#not going to tell anymore than I already have ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pitlanepeach · 3 days ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Nineteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, teeth-rotting fluff, mentions of minor ptsd, the "do you want kids" talk, therapy, sexual content.

Notes — The queen of fluff strikes again. They're so in love it hurts. Enjoy this intermission from the angst before we get to Spa.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021 (Hungary)

Max was having headaches.

Not debilitating, not anything he would admit needed painkillers. But Amelia noticed the way he squinted at the sim screen, how he blinked a little too often under the harsh lights, how he’d logged fewer hours this week than he had since he was seventeen.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to push him.

But it gnawed at her, heavy and sour at the pit of her stomach.

Because she knew Max. Knew how he worked. If he thought for even a second that she might tell Christian or Helmut or, God forbid, the FIA, he'd lock it down even tighter, wrap himself up in barbed wire and throw away the key. Anything to stay in the car. Anything to win.

Still, it scared her. The idea that maybe the crash had done more damage than he was willing to admit. That maybe he was hiding it from her, from everyone, in order to be given the all clear to keep racing.

She leaned against the doorway to the RBR sim room one evening, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching him fight through another lap. He was good at pretending, but she saw the way his hand came up to the back of his neck when he thought no one was looking, how he massaged the side of his head, quick and angry like he could force the ache away.

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to walk over. Put a hand on his shoulder. Make him stop. But she didn't.

Instead, she just said, quiet but steady, "Don’t be stupid, Max."

He flicked his eyes toward her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what he’d decided. And she already knew it would break her heart trying to change his mind.

—

Amelia sat at the kitchen island, watching her mom buzz around the kitchen, throwing together something that vaguely resembled a pasta salad. She scrunched her nose at the sight of it, half-finished, but already tragic, and fought the urge to say something. She hadn’t been lying to Lando over a year ago, standing in her garage, when she’d told him her mom was really only capable of cooking one thing successfully. And there was definitely no chicken in sight.

Her iPad was open in front of her, specs from the latest floor upgrade zoomed in on the screen, but she wasn’t really looking at them. Not properly. She was too focused on the strange, unsettled feeling curling in her stomach.

This was her first time at home for weeks, maybe even over a month, and she’d missed it, she had. She really had.

But something felt… different. Off, in a way she couldn’t quite pin down.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said eventually, voice quiet but certain.

Her mom spun around, salad tong still in hand, blinking fast. “You— you don’t want to live at home anymore?”

Amelia shrugged, trying to find the right words. “No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t like it here. It’s just…” She trailed off for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I feel like a nomad. I’m living out of hotels most of the time. And when I am in England, I’m split between here, Glastonbury with Lando, and Milton Keynes at Max’s flat. I have all these different places that feel half-mine. But nowhere that’s actually mine, you know?”

Her mom set the salad tongs down carefully, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She didn’t look angry.

Amelia pressed on, rushing a little now in case she’d somehow managed to made her mom sad. “I still love it here. I do. But it feels like… like my childhood home, you know? Not my current home.”

There was a small beat of quiet. Then her mom gave a soft, bittersweet smile. “That’s what’s supposed to happen, honey. You’re supposed to outgrow home. I’m glad you feel ready.”

Amelia relaxed a little, shoulders unclenching. Then her mom added, almost too casually, “Will you and Lando get a place together?”

Amelia blinked. “What? No— I mean—” She stopped herself, brain scrambling to catch up. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I just meant me. Like… by myself.”

Her mom laughed, warm and a little amused. “Well, think about it. You practically live with him already, in hotel rooms, but still… it counts.”

Amelia frowned, thinking it through like it was a math problem. “Oh. Yeah. That would… probably make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She mumbled. “I don’t particularly think I’d want to live alone, anyway. And I have gotten used to all of his stuff taking up my space—“

Her mom just smiled again, all knowing and fond, and went back to massacring the pasta salad.

—

Amelia smiled to herself and kept her head down, pencil scratching steadily across the paper in her lap. The rumble of the jet engine faded into white noise; background to the way her hand moved without much thought, the way it always did when her brain was chewing on something bigger than her.

Lando, sprawled out lazily in the aisle across from her, leaned over, curious. “What are you drawing, baby?”

Immediately, Amelia tilted the sketchbook away from him, tucking it protectively against her chest. Her ears burned hot. “Uh. Nothing. I mean—obviously something, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decode her, eyes narrowing slightly in that way that meant he wasn’t sure whether to push or leave it alone. Then he grinned, easy and warm. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out.

Amelia ducked her head again, heart thudding faster than she wanted it to.

She wasn’t lying. She just… wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet. Not to him, not to herself.

In the sketchpad, dozens of early concepts sprawled across the page; lines and curves and arrows scribbled in shorthand. A McLaren.

Not just any McLaren, either.

One capable of winning championships.

Lightweight rear end. Aerodynamic front wing for better rotation. A reimagined floor, designed with efficiency and flexibility in mind for whatever the regulation changes might throw their way in the next couple of years.

It was stupid, probably.

She didn’t work for McLaren. Never had, in any official capacity.

She was still Red Bull’s weapon — heralded by the press as Max’s saviour. Mini Newey. A hundred nicknames but never just her own, never just Amelia Brown.

But the ideas had crawled into her head after Silverstone and refused to leave. It had started with a little idle thought (If I could build him a car good enough to fight Max…) and now here she was.

She chewed on her pencil, staring at the half-formed shape of the nose, and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything else.

—

They stopped in Belgium before ultimately traveling to Hungary. Lando had family there. Cousins, some distant and some much closer. They’d be too busy to do anything of the sort during the actual Belgium race week, so it was nice to be able to fit them in.

They visited a few over the course of the week; fleeting hellos, shared meals over chipped plates and loud, overlapping conversations. It was nice. Overwhelming, a little, but nice.

Lando introduced her to all of his relatives with a beaming smile and a dozen proud praises—"This is Amelia—yeah, my Amelia"—and she offered polite hellos, dodging kisses on cheeks and handshakes as politely as possible and then doing her best to keep up with the small talk when it was asked of her.

It was a little exhausting, mentally. The swirl of laughter, jokes she didn’t quite catch the punchline of, but Lando never pushed her too far. Never nudged her into the centre of things. He let her stay where she was comfortable, sometimes sliding his hand across her lower back when it got too much, or catching her eye from across a room with a soft, wordless smile.

Mostly, she ended up perched on the carpet with the kids, knees tucked under her, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she held up a toy car and explained, far too seriously, the engine type and manufacturer history. The toddlers listened with wide eyes, clutching their sticky-fingered toys and nodding solemnly as if they understood.

Later, in the car, as they drove back toward their hotel under the pale blue of evening, Amelia sat curled up in the passenger seat, hair pulled over one shoulder, a big blue stain on her blouse that was the product of finger-painting gone wrong.

Lando was quiet, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other tugging her knuckles gently onto his thigh. "You were really good with them," he said eventually, voice soft enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She made a face. “Kids are easy. All you have to do is keep talking and occasionally shove something colourful at them.”

He laughed under his breath. A minute passed.

Then, casual, like he was asking if she wanted to stop for food, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

Amelia blinked, turning her head to stare at him in the half-light. "I— we don’t even live together," she said, blunt and a little incredulous.

Lando’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Well, we can change that."

She stared at him for a long second, watching the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. Like he wasn’t nervous. Like he meant it.

"Did you talk to my mom?" she asked suddenly.

He shot her a quick, confused glance. "What? No—why? Did you already—? I mean—"

“Okay. I would like to live with you," she said, cutting him off neatly.

For a second, he just blinked at her. And then he was smiling, wide and ridiculous, so big it looked like it physically hurt to contain it.

She giggled, reaching over to nudge his arm. "Stop making that face. You're going to scare the other drivers."

"I'm happy," he argued, grin stretching impossibly wider. "Let me be happy."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. She settled back against her seat, watching the trees whip past the window, her heart full and a little chaotic.

"Who gets the bigger closet?" she asked after a beat.

He laughed, a low, warm sound. "You do. Obviously. I’ll just shove my stuff in a corner somewhere."

She nodded. “I do need a lot of closet room. I have two-hundred pairs of shoes.” A few seconds passed in comfortable silence before she tilted her head, thinking. "Where would we live?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Monaco."

She wrinkled her nose, instinctively. "That's... a big change."

He glanced over, softer now, like he already knew she'd need a minute with the idea. "Just think about it, baby," he said. "Makes sense for me. Makes sense for you. No taxes. Close to Max if you stay with Red Bull. Close to everything else if you don't."

She chewed on her bottom lip, the weight of it settling on her. A new country. A new chapter. A real home; with him.

He smiled again, smaller this time but just as sure. "We could make it our home."

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling her brain already spinning into overdrive. "I need to make a list. Pros and cons. Things we’ll want in the apartment. Maybe a balcony?"

Lando just grinned, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. "Anything you want, baby."

—

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Max froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. “You—fuck, are you pregnant?”

His alarm might’ve had something to do with the fact that she was halfway under his car, only her legs and a shock of messy hair visible as she fiddled with a stubborn screw.

Amelia blinked, glancing up at him from beneath the chassis. “No. I’m just wondering.”

Max let out a breath so heavy it was basically a groan, dragging a hand down his face like he needed to physically wipe the terror off. “Fuck, don't do that to me, zusje. I nearly had a heart attack.”

She wriggled out from under the car, wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she sat back on her heels. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m being serious.”

Max crouched down beside her, arms draped loosely over his knees, studying her with a little more care now. “Okay... why are you thinking about that?” he asked, voice softer.

Amelia shrugged. “I was just thinking—if it ever happened, would I be good at it?”

Max’s face relaxed. “You’d be a great mother.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because it’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He snorted. “No, I'm saying it because it’s true. You love very intensely, you’re honest even when it’s not easy, and you are protective and strong. That's exactly what children need from a parent.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. “Pregnancy is scary. Completely out of my control. Everything, anything, could go wrong.”

Max’s expression shifted, softening. “That’s not something you need to worry about yet.”

She hesitated, then said, almost too quietly, “I think Lando would be a good dad. And I want to give that to him. One day.”

Max nodded. “Then you will. When you’re ready, of course.”

Amelia pursed her lips, staring off to the side. “We... I think we’re going to move in together. Soon. Lando mentioned Monaco.”

Max immediately brightened. “Good! I’m there already. We could be neighbours.”

She blinked, absorbing that new piece of information, slotting it neatly into the mental checklist she was already building. “Oh. Are there any available apartments in your building?”

Max huffed a small laugh, like he hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion seriously. “I’m sure there are.”

She nodded firmly, already halfway down the rabbit hole of logistics. “Okay. That would be efficient.”

Max smiled at her, patient, fond. “I’m sure that you will find the perfect place, zusje. Don’t worry.”

Amelia nodded again, more to herself this time.

—

“We’re not living in Max’s building,” Lando said.

Amelia, perched cross-legged on the bed in his drivers room, immediately pouted. “Why not? It would make life so much simpler, Lan.”

He let out a short laugh, setting his phone down. “Look, I love Max, alright? But living that close to him would be... proper weird.”

Amelia tilted her head, frowning like he was speaking another language. “Why?”

Lando scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Imagine it. Every time we argue, he’s knocking on the door two minutes later—sticking up for you, making me feel like a right dickhead.”

She cracked a tiny smile but stayed stubborn. “But it would be efficient. And Max could help us fix things if something breaks.”

“Baby,” Lando said, laughing, “if something breaks, I’ll fix it. Or we’ll call someone. A professional. Not Max with a wrench and a YouTube tutorial.”

He reached over, tugging her socked foot into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking somewhere quieter anyway,” he added, softer now. “Away from the main city. Somewhere you can go on your little daily walks without bumping into tourists every five seconds.”

She perked up immediately. “My walks are important for my brain.”

“I know.” He smiled, running his thumb over her ankle. “I even asked Charles where he grew up. There are places, baby; small, quiet. Still close enough if we need to get into town. He said the air’s cleaner too.”

Amelia tapped her fingers against her knee, thoughtful. “Cleaner air is good. Better for respiratory health.”

Lando chuckled and tugged her closer until she half-fell into his side with a tiny yelp. “Exactly. So let’s find somewhere ours, yeah?”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing him in. “Okay. But if Max gets upset, you have to deal with it.”

Lando grinned against her hair. “I can handle a grumpy Verstappen.”

—

They were curled up in their hotel room, watching the latest episode of Grill the Grid the night before qualifying.

Amelia sat between Lando’s legs, her back pressed against his chest. He had her squished close, big hands sprawled comfortably across her stomach, pressing just enough to ground her, to help her breathe a little easier.

It’d been a rough day for Max, and the stress had bled into her too. Finally being still, finally letting herself relax, felt like a blessing.

She fiddled absently with her golf ball, thumb tracing lazy circles over the surface, half-listening, until the first trivia question came up.

Without hesitation, she rattled off the answer.

By the third question, Lando was laughing, reaching for the remote to pause the video after each one. “Alright, genius,” he teased, chin nudging the top of her head. “You get first go. Beat all of us.”

She answered every time without missing a beat.

He kept pausing, and she kept getting them all right, and after a while Lando wasn’t even pretending to be surprised anymore. He just squeezed her a little tighter and said, “Smarty pants.”

Amelia smiled, small and shy but real.

Lando pressed a kiss into her hair. “I should start taking you to pub quizzes. I’d make a fortune.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t pull away.

—

She felt... clingy.

Sitting next to Lando in hospitality, she stared at him, hands itching, burning to reach out, to grab him and never let go.

It had started yesterday. A coil of anxiety tightening in her stomach, left over from Silverstone. Aftershocks, she supposed.

She’d googled it, of course. Trauma responses. Hyper-vigilance. Perfectly normal, the internet said.

She didn’t feel normal.

She kissed Lando goodbye before qualifying, smiling as best she could, and ignored the way her hands trembled when she pulled away. She didn’t look back, even though everything inside her screamed to.

If it were up to her, none of them would be taking part in the weekends running.

Not Lando. Not Max. Not Fernando. Not anyone.

She caught herself before the spiral could dig deeper, bracing one palm against the wall of the motorhome and forcing a deep breath.

She couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t let one crash, no matter how terrifying, poison the thing she loved. The thing they all loved.

But reason didn’t quiet the fear.

It didn't steady her hands as she watched Lando climb into his cockpit on the livestream.

It didn’t stop her from hugging Max tighter than usual, long enough that he gave her a puzzled little look before he was called away.

Even GP noticed. He kept glancing over, subtle but persistent. “You okay?” he asked, at least a dozen times throughout the session.

Every time, Amelia just nodded without looking at him, glued to the data, clinging to logic, to numbers, to anything she could control.

It helped. A little.

—

Lando out-qualified Daniel by a mile.

He was cocky and proud, chest puffed out as he peeled her dress off later that night, caught between frantic and careful.

His mouth was hot against her neck, pulling soft, desperate sounds from her lips, her back arching into him. Then his hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He was smirking. Full of adrenaline. Hungry. “You think I deserve a reward for my performance?”

Amelia blinked up at him, sweet and soft and unbearably hot. “Anything you want, Lan.”

—

The next morning, she clung to him, legs tangled with his, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. Holding him, having him, needing him close. The warmth of his body against hers felt like the only thing that was grounding her.

He kissed her nose, then her forehead, her cheeks, and chin, finally landing on her lips. The slow, deliberate kiss deepened, but she pulled away just enough to speak.

“I think I need to talk to somebody. A therapist, probably.”

Lando froze, his fingers still brushing against her skin, a soft hesitation in his touch. “You’re... Fuck, I knew something was up. I could feel it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

She gave him a steady, matter-of-fact look, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, that’s because I hid it from you. Didn’t want you to worry."

His face softened, and the guilt crept in. “You should’ve told me, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you distracted…”

"Don’t be stupid." His words were sharp, but they didn’t make her flinch. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her gently against him. “You tell me when you’re having a shit time, okay?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “Sorry.”

His fingers slid through her hair, his voice steady but soft. "No more hiding it. Right?"

She nodded, barely, but it was enough.

“We’ll find someone good for you to talk to,” he said after a beat, his hand moving to stroke her hair.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his collarbone affectionately. “Okay.”

—

She popped her head into Fernando’s garage, offering him a soft smile. He came over, gave her a quick squeeze, and gestured proudly to his helmet. “Pretty, huh?”

She nodded, indulging him with a grin. “I like it. How are things going with Esteban?”

Fernando sighed. “Ah. He is… complicated. A good driver, but a terrible teammate. He does not see how both things can be true at once.”

She glanced over at Esteban’s side of the garage. “He’s passionate.”

