#someone please take this album away from me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vettelsvee · 30 days ago

Note

letting oscar take your virginity to celebrate his win

(if this makes you uncomfortable please to deny or only write fluffy before/after!) love ur work sm

V CARDS GOODBYES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar arrives home after winning his first ever Formula 1 race, so you think it’s the perfect time for you to celebrate and, also, to say goodbye to your v card ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Hope you like it anon! And sorry it's taken me almost a year I'm a mess 😭

WORD COUNT: 3958

WARNINGS: Smut (virginity loss, female receiving oral sex, fingering, p in v, protected sex, little bit of praising kink), curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Came to the conclusion after the latests Oscar fics I’ve posted that he's the most popular driver on my Tumblr page, so this is for all my Osc people out there! I'm always ashamed of posting smut (but still want to keep writing it) so I hope this is good enough for you to enjoy! Remember that your comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 (Also, thoughts on the new layout?) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

The door of the apartment you shared in Monaco opened, and before Oscar could step inside, he heard excited screams that made it clear someone was more than happy about his arrival.

Not only did your cat start rubbing against his leg while purring, but also you, his girlfriend, were hopping towards him, barefoot and wrapped in one of his McLaren hoodies, which turned out to be even bigger on you than you had expected when you decided it would be a great idea to steal it from your boyfriend.

"You did it, Osc!” you squealed as you threw your arms around his neck. "Osc, oh my God, you won a race! Do you know what that means?"

Oscar felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he knew exactly what winning a Grand Prix meant, especially during his second season in Formula 1. However, all he did was shrug, as if his achievement wasn’t that important.

"Yeah," was all he could say.

"I’m so, so proud of you," you said in a trembling voice, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands.

"I couldn’t have done it without you, even though you were here," Oscar replied sincerely, a hint of regret in his tone. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that you hadn’t been there with him throughout the whole process of stepping onto the podium.

"I know you would have liked me to be there, and I would’ve loved that too," you replied, making a sad but funny face. "But it’s okay! I screamed at the TV a lot, so I guess I helped in some way… And I’m sure you’ll win more races and I’ll be there to see them all, so it’s not the end of the world!"

Oscar chuckled and pulled you close until there was no space between you. He allowed himself a few moments to hold onto you, gently running his fingers through your hair while you clung tightly to his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as if he might disappear at any second.

"Hey… I have something for you."

Even though you whispered it, Oscar heard you perfectly. You bit your lip,. a telltale sign of nervousness he knew well, as you pulled away from him. Then, you quickly headed towards the living room, with the Australian following you, and grabbed a small book he had never seen before.

Carefully, as if it were fragile, you handed it to your boyfriend.

"Open it… I hope you like it!"

Oscar did as you asked. Gently, he opened what he soon realized was a photo album. It wasn’t just a collection of pictures of you from the past two years since you started dating. It was beautifully decorated. There were messages, and even reflections from your perspective about each memory you had built together.

"I know it’s not a big deal, but since I was so bored with studying, I have to admit I procrastinated a bit and felt like doing some crafts, so… well, this was the result," you said hesitantly, as if you were confessing a crime, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "Maybe you were expecting something else, I don’t know, but I hope you like it. You could even take it with you whenever you have to travel, so you remember me and also add something else if you feel in the mood," you added softly.

Oscar felt a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. Although he was used to you being thoughtful, and he always tried to reciprocate, you somehow kept outdoing yourself.

"Y/N, this is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. More accurately, he didn’t know how to express them. "It’s incredible. Thank you so much."

You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, which, as you both expected, quickly turned into something more desperate, fueled by your hunger for each other.

Oscar’s hands found your waist beneath the hoodie, his fingers tracing invisible lines along your skin, moving up and down, even toying with the clasp of your bra. The only thing you could do was keep kissing him, tugging at his hair lightly and pressing yourself against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the growing ache within you.

Then, you suddenly pulled away, more abruptly than Oscar had expected. Your pupils were completely dilated, your lips swollen, and your hair a complete mess.

"Oscar…"

"Y/N…"

"I want to do it."

Your voice was barely a whisper. Oscar’s eyes widened, surprised because, even though he perfectly understood what you meant, hearing you say it out loud was an entirely different feeling.

"Bebe…"

"I really, really want to do it, Osc," you repeated, more as a confirmation to yourself than to him. "Yesterday, you lost your v-card in Formula 1 with your victory, so… I was thinking maybe I could lose mine too."

Oscar had known from the very beginning of your relationship that you had never been physically involved with anyone beyond a couple of kisses and teasing. At first, you had been insecure about telling him, worried about feeling ashamed, but Oscar had always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, promising you would only take steps forward when you were truly ready.

Today, your words made clear that you finally felt like that moment arrived, and that filled Oscar with happiness not because you were about to have sex, but because it meant you were finally comfortable enough with yourself to take that step.

"Are you… sure?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. "You know we don’t have to rush anything… I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this just because, you know…"

"I know, Osc, and I promise I wouldn’t be bringing this up if I weren’t sure," you reassured him, looking into his eyes as you ran your fingers over his hands. "I love you, and most importantly, I trust you. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and well… yeah."

"It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up, Y/N. This is really important, and it should be perfect,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled, cupping his face and bringing him closer for a kiss.

"It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it’s with you, Osc.”

"Okay, but… if you change your mind at any point, you tell me," Oscar insisted. You laughed, rolling your eyes.

"I promise, really."

Your lips met again, but this time much slower. Oscar took his time kissing you carefully, wanting to do everything right. He cradled your cheek with one hand to deepen the kiss, while the other wrapped around your back, guiding you gently toward the bedroom you shared.

Once inside, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to avoid panicking, even though there was no reason to.

You stood in front of him, looking at him with a mix of shyness and adoration that reminded him of your early days, when you just used to go out for coffee or to the movies back in high school.

Oscar couldn’t help but look at you with an equally shy, yet utterly endearing, expression.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"I will, yeah."

You didn’t need to say anything else since kissing spoke for you. You took your time, enough for Oscar to make sure you felt completely comfortable, enough for you to overthink just a little more before deciding if you really wanted to continue…

*"I love you, Oscar…" you murmured between kisses. You tugged at his shirt, helping him pull it off, running your hands over his bare chest as if you were seeing him for the first time.

"I love you too, Y/N…"

With nerves and hands shakier than he would have liked, almost as if he were the inexperienced one, he took hold of the hem of your hoodie and slowly lifted it over your head, leaving you in just your underwear.

Oscar was surprised to see you in black lace lingerie instead of the usual shorts you wore around the house. He was about to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him once again.

Neither knew how long you were like this, but you both agreed that it had been long enough to discover that you needed more of each other.

Oscar ended up forcing himself to pull away from you and take a breath. A smile curved between his lips, which caused you, somewhat nervously, to giggle at the situation and hug him around the waist, pulling him closer to you while trying not to shove him away.

“Really, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N,” the McLaren driver insisted once again.

“I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, and I've been mentally preparing for it for a while,” she told him, trying not to sound uneasy. “I trust you, Osc, and there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“So...?”

“I want you to make me yours, Oscar. Today, tomorrow or whenever and wherever you want,” you whispered in his ear as sensually as you could.

“Y/N…”

“Oscar: I just want you to fuck me.”

You felt your boyfriend tense up after those words that had caught even you off guard. Instinctively, you brought your hand to the noticeable bulge under Oscar's pants, but when you tried to reach for the button to unbutton them, he pushed your hands away lovingly.

“No, honey, none of that for now. Today is your day, so let me do the work and just enjoy yourself.”

Oscar, without another word, took you by the chin and kissed you again for the umpteenth time that day. Now, your lips moved at a slower speed. You guessed it was because you noticed how one of Oscar's hands began to massage one of your breasts, giving special attention to the nipple. With the other, he lightly brushed your pussy, making you gasp when he decided to play with your clit.

“Do you like it, babe?” he asked in a tone of voice that showed too much excitement.

His fingers now delved a little deeper into your intimacy, those enveloping movements becoming a little faster.

“Yes, Osc...” you barely managed to answer.

That answer was enough for the Australian to stop immediately. You didn't even look him in the face. Oscar pulled away from you, leaving a quick kiss on your lips and starting a trail of kisses all over your body, stopping once he reached your lower stomach area.

“Y/N…”

His hands stood delicately on your thighs, which he was now kissing, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hair stood on end. Your breath was completely held, unable to breathe in case that put an end to it all, as if that would be enough for Oscar to finish whatever he was doing with you.

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me please,” the Australian declared. “And, before your little head starts thinking nonsense: no, I'm not going to get mad at you because you don't want to have sex, okay? If you don't want to…”

“Oscar, look at me,” you cut him off, and the boy immediately listened to you: “it's you, and I'm not going to feel uncomfortable with you and with anything you do to me.”

“Do you promise me, love?”

“I swear.”

Oscar nodded, grabbing your thighs again and dragging you to the edge of the bed so that his face was in front of your pussy, perfectly aligned with your entrance.

Without warning, he slid his tongue, flat, all over it with a slowness that was completely unbearable and that seemed that, rather than pleasing you, he wanted to kill you little by little. His movements were frantic; constant changes of speed, from faster to slower, and vice versa, that made his nose rub against your clit while his tongue seemed to do wonders with that dance.

When Oscar's tongue began to explore inside you, and his index finger, the one he used to show on camera every time he got a first position just like Sebastian Vettel did in his golden age, started a tortuous tour of your labia majora, you curled up shyly but instinctively. Your hands ended up tangled in his hair, forcing him closer to you at the same time your hips did the same.

“I think you're liking it, aren't you my little girl?” Piastri said, ending his oral contact with you and replacing it with his finger. His gaze was fixed on her, and you thought about why he hadn't done this to you before.

“Don't stop, Osc. For the sake of God, don't even think about stopping...” you gasped, becoming increasingly unable to articulate a word.

He didn't have to say anything else. After those words, Oscar slipped a second finger inside you. You let out a small gasp of surprise and he, without taking his eyes off you, laughed, your cheeks turning red almost instantly. Despite this, he kissed your thighs as he continued the back and forth with his index finger, adding his heart almost soon after while increasing even more the speed.

You felt that everything was going too fast, and the waves of pleasure that were flooding you were making you lose, more and more, the notion of time. You didn't know at what point, but when he decided to add his tongue back into the equation, without leaving the movements of his fingers inside you going straight to that spot that gave you the most pleasure, a strange sensation gripped the lower part of your stomach.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold back your orgasm. You felt how your eyes were closing little by little, and your leg, too, to which Oscar put a little pressure on them to prevent them from closing.

“Come for me, love,” Oscar let you know. “Come on, Y/N, you've got it babe. Come on…”

And so you did.

Your back curved in such a way that your body, completely sweaty, could hardly keep on writhing as it was doing. You were moaning like you had never moaned before, and your boyfriend seemed to notice. A smirk of satisfaction and success began to break from his lips as he licked at your fluids, his mouth moving slowly now, over-stimulating your clit and making you incessantly.

The Australian rose and carefully positioned himself on top of you.

“I love you, Y/N, you don't know how much,” he said between kisses, making you taste yourself for the first time, but hopefully not the last one. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world... And the best girl in the world. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Oscar, don't…”

“Yes you are, Y/N, and I will not allow you to speak so negatively about yourself.”

After those last words, the driver pulled away from you slightly, trying yo give you some time to recover. Then, you looked at him taking what seemed to be a condom from the bedside table, which he carefully put on and immediately positioned at your entrance.

You swallowed, while Oscar tried not to think about whether he was really going too fast.

·I don't want to sound weird, but... please, if you want me to stop, just tell me,” Oscar spoke as best he could, trying not to succumb to the nerves he felt about taking this important step with you. “I want you to be pretty sure about this since… Well, since there’s not going back…”

You said nothing. Instead, you gave him a slight nod with your head, still looking at him, which was enough for Oscar to enter you carefully, but without a previous warning.

He decided to stand for a while so you could get used to his length. You felt a little pain. You held back a scream, bit your lips and closed your eyes to do your best to make that feeling go away as soon as possible.

“Y/N…”

“Go on, Oscar. It's all right…”

The boy nodded, and finished entering you with the same care. Little by little, his movements gained speed. You arched your back, moaning incessantly as she started feeling more comfortable with the depth of penetration, and Oscar hitting her in a spot that made her feel a pleasure that you feel in a way you didn’t know how to describe, but that felt good enough to make you never want that sex session to end.

“Does it feel good, honey? Are you enjoying my... cock... for the first time?” Oscar moaned, biting her neck. “Look at you… so desperate for me to keep fucking you…”

“Fuck, Oscar... this is a fantasy,” you gasped. “And you talking so... like… like this... God... Don't stop, please…”

“Never for you, sweetheart.”

Your moans became one, a melody that your neighbors were probably listening to but you didnt give a fuck. Your gazes could hardly be averted, and your words, getting dirtier and dirtier as much as your were embarrassed at first, were sounding louder and louder, as were your pleas.

“Oscar!” you shrieked as you felt Oscar's fingers press against you nervous bundle.”

“Love...” he moaned through his teeth. ”Don't stop moaning my name, please. You don't know how you're making me feel right now.

·And of course I'm going to make you feel so much better when we do this again,” you replied, choking with pleasure. As best you could, you sat up a little and wrapped you arms around you boyfriend's neck. “I want to do it again, Osc,” you made it clear. “I want us to do this every time we get the chance....”

You kept moaning his name, giving him promises you knew he would never break. He kept reassuring you and how good you were doing, speeding up his movements as he couldn’t stop playing with your clit, all of that while he kept telling you that you were his.

You couldn't contain it anymore for the second time that day.

“Fuck, Osc,” he stammered. “I think I'm gonna…”

“Let yourself go, honey,” the brown-haired said. “You can do it, love. Cum for me.”

Your orgasm came before you could say anything else. Oscar came within seconds of you, and as soon as he did he ended, he gave you a short kiss on the lips as he carefully pulled out of heyour and collapsed beside you.

Oscar's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure with increasingly slower breaths.

“You ok babe?” Oscar murmured after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head with a smile peeking out. “Better than ever, actually.”

It was then that it dawned on Oscar. Quickly, he sat up a little and saw what was under where you were still positioned. His heart began to race, and a pressure settled in his chest as he realized the light blue bed sheets were stained slightly with blood as was his condom, still on him and which he hadn't paid attention to because he just wanted to be with you cuddling after he'd made you lose your virginity.

“Hey, listen, love…” he started to say in a calm, but concerned tone.

You followed his gaze, and couldn't help but blush and die of embarrassment inside.

“Oh...” you spoke quietly, instinctively covering yourself with the sheets. “This... is normal. Well, I guess so…”

“Does it hurt? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, denying it, though the look on your face seemed to say otherwise.

“Well… It's just a little... just a little sore. But it's fine, really. It happens when you have sex for the first time with someone.”

Oscar studied your face, and he knew you wanted to stop this conversation. You wanted to let it go and pretend everything was fine so you wouldn't give him any sign that you hadn't liked it, even though your moans and pleas seemed to say otherwise.

“Still, you shouldn't let it go.”

The Australian approached you and gave you a shy kiss on the forehead. Then he got out of bed, still naked.

·Where are you going?” you asked in a voice mixed with curiosity and nervousness.

