#love sea fan meeting

[secriden]

reverse social situation!au where sky is wealthy and prapai is poor and sky has major trust issues/is emotionally very unavailable because of trauma caused by his crazy ex so he hires escorts to bring to his fancy social events that his dad makes him attend because he doesn't want to ever get into a relationship again.

enter prapai who's trying to put his 2 younger siblings through uni by working as an escort on the side. its an easy gig for him because he likes to flirt and he's very comfortable making conversation and like 80% of this job is just schmoozing and the other 20% is looking hot which prapai already has on lock. occasionally he fucks some of his clients if they're pretty enough but the company he works is p good about making sure their staff gets the final say on stuff like that.

when he gets hired by sky he's instantly intrigued. sky is so prickly and grumpy and full of verbal barbs, but he goes soft under prapai's hands when he pulls him close and is clearly so touch starved that prapai aches a little bit for him. he does his best to make things easier for sky (who is very awkward at social events) and he's charming enough that sky realises this is one of the easiest nights out he's had in a long time.

its social season in whatever the Bangkok equivalent of the Hamptons is, so sky winds up hiring prapai semi regularly to be his arm candy / society shield for a series of events. prapai makes things so easy and its the most relaxed he's ever been around someone and even though prapai has the lamest sense of humour ever, somehow he makes sky laugh.

meanwhile prapai is living his best julia roberts life because not only is he being paid super well (like plerng and phan's university fund has grown significantly and he's set for the next six months on rent) but he's gotten a whole new wardrobe out of this which he's taken full advantage of cuz sky cares nothing about fashion (seriously, he just wears the most BORING suits that, yes, to be fair still look amazing on him because his tailor knows how to emphasise his tiny waist and the sharp line of his shoulders), so he just gives prapai a credit card and tells him to get what he wants. when prapai asks what the limit on it is, sky just shrugs.

but also its driving prapai just a little bit wild that sky won't initiate anything with him. he can tell sky is attracted to him because of the way sky always stares at his lips when he gets too close, eyes startled and wide like a deer caught in headlights. but he never takes it further and prapai always has to let the moment pass or diffuse it by dropping a quick peck on his cheek or forehead. he knows its not his place to demand more but he can't help but want. he can tell they'd be good together, but also there's something sad about sky's eyes that calls out to prapai.

he decides he's just going to have to seduce sky so good and make him jump prapai because tbh prapai's sick and tired of blue balling them both.

so he makes a plan. buys an outfit that he knows will make him look like A Snack (TM). then lies in wait for an unsuspecting sky to come home and trip into his arms.

yes it works, and yes they have mind blowing sex and then can't stop having mind blowing sex and prapai's never been happier.

they start going on cute dates between social events. sky takes prapai out on a yacht and plies him with strawberries and chocolate and kisses champagne from his lips. prapai takes sky to a dilapidated hole in the wall, but the food is warm and hearty and smells like home and love. they pack a picnic and laze around in the sun until a sudden downpour has them running for shelter under a deserted pagoda. they're drenched and shivering and overcome with giggles, and when prapai glances over he feels his breath catch inside his chest. he's helpless against the pull he feels towards this man, so he reaches out, drags sky close and slants his lips over sky's in a deep, wet kiss and lets the feeling of love consume him.

one day when they're cuddling after a (quite rigorous) session, prapai falls asleep first and sky stays up staring at his face and tracing his lips with his fingertips. he thinks about the how different his life is now, how happy being with prapai makes him, how easy it is to let himself go under prapai's hands. he has the sudden revelation that he wants more. and that terrifies sky.

he starts avoiding prapai. they still have a month on their contract and sky can't bring himself to cancel it, but he refuses to let prapai do more than hold him when he's escorting him to events and refuses to see him outside of their formal engagements. prapai is understandably hurt and confused and at first tries to give sky time to tell him what's wrong but when its their final week together and sky is still being distant and cold he can't take it anymore and confronts sky.

they fight. prapai demands to know why sky is treating him like they don't mean anything to each other. sky rebuts that he doesn't mean anything to him. this was always transactional. its not sky's fault that prapai got his heart tangled up in good sex. prapai is livid, and storms off and sky falls to his knees and breaks apart to the sound of the door slamming shut.

it takes a few minutes, but prapai calms down and realises that something's wrong. that wasn't sky; it wasn't the gentle and kind and loving man he's grown to adore. he rushes back and finds sky sobbing on the floor and gathers him into his arms. they rock together and prapai shushes him gently. he tells sky that its okay that he knows that sky didn't mean what he said. because he knows sky better.

"its not fair to ask you to say it first, so let me. i love you, sky."

sky sobs, and the truth comes out. how he loved once and was repaid with cruelty. how in the aftermath he felt used up, like there was nothing in his heart left to give. how meeting prapai shifted something fundamental in him and it was terrifying but sky wanted to be brave because prapai was worth being brave for.

"i love you too," sky says, finally, voice still thin and broken from his tears. "i'm sorry for saying what i did before; none of it is true. i love you, i love you, i don't think i can ever stop loving you."

"you won't have to," prapai promises, and when sky arches up for him, prapai's already there. the kiss feels like a promise, it feels like deliverance.

it feels like coming home.

[nigeluvzbl]

it's cute how he's struggling to read the words 😂💗

the smile 😭❤

[ugartecoco]

v cute how the fans going to the vnl games in pasay are giving out freebies like photocards and bracelets at the venue

[focusonkayjay]

right here, yet so far away | oneshot

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: ceo! jungkook x kindergarten teacher! reader, exes to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

Summary: Jungkook is lost, adrift in a sea of confusion and longing, after you disappeared from his life without any explanation four months ago. He replays every moment, every word, every touch, questioning where it all went wrong and why you’re no longer by his side. But then, as if the universe itself couldn't bear to see him suffer, fate intervenes. A twist of chance brings you back into his orbit, and Jungkook, desperate for closure, makes a vow to himself that this time, he’s not letting you go without an explanation.

Word Count: 19.4k (my hands slipped girl)

Warnings: mature language, unprotected sex (pls be safe), oral (f. receiving), mentions of an accident, coma, violence (lmk if i missed anything) P.S. i know people don't just instantly recover after a long coma, but in this story it's just heavy plot armor, so kindly understand.

playlist for the vibes <3

cher's notes: hello cuties. this is a special post in honor of me hitting 300 followers. i cant believe the immense support i have received when it's only been a week. thank you so much for consuming my work and supporting me. also please note, the text in italics are for dream sequences or flashbacks.

��But baby… please just…” Jungkook’s voice cracks as he jogs to catch up, his hand reaching out for yours. You swat it away without hesitation, the sting of rejection hitting him harder than any words ever could.

“Jungkook, stop it.” you say firmly, your tone sharp enough to cut through his soul. He freezes, his wide eyes searching yours for answers.

“But baby, just tell me why? We were doing so good… just yesterday, you... you said you loved me. Please, you can’t just... leave like this.”

He tries to observe your expression, hoping to convince himself that this is just some cruel joke. But there’s no softness in your eyes, no flicker of doubt. Only a cold, unyielding resolve.

“Don’t you understand?” you scoff, folding your arms tightly across your chest. “I’m tired of you, Jungkook. I’m tired of us.” His breath hitches, disbelief flashing across his face. “Stop. Don’t say that. You don’t… you don’t mean that.”

“I do.” you insist, each word a dagger to his heart. “I mean every word of it. I’m done with you. This whole relationship… it’s not going anywhere. It’s a waste of time, and I just… I can’t, Jungkook. We have to break up.”

His shoulders slump, and his chest rises and falls as though the air has been knocked out of him. He stands frozen, staring at you, desperate to find some hint of hesitation in your expression. But all he sees is resolve… or at least, what you’re determined to show him.

“Why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You stare at him blankly. "Because I don’t love you anymore.” you reply, your voice unwavering. Jungkook flinches as if struck. His lips part, but no words come out. And when you turn around and walk away, the sound of your retreating footsteps echoes in his ears, louder than any goodbye, as your body disappears into the darkness.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The shrill wail of the alarm slices through the silence, and Jungkook's eyes harshly open. He gasps for air, his chest heaving as the nightmare clings to him like a second skin.

It’s always the same nightmare. The same scene. The same words. The same look on your face. The same crushing weight in his chest.

He drags a hand down his face, the coolness of his palm doing little to soothe him. His dark hair sticks to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he blinks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.

For a moment, he just sits there, the silence of his apartment wrapping around him like a cold blanket. A single tear trickles down his temple as images of you flash in his mind, one after the other. His phone buzzes on the nightstand... a reminder of the meetings and deadlines awaiting him, but he doesn’t move.

Four months. It’s been four months since you walked away, and he still doesn’t understand why.

He remembers the day of the break up like it was yesterday. The scene is so vividly planted in his mind that he even sees it in his sleep. He can’t get rid of the way you looked at him… like you despised the sight of him, like you truly didn’t love him anymore.

He still doesn’t have his answers. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did your heart just decide it didn’t want him anymore? The questions linger in his mind, unanswered, gnawing at him like a constant ache he can’t escape.

Jungkook remains rooted on his mattress, the weight of memories pressing down on him as he recalls the first time he saw you. It was over two years ago, but when he recollects it, it feels so vivid, like it's happening in the present.

He had been reluctant to attend an event that was scheduled at a local kindergarten nearby. Exhausted from a long flight back from the States, he’d tried to get out of it. But his assistant, understanding the importance of his role as the CEO, insisted that he'd attend it regardless.

His company wasn’t just about selling food products, it was dedicated to promoting healthy living, especially for children. They organized events to educate kids on the importance of good nutrition, partnered with schools to provide nutritious meals, and created fun, interactive programs to get children excited about eating right.

Though Jungkook wasn’t keen on spending his afternoon with a room full of energetic kids, he went anyway. The workshop had already started and the moment he stepped into the classroom, ready to grab the attention of the kids, he suddenly spotted you.

You were standing at the front of the room, a soft smile on your face as you engaged with the children, laughing with them and cracking jokes. Your energy was infectious, and the way you moved with such ease around the kids made his heart skip a beat. There was something so warm and genuine about you, something that immediately drew him in.

It wasn’t just the way you looked... though you were undeniably beautiful, but how you carried yourself, the kindness that radiated from you, and how at home you seemed in this world of tiny hands and laughter. Jungkook had never been the type to believe in love at first sight, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something inside him shifted.

He had been smitten, captivated in a way he couldn’t explain. His thoughts had scattered as he watched you, his mind far from the speech he was supposed to be giving. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you had captured his attention, and yet he couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until later, when he was preparing to leave, that he finally found the courage to approach you. He had been nervous, unsure of what to say. But the moment you looked at him, a simple greeting from you was all it took.

Your smile was enough to melt any lingering doubt he had. He introduced himself, his voice slightly shaky but confident enough to make a lasting impression. And you, with that same gentle smile, responded in kind words, immediately making him feel at ease.

He had no idea at that moment that this chance encounter would change his life in the best way possible.

Now, laying in his bed, Jungkook smiles bitterly, remembering how it all started. How he had the most beautiful relationship with you for around a year and three months. How one decision, one visit to that kindergarten, led to everything he lost.

He still can't understand why you left him the way you did, without explanation, without any chance for him to fix whatever went wrong. The image of your face that day... the coldness, the finality, haunts him still.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts clouding his mind, Jungkook forces himself to push them aside. He stares at the ceiling for a moment longer, allowing the weight of the memories to settle, before finally making the decision to get up.

He knows he can’t linger in this state forever. The day is waiting for him, and he can’t afford to let his emotions hold him back. With a sigh, he swings his legs off the bed and plants his feet firmly on the floor. The familiar coldness of the hardwood beneath his feet is grounding, and for a brief moment, he feels a sense of control over the chaos in his mind.

The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow on his room. He moves to the bathroom, running cold water over his face, hoping it will somehow shake the fog from his thoughts. It’s a futile attempt, but it’s enough to snap him into the present, if only for a few minutes.

Jungkook stares at his reflection in the mirror, taking a deep breath. His mind is still heavy, but he’s learned over the years to compartmentalize, especially when it comes to work. He’s the CEO and his company can’t afford to be distracted by his personal life. No matter how much his heart aches, there’s a bigger picture to focus on.

You glance at the kids, focused on their coloring books, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. They’re adorable, each one lost in their own little world, their tiny hands gripping crayons as they carefully add color to their drawings. You walk around the room, quietly observing their work, admiring the little bursts of creativity.

As you pass by the window, your gaze drifts outside, where a few children are running and playing on the soccer field. You let out a sigh, your fingers subconsciously tracing the pendant of your necklace.

It’s the only thing that connects you to him, to the one that got away, to the one you let slip right through your fingers, even when it hurt to do so. You close your eyes for a brief moment, and his image floods your mind. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence.

You miss him so badly, your chest tightening with the weight of it. But you push the feeling down, swallowing the ache in your heart. You remind yourself why it had to end, why you had to walk away. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

As you stare at the bleachers stand by the green field, a vivid and unpleasant memory creeps up your mind.

"Break up with him."

Junghyun's voice was calm, his eyes fixed on the empty soccer field ahead. The chilly evening breeze brushed past your hair, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your chest. You turned to look at him, disbelief written all over your face.

"What?" you asked, your voice carrying a mix of confusion and irritation. Junghyun was Jungkook's older brother, and his unexpected visit had left you completely on edge.

You had only met this man once before, a fleeting encounter when you accidentally bumped into him outside Jungkook’s apartment one morning. Seeing him now, unannounced at your workplace, caught you completely off guard.

"Break up with him, Y/N." he repeated, turning to face you this time. His gaze was piercing, his tone unyielding. "You know you two belong to completely separate worlds. Jungkook isn’t in love... he’s just infatuated. And frankly..." he continued, his voice dropping with disdain. "You’re nothing but a distraction."

You stared at him, your mind reeling from the audacity of his words. The traffic noise in the far distance felt like static compared to the ringing in your ears. "Are you serious right now?" you managed to say, your tone sharper than you intended.

Junghyun didn’t flinch. "I’m completely serious. Do you think this little fling of yours will lead to anything? Jungkook has responsibilities... he has a company to run, a legacy to uphold. You’re a kindergarten teacher, Y/n. A sweet girl, sure, but not someone who can keep up with him."

His words stung, but you refused to show it. "Jungkook loves me." you stated firmly, your voice unwavering. "I know how he feels about me. So whatever you’re trying to pull, it won’t work."

Junghyun scoffed, shaking his head. "Love? You call this love? He’s smitten, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last. You’ll only hold him back."

You clenched your fists, your chest tightening with frustration. Every instinct in you wanted to yell at him, to tell him how wrong he was, how little he knew about what you and Jungkook shared.

You breathed heavily, your eyes narrowing as they locked onto him. "I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation." you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil bubbling inside. Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel, stepping off the bleacher stands and ready to head back inside.

“Hanyung Hospital.” Junghyun’s voice suddenly rang out, stopping you dead in your tracks. Your breath hitched, and your eyebrows furrowed as your back remained turned to him. A wave of unease settled over you, his words striking a chord you wished he hadn’t found.

“Isn’t that where your brother is admitted?” His tone was sharp, laced with a smirk you didn’t need to see to recognize.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart racing as panic flashed across your features. Had this man done a background check on you? Your mind reeled at the thought, fear and anger coursing through you in equal measure.

Junghyun’s smirk deepened as he saw the panic etched on your face. “Guess I know a little too much about you, sweetheart.” he said smoothly, his words dripping with a smug satisfaction.

Your fists clenched at your sides, but your voice caught in your throat. The realization that he had gone to such lengths made your skin crawl, and a sense of dread settled in your stomach.

"See, this is the problem with you lowlifes..." Junghyun sneered, his voice dripping with disrespect. "You have so many weaknesses, yet you never stop dreaming big." He let out a cruel laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement at your stunned silence.

You stared at him, your throat tightening as if the words you wanted to say were caught in a vice. "I heard he’s been in a coma for four years." he continued, his tone casual, almost mocking.

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. The mention of your brother... the very core of your vulnerability, felt like a dagger twisting in your heart.

“Maybe I should make sure this coma lasts forever—”

"What?" The word burst out of you before he could finish. Panic surged through you, visible in the way your breathing quickened. Junghyun’s smirk widened, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction at your reaction. He relished the fear and desperation etched across your face, feeding off the control he had over the situation.

"Leave my brother out of this." you managed to say, your voice low but firm, fists clenched tightly at your sides. "This has nothing to do with him."

You forced yourself to regulate your breathing, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions that were threatening to spill over. But deep down, you knew exactly what this man was doing. And it felt like a threat too enormous to escape.

Junghyun’s smirk only deepened, his silence more unsettling than words. It was as though he reveled in watching you squirm under the weight of his insinuations.

Your mind raced, every possible scenario flashing before you. The influence Jungkook’s family wielded wasn’t just intimidating, it was terrifying. They were rich, powerful, and connected in ways you could only imagine.

For all you knew, they could probably make someone disappear without a trace. And standing face-to-face with Junghyun, you started to think that was your chilling reality.

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with as much resolve as you could muster, but the unease in your chest lingered. You felt trapped, cornered by an enemy who knew just where to strike to hurt you the most.

"Well, sweetheart, I want to leave him out of this too..." Junghyun sighed, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "And you know exactly what you need to do for that to happen."

His words struck like a hammer, each syllable weighing heavier than the last. You felt your whole world collapsing around you, the walls closing in with no way out. You felt suffocated. Cornered. Powerless.

Your gaze dropped to your feet, tears pooling in your eyes despite your desperate attempts to hold them back. The fight within you slowly crumbled, leaving only the unbearable weight of his ultimatum.

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fought to keep yourself composed.

"I'll break up with him." you whispered finally, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. A tear slipped down your cheek, the first crack in the dam as the reality of your surrender settled in.

Junghyun stepped down from the bleacher stands, his slow footsteps growing louder in your ears. You didn’t move, your feet rooted to the ground as if the weight of your decision had physically anchored you.

He stopped in front of you, and you felt his presence, his amusement radiating like poison. A soft laugh escaped him, sending shivers down your spine.

"Now that was easy, wasn’t it?" he mocked, patting your head like you were a child who had just followed orders. Your jaw tightened, teeth gritting at the humiliating gesture, but you remained silent.

"And this goes without saying, but... Jungkook should never hear about this encounter." Junghyun said, his voice low and taunting as he stepped closer.

You didn’t respond, your throat too tight and your mind too fogged with fear and anger to formulate a reply.

He smirked at your silence before brushing past you, deliberately bumping into your shoulder as if to remind you just how insignificant he believed you to be. The force was slight, but it felt heavier, laden with the weight of everything he’d taken away from you in the matter of mere minutes.

The chilly breeze cut through the quiet, and you felt it settle deep into your bones, a reminder of just how cold the world could be.

"Miss Choi!" a little voice pierces through the haze of your flashback, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes shift from the bleacher stands outside to the source of the voice. A little girl waves her broken color pencil in the air, her tiny face scrunched in distress.

You force a smile, the corners of your lips lifting as you walk towards her. "Give me that, let me sharpen it for you, Sera." you say softly, patting her head. She nods cutely, her eyes wide with trust and gratitude.

You exhale deeply, the weight in your chest still pressing down as you make your way to the trash can. As the sharpener scrapes against the pencil, you think to yourself. Stop dwelling on the past.

You knew how deeply you felt for Jungkook. He was more than just a fleeting love... he was a part of you, your safe place. But the weight of Junghyun's threat had been too much to bear. It wasn’t a fight you could win, not against soemone as powerful as him.

The memory of that day gnaws at you, the helplessness, the bitterness of making a decision you despised with every fiber of your being. But what choice did you have?

Handing the pencil back to Sera, you muster another soft smile. Her joyful expression tugs at your heart, a stark contrast to the storm inside you.

All you can do now is hope that Jungkook is living a happy life, far from the shadows of the truth that forced you apart.

Jungkook adjusts his position in the sleek leather chair, trying to focus on the ongoing meeting. The conference room hums with the low murmur of voices as his team discusses the logistics of their next community outreach initiative.

The large screen at the front displays a vibrant presentation, but his mind drifts, struggling to stay anchored in the moment.

“Mr. Jeon.” Eunwoo, the Chief Operating Officer, speaks up, pulling him back to reality. “We’re finalizing the details for the event at the Sunflower Orphanage this weekend.” he says, his tone calm but purposeful.

“It’s part of our ‘Healthy Futures’ program.” Eunwoo continues, “Where we teach the kids about nutrition and provide them with tools to build healthier habits.”

Jungkook nods, his jaw tightening slightly. He taps his pen against the notepad in front of him, the blank page mirroring his lack of focus. “Good. Ensure we send enough materials for the interactive sessions. I’ll review the activity plans later today.”

Eunwoo presses on. “We’re also organizing a cooking demonstration for the older kids and distributing care packages with nutritious snacks and recipe guides. It might be a good idea for you to attend. I think the kids would really enjoy meeting you.”

Jungkook exhales softly, running a hand through his hair. Public appearances at these events are part of his responsibility, something he takes seriously. Yet, the thought of being surrounded by bright-eyed children feels heavier than usual, a strange weight pressing against his chest.

“I’ll check my schedule.” he replies, his tone measured, masking the unease he can’t quite shake.

As the meeting concludes, Jungkook steps out of the conference room, loosening his tie as he makes his way towards his office. The familiar click of shoes on the polished floor follows close behind, signaling his secretary, Jimin, is trailing him.

“Your schedule is free, Mr. Jeon.” Jimin remarks, a teasing edge in his voice. “It’s literally the weekend.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I know, but I just don’t feel like going.” he mutters, his stride purposeful as he heads towards his cabin.

Jimin quickens his pace to match Jungkook’s, his tone light but persistent. “The kids would love it, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s your responsibility.”

Jungkook groans inwardly, knowing there’s no winning an argument when Jimin uses that reasoning. “Fine.” he relents, glancing over his shoulder with a pointed glare. “But... you’re coming with me.”

“Of course.” Jimin quips with a smirk, unfazed. “I go wherever my boss goes.”

Jungkook shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself, before pushing open the door to his cabin. “You’re insufferable.” he mutters, disappearing inside. Jimin grins to himself, adjusting his tie. “It’s part of the job.” he mutters quietly before heading back to his desk.

The familiar scent of antiseptic and faint floral air freshener envelops you as you step into the hospital. You glance around, taking in the sight of doctors briskly walking in their white coats, nurses tending to charts, and patients navigating the lobby with family members by their sides. The soft hum of conversations and the occasional beep of monitors create a somber yet steady rhythm.

You make your way to the reception desk, offering a small smile to the woman behind the counter. Her face lights up with recognition.

“You’re early today.” she notes gently. You nod, your expression soft. “I just missed Beomgyu.” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. She smiles warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. “Go ahead.” she says, motioning towards the elevator.

You thank her with a brief smile before turning and stepping into the elevator, pressing the button to take you to the floor where your brother’s room is.

The soft chime of the elevator brings you back to reality as the doors slide open. You walk down the familiar corridor, each step feeling heavier as you approach his room. Pushing the door open, your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on Beomgyu. His motionless body lies on the bed, the faint hum of medical equipment the only sign of life. Four years. It’s been four long years, and he hasn’t moved an inch.

You sit down in the chair next to his bed, your hands trembling as you reach for his. His hand is cold in yours, and the weight of it brings tears to your eyes. But you blink them away, determined to stay strong.

“Hey, Gyu.” you whisper, brushing your thumb gently over his knuckles. Your voice is soft, filled with a bittersweet mix of hope and sorrow. “I’m here.”

No matter how many times you see him like this, it never gets easier. Each visit feels like a fresh wound, a new wave of pain crashing over you. He was your only family and the sight of his still body, the steady beep of the monitor, and the faint rise and fall of his chest... it all feels both familiar and unbearable. Every time, it’s as if a tiny piece of your heart breaks all over again.

As you stare at his face, a sigh escapes your lips, heavy with the weight of countless unshed tears. "Gyu..." you whisper, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "It’s getting so hard." Your words falter, carried by the quiet hum of the machines that have become the soundtrack of his existence.

"No matter what I do... I just... I just can’t stop thinking about him." you confess, closing your eyes as the first tear escapes, tracing a slow, burning path down your cheek. Your grip on Beomgyu’s hand tightens, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in slow, rhythmic motions. Though his hand remains lifeless, you hold on as if it’s your last tether to sanity, as if somehow he can feel your anguish.

Maybe he hears me, you think, clinging to the hope that keeps you returning to this room day after day. "I miss him so much." you murmur, your voice cracking under the weight of those words. The sob that escapes your lips feels like a betrayal, exposing just how deeply the pain has taken root.

Beomgyu never met Jungkook... yet, in your heart, you know that if he ever did... he would have absolutely loved him.

You remember that one day you brought Jungkook here, to visit Beomgyu, his hand firmly holding yours as you led him down these sterile hallways.

He had sat beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your trembling frame, as you told him about the accident that had stolen Beomgyu’s vibrant spirit and left him in this suspended state. Jungkook’s presence had been an anchor that day, steady and reassuring, his soft murmurs giving you the courage to speak through your tears.

And then, there was that promise. You can still hear your own voice, shaky but determined, as you looked into Jungkook’s eyes. "When Beomgyu wakes up, you’ll be the first to know." The memory feels like a lifetime ago, a fragment of a world where hope felt tangible and love wasn’t wrapped in layers of regret.

Now, that promise lingers like a ghost, haunting you with its impossibility. The weight of it presses against your chest, suffocating in its quiet accusation.

You lower your head, your tears falling silently onto the sterile sheets, wishing for a reality where things could have been different... where Beomgyu would wake up, and Jungkook would still be yours to call.

After spending about forty minutes sitting by your brother’s side, you feel the weight of time press down on you. With a reluctant sigh, you lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss on his cool forehead. The stillness of the room wraps around you like an unwanted embrace, amplifying the ache in your chest.

You stand, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him, his face so serene yet painfully distant. Finally, you force yourself to turn away, the sharp pull of grief hurting you even as your feet carry you towards the door.

The hospital hallways stretch before you, illuminated by fluorescent lights that feel too bright for the heaviness clouding your heart. The muted chatter of families and nurses echoes faintly around you, but you tune it out, your focus on the floor ahead.

Every step feels heavy, yet familiar... grief walking alongside you like an old companion. You’re lost in thought, your mind lingering on memories you can't quite hold onto, when the sharp ring of your phone jolts you back to the present.

You pause, fishing the device out of your bag. The name on the screen makes a faint smile touch your lips. "Hey, Joonie." you greet, your tone soft but warm.

“Oh my god Y/N...Hi... where have you been?” Namjoon’s voice filters through, steady yet tinged with his usual concern. “I was just visiting Beomgyu.” you reply, stepping into the elevator as the doors slide open.

“Ah...” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a gentler note. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“No, not at all.” you assure him, leaning against the elevator wall. “I was just about to leave anyway. What’s up?” There’s a slight pause on the other end before he continues talking. “I wanted to check if you’re coming to the orphanage this weekend. You know... for the volunteering session.”

The mention of the orphanage brings a warmth to your chest. Your lips curve into a genuine smile as you think of the place that’s come to feel like a second home. “Of course I’ll be there.” you reply without hesitation.

“That's great!!” Namjoon says, a hint of relief in his tone. “Mrs. Lee mentioned there’s going to be some kind of workshop for the kids, though I’m not really sure what it’s about.”

You hum thoughtfully, stepping out of the elevator as it dings open on the ground floor. “A workshop? That sounds interesting. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what it's about.” you muse, the faint hum of curiosity threading through your voice.

Namjoon chuckles lightly. “Yeah, seems like it. Anyways, you get home safe, Y/N-ah. I'll see you on the weekend.” he says. “See you Joonie... Bye.” you reply, your smile lingering as the call ends.

As you slip your phone back into your bag and step into the cool evening air, a quiet sense of purpose washes over you. The orphanage, specifically, the Sunflower Orphanage, holds a deeply rooted place in your heart.

It’s not just a building, it’s a chapter of your life, a part of your story written alongside your brother, Beomgyu as the two of you grew up there and navigated a world that often felt too vast and too indifferent.

Volunteering there every weekend for the past month with Namjoon hasn’t just been about giving back to the place that shaped you, it’s become a way to honor the struggles you and Beomgyu once faced.

It’s a way of making peace with the past while helping to build a brighter future for the children still living it. The act of helping others has started to feel like a balm for your soul, a small piece of healing in a journey that has felt insurmountable at times.

More than that, it’s helped you stay busy, distracted, keeping your mind from wandering too often to the void that has been lingering in your life for the past four months, an emptiness you’re not ready to confront fully yet.

Every smile from the kids, every hug, every story they share with you reminds you why you’ve always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.

Now, being able to follow your dream and also volunteer at the very orphanage you grew up in, doing your best to give these children the care and love you once longed for, feels profoundly rewarding.

There’s a bittersweet comfort in walking the same halls you once did, now as a volunteer instead of a resident. You find joy in helping the kids paint their dreams on blank canvases, in reading stories that spark their imaginations, and in simply being a presence they can rely on.

The Orphanage, with its chipped walls and resilient spirit, has become more than a part of your history... it’s a part of your healing, too.

Saturday

"Shit, shit." you mutter under your breath, hastily paying the cab driver before dashing towards the entrance of the orphanage. You were supposed to be here early today, especially since you knew there was a workshop planned for the kids.

Mrs. Lee had mentioned needing help with the setup and cleanup, and you’d eagerly offered. But luck hadn’t been on your side. First, your original cab broke down, forcing you to find another. Then, traffic decided to conspire against you, dragging out what should’ve been a quick journey into an agonizing wait.

As you ran up the steps at the entrance, slightly out of breath, your eyes catch on something that brings you to an abrupt halt. A large banner hangs above the double doors, bold letters printed across it. The sight of it makes your stomach churn.

“No way...” you whisper, realization dawning like a bucket of ice water poured over your head as you read the banner. “This is… Jungkook’s workshop?”

You stand frozen, trying to process what you’re seeing. The placards stationed around the entrance leave no room for doubt. Each one bears the unmistakable logo of his company. The presentation materials stacked neatly by the door, the branded posters, and even the staff moving equipment inside all scream his involvement.

You inhale sharply, the air catching in your throat. Of course, it had to be here. Of all the orphanages in the city, the one you’ve been volunteering at for the past month had to be the very place where Jungkook... your ex boyfriend, Jungkook... is hosting a workshop. The universe really has a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

“Fuck.” you mutter, closing your eyes and trying to calm the storm brewing in your chest. You press a hand against the doorframe to steady yourself, taking deep breaths to fight off the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Your mind races with questions you’re not sure you want answers to. Is he here? Or is this one of those events where his employees take the lead while he stays behind the scenes? Should you turn around and leave before anyone notices, or would that make things worse?

You glance back at the cab, still idling by the curb. For a fleeting second, the idea of jumping back in and leaving tempts you. But then you hear the sound of children’s laughter filtering through the open doors, mingling with the excited chatter of the staff, and you know you can’t just leave.

Bracing yourself, you take another deep breath and step inside, your heart pounding harder with each step. The familiar warmth of the orphanage wraps around you, but today it feels heavier, tinged with the tension you’re carrying. You repeat a silent mantra, trying to ground yourself. Stay professional. This is about the kids. Nothing else matters.

“I’ll just… I’ll just pretend I don’t know him.” you mutter under your breath, nodding to yourself as your footsteps echo in the hallway.

As you step into the bustling main hall, your eyes land on Namjoon almost immediately. The minute he spots you too, it doesn’t take long for him to weave his way through the crowd towards you, his expression a mix of shock and concern. “Y/N…” he begins, his voice low but urgent as he reaches you. “I had no idea this was going to be his workshop.” The disbelief in his tone mirrors your own feelings.

You throw your head back, a groan escaping your lips. “I know. What the hell am I supposed to do? Is he really here, though? Or is it just his team running the workshop?” you ask, a flicker of hope creeping into your voice as you glance at him.

Namjoon hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he’s trying to cushion the blow. “Unfortunately…” he starts, his tone apologetic. “He’s here. I just saw him talking to Mrs. Lee a few minutes ago.” You close your eyes, rubbing your temples. “This is so, so, so not fair.” you mutter, your frustration bubbling over.

“Hey…” Namjoon’s voice softens as he places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. His calm presence is like an anchor in the midst of your swirling emotions. “You’re going to be fine. I know breaking up with him was hard for you, but right now... the best you can do is just stay professional. Pretend like you don’t know him and I’m sure he won’t approach you… I hope.” he adds with a small, uncertain smile.

You let out a shaky sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the situation. Namjoon’s logic makes sense, but it does little to calm the storm brewing inside you. “I haven’t seen him in four months, Joon.” you admit, your voice shaky. “And now, of all times, I have to see him? Here?”

Namjoon offers you a sympathetic look, his hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “I know it’s hard, but I know you’ve got this. Just try your best to avoid him.”

You nod slowly, though you’re far from convinced. This isn’t a situation you can simply walk away from. Jungkook’s presence is inevitable now, and the thought of seeing him again, after everything, sends a whirlwind of emotions crashing through you.

You're aware Jungkook won't be expecting to see you here today and you can't help but wonder what his reaction will be when he actually ends up seeing you. Would his expression shift the moment he spots you? Would it be one of cold indifference, barely a flicker of acknowledgment? Or something sharper like anger, disappointment, perhaps even sadness? The possibilities swirl in your mind, each one more unsettling than the last.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to brush the questions aside. There’s no time to dwell on this right now. You take a steadying breath and look around the busy hall. It’s high time you start helping out. After all, you’re already late, and the least you can do is make up for lost time by pitching in wherever you’re needed.

Once all the kids are settled in their seats, their excitement bubbling over in the form of giggles and whispers, you step back, making your way to the back of the room. Namjoon is already there, his arms crossed loosely as he leans against the wall. You take your place beside him, exhaling deeply, trying to calm your heart and mind.

As the workshop begins, your eyes inevitably drift to the front of the room. Jungkook stands there, effortlessly commanding attention. He’s dressed sharply but casually, the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt exposing his tattooed forearm. His presence is magnetic, and it’s no surprise that even the youngest kids are riveted as he begins to speak.

“This program is called 'Healthy Futures'.” he starts, his tone warm and inviting. “It’s about giving you the knowledge and tools to take care of your health. Eating the right food, staying active, and understanding how to take care of your bodies... it’s not just important now, but it’ll help you for years to come.”

He gestures to a large poster board displaying colorful illustrations of fruits, vegetables, and simple meal plans. “Today, we’ll talk about nutrition, and we’ll even have some fun activities to show you how to make smart food choices. You’ll see how easy it can be to make meals that are both delicious and good for you.”

The kids are wide-eyed, soaking up every word. Jungkook’s ability to connect with them is undeniable. As he dives into the presentation, explaining concepts in simple, engaging terms and peppering his talk with questions to keep the kids involved, a small smile tugs at your lips.

You watch as he crouches down to a child’s level, handing them a flashcard and encouraging them to name the food group it belongs to. The way his eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm when the child gets it right is a sight that momentarily softens the ache in your chest.