Fernando nodded thoughtfully. “He is. That will be his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.” He kissed her cheek and shooed her off. “Go, go, before Verstappen finds you here and threatens to keep you chained to his garage.”

She hugged him again, leaning in just close enough to murmur, “Adjust your ride height. Two centimetres higher.”

Before he could say anything, she gave him a sly smile and disappeared down the paddock.

—

She sat next to Checo in the strategy meeting, slouched low in her chair, sneaking cursory glances at him every time he slid his phone under the table toward her. They were playing chess; badly, if she was honest, but that was half the fun.

Checo would make a move, tilt the screen toward her, and wait, barely suppressing a smug grin. She'd frown, tap out a counter, and slide it back without a word.

No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Checo was a lot of fun. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. And, as it turned out, a little reckless with his queen.

Amelia pinned him in three moves flat.

Checo huffed under his breath, shaking his head at her. She just shrugged, eyes back on the screen at the front of the room like nothing had happened at all.

—

It was raining. Not hard, not anymore, but enough to slick the track and raise every hair on the back of Amelia’s neck.

She stood, stiff-backed, arms folded across her chest in the Red Bull garage, the whole world around her muffled and distant. She could hear the shrill whine of the engines as the formation lap wrapped, but it was like she was underwater. Distant. Fading.

Max was P3. Lando was P6. Fernando was lurking, dangerous as always. The Mercedes were ahead, unpredictable on a damp track.

Amelia flexed her fingers, breathing deep and slow.

The lights blinked above the front of the grid, one, two, three, four, five, and before she could even brace herself, the race started.

Chaos.

Immediate, all-consuming chaos.

Bottas missed his braking point into Turn 1 and plowed into Lando. She didn’t even see it happen, only saw Lando’s car snap sideways, broken, ruined, like a toy in the rain.

She flinched so hard she almost dropped her iPad.

And then Max—Max—

She watched it in horror, too slow to look away, as Max’s Red Bull got collected in the chain reaction, bodywork flying, his car crumpling along the side-pod.

Her knees buckled; she caught herself with a hand on the pitwall.

Someone shouted. Someone else was already running to grab spare front wings. Alarms buzzed in her headset, engineers yelling over one another.

“Max has heavy damage,” GP was saying into her ear through the comms device, voice low and tight. “We’re evaluating. Standby.”

Her hands trembled.

The cars crawled through the carnage, half the grid limping back toward the pitlane. She stared at Max’s car as it crept past, side torn open like a wounded animal, sparks flying out the bottom.

“Still going,” she heard someone say. "He's still going."

Somehow, Max was dragging the car around. Somehow, Lando had pulled off track without getting hit again.

The red flag was thrown. Race temporarily suspended.

Amelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and pressed her forehead against the wall. Cold metal, cold air, cold panic.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder — once, solid and grounding. Probably an engineer who hadn’t been briefed, but they were lucky, their touch felt good, and didn’t make her want to tear off her skin.

She nodded, to herself, to anyone watching her, making sure she was good.

Didn't trust herself to speak yet.

—

Lando was out.

Too much damage. Retired on lap two.

Max was luckier. He kept going, dragging a half-broken chassis to the finish line, scraping whatever points he could.

Esteban won. His first victory.

Amelia watched from the back of Lando’s garage as the Frenchman stepped onto the top step of the podium, soaking in the moment.

Lando’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

She didn’t need him to say anything — she could feel it. The bitter edge of jealousy under his skin, the tight set of his jaw.

“It’ll come,” she muttered, more promise than reassurance, her mind flicking to her sketchbook, to the concepts she hadn't shown anyone yet — the ones that could take him all the way.

The chassis she’d created with two particular drivers in mind.

Lando squeezed her tighter.

—

Summer break came just when she needed it.

She and Lando flew back to Monaco with Max, crashing in his guest room while they started apartment hunting.

Well… Lando did most of the hard work. Talking to estate agents, putting out feelers.

Amelia kept herself busy playing with Jimmy and Sassy, who decided almost immediately that she was their new favorite human.

She didn't mind. The cats were easy company, curling up on her lap or following her around the flat as Lando scrolled through listings and Max grumbled about all the overpriced places in the area.

It felt good, normal, even, to slow down. To just exist for a little while, tucked away in the hazy warmth of a Monegasque summer, surrounded by people (and animals) who loved her.

—

They fell in love with the first place they viewed.

If Amelia believed in fate, she might have called it that.

Lando stood back and watched as she wandered through the apartment; past the galley kitchen, onto the balcony, big enough for a table, a chair, maybe even a canopy swing if she wanted.

Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. A master suite and a double. A massive living room, an even bigger office.

She could already see it: herself at a big desk, sketching new concepts as sunlight poured through the wall of windows.

She found Lando in the kitchen, deep in conversation with the property agent.

When he glanced up, she was already beaming at him.

—

They spent two weeks of summer break, the rare stretch when neither of them had to be working full-time, Lando free from training camps, Amelia unchained from the factory, tucked away in the South of France.

It felt like stepping into another life. Long mornings spent tangled up in crisp hotel sheets, slow breakfasts on sun-drenched balconies overlooking sleepy coastal towns. They rented a little convertible and drove with no real destination, winding through golden hills and lavender fields, the radio humming low between them.

Amelia wore tiny sundresses and braided her hair, and Lando kept finding excuses to kiss her bare shoulders. They swam in cold, clear water until their fingers wrinkled, then collapsed on the beach, salt still clinging to their skin.

At night, they fell into bed full of good food and exhausted.

It wasn’t some extravagant, carefully curated holiday. It was just… easy.

And somewhere between the lazy afternoons and the late-night kisses, Amelia stared at him and thought, “I could spend the rest of my life with you.”

—

The evening was warm, a soft breeze rustling the leaves around them. Lando had set up a speaker on the patio, the faint sound of acoustic guitar playing in the background, but they weren’t paying much attention to the music. Amelia was sitting on the edge of a chair, arms loosely draped over her knees, looking out at the stars above. Lando was sitting on the stone steps, watching her.

“So, how was it?” He asked.

Amelia smiled faintly, but her eyes were tired. “It was… fine,” she started, kicking the edge of the chair with her foot, watching the dust float up into the air. “A bit awkward, but that’s probably normal. Online therapy, you know?” She rolled her eyes, but there was a lightness to her tone, as if she was still trying to find the right words. “It felt like… trying to untangle a knot in my brain, but someone else was holding the other end.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, shifting on the stairs so he was facing her more. “I get that. Did she—” He paused, checking her expression, making sure she was okay. “Did she help at all?”

Amelia shrugged, a soft exhale escaping her. “Not yet. I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. Things I didn’t realise were connected, you know? I think it’ll take a few sessions for it to click. It’s hard to explain. But I felt… heard, I guess. Which is something.”

Lando nodded again, his gaze softening. “Proud of you, baby.” He looked over at the empty space beside him. “Come here.”

She raised an eyebrow but stood up, moving to join him. As she sat beside him on the steps, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re really good at this whole comfort thing.”

Lando chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist. “I try my best.” After a beat, he stood up, holding out a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Amelia looked at him, surprised, but the quiet night seemed to make everything feel a little more possible. She took his hand with a grin. “We’re really doing this?”

Lando smiled, tugging her to her feet. “Why not? It’s a slow song.”

The music played on, soft and gentle, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Just moved together, swaying under the dim glow of the patio lights, with the sound of the wind and distant waves in the background. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the moment settle into her chest, her heart still thudding, but in a different way now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty great,” she murmured after a while, her hand resting against his chest. “With everything.”

Lando’s smile was barely visible in the dark, but she felt it in the way he pulled her just a little closer. “Always.”

She closed her eyes.

Always sounded pretty good.

NEXT CHAPTER

#radio silence #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x ofc #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 rpf #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #formula one imagine #lando fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando x reader

470 notes · View notes

likelysobbing · 2 days ago

Note

nah let reader get her lick back now cause I can’t have us going down like this. Reader needs to get with one of the team immediately but it’s not like no rebound things it’s fr serious and Paige cannot stand it but who cares anymore?

𖥻 STUNNED. azzi fudd x reader x ex!paige bueckers (for the streets 2)

synopsis: paige’s eyes are on other girls, so azzi’s eyes sure as hell won’t let off of you now—and they’re the loveliest you’ve ever had the honor to look back at.

notes: RAHHH here it is! FOR THE STREETS part 2 ! hi nonnie! this is lightly, lightly, lightly LIGHTLY based off a song called makasarili malambing by hev abi and kristina dawn. sorry this took so long i was receiving my education! also, 3k+ words. if u read this u better read it all the way…tell me what u think too. i love interaction hehehe. also, i tried not to make paige suffer VIVIDLY, because i feel like it hurts more for player!paige to just silently regret #EL EM AY OH. thank u. also i put emphasis on eyes (adoration), the color green (envy), and make a lot of references to the previous fic. it’s linked on this post so go on and read it if you haven’t already <3 also, tagging @elalfywhore as per request hehe. hope you guys like it.

cw: READER’S A BIT OF A BITCH AT FIRST, But ends up folding because no one resists azzi bro, readers sassy, azzi is insistent, paige has avoidant attachment issues, no distinct establishment of a relationship but there is an implication of azzi and reader being more and both parties being okay with that (except paige. paige didn’t consent), PLAYER!paige

azzi always watched you.

you ignored it, especially while you were with paige—but she always watched you. azzi’s eyes seemed to favor trailing down your body more than anything else. whenever you ran into her and paige, back when you were still a couple, you had always kissed paige on the cheek—and azzi nearly leaned in everytime you approached her for a hug; maybe she expected a kiss on the cheek too— that’s funny, actually. but that’s unlikely, right? you ignore it. there was no way. no way she could have had any sort of interest in you.

especially now that you’ve practically estranged yourself from paige and her friends; that includes the basketball team. you haven’t said anything to them beyond ‘hi’ , ‘bye’ and ‘have a good day’—and they know why. they understand why. who wouldn’t want to do the equivalent of bury themselves in a hole if their ex girlfriend who they were so intent on marrying ended it all through a phone call while getting head from another woman? come on. you were sure they understood.

included in this very obvious mass-in-real-life-ghosting phase was none other than paige’s closest friend, miss goo goo eyes, miss azzi fuckin’ fudd.

you really tried to get her eyes off you, but it didn’t matter in the end.

azzi always watched you.

or like, maybe it was watch over instead of simply watch. watching over was more akin to what she did—she always checked in on you, maybe when she thought you weren’t looking her eyes would end up somewhere on your body that wasn’t necessarily scandalous—more so the space between your neck and shoulder or a collarbone. regardless, she had her eyes on you.

but watching you or not, you’re sure azzi didn’t mind you distancing yourself. you’re 100% sure she understood you being a bit too far to look at now? there was no need to dwell on it. you’re sure. you’re 100% sure.

… okay, well, maybe you’re 99.99% sure.

azzi sat across from paige, eyes slightly narrowing and widening as she felt the burn of yet another shot. the bass boomed in both of their ears, and each beat rung through their brain, but all azzi could focus on was that paige had let you go.

you. sweet, lovely, you.

she knew she wasn’t being slick when she watched you—her eyes always seemed to rake down every one of your features, and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. you were beautiful, and in paige’s arms you found your place. azzi couldn’t trespass on that—not because of paige, but because of you. you genuinely believed paige was inlove with you—pathetic, unheard of, even—but with how paige treated you, azzi began to believe it too… or she would’ve, if she knew paige less.

azzi didn’t rain on your parade of delusions hemmed by paige’s beautifully sown in lies.

but she wouldn’t deny that you would look better with her.

“you’re thinking again.”

there it is; paige was never one to think a lot, so she always questioned why azzi did. her decisions spoke for themselves. azzi pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, tilting her head just enough to turn her nose up at paige, who grins like she knows what this look is. azzi always seem to come up with the craziest shit, and right now—paige’s excited to see what she comes up with next.

“what you thinking of?” uconn’s number five asks, that drunken lilt unmistakable as she balanced speaking to uconn’s #35 and getting a lap dance from the girl she beckoned over (she knew nothing about her besides the fact she had a nice ass). azzi shakes her head, one side of her lips quirking up. that mystery only serves to make paige even more curious—as always, she doesn’t think twice about digging deeper.

“nah, come on, there’s something—“

“no, paige,”

“there’s someone.”

well, azzi can’t deny that, can she?

so, she burrows deeper into her seat and looks away. paige points at her like she just connected all the dots, going “oh!” like a frat boy surprised that his hunch was even correct. “who’s she?”

“she’s a she.”

“she’s a she and her name is what?”

“she.”

“that’s not a name, bro—“

“how do you know she isn’t a name?”

“bro. don’t do this. i’m drunk.”

by this point, azzi’s (a little bit!) drunk too. there’s adrenaline in her veins; sprinkle in that crazy audacity that paige seems to have all the time, and she could simply say what’s on her mind right now. or, maybe she should just say it to get it off her chest.

“your ex.” azzi murmurs. paige’s eyes darken, flickering from the common deviousness azzi’s so familiar with to something genuine she can’t seem to place. her jaw tightens, smile faltering just enough to make azzi’s own quirk up.

the lights flicker from red, yellow, green and purple randomly. by this point, she’s used to the strain—shes even memorized the pattern. the lights are going from red, to yellow, green, purple— purple again. so why … is paige all green?

“sorry, i don’t mean to impose,” was what she said to you first. you couldn’t even register she was near you at all. why was she even here, sitting next to you in a nearly empty library she’d probably benefit more studying alone in? you weren’t even in the same major. if she had a test to study for, you’d be of no help.

it was stupid of you to even assume studying was on her mind.

she just… did her own thing. in silence. she didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t— she didn’t do anything. she was just on her phone. why was she in the library if she didn’t have any work to do? she had a whole friendgroup—maybe she did it to get away from them? wait, but why would she need to get away from them? did she need to hide? was she annoyed? why would she be annoyed? well, you don’t suppose it was paige, paige would definitely be quite an annoyance—

“yes?”

her voice is soft. softer than a feather landing on your skin. yet, like a feather, amidst how light her voice is—you feel it. it’s one word, but it takes just that to make you feel the one feeling you know will lead to more than multiple disasters.

interest.

you are interested in her.

azzi fudd’s big brown eyes were something you (and anyone in your place) could only resist for so long, and with one bat of her eyelashes and the flash of her sweet smile that—oddly—didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. atleast, not like it usually did. you never saw her as anything more than paige’s bestfriend who was kind of into you (but also simultaneously there was no way she was into you because she was so pretty).

“you’ve been silent for the past two minutes.”

you blink. “… sorry.”

azzi smiles, again, and this time— you can’t help but smile back.

but it’s not that serious, isn’t it? there’s no harm in introducing new people into your life. there’s no harm even if it’s your ex’s bestfriend who’s watched you with for so long, and with such pretty eyes. there’s like, literally no harm.

you wouldn’t let there be any harm. you could open your heart to her a little. deal with her presence if it’s constant. bite back when needed, push away when called for, right?

“that’s okay.” she replies to you smoothly, looking back at her phone. “—just haven’t seen you in a while, you know.” she offers, and you freeze up. she doesn’t stop speaking. “i kind of.. missed you being close. like i get why—i understand, too, i just— you know..”

“yeah, i know you know. paige wasn’t really subtle with the breakup.” you murmured, “did she send you here to check on me, azzi?”

azzi blinks, scandalized by the accusation. “what… no? i don’t—i would never. i’m not like her— i mean, not like that— i just.. wanna be here?”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptically. “at this specific library?” and azzi inhales, “please don’t make me say what i know you know already.”

“i know a lot of things. but i don’t know what you think i know.”

“don’t you?”

“do i?”

“i just wanna be with you.”

that was easier to get out than you expected. hm, okay. okay— you tilt your head. “you’ve been with me enough, with how much you seem to hang around paige.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’ve only ever known you as one of her minions.”

azzi’s eyes widen, and she nearly gasps—once again— SCANDALIZED, by your statement—but she doesn’t. infact, you don’t expect what she does—because she takes your jab in stride.

“wooow, minions, huh? okay, well—why don’t you try to get to know me beyond it?”

“i’d actually rather not. i know who you hang out with.”