“I'm going to get a towel with hot water to clean you up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already heading towards the bathroom while taking off his condom. As you heard the faucet turn on, and your boyfriend getting everything ready, you couldn't help but feel bad because, maybe, Oscar deserved better, and your behavior, what was happening to you now, was not what he deserved.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking because if there’s one thing you knew for sure is that Oscar loved you, more than sometimes you were conscious of.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later, and found you sitting on the bed, curled up on yourself and clinging to the sheets while still covering with them, as if you were afraid.

“You don't have to…”

“I know,” Oscar cut you off, offering you a small smile, “but I want to. So, please, just let me take care of you.”

Your eyes softened at his proposal, and you forced yourself to calm down as Oscar, with his gaze and his hands coyly on your thighs, asked your permission to spread your legs. You nodded, and he carefully ran the wet towel and hot water over your pussy, giving it little touches because he didn't want to risk it stinging or hurting any more because he really didn't know exactly how the female body worked after losing your virginity.

When he finished, he kissed her knee and sat down next to her again, also covering himself with the sheets so he could hug her and, more than anything else, try to reassure her and make her feel as good as possible.

“There, that's it, all settled. Now, let's stay here and rest.”

“Was it good?”

Oscar let out a small laugh from his mouth at your sudden question as he leaned over to you and snuggled into your shoulder.

”You've been amazing, love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Now you were both lying on your bed, looking at each other. “Are you okay now that… Did I hurt you? I need you to be honest with me... I should have asked you if you liked the pace I decided to take because, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I think I could have gone a little slower...”

You shook your head and didn't give him a chance to keep talking. Instead, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Osc. It was far from perfect. So, from now on, I hope you win more races because from today on, winning sex has become a tradition that I hope we keep for a long time.”

Oscar laughed, knowing you were completely serious.

“We can make a tradition of this and anything else you want, love,” he buried his face in yours, and began to tickle your waist gently. “We can even have several rounds if you want, so… thoughts on that? Should we keep ready for a second round today?”

878 notes · View notes

justabigassnerd · 8 months ago

Text

Finally Safe

Pairing - Tim Bradford x reader

Word count - 6,179

Warnings - kidnapping, drugging, talks of malnourishment, sad Tim hours, angst, fluff, inaccurate medical scenes, swearing

Summary - after being missing for years, you and Tim are finally reunited

A/N - hey y'all! this was an idea suggested to me by @scarletstarrs so I hope I did your idea justice because I loved exploring this idea so much (and all the angst that came with it). anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Lucy entered the station, ready for the morning roll call, she was both shocked and confused to find Tim Bradford missing from the building. Other than being forced to take leave after being shot, Tim had always shown up to work no matter what.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?” Lucy asks, sitting down in between Jackson and Nolan who both shrug, shaking their heads. Before the three could begin theorising about where Lucy’s training officer had gone, Sergeant Grey stepped up to the podium and began to talk, detailing what was going to be happening during the day. Just before he sends everyone off to start the day, he addresses Lucy.

“Officer Chen, you’ll be riding with me today. Dismissed.” Grey says, his dismissal causing everyone to stand up and make their way out of the room to start their day. As Grey begins to exit, Lucy follows after him.

“Sergeant Grey, while it’s an honour to ride with you today. Where’s Officer Bradford?” Lucy asks, trying her best to sound respectful while enquiring about where Tim is.

“Officer Bradford is taking a personal day,” Grey replies simply, gesturing for Lucy to go and get the war bags to load the shop. At Grey’s gesture, Lucy began to make her way to get the bags, silently wondering to herself why Tim had taken a personal day and whether he was okay.

Across LA, Tim was sitting at home. He had barely had the energy to move out of bed when he woke up but he had managed to drag himself over to the sofa after making sure Kojo had his breakfast. Kojo, while not having lived with Tim long, had picked up on Tim’s melancholy mood and curled up next to him, whining softly as Tim studied a picture on his phone. Tim let out a soft sigh, tears filling his eyes as he studied the picture, a picture of him and you, his wife, on your wedding day. He was embracing you happily, lips pressed to yours.

“I miss you so much,” Tim whispers, unable to remove his gaze from the image of you. You had gone missing three years ago to the day, and Tim could never forgive himself for it. At Tim’s whisper, Kojo shuffled around, resting his head on Tim’s lap, sensing Tim’s pain. Kojo’s movement briefly pulled Tim’s attention away from his phone.

“I’m sorry buddy,” Tim says softly, stroking the top of Kojo’s head. Since you had been taken, Tim had consistently taken a personal day on the date you were taken with each passing year you remained missing. Most detectives involved in your case had told Tim that it was time to give up. The chances were high that whoever had taken you had killed you and had moved on. But Tim wouldn’t just give up on you. He couldn’t. Deep down he knew you were still out there somewhere, and he needed to find you. As Tim continued to swipe through the album of photos he had of you and him, Kojo began to paw at his leg slightly, as if trying to drag him out of his slump.

“I know. Come on, I’ll take you for a walk.” Tim says, knowing that keeping Kojo inside because of his upset would just not be worth it. Tim manages to get up from the sofa, shower and change before grabbing Kojo’s lead. As he left the house with Kojo trotting along by his side, he was silently grateful for the dog’s presence in his life. Before Kojo came around, Tim just wallowed in his house, hiding away from the world when he missed you too much. But now he had someone relying on him, and he couldn’t let Kojo down. After reaching the park, Tim let Kojo off the lead so he could explore while he sat on a bench. As he watched Kojo, he couldn’t help but imagine you sat by his side. You had always wanted to get a dog since long before marrying Tim and he had always put it off, claiming he wanted to wait. He felt so guilty for owning Kojo while you were missing but he knew that when he found you, you’d love Kojo and you’d so quickly become his new favourite person.

After a while, Tim whistled for Kojo to come back over so they could walk back home and as they made their way home, Tim’s phone buzzed, alerting him that he had a message but he opted to wait until he was home to see what it was. When he finally made it home, Tim collapsed onto the sofa and pulled out his phone to see a text from Angela.

‘How are you?’

That simple message was enough to bring the smallest of smiles to Tim’s face. Angela had been Tim’s entire support system since the day you went missing. She had checked in with him regularly and was someone to lean on during his bad days. When she had been promoted to detective, Angela had promised Tim she would do what she could to try and pick up any leads in your missing persons case. Tim had been so grateful for Angela’s support over the last few years, she was the person he needed to help him navigate your absence in his life.

‘Could be better.’

Tim could never lie to Angela. She had ways to see right through him, even over text so he knew there was no point even attempting to act like he was feeling okay on a day like this.

‘Do you want to come over? Have some company?’

Angela’s offer of company was not unusual, although the last few times Angela had asked if he wanted her to come over after her shift had finished, but now with her on maternity leave, both she and Tim had a whole day to console each other.

‘That would be nice. I’ll be over in a few.’

Tim types out and sends his response, once again forcing himself up from the sofa and petting Kojo, promising him he’d be back soon before grabbing the keys to his truck and making his way to Angela’s house.

When he arrived he barely even knocked on the door before Angela opened it, a soft gentle smile on her face as she took in Tim’s appearance. It was obvious to her that he hadn’t slept well the night before but she couldn’t blame him. If Wesley had gone missing she knows she’d be absolutely beside herself with worry and anticipatory grief.

“Come and sit down,” Angela says softly, resting a hand on Tim’s back and guiding him to the sofa, easing herself down alongside him, her gentle hand never leaving his back as she moves it up to rub his shoulder lightly. For a few minutes, the two of them sit in silence before Tim lets out a shuddering breath.

“I miss her so much.” Tim manages to say, his voice choking as tears begin to well in his eyes.

“I know, Tim,” Angela says sympathetically, her hand continuing to rub soothing circles on his shoulder in an attempt to keep his breathing steady.

“It hurts.” Tim manages to say, hand hovering near his heart, swearing he could feel his heart pounding louder and stronger with each second.

“I can’t imagine the pain. But I’m here for you. You’re not alone.” Angela says softly, feeling her heart break more and more at Tim’s broken state. She was the only person who got to see this side of Tim in these moments and it made her more and more determined to find you. After a few moments of comforting whispers from Angela and teary sniffles from Tim, he turned to face her, eyes still shining with unshed tears.

“Do you think we’ll even find her alive?” Tim asked, uncharacteristically pessimistic about your case, making Angela shocked.

“She’s got to be out there somewhere. And we’ll find her.” Angela says, pulling Tim into a careful hug.

“It’s my fault she’s gone,” Tim mutters against her shoulder, a confession no one had heard from him before.

“Don’t say that. You’re not to blame.” Angela says, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes as he shakes his head.

“I am.” Tim insists, his right hand moving to fiddle with his wedding ring, a movement Angela didn’t miss. She knew he would take the ring off when he was on duty, but when he was off duty it would be restored to its rightful place and he’d often find himself twisting it around on his finger out of habit.

“Why do you say it’s your fault?” Angela asks tenderly, hoping she’d be able to help Tim realise that it wasn’t his fault.

“We had an argument that night. A stupid one at that, I can’t even remember what it was about, maybe about chores or something? But y/n got pissed at me and she said she needed to go on a walk to clear her head. I was pissed too and the moment she left I just decided to go to bed. I was too angry to do anything else. If I had gone after her none of this would’ve happened. She’d still be here with me.” Tim whispers, feeling like his throat is closing more tears welling in his eyes as he relives that night.

“Where are you going?” Tim asks, pausing his angry pacing to glare at you from across the room.

“For a walk. I can’t be around you right now.” You reply, your voice just as venomous as his as you grab your keys, reaching for the door handle.

“Fine.” Tim spits angrily, turning on his heel and stalking off again as you open the door, exiting and angrily closing the door behind you while Tim storms to the kitchen, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge.

After a couple of beers, Tim decided it wasn’t worth staying up waiting for you any longer. You had taken your keys and he knew you’d come back whenever you were ready to so he took himself to bed, practically passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next morning, Tim woke up and found your side of the bed still empty, and when he reached across to search for any remaining body heat, he found that your side was still cold, like no one had slept in it all night. Figuring you had spent the night on the sofa, Tim sat up and got himself out of bed, all anger from the night before gone.

“Hey, Baby, I’m sorry about last night.” Tim enters the living room, rubbing his eyes as he enters, stopping in his tracks when he realises you’re not in the room, nor was there any evidence you had even slept on the sofa. At the sight of the empty room, and your keys still missing from the key bowl, Tim felt his stomach turning with anxiety. He just knew something bad had happened to you. You wouldn’t just go silent on him or not come home at all.

After trying to call your phone and getting no answers, Tim knew he had to file a missing persons case when he got to work. He wasn’t going to rest until he found you.

“Tim, listen to me. It is not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Neither of you could’ve known there would be a psycho out there. You can’t blame yourself for something you never could’ve anticipated.” Angela says softly, her voice shaking Tim from his thoughts. She could imagine the guilt Tim was feeling, but she knew it wasn’t his fault.

“It is. If I had just-”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. There’s nothing you could’ve done. I know just as well as you that y/n is stubborn as anything, so if she wanted to go and get some air after your argument then she would’ve done it regardless. You can’t predict the future and y/n wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Angela says, her voice was soft yet firm so she can get her point across to Tim. She knew Tim had a habit of blaming himself for things out of his control but she had no idea that he had carried guilt from your disappearance silently and had been beating himself up about it for so long.

“I just need to find her. I need her safe and home with me. I didn’t even tell her I loved her the last time I saw her.” Tim says, fiercely wiping at his eyes to stop any tears from falling.

“I’m working with detectives to pick up the dead ends from y/n’s case. One of them will lead us somewhere I’m sure. Between you and me, working y/n’s case is the only work Wesley is okay with me doing while on maternity leave. He knows how important it is to us and he’s promised me that if we catch the asshole he’d ensure he spends the rest of his life behind bars.” Angela says reassuringly, wanting to help restore Tim’s faith in finding you.

“Thank you, Angela,” Tim says quietly with a nod. With the topic seeming to be at an end, Angela decides to change the subject and while Tim had always jokingly complained about helping Angela with wedding planning, he was more than happy to do so on this day. While he helped Angela plan various parts of her wedding, he couldn’t help but think about the time he had spent planning his wedding with you.

“Tim, we can’t seat my uncle next to your brother-in-law!” You exclaimed with a laugh, curling further into Tim’s side as he wrapped his arm around you, chuckling lightly to himself, both of you focusing on the seating chart Tim had drafted.

“Sure we can. It would be hilarious.” Tim says, squeezing you closer, his hand winding around your waist.

“You want our wedding to result in a fistfight?” You say, an amused tone to your voice as you raise an eyebrow.

“Mmm, might not be the best idea then,” Tim murmurs, leaning close to press a kiss to your cheek.

“The best idea is to make sure they stay as far away from each other as possible.” You muse, unable to stop the smile covering your face as Tim continued to press kisses to your cheek.

“We’ll figure it out.”

By the end of the day, Tim had spent most of his time at Angela’s house and he had been beyond grateful for her company and her willingness to help him through a day like this. When Wesley got home, Tim decided that was when he should be heading home himself, knowing Kojo was probably waiting for him.

“I’ll see you around,” Tim says quietly, giving Angela a gentle hug, pulling away and giving Wesley a friendly nod before making his way out of their house, heading to his truck to head home. Unbeknownst to Tim, the moment he left, Angela’s phone buzzed and when she read the text she knew she had to step into work again. Whether Wesley liked it or not.

The next morning, Angela made her way to the hospital, meeting with other detectives once she got there before being led to a room that had a girl inside. Angela figured she couldn’t be any older than her early twenties. After getting a quick brief from the other detectives, Angela made her way into the room, smiling softly to let her know she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, Bella. I’m Detective Lopez, but you can just call me Angela.” Angela introduces herself, easing herself down onto one of the hospital room chairs as Bella eyes her carefully. Angela could tell that the last thing Bella wanted was to be questioned but it was protocol, whether she liked it or not.

“I promise I’ll make this quick, just tell me what happened,” Angela assures, pulling out her notepad and pen.

“A few months ago, some guy grabbed me off the street while I was making my way home. He kept calling me ‘Samantha’ the whole time. No matter how many times I told him my name was Bella he just ignored it.” Bella explains, tears welling in her eyes as her arms wound around her middle.

“Can you describe this man? And where he was keeping you?” Angela asks carefully, making notes on her notepad as Bella nods.

“He looked like he was in his forties, his hair was greying and he had a huge burn scar on his right arm, like all up it. He was keeping us in the woods. It sounds really cliche now that I say it out loud. He’d moved us around a bit before he found this old abandoned cabin on the outskirts of the city. He managed to get power and water so he figured we could just stay out there, like some delusional family or something.” Bella says, and Angela immediately picks up on her choice of words.

“I’m sorry, you said ‘us’. Was there someone else?” Angela enquires, glancing up from her notebook.

“Yeah, there was another woman, she might’ve been in her thirties? The guy kept calling her ‘Vivian’ but I’m guessing that wasn’t her name.” Bella explains with a nod while Angela pulls her phone out of her pocket, hurriedly scrolling through it and finding a picture with you in.

“This other woman. Did she look like this?” Angela flips the phone around, showing Bella the picture, watching as her eyes widen in recognition.

“Yes! That’s her!” Bella exclaims, looking over at Angela.

“She’s alive,” Angela mutters to herself, unable to believe the news.

