips, shutting your whines off.

“you’re perfect.” he leans away to say.

nothing’s more perfect in this world than the sensation of his long and thick fingers inside you, scissoring you and reaching the deepest and most sensitive spots ever. you’ll say that to him later.

you try to smile but you soon harshly bite your lip when he curled his two fingers inside, you yelped, “jisung! oh my god-“

he kisses you again, and again, until he’s satisfied and thinks you’re ready to take him. jisung’s fingers leave you empty, and you let out a cry - his eyes make their way to between your legs to see how you’re pulsating.

“never seen my princess this wet..” deep cocky voice says.

you reach out to take off your dress, “i’ve missed you.”

when your dress was discarded to the floor, he was quick to unbutton his jeans as they went to the same destination of your clothes.

you could see his erection through his boxers, and as much as you want to such him off right now, you’re needing him inside. now.

your panties were about to be discarded before jisung grabbed your hand and shook his head, “want them on, baby. s’ pretty. keep the bra too.”

knowing how he likes it with you, you turned around and pinned your front to the bed, arching your back and your ass in the air.

“fuck, just like that.” he pumps his cock at first, cooing you while you wait for him.

jisung’s hands flew to your back to arch it even more, then to hold your hips. he rubs the head of his dick on your entrance, how your pussy almost sucks him in just from the rubbing.

when he enters you, you let out a little too loud moan. hands clutching the sheets and tears filling your eyes.

he’s completely focused on how you keep clenching around him - the amusing view of your cunt sucking him all the way in, then out again.

your hips were pressed to his shaft, feeling him so fucking deep into your womb.

jisung coos again, “you don’t know how I’ve been dying for this.” he slaps your ass.

“jisung! jisung fuck, jisung.” you whine like a baby, lost in the pleasure. ass stinging from his big hand slap and cunt begging to be filled until you get sore.

“my love.” another slap, “fucking made just for me.”

his cock is so big and it leaves you like a babbling mess, so big that it almost hurts from how good it is, hits you in all places.

you both were getting closer, his thrusts started to get sloppier and messier, slower as he pulled away to release at your back.

your own release dripped down your pussy and thighs, while his hot cum painted your back down to your ass cheeks. what a scene.

“want them all to see this mess.. jaemin needs to see how you’re good to me.“ he admires the sight of your cunt clenching and unclenching around absolutely nothing but the air, “can’t believe you’re mine and no one can ever change that.”

you tiredly laid back on your back again, trying to fix your hair. jisung’s sweaty body joined you after tossing the dirty sheets aside, he breathes heavy, but still with that cute smile on his lips.

“do you think they heard something?.” you look up at him, voice low.

jisung thinks for a second, furrowing his brows, “i honestly don’t think so, baby. but you need to change these sheets..”

“of course i will, ji.” you laughed fondly. there’s still some questions hanging in the air, with what face will he come back to the boys?

“and if they ask you where were you this whole time and what were you doing…?”

“then i’ll just say that i was fucking the prettiest girl in the family and i don’t regret it.”

—

© 4chensungs

[deadlychansaw]

— hope

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x reader

warnings: vomiting, no use of y/n, bit angst, pregnancy, it happens during ep 2 s2

a/n: omg first time writing something like this, i hope someone enjoy this 🫣

00:30 was the number sparkling in neon red in her bedside watch. She couldn't stop looking at it. She couldn't sleep. How could she? The bed too big and cold for her to be alone, she missed her husband. Where was he?

She thought that after the coma he would retire and live peacefully with her, maybe in some cabin in the woods with two kids and a dog. this thought alone made her want to tear up.

She knew being a police officer was dangerous, so every time he wasn't home she feared that something had happened. This made her want to throw up, and she did.

That was unusual for her, maybe... no. It couldn't be. But when was the last time she had her period again? It was nine days late, this was also unusual. How haven't she noticed it?

00:45. She couldn't wait until morning so she picked up her car and went to a 24h open drugstore

"Do you need any help, miss?"

"I want a pregnancy test"

"Are you alright, dear?"

She hadn't noticed that small tears started to run down her face.

"I will be"

As the old lady gave her the test she smiled sympathetically and said:

"I'm sure you will. You don't need to be afraid"

" My husband is a cop" She felt the need to reply

"Oh, I see. But you will be fine, dear. I felt the same when my husband fought in war."

This time, she didn't reply.

She got home after speeding the car a little more than necessary and running a few red lights and went straight to the bathroom to do the goddamn test.

Palms sweaty, hands shaking and feet stomping in circles. It hasn't even passed the three minutes the test needed to be ready, just a few more seconds and...

oh.

Positive. p-o-s-i-t-i-v-e.

She was pregnant and wasn't even sure her husband would return home. Where are you Jun-ho?

"Babe, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

His voice reached her ears like the light in the end of a dark tunnel.

"I was waiting for you"

"My love, you know you don't need to"

"But I wanted to. Where were you?"

"I was in some kind of a car chase, but they shot in my tires"

That made her eyes open wide. "What? Chasing who? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt. I wish I could tell you everything but i don't wanna put you at risk"

"I accepted the risk the day i accepted to be your wife. Please tell me. I'd rather know what i'm scared of"

"I guess you're right"

So he tells her everything. The games, his brother, his plan with Gi-hun. Everything.

"That is awful. Unbelievably awful. How can some people be so disgusting and evil? Gosh, that makes me sick"

She ran to the bathroom and started to vomit in the toilet, he ran after her and held her hair.

"Are you okay? I know it's s lot to process"

"Oh my God, I'm sorry for this, now you'll never want to kiss me again."

"There's not a world where i wouldn't want to kiss you" He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "But let's brush those teeth, shall we?"

Jun-ho gets up to put toothpaste in her toothbrush and give it to her.

"I don't know what i did to deserve you, Jun-ho"

"I am the lucky one here, babe. You're still here with me after everything i told you."

"i'm not leaving your side. Never."

He picks her up in bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting my wife to bed, as i should"

He really was the sweetest thing in her life, she needed to tell him already. All the what-ifs started coming to head again what if he doesn't want a child? what if he doesn't have time to form a family? what if he never come back home anymore?

"Babe, are you crying?"

"Do you really need to search for that island?"

"I do. These games need to stop."

"I don't want anything bad happening to you"

"I promise it won't. I will always come back home to you" He seals the promise by joining their lips in a long, slow and passionate kiss.

"Jun-ho, I need to tell you something but i'm so afraid of how you're gonna react."

"You don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm always here for you no matter what"

"I- I am pregnant" She doesn't wait for him to answer. " I know it's not the right time, and maybe you don't even want to be a dad and-"

She sees that he opened his characteristically big and warm smile, one that lights up her whole world.

"Are you... happy?"

"Are you kidding? Babe i feel like the luckiest guy of all South Korea. I'm so happy. Oh my god, i'm gonna have a daughter "

That made her chuckle.

"We don't know if it's a girl"

"Oh i'm sure of that. We need to celebrate"

"Celebrate? At this time? How?

"Hmm, i can think of a few ways..."

And she had a feeling she haven't felt in a while. relief. Hope.

[the-bleeding-weave]

Now i need a fic of daisuke yelling at jimmy to go in the vent himself.

Wait a minute, i can just write it.

...

Gimmie a sec...

(Cw for canon typical gore, also spoilers)

Daisuke stood in silence, his back facing Jimmy. It was the most quiet Jimmy had ever seen him and something about it deeply unsettled him.

"Daisuke?"

"Why does Anya look pregnant?" Daisuke merely looked over his shoulder at Jimmy, his eyes narrow and his stance firm.

Jimmy's heart sinks a little.

"I-I-I don't fuckin know, I'm not her dad! Come on what are you waiting for? She could be killing Curly right now!"

Daisuke snaps back at Jimmy, "she would not fucking do that! Answer the god damn question Jimmy, how in the hell did she get pregnant? She's not in a relationship with anyone on this ship, she looks like she cant be any less than 5 months along, and she certainly does not seem like she trusts you enough to let you into her bed willingly. Tell me the fucking truth. Now."

Jimmy stood stunned, it was like his bones had turned into solid cement.

"ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!" Daisuke grabbed a long screwdriver from Swansea's workbench and pointed it shakily at Jimmy.

"You wouldn't dare hurt me..." Jimmy's brows furrowed.

Daisuke trembled as he locked eyes with Jimmy, but when he glanced up at the sparking wires in the vent his body stood still again.

"Go up there. If you want someone to check on Anya so bad, you do it."

"What?! I don't know the route in there! You're the only one that does besides maybe Swansea!" Jimmy's voice was shaking but he tried to keep a rough intimidating tone.

"It's a one way street Jimmy, you can't fucking miss it. Now, get in the fucking vent," Daisuke adjusted his grip on the screwdriver.

"N-no! Those live wires will fucking kill me!"

"They'll kill me too, so why do you want me to go in there so bad? Why are you so willing to put my life on the fucking line over yours? My body isn't even that much smaller than you so don't you dare try to say I'd have an easier time in there."

"What other choice do we have?! Anya could be hurting Curly right now! Just get in the damn vent and stop arguing over nothing!"

There was a pause, a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Then without warning Daisuke dashed behind Jimmy out the door, sprinting down the hall.

Jimmy ran after him but as he rounded a corner, he found himself with a shining axe pointed at his head.

"Get. In. The fucking. Vent." Daisuke was shaking but his eyes were dark with rage.

Jimmy slowly put up his hands and glanced at Swansea on the ground. He was slowly waking up, maybe hed stop this.

"SWANSEA DAISUKE IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"

Swansea groggily lifted his head from his puddle of drool on the ground and looked at him with an unamused gaze.

"Finally. The one right thing the kid's done for the ship..." he let his head fall back to the floor.

"Get in there. Now." Daisuke inched the axe closer to Jimmy's chest.

Slowly but surely Jimmy backed his way into the utility room with Daisuke never losing eye contact with him. As they finally were in range of the vent Jimmy stopped and looked up at it again.

"Daisuke please I can't do this, I would die just trying to get in there!"

"Then it would be a win for us all. Now get in. I wanna know if Anya is ok," His eyes started to grow wet with tears.

"Daisuke ple-" before Jimmy could finish Daisuke screamed at him.

"SHUT UP AND GET IN THE FUCKING VENT!"

Jimmy shook as he looked up at the gaping maw of the sparking vent and slowly climbed up the ladder.

He scanned the chamber for sparks as he made his way in, carefully trying to keep his limbs away from any cables he felt in the darkness. He looked back down at Daisuke trying to plead one last time.

But Daisuke had no forgiveness. He gripped the axe harder and narrowed his eyes at him, gesturing with the axe head to go further.

Jimmy's body trembled as he climbed through, his eyes darting to every spark and buzz he saw. The echo of the fans was deafening and the rumbling warble of the metal sheeting as he crawled made him terrified he might fall through one of the panels if he stayed on it too long.

Finally he made his way to the vent in the medbay but just as he reached to push it open-

He screams.

A live wire sends searing shocks though his arm and he lurches backwards, unknowingly backing into even more live wires. In an instant his body is filled with the fires of hell itself, shocking his very bones and making his muscles jerk and spasm uncontrollably. The pain is excruciating, he feels his heart jumping in disjointed rhythms and for a moment he thinks hes having a heart attack. He uses his little remaining strength to push open the vent and crawls over to the door to unlock it. The effort makes him collapse to the ground as his body contorts, desperately trying to find a position that doesn't agrivate his burns. But it's no use.

He lays on the ground and opens his eyes with heaving breaths finding himself face to face with Anya's twitching body.

Her eyes are lifeless and her mouth and nose are wet with blood and vomit. In her hand is an empty bottle of pain pills.

Curly looks down at her sobbing quietly, staring at her as if he was trying desperately to will her back to life. He lets out garbled breathy wails as tears pour down in rivers from his eye.

Jimmy locks eyes with Curly who looks up at him in horror.

Though his voice is beyond weak and his vocal cords have been mostly destroyed, he tries his hardest to muster up a word for the first time since the crash.

"...why....."

"Why can’t I go in myself?- Uh, well Swansea trained you Daisuke, obviously."

"…"

"I won’t be too far away..!"

[tinytinyblogs]

Hey can you do yandere skz punishments

Punishment time darling

They give you everything you could ever want, but crossing them is a mistake you’ll never want to make.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Bang Chan isn’t one to act impulsively, not when it comes to you. He’s always calculating, always planning. When you disobey him, he doesn’t explode in anger like someone else might. No, Chan prefers something quieter, something more effective. He believes punishment should teach a lesson, not waste energy. And when it comes to you, he wants you to feel the weight of your guilt, to truly understand why you were wrong. Isolation is his preferred method. It’s clean, controlled, and, most importantly, it works. The first time he catches you breaking one of his unspoken rules—talking to someone he doesn’t approve of, going somewhere without telling him—he doesn’t raise his voice. Instead, he gives you a long, measured look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. His usual warmth is gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. Later, when it’s just the two of you, he sits you down. The air feels heavy, suffocating. His voice is low and calm, almost tender. “Think about it, darling. I’m doing this for your own good,” he says, his expression carefully crafted to appear apologetic, though his eyes betray something darker. “If I’m not protecting you, who will? This world is too dangerous for someone like you. Without me… you’re nothing.” The words sting, but they also confuse you.