“just because i hang out with her doesn’t mean—“

you interrupt her with the zip of your backpack and the slam! of your books closing. “you’re all talk. you never act.”

azzi tries to cut you off with a little “hey, wait—“, her hand on your wrist, her eyes wide and pleading but you do not budge.

you shake her hand off your wrist when she tries to stop you from standing up. it’s the perfect picture of cold ruthlessness you know paige doesn’t believe you have—and you know what? if azzi is going to act like a messenger pigeon, which you assume she is, then you’re going to make sure she has a lot to say to paige when she comes back.

unbeknownst to you, azzi looks at what was once your chair and frowns. she feels your absence more than paige does. more than paige ever will.

and it stings. both for you, and her.

she comes to you again. this time, you’re in another library, and somehow she has enough devotion to presumably ruining your life that she finds you. she smiles when she sees you, waving with a tiny ‘hello’.

you place your bag onto the chair next to you and go back to work. you’re in the zone, there’s nothing stopping you— apparently besides the girl plopping your bag down onto the (dirty!) floor. how rude. how does she have the nerve to sit next to you? why does she still think you’re good? she may want to ‘be in your presence’ but who said anything about you wanting to be in hers? what the hell does she think shes doing?

“i think maybe you should let me tell you what i’m doing here.”

“i actually think you should leave.”

“i’ve only sat next to you twice.”

“twice too many.”

theres a silence on the other end and you think you won. you can’t help the smile on your face—the rejection felt good, in a sort of cruel way. azzi didn’t have any part in you and paige’s downfall, but she did stand by and watch it—you—burn.

so you’d set fire to whatever she was dreaming of in return.

“i always thought you looked better with me.”

record scratch.

“you’re crazy.”

“i am not.” she replies, “just a tad bit tipsy.”

“it’s nine pm?” you scoff, and she shrugs, “pre-game. anyway, i mean it. i always thought you looked better with me. you would, wouldn’t you?”

this time, you leave in a hurry. there’s literally nothing but ‘evacuate’ in your head as you rush to pack your bags, spouting whatthefuckwhatthefuck in your brain as azzi, realizing the utter stupidity of her actions, begins to flail her arms around directionless as she tries to stop you from leaving again.

“okay maybe that was a little bit uncalled for, i’m sorry let me rephrase—“

“no, i am not letting you— and no, i do not wanna find out. you got me fucked all the way up—“

“listen, okay, i just think you’ve always been out of her league—“ she tries to reason, and you look at her incredulously.

“you’re talking about paige bueckers.” you say, back now turned to azzi as you begin to walk out.

azzi shakes her head, already toeing behind you— “i’m talking about my close friend. one who couldn’t see your worth— please, will you let me try again? god, i’m sorry— you’re just so pretty, okay? and you’re so fucking sweet, you have such a pretty face and i just can’t help but look at you—“

“that is so creepy, azzi.”

“it is! i’m sorry!” she whines, obviously more than tipsy, “i’m sorry! just—“ she takes you by the hand, and you freeze up because it’s been quite a while since you’ve had physical contact that had even a smidge of romantic intent, and when you look back— god, there it is.

big, brown eyes.

looking right at you, a tad bit glossy—wide, and paired with by far the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “please.” she whispers, keeping in mind how you’re technically still in the library and she’s been looked at thrice for her theatrics—“please? just… let me hang around. i’m not going to force anything i just—want to know you.”

you’re stunned.

you’re in no state to properly answer; your mind is going a mile a minute, and so in desparation to just speak— you speak with your heart.

“nnn… okay.”

that was your heart. it forgot all reason, dignity, and self respect, apparently.

maybe azzi giving you a wide, toothy smile was worth it though.

“you’re seeing her?” paige repeated, some drink she forgot the name of swirling in her cup. azzi nodded, “figured she’d need something soft to land on.” she murmured, and though her words seemed casual—there was more meaning to them than paige could understand. azzi’s tone was expectant, hopeful—she wanted something to bloom between the two of you—something nice. pretty. good.

“and what is that? your chest?” paige’s reply interrupts her, and though she tries to sound teasing—she sounds more... irritated.

“maybe.” azzi grins.

“get outta here.” paige scoffs, taking another swig of her drink as she slumps back into her chair. “you can have her, it’s whatever bro. liter-ally whatever.”

“mhm.”

azzi’s nonchalance only bothers paige even more.

“i hope you understand i’m not ready yet.” was the first thing you said right after that awkward moment back at the library, “for a relationship, i mean. like, this fast.” you clarified.

azzi nodded, bouncing off you well, “oh, me too—you don’t need to see me as a threat. i just want to know you. i know it’s going to be hard, considering well.. your ex is my best friend. paige doesn’t mind—“ she pauses, before trying to reword. “i mean that—“

“oh, that’s fine. i can tell she doesn’t.” you wave it off, and azzi just smiles apologetically as she continues. “even if it’s hard on the both of us, i want to see where this goes. i’ve watched you too long to not want to be close.” azzi shyly murmurs, before trying to rekindle a lighter atmosphere— “just don’t get sassy with me, okay? i don’t like fighting with you.”

it’s been five months now. since she’s said that.

specifically, since azzi began to try to woo you. every flower she gave was always your favorite one, every ramble you graced her with was met with actual listening ears and comprehension, and nearly every thing you wanted? you had it in your hands the next day. azzi wasted no time in trying to show you she in fact, wasn’t like bueckers (who seemed to be meaner these past weeks, impossibly)—you never had to doubt her.

like actually. you never had to doubt azzi.

she didn’t knock on your door three times, but she was… special. enough. to have a key by the third month. she didn’t look you in the eye all that much, too shy to properly maintain it, but you knew she watched over you anyway. and when she held your hand, she was the one that squeezed first.

even if she hasn’t popped the question yet, there is no doubt in your mind that she’s yours already. she may have had grandeur, but unlike paige, she did not let it define her love for you. no, she won you over by the littlest things. the things that mattered.

its been five months now. since she’s said that.

and it’s felt like… six / seven … years?

however long it’s been, you know there’s a connection. and azzi knows too, because why wouldn’t she? she somehow knows everything. there’s always solutions to problems with her, always an answer to a math equation or an existential crisis— its all so different.

different from paige, you mean.

with azzi, you’re always… stunned— from how much effort she puts in, how bright her smile is, how she never seems to not have time for you—hell, you’re stunned whenever you see her. you know there’s something there, but you don’t know who’s going to make a move first—or atleast, when she is.

you don’t know if you should care at all. you don’t know if you should put yourself first, or if you even have real questions. you can’t even ask azzi like you’ve formed a habit of doing because she somehow always says the right things—you can’t even muster up a question for her: what would you say? ‘bro please kiss me already?’ no way.

“you ready to go?” azzi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see her holding her hand out. ah, that’s right— you’re hanging out tonight. she’s taking you to her favorite spot across the town—that’s nice. you can’t wait to be with her.

you have so many questions you can’t muster, but maybe you don’t need to ask. maybe you just need to feel—her touch lingers far more than it stays, always tingling on your arm or your back; her absence causes you more heartache than you’d like; … it’s just her. maybe there are no more questions. maybe you don’t have questions, but either way, azzi has answers. she might as well be the answer to everything, actually. maybe there’s no need to dwell, no need to label it yet—lord knows what azzi wants.

you take azzi’s hand and she squeezes it first like she always does. it makes you smile wider this time.

this time, love is kind to you. it is soft and slow and yet passionate all the same. you don’t know where it might lead but the look in her eyes is worth it. this tenderness is worth it.

and you’re not afraid, wherever this might lead you.

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even. yet she’s not as big and bad as shes made herself out to be right now. not at all.

in the same booth she was a few months ago, paige now sits alone. there are girls aching to get home with her, and she’s half-picking who should get that honor—but she’s trying to distract herself more.

the lights go red, to yellow, green, purple—purple again. so why does she feel so green?

envy is a rattle snake, and it wraps around her entire body. it squeezes tight, cutting circulation off to the point she’s so stiff she might explode— but it’s not because of you and azzi.

it’s not.

not even when her jaw clenches at the thought of you. and azzi. azzi is her bestfriend, and when she outright admitted to thinking about making moves on you—paige brushed it off with a laugh and a playful “she can’t even talk to half of us, bro—i got her heart broken … or like heartbroken or something.” but now, here she is.

and she’s not heart broken. shes not even bothered at all. she’s not.

she just doesn’t like to see you so close. why would she want you close? she’s done her time. pulled you in closer. you always burrowed in deep, she felt you in her heart. maybe that’s what sickened her— the feeling of endearment. you tried to reach your way in, but to paige it felt like you were tearing her apart—ripping her to shreds to crush the organ in your hands and make the victory against her sweeter.

she’s not heart broken. why would she be? there’s no one here breaking her heart.

there’s no one she lets close enough to even have a shot at it.

there is only her. and while she may not accept it, especially now? now that you are gone? now that she’s driven you away like she once did with every other girl who’s ever tried to come close—although you came closest—who came her way?

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even.

but her heart breaks, and she’s the one breaking it.

@likelysobbing.

#paige bueckers uconn #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #uconn paige bueckers #uconn x reader #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd #azzi x reader #azzi fudd uconn #does this count as pazzi #pazzi #pazzi x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wcbb x reader #uconn wcbb #uconn women’s basketball

316 notes · View notes

eden031 · 3 days ago

Text

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Jack POV, age gap, voilence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, talks of murder, trauma response, Jack is working through his emotional constipation, realisation of feelings, angst, Jack Abbot it down baaaaaad.

Summary: After his intern is attacked by a patient Jack Abbot has to face the fact that pushing people away might not always lead to the best outcome.

A/N: Okay, so this is lowkey a miracle…I don‘t know how I was able to write it this quickly, but here is the Jack POV companion chapter to Part 5, also we get some insight into things reader did not know about. Sooo, there will be two more chapters, mabye more, I don‘t know, I just love them your honor. Also I feel like I could also write this entire series from Jack‘s POV for a second time because it was so fun to work through how he feels about this situation and how he handles it. Hope you enjoy this :)

Shift change had gone smoothly for once, a relief if he was honest with himself. Though there was a small voice in the back of his head telling him not to trust the calm. Shaking his head he tried to get rid of the feeling that had attached itself to his mind like a tick, looking over at one of the work stations he saw his intern standing there. A chart clutched in her hands, her brows furrowed while she read through it.

Suppressing a smile at her expression he glanced at the chart in his hands. It was strangely empty for a Friday afternoon, usually it would be flooded with people that had done something stupid to start off the weekend. He hoped for the best regarding traumas, he was not sure if she could handle another day where people died like flies. The deaths had not hurt him, not really, he had gotten used to it by now, of course they stung, but that pain he had seen in her eyes was long gone from his mind. Still, when he had seen her empty stare and seen the tears he had felt so helpless. It was something he hated more than anything, he was usually in control, usually in charge of the situations he was in, but at that moment he felt like he had lost all sense of control.

He simply couldn’t resist anymore, comforting her, checking in on her, it had taken all the will he could gather in his bones not to call her back then. Too young, too bright, too much goodness ahead in her life to waste time and energy on someone like him. That was what he had told himself for almost a month, but the moment he had seen her in the Pitt it had started to crack, that wall he had built, the excuses stacked on top of each other began to fade away.

Every time half a granola bar was pressed in his hand by her his walls cracked further. There was no point in denying it anymore, especially not now.

In his peripheral he saw someone move, though did not think anything of it until a screech cut through the air. His head snapped up and he saw the figure of a large man shoving Princess to the ground, continuing his way towards someone, he started moving quickly. The only person that might have gone in that direction was his intern.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The guy hollered at the person he seemed to be stalking towards, suddenly cold sweat began to trickle down his spine, he moved quicker, but it was already too late. The guy grabbed his intern, a hand around her throat was all he could see. “YOU FUCKING SLUT! YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I WILL KILL YOU!”

"Security!" he shouted as he moved in closer, terror pumping through his system like he was the one under attack, his movements seemed to slow down as his mind singled in on the image of the large hand wrapped around her throat. The shouting from security began, but he couldn’t reach her, it was too far, he was too slow. Suddenly a sharp movement, he had not seen what it had been, but the guy let go of her, stumbled backwards hollering in pain and then he saw her swing. Her fist connected with the guy’s face, an almost thundering crack sounded through the ED. He stumbled backwards, crumbling to the ground. Jack saw the way his head hit the ground, another cracking sound, blood began to pool underneath the man’s head.

Worry seeped into his mind as he moved quickly, he called her name, but her eyes were fixed on the crumpled form of the man on the ground. Again he called her name, this time she looked up at him.

“Are you okay? Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked, still she simply stared at him, that empty look in her eyes he had seen countless times in the heat of battle.

Gently he said her name again, his hands twitched as he carefully took her face in his hands. Guilt and regret washing over him as he spoke again. He should have paid more attention, he should have been quicker.

“Hey,” he gently squeezed her face, “Are you okay?” he felt his brows furrowing, gentle relief came of him as he saw her eyes regain focus.

“What?” she whispered, hot tears running down her cheeks, brushing past his thumbs. His heart clenched, from the corner of his eye he could see a few nurses and Robby crouched around the man. Robby looked up at him, giving him a soft nod, telling him to take care of her. He could feel her trying to turn her head back towards where the man was laying, but he tightened his grip. It would only make things worse if she would panic about the asshole’s state of well being.

“Don’t look there,” he tried to be as gentle as possible while he spoke, still cradling her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing he had ever held. A few shuddering breaths came from her, with every single one he could feel his heart crack a little.

“I think I need to sit down,” she spoke so softly that it was almost impossible to hear her over the commotion, but he just nodded. Not wanting to let go he moved his hand between her shoulderblades, the other one he rested on her shoulder, gently guiding her towards the nearest chair in the nurses’ station. The empty look had returned to her eyes, a look he knew he never wanted to see again. He should have been quicker, shaking his head slightly he tried to get rid of those thoughts, he could sulk when she was alright. Crouching down in front of her he took her hand, first tapping it, though when her eyes did not seem to come into focus from that he tapped her thigh, his heart clenched as her eyes still did not come into focus. He repeated those actions, trying to get her attention, then finally her eyes seemed to focus and she looked down at him.

“Alright, listen,” he tapped her hand and thigh again, he did not know why, but it seemed like she could lose focus again at any given moment. “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged otherwise.” he could barely hang on to his composure, feeling like he might snap at any given moment. His eyes found the bruise, the deep purple handprint around her neck, it made his stomach churn as he thought that this could have turned out so much worse. “While we wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, slowly he got up from the awkward crouching position he had been sitting in. He was about to walk away to get the ice pack when he felt her grip on his hand tighten slightly. Stopping, he tilted his head in her direction, thinking that maybe she would want him to get something else along with the ice pack. Though then she looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, lower lip trembling as she looked at him.

“Please don’t leave me,” her voice was so soft, a crack in her words. He felt his heart shatter, his sweet intern, she should never have had to experience this.

“Alright,” he nodded, stopping in his tracks, then looking around, spotting Mateo standing near them. Quickly he waved him over.

“Could you get her an ice pack? And call radiology for that x-ray and CT scan,” he had spoken softly to the nurse, but his focus was back on her quickly. Slowly crouching down again he felt her clinging to his hand like it was the only thing keeping her in the moment. He squeezed back, trying to give her some kind of comfort but that empty look on her face returned, the tear stains were enough to break his heart, to make him want to pull her close and tell her that everything would be okay.

“I treated him,” she whispered, her voice breaking again. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time her voice was shaking more violently. Tears began to run down her cheeks again. A quiet sob, then it happened quickly, loud sobs and more hot tears, quiet croaks. His heart shattered as he tried to comfort her. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” She repeated it like it was a mantra, like she was trying to find something that could explain what had happened. His stomach churned as she sobbed softly. Slowly he moved to stand, panic flashed over her face, but dissipated as he pulled her into a hug. It was an odd angle and his back would hate him for it the moment he was able to stand straight again, but right now it was what felt right. Not caring about the way Dana glanced over at him with an amused smile or how Mateo seemed mildly flustered as he brought him the ice pack, telling him that they had bumped her up as best as they could. He could feel the snot and tears seeping into his shirt as one hand found its way into her hair, gently brushing through it, his chin resting on top of her head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right,” he whispered, “You did so well,” he gently rubbed her scalp, trying to get her to calm down a little, “You did so well,”

He remained in that position for what felt like hours until Mateo came back to get her for the x-ray. As he pulled away he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, her eyes were glazed over at this point and her hand easily slipped from his.

Nausea settled in his stomach as he helped Mateo transfer her into a wheelchair, she didn’t really protest as she was wheeled away. Though he could see her head twitching to look around. It was almost like she didn’t really realise what had happened right now, like her mind had gone into a complete shutdown.

Leaning against a table he pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, letting out a long sigh. Guilt and worry weighed heavy on him. He should have been faster, he should have reacted quicker, hell he should have known something was up the moment the damn shift transfer had gone without a hitch.

“You okay, brother?” Robby spoke softly from beside him. Crossing his arms over his chest he looked at his long time friend.