“Do you know her?” Bella asks, noticing Angela’s reaction and how hurriedly she was typing into her phone.

“She’s a friend of mine. She’s been missing for a while.” Angela says, tucking her phone away as she talks.

“She’s the one who helped me escape. She saw the opportunity and she encouraged me to go for it.” Bella says, watching Angela’s reaction carefully.

“That sounds like y/n. She always looked out for others.” Angela says with fondness, remembering how you had always put others above yourself.

“I want to help her,” Bella says, a strong, newfound determination in her voice.

“Can you recall where the cabin was? If you can that would help us track her down.” Angela asks, listening carefully as Bella explains all the details she can remember of her escape from that cabin. After getting as many details as Bella could remember, Angela excused herself, exiting the room and immediately calling Grey on her way out, informing him of everything and letting him know that he and the LAPD needed to act fast before you were moved again.

Back at the Mid-Wilshire police station, police officers were starting to prepare for an operation on the outskirts of Los Angeles just as Lucy and Tim entered, ushering their recent arrest to be processed. They quickly became aware of the atmosphere around them so while Lucy was processing the arrest, Tim stepped out to find Grey.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks after tracking down Grey.

“I’m getting some people together for an operation. But I need you and Officer Chen to stay on patrol.” Grey says, gathering his war bags and barely glancing Tim’s way.

“I want to help,” Tim says, confused as to why Grey isn’t letting him get involved with an operation, not when he had as much experience as he did.

“This isn’t a matter to discuss Officer Bradford. You’re one of my best patrol officers and I need you out on the streets with Officer Chen while we do this. Is that understood?” Grey asserts, facing Tim and staring him down as Tim straightens up.

“Understood, Sir,” Tim says, feeling his heart sink at not getting to be involved with an operation.

“You’ll get in on the next operation,” Grey says, clapping Tim on the shoulder quickly before making his way towards his shop, leaving Tim to head back to Lucy, finding her after she had just finished processing their arrest.

“Hey, did you find out what everyone’s doing?” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim curiously.

“There’s an operation going down. I don’t know what it’s for but Grey wants us on patrol.” Tim says with a shrug, beginning to turn on his heel and make his way towards their shop, annoyance evident in in his body language.

“Do they know this would be a great learning opportunity for me? I want to get as much experience in operations as possible. Why aren’t they letting us help?” Lucy asks, following behind Tim.

“I don’t know, Boot. But it’s not my place to challenge Sergeant Grey’s orders.” Tim says firmly, glancing over his shoulder at Lucy who nods, still obviously upset about not getting to help with an operation while she’s still in training.

“Come on, get in. We’ve got a patrol to finish.” Tim then says with a shrug, both of them reaching the shop and getting in, ready to continue their patrol.

After a couple of hours of patrolling, Tim and Lucy had stopped to grab some coffee and while they stood outside their shop, talking and sipping at their drinks, Tim’s phone rang, making his eyebrows furrow when he saw Angela’s name displayed across his screen.

“Angela.” Tim greets as the phone reaches his ear.

“Tim, you need to get your ass to the hospital right now,” Angela says, making Tim raise an eyebrow before he thinks of a reason why she’d be asking him to come to the hospital.

“Are you having the baby already?” Tim asks, a panicked expression crossing his face.

“What? No. Look, just come to Shaw Memorial as soon as you can.” Angela says, an urgency in her voice that Tim hasn’t heard in a while.

“Okay, I’ll head over now.” Tim concedes, bidding Angela goodbye before hanging up the phone and shoving it away in his pocket.

“We’re going to the hospital. And no Angela is not giving birth.” Tim says, able to predict what Lucy was about to ask from a single look.

“Then why are we going to the hospital?” Lucy then questions, both of them getting into their seats just before Tim starts the drive to the hospital.

“No idea. Maybe one of my C.I’s ended up in hospital and they wanted to talk to me.” Tim says, shrugging lightly, wondering to himself why it was Angela had summoned him to the hospital when she’s not supposed to be working. The closer they get to the hospital, the more Tim starts to suspect that it has something to do with you. Angela had assured him that the only case she was working while on maternity leave was yours. But as he parked in the car park for the hospital, he started to picture the worst possible case scenario as he bursts through the hospital, tracking down Angela within minutes, practically leaving Lucy behind.

“What’s happened?” Tim asks, studying Angela’s expression carefully as she grabs his wrist leading him to a nearby hospital room and letting him look through the window. At the sight, tears immediately began to well in his eyes, stepping forward slightly towards the door before Angela stopped him.

“The doctors are working on her now. They’ll get you when she’s stable. I just wanted to show you that we found her.” Angela explains softly, watching as Tim refuses to tear his gaze away from the window.

“She’s alive,” Tim whispers, tears in his eyes as he watches the doctors hooking you up to an IV drip and heart monitors.

“She is. We found her.” Angela says softly, carefully guiding Tim back to the waiting room and helping him ease himself into a chair just as Lucy finally found the pair.

“What the hell? Why did you leave me behind?” Lucy demands, approaching Tim who barely processes her words, his gaze locked on the floor in front of him as his knee bounces impatiently.

“Not now, Lucy,” Angela says, holding a hand out towards Lucy to silence her while her other hand rests on Tim’s shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Lucy then asks, noticing the unusual behaviour Tim was exhibiting and how Angela was protecting him fiercely.

“We’ll tell you later,” Angela says, knowing that with the state Tim was in, she shouldn’t go spilling his personal life.

After half an hour of waiting, a doctor approached Angela since they only recognised her but she made sure to bring Tim into the conversation as well as make sure the doctors knew he was your husband so that he would make any and all medical decisions that you couldn’t make.

“y/n had been drugged upon being found, I assume something that was something done so that the perpetrator could move her without the risk of her running away. She’s also showing clear signs of dehydration and malnourishment so we’ve got her on IVs to give her what her body needs. She’s still asleep but would you like to see her?” The doctor explains, glancing at the tablet in his hand before looking at Tim who nods. The doctor gestures for Tim to follow him to your room but before he leaves he turns to Angela.

“Message me if you need me,” Angela says softly, watching as he nods once more before following the doctor and being granted access to your room. As soon as he enters the room, he grabs a chair and pulls it up along your bedside, one hand taking your hand in his while his other hand runs through your hair.

“I’m here, Baby. I’m so sorry. I love you.” Tim says, repeating the three sentences like a mantra as he squeezes your hand softly. He felt more tears welling in his eyes as he took in your form. Your cheeks were hollowed and you had dark circles under your eyes. The more Tim watched you as you slept, the worse his guilt got. He couldn’t help but hate himself more and more for letting you leave the house that night. As the day progressed, Tim found himself uncharacteristically talkative with you, rambling about everything you had missed.

“I’ve got a new rookie. Her name’s Lucy Chen. You’d like her a lot actually. She reminds me of you in a way.” Tim says, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your hand as he talks. He knew you and Lucy would get on well. After all, Lucy was someone who was unafraid to speak her mind around Tim and you’d admire her fire. By the time night fell, Tim was sure he’d covered everything that had happened since you had gone missing. He felt a yawn slip past his lips which made him attempt to shake the sleepiness off. He didn’t want to fall asleep and then risk waking up to find out that this had been a dream. He couldn’t bare to wake up to find you missing again. However, as the night progressed, Tim got more and more tired and he began to struggle to keep his eyes open so he laid his head down on your bed, making sure he was facing up at you, keeping your hand in his the whole time before letting his eyes slip closed, hoping this wasn’t all a dream.

You woke up slowly in the early hours of the morning and as you slowly open your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile tearily when you recognised the sleeping face of your husband. The face you had dreamed of seeing for years. You watched Tim quietly for a moment, admiring the man you loved so much before your need to talk to him overtook you and you squeezed his hand softly, rousing him almost instantly. His eyes blinked open and you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

“Hey, Tim.” You whisper softly, your voice slightly hoarse from lack of use. Tim couldn’t even bring himself to talk, he just squeezed your hand, tears welling in his own eyes.

“You’ve grown your hair out a bit.” You observe quietly, gently extracting your hand from his to run your hand through his hair, having been used to his shorter haircut for too long.

“You like it?” Tim asks with a teary laugh.

“I love it. I did always tell you it would look nicer if you grew it out a little.” You muse softly, enjoying the feeling of running your hand through his hair with the slight added length. As another tear rolls down your cheek, Tim reaches out and wipes it away, his touch as soft and as gentle as you remembered it.

“I’m so sorry, Baby. I let you down.” Tim apologises, his hand lingering on your cheek as you lean into his touch, desperately craving the love and comfort only Tim could provide you with.

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who left that night.” You say, slowly retracting your hand from Tim’s hair, returning it to your lap as Tim shakes his head.

“I should’ve stopped you.” Tim argues, making you shake your head in response.

“You couldn’t have known, Tim. Look, let’s not argue. We haven’t seen each other in years I don’t want to ruin this by arguing. It’s no ones fault but the ass who took me.” You say, your voice soft yet firm as Tim nods lightly in understanding.

“I missed you so much.” Tim then whispers, his face displaying every emotion he was feeling in the moment.

“I missed you too.” You reply softly. Glad you were reunited with your husband again.

After a few days stay in hospital, you had finally been cleared to go home which you were excited for. Your days in the hospital were mostly spent talking to lawyers and detectives to get all the evidence needed for the case against your kidnapper. But Tim had all but refused to leave your side through it all, and some of your friends came to visit you after news had spread that you had been found. You even got to meet Tim’s newest rookie, Lucy, who like Tim predicted, you got on brilliantly with. And while you had appreciated people wanting to visit you, and that the detectives and lawyers wanted to get that guy behind bars as soon as possible. But you just wanted to go home, to spend some time with Tim in the comfort of your own house, as well as getting to know the family member you had missed the arrival of. When Tim had told you about Kojo, he had not missed the way your eyes lit up and he knew it was going to be love at first sight for both you and Kojo. After all the paperwork had been sorted and Tim had brought you a comfy change of clothes from home, you finally headed out to Tim’s truck, letting him help you into the vehicle and settling in to the passenger seat.

The drive back to yours and Tim’s shared house was relatively silent, you listened to what was on the radio and occasionally chatted with Tim until he pulled into the driveway. You waited upon Tim’s orders for him to round the truck and open the door for you, helping you out carefully before leading you to the front door.

“Are you ready?” Tim asks softly, hand interlocked with yours as you both stand in front of the door, staring it down before you nod lightly, giving Tim the sign he needed to unlock the front door, easing it open and ushering both you and him inside, quickly coming face to face with Kojo.

“Hey, you must be Kojo. Tim’s told me all about you. I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself to the dog, watching his reaction carefully as he approaches you, sniffing at your outstretched hand for a few seconds before gently licking your hand and allowing you to pet him.

“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest boy?” You praise, petting Kojo happily while Tim jokingly rolls his eyes.

“It took less than a minute for me to be replaced by the dog.” Tim jokes, making his way into the kitchen to grab some drinks and by the time he returned, you had curled up on the sofa with Kojo and Tim couldn’t help but smile at the sight of having you home again. After placing the drinks on the coffee table, Tim sat down on your other side and wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you into him and pressing multiple kisses to the side of your head as you smile softly, cherishing the attention and love Tim was giving you.

By the time night fell, you were ready to crash and Tim knew it. He chose to carry you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and finding one of his old police academy shirts he knew you loved to wear and a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, handing them to you before turning around to get changed himself. When you were both ready for bed, you climbed under the covers while Kojo curled up at the foot of the bed. You instantly curled into Tim’s side, burying your face in his chest.

“I’ve missed this so much.” You mumbled, smiling to yourself when Tim tightens his grip around your waist.

“Me too. I love you so much.” Tim whispers, kissing the top of your head before you tipped your head up so Tim could press the softest of kisses upon your lips.

“I love you too.” You reply softly, eyes full of love as you look up at Tim before curling back into him, quickly falling asleep in his arms the way you had been dreaming off the past few years.

In the middle of the night, Tim stirred, aware of the way the two of you had shifted throughout the night. You were now lying with your back to Tim and his arm was wrapped around your middle but he quickly withdrew it when he noticed you twitching and crying in your sleep. He instantly knew you were having a nightmare so he flicked his bedside lamp on and reached out to gently rouse you, placing his hand on your shoulder and calling your name softly until you bolted upright, eyes wide open and tears staining your cheeks.

“y/n. Baby. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” Tim says softly, his hand reaching down to hold yours, his actions only stopping when you practically curled into him instantly, changing his action from holding your hand to holding your sobbing, shaking form instead. Tim continued to reassure you and comfort you quietly, his hand rubbing up and down your back while Kojo rested his head on your leg, whining softly in his own way to comfort you. Tim then began to coach you through slowing your breathing, using techniques you had used when he suffered with nightmares and when you began to calm down, he began to wipe your tears away.

“I thought I was really back in that cabin.” You admit with a sniffle, making Tim hold you closer, taking your hand in his and placing it above his heart.

“You feel that? I’m here and so are you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.” Tim promises quietly as you focus on the steady thumping of his heartbeat while your other hand reached down to pet Kojo softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologise, pulling away with your eyes still shining with tears as Tim shakes his head.

“Don’t apologise. I’m going to be here for you when you need me to. I’m your husband and after what you went through I’d be a shit excuse of a husband if I did anything but look after you when you needed me. Don’t ever apologise for having a nightmare. I love you and I’m going to help you through this.” Tim says, pulling you back into his arms and feeling you settle your head perfectly above his heart so you could focus on his heartbeat once again.

“I love you too.” You mumble, soothed by Tim’s repeated action of running his hand up and down your back as well as his melodic heartbeat and soon your eyes slipped closed again. In the arms of the love of your life and feeling safe for the first time in years.

Tim watched you sleep peacefully for a few minutes, just to make sure no nightmares tried to attack you again as you slept but after not as much as a twitch, Tim switched his lamp off and cuddled you closer as he let himself drift off to sleep. You were finally back where you belonged. And Tim wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you again.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #the rookie #the rookie abc #the rookie fic #the rookie fanfic #the rookie imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

areislol · 1 year ago

Text

"forget him, be with me instead."

ft— various male genshin x fem! reader (childhood friend trope)

warning — slight angst but it's just a pinch! comfort, mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, kissing. headcanons are a bit down! modern! au, implied toxic relationship

a/n— yay time to write some fluff after writing angst, what a life! listened to laufey's 'everything i know about love' album while listening to this ^^ this is a little bit rushed and might be a wee bit shitty but uhm please don't judge your girl was out here suffering

wordcount. 3.7k

synopsis. your boyfriend stood you up on your date, once again, and as usual your childhood friend is here to comfort you.

In the soft glow of the quaint café, you sat alone, your anticipation slowly morphing into a quiet ache. You had meticulously chosen your outfit, a delicate dance between casual and elegant.

You had arrived early, your excitement palpable. The minutes stretched into an eternity as the minutes on the clock ticked away, and the once hopeful glimmer in yours eyes dimmed with each passing moment.

The ambient chatter and clinking of utensils became a dissonant soundtrack to your growing unease. You checked your phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call that would explain the delay.

The vibrant ambiance of the café, which had initially felt like the backdrop to a romantic night, now served as a cruel witness to your solitude.

You take out your phone from your pocket, anxiously checking the time on your phone before sliding your hand back in, clenching it tightly. 8 PM. Your heart sunk as you realized that it was now exactly 8 PM, the time you both agreed on arriving.