You can’t help but smile, even if it’s bittersweet. Seeing him like this... passionate, caring, and entirely in his element... reminds you of the man you fell in love with. His natural charm, the way he effortlessly makes others feel seen and valued, is just as captivating now as it was then.

Namjoon nudges you gently. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low. You nod again, your gaze fixed on Jungkook. “Yeah.” you whisper, though the lump forming in your throat makes it a struggle to get the word out. “I’m fine.” you say.

As Jungkook wraps up his talk, his voice is steady and warm, a reflection of the effort he’s poured into making this workshop meaningful. “Alright, kids, now it’s time for the fun part...” he announces with a grin.

“My team is going to help you make a simple, healthy snack, something delicious and easy that you can make yourselves... so follow them and they'll guide you through the process." he says.

The children erupt in cheers and applause, their excitement echoing through the hall. Jungkook’s smile widens at their enthusiasm, the earlier reluctance he felt about being here melting away.

It’s moments like these that make everything worth it. Seeing their faces light up is a reward far greater than any professional accolade.

As the kids begin to disperse, following the other employees out of the hall, Jungkook takes a moment to glance around, his eyes scanning the room to take in the atmosphere. And then he suddenly sees you.

Jungkook lips part as he watches you intently, his eyes trailing as you exchange words with Namjoon before following him out of the room. His throat feels dry, his mind reeling.

She's… here? The words echo in his head as his heart pounds erratically against his ribcage.

He gulps, trying to steady himself, but the unexpected sight of you has thrown him completely off balance. Before he can fully process his spiraling thoughts, Jimin’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Mr. Jeon, shall we?” he prompts, his tone professional but gentle, unknowingly grounding Jungkook back to the present. He blinks, nodding faintly as he forces his legs to move, trailing behind his secretary towards the activity room.

But just when he enters the activity room, what he doesn't expect is for you to be the first person he sees. You’re standing just a few feet away, holding a precarious stack of trays to distribute it among the kids. Your focus is elsewhere, until your eyes suddenly meet his. The world tilts for a moment as your face registers a mix of shock and disbelief.

The impact of seeing him here, so close, sends a jolt through you. Your grip falters, and before you can stop it, the trays slip from your hands, the clattering sound echoing through the room as everything scatters across the floor.

The kids go silent, their chatter replaced by a stunned hush as all eyes turn towards you. The embarrassment and panic that flood your system make your skin prickle, but before you can even begin to move, Jungkook is already in front of you.

“Are you... are you okay?” His voice is low, concerned, his hands gently closing over yours as if to steady you. His touch is firm yet hesitant, and the warmth of his palms against your skin sends a shiver through you.

You can barely process his words, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears. Your lips part, but no sound comes out as you struggle to respond. The way he’s looking at you... those familiar dark eyes filled with a mixture of worry and something deeper, makes it impossible to think straight.

“I uhhh... I’m fine.” you finally stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks burn as you quickly try to pull your hands back, but he doesn’t let go immediately. His fingers linger for a second longer than necessary, as if he’s reluctant to lose the contact.

Namjoon, having watched the entire scene unfold, clears his throat as he approaches. “Y/N, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” he asks, his tone gentle yet purposeful, as if trying to diffuse the tension.

“I’m fine.” you repeat, louder this time, forcing yourself to look away from Jungkook as you pull your hand away from his and focus on the mess on the floor. You crouch down, starting to pick up the scattered trays, desperate to avoid his eyes. Namjoon joins you without a word, but you can feel Jungkook’s gaze still fixed on you.

Jimin steps forward, clearly confused by the sudden commotion. “Mr. Jeon, should we...” he starts, glancing between Jungkook and the scene before him, but Jungkook barely acknowledges him. His focus is solely on you, his mind racing as he tries to process everything.

For Jungkook, this moment feels surreal. He hadn’t prepared himself for seeing you... not here, not like this. And now, with you so close yet seemingly so far, the weight of everything unsaid between you presses down on him like a tidal wave.

He wants nothing more than to just hold you, to pull you close and take in every detail of your face. These four months have been nothing short of hell, filled with an unrelenting ache for your presence.

But as he watches you so obviously avoiding him, he feels rooted to the spot, his mind scrambling to find the right words... words that refuse to come out.

Once the kids are fully immersed in their activity, you quietly slip out of the room, desperate for a moment to catch your breath. The weight of Jungkook’s presence had pressed on you relentlessly for the past twenty minutes, his gaze a constant reminder of the unresolved emotions between you two. Each stolen glance felt like it peeled back layers of the wall you’d carefully built around yourself.

The hallway is quiet as you walk towards the large window at the far end, your footsteps muffled against the polished floor. You pause there, gazing out at the orphanage’s small garden, the scene outside blurring as your mind spins.

Your fingers find the pendant hidden beneath your sweater, and you begin to fidget with it, the familiar texture grounding you. This pendant, this tiny piece of jewelry, holds a weight of its own, a connection to a past that feels both distant and ever-present.

Seeing Jungkook up close had hit you harder than you expected. He hadn’t changed. He was still just as beautiful, still radiated that quiet warmth that had always drawn people to him. The same warmth you’d once found comfort in.

And you missed him... God, you missed him in a way that made your chest ache. But that only made it worse. Because you couldn’t let yourself fall apart, not now, not when you had to face him. You’re so lost in thought that the sound of a familiar voice startles you.

“Y/n.”

Your body tenses instantly. You don’t turn, your fingers reflexively tucking the pendant back beneath your sweater as if it’s some fragile secret you need to protect. You stay facing the window, your breaths shallow as you try to steady your heartbeat.

“You… won’t even look at me?” Jungkook's voice is soft, hesitant, but the pain in it cuts through you like a blade. You bite your lip, your eyes still fixed on the view outside, but all you can feel is him. The rawness of his words sinks into you, heavy and unshakable.

“Y/n…” His voice comes again, quieter this time, almost breaking. It’s not just a name... it’s a plea, one you wish you could ignore but know you can’t.

You hate this. You hate that Jungkook, of all people... the kindest, most selfless soul you’ve ever known... is standing here now, burdened by the pain you caused him. You hate that you’re the one who turned his world upside down. And yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to face him.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself as you turn to face him. Your expression is blank, a carefully constructed mask. “What?” The word comes out cold, clipped, and you instantly regret the sharpness of your tone.

Jungkook’s gaze softens as he studies you, his dark eyes tracing the contours of your face. You still look the same... still breathtaking, still the person he fell hopelessly in love with. But there’s something different too, a guardedness that wasn’t there before, a distance he doesn’t know how to bridge.

“How… how have you been? It’s been a while.” he says softly, his voice laced with hesitation as he takes a tentative step closer.

“I’m fine.” The words come quickly, too quickly, as if you’re desperate to end this conversation before it can even begin. You don’t meet his gaze for long, your eyes flicking away like you’re afraid of what he might see.

Every second in his presence feels like an eternity, the weight of the emotions swirling between you both, suffocating. You can’t do this. Not now, not like this. The effort of keeping your face neutral, of pretending you don’t feel the same pull towards him that you always have... it’s too much.

Without another word, you move to step past him, your focus solely on the hallway ahead. But before you can escape, his hand reaches out, catching your wrist. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting you in your tracks.

“Wait.” he says, his voice quiet but firm. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

You take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand wrapped gently around your wrist. It’s almost unbearable... how much harder this is than you’d expected. Having him so close, right there behind you, stirs emotions you’ve fought tirelessly to suppress.

Slowly, you turn over your shoulder, finally meeting his eyes. The intensity in them is overwhelming, a deep sea of emotions you can’t bring yourself to name. They hold so much... questions, pain, longing and you feel a lump rise in your throat as you let out a shaky breath.

“Let me go, Jungkook.” you say quietly, your voice steadier than you feel. You try to tug your wrist free, but his grip tightens ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you rooted in place.

“I didn’t expect to see you here…” he says softly, his voice low and filled with something you can’t quite place. He’s ignoring your plea, but there’s no malice in it, only hesitation, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet. “I’m volunteering.” you reply flatly, forcing the words out without a hint of emotion. “And I need to go.” you add, your tone clipped as you yank your wrist out of his hold.

This time, he lets you go, his hand falling to his side as he watches you stride away from him as fast as you can manage. You don’t dare look back, even as you feel his gaze linger on you, burning into your retreating figure. Your heart pounds with each step, your emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You barge into the restroom, letting the door shut heavily behind you. The cool air does nothing to soothe the storm raging inside you. Instantly, your hands fly up to cover your face, a desperate attempt to stifle the sobs threatening to escape.

Your chest heaves as you fight against the tears that burn at the edges of your eyes, your palms pressing against your cheeks as if holding yourself together. But it’s futile. The weight of seeing him again... his voice, his touch, the unspoken pain in his eyes, comes crashing down on you all at once.

A strangled breath escapes your lips, and you lean against the sink for support. Your fingers grip the edge of the cold porcelain as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, your blurred vision making it hard to focus.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be.” you whisper to yourself, your voice breaking. Your tears fall freely now, streaking down your cheeks as the emotions you’ve bottled up for months finally spill over. The ache of his presence, the agony of your unresolved feelings... it’s all too much.

You press a trembling hand against your chest, trying to steady the harsh pounding of your heart. For a moment, you close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you attempt to compose yourself. But the pain lingers, sharp and unrelenting.

The workshop winds down, the chatter of children and clinking of utensils slowly fading into the background. You’ve spent the entire afternoon and evening carefully maneuvering to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, your heart in a constant state of unease.

Every glance he threw your way, every fleeting moment you felt his presence nearby, only made the weight in your chest heavier.

By the time the clock strikes 8, exhaustion has seeped into your bones, not just from the work but also from the emotional toll of the day. Mrs. Lee thanks you warmly as you help her finish setting up dinner. Namjoon remains by your side, quiet but supportive, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of your thoughts.

“You did great today.” he murmurs softly as you both step out of the main hall, his tone gentle. You offer him a faint smile, appreciating his effort to lighten your mood, but the turmoil inside you is too heavy to shake off completely.

Finally, you decide it’s time to leave. Walking down the stairs by the entrance, you feel the cool evening breeze brush against your cheeks. You glance up at the darkening sky, the stars peeking through faintly, their distant glow a stark contrast to the storm swirling within you.

Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fix your bag on your shoulder and bury your hands in your pockets. The thought of going home to the solace of your quiet living room, sappy rom-coms, and a tub of ice cream feels like the only reprieve you’ll get tonight.

As you reach the bus stop, you take a seat on the cold bench, staring at the empty road ahead. The world around you feels quiet and still, yet your mind is an undying chaos. Your thoughts drift back to Jungkook... his voice, his touch, the way his eyes silently pleaded with you earlier and just how much you miss him.

You sigh heavily, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. The ache of seeing him again lingers like a ghost, refusing to leave you be.

As you attempt to gather your thoughts, the soft hum of an approaching engine disrupts your reverie. Your head lifts instinctively, and before you can process it, a sleek car pulls to a stop right in front of you. The headlights cast a gentle glow on the empty road, but it’s the sight of the driver that makes your breath hitch.

Your lips part in surprise, your brows furrowing as the window rolls down. There he is, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Y/n.” Jungkook calls softly, his voice carrying over the quiet evening. You sigh, a mix of frustration and weariness bubbling within you. Without a word, you stand, shifting your gaze to the left, hoping to catch sight of the bus that feels agonizingly far from arriving.

“Y/n, it’s late. Let me drop you home.” Jungkook says, his tone gentle but insistent. Your heart stumbles at the offer, the thought of being alone with him sending your nerves into overdrive. You don’t trust yourself... not with how raw and exposed you feel after today. So, you do what you’ve been doing all afternoon. You ignore him.

Fixing your gaze on the road ahead, you refuse to acknowledge him. “Y/n, please…” His voice softens, almost breaking. You clench your jaw, the plea digging into you, forcing you to glance at him. “Just go, Jungkook.” you snap flatly, your tone colder than you intended.

Jungkook’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as your words hit him like a blow. He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving you. “I’ll just drop you home. Please, it’s not safe this late.” he persists, his determination unwavering.

You shake your head, muttering under your breath as you start walking down the pavement, each step heavier than the last. But Jungkook, true to his nature, doesn’t back down so easily.

The car begins to crawl forward, matching your pace as you walk. His persistence is both frustrating and heartbreaking. You can feel his gaze through the window, silently urging you to stop, to listen, to look at him.

“Y/n.” he calls out again, his voice tinged with desperation. Your chest tightens as you quicken your steps, hoping to outrun the storm of emotions brewing within you. But no matter how far you walk, Jungkook is right there, his car trailing you like a shadow, refusing to let you go.

The sound of the car suddenly stopping and the door opening breaks through the rhythm of your footsteps, and you stiffen. You don’t turn around, determined to maintain your resolve, but then you feel it... a firm yet gentle hand gripping your arm, spinning you around effortlessly.

Your eyes widen as you find yourself face-to-face with Jungkook, the intensity in his gaze pinning you in place. His breath is uneven, as if he’s been chasing you, though he hasn’t. “Please.” he says, his voice raw and pleading. “Just let me drop you home. That’s literally all I’m asking.”

His words hang heavy between you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, exhaling sharply. His persistence is unrelenting, and deep down, you know your bus isn’t arriving anytime soon to save you from this situation.

You pull your arm free from his grasp, the warmth of his touch lingering even as you step back. Without meeting his gaze, you walk towards his car, your resolve cracking under the weight of exhaustion and inevitability.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you settle into the cold leather with a resigned sigh, the door closing behind you with a soft thud. He'll just drop me home, you convince yourself as you don’t look at him, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

Jungkook quietly gets back into the driver’s seat, his movements careful as if afraid to shatter the fragile silence that now envelops the two of you. The hum of the engine rises again, but neither of you say anything, the tension stretching thin as the car begins to move.

As Jungkook drives, the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road fills the car, but the silence between you feels louder, heavier. Your gaze remains fixed outside the window, the passing streetlights casting fleeting glows across your face. Your hands clutch your purse tightly on your lap, a silent anchor to steady your racing emotions.

The stillness is suddenly broken by his voice, soft but heavy with restraint. “So… how have you been?” he asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

You don't answer. You don’t move. You don’t flinch. Your determination to stay silent grows stronger as you think about the consequences of letting him back into your life. The jagged edges of your reality press against you like shards of glass.

“Y/n…” he calls out again, his voice gentler this time, but still, you keep your gaze fixed outside, ignoring the crackling tension in the air.

He exhales audibly, the pain in his voice more evident now. “Y/n, I haven’t seen you in four months... and now you’re here, but you’re acting like I don’t even exist.” His words tremble, and you feel the sharp sting of guilt twisting in your chest.

“You’re right here.” he murmurs, almost to himself. “But why do you feel so far away?”

Your lips tighten into a thin line, and your grip on your purse grows tighter. You can feel his eyes on you, searching, pleading, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “Are you really not going to talk to me… at all?” he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end.

Jungkook glances at your side profile, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he fights to hold himself together. The hurt in his chest feels unbearable, a weight pressing harder with every second of your silence.

He’s done his best to come to terms with your absence, with the breakup, even when the harsh reasons you gave felt like flimsy walls hiding something bigger. But now, sitting this close to you and being treated like a stranger, it cuts deeper than he expected.

“You know what…” Jungkook suddenly mutters under his breath, and though you hear the shift in his tone, you don’t move, don’t react. But then the car swerves abruptly, jerking to the left. Your head snaps towards him, eyes wide with shock as you clutch the handlebar above your seat.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, your heart hammering as you notice the road signs signaling that he’s no longer heading towards your neighborhood.

“I can’t do this anymore.” he says, his voice firm but tinged with exhaustion. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and his foot presses harder on the gas pedal, the car speeding up.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?? Slow down !!” you demand, trying to mask the panic creeping into your voice. “We need to talk.” he states simply, his eyes focused on the road ahead as if there’s nothing else in the world but his determination.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind races. “Jungkook, turn the car around.” you say firmly, though your voice wavers slightly.

But he doesn’t listen. Instead, his jaw tightens, and the speed of the car increases further, the scenery outside blurring. Then it hits you... he’s heading in the direction towards his place.

“Jungkook…” you begin, your voice softer now, a mixture of anger and disbelief.

He doesn’t answer this time, his silence carrying more weight than words ever could. His gaze remains locked forward, the muscles in his jaw ticking as if he’s trying to rein in the storm brewing within him.

You glance outside, feeling both trapped and helpless. Every instinct in you screams to argue, to demand that he stops, but a part of you... a small, stubborn part wonders what he’s so desperate to say.

After 10 tense minutes of silence, the car finally comes to a halt in front of Jungkook's building. He doesn’t waste a second, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. You watch him from the corner of your eye, your hands still gripping the purse on your lap, as he strides purposefully to your side of the car.

Before you can even process what’s happening, he pulls the door open, and the chill of the night air sweeps over you, making you shiver. He leans down slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with an unrelenting determination that sends your heart racing.

“Come with me.” he says, his voice steady but soft as he extends a hand towards you. You stare at his hand, conflicted, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. You feel cornered, unable to escape this situation he’s forced you into.

“Jungkook…” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. He sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if the plea in your voice strikes a chord in him. But before you can say anything else, he gently grabs your wrist. The touch is soft, hesitant, but there’s an urgency to his movements as he guides you out of the car.

You stumble slightly, your body still resistant, but he steadies you with a firm yet careful grip. He’s desperate, you can see it in the way his brows furrow, the way his lips press into a thin line as if he’s barely holding himself together. “Jungkook, I...” you breathe out, the words getting stuck in your throat.

“Just… please.” he interrupts, his voice raw with emotion. “I just wanna talk.... Please.”

His eyes search yours, and you can feel the ache in them, the unspoken pain he’s been carrying. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re frozen, unable to say no, unable to pull away. He doesn’t give you a chance to argue further, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he gently but firmly leads you towards his house.

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment heavy in the air as you reluctantly follow him.

As Jungkook shuts the door to his apartment, the click echoes in the silence. He turns to face you, his eyes soft but piercing, like he’s searching for something he’s desperate to find.

“Y/n.” he says, your name rolling off his tongue like a plea.

You try to avoid his gaze, looking anywhere but at him, but then his hands come up to cup your face, his warmth grounding you in a way that sends a pang through your chest. His touch is gentle, yet insistent, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Y/n, please.” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “Just talk to me.”

Your breath hitches, and you instinctively step back, only to feel the cool, unyielding wall against your back. You’re cornered... literally and emotionally... and the weight of the moment bears down on you.

Your emotions, so carefully locked away, begin to bubble to the surface. Anger, regret, frustration, they all swirl together, threatening to consume you. Gritting your teeth, you grab his wrists and pull his hands away from your face.

“Just leave me alone.” you choke out, your voice breaking. The tears that have been fighting to escape finally spill over, cascading down your cheeks. Before you know it, you’re sobbing uncontrollably, your body trembling as the dam holding back your emotions shatters.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in shock as he watches you unravel before him. His heart clenches painfully at the sight of your tears, the sound of your sobs cutting through him like a knife. He steps closer instinctively, his hands hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to comfort you or give you space.

“Y/n…” he begins, his voice soft and hesitant, but you shake your head violently, interrupting him.

“You can’t do this, Jungkook.” you cry out, your voice trembling with frustration. “After everything I did to cut you off… you can’t just... just pull me back like this.”

Your words hit him like a blow, and he takes a shaky step back, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he finally says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to pull you back, Y/n. But how am I supposed to let you go when I don’t even understand why you left?”

His words hang in the air, and you stare at him through your blurry vision, your heart pounding as his pain intertwines with yours. You’re both standing on the edge of a precipice, the weight of your shared history threatening to pull you under.

The air between you feels heavy, thick with emotions neither of you can control anymore. Jungkook’s gaze locks onto your tear-streaked face, his breathing shallow as he watches the pain and turmoil in your eyes. Something inside him snaps, and before he can stop himself, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between you.

His hands cradle your face, trembling slightly, as he leans in and harshly presses his lips against yours. It’s desperate, unrestrained, and raw. The suddenness of it makes you gasp, your breath hitching as his lips move against yours, pouring every unspoken word, every unanswered question into the kiss.

Your eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, your mind is overwhelmed by the flood of memories... his laugh, his touch, the way he used to make you feel like you were the only person that mattered. But as much as the kiss ignites a fire inside you, your tears don’t stop.

Jungkook feels the wetness of your tears against his palms, and it pulls him back abruptly. He steps away, his face etched with regret and panic, as if realizing he may have crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

“I... I’m sorry.” he stammers, his voice shaking as he searches your face. “I shouldn’t have—”

Before he can finish, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him back towards you, your lips colliding with his in a kiss that’s equally urgent and desperate. Your hands clutch onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to reality, and this time, the weight of all the emotions you’ve been holding back crashes into him.

Your kiss is messy, tinged with anger, longing, and sorrow, but it’s real. It’s the connection you’ve been denying for so long. Jungkook responds immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer as if afraid you’ll slip away again.

The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment, grappling with the emotions you’ve tried so hard to suppress.

Your lips never part, not even for a second, as you start pulling each other’s clothes off, letting them fall to the ground one after the other. Every single article of clothing gets discarded in a trail leading from his door step to his living room.

The heat between you intensifies, growing hotter and wilder with every second. It’s like you’ve been starving for each other, for this moment, this connection for so long that now you can’t help but devour each other.

You know you shouldn't be doing this. You know you can't face the consequences of your impulsive actions, but your heart refuses to let go. You're completely consumed by the passion and intensity of the kiss, unable to pull yourself away even when you have so much on the line.

Even as you walk into his apartment, your lips remain connected, your hands gripping his arms, holding onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. The world spins around you as he picks up the pace, guiding you to the couch. Your feet brush against the soft carpet, sending shivers up your leg, and before you know it, you feel the cushion behind you.

The feeling of Jungkook on top of you is nothing less than heaven. You run your hands up and down his tattooed arm, feeling the way his muscles tense with each touch. His kisses trail down your neck, making you squirm under him.

“Fuck...” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin as he takes off your bra in a swift motion.

He groans softly, his eyes wide as they drink in the sight of you beneath him. Then his gaze falls to your collarbone, lingering on the familiar pendant resting against your skin.

"The... necklace." he notices, his fingers reaching out to brush it gently. His touch is reverent, almost hesitant, as if the small piece of jewelry holds all the words he can’t say. He looks up into your eyes, a subtle smile curving his lips.

"You... you never took it off?" he asks, his voice laced with slight disbelief.

"Never." you affirm softly, your voice steady yet tender. His eyes soften, glimmering with emotions too deep for words, and for a moment, it feels as if the necklace is the silent thread that has always held your hearts together.

“I…” his voice trails, and you can tell he’s struggling to find the right words. “I fucking missed you.” he breathes out and without giving you a chance to respond, he leans down and presses his lips to your chest.

You let out a moan as he starts sucking on the skin between your breasts, and your hips squirm beneath him. “Kook…” you gasp as his mouth closes around one of your nipples, making you arch your back. He bites down gently, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

You can feel his body shaking on top of you, the desperation to get closer to you is so so evident. His hand slides up your leg and rests at your waist before slipping under your back, lifting your hips to meet his. The kiss that follows is sweet and gentle, like he’s trying to apologize for everything that’s happened between you, even when it's not his fault.

Your hands move to his hair, twisting into the dark strands as you pull him even closer. You can’t stop yourself, you can’t resist him anymore. The feeling, the warmth, the electricity, it’s too hard to fight. Your body is craving his, and he’s giving you all the affection you’ve been craving for these past four dreadful months.

His lips trail down your body, stopping at the spot between your legs as he slides your underwear down your legs. You gasp as you watch him dip his head, the warmth of his tongue circling your clit. Your hands grip the couch, and your body arches in reaction to the pleasure he’s sending through your body.

“Fuck.” you gasp, barely able to string the words together as he presses his face between your legs. Jungkook moans, his tongue licking around your clit in firm, steady strokes. Your hands move from the couch to his shoulders, pushing him further between your legs.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, his chin wet from your arousal, as he grips your hips and pulls you closer. He buries his tongue as deep as it can go, causing your body to jerk in reaction.

You cry out his name, your voice hoarse as your hands grip his hair. Jungkook feels himself get harder as he flattens his tongue, applying pressure to your clit. “Fuck… please... please Kook... don’t stop.” you beg as he licks you faster, your hips rocking against his face.

Your moans echo through the empty apartment as Jungkook works you closer and closer to release. When he stops sucking your clit and presses his tongue deep inside of you instead, you lose it, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your legs shaking and twitching around his face as your body convulses with pleasure.

He kisses his way up your body, licking the sweat from your skin before he finally reaches your lips. The taste of your arousal on his lips sends heat through you, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth.

Your tears are back, running down your cheeks as you try to process the moment. Jungkook pulls away from your lips and places his forehead against yours. His thumb softly wipes your tears away, as he tries to process this surreal moment himself.

“Fuck...” he whispers as he slowly rubs his length against your core, sending sparks through your body. You feel the warmth of his skin against yours... your bodies pressed together in a way you can't comprehend.

“I... I need you baby....” Jungkook murmurs against your lips, his length rubbing against you. You breathe heavily as you nod, wanting him to just take you right here, right now.

With one swift motion, he pushes himself inside you, filling you completely. Your lips part as you take in the feeling of being stretched out by him.

Jungkook stills for a moment, taking in the feeling of finally being back inside of you. He thought he’d never have you like this again, that he’d lost you forever, but here he is, buried deep inside your warmth. His eyes stare into yours, watching your chest heave up and down as you try to adjust to the feeling you had so deeply missed.

You stare into him, sniffling as your tears refuse to stop flowing. “I love you...” you hear him say as he leans forward again, capturing your wet lips in an urgent kiss.

As the kiss grows intense, he starts moving his hips, thrusting in and out of you in a slow and steady pace. Your hands grip his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you arch your back. Jungkook kisses you harder, his moans filling the air around you.

His movements are filled with need and longing, like he’s afraid this is the last time he’ll get to make love to you. He wants to take in every moan, every thrust, every gasp he gets from you.

You’re lost in the sensation, consumed by the pleasure Jungkook is giving you as his body moves over and into you. He holds you down, his weight pinning you to the couch as he makes love to you in his living room. You feel his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper inside you.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer as you gasp for air but his hands grip your legs, moving them up his body as he lifts your ankles to rest on his shoulders. The change of position causes him to slide deeper inside you, and you gasp as he hits a familiar spot inside and all you can see is stars.

“Oh god....” you moan as he starts increasing his pace. Your lips part as the sensation washes over you. Jungkook leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he fucks you with reckless abandon. He’s chasing his own release, but he wants you to come with him.

He thrusts into you over and over again, his hands gripping your waist as he holds himself up. Your hands are on his ass, pushing him closer, begging for more as he groans into your mouth.

Your moans fill the air as you feel your body build towards a second release. Jungkook feels it too, his pace picking up as he drives you over the edge once more. “I’m...I'm coming...” you cry, your nails digging into his skin.

Jungkook groans in response, his thrusts becoming wild and desperate. He fucks you like he can’t get enough, like he’ll never get to have you again.

You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you once more. Your body convulses under him, and you can’t do anything but let it take you over. Jungkook grunts, his body shaking above you as he chases his own release.

“Fuck baby...” he groans as he fills you up and collapses on top of you his body shuddering and his hips thrusting into you a few more times, stretching out his orgasm as much as he can. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close as you take in the warmth of his body against yours.

Jungkook presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, the gesture carrying a weight of emotions he can’t put into words. The moment feels surreal, almost fragile, as if one wrong move could shatter it.

He never imagined he’d hold you like this again, the warmth of your presence grounding him in a reality he once thought he’d lost forever. To him, this feels like a stolen dream... achingly beautiful, yet tinged with the fear that it might slip away.

He slowly rolls off you, settling beside you against the soft cushions of the couch. His arms wrap around you instinctively, holding you close as his eyes trace the lines of your face.

The exhaustion etched into your features tugs at his heart. His gaze drifts downward, gazing at the necklace around your neck. You didn't take it off and... that must mean something right? As he continues taking in the sight of you, he feels an overwhelming ache rise within him... he had missed you more than words could ever convey.

A thousand questions crowd his mind. He wants to speak, to ask, to understand, to unravel everything that had been left unsaid and find a way back to what you guys once were. But then he notices the way your eyelids flutter, heavy with weariness, and the soft, unsteady rhythm of your breaths as you try to calm yourself.

He swallows the urge to press for answers, deciding that for now, the questions can wait. Morning will come soon enough. Instead, he tightens his hold on you, his heart pounding in his chest as he silently wills himself to remain still. The warmth of your presence soothes him, and he closes his eyes, hoping that sleep will find him in the solace of this stolen moment.

Jungkook's eyebrows knit together in his sleep, a slight twitch running through his body as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch. His eyes flutter open, and he instinctively clutches the blanket against his chest. Blinking groggily, he glances around, the familiar sight of his apartment slowly coming into focus.

The realization that he’s on the couch sinks in, and like a tidal wave, the memory of last night crashes into him. His breath hitches, and he jolts upright, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic bubbles beneath the surface as he glances at the empty space behind him.

He looks down at the blanket draped over his body, a puzzled frown forming as he struggles to recall when or how it got there. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of you, but the stillness of his apartment feels unnervingly hollow. The silence presses down on him, heavy and suffocating.

Rising to his feet, Jungkook starts moving through the apartment, his voice shaky as he calls out your name. "Y/N??" he tries again, his tone more urgent this time. But there’s no answer.

Each step he takes only amplifies the sinking feeling in his chest. He checks the kitchen, the bathroom, his bedroom, even the balcony, but you’re nowhere to be found. His mind spirals, questioning if last night had been a cruel dream... a mirage conjured by his yearning.

Or had you truly been here, only to slip away quietly in the morning? The thought twists his stomach, leaving him nauseous as he leans against the wall, his hands trembling. Did he really lose you all over again?

Jungkook doesn’t waste a second. His movements are frantic, hands fumbling as he pulls on his clothes in haste, not even bothering to smooth out the wrinkles. His mind is racing, each thought more urgent than the last. He grabs his keys and bolts out the door, the sound of it slamming shut echoing through the empty hallway.

His heart pounds as he throws himself into the driver’s seat, the familiar hum of the engine roaring to life beneath him. His knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel, the tension radiating through his body. His eyes burn with exhaustion, but the ache in his chest far outweighs it.

The city is still waking up, the roads bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. Jungkook doesn’t care. He presses harder on the accelerator, weaving through the sparse traffic with reckless determination. Every red light feels like a lifetime, every delay an unbearable agony.

He can't stop thinking about you. The way your touch felt like home, the way your lips trembled against his last night, and the way your tears spoke of everything you were too afraid to say. He can’t let that go. He won’t.

The thought of losing you again, of waking up every morning knowing you’re out there but not by his side, terrifies him. It’s a kind of pain he doesn’t think he can survive twice.

As he nears your neighborhood, his pulse quickens. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how you’ll react, but none of it matters. All he knows is that he needs you... more than air, more than anything.

Parking haphazardly in front of your house, he bolts towards your door, his heart hammering as he begins knocking. There’s no answer, and his anxiety only grows. He steps off your porch, wondering where you could be.

He rushes outside, reaching the pavement, desperately scanning the neighborhood, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere.

He runs through the neighborhood, his heart pounding, the anxiety gnawing at him as he checks every corner, every familiar path, but you're nowhere to be seen. Yet, something inside him refuses to give up.

As he nears the park at the edge of the neighborhood, he slows down, taking a breath to steady himself. His eyes sweep over the quiet space, and in that moment, it’s as if time slows... until he sees you, sitting alone on a distant bench, your figure outlined against the soft glow of the morning light, looking smaller and more vulnerable than he’s ever seen you.

He wastes no time as he runs towards you, his footsteps growing louder as he approaches you, his figure growing more defined with every step. His heart is racing, not just from the frantic search, but from the sheer desperation to be close to you again, to make sure you’re okay.

You sit still, your eyes widening in disbelief as you realize he’s found you. A rush of emotions flood through you... surprise, guilt, and a wave of regret. You can't help but wonder how he managed to find you here.

You glance down, unable to meet his gaze as the memories of last night resurface. The vulnerability of the moment hits you hard. You had fled his apartment at dawn, unable to face him after everything. The way he had held you, the way everything felt so perfect in the heat of the moment... it scared you.

You knew you had no answers to his questions, no way to explain the reasons behind your past actions. And the truth? That was something you couldn’t give him, not now, not when you have so much to lose. The only thing left for you to do was leave him behind and slip away like a coward, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

But here he is, standing before you, his presence too much to ignore. You don't know whether to run again or finally face him.

Jungkook’s eyes are full of pain as he steps closer to you, his voice shaking with a mix of frustration and hurt. “You left.” he breathes out, as if the weight of his words is too much to bear.

“Why... why did you leave?” His voice cracks at the end, vulnerability spilling through in a way he can’t control.

You try to look away, but his gaze pulls you in. The truth, too raw and too close to the surface, is something you can’t escape. You can feel the crack in your heart widen with every passing second. "Jungkook... we're broken up." you whisper, barely meeting his eyes.

"No." he denies, the sharpness in his breath betraying the desperation in his chest. "Don't say that, especially after last night." His voice is pleading now, fragile, cracking in a way that shakes him to the core. His fists clench at his sides with the effort to keep himself together.

"How can you say that after everything? After what happened between us? How... can you just walk away like that? How can you pretend like... none of it mattered?"

He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with a need to understand, to hold on to the fragments of what he thought was still there. "The past four months... it’s been hell, Y/n. I’ve been drowning in this silence, wondering every day what went wrong. I never got an answer. You just... left. Without a word, without a valid reason. And I hate it. I hate that I don’t know why. I hate that you just cut me off like I meant nothing. Like everything we had... it was all just a lie."

You look at him, the tears unknowingly streaming down your face. "Kook..." you start, but he cuts you off. "I tried to let go... I tried to make peace with it... but... but it hurts, Y/n. It hurts more than I can put into words, and I don’t even know what I did wrong." he pauses, trying to calm himself down.

"I don’t know what happened between us. Why did... why did you leave me? Why did you make me feel like I was nothing to you?" His voice cracks, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. You stare at him, the lump in your throat intensifying. "You... you were everything to me. I thought we had a future together, Y/n. But now, I’m just... I'm just so lost.... I'm so lost without you."

Jungkook steps back for a moment, his hands running through his hair in frustration as he tries to make sense of it all. His breath is shallow, a quiet sob escaping him as he collects himself. "I need to know..." he mutters, barely audible. "Why? What... what happened? Please, just tell me."

He takes another shaky breath, the weight of his emotions almost unbearable. "Don’t tell me... you stopped loving me." he pleads, his voice raw and desperate. "I know that’s not true. I know you would never be so harsh to me." His words are laced with disbelief, as if he’s clinging to any shred of hope that there’s something he’s missing, something he can grasp, something that makes sense.

“I can feel it, Y/n.” he continues softly, eyes never leaving yours, searching your face as if it holds the answers. “I know you love me. You can’t just... stop. Not after everything we went through. Not after what we had.” He steps closer again, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “So don’t tell me that’s it. Don’t tell me you just decided it was over.”