“Yeah,” he nodded, though his voice sounded rough, like he was about to start crying. He cleared his throat, trying to get his usual tone back.

“You sure about that?” Robby looked at him with that really worried expression, usually only reserved for when he was standing on the ledge of the roof.

“Fucking hell, Robby,” he muttered, looking around the nurses’ station was relatively empty, barely anyone there, “He attacked my intern,” it sounded a lot more possessive than he had wanted it to sound, though right now he did not really care.

“He did,” Robby nodded, “Though she got him pretty good,” Robby spoke softly, “Hit him so hard that some of the bone fragments were shoved towards his brain,” a moment of silence, “And he also has a skull fracture from falling,”

“Serves him right,” Jack spoke, the anger in his voice now less controlled than before, Robby glanced at him for a moment, worry evident in his eyes, but a certain curiosity seemed to linger there as well.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Robby sounded more concerned about his well being at the moment than the well being of his intern and for some reason that made him furious.

“I am not the one that needs to talk right now,” he snapped at Robby, which made a few people turn their heads. Robby raised an eyebrow, then his hands.

“Alright, if you say so,” he nodded, though their conversation was disturbed by Dana calling out.

“Gloria incoming,” the charge nurse sounded almost as pleased as if someone had told her that all of the staff had called in sick half an hour before shift started.

“Great,” Robby muttered, “I will do the talking,” he gave Jack a warning glare as he saw Gloria marching towards them.

“I heard an intern of yours punched a patient?” she sounded angry, which made Jack’s blood boil. As he was about to open his mouth Robby put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a warning glare.

“Yes, but it was in self defence. He was choking her and threatening to kill her,” Robby sounded so calm about this. Jack tried to see the rational side to this, tried to tell himself that yelling at Gloria was not going to change what had happened.

“If you wait another ten minutes you might see her and her neck with a bruise in the shape of a fucking hand on it,” Jack spoke in a tone as measured as he could. Though he was pretty sure that he still sounded very angry, especially since Gloria looked at him like he was insane.

“Alright,” she nodded, “Have you asked her if she wants to press charges?” she crossed her arms in front of her chest. A snort came from both Jack and Robby at the same time.

“She was practically catatonic when they took her up to radiology,” Robby said in a quiet tone.

“The only thing she said for the past,” Jack looked at his watch, “forty five minutes was various variations of ‘I didn’t do anything wrong’ and ‘He was just a mean patient’” Jack gave Gloria a long, hard stare. The anger slowly ebbing away again, it was replaced by worry again, the worry that she wouldn’t be okay again. That this incident would make her unable to work in this ED ever again.

“She treated him a few weeks ago,” Robby elaborated, “From what some other staff said he was being incredibly rude to the female workers,”

“Gosh,” Gloria rubbed her face, Jack suppressed a snarky comment about Robby having told her multiple times already that shit like this happens when she continues to cut budget on the ED.

“Radiology just called, Mateo is bringing her down again, results should be here within twenty minutes max, you want me to call Tommy to pick her up?” Dana chimed in from the side. Both Jack and Robby nodded at that.

——————

Tommy had picked her up shortly after the results from radiology had come in, nothing was broken, no serious tissue damage. She had still been in that state of dissociation when Tommy had taken her home with care instructions given by Jack and Robby.

He had stayed in the hospital for the rest of day shift, he couldn’t go home. It didn’t feel right, he just couldn’t bring himself to go home.

Leaning against the railing of the roof he looked down on the streets below, the buzz of people below making him less agitated. Still even as he looked down he was wondering what he could have done, if he could have been quicker. It felt like his brain was playing that moment in a loop, if he had looked up when he had seen the movement from the corner of his eye and realised that it was a patient he could have been fast enough. Though at that moment it had not seemed to be an issue.

He should have been quicker, he should have been able to do something, not just move too slowly when her life was in danger. That expression on her face haunted him, that emptiness, the usual kind and gentle features just completely blank. The way she had clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her in this reality had shattered something in him. Shattered these walls he had been trying to keep up. Hell he knew the moment that he wouldn’t be able to keep them up when he had felt that burning hot rage in his stomach when she had joked around with Tommy for the first time.

From the moment she had stumbled in the Pitt he knew that the work he had been putting in keeping away from her for over a month would be for nothing. If he had never seen her again it might have worked, but the moment she had looked at him, eyes wide with shock, he knew that he had already lost. Running his hands through his hair he let out a long sigh. Maybe he had been too pig headed to admit that to himself until now, he probably had been. It had been there from the moment they had first met. He still remembered her appearing beside him, ordering him a refill for his drink. He still remembered thinking that she would leave again if he acted grumpy enough, but he couldn’t, not with those eyes staring right into his very being.

“Not thinking of jumping today?” Robby’s voice sounded tight, he knew that his friend was trying to joke, but both of them knew that this was not why Robby was on the roof.

“No,” Jack paused, “Thinking about the least suspicious way to kill that guy,” he grumbled under his breath as he continued to wring his hands together, like it might give him some peace of mind.

“Don’t think you are the only one trying to figure that out. So, are you going to tell me what that was back down there?” Robby leaned against the railing beside him.

“What do you mean?” At least he could pretend to play dumb for a little while. He knew Robby had sniffed out something was wrong the second he had cradled her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing he had ever held.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Robby gave him that kind of look that he would give patients if he knew they were not telling the entire truth.

“Robby,” Jack sighed deeply, running a hand over his face, a low groan escaped his lips. He knew that he would have to come clean with someone at some point. He had heard the rumours, the bets, he knew that people suspected things about them and he had not made it any better with the way he had acted today. In his inner eye he could already see money being handed around.

“Fuck,” he drew out the u so long that it felt silly to some degree. He knew Robby was probably the safest person to talk to, but hell, he hadn’t even talked to his therapist about it. He hadn’t told anyone about it except for the ceiling of his bedroom.

“That does not sound good,” Robby sounded amused, like he was curious about the entire situation.

“Robby…” Jack turned his head to look at his friend, he was not even sure how to start explaining this, how does one tell another person that they met a subordinate at a bar before ever interacting with them in a professional setting and that said meeting did not only involve talking.

“I care about her,” was all that came out of his mouth. He knew that Robby would want more information than that, though he also knew that Robby would have to pry certain parts of his feelings out of his cold, dead hands if he wanted to have them.

“That much is obvious,” Robby sounded like he wanted to grab him by the scrubs and shake him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Robby,” Jack sighed, rubbing his face again. The guilt, anger, worry and all the emotions of the past day and weeks started to accumulate, they all started to build up and he knew that he needed to do something. He had wanted to keep her out, wanted to make sure that she didn’t get too close, but now he realised that it was too late, he really was a stubborn old man, just like she had said.

“I really got soft, didn’t I?” he laughed as he shook his head. He knew Robby would immediately pick up on the fact that he was trying to steer the conversation away from her. The next words coming from his friend’s mouth felt like a punch to the gut.

“No, you didn’t get soft.” there was a short pause, “You were always soft for her,”

He felt like a cornered animal, he knew he could just tell Robby everything, tell Robby the truth, but he knew that if he did, there was no coming back. It felt like it was the last piece of the wall that had been chipped away, like this would be the last stone that could fall before she could just step right into his most guarded of places. Shaking his head he realised that it had already happened, he just didn’t want to accept it. She had not taken that wall down bit by bit from the outside, no she had climbed over it the first time they had met and began to chip away at it from the inside.

“Yeah, you are right,” he nodded, wringing with his hands, “You know when I first saw her in the ED, I thought, what is she doing here?” a laugh escaped him. Taking a long breath he shook his head, he was really going to tell Robby about this. Though it felt right, to do it on the roof, it was almost like ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’.

“When we first met she told me that she just finished med school, but did you think in that first second of seeing her I connected the dots?” Robby didn’t say anything. He simply listened, Jack ran his hand over his face.

“It’s weird, you know, I was trying so hard to leave her behind, leave the memory of her in the past, but she haunted me, so when I saw her in the Pitt at first I thought I was slowly losing it. Not the war, not the pain and suffering I saw, no a woman was making me lose my mind,” a snort came from him.

“Oh, but she was real,” he shook his head, it was like all that what he had wanted to tell someone was now beginning to flow.

“I really thought I could avoid it. I really thought that pushing her away in the first place wasn’t going to come back to bite me in the ass down the road.”

At that comment Robby laughed.

“So what happened down there? I think I realised that trying to keep her out was pointless because she had slipped in far too long ago,”

He remembered her hand on his face when they laid in his bed, the blanket wrapped around them, their legs tangled together, how beautifully she had smiled at him and told him that she wanted to freeze the moment in time. At that moment he had wanted nothing else, he had wanted nothing more than to keep her there with him, never let her leave. He hadn’t known why exactly and even now he didn’t really understand it, but it had been so easy then and it still was.

Now it was all he craved, to have her by his side, never having to let go of her ever again. Being able to see that smile every time he went to bed and every time he woke up.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, Robby gave him a smile, a smile that showed that he understood. Hell, Robby was probably the person that would understand this situation the most, the person that might actually be able to say something that made it less painful.

“I think I don’t have to tell you what you should do,” Robby simply patted him on the shoulder again, slowly walking away from the railing. Leaving him standing there, knowing that that he had lost the battle with himself long ago.

—————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88

#the pitt #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #dr jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x female reader #michael robinavitch

234 notes · View notes

anakinstwinklebunny · 3 days ago

Text

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfiction #hayden christensen x reader #christensen hayden #haydenchristensen #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker thought

215 notes · View notes

janejennyojeny · 2 days ago

Text

Watched it today, my take is that black mirror portrays our world in an enhanced way. Subscription to stay alive will be there in the near far future. Greed is the plague of our times. Human life worth less than a buck. The part when rivermind representative introduces the couple to another premium package revealing that the most premium one's features are used at the expense of "common subscription" users time, health, wellbeing? made my blood BOIL. Such a great representation of huge corporations. I do hate billionaires I think they lack moral compass. What do you mean you have billions of dollars stacked somewhere and you use it only for pleasure, luxury or to make more money? What the fuck do you mean you hoard it just cause you can. This kind of money could change hundreds of thousands of lives, and you just sit there, at the very top, giving 0 fucks about anyone else but yourself. Moreover, this kind of money is impossible to obtain with a clear conscience - meaning that empire like that was built on the lives and hands of an army of other people who got a dogshit paycheck out of it at best. This is so crazy to think about and so, so, so depressing. We are all a part of this system and it makes me sick, we are in a black mirror episode already, open your eyes and see just how fucked up everything is. They say ignorance is bliss, the more years pass the stronger that statement becomes because the more you know the more likely you are going to loose your fucking mind at how unfair, disgusting, twisted everything is. This makes it that much harder to appreciate the small and good in the world. If we take it as ying and yang its not 50/50 anymore, I do not think it ever was. The bad is more than a half, you can see it in people you meet, in the street you live on, the news, whatever political situation is in your country, state of the earth and environment, fucked up prices of just LIVING. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE FLAT COSTS MY WHOLE PAYCHECK? Everything is so fucked and it's getting worse each day. I would really like to stay positive but fuck, man. Sometimes it is just impossible to do, being indifferent to all that is impossible when you actually see the pain around you or are affected by it. Empathy is gone, take a random person on the street and ask them what they think about homeless people, people affected by war in the Ukraine, oppressed minorities. Ask about whatever subject that needs empathy to understand and grasp. This will tell you all you need to know. What the fuck do we do? I have no fucking idea. The urge between giving up and fighting back flips back and forth. I do not think there's that many people who feel the same way for the revolution to start. They make it so YOU FEEL SMALL in comparison to their big ass everything. If you're a threat to their big wealth you're gone. Suicide with 6 gunshots to the back of the head. You get it. People do not quite get the "eat the rich" movement. They do not know how serious it is and how dangerous that elites decide on our lives. We are nothing to them. Just a statistic. I wish things could be different. Placing this brick as an act of rebellion, talking about it to people I know as an act of rebellion. Changing people's minds bit by bit as an act of rebellion. Speak your truth even if they look at you like you're crazy. Add your fucking brick. Speak up in important matters, sign petitions, donate to legit organizations, be on the lookout for manipulation and brainwashing, minimize your damage, do not be scared, spread love and awareness, support people that deserve it, do not give your views, likes, support to internet clowns who send the wrong message. People guided by greed do not deserve respect, recognition, praise. People who seek power do not deserve it. People who put billionaires on the pedestal are delusional. "You will own nothing and you will be happy". I could go on and on but the most important thing is: fight the good fight, it will ALWAYS be worth it.

I had another 5 paragraphs to write but tumblr won't let me. I think ya'll get it.

subscription-based brain, memories stored in the cloud. making them say ads without even knowing it. slowly decreasing their awake (streaming) time unless they upgrade to the next tier, and making their current tier more and more useless..... black mirror we're so back

1K notes · View notes

dollyfetti · 3 days ago

Note

Heyy sweet stuff💋

Saw your post telling us to flood your inbox, so I thought maybe you could do a katsuki x curly haired reader!

since the beginning of UA, katsuki has always been distracted by reader's curly hair. You couldn't waterboard this information out of him but he often imagines what it's like to twirl one of her long soft ringlets around his finger, he wonders what the wash day process is like, and he thinks reader looks cute with her bright pink bonnet on when she walks around the dorms

There was even one time when he very coolly wrapped his arm around readers' shoulders to twirl her hair around his fingers on the other side of her face while she spoke (UGH THIS IS SO ATTRACTIVE TO ME😩😩😩)

You can make it vague about what type (3 or 4) she has but I have type 3b and 3c curls and I was feeling self indulgent writing this lmao

Love youuuu!!

OHHHHH MYYYY DONT EVEN TELL ME THIS BC I WILL GO CRAZY‼️‼️ i also have a mix of 3b and 3c hehehe, but i’ll keep it vague !! UGHH omg i love ur brain the shoulder thing stawp!!!!! he’s so silly 😋

saturday was always your favorite day of the week. the spring sunlight shines through the common room windows, spilling into the room with radiance and comfort. you’re sitting in the common room, legs tucked under you, casually scrolling through pinterest with a content ease, music lightly humming from a different app. weekend mornings mean half the class is either knocked out in their rooms, or out and about during their free time.

your hair’s down now, loose curls spilling over your shoulders in defiant little spirals after you tugged off your bonnet. katsuki knows that bonnet well— he’s seen it in almost every shade of lighting, wrapped around your head like a crown at night, or slipping off in the mornings when you drag yourself into the kitchen still half asleep. you've always look stupid cute with it on, not that he'd ever say something about it.

he sits across the room, supposedly doing something with his phone, but his eyes keep drifting to you— well, your hair. the way it catches the gorgeous daylight, and the way it bounces a little every time you shift.

in fact, he can't stop staring, awkwardly enough. it's not that he's never noticed your pretty hair before, of course he has! but not like this, when there's not much product in it, and it's still unruly from sleep. it's attractive. too attractive.

eventually, like he can’t take it anymore, he gets up, crosses the room, and drops onto the plush couch next to you without a word.

"hii," you smile sweetly, looking up from your cluttered pinterest board to katsuki's typical grumbly face while your legs bump into his as you shift to make room. he grunts, classically, in response.

not that he really needs to say anything anyway, he already knows you're about to start your day by rambling to him about "something soo cute!!" or "a really funny video" you saw last night when he was asleep by 9 on a friday.

and like clockwork, you start. "oh! ohmygosh, suki, i saw this thing last night-"

he hums as you begin to babble, nodding along like usual and letting your voice wrap around him like it belongs there. but then out of nowhere, and without even looking at you— he stretches his arm out along the back of the couch, like he just happens to be close enough to slide his hand around your shoulders and rest it on the other side of your neck, fingers brushing your curls. like it’s the most casual thing for him to do.

katsuki's fingers find one of the tighter curls near your opposite cheek, and starts idly twirling it around his finger. not rushed, not embarrassed, just quiet and confident, like this is something he’s done a hundred times before.

you tilt your head slightly with a small grin, his beefy arm resting atop your shoulders.

"what?" you giggle. he doesn’t stop twirling. of anything, his fingers slow down, like he’s savoring the feel of it.

"how the hell is it so soft?" he huffs, sounding more irritated than he means to.

you keep up your casual smile, even though his voice is right against your ear now.

"i take care of it!"

he grunts in acknowledgement, his eyes peering down to your screen. he dryly chuckles, shaking his head, fingers still boinging the curl up and down. "that shit looks like a migraine waiting to hap-"

"that's why i'm organizing them!" you cut him off with a swift chirp as you tilt your phone to face him more. "see, because i have all these in separate boards, but-"

and as you go back to yapping his ear off, he doesn’t move his arm. he finally lets the curl spring free, then tucks a loose piece behind your ear, fingers lingering a second longer than they should.