He delivers them with such conviction, such unwavering certainty, that a part of you begins to question yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you were careless, ungrateful even. He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours as if to comfort you. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he murmurs. And then it begins. Subtly, at first. Your phone mysteriously stops working, and when you ask about it, Chan is quick to offer an excuse. “It’s better this way. You don’t need all those distractions.” Your friends start to drift away—he makes sure of it, carefully orchestrating misunderstandings and missed calls until you have no one left to turn to. Your schedule becomes eerily predictable, revolving entirely around him. He insists it’s for your benefit, that it’s safer this way. The isolation creeps in slowly, but it’s relentless. The world you once knew shrinks until it consists of only him. And every time you try to protest, he’s ready with the same disarming smile and soothing words. “I know this feels harsh, but it’s because I love you. You’ll thank me someday.” Yet, no matter how gentle his tone, there’s no mistaking the steel beneath it. Bang Chan doesn’t give second chances. By the time you realize the full extent of his control, it’s too late. You’re trapped, and he knows it. And to him, that’s exactly as it should be.

Minho

If Minho grows quiet and his sharp gaze locks onto you, it’s never a good sign. When you talk back to him or let your emotions run wild, and he remains silent, it’s far worse than anger—it’s dangerous. His silence is not passivity; it’s a storm waiting to unfold. Minho doesn’t like wasting energy, and why should he? When he acts, it’s always calculated, deliberate, and impactful, ensuring you won’t dare to repeat your mistakes. The last time you pushed him, your words came tumbling out in frustration, escalating into a full-blown argument. He listened without interruption, his expression unreadable, the stillness of his body unnerving. Once your words ran dry, he finally spoke. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice eerily calm, laced with a sharp edge. “You’ve been crossing the line lately. You know that, don’t you?” The weight of his words sat heavy in your chest long after he left the room. Sleep felt impossible that night as anxiety churned in your mind. You couldn’t ignore the suffocating feeling that something was coming. And you were right. Just as the clock struck midnight, the sound of your door creaking open made you sit up in bed.

There he was, standing in the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. His eyes, dark and piercing, met yours, and an unsettling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Waiting for me, lovely?” he asked softly, stepping into the room with a predator’s grace. Before you could respond, he tossed something onto the bed. The clatter was jarring, and your breath hitched when you realized what it was: your phone, shattered into pieces. “Phone? No more,” he said with an icy smirk. “I wonder what else I should make into pieces. Those stupid plushies you’re so attached to? Or maybe… someone precious?” A soft, humorless laugh escaped him as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from yours. “Remember this, love. No crossing the line. Consider this your warning,” he murmured, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make me dirty my hands, alright?” His words cut deeper than any shout ever could. Straightening, he glanced at you one last time before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. With Minho, silence was never just silence. It was a threat, a promise, and a lesson. And when he acted, it was always with a precision that left no room for misunderstanding.

Changbin

Explode—that’s the only way to describe him when he’s angry. It’s not subtle or restrained; it’s raw, chaotic, and terrifying. When his temper snaps, it’s like a storm that tears through everything in its path. He throws things against the wall, his voice rising into a roar that makes your chest tighten with fear. The sweet, soft side he usually shows you is gone, replaced by someone you can barely recognize. “You think I’m joking right now?” he shouts, his eyes blazing with fury, so red it’s like all he can see is rage. He plants himself in front of the door, his body a solid barrier ensuring there’s no escape. The once tidy room is unrecognizable—vases lie shattered on the floor, shards glinting in the dim light, papers scattered everywhere. Each crash feels like a knife twisting in your gut, and all you can do is collapse onto the floor, your knees too weak to hold you up. His breathing is heavy, his chest heaving like he’s barely holding back from completely losing control. “Ignore me like that again,” he growls, his voice low and dripping with menace, “answer me without thinking, and next time, I’ll throw you against the wall just like I did those vases.”

The venom in his words makes your heart race, and for a split second, you can’t tell if it’s an empty threat or a promise. Either way, the weight of his fury presses down on you, leaving you frozen in place. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm begins to subside. He straightens, his eyes still fixed on you, but the blazing anger in them softens into something almost tender. He takes a step forward, then another, crouching down to meet you on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if trying to erase the memory of the chaos he just unleashed. You flinch as he reaches for you, but he doesn’t stop. His hands find your face, cupping it gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that have spilled down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. You need to understand how much I love you,” he whispers, his tone pleading. It’s disorienting, the way he shifts from monster to lover, his gentleness so at odds with the destruction around you. “So don’t make me lose my temper again, got it?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. The warning is clear, and you can only nod.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin has a way of making you doubt yourself, twisting your thoughts until you’re unsure of what’s real. He doesn’t raise his voice or resort to anger—instead, he makes you feel like you’re the one who’s wrong, like you’re the villain and he’s the victim. His charm is intoxicating, but beneath it lies something dangerous, something that leaves you questioning everything about yourself and your relationship. When you upset him, he doesn’t comfort you or address it directly. Instead, he turns it into his own game, one where the rules are stacked entirely in his favor. He knows exactly how to manipulate the situation, how to make you feel like the guilt is entirely yours. His voice is soft, trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings as he asks, “Do you even love me?” Somehow, he manages to conjure tears—perfect, convincing tears that make your chest tighten with guilt. You know he’s playing a part, that the sadness in his eyes is an act, yet it still works. His vulnerability feels so real, so raw, that you can’t help but question if maybe you truly are the problem. He always knows what to say to make you doubt your actions, and soon enough, you’re scrambling to fix something you aren’t even sure you broke. He doesn’t stop there.

His words cut deeper than any raised voice or angry outburst ever could. “I feel like I’m nothing to you,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping as though he can’t bear to look at you. “Do you even care? Am I just wasting my time here?” The weight of his accusations settles heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like the worst person in the world. And that’s exactly what he wants. For Hyunjin, this isn’t just a moment of hurt—it’s a game, a calculated strategy to make you prove yourself over and over again. You find yourself apologizing, explaining, and convincing him of your love, even when you don’t fully understand what you’re apologizing for. By the time he leans in, brushing a tear from your cheek, you’re already falling into his trap. “Tell me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with desperation. “Tell me how much you love me. Please… I can’t live without you.” His words are a plea, but they carry a weight that crushes you. It’s not just about proving your love—it’s about erasing the guilt he’s so carefully placed on you. And when you finally stammer out your assurances, he smiles faintly, knowing he’s won. For Hyunjin, victory isn’t loud or violent. It’s quiet, devastating, and entirely unforgettable.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: your acquaintance with their and their trust in you🫶🏻

Featuring: Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Se Mi x Reader(f), Kim Young Mi x Reader(f)

Warning: There are deviations from the plot + let's imagine that your managed to escape with the girls from the game.

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Kang Sae Byeok🖤

You met her at the first game. Under not very good circumstances. When you ran to the finish line, praying that this stupid doll wouldn't catch anything bad from you, you stumbled, right at the very last moment, when the Doll finished her song and was already starting to turn around. You thought it was all, you're going to die. But here you are grabbed by the neck of a green jacket.

– Don't move. - You hear a strict tone that you can't disobey, the Doll didn't notice any movements and you could continue. Your savior gently pushed you to hurry up: - Hurry up, you don't have much time. - You turned around and saw a beautiful girl with an unusual appearance. Her face didn't reflect any emotions, you nodded and continued to run.

Thanks to this girl, you won, you wanted to thank her, so in the common room you immediately approached her bed, where she was resting.

- What do you want? - she asked coldly.

- I wanted to thank you for saving me. If it weren't for you, I would have died in this terrible game. - you said a little embarrassed, but a new acquaintance did not react to your gratitude.

- Next time just be careful, no one had to help you, it's such a one-time action. - you're even offended by her words, but you understood that she was right, because in this game, and in life, everyone is for himself. Before you go, you decided to ask: - Can I know your name?

- Kang Sae Byeok. - briefly answered the one to which you smiled.

- And me Y/N, you have a very beautiful name. - you said, and then went to your place.

Who would have thought that after this moment you would be with her all the time. Honestly, you didn't do it on purpose, but maybe it's fate? In every game you followed her without realizing why you did it at all. The girl was annoyed at first and she tried to ignore you, but she couldn't, because you tried to ask: "How are you?", "How are you feeling?". Sae Byeok hasn't been asked about it for a long time, maybe that's why she softened to you.

She hadn’t confidence in you for a long time, she got used to people constantly deceiving her, but getting to know you more, she understood that you were not such a person, you are an honest and kind girl. And she gave up. She herself began to gradually open up to you and also protect in games and from the terrible men that surrounded you here.

When you came out of these games, you started walking together often. It was an ordinary walk around the city, nothing more. At first, Sae Byeok didn't really want to, but you found a way to persuade her.

Soon you started dating and moved into a common apartment, the girl finally began to feel needed and loved, you were even able to take her brother to your place, and for her it was the most important act from you (her heart then finally melted).

You understand that it is still difficult for her to entrust you with her personal secrets, but you both go through this stage so that you have a final trusting relationship.

Cho Hyun Ju💋

You met this beautiful woman at the second game. You couldn't find a team, but when you saw that many people also rejected it, you decided to try to call her to your team.

- Sorry.. Wouldn't you like to join my team? - you spoke quietly, but she heard you and was a little embarrassed by the offer, but gladly agreed.

That's how it all started, you won the second game, after which you were able to get to know her better. You've seen that she's extremely careful with people and doesn't say much about herself. But you were able to find out that she is transgender and saves money to finish the operations and go to live in Thailand. Her goals and determination inspired you a lot.

- You will definitely succeed! And you are a very beautiful girl! - you said it very sincerely, she felt it and gently smiled at you.

Hyun Ju decided that she would protect you, since you were the first person who saw something good in her. Acquaintance and stories about yourself went gradually, none of you wanted to rush things, and especially with confidence. After all, you understood that it's difficult for a girl because of the past.

When you left the game, you didn't stop communicating with Hyun Ju, on the contrary, you got even closer. After a while you confessed your love to her, she cried for a long time, but not from grief! From happiness that she found a loved one in such a bad place. She was able to fully open up to you. You went through a difficult path of transition to a girl with her and then went to Thailand together, bought a small house and were able to live happily.

Se Mi💗

You also met this girl at the second game, she came up to you and offered to unite, which you immediately agreed to. Of course, both of you weren't happy that the other members of the team were guys who behaved like complete idiots. Se Mi didn't trust them at all, so she tried to stay away from them and asked you to do exactly the same.

- Why did you want to unite with me? - you asked her when you were both alone.

- I felt that you wouldn't lie to me and that you were a good person. - she replied with a smile, then continued. - But don't trust these guys, I feel that they can do something bad, better stay close to me.

That's what you did. You didn't pay attention to the guys' jokes, and were always next to the girl. You wondered why she was able to trust you so easily and let you get so close, but most likely Se Mi had a good flair. After all, she said that you are the person who will not betray her, and that's what happened. You didn't betray her and were able to get out of the game together, while continuing good communication.

- Don't make any plans tomorrow. - she said.

- Why is that? - you asked with incomprehension, to which she smiled.

- You'll go on a date with me tomorrow. - after that, she quickly kissed you on the lips, you couldn't answer anything, you were just very embarrassed. It seems that this is the beginning of something very good in your life.

Kim Young Mi💕

You also met her during the second game, because she also decided to approach you and offer to unite.

- I'll be happy to join your team. - you answered with a smile.

- Thank you very much! - she said a little embarrassed.

You got closer quickly. After all, Young Mi quickly got attached to you, especially after your support during the game, when she started to get nervous.

- Come on, when we get out of here, shall we go to the movies? - sitting on her bed, you suggested.

- Do you think we can get out?

- Of course! Don't worry, you're safe next to me! - your words made her very embarrassed, next to you she felt like a child, although you are both the same age.

- I believe you. And I agree to go to the movies with you. - the girl replied with a smile.

That's how it all happened. You didn't betray her and were able to get out of this damn game. After that, a couple of days later you went to the cinema to see a romantic movie, you both considered it a date, but you won't tell each other about it yet.

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[cakerybakery]

“The bones under your feet are the kin I have killed.” Adam grabbed the man by the throat and lifted him high. “They are your sisters and brothers, whom I’ve ushered into death myself, child of mine. Speak not of your mother that way again. Honour her or I shall cast you upon the stones myself.”

He dropped his grown son down to his feet and watched the man scramble back. Uttering apologies as he ran from the cave Adam had dragged him to.

“A bit harsh.” The shadows spoke.

“Judge me when you have children, Lucifer.” He leaned back against the wall of the cave and blackened hands reached out. Draping themselves across his shoulders and crossing against his chest.

“Hmm. A tall order considering my wife.”

Adam snorted. “Perhaps I should let you taste mine. Take my form and fuck my wife, trickster. Have her bear you a son or daughter. Or perhaps you should take the form of her and I will lay with you. Have you carry our bastard whelp into hell.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time, Adam.” Lucifer purred into his ear.

He reached up and ran his fingers along Lucifer jaw. “Which would you prefer? Plunging your cock deep into my wife’s cunt? Filling her with cum and making her squeal? Or having me betwixt those milk white thighs of yours? Shall I play with your clit until you leak, until you gush? Until you’re as wet as the Earth after the rains? Then plunder your cave and leave it bursting with treasure? I wouldn’t mind tilling the soil and labouring under the sun if I knew you were in that pit of evil labouring to birth our child. Perhaps you would even come back for more.”