"I never stopped loving you." you whisper, your voice barely audible as hot tears continue to roll down your cheeks. The weight of your words feels like an anchor in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel weak, defeated... like there’s no hope left.

The sight of him standing there, shivering in pain, breaks you in ways you didn’t think were possible. His pain, the hurt you’ve caused, fills you with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Your heart aches as you watch the way his eyes fill with confusion and desperation, his hands trembling as he reaches out to you, as if just a touch could make everything okay. But you know, deep down, that nothing can probably fix this.

"I'm sorry." you whisper, barely able to get the words out. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook. I never wanted to hurt you." The tears flow freely now, staining your cheeks as you try to find the strength to speak, to explain, but the words feel stuck, trapped inside you.

As you break down, Jungkook takes a seat beside you as he hesitantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You bury your face in his chest, the tears coming in waves, uncontrollable, as the weight of everything you've been holding in comes rushing to the surface.

His hands gently stroke your back, soothing you in a way that makes everything feel just a little more bearable. Every sob that wracks your body seems to break his heart a little more, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he tightens his grip on you, as if reminding both of you that, for now, you’re not alone.

Jungkook feels his own tears begin to spill as he pulls you even closer, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. His fingers tremble as they weave through your hair, trying to hold you as tightly as possible, as if he could absorb some of your sorrow.

The weight of the silence between you both is suffocating, but his mind races, desperately trying to understand why you’re in so much pain, why you had to leave him, why you feel so broken.

"Y/n..." His voice cracks, raw with emotion as he speaks your name. His chest tightens with the fear that maybe he’s never truly known the full story, that maybe everything he thought he understood was just an illusion.

His tears fall freely now, as he presses his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. "Please, just tell me. What happened?" His words are barely above a whisper, but they hold a desperate plea. "Why are you like this? What... what am I missing?"

His hands move to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that continue to fall. He’s not sure if he’s crying for the both of you or if he’s just so lost in your pain that it feels like it’s his own. "I can’t lose you again, Y/n. I need to know... why we are the way we are right now. Please, just tell me. I can’t fix it if I don’t understand."

His grip on you tightens, the urgency in his voice rising as he gazes into your eyes, searching for some kind of answer, anything that will explain the devastation he’s feeling. His love for you is still so strong, so unyielding, but the fear of losing you completely is almost too much to bear.

Just as you're about to speak, your phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the heavy silence. You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to pick it up, especially given the fragile state you're in right now. But the phone keeps ringing, insistent, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

With a sniffle, you pull away from Jungkook, trying to compose yourself as you reach for your phone. "Just a minute..." you whisper, wiping away the last of your tears as you glance at the caller ID.

It's the hospital. Your heart skips a beat at the sight, and before you can think twice, you answer, trying to steady your voice. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Ms. Choi?" the voice on the other end asks. Your breath catches in your throat, and without a second thought, you stand up, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. "Yes, this is she." you reply, trying to keep your composure, but the panic is starting to rise in your chest.

Jungkook watches you intently, noticing the change in your expression as you stand up. His concern deepens as he observes the tension in your body. Who could be calling you at this hour? You grip the phone tighter as the voice on the other end continues speaking, but then you gasp, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

He watches in horror as you suddenly collapse, your knees buckling beneath you. It's like all the strength has left your body. His instincts kick in immediately, and he's by your side in an instant, crouching down and reaching out for you.

His hands land gently on your shoulders as he pulls you towards him, trying to steady you. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground, but you don’t seem to notice. Your eyes are wide, unblinking, and you stare ahead, lost in whatever news you've just received.

"Y/n... what happened? Are you okay?" Jungkook's voice is laced with worry, his hand moving to your cheek to check for any sign of awareness. You blink a few times, as if snapping back into reality, but it’s still hard to focus. Your lips tremble as you finally meet his eyes, and you whisper his name. "Jungkook..."

His heart races as he holds you tighter, desperate for you to continue. He nods, prompting you to keep talking. "Jungkook... Beomgyu... he... he woke up." you say.

"What...?" Jungkook asks, his voice laced with disbelief. His wide eyes search your face for confirmation, and when he sees the glimmer of truth in your tear-streaked expression, his features soften into a smile. "Y/n... that's... that's great news. That's... amazing news, baby." His voice wavers, a mix of relief and joy, and his smile grows wider.

You nod quickly, the reality of it hitting you all over again as fresh tears stream down your cheeks. "He's awake, Jungkook... he's really awake." you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of happiness and overwhelming emotion.

You pause, glancing around as you try to calm yourself down. "I need to go see him. I... I need to get to the... the hospital." you say hurriedly, the urgency in your tone impossible to miss.

Jungkook catches your arm gently but firmly, grounding you for a moment. "Hey, hey." he says softly, looking into your eyes with a steady calmness. "I'll take you there, yeah? My car’s parked right outside your house, so let’s go. Come on." he softly says as he helps you up.

You barge through the hospital doors, your steps quick and frantic, your heart racing as you navigate through the lobby. Jungkook follows close behind, his presence a comforting weight amidst the chaos swirling in your mind.

You reach the elevator and jab the button repeatedly, as though it might make the lift arrive faster. The ride up feels like an eternity, and yet, when the doors slide open, you're already bolting down the hallway towards Beomgyu's room.

Finally, you stand outside the door, your hand frozen on the handle. You take a shaky breath, trying to collect yourself, your chest rising and falling with the weight of four long years of waiting. Four years of imagining this moment, of rehearsing what you’d say, how you’d feel... but now, standing here, all those thoughts dissolve into a haze of indescribable emotion.

Jungkook steps beside you, his voice soft and steady as he whispers. "He's waiting for you, baby." His words calm you, giving you the courage you need to face what’s on the other side of the door. You glance at him, his warm eyes filled with reassurance, and you nod, summoning the strength to push forward. With trembling hands, you carefully push the door open and step inside.

There he is. Beomgyu. Sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, alive and awake. The sight is almost surreal, a moment that feels too precious to be real.

He looks at you with a lopsided grin, his expression as cheeky and familiar as ever. "Long time no see, Your Highness." he quips, his tone lighthearted and playful, as if the last four years hadn't just been wiped away by a miracle.

Your breath catches, a soft laugh escaping you as tears well up in your eyes again. "Beomgyu..." you whisper, your voice breaking. The weight of the years, the pain, the hope... all of it rushes to the surface as you step closer, overwhelmed by the reality of seeing him awake.

You rush to his side, tears streaming freely down your cheeks as you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours is enough to break down every last wall you'd built over the years.

You remember all the times you'd playfully swatted him away, rolled your eyes, or made a face every time he tried to hug you because back then, you liked to act like showing affection to your sibling was embarrassing.

But right now, there’s no hesitation, no second thought. Right now, you’ve never felt more alive.

“I missed you.” you sob, your voice muffled against his shoulder as you clutch him like you’re afraid he might slip away again. The tears come harder as the realization sinks in that this moment is real. He’s real. The long, agonizing wait is finally over.

Beomgyu chuckles softly, his voice steady yet laced with emotion. "Wow, I must really be a sight for sore eyes if you’re this clingy." he teases, though his arms wrap tightly around you, holding you just as fiercely. His familiar, playful tone only makes you cry harder.

"You idiot." you choke out, your voice trembling as you pull back just enough to look at him. Your hands cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that now spill from his eyes too. "Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again. Do you hear me? Never again."

His grin softens, and he nods, his own tears mirroring yours. "I promise." he whispers, his voice quieter, more solemn now. "Never again."

Jungkook lingers near the doorway, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the reunion unfold. The raw emotion in your embrace, the way you cling to Beomgyu like he might vanish if you let go... it stirs something deep within him.

He knows how long you've waited for this moment, how often you spoke of it with a mixture of hope and pain. Seeing you finally experience it makes his heart swell with happiness for you.

But then, Jungkook freezes as Beomgyu's gaze shifts towards him. His eyes widen slightly, realizing that this is the first time Beomgyu is seeing him.

“Who’s... that?” Beomgyu asks, his voice curious but steady. His brows furrow slightly as he nods towards Jungkook. You turn to follow Beomgyu’s gaze, and when your eyes meet Jungkook’s, you can’t help but smile.

“That’s Jungkook.” you say softly, glancing back at your brother before looking at Jungkook again. There’s something tender in the way you say his name, something that makes Jungkook’s smile widen as he nods politely at Beomgyu.

Before anything else can be said, the doctor appears and Jungkook steps aside letting him in. “Ms. Choi.” the doctor greets with a warm smile. “Congratulations. It’s wonderful to see Beomgyu awake and responsive. However, we’ll need to run a few tests now, just to check his overall condition.”

You nod understandingly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek as you stand. “Of course... thank you, doctor.” you say, turning back to Beomgyu. You lean down to place a soft kiss on his forehead, your smile filled with a quiet reassurance. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

Beomgyu nods, his grin still cheeky. “Don’t disappear. I need you to explain who that guy is and why he was looking at you with literal heart eyes.” he teases, his playful tone making you chuckle as you shake your head.

You glance at Jungkook, who’s scratching the back of his neck, looking a little flustered. “Behave.” you tell Beomgyu with a laugh before stepping outside with Jungkook, leaving your brother in the capable hands of the doctor.

As you settle into the metal chair right outside Beomgyu's room, beside Jungkook, the cold steel pressing against your back is a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as it gently rests on your knee. His fingers squeeze lightly, offering some silent comfort.

You glance down at the way his hand fits so naturally on you and let out a small, tired smile. Placing your hand over his, your thumb begins to trace slow circles over his knuckles, grounding yourself in the quiet rhythm of the motion.

Your voice breaks the silence, soft but weighted. "Junghyun... he came to see me."

Jungkook’s brows knit together in confusion. “Junghyun? My brother?” he repeats, his tone disbelieving as he tries to process your words. You nod, your gaze shifting to the sterile white tiles of the hospital floor.

���Four months ago... he came to the kindergarten.” you admit, your voice faltering slightly. You exhale deeply, trying to steady yourself before diving into the painful memory.

The words spill out in fragments, raw and hesitant, as you recount the confrontation with Junghyun. You describe the way he appeared out of nowhere, how he threatened you. You tell Jungkook how he used your brother's condition against you, twisting it into a weapon, leaving you cornered and helpless.

By the time you finish, the tension in Jungkook’s body is palpable. His jaw is clenched tight, and his fists curl against his knees. His breath is sharp as he mutters through gritted teeth, “That motherfucker…”

His reaction makes your chest tighten, a mixture of relief and guilt washing over you. He’s angry... angrier than you’ve ever seen him but you know it’s not directed at you. It’s the thought of his brother’s cruel manipulation, the pain you endured in silence, that has his blood boiling.

"I'll be right back." Jungkook says firmly, already standing up and walking away with purpose. Panic rises in your chest as you quickly catch up to him, already guessing where he’s headed. "Jungkook, no... wait, stop." you plead, reaching out to grab his arm.

He stops abruptly, turning to face you and holding your shoulders gently but firmly. His dark eyes lock onto yours, filled with resolve. "Y/n, just trust me." he says, his voice steady yet reassuring. "He won’t be able to do anything. I’ll make sure... I’ll make sure you and Beomgyu are safe. I promise."

You open your mouth to protest, but he shakes his head, cutting you off before the words can escape. "I need to put him in his place." he breathes out, his jaw tightening. "He needs to know he can’t talk to you like that. He needs to understand what you mean to me." His voice softens slightly, the tenderness in his gaze making your heart ache.

"Just stay here with Beomgyu." he continues, his tone resolute. "I’ll be back soon. I promise."

Before you can stop him, he steps closer, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, his touch lingering like a silent vow. Then, without another word, he turns on his heels and strides down the hallway, his determination unwavering. You stand frozen, watching him disappear, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the hospital.

Jungkook barges into his brother's home office, the door slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Junghyun glances up from his computer, a bemused expression on his face. "Oh, Jungkook? Didn’t expect you to visit on a Sunday. What brings you—"

His sentence is cut off abruptly as Jungkook strides over, grabbing his collar and yanking him to his feet. Before Junghyun can even process what’s happening, a powerful punch lands squarely on his cheek. He stumbles back, clutching his face in shock, but Jungkook doesn’t let him regain his footing.

With a growl of anger, Jungkook throws another punch, the impact snapping Junghyun’s head to the side. The metallic tang of blood fills the air as a crimson streak trickles from Junghyun's split lip.

"Jungkook!" Junghyun finally manages to shout, his voice laced with both pain and disbelief. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he towers over his brother. His fists clench and unclench, the anger rolling off him in waves. "That’s for threatening Y/n." he snarls, his voice dangerously low. "You think you can mess with her? Intimidate her like that? Not while I’m here."

Junghyun glares at him, wiping the blood from his lip, his shock slowly giving way to a cold smirk. "So, this is about her?" he mutters, his tone mocking despite his obvious discomfort. "You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment, Jungkook. How pathetic."

But Jungkook doesn’t flinch. Instead, he grabs Junghyun by the collar again, pulling him close. "Listen to me." he says through gritted teeth. "Stay away from her. If you ever even think about going near her or Beomgyu again, I swear, you’ll regret it."

Jungkook lets go of Junghyun with a forceful shove, sending him sprawling back into his chair. "All this for a girl like her? Really Jungkook?" Junghyun scoffs, his tongue poking the inside of cheek. "You have no idea what she means to me." Jungkook says lowly, glaring at his brother.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his fists still clenched at his sides. His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone. "You have no idea what she means to me." he says, his glare unwavering. "And you never will."

Junghyun chuckles bitterly, his face twisted in disdain, but before he can retort, Jungkook steps closer, his presence commanding. "Do you think Dad’s going to be proud when he hears what you’ve been up to?" Jungkook questions.

Junghyun’s smirk falters ever so slightly. "You think he’ll be okay with you going around threatening people? Manipulating them? Using fear to get your way?" Jungkook continues, his voice rising slightly. "You’re the pathetic one, hyung."

He pauses, letting his words sink in, then laughs... a dry, humorless sound. "And you know what’s really pathetic? That you thought I wouldn’t find out. That you thought I’d just let it slide."

Junghyun’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing, but he stays silent, his confidence clearly shaken. Jungkook steps back, his glare never leaving his brother. "This is your last warning. Stay away from her. Stay away from Beomgyu. Because if you don’t..." He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You won’t just have Dad to deal with. You’ll have me."

Without waiting for a response, Jungkook straightens up and strides out of the office, slamming the door behind him, leaving Junghyun to stew in his own discomfort and rising dread.

As you help Beomgyu inside your house, he pauses for a moment, letting his eyes wander around the familiar space. His gaze lands on the corner of the room, behind the couch, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "You still haven't gotten rid of that weird vase?" he teases, pointing at the decorative piece.

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. "That's never gonna happen." you reply with a shrug, playfully glaring at him.

He shakes his head in mock disapproval before taking a seat on the couch. The cold fabric causes him to shiver slightly, but he leans back, closing his eyes. "Well... it's good to be back." he murmurs, exhaling deeply.

You stand there for a moment, watching him. Your heart feels so full it could burst. It almost seems unreal... having him here, in your home, after all this time. "Let me cook you some jjajangmyeon." you suggest, breaking the silence.

His eyes snap open, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh my god, how did you know I was craving exactly that?" he asks, his tone amused. "It's a sibling thing." you reply with a wink, heading into the kitchen.

As you start preparing the ingredients, your thoughts inevitably drift to Jungkook, especially since you haven't heard from him ever since he left you at the hospital. You can’t help but wonder how he’s handling the situation with Junghyun. The thought of it makes your stomach churn slightly, but you push the anxiety aside.

"So, where’s your little boyfriend?" Beomgyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, his teasing tone carrying from the living room. A shy smile tugs at your lips, but you don’t respond immediately. "Come on..." he continues, his footsteps drawing closer until he’s leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

"I was in a damn coma for four years, and my bitchless sister finally manages to pull someone, and I don’t even get a proper introduction?"

You snort at his choice of words. "Oh, come on, Gyu." you reply, turning to face him with a mock exasperated look. "I’ll introduce you when the time’s... right." He sighs, clearly unimpressed with your answer. "The time’s right when I say it is." he quips, but his grin betrays the affection behind the teasing.

Beomgyu arches a brow at the sudden sound of the doorbell, his smirk widening with curiosity. "Is that who I think it is?" he quips, leaning back against the counter with an air of playful arrogance.

You glance at him, wide-eyed and suddenly flustered. You smile at him briefly before you quickly make your way to the door, your heart thudding in anticipation. The moment you open it, time seems to still. There stands Jungkook, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, his presence radiating comfort and confidence. His smile is subtle yet powerful, a silent reassurance that everything is under control.

You step outside, quietly closing the door behind you, shielding the moment from your brother's prying gaze. You fidget with your fingers as words evade you. "So...?" you finally manage, your voice trailing off.

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps forward, closing the space between you. His arms encircle you in a gentle, protective embrace, his warmth instantly melting away your apprehensions. "I punched him." he says at last, his voice tinged with triumph.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you pull back just enough to search his face. "What?" you ask, your voice rising an octave in disbelief.

"I punched him." he repeats, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "Right in the face. You should’ve seen him... completely caught off guard. Like...there's no way he actually had the nerve to mess with my girl."

A mix of shock and amusement washes over you as you lightly smack his chest. "Jungkook! That’s not something to be proud of." you admonish, though the corners of your mouth twitch with an unwilling smile. "Violence isn’t the answer."

His smirk deepens as he tilts his head, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, but in his case, it is."

You shake your head, exhaling a laugh despite yourself. "What am I gonna do with you?" you murmur, your tone caught between exasperation and fondness.

Jungkook’s expression softens, the teasing glimmer in his eyes replaced by an intensity that makes your breath hitch. "Y/N..." he begins, his voice low and steady. "You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of everything... you, Beomgyu. You’ll both be safe. I promise."

His words hit you hard, the depth of his sincerity leaving you momentarily speechless. He steps even closer, his hands gently cupping your face as his thumbs brush against your cheeks. "I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m here." he vows, his tone resolute, his gaze locking onto yours.

You nod, your chest swelling with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you were yearning for. "Just promise me..." he continues, his voice softening. "if anything ever happens again, you’ll tell me. Right away. No hiding, no secrets."

A lump forms in your throat as you nod again, unable to find the words to express the gratitude and trust coursing through you. Jungkook smiles faintly, the tension easing from his features, and he pulls you into another embrace. His arms wrap around you like a fortress, his chin resting lightly atop your head.

"I missed you." you whisper, your voice muffled against his chest.

"I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion as he tightens his hold on you. "More than you know."

After a few long moments, you pull back, your eyes meeting his as the world seems to shrink down to just the two of you. His gaze flickers to your lips, and before you can even register it, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The kiss is tender yet fervent, each movement brimming with unspoken emotions. You feel his love, his promise, and his unwavering devotion in the way his lips meld with yours, leaving no room for doubt that this is where you belong. The porch, the cool evening air, the distant sounds of the world... all of it fades into oblivion as you lose yourself in him.

It's as if a colossal weight has finally been lifted from your shoulders, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time in what feels like forever. In this fleeting, surreal moment, the world fades away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your heart and the warmth surrounding you.

Everything about this feels inexplicably right , the way he kisses you, the way his arms embrace you, the way his presence steadies your storm. You feel complete, as though the jagged pieces of your soul have found their perfect fit. You feel whole again.

"Umm, sooo sorry to interrupt you lovebirds." Beomgyu’s voice drawls out, cutting through the tender moment. You and Jungkook both pull apart and turn your heads sharply, only to see him mischievously peeking out of the window right beside the front door. “But, Y/n, your brother, who just got out of a coma, is really, really hungry and would love for you to finish cooking the jjajangmyeon you promised him.”

You roll your eyes, a flush creeping up your cheeks as Jungkook stifles a laugh. "And, of course..." Beomgyu continues, his grin widening. “He’d absolutely love to finally meet your boyfriend.” He emphasizes the last word, wagging his eyebrows dramatically at Jungkook, who chuckles deeply at your brother's antics.

You groan, covering your face in Jungkook’s chest as he wraps an arm protectively around you, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Gyu, you’re unbelievable.” you mumble, your voice muffled.

Beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, priorities, okay? Food first, making out later.” he teases, shooting a mock salute before disappearing back into the house after shutting the window down.

Jungkook looks down at you, his smile soft and amused. “I like him.” he says with a chuckle. You pull back slightly, playfully glaring at him. “Don’t encourage him.” you warn, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your amusement.

“Come on.” Jungkook says, planting a quick kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go… we can't have your brother starving.” he says.

You laugh, grabbing his hand as the two of you step back inside. The warmth of your house envelops you, and for the first time in forever, you feel okay.

Beomgyu’s playful voice fills the air as he grins from the couch, the sibling bond you thought you’d lost now brighter than ever. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his steady presence a reminder that the hardest days are now way behind you.

In the kitchen, surrounded by laughter and the aroma of cooking, you glance at Jungkook. His soft smile says everything words can’t, filling your heart with a quiet peace.

For the first time in months, you’re not just surviving... you’re actually living. With Beomgyu back where he belongs and Jungkook by your side, your heart feels complete, wrapped in the comforting truth that this... this is what home is meant to feel like.

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

my masterlist <3

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Actor

The Golden Age of Hollywood. Stars are born every day and you're desperate to become one. Thanks to @laboodanda for requesting this!

Yandere! Actor who's well established in the industry - his name on the Walk of Fame, his face on all the posters, his agents calling day and night with new offers.

Yandere! Actor who meets you on the set of his latest movie. You're barely even part of the main cast - just a side character with a few lines. But you sparkle.

You have that razzle dazzle in you that makes a true star.

Yandere! Actor who knows it's just a matter of time before you make it big. You've already got your foot in the door and all it takes is a lucky break.

Yandere! Actor who comes up to talk to you during lunch, winks at you and grins at the way you blush. You're in awe of him and it takes a second before you can answer his questions.

Yandere! Actor who's used to starstruck fans, to women who shriek when he looks their way. But, it's somehow new and endearing when you're the one looking at him like that.

He can hear the other extras rushing to your side when he leaves, babbling about how lucky you are that he talked to you, the big stars never notice the little fish.

On the final day of filming, he congratulates you on your first ever role and invites you to dinner to celebrate.

Yandere! Actor who takes you to a cozy restaurant in a quiet seaside neighbourhood. He doesn't want to be interrupted by fans, but he also doesn't want to be seen in public with you. At least not yet.

You really impress him. You know quite a lot about acting techniques, about getting into and maintaining character, about catering to the camera.

But it's clear you're still a rookie. There's a slight nervousness to you that veteran starletts don't have. It's alright - he'll train it out of you in no time.

Yandere! Actor who shares he milkshake with you and offers you his jacket when the sea wind starts to nip.

When he drops you off, he squeezes your thigh and says he'll talk to his agent about you, that there might be a role in his next movie for such a pretty little thing.

Yandere! Actor who sees the innocent, love struck look in your eyes and revels in it.

Pretty soon he calls you and tells you about a private audition with some studio execs.

"Keep your hair loose and wear that short sundress you wore on our date."

It should be friendly advice, so why does it sound like an order?

The audition is in one of the studio's offices. A room filled with big shot executives and egotistical directors. Men in suits who are high on their own power, their own genius. They've seen a thousand hopeful girls and to them you're no different.

The way they look at you makes you feel like dirt, like the most untalented person in the whole world. You would have walked out then and there if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who volunteers to read the lines with you. He winks and smiles at you and by just being there makes you feel so much better. And a few sentences in, you find your stride. Immerse yourself in the scene.

You're playing the part of a jilted lover, a woman who gave everything to her man and has her heart shattered when he leaves. In the final act, you grab his collar and look up at him with tears in your eyes, your voice shaking.

"Please, please don't go. I love you. I need you."

You raise one hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling. "Don't you love me too?"

Yandere! Actor who actually forgets his line.

You're looking up at him so weak, so vulnerable that his mind goes blank. His director calls out the line and he repeats it blankly.

"And...End scene!"

Yandere! Actor who doesn't look away from you even when the directors start clapping and you turn to give them a bow. You were so raw that it didn't feel like a performance. The tears, the desperate way you pulled at him... It felt so real.

It's only when his agent slaps him on the back that he manages to snap out of it.

The director is already grabbing your arm and insisting to the studio executives that he needs you in his next movie.

Yandere! Actor who comes up behind you and drapes his arms around your shoulders. You don't realise it but he's staking his claim, showing all these rich and powerful men that anything to do with you has to go through him. He grins at his agent.

"She's perfect, isn't she?"

The man lowers his shades and drags his eyes across your body.

"You need to clean up her look a little, but you were right. She's the perfect girl for you."

You feel like there's more behind their conversation, things they've discussed that you aren't privy to. But you don't have the nerve to ask.

On your way out of the studio, Yandere! Actor curls his arm around your waist.

"You're gonna be a lead actress soon baby. The execs want you in a few supporting roles first, just to get you used to the camera, but the director has his mind set on you."

You smile at him, a megawatt grin filled with the thrill of having your dream come true. It makes him feel like the centre of your world, makes him feel like a man.

You throw your arms around his neck and hug him. "I owe you! Thank you thank you thank you thank -"

He cuts you off with a kiss. And in that moment you really do feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Yandere! Actor who slowly takes over your beauty routine. Who tells your hairdresser exactly what shade to tint your hair, exactly what shape to thread your eyebrows. Who buys you new clothes and tells you exactly how to style them.

You don't realise it, but he's shaping your look into something that compliments his own.

Yandere! Actor who almost invites you to his movie premiere until his agent advises against it. Who kisses you and apologises and says he'll bring you to the next one.

You understand, you really do. You're still relatively unknown and having you on his arm would just invite gossip. But it still stings watching him go to the premier on his own, his arm around his beautiful co-star. You go to bed that night with doubts nagging at your mind.

It's only when you hear him knocking at your door at three in the morning that your insecurities go silent.

Yandere! Actor who's still wearing his tuxedo from the red carpet. His hair falling out of its slicked back style as he dangles a bottle of champagne in front of you.

"Gotta celebrate with my girl."

He's barely three steps into your apartment before he's kissing you, his hands on your waist and dropping lower.

You try and push him away. Tell him it's your first time.

Yandere! Actor who nips at your neck. "Don't worry, 'm gonna be so gentle."

When you still try and slip away, he pulls back to look in your eyes. Despite the haze of alcohol, there's something piercing about the way he looks at you.

"How many girls can say their first time was with a Hollywood star?"

Yandere! Actor who let's his fingers climb higher up your thighs.

"I've been workin' so hard to make you an actress. Don't I get a reward?"

How are you supposed to say no to a man who holds your future in his palm? You nod your head just the slightest and he's back to kissing you, back to drawing you hands to his belt, back to growling in your ear.

Yandere! Actor who's a shameless liar. He isn't gentle with you at all.

Yandere! Actor who wakes up all groggy and hungover the next morning. Who pulls you closer to him and falls asleep again with his head on your chest. You look down at his dark hair and his chiseled features and for a little while, it doesn't feel like such a bad deal. Love him in exchange for a career.

And he is so easy to love.

Yandere! Actor who encourages the director to start filming your movie as soon as possible. A romance between a thief (you, in your very first lead role) and a jaded detective with a heart of gold (him, who's had so many lead roles he's lost count).

The schedule is gruelling and the director is a tyrant, but this is your big break. You give it everything you have. You learn the script inside and out, badger the screen writer until she discusses your character arc with you, follow the director around and beg him for tips.

Yandere! Actor who adores working with you. You're sweet and pliable and the chemistry between you is sizzling. Every scene with you makes him need a cold shower and a priestly intervention.

Yandere! Actor who pulls you into his trailer every chance he gets to "read lines." But it always ends with him holding you down and kissing you, claiming it's good practice for the camera.

"Character building," he pants from between your legs. "Just getting into the mindset."

Yandere! Actor who watches with satisfaction as the movie comes along. You remind him of himself when he just started, raw talent and a burning desire to please.

Yandere! Actor who is next to you every moment he isn't needed on set. Who gives you endless advice and makes you laugh with his stories about bad takes and wardrobe malfunctions.

Part of it is to keep an eye on you - there's a jealous bit inside him that thinks of you as his creation, your talent a reflection of his training - and part of it is to spark rumours.

It works exactly as he intends. Pretty soon the magazines and radio hosts are blabbering about a possible romance between him and his relatively unknown co-star.

Yandere! Actor who's determined to make this movie a success. On the premier night, he walks down the red carpet with his arm around your waist. When the cameras are at the height of their flashing, he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

The next morning, the papers are raving about it and the theatres are sold out before midday.

It's a critical and commercial success. Yandere! Actor who's high on the thrill of it. Who loves driving down Hollywood Boulevard and seeing you on the billboards, who loves having Hollywood's newest darling on his arm and in his bed.

But then the letters start coming.

Yandere! Actor who snarls at the piles and piles of fan mail you receive. Maybe, if it was all innocent praise, he could have accepted it. But most of the letters are absolutely filthy.

Men writing to you from all over the country, all over the world. Describing in detail all the things they want to do to you, all the ways they want you speared on their cocks. Men who promise to treat you so sweet you'd never want to leave them and men who threaten to whip you over their knee if you don't learn to say please when they fuck you.

Yandere! Actor who's never received mail with such perversion. His fans are mostly sweet young girls who timidly describe how nice it would be to find a man like him, to get taken to prom and courted.

Yandere! Actor who becomes suspicious of every man he sees. The gaffer that looks at you too long becomes the guy who promised to find you and fill your cunt with his come. The driver who holds your hand when you climb out of the car becomes the stalker who followed you home the other night.

Yandere! Actor who keeps his arm around you whenever you're outside. Who starts keeping his gun in the glove box of his car.

It's not only strangers he needs to worry about either. The studio executives keep pressuring you with stricter and stricter contract offers. The director wants you starring in a romance role with another man. Two dozen talent agencies are crawling over glass to try and sign you.

Yandere! Actor who tells you to let him handle the contracts and paper work.

"The bastards will try and trick you out of your money and your clothes. Trust me baby, I've had to deal with plenty of shitty deals. I don't want that for you."

Yandere! Actor who knows exactly how tightly binding a contract is. And it's no coincidence that the one he has you sign binds your career almost entirely to his. It ensures that the bulk of your roles are alongside him, that he has the final say in studio disputes, that he owns the rights to your name.

The studio executives might normally never sign a deal like that, but they're desperate to get you under contract. You're a blazing star and they aren't going to lose you to a competitor.

Yandere! Actor who drinks a toast to your success and kisses you infront of all those high flying executives. Despite all the attention and awards you've earned, you still look up at him with a blind sort of hero worship. He's the goal you've always aimed for, the standard you've tried to reach. To be his girl is still so dizzying you almost can't believe it.

In bed that night, Yandere! Actor thinks about proposing, about wifing you up. The wedding would be huge, generate massive press. His next big project with you is scheduled for half a year away. Maybe do a proposal during opening night? Or better yet, at the Academy Awards? Yeah, that would get cinemas sold out even faster than kissing you on the red carpet did.

Save the wedding for a few years down the line. When your career is more established and your image might need an upgrade.

You curl against his side and moan in your sleep, brow scrunched. Cute, naive little thing, aren't you? Hollywood would swallow you up and spit you out if it wasn't for him.

Yandere! Actor who kisses your forehead as you dream about cameras and lights and action.

"Don't worry baby, I'll take extra good care of you."

Yandere! Actor who's curated his image so carefully. Who wants a girlfriend who's light and talent make him shine all the brighter.

And who better than someone who owes him her career?

Extra!! Here's a short drabble I wrote when I was brainstorming the idea with @laboodanda

[the-quiet-fire-of-defiance]

The Māori tino rangatiratanga [sovereignty, self-determination] flag flying alongside Palestinian flags. The tino rangatiratanga flag is black at the top and red at the bottom, the two colours separated by white lines forming a koru (spiral). The Palestinian flag has three horizontal stripes (black, white and green) with a red triangle on the left.

"Pro-Palestine protest at Pacific Islands Forum meeting in Rarotonga"

A young child holding an ili (Samoan woven fan) that says Samoa for Palestine

A young boy holds a sign reading Justice the seed, peace the flower / Ko te mana whakaaiko hei kākano, kia puawai mai te maungarongo. Beneath is artwork of a fist breaking free from chains below blooming flowers.

Left: the 1975 Māori Land March. Right: the 2018-2019 Palestinian Great March of Return.

If we want to free Hawai'i... [Hawaiian flag] we must also free Palestine [Palestinian flag]. Credit to @ainamomona

A young Māori boy holding a sign that reads MANA MOTUHAKE [independence/autonomy] 4 PALESTINE

A Fijian woman holding a sign that reads Food is not a weapon of war! Stop starving Palestinians! Behind are two more signs. One says CEASEFIRE NOW and the other says DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT GAZA

A group of Fijians holding candles and wearing shirts that read STOP THE GENOCIDE

Left: a diagram of Palestinian land loss between 1946 and 2009. Right: a diagram of Māori land loss in the North Island of Aotearoa between 1860 and 2000.

A sign reading TANGATA WHENUA [indigenous people] FOR PALESTINE [tino rangatiratanga symbol, Palestine flag symbol]

Three Pasifika people holding signs. The first says MAI LE VAITAFE AGA'I I LE SAMI! [Samoan: from the river to the sea] FREE PALESTINE! The second sign says FROM OUR PASIFIKA OCEAN TO THE RIVER TO THE SEA FREE PALESTINE. The final sign shows the Palestinian and Tongan flags and says 'OFA KI PALESITAINE [Tongan: Love to Palestine]

A group of Pasifika holding signs and banners. They say "HOW MANY MORE KILLINGS IS ENOUGH FOR YOU?" "KŪ'E! KŪ'E! [Hawaiian: Resist! Resist!] PASIFIKA STANDS WITH PALESTINE" "'OFA KI PALESTINE" "FROM THE PACIFIC TO THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE" "WHERE IS YOUR HUMANITY?" "SAMOANS FOR PALESTINE" "FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA" "KŪ'E KŪ'E KANAKA WITH PALESTINE" "FREE PALESTINE CEASEFIRE NOW"

A West Papuan man holding two signs. The first says WEST PAPUA STAND WITH MYANMAR. The second says WEST PAPUA STAND WITH PALESTINE

Two signs. The first says PACIFIC ISLANDERS FOR PALESTINE. The second says #FREE PALESTINE #FREE WEST PAPUA #FREE CONGO #FREE SUDAN

A Palestinian flag decorated with Samoan patterns. Words say 'AGA'I MAI LE VAITAFE E O'O ATU I LE SAMI FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA #Sāmoans4Palestine

A tweet from Tamatha Paul (Waikato-Tainui, Ngāti Awa) on 29 June 2023. Another big win this week, courtesy of @Just4Pal and @nikau4poneke, we [Pōneke Wellington] will be Sister Cities with the Palestinian city of Ramallah 😍 Free Palestine!!!