157 notes · View notes

hearts4hughes · 19 hours ago

Note

hiii I was maybe thinking reader telling their parents that they’re going to a friends house for the weekend and instead they sneak out to Coachella with Rafe and somehow they find out (maybe a clip of them together being cute goes viral on tt and their siblings sees it and snitched but up to you!)

RAFECHELLA 2025

“you’re kidding…right?” his voice rings through the phone in disbelief. a beat of silence passes. “y/n, you’re twenty years old.”

“i know, rafe,” you sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair.

he’s quiet for a second, and then you hear the frustration bleed into his voice. “so why are you sneaking out like you’re fifteen?”

you chew on your lip, glancing over your shoulder like your parents could somehow hear you through the walls. “because they wouldn’t let me go if i asked.”

“and that’s fucking stupid,” he snaps, not even trying to hide how mad he is. “you’re grown, y/n. you don’t need permission anymore.”

you don’t answer, so he keeps going, softer this time. “you should be able to just…go. live your life and not lie about it like you’re doing something wrong.”

your heart squeezes because you know he’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “i’m just not trying to start a war with them,” you whisper.

he exhales again, sharp and shaky. “i get that, baby. i do. but you deserve better than feeling like you have to hide. especially from them.”

you blink fast, chest tight, throat tighter. “c’mon,” he murmurs. “you coming or not?”

your heart jumps. you nod even though he can’t see you. “yeah. i’m coming.”

and when you slip out your window an hour later, rafe’s already leaning against his truck, arms crossed, waiting. he doesn’t say anything when you approach. just pulls you into his chest, kisses the top of your head, and opens the door for you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“they’re gonna be mad,” you mumble once you’re on the road, headlights slicing through the dark.

“let ’em be mad,” rafe says simply, reaching over to tangle your fingers together. “you’re with me now.”

coachella feels like another world. you’re not thinking about home. not thinking about the lie you told, or your parents’ rules, or any of it.

you’re with rafe. you’re alive.

you’re laughing at something he says when you feel your phone buzz against your hip relentlessly.

you ignore it at first, too high on adrenaline, cotton candy, and the way rafe’s looking at you like you hung the fucking moon. but eventually, curiosity wins. you pull it out, frowning at the flood of notifications.

mom: CALL ME.

dad: we need to talk.

sam: LMAOOOOO you’re trending sis.

you blink. rafe leans over your shoulder.

“what’s goin’ on?”

you show him the screen. his brow furrows. then you swipe over to TikTok…and there it is.

a video of you and rafe at the last set. you on his shoulders, arms in the air, laughing. him gripping your thighs, grinning up at you like he’s never seen anything better in his life.

captioned: found the hottest couple at coachella !!!

already at 300k likes and climbing.

you feel your stomach drop for half a second. then you shrug, stuffing your phone back in your pocket.

“fuck it,” you say, grinning. “we’re already here, right?”

rafe snorts, pulling you closer. “that’s my girl,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss onto your forehead. “i fuckin’ love it.”

you let yourself fall against him. they can be mad. they can ground you, they can lecture you. you don’t care.

because for the first time in forever, you feel free.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae

#rafechella2025 #nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine

94 notes · View notes

kinardsevan · 3 days ago

Text

martini shot

inspired by that brand new interview with ButWhyTho. louliver | rated t | 1.4k

“Love of my life? Really? You just had to use those words?”

Lou chuckles as he settles his phone on the counter, rinses off his toothbrush.

“Well, good morning to you, too, Gorgeous,” he replies, dropping his toothbrush into the cup it gets set in each day and lifting the hand towel to his mouth, swiping away any remnants of paste left on his mouth.

“Love? Of my life, Louie?” Oliver’s voice grows more irritated with each word. “Do you need Ryan to remind you what it was already like for the fandom?”

Lou chuckles again, picking up his phone off the counter and walking back into the bedroom. He heads over to the closet and opens it, glancing around at his options for the day. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, and although Oliver has work, he should be around at the end of the night, even if it’s late, so while he doesn’t want to be too formal, he also doesn’t want to look so casual that his boyfriend thinks he isn’t trying. This thing between them isn’t really new anymore—it’s been almost a year since it started, and more than six months since they put a label on it— but he knows that the answer to keeping something feeling fresh and safe is by continuing to breathe life into it.

“Here’s the difference, Gorgeous,” he comments back as he pushes polo after polo aside in his closet. “Ryan, possibly unlike Eddie, is actually straight. Last I checked, he gagged at the suggestion of making out with you on the car ride back from when we shot the funeral procession. Like, full-on, nearly puked right in front of me, Kenny, God, and everybody.”

“That’s not the point, babe,” Oliver whines in response. Lou grins if Oliver is already giving way to terms of endearment, this will be an easy hurdle.

“No, Gorgeous. The point is that if I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s that I don’t want to hide how I feel about you. I know we talk about keeping things quiet outside of our social circles, and that’s fine. We don’t have to tell the whole world when they don’t know us from a hole in the ground. But I’m also not going to lie or feel like I have to backtrack when I’m just speaking my truth.” Lou pauses for a moment to let his words sink in. His gaze stops on a gray long-sleeved henley. It might get too warm for it, but based on what the weather is supposed to be for the day, he’s not overly concerned. “Make sense?”

Oliver is quiet for a few moments, but Lou is so attuned to his various nonverbal sounds at this point that he’s not worried. Eventually, the younger man mutters a drawn-out ‘yeah’ with a sigh.

“Bu-but still, babe,” he croons after a moment. “Love of my life?” It seems that each time he repeats the phrase, his voice pitches higher, and it only makes Lou grin more each time. Between the two of them, Oliver might be the more hands-on one, but Lou is definitely more generous with his words. That’s not to say that he isn’t aware of how Oliver feels—he very much so is—but he’s definitely the one who’s more comfortable saying it twelve times a day versus Oliver’s three or four.

He grabs a pair of jeans out of the closet and tosses them up on the bed along with the shirt, setting his phone down nearby.

“Does me saying that out loud bother you,” he asks, genuinely curious.

“No,” Oliver admits on a breathy exhale, calm as a cucumber. “I think it just…puts things in perspective.”

“In a bad way,” Lou questions as he pulls his shirt over his head. He’s not actually expecting Oliver to say no or get overly sentimental about their relationship, but when the photographer gets introspective like this, he likes to pull as much out of the younger man as he can.

“Not at all. It’s more that, actually, hang on. Can I see you?”

Lou’s phone chimes down on the bed, signalling an attempt to initiate FaceTime. He picks it up and accepts the video call, shifts a few things around on his bed so he can tilt his phone up at the right angle for them to see each other before finishing pulling his shirt down. Oliver grins at the sight—his entire face takes up the frame, and Lou can tell he’s in his trailer at work. A tongue laps across Oliver’s face and Lou smirks.

“Good morning to you too, Jade,” he states. She lets out a little chuff in response, and Oliver shifts the camera back slightly to let her into frame.

“Good morning indeed,” Oliver replies.

Lou raises an eyebrow at him suggestively as he reaches up for his jeans and shakes them out. “You were saying?”

Oliver lets out a breath with a little eyeroll, smirking back at him.

“I was just saying, like, I know we’ve talked about it before and all, but I didn’t ever really think 9-1-1 was gonna be the place I met somebody. You know?” He turns away from the camera briefly, smiling at Jade as he scratches the top of her head while Lou pulls his jeans up with a little hop and then buttons them before grabbing his phone off the bed and then leaning down over it, leaning his weight into his elbows as he looks back at the other man.

“I mean you’re not alone in that,” he responds. “I don’t know exactly what I was holding out for before last year, but I think it’s easier to conceptualize that you’re going to meet someone in a work scenario than it actually is to make it happen. Especially when you assume it’s going to be heteronormative. I knew I wasn’t walking into something that was going to put me in a position where I felt unsafe or uncomfortable, given the people in charge. But did I think everything I’d been trying to find for 39 years was going to be packaged in a mouthy—sorry, what is it the kids are calling you right now? Evil British princess?”

Oliver laughs, shakes his head. “Shut the fuck up.”

Lou laughs with him briefly, a cheeky smile still on his face, at least for a moment, as he looks back at Oliver.

“Seriously, though, Oli,” he admits, a bit softer. “I didn’t say those words out of anything other than the truth, and to-…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Watching you find that range, even in an arguably clinical setting, it’s not fun to watch, and seeing you that devastated over someone who’s technically still alive? Fuck, baby. I don’t- a-and I can’t.”

When he manages to look back up at the phone and see Oliver’s face, his expression has softened to one of love and understanding.

“I love you, too,” Oliver says, his tone still soft. “In the ‘chase you into a disaster, put my emotions fully on display, lose it because the suggestion of you hurting without me being able to solve it kills me’ kind of way.”

Lou lets on a smile as his cheeks warm just slightly. They stare at each other for several minutes until Jade ultimately interrupts again, letting out a whisper of a whine, licking Oliver’s face again. Distantly, Lou hears knocking, and he’s sure Aisha is probably around with food.

“Alright, Gorgeous. Go have fun. Call me if you have time or if you need someone to pick up the kids. Otherwise, I’ll see you later,” Lou tells him.

Oliver nods. In the background, Lou can hear the door to his trailer being opened.

“Send me pictures when you get to Shanna’s,” he replies.

“Will do,” Lou answers, fully smiling now. He blows a kiss at the screen and watches Oliver pantomime catching it, patting it all over his face. “Love you.”

“I love you, Louie,” Aisha calls out from somewhere behind the camera. The screen flips a second later and Lou sees her waving animatedly, grinning.

“Love you too, Aisha,” he replies with a laugh. The screen flips back around just in time for him to get a camera full of Jade pushing herself entirely into frame before Oliver shifts away, laughing.

“Olive juice,” Oliver tells him, his eyes wide and pupils dilated.

Lou nods, mouthing it back, and a second later, the call disconnects. He drops his head against the pillow beneath him with a groan before letting out a laugh.

“The fuck am I gonna do,” he mutters into the air rhetorically. A few seconds later, his phone buzzes in his hand and he looks up, wondering what else Oliver has to talk about.

It’s his sister. He shakes his head at himself with a quiet laugh, and answers the call.

#louliver #rpf #real person fiction #oliver x lou #911 rpf

81 notes · View notes

maddiee-line · 18 hours ago

Text

Oh my…it’s already been 6 months since I had FFS. I think it’s time for “that” post. The before and after results. This is a long one…

In late October 2024 I had Facial Feminization Surgery. I’ve tried to be transparent (ha) here that I’ve had this surgery. Unfortunately, the reality is that many of us may need to get procedures like this to feel comfortable with our bodies. Is it necessary for everyone? No, you can transition to whatever makes YOU comfortable and at peace with your body. For me, FFS is what I needed to help me achieve that. I worked really really hard to get this surgery and I want to share my experience.

So as a background, I began medically transitioning at 31, and inherited my family’s very masculine facial structures. AMAB or AFAB, most in my blood family have strong masculine features and hormonal imbalances. Longterm T exposure didn’t help me at all either. Looking back at old pictures before my FFS is really hard now. It’s hard to believe that is ME.

I feel it is important to share the magic that FFS can accomplish. E is amazing but it can’t change bones all that much. I believe it is really important to compare our changes with everything over time in our journeys. Many of these photos before FFS were during my first year medically transitioning. No matter what hairstyles or makeup techniques I tried, nothing could hide the insecurities that FFS would eventually take away. For a while I tried to convince myself I didn’t need surgeries…but I knew I’d never be happy without it. I jumped at the opportunity to get it when I found out my insurance covered it.

Then came October. It was a brutal recovery. I have a very low tolerance to pain. However, I never felt any of this was impossible and I was very much supported by my doctors. The recovery was challenging for other reasons too. It limited my ability to eat for a bit and I was really uncomfortable for a couple weeks. I had a constant feeling of disorientation during the first week as my vision is pretty bad and without being able to put my contacts in I was practically blind. The nausea also was debilitating at times. This isn’t what happens to everyone but this is what experienced.

My jaw was also severely limited. It was mostly because of the inside the mouth incision to contour the chin and jaw. I could barely open my mouth. By the end of November I could eat sushi by squishing it with a spoon. By late December I could eat small sandwiches and most of my mobility returned. The swelling also took a while to go down. I’d say by February, four months later, I felt that most of the swelling had disappeared or was on its way out. Today, some swelling remains in my chin and my nose.

The liberation and freedom of expression FFS gave to a face like mine has been truly life saving. My style has changed rather dramatically. My brows are now lifted and I no longer make them higher, in fact I just keep them clean, thin them a little, and highlight in tinted gel and maybe add a little red to them. I also can finally do eye shadow, which is was one of my most anticipated aspects of this surgery. I also just feel liberated from my parents. I had a really rough upbringing and no longer being defined by my father’s forehead or my mother’s chin brings me so much peace.

Not pictured is my presence. I’ve heard countless people tell me that I’m happier, more comfortable, and more outgoing than I was before my surgery. I used to calculate my every move so people wouldn’t see my brow bone or an unflattering masculine angle. I don’t worry at all about that anymore. I truly am free. I am just me regardless of the angle. People see this in public too. I’m consistently given the male gaze or they try to make conversation with me. I catch women looking at my hair and outfits all the time. I pass very well.

So now I sit here at six months. And I’m absolutely thrilled with my results. If you are on the fence, and it’s accessible to you, I highly recommend to get FFS if it will help you achieve greater peace and comfort with your mind and body. I went to a surgeon in NYC, and would be happy to share the details if you’d like. I also would be able to answer questions about the whole process of getting and recovering from FFS. I hope this has been helpful to you!

This is my 6 month result:

#transgender #trans #mtf #mtf trans #trans girl #trans woman #transfem #trans content #trans positivity #lgbtq #lgtbqia+

113 notes · View notes

kpop---scenarios · 2 days ago

Text

What Happened To Forever?

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Warning: Sadness, Possible Death?? Fighting, Angst

Word Count: 848

A/N: I'm in a mood. So here's a sad Minho blurb. Thank you to @mint-yooxgi for helping me decide which skz member to use!! My birthday is in 3 (almost 2 days) so if you'd like to commission a story or donate, you can do so HERE !!!

“For christ sake, Y/N.” Minho huffs, dropping his bag onto the floor before running his hand through his damp hair. His face was red, but you weren't sure if it was from his dance practice or because he was mad at you for picking a fight about his late nights, again.

“I don't fucking like these fights either, but you don't seem to take my feelings into consideration here!” You yell.

“I'm doing my fucking best! Between concerts, recording, practices, performances, promotions and you, I'm spread pretty fucking thin here. I don't know what else I can do! I'm fucking trying here and it's never good enough for you.” He yells back.

“I just want to see you more.” You whisper. You don't even try to hold back your tears at this point. You were frustrated. You supported him and his career and you loved that he loved what he did but It felt like you and he were slipping through the cracks. You were lucky if you saw him for more than an hour every 3 weeks. “I just miss you.”

“You don't think I miss you too?” He asks. “You're all I think about, you're on my mind from the time I wake up until I go to bed. Every fucking day.” He says.

“But you're not here.” You say. “You barely come home even after whatever you're doing finishes. We barely see each other.”

“Because I'm exhausted and I have to get up early to do it all over again! You knew what things were going to be like… I told you all about it and you said you were all in.”

“I'm still all in! I'm proud of you, I love you and support you but I feel like I'm being left behind.” You tell him.

Minho rolls his eyes, picking his bag back up. “I can't keep having this same goddamn fight everytime I come home. Like you said we barely see each other and when we do all you wanna do it fucking fight about it.” He sighs.

“When else am I supposed to bring it up? Through text? Yeah that'll go over well.” You scoff.

“Is it going well now, huh?” He snaps. “I can't fucking do this anymore.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You ask.

“It means I'm done. I can't do it. I just can't fight anymore. We're done.” He says.

“You're breaking up with me?” You gasp. “What happened to forever?”

“I guess forever was shorter than we thought.” He whispers. He turns around, opening the door and walking out, slamming it behind him.

You're left there, stunned, your body and mind unsure of how to react. You feel frozen, your mind racing at a million miles a minute.

He left.

He left you.

He was gone.

You didn't know how long had passed when you overcame the shock. Instead of figuring it out, you ran out of the apartment, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. You needed to find him. To apologize. You didn't want to fight anymore. You were the problem, not him. You had to figure out how to make it work and communicate properly instead of picking a fight, which was just the easiest option. You loved him. You needed him. You had to find him. You rushed out the front door of the building, into the pouring rain. You look both ways, seeing him walking down the other side of the street and ways up.