You didn't want to jump to conclusions, maybe he was stuck in traffic? But then again it was 8 PM, barely any road traffic. Was his boss keeping him back for a little bit? Did the wifi cut off in his building, was that why he couldn't send you a text?

Despite trying to comfort yourself by putting ideas in your head, you had a hunch that he was most definenetly not coming, he had forgotten about your date.

It wasn't the first time he stood you up, as a matter of fact, he had stood you up many times but you always pushed it aside. You pushed his mistakes aside, why? Because he was your boyfriend. You knew it was wrong but... what could you do? You didn't want to lose him.

As the realization settled in, a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment clouded your expression. The waiter, noticing your solitary presence, approached with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

You mustered a brave smile and declined a menu, your appetite for food dissipating. The warmth of the café offered little solace as you continued to sit on your reserved seat, looking like an utter fool just sitting there, waiting for someone who wasn't going to come any time soon.

You checked the time once again, 8:10 PM, seconds went by, then minutes, and hours. You checked the time one more time—the clock reached 10:15 PM. You had arrived at the café at 7 PM.

Sighing at the realization that you really sat there and waited for your 'boyfriend' for three hours, you felt like an idiot. And even more of an idiot of the fact that you let this slide so many times.

You decide to leave the café, ignoring the sympathetic looks given your way. You take out your phone from your pocket once again, this time you didn't check the time but rather press on a familiar icon before making a call.

As you foot taps on the ground anxiously you wait for him to pick up the phone. You stand outside just a few inches away the café door, as you wait for what felt like an eternity all the emotions got to you.

Tears welled in your eyes, betraying the resilience you had tried so hard to maintain. Your emotions that were long kept in check, spilled over like a dam bursting at the seams. The phone continued to buzz, waiting for the other side to pick up.

The streetlamp cast a soft glow on your tear-streaked face as you lowered your phone, defeated by both the silence and the heartache. But just as the phone was about to go silent, by some miracle he picked up.

"Y/N?" For some odd reason hearing his voice made you have the urge to bawl your eyes out once again. You hastily wiped away your tears and attempted to sound nonchalant.

"Hey I uh.. I—" you paused, voice a delicate balance between composure and fragility. Sighing, you continued. "I got stood up."

Your words were short and blunt, but by now you were holding back a waterfall. You patiently wait for his answer over the deafening silence. "... Again? That boy.."

His voice was laced with annoyance, disappointment and concern.

"Where are you now? At the café? Stay right there, shit it's raining, make sure to stay under cover okay? I'll be there in about 10 minutes."

You could hear the sounds of him excusing himself from his boss and the angry cries from his boss.

"Aren't you at work though? It's okay you don't have to come pick me up."

"Are you crazy? So what if I'm at work? I'm not leaving you out there alone, plus it's raining. I know you hate having wet hair." Well, he wasn't lying. He was your childhood friend after all, he knew almost everything about you.

And before you knew it, just after a couple minutes of ending the call you noticed a figure making it's way towards you, umbrella in hand as he gives you a small smile. All the while rain was pouring down on your head.

is extremely happy that you finally realized that your boyfriend (soon to be ex) is horrible, he won't show it though. but he is really happy.

the first thing he did when he saw you absolutely drenched in the heavy downpour was take off his jacket and place it over your shoulders and hold the umbrella over your head. there were many questions he wanted to ask but the main one was "are you alright?"

yes he wanted to question about that damn lout (your boyfriend) but he already knew the answer. it happened too many times, way too many times. you and your boyfriend would agree to go on a date, you would arrive early or on time, you wouldn't get an answer from him when you questioned why he was late, minutes would turn into hours and then you would call him.

he wasn't mad at you, no never, but your (*cough* ex *couch*) boyfriend? absolutely. if anything he wanted to prove to you that he was a horrible boyfriend so he would always come to pick you up and try to knock some sense into your head, sometimes his words would go from one ear and out your other.

when you don't answer his question and begin to bawl your eyes out he immediately begins to panic, because you are crying hard. he only lets out a soft sigh before holding the back of your head and gently pushes your face in his chest, letting you cry into his chest. he softly pats your head in an attempt to comfort you (it does)

he resist the urge to say "i told you so" because, he did tell you so, but he knew it would only dampen your mood. he reassures and shushes you warmly, and his soft voice really does calm you down.

"shh, i know it's okay. you'll be fine. he is a big jackass alright? don't waste your pretty tears on him."

you both begin to walk together through the raining weather, he obviously doesn't want to see you cry so he offers to buy you your favourite snacks and drinks in a convenience store. you refuse, thinking that you already troubled him enough but NO he will not take no for an answer.

"trouble me? never."

and it worked!! your mood slightly lifted after chugging down your favourite packet of chips. in all honestly he found your puffy cheeks and eyes cute, the way your eyes glistened slightly from your tears, and the way you were chomping on your food? so adorable.

when you quietly thank him his heart bursts even more (like every other day he sees you) but he waves his hand, "it's nothing, sit down, lets talk."

why did he sound so scary? he would never know. when you both sit down on the ground, back pressed against the wall of a shop, he begins to question you. "you do realize that this is like the tenth time he stood you up right?" you nod your head sadly as you were reminded of what had happened.

he sighed, "i just want you to know that this.. you can't just forgive him after this, after all of this. he even forgot your anniversary! i'm.. i'm just worried for you. you know that?"

you knew he was only worrying for you and wanted the best for you. but despite all the other times that you would dismiss his worries and say "it's okay we all make mistakes" you really thought about it this time. and boy was he right.

do you know how ecstatic he was when you told him that you would break up with him!? HE WAS OVER THE MOON, he was literally on cloud 9. not that he could show it thought, you would be suspicious of him. but then again he has had the biggest and fattest crush on you since you were little.

but after that he tried his best to make you happier (even if he hated doing it), he would point out the most stupidest shit ever, "oh look at that squirrel, Y/N, doesn't it remind you of childe?" or "wow the uh, the light is really.. light'ing.."

sigh.. he's trying his best okay..

although it wasn't really funny, the way he spoke was most definenetly funny. when he notices how you hold back your laughter or even chuckle slightly that's just his motivation to do better, he would also tell you silly little jokes that he googled on his phone (while you were looking away) quickly.

buttt now he has an even better idea :) what is it you say? taking you out on a date of course! right now...? why not right now!

(please he's just really excited that you're going to break up with that old hag, meaning he has a shot!! he will definenetly give it his all to try and woo you.)

— ALHAITHAM, kaeya, WRIOTHESLEY, AYATO, dainsleif, NEUVILLETTE, CYNO, ZHONGLI, tighnari

starts scolding you and goes on a bit ass rant about how you deserve better than that (AND I QUOTE) "low life lout", he thinks he sounds all harsh and mean but to you he only sounds like he was really worried about you

"seriously, how many times does this boy have to repeat his actions until the truth gets through your thick noggin." he heaved a great sigh, a bit dramatic don't you think? he continues to rant and rant about blah blah blah you weren't listening. and only when he notices that tears are rolling down your cheeks freely does he shut the hell up.

"hey hey— what's wrong? don't cry.." he tries his best to act slightly annoyed because truly he kind of was, he hated seeing you hang out with your 'boyfriend', he hated seeing how your eyes would light up every time you saw him, the effort you put into your relationship, he hated how blind you were to his actions.

but, despite his tough outer shell he was really a softie inside. so when you began to bawls your eyes out (again) he immediately switches up, his voice that was so harsh was no soft and tender. a tone he barely uses (he only spoke nicely to you okay!!)

a sigh. "i didn't mean to be mean, i'm sorry. i'm just so annoyed that you keep on.. i don't know! i'm just frustrated okay." you were confused? why was he frustrated, shouldn't it be the other way around since.. you.. were the one being stood up?

he (surprisingly) wipes away your tears, cupping your cheeks with his hand as he uses his thumb to dry your tears. "i don't like seeing you cry, okay? follow me now" you were confused again, but follow him anyway.

he literally bought you back inside the café, the waiter looks happy and surprised (in her head she was thinking: wow so this is the fucker who stood his own girlfriend up?), when he was ordering your favourite pastry and drink he was really confused about why the lady was giving him such a dirty face.

"hey y/n, any idea why that lady over there is giving me a stank eye?"

he watches as you eat your food happily, he only hoped that you had forgotten what had happened before, not only that but he sees this as a way to show you that he would be a much better boyfriend, i mean look at him! he came (he would always come on time), memorized what your favourite snacks/pastries/drinks were, sat down with you. he wasn't trying to boast but.. he would make one hell of a boyfriend than your current one.

you noticed that he wasn't eating and just.. staring at you. "want some?" you offered, he shook his head no but you wouldn't take that for an answer. you shove a spoonful of cake in his mouth and smile happily. "yummy?" he only grumbles, looking like an angry cat. "mmm i guess.." (he really liked it please feed him more)

seeing you smile after bawling your eyes out and wasting your tears on somebody you didn't deserve felt like a treat. he also wipes the excess food and crumbs on the corner of your lips, he looked adorable when he was concentrating hard to wipe it off, and it wasn't like he was trying to be romantic as he wasn't maintaining eye contact, but when he backed away and looked at you and notices how you were smirking he scoffed.

"don't you get any ideas now." you giggled at his words and continued to eat your cake as well as occasionally feeding him as well. all you were thinking about was ow delicious the cake was but all he was thinking about was you. he was.. basically taking you out on a date. woah.

when you both exit the shop, you thank him for the food and also apologize for dragging him out here in the rain and how you got his hair wet. "yeah well yours is too. you can blame that asshole." he noticed how your face slightly drops, a solemn expression on your face.

"yeah.. i guess so." !?!?!?! you actually agreed with him?!?! HE WON AT LIFE WOOOOOOOOOOO

and now that you both are on the same terms he can finally talk to you about everything, but all the while he was explaining how he saw him (your soon to be ex) treat you, he couldn't help but also include his feelings. that's one thing you caught on.

"he forgot your anniversary, did you forget? i was absolutely frustrated! i mean at his actions, i mean his actions and him! i would never do that if i was your boyfriend. h—hypothetically."

you had a hunch that he had a thing for you, but not that big of a crush. maybe he was just really angry that he kept stumbling over his words?

either way, he told you what you should do you this time you listened, chiming in with your own experiences with your boyfriend and the more you did that the more you began to notice hoe you really looked past all his red flags.

safe to say he won at life, again, this time he won't pussy out on you and will for sure confess to you!

— WANDERER, XIAO, dottore, diluc, PIERRO, albedo

a bit... too giddy. willingly SHOWS and TELLS that he is happy. i mean not at you being stood up but how you're finally getting a grip, wait.. is than a "i'm going to break up with him" he heard?!?! GOD BLESS

he doesn't say anything at first, comforting you and drying your hair the very best he can (literally bought a book to dry your hair: swatting it), he lets you cry on his shoulder, letting you hug him tightly (not that he was complaining... oh did you just break his ribs? nah it's all good)

he lets you calm down first to the point where it's just hiccups rather than tears rolling down your cheeks (and when you could barely breathe by how you were choking on your tears), he holds you in his arms, rocking you slightly.

"okay, i don't want to sound.. rude but, i think it's time you start to notice how badly he's treating you. i mean, look at you, you're a mess (dare i say, a beautiful one), he made you feel this, he made you cry. and he isn't here to apologize. this isn't the first time too, y/n, i'm begging you, please don't look past this."

he tries his best to explain to you everything, what he saw, what he is doing to you, how he feels and how you feel (he knows everything shh). and you can't deny it, you won't, because everything he was telling you was true. and you hated how you couldn't deny anything.

he leaves you for a couple of minutes so that you could collect your thoughts and emotions while he went to go buy some snacks, especially some sweets and savory. "this should cheer you up" he says as he passes the plastic bag to you.

"oh wait i forgot to get some ramen, be right back!" you didn't have enough time to stop him as he was already on his way to grab a hot cup of ramen for you. he was just too sweet. when he came back with your favourite cup of ramen he would open the lid and blow onto it, he insisted on feeding you, saying that you must've been exhausted from today (but you barely did anything?)

you can't help but notice how... somewhat happy he was, normally when he comes after you call him (after being stood up once again) he seemed concerned for you, and he does look concerned for you, i mean he is always but today... he looked giddy. was it maybe because you said that you would be breaking up with your boyfriend today? so strange..

!!! not only that but he encourages you to break up with him, and he doesn't mean it like that, he just wants the best for you. and you obviously say yes because.. everything he is telling you IS true. next thing you know he's literally helping you write a sincere paragraph to your boyfriend on text.

"oh you should send a voice message as well, i think it'll really help him understand how serious you are."

you're too afraid to make a voice message? no worries, he'll do it for you!! he will send the most passive aggressive voice message know to man kind (he had to fight back the urge to yell obscenities over call). basically, this man is way too happy, not that it's suspicious or anything, just a little worrying LMAO

he's just really happy, happy for him and you! it's a win-win honestly. you finally get out of that toxic relationship and finally get a hold of reality, but also for him to finally get his chance to maybe try to confess to you. (one day... but he'll make sure to woo you sooner or later before someone else swoops you off your feet)

he's literally on his way to manifest for you two to be together, repeat after him, i don't chase, i attract (he literally chases after you so uhm forget about that please)

— THOMA, KAVEH, LYNEY, itto, gorou, KAZUHA, pantalone, heizou, VENTI, capitano, childe, baizhu

As the rain began to clear, only leaving behind a tranquil symphony of soft pitter-patters. You two stood next to each other, letting the silence take over.

All the while he was contemplating something, something that will change your relationship for the better or worse.

Should he kiss you?

For years he had always wanted to feel your lips against his but he was always so nervous to do so.

But right now? It was the perfect opportunity, the raining had almost cleared, the atmosphere was soft and romantic. If he didn't do it now then who knew how long it would take for him to build up his courage again?

All of the sudden he cupped your cheek with warm palms, the tenderness in his touch was evident even in the hesitant pause that hung in the air.

For a moment, uncertainty flickered in his eyes, a silent contemplation of unspoken desires. Was he really about to pussy out again?

You, for one, was a bit puzzled by the sudden shift in the atmosphere and his sudden actions. When your gaze met his with curiosity. In that fleeting moment, he knew he had to do it.

Even if it ruined everything he built up with you.

He muttered a breathless "fuck it," as if casting aside the weight of hesitation that tethered him, in a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

You were caught off guard, were you imagining this? No you couldn't be, it felt so real. Your heart raced with a mixture of surprise and delight. The kiss was passionate and full of raw emotion, igniting a fire within her that she was pressed so far down.

The softness of his lips against yours sent waves of tenderness through your body, and in that moment, your realized that this kiss was not just a spur-of-the-moment act; it was a reflection of the unspoken feelings that had been building between them for so long.

His touch was gentle yet filled with an underlying intensity, it was a kiss that sparked something, expressing all the words they had been too afraid to say.

You closed your eyes, allowing him to continue as your hands held onto his wrist. A couple of seconds passed by when he, unfortunately, pulled away—your eyes locked once again in a silent acknowledgment.

His eyes held such a fiery passion as you stared deeply into your eyes. He looked relieved as if finally taking initiative that had been weighing him down.

"I... But—" You were still left breathless as you spoke, you felt an underlying guilt, still not haven broken up with your boyfriend yet.