Lucifer’s long tongue ran over the rim of Adam’s ear. A long snake tail wrapped around his legs and two hard cocks pressed against his backside as one of Lucifer’s tar black hands started to work him open.

“Why not both and more? I’ll fuck you, then I’ll fuck your wife, you can raise the bastard I pump into your wife’s less than virginal holes, being sure to use all of them, and finally I’ll let you have me. My cum will drip from your ass as you get to use that monster of a prick on me.”

Adam moaned as the first cock pushed into him easily. The second came between his legs and he gripped his prick along with Lucifer’s, stroking them together.

“You think Eve would look at you the same if she knew how well used you were?” Lucifer asked between kisses along Adam’s neck. “Come on now, answer, daddy.”

“No. She’d be pissed to know how often you fucked me.” He panted out. Eve knew somewhat of his activities. It would hard not to notice the marks Lucifer left on his skin. But she didn’t know the extent of his dalliances.

Didn’t know his daily prayers in this sacred cave, when he was to be on his knees worshiping a god that never spoke to him, he was worshiping the cock of a demon that did.

Half the things Lucifer said were lies. But they were pretty lies and Adam didn’t mind them. They were better than the falsehoods heaven told him. Lucifer at least didn’t have the gall to believe his own lies.

Lucifer pulled out, maneuvering Adam to his hands and knees before working both his pricks into Adam.

He always thought it too bad that he couldn’t work one of Lucifer cocks with his mouth as the other fucked his ass.

“Don’t cum yet.” Lucifer groaned. “I got plans.”

Adam held himself back, even as Lucifer fucked him faster and deeper, even as Lucifer moaned Adam’s name and came.

Lucifer unwrapped himself from around Adam, falling back and bringing Adam with him. Settling the man between his thighs.

Kisses covered the side of Adam’s face and Lucifer nuzzled his head against Adam’s.

“Do it, Adam.” Lucifer’s voice was earnest. More truthful than Adam had ever heard it before. “Put a baby in me.”

“You don’t want that.” Lucifer had to be lying.

“Heaven is close to finding out how I keep getting up here. Before long and I won’t be able to come back at all.” Lucifer rested his head on Adam’s. “It’s too dangerous to have a baby right now. Hell is… still in flux. I need to wrangle the other sins. But I can retain your cum indefinitely. Have a baby when things settle down. Have part of you with me forever.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know why he agreed. It was madness. For all their talk, Adam didn’t think Lucifer could do it. Or would do it.

He turned his body and watch his trickster lover change his body.

“What do you think, darling? Should I keep my hair short or long? The breasts big enough for you?”

Lucifer was much the same. The breasts could hardly be called such, but he was softer. The most important part was already wet when Adam touched him.

He wasted no time burying himself in Lucifer. The cunt was tighter than Eve’s, Lucifer was a jealous bitch that way.

His dainty legs wrapped around Adam’s hip, driving him deeper. Lucifer fingers clung to Adam’s shoulders. He fucked fast, wanting to spill his seed before he lost his nerve.

Lucifer’s breath was panting. He twisted and moaned, arching into Adam until his breath hitched and what looked like a scream caught in Lucifer’s throat.

Shaking, Lucifer let out a small laugh. “Should have done this ages ago.”

Adam let himself spill into Lucifer. Let himself rest in the crook of Lucifer’s neck to keep from spilling onto the ground.

“Charlotte.” He huffed.

“Hmm?” Lucifer questioned, petting his hair.

“For a girl. Name her Charlotte. And Charlie for a boy.”

“Okay.” Lucifer turned their heads so they could kiss. “I have to go my love. I can feel heaven. They’re close to the portal. Try not to forget me.”

He sunk into the ground and Adam promised.

Adam lay there for a time, missing his lover, until at last he couldn’t smell the wafting brimstone anymore.

Fixing his clothing, Adam stepped out of the cave and ran into a smiling Sera.

“Adam. We have some news.” She placed a hand upon his head. “Lucifer won’t be able to come to Earth anymore.”

He frowned at the idea that Lucifer had ever been able to come to Earth. “I suppose that’s good.” He was supposed to be imprisoned in hell. It was lucky Lucifer had never come to visit him or his family. It sounded like trouble and he had enough on his plate.

Fields to till, Eve was pregnant again, his back was sore from napping in his cave, his thighs were oddly sticky. He must have had a good dream. Too bad he couldn’t remember it.

Thousands of years passed and Adam was staring up at red sky and a concerned devil.

Adam swallowed the now red blood in his mouth. “So we had a daughter?” He asked, the memories Sera once sealed away released.

Lucifer red and yellow eyes teared up. “We did.”

[keelt9]

Chapter 17 (Last)

Masterlist

A/N: Such a rollercoaster I had writing this one, even if it is not a sad ending, it's a kind of closure in a lot of ways. 🤧

However I think I got to the point I searched for, even took me more time than I expected. I hope you like it, it’s a long one so take your time. 

Thank you for reading!🍒

“Do you actually believe that?” I see my nephews walking inside of the house after long hours of playing with Max in a snowball war, rolling their eyes as they take out their gloves.

Max is sweating with a brightly red face, he seems like he just ran a marathon.

“Come on Max! If it weren’t for Checo that championship would be a different story.” She scoffed, walking next to the door to leave their jackets.

Max serves 3 cups of hot chocolate that mom just made. 

“Besides, don’t take us wrong but…” My nephew sipped his chocolate. “Sometimes you’re not that nice.” 

Max choke with his drink coughing for the bravery of a kid, they’re Hamilton after all.

I bite my lip for don’t laugh while observing the full scene in the hallway.

“Hey kids, what are you doing?” I appear making them run and screaming my name, crashing with me in a big hug. “Careful, careful, I have the cake in this.”

They smile while waiting as I leave the cake on the fridge, getting down for they hug me and give me a big kiss on my cheek.

“The birthday girl carrying her… our cake, have you seen that?” I say walking where Max is sitting to give him a quick peck. 

Max smiles surrounding me with his arm around my waist.

“What are you doing? Besides sweating.” They chuckles looking at Max.

“Smashing him in a couple of wars.” She said taking small bags of snacks for the cupboard. “He’s kind of slow and reckless, aunt. The worst combination for a snowball war.” 

Max mumbled some words, making them laugh. “Any mercy,huh?”

“They resemble someone… you know, a few months ago.” Max shakes his head.

I hit him softly on his arm, making him laugh.

Roscoe gasps pre announcing his entering, running quickly searching for his proper pats.

“Crike! Smelly around here.” Lewis enters with Nicola carrying the last bags for the birthday party of this afternoon.

Nicola hugs me and greets Max with a soft wave; he knows already won my parents' hearts, my siblings are a work in progress.

“Kids time to take a bath, your uncle is right, you're smelly.” She fakes a funny face after smelling their heads.

“All right all right.” They said in unison taking their things going upstairs to get ready. 

Lewis smirks seeing Max sweating. “Hard battle?”

“Not my best day.” Max grip his hand around my waist.

“How do mom and dad get used to this?” Nicola took a seat where her kids were. “This is so weird.” 

I roll my eyes. “The Dutch man is holding our sister by the waist so comfortably, in front of you?” Lewis sighs, giving Roscoe a snack.

“Have you seen them kissing?” He fakes a shiver. “I still have nightmares.”

I grab Max's hand seeing my siblings grabbing their abdomen for laughing so hard. “GOD! Let's go Max, you need a shower too.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, he can go alone!” Lewis shouts as we walk outside the kitchen.

“I know.” I turned around as Max put his arm around my waist. “But… I will make sure he has all he needs.”

I wink at them seeing his mouth open.

“Y/N!” The loud shouts make us laugh.

Our birthday party was incredible. We don't know how my parents made it possible but there were authentic Kebabs, delicious ones.

One by one my brothers and sisters were enchanted by Max; by the end of the night we were sitting comfortably talking with them as the first hours of the morning reached us.

Sadly next morning we must leave, or at least split apart. Max needs to be in Milton Keynes for a few meetings and me along with Thomas must be in the shelter.

By the way Max keeps moving his eyes from one side to the other. I can notice he's a little bit disturbed by the fact my nephews seem a little bit hesitant with him. We spend a full week with them but they seem hard to conquer.

“Hey Max!” The sound of two little voices made us turn around.

“Just…” My niece stops for a second looking at my sister who just nods slightly. “We usually spend a few weeks in Italy in spring, playing some tennis.”

I smile, jostling Max who looks frozen in his spot. “If you're available, do you like joining us?” My nephew completed her sister's invitation.

Max is blocked for the way he just opens his eyes and a small smirk appears in his face.

“But if you feel unc….” They speak probably believing they say something wrong.

“Two against one?” I laughed and stuck to his side. “It seems fair.” 

They scoff as they run to hug him, my nephew closes his eyes. “Please take care of her.”

I feel my heart in pain, even though we tried so hard to keep things away from them; there were days where they ran to me with bloated red eyes and broken voice. 

“Don’t hurt her, you don’t.” My niece said tighten his grip around Max abdomen. 

Max splits, going down to facing them. “She is all I ever want, I’ll be an asshole if I even think about it.” They laughed and nodded. “Still I’m afraid I have to ask you the same.”

I see Nicola who has a soft smile on her face and Lewis nodding. 

“Will you keep it safe while me…” Max pretends to roll his eyes. “And your uncle are in the middle of the season.” 

They giggle, ready to keep messing up with him. “Max, what do you think we've been doing?”

I laughed with my head backwards. extending my hand to Max. “Let’s go love, you only will get roasted every time.” 

Max scoffs taking it as we walk to the car. As we headed to the airfield I saw that smile on his face. 

“Are you happy, huh?” He tingles his finger with mine before kissing my hand.

“Give me a couple of months and I will surely be his favorite uncle.” He said raising his head, with a soft smile on my lips I stretched out to kissing his cheek. 

By the time season begins, all started to be in his place. 

We have a full competent team who will be in charge of the puppies and dogs that will arrive at the shelter, personnel that will be in charge to keep an eye on all I couldn’t and an amazing legal team.

It’s the end of the spring and the beginning of the summer causing some unusual rains, making the weather a strange combination between cold and humid. 

The sound of the door barely distracts me from the computer. “Do you bring the dinner?” 

Thomas and Mika are staying here for the weekend to have a break from their work in London; after all it wasn't a bad idea for the shelter to be here.

“Thomas?” I take out my glasses. “Mika?” Standing and walking to the door. 

But a big <Boo> as Max lifts me from the ground scares me to death; Max giggles as he holds me tight, I bet he feels my heart beat going crazy.

“Fuck!” I whisper, closing my eyes before hitting his arm. “You scared me!”

Max put me down grabbing my face between his hands. “Sorry, but you know you should have locked the door when you’re alone.”

“I’m not alone Mika and Thomas are…” I close my eyes. “Where did you leave them?”

Max laughs, giving me a peck. “They’re having dinner in a beautiful restaurant. Don’t worry they will come back.” 

He kissed me this time taking his time. “Very late.” He walks to the sofa but he doesn’t stop kissing me. “Fuck I miss you.”

I smile as he falls first with me straddling his lap keeping him closer as I surround his neck with my arms.

Next morning I woke up earlier, coming out of the bed carefully from not waking up Max.

“Morning, morning.” Mika is already in the kitchen making breakfast. “How do you sleep?” She smirks as I sit on the stool. 

I roll my eyes. “We didn’t hear you coming.” Thomas appears in the kitchen with fruit in a paper bag. 

“We just arrived.” Thomas said wink at me. “We need privacy too.” Also gives me my computer. “They need the photos for today.” 

I curse low, remembering I left that unfinished, they smile at me before kissing each other softly. 

After 15 minutes Max came down too, kissing my cheek, whispering, I love you.

“Morning everybody.” Mika and Thomas are taking breakfast to the dining room. 

“Nah, give her 5 minutes more, we need this for today.” Thomas said, crashing hands with Max who perks to my computer.

The photoshoot of Roscoe with the crew of the shelter, and a lot more of him, must be categorized by today; the ones which will be used for promotion, the ones who will be in the inauguration and the ones Lewis paid just because he loves Roscoe.

Max chuckles, kissing the top of my head. “Coffee?”

I nod giggling for the fact he won’t challenge Thomas' warning. 

“Hey, hey, one second.” Max turns around before going to the coffee machine. I pull him from the front of his shirt, kissing him. “Better.”

Max's cheeks turned red as a loud growl of Mika faded away.

After breakfast Thomas and Mika decided to go and spend the day out; Max and I decided to stay inside avoiding curious eyes.

“I almost forgot.” Max stands from the living room going to his suitcase, bringing back a folder. 

“What is this?” He gave it to me, and I took out the permission papers? 

“You said if I want you back to the paddock.” He sits next to me. “What a foolish question by the way.”

I giggled pushing him softly. “I must fill out the correct papers and get permission.”

I laughed covering my face with the papers. “Jeez!” 

“So, here they are.” I read it, actually papers from a permission. 

“Spa?” I see him nodding. “Why Spa?”

Belgium is in 3 weeks, next week he must be in Austria, I was expecting he wanted me there.

“Just because.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I mean yeah, Austria, whoo, but I will love having you in Spa.”

I click my tongue. In three weeks, I expect to spend the weekend helping my mom plan a dinner for my parents' anniversary .

“Come on lifje! You already left me to ditch in Montreal.” Max mentioned too that he expected to assist Montreal but we were in the middle of a review. 