A Pasifika woman holding two signs. The first says FREE PALESTINE FREE PALESTINE END THE APARTHEID! END THE BLOCKADE! END THE ETHNIC CLEANSING! CEASE STATE SANCTIONED VIOLENCE! CEASE COLONIALISM! BOYCOTT ISRAEL! From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! The second sign has pictures of Palestinian and West Papuan flags. It says pacific islanders stand in solidarity with Palestine! #FREEWESTPAPUA #FREEPALESTINE CEASE COLONIALISM

A sign that has the tino rangatiratanga flag at the top and Palestinian flag at the bottom. It says Mai te awa ki te moana [from the river to the sea] MĀORI LAW STUDENTS For a FREE PALESTINE

A Pasifika woman holding a sign decorated with Pacific symbols. It says LONG LIVE PALESTINE - PASIFIKA 4 PALESTINE - FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA PALESTINE WILL BE FREE

Another Samoan fan. This one says PALESTINE WILL BE FREE

[theonottsbxtch]

LOVE - LOCKED | FC43

an: this is based off of this request and i hope you like it bc i had sm fun writing a romantic slightly angsty thing i cant wait to hear what y'all thin, i also think it may be slightly rushed tho so lol ALSO LOL WE'RE GONNA PRETEND CARLOS IS YOUNGER IN THIS BC I NEEDED HER TO BE HIS OLDER SISTER

summary: carlos' sister has lived her life completely separated from him and their family name, instead she went and made a name for herself in the tennis world - she likes her life like that. that is until she meets franco colapinto

wc: 8.7k

The roar of engines, even from a distance, unsettled her.

They reminded her of the long days her father and brother spent in garages, the low rumble of motors and sharp tang of fuel in the air. Those were the hours she’d spend alone, working on her serve in the empty court across town, each hit ricocheting off the walls with a hollow, lonely echo. Her own choice, of course. She’d had no interest in the world of carbon fibre and grease, no desire to be the girl who simply tagged along, her name always in her brother’s shadow.

Now, years later, she’d become someone entirely on her own terms. A name people knew on its own — Vázquez de Castro — a name that meant something outside of her family, outside of her brother’s fame.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked around the chaotic pit lane. Journalists, engineers, teams in matching shirts, faces alight with anticipation for the weekend's race. She knew she’d stand out here; her face might be familiar, but she was a stranger in this world.

The hum of voices around her faded as she felt his gaze. She’d been hoping to move through unnoticed, just a face in a sea of faces, but there he was: tall, familiar, unmistakably Carlos. His brow furrowed in surprise as he caught sight of her, his quick steps carrying him closer before she had a chance to dodge. She braced herself, turning to him with a calm that she didn’t quite feel.

“No aquí,” she murmured, her voice low, hoping that would be enough to keep curious ears at bay.

He paused, just a moment, his expression softening in understanding, and he tilted his head, his face somewhere between a grin and a frown. “You came.”

It wasn’t an accusation exactly — more surprise than anything. But she couldn’t miss the faint hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might be here to see him, to share a piece of his world after all this time. She let his words linger for a beat before she replied, her tone steady.

“I was invited,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “by Fernando.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the green and silver canopy, keeping her tone casual, but she saw his shoulders fall ever so slightly.

He nodded, glancing away for a moment, his jaw set. “Right. Fernando.”

There was something she wanted to say, something to soften the look in his eyes, but the pit lane was crowded, the eyes and cameras trained on every inch of the paddock sharper than she’d ever expected. They’d notice anything. And the last thing she wanted was for the papers to start spinning stories, putting her under a headline right next to him.

She touched his arm briefly. “Te hablo en el hotel. I’ll speak to you at the hotel.”

As she made her way toward the exit, ready to slip back into the background and disappear, she heard a voice calling out just over the rumble of engines and chatter.

“¡La princesa española!”

The words were unmistakable, lilting and clear, even with the crowd and machinery all around. The Spanish Princess. The nickname made her falter. It was something she sometimes heard on the tennis courts in Madrid or whispered by fans in distant cities when she played in international tournaments. But here? She scanned the area, puzzled at who would recognise her in this world of racing.

When she turned, her eyes met those of someone unfamiliar yet striking. He was tall, with an easy, disarming smile, his race suit gleaming with the bright, bold colours of his team’s livery. He looked young, not much older than she was, but he carried himself with that unmistakable energy she’d seen in rising stars before. The rookie, she realised, though she hadn’t kept up enough to know his name.

He held her gaze a moment too long, that same smile lingering as he approached, his eyes sparking with something between amusement and curiosity. She felt herself tense, almost involuntarily, her instinct telling her to slip away, to avoid whatever came next.

“Es realmente la princesa española,” he said, his tone playful yet certain.

Then it hit her.

Franco.

That was his name.

Franco’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Soy un gran admirador de tu trabajo,” he said, his Argentine accent softening his words. “I’ve watched almost all your matches — I love the way you play.”

She blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the usual kind of recognition she got, especially not here. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been recognised in public. She looked at him, trying to reconcile this confident young driver with the earnest fan in front of her.

“¿Me conoces?” The question slipped out before she could think, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “¿Quién no te conoce?” he replied, with a touch of humour. “La princesa española, queen of the clay court, unstoppable backhand — yeah, I know you.”

There was something genuine in his tone, something that set him apart from the usual strangers who said they knew her. 

And before she could stop herself, she found herself almost smiling. She cleared her throat, searching for a response, but her mind was blank. What could she say? That she knew nothing of him, or any of these people — that she had only set foot here today by chance?

She settled for a simple, “Gracias.”

Franco’s curiosity didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, folding his arms with an amused glint in his eyes. “So, what brings la princesa española to the F1 paddock?”

She shrugged lightly, careful not to reveal too much. “I’m here as one of Fernando Alonso’s guests. Aston Martin.” She left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t dig further. Noticing that she looked a bit like another driver on the paddock. Thankfully, he didn’t.

His grin only grew wider, and she had the feeling that her mystery intrigued him. “Well then, if you’re one of Fernando’s guests, that means you’re not tied to my team,” he said with a glint of mischief. “Come with me — I’ll give you a tour of my garage. It’ll be like… a private tour.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting back toward the exit, where she’d planned to slip out and leave all of this behind. If she went with him, there was a chance people would recognise her, start to connect her with her brother’s world. She’d spent her whole career carefully avoiding this — the headlines, the whispers, the inevitable questions about why she’d chosen such a different path. But the look on his face, that open, boyish enthusiasm, was hard to resist.

She let out a sigh, then looked up at him with a sudden, defiant glimmer in her eye. “Screw it. ¿Por qué no?”

His whole face lit up. She could practically see the excitement radiating off him as he extended his hand, his confidence a little too easy, a little too certain. She eyed his hand for a moment before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Modales,” she chided, her tone playful. “I’ve known you for five minutes. We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” he replied without missing a beat, a spark in his eyes.

Despite herself, she smiled, a real one, something she hadn’t felt since stepping into the paddock that day.

He led her through the bustling paddock with an easy confidence, weaving between crew members, equipment, and cameras as if none of it could touch him. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. The chaos of the pit lane, the narrow spaces and the clang of metal, all seemed to bend around him.

When they reached his team’s garage, he stopped by a young assistant stationed just outside, who looked at them with curious eyes.

“Do me a favour,” he said, barely containing his grin, “and grab a VIP lanyard for Williams’ guests, will you?”

The assistant glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly in recognition before he nodded and ducked away, returning a moment later with a crisp, team-branded lanyard. Franco took it with a pleased smile, then held out his hand for hers. She unclipped the Aston Martin lanyard from her neck and handed it over, watching with a mix of surprise and amusement as he replaced it with the one from his own team.

“There,” he said, adjusting the lanyard’s position with exaggerated care. “Now you’re officially part of the team.”

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “You know, I don’t think lanyards change allegiances so easily.”

“Maybe not. But I do think it’s an improvement.” He winked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Besides, the only lanyard you should be wearing here is mine.”

She laughed, caught off guard by his unfiltered charm, as he held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, mi princesa, a grand tour.”

He led her into the garage, his tone switching between informative and teasing as he explained the various stations. “Over here, we have the engineering bay — where the magic of data happens.” He gestured toward a row of monitors displaying endless streams of numbers. “And these guys in the corner? They’re the wizards of aerodynamics. Make a mess, they won’t let you forget it.”

As they moved through each section, he offered her a glimpse into the world of F1, his energy and excitement almost contagious. She watched him with quiet intrigue; he seemed to belong here completely, as if he thrived in the chaos and intensity of it all.

“Now, over here,” he continued, leaning a bit closer to her as they approached a sleek wall of tires and tools, “this is where I go for my pre-race pep talks. I think it helps the tires, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You talk to the tires?”

“Only on occasion,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “And they listen. Or at least, I hope they do.” He grinned again, that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, they never talk back.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but there was a smile in it, one she couldn’t quite suppress. He was disarming, funny in a way that felt refreshingly different from the sharp, serious world she’d known. He noticed the hint of a smile and held her gaze, leaning in just slightly.

Before she could say anything else, Franco led her deeper into the garage, weaving through the maze of tools, car parts, and engineers, who looked up now and then with curious glances. She followed, intrigued despite herself, and finally, unable to keep silent, asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shooting her a look over his shoulder that was both charming and infuriatingly vague.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door tucked away from the bustle of the main garage. She glanced around, realising they were in the private part of the team’s area. He opened the door to his driver room, gesturing for her to step inside. The room was small but comfortable, filled with team memorabilia, spare racing gloves, and a neat rack of team-branded clothes. Before she could take it all in, he went over to a stack of neatly folded shirts and pulled one from the pile.

He turned back to her, holding up the shirt with a proud smile. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Wear this tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the shirt with mock scepticism. “Bold of you to assume I’d wear your merch.”

His grin only widened. “I think you’d look great in it,” he said, undeterred. “Besides, it’d be an honour to have la princesa española in my colours.”

She took the shirt, running her fingers over the soft fabric, and met his gaze with a slight smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me,” he replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, his phone buzzed on the nearby table, and he glanced at it with a slight frown before pocketing it again.

“So,” he continued, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “what are you doing for dinner?”

The question surprised her. She hadn’t planned on lingering much longer after her brother’s race prep finished. She hadn’t planned on any of this, really. But he was watching her expectantly, and for a moment, she let herself consider it.

“Dinner?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a grin. “What do you say? Let me take you out. I promise I’m as good at picking places to eat as I am at tours.”

She couldn’t resist a small laugh. “Alright,” she said, glancing up at him with an easy smile. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, a voice called out from down the hallway. “Franco man, we’ve been looking all around for you!” A team manager appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Franco sighed, flashing her an apologetic look as he straightened. “Duty calls,” he muttered with a smirk. He lingered a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then glanced back at her with a warm smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, feeling a thrill she hadn’t expected. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, his grin returning full force, then turned to follow the manager out, giving her a final, backward glance that lingered just a second too long.

Back in her hotel room, she brushed a final touch of mascara over her lashes and glanced at her phone, where a text from Franco glowed on the screen.

Franco: “Ready whenever you are. No rush. See you soon :)”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Tonight felt surprisingly… normal. Like she was just someone getting ready for a date, no stakes attached. She straightened her dress, checked her reflection, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at her door snapped her from her thoughts, and she felt a small flutter of excitement, assuming it was him. But when she opened the door, her breath caught.

Her brother stood there, his expression a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite read. She masked her surprise quickly, stepping aside to let him in, though her voice was firm. “I can talk for a bit, but I have plans tonight.”

“With Franco?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “I saw you two in the paddock,” he said. “And I overheard him talking about it in the garage. Apparently, he couldn’t stop telling anyone who’d listen about his ‘date with la princesa de España.’” He looked at her, and his voice softened. “So why is it you have no problem being seen with him, but not with your own brother?”

His question hung heavily in the air, the familiar tension between them settling back into place. She took a breath, struggling for the right words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him — it was the weight of everything that came with it. The press, the fans, the inevitable comparisons. She could already see the headlines if they were spotted together, her name placed directly beside his, stripping away the hard-won independence she’d fought for.

She sighed, glancing at him. “It’s not… about you,” she said carefully. “It’s just… everything that comes with it. You know how it is.”

He shook his head, looking slightly hurt. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve always thought we were supposed to be in this together. But I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re just trying to run from anything that connects us.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dropping to something softer, more serious. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t want to be known as Carlos’ sister everywhere I go. I’ve worked hard to build my own name, my own career, and sometimes… being around you, it overshadows that.”

Her brother studied her, his face a mix of understanding and something else, a flash of protective instinct. “You know, if you date Franco, you’ll just end up being known as his girlfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a date, Carlos. Nothing more.”

He shrugged, his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Yeah, well, with him, nothing ever stays ‘just’ anything. Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth behind it. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

They shared a quiet moment of understanding before she gently nudged him toward the door. “Go get some rest. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines.”

The evening was soft and cool, the sky painted in shades of violet and indigo as the city stretched out below them. The balcony they’d stepped onto was tucked away from the bustling noise of the hotel, private and intimate, offering only the sounds of the night breeze and the occasional far-off hum of the city.

Franco had arranged it all—quiet, serene, away from prying eyes. The dinner was simple but elegant: a few delicate dishes of fresh seafood, wine that wasn’t too heavy, just enough to let the conversation flow freely. It was just the two of them, and she realised as she stood there, her hand brushing the railing, how rare that felt.

She’d worn a dress that was understated, yet elegant—a deep midnight blue that mirrored the evening sky, the fabric light enough to catch the breeze. She hadn’t given it much thought; it wasn’t for anyone but herself. But when Franco first saw her, the look in his eyes told her that, maybe, it had been the right choice after all.

His gaze lifted from the table where he had been adjusting the wine glasses, and the moment he saw her, the words spilled out before he could even stop them.

“Dios mío, qué hermosa estás.” His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

She felt her cheeks flush, the compliment unexpected but not unwelcome. She had been nervous about the evening, unsure of what this was or what it would become. But his words, simple and sincere, relaxed something inside her.

“Gracias,” she replied with a small smile, feeling the warmth in her chest spread, her eyes meeting his.

He stood up, taking a small step toward her as if to take in the full picture, his gaze never leaving her face. “I swear,” he continued, his voice filled with genuine awe, “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning than earlier. It's like... you're glowing.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’re just being kind.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not the kind of guy to throw compliments around just to be polite. Te ves increíble, you look incredible.”

After a decent amount of eating, a stretched out silence, Franco spoke up. “So,” he began, his voice casual but warm, “what’s it like to be the la princesa española outside of tennis?”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t really think of myself as that,” she said lightly. “It’s just a nickname.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I think it suits you. You have a... regal air about you.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “I’m sure you’d never get away with being late for anything. Everyone would just wait for the princess to show up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You really are persistent with those compliments, aren’t you?”

“Solo con la verdad,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

The evening unfolded easily after that. They spoke about everything and nothing: about their childhoods, what had brought them to this point in their careers, how it felt to always be in the spotlight. She told him stories from her tennis matches, and he shared wild tales of racing, of the constant pressure and adrenaline.

But it was the quieter moments, the small pauses between their words, that felt the most significant. When he leaned in to pass her the bottle of wine, their hands brushed, and the air seemed to thicken for a moment. His gaze lingered a bit longer than it needed to, and she noticed the subtle way his smile softened when their eyes met. She wasn’t used to this — this ease, this comfort that felt so unforced — but it was exactly what she hadn’t realised she’d been searching for.

“You know,” Franco said, his tone thoughtful, “I can’t remember the last time I had a night like this. Just—” He waved his hand toward the view, the quiet that surrounded them. “It’s nice. To not be rushing off to something. No cameras, no expectations.”

She looked out over the balcony at the skyline, the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know what you mean. There’s always so much noise, so many people trying to pull you in different directions. It’s rare to just… be.” She turned to look at him, her voice lowering slightly. “It’s a little surreal, actually.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a silence between them that felt like a shared understanding. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her, his expression genuine. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. I’m glad I got to spend this time with you.”

Her heart did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the evening, but this — this felt right.

“So,” he continued, his voice lightening again, “any chance I can convince you to wear my team’s shirt tomorrow?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said with a wink, “but only because I know you’d look amazing in it.”

She rolled her eyes but could feel the warmth in her chest spread. “I’ll think about it,” she teased, mirroring his playful tone.

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, the evening unfolding with ease as the world seemed to blur around them. As the night deepened, they shared stories, laughter, and quiet glances that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the fireworks, the grand gestures of a first date. But it was something else — something that felt like a beginning.

When the last of the wine was finished, and the candles flickered low, Franco stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes told her everything. His fingers brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away.

As the night grew later, the air around them cooled, and they moved to the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the city. The quiet was comforting, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness between them.

She let out a small sigh, her mind wandering, and with it, the weight of everything that had brought her to this moment. She looked up at him, caught in the calm but uncertain about what this night might mean.

"Well, this has been lovely," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "But, just so you know… this is probably going to be our only date."

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly laced with concern. “Have I done something wrong?”

She met his gaze, her chest tight for reasons she couldn’t quite place. There was no logical reason for her to feel that way — he had been nothing but kind, charming, and genuine all night. But there was still that lingering sense of hesitation, a wall she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tear down.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something quieter, as if he were trying to understand her better.

“I’m not really a person who runs from things," she said, her voice lowering slightly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “But there are parts of my life I’m... careful about. I can’t help but keep them to myself.”

She hesitated, feeling a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself wanting to share something personal, something she had hidden away. She took a breath and let it slip out before she could second-guess herself.

“I have a brother,” she began, looking out at the city below them, trying to steady her voice. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Franco froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?”

She glanced at him, a slight laugh escaping her lips at the look of genuine surprise on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Carlos.”

He blinked, his surprise turning into a quiet sense of disbelief. “Carlos Sainz?” He repeated her brother’s name, almost as if he were trying to process it. “I had no idea…”

She looked at him, a slight sadness settling in her chest. “Most people don’t,” she said, her voice quiet now. “I never tell anyone. I’ve worked my entire life to be known for me—for what I do, not because of who I’m related to. I don’t want to live in someone’s shadow.”

Franco didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch out between them. He was thinking, she could tell. It was as though he were weighing her words, weighing the tension in her tone. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice steady but sincere.

“With me, you wouldn't,” he said, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her by surprise. “You wouldn’t be in anyone’s shadow. Not if you didn’t want to be.”

She was quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep pushing away the idea of anyone in her life stepping into that shadow. But there was something in his eyes—something honest and unwavering—that made her hesitate. He wasn’t offering her fame or status. He was offering her something far simpler. The space to be herself.

Then, he said something that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be your WAG,” he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, his smile just a little crooked.

She laughed, a quick, startled sound. “What?” she teased, shaking her head. “Are you serious? ‘WAG’—really?”

He leaned in slightly, the smile still on his face but his eyes unflinching. “En serio. I’m serious.” he added with a little more emphasis, the words flowing naturally from him.

Her laughter died down, replaced by a brief, curious silence. She was still processing his words, still trying to understand how it had escalated from a simple dinner to this.

“You’re joking,” she said softly, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously.

“No,” he7 replied, his voice now calm, almost earnest. “I’m not. Look, I get it. The whole ‘WAG’ thing... it sounds ridiculous, I know. But the way I see it, we’d be a team. You’d have my back, and I’d have yours. No shadows, no expectations, just us. What we make of it.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms as she considered what he was saying. The idea of it felt foreign, a little intimidating, but something about it also felt right in a way she hadn’t expected. No grand gestures, no drama. Just… us, as he’d said.

“Don’t you think I’d look good in a sponsored Channel crop top?” he joked, and the thought of it made her laugh.

Before she could stop it, however, her mind flashed to her brother, to the years of keeping her life private, to the way she had fought so hard to remain in the background of her family’s legacy. And yet here was Franco, offering something different. He wasn’t asking her to be a part of his world—he was offering her a partnership, an equal footing.

For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to truly think about what that might mean. To be seen, not as someone’s sister or someone’s girlfriend, but just as herself.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain but filled with a growing sense of possibility.

Franco looked at her, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “Entonces, we’ll figure it out together. No shadows. Just us.”

“Just us.”

“You better wear my shirt tomorrow,” he said, his voice teasing but hopeful.

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You better. I’ll be watching.”

She laughed, shaking her head at his persistence. “We’ll see.”

The next morning arrived with the usual rush, the anticipation of race day filling the air. She woke up to a sunlit room and a few messages on her phone, the familiar bustle of the paddock already beginning to take shape outside her window. As she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back into a sleek ponytail, glancing over her outfit choices. She’d packed a nice pair of fitted trousers and a smart blouse for the day. But then, as she opened her suitcase to grab something, she saw it—the shirt.

It was sitting on top of her suitcase, folded neatly, the soft fabric of his team’s shirt catching the light. The sight of it made her pause. She could feel a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she stared at the shirt. It wasn’t like her to let herself be swayed by someone else’s request. But something about Franco, about the way he’d looked at her, made her reconsider.

She bit her lip, considering her options. The shirt was casual, simple, but it also felt like a statement. She could wear it for him, just this once, maybe just to see how it felt. There was no harm in that, right?

She grabbed the shirt, examining it for a moment. It was an understated design—his team’s logo in the corner, a soft fabric, nothing too flashy. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would normally wear, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it. And then it hit her—maybe it wasn’t about the shirt at all. It was about the confidence to wear it, to stand beside him and let the world see her as she was, without hesitation.

She had a moment of inspiration.

Instead of simply slipping it on with jeans like she’d imagined, she decided to give it a bit of a twist. She styled it with an oversized blazer, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the shirt underneath, and a pair of high-waisted pants. The look was effortlessly cool, edgy, but still very much her. She paired it with a pair of sleek, minimalist sneakers, and, just before she finished, added a bold red lip to complete the ensemble.

When she looked in the mirror, she felt a sense of pride. It was a simple shirt, yes, but it was her way of wearing it. And somehow, it made her feel like she was making her own mark, not hiding behind anyone else’s expectations.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time, then sent Franco a quick message.

“I thought about it. I’ll wear the shirt. But only because it goes with my outfit.”

She added a playful winking emoji before hitting send, knowing that he’d appreciate the humour in it.

The morning was just beginning to pick up its pace as she finished getting ready. The weight of the day’s events, the race, the energy of the paddock, all began to settle in. But for the first time in a while, she felt a small sense of excitement, an eagerness she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t about the race itself, but about the people she was meeting, the connections she was making, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—what might lie ahead with Franco.

She was just about to head out of her hotel room when there was a knock on the door. She knew that knock—steady and familiar. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find her brother standing there, his usual calm exterior softened by a quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, stepping back to let him in. She could tell he was a bit surprised when he saw the shirt she was wearing—the shirt of a rival team. He glanced at it, one brow raised slightly, but he didn’t comment, just closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been building up to this. “Are you… thinking of seeing him again?”

There was something tentative in the way he asked, a kind of brotherly concern that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She shrugged, trying to keep her tone casual. “Maybe. I’m considering it.”

He nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Why are you okay with being seen with him, and not with me?”

The question landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the unspoken hurt in his eyes. It was rare for him to open up like this, to say exactly what was on his mind. She let out a long breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s different,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Different how?” he pressed, his tone gentle but persistent.

She met his gaze, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t realised just how much this division had affected them both, how much it lingered in moments like these. “I never felt like I was a part of your world,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It wasn’t just about you. It was Dad, too. He… he made it clear that I wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. I wasn’t… enough. Not like you.”

He looked at her, the quiet hurt in his eyes turning into something deeper, something sadder. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How could you? You were busy making him proud. And you were great at it. I always saw how he looked at you, how proud he was of everything you were doing. He saw you as this… continuation of him, of his legacy. But me… I was never part of that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words. “I never wanted it to be that way. I thought you just didn’t care about what we were doing. I thought you were happy doing your own thing.”

“I am,” she said, and she meant it. “Tennis is my world; it’s where I feel strong, where I feel like I belong. But… it didn’t come without sacrifices. I grew up watching you and Dad bond over racing, and it was like there was this door between us that was shut for good. I could watch, but I couldn’t be a part of it.”

There was a long pause, her brother absorbing her words, the weight of years of misunderstanding settling between them.

“I wish I’d known,” he said finally, his voice soft, tinged with regret. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to be a part of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if Dad and I had that bond. But I get it now. I see what it must’ve felt like, standing on the outside.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken years filling the space between them. And then he added, “You know, you don’t have to keep yourself hidden to be in my life, right? I get it now. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her throat tightened, a wave of unexpected emotion rising within her. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own family, so sure that her brother had never noticed. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, wanting to bridge that gap.

“It’s hard to just undo it all,” she admitted. “Sometimes, it feels easier to just… stay on my own path. To keep these things separate.”

He nodded, understanding. “But if you’re thinking of seeing Franco… letting yourself be part of his world… doesn’t it mean you’re ready to be seen? To be yourself, even in places that are unfamiliar?”

She considered this, his words striking a chord deep within her. He wasn’t wrong. She’d spent so long hiding parts of herself, keeping herself separate to avoid comparison or judgement. But with Franco, she hadn’t felt the same need. For once, she had felt like she could be herself—no shadows, no expectations.

“I think… I just want to find something that’s mine,” she said finally. “A space where I’m not just ‘your sister,’ where I don’t have to carry someone else’s legacy.”

Her brother gave her a soft, understanding look. “You’ve already done that. You are more than just my sister. You’ve made a name for yourself that has nothing to do with anyone else. You’re not living in anyone’s shadow… but if you ever want to step into our world—my world—I’d like to be part of yours too. Just… let me be there for you, even if it’s only sometimes.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of warmth, a sense of connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe there was room for both worlds, after all. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, echoing her words from last night.

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I hope you do.”

With that, he gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, a wordless acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. And as he left, she felt a sense of closure, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from her family’s legacy to be seen as her own person. She could walk her own path, even if it sometimes crossed into theirs.

She arrived at the paddock a little while later, weaving her way through the bustle of race day, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Wearing Franco’s shirt under her blazer felt like a small, bold choice—one that had her both excited and slightly nervous. She walked through the crowd until she reached his team’s garage, where the energy was already crackling with anticipation.

As soon as she stepped in, Franco spotted her from across the garage. His face lit up the second he saw her, and he immediately started making his way toward her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice and said in Spanish, a playful gleam in his eyes, “Wait here for just a second. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he turned and jogged back toward his driver’s room, leaving her standing in the middle of the garage, a little bewildered but smiling to herself. She watched as he disappeared into the room, curious about whatever he was planning. Within a moment, he was back, holding a bouquet of flowers—a mix of deep red roses and bright sunflowers, their colours vivid against the greys and metallics of the garage.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a grin, his accent warm and lilting. His eyes softened as he added, “To celebrate your first race day as my guest.”

She took the bouquet, feeling a rush of warmth as she held the flowers. “You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just here as… well, just as me.”

“And I think that’s worth celebrating,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on hers with unmistakable admiration. “Besides, you didn’t say no to the shirt, so I think I’m allowed a little celebration, no?”

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the bouquet. “Alright, fine. You win. Thank you—they’re beautiful.”

Franco glanced around the garage, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from last night. I thought maybe I was exaggerating, but… no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re trying to distract me from the race.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, chuckling. Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he looked around the garage again and spotted one of his engineers nearby. Franco gestured to the man, who quickly nodded, understanding exactly what Franco was after.

The engineer handed him a headset, and Franco turned back to her, holding it up. “Here—so you can listen in and watch from inside the garage. You’ll get the best seat here.”

She blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to hear all the comms, see how it all works up close. Plus”—he leaned in, his voice low—“you’ll have an excuse to stay around here.”

She shook her head with a smirk, taking the headset from him. “Alright. But only because you’ve convinced me with flowers and shameless flattery.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin widening as he watched her settle the headset over her ears. “I’ll keep it coming if it means you stay.”

As the team began their pre-race preparations, Franco showed her the best spot to watch from, and he took a few moments to explain some of the technical details. She found herself captivated, not just by the race, but by the way he was so eager to share his world with her. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite herself, she felt the thrill of race day in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Before he had to step away to start his own warm-up routine, he gave her one last look, his gaze holding a touch of that familiar mischievous glint. “Enjoy the show, princesa. And don’t go falling in love with the cars now—they’re not as charming as I am.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “No promises.”

Franco winked, backing away with a grin as he joined the other drivers and team members preparing for the race. She stayed in the garage, feeling the weight of the headset and bouquet in her hands, both of them symbols of the way her world had shifted in just a few days.

As she watched him walk away, his words echoing in her ears, she realised just how different today felt. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching as an outsider; she was here, part of the energy, sharing a moment in his world, just as he’d promised. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready to be a part of something new.

The race was intense, the roar of engines filling the air as she watched Franco’s car weave through the track, making his way up from P16 to P12, gaining positions one by one with determined precision. Her heart raced with every turn, every overtake. She’d never felt the thrill of Formula One from this close before, and she found herself completely absorbed, balancing her attention between the live race and the screens in the garage that tracked every driver’s progress.

And then, in the final laps, her eyes moved to another part of the screen—a familiar car that was in the lead. A red car. Her brother was out front, defending his position with expert skill, pushing with everything he had toward the finish line. She held her breath, fingers tightening around the edges of the headset as she watched the seconds count down. When he crossed the finish line in first place, a feeling she hadn’t expected washed over her—pride, pure and radiant, filled her chest. She found herself clapping, cheering, a bright smile spreading across her face.

Franco, having just finished his own race and done the mandatory weigh-in and debrief with his engineers, finally found her in the garage. He looked exhausted but happy, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race. When he walked over, he paused, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the screen as her brother celebrated his victory, lifting his fists in the air in triumph.

“You’re glowing,” Franco murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her reaction.

She blinked, glancing back at him and realising how giddy she must look. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like this. I’m just… so happy for him.” Her voice was breathless, filled with a genuine joy she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Then you should go to him. He’s probably waiting for you.”

She shook her head, hesitating, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t… I don’t belong over there, with everyone. That’s his world.”

Franco tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s true most days. But today, you belong there just as much as anyone else. He’s your brother. Go celebrate with him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty still holding her back. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Start with congratulations,” Franco said, flashing her a gentle, reassuring grin. “Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

He gestured toward the edge of the garage, where the barriers separated the track from the paddock. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, taking a shaky breath as he guided her forward. The crowd around them was roaring with excitement as her brother’s car was pulled into parc fermé, fans and teammates celebrating around him. She could feel her heart pounding, each step filling her with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

At the barrier, Franco gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

With that, he released her hand, and she took a step forward, catching sight of her brother through the haze of people and cameras. He was laughing, practically glowing as he embraced his team, still basking in the thrill of his victory. And then, as if sensing her, he turned and saw her standing there, just beyond the barrier.

His expression softened, and a smile broke across his face, one that was filled with surprise and unmistakable happiness. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over, reaching out to pull her into a tight, heartfelt hug. She hugged him back, feeling the last remnants of the old distance between them dissolve as she held her brother close, finally sharing in his moment.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. “You came,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She laughed softly, tears threatening to sting her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here. Really.”

As the team around them cheered and the cameras continued to flash, she felt the enormity of the moment—a sense of belonging, not just as a tennis player, or his sister, but as herself.

She grinned at her brother, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a rare show of sibling affection. “Te quiero mucho, hermanito,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

His smile softened, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Te quiero también,” he replied, wrapping her in one last quick hug. “Thank you for being here. Really.”

The moment was brief but profound, a quiet reassurance that, despite the different worlds they had each chosen, they were still connected. He glanced back toward his team, who were waving him over for post-race celebrations and interviews.

“I have to go,” he said, releasing her. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him a nod and a small wave as he returned to his crew. She watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t felt in years—one that was entirely unclouded by the complexities of the past. Then she turned and made her way back toward Franco’s garage, her heart still racing from the intense energy of the day.

When she found him, Franco was waiting near the garage entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud smile lighting up his face as he saw her approach.

“You did it,” he said softly, admiration in his eyes. “You finally let yourself be a part of all this.”

As she reached Franco, he turned to face her, his expression softening with a mixture of pride and relief as he took her hands in his. Her heart pounded, the intensity of the day lingering between them like a magnetic pull. She gazed up at him, her breath catching as she saw the warmth in his eyes—the genuine care and admiration there, as if he saw every part of her that she had worked so hard to keep separate.

Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand moving up to rest gently against his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching hers, as if waiting for her to close the last small gap between them. Finally, she leaned up, closing her eyes as her lips met his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, the roar of the crowd and bustle of the paddock fading as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch both steady and tender. She felt the warmth of him seep into her, grounding her in the moment, and she responded instinctively, fingers threading through his hair as he held her tighter. There was a gentleness in his touch, but an undeniable passion too, a desire that built slowly between them.

Time slipped away as they shared this unguarded moment, the boundaries she had set for herself crumbling with every heartbeat. She could feel the strength in his arms, the quiet reassurance he offered, and a warmth that sparked through her, as if he was silently promising that he would be there, no matter what.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing a little harder, their foreheads touching as they lingered close, unwilling to step away. Franco’s thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw as he looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with an affection so deep that it nearly overwhelmed her. “I needed that push,” she murmured against his lips.

His arms came around her, but he laughed as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said with a teasing glint, “the cameras have probably caught enough kissing for one day.”

She chuckled, letting him lead her back toward the quiet of his garage, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. For the first time, she felt an undeniable sense of belonging—not just to the world she had worked so hard to create for herself, but to this moment, with him, with her family. She’d finally allowed herself to be part of it all, and it felt right in a way she hadn’t expected.

the end.

[faebled-stories]

A Night Beyond the Stage

Kinkvember Day 25: Deflowering/Mommy

Red Velvet Irene (Bae Joohyun) x Male reader

TW: Age gap, reader is 19

14k words

AN: The timing of this fic aligning with Irene’s solo comeback is such a funny coincidence. I’ve tailored the story to fit with the excitement of her big moment—hope you enjoy it 💖

The crowd is a living sea of excitement, the lights dimming to signal the start of a moment fans have dreamed of for years. The air hums with anticipation, every breath charged with electricity. Brightly colored banners, lovingly adorned with Irene’s name, heartfelt messages, and slogans, ripple like waves in the soft breeze created by thousands of hands waving light sticks in unison. The synchronized glow bathes the venue in hues of soft red and shimmering white, a radiant tribute to her. You instinctively wave your light stick, matching the crowd’s rhythm as though tethered to the shared devotion filling the air.

You’re one of those fans—a devoted 19-year-old boy, standing near the front of the crowd. For years, you’ve admired Irene’s artistry, her poise, and the quiet yet commanding presence that sets her apart. She’s been your bias since the moment you discovered Red Velvet, captivating you with every performance, every glance, every smile. But tonight is different. This is her night. Her solo comeback. The energy is unlike anything you’ve felt before, and the significance of this moment echoes in the rapid thrum of your heart.

The stage glows with a soft light, and the room erupts as Irene steps into view. She’s radiant, a vision so perfect it feels almost otherworldly. Her outfit sparkles under the spotlights—a sleek, fitted ensemble in deep, jewel-like tones that catch the light with every graceful step she takes. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, glossy and flawless, framing her face in a way that feels too perfect to be real. Her smile is soft yet confident, the kind that somehow feels personal, like it’s meant just for you, even in a crowd of thousands.