He understood what you were thinking and feeling, "look at me, Y/N." At his request you did so, observing his face and trying to guess what he was going to do next. Kiss you again? (Yes please)

"Forget him, be with me instead."

note: off to continue writing for my sagau now, this was more like a shitpost for the shits and giggles but aye

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

3K notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

Text

American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week???

→ user5 the universe is aligning

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!!

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming. (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :(

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time?

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted!

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me!

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay!

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl

→ landonorris ha!

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo!

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

2K notes · View notes

oldsoul007 · 13 days ago

Text

Collide

joel miller x famous!reader

summary: A famous pop star and a reserved contractor find an unexpected connection when their paths cross at a concert, leading to a complicated and intense relationship despite their vastly different worlds.

a/n: 20 year age gap, suggestive scenes, kissing, fluff, teen Sarah, please request!!

joel miller masterlist

I was still coming down from the high of the show, the pulse of the bass lingering in my veins as I sat in my dressing room. My legs were stretched out over the couch, my body buzzing with exhaustion in the best way. Another sold-out night. Another crowd screaming my lyrics back at me.

Someone knocked, and my manager popped her head in.

“Your meet-and-greet winner is here—Sarah Miller.”

“Send her in,” I said, smiling.

The door swung open, and in walked a teenage girl, clutching a crinkled tour poster with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. I’d seen that look before—pure, unfiltered excitement, the kind that made all the work worth it.

But what I hadn’t seen before—what I wasn’t expecting—was the man following her.

Older. Tall. Broad shoulders filling the doorway, a flannel stretched over his chest, sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was dark but streaked with gray, and the scruff along his jaw was salt-and-pepper. He wasn’t moving like he was part of this world—he lingered, arms crossed, scanning the room with wary eyes like he wasn’t sure if he’d just stepped into a trap.

I was used to seeing dads at my shows, usually half-asleep or scrolling on their phones, counting down the minutes until they could leave. But this guy?

Something about him felt different.

Sarah, completely unaware of the shift in my focus, let out a sharp breath. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

I grinned, forcing myself to drag my attention away from the man hovering behind her.

“Believe it, babe. You made it.” I patted the couch beside me. “Come sit. Let’s take some pictures.”

Sarah practically collapsed onto the seat, still clutching her poster like it might disappear if she let go. “You were amazing. Like, I love your albums, but live? Insane. And the outfits? Oh my God.”

“Thank you!” I laughed, flicking my hair over my shoulder. “Gotta give the people a show.”

I felt it then—that weight of a gaze pressing into me. Not from Sarah.

From him.

I glanced up, catching him watching me. Not in a creepy way. Not in a casual way, either. It was assessing, lingering, like he wasn’t expecting this from me. Like I wasn’t what he thought I’d be.

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically. “That’s my dad Joel. He insisted on coming. Thought I’d get kidnapped or something.”

“Smart,” I murmured, turning my gaze back to him.

His eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, the room felt smaller.

“You didn’t have to stay back here,” I said, tilting my head. “Most parents just drop their kids off and wait outside.”

His jaw twitched, like he was debating if it was worth answering.

“Didn’t feel right leaving her alone,” he said finally. His voice was deep, rough—like gravel warmed by the sun.

I studied him, smirking a little. “Didn’t seem like you hated the show.”

Something flickered in his eyes—like he hadn’t expected me to notice him in the crowd, let alone call him out on it.

Sarah gasped dramatically. “Wait. Did you actually like it?” She turned to him, eyes wide. “Oh my God, Dad, are you a fan now?”

Joel—Joel. I liked the name—exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. “Let’s not get carried away.”

I laughed. I liked this. The push and pull of it. He was clearly out of his element, but he wasn’t running from it either.

Sarah turned back to me, still buzzing. “He literally never listens to anything but old music. Like, dad music. So this is, like, a huge deal.”

I arched a brow at him. “Old music, huh? Let me guess—Springsteen? Tom Petty?”

Joel just stared at me. “Nothin’ wrong with Petty.”

I grinned. “Didn’t say there was.”

He held my gaze for a beat too long, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he looked away.

Sarah didn’t seem to notice any of it, too busy gushing about her favorite songs. I signed her poster, took a few selfies, and listened as she told me about how she and her best friend had waited all night to get tickets.

Eventually, my manager cleared her throat—a signal that it was time to wrap things up.

Sarah pouted but nodded, clutching her signed poster like a lifeline. “Thank you so much. This was, like, the best night of my life.”

“Anytime, babe,” I said, giving her a wink.

Then my eyes flickered back to Joel.

He lingered a half-second longer than he needed to, that same unreadable expression on his face. Like he wasn’t sure what the hell just happened here.

I smirked.

“See you around, Joel.”

His throat bobbed. His hands flexed at his sides. But he didn’t say anything—just gave me one last look before following Sarah out the door.

I watched them go, my body still humming—not just from the show, but from him.

Something told me this wasn’t the last time I’d be seeing Joel Miller.

—

I woke up to a pounding headache, the kind that made me instantly regret every single tequila shot from the night before. The afterparty had been a blur—flashing lights, too many hands grabbing mine, bodies pressed close, music so loud I could still feel the bass vibrating in my bones.

I groaned, rolling over in bed, burying my face in the pillows. My mouth was dry. My limbs ached. And judging by the way my phone was blowing up on the nightstand, I’d missed something important.

I squinted at the screen, ignoring the dozens of notifications, and instead focused on the text from my assistant:

“Contractors are at the house today. They need you to sign off on finishes. Be there by noon.”

I groaned again, rubbing my face. Noon? That might as well have been dawn.

But I couldn’t push it off any longer. The house was almost done, and I wanted to make sure every little detail was perfect before I moved in. So I forced myself out of bed, took the longest shower of my life, and threw on a pair of oversized sunglasses to hide the absolute disaster happening on my face.

By the time I pulled up to the house, it was already hot, the kind of Texas heat that made the air shimmer off the pavement. My head was still pounding as I stepped out of the car, tugging my hoodie up over my messy hair.

Then I saw them.

Two men on the porch, deep in conversation. One was younger, dark-haired, grinning as he gestured toward the house. The other…

Oh.

I froze.

It was him.

Joel.

He was standing there, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression on his face as he listened to the other guy talk. He looked just as solid as he had last night, except now he wasn’t in a dimly lit dressing room—he was in daylight, in his element, wearing a dark t-shirt that clung to the broad planes of his chest, work-worn jeans slung low on his hips. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing forearms dusted with hair, veins prominent beneath tanned skin.

Fuck.

I was hungover. I was in no shape for this kind of thing.

But he turned, catching sight of me, and for a second, I swore I saw something flicker in his expression. Recognition. Amusement. Maybe even something else.

The younger guy—who I was now guessing was his brother—looked between us, raising an eyebrow. “Well, damn. You’re the client?”

I pushed my sunglasses up, smirking. “Surprised?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, something like a chuckle under his breath. He shook his head slightly, looking down before glancing back up at me. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

I stepped closer, my headache momentarily forgotten. “Yeah? You’re not exactly my usual demographic either.”

Joel’s jaw ticked. He shifted his weight, hands resting on his hips. “That what you call it?”

I let my eyes flicker over him—just briefly, just enough for him to feel it. “You tell me.”

His throat bobbed, but he didn’t answer.

His brother, though, was eating this up. He let out a low whistle, grinning between us. “Alright, what am I missin’ here?”

I smirked. “Your brother was at my show last night.”

The younger man lit up. “Oh, no shit.” He turned to Joel, grinning. “Man, you didn’t tell me you were a fan.”

Joel exhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ.”

I laughed, biting my lip, watching the way his jaw clenched. He wasn’t flustered, not exactly. But he was… affected. And I liked that.

“Tommy,” Joel muttered, clearly done with this conversation. “Go check the tile in the kitchen.”

Tommy—who now had a name—was still grinning as he backed away. “Oh, I’ll check the tile, alright.”

When he was gone, I turned back to Joel, crossing my arms.

“So. You do this for a living?”

Joel nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Been doin’ contracting work a long time.”

I let my gaze drift around the house, imagining him working here—his hands on the walls, the floors, every little detail touched by him.

“Guess that means you’ll be around for a while.”

Joel met my eyes, something heavy in his gaze. “Looks that way.”

The air felt thick, the heat between us stretching, pulling, tightening.

I smirked. “Good.”

Then I turned and walked inside, knowing full well he was watching me go.

—

I stepped into the house, my heels clicking on the polished floors, the cool air inside a welcome relief from the heat outside. Joel followed me, his footsteps steady and even behind me, but it was his presence that made the room feel smaller. He was still there, lingering just at the edge of my periphery as I looked around the space.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, motioning to the wide open spaces, the unfinished but impressive features—high ceilings, sleek lines, all of it still a work in progress.

Joel took a slow turn, eyes scanning the room. “It’s big,” he said. “I mean, damn. You’re gonna need a lotta furniture to fill this place.”

I chuckled, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out.” I didn’t mind the emptiness. I liked the potential of it. The house was a blank slate, just like the life I’d started to build here.

“Texas sure knows how to do things big,” he muttered under his breath, walking over to inspect the kitchen island.

I caught the slight surprise in his voice, and it made me pause. “You surprised?”

He turned to face me, his brows raised slightly. “Guess I didn’t expect someone like you to be from here.”

I tilted my head, genuinely curious now. “Someone like me?”

He shrugged, his eyes flickering to mine before he looked back down at the stone countertop, his hands moving slowly over the surface. “I dunno. You’re, uh… different. Thought people from Texas were more…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the thought.

“More what?” I prodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

He rubbed his jaw, clearly trying to avoid saying something that might come out wrong. “I dunno. More country, maybe. More… traditional.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You think I’m not ‘traditional’?”

Joel shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not that.” He looked like he was realizing how much trouble he’d gotten himself into with his words. “I’m just sayin’, Texas is a big place. People think it’s all rodeos and oil rigs and cowboy hats.”

I laughed, walking over to a window that looked out over the land. The sunlight was softer now, casting a warm glow on the fields beyond. The house felt like a fortress here, its high walls keeping out everything I didn’t want. But in Texas, even the wide-open spaces felt like they were mine.

“Well, I grew up here,” I said, looking out at the view, my voice softening a little. “I didn’t think I could build a house anywhere else. Texas is home.”

Joel stayed silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Then, when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I get that. Texas has a way of sticking with you, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, turning to face him. “Yeah. You can take the girl out of Texas, but…” I let the sentence hang, a half-smile on my lips.

He met my gaze then, something almost reflective in his eyes. “But you can’t take Texas out of the girl.”

I let out a soft laugh, relieved that he understood. That we didn’t need to say everything. I’d always known that about Texas—that it was big, that it was loud, but also that it was home in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone who didn’t feel the same pull.

“So, where are you from?” I asked, stepping closer to him, wanting to shift the conversation away from the weight of what I’d said.

He paused, looking down for a second, like he wasn’t sure if he should say. Finally, he met my eyes, his expression shifting to something more grounded. “Came from a small town outside Austin. Grew up on a farm, learned the trade from my old man.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a different world than this.”

“It was,” he agreed. His gaze drifted toward the large windows, his tone thoughtful. “But Texas has a way of making you feel like you belong, no matter where you come from.”

There was something in his voice, something that made me pause. He wasn’t just talking about the land anymore. He was talking about Texas—and maybe even about himself, too.

For a second, the tension between us shifted. It wasn’t just about the house, or the project we were both now a part of—it was about something deeper. Something about us both finding our places, making a home.

I broke the silence, clearing my throat. “Guess that’s what makes it so special. Doesn’t matter how far you go, you always find your way back.”

Joel looked at me, his expression unreadable, but there was something lingering there. Something unsaid. He cleared his throat. “Guess you’re right.”

I smiled, the weight of the moment fading into something lighter, easier.

But as we stood there, looking at each other in the stillness of that unfinished house, I knew one thing for sure—Texas wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave it behind. Not now. Not ever.

—

The days passed in a blur of emails, meetings, and decisions about finishes and fixtures, but my mind kept wandering back to that house. The house that was almost finished, but not quite. Every day, I’d get updates from my manager or the construction crew about progress, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the two men working on it.

Joel and his brother, Tommy.

They were good at what they did—no surprise there.

Every time I visited, I saw them in action, meticulously working on the smallest details. Joel was particularly focused, his movements efficient but thoughtful, like he took pride in making everything just right.

I found myself going there more often than I needed to, and I could feel it—something shifting in the air between Joel and me. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there—the lingering glances, the moments where we found ourselves alone, if only for a few seconds, before either Tommy or one of the other workers came around the corner.

I’d always been good at reading people, and Joel didn’t seem like the type to show much of his cards. But there were times when our eyes met across a room, a long, drawn-out moment where neither of us looked away.

Once, I was standing by the kitchen, debating whether the granite countertops I’d chosen would clash with the cabinets. Joel had been in the other room, but when I glanced over, there he was—watching me. Not just looking, but studying me. The way his gaze lingered made my heart skip a beat, even though I was trying to act like I didn’t notice.

I forced myself to focus on the materials. “What do you think about the backsplash?” I asked, knowing I needed to fill the silence.

Joel shifted, scratching the back of his neck before walking over, his boots thudding softly against the floor. “The tile’s fine,” he said, his voice low. “But I’d go with something a little more subdued. You don’t need to compete with the countertops.”

I nodded, stepping back to look at it through his eyes. “Subdued. Got it.”

I could feel him so close now, his body just a breath away, the heat from him lingering in the space between us. But before I could respond, Tommy rounded the corner, grinning. “You two makin’ progress in here, or just talkin’ shop?”

I shot Tommy a playful smile, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Joel was still standing a little too close, like he didn’t want to walk away. I ignored it, focusing on Tommy instead, but there was no denying the tension simmering beneath the surface.

The next few days felt like that—little moments.

I’d walk through the house, discussing where I wanted certain pieces, and Joel would be there, eyes on me just a little too long. I’d catch his gaze in the reflection of a window, or he’d be watching me from across the room when I wasn’t looking, and when I did catch him, he’d quickly look away.

Tommy, oblivious to the energy between us, was always there too, cracking jokes and making the work feel light. It was clear that he and Joel were close, and I appreciated that—his easygoing attitude balanced Joel’s more serious demeanor.

But still, there were those moments when it was just Joel and me, alone.

Like the time I walked into the garage, planning to check on the paint job in the hallway. Joel had been working on some cabinetry, and when he saw me enter, he set down his tools and wiped his hands on a rag. “Hey,” he said, his voice gravelly, like he hadn’t been talking much today.

“Hey,” I said, trying to act casual, but the moment stretched longer than it should have. I could feel the distance between us closing. He was so close now that I could smell the faint scent of wood and sawdust on his skin, and I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. It was the kind of ruggedness that worked on him—like he didn’t have to try, but still somehow looked effortlessly put together.

“I was thinking about the flooring,” I started, trying to steer the conversation to something safe as my heart raced in my chest. But the words felt stupid in my mouth when his eyes were on me like that. Like they were seeing right through me.

“Flooring’s good,” he said, leaning against the workbench. He crossed his arms, and his gaze dipped just slightly before meeting my eyes again. “You just need to decide what you want the most. It’s your house.”

His words felt more like a challenge than advice.

I took a slow breath, swallowing hard. “I know. I just… want it to be perfect.”