“I don’t promise anything, I will try my best.” Max sighs rolling his eyes.

“If I don’t have another choice.” Max laid backs crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s ok, go.” I look at my mother as we walk around the backyard with Jewel and Roscoe following us. 

“Come on darling, you planned a whole shelter traveling, a small dinner for friends and family must be a piece of cake.” I shake my head seeing Jewel trying to jump over Roscoe trying to grab his collar.

That night when I video called Max, he raised his fist like he just won another race. 

“Great!, I’ll see you there.” He said as he sits on the sim

“Hold on, hold on.” I choke with my tea. “There?”

Max giggles. “You’ll know what it feels like to wait for your loved one to arrive.” Max sat properly with a big smile on his face. 

I narrowed my eyes, and any sharp comment came to my brain.

“I have to go lifje, see you in a couple of weeks.” The red face from the Dutch man dared to wink at me.

Even though my main plan was to arrive the race day I couldn’t wait to see him. I landed the day of practice; immediately the cameras were right to my face the moment I got out of the car.

It’s been months since I've been in a race, obviously speculations about Max and I breaking up couldn’t wait, but we just ignore it.

The incessant questions about my presence and which garage I will go to makes me giggle.

“You like to cause a lot of noise around here.” Alexa met me in the entrance of Ferrari, Leo in her arms. 

“Hi for both of you.” Alexa giggles as she gives a quick hugh. 

She points to my pass. “Which colour is it?”

I pet Leo's head as he licks my hand. “This time.” I turn it around. “Black one.”

If Max makes me wait, I decided to make him wait too.

“Such a mean girl.” I wink at her crossing the street to the Mercedes hospitality, where girls and men giggle, as they shake their heads the moment they see me.

I found Rosa coming out of Lewis' room. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be in that building.”

She points to the last hospitality of the paddock with a weird expression on her face.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Lewis came out of the room dressed for the first practice. “I knew you were coming but I expect you'll steal from here.”

I hug him as I answer. “I’ll be, but he’s messing up with me.”

Lewis shakes his head as we walk to the garage. “He never learns.”

Rosa completes the phrase. “Never mess up with a Hamilton.”

As soon as a camera caught me in the Mercedes garage the news started to fly all over the place and internet, with the strong suspicion that me and Max already broke up. The fire only increased when Mercedes posted a photo of me chatting with George and Lewis.

  >Keep it in the family. 👍

I bet when Max finally paid attention to all the noise, he called me, but I let it pass a couple of times; until the end of the day, where we crossed our paths on his way back to the hospitality. 

I pretend to pass next to him, but he definitely knows how to end my games. He finds the way to grab my hand among the cameras and reporters; I can hear the complaints of his team, but by the way his eyes seem on fire, he has a clear determination.

Max whispers so close to my face as he grabs my face and my waist. “With spirit of play, huh? Let me cut it out.”

I only have time to giggle before he kisses me with a smile on his face, if it weren’t for the sunglasses all the people would notice how surprised I am by his bold way of kissing me.

Flashlights and gasp is the only thing I hear and see when we split, but Max couldn't care less.

When qualy ends people notice a change of behavior in Max, even I start to worry about seeing him so anxious/cheerfully. He finished in the first place still he’s unable to stay still, literally.

“What's wrong with him?” Alexa asked me as we stood outside of the conference room watching the T.V. 

Max is smiling but it’s fake by the way he keeps moving in his place, even Checo is looking at him weirdly as Charles pretends not paying attention to him.

“I have no idea.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll find it out later, I guess.”

Alexa nods, walking away with Leo, leaving my mind and my trying to decipher the man in blue moving one more time in his place.

After he finished all his to-do list, I was waiting in his room, entertained with the remaining fuss of the kiss of two days ago.

“Sorry, late improvement takes more time.” I see him with his race suit at his  waist and a big black jacket.

“Oh, it’s ok, I’ll go and let you work, don't worry.” I stand when I notice the other black jacket on his hand. 

He follows the direction of my eyes. “No, no, we’re already finished, teams already leave but…” He bit his lip. “What about a sunset walk?”

“It’s starting to get cloudy, and it will probably rain.” I said looking at his back, where you still can see sunlight but the weather is getting humid. 

“Since when does the rain trouble you?” Max rolls his eyes walking right to me.

“I’m not saying this for me, I don’t want Marko to blame me for potentially getting you sick.” I grabbed his arms when he put his hands over my waist.

Max clicks his tongue. “I’ll take charge of that.” He kissed my nose. “Let’s go.”

I was about to complain but he helped me to put on the jacket, every time I tried to speak he gave a peck on my lips.

I expected a lot of judgmental faces when we came out of the room, however we found an empty garage, I didn’t say anything because outside of the garage I found a few members of different teams carrying things to the exit.

“So, where are we going?” I asked him when he started to walk to the track, his hand gripping mine tight.

“To the curve 10.” He said, with his cap covering his eyes it’s hard to guess what is in his mind. 

I nod, as we walk he keeps asking me questions about the inauguration of the shelter in a couple of months, and I gladly answer. He told me hears me talk is something he loves, because he usually does the talking.

When the flashing light of another thunder sparks the sky, I looked around, at this point of the track no one is here. “I think we should come back, I really  don’t want you to get sick in the middle of the season.”

Max pulls me as his arm goes around my neck but we keep walking. 

“Do you remember what happened in Spa a year ago?” He asks as we start to see the lines of the track that indicate the curve is close.

I giggle. “Barely.” I remember every little important thing.

“I gladly help you to remember.” Max sighs like he’s about to say a presidential speech. “A year ago, you useless tried to put me away, telling me you’re not coming back to the races and you didn’t like me at all, then in a desperate measure…”

I stand in front of him grabbing his neck with my hands. “You confess to me, I bet you wanted to kiss me like now.” His eyes move to my eyes then to my lips. “I liked you from that moment too, I just… I had my fears.”

Max nods but he doesn't kiss me, we keep walking. “Why bring this up now?” 

I saw it, in curve 10, a lot of umbrellas at both sides of the track from different sizes and colours stand with our favorite colors.

“Max.” I pout seeing all the decorations. 

“There must be lights too, but with the rain coming we’re afraid to cause a mess.” Max said as we approached the umbrellas. 

“It’s perfect, and what a view.” You can see the sun hiding behind the track tinted with red and deep blue the sky due to the clouds. 

I passed my arms around his neck to kiss him. “I love you so much, you know that?”

His eyes are conflicted. “You’re going to break up with me?” 

“NO!” I knew he wouldn't but it was the only way he finally saw me to my eyes. “It just… Ok, don’t freak out.”

I take a few steps back still holding his hand.

“I know we talked about taking things day by day, believe me I know, but…” He takes a graceful golden ring out of his pocket from his jacket. 

I hiss, making him worry as he grips my hand. “I… not in a way of proposal, just because I want to make a promise and a commitment.”

I narrowed my eyes to him. “You have a lot of necklaces and damn it, Lewis always gives you a bracelet for your birthday every year…”

“You can say, you want to give me a ring.” He gets down his head making me giggle. “It's ok, I panic because it takes me by surprise but I got it.”

Max put his hands on my waist. “It would be so lame a simple dinner, you know.”

“It’s been a tough year, huh?” I scrunch my nose getting lost in my own mind as I see the gray clouds closer and closer. 

“It couldn't be better.” Max words bring me back to the moment. “Yeah a little bit of craziness on the way but, can you look at us for a moment?”

He extends his arms. “I have the girl I never knew I wanted and needed in my arms in the middle of one of the most impressive tracks of the season, as she tells me how much she loves me, making me feel above one of those clouds.”

I scoff, grabbing his arms. “Fuck, Y/N I love you like anyone on the world.” 

For the way Max touched my face a tear was already falling down. 

I hide my face in his chest as he kisses the top of my head, feeling overwhelmed in the good way. 

“That means you will never give me that kind of ring?” Max laughs and vibrates next to my head in his chest.

“That means, I'm ready if you ever be ready.” I see right to his eyes with indiscernible tears on his face.

“Thanks.” He gives me a soft peck. “But I believe you should put that ring on my hand, you know?”

Max shakes his head giggling as he grabs my right hand putting the finger.

“Perfect.” 

A few drops start to fall, the dark clouds are turning in a clear gray. 

“Let's go, I don't want you sick. Who will I kiss at the end line?” That was enough for Max to grab my face and kiss me slowly, letting us feel our lips against each other.

“Never worry about that.”

A couple of years ago, I swear such love was only something you can see in the movies, after Caleb only made that statement stronger.

Until a f1 driver came in a race car crashing one by one my walls at the same time, with so much care making sure he wouldn't leave any dust of doubt in the way. Without a warning I am staring at my own movie, feeling loved and protected.

Walking back to the garage Max got distracted with the sunlights peeking through the clouds, as I took a few steps ahead of him.

This is about unexpected decisions after all.

“Max!” I scream, making him turn around as the drops turn in gradually intensifying rain. “Keep me busy.”

Max choked his head when I showed him my left hand, the ring finger with the gold ring in it.

Max blinks a couple of times as he walks closer making the distance short where he can clearly see the ring.

A huge smile on his face with red cheeks, and probably a cursing word in Dutch was the only thing he could do before crashing our lips together one more time.

“Don’t play games with me, lifje.” He removed a little bit of the beanie from the jacket to see my eyes.

“I do. I will marry you if you ask me…” He doesn't take another word from me, he kisses me again and again.

“I love you. Trust me, if you think the shelter will keep you busy, I have a lot of things in mind for us.” He says as he sees my hand, and the rain starts to soaked our clothes.

My most precious moment, a shared moment under the rain.

“Y/N Hamilton, will you marry me?”

[spideysl0ve]

Can I request fluff prompt 9 with Buggy? ❤️

 . 𔘓 ؛ makeup and tricks

⇢ masterlist

⇢ writing prompts

⇢ buggy x reader.

⇢ tw: fluff, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ summary: “can i just hold your hand for a second?” prompt with buggy.

the room smelled faintly of grease paint, mixed with the lingering salt of the sea wafting through the cracked window, buggy sat at his makeshift vanity, his reflection illuminated by the soft glow of lantern light.

the usual chaotic energy that surrounded him was replaced by quiet concentration as he painted bold lines of red and blue across his face, each stroke careful and precise, a scene only you deserved to witness, his tongue peeked out slightly in focus, the sight making your heart ache in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

you lay sprawled on the bed, half-tangled in warm blankets, your head resting lazily against the pillow.

the rhythmic clinking of his makeup tools was oddly soothing, a steady background to the gentle creak of the ship rocking on the waves. despite the comfort, a quiet longing lingered in your chest.

“buggy,” you called softly, breaking the stillness.

“yeah?”he grunted in acknowledgment, brush still poised near his cheek.

“can i just hold your hand for a second?” the words were quiet but sincere, carrying the weight of a simple need.

he paused, turning slightly to glance at you, his lips quirking up into that familiar cocky smile.

“what, miss me already? i’m literally right here” he teased, chuckeling

you smiled faintly but didn’t look away.

“i just want to” you murmured, your voice smaller now, the vulnerability plain.

he blinked, his expression softening as he caught the meaning behind your words.

“needy thing,” he teased gently again, but there was no malice in it, only warmth.

then, with a flourish, he detached his left hand, letting it hover midair before it floated over to you.

his detached hand floated gently toward you, fingers curling playfully in midair like it had a mind of its own.

you barely had time to react before it made contact, brushing softly against your arm. a light, teasing tickle ran along your skin, making you squirm under the covers.

“buggy,” you giggled, swatting at it but failing to catch the nimble thing.

the hand darted just out of reach, fingertips trailing mischievously over your wrist and up your forearm.

“what?” his voice called lazily from across the room, amusement lacing his tone. “just showing you some love, sweetheart.”

the hand continued its playful assault, tracing delicate patterns along your palm before settling gently against it.

the teasing touch melted into something softer, fingers lacing between yours in a silent promise of affection. despite its earlier antics, the warmth in the gesture spoke volumes.

you gave it a gentle squeeze, your laughter fading into a contented sigh.

“thanks,” you whispered, holding the hand close as your heart settled into a calm, steady rhythm.

“anytime,” buggy called back, his grin practically audible. "that's what i'm here for."

“there,” he said with mock grandeur, “my hand, all yours. don’t say i never spoil you.”

a soft laugh escaped your lips, and you pulled the detached hand close, cradling it against your chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“thank you,” you whispered, thumb brushing idly over his knuckles.

“just let me finish this up, and i’ll come to bed” buggy hummed, returning to his makeup.

your fingers traced the lines of his calloused hand as he worked, the simple touch grounding you.

despite his teasing nature, there was an unspoken comfort in his presence, a reassurance that only buggy seemed to offer.

after a while, he set down his brush with a satisfied grunt.

“perfection, as usual,” he announced smugly before standing up. the detached hand gave your fingers a playful squeeze before snapping back to his wrist with a flourish.

“but, you know,” he added, sauntering over to the bed, “i think you like me better without the makeup.”

you raised an eyebrow. “maybe.”

he plopped down beside you, pulling you into his side with surprising tenderness.

“guess you’ll just have to deal with it, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice softer now.

“i can live with that,” you whispered as you nuzzled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

his arm tightened around you, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back.