Clutching a freshly purchased album close to your chest, your fingers tremble as you grip it tightly. The ReVeluv T-shirt you carefully chose this morning feels almost too bright under the glow of the stage lights, but you wear it proudly, a small token of your devotion. Around you, fans scream and cheer, their voices weaving together into a deafening symphony of love and support. Yet, for you, the sound fades into the background as Irene’s first note cuts through the air. Clear, emotive, and powerful, it sends a shiver down your spine, rooting you in place.

Her performance is mesmerizing. Every move she makes is fluid, every note she sings filled with a kind of vulnerability that feels intimate despite the size of the venue. The air vibrates with her presence, her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The scent of faint perfume and the electric tang of stage smoke mix in the air, creating a sensory backdrop that makes the moment feel surreal. You’re rooted to the spot, utterly captivated, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as the realization hits: you’re witnessing something extraordinary.

When the final note fades and the crowd erupts in a deafening roar, Irene stands still for a moment, soaking in the adoration. Her gaze sweeps across the sea of light sticks and banners, scanning the crowd as if she’s trying to meet every eye. For a brief moment, her eyes seem to land on yours, and your breath catches in your throat. It’s fleeting, and you know it’s probably not meant for you—just a random glance in your direction—but the slight smile that pulls at her lips feels like it’s tied directly to your racing heart. You take what you can get, holding tightly to the illusion of connection in the vastness of the crowd.

As she raises a hand to wave, the gesture is simple but impossibly magnetic, radiating warmth and gratitude. It’s enough to make you feel like you’re the only one she’s looking at, even though you know better. You wave your light stick fervently in response, your heart pounding as though it’s trying to reach her across the distance.

When she finally bows, the crowd’s cheers swell to a fever pitch, the sound thunderous and all-encompassing. She steps back into the shadows of the stage, her figure slowly disappearing as the lights dim. You can barely remember how you managed to stay on your feet, the wave of emotion washing over you threatening to knock you down.

Clutching the album tighter to your chest, you stand frozen for a moment, determined to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. The memory of her voice, her smile, and the undeniable presence she commands stays with you, a bright, glowing ember burning in your chest. You know this moment—this fleeting connection, imagined or not—will stay with you forever, a reminder of the night she shone brighter than ever.

The crowd gradually settles, but the buzz of excitement remains, rippling through the room like an unspoken connection. The event transitions to the fan interaction segment, and you feel the air shift as Irene takes her seat on the stage. Fans file into neat lines, each holding gifts, albums, and handwritten notes, their nervous energy palpable. Your heartbeat quickens as the line in front of you inches forward, each step bringing you closer to the moment you’ve dreamed of.

You grip your album tightly, the edges pressing into your palms, grounding you as your nerves threaten to take over. Around you, there’s a cacophony of sounds—the chatter of fans in line, the occasional burst of laughter, and the soft hum of background music. Yet, all of it seems distant, muffled by the pounding of your heart. You’ve rehearsed what you want to say countless times, but now your mind feels like a blank slate, wiped clean by the overwhelming reality of being so close to her.

As the fans ahead of you step forward, Irene greets each with her characteristic grace, her warm smiles and soft chuckles filling the space like a gentle melody. Watching her interact, you can’t help but notice how genuine she seems—her gaze attentive, her demeanor effortlessly charming. She accepts every letter, every memento, with a delicate touch, her hands brushing against those of the fans who hand them over. Each small moment feels precious, and your chest tightens with the realization that soon, it will be your turn.

When the fan directly in front of you steps aside, the world slows to a crawl. Irene’s eyes lift, locking onto yours, and the breath catches in your throat. The stage lights frame her like a halo, her features soft yet dazzlingly vivid—every detail etched into your memory. Her expression shifts to one of gentle curiosity as you approach, her lips curving into a small, encouraging smile that makes your legs feel like jelly.

You step forward, gripping the album so tightly now that your knuckles are white. Her presence is magnetic, pulling you in with a force you can’t resist. She’s even more breathtaking up close, her skin glowing as if lit from within. The subtle scent of her perfume, fresh and floral, reaches you, blending seamlessly with the charged air around her. Her hair, perfectly styled yet natural, catches the light in soft waves, framing her face in a way that seems impossibly elegant. Everything about her radiates a quiet confidence, a strength wrapped in warmth.

Your lips part, and for a moment, nothing comes out. The pounding in your chest drowns out everything else, your thoughts a tangled mess. Then, somehow, you find your voice, shaky but audible. “Hi… uh… Irene-noona,” you manage, the words tumbling out awkwardly. Your voice cracks slightly, and you feel your cheeks flush with heat, but her reaction erases any embarrassment. Her smile deepens, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that feels impossibly reassuring.

“Hello,” she says softly, her voice smooth and melodic, each syllable grounding and disarming all at once. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod so quickly it’s a miracle your head doesn’t fall off. “Y-yeah! It’s been amazing,” you stammer, clutching the album tighter before awkwardly holding it out for her. “I—I’ve been a fan of yours for… a really long time.”

Her delicate fingers brush against yours as she takes the album, and the gentle contact sends an electric jolt up your arm. You’re sure she notices the way your breath hitches, but if she does, her expression remains serene. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes lifting briefly to meet yours before they focus on the album. Her pen moves fluidly across the glossy surface as she adds her signature. “It means a lot to me that you came.”

You blurt out the first thing that pops into your head, your voice louder than you intended. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” Your face flushes immediately, and you scramble to backtrack. “I mean, not just this… I mean, anything you do is worth it. Like, you’re just really… uh, incredible.”

Her lips curl into a small, amused smile, and she tilts her head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. The soft light catches in her eyes, making them sparkle. “You’re sweet,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “Is this your first fan meet?”

You nod vigorously, then clear your throat, trying to compose yourself. “Yes. First time seeing you… like, in person.” Your words come out disjointed, and you wince internally. “I mean, obviously in person. Because otherwise, it’s just… online. Or videos. But now it’s real. Not that the other times weren’t real—”

Her soft laugh interrupts your rambling, and you freeze, realizing just how much you’ve been talking. “I get it,” she says, her tone warm and full of amusement. “You don’t need to explain.”

You bite your lip, nodding sheepishly as your fingers twitch nervously around the album. “Right. Sorry. I just… it’s surreal, you know?”

Her smile softens, and something in her gaze shifts, growing warmer. “Well, I’m glad I get to be part of your first experience,” she replies gently. Her voice feels so personal, so inviting, it’s almost as though she’s speaking directly into your thoughts. “Are you nervous?”

You laugh awkwardly, a dry, choked sound that you instantly regret. “A little,” you admit, your hand moving to the back of your neck in a clumsy attempt to play it cool. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

Her soft laugh feels like a reward, and you swear you see a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Don’t be,” she says, her voice light but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. “It’s just me.”

“That’s kind of the problem,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I mean—not a problem! It’s just you’re, you know, you. And I’m… me.”

Her laugh is more open this time, a genuine sound that makes your heart flip. “And what’s wrong with being you?” she asks, her teasing tone laced with sincerity.

You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure how to respond. “Nothing, I guess,” you mumble, your voice so soft you’re not sure she even hears it.

Her expression softens further, and the simplicity of her next words catches you off guard. “It’s nice meeting you,” she says, and somehow, it feels like the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard.

As she finishes signing, she holds the album out to you, her fingers lingering just slightly against yours as you take it. The sensation is fleeting but searing, and your grip tightens around the album as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. Your music, your… everything.”

Her head tilts again, a habit you’re quickly finding endearing. Her eyes meet yours in a way that feels unguarded, and for a moment, it’s as though the chaos of the room has dissolved into silence. “Take care,” she says softly, her smile lingering like an imprint in the air as you step back.

You clutch the signed album to your chest as you move away, every sensation from the past few moments replaying in your mind like a loop. The warmth of her fingers, the sound of her voice, the way her gaze made you feel seen. Each memory burns vividly, etching itself into your heart as one of the most precious experiences of your life.

After your encounter with Irene, you leave the signing area, your heart still hammering from the interaction. The world outside the small bubble of that moment feels oddly distant, like you’re walking through a dream. Clutching your signed album tightly, you wander aimlessly, letting the energy of the lingering fans wash over you. Everywhere you look, posters of Irene smile back at you, her image larger than life and yet somehow still not quite as radiant as she was up close.

You pause by one of the posters and instinctively pull out your phone. The absurdity of the moment hits you as you angle the camera for a selfie, trying to capture yourself next to her glossy image. “As if this could compare to the real thing,” you mutter under your breath, but you laugh softly at your own awkwardness and snap a few pictures anyway.

Other fans, catching sight of your antics, approach with wide smiles, eager to strike up conversations. Their excitement is infectious, and before you know it, you’re swapping stories about your favorite songs, performances, and how incredible Irene looked tonight. For a while, the warmth of shared admiration eases the nervous flutter still lingering in your chest. You even manage to laugh along as one fan reenacts their over-the-top reaction to Irene’s smile during their brief meeting.

But just as you’re starting to feel like yourself again, the easy atmosphere is interrupted by the arrival of a staff member. Her polished, professional demeanor contrasts sharply with the casual energy of the fans around you, and her gaze is sharp as it lands on you.

“Excuse me,” she says, her tone polite but firm, her eyes scanning you as though assessing every detail.

You blink, startled. “Uh… me?” you ask, your voice coming out higher than you intended.

“Yes, you,” she replies, nodding briskly. “Please follow me.”

Your stomach twists into a knot, and a flicker of anxiety sparks in your chest. “Did I… do something wrong?” you ask hesitantly, clutching your album tighter.

“No,” she says, her tone still impassive. “We just need you to come with us. This way, please.”

Her vague response only fuels your confusion, but curiosity outweighs your hesitation. You nod mutely, trailing after her as she leads you toward a side entrance. The farther you move from the bustling crowd, the more the energy of the venue fades, replaced by a quieter, more subdued atmosphere.

The staff member guides you through a discreet door, and you step into a backstage area. The contrast is jarring. The distant hum of fans is replaced by the low murmur of crew members and the soft clatter of equipment being packed away. The air feels cooler here, tinged with the faint scent of stage makeup and metal. Overhead lights flicker dimly, casting long, uncertain shadows along the corridors.

Your pulse quickens with each step, your mind racing to understand what’s happening. Was this a mistake? A misunderstanding? Why would someone like you be brought backstage? The question loops in your head, unanswered, as you follow the staff member down another hallway.

Finally, she stops in front of a small door, slightly ajar, light spilling softly into the hallway. “Please go inside,” she says simply, stepping aside.

You hesitate, glancing at the door with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. “Wait, what’s—”

But before you can finish, the staff member gives a small, polite smile and walks away, leaving you alone. You swallow hard, your palms clammy as you reach for the door and push it open.

The room inside is unexpectedly intimate. The warm glow of ambient lighting reflects off vintage mirrors, casting a golden hue over the elegant draperies and minimalist furniture. The faint scent of her perfume drifts through the air, calming but somehow charged with an undercurrent of mystery.

Your breath catches as your gaze lands on a familiar figure. Irene is standing by one of the mirrors, her back to you, adjusting a few strands of her hair. The sight of her in this quiet, private space feels almost unreal—like stumbling into a dream you hadn’t realized you were having.

She turns slowly, her movements so fluid and deliberate they seem almost choreographed, and when her eyes meet yours, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. A physical jolt courses through you, your body instinctively tensing under the weight of her gaze. Her expression is calm, but the glint of mischief in her eyes makes your pulse race. She exudes confidence, yet there’s an undercurrent of something playful—something that sets your nerves on edge in a way you can’t quite describe.

“Hi again,” she says softly, her tone light but with an intimacy that seems to wrap itself around you. The space between you feels charged, the kind of tension that makes the smallest movements seem monumental.

She takes a step closer, her presence magnetic and overwhelming. “I’m glad you didn’t leave right away,” she murmurs, her voice warm but carrying an edge that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

You swallow hard, managing a shaky nod as you clutch the signed album against your chest like a shield. “I—I didn’t know this was going to happen,” you admit, your voice trembling under the intensity of her gaze.

Her lips curve into a deeper smile, the kind that feels dangerous yet alluring. “Did you hope for it to happen?” she asks, her tone teasing but laced with a gravity that makes your heart stutter.

“I… I don’t know,” you stammer, the words spilling out clumsily. “I mean, I didn’t expect—”

Her laugh is soft and melodic, wrapping around you like a silken thread. “You’re nervous again,” she observes, tilting her head slightly, her sharp eyes studying your face as if she’s savoring your reaction. “You were like this earlier too.”

“I’m not… that nervous,” you blurt out, but your voice betrays you, trembling just enough to make her raise an amused brow.

“Not that nervous?” she echoes, taking another deliberate step closer. The warmth of her proximity washes over you, her presence filling every inch of the space between you. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

Your gaze darts down instinctively, and your stomach twists when you see she’s right. Your fingers tremble as they clutch the album, and you quickly adjust your grip, trying in vain to steady them. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I guess,” you admit, your face burning as you glance back up. “This whole thing is just… so unexpected.”

Irene chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine. “Unexpected, hmm?” she muses, tilting her head as though savoring the moment. “Did you not hope for a moment like this? Even a little?”

The weight of her words presses down on you, and your mind scrambles for an answer. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, her gaze unrelenting, and the way she looks at you feels like she’s peeling back every layer, leaving you exposed.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says, breaking the quiet, her voice playful yet carrying an edge that sends heat coursing through you. She lets the words hang for a moment, the corners of her lips curving up just slightly. Then she steps closer, so close now you can feel her warmth like a physical touch. “Tell me something,” she continues, her tone dropping lower, almost conspiratorial. “Have you thought about me before?”

The question spins in your mind, sending your thoughts spiraling. “I—I mean, yes,” you manage to stammer, each word a struggle. “I’m a fan, so of course—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice steady but with a sharper edge that makes your breath hitch. Her eyes narrow slightly, the teasing glint giving way to something more focused. “Not like that. I mean… have you ever thought about me in a way that’s… more personal?”

The meaning of her words crashes into you, and you feel your face flush hot. “I—uh, I don’t… I didn’t—” The words tangle together, and your voice dies in your throat, leaving you stammering helplessly.

Her smile widens, the satisfaction in her eyes unmistakable. “Relax,” she says, her tone softening, though the teasing lilt remains. 

She lets the silence stretch again, her presence consuming every corner of the room as her gaze lingers on yours. Then, with a tilt of her head and a shift in her expression, her voice drops to a softer, almost vulnerable tone. “Do you think I’m sexy?”

The question lands like a thunderbolt, the weight of it knocking the breath out of your lungs. “W-what?” you stammer, your voice cracking slightly under the pressure. “I—I mean…”

Her eyes remain steady, unwavering, as though she’s daring you to answer. “You heard me,” she says simply, her lips curving into a faint smile that feels both inviting and dangerous.

Your mouth goes dry, and the air between you feels impossibly heavy. After a long pause, you finally manage to croak out, “Yes. I—I think you’re… you’re very sexy.”

Her smile deepens, a flicker of excitement lighting her eyes. She steps even closer, the warmth of her body brushing against your arm. Her fingers trail lightly across your skin, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “Good,” she purrs, her voice low and melodic, dripping with satisfaction.

She pauses, letting the tension between you build before her gaze sharpens again. “You know,” she begins softly, her voice intimate and steady, “it’s okay to be honest with me.”

You blink, struggling to steady your breath. “Honest about… what?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her smile turns coy, but the intensity in her eyes only grows. “You’ve thought about me before, haven’t you?” she asks, her voice slow and deliberate, every word rolling off her tongue like honey. “Not just as a fan, but… in other ways.”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you scramble for a response. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, though the heat rising to your face makes it clear that you do.

Her soft laugh is low and indulgent, sending a shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy,” she says, her tone dropping to something more sultry. She leans in slightly, her presence dominating the space between you. “You’ve thought about me while touching yourself, haven’t you?”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, your body going rigid as your mind scrambles to process the question. “I… uh… I…” The words tumble out incoherently, your face burning so hot it feels like it might catch fire.

Her smile widens, her satisfaction evident. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmurs, her tone rich with amusement and a hint of something deeper. The flicker of excitement in her expression grows, her eyes bright with the thrill of the moment. “It’s okay,” she adds softly, her voice softening slightly but still charged. “I was just curious.”

The tension in the air is palpable, the intimacy of the moment sinking deeper into your skin as her gaze holds yours unflinchingly. Irene’s lips curl into a faint smile, the kind that sends your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes flicking down for the briefest moment before meeting yours again, her expression softening just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of unease and fascination.

“And have you… done this before?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

Your throat tightens as her question lingers in the space between you, its meaning unmistakable. “Done what?” you ask, though your voice betrays that you already suspect where this is heading.

“This,” she replies, her hand gesturing vaguely between the two of you. Her movements are fluid, deliberate, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that feels impossible to look away from. “Have you been with someone? Touched someone? Kissed someone?”

Your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your ears, the blood rushing to your face as the words settle over you. The room seems to shrink, her presence consuming every corner of it, making it impossible to focus on anything but her. “No,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t.”

Her expression shifts subtly, a flicker of intrigue passing through her eyes before something deeper—something almost predatory—takes its place. “A virgin,” she says softly, as if testing the word on her tongue, savoring its weight. “That explains so much.”

You feel your breath hitch, your chest tightening as you struggle to respond. The silence between you stretches, thick and charged, every second heavy with anticipation. She takes a step closer, her movements unhurried but purposeful, and her hand lifts, her fingers grazing your cheek with a featherlight touch.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispers, her voice like velvet, each word wrapping around you and sinking into your skin. Her thumb brushes gently against your cheekbone, the touch so tender it sends a shiver down your spine. “In fact, I think it’s… beautiful.”

She pauses for a moment, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Her lips curve into a soft, almost wistful smile, and there’s a flicker of something unspoken in her expression. “This world,” she murmurs, her tone shifting, almost reflective, “it’s changed so much. People rush through things, chasing fleeting moments without ever stopping to truly feel.”

Her fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, her touch grounding yet electrifying. “But you,” she continues, her voice dropping lower, as if she’s sharing a secret meant only for you, “you’re so… pure. So untouched. It’s refreshing, really.

Her gaze darkens, her expression unreadable yet deeply captivating, as though she’s peeling back every layer of your thoughts. “Do you trust me?” she asks softly, her voice barely more than a breath.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, but there’s a vulnerability in her question that steadies you. “Of course!...I mean… I think so,” you reply honestly, your voice shaky but sincere.

Her lips curve into a faint smile, one that feels equal parts reassuring and dangerous. “Good,” she murmurs, her voice dipping into something even softer, almost a purr. “Because I’m going to show you things you’ve only dreamed about.”

Before you can process her words, she leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like it might vanish if you move too quickly. The warmth of her breath mingles with yours, her scent enveloping you, subtle but intoxicatingly her. Her hand moves to the back of your neck, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepens the kiss, her movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment.

Your body freezes at first, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, but her other hand comes to rest lightly on your waist, her touch grounding you. Slowly, you find yourself melting under her, her warmth and presence consuming you entirely. The sound of your uneven breaths mingles with the faint rustle of fabric as she pulls you closer, her body pressing against yours with a natural ease that leaves you breathless.

Every sensation feels heightened—the softness of her lips, the faint tickle of her hair brushing against your cheek, the way her fingers grip you just tightly enough to send a thrill down your spine. Time seems to slow, the outside world dissolving until there’s nothing but the two of you, wrapped in a moment that feels both impossibly real and utterly surreal.

When she finally pulls back, her lips linger close to yours, her breath warm against your skin. Her eyes search yours, her expression a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something unreadable. “You’re trembling,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with amusement as her fingers trail down your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nod wordlessly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, the rhythm of your pounding heart almost deafening in the silence. Every nerve in your body feels heightened, attuned to her every movement. Irene’s gaze remains locked onto yours, her eyes lingering with an intensity that leaves you rooted to the spot. She seems to savor the moment, the weight of it stretching as her soft smile transforms into a knowing smirk.

Her hands move with deliberate grace, reaching for the hem of her blouse. The gentle shift of fabric brushing against her skin fills the air, and her voice, low and commanding, cuts through the silence. “Let’s take this off,” she murmurs.

Your breath catches as she slowly lifts her blouse, the smooth motion revealing more of her flawless skin. The dim light of the room casts a warm glow across her body, accentuating the curve of her waist, the soft slope of her stomach, and the graceful line of her shoulders. The air feels charged, every subtle sound—her blouse slipping away, the soft rustle as it lands on a nearby chair—heightened to a point of almost unbearable clarity.

Your eyes widen as she reaches behind her back, fingers deftly unclasping her bra. The delicate garment slides effortlessly from her shoulders, falling away like water, leaving her bare before you. Her skin is smooth, luminous in the golden light, every line and contour of her body exuding confidence and an undeniable allure. The gentle swell of her breasts, the softness of her curves, the way she holds herself with such effortless poise—it all leaves you completely spellbound.

Your chest tightens as you struggle to process the sight before you, your mind stumbling over itself in disbelief. She’s breathtaking, like a vision plucked straight from your wildest dreams, and the sheer reality of the moment sends a shiver racing down your spine. This is happening. She’s here, with you.

Irene’s eyes flick to your face, catching the way your gaze lingers on her, and her smirk deepens, a playful glint lighting up her expression. “You’re a lucky boy, aren’t you?” she teases, her voice rich with amusement and dripping with confidence.

You nod again, dumbly, your throat too dry to form a response. Her words hang in the air, teasing but undeniably true, and the way she steps closer, closing the space between you, only magnifies the sense of intimacy crackling in the room.

Her hands reach for your shirt, her fingers moving with purpose as they work their way down the buttons. Each flick of her fingers sends a jolt of electricity through you, her touch light yet deliberate, igniting your skin with every graze. “Let’s see what you’re working with,” she murmurs, her tone equal parts playful and commanding.

The fabric slides off your shoulders, falling to the floor in a whisper. Her touch lingers for a moment, her fingertips brushing against your collarbone, tracing the line of your chest, before she steps back, her gaze sweeping over you with an approving glint.

Her eyes move slowly, deliberately, taking in every detail of your bare form as though memorizing it. The weight of her attention leaves you feeling exposed but not uncomfortable—there’s something almost reverent in the way she looks at you, her expression softening just slightly as a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Not bad at all,” she murmurs, her voice low and rich with satisfaction. The words are simple, but the way she says them sends a rush of heat through you, her approval a balm to your nerves. Her gaze flicks back to yours, her smirk returning as she leans in closer, her presence overwhelming in the best possible way.

The heat between you was palpable, every breath shared and every touch igniting the tension that had been simmering between you. Irene leaned in, her lips brushing against your neck as she guided you down onto the plush couch, her movements unhurried yet deliberate. The soft cushions pressed against your back, and her warm, bare skin against yours was a sensation so overwhelming it made your thoughts scatter. Her breasts, soft and inviting, molded against your chest as she pressed closer, her body moving with a fluid confidence that left you breathless.

Her presence was intoxicating. Every shift of her weight, every brush of her smooth skin against yours, sent jolts of electricity racing through you. You felt your arousal surge uncontrollably, your body betraying you as you leaked against her thigh. The heat pooling between you was undeniable, impossible to ignore.

Irene noticed immediately, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she shifted, her thigh pressing more firmly against you. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, her gaze dipping briefly before meeting yours again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Looks like someone’s eager,” she teased, her voice low and sultry, the sound wrapping around you like silk.

Her teasing didn’t stop there. She adjusted her hips slightly, her movement deliberate as she ground against you just enough to make you gasp. The sensation was maddening, her warmth and wetness brushing against you, heightening your sensitivity to every tiny shift and touch. You tried to steady your breath, but the way she looked at you made it impossible.

“I like seeing you like this,” she murmured, her fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. The touch was featherlight, her nails grazing your skin as she studied your face with a mix of amusement and desire. “So vulnerable. So… willing.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, but it was her next move that truly unraveled you. Irene’s lips curled into a smirk as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Before we go any further,” she began, her tone dropping to a low, commanding purr, “there’s something I want to hear from you.”

Her fingers tilted your chin slightly, her gaze locking onto yours with a playful intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to call me Mommy,” she said, her voice steady, laced with a confidence that left no room for hesitation.

The words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you tried to process her request. “M-Mommy?” you stammered, the word foreign on your tongue, your voice shaky as you struggled to say it.

“That’s right,” she murmured, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Call me Mommy. I want to hear it.”

Her tone was firm but coaxing, and the raw need behind her words sent shivers cascading through you. You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing against you as you finally whispered, “Mommy,” barely audible.

Her reaction was immediate. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips, her hands tightening slightly on your shoulders as her body trembled with excitement. “Again,” she demanded softly, her voice trembling with arousal, her eyes dark with anticipation.

“Mommy,” you repeated, louder this time, the word rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It felt strange at first, but the way she responded—her thighs trembling, her lips parting slightly, the subtle arch of her back—made it feel right. Natural, even. The connection deepened, the tension between you amplifying in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“Good boy,” Irene purred, her voice thick with satisfaction and desire. Her hips moved against you again, her wetness brushing against your length, and the sensation made you twitch with need. “You have no idea how good that makes me feel,” she continued, her tone laced with unrestrained pleasure.

Her excitement was palpable, her arousal feeding off your submission to her request. The way she ground her hips against you, her movements becoming more deliberate, made your pulse race, and the soft, breathy moans escaping her lips spurred you on.

As you shifted, positioning yourself over her, a sudden thought struck you. You hesitated, your hands trembling slightly against her hips. “I… I don’t have a condom,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the moment made your confession feel like an interruption.

Irene’s eyes softened, her expression shifting instantly to one of reassurance. She cupped your cheek, her touch warm and firm as she pulled you down, letting your foreheads touch. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, her tone soothing yet steady. “Let’s just feel each other. This will be a proper first time.”

Her words washed over you, dissolving the last of your hesitation. The unwavering confidence in her voice and the tenderness in her gaze filled you with a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as she spread her legs wider, welcoming you in with an openness that left you breathless.

You align yourself with her entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. The moment felt impossibly real, every nerve alive with the electric charge of what was about to happen. But as you moved to press inside, you missed—the head of your length slipping against her slick folds instead. A flush of embarrassment washed over you, and you stammered, “S-sorry,” your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Irene let out a soft, melodic laugh, her hand reaching for yours with a gentleness that steadied you. “It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, her voice full of patience and understanding. Guiding you with practiced ease, she adjusted your angle, her touch deliberate and sure. “Here… just like this.”

With her guidance, you slid inside her, and the sensation overwhelmed you instantly, like a tidal wave crashing over your senses. The heat was all-encompassing, a searing warmth that seemed to pull you deeper, while the wet, silken texture of her body wrapped around you, cradling you in a way that felt impossibly perfect. It was as though she had been made for you, every movement drawing you further into a connection you’d only dreamed of. Your chest tightened, and your breath caught, the sheer intensity of the moment rendering you motionless for a heartbeat.

Your mind reeled as the reality of it sank in: you were inside Irene—the woman you had admired from afar for years. The one who had occupied your thoughts, your dreams, your quiet moments of longing. And now, her warmth surrounded you, her body fitting against yours like the last piece of a puzzle you never thought you’d complete. The intimacy was overwhelming, both physically and emotionally, and it took everything in you to steady yourself, to remember to breathe.

Your eyes darted to hers, seeking reassurance, and what you found made your heart swell. Irene’s gaze met yours, her eyes soft and full of tenderness, yet smoldering with desire that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips curved into a gentle smile, one that held no judgment, only encouragement. She raised her hands to your shoulders, her fingertips brushing lightly against your skin, grounding you in the moment as she whispered, “You’re doing well, baby.”

Her words melted into you, a quiet melody that soothed your nerves and spurred your confidence. Slowly, she shifted, her legs wrapping around your waist in an embrace that drew you closer. The slight arch of her back, the way her body trembled faintly against yours, made the connection feel deeper, richer. Her warmth seemed endless, her body adjusting to yours with a fluidity that felt almost magical.

Each subtle movement of hers—her hips pressing gently into yours, her arms tightening around your back—spoke a language you didn’t need words to understand. The sensation of her, of being completely joined with her, was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. Her skin was hot and smooth under your palms, her breathing soft yet uneven as it matched your own.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. One of her hands cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I want you to see how good you’re making me feel.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking onto hers. Her expression was raw, unguarded—desire mingling with affection, her lips parting slightly as a soft moan escaped. Her cheeks glowed in the dim light, her skin luminous with warmth as her breaths came quicker, matching your own. Every moment, every movement, felt like it was drawing the two of you closer, deepening the connection in a way that left you both utterly consumed.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her voice like honey, rich and soothing. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her touch soft yet firm, grounding you as your body trembled with anticipation. “Just take it slow. Feel me.”

You began to move, your hips shifting tentatively at first, each thrust deliberate and cautious. Your body quaked with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness, every movement guided by the quiet encouragement in her voice. Irene’s soft moans spilled into the air like a melody, her sounds coaxing you, pulling you deeper into the moment. The way she responded to you—the arch of her back, the way her nails lightly grazed your skin—sent waves of heat through you, spurring you on.

Her eyes caught yours, and a smile tugged at her lips, equal parts reassuring and hungry. She reached up, cupping your face in her hands, and pulled you down into a deep kiss. Her lips moved against yours with a fervent intensity, her hunger unmistakable. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a connection, a melding of desire and trust that left you spiraling.

The sensations were overwhelming—the warmth of her body beneath you, the way her breath hitched each time you moved, the intoxicating taste of her kiss. Every inch of your skin seemed alive, buzzing with electricity as her soft moans blended with the sound of your labored breaths. Your hips faltered, your rhythm breaking as the buildup reached an unbearable crescendo. The heat coiling in your core surged forward, unstoppable, and with one final thrust, you erupted inside her.

The intensity of your release hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as a raw, primal energy coursed through you. It was nothing like you’d ever felt before—every nerve alight, your mind completely blank save for the sensation of her warmth enveloping you. Your legs buckled beneath you as the strength drained from your body, and you slipped slightly, unintentionally pushing deeper into her. A sharp, unsteady gasp escaped your lips as your entire body shuddered, unable to hold itself up under the sheer force of the moment.

Irene let out a soft, breathy moan as your weight pressed into her, her hands moving to steady you, her touch gentle yet firm. Her fingers trailed along your back, grounding you as your chest heaved against hers, your breaths coming in uneven bursts. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of your vision blurring as the aftershocks rippled through you, leaving you weak and trembling.

“Mommy, I–I’m sorry,” you stammered after a moment, your voice shaky with embarrassment and panic. The realization of what had just happened hit you all at once, and you struggled to lift yourself off her, though your arms felt like jelly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Irene interrupted gently, her fingers brushing against your lips to quiet you. Her touch was warm, reassuring, and her smile, soft and knowing, made your panic ebb slightly. Her expression glowed with a mix of affection and satisfaction, her eyes sparkling as she held your gaze. There was no judgment, only warmth and a hint of playfulness that sent a flicker of heat through your chest. “It’s okay, baby. That was bound to happen.”

Her hand moved to the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you down to rest against her chest. The rise and fall of her breathing was steady, soothing, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “It just means you couldn’t help yourself,” she whispered, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Her words were gentle, but there was a glimmer of something deeper in her tone—pride, even delight.

“And honestly…” Her voice dipped lower, almost a purr as her fingers lightly trailed down your spine, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake. “It makes me feel sexy knowing how much I excite you.”

Her words hung in the air, thick with an electric tension that made your heart race all over again. The confidence in her tone, the way her lips curved into a knowing smile, only magnified the pull she had on you. She shifted slightly beneath you, her body still warm and soft against yours, her every movement exuding an effortless sensuality that left you utterly captivated.

“Feeling this way,” she murmured, her nails lightly grazing your scalp as she held you close, “it’s like you’re showing me exactly how irresistible I am to you. And that… makes me want you even more.”

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers threading gently through your hair. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, her voice a calming balm. “We have plenty of time to work on your stamina.”

Despite her reassurance, your face burned with embarrassment as you slowly pulled out of her. The sensation left you trembling, your heart racing as your eyes fell to the sight of your release seeping from her entrance. The visual was hypnotic—raw and intimate—and it sent an unbidden twitch through your already overly sensitive length. A mix of awe and arousal coursed through you, leaving your thoughts scrambled.

Irene sat up on the couch, her movements unhurried and graceful despite the intimacy you had just shared. Her bare skin glistened faintly in the soft light, her chest rising and falling with her steady breaths. When her eyes met yours, there was no judgment—only a playful glint dancing within them. She leaned back slightly, spreading her legs just enough to hold your gaze captive.

“Don’t look so embarrassed,” she teased, her tone soft but laced with amusement. “We’ve got plenty of time to figure this out.” Her voice carried an air of authority that both comforted and electrified you as she motioned for you to kneel. “Now, come here. Let me teach you how to pleasure a woman.”

The mix of her confidence and warmth quelled some of your lingering nerves, though your hands still trembled slightly as you lowered yourself to your knees. The position felt both humbling and thrilling, your gaze flickering between her face and her glistening folds, still dripping with the evidence of your earlier climax. The scent of her arousal hung in the air, musky and intoxicating, sending another pulse of heat through your body.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against the back of your head before gently cupping it, guiding you closer with practiced ease. Her touch was tender yet firm, leaving no doubt about her control of the moment. “Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her lips curling into a reassuring smile that sent a spark of courage through you. “Just follow my lead.”

The moment your lips met her warm, slick folds, your senses were flooded. The taste was intense and impossible to describe—earthy, musky, and utterly intoxicating. It was primal, a flavor that ignited something deep within you, rendering the nervous chatter in your mind silent. All that remained was the overwhelming need to please her, to feel her body respond to your touch.

“Good,” Irene breathed, her voice soft and laced with pleasure. “Now, use your tongue to tease me. Start with light strokes… right there.”

You followed her instructions carefully, your tongue moving tentatively at first, flicking gently against her entrance. The wet heat of her arousal coated your tongue as you explored her, drawing soft sighs of approval from her lips. Her hand remained steady on the back of your head, her fingers threading lightly through your hair as she guided your movements.

“Press a little harder,” she murmured, her hips shifting slightly against your mouth. Her voice was patient but tinged with desire, every word spurring you on. “Yes, just like that. Now move up… here.”

She pointed to her clit with one hand, her fingers brushing it lightly to show you exactly where to focus. You obeyed, your lips wrapping around the sensitive nub as your tongue began to flick against it in slow, deliberate movements. The effect was immediate—her thighs trembled slightly, and a low moan escaped her lips, rich and unrestrained.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her voice catching as her head tilted back. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

The weight of her praise lit a fire inside you, driving your movements to become bolder and more confident. Your tongue traced circles around her clit, alternating with quick flicks that matched the rhythm of her shallow, rapid breaths. Her body responded in ways that left you in awe—her hips shifting, her thighs trembling, her breathing growing heavier with each moment.

“Use more pressure here,” she urged, her voice breaking slightly with urgency. “Yes… just like that. Now flick… mmm, perfect.”

Her moans grew louder, her hands gripping your hair—not to guide you, but to anchor herself as the sensations overwhelmed her. The tremble in her thighs intensified, her body tightening as your tongue worked her closer to the edge. Her nails pressed lightly into your scalp, her hips rocking in time with your movements as she lost herself in the rising pleasure.