Joel’s expression softened. “It will be.” He stepped forward then, closer than he had before. So close I could feel his presence in a way that was more than physical. “You’ve got a good eye. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed with anything you choose.”

I could feel my pulse quicken at the way he was looking at me, the weight of the moment too intense for me to shake off. There was an invisible line between us now, a line I wasn’t sure if I should cross, but I couldn’t look away.

Just as the air thickened, the sound of Tommy’s voice came from the other room. “Yo, Joel! We need your help with these measurements.”

Joel exhaled, breaking the spell. He stepped back, his gaze still lingering on mine for just a moment longer before he turned and walked toward the doorway.

“Guess I better get to work,” he said, his voice quieter than before, like it had been touched by something.

I stood there for a beat, trying to compose myself, but my heart was still pounding in my chest. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

The tension between us was undeniable, and I wasn’t sure how much longer we could ignore it.

—

Joel was kneeling by the baseboards, smoothing out the last coat of sealant with practiced precision. The steady scrape of the tool against the wood filled the quiet space, but his attention kept flicking toward me as I sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, flipping through fabric samples for the living room.

“You know,” he said, finally breaking the silence, “I still don’t get it.”

I looked up. “Get what?”

He rested his forearm on his knee, tool still in hand, and nodded toward me. “All this.” He gestured vaguely around the room, but I knew he didn’t mean the house. “You’ve got people screaming your name, selling out arenas… but here you are, sitting on the floor, stressin’ over couch cushions.”

I laughed softly and set the samples down. “Yeah, well… those arenas don’t exactly help me figure out if sage green’s gonna make me regret all my life choices.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “Still. Must be kinda… wild. All that attention.”

I leaned back on my hands, glancing toward the window where the late afternoon sun poured in, warm and golden. “Yeah. It is. It still doesn’t feel real most days.”

His brow furrowed slightly, like he was trying to understand. “What part?”

“All of it.” I shrugged, feeling the familiar wave of disbelief wash over me. “I mean, I was just a kid with a guitar writing sad songs in my bedroom. And now… there are people who know those songs. Who sing ‘em back to me. Who care enough to show up.” I shook my head with a small, disbelieving smile. “It’s insane.”

Joel was quiet for a moment. “You ever get used to it?”

“Not really.” I met his gaze again. “And honestly, I don’t think I want to. I don’t ever wanna stand on stage and not feel completely floored by the fact that people gave me a night of their lives. You know?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Like… I’m just grateful, you know? For all of it. The chaos, the weirdness, the fact that I can make music and it actually… matters to someone. It could all go away tomorrow, and I’d still feel lucky that it happened at all.”

His mouth quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah, well… reckon that attitude’s why they show up in the first place.”

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head with a laugh. “Okay, stop, you’re gonna make me weird about it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to the baseboards. “Just callin’ it like I see it, superstar.”

“Superstar,” I repeated with a groan. “God, don’t let Sarah hear you say that.”

“Oh, too late,” he said, smirking. “She already thinks you hung the moon.”

I smiled at that. “Yeah, well… don’t tell her, but I think she might be cooler than me.”

He didn’t look up, but his voice softened. “Yeah. She’s got pretty good taste, though.”

And just like that, the air shifted—just a little. And I couldn’t help but wonder if he realized he was included in that.

—

The clock on the wall read 9:42 p.m., and Joel Miller was still here. I could hear the faint scrape of a utility knife coming from the other side of the room, followed by a frustrated sigh.

I padded down the hall, leaning against the doorway to find him crouched near the kitchen island, squinting at something on the floor. His flannel sleeves were rolled up, forearms dusted with sawdust, hair slightly disheveled from the long day.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Joel exhaled through his nose and sat back on his heels, turning to look at me. “Yeah, just… missin’ a piece I need to finish this trim.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. “I’ll go grab it from the hardware store real quick. Be outta your hair after that.”

I smiled, crossing my arms. “Yeah, you better. Don’t you have a daughter to get home to?”

He huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, yeah. Sarah’ll be fine. She’s probably still on the phone with her friend complainin’ about algebra.”

“Smart girl.” I hesitated for a second before straightening. “You mind if I tag along?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “To the hardware store?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I’ve been cooped up here all day. A quick trip sounds nice. Plus… I’ve never been to a hardware store this late. Kinda curious what kind of characters we’ll run into.”

He chuckled under his breath. “All right, suit yourself. Just don’t blame me when it’s not as exciting as you’re imaginin’.”

The hardware store was exactly as I’d pictured it—rows of tools, pipes, paint cans, and that faint metallic smell that reminded me of childhood. My dad used to drag me to places like this on weekends, letting me pick out paint colors for walls that never actually got painted.

Joel walked ahead of me, eyes scanning the aisles like he’d been born here. I followed, occasionally stopping to run my fingers along unfamiliar tools.

“What’s this?” I held up something that looked like a cross between scissors and a medieval torture devil.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Tin snips.”

“Ah.” I turned them in my hand. “For… snipping tin, I assume?”

“Smart girl.”

I gave him a mock glare. “Watch it, Miller.”

He smirked and kept walking, turning into the next aisle. I followed, catching up just as he crouched down to grab a small package from the bottom shelf.

“There she is,” he muttered, holding it up.

“Thrilling.” I clapped my hands together. “That was… what, a seven out of ten on the adventure scale?”

He chuckled. “More like a two.”

“Well, maybe next time we’ll hit up the plumbing section. Really go wild.”

His eyes met mine, and we both broke into laughter. I felt the warmth of it spread through me, the ease of being around him so simple and effortless. I didn’t notice the kid with the phone a few aisles over, or the faint click of a camera shutter.

Joel’s pov

I had barely managed to get some sleep after the late-night trip to the hardware store with y/n. The drive had been strange, in the best way possible. It was the kind of moment where everything felt familiar and carefree, yet I couldn’t shake the weight of the unspoken tension between us. The way she looked at me last night—so open, so real—made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. But I couldn’t ignore the way she made me feel, how easy it was to be around her.

This morning, I had to snap myself out of those thoughts. The quiet of the house was a bit too loud as I stepped into the kitchen, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Sarah was still asleep in her room, thank God. I had a few hours to get myself together before the day really started.

That’s when I heard her.

“DAD!” Sarah’s voice rang out from the living room, startling me. I rubbed my face and made my way down the hall, already bracing myself for whatever was coming.

When I reached the living room, Sarah was standing there, phone in hand, eyes wide with excitement. She was practically bouncing on her heels, her face flushed with energy. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“Look what I found!” she exclaimed, holding up her phone, the screen pointing directly at me. I squinted at it, immediately regretting the choice.

There was a picture of y/n and me from last night at the hardware store. It was a candid shot—y/n had been laughing, her head thrown back, her eyes sparkling in the dim light. I was standing close to her, my face right beside hers, both of us sharing a moment that, to anyone else, probably looked… well, too intimate. Like we were more than we were.

I could feel my heart rate picking up, my stomach knotting. This wasn’t how I wanted Sarah to see this. I wasn’t ready to explain anything yet, least of all to her. I didn’t want to complicate things between me and Lauren, but now… now it was out in the open, whether I was ready or not.

Sarah’s eyes were wide with excitement, but there was a hint of curiosity too, like she was waiting for me to say something.

“Dad, is that you and… y/n?” she asked, her voice laced with both excitement and surprise. “You guys look like you’re having so much fun. What’s going on? Were you two hanging out last night?”

I felt the heat rising in my face, and I could tell that I was doing my best to hide the anxiety gnawing at me. This was not the conversation I’d planned on having today.

“It’s not what you think, Sarah,” I said, my voice low, trying to keep it casual, trying to keep things under control. “We were just getting somethings for her house. It’s no big deal.”

Her expression didn’t change. She wasn’t buying it. “No big deal?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Dad, you’re literally standing there, like, super close to her. You two look like you’re having the best time. What’s going on? Are you two, like, friends or—”

“Sarah,” I cut her off, trying not to sound too defensive. “I know how it looks, but I swear it’s just a friendly moment. We were just… talking. That’s all.”

But she wasn’t convinced. “Talking? Dad, I’ve never seen you look at someone like that before.”

The weight of her words hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t sure why it stung so much, but it did. Sarah wasn’t wrong. There was something between me and y/n. I wasn’t blind to it. But this? This was complicated.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to collect my thoughts. “It’s nothing to worry about,” I said, my voice steady, but the truth was that I wasn’t even sure if I believed myself. “She’s just… she’s a friend, Sarah. That’s it.”

But the way she was looking at me told me she wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “Dad, you’re really bad at lying,” she said with a laugh, but there was a sharpness in her tone. “I’m just saying, you’re looking at her like… like you really like her. You should be honest with me.”

It wasn’t the words, but the tone—the way she said it, like she saw right through me—that made me feel exposed. I had always prided myself on being able to manage my emotions, to keep my thoughts locked up tight. But with Sarah, with y/n… it was becoming harder and harder to hide what I felt.

I sighed, trying to soften the tension. “Look, Sarah… I don’t want to get into this right now, okay? Just trust me when I say that nothing’s going on. I care about you, and that’s my focus right now.”

She seemed to consider my words for a moment before giving me a knowing look. “Fine, but just so you know, Dad…” She smirked. “I think you really like her.”

My stomach twisted at her words, but I tried to push the feeling down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice a little too forceful, but I wasn’t ready to dive deeper into this yet.

Sarah looked at me, her eyes narrowing just slightly. She wasn’t giving up that easily, but thankfully, she dropped the subject. “Whatever, Dad. But if you do start liking her for real, you better tell me first. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile, though I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring myself or her.

She shrugged and walked off, heading back to her room with the picture still in her hand. My heart was still pounding in my chest. It wasn’t just the photo that had me rattled—it was the truth that I wasn’t sure how to confront yet.

Was I starting to like y/n? The answer was obvious. And yet, as I stood there in the silence of the house, I couldn’t figure out if I was ready to admit it, especially not to Sarah.

The question lingered, unanswered, in my mind. But one thing was clear: this was just the beginning. And it wasn’t going to be easy to figure out where it would go from here.

—

Joel was different the next time I saw him.

He showed up like usual—punctual, focused, still dressed in that same worn flannel and faded jeans. But the easy warmth that usually hung between us was gone. The quiet jokes, the teasing smiles, the way his eyes would linger just a second longer than necessary—none of it showed up today.

He barely looked at me.

I tried to ignore it at first. Thought maybe he was just tired or preoccupied with work. He and Tommy had been running around nonstop to finish the details on the house. But when I brought him a coffee mid-morning and he mumbled a polite “thanks” without even glancing up, my stomach twisted.

Something was wrong. And whatever it was, it had to do with me.

I hovered in the doorway while he knelt by the fireplace, adjusting the custom mantel we’d argued about for a full twenty minutes last week. “Okay,” I finally said, gripping the edge of the doorframe. “What’s going on?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He kept working like I hadn’t spoken at all. I watched the muscle in his jaw tighten as he used his level to check the alignment.

“Joel.” My voice softened. “Talk to me.”

He sighed through his nose, set down the tool, and wiped his hands on his jeans before finally turning toward me. His face was unreadable. “Did you see the picture?”

The picture.

My chest tightened. “What picture?”

His eyes flicked toward mine like he didn’t believe me. “The one from the hardware store.” His voice was low, careful. “The one that ended up all over the damn internet.”

The words hit me like cold water. “Wait. What?”

“You really didn’t see it?”

“No.” My heart started to race. “Joel, I don’t go looking for that stuff. What—what picture are you talking about?”

He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled out his phone. After a few swipes, he turned the screen toward me.

There it was. The photo. Us, standing in that stupid hardware store aisle, laughing like we didn’t have a care in the world. From this angle, it did look… cozy. Familiar. Like we were something we weren’t.

God.

I felt my stomach drop through the floor. “Shit. I—Joel, I had no idea.”

He lowered the phone, his jaw tight. “Yeah, well… Sarah found it this morning.”

I blinked. “Sarah?”

He gave a short nod, eyes hard. “She came runnin’ downstairs with her phone, askin’ me if I was ‘dating a pop star.’ Thought it was funny.” His mouth twisted like the word tasted bitter. “Didn’t feel so funny to me.”

The guilt hit me hard and fast. I took a step toward him. “Joel, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t know someone took that picture. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“I know you didn’t,” he cut in. His tone was sharp but tired. “But it happened anyway, didn’t it?”

The truth of it settled like a stone in my chest. He was right. Intentions didn’t erase the fact that his life—his daughter’s life—had just been yanked into my world without warning. Without permission.

“Look,” I said, voice cracking slightly. “I can call my manager. Get them to reach out, try to take it down.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Joel… I’m really, really sorry.”

He stood there for a long moment, eyes dropping to the floor like he was weighing something.

“I know you are,” he said finally. “But I can’t let Sarah get caught up in all this. I just… I can’t.”

His voice was low, almost gentle, but it still hit like a gut punch.

Because “all this” was me.

And no matter how much I cared about him—how much I liked him, admired him, wanted to be around him—this was the part I could never change. The part I hated. The part where my life bled into someone else’s without permission. Where someone like Joel Miller—normal, grounded, fiercely protective of his daughter—would look at me and realize that whatever this had been?

It wasn’t worth it.

I gave a small nod and forced a weak smile. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joel didn’t say anything else. He just gave a tight nod, turned back to the fireplace, and got back to work.

And I stood there for a few more seconds before heading upstairs, heart heavy, throat burning.

I didn’t cry.

But God, I wanted to.

The next few days passed in a blur.

Joel came and went with Tommy to finish the last of the work on the house, but things between us were different now—strained, distant. He didn’t avoid me completely, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk to me either. No more lingering conversations about the best gas station snacks. No more teasing glances when I asked dumb questions about tools. Just quick, professional exchanges about the house.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

I tried to stay busy. Studio calls, interviews, brand meetings—they all demanded my attention, and I gave it to them. I smiled, answered questions about upcoming music, joked about how I was “just a Texas girl at heart.” But the whole time, the memory of that picture, of Sarah’s name on Joel’s lips, sat heavy in my chest.

It was an accident. I hadn’t asked for it. And yet, somehow, I still felt like I’d broken something.

By the fourth day, I’d had enough.

That evening, just after the sun dipped below the horizon, I heard the familiar rumble of Joel’s truck out front. I didn’t overthink it. I walked downstairs, pulled open the front door before he could reach it, and stepped outside.

Joel stopped short on the porch, toolbox in hand. His eyes flicked to mine, guarded as ever. “Evenin’.”

“Hey.” I crossed my arms, ignoring the way my heart jumped just from standing this close to him. “You got a minute?”

He hesitated. “Kinda gotta finish the bathroom grout—”

“It can wait.”

His brows lifted slightly at the sharpness in my voice. He set the toolbox down with a sigh. “All right.”

I leaned against the porch railing and took a breath. “Look… I’m sorry about that picture. I know it put you in a bad spot with Sarah, and I swear I didn’t know it was being taken. But I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’ve barely looked at me all week.”

Joel shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “I ain’t been avoidin’ you.”

“Yeah, you have.” I tilted my head. “You’ve been avoiding me since the picture thing. And I get it—it sucks. You didn’t ask to get dragged into all that. But I thought we were at least friends.”

He exhaled heavily and looked down at the porch. “We are.”