“you know,” he said after a beat, “if holding my hand was all you wanted, you could’ve just asked me to come over in the first place.”

“but this way, you still finished your makeup,” you teased.

“you’re impossible” buggy laughed, the sound low and warm, filling the space between you.

“and yet here you are,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“yeah,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. “here i am.”

and with that, the two of you settled into the quiet hum of the ship, tangled together in a warmth that no amount of grease paint or teasing bravado could ever match.

taglist: @remasjoestar @anamiad00msday @rotin0 @moon4lust @elitesanjisimp @dreamcastgirl99 @acehasmyheart @colourfullgardenerduck

be added to my taglist

[woozinhos]

jeonghan jealous sex because you were being way too close to shua

Jeonghan had been watching you from across the room, his eyes narrowing as he saw you talking and laughing with Joshua. He knew that the two of you were just friends, but he couldn't help the jealousy that flared up inside him whenever he saw you being close to someone else.

As the night wore on, Jeonghan's irritation grew. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on his own conversations and interactions, but he couldn't help stealing glances in your direction every now and then. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to where you were standing with Joshua and draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you possessively against him.

"Hey, babe," he said, his voice a little sharper than usual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

You looked up at Jeonghan, surprised by his sudden appearance and the tone of his voice. "Uh, sure," you said, glancing over at Joshua. "I'll be right back." Jeonghan led you away from the group, finding a secluded corner of the room where the two of you could talk in private. He pulled you close, his arm still wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

"What's going on?" you asked, looking up at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. "You seem...upset."

Jeonghan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I just...I don't like seeing you talking to Joshua like that," he admitted, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "You were laughing and joking around with him, and it just...it pissed me off."

You raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by Jeonghan's outburst. "Jeonghan, Joshua is just a friend," you said, trying to reassure him. "There's nothing going on between us."

Jeonghan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not convinced. "I know that," he said, his voice petulant. "But I still don't like it. I don't like seeing you being so close to other guys."

You took a step closer to Jeonghan, looking up at him with a soft expression. "Jeonghan, you know I'm with you, right?" you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I love you. There's no one else."

Jeonghan's expression softened a little as he looked down at you, but he still seemed upset. "I know that," he said again, his voice softer this time. "But sometimes I just...I don't know. I get jealous. I don't like seeing other guys getting close to you."

You reached up and cupped Jeonghan's face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "I understand," you said gently. "But you have to trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you or betray you. I love you, and I only want to be with you."

Jeonghan sighed and leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "I know," he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. "I'm sorry. I just...get insecure sometimes. I don't want to lose you."

You pulled Jeonghan into a tight hug, holding him close as you felt him relax in your arms. "You're not going to lose me," you said firmly. "I'm here with you, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Jeonghan buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent as he clung to you. "I love you," he whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I just...need to know that you're mine."

You and Jeonghan rejoined the group, Jeonghan's arm wrapped possessively around your waist. He seemed calmer now, his earlier jealousy replaced by a look of determination. As you mingled with the others, Jeonghan made sure to keep you close to him at all times. He didn't let you out of his sight, and anytime someone tried to pull you away from him, he would shoot them a glare and pull you back to his side. As the night wore on, Jeonghan's possessiveness only grew stronger. He seemed to have a constant need to touch you, whether it was holding your hand, resting his arm around your waist, or playing with your hair.

Every time someone tried to talk to you, Jeonghan would insert himself into the conversation, making sure to keep the interaction short and to the point. He didn't want anyone else getting too close to you, and he made that abundantly clear. Eventually, the party started to wind down, and people began saying their goodbyes. Jeonghan pulled you aside, his eyes burning with desire.

"Let's go home," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you all to myself." You nodded, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the look in his eyes. You said goodbye to the others and let Jeonghan lead you out of the party, his hand gripping yours tightly.

The ride home was silent, but the tension between you was palpable. Jeonghan kept shooting you heated glances, his eyes raking over your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. As soon as you walked through the door of your apartment, Jeonghan was on you. He pushed you up against the wall, his body pressed flush against yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, touching and exploring every inch of you as if he couldn't get enough. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at you with a hunger in his eyes.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Mine, and no one else's."

You gasped as Jeonghan's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he marked you as his. His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he held you close.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, your breath hitching as Jeonghan's lips moved lower, trailing down your collarbone and over your chest. "Only yours."

Jeonghan let out a satisfied growl at your words, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. He pushed the fabric aside, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare skin.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hands roaming over your chest as he pressed you harder against the wall. "You're so beautiful. All mine."

Jeonghan continued to shower you with kisses and praise, his hands and lips worshipping every inch of your body. He took his time, slowly stripping you down until you were naked and trembling beneath him.

"You're perfect," he said, his eyes raking over your body as he knelt before you. "So beautiful, so perfect for me."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to make you mine all over again," he promised, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to claim you, and make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

Jeonghan spread your legs apart, his hands gripping your thighs as he gazed up at you. His eyes were dark with desire, his expression possessive and intense.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice almost a growl. "No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you."

He leaned in and ran his tongue along your inner thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He continued to tease you, his lips and tongue dancing over your skin as he worked his way closer to where you needed him most. You whimpered as Jeonghan's mouth finally found its way to your core, his tongue lapping at your folds with slow, deliberate strokes. He hummed in satisfaction, clearly enjoying the taste of you on his tongue.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So sweet, so perfect."

He continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling against your clit as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he worked his magic. You moaned and arched against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you the most intense pleasure.

"Jeonghan, please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm so close..."

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his grip on your thighs tightening as he continued to work you over. He knew exactly what you needed, and he was determined to give it to you.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Let go, sweetheart. I want to see you come undone for me."

With a few more skillful flicks of his tongue, you came undone, your body arching against him as you cried out his name. Jeonghan held you steady, his mouth working you through your orgasm as he drank in every moan and whimper that escaped your lips. When you finally came down from your high, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. He licked his lips, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Good girl," he murmured, rising to his feet. "You did so well for me."

Jeonghan pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his body pressing against yours as he claimed your lips in a searing kiss.

"You're mine," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming over your body. "All mine, and I'm going to show you just how much I want you."

Jeonghan's lips moved down your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at your skin as he left a trail of marks in his wake. He continued to worship your body with his mouth, his hands mapping every curve and contour as he took his time exploring you. He pulled away for a moment to strip off his clothes, revealing his toned and muscular body. He crawled back on top of you, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you.

"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to feel you around me."

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation as Jeonghan positioned himself between your legs. He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you. He let out a low groan as he sank deep inside you, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside you.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so tight, so perfect for me."

Jeonghan began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm as he claimed you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again.

"You're mine," he growled, his words punctuated by each thrust. "Mine to touch, mine to claim, mine to love."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he poured all of his desire and passion into the kiss. Jeonghan's movements became more intense, his thrusts harder and faster as his jealousy and possessiveness took over. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire and anger.

"No one else gets to see you like this," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "No one else gets to touch you, to taste you. You're mine, and mine alone."

He gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he drove into you with a primal intensity. Jeonghan's eyes blazed with anger as he continued to pound into you, his movements rough and possessive.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Would Joshua make you feel this good? Would he fuck you like I do?"

You gasped at his words, the sound almost drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin. You knew he was trying to provoke you, to make you admit that no one could make you feel the way he did.

"N-no," you stammered, your body arching up against his as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "No one but you."

Jeonghan's eyes darkened with satisfaction at your answer, his grip on your hips tightening as he continued to thrust into you.

"That's right," he growled, his voice rough with possessiveness. "You're mine. And no one else will ever touch you like this again."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he claimed you completely. Jeonghan pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Take it," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Take my big dick, sweetheart. Show me how much you want me."

You obeyed, your body arching up to meet his thrusts as you took him deeper. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you held on for dear life. Jeonghan's eyes roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you beneath him, completely at his mercy. He reached down and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "So perfect, just for me."

Jeonghan could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his climax. He leaned down and captured your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth as he fought to hold on.

"I'm gonna come," he growled against your lips. "You're gonna make me come, sweetheart."

Jeonghan's thrusts grew faster and more powerful, his hips snapping against yours as he drove into you with an almost animalistic need. He could feel the pressure building inside him, his body tensing as he hurtled towards his release.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I'm so close, baby. Just a little more."

You could feel Jeonghan's body trembling above you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to hold on. He was on the brink, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and you knew that one more push would send him over the edge.

"Come for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a moan. "Come inside me, Jeonghan."

Your words were all it took to push Jeonghan over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he came with a shout. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

"Fuck," he gasped, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Jeonghan's grip on you tightened as he came down from his high, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"Take it all," he murmured, his voice hoarse with satisfaction. "I want to see it dripping out of you."

Jeonghan slowly pulled out of you, his eyes fixed on the sight of his release spilling out of you. He ran his fingers through the mess, a possessive glint in his eyes.

"Look at you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All marked up and claimed by me."

[goldsbitch]

Twelve grapes

chapter 3 - Obsessed with me "Let me get this straight. You want me to throw a party for your Ferrari seat that nobody’s supposed to know about, but definitely everyone knows about, and now it’s going to be on a yacht you don’t even have yet?"

This is not how Charles imagined this conversation.

„Pierre, you're not being a supportive friend with these useless comments," he says, opting for emotional blackmail.

warning: unhinged reasoning, endless pining, 7k words

For a moment, Charles is everywhere - and then, faster than a blink of an eye - he is nowhere.

He doesn't give Max enough time to adjust, react or even comprehend what just happened. Has him standing there, frozen and...confused?

There is panic in his chest and when that happens, he wants to talk. So used to addressing complicated situations verbally. The art of feedback and analyses burned into him since the early age. It helps him process things.

He can't speak to Charles right now. A - he is on a plane. B - he is the one person he wants to talk about.

Images flash in front of his eyes like a film on fast-forward. Glimpses of the intruder that Charles inevitably was. At his motorhome, his childhood cottage and with his hand on the back of Max's head. Lips melting into lips.

Autopilot in his head worked and he's now parked in front of his hotel, without having any memory of driving there.

Deep breath in, and out. He pops his knuckles and turns the damn radio off.

And then he whips his phone out and calls the one person he feels like he might speak to.

The phone rings one, two, three, seven thousand times. Just as he considers hanging up, Daniel’s voice pulls through, bright and ready. 

"Maxie! What’s this? A late-night call? I gotta tell you - I’m already back from the bar, if you finally decided to show up. And I’m not alone, if you know what I mean.“

Max groans, leaning back against the headrest of his seat. "You’re an idiot."

"True," Daniel replies easily. "But you still called me. What’s up? Couldn’t resist the charm, huh?"

Max hesitates, his free hand gripping the steering wheel even though the car isn’t moving. He tries avoiding looking into the mirror. 

"Just…,“ The words are there, tangled in his throat, but none of them feel right. "Wanted to check in," Max says finally, cringing at how pathetic he feels right now. 

There’s a moment of silence, unusual for Daniel, before he speaks again, his tone softer but still laced with curiosity. "Check in? Mate, you’re not exactly the type to call for a chat. Is everything all right?"

Max is debates turning the car on and crashing into a wall.  "No. Nothing happened. Just... a long day." He decides that a hospital visit ins’t something he needs to add to this day. He is already barely breathing. 

Daniel hums, and Max hopes he manages to pick up a more convincing tone for the rest of the call. "A long day? Or a long day?"

"What does that even mean?" Max snaps, his voice edgier than intended.

"It means," Daniel prolongs his vowels, "that you sound weird. Like, you’re sick of something.“

Max presses his lips together, his jaw clenching. Daniel has this talent of getting under people’s skin, which many people find annoying. Max is usually on the sideline, laughing. Not today. 

"Maybe I just wanted to talk to someone who’s not a complete idiot," Max retorts, his tone too defensive.

"Ah, so you called the next-best thing, nice" Daniel shoots back, his laugh making it clear, that he is unaffected by the awkwardness max must radiate.  "Come on, Max. Spill it. You sound... I don’t know, off."

Max opens his mouth to respond, but freezes. His mind flashes back to the kiss—Charles’s hand on the back of his neck, the press of his lips, the way he ran like he was being chased.

"I kissed someone," Max blurts out.

The line goes dead silent for a second, and Max can practically see Daniel’s eyes widening.

„Niiice,“ Daniel says finally, his voice tinged with approval. "You? Kissed someone? Like, willingly? Without a contract forcing you to?"

"Shut up," Max mutters, running a hand through his hair.

"Okay, okay," Daniel says quickly, "Details. Who was it? When? And do I need to send flowers or an apology note?"

Max hesitates, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue. He could tell Daniel. He should tell Daniel. He needs to share with someone. But something inside him stops him cold.

"No one important," Max whispers, his voice raspy. "Just... a stupid mistake."

"Max... you don’t sound like you think it was a mistake." Daniel speaks like he knows something that Max doesn’t and it’s pissing him off royally. 

"Forget it," he says and decides that this time, talking to other people won't solve his problems.

"Noo, come on. Tell me who it is. Someone I know?!" Max panics even more, realizing that even though he wasn't the brightest, the last person Daniel saw him, with was Charles. And out of nowhere, the thought of Daniel figuring it all out freaks him out.

"I’m hanging up now," Max says definitively, his thumb already moving toward the red button.

"Max, wait-"

The call ends, the screen going dark, and Max sits in the silence of his car, his heart pounding. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat and leans back, staring at the ceiling.