“Minho!” You scream, running down the sidewalk. You can hear your shoes splashing in the puddles, your entire body is already soaked. “Minho!” You scream again, trying to run faster but he doesn't seem to hear you over the rain. You needed to get onto the same side of the street.

“Minho!” You screamed one more time.

You didn't look.

You should have looked.

You were so focused on getting his attention, you b-lined towards the road, passing the parked cars. You didn't see the headlights. You didn't hear the car speeding down the water covered road. You didn't even know there was a car there until it had hit you. Your body slammed into the windshield before sending you flying onto the road.

Minho had heard your last scream. He saw you heading towards the road. He also saw the car speeding down that road.

“Y/N, don't!” He called out.

The rain was too loud.

You didn't hear him.

He watched the car hit you, screeching to a stop right after it hit you. He ran towards your lifeless body. Dropping his bag in the process. He drops to his knees, his heart shattering seeing you like this.

“Y/N, please.” He cries. “I didn't mean it, baby. I love you. Please don't leave me.”

“Someone call 911!” He hears someone yell. He holds you in his arms, crying and begging for you to stay with him. You desperately wanted to. You wanted him forever, and more.

“Please don't die baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forever isn't over yet.” He whimpers.

Or is it?

#skz #stray kids #lee know angst #skz angst #stray kids angst #minho #lee know #lee minho #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop

65 notes · View notes

absolutebl · 1 day ago

Text

This Week in BL - Meaty Post Since It's All You're Getting for a Bit

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

*** This blog will be on mini hiatus for most of May 2025. Not dead just busy. You'll be fine without me. Don't burn down this hellsite anymore than normal while I'm away.

April 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

My Stubborn (Sun iQIYI) ep 1-2 of 10 - Mflow's latest high heat office romance involves best friend's younger brother, boss meets intern, bit of a love triangle, GL crumbs, and few other tropes.

It's... raunchy. And it's giving me Deep Night vibrations. So to speak. Similarly cringe but still fun to have on our screen. I don't mind a "teach me daddy" trope. The leads are serving up BossNoeul in LITA and the other pairs seem decent too. It’s messy gay but it’s low stakes high melodrama soap opera messy gay so I guess I'm okay with that style. Shall we call this "sloppy gay"?

I'm not mad about it.

The BangkokBoy (Thai Sat Gaga) ep 1 of 12 - Action, crime, and revenge meets gangs, street fights, mafia, and more. Oh my. Intriguing premise. Not a bad beginning in terms of acting and family strife set-up. The terrible dubbing is sending me. The terrible fight scenes are sending me even further. They better give us some BL within the next two episodes or I don’t know if I can take this level try-hard.

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - I am so happy to have Jimmy back on my screen. I can’t even tell you. No additional thoughts, only Jimmy in glasses.

Top Form (Thurs WeTV) ep 6 of 10 - this time I reminded myself going in that this is based on Japanese IP. But I still couldn't take it. I fast-forwarded through most of this ep. I knew it was coming but I still couldn’t stomach it.

Akin better get everything tested. And some counseling.

Boys in Love (Sun iQIYI ) ep 1-2 of 12 - Our only true high school BL from GMMTV this year and it's fresh faces for the youths and old favs for the teachers. I want to like this (and be surprised by it) as much as My School President in 2023 but so far that is definitely not the case. I do love the teachers (shocker) and I like the sides but I’m not sold on the main couple. With a kiss already in ep 2 the pacing is off. If this were Japan I would 't be worried, but this is GMMTV messing with the formula and that could be rough for all of us.

Side note... how does Papong look so daddy in Not Me and do damn ingenue here? Best chameleon in GMMTV's stable? I think so.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Heesu in Class 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 9-10 end - omg they are ridiculously cute dancing round each other. Please just kiss! Bah, this did take too long to resolve. I was worried about that.

The people (aka me) want more BL in our BL! Rah rah rah.

I also wanted more Heesu advising others and less of the hets hetting about the place. Sad we got not kiss but also no time to develop it.

Conclusion

What started out with a great core concept (KBL version of Sex Education) rather lost its way getting mired in the slowest of slow burns which effectively turned the BL storyline into a sub plot for multiple het dramas should have just added flavor. The acting was sweet all round, and sincere, and the lead character of Heesu very engaging. There was even some chemistry with his love interest, rare from Korea. The extra length (so rare in KBL) turned out to be just enough for them to hang themselves with. Should we be shocked that Korea didn't have enough faith in the queer romance thread? No, but I had hoped for better. This was almost great but missed the mark by simply not being gay enough. 7/10

I will add the handling of the coming out sequence was... deft.

I think I need to go rewatch Light On Me.

Business as Usual (Korea Thurs Viki) Ep 4 of 6 - Gah this is so sad. They like each other so much and made such stupid mistakes! i guess Jin Hwan won't let it stick? Honestly I'm kinda glad this is a short one.

Something Is Not Right (Korea Weds Viki) ep 2 of 8 - The library scene made me laugh. Every single on of them is such a drama queen. It's awfully angsty but i like it.

Fight for You (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Oh this is getting kinda good. That fantasy was lovely. The rest of the story is rough. But the chemistry is great.

Exclusive Love (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 12 end - Pretty much just a wrap up episode with lots of sex and a double wedding (never a good idea). But all of it was very pretty.

Summary

Taiwan gave us this weird premise of funeral home + mafia + secrets, yet somehow no excitement or real tension because they then slapped it with a pathetic excuse for a plot. Everybody in it was pretty, but the chemistry really wasn’t what I’ve grown to expect from Taiwan. The suits were nice, i guess? Ultimately, given the initial concept, this is remarkably forgettable. 6/10

It's airing but......

Sashes and Hearts (Pinoy YT) 13 eps - Philippines is doing Drop Dead Gorgeous only all gay boys queening their asses off. Doesn't interest me, not sure if it's BL.

Last Meal Universe (Thai ????) 8 eps - An alien who has come to destroy earth instead falls in love with Thai food and then the Thai boy who cooks it - realistic, actually. I got a link to watch but it still wouldn't work for me, so I guess I'm waiting to see what happens.

Lost in the Woods (Weds Gaga) 7 eps - Not my thing, dropped at ep 2.

Secret Ghost (Thai Sat Viu) ?? eps - The trailer dropped and it looks so bad.

My Golden Blood (Weds iQIYI) 12 eps - dropped at ep 5. Recent thought process as follows: Oh, I think I would have loved this if it were OffGun.

What a thing for me to think.

Still, I'm not wrong.

The Rewatch BLigade!

Jazz for 2. I wasn't sure about this when it aired and I'm still not sure about it. I think I like it. But how much do I like it?

Cherry Magic Thailand. Still very enjoyable but there are more slow and lagging episodes than I remember. Lots of fast forwarding through the slow bits. But TayNew still deliver like only they can. Now I kinda wanna do a Deep Blue Kiss rewatch.

Wandee Goodday. I fast forwarded through everything that wasn't YakDee on screen together. Solid choice. I love them so much, and I suspect they might be the healthiest sexual relationship we have ever seen depicted in a BL. (On Viki these days)

Unintentional Love Story. Yeah a regular rewatch for me. I put it on to check something, and then just ended up running through the whole series. Will I ever recover from Gongchan's eyes? Not in this lifetime.

Your Sky. Yeah I finished the 3 ep special and then immediately rewatched the whole darn show. This is my 3rd or 4th time. I love it, totally my type of so bad it's good, so sweet it hurts, BL pulp. I don't ask for much from my BL. This show gave me exactly that much and no more.

Mr X & I - Us Against The World. One of those obscure shorts I love, this one from China pre 2016 crack down. Yep. Still love.

I'll be doing a ton of rewatching over the next month because of all my travel. Wish me luck!

Next Week Looks Like This:

Coming in May

5/2 Pit Babe The Series 2 (Thai Fri iQIYI) 13 eps - More conspiracy and struggles and past coming out to play but even less omegaverse.

5/3 The Next Prince (Thai Sat iQIYI) 14 eps - Hotly anticipated 3 yr production featuring ZeeNewNu in a fantasy/historical set in a palace where Zee plays a knight and Nu a prince fighting for his right it inherit. Plus Jimmy with a new partner. Should be pretty and hot if nothing else.

5/16 Knockout (Thai Fri WeTV ) 12 eps - A low quality less fun/funny version of Wandee Goodday?

5/19 I Promise I Will Come Back (Thai Mon WeTV) 10 eps - A Thai Taiwanese colab. Stars two Thai actors and Taiwanese identical twins from H3. However the lead and co-producer Tontae is actually a very good actor, so this could be good unless it's oen of those mostly intended to be a tourism advert for the Thai countryside. We shall see!

5/16 My Sweetheart Jom (Thai Fri YouTube) 12 eps - I admit I wasn't sold on this one from the trailer but Saint is back and I'm disposed to be intrigued by the kind of script that would pull hm in. But it is certainly not my kind of script.

May? Season of Love in Shimane AKA Ai no Kisetsu: The Season of Love (Thai) - Sequel to Kiseki Chapter 2 which I intensely disliked, must we?

May ? Sweetheart Service (Korea Gaga) - Strongberry is back with a fake dating trope?! After being pressured by his family to get married, Min U proposes to Yu Ha to pretend to be his fiancé. As they spend time together, feelings begin to develop between them.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Lap sit kiss teaching sesh with this boy you kinda hate who is now also kinda your boss... sure, why not?

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

74 notes · View notes

honeyhaeya · 3 days ago

Text

(2/2)🖇 ༘ ⋆"Moved On Not "

' ╰┈ 'if the sun refused to shine, baby, would i still be your lover? would you want me there?"

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '연준 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : intro (Ariana Grande)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, smut, emotional tension, friends to lovers, teasing & possessive!yeonjun, intense makeouts, lap-sitting, domestic moments, long build-up, jealousy, banter, soft aftercare, sunrise sex ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! explicit language, emotionally vulnerable scenes, jealousy themes, minor angst (resolved), tension from miscommunication, reader is bold, story contains mature themes, recording of sex ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: porn with little plot (AT LEAST) - oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), praise kink, hair pulling, neck kissing/biting, dirty talk, soft dom!yeonjun, riding, creampie implied, overstimulation, light marking (hickeys), possessiveness (you’re mine energy), emotionally charged sex, aftercare (wiping, cuddling, forehead kisses), clingy!yeonjun post-sex, reader takes control at times, riding, mirror sex, recording kink. ✩‧₊˚ wc: 7348ੈ ੈ♡ a/n: i've decided this would be the last chapter. a big boo for me, i'll accept that, but i still have a ton of shit works i need to update and post here on tumblr. 2/2 chapters ! MAKE SURE TO READ PART 1 BABES ! and i'm rlly sorry for the mixed-up typings where some parts are detailed, while other are lowercased. i wrote this in different times and places, hope it doesnt bother you much. ENJOY THOUGH !

You woke up to soft lips brushing along your bare shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to your sheets.

“Morning,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with sleep and adoration.

You hummed, eyes still shut. “You're still here?”

“Where else would I be?” he asked, like it was the dumbest question in the world.

That was the beginning of everything.

Your first actual date wasn’t some candlelit dinner—no, Yeonjun took you on a spontaneous late-night drive to the city’s highest parking garage. The skyline shimmered below, but he only looked at you.

“Look at the view,” you whispered.

“I am,” he said, already leaning in.

You made out for twenty minutes in the backseat of his car, half-undressed, your lipstick smudged on his jaw, your leg thrown over his lap as his hands wandered like he was memorizing you.

“I like kissing you,” he confessed, breathless.

“I noticed.”

Date two? Arcade.

You beat him in air hockey. Twice.

“You’re cheating,” he accused, arms around your waist as you doubled over laughing.

“Maybe you just suck.”

“You wanna suck something else, baby?”

You smacked him with a plushie he won for you. It was a frog. You named it “Junnie.”

The cuddles were the most dangerous part.

After movie nights, you’d fall asleep tangled together on the couch. Yeonjun would always stay just a little longer than necessary. Kiss your hair. Whisper dumb things like “you smell like home” and “I think I’m addicted to you.”

One night, you didn’t let him go.

“Just stay,” you mumbled into his chest.

He did. He always would.

And somewhere between tangled sheets, shared playlists, the way he kissed you mid-laugh, and the way he always held your hand like he was scared to lose you—

You realized it wasn’t just lust. Not anymore.

You were falling.

Hard.

And so was he.

It started when you posted a selfie.

Just a simple one. New gloss, cute top, a subtle “feeling pretty” caption. But your DMs blew up. Including one from some dude from high school.

Yeonjun saw it. He was across the room. You didn’t even realize until you caught him sulking on the couch, arms crossed, lips pouting, jaw tight.

“You okay?” you asked, flopping beside him.

“No,” he said bluntly. “Why is Namjoon from math class calling you ‘gorgeous’ under your pic? Should I fight him?”

You choked. “What?”

He turned to face you, leaning in close. Too close. “Do I not tell you enough? Do I need to remind you?”

You grinned. “You sound jealous.”

“I am.” His voice dropped. “You’re mine.”

Next thing you knew, your back hit the couch and his mouth was back on yours, hot and hungry. His hand slid under your shirt, his words muffled against your skin.

“Wanna make sure you remember it.”

Later that night, when you were curled up in his hoodie, legs tangled under a blanket, he kept staring at you like you held the damn stars.

“What?” you asked, poking his cheek.

Yeonjun hesitated, then shrugged. “I think I’m gonna end up falling in love with you.”

You blinked. “You’re not already?”

His mouth parted. You laughed, cheeks flushed as you looked away. “Oops.”

He grabbed your hand. “Wait—say it again.”

“You’re not already?” you teased.

“No. The other thing.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I love you, idiot.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kissed you like it was the last time. Like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

And maybe it was.

It was Yeonjun’s idea.

“I wanna make cookies,” he said, lying on your bed, scrolling Pinterest like a bored housewife. “The cute ones. With the little hearts.”

You blinked at him. “You wanna bake?”

“With you,” he said, smug, rolling over to kiss your cheek. “And then kiss you after I shove cookie dough in your mouth.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just wanna make out covered in flour.”

“Exactly.”

It started cute.

He wore the pink apron. You wore his hoodie. The music was soft, sunlight coming through your kitchen window. You measured the sugar, he cracked the eggs. Your fingers brushed in the bowl and he grinned like a sap.

“This is domestic as hell,” you said, smearing a little flour on his cheek.

He did the same to you, but worse—palmed your whole face with flour-covered hands. You gasped. “You’re dead.”

Cue: chaos. You threw flour at him. He dumped a spoon of batter down your shirt. You screamed. He ran.

“You’re cleaning that up!” you yelled, chasing him through the apartment with a whisk in your hand.

Yeonjun ducked behind the couch, laughing. “Not if you catch me first.”

You tackled him. Literally. He hit the couch, arms around your waist as you both collapsed in giggles.

Then the laughter faded. Your eyes met.

His hands stayed firm on your hips.

“You look cute like this,” he murmured, thumbing a bit of flour off your lip. “All messy. All mine.”

Your breath caught. You kissed him—slow, warm, tasting sweet like vanilla.

The cookies burnt.

Neither of you cared.

That night.

You were lying in bed, snuggled under blankets, legs tangled together, watching trash TV with the smell of burnt sugar still lingering.

“You’d still love me if I sucked at baking, right?” he asked.

“You do suck at baking.”

He gasped. “Betrayal.”

You giggled, nuzzling into his chest. “I love you anyway.”

Yeonjun wrapped his arms around you tighter, burying his face into your hair.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he whispered. “One day.”

You smiled.

“I know.”

the tension starts simple.

he’s busy. like really busy. comeback soon, promotions stacking up. rehearsals until 3 a.m., interviews that never end. you say it’s fine—of course it’s fine—but the calls get shorter, the dates turn into postponed maybes, and when you do see each other, he’s tired.

you still kiss. you still cuddle. but you feel it—that hum of distance settling like dust.

“yeonjun,” you whisper one night, curled up on his couch, his head in your lap, “do you miss me?”

he blinks slowly. “what kind of question is that?”

but his answer isn’t yes.

and your silence says everything.

it builds.

you start feeling like a second thought. you wait up for him only to fall asleep alone. he forgets you had a thing on friday. you stop bringing it up.

you still love him. he still loves you. but love doesn’t stop the ache from creeping in like a draft under the door.

you break down one night—not in a dramatic, screaming way—but in the shower. quiet sobs, back against the tile. exhausted. not because he’s mean. but because he’s not here. and you’re starting to forget what it feels like when he was.

then comes the breaking point.

he shows up at your apartment after a long stretch of silence. no warning, just keys rattling, and he walks in like the world hasn’t shifted under your feet.

you don’t greet him.

you’re sitting on the couch, arms crossed, eyes tired.

he knows.