“Then act like it.” I gestured toward the front door. “I feel like you’ve been treating me like I’m radioactive or something.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Ain’t you, like, a global sensation or whatever? Radioactive sounds about right.”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Seriously?”

He finally met my eyes. There was something softer there now, something that chipped away at the tension. “I dunno, y/n,” he said after a moment. “I guess I just… got caught off guard by all of it.”

“The picture?”

He shook his head slowly. “Nah. More like… what it stirred up.”

I froze. “What does that mean?”

He dragged a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “I mean… I spend most of my time tryin’ to keep life simple. Easy. Predictable. And then I meet you, and suddenly there’s a picture of us floatin’ around the internet, and Sarah’s gigglin’ about it, and Tommy’s givin’ me shit every day about how I ‘can’t handle all that.’” He let out a humorless laugh. “And the worst part is, he’s probably right.”

My heart stuttered. “Why?”

Joel’s eyes caught mine, steady and unguarded for the first time in days. “Because I’ve been in denial about this whole thing since the minute I saw you onstage.”

My breath caught.

There it was. No dancing around it this time. No quiet looks or lingering glances. He’d said it out loud.

“You’ve been… what?” I asked, voice unsteady.

He gave a small shake of his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Pretendin’ it don’t mean anything,” he said softly. “That you’re just some client and I’m just here to finish a job. But I’m lyin’ to myself.”

The air between us thickened. I gripped the railing so tightly my knuckles ached. “Joel…”

“I know,” he said, cutting me off. His voice was rough. “It’s complicated. Sarah, my job… your life, your whole… world.” He huffed out a breath and glanced at me. “I just… needed you to know I ain’t avoidin’ you because I don’t care. I’m avoidin’ you ‘cause I care more than I should.”

The confession knocked the air out of me.

I could’ve kissed him then. Could’ve stepped forward and closed the gap, erased every last inch of distance. But instead, I smiled softly and reached out, brushing my fingers lightly over his forearm. “You think too much, Miller.”

Joel let out a low chuckle and shook his head. “You don’t think enough.”

“Maybe.” I squeezed his arm once before dropping my hand. “But I’m not scared of complicated.”

It was one of those rare moments-those fleeting ones where everything felt like it was shifting into place.

The house was still a mess, not completely finished, but it felt intimate, in its own way. The lights were dimmed, casting a soft glow over the room, and for some reason, everything else seemed to fade away.

The music playing softly from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner was barely audible. It was just us, in this moment, and the world outside didn't matter.

Joel's eyes were on me, steady and intense, like he was studying every inch of my face. There was something in the way he looked at me-something that had been building for weeks, simmering beneath the surface.

I stepped closer, drawn to him. Every part of me wanted to bridge the distance between us, to finally give in to whatever this was, this magnetic pull that had been growing since the moment we met.

"You know," I started, my voice softer than usual,"I'm really glad you're working on my house. It feels... different when you're here."

His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second, and that was enough. My heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice low, his usual confidence faltering slightly. "I'm glad to be here, too."

I could feel the tension in the air, thick and tangible now. We were standing close, too close, but neither of us was stepping away. I could hear my own breathing, shallow and quick, as if my body was already betraying me, telling me what I already knew.

I could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his breath, and I knew-we both knew-that something was about to happen.

I took another step forward, my fingers brushing lightly against his arm. He didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up, his hand hovering near my face, like he wasn't sure if he should touch me.

"You're so..." he started, but his words trailed off.

I didn't need him to finish. I could feel it-the pull, the magnetism. I leaned in just a little bit more, my lips barely brushing against his ear as I whispered, "I've wanted this for a while Joel."

The words hung in the air between us, thick and heavy. For a second, I thought I saw his resolve crack. His eyes softened, the sharpness from before blurring into something warmer, something more vulnerable.

He stepped in closer, his breath on my neck sending a shiver through me. His lips were inches away from mine, and I could feel the moment hanging on a thread.

Then, just as our lips were about to meet, the door slammed open.

"Hey, Joel! I need your-" Tommy's voice came booming from the hallway, interrupting everything.

I froze, and so did Joel. His eyes darted away from me, that familiar guarded expression slipping back into place.

He stepped back, like he was trying to pull himself together, but I could see the way his hands were trembling slightly, betraying the tension that had been building between us.

Tommy appeared in the doorway, blissfully unaware of the moment he'd just interrupted. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to... well, yeah, just—" He cleared his throat, clearly sensing the awkward energy. "I need your help with something in the garage."

Joel let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

He looked at me, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw regret in his eyes-like he was frustrated, too.

"Alright, Tommy. Just give me a minute," Joel muttered, walking past me without another word.

I stayed where I was, my body still buzzing from what had almost happened. The connection between us hadn't dissipated-it lingered, humming between us like an electric current.

Tommy was already halfway down the hall before Joel caught up with him, offering me a brief, almost apologetic glance.

I stood there in the dim light of the living room, my heart racing. I didn't know if I was more frustrated or relieved.

But deep down, I knew one thing for sure: this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

—

The next day, the air felt thick with tension, like something had shifted between us and I wasn't sure how to navigate it. I hadn't heard from Joel since last night, but I couldn't stop thinking about that almost-kiss. The way everything felt in that moment-like we were so close to crossing a line that neither of us fully understood. It lingered in my mind, that charged silence, the unspoken words that seemed to hover in the air between us.

I'd tried to go about my day, tried to keep myself busy with meetings and interviews, but all I could think about was Joel. The warmth of his touch, the way his eyes had looked at me as he'd almost kissed me-like he wanted to but couldn't let himself. It was maddening.

Finally, after hours of pretending like everything was normal, Joel showed up at the house. He was here to do some more work with Tommy, but I could tell from the moment he walked through the door that something was different between us.

There was a heaviness to his steps, a tightness in his jaw that made the air feel suffocating.

I was in the living room when he came in, and I knew this was it-the moment where we would either pretend it hadn't happened or face the truth of what had been building between us for so long.

He cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, as he stopped just inside the door.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower than usual, like he wasn't sure how to start. "I... I wanted to talk about last night."

I glanced up from where l'd been sitting, my heart instantly picking up pace. "Yeah?" | tried to keep my voice casual, but there was no hiding the fact that I was still processing everything that had happened.

Joel ran a hand through his hair, clearly uneasy.

"Look, I... I just want to say that what happened-what almost happened-was a mistake. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of... I don't know, some guy who takes advantage of situations like that."

My chest tightened, and I stood up from the couch, crossing the room to face him. "Joel, it wasn't a mistake," I said softly, but firmly. "You don't have to apologize for it."

He looked at me, his brows furrowing, like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious. "Y/n, it was a mistake," he repeated, his voice a little more strained now. "I mean. you're... you're so young, and I'm-"

I cut him off, not wanting to hear him talk down to himself like that. "I'm not a kid, Joel," I said, the words coming out sharper than I meant. "And I don't need you to protect me from myself."

He looked taken aback, clearly not expecting my response, but there was something else in his eyes-something softening, something that told me he wasn't as sure about his apology as he was trying to make it seem.

"I just didn't want you to think I-" he started again, but I took a step closer, interrupting him once more.

"No, Joel. I've been in this world, l've dealt with a lot more than people think. And you..." I paused, looking up at him, feeling the weight of everything that had been building between us.

"You're not just some guy l've been casually seeing. There's something here. I feel it, and I know you do too."

His eyes softened at my words, and for the first time, I could see the walls he'd been building around himself start to crack. He let out a deep breath, his hands running over his face as if he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he couldn't deny what was happening between us anymore.

"Y/n..." He stopped, the words catching in his throat. "I don't know what this is, but I'm trying to figure it out."

"Me too," I whispered, finally closing the last bit of distance between us. "But maybe we don't need to figure everything out right now. Maybe we just need to stop pretending that this isn't happening."

I reached out, my fingers brushing lightly against his chest, and I felt him freeze under my touch. His eyes were locked on mine, and for a long moment, we both just stood there, both of us breathing a little too quickly, both of us waiting for the other to make a move.

Then, finally, Joel spoke in a low voice that made my heart skip. "Are you sure about this?"

I didn't answer with words. Instead, I leaned up slowly, giving him every chance to pull away if he wanted to, but he didn't. And when our lips met, it was like everything fell into place.

It wasn't a slow, tentative kiss this time. It was desperate, passionate-an unspoken release of all the tension that had been building between us for so long. His hands were at my waist, pulling me against him as if he couldn't get close enough.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, feeling the way his body tensed beneath mine, the way he was finally giving in to something he had been holding back for so long.

I could feel the heat between us, the raw energy that pulsed through every touch, every kiss. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment-no fears, no regrets, no questions about what this would mean. There was only him, only us, caught in the rush of something real.

Our lips moved together, urgent and hungry, as if we were both finally acknowledging the truth we'd been dancing around. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic, our bodies pressing closer together, craving the connection we'd been denying.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless, our chests rising and falling as we tried to catch our breath. I could see the same question in his eyes-the same look of wonder and disbelief, like neither of us could believe what had just happened.

But I didn't need words this time. I didn't need him to apologize again, or explain himself. I just needed him to know that it wasn't a mistake, and that I wasn't backing away from this.

I stepped back slightly, my fingers still tracing his jaw, and I looked up at him, my voice low. "It wasn't a mistake, Joel. It never was."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw him smile-genuinely. It wasn't forced, or awkward, or hesitant. It was real.

And in that smile, I knew. This wasn't over. This was only the beginning.

—

We spent hours together in the quiet of my house. The sound of my music barely registering in the background as we talked, laughed, and touched. There were no real words for the way we fit together—how perfectly we seemed to complete each other. And the way we kissed—God, the way he kissed me—it was like he was marking me as his own, like every kiss was a promise.

One night, after a long day of working on my house, Joel and I found ourselves alone in my bedroom, the door cracked open just enough for the light from the hallway to seep in. He was standing by the window, watching the last slivers of sunlight fade behind the trees. I couldn’t help myself—I walked up to him, standing just behind him, letting my hands brush over his shoulders.

Without turning, he murmured, “You’re always so quiet around me.” His voice was low, almost a growl. He tilted his head slightly, just enough for his lips to graze the side of my neck. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him. “You know what’s going on,” I whispered back. I slid my arms around his waist, my chest pressing against his back. The warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the musk of sweat, was intoxicating. He turned around then, his eyes darker than before, as if he were trying to fight back something deeper inside him.

Joel was always so controlled—always careful with his emotions, with what he let slip. But I knew it was different with me.

His hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek as if memorizing every inch of me. “You’re makin’ it hard to breathe, darlin’.”

“You make me forget to breathe,” I admitted, my fingers brushing against his chest. I leaned in, the distance between us practically nonexistent. “Don’t fight this. Don’t fight us.”

His lips met mine, urgent and hungry. There was no hesitation this time, no distance between us. The kiss was full of need—years of repressed emotions finally crashing together in one fluid motion. His hands were on me, under me, pulling me closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. My hands found his hair, tangled in the strands as I deepened the kiss, needing to feel him closer. The energy between us was electric, an unspoken connection that neither of us could deny anymore.

We stumbled back toward the bed, not breaking apart for a second. I couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything other than the way his lips moved with mine, the way his body pressed against me. The yearning, the hunger—it was all too much and not enough all at once.

He pulled back for a breath, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “You sure about this, Lauren?” His voice was rough, like he was fighting against a tide pulling him under.

I nodded, pulling him back toward me, my hands gripping his shirt, desperate for him. “I’m sure. God, Joel, I’m so sure.”

And then there was nothing but us, lost in the pull of one another. Nothing else mattered. Not the noise of the world outside, not the worries that had plagued us both. In that moment, all we had was the now, and it felt like the most powerful thing we could ever give each other.

The night blurred by in a haze of soft whispers, heated touches, and frantic kisses. We explored each other like we had all the time in the world, but both of us knew we were racing against something unspoken. The desire was overwhelming, and every inch of his skin against mine made me ache for more.

When we finally lay in bed together, tangled in the sheets, the silence felt heavier than the night before. I turned to him, running my fingers over his chest, tracing the faint outline of a scar near his ribs.

Joel’s eyes were still dark, a fire burning in them, and his hand rested on my back, his thumb rubbing slow circles. He glanced down at me, his lips curling into that familiar lopsided grin. “You were right, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice husky. “We do get better with practice.”

I smiled, my heart still racing from the intensity of what we had shared. “I’ll take your word for it.”

But deep down, I knew one thing: this was just the beginning. There would be more. So much more between us. And even though it was complicated, even though we were still figuring it all out, I wouldn’t change a thing.

We were finally where we were meant to be.

—

Sneaking around with Joel was a dangerous game.

Not because we were doing anything illegal—but because every glance, every brush of his hand against mine when no one was looking, every stolen moment made me want more. And when it came to Joel, more was a slippery slope I was already tumbling down headfirst.

It started small.

The first time, we were in my kitchen. Tommy was in the living room talking on the phone with some supplier, and I was pretending to organize my spice cabinet while Joel installed a new light fixture above the island. I didn’t need to be in there. I could’ve left and let them work. But when Joel was around, leaving didn’t feel like an option.

He was on the ladder, arms raised as he adjusted the fixture, his shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of tan skin. I didn’t realize I was staring until his voice snapped me out of it.

“See somethin’ you like?” he murmured without looking down.

Heat shot through me. “Yeah. My new light fixture.”

Joel’s shoulders shook with a quiet laugh. He climbed down, stepping close enough that I caught that familiar mix of cedar and sawdust clinging to his skin. “Sure it is.”

Tommy’s voice carried from the other room—loud, oblivious.

Joel’s eyes flicked toward the doorway, then back to me. His hand brushed against mine on the counter. He didn’t grab it. Didn’t lace his fingers with mine. Just… touched. A whisper of contact that sent a shiver down my spine.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Careful, Miller. Tommy’s right there.”

Joel’s thumb grazed mine. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the light fixture was the least interesting thing in the kitchen.

The next time, we weren’t quite as subtle.

It was late, and Joel was helping me move some furniture in the upstairs guest room. Sarah had just gone to a sleepover, and Tommy had headed home for the night, leaving us blissfully alone for the first time in days.

We’d started with actual work—really, we had. The guest bed was heavy, and the dresser was wedged at an impossible angle against the wall. But somewhere between Joel teasing me about my lack of upper body strength and me calling him “old man” one too many times, things shifted.

I was standing against the wall, still laughing from some joke he’d made, when he caged me in with his arms.

“Still think I’m old, huh?” he asked, voice low.

I swallowed hard. “Well, you did complain about your back twice today.”

His lips twitched. “You’re pushin’ your luck, darlin’.”

“I like pushing it.”

Joel’s eyes darkened. He leaned down and kissed me—slow, deep, his hand slipping beneath my T-shirt to rest against the small of my back. I melted into him immediately, fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed me harder against the wall.

The kiss turned messy fast. He groaned when I nipped his bottom lip, and I gasped when he responded by gripping my hips and dragging me closer. It was the kind of kiss that promised more, the kind that made me forget that the guest room window was cracked open and that sound carried.

The slam of a car door outside brought us crashing back to reality.

We broke apart, breathing hard. Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave me a lopsided, regretful grin. “Guess we should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” I panted. “Totally.”

Spoiler: we didn’t move the dresser for another twenty minutes.

Sneaking around with Joel meant stolen phone calls late at night, when Sarah was asleep and his house was quiet.