Charles’s face flashes in his mind again—his lips, his hand, the way he looked before he ran.

Max exhales sharply, running a hand over his face.

"Idiot," he mutters, though he’s not sure who he’s talking about anymore - Charles, Daniel, or himself.

And then - he puts a crown onto his own inexplicable recklessness of this day. He's been acting like a lunatic the whole day, why stop now. He reaches back for his phone and types quickly, before left side of his brain realizes what the right side is doing. Send.

Have a safe flight.

//

Charles never replies (no matter how much and how often Max stares at his phone) and ultimate, Max blames the Swiss mountains, where the Sauber HQ lies for the obvious lack of cell phone service.

Daniel teases him endlessly when they're alone, so he makes sure that there is someone from his side of the garage following him at all times. Be it an engineer, his trainer, the PR coordinator, an intern, a reporter or even the fucking cleaner - just so that he does not have to be reminded of his slip up. He also makes sure that he picks the people who like to talk. Preferably about anything not involving the Sauber team, their drivers and kissing. No order of preference.

It is Monza next, or as Max likes to refer to it - the headache race. Tifosi everywhere, even at places one would think is not suitable for humans. He is surprised no one has jumped at him yet from the toilets.

And this year, it really delivers in it's name. People racing around him making stupid mistakes and inevitably costing him a podium. He is mad, furious in fact. But if he were to pick one podium to have snatched from his hands, it would the god-forsaken Monza.

Now, however impatient and hot-headed Max is on track, it is something completely different outside the car. He is used to playing the long game - think of a goal, set it and follow methodical steps until he reaches it. This is what he did with Daniel - these past few months, he got real fed up of seeing everyone having all these friendships. He figured it was finally time to crack that can of worms. It wasn't his first choice, he had several people "in development", but the loud Australian is the one that actually worked. And now - there was a different kind of problem that required some long term plan.

The Charles element of this all is on his mind almost nonstop. The list of questions, one tripping over another, yet if he were to somehow say all of them, it would always come out as the same, one sentence.

Charles, do you regret it?

Max Verstappen was not a man prone to introspection. His world was one of facts, numbers, and actions—things he could control. But Charles Leclerc had thrown a wrench into that system, and now Max was stuck trying to decipher emotions he’d spent years ignoring. Not only he has to focus on racing, get into the car every weekend for these next three weeks, he now has to take into account that anytime he merely thinks of Charles, he freezes, mumbles and his brain switches off. Off all the things he should be worried about - like for example, does the fact he has to control himself, in order to not think about the kiss mean he is gay? His head spins when he thinks about that. So, he decides not to even open that question. He will figure that out once he finds out how Charles feels. No need to be going on a self-discovery journey, that might shift his world upside down and create more harm than good, if Charles considers this a mistake.

Now, it was starting to become painfully obvious that his brain is set on clearing that out. He could do that. Of course. If this also wasn't combined with the absolute fear and embarrasment he felt at the thought of talking about this with anyone, especially Charles. No, Max is not going to initiate this conversation. This is just how he's going to be for the rest of his life.

Max doesn’t have to look for Charles at Monza. His move to Ferrari, not yet announced, but heavily rumored, makes him the topic number one, almost outshining the actual current drivers in the scarlet team. The reporters are on a hunt, people talk and heads turn whenever he walks by. And he, the man who was kissing him just few days ago, has to catch glimpses over the crowds. There is a part of Max that is waiting for Charles to make the first move. After all - he is the one who did not respond to his text. It is only when Max catches sight of him during the driver parade, that Charles, all sharp smiles and practiced nods, actually looks at him. They stand so far apart that talking is not on the table. But, there is a moment - Max thinks it's about five seconds - when Charles's eyes practically bore into his own. And it's like anything that happened since the kiss was a mere, pointless dream. Max is coming to terms with the fact he is feeling things (not ready to analyse which things).

He spends his evenings locked in his room. The risk of running into Charles unaccompanied is low, but not minimal. Max is hiding from the one person that hold the key to the madness happening on the inside. He is not ready, but also wonders if one ever is.

//

It's like people forgot there are other topics than Charles moving to Ferrari. Not only does Max have to listen to his own PR manager feeding him lines to deflect reporters from the questions, the frenzy has infected the other drivers as well.

Max wonders how and why he finds himself, standing next to Pierre Gasly, who is blocking his exit and borderline interrogating him.

“Why would Charles tell me anything?”

Pierre leans in, little devils dancing in his eyes. “Because you’re Max Verstappen. He’d probably think you already know. You’ve got, like, Red Bull spies or something.”

“Spies,” Max repeats flatly and debates internally whether crawling away from this is socially acceptable. “I don’t know anything about Ferrari.”

“You don’t?” Pierre narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe him. “Come on. You guys were talking after Belgium, weren’t you?”

Max's stomach flips three times. Talking, joking, kissing, smashing cars. Then he ran away from me, because I am disgusting.

"Aren't you suppose to be best friends or something? Why would you think that I know if you don't know?" he opts for the reverse-attack strategy. It is, however, a question he keeps wondering himself. One would expect someone like Pierre to have that information, especially if Max already knows. His face goes blank—the Verstappen Default Setting for don’t ask me anything else.

"You know how he is," Pierre waltzes around it and Max is running out of ideas.

No, I apparently don't know how he is.

Pierre is good at reading the room and doubles down a bit. "Look, just tell me what you talked about and I'm off."

Max's first instinct is to say something along the lines "Go, ask him yourself," but he doesn't, because Pierre and Charles talking together about him might just about be the worst outcome of this all.

“We were talking,” Max says, picking his words carefully, “about... tires.”

“Tires,” Pierre deadpans.

“Yes. Tire degradation. Very important topic.” Max crosses his arms, hoping he looks convincing. “You know, something that involves actual racing and not rumor hunting.”

Pierre studies him for a moment, then raises an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight. You and Charles Leclerc, standing alone after Belgium, decided to have a heart-to-heart about... tire degradation?”

“Yes.” Max nods. “It’s a very pressing issue.”

Pierre snorts. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Max rolls his eyes. “I’m not lying. I don’t care where Charles ends up next season. Why would I?”

Pierre's eyes light up as he looks somewhere behind Max's head. There is a glimmer of hope in Max, the potential end of this interaction. One that dies very quickly.

“Charles!” Pierre calls cheerfully, waving him over.

Charles walks up to them, not really having any other choice if he wants to get to the other side of the paddock. Max does not look at him. He is busy trying to keep his expression politely neutral and it's proving to be a tortuous task.

"Pierre. Max," Charles acknowledges and it feels weird to hear his own name rolling of Charles's tongue. Nobody says it in this specific accent.

Max gives a small nod, feeling like he’s caught in a trap. He wonders how long people usually look at each other, as if he lost the ability to function in a society. He makes all the effort not to glance at Charles. Like he's not even here. Then he panics, because that might just be the most suspicious way to go about this. So he turns his eyes towards Charles, without moving his head too much. He figures that is a good compromise. His mouth turns into a smile, but he can't escape the notion his eyes are giving it all away.

“Just talking about you,” Pierre says casually. Max wants to die.

Charles’s eyebrows shoot up, his gaze flicking to Max. “Oh?”

Panic, pure undiluted panic floats over every part of him. Max glares at Pierre, silently willing him to stop. Damage control, now. No, no, no, not talking like that! Oh, my God, now he's going to assume I'm so desperate that I go and talk to his best friend about it. “We weren’t—”

Pierre cuts him off. “Max was just saying how much he loves racing against you. Right, Max?”

Max’s jaw clenches and the smile he gives is one of his fakest, reserved for the truly, most awfully annoying PR activities. “Right. Love it.”

Pierre continues glaring at Charles, suddenly not interested in the Dutch driver at all, puts his arm around him and drills him over the Ferrari rumors as they slowly walk away.

Max has to try really hard to remember where he was going. Hell, probably.

//

The post race media pen is its usual chaotic mess, with microphones shoved in faces and reporters almost fighting for space. Max finishes his last interview, giving the practiced nods and all the right answers.  He’s just about to leave when he sees him.

Perfection incarnated, as always. His jaw is set, his walk determined and measured. He's ready to hand out smiles, like he owns it to God for making him this handsome. The paddock bends over to get a moment of his attention.

It’s not deliberate - Charles isn’t walking toward him; he’s just there, and Max freezes at the sight of him.

Their eyes meet briefly, and Charles hesitates before changing course, heading straight for Max. It’s momentary, just a flicker, but something in Charles’s face shifts. Hesitates, but keeps walking.

Max is seriously considering bolting out. He hates how his pulse quickens, how the world feels suddenly too loud and too quiet at the same time.

But, he misses all the chances he has on a swift exit and the man of the hour is standing right in front of him. Second row away from the reporters. “Max,” Charles says quietly, his tone low enough to be buried under the surrounding noise. But Max hears it. Of course he hears it. Again, with the accent. Max is starting to hate it.

Max raises an eyebrow, and replied a little too sharply. He feels cornered. “Charles.”

A quick glance over to the reporters nearby let's Max know Charles is also hyper aware of how exposed they are. Somehow, he can't shake away the feeling this is intentional. “I need to...” His voice trails off, and he shifts his weight, the faintest hint of unease breaking through the polished exterior.

Max waits. But nothing comes. “You need to...?”

First response he gets is a loud sigh. Rude.

“About Belgium.” Charles shifts and pulls his cap further into his face, as if to hide. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have-”

Max stiffens, his stomach twisting. He doesn’t want to do this here - not with a dozen cameras pointed at them. Of course, Leclerc, the menace he is, chooses the one place where Max can't have the luxury of a proper reaction. It is infuriating. Hundreds of moments and Charles picks this one? It’s infuriating.

"It's nothing," he dismissed it and only when he overplays this conversation back in the safe space of his hotel room over and over again realizes just how badly it came out. What he meant to say was: It's nothing to worry about. Not it's nothing. Because it is anything but that.

The Sauber driver visibly gulps, his composure cracking. "I never wanted-" he starts, but it comes out too rushed, sour undertone lacing both words. Before he can continue he is pushed by his PR manager to the hoard of reporters. Max watches as Charles is swept away, his apology unfinished, his expression unreadable. But then - then - Charles turns back. Just for a moment. His eyes meet Max’s, and there’s something there, unspoken and lingering.

What. The. Fuck. If Charles was trying to make Max question his sanity, he was doing an excellent job. Between cryptic apologies and half-finished sentences, Max was starting to think he’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe Charles Leclerc is just another fever dream, a perfect proof that Max is riding a train to an asylum.

He knows better. He should let go of...whatever this it. It's exactly what all the stupid mental coaches blabbed about.

But the look in Charles’s eyes? That was real. And it’s going to drive Max insane. He should let go.

//

He does, in fact, not let go.

The evening is spent collecting extra steps into his daily count, despite how tired his legs feel after the race. Some clarity is gained at the end of the day - and it has nothing to do with anything Charles said or did. It is gained despite his lunatic actions and words. Max is proud of himself. He, unlike someone, is able to get his thoughts in a coherent line, before he bothers others by speaking. It's a new thing he's trying. Desperate times.

After a full analysis of his own mistakes - credit where credit is due - he shifts onto exploring what exactly bothers him most.

The fact that Charles ran. He was gone so quickly and didn't even bother to face what had happened.

It's different this time when he rewatches Charles's race. They could have as well raced on different days all together, both far apart on the track, no way of interacting in the way they know best. Outsmarting each other with late breaking and bordeline dive bombs. He's sitting on edge of the random hotel bed, in the same uncomfortable position he took in an hour ago.

Max presses play again, the race replay sparking to life on his laptop screen. His heart still beats too fast from his own disastrous race. An overtake attempt that turned into a near-miss, everyone blaming him for "forcing Bottas off the track" (total bullshit, of course) and mediocre points finish. His accidental radio show and poor performance, something Helmut will absolutely make him relive tomorrow.

But it’s not his mistakes he’s watching. It’s Charles.

Charles in his Sauber truck, threading the car through Monza like he owns the place, despite the car being no more than an underdog trying to keep up. Charles late-braking, like he’s piloting a Red Bull, not a machine held together by duct tape and prayer. Making moves that, objectively, have no business working but somehow do. To watch him finish just off the points makes him regret he didn't push Bottas further into an actual spin. He got the penalty anyway, so what.

Max rewinds the clip, watching the Sauber dart into a gap that doesn’t really exist, Charles perfectly timing the pass to avoid disaster. The commentators praise him, calling it brave, daring, genius. Max cracks his knuckles.

“Stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “That’s what it is. Stupid.”

Because it is stupid. It’s the kind of move Max would have made last year, the kind that gets you called reckless and wild and dangerous. The kind that gets you a lecture from your race engineer or worse, your dad.

Except Charles gets away with it. The golden boy he is. He doesn’t just get away with it—he gets praised for it. The commentators cheer, the fans love him for it, and Max can’t stop watching because... because he’s probably a bit stupid too.

Max fast-forwards. There was this one move that he can't stomach. He dives to the inside, the car twitching slightly but holding. Max watches, his heart pounding in time with the replay.

“Why there?” Max mutters, rewinding again. “Why not wait for the straight? DRS was right there.”

But he knows why. Because waiting is boring. Waiting is for people who don’t believe in their own instincts. And Charles? Charles believes. Even it end with him in the wall. Better there, than in a 17th place.