The rhythm of her moans and the way her body reacted filled you with a sense of accomplishment, a primal pride that pushed you to keep going. You adjusted, moving with her as your tongue worked in unison with her rising need, tracing every sensitive spot she pointed out. Her thighs quaked against your cheeks, her voice becoming a mix of gasps and cries as you brought her closer, her pleasure radiating through every part of you.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice breathless and tinged with desperation. Her hips began to move instinctively, grinding against your mouth, her rhythm purposeful and commanding. The slick warmth of her folds pressed firmly against your lips, her arousal coating your tongue as the taste and scent of her overwhelmed your senses. Every soft cry, every tremble of her thighs, spurred you on, pushing you to match her urgency.

Her moans grew sharper, raw and unrestrained, her control slipping as her body chased its breaking point. Her hips bucked harder, grinding against you, her movements becoming erratic as you pressed your tongue harder against her clit. You flicked and sucked with everything you had, fueled not just by the pleasure radiating from her but by the sheer pride swelling in your chest. This was Irene—the idol you had adored for years—and you were the one unraveling her, the one reducing her to this trembling, vulnerable state.

Her thighs clenched around your head, her hands tangling in your hair as her moans became cries, each sound sharper and more desperate than the last. You felt the tension building in her body, every shift of her hips, every quiver of her muscles driving her closer and closer to the edge. The knowledge that you—someone so inexperienced—were capable of drawing this level of pleasure from her only deepened your determination.

“I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking as her back arched off the couch. Her tone was raw, almost pleading, as she clung to the final threads of control. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare stop.”

Her words hit you like a command, and you obeyed without hesitation, moving with a purpose that mirrored her rising need. Her body tensed beneath you, her thighs trembling violently against your face as the tension inside her finally snapped. With one final, desperate grind, Irene cried out—a raw, guttural sound that filled the room. Her body arched as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her muscles pulsing and quivering against your mouth as her orgasm consumed her.

The moment was mesmerizing, intimate, and deeply humbling. As she came apart in your hands, you felt an immense swell of pride, the realization hitting you with staggering force: you had done this. You had brought her to this peak. The woman you’d admired for so long, this untouchable vision of perfection, was utterly undone because of you.

Her grip on your hair tightened briefly, her fingers threading through it as though to steady herself, before her hands fell away, her body collapsing back onto the couch in a state of complete surrender. You pulled back slightly, your lips and chin glistening, your own breath ragged as you took her in. Irene was a vision—her flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. She was beautiful, vulnerable, and utterly yours in that moment.

As her breathing steadied, her eyes fluttered open, her gaze softening as it met yours. A satisfied smile spread across her lips, a mix of pride, affection, and something deeper flickering in her expression. She reached out, her fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry, each word dripping with satisfaction. Her praise sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body, your heart pounding with both pride and awe. The fact that she—your idol—was praising you, calling you her “good boy,” only deepened the intimacy of the moment.

“You’re a fast learner,” she added, her tone laced with both amusement and pride. But as her smile widened, there was something else in her gaze—possessiveness, a quiet but unmistakable sense of ownership. She loved knowing that she was your first and only, the one who had drawn this effort, this passion, from you.

“You know,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline as she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping lower. “I love how no one else has ever seen you like this, felt you like this.” Her lips curved into a smirk as her fingers trailed down to your chest, lingering there as she added, “And no one else will.”

Her possessiveness was subtle but undeniable, a claim spoken through her touch, her gaze, and the way her words wrapped around you. The thought of being hers, of belonging to her in this way, sent a thrill through you that mingled with the lingering pride of having brought her so much pleasure.

As her eyes drifted downward, her smirk deepened. She noticed your arousal, now fully hardened again, throbbing with renewed energy despite the intensity of what you’d just shared. Her confidence radiated as she leaned back slightly, her movements unhurried, her body still glowing in the aftermath.

“Well,” she said, her voice teasing but filled with promise, her fingers trailing down your chest, “it seems like you’re ready for round two.” Her tone carried the same mix of pride and playful dominance that left you completely captivated, her gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race all over again.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, but the sight of Irene—her body still glowing, her skin flushed, her lips curled into a satisfied yet teasing smile—only drove your need higher. Her eyes, half-lidded but sharp, seemed to drink you in, a mixture of pride and hunger swirling within them. It was a look that sent a jolt through every part of you.

You knelt before her, determination and longing fueling your every move. “Mommy, let me try again,” you said, your voice low but trembling with nervous excitement. The smirk that spread across her lips deepened, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your skin tingle, as if she was already savoring what came next.

“Redemption, huh?” Irene teased, her sultry tone wrapping around you like velvet. She leaned back slightly, her hands trailing up your arms, encouraging and expectant. “Alright, baby. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Her legs parted gracefully, welcoming you in, and the heat radiating from her folds drew you closer, your arousal throbbing at the sight of her. You positioned yourself carefully, hovering above her, your hands steady on her hips as her fingers traced idle patterns along your arms. Every touch, every look she gave you felt like both a challenge and an invitation.

This time, you were resolute. With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid inside her, her tight, slick warmth enveloping you completely. A shuddering gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure igniting every nerve in your body. Irene’s head fell back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan slipped from her lips. Her hands gripped your shoulders, grounding herself as her body adjusted to your presence.

You began to move, your hips rolling in slow, steady thrusts, savoring every inch of her. Each motion elicited a quiet sound of approval from her, her breath hitching slightly as you set a confident rhythm. The connection between you grew with every movement, the sound of her quiet moans filling the space, spurring you on.

Then, an idea struck you—a bold impulse born of your longing to see her completely undone. Lowering your head, you brushed your lips against the curve of her breast. Irene’s eyes opened briefly, her breath catching in surprise, but she didn’t stop you. If anything, the slight arch of her back told you to keep going. Your tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it with light strokes before pulling it gently into your mouth.

“Ah—” The sound she made was sharper than before, a soft cry that sent a thrill coursing through you. Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, her body responding instantly to the new sensation. “Oh… good boy,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure as your tongue circled her sensitive bud.

The pride in her voice ignited something deeper within you, driving your lips and tongue to lavish her other breast with equal attention. You alternated between gentle nibbles and slow, deliberate flicks of your tongue, watching as her chest rose and fell more erratically. Her reactions spurred you on, her soft gasps and low moans growing louder with every touch, every kiss.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice rich with approval but laced with a faint edge of possession. The way you explored her body, your eagerness and growing confidence, made her heart race. The thought that she alone had awakened this side of you, that no one else would ever know this version of you, filled her with a fierce pride that only deepened her desire.

After a few more languid thrusts, you felt yourself nearing the edge again, the tight heat of her body pulling you dangerously close. But this time, you pulled out, your resolve firm. Lowering yourself between her legs, you replaced your length with your tongue, eagerly lapping at her folds to keep her pleasure building. The slickness of her arousal coated your lips, the intoxicating taste spurring you to push past your own limits.

“Fuck…. Such a good boy,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in your hair as you worked her clit with focused precision. The way her hips bucked against your mouth, her breath catching with each flick of your tongue, filled you with a pride that matched her own. You wanted her to feel everything, to give her every ounce of yourself.

Her moans grew louder, her voice tinged with desperation as she clung to the edge. “Yes… just like that,” she panted, her body trembling as you brought her closer again. “Don’t stop, baby.”

When you felt ready once more, you rose above her, positioning yourself carefully. Irene’s legs wrapped around your waist, drawing you in as you slid back inside her. Her moan this time was deeper, her nails dragging lightly down your back as you set a steady rhythm. The wet, slick friction was overwhelming, but you were determined to match her pace, to give her everything she deserved.

As your thrusts quickened, you dipped your head again, your mouth capturing her nipple once more. The unexpected move made her gasp sharply, her back arching into you as her hips met yours in perfect rhythm. “Oh—yes,” she cried, her voice raw and unrestrained. The mix of sensations—your tongue on her breasts and your length driving into her—pushed her closer, the sounds of her pleasure creating a symphony that left you both breathless.

Her body tightened around you, her warmth and the sheer intensity of the connection sending you spiraling toward your own release. The way she moaned your name, the way her hands gripped your arms as if she couldn’t let you go, made you feel both powerful and completely hers. Every motion, every sound, every shared breath between you deepened the bond, leaving you utterly captivated by her and the moment you had created together.

“Mommy,” you murmured instinctively, the word slipping from your lips as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Her name carried the weight of your longing, your admiration, and the raw intensity of the moment. The sound of it filled the air between you, intimate and charged.

The effect on her was immediate. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a look of wild hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. Her lips parted slightly, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded to the sound of her name. “Say it again,” she demanded, her voice trembling with need, thick with desire.

“Mommy,” you repeated, your voice rough and fervent, the syllables tumbling out with an urgency that mirrored the heat building between you. “You feel so good.”

Her reaction was electric. Her back arched off the couch, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave faint crescents in your skin. The way her body clenched around you, pulling you deeper with every thrust, made your pulse pound in your ears. Her moans became louder, more urgent, the sound of her pleasure igniting something primal in you.

The way she responded to you—her gasps, the tremor in her thighs, the flush spreading down her chest—filled you with an overwhelming sense of pride. You could see it in her face, the way she lost herself in you, and it made your heart race with the knowledge that you were the one drawing this from her. You moved faster, the rhythm of your hips frantic now, your control slipping as the tension coiled tighter inside you both.

“Mommy, I’m close” you groaned again, the title spilling from your lips like a prayer. Each time you said it, her reaction grew more visceral, her body tightening around you, her cries reaching new heights.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her hands cupping your face as she pulled you down into a kiss that left you breathless. Her lips moved against yours with desperate hunger, the connection between you electric. Her taste, her scent, the warmth of her skin—all of it consumed you entirely, blurring the edges of the world around you.

“I’m so close,” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with vulnerability and urgency. Her body trembled beneath you, her hips meeting yours with unrestrained fervor.

“Me too,” you panted, your forehead pressing against hers as your thrusts grew erratic, the tension in your core threatening to snap. The sound of her voice, the way her body clung to yours—it was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Her release came first, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from her lips as her body convulsed around you. The sound was raw, unrestrained, and it echoed in your ears, sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. The way her inner walls clenched and pulsed rhythmically around your length was unlike anything you had ever experienced—an intoxicating mix of heat and pressure that made it impossible to hold back. Her thighs trembled violently, tightening around your waist as though she were anchoring herself to you in the overwhelming storm of her pleasure.

Her back arched sharply, her chest pressing against yours as wave after wave of ecstasy wracked her body. You could feel every shudder, every tremble, her body’s response drawing you deeper into the moment. Her hands gripped at your shoulders, her nails biting into your skin as though she couldn’t contain the sheer force of it. Each convulsion, each flutter of her body around you, only intensified the sensations coursing through you, pulling you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper as she let her body sink deeper into the couch. “Fill mommy up. You’ve been so good for me.”

The sight of her—her head tilted back, her lips parted as breathless moans spilled from her, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light—was enough to send you spiraling. You felt your own release building, coiling tighter and tighter until there was no holding back.

Your release surged through you, your body shaking as you spilled into her, the waves of pleasure crashing over you both in perfect unison. The shared intensity was overwhelming, each of you amplifying the other’s climax in a way that made it feel infinite, boundless. Your hips moved instinctively, prolonging the moment, the friction and heat drawing out every last shudder of ecstasy.

Her arms wrapped around you as you collapsed against her, your bodies slick with sweat and trembling in the aftermath. The soft rise and fall of her chest beneath you, the gentle rhythm of her breathing mingling with yours, created a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Irene’s fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns across your back, grounding you as your heart began to slow. The scent of your combined musk lingered in the air, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

“Pretty good for your first time,” she murmured softly, her voice tinged with satisfaction and a lingering huskiness. There was pride in her tone, but also something deeper—an affection that made your chest tighten. Her hands slid into your hair, cradling your head against her as she pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her eyes sparkled with serene contentment, her expression relaxed but teasing as her fingers brushed through your damp hair. “So,” she murmured, her voice warm and playful, “how does it feel to finally cross that line?”

Your cheeks flushed, but the words came easily, carried by the warmth of the moment. “It’s… indescribable,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest. “Because it was with you. Never in a million years did I think this would happen.”

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, your lips savoring the softness of her skin. The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a protective shield, the glow of your shared connection filling the room with a warmth you never wanted to fade. Her hand found its way to the back of your neck, her fingers lightly stroking your skin as she held you close.

As the intensity of the moment began to ebb, you collapsed fully against her, your chest pressing against hers as her arms wrapped protectively around you. Her fingertips brushed tenderly through your hair, each motion laced with affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of praise. “You made mommy feel so good… I’m proud of you.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, the sincerity in her tone soothing any lingering nerves. You remained pressed against her, your bodies entwined in the afterglow of your shared release. Her soft breaths ghosted against your ear, each exhale a tender reminder of the closeness you had just shared. Slowly, her hands began to move again, tracing gentle, soothing strokes along your back. Her touch was light but steady, radiating a quiet affection that anchored you to the moment.

The high of your climax still lingered in the air as your breathing slowed and synced with hers. Irene’s arms remained securely wrapped around you, her fingers drawing delicate patterns along your spine. The warmth of her skin against yours, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the faint hum of satisfaction in her chest created a cocoon of intimacy that made the rest of the world feel far away.

After a long pause, her voice broke the silence, quiet but firm. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” she said suddenly, her fingers stilling as she lifted your face to meet her gaze. Her expression was calm but serious, her eyes searching yours as though seeking a promise. “I mean it. I’m not letting you go after tonight.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, and your chest tightened as you processed the weight of what she was saying. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay with you.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, her eyes shimmering with a mix of relief and affection. “Good boy,” she murmured, her tone gentle but laced with pride. “Let’s go to my place, then. I want you there. With me.”

Her words sent a surge of excitement through you, a mix of nerves and disbelief swirling in your chest. Irene’s house—her personal space, her sanctuary—it was something you’d only ever dreamed of seeing. But the warmth in her eyes and the soft, grounding pressure of her hand on yours erased any hesitation.

She helped you dress, her movements unhurried and deliberate, her quiet confidence calming your racing thoughts. Once ready, the two of you stepped out into the cool night air. The hum of lingering fans still filled the space outside, their energy a sharp contrast to the quiet intimacy you’d just shared. Irene tugged a cap low over her face and adjusted her mask to obscure her features, her elegant jawline and sharp eyes barely visible beneath her disguise. But even with her face half-hidden, her presence was unmistakable to you.

The crowd wasn’t massive, but it was enough to make your chest tighten with worry. What if someone spotted her? The thought made your pulse quicken, and you instinctively glanced over at her. She caught your gaze, her eyes softening as she squeezed your hand lightly. “It’s fine,” she murmured, her voice calm but encouraging. “Just stay close to me.”

You nodded, but the nervousness lingered, your mind racing with the thought of her being recognized. Then, without really thinking, you tightened your grip on her hand, an idea sparking in your chest. “This way!” you whispered, breaking into a grin as you gently pulled her along a quieter path.

She blinked, momentarily surprised, before a soft laugh escaped her lips. Irene allowed herself to be led, her steps quickening to match your pace. You darted through the dimly lit side alleys, ducking past clusters of fans and steering her confidently through the maze of the venue’s surroundings. Every so often, you glanced back at her to make sure she was keeping up, your boyish energy bubbling over in a way you couldn’t suppress.

She didn’t say much, but the amused twinkle in her eyes was impossible to miss. The spontaneity of your actions, the way you move with purpose yet couldn’t hide your youthful excitement—it caught her off guard in the best way. She hadn’t expected this side of you, and it made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she let you take charge, the simple joy radiating from you pulling her in further.

“You’re really into this, huh?” she finally said, her tone light but carrying a teasing affection.

You glanced back, your grin sheepish but bright. “Just trying to keep you out of the spotlight,” you replied earnestly, your voice slightly breathless from the adrenaline of it all.

Irene shook her head, her smile deepening. “You’re cute,” she murmured, her voice almost to herself. The way you darted through the shadows, focused yet visibly buzzing with excitement, made her want to laugh—but not in mockery. There was something so genuine about your energy, so pure, that she found herself falling for it without even realizing.

When the two of you finally reached her car, you opened the door for her with an almost comical nervousness, as though you were escorting royalty. She chuckled softly as she slid into the driver’s seat, watching you fumble slightly with your seatbelt before settling in beside her. The sleek interior of her car was exactly what you’d imagined—elegant, understated, and carrying the faint scent of her perfume. You tried to stay composed, but the reality of being in Irene’s car hit you all at once.

“This is amazing,” you muttered, your voice half in awe. “I mean… your car. I can’t believe I’m here.”

Her eyes flicked to you, amusement tugging at her lips. “It’s just a car, baby,” she teased, though there was a warmth in her tone that made your cheeks flush.

“Yeah, but it’s your car,” you replied, barely able to contain yourself. You glanced out the window as the city lights blurred into streaks of color, your thoughts spinning as you tried to process everything. “I never thought I’d—this is just… insane.”

Irene smiled quietly, shaking her head as she returned her focus to the road. “Relax,” she said, her voice gentle but teasing. “We’re almost home.”

The journey passed in a surreal haze for you, but for Irene, it was something else entirely. She kept stealing glances at you out of the corner of her eye, watching the way your awe slowly slipped out in small, unguarded bursts. The way you ran your fingers lightly over the seat belt strap as if to confirm it was real, the way you gazed out the window with wide eyes, taking in every detail like you were living a dream—it all tugged at something deep inside her. She didn’t say much, but her heart softened with every moment, the quiet joy you radiated making her smile more than she realized.

When the car finally pulled into her driveway, your breath hitched. Her house was grand yet understated, its sleek lines illuminated by the soft glow of the outdoor lights. The manicured garden added a touch of warmth, the entire scene exuding Irene’s elegance. You barely managed to follow her inside, your steps faltering as you took in your surroundings.

Inside, the awe only deepened. Photos of Irene adorned the walls, each one more striking than the last. You paused in front of one—a candid shot of her backstage, her face lit up with laughter—and your chest tightened. Her house felt so unmistakably her, a blend of sophistication and comfort that made every corner feel like an extension of her personality.

“This is…” you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find the right words.

“Overwhelming?” she teased, her tone light as she watched your reaction.

You nodded, laughing nervously. “Yeah. It’s just so… you.”

Her smile softened, and she stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against yours. “You’re so cute,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of pride. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment before she tilted her head toward the hallway. “Come on, baby. Let’s get comfortable.”

She led you to her bedroom, and your breath caught as the door opened. The space was stunning, every detail carefully curated to reflect Irene’s elegance and warmth. The soft glow of ambient lighting bathed the room in a golden hue, highlighting the muted tones of the walls and the understated luxury of her furniture. Her bed, draped in soft, inviting fabrics that looked as though they’d been handpicked for comfort and sophistication, seemed impossibly large and welcoming. The faint scent of citrus lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Each step closer made the nervous excitement bubbling inside you intensify.

Irene guided you gently toward the bed, her touch firm yet tender as her fingers brushed against yours. There was something unspoken in her movements—a quiet confidence that reassured you as she tugged you closer. “Come here,” she murmured, her voice soft and steady, laced with an affection that sent warmth flooding through your chest.

She perched on the edge of the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate, and pulled you down beside her. Her arms wrapped around you easily, holding you close. Her hand found its way to your hair, her fingers threading through it as she began stroking gently, the repetitive motion grounding you. “Relax, baby,” she whispered, her voice low and soothing. “You’re home now.”

You leaned into her touch, the weight of her arm around your shoulders anchoring you. The warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it all felt so calming, so intimate. Then she shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she asked softly, her eyes searching yours.

You nodded, the sincerity in her tone and the softness of her expression easing the nervous flutter in your chest.

“Good.” Her lips curved into a faint smile as she stood, her movements graceful and unhurried. She reached for the hem of her blouse and, without breaking eye contact, pulled it over her head in one fluid motion. The sight of her bare skin left you breathless. Even though you’d just shared the most intimate of moments with her, the sheer beauty of her still made your pulse race.

Irene’s fingers moved deftly, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her chest was fully exposed now, her skin glowing softly in the warm light of the room. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger, drinking in every detail as though it were the first time. She noticed your gaze and let out a soft, amused laugh, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Still staring?” she teased gently, her voice carrying a note of affection that sent warmth rushing through you. “You’ve already seen everything, baby.”

“I… I can’t help it,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You’re just…”

“Perfect?” she finished for you, her smile widening slightly as she stepped closer. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Her tone was playful but tinged with a quiet pride.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. “Your turn,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “Strip for me”

Your hands trembled slightly as you obeyed, pulling off your shirt and kicking off your shoes before working on your pants. The nervous excitement from earlier had returned in full force, your heart pounding as you stood before her in nothing but your boxers. She watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle, her gaze unrelenting yet warm.

“Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low and satisfied as she took your hand and guided you closer. “Now, come to bed.”

The invitation in her voice made your chest tighten, and you followed her lead, climbing onto the plush mattress as she settled beside you. The softness of the bed cradled you, and Irene’s warmth as she pulled you into her embrace was both soothing and electrifying. Her hands found their way to your hair again, her touch gentle but deliberate as she stroked slowly.

“Let mommy take care of you,” she murmured, tilting your face toward her chest. Her fingers brushed your jaw, her touch tender but insistent. “Suckle.”

The word hung in the air, intimate and commanding, and your heart thudded in your chest as her gaze met yours. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only a quiet reassurance that melted away your nerves. Slowly, you pressed your lips against her, your mouth opening as your tongue brushed against the softness of her skin. The warmth of her breast was overwhelming, its tenderness enveloping you completely as you latched instinctively.

“That’s it,” she cooed, her voice soft and melodic, a lullaby just for you. Her hand returned to your hair, her fingers stroking through it in a gentle rhythm that matched her breathing. “Good boy. Just relax now.”

As you began to suckle, a wave of calm washed over you. Each slow, deliberate pull of your mouth deepened the connection between you, the act soothing you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Her skin was warm and impossibly soft against your lips, the faint mixture of her musk and the lingering traces of her perfume filling your senses with every breath. The world outside dissolved, replaced by the steady rise and fall of her chest, her heartbeat thrumming softly in your ear, and the gentle hum of satisfaction vibrating in her throat.

Irene’s fingers continued their rhythmic strokes through your hair, her touch grounding you in the moment. Each sweep of her fingertips sent a tingling warmth through your scalp, a sensation that soothed the last vestiges of nervous energy. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh, your body sinking further into her embrace. Your limbs grew heavy with relaxation, your breathing naturally syncing with hers as you nestled closer.

For Irene, the moment was nothing short of exquisite. Every gentle pull of your mouth sent a ripple of warmth through her chest, a soft but insistent tug at something deeper within her. The sight of you, vulnerable and utterly trusting in her arms, filled her with a heady mix of pride and satisfaction. Your quiet dependence, the way your head rested against her so naturally, ignited an indescribable sense of fulfillment.

Her breath hitched slightly, the intimacy of the act stirring an unfamiliar but welcome heat in her core. Her nipples, already sensitive, responded to the gentle pressure of your mouth, the warm pull sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. She tilted her head back slightly, her lips parting as a soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. The mixture of the physical sensations and the emotional connection was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice low and possessive, the words brushing against the top of your head like a promise. Her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your hair, the act both tender and claiming. “No one else will ever have this.”

The conviction in her voice wrapped around you, comforting and commanding all at once. Your movements slowed, the gentle rhythm of your suckling growing lazier as the soothing comfort of her embrace lulled you further into a haze of peace and safety. Her hand, still stroking your hair, pressed with just enough firmness to make you feel securely tethered to her.

Irene closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sensations wash over her. The warmth of your body against hers, the subtle vibrations of your breathing, and the soft sounds you made created a cocoon of intimacy she didn’t want to end. Her fingers moved from your hair to trace the curve of your cheek, her touch light and lingering, as if she couldn’t resist savoring the moment.

“Sleep, baby,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady, thick with affection. “You’re safe here… with me.”

The words settled over you like a blanket, and with them came an overwhelming sense of peace. The glow of the room, the steady hum of her voice, and the enveloping warmth of her body surrounded you completely. Each pull of your mouth became slower, more relaxed, as the last remnants of tension melted away.

For Irene, the sight of you—so content, so utterly hers—stirred something deep within her. The possessiveness she felt was matched by an aching tenderness, the realization that you had given her something so precious and irreplaceable. She cradled you closer, her hand resting protectively on your back as her lips brushed another gentle kiss to your forehead.

As your breathing evened out and sleep claimed you, Irene watched you with quiet reverence. The weight of your trust, your vulnerability, filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t known she needed. Together, wrapped in the glow of the moment, she knew this wasn’t fleeting. It was the start of something profound, something she would hold onto with everything she had.

[sacredsorceress]

Spell on You / Logan Howlett

pairing: bestfriend!logan x f!witch!reader summary: when logan finds out another man bought you a drink at a halloween party, your relationship changes word count: 2.2k a/n: scott is an ass because i just know movie!cyclops would love to mess with logan's love life ('97 scott stays too busy for this). this is a bit rushed but i hope you enjoy!! warnings: reader wears a dress and thigh highs (slay), alcohol consumption, mention of smoke, jealousy, fluff, classic bff to lovers trope

logan masterlist | inbox | full masterlist

The bum. bum. bum. of the music echoed throughout the establishment, vibrating against its walls and floorboards. The sea of bar-crawlers intent on having the worst of hangovers in the morning were shoulder to shoulder, bumping against Logan as he made his way through the crowd to you.

The room reeked of smoke of various kinds and if it hadn't been for the overworking of the fans above, Logan was sure he would've gotten high secondhand. But it was Halloween night- certain factors were out of his control.

Though, like a lighthouse in the night, Logan heard your voice beckoning him over to the bar.

"Boooooooo!" You shouted, glass in your hand. "You were supposed to dress up!"

Logan smirked at your complaint, leaning against the bar.

"Yeah?" He asked. "'Cause you're so original?"

Logan's eyes trailed from your thigh high boots to your dress to finally, a witch's hat. Being a witch yourself, the irony was unavoidable.

"Very creative, sweetheart."

You felt a heart skip a beat at your best friend's pet name.

In shock of many, you and Logan had become fast friends. The man who had always managed to have a perpetually grumpy demeanor about him had paired perfectly with you. You were able to brush off Logan's jokes, matching them with your own in a way that had escalated so far as to make your fellow X-Men wonder if the two of you had begun to speak your own language.

"At least it's a costume, Logan." You argued. "What are you meant to be?"

"-Oh I've got this one."

Scott.

Any inclination of joy written on Logan's face was quickly erased.

"A dick?" Scott said, slinging his arm around your shoulder. "I've gotta say Logan, you've nailed it."

Logan rolled his eyes, inching closer to the two of you as a couple nudged against him to order at the bar. Noting the drink in your hand, Logan shifted the conversation.

"I thought I told you I was buying tonight?"

Your eyes lowered from Logan's to the drink in your hand. You traced the rim of the glass as you shrugged.

"Oh this-“

Scott interrupted:

"Guy over there bought it for her." Scott said, a shit-eating grin on his face as he pointed to the opposite end of the establishment. "Told her he'd be back later 'to get to know her better'."

You felt yourself grow warm under Logan's gaze, refusing to meet his eyes.

Lately yours and Logan's relationship had become more complicated, blurring the lines between friendship and something more. Pet names like sweetheart and princess flowed out of his mouth without a second thought. You had stopped going on dates with new men- something about it feeling wrong when you and Logan had... whatever you had. He was your best friend, that you were sure of. But, with Logan's eyes burning a hole through you, you wondered if he still felt that way.

You had been hoping to keep the drink a secret and avoid speaking to the man later in the night, but you should've known that Scott and Logan's rivalry would make any chance of that impossible.

Logan's eyes trailed from you to the man Scott was pointing to across the room. He looked about your age, dressed with a cloak around his shoulders and a pair of cheap plastic teeth slipping from his mouth as he laughed with his friends.

Logan scowled, raising his eyebrow at you.

"You into... that?"

You shrugged, hiding your eyes beneath the rim of your hat.

"It's just a drink, Logan." You said. "He probably forgot about me anyway."

Holding his gaze, Logan slowly nodded, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"You want your usual?"

You furrowed your eyebrows.

"What are you talking about, Lo?" You asked. "I have a drink."

Logan shook his head, tapping his fingers against the bar to get the bartender's attention.

"I'm not gonna sit here and watch you have some other guy's drink." Logan said firmly. "Now, what are you having? 'Cause you either tell me, or I'm ordering for you."

You felt a burning sensation in your chest as your pulse quickened.

You were used to Logan's stubbornness and protective regard for those he cared about, but you had never seen him so firm with you before. You were someone who could handle yourself and as much as he worried about you, he had never claimed you in such a way as he did now.

If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he was jealous.

"My usual."

You watched as he leaned over the bar, ordering the both of your drinks from the bartender.

The lighting in the bar was dim. Most of the things that you could make out were highlighted by an array of multicolored LED lights that had been flickering throughout the room.

The light above Logan's head flicked from green to purple, showcasing the sheen of sweat that had begun running down his temple from the capacity of the party. His sleeves were rolled to his elbow, the veins in his arms protruding as he leaned against the counter top.

Sometimes you wondered what it felt like- to be one of the women who had the opportunity to touch Logan. You had had passing touches here and there but you wondered if you could feel the weight of his adamantium bones in your hand- whether his skin remained rough despite his regenerative abilities.

The thoughts were cruel. He was your friend.

But then again, were you really his?

Logan handed you your drink, leaning the small of his back against the counter. Gingerly taking the glass from his hands, your fingertips graced his skin.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the DJ's music against your feet. You listened to indistinguishable chatter rattle throughout the building.

"He said he liked the 'juxtaposition of my face to the costume'." You said, referring to the man who bought you a drink. "I'm not even sure that he used the word right."

A smirk rose onto Logan's face.

"What a dick." Logan scoffed, nursing his whiskey.

You laughed along with him, nudging your elbow into his side.

"He is, isn't he?" You joked. "I bet he's super pretentious."

Logan glanced down at you, noticing the small smile that graced your lips as you met his eyes.

God, he felt silly. He was over two hundred years old and yet, he found himself with a crush on a woman and unable to tell her. With anyone else, he would have made a move the second he saw them. But you were his friend- his closest friend.

You had a relationship that meant more to him than anything in his life. Did he want you? Yes, but he wasn't going to be the one to admit it and scare you off. It had to be you.

So Logan put out his feelers and afforded himself plausible deniability- calling you sweetheart, buying you drinks... sitting by your side after a mission went sideways. However, there was something about the two of you sharing a life in the mansion that made him forget that other men could see you the way that he did.

Seeing the multicolored lights illuminate your skin and the way your eyelashes batted as you smiled up at him, Logan was reminded that he didn't have forever.

"Not your thing?" He asked.

Logan asked it casually. He was still leaned over the bar, but his body had turned to encase yours- one arm snaking itself around your back while the other held the whiskey glass.

The space between you grew hot and you could feel his warm breath against your face. The scent of the cologne that you had gotten him for his birthday drifted up your nose as he hovered closer.

Sometimes you felt that Logan was off living a dozen lifetimes in his head despite standing directly in front of you, but here... now... his focus was entirely on you and you knew he was waiting on your answer with bated breath.

You don't know whether it was the liquor or the realisation that the wolverine had placed you at the center of his universe, but you gained a confidence you had lacked in the weeks since your relationship shifted.

Glancing at his empty glass, you flicked your hand, filling it up.

"No," You sighed as your eyes trailed up his body. "I like them a bit... rougher around the edges."

This, Logan decided, was your sign. You were pushing the boundaries just as he had done, seeing if he'd take the bait.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he leaned in further. The music in the bar was getting increasingly louder as the night went on and Logan's lips were now inches from your ear, sending goosebumps down your neck.

"That right?" Logan asked.

"Mhm."

Logan could hear your heart pounding in your chest and felt peace in knowing that his was doing the same. This wasn't the same as his other ventures- he wouldn't wake up in the morning to find an empty space in his mattress where you had been the night before. What you two had would be permanent, he told himself; a fixture in an otherwise chaotic life like his.

In the life of a man with regeneration, he rarely worried about what happened next. But with his lips grazing the skin of the woman he loved most, Logan could feel a drop of whiskey hit his skin- fallen from the glass that sat in his shaking hand.

Then, he felt your hands push gently against his chest. And his world came crashing down.

Your eyes meeting his, you shook your head.

"I love you, Logan."

For anyone else, this would've been confirmation. But Logan had heard these words from you a hundred times. You loved him... platonically. He felt the wind knocked out of him at what he thought was resignation.

Pulling away, Logan nodded.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Hearing him say it in the same voice he always did- the dismissive tone meant to mask any indication of care- you gripped his shirt, forcing him to look at you.

"No." You said firmly. "I love you. I'm saying this can't be a one night thing, Logan. I love you."

Logan saw the desperation in your eyes and couldn't hold back. He slammed his drink against the bar and held your face in his hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, thinking that as silly as it was, what he had been waiting for was finally happening. No matter the amount of times he had touched you, this time was different. As strong as you were, he was afraid to ruin the precious object he was holding in his hands- you and your future.

Logan swore your cheeks were softer and the scent of your perfume had wrapped himself around your finger.

"Say it back, Lo."

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue was enough confirmation he needed. Pulling your face to his, Logan's lips crashed against yours.

Your fingers never left his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you hummed into the kiss. Logan's hands moved to lay against your waist. The noise of the bar fell away as Logan focused on your breathing and the skip of your heartbeat as he squeezed you tighter.

When he heard the familiar, hypnotic hum of your magic, he pulled away only slightly.

In the heat of your kiss, a forcefield had formed around the two of you. When you noticed the golden shimmer of your magic, you pulled your hands way from Logan, bringing the forcefield down with it.

"Sorry."

Logan smirked.

"Don't gotta be worried," He said, running his thumb against your cheek. "You're safe with me."

Logan wasn't sure if he'd be able to always keep you safe in the hectic life that you two shared, but he would be damned if he wouldn't die trying. You two fit together like pieces of a puzzle and although he wasn't sure how it would work, if one thing was for sure- you weren't losing him.

"I love you too."

Holding you in his hands, the knowledge finally settling in that you were his, this dingey bar was the last place he wanted to be.

And it was as if you read his mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

Glancing around the room, Logan noticed two things: one being that half the eyes in the room were on you since your accidental forcefield, and the other, Scott barreling over through a crowd of college girls towards you. These two things paired with the fact that the woman of his dreams was standing beside him, Logan was more than ready to, kindly, get the fuck out of there.

Logan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and guided you out of the bar.