“baby,” he says softly.

and you just say:

“i feel so alone. and you’re right here.”

that’s what ruins him.

he kneels in front of you, burying his face in your lap, arms around your waist like he’s begging the universe not to take you from him.

“i don’t know how to do this,” he chokes. “i don’t know how to be in love with you and still chase everything else.”

you run your fingers through his hair. you’re crying, too.

“then don’t make me choose between being patient and being okay.”

and for the first time, you both understand:

you’re not fighting each other.

you’re fighting the gap between your lives.

and it’s breaking you.

but the love doesn’t go away.

it lingers in forehead kisses and i miss yous. in holding hands tighter. in soft apologies whispered half-asleep.

you don’t break up.

you just… hold on.

even when it hurts.

you learn to fill your days with things for yourself. not to distract from the ache of missing him, but because you know you're your own person too. you work your part-time job at the café near campus, fingers stained with ink from late-night study sessions, eyes puffy from sleep-deprived group projects. but you push through, for yourself.

karina and winter stay your constants—karaoke nights, cram sessions, skincare sleepovers with ramen at 2 a.m. you laugh with them. you vent with them. you cry a little, sometimes. but they keep you grounded.

and still, somewhere in the back of your mind, there’s always him.

you don’t see him much. once every two, three weeks if you’re lucky.

but those nights? those rare, golden reunions?

they’re everything.

he shows up in his hoodie and cap, slipping into your world like he belongs there. and he does. because when he walks into your apartment with takeout in one hand and a tired smile on his lips, your whole chest aches with how much you missed him.

you sit on the floor, sharing food and stories. you’re both quieter than before, but there’s comfort in the stillness. his thumb strokes your knuckles as you talk. your fingers card through his hair while he lays in your lap again, like old times.

and when you kiss—it’s slow. not rushed. not lusty. just… lingering. meaningful. like every press of his lips against yours says thank you for waiting.

there’s no big confession. no promises carved into the stars. just:

"i missed you," he whispers against your skin.

"me too," you whisper back.

and maybe one night, you cancel plans just to be with him. he pulls you into his arms and sways you in the middle of your living room, no music playing, just the sound of your heart beating against his.

“you’re still my favorite person,” he murmurs.

“you always will be,” you reply.

you’re lying on the couch, legs over his lap, the tv playing something neither of you are watching. your hand is in his hair. his hand? well… it’s resting suspiciously close to your inner thigh.

"you always touch me like you forgot how soft i am," you say with a teasing raise of your brow.

yeonjun just smirks, leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck.

"no, baby," he murmurs, voice low, "i remember exactly how soft you are. but it’s been two weeks, and i’ve had to suffer with nothing but your voice memos and those goddamn pictures in my hoodie. do you know what that did to me?"

his hand creeps higher, fingers brushing over the hem of your shorts.

you bite your lip. “yeonjun.”

"yeah?" he breathes, eyes dark and locked on you. “miss me that bad, sweetheart?”

you can’t answer—not with how he’s suddenly kissing you like he’s starving, like you’re the first breath after drowning. teeth, tongue, hands—desperate. and you? you’re melting, grinding against him like you’ve needed this too.

he chuckles against your lips, cocky and breathless.

"someone’s needy," he teases, pulling back slightly just to watch your dazed expression.

"i hate you," you pant.

"yeah?" he grins. "then why are you already soaking through these little shorts?"

his fingers finally slip under your shorts, and he groans when he feels how wet you already are for him.

“fuck, baby… just like this for me already?”

you don’t answer—you can’t, not when he’s rubbing slow circles against your soaked panties, watching the way your body shudders under him. he knows exactly what he’s doing, smug as hell, that stupid chain around his neck swinging when he leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“take ‘em off,” you whisper, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. “now.”

he chuckles darkly. “getting bossy, huh?”

“or you could shut up and let me ride you.”

yeonjun doesn’t need to be told twice. in one motion, the hoodie’s gone, pants tugged down just enough for his boxers to stretch tight over the bulge you’ve been teasing all night. you climb onto his lap, panties pushed to the side, shorts long forgotten on the floor.

“slow,” he murmurs, holding your waist as you sink down on him, your eyes fluttering shut with a moan. “let me feel you. fuck—just like that.”

you bite your lip to quiet yourself, but it’s no use—not with the stretch, not with how deep he feels inside you in this position. he looks up at you like you’re the whole damn sky, hands gripping your thighs so tight they might bruise.

“you ride me like you need it,” he pants, watching the way you bounce, thighs trembling. “missed this pussy so much, fuck—i’ll let you do whatever you want to me if you keep fucking me like that.”

you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders for leverage. your moans spill out freely now, hips moving faster, chasing your high shamelessly.

"i-i'm close—"

"yeah?" he smirks, thrusting up into you as you ride. "make a mess on me, baby. right here. c’mon, be my good girl."

you fall apart with his name on your lips, legs shaking, walls fluttering around him as he groans your name like it’s his favorite prayer.

he kisses you through it, deep and filthy, still inside you when he whispers—

“round two in the shower?”

he doesn’t even give you a full minute to recover. you’re still catching your breath, flushed and sweaty against his chest when he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct.

“wh—yeonjun,” you gasp, clinging to him, “you’re seriously insane—”

“uh-huh,” he grins, kissing your cheek as he nudges the bathroom door open with his foot. “and i’m not done with you.”

he sets you on the bathroom counter first, tugging your top over your head with ease, eyes glued to your flushed skin. you’re sore, trembling, but your body betrays you—you want him just as bad.

he kisses you again, deeper this time. rougher. when his tongue slides against yours, you’re already breathless, already moaning into his mouth.

you barely register him turning on the shower until the room starts filling with steam. he lifts you again, both of you stumbling in, kissing, laughing, wanting.

you press your back against the cold tiles, and he’s right there—pinning you, caging you in with his arms, water running down his toned chest. his cock presses against your thigh, hard again. still.

“you feel that?” he grits out, grinding slowly. “you did this to me. you’re not getting away without paying for it.”

“i’m sore,” you whimper, lips brushing his. “and you’re still—so hard—”

“then let me make it worth it.”

and oh, he��does.

he sinks to his knees, kissing down your stomach, your thighs, water beading off your skin like you’re something out of a fantasy. he licks a stripe up your inner thigh, hands firm on your waist as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder.

“yeonjun—” your head thuds back against the tile, a broken moan slipping past your lips when he finally puts his mouth on you.

his tongue is relentless—slow, deep, teasing strokes that have your knees nearly buckling. and he knows it.

“taste so fucking good,” he groans into you, voice hoarse. “can’t get enough.”

your hands tangle in his hair, tugging, anchoring yourself as he eats you out like a man starved. it’s filthy—the slurping sounds, the water hitting the floor, your breathy moans echoing through the steamy air.

you come with a choked cry, legs shaking, body twitching—and yeonjun doesn’t stop. not until you’re whimpering, begging him to let you breathe.

he stands again, kisses you hard, makes you taste yourself on his tongue. then he’s lining up, hands on your hips, and you barely have time to register it before he pushes inside again.

“you said you were sore,” he growls in your ear, thrusts deep and slow, “but look at you—taking me like you were made for it.”

you can’t speak. you can’t think. not when he fucks you through the afterglow, lifting one of your legs to reach deeper, angling his hips just right until you’re a mess again—head lolling back, eyes rolling, lips parted.

“say my name,” he pants, kissing your neck. “let everyone know who’s fucking you this good.”

you do. over and over again.

you’re not even sure how long it’s been. time’s a blur, your voice is wrecked, and you’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you come. but yeonjun? he’s insatiable. his body’s flushed, breath heavy, eyes dark and absolutely feral—and he still wants more.

“think you can handle one more?” he murmurs, brushing the hair from your face, his thumb teasing your bottom lip. you’re trembling in his lap, straddling him under the hot water as it pours over your bodies, your legs barely able to hold you up.

you nod, eyes glassy, voice raspy. “yeah… just—just don’t go easy.”

his mouth twitches into a grin. “wasn’t planning to.”

he flips you around without warning—your palms slap against the foggy glass, back arching as he presses his body flush to yours. his hands roam your stomach, your chest, hips grinding into your ass with slow, sinful rolls.

“look at you,” he groans, dragging his cock through your folds. “still so wet—fuck, baby.”

and then he pushes in from behind.

you cry out, legs shaking again. he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady, the other tangled in your hair, tugging gently as he pounds into you.

skin slapping, breathy moans, wet sounds echoing off the tile—pure filth.

“you’re taking me so fucking good,” he grits out, thrusts sharp, relentless. “fuck—i can feel how deep i am.”

you’re a mess of “please,” “yes,” and “yeonjun,”—nothing coherent, just raw, whimpering need.

he pulls out abruptly and you almost collapse, but he catches you, lifts you like you’re nothing and pins you against the wall. your legs wrap around him again, his hands gripping under your thighs as he sinks back in, deeper than ever, your back hitting the tile with every thrust.

you sob his name against his lips, clinging to his shoulders.

and just when you think it’s too much, he lays you down on the counter—legs over his shoulders now, bending you in half, watching your face as he pushes in again.

“look at me,” he demands, holding your chin. “i wanna see how pretty you look when i ruin you.”

you shatter.

your body tenses, head thrown back, and you come again with a cry that could’ve woken the whole building.

yeonjun follows with a deep groan, burying himself inside you with one last, desperate thrust, fingers gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

he kisses your forehead after, still inside you, both of you panting and shaking and soaked.

“…we’re definitely skipping class,” he whispers.

you laugh breathlessly, burying your face in his neck.

“worth it?”

you nod.

“worth every. fucking. second.”

“you’re unbelievable,” he mutters as he lays you down on the bed, both of you freshly showered but definitely not rested. your body’s still sensitive, twitching under his touch, but yeonjun? he’s hard again—pressed against your thigh, leaking, throbbing, desperate.

“jun…” you whisper, barely catching your breath. “you’re still—?”

he nods, eyes dark. “can’t help it. you’re too fucking pretty like this.” he kisses your neck, slowly trailing down your collarbone. “and you have no idea what you do to me.”

you whimper as he rolls you onto your stomach, then lifts your hips gently. you glance up, confused—until you see what he’s doing.

he’s angling you towards the mirror at the end of the bed.

“wanna show you,” he breathes, dragging your body back against him. “wanna show you why i keep getting hard for you… why i can’t stop.”

your cheeks flush as he reaches between your legs, fingers slipping through your folds again, spreading you open for the mirror.

“look,” he whispers, hot breath on your ear. “look how wet you still are.”

you try to turn your face away, shy—but he grabs your chin, gently but firm. “don’t hide. want you to see what i see.”

he pushes into you slowly from behind—and you see it all. the stretch, the slide, the way your mouth falls open when he bottoms out.

“fuck—look at that,” he growls, thrusting slow and deep. “your pussy’s so fucking perfect.”

you moan his name, hands gripping the sheets, your gaze locked to the mirror as he begins moving faster, harder, snapping his hips up into you like he’s got something to prove.

and he does.

“see that?” he pants, gripping your hips tighter. “that’s why i’m always hard. every time i see you. every time i think about this—about us.”

you’re shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity. and he loves it.

“you’re mine, y/n,” he whispers, dragging your body up so your back’s to his chest. one hand cups your throat, the other sliding between your legs to rub soft circles. “say it.”

“yours,” you gasp, watching the way he ruins you in the mirror. “i’m yours.”

“say it louder.”

“i’m yours, yeonjun—fuck, i’m—!”

you come again, body tensing, back arching—and yeonjun loses it. he holds you through it, biting down on your shoulder with a deep groan as he spills inside you, grinding his hips as deep as they’ll go, cock twitching with every pulse.

you both collapse forward, panting, sticky, sweaty—and yeonjun chuckles, pressing kisses to your shoulder blade.

“maybe next time i’ll record it,” he murmurs. “show you how fucking gorgeous you look when you come on my cock.”

“you’re insane,” you whisper, completely ruined.

“for you?” he grins. “absolutely.”

“you sure?” he murmurs, voice hoarse as he hovers over you, phone in hand, the camera already glowing.

you nod, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the way he’s been kissing you all night. “just don’t show anyone.”

his gaze darkens. “as if i’d let anyone else see you like this.”

he hits record.

you moan the moment he pushes into you—slow, deliberate, filling you inch by inch while the phone captures the way your legs tremble and your eyes roll back. his other hand is gripping yours tight, knuckles white, anchoring you as your body arches under him.

“fuck, baby,” he growls, angling the camera to show where you're connected. “look at how good you take me. so fucking tight, so wet—god, this pussy’s made for me.”

you’re panting, nearly incoherent, every drag of his cock making your thighs quake. he adjusts the angle so your face is in view too—messy, needy, yours eyes fluttering.

“you look so pretty like this,” he whispers, locking his eyes with yours. “you watching, sweetheart? look at how you’re falling apart for me.”

he thrusts harder, deeper, the camera shaking slightly with every motion as he fucks you into the mattress, your hands scrambling for purchase on his back.

“you like being filmed?” he breathes against your neck. “like knowing i’m gonna watch this again when you’re not here, jerking off to how you sound when i’m buried inside you?”

“yeonjun—fuck—”

he lets go of your hand, pressing your thighs up toward your chest, splitting you open as the camera captures everything—the stretch, the slick, the way your body trembles when he hits that perfect spot.

“come for me, baby. let them hear how good i fuck you.”

you sob his name as your orgasm crashes over you, shaking, broken, and he doesn’t stop—he fucks you through it, hissing when you clench around him, before finally gasping and spilling inside you with a low, wrecked moan of your name.

he ends the video with one final thrust and a deep kiss to your lips.

“mine,” he whispers. “every messy, gorgeous part of you.”

you’re still catching your breath, legs tangled with his, the sheets half-pulled off the bed and your body limp against his chest.

“you okay?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“barely,” you mumble, voice hoarse from how hard you were screaming minutes ago. “you literally folded me in half.”

“and you loved it,” he grins, smug and satisfied.

you slap his chest weakly, but there’s no heat in it—not when you’re still pulsing from the orgasm he just gave you, not when his hand keeps drifting higher and higher between your legs again.

“yeonjun—”

“what?” he says, wide-eyed and innocent. “can’t help it. you’re still so warm. still fucking soaked.”

you try to squirm away but he holds you tighter, one hand slipping down your stomach.

“baby…”

“just touching,” he says sweetly, fingers teasing the sensitive spot between your legs. “just wanna see how messy i made you.”

you gasp, hips jerking as his thumb circles your clit, soft and slow. it’s too much, too sensitive—and he knows it.

he shushes you gently, eyes dark as he watches your face. “so pretty when you squirm.”

you’re panting again, body twitching, and he hasn’t even fucked you again yet.

“fuck,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “i should show you how you looked earlier. recorded the whole thing. wanna watch?”

your eyes widen. “you didn’t—”

“you let me,” he grins. “remember? wanna watch it with me now, baby?”

he's already reaching for his phone.

“you’re insane,” you breathe out, forehead resting on his shoulder as he scrolls through his camera roll.

“mm, yeah? but you let me record it, didn’t you?” yeonjun grins, smug and shirtless, the glow from his phone casting a golden light over your flushed skin. “there it is.”

he hits play.

your moans, his groans, the filthy slap of skin against skin, your voice all desperate and needy—it fills the room instantly. you shift a little on his lap, already wet just from the sound of it.

“yeonjun…”

“you sound so hot, baby,” he murmurs, free hand sliding down to grip your hips. “look at how good you take me. you see that?”

you nod slowly, lip caught between your teeth as the video shows him thrusting into you from above, your face twisted in pleasure.

“ride me,” he says lowly. “like you did that night. but slower. i wanna feel every second of it.”

you sink down on him, gasping—he’s so hard already, so warm inside you, and your body fits around him too perfectly.

“shit, that’s it,” he groans, phone still in hand, but his eyes are locked on you now. “look at you. fuck. even better than the video.”

you roll your hips, slow and steady, matching the rhythm playing from the screen. he groans as your walls clench around him, the video moaning right along with you.

“you hear that?” he pants, voice strained. “you hear how wrecked you sounded for me?”