Max exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s not like he’s one to talk. His own race today was hardly a masterclass in patience. He’d thrown his car into gaps that barely existed, cursed out his engineer when things didn’t go his way, and barely kept his Red Bull from spinning into the gravel.

Maybe that’s what bothers him most. Seeing his own recklessness mirrored in Charles but wrapped in a smile that makes it look effortless. Max’s recklessness is raw, angry, a middle finger to anyone who doubts him. Charles’s recklessness is different. It’s calculated chaos. Beautiful in a way that Max hates himself for noticing.

Another rewind to avoid the boring laps. Charles overtakes two cars into Parabolica, threading the needle with infuriating precision. Max freezes the frame, staring at the screen.

“What are you trying to prove?” he whispers, though the question feels aimed at both of them. He certainly does not seem to be the type to run out of a fight.

His chest tightens as he remembers Belgium, Charles’s hand on the back of his neck, the kiss that came out of nowhere. The smell of damp air cut with Charles's cologne. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? The same recklessness, the same audacity to leap without looking. And then Charles ran, just like that. No explanation, no closure. Just gone. Max is sure he would never do that in racing. He is angry at him. Why does he use all of his bravery on track only. Charles kissed him. He kissed him back. And then, the ever so brave Charles ran away.

Max turns the thing off, the sudden silence in the room deafening. His heart races, the adrenaline from the replay mixing with something deeper, something he doesn’t want to name.

He tosses the laptop onto the bed, pacing the room like a caged animal. His thoughts are all over the place, colliding and crashing like cars at the first corner.

Max races like he has nothing to lose. Charles races like he has everything to prove. Maybe that’s why they’re drawn to each other, why the kiss feels less like a mistake and more like a fuse waiting to be lit.

Max stops pacing, staring at the blank laptop screen, his own reflection staring at him back in on the dark screen. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Frustration, longing, anger. Maybe all of it. All he knows is that Charles Leclerc is in his head, and he can’t get him out.

And maybe, Max thinks, he doesn’t want to.

//

It's the following morning, as all the teams depart for their next destination of this triple header, when he sees him again. Standing in the hotel lobby, waiting for a transfer and there is something about his smile making it seem like this man just won the lottery.

Max tries to go about his way. His excuse is that there is too many people auditioning to be nosy witnesses and he does not want to repeat the whole "Pierre Gasly Interrogation" again. But, as soon as Charles sees him, he rushes over to him, with a smile Max imagines is on his face when he completes one of his brilliant overtakes. It's hard not to smile back. His body is doing it on his own. Because there is so much lightness in Charles's face, childlike carelessness and brutal honesty. You can't fake a vibe like that, no matter how good of an actor you are.

Max nods to greet him, unsure what to say, all the words dying in his throat. He does not have to, Charles looks like he is going to explode if he does not talk soon.

As soon as he is next to him, closer than a stranger would be, his smile grows even wider, something Max found impossible. Is Charles so happy to see him? What happened to him overnight that changed his attitude so drastically? Max considers it to be a blessing to be on the receiving end of Charles's wide grin. He watches him take a deep breath in, like he is about to say something really big.

He leans in, faces almost touching and the hairs on the back of Max's neck stand up. He is pretty sure Charles must be able to hear his heartbeat. The cologne Charles uses must have been made with clear intent on getting Max drunk in broad daylight.

"I signed the Ferrari contract," he states quietly, so subtly Max has to pierce it together for few seconds.

Of course. That's the cause of the smile.

Charles leans back and searches eagerly for Max's reaction in his face. And when Charles Leclerc looks at you like that, there is no other option in life than to retaliate. They stare at each other for good few seconds. Max wants to reach over and hug him. Tell him he's proud of him and that he never doubted that. He wants him to hear that he is looking forward for Charles making his job harder. He wants to tell him that he is not at all surprised. That this might be the one good decision Ferrari has made in a while.

He tries to fit all of that in one muffled "Nice. Good job." It takes everything he has to keep himself in check. Charles seems to be satisfied with this. He nods and before he departs, squeezes Max's shoulder two times. And just like that, he floats away on his Cloud 9.

Max stays glued at the same spot. He does not bother watching Charles rushing back over to his team. The only wish he has is that one day, maybe, Charles looks at him like just did, only because he is happy to see him. Max had let himself hope for a minute there, before he found out what the source of Charles's joy is, and it's like any other kind of drug. Slowly invites you in and before you know it, you can't think of anything else.

Max recalls when Charles showed his first photos with Sauber into his face that one time. There is a bitter sweet feeling in his mouth. Today, he's probably pay more attention if he'd showed him his first photos with Ferrari.

//

The Ferrari deal is done. His future is set. Years and years of dedication and sacrifice paying off. It is so much to wrap his head around. The whole weekend has been focus on meetings with Ferrari officials, so much he almost forgot they were suppose to race there. He drove on complete autopilot. But finally - last night, it happened. He wants to dance it the streets (and he eventually does, to amusement of the rest of his team). And yet, for some reason, the memory of Max’s faint smile and his quiet “Nice. Good job,” lingers in the back of his mind, warm and confusing all at once.

He's been full on ignoring this part of his life ever since his grand exit at the airport. Put all of this in a tiny box in his brain and locked it, with the intention not to open any of it until Monza is over.

Alas - Monza was over. But he is so wrapped up in the Ferrari of it all, that he postpones it - whatever it is. When he saw Max in the lobby that morning, he just acted on his impulse. He was already containing so much. The curse of unprovoked split-second decisions is looming on him whenever Max is nearby. Charles figures Max is simply a victim of some voodoo hoodoo. Maybe he forgot to resend a mass email chain and now he is cursed. He should be glad Charles didn't kiss him again. On a day like today, he took no remorse. But, there were too many people anyway. Max is cursed, but not that much. In Charles's post-contract-hyper-dopamine brain, this all makes sense. Everything is brighter, the colors are all alligning and even the airport is an amazing place to be. Charles is loving life and everything will be great from now on.

//

The first thing Charles does when he gets home is drop his bag by the door and collapse face-first onto the couch. One of the perks that getting a dream contract apparently is that his mom leaves him to do that and does not bug him about taking his shoes off. He is so, so tired. All the turmoil, stressful meetings followed by unmasked and unfiltered joy are bound to take a tool, even on someone so young and fresh as Charles.

For the first time in weeks, he dreams.

//

It takes him a moment to realize he is standing barefoot on the track. Blood-orange sky locks the scenery in. He knows he's in Monaco, but it looks nothing like it. There are fields and deep woods lining the track. The stands are empty and there are only few people dressed in multicolored fireproofs working the track. The ground shifts and he notices his father, standing, leaning casually against the Red Bull pit wall.

"Nice suit," he says and it's only then when Charles realizes he is wearing a Ferrari racing suit. It's now impossible to ignore that it is two sizes too small.

"It does not fit," Charles whispers, but know his father can hear him.

“You’ll grow into it.”

Charles wants to reply, to argue, but the track shifts beneath him, the world tilting like a kaleidoscope. He’s suddenly in the cockpit, the roar of the engine filling his ears. The lights above the grid turn red, one by one. He knows he needs to start. But he doesn't. Instead, he stays put as about million race cars pass him by.

He knows he should have started, but before can do so, there is and impossibly bright light and without hearing or actually feeling it, he knows someone rear ended him, full F1 speed. Max is out of his Red Bull, Charles is out of his Ferrari and they both examine the damage. There is a green liquid leaking out of the car. Charles’s blood boils.

"Why would you crash into me?!" he shouts at Max.

“You’re running,” Max says, his tone soft and calm. “Why are you running?”

“I’m not running,” Charles snaps. Even in his dream, he feels tired.

Max tilts his head, studying him. “You kissed me.”

Charles’s breath catches. “I-”

He is woken up by the smell of home cooked dinner.

//

The little five hour nap only made him more tired and disoriented. He is immediately pulled into family dinner, his mama obviously unable to contain herself where there is good news. She is unapologetic about things she love and moments of excitement. Charles likes to think he inherited that from her.

He is slowly eating the food - his favorite, made just for him - even though he is not hungry, not even a bit. He does not usually remember his dreams. This one is clear as day.

There is barely a moment for him to breathe, given how many questions his giddy mom asks him, expecting him to answer while simultaneously clearing his plate. Laughter fills the room and it's all so domestic and comforting.

Until, of course, faith decides that Charles has had quite enough of that for one day.

“Oh, by the way, Max is coming over to my salon on Thursday,” she says casually, sipping on her red wine.

Charles chokes, forcing himself to dislodge a piece of carrot before it kills him. “Max?” His mouth is full. It's the first time he speaks like that and mama is shooting arrows at him for bad table manners.

“For his haircut,” she replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, he’s been coming here for months.”

He stares at her, his brain short-circuiting. “Since when?”

“Oh, since...maybe February? Possibly March? He said he needed someone reliable, and you know how picky I am about hair.”

Charles stares into nothing, his thoughts racing. Max had been coming to his mother for haircuts. For months. Without saying a word. That explains the sudden glow up and the mysterious disappearance of his spiky hair era, when the only thing Charles wanted to do was buy many, many hats for him to wear.

“And he’s such a polite young man,” she continues, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him. “He always asks about you, you know.”

Oh, this is just perfect. His mom and his overly complicated pseudo crush are chit chatting regularly, apparently, and none of them thought Charles should be made aware of it. Polite young man my ass.

Charles freezes. “He asks about me?” he repeats, after catching up with his new reality.

She nods, sipping her tea. “Last time, he wanted to know if you were always so competitive. I told him yes, of course.”

Plan A - ignore everything and pretend life is normal - is no longer an option. This is becoming a Plan C situation (whatever Plan B was anyway). He needs to address this properly with Max before the incidentally two most chattiest people in his life meet again.

The affects of this going unsupervised could be catastrophic.

//

You don't have these conversation over the phone, Charles thinks as he spends his entire morning figuring out whereabouts in Monte Carlo Max could be, so that he can "run into him accidentally." Or - stalking, as it is usually referred to by the police. It's fine. They know each other. It's completely okay to do so.

He's gonna run into him, properly apologize, they will laugh it off and then, Max is free to go to have his hair cut by Pascale Leclerc. Only, of course, after he swears on his secrecy. Charles has two days before the early morning appointment on Thursday. His mom made few comments about how Max is always the first customer she has, as he insists on coming in as early as possible. This was the final piece of information Charles needed in order to finally declare that Max is a crazy person. He knew it already, but lacked evidence.

In the next two days, Charles ends up going on five runs, visits the one ice-bath in Monaco seven times, buys three coffees and four croissants at the bakery Max mentioned once (all on separate occasions) and tries to bribe the gym receptionist, where apparently Max is a member, for information. All without any result what-so-ever.

Technically, he could text him and just ask to meet him. Yes, that is an option normal people see as a possibility and it's probably effective.

But, Charles has a plan. And when that happens, he's not going to resort to something as pathetic as texting him. He needs to play it nonchalantly, can't have him thinking that he cares about the kiss in any way.

It is Wednesday afternoon when he start to panic properly. Like, he's about to set his mom's salon on fire kind of panic. There is one thing he can do before resulting to destroying his family's life long business.

What are friends for if not for desperate times.

"Let me get this straight," Pierre says on the phone and it's like Charles can visibly see his face just by tone of the voice he is using. "You want me to organize a party... tonight? Like, two hours from now?"

They'd done wilder things in the past. Honestly, Charles finds Pierre's disbelief mildly insulting.

"Everybody knows Wednesday is the new Friday," he argues, knowing he could do better. If his tired legs weren't occupying his mind. He did sort of ran a half-marathon in the past 48 hours.

Pierre laughs so loudly that Charles has to pull the phone away from his ear. "Tonight? Do you know what Monaco is like on a Wednesday night?"

"Perfect for a party," Charles says, forcing a casualness that isn’t remotely convincing. "People here don’t need a notice."

"You’re insane," Pierre replies, still laughing. "What are we even celebrating? Or is this just you being bored?"

Charles has bitten off all of his nails, but tries one more time, while he brainstorms. "Friendship," Charles says firmly. "Good vibes. You know, c'est la vie."

"Good vibes," Pierre echoes, flat and skeptical. "That’s the best you’ve got? Not that little Ferrari deal everyone and their grandma already knows about?"

Charles's stomach flips. He is joking. "Nobody knows about that."

Pierre snorts. "Charles, come on. Monaco is basically one big group chat with yachts. 

Charles freezes, the words clicking into place. "A yacht," he mutters under his breath, his brain spinning wildly.

"No," Pierre says, suddenly cautious, already knowing where this is going.

"A yacht!" Charles exclaims, suddenly full of life. "It’s perfect! Not a club - a boat party! It’s more intimate, exclusive. Very Monaco. And..."

And Max loves boats, but he manages to stop himself from saying it out loud.

Pierre snorts. " Ok, allow just one tiny question. Do you have a yacht, Charles?"

"I’ll find one," Charles says with a confidence only sleep deprivation can provide. "This is Monaco. It’s basically the yachting capital of the world. I’ll call... someone."

"Right. Someone," Pierre deadpans. "Let me get this straight. You want me to throw a party for your Ferrari seat that nobody’s supposed to know about, but definitely everyone knows about, and now it’s going to be on a yacht you don’t even have yet?" This is not how Charles imagined this conversation.

"You're not being a supportive friend with these useless comments," he says, opting for emotional blackmail.