"That's my girl."

author's note: thank you for reading! just a short lil oneshot for spooky season

[paddockletters]

secret's out | lewis hamilton smau

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader summary: lewis accidentally reveals his secret relationship with you in an instagram story, sparking fan frenzy. request: yes/ thank you so muchhhh! author’s note:hey anon, i really loved and enjoyed writing your idea! thanks for you request and hope you like it and and sorry it took me too long❤

lewishamilton

lewis' imessage

y/username

liked by lewishamilton, f1 and 2,467,095 others

yourusername: i guess our secret has been reveled bt none other than my husband...

comments...

georgerussell63: you guys definitely made that podium moment legendary. Wishing you both all the best! 💪🏼❤️

danielriccirado: You guys, first you hid your relationship and then your wedding and you didn't even invite us…. I'm hurt

user1: the fact that george is his teammate and he didn't even know that lewis was married 😭😭

user2: ok, we already knew that lewis was very private but this, THIS is another level

charles_leclerc: took you long enough, Lewis! Wishing you guys all the happiness! 🥳

user3: can we just appreciate the casual hard launch AND a kiss on the podium?? absolute power couple energy 💯

user4: he way Lewis looked at you during the podium 😍 He’s been in love the whole time!!

user5: he fact that Lewis called you his wife on his story and we all lost it 🤣🤣 Congrats on your not-so-secret love anymore!

y/username

liked by lewishamilton, f1 and 3,456,955 others

yourusername: this secret and announcement took us less time this last time

comments:

lewishamilton: Can’t wait to meet our little one. Over the moon with you, love

user6: BABY HAMILTON?! Oh my God, I’m crying. This is the cutest news ever!! 😭🍼

georgerussell63: Congratulations!! Can’t wait to meet the future world champ! 🍼🏆

landonorris: BABY HAMILTON??? Alright, I’m officially shook. Congrats, guys! The paddock just got a whole lot more fun! 😂❤️

user7: Lewis is gonna be a dad??? IM NOT OKAY!!! CONGRATS!! 🥺❤️

danielricciardo: A little racer on the way? YES! Can I be the fun uncle? 😎🍼

user8: A podium celebration baby??? 👀 Looks like we know how y’all celebrated that win! 🤭

user9: he timeline is connecting… podium celebration = baby Hamilton?? You sneaky lovebirds! 😂💛

charles_leclerc: Wow, huge congrats!! The grid’s about to get a little bigger 😄

user10: OMG this baby is about to be more stylish than all of us. Already living their best life before birth! 👶🏽✨

Lewis' podium

The energy in the paddock was electric as Lewis’s car crossed the finish line, securing him a spot on the podium for the first time in what felt like ages. I could barely contain my excitement as I watched from the sidelines, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. The moment felt surreal, and my heart raced as Lewis climbed out of his car, a triumphant grin plastered across his face.

As he approached me, still wearing his helmet, I couldn't help but notice the way the crowd erupted in applause and shouts. The deafening cheers seemed to fade into the background as he got closer. “Honey, I’ve done it!!” he shouted, his voice slightly muffled but filled with uncontainable joy.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins made me feel invincible. I laughed, my heart swelling with pride as I reached up to remove his helmet. The instant his face came into view, I felt the warmth of his excitement radiate between us. The crowd’s energy shifted, anticipation crackling in the air as they sensed something special was about to happen.

Lewis leaned down, his eyes locked onto mine, and in that electric moment, he kissed me deeply, right there in front of everyone. The world around us disappeared; all I could feel was the warmth of his lips and the deafening roar of the crowd as they cheered for us.

From that day forward, we became the couple everyone adored. Fans began sharing videos and photos of the kiss, turning it into an iconic moment.

As the weeks passed, our relationship was the talk of the town. But it wasn't long before the news of our little family surprise came to light.

It was late, the dimmed lights in our living room casting soft shadows on the walls as I paced back and forth. The small plastic stick in my hand felt heavy, like it held the weight of the world. My heart pounded as I stared at the two pink lines that confirmed it—I was pregnant.

I had imagined this moment so many times, rehearsing how I would tell him, but now that it was real, my mind was a blur of emotions. Excitement, fear, happiness—everything at once.

Lewis had just gotten home from the gym, his usual easy smile lighting up his face as he stepped inside. He dropped his gym bag by the door, not yet noticing the turmoil in my eyes.

"Hey, love. Everything alright?" He asked, walking over to kiss me on the forehead, his hands automatically settling on my waist. But as he looked down at me, his brow furrowed in concern. He knew something was up.

I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hands on me, grounding me. "Lewis, I… I need to tell you something."

His eyes softened instantly, the worry easing away. He pulled me closer, concern still flickering in his gaze but now mixed with curiosity.

"You’re scaring me a bit, babe. What’s going on?"

I bit my lip, the words almost stuck in my throat. My heart raced as I reached for his hand, slipping the positive pregnancy test into his palm. He looked down at it, confusion crossing his face for a brief second before realization hit him like a wave.

His eyes widened, flicking from the test to me and back to the test again. "Wait… are you serious?"

I nodded, tears springing to my eyes as a nervous laugh escaped me. "Yes, Lewis. We’re going to have a baby."

For a moment, it was like time stood still. He stared at me, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then, without warning, he scooped me up into his arms, spinning me around as a wide, joyful laugh escaped him.

"Are you kidding me?!" He was grinning from ear to ear, his excitement so contagious I couldn’t help but giggle, too. "We’re having a baby?!"

"Yeah… we’re having a baby." I nodded, my heart swelling as I saw how happy he was.

Lewis set me down gently, but his arms stayed wrapped around me, his forehead resting against mine.

"I can’t believe this," he whispered, his voice full of awe. "You’re going to be the most amazing mom, you know that?"

"And you’re going to be the best dad. Our little one’s going to be so lucky." I smiled, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

He pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes, his expression soft and full of love.

"This is the best news I could’ve ever imagined. I love you so much."

"I love you too," I whispered back, my voice catching with emotion.

Lewis placed a hand on my stomach, still grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "Our little secret," he said, his voice hushed, as if speaking too loud would make it any less real.

As the initial shock and excitement settled in, Lewis and I spent the rest of the evening curled up on the couch, talking about everything that lay ahead. The glow in his eyes hadn’t dimmed one bit; if anything, it had grown brighter with every moment.

"I still can’t believe it," he whispered, running his fingers softly over my stomach. "We’re actually having a baby."

I laughed, leaning my head against his shoulder. "It’s real, Lewis. You’re going to be a dad."

"You know, now that I think about it, when do you reckon we… you know, made this little one?" A playful smirk spread across his face.

I rolled my eyes at his cheeky tone. "Really? That’s what you’re thinking about now?"

"Well," he chuckled, nudging me slightly. "It’s not every day you find out you're going to be a dad. I’m just curious." He paused, tilting his head as if considering the options. "I mean, we’ve been busy lately…"

I snorted, shaking my head. "Busy is an understatement. We travel all the time."

Suddenly, realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and I saw the gears turning in his head. "Wait… what about Monaco? You remember? After that podium…"

I froze for a second, my mind flashing back to that night. The celebration had been wild—Lewis had just gotten his first podium in a while, and we were on cloud nine. The champagne, the excitement, the adrenaline… and later that night, when we finally got back to our home…

I fele my cheeks flush. "Oh my God, Lewis."

He grinned like a Cheshire cat, clearly putting it all together. "That’s when it happened, didn’t it? The night of the podium celebration! No wonder the timing makes sense."

I covered my face with my hands, laughing as the memory came flooding back. "I can’t believe this! You’re right. That’s when it happened."

Lewis burst out laughing, clearly delighted by the connection. "No wonder I felt so invincible that weekend. Turns out, we had a little extra reason to celebrate!"

I playfully swatted his arm, though I couldn’t stop laughing either. "We’ll never live this down, you know. People are going to figure it out, and the teasing is going to be relentless."

He shrugged, still grinning like a fool. "Let them talk. They can tease us all they want. As long as I’ve got you and this little one, I don’t care."

I smiled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his words. "You’re such a sap sometimes, you know that?"

He chuckled, kissing the top of my head. "Only for you, love."

As we sat there, wrapped in each other and in the realization of what was to come, I couldn’t help but think about how crazy our journey had been so far. And now, with a baby on the way, it was about to get even crazier. But with Lewis by my side, I knew we could handle anything—even the endless teasing from our friends and fans.

"Just wait until the guys hear about this," he said with a wink, already anticipating the chaos to come.

I rolled my eyes again but smiled. "Oh, I’m sure they’ll never let us forget it."

[bratzkoo]

diet pepsi | seungcheol

Author: bratzkoo | beta read by: @spnyin Pairing: F1 driver! seungcheol x model ! reader Genre: fluff, smut Rating: NC-17 Word count: 8.7k Warnings/note: inspired by addison rae's diet pepsi. who here is a slut for seungcheol? 🙌 CAUSE I AM. sexual content. car sex, public sex, kitchen sex, just... they're horny. minors please for the love of God, I have a lot of sfw fics... read those not this.

summary: seungcheol just wants every excuse to have sex with his girlfriend, let him be.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The screech of tires against asphalt filled the air as Seungcheol Choi crossed the finish line, clinching yet another pole position. The crowd's roar was deafening, but inside his helmet, Seungcheol heard only the pounding of his own heart and the steady rhythm of his breath. As he pulled into the pit lane, a sea of red-clad mechanics swarmed his car, their excitement palpable.

Climbing out of the cockpit, Seungcheol removed his helmet, revealing a shock of tousled dark hair and a face flushed with exertion and triumph. Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing the moment for millions of fans worldwide. Seungcheol's eyes, however, scanned the crowd for one face in particular.

There she was. Y/N stood at the edge of the paddock, her platinum blonde hair catching the sunlight, emerald eyes locked on him. To the world, she was just another beautiful face in the crowd, perhaps a fan or a pampered guest. But Seungcheol knew better. The slight quirk of her lips, the intensity of her gaze – these were for him alone.

As he made his way through the throng of reporters and well-wishers, Seungcheol maintained his media-trained smile, answering questions with practiced ease. "Yes, the car felt great out there. The team has done an amazing job." "No, I'm not thinking about the championship yet. We're taking it one race at a time." All the while, he was hyper-aware of Y/N's presence, like a magnetic pull on his senses.

Finally breaking free from the press, Seungcheol headed towards his private trailer. As he passed Y/N, their eyes met for a brief, electric moment. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear: Meet me later.

Inside the trailer, Seungcheol peeled off his racing suit, the cool air a relief against his skin. As he stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the sweat and tension of the race, his mind wandered to Y/N. A year together, and still, every moment felt as thrilling as the first.

He remembered their first meeting, at a charity gala nearly fourteen months ago. Y/N had been the face of the event, her billboard-sized image greeting guests as they arrived. In person, she had been even more stunning – all graceful curves and sharp wit. Seungcheol, usually so confident on the track, had fumbled his words like a teenager.

A smile played on his lips as he recalled how Y/N had teased him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope you drive better than you flirt," she had quipped, before slipping him her number on a cocktail napkin.

Their relationship had ignited quickly, burning hot and bright. But with their rising stars came increasing scrutiny, and they had made the difficult decision to keep their love under wraps. For a year now, they had been living a double life – stealing moments whenever they could, always looking over their shoulders.

Seungcheol stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. His phone buzzed with a message from Y/N: "Usual spot. One hour."

An hour later, Seungcheol guided his sleek black sports car up the winding road to their favorite overlook. The city sprawled below, a glittering carpet of lights in the gathering dusk. Y/N's car was already there, and as he pulled up beside it, she stepped out, taking his breath away.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the deep green dress that hugged her curves. As she walked towards him, Seungcheol was struck anew by her grace, the way she moved like liquid silk.

"Congratulations, hot shot," Y/N purred as she slid into the passenger seat of Seungcheol's car. "You were incredible out there today."

Seungcheol's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining over the gear shift. "Having you there makes me want to push even harder," he admitted, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

Y/N's other hand came up to caress his cheek, her touch igniting sparks under his skin. "Seeing you race... it does things to me," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a year's worth of pent-up passion and stolen moments pouring out. Y/N's fingers threaded through Seungcheol's hair, still damp from his shower, as his hands roamed her back, pulling her closer.

With practiced ease, Y/N maneuvered herself onto Seungcheol's lap, the gear shift digging into her thigh. Neither of them cared. All that mattered was the heat between them, the taste of victory on Seungcheol's lips, the soft sighs escaping Y/N's throat.

Seungcheol's lips traveled down Y/N's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "God, I've missed you," he breathed against her skin. "These past weeks, barely seeing each other..."

Y/N arched into him, her body responding to his every touch. "I know," she gasped as his hands slipped under her dress. "But we're here now."

They moved together with the familiarity of long-time lovers, yet each touch still sent electricity coursing through their bodies. The windows of the car slowly fogged up, creating a cocoon that shut out the world beyond.

Afterward, they sat entwined, Y/N's head resting on Seungcheol's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to its normal rhythm. The city lights twinkled below them, a reminder of the world they'd have to return to soon.

"I have news," Y/N said softly, tracing patterns on Seungcheol's arm. "That luxury car brand I've been in talks with? They want to do a joint campaign. With an F1 driver."

Seungcheol tensed slightly beneath her. "Let me guess. They want me?"

Y/N nodded, sitting up to look into his eyes. "It could be huge for both of us. But..."

"But it would mean going public," Seungcheol finished for her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been a year, Y/N. Maybe it's time."

Y/N searched Seungcheol's face, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? Your sponsors, my agency... they've all been so insistent about projecting the right image."

Seungcheol cupped Y/N's face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "The right image is us, together. I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Seungcheol's lips. 

As they drove back to the city, hands intertwined over the gear shift, both Seungcheol and Y/N knew they were accelerating towards a new chapter in their lives. The race to balance their love, careers, and the impending spotlight was on, and neither of them was prepared for the twists and turns that lay ahead.

The next morning found Seungcheol in a strategy meeting with his team. As his race engineer droned on about tire degradation and fuel management, Seungcheol's mind wandered to Y/N. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking of him too.

His reverie was interrupted by his team principal, Jeonghan, clearing his throat pointedly. "Seungcheol? Did you hear what I said?"

Seungcheol blinked, forcing himself to focus. "Sorry, Jeonghan. Could you repeat that?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued, "I said, we've been approached by Luxe Motors for a potential sponsorship deal. They want to do a campaign featuring you and some model." He waved his hand dismissively. "Could be good exposure, but we need to make sure it doesn't interfere with your training schedule."

Seungcheol's heart raced. This was it – the campaign Y/N had mentioned. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Actually, Jeonghan, there's something I need to tell you all."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Seungcheol. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the pressure of the carefully crafted image they had built around him. But as he thought of Y/N, of the love they shared, he knew it was time.

"The model they want for the campaign... her name is Y/N. And we've been in a relationship for the past year."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jeonghan's face turned an alarming shade of red, while his PR manager, Ela, looked like she might faint. It was his mechanic, Dino, who broke the tension with a low whistle.

"Damn, boss. You've been holding out on us!"

What followed was a whirlwind of questions, accusations, and hurried strategizing. By the time Seungcheol left the meeting, his head was spinning. He needed to see Y/N, to hold her, to reassure himself that they were making the right decision.

He found her at their favorite café, tucked away in a corner booth. As soon as she saw him, Y/N's face lit up, then quickly fell as she registered his expression.

"What happened?" she asked as he slid into the seat across from her.

Seungcheol reached for her hand, needing the anchor of her touch. "I told them," he said simply. "About us, about the campaign... everything."

Y/N's eyes widened. "How did they take it?"

"About as well as we expected," Seungcheol sighed. "Jeonghan's worried about the sponsors, Ela's already drafting press releases... it's chaos."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "My agent wasn't much better. He thinks it could either make or break my career."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their decision settling over them. Then, almost simultaneously, they began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew until they were both shaking with mirth, drawing curious glances from other patrons.

"God, we're a mess, aren't we?" Y/N gasped between giggles.

Seungcheol grinned, feeling lighter than he had in months. "Yeah, but we're a mess together."

As their laughter subsided, Seungcheol was struck by how beautiful Y/N looked, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with mirth. Without thinking, he leaned across the table and kissed her, right there in the middle of the café.

Y/N froze for a moment, then melted into the kiss. When they parted, she looked around, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness on her face. "Seungcheol! Someone could have seen..."

"Let them see," he said, surprising himself with his boldness. "I'm done hiding, Y/N. I love you, and I want the whole world to know it."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "I love you too," she whispered.

They left the café hand in hand, no longer caring who might see them. As they walked through the city streets, Seungcheol felt a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced in years. He pulled Y/N close, kissing her temple.

"Come on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have an idea."

Twenty minutes later, they were back in Seungcheol's car, this time parked in the private garage of his apartment building. The space was dimly lit, the concrete walls amplifying every small sound.

"Seungcheol," Y/N breathed as he trailed kisses down her neck. "Are you sure about this? Anyone could walk in..."

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Y/N bit her lip, desire warring with caution in her expression. Then, with a small shake of her head, she pulled him back to her. "No," she whispered against his lips. "Don't you dare stop."

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N's shirt found its way to the floor, followed quickly by Seungcheol's. The leather seats creaked as they moved together, the car rocking slightly with their movements.

Every sound seemed amplified in the quiet garage – their ragged breathing, the soft moans that escaped Y/N's lips as Seungcheol's hands explored her body, the rustle of clothing being hastily removed.

When they finally came together, it was with a passion born of their newfound freedom. Gone was the need for silence, for restraint. Y/N cried out Seungcheol's name, her nails raking down his back. Seungcheol groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

They moved together, lost in the sensation, the thrill of potentially being caught only adding to their excitement. The world outside ceased to exist – there was only this moment, only them.

As they reached their peak together, Y/N's back arched, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Seungcheol held her close, his entire body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Seungcheol pressed soft kisses to Y/N's shoulder, her neck, her cheek.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "Whatever happens next, I love you forever."

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "I love you forever," she replied.

As they dressed and made their way up to Seungcheol's apartment, both of them knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges. There would be press conferences to face, contracts to negotiate, a gauntlet of public opinion to run.

But for now, as they curled up together on Seungcheol's couch, they were content. They had each other, and they were finally free to show the world their love. Whatever storms lay ahead, they would weather them side by side.

Seungcheol pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. As sleep began to claim them both, he couldn't help but smile. 

-

The harsh glare of camera flashes assaulted Seungcheol's eyes as he stepped out of his car, his hand firmly clasped around Y/N's. The clamor of reporters shouting questions created a cacophony that threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Seungcheol! How long have you been dating?"

"Y/N! Will this affect your upcoming campaigns?"

"Is this a publicity stunt for Luxe Motors?"

Seungcheol felt Y/N's hand tighten around his, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. They had prepared for this moment, spent hours with their respective PR teams crafting responses and practicing their delivery. But nothing could have truly prepared them for the reality of facing the media storm head-on.

With a deep breath, Seungcheol raised his free hand, and the crowd quieted marginally. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice steady despite the nerves roiling in his stomach. "Y/N and I have decided to make our relationship public because we believe in honesty and transparency, both with our fans and with each other."

Y/N stepped forward, her emerald eyes sparkling with determination. "We've been together for a year," she added, her voice clear and confident. "We kept our relationship private initially to focus on our careers, but we now feel ready to share this part of our lives with you all."

As they fielded questions, Seungcheol marveled at Y/N's poise. She handled even the most probing inquiries with grace, her responses thoughtful and measured. When a particularly aggressive reporter asked if she was using Seungcheol for publicity, Y/N's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I've worked hard to build my career on my own merits," she said, her tone icy. "My relationship with Seungcheol is personal, not professional. We support each other's dreams, but we do not define ourselves by each other's success."

Seungcheol felt a surge of pride and love for her in that moment. As the press conference wound down, he couldn't resist pulling her close and placing a soft kiss on her temple, eliciting a fresh round of camera flashes.

Later, as they collapsed onto the couch in Seungcheol's apartment, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off, Y/N let out a long sigh. "Well, that was intense," she said, kicking off her heels.

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "You were amazing out there," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/N tilted her head up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? How proud?"

Seungcheol grinned, recognizing the invitation in her tone. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands sliding under his shirt, tracing the contours of his abs.

As things heated up, Seungcheol suddenly pulled back, a playful smirk on his face. "You know," he said, his voice husky, "now that we're public, we don't have to hide anymore. How about we give the paparazzi something to really talk about?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

Seungcheol stood, pulling Y/N up with him. "Trust me," he said, leading her towards the balcony of his penthouse apartment.

The night air was cool on their skin as they stepped outside. The city sprawled before them, a tapestry of lights and shadows. Seungcheol pulled Y/N close, his hands settling on her hips.

"Seungcheol," Y/N gasped, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her voice. "Someone could see us out here."

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Let them see," he whispered. "I want the whole world to know how much I love you."

Their lips met in a searing kiss, hands roaming with newfound freedom. Seungcheol lifted Y/N onto the wide balustrade, her legs wrapping around his waist. The thrill of potentially being seen only added to their passion.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Seungcheol's hair, tugging gently in the way she knew drove him wild. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding under her blouse to caress the soft skin of her back. With deft movements, he unhooked her bra, breaking their kiss to trail his lips down her neck.

"Wait," Y/N panted, pushing him back slightly. Seungcheol froze, concern flooding his features.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, searching her face.

Y/N smiled, touching his cheek tenderly. "Everything's perfect. I just... I want to savor this moment."

She slid off the balustrade, taking Seungcheol's hand and leading him to the plush outdoor sofa. With deliberate slowness, she began to undress him, her eyes never leaving his. Seungcheol watched her, mesmerized by the play of emotions across her face – love, desire, and a vulnerability she rarely showed the world.

As she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers traced the scar on his collarbone, a remnant from a long-ago racing accident. "I was so scared when this happened," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the mark. "I realized then how much you meant to me."

Seungcheol's heart swelled with emotion. He cupped Y/N's face in his hands, pouring all his love into a tender kiss. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered against her lips. "Better than any pole position, any victory."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She pushed him gently onto the sofa, straddling his lap. As she sank down onto him, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together slowly, savoring every touch, every sensation.

The city lights twinkled below them, but neither Seungcheol nor Y/N noticed. Their world had narrowed to just this moment, just the two of them. Y/N's head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and Seungcheol couldn't resist leaning in to place open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

"I love you," Y/N breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

Seungcheol's arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. "I love you too," he murmured against her skin. "More than I ever thought possible."

As their passion built, their movements became more urgent. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back, leaving marks that would linger for days. Seungcheol's hands gripped Y/N's hips, guiding her movements.

When they reached their peak, it was with a shared cry of ecstasy that echoed into the night. They clung to each other, trembling with the intensity of their release.

Afterward, they lay tangled together on the plush outdoor sofa, a blanket draped haphazardly over them. Y/N traced lazy patterns on Seungcheol's chest, her head tucked under his chin.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" she asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Seungcheol chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "If they did, I hope they enjoyed the show."

Y/N swatted his chest playfully, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're terrible," she said, but her tone was full of affection.

As they basked in the afterglow, Seungcheol's phone buzzed insistently. With a groan, he reached for it, squinting at the bright screen.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, sitting up. "He wants us at the Luxe Motors headquarters first thing tomorrow morning. Apparently, they're thrilled with the publicity we're generating and want to fast-track the campaign."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "My agent called earlier. He said the response has been mostly positive, but there are some... less savory rumors starting to circulate."

Seungcheol frowned, pulling Y/N closer. "What kind of rumors?"

She sighed, burying her face in his chest. "The usual trash. That I'm a gold digger, that you're my ticket to the big leagues. Some are even saying this is all a publicity stunt for both our careers."

Anger flared in Seungcheol's chest. "We'll shut them down," he said firmly. "We'll show them how real this is."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Promise me we won't let this change us," she whispered. "Promise me that no matter what happens, it'll always be you and me against the world."

Seungcheol cupped her face in his hands, pouring all his love and conviction into his gaze. "I promise," he said solemnly. "You and me, always."

-

The sleek, modern headquarters of Luxe Motors loomed before Seungcheol and Y/N as they stepped out of their car. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, cameras flashing incessantly. Seungcheol instinctively moved closer to Y/N, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back as they navigated through the crowd.

"Mr. Choi! Ms. Y/N! Over here!"

"How will this relationship affect your careers?"

"Y/N, are you worried about being overshadowed by Seungcheol's fame?"

Y/N tensed at the last question, but maintained her composure, offering a polite smile to the reporters as Seungcheol guided her into the building.

Once inside, Y/N let out a shaky breath. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she admitted, smoothing down her designer dress.

Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You're doing great. Remember, we're in this together."

A tall, impeccably dressed woman approached them, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor. "Mr. Choi, Ms. Y/N, welcome to Luxe Motors. I'm Olivia Chen, head of marketing. We're thrilled to have you both here."

As they followed Olivia to the conference room, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice the curious glances and hushed whispers from the employees they passed. Their relationship was clearly the hot topic of discussion.

The meeting room was already occupied when they entered. Jeonghan, Seungcheol's team principal, was engaged in what looked like a heated discussion with a distinguished-looking man in an expensive suit.

"Ah, here they are now," the man said, turning to greet them with a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seungcheol, Y/N, I'm Robert Kensington, CEO of Luxe Motors. We're excited about the possibilities this partnership could bring."

As they took their seats, Robert launched into an enthusiastic pitch about the campaign. "We're thinking of a series of ads that showcase both the speed and elegance of our vehicles. Seungcheol, you'll represent the power and precision of our sports models. Y/N, you'll embody the sophistication and luxury of our high-end line."

Y/N nodded, her face a mask of professional interest, but Seungcheol could see the slight furrow in her brow. He knew that look – she wasn't entirely comfortable with something.

"We've also had some... interesting ideas about how to capitalize on your relationship," Robert continued, his tone becoming more cautious. "We were thinking of a tagline: 'The Perfect Match – On and Off the Track.'"

Seungcheol felt Y/N stiffen beside him. Before he could speak, she leaned forward, her voice cool and controlled. "Mr. Kensington, while we appreciate your enthusiasm, I hope you understand that our relationship isn't a marketing tool. We're here as individual professionals, not as a... a product to be sold."

Robert's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Of course, of course. We completely respect your privacy. Perhaps we could discuss some alternative approaches..."

The meeting dragged on for hours, a complex dance of negotiations and compromises. By the time they emerged, Seungcheol felt drained, as if he'd just completed a grueling race.

"Well, that was intense," he said as they made their way to the parking lot. "You were amazing in there, by the way. The way you stood up to Kensington..."

Y/N's smile was tight. "Thanks. I just... I don't want us to become some kind of circus act, you know? I want to be taken seriously for my work, not just as your girlfriend."

Seungcheol pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I know, love. We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

As they approached their car, a young woman suddenly darted in front of them, her phone held out. "Oh my god, it's really you! Can I get a selfie?"

Before either of them could respond, she wedged herself between them, snapping several pictures in quick succession. "This is so cool! My followers are going to freak out!"

The encounter left them both feeling unsettled. As Seungcheol drove them home, Y/N was uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the window with a pensive expression.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Seungcheol asked, reaching over to take her hand.

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "I'm just... I'm worried, Cheol. About us, about our careers. What if this whole thing blows up in our faces?"

Seungcheol pulled the car over, giving Y/N his full attention. "Hey, look at me," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. But we're stronger together, remember? Whatever comes, we'll face it as a team."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. When she opened them, there was a newfound determination in her gaze. "You're right. We've got this."

As they leaned in for a kiss, neither of them noticed the lone paparazzo hiding in the bushes, his camera capturing every intimate moment.

The next morning, Seungcheol woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone. Groggily, he reached for it, careful not to wake Y/N who was still sleeping peacefully beside him.

His blood ran cold as he saw the barrage of messages and missed calls. There, plastered across every sports and gossip site, was a photo of him and Y/N in what should have been a private moment. The headlines screamed:

"SEUNGCHEOL AND Y/N: TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"

"RACING CHAMP AND MODEL GIRLFRIEND: SECRET ROADSIDE RENDEZVOUS"

"IS THE PRESSURE ALREADY TOO MUCH FOR F1'S NEW IT COUPLE?"

As Y/N stirred beside him, Seungcheol felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was determined to shield their love from the prying eyes of the world. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of the obstacles they would face.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation to come. As Y/N's eyes fluttered open, he forced a smile. "Morning, beautiful. We need to talk..."

-

Seungcheol watched anxiously as Y/N's eyes scanned the headlines on his phone, her expression morphing from confusion to shock, and finally settling into a mask of cold anger.

"How dare they?" she hissed, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. "That was a private moment. How could they twist it like this?"

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, feeling her tremble with a mix of rage and hurt. "I'm so sorry, love. I should have been more careful. I should have—"

Y/N cut him off, pulling back to look him in the eye. "No, Cheol. This isn't your fault. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We're adults in a committed relationship. They're the ones who should be ashamed, invading our privacy like this."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and love for Y/N's strength. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're right. So, what do we do now?"

Before Y/N could respond, both their phones began buzzing incessantly. Their respective agents, PR teams, and sponsors were all clamoring for statements and damage control strategies.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I guess we face the music."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of conference calls, emergency meetings, and carefully crafted statements. By midday, Seungcheol felt as if he'd aged years. He looked over at Y/N, who was finishing up a call with her modeling agency.

"No, I will not issue an apology for being in a relationship," she was saying, her voice firm. "We've done nothing wrong. ... Yes, I understand the contract has a morality clause, but this hardly qualifies. ... Fine, we'll discuss this further in person."

She ended the call with a frustrated huff, tossing her phone onto the couch. "This is ridiculous. You'd think we'd committed some horrible crime."

Seungcheol moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How about we get out of here for a bit? Clear our heads?"

Y/N looked skeptical. "And go where? There are probably paparazzi camped outside as we speak."

A mischievous glint appeared in Seungcheol's eye. "Leave that to me."

Thirty minutes later, they were speeding down a secluded coastal road in Seungcheol's sports car, the top down and the wind whipping through their hair. Y/N tilted her head back, basking in the warmth of the sun on her face, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time that day.

Seungcheol glanced over at her, his heart swelling with emotion. This was the Y/N he fell in love with – carefree, radiant, and full of life. He made a silent vow to do whatever it took to protect their happiness.

They drove for hours, talking, laughing, and simply enjoying each other's company away from the prying eyes of the world. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Seungcheol pulled off onto a hidden dirt road.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

"You'll see," Seungcheol replied with a wink.

The road led them to a secluded cove, the beach empty save for a few seabirds. Seungcheol parked the car and came around to open Y/N's door, offering his hand with an exaggerated bow.

"My lady," he said in a faux posh accent, eliciting a giggle from Y/N.

Hand in hand, they walked down to the water's edge, the cool sand between their toes a stark contrast to the warmth of the fading sun. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching the waves crash against the shore.

"Thank you for this," Y/N said softly, leaning her head on Seungcheol's shoulder. "I needed it more than I realized."

Seungcheol turned to face her, cupping her face gently in his hands. "Y/N, I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what the world throws at us, I'm here. Always."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at him. "I love you, Seungcheol. So much it scares me sometimes."

Their lips met in a kiss that started soft and tender but quickly ignited into something more passionate. Y/N's hands fisted in Seungcheol's shirt, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Seungcheol rested his forehead against Y/N's. "Come on," he said, his voice husky. "I have one more surprise for you."

He led her back to the car, opening the trunk to reveal a picnic basket and a pile of blankets. Y/N's face lit up with delight.

"You planned this?"

Seungcheol shrugged, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I may have made a few calls while you were in the shower this morning. I thought we might need an escape."

They spread the blankets on the hood of the car, laying back to watch as the first stars began to appear in the darkening sky. They fed each other strawberries and sipped champagne, talking about everything and nothing.

As the night grew cooler, Y/N snuggled closer to Seungcheol, her hand tracing idle patterns on his chest. The tension that had been building between them all day finally reached its breaking point.

Seungcheol captured Y/N's wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her palm. The simple gesture sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at Seungcheol with eyes dark with desire.

"Make love to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Seungcheol didn't need to be asked twice. In one fluid motion, he flipped their positions, hovering over Y/N with a look of such intense love and desire that it took her breath away.

Their kisses were heated, urgent, hands roaming and exploring as if discovering each other for the first time. Clothes were shed with little regard, tossed haphazardly onto the sand.

Seungcheol trailed kisses down Y/N's neck, across her collarbone, and lower still. Y/N arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as waves of pleasure washed over her.

When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together in perfect synchrony, the rhythm of their lovemaking echoing the crash of waves against the shore.

Y/N clung to Seungcheol, her nails raking down his back as she neared her peak. "Cheol," she panted, "I'm close..."

Seungcheol increased his pace, driving them both towards ecstasy. "Let go, baby," he murmured against her ear. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the night. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

They lay entwined under the stars, basking in the afterglow, when a sudden flash of light startled them. For a heart-stopping moment, they feared they'd been discovered by paparazzi. But it was just a shooting star, streaking across the sky in a brilliant arc.

Y/N laughed, the sound full of relief and joy. "Make a wish," she said, snuggling closer to Seungcheol.

He tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I already have everything I could wish for right here."

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms and the warmth of the blankets, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of strength and unity. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The harsh light of morning brought with it a return to reality. As Seungcheol and Y/N made their way back to the city, both their phones began buzzing with missed calls and messages.

"I suppose it was too much to hope the world would just forget about us for a day," Y/N sighed, scrolling through her notifications.

Seungcheol reached over to squeeze her hand. "Hey, remember what we talked about. Us against the world, right?"

Y/N smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Right."

Their first stop was Seungcheol's race team headquarters. As they walked in, hand in hand, a hush fell over the usually bustling pit crew. Jeonghan approached them, his expression unreadable.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, my office please."

Once inside, Jeonghan's stern facade crumbled. "Do you two have any idea the headache you've caused me?" he said, but there was a note of fondness in his exasperation. "Half our sponsors are in a panic, the other half want to increase your visibility. It's chaos out there."

Seungcheol straightened, his jaw set in determination. "Jeonghan, I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused the team. But I won't apologize for my relationship with Y/N. If the sponsors have a problem with that—"

Jeonghan held up a hand, cutting him off. "Relax, kid. Nobody's asking you to choose between your career and your girl. We just need to manage this situation better. Which is why I've hired a speciality PR firm to handle your public image as a couple."

Y/N and Seungcheol exchanged surprised glances. This was not what they had expected.

"You're... supportive of us?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan's expression softened. "Look, I've known Seungcheol since he was a rookie. I've never seen him as happy or as focused as he's been since he met you. As far as I'm concerned, you're good for him and good for this team. We just need to make sure the rest of the world sees that too."

Relief washed over both of them. As they left Jeonghan's office, Seungcheol pulled Y/N into a tight hug. "One down," he murmured into her hair.

"One down," she agreed. "Now we just have to face my agency."

The meeting with Y/N's modeling agency was considerably less pleasant. Her agent, a sharp-faced woman named Vivian, paced the conference room like a caged tiger.

"Do you have any idea how many contracts we've had to renegotiate because of this scandal?" she snapped. "Your wholesome image was a major selling point, Y/N. Now half our clients are worried you're too controversial."

Y/N felt Seungcheol tense beside her, but she placed a calming hand on his arm. "Vivian," she said, her voice steady, "I understand your concerns. But I'm still the same model I was a week ago. My relationship status doesn't change my professionalism or my ability to do my job."

Vivian stopped pacing, fixing Y/N with a calculating look. "Maybe... maybe we can work with this. The bad girl image is in right now. And a high-profile relationship could open up new markets..."

As Vivian continued to muse about potential strategies, Y/N and Seungcheol shared a look of disbelief. It seemed that even in this storm of controversy, there might be a silver lining.