“yeonjun—”

“ride me just like that,” he growls, pressing the phone closer so you both watch. “fuck—look at your face. you were so messy, so needy for me. still are.”

you gasp as his hand slides up your back, pulling you down so your lips are almost touching. “and now? you’re on top of me, pussy soaking my cock, watching yourself fall apart like a perfect little slut.”

your nails dig into his chest, your rhythm faltering as the pleasure builds. he drops the phone beside you, finally gripping your hips with both hands, fucking up into you.

“gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he pants. “you want me to record this too?”

“yes—fuck—yes—”

you fall apart in his arms again, head thrown back as you cry out his name, body trembling, walls spasming around him. he doesn’t stop until he’s spilling inside you with a broken groan, holding you there—all the way in—as you both shake from the aftershocks.

yeonjun's fingers trace lazy circles along your thigh, his other arm curled around your waist like he has no plans of letting go. his skin is warm, damp with sweat, and you feel every slow rise and fall of his breathing under your cheek.

later that day

You’re tucked into a corner booth at your favorite café with Karina and Winter, oversized iced drinks sweating on the table, and your voice pitched low as you try not to giggle too loudly.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry—but you let him record it?!” Winter nearly shrieks, slapping her hand over her mouth after realizing how loud she was.

You bury your face in your hands, laughing. “I was in the moment! He asked so sweetly, too, like—‘wanna see how pretty you look, baby’—ugh, I folded.”

Karina takes a slow sip of her drink, side-eyeing you. “Don’t act like you didn’t ride him while watching it back. That’s some power move shit. I'm proud.”

“I hate you both,” you mutter, but your grin gives you away.

Winter leans in. “Okay but seriously. Do you love him?”

You pause.

Like, really pause.

The strawberry swirl of your drink is suddenly the most fascinating thing on Earth, but you feel your chest tighten in a way that answers the question even before you say anything.

“I think I do,” you whisper, and both girls go quiet.

Then Karina nudges your foot under the table. “Aww, our little slut’s in love.”

“Don’t call me that in public!” you hiss, blushing hard.

“Too late,” Winter smirks. “Already tweeted it.”

You flip her off, and she blows you a kiss.

meanwhile, across town – yeonjun’s pov

“So,” Beomgyu says, propping his chin on his hand. “How does it feel to be the biggest simp in Seoul?”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his burger. “Shut up.”

“No, you shut up,” Taehyun adds. “You show up late to practice, looking like you’ve been drained—literally—and you keep smiling at your phone like a lovesick high schooler.”

“Because I like her?” Yeonjun shrugs. “Sorry I’m not a cold emotionally unavailable asshole like the rest of you.”

“So you do like her,” Soobin says with a smirk.

Yeonjun groans but he’s smiling. “I love her, actually. If that makes you feel better.”

The table goes quiet for half a second.

Then Beomgyu bangs the table. “YO. HE SAID IT. HE’S GONE. HE’S FUCKING GONE.”

Taehyun mock-wipes a tear. “Our boy finally found someone to rail and respect.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yeonjun mumbles, hiding his grin in his drink. But inside, his heart’s racing a little.

Yeah. He’s so gone for you.

yeonjun’s pov

He’s halfway through roasting Beomgyu for losing a game of pool when his phone buzzes on the table. He glances down, and his entire face lights up like a damn sunrise.

“Who is it?” Soobin asks, already knowing the answer.

Yeonjun doesn’t respond—just picks up the FaceTime without hesitation.

“Hey, baby,” he says, voice dropping half an octave, smiling like a fool.

The screen shows your face, flushed from the café heat, lips glossy from whatever fruity drink you were sipping. “Hi,” you grin, a little breathless. “Missed you.”

Beomgyu chokes on his drink. “MISS—?”

Taehyun snorts. “I’m gonna puke.”

Yeonjun flips them off with his free hand, still smiling at you. “What’re you doing? You look cute.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just left the café. Karina and Winter say hi. And that you’re whipped.”

“Oh, do they now?” he murmurs, eyes softening. “Tell them they’re right.”

Soobin actually gags dramatically in the background.

You squint at the screen. “Are you with the guys?”

Yeonjun hesitates. “...No.”

“Bro, I’m literally sitting across from you,” Beomgyu says loudly.

“Love you too, babe!” Taehyun shouts.

You burst out laughing, and Yeonjun sighs, resting his forehead in his hand. “I hate them.”

“You love her though,” Soobin sings.

Yeonjun groans, but the grin on his face isn’t going anywhere. “Okay. Gotta go before they start planning our wedding. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will. Love you.”

The call ends, and the boys go feral.

“YOU SAID IT FIRST?” Beomgyu screams.

“WHIPPED!!!” Taehyun echoes.

Soobin takes a slow sip of his drink. “How’s that honeymoon planning going, Jun?”

Yeonjun just flips them off again and mumbles, “worth it.”

later that night…

Yeonjun’s sprawled on his bed, one hand holding the remote, the other resting on his chest, scrolling aimlessly through TikTok. His friends finally left after another two hours of teasing the lover boy, and he’s been moping ever since you hung up.

So when the knock comes at the door, he doesn’t expect you to be the one standing there with a hoodie two sizes too big and that little smug smile on your lips.

“Surprise,” you say, holding up takeout and a drink with his name scribbled on the side.

He just stares at you for a second, like you’re not real.

“…baby?” he says, blinking.

You nod. “I missed you.”

That’s all it takes.

In seconds, the food’s forgotten on the desk and you’re pressed into the wall of his bedroom, hoodie bunched around your hips as his lips trail messily down your neck.

“Fuck—what if I didn’t open the door?” he murmurs against your jaw.

“You always open the door for me.”

“You’re right. ‘Cause I’m yours,” he breathes, hands sliding under the hoodie, up your thighs, his fingers grazing the hem of your shorts. “And right now? I need you.”

You gasp as he lifts you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist like second nature. He’s hot, flushed, grinding against you without shame, tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes your head spin.

“You show up like this,” he mutters, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, “and expect me to just eat takeout?”

You tug on his hair, arching into him. “Who said anything about eating?”

“Oh, you’re unreal,” he groans, dragging you to the bed.

He doesn’t waste a second, pinning you underneath him as his lips roam, his hands pushing your hoodie up, eyes dark and hungry.

“Missed me that bad?” you tease, breathless.

He hums lowly, hips rolling against yours. “You have no idea.”

“You have no idea.”

His voice is barely a growl as he tugs the hoodie over your head, revealing nothing but bare skin underneath. His eyes darken instantly.

“fuck.” he stares for a moment, thumb brushing over your bare chest like he’s trying to memorize every inch. “you really just walked in here like this?”

“wanted your attention,” you whisper, eyes fluttering.

“you have it, sweetheart.”

his mouth is on you a second later, sucking a mark into your collarbone as his hands roam your waist, your thighs, your hips—pulling you flush against him. you can feel how hard he already is, pressed tight against the damp cotton between your legs.

“bed,” he rasps, grabbing the backs of your thighs again and tossing you onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. he crawls over you slowly, eyes fixed on your face as he kisses your stomach, then down, then lower.

“can i?” he murmurs, fingers curling into the band of your shorts.

you nod quickly, breath caught in your throat. “please.”

they’re gone in a flash, and then he’s spreading your thighs apart, groaning at the sight of you—already soaked, already twitching for him.

“shit, baby. you were waiting for this?”

“yeonjun—” your voice cuts off in a gasp as his tongue swipes through your folds, slow and deliberate. he eats you out like he’s starving, gripping your thighs, humming against your clit as you squirm under his touch.

he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, whining, begging, your fingers tangled in his hair as you buck up against his mouth.

“gonna come?” he asks, licking his lips.

“yes, fuck—yes—”

but he pulls away at the last second, and you nearly sob at the loss.

“ride me first,” he says, voice wrecked, dragging you up and flipping you over so you’re straddling his hips. “want you to fall apart on top of me.”

you sink down on him with a broken moan, your body clenching as he fills you inch by inch, thick and hot and perfect inside you.

“shit, that’s it—ride me, baby. show me how bad you missed this cock.”

you start to move—slow at first, rolling your hips, grinding into him, until his hands grab your ass and guide you into a filthy rhythm. your name is falling from his lips over and over again, his mouth latching onto your chest as you bounce above him.

“you’re so tight,” he groans, eyes half-lidded. “so fucking good. look at you—riding me like you’re made for it.”

you lean forward, moaning into his mouth as he thrusts up into you harder, faster, both of you a mess of sweat and whimpers and wet skin. your head falls to his shoulder, fingers clawing into his chest.

“you close?” he pants.

“yes—fuck, yes—yeonjun—”

you cry out his name as your orgasm hits, body spasming around him, and he’s not far behind—hips jerking, spilling inside you with a raw, desperate groan.

you collapse against his chest, both of you trembling, hearts racing.

he kisses your forehead, holding you close.

“you always show up when i need you,” he whispers.

"You’re mine."

It’s the way he says it—quiet but rough, like he needs you to know. Like he can’t stand another second without reminding you.

You’re beneath him, legs tangled in the sheets, your shirt bunched up around your ribs. His hips rock against yours slowly, the stretch of him inside you already making your legs shake. But it’s his eyes—locked on you, all intense and wanting—that make your chest feel tight.

“say it,” he whispers against your neck, voice gravel. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you breathe out, barely able to form the words.

he groans, kissing you deep, tongue licking into your mouth while his hips push in deeper—a steady, sinful pace that’s nothing like the roughness before. it’s slow. intentional. intimate.

“good girl,” he mutters, thumb brushing over your lips. “you feel that? that’s how deep you take me. every fucking inch.”

your back arches, hands gripping his arms as you moan out his name. he thrusts again—deeper, slower—like he wants to memorize every sound you make, every twitch of your body beneath him.

“i love you,” he says suddenly, panting against your jaw. “fuck—I’m so in love with you, baby.”

your heart skips. your body tightens. everything feels like too much and not enough.

you kiss him—hard, messy, teeth clashing—as your hips start to move with his, chasing the edge together. it’s raw, tender, and so desperate it nearly breaks you.

“yeonjun—i love you,” you gasp, your nails digging into his back. “please—don’t stop—”

“never,” he groans. “never stopping, not when you feel like this. not when you love me like this.”

he fucks into you with slow, punishing strokes, groaning your name with every thrust, until you’re trembling, thighs wrapped tight around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

“come with me,” he pants. “come with me, baby, please—fuck—i need you to—”

you fall apart at the same time, clutching onto each other like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the world. you come hard, gasping his name, and he follows—shuddering, spilling inside you with a low moan as he presses kisses to your neck, your cheek, your lips.

he doesn’t pull away. not even when you’re both wrecked and panting and twitching with every aftershock.

he just stays inside, wraps you up in his arms, and murmurs soft, broken things against your skin.

“you’re everything.”

the air’s heavy with sex and love and the kind of tension that never really leaves once it’s been touched.

you thought he’d be done after that—after whispering i love you into your skin like it was prayer. after coming inside you like he meant it. but no.

yeonjun’s still hard.

still wanting.

still yours.

your body’s limp from the first round, breaths shallow, heart still thudding like it’s trying to make sense of everything he just did to you. but he doesn’t give you long. doesn’t give you a moment to recover before he’s kissing your shoulder, hands sliding under the sheets to grab your hips again.

“turn around for me, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and low and dark. “wanna see you on all fours.”

you shiver. your legs tremble. but you move.

you shift slowly, limbs heavy, letting him guide you—pulling your hips up, arching your back, face pressed to the pillows while your ass is up for him, all flushed and wet and ready again.

he moans when he sees you like that.

“look at you,” he mutters, hand ghosting over your ass before he grabs it—fingers rough, greedy. “so pretty. so fuckin’ perfect.”

you feel him shift behind you, knees parting, his cock pressing back into you with maddening patience. he slides in again—slow, teasing. the stretch is too much, but you whimper for more.

he pins your arms behind your back with one hand, forcing your chest down against the mattress.

you can’t move. can’t think. can only feel.

“you can take it,” he growls, hips starting to thrust with more force, more rhythm. “you took it earlier. you can take it again.”

the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the room, and he’s going deeper this time—shoving in harder, dragging it out just to hear you sob into the sheets.

his mouth is everywhere. biting into your shoulder, sucking hickeys down your spine, your waist, even the curve of your ass. branding you like he wants everyone to know you’re his.

“all mine,” he pants. “say it.”

“y-yours,” you cry, legs shaking.

he lets go of your arms just to grab your neck, pulling you up so your back hits his chest, his cock still slamming into you from behind.

“say it louder, baby.”

“i’m yours!” you scream, your body breaking apart.

he wraps his other arm around your stomach, holding you still while he thrusts up into you like he’s chasing your soul. you come like that—again—clenching around him so tight he gasps and curses and bites your shoulder as he comes with you, teeth sinking in to muffle the growl that rips out of him.

you both collapse after. a mess of limbs and gasps and heat.

he doesn’t pull out. just lets himself soften inside you, arms wrapped tight, your bodies stuck together with sweat and come and love so deep it aches.

“you good?” he murmurs against your ear, thumb stroking the edge of one fresh hickey.

you don’t answer. you’re gone. boneless. breathless. he chuckles.

“gonna have to carry you to the bathroom again, huh?”

your body’s trembling, skin flushed and marked, breath barely evened out from the last one. you’re sure he’d let you sleep now, sure he’d hold you close and whisper something sweet.

but then he shifts beside you.

not done.

not satisfied.

not even close.

you feel the way his hand drags down your thigh, slow and possessive. his voice comes next, low and lazy and soaked in heat.

“still breathing?” he murmurs against your neck, tongue flicking over the hickey he left there earlier.

you hum, exhausted but drunk on him. “barely.”

his hand slips between your thighs again, palm pressing against your core, and you flinch—sensitive.

“yeonjun—”

“just one more, baby,” he says, voice coaxing and sweet as sin. “last one. let me make you feel good again.”

you try to protest, but your legs part instinctively when his fingers dip lower, playing with the mess he left inside you. he groans at the wet sound of it.

“fuck, still so full of me,” he mutters. “you’re unreal.”

you don’t even realize he’s gotten up until you’re being gently pushed onto your side. he’s behind you in seconds—pressing in, spooning you, kissing your shoulder. you feel the hard press of him again, thick and ready, sliding between your thighs before he slowly—so slowly—pushes into you from behind.

“mm—fuck—jun…”

“i know, baby,” he breathes, wrapping his arm around you, pinning your hips in place while he moves inside. “i got you.”

this time it’s slower. deeper. the kind that builds a fire instead of starting one. his lips press kisses along your neck, whispering the filthiest, sweetest things into your ear.

“you feel that? how warm you are around me?”

“wish i could stay inside you forever.”

“you’re my favorite place in the whole fucking world.”

you clutch the pillow under your head, body trembling as he rocks into you with perfect rhythm. his fingers find your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles that make your thighs twitch.

you’re so full of him—his cock, his breath, his voice, his love—and it pushes you right over the edge one last time.

you come with a gasp, tears in your eyes, legs shaking as he follows right behind you, groaning your name into your skin like a promise.

he stays inside you after.

holding you tight.

whispering, “you did so good for me.”

pressing a kiss to your temple.

letting the silence wrap around your bodies like a blanket.

he pulls out gently, careful not to overstimulate you more than he already has. his hands find yours under the sheets, fingers lacing together.

“okay,” he whispers. “now you can sleep.”

and this time—you do.

MORNING AFTER

your eyes flutter open to soft breaths against your nape, the warm brush of skin, and an annoyingly firm grip wrapped around your waist.

“jun,” you mumble, voice raw, reaching back to nudge his arm. “let go. i have to pee.”

“no,” comes the groggy reply, muffled against your shoulder. “you’re not allowed to leave.”

you blink. “…you’re insane.”

“mm, maybe. but you’re warm,” he pouts, snuggling closer. “and naked. which is a bonus.”

you feel his morning wood pressed up against your ass and groan. “are you serious?”

“i’m always serious about cuddles and you,” he mutters, tightening his hold. “and if you move again, i’ll get hard for real and we’ll be here for another hour.”

you freeze. “…fine. i’ll hold it.”

he smiles into your skin, satisfied, and lets out a happy hum. “that’s my good girl.”

you roll your eyes, face buried into the pillow as his fingers lazily trace shapes along your belly. he shifts a little, pulling your thigh over his so you’re completely tangled up in him.

he smells like bodywash and sleep. he feels like safety. and when he presses a gentle kiss to your neck, you melt all over again.

“you’re never getting out of this bed,” he murmurs, half-asleep but smug as ever.

and honestly?

you’re okay with that.

THE END an: liked what you read? lmk so i can continue posting these kinds of genre. and btw, all this romance is making me sick, time for a dark romance genre next? just say the word and i'll start working on it babies ! mwaaaaa

58 notes · View notes