He can almost hear Pierre eye roll. "Fiiiine. I'll take care of inviting the people and pretending this was my idea. Who do we want there?"

This is the spirit! Now, he just needs to be as coy and subtle as possible. "Um...yeah, it should be like exclusive, I think. But, like not too exclusive, my team, your team if you want, some girls," he adds, knowing this will keep Pierre engaged, "Oh, definitely some drivers. But like, our age. You know? I'm not sure Vettel is the right vibe."

Perfect. Charles is so proud of himself for coming up with that.

"Ok, understand," Pierre responds. Finally, an answer Charles wanted to hear.

"Is it ok if I invite Max?"

Why must God hate Charles so much.

"Um...," he thinks how not to come off too eager or too indifferent. "Sure, if he's free. He's been acting like less of a dick than usually, so why not."

Charles is a genius. Or at least thinks that he is right now.

"Got it, just wanted to check before. He's been staring at you so much, when he thinks nobody is watching. I wasn't sure if you were still on speaking terms."

He has to applaud Pierre for his observation skills. But only silently.

"Nah, we're good. Invite him, whatever. Gotta go - I have a boat to find!" he says and hangs up quickly.

So. A party. On a yacht. With Max. What could possibly go wrong? He is trying not to over-think Pierre's comment about Max staring at him.

------- @chezmardybum

[911coded]

I’m about 1/2 to 2/3 of the way through my bucktommy goes to the Pegasus Galaxy fic. The plan right now, if the characters don’t run away with it, is to get these crazy kids to Atlantis and back together. I will be leaving it open ended to continue with them living and working on Atlantis but right now I have no idea what that looks like. Ideas are welcome! I want to just post chapters here until I finish writing, then I will post the whole thing on AO3.

Chapter 1: My Lover’s Gone

Evan.Buckley13@gmail.com

To: David.Parrish.civ@mail.mil

Dave,

This is going to sound crazy but I just found out that Tommy has taken an assignment to Antarctica for the next six months! Antarctica, David! I can’t let him just leave, right? Fuck. I think I understand now why he ran but I’m at the end of my patience here now and I need to chase him before he somehow figures out how to leave the planet! Lol 😆

The LAFD bulletin says he’s stationed at McMurdo. Isn’t that where you and Lorne were based when we met in Mancora? Are you still in contact with someone there? I know you can’t say much, believe me, I understand classified, but I’m desperate man! I just need a contact in SAR and I’m sure with my certs and experience I can convince them I’d be an asset. I’ve been keeping up with all my training just in case so all I need to do is rent out my loft and I’m all set to go. Anyway, hopefully you’ll have some news for me in thurdays email. 🙏🏻

P.S. Sorry this is not like our usual emails, my head’s just a mess as you can probably tell. 😳

Talk soon,

Buck

David Parrish pushed his desk chair back and turned to the wall of windows and the sea glittering in the sun while trying to decide how he wanted to handle this situation. He smirked as he imagined the chaos Buck would bring to Atlantis. And maybe another pilot for Sheppard to play with. Of course, that’s a big if, it’s getting less and less common to find someone with the gene the last few years and Carson has been scratching his head over the why of it. With a sigh, he got to his feet and waved their suite door open. “Now to find someone with some actual authority,” he muttered to himself as he turned the corner to the nearest transporter.

He emerged in the main SCIENCE! corridor, almost positive he would find Major General John Sheppard hiding in Dr. Rodney McKay’s lab. Sure enough, when he entered the main lab, John was sprawled in an oversized chair, engaged in their version of flirting which consisted of snark and Rodney calling John, Colonel, instead of General, while they also solved complex math problems for fun. Weirdos. Dave plopped into a nearby chair and observed the chaos while he debated who to approach first.

“I got some news from my friend in Los Angeles,” he stated, when he noticed John looking at him. “Oh, yeah?” John prodded.

“Remember the ex-boyfriend that we advised to give him a little time, then go full Buck on him?” Dave asked.

“Is this the firefighter friend that makes ancient tech sit up and beg?” Rodney asked, smirking at John. John rolled his eyes at Rodney then nudged Dave’s arm, “What happened?”

“The ex-boyfriend ran away to McMurdo for six months. Buck wants to chase after him, he asked for my help with an introduction to someone in SAR down there,” Dave shared.

John’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Are you going to lure him into the program?” he asked. “Thinking about it,” Dave responded with a smirk.

Tommy was running through his preflight checks when he flinched reaching for the clipboard. Pathetic. Multiple memories of Evan grinning mischievously with a clipboard in hand ran through his mind. He shakes his head sharply and stuffed the thoughts and pain back in the steel chest in the back of his brain. He was here to work where no one knew him, where he could just breathe without someone tiptoeing around his feelings, and where he could hopefully learn how to let go of the pain of his imploded relationship. Maybe if he hadn’t done the imploding himself, it would be easier but of course he panicked and the next thing he knew, he was walking out of Evan’s loft having destroyed everything. Before Evan could ruin him. Jokes on Tommy though, turns out he can ruin himself without any help. With a deep breath, Tommy shoves the self-loathing aside and returns to his checklist with a huff.

He was running the last checks when he heard the crunch of boots on the frosted pavement, his VIP passenger was right on time.

David.Parrish.civ@mail.mil

To: Evan.Buckley13@gmail.com

Buck,

I have to tell you, my friend, you have some of my coworkers fascinated. 😂 With a bug from me in the right ear, it looks like a bored retired general should be on his way to meet your Tommy. Things are moving surprisingly quickly (well I say surprising, but most of us are out of field work and missing excitement in our lives). I heard that there was a fight between 2 generals about who got to scope out your pilot. Jack claimed that his “great age” and free time due to retirement meant that he was the obvious choice. Somewhere on my base, John is pouting and complaining to his scientist that no one lets him have fun anymore. You have already caused chaos without even being here! If nothing else, I’ll have a report on his state of mind for you by our next email. OR. If you are feeling adventurous and can get to Colorado Springs tout de suite, I have another bored general who has heard from Lorne about your uncanny bartender abilities. There may or may not be a betting pool. 😇

In all seriousness, I can get you a job without a problem, Tommy too. You both have the skills that our program can use. Here is where you have to make a decision, Buck. Classified. Our program can change your whole life, expand it and toss it on its ear. His too. Are you ready to fall down this rabbit hole? Think about it. Let me know.

Dave

Buck put his laptop on the coffee table and sat staring blankly at the wall, his mind racing in a million different directions at all the possibilities. Did he want to explore this opportunity that is now much more than SAR in Antarctica for a few months? Not only for him, but is it fair that he dragged Tommy into this? What if Tommy hates him for indirectly bringing him to the attention of these people? At this point, Buck is pacing the floor of his kitchen. Is he ready to leave his life here in LA for what could be a life-changing new job? Eddie was leaving next week to be with Christopher. Maddie, Chim, Hen, and Karen are settled in their families and happy. Bobby and Athena have both mentioned thoughts of retirement as a not so far into the future potential. What does he want next? What does he want? He wants a life with Tommy. He wants to help people. He wants to make a difference. He needs to talk this out. He needs some clarity. Buck jumps to his feet and grabs his keys and phone. He's out the door and in the elevator with the phone to his ear in a matter of moments.

[flamingspud]

It won’t let me edit this post for some reason so here’s the fic under the cut

"That's it! I'm going to live with dad!" Bdubs snapped.

"Oh really?" Cleo asked, fed up with the attitude.

"Yeah!”

"I'm not driving you there."

"I'll walk!"

"It's twenty minutes by car, Bdubs."

"Ok!"

Cleo watched as her youngest son packed a backpack with essentials: pjs, toothbrush, spare clothes and snacks. She then watched as he marched out the front door.

"Dinner's at six!" They informed him.

"Don't bother setting a plate out for me!" He shouted back as he walked down the road, and round the corner. 

Cleo watched him leave, before turning around and walking back inside, closing the front door behind her.

"Aren't you going to stop him...?" Scar asked, concerned that his mother had just let Bdubs leave.

Cleo waved him off. "Nah, you did the same thing when you were twelve, he'll get bored and be back in twenty minutes."

Fifteen year old Scar nodded. He remembered the incident well, he'd claimed that they 'didn't understand him' and decided to run away to Canada. It didn't take him long to realise that he didn't know how to get there, and that he had nowhere to stay once he got there. So he turned back.

So the two went about their business, ignoring Bdubs' absence. 

About forty minutes later, Scar approached Cleo again. "Um, mom...?"

"Yeah?"

"Bdubs isn't back yet," he informed them.

Cleo looked at the clock and cursed to herself. He should've been back by now. She picked up her phone and tried to call her son. Cleo and Scar heard ringing in the other room. 

Scar ran to check, and returned with his thirteen year old brother's phone in his hand.

"Oh for goodness sake-" Cleo muttered, before begrudgingly dialing her ex-husband's number. It rang for a bit before he finally answered.

"Hello?" 

"Etho, is Bdubs there with you?"

Etho was quiet for a moment. “No...?"

He sounded guilty, but Cleo knew the difference between Etho's 'guilty because he's harbouring their runaway son' voice and his 'guilty because he might've forgotten to pick up said son from something' voice, and this, unfortunately, was the latter.

She sighed. "Well can you keep an eye out for him? He said he was going to your house and he hasn't come back yet."

"Wait you lost him???"

"If you see him, call me immediately." Cleo hung up. "Right, get in the car, we're going out to find Bdubs ourselves." 

As the two got into the car, Cleo called Jimmy.

"Hey Cleo, what's up?"

"Have you seen Bdubs today?"

"No, why?" 

Cleo sighed. "He said he was running away to Etho's house and he hasn't come back yet."

"Uh oh,"

"Yeah, can you keep an eye out for him?"

"Of course...!"

~~~

Two hours later, there was still no sign of Bdubs. Well, unless you counted the kid Etho thought was Bdubs, only to find out he wasn't after chasing him into the park. 

Cleo anxiously tapped the steering wheel. As far as she knew, he could be anywhere by now, lost without a way to contact for help.

"It's not your fault," Scar told her in an attempt to calm her down.

Cleo laughed, but not because anything was funny. This situation was the opposite of funny. 

"I'm serious, mom! You thought he was going to come back! How were you to know this time would be different?"

Cleo shook her head. "I let you go without any experiences."

Scar didn't have an answer for that. "Well- I'm sure he's fine! I mean, the odds of him being dead in a ditch somewhere are extremely low and-"

Cleo clutched the steering wheel tighter than they already were. "Scar, don't say things like that."

"Sorry..."

They drove in silence for a few more minutes.

"Bdubs will be fine, he's crafty," Scar assured his mom.

Cleo just focused on the road ahead of her, and Scar decided to do the same.

~~~

"You still haven't found him?" Skizz asked, his phone propped between his ear and his shoulder as he fumbled for his keys. 

"Yeah, I'll head out now, just need to drop a few things off in the apartment first," he told Etho as he swung the front door open.

"Uh huh. Of course." Skizz walked into the apartment, deciding to leave his bag in his room. But when he reached the threshold between the hall and the kitchen, he froze.

Sitting at the kitchen table, was Bdubs, as if everyone weren't losing their minds looking for him, eating a pop-tart. Skizz didn't even know they had pop-tarts. 

Bdubs noticed Skizz staring and gave him a small wave before going back to playing with one of those paper fortune-tellers that he’d probably made earlier.

"Skizz? You there?" Etho asked, still on the line with him.

Skizz snapped out of his daze. "Yes- Etho he's here!"

Bdubs looked back up at Skizz, mild curiosity on his features as Skizz hung up the phone with Etho. "Is dad going to be back soon?" 

Skizz was incredulous at how calm Bdubs was, considering how frantic his roommate was on the phone. "Dude, everyone's going crazy looking for you, you know," he told him, approaching the end of the table.

Bdubs cocked his head to the side. "Really? Why?"

Skizz raised his eyebrows. "Because no-one knew where you were."

Bdubs furrowed his eyebrows. "But I told mom that I was coming here," he explained.

Skizz couldn't help but grin at that. He liked this kid. "Hey, where'd you get that pop-tart from?" He asked, changing the subject.

Bdubs took a box of them from his bag and pushed it across the table towards Skizz. "Here," he offered.

Skizz took one and put it in the toaster. "Thanks."

~~~

"Bdubs!"

It took seconds for Cleo to wrap Bdubs in their arms once entering the apartment.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" She demanded, grabbing his shoulders and holding him at arms length.

“I did tell you I was going to dad’s,” Bdubs retorted.

“He’s got you there, Cleo,” Etho remarked.

Cleo glared at him. “Stay out of this.”

Etho raised his arms in mock surrender, and Cleo turned back to their son.

“We’re going home.”

“But-”

“Now.”

Bdubs pouted. “So unfair…” he muttered. 

“I don’t care…!” His mom responded.

Etho ruffled his hair on his way out. “Don’t worry kid, you can come visit another day.”

“Yeah…”

In conclusion, they were all back in time for dinner.

Summary:

“That’s it! I’m going to live with dad!” Bdubs snapped.

“Oh really?” Cleo asked, fed up with the attitude.

“Yeah!”

"I’m not driving you there.”

“I’ll walk!”

“It’s twenty minutes by car, Bdubs.”

“Ok!”

~~~

Cleo underestimates her son’s stubbornness after getting into an argument.

T’is yet another Clocker Family Oneshot ^-^