By the time they left the agency, both Seungcheol and Y/N were emotionally drained. As they walked to their car, a small group of fans approached, asking for autographs and selfies.

Y/N tensed, expecting intrusive questions or judgmental looks. But to her surprise, the fans were supportive and excited.

"You guys are so cute together!" one young girl gushed. "I hope I find someone who looks at me the way Seungcheol looks at you."

As they drove home, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "You know," she said, turning to Seungcheol, "maybe this won't be as bad as we thought."

Seungcheol grinned, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "With you by my side? Nothing's too tough to handle."

As they pulled into their driveway, both their phones pinged with a notification. It was a message from the PR firm Jeonghan had hired, outlining their strategy for the coming weeks.

Y/N scrolled through the message, her eyes widening. "They want us to do a joint interview? And a photoshoot for a major magazine?"

Seungcheol nodded, looking thoughtful. "It could be a good opportunity to control the narrative. Tell our story on our own terms."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "You're right. And hey, at least we'll be facing it together."

As they walked into their home, hand in hand, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead might be challenging, but they were determined to navigate it together, their love serving as both compass and anchor in the stormy seas of public life.

Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, they decided to turn in early. As they went through their nightly routines, moving around each other with the comfortable familiarity of a long-term couple, both felt a deep sense of gratitude for the other's presence.

Y/N finished brushing her teeth and padded into the bedroom, where Seungcheol was already under the covers, his back propped against the headboard as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as she entered, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"Come here, you," he said, setting his phone aside and opening his arms.

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She slipped under the covers and into Seungcheol's embrace, sighing contentedly as she rested her head on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear was comforting, grounding.

Seungcheol's fingers threaded through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Y/N thought for a moment before answering. "Honestly? I feel... good. Today was crazy, but we got through it. Together."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We did. And we'll get through whatever comes next the same way."

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining with love and trust. "I know we will. I love you, Seungcheol."

"I love you too, Y/N," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

As they settled into bed, Seungcheol's arms wrapped securely around Y/N, her back pressed to his chest, they both felt a profound sense of peace. The outside world, with all its demands and judgments, seemed far away. In this moment, in the quiet of their bedroom, nothing existed but the two of them and the love they shared.

Y/N snuggled deeper into Seungcheol's embrace, feeling safe and cherished. "Goodnight, love," she whispered, her eyes already heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight, beautiful," Seungcheol replied, placing one last soft kiss on her shoulder.

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt truly content.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. Seungcheol stirred first, his eyes blinking open to find Y/N still nestled in his arms, her face peaceful in sleep. He couldn't help but smile, marveling at how beautiful she looked in the soft light.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face as she met Seungcheol's loving gaze. "Good morning, handsome," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Seungcheol leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

Y/N nodded, stretching languidly against him. "Mmm, like a baby. You make an excellent pillow, you know."

Seungcheol chuckled, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. "Happy to be of service."

They lay there for a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous day, and both of them savored the peaceful moment.

Eventually, the buzz of Seungcheol's phone on the nightstand broke the spell. He reached for it, careful not to disturb Y/N too much.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, scanning the message. "The PR team wants to meet with us this afternoon to prep for the interview and photoshoot."

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, her expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I guess it's time to face the music, huh?"

Seungcheol set the phone aside and pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, we've got this. Remember, it's just us telling our story."

Y/N nodded, drawing strength from his confidence. "You're right. Plus, it might even be fun. I've always wanted to see you try to model," she added with a teasing grin.

Seungcheol gasped in mock offense. "Excuse me, I'll have you know I'm an excellent model. These racing suits don't wear themselves, you know."

Their laughter filled the room, dispelling any lingering tension. As they got up to start their day, both felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

The PR team's office was a sleek, modern space in the heart of the city. Seungcheol and Y/N were ushered into a conference room where they were greeted by a trio of sharp-looking professionals.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, thank you for coming," said the woman at the head of the table. "I'm Rebecca, and this is my team, Alex and Mia. We're here to help you navigate this new chapter in your public lives."

For the next few hours, they went over strategies for the upcoming interview and photoshoot. The team was impressed by the natural chemistry between Seungcheol and Y/N, often exchanging pleased glances as the couple interacted.

"You two are naturals," Alex commented during a break. "The camera is going to love you."

As they were wrapping up, Rebecca handed them each a folder. "These are some talking points for the interview. Remember, the goal is to be authentic while also presenting a united front. Your love story is compelling – let that shine through."

Seungcheol and Y/N left the meeting feeling more confident about the upcoming media appearances. As they walked hand in hand down the busy street, Y/N suddenly tugged Seungcheol to a stop.

"Look," she said, pointing across the road. There, on a massive billboard, was an advertisement for Luxe Motors featuring a stunning sports car. "That could be us up there soon."

Seungcheol wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "It will be. And we'll look damn good doing it."

The day of the photoshoot arrived bright and early. The set was a gorgeous beachfront property, with the ocean providing a stunning backdrop. As they went through hair and makeup, Seungcheol couldn't keep his eyes off Y/N.

"You know," he said, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "if this is what modeling is like, I might have to reconsider my career choices."

Y/N laughed, swatting him playfully. "Don't you dare. I quite like having a race car driver for a boyfriend."

The photoshoot itself was a whirlwind of costume changes, different poses, and endless flashes. But through it all, Seungcheol and Y/N's natural chemistry shone through. Whether they were posed casually by a vintage car or dressed to the nines for a red carpet shot, their connection was palpable.

"These are going to be stunning," the photographer gushed as he showed them some of the shots on his camera. "You can really feel the love between you two."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, the photographer suggested one last shot. Seungcheol and Y/N stood at the water's edge, the waves lapping at their feet. With the Luxe Motors car in the background, Seungcheol wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind, both of them looking out at the horizon.

"Perfect," the photographer said softly, not wanting to break the moment. "That's a wrap, folks!"

Later that evening, as they returned to Seungcheol's apartment, the excitement of the day still thrummed through their veins. Y/N scrolled through some of the behind-the-scenes photos on her phone as Seungcheol poured them each a glass of wine.

"We do look good together, don't we?" she mused, showing Seungcheol a candid shot of them laughing between takes.

Seungcheol set the wine glasses on the kitchen counter and moved behind Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist. "The best," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Though I have to say, I prefer the real thing to any photo."

Y/N's breath hitched as Seungcheol's lips trailed down her neck. She set her phone aside, turning in his arms to face him. "Is that so?" she breathed, her eyes dark with desire. "Care to show me just how much you prefer the real thing?"

In response, Seungcheol captured her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. With a low growl, Seungcheol lifted her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N tugged at Seungcheol's shirt, and he broke away just long enough to pull it off before returning to her lips. His hands slid under her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her back.

"Cheol," Y/N gasped as his lips found that spot on her neck again. "Bedroom?"

Seungcheol pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "Why wait?" he asked, his voice husky. "I want you right here, right now."

Y/N's answer was to pull him back in for another passionate kiss. Clothes were shed hastily, scattering across the kitchen floor. When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation.

They moved together with a passionate urgency, the counter providing the perfect leverage. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back as she neared her peak, while Seungcheol's hands gripped her hips, guiding their movements.

"Cheol, I'm close," Y/N panted, her head falling back in ecstasy.

"Let go, baby," Seungcheol murmured against her skin. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the quiet of the apartment. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

Later, as they lounged on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and each other's arms, Y/N's phone buzzed with a notification. She reached for it, her eyes widening as she read the message.

"Cheol, look at this," she said, showing him the screen. "The magazine wants to bump up the release date of our photoshoot. They say the public's fascination with us is at an all-time high."

Seungcheol read the message, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Looks like our risk is paying off, huh?"

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him. "I was so worried about going public, but now... it feels right. Like we're finally free to just be us."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know what you mean. It's like the whole world can see what I've known all along – that you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Y/N tilted her head up, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When they parted, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know, I think we missed a spot in the kitchen. Want to go for round two?"

Seungcheol laughed, the sound full of joy and love. "Lead the way, beautiful."

As they made their way back to the kitchen, hand in hand and giggling like teenagers, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a profound sense of happiness. Their relationship had been thrust into the spotlight, but rather than wilting under the pressure, they had blossomed. Together, they were ready to face whatever the future held, their love a beacon guiding them through the dazzling world of fame and fortune.

The next morning dawned bright and early, finding Seungcheol and Y/N already up and about. They moved around the kitchen in perfect sync, preparing breakfast together as they discussed their plans for the day.

"I've got a team meeting at 10," Seungcheol said as he flipped pancakes. "Want to meet for lunch after?"

Y/N nodded, pouring coffee into their mugs. "Sounds perfect. I've got a fitting for that new designer campaign, but I should be done by noon."

As they sat down to eat, both their phones pinged with new messages. They shared a look, then reached for their devices.

"It's from the PR team," Seungcheol said, scanning the message. "They want to schedule a follow-up interview to coincide with the magazine release."

Y/N's eyes lit up as she read her own message. "Luxe Motors loves the preview shots. They want to discuss a long-term partnership with both of us!"

Seungcheol reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his. "Ready for our next adventure?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement and love.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "With you? Always."

[fastandcarlos]

Through The Years : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: you've been with lewis since day one, and you've got the instagram posts still saved to show just how much you guys have been through over the years

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked ynusername, mercedesamgf1 and 2,419,593 others

lewishamilton: WORLD CHAMPION BABY 🏆🏎️

291,492 comments

username1: always knew you were destined for greatness

username2: congrats champ 🏆

ynusername: pretty cool to say I’m not dating a world champ 💕

lewishamilton: @/ynusername you’re welcome 😂

username3: IM SO PROUD OF YOU LEWIS!!

nicorosberg: I’ll get you next year 😂

kimimatiasraikkonen: amazing season lewis, congratulations 👏🏻

username4: my world champ 🌍🏆

username5: we always knew that you’d get there…first of many 🫶🏻

jensonbutton: nice to see the trophy coming back to british seas 🎉

username6: cannot wait for you to be world champion for the next twenty thousand seasons 🥺

aussiegrit: amazing season, great racing with you this year!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and 992,138 others

ynusername: apparently i'm a mercedes girl now, 2012 season incoming and i'm here for it, wishing you all the luck in the world my love

32,103 comments

username7: five years on and I’m still so thankful that lewis has you in his corner yn ❤️

jensonbutton: mercedes is the best team anyway 💙🏎️

username8: it’s taken years but she’s finally convinced 😂

username9: if you ever change your mind I’ll come and be a mercedes girl instead

lewishamilton: thank you for always being my biggest fan my love 💞

ynusername: @/lewishamilton always on your side 😘

username10: another world title pending…

username11: lewis doesn’t need luck, the title is his yn!!

nicorosberg: still can’t believe you’re not wearing my shirt around the paddock 🙄

ynusername: @/nicorosberg last time I checked I wasn’t dating you 🤷🏻‍♀️

username12: this is the level of girlfriend I aspire to be

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1,982,503 others

lewishamilton: yn said we weren't allowed to have children yet so i went and got the next best thing, introducing roscoe 🐶❤️

148,580 comments

username13: omg roscoe is just the cutest 😭😭

ynusername: I already deal with a child every day living with you 😂😂

lewishamilton: @/ynusername stop exposing me like this!!

schecoperez: can’t wait to meet roscoe at the paddock soon!

username14: proudest dog dad ever!

username15: can I also be adopted by lewis and yn like roscoe please???

aussiegrit: how much are you paying poor yn to dogsit during race weekends 🤔

lewishamilton: @/aussiegrit she’s paid in love and affection don’t you worry 😂

username16: YET…there’s hope for the future still!!

valtteribottas: how have you adopted a dog and only just told me now? 😡

username17: roscoe is already my best friend and no one else’s

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, valtteribottas and 3,491,508 others

lewishamilton: still just as sweet to win all these years on, thank you mercedes fans for your continued support

104,592 comments

username18: true legend of formula 1 🤩

valtteribottas: congratulations, so proud to be your teammate 🏎️

username19: a decade on and still your number one fan!!

maxverstappen1: let someone else have a win for one will you? 😂

ynusername: and I’m still just as proud to see you on the podium as I was all those years ago 💕💕

username20: it’s unfair how talented one man can be 😭

username21: just tell us your secrets pls 😂

username22: all the other drivers wishing that they could be as talented as you!!

kimimatiasraikkonen: couldn’t think of a better guy to be p2 behind ☺️

danielricciardo: can you just retire already and leave us alone??

lewishamilton: @/danielricciardo: you’re stuck with me a little while longer yet

username23: no one else will ever compare to you…

hulkhulkenberg: teach me how to overtake like you 🙏🏻

username24: I’m not prepared for the day we experience f1 without this man 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 859,182 others

ynusername: oh yeah...did i mention that i have a husband now?? 🥺

47,620 comments

username25: my two favourite people in the world are married…I can’t cope 😭

danielricciardo: congratulations, couldn’t be happier for the two of you 🥂

valtteribottas: we had the best time celebrating you guys ❤️

username26: how did they manage to get married and keep it an entire secret from the world???

username27: I want to see all the photos asap

landonorris: okay and my invite was where exactly??

ynusername: @/landonorris whoops must’ve got lost in the post somewhere 🤷🏻‍♀️

username28: the ultimate boyfriend material just became ultimate husband material

charles_leclerc: couldn’t have happened to two nicer people 🫶🏻

username29: my heart just skipped a beat with pure happiness for this 🥺

lewishamilton: have I mentioned how proud I am to be your husband? 💞

ynusername: @/lewishamilton I bet not as proud as I am to be your wife!

username30: why do I feel like I’ve been betrayed by not being told this news sooner??

georgerussell63: fyi best wedding I’ve ever been too!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 2,492,608 others

lewishamilton: our greatest blessing is yet to come, yn and i are so happy to share that we are expecting our very own little one just before christmas...i could not be any happier as we start this new chapter ❤️❤️❤️

149,528 comments

landonorris: ah I’m so happy for you two!!

username31: omg this is just the best news ever!!

username32: my two faves are having a baby 🤯

schecoperez: I’ll make sure to pass all my tips onto you 😂

lewishamilton: @/schecoperez I’ll be needing all of them

username33: I’ve never been happier then I am right now 😭

ynusername: I can’t wait for this next adventure with you 💕

lewishamilton: @/ynusername no one else I’d rather do this with!!

charles_leclerc: cannot wait to meet your little one at the paddock soon!

jensonbutton: being a parent is the best feeling in the world ❤️

username34: I’ve waited so long to see this post and now it’s finally happening 🎉

username35: nobody speak to me for the next nine months

valtteribottas: uncle duties pending…

username36: they’re going to be the best parents I can already tell

carlossainz55: I know how much this means to you two…congratulations!

username37: THIS IS EVERYTHING 🥺

nicorosberg: simply couldn’t be happier, the biggest congratulations 👏🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux and 729,501 others

ynusername: the best daddy i could ever dream of our little girl having, on cloud nine right now ⛅️

33,495 comments

lewishamilton: thank you for giving me the greatest gift ever 💞💞

username38: dad lewis is just something else 😭

carmenmmundt: I can’t wait for all the cuddles asap!!!!

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I cannot wait to introduce you as soon as were at a race 😭

username39: my heart can’t cope with how adorable these photos are

georgerussell63: well these are just a little bit cute eh??

username40: thank you yn for blessing my timeline like this

username41: it’s not fair how one baby can be so cute 🤩

landonorris: this kid is too cute to be lewis’ surely 😂😂

username42: you can just tell she’s already got lewis wrapped right around her finger 😂

charles_leclerc: stop rubbing it in how cute your daughter is 😂

username43: ultimate daddy’s girl right here 🥺🥺

sebastianvettel: these photos are adorable yn, so happy for you guys!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 1,492,043 others

lewishamilton: everything in life i do for these guys, everything i've ever wanted and more

42,291 comments

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[kirozai]

—BETTER AT LOVING YOU.

Sae has always believed that playing football was the only thing he was good at. Meeting you drastically changed his belief. Sae is reminded again while trying to teach you how to play football, which you fail. Badly… BUT he still loves you nevertheless.

content warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, present to past flashbacks pairing(s): itoshi sae x reader word count: 1600+ A/N: idek

PRESENT.

“I don’t get it! Why the hell are there so many rules to a game that's whole premise is just ‘kick ball in goal, win.’” you say defeated.

Sae knew that this wasn’t going to turn out very well, but after your constant pestering for about 4 minutes, he gave in. 

The result?

Pouty you lying on the turf of the empty indoor pitch after about… maybe 20 minutes? After sliding away every single time he tried to pass the ball to you, you seem to have given up. 

“What if I get hit by the ball or something?” you said before.

“Then move on?” he says questioningly.

You did NOT take that well.

With a great big sigh, Sae makes his way to sit near your body and look at your exasperated face. He brushes away the loose strands of hair in front of your face. His eyes trace yours, “mesmerized and in love” the public would describe. 

Well. Sae is not denying any of those allegations.

“It’s fine,” Sae insisted “You're not planning to be a pro football player any time soon anyways.”

“See but if I was anyone else would you be saying that?” you questioned.

“No.” 

“Hmph! See! It isn’t really fine.”

“You’re you and everyone else is lukewarm and boring. Why does it matter that I treat them differently?” He squints at you.

Your mouth is left agape at his response. 

Sae’s lips turned upturned at the sight. You reply with a big grin on your face. It’s always a treat to see your handsome lover’s smile you always say to him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PAST.

Meeting a girl being chased by a seagull was not on his agenda this summer.

Sandwich in hand you rain around the empty sandy beach being chased by one, no wait two, hold on now three?! To simplify it you were being chased by seagulls, many, many seagulls.

Sae watches you with curious eyes, head swaying left and right following you as you try to protect your oh-so-precious sandwich in hand. Finally, after much anticipation, you throw the sandwich at one of the seagulls in despair, but he could tell that you were out of breath. Your hands on your knees heaving after much running from the evil sea birds, you whip your head toward the pinkish-maroon head man. 

Sae not being too far away makes out the words falling from your pretty lips:

“YOU! WHY’D YOU JUST STAND THERE?” You point at him accusingly.

Running up the stairs and… pushing him down to the ground?

“Ah. Oops. I didn’t actually mean it-”

And that’s where your sudden story of love began. After the apologies and bickering you forced him to buy you new food as an apology. Sae looks at you with an eyebrow raised, hands in pockets. 

“I’ve seen a lot of fans trying to ask me out, but I’ve never seen someone as stalkery and insane as you.” He says as if it’s a fact. 

“You were literally watching me for the past ten minutes,” you reply blankly.

Seems like Sae can’t argue with that.

He finds out on your little rendezvous that you're here in Spain for vacation and you aren’t a stalker fan. Though Sae questions if that’s true ever so often. Your intentions are clear though, after this, you want nothing to do with him.

Which… is new...

So in your next days in Spain, somehow fate has linked you two together in some of the coincidental places Every. Single. Day. Much to your avail. 

Sometimes it’s bumping into him again on a random alleyway. Others it’s you getting scammed in a tourist trap and Sae is just “too annoyed” to see a tourist get their money taken away.

Except, every practice he goes to now he wonders if he’ll see you again today. His mind used to be filled with only one thing and that was football, but somehow you’ve wiggled your way into his mind.

Maybe even his heart.

His stone-cold expression to you is just a challenge to break the ice even more and you find yourself growing warmer to the emerald-eye man. 

Your odd compliments and your unique character stir something inside of him. He continues to tell himself that this is only temporary and he’ll forget about you after you leave.

Even though.

Even though, he doesn’t want you to leave.

His brain is now filled with more of you than football. He thinks about what he can do to make you smile, to laugh. He thinks about what gifts you’d like next and if you’d like churros more or xuixos.

You ask him questions past his athlete life and ask him about things he likes to do. Unfortunately, he has no reply. He’s known nothing more than football all his life. 

So you open him to the world of, well, everything else. You force him to go on walks with you and visit random tourist places that Sae’s gone to millions of times, but every time with you seems brighter than the last. You teach him about your hobbies and other places you visited. You talk about your home country to him and reminisce about the times in high school. This summer is different, more you.

Time passes by and you two grow closer. Even his teammates see the subtle differences. They look shocked to see that Sae is doing something outside of practice.

At some point, the spontaneous meetings aren’t enough and at one of your meetings, you take his phone and add your number to him with a cute little selfie of you. You always remind him how much of a dry texter he is, but he always replies instantaneously even to your random texts at 3 am.

You’re “bearable,” he says. 

Bearable enough to have you as the only person who can bypass Sae’s Do Not Disturb.

Time slows when he’s with you, always experiencing new things with you.

Time doesn’t stop completely though.

At some point, you have to leave. It’s only summer after all.

And that fact leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

You, however, don’t seem a bit worried. Sae frowns at the fact.

Until one day before your departure, he asks.

“Why don’t you seem fazed?”

“Hmm?” you say while stuffing all sorts of pastries in your face.

“About leaving I mean,” he says in a hushed tone.

“It’s not like this is goodbye though. We’re still gonna talk duh.” You say as if it’s a matter of fact.

Sae’s taken aback at your reply. He’s used to your random replies but this one seems so.. genuine. You don’t plan to leave this behind, your memories behind.

You don’t plan to leave him behind.

The day your plane departs is probably one of Sae disliked days. You wave at him but don’t say goodbye, instead it's a “See you Later!”

And you leave.

He wonders if you’ll text back if you’ll really keep your promise of staying in touch.

And you do.

You call him when your plane arrives back in your country. You tell him how bad the legroom was and everything else. He’s happy to hear your voice.

So after some weeks of constant calls, texts, and memes, you ask the dreaded question.

“So.. uh.. What are we?” you laugh nervously.

Sae is lying in his bed, it's currently 11 pm, very much past the time he should be asleep by now. 

“Saeeee…??” you drag out.

He furrows his brows, taking in the question. What are you two?

“What do you want to be?” He internally slaps himself at the reply.

“That’s so ominous.” You joke.

“I mean, I don’t know. Does the famous athlete Itoshi Sae have a secret girlfriend on the side right now?” you ask.

“No. Unless…” He trails off.

“Unless??”

“Unless you want to be mine.” He declares.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PRESENT.

Sae smiles fondly at the memories. He blanked out out of pure embarrassment, but he recalls your reply being something like “Well you better ask me properly!” He remembers looking for flights for you to come back to Spain. And when you do things become official. You stay at his place because it’s “cheaper”, but you both know that it’s just an excuse. You spend time any time you can. He still clearly remembers the day when you called his penthouse your home. 

He knows he’s not very good at a lot of things out of football, but he knows he’s good at loving you. After a couple of years, he made you his wife. The one he’ll always come home to after a game or practice.

“Whatchu’ smiling about huh?” You beam.

He rolls his eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!”

“I didn’t roll anything. You should be practicing rolling the ball around right now.” he says dryly.

“You’re so unfunny Sae.” You drag his arm down and topple on him.

“No more football!” You state loudly.

“No more football,” he repeats.

Sae never thought he’d be saying that line ever in his life. He never even thought of marrying anyone.

But sometimes fate can surprise us.

So while football was a bust for you it was still a good time spent in Sae’s egoist mind. Any time with you is a good time in all honesty.

You may not be the best at football, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need another football lover he just needs you to love him

And with this in mind,

Sae is good at football sure, but he’s pretty sure he’s better at loving you over anything else.

[marylxvrr]

" UNDER HIS CONTROL "

𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 — a charismatic, beloved online personality who captivates millions with his charm and humor, but when you meet him in person, the line between admiration and obsession blurs, and he will stop at nothing to ensure you never escape his grasp . . .

𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, manipulation, possessiveness

You’d been a fan of Luca "Lucio" Vega for months. You’d watched his streams late into the night, laughing at his jokes, marveling at his gaming skills, and becoming more and more enchanted with him each time. To you, he wasn’t just a streamer—he was someone you looked up to, someone you admired deeply. But you never imagined you’d meet him in person.

Then came the announcement: the annual gaming convention was in town, and he was hosting a meet-and-greet. You could hardly believe your luck. The thought of meeting him, shaking his hand, maybe even having a brief conversation, filled you with excitement. You didn’t care about the long line or the crowds; nothing else mattered.

When you finally reached the front of the line, you were almost breathless with anticipation. There he was, sitting at the table, a wide grin on his face as he signed autographs. His eyes were just as warm and captivating as they appeared on stream, and your heart skipped a beat when he finally looked up at you.

“You must be Y/N!” he said with a bright smile, recognizing you from the thousands of fans who had poured into the room. “I’ve seen you in the chat, right? You’re the one who’s always so supportive.”

You were shocked. He remembered you? Out of the sea of faces, he remembered you?

“Yeah, that’s me!” you managed to say, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I—I’m such a big fan! I love your streams.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you thought you might actually pass out from the excitement. But then, his eyes darkened slightly, just a flicker of something you couldn’t place.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to meet my biggest fans in person,” he said, his voice smooth and almost hypnotic. “You all make me feel like I’m more than just a streamer. You make me feel… special.”

You chuckled nervously, trying to shrug it off, but you felt his gaze linger on you a little too long, and it sent an odd shiver down your spine.

He leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough so only you could hear. “You’re different, Y/N. I can tell. There’s something about you that stands out.” His hand brushed yours as he passed you a signed poster, but the touch lingered, just a bit too long. “Maybe we should hang out after this. I’ve got some time.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. This was all happening so quickly. “Um, I—I didn’t know you were planning anything like that.”

His smile never faltered, but you could see the shift in his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll make time. I’ve already noticed you—how you support me in the streams, always there in the chat, always *watching* me.” He paused, his voice dipping into something softer, more dangerous. “I don’t want you to think of me as just some guy on a screen anymore. You’re special to me. *We’re* special.”

The words made your heart race, but not in the excited way you had expected. Something felt off now, like the entire room had shifted. The way he looked at you, the possessive tone in his voice, it wasn’t the playful banter you were used to seeing on his streams.

“Uhm… I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said, stepping back a little. “I should probably get going. It’s been great to meet you, really.”

But he stood up abruptly, his smile still there, though it now held a deeper, unsettling edge. “No. I think we need to talk more. You’ve been following me for a while, right? We have a connection. You’ve always been there for me. Now it’s time for me to *be there* for you.”

You tried to move, but his hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back gently but firmly. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see it now—the obsession, the possessiveness that had always lurked beneath the surface of his charming persona.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t realize it yet, but we’re already together. You’ll see. You’ll understand, eventually. You can’t just leave me, not after everything we’ve been through.”

Panic surged through you. His grip tightened on your wrist, and the crowd around you seemed to fade into the background as his presence overwhelmed you. The illusion of the happy, funny streamer you once admired vanished, replaced by something far darker.

“Let go,” you whispered, trying to tug free, but the look in his eyes only deepened, like he was savoring every second of your discomfort.

“No, Y/N,” he said, his voice now colder, more demanding. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine now. And no one—no one—can take you from me.”

His words settled like a weight on your chest. This wasn’t the man you’d admired from the screen. This was someone else, someone dangerous.

And suddenly, you realized that your admiration had turned into his obsession.

-----

Next oneshot: yandere general x reader (healer/nurse)

[xo100]

Hi there!! Could I ask Lando with a singer or a dancer reader?? They are already dating, but haven’t made it officially yet to the public. Lando surprises the reader by attending to the readers tour and fans are going feral about him being there, because it’s a “duo” they didn’t knew they needed. After the show he comes backstage to the reader and they make the relationship public with the pictures of them being backstage or something. Just really sweet and fluffy. Thank you❤️

A surprise in the spotlight - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 781

*:･ﾟ A/N: hey loves! I just wanted to let you know that I have another blog called @norrisxwrites on this blog I will reblog your reblogs. I’ll reblog my posts and other posts! Go check it out if you want posting there soon! Enjoy the fic!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The stadium buzzed with the excitement only a sold-out concert could bring. The energy was palpable, like a living, breathing thing, as fans spilled into their seats with glowing bracelets and homemade signs. This was your tour, the biggest one yet, and it had been months of grueling rehearsals, endless interviews, and nights spent missing the man who’d somehow slipped into your life and turned it upside down.

That man, Lando Norris, Formula 1’s rising star and everyone’s favorite cheeky Brit, was supposed to be halfway across the world, prepping for the next Grand Prix. At least, that’s what he’d told you over FaceTime just two days ago.

But Lando had never been great at following the rules—especially when it came to staying away from you for too long.

-

It wasn’t until the third song of the set that whispers started spreading through the crowd. Something was happening near the back, a ripple of excitement weaving its way forward. The screens overhead briefly panned across the audience, and there he was, seated among the fans in a hoodie and cap pulled low but not low enough to fool anyone.

The stadium erupted.

“Is that Lando Norris?” someone screamed.

“He’s at her concert?” another gasped.

The internet moved faster than the speed of sound. Within moments, Twitter was ablaze with shaky screenshots and wild speculations.

-Are they dating?!- -This is the crossover I didn’t know I needed!- -Lando and Y/N??? MY HEART.-

Onstage, you were mid-chorus, but the sudden roar from the crowd was hard to ignore. Your eyes scanned the sea of people, your heart stuttering when you spotted him. Lando gave a small wave, his smile tugging at the edges of his mouth like he couldn’t quite contain it.

You fought the urge to break character, biting back a grin as you returned your focus to the performance. But your cheeks were warm, and the butterflies in your stomach were undeniable.

-

The show ended with an encore, the crowd’s energy lingering in the air as fans slowly filed out. You darted backstage, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, only to stop short when you saw him leaning casually against the wall near your dressing room.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Lando said, his voice warm and teasing.

You couldn’t help it—you threw yourself into his arms, the scent of his cologne instantly grounding you. He caught you effortlessly, his laughter soft against your hair as he held you close.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your words muffled against his chest.

“Surprising you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Missed you too much. Figured it was time I crashed one of your shows.”

Your heart swelled. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Only for you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your waist. “You were incredible out there. I mean, I knew you were good, but seeing you like this…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You’re amazing, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice left you momentarily speechless, your cheeks heating under his gaze. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Norris. Though I think you’ve caused a bit of a stir.”

Lando smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Oh, I noticed. Your fans are relentless. Think I saw my name trending on Twitter halfway through the third song.”

“Serves you right,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice gave you away.

-

You didn’t plan to go public with your relationship that night, but when your manager walked in, phone in hand, and said, “We’ve got paparazzi swarming the back exit,” you knew it was inevitable.

Lando squeezed your hand, his touch steadying. “If you’re ready, I am.”

“You mean it?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

He kissed your forehead, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The chaos, the cameras, the noise—it all felt distant, insignificant compared to him.

The two of you walked out together, hand in hand, the backstage photographer snapping candid shots that would be on every gossip site by morning. You didn’t care.

Later, in the car, Lando scrolled through the early posts. He turned his phone to you, showing a picture of the two of you backstage, mid-laugh, your fingers laced together.

“‘The duo we didn’t know we needed,’” he read aloud, chuckling. “Not bad, huh?”

You leaned against his shoulder, your smile soft. “Not bad at all.”

And as the city lights blurred past the windows, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[amirasainz]

hi, you write beautifully! i was wondering if you could please write something about lando and the reader, when they have different love languages lando has touch and the reader has gifts

Thank you 😊

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Different Love Languages, Same Love

Lando had always been a tactile person. It wasn’t something he tried to be, it was just who he was—he liked being close, feeling skin against skin, sharing warmth. And then there was Y/N, his polar opposite when it came to expressing love. She’d always had a knack for finding the perfect gift or gesture, something that showed she’d been paying attention to the tiniest details. They were different, yes, but those differences only seemed to bring them closer.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The first time Y/N really noticed how much Lando’s love language shaped his actions was at a fan meet-and-greet.

It was a chaotic day at the track. Fans swarmed Lando as soon as he stepped out of the hospitality tent. Y/N had been standing beside him, holding his water bottle, her presence understated like always. But the moment the crowd surged forward, Lando’s hand shot out, grabbing hers and pulling her in front of him.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist.

She could feel the rapid thump of his heart as he tucked her into his chest, shielding her from the crush of fans. Even as he smiled and signed autographs, his other hand never left her, his fingers brushing her arm or hip every few seconds as if to make sure she was still there.

Later that night, when they were back at the hotel, she teased him about it.

“Lando, I wasn’t about to get lost in a sea of fans,” she said, smiling as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

He looked up from where he was lying on the bed, his face softening. “I know. I just… I didn’t want anything to happen to you. You’re the most important person there, you know?”

Her heart melted on the spot.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Y/N’s love showed itself in other ways—like the time Lando won his first-ever F1 race.

It had been a whirlwind of champagne, interviews, and celebrations. Y/N was right there through it all, cheering the loudest, her face aching from how wide her smile had been the entire time. The next day, while Lando was still sleeping off the post-race exhaustion, she went out and found a small pendant shaped like a racecar. It wasn’t fancy, but it was something to mark the moment.

When Lando woke up and saw it, his expression was priceless.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up to the light.

“Just something to remember yesterday by,” Y/N said casually, though her cheeks were already warming. “You can put it on your keychain or something.”

Lando sat up and looked at her for a long moment before pulling her into his lap, burying his face in her neck. “You’re unreal, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Their differences became even more apparent on the nights they’d go out with friends. Y/N wasn’t a big drinker, but occasionally, she’d let loose. Lando always took on the role of her unofficial babysitter, not that she ever needed it. One particular night, though, she’d had one cocktail too many.

On the way home, she slouched in the passenger seat of Lando’s car, her head lolling against the window. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” she slurred, turning to look at him with glassy eyes.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Thanks, love. So are you.”

When she tried to sit up, he reached over, guiding her feet onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused but too tipsy to argue.

“Just keeping you close,” he said simply, one hand steering the car while the other rested on her ankle.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

For Y/N, showing her love meant remembering the little things—like the time Lando casually mentioned wanting a specific pair of headphones while scrolling online. Six months later, on his birthday, he unwrapped the exact pair he’d been eyeing.

“How did you remember this?” he asked, holding them up with a mix of surprise and awe.

“I pay attention,” Y/N said with a grin. “You should try it sometime.”

He tackled her onto the couch, peppering her face with kisses.

“I don’t need to,” he said between kisses. “I already have everything I want.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One of Lando’s most memorable gestures came during a rare beach day together. They’d found a secluded spot, far from the prying eyes of fans or photographers. Y/N had been lying on the sand, soaking up the sun, when Lando suddenly scooped her up and pulled her onto his chest.

“Lando!” she yelped, laughing as she tried to wriggle free. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you close,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “And making sure you don’t get sand in your hair. You hate that.”

She rolled her eyes but let him hold her, her head resting against his shoulder as they watched the waves.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The balance they struck was perfect in its own way.

When Lando came home after particularly grueling race weekends, Y/N always had something waiting for him—sometimes flowers, sometimes his favorite takeout, sometimes just a handwritten note tucked into his pillow.

And when Y/N had rough days, Lando would pull her into his arms and hold her until the tension melted away.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

One night, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Y/N looked up at him and asked, “Do you ever wish we had the same love language?”

Lando tilted his head, considering her question. “Not really. I think it’s kind of perfect the way it is. You make me feel loved in ways I never expected.”

She smiled, reaching up to trace his jawline. “You do the same for me.”

And that was all that mattered.