It meant me dragging him into my music room one afternoon, away from Tommy’s curious eyes, just to kiss him breathless on the worn-out couch.

It was ridiculous. It was fun. It was dangerous.

And neither of us could stop.

—

One afternoon, Tommy caught us almost-red-handed.

I was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, Joel standing between my knees with his hands on my thighs. We weren’t kissing—not yet—but we were definitely standing too close to be discussing drywall.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” Joel muttered.

“You love it.”

He grinned and squeezed my leg. “I do not.”

Before I could argue, the front door creaked open.

“Joel? You still here?” Tommy’s voice echoed from the entryway.

Joel jumped back so fast I nearly fell off the counter. I caught myself just in time, schooling my face into what I hoped was an innocent expression.

Tommy stepped into the kitchen, eyes flicking from me to Joel. His brows lifted. “Interrupt somethin’?”

“Nope,” Joel said quickly. “Just—uh—talkin’ about the backsplash.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Tommy didn’t buy it for a second. He smirked and shook his head. “Yeah, all right. You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Joel turned bright red. I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Sneaking around wasn’t sustainable. We knew that.

But every time I caught Joel looking at me across the room when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, every time his hand brushed mine on purpose, every time we kissed like we didn’t care who saw…

I knew one thing for certain.

When we finally stopped sneaking, the fallout was going to be worth it.

It had been a slow, steady build-up—every stolen glance, every touch, every quiet moment. But in the heat of the moment, I didn’t realize how obvious we were being until Tommy walked into the living room and caught us.

We were standing by the couch, Joel’s hands tangled in my hair, his lips pressed against mine with a desperation neither of us was trying to hide anymore. It was like the world outside that room ceased to exist—until it didn’t.

Tommy’s voice broke through the air like a cold slap. “Well, this is… something.”

Joel pulled away instantly, eyes wide, and his hand shot up as if to ward off the inevitable. “Tommy, wait—”

But it was too late. Tommy was already leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. He raised an eyebrow, looking from Joel to me and back again. “I’m just gonna go ahead and assume this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but Tommy cut me off, his grin widening. “Y’know, I’ve been tryin’ to avoid this. But now that it’s right in front of me—” He looked down at his shoes with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I gotta admit… I owe Sarah so much money.”

Joel froze, his face going red. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy uncrossed his arms and looked at Joel with amusement. “Sarah. She bet me you two were already messin’ around.”

Joel’s jaw dropped, and I felt my face burn. “No way,” he muttered. “She—she bet you? Seriously?”

“Yep. She’s been on my case about it for weeks. Figured I owed her that money anyway, so I’m glad to be rid of it.” Tommy’s tone was casual, but there was a hint of something else there—a mix of mischief and, maybe, a little concern.

I looked at Joel, trying to process what was happening. “So, she knew?”

“Of course she knew. She’s not as oblivious as you two seem to think,” Tommy teased, before his expression shifted to something a little more serious. “But… y’all didn’t want her to know, right?”

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was suddenly about to burst from the pressure. “Not yet,” he said, voice low. “We’re still trying to figure this out. I haven’t even had the chance to take her out on a real date, man. Everything’s… messy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah? Messy, huh? You two sure look like you’ve got everything figured out.”

“Not exactly,” Joel muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. “But we’re not ready to deal with it. Not yet.” He met Tommy’s gaze, tone more serious now. “Can you keep it quiet? Just until we figure out what the hell this is?”

Tommy paused, then grinned. “I can keep quiet. But this is gonna be fun to watch.” He held up his hands, like he was surrendering. “No promises, though. I’m still Team Sarah on this one.”

Joel shot him a look that could’ve frozen water. “You better not say anything to her, Tommy. I’m serious.”

Tommy held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “I won’t. For now, anyway.” He pushed off the doorframe and gave us a knowing smile. “But, you two better figure it out quick, because Sarah’s gonna want to know why her dad is sneaking around with her favorite pop star.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Joel grumbled, clearly still uneasy, but Tommy had already turned and left, muttering something under his breath about needing a beer.

I turned back to Joel, heart still racing from the confrontation. “So… this is really happening, huh?”

Joel ran a hand over his face again. “I guess so. But we gotta take it slow, y/n. We owe it to Sarah… and to ourselves.” He stepped toward me, his expression softening. “Let’s not rush into this. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’m not running away.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “We’ll figure it out. No pressure.”

Joel’s lips curved into a small, tentative smile. “Good. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Me neither.”

The tension in the air had shifted, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. We had a lot of questions left unanswered. But for the first time, I felt like maybe we were on the same page.

We still had a long way to go—but at least we were taking the first step together.

—

Being with Joel felt different than I expected—easier in some ways, harder in others. It wasn’t like the whirlwind relationships I’d had before, the ones that burned hot and fast before fizzling out. Joel was steady, deliberate. The kind of man who made sure things were built to last.

Once we stopped pretending we didn’t want this, everything changed. He was still his gruff, no-nonsense self, but now his touch lingered when he brushed past me. Now his eyes softened when they met mine across a room. Now he kissed me slow and deep when no one was watching and sometimes even when they were.

But being with Joel also meant being with Sarah and Tommy.

Sarah, of course, was ecstatic. The morning after we finally made things official, she nearly tackled me in the kitchen, eyes bright with excitement.

“I knew it,” she practically yelled, grinning. “I mean, I bet on it, so I really knew it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bet on it?”

Sarah’s grin widened, and that’s when Tommy strolled in, smirking.

“Don’t tell her, Sarah,” he said, pouring himself coffee. “I ain’t got the cash yet.”

Joel groaned from where he stood by the fridge. “Y’all gambled on my love life?”

“More like invested,” Tommy shot back, winking at me.

Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. “So, do I win the pot, or…?”

I laughed, but Joel just shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face like he was seriously reconsidering his life choices.

Being with Joel meant stolen moments in between my hectic schedule. It meant late-night dinners when I got home from rehearsals, sitting on the kitchen counter while he cooked something simple, rolling his eyes when I tried to help. It meant quiet mornings, wrapped in his arms, pressing sleepy kisses against his jaw before slipping out of bed to get ready for the day.

It also meant dealing with the outside world.

We had kept things quiet for a while, but people caught on fast. A blurry picture here, a leaked story there, and suddenly, headlines were calling me the pop star dating a Texas contractor, which was ridiculous and not even remotely close to who Joel actually was.

I expected him to hate it, but surprisingly, he handled it well.

“Ignore it,” I told him one night, lying on the couch with my head in his lap as he scrolled through his phone.

“Didn’t say nothin’,” he murmured, but his jaw was tight.

I reached up, running my fingers along his beard. “If it really bothers you—”

“It doesn’t,” he said, looking down at me, expression softening. “Long as we’re good, I don’t give a damn what anyone else says.”

And we were good. Better than good.

One night, after a show, I came backstage to find Joel leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting for me.

“Took you long enough,” he said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just mad ‘cause Tommy and Sarah dragged you here early.”

“They did,” he admitted, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. His voice lowered as he murmured, “Worth it, though.”

I smiled, reaching up to fix the collar of his shirt. “Yeah?”

Joel didn’t answer with words. He just pulled me in, his lips brushing against mine—slow, steady, full of promise.

It was still surreal sometimes, having this life—the fame, the lights, the chaos—and him all at once. But as long as I had Joel, I had something real. Something worth holding onto.

291 notes · View notes

captain-hawks · 2 months ago

Note

hi dee, merry christmas eve eve.

if you’re still taking drabble requests, i propose reuniting with famous ex-bf sae at a hometown xmas party

i don’t forgive you (but please don’t hold me to it) 🎀 itoshi sae x f!reader

4k — 18+, exes to lovers, infidelity (not sae x reader’s relationship), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, praise kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, angst with a hopeful ending, playing fast and loose with sae’s timeline, timeskip

a/n: i listened to phoebe bridgers - punisher (the album) on repeat nonstop while writing this. recommended for the vibes!

“I knew you hated me. But I didn’t realize just how much until tonight.”

A voice interrupts the silence on the back porch of the Itoshi household, its owner someone that you’ve spent the better part of the night avoiding. Your tongue caresses the back of your teeth, fingers subtly tightening their grip against the wooden railing.

It feels like it might snow.

“Since when do you come back here for Christmas? Did you need to come sign some hometown autographs to boost your ego?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm as you stare out into the dark backyard, rather than turning your gaze to the ghost now standing beside you.

Itoshi Sae laughs, and the sound cracks against your ribcage like a whip.

It reverberates against the grooves and fissures that still linger there, ones that might as well have been carved by his own hand. It races through you like a cold wind. It makes your lungs burn.

You find it difficult to breathe for a moment.

And it takes everything in you to appear as unbothered by it all as you wish you were. As you’d like him to believe.

“I heard from Rin that you’re working on your master’s degree now.”

That’s not any of your goddamn business, you think to yourself.

“Rin has a big mouth—and since when are you two on speaking terms?”

Sae shrugs, leaving you to stew for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to be annoyed that Rin neglected to share that pertinent bit of information with you.

To be fair, the nearest object usually becomes a projectile weapon by your hand whenever the mention of Rin even having a brother comes up in conversation though.

At the very least, you’ve stayed close with one of the Itoshi brothers.

And it’s bad enough that you have to dodge Sae’s stupidly famous name like the plague any time you dare to indulge in any piece of football media for Rin’s sake. Fuck him for being so good.

(At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself. Rather than believing the alternative—that you’re just pathetically hyper aware of Sae in his absence, of all the space he left behind in your life. That five years later, you’re still slowly bleeding out from something that shattered into so many pieces, you don’t think you’ll ever find the last sliver.)

Inhaling sharply, you finally turn to face him.

It’s not fair, not really—what the sight of him still does to you, even now. Even after all this time.

Sae’s hair is tousled in a purposeful way, and his eyes are still as sharp as ever. He’s wearing sleek boots and fitted, dark wash jeans, his upper half covered by a jacket that’s likely as expensive as it appears.

He looks far better than he has any right to while you’re standing out here wearing a silly, ugly Christmas sweater that’s an annual staple of Itoshi holiday parties (your parents have been neighbors with them since you were a kid, so you know the drill by now).

You try not to think about how you fell in love for the first time with the man standing five steps away from you here, between this dark backyard and the one nestled beside it. Beneath the shade of towering oak trees, in the plush grass on warm summer days with sticky popsicle fingers and sweat-slick skin.

About how terribly you missed him when he left for Spain.

How you didn’t fully understand what you felt until he came back to Japan after you graduated high school.

How you fell in love with him all over again.

How he kissed you for the first time in this very spot, with one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You remember the way this very railing felt as it pressed into your back, the humid summer air and the buzz of the cicadas and the fireflies that winked in and out of sight around you.

How you fell a little more in love with him every day over the four years that followed.

And you remember that you were standing here when Sae called you five years ago and told you that he’d cancelled his flight. That he wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

That he didn’t think things were working anymore.

You couldn’t have disagreed more, but he didn’t give you a chance to argue.

“Why are you here, Sae?”

He looks out into the darkness beyond in the yard before turning back to you. “Rin said you’re engaged.”

Self-consciously, you tuck the hand adorned with said diamond ring into your pocket.

Sae’s eyes track the movement.

“And?”

“That was quick,” he says calmly.

The anger that rears up inside of you is so quick and sudden, you hardly have a chance to reign it in.

“We’ve been together for two years. When you know, you know,” you shrug, ignoring the raw feeling at the back of your throat as you push the words out.

Sae’s quiet for a moment, taking the subtle jab for what it is. “Where is he tonight?”

This time, you don’t hold back. “What, were you hoping to be politely introduced as the reason why I was a fucking emotionally unstable mess when he met me?”

His facial expression flickers. “I’m not going to apologize for not letting you continue to burn yourself out juggling a long distance relationship and a university degree between time zones. For not letting you choose me over your dream internship.”

“So you broke up with me over the phone three days before Christmas and mailed me all of my shit and went radio silent for five years? To show how much you cared about me?”

Sae takes two steps forward, shortening the distance between the two of you with tangible purpose.

“You would have tried to talk me out of it, to come up with a solution that wouldn’t have worked.”

You nod, voice bordering on a frantic laugh. “So you made the choice for both of us. Because you know best.”

“Do you think I wasn’t hurting?”

Turning away, you wrap your arms around yourself, the cold finally seeping in past the adrenaline pumping through your veins, sinking into your bones in a way that makes you ache.

“The only thing that could possibly hurt you is football.”

This time, it’s Sae that laughs, but it’s less amused and more self-deprecating now. And without warning, something heavy and warm settles around your shoulders, the musky scent of cologne enveloping you.

Sae comes to stand in front of you, leaving you wearing his jacket.

He’s wearing the goddamn stupid, ugly Christmas sweater with a dog on it that you bought for him years ago.

“You’re wrong,” he says quietly, breath coming out as a white, whispy cloud of condensation.

You wish you were.

Ripping off his jacket, you shove it back into his arms before storming back inside, heart on the verge of pounding its way out of your chest and through the slats on the deck to burrow into the dirt below.

—

You manage to avoid Sae for the next hour or so, mingling amongst other party guests and pointedly ignoring all of the excited chatter about the footballer’s festive homecoming.

Rin doesn’t push, not in front of everyone, but you can tell by the concerned way he keeps glancing over at you that he’s aware you and Sae have talked.

It’s only on your way to use the upstairs bathroom, hoping to glean a moment of quiet after your time out on the porch was so spectacularly ruined, that you find yourself distracted.

There’s a dim light on in Sae’s childhood bedroom.

And this is where he finds you again, standing frozen in the doorway and staring at the constellations projected on the walls by the small sphere-shaped lamp sitting on the desk in the corner of his room.

The two of you used to lie on his bedroom floor for hours staring at the stars on his ceiling.

“Does he make you happy?”

You’re expecting it this time when you hear Sae’s voice.

“Do you feel that’s any of your business?” you ask tiredly.

He slowly walks past you into the room, sweater and jacket both seemingly discarded downstairs. He’s stripped down to a white t-shirt now, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

“I made myself let you go so that you could be with someone who would make you as happy as you deserve. I don’t think I deserve your answer, but I’d like to know.”

You curl your toes against the carpet beneath your feet—just like you used to every time a silly teenage confession for him was trembling on the tip of your tongue.

Your engagement ring feels cool and heavy on your finger.

You hate him, hate this. Hate this effortless vice grip he still has on your weak heart.

“You made me happy,” you tell him, voice hardly above a whisper.

You hate that you know he made the right choice.

Sae blinks.

You would have left everything behind for him—school, your career, your future.

You were content with weekends spent tangled up in hotel rooms between his games, with failed exams and missed assignments and a life spent in suitcases.

“Aren’t you dating that model?” you blurt out, scrambling for something. Anything.

He nods but doesn’t offer anything else.

“Well, why didn’t you bring her here?” It’s a battle to keep your voice steady.

“I didn’t want to.”

He—

“What, you didn’t want her to see you jealous if I brought my fiancé?” you joke.

Sae lets out a huff of air—it might be a laugh.

“Something like that,” he responds quietly, gaze shifting to the window.

“Tell me why you’re here,” you say again.

The sound of voices climbing the stairs floats through the open door, and you step further into the room, pushing it closed and locking it behind you before crossing your arms. You’d rather not be interrupted by his drunk aunts.

“I wanted to know how it would feel.”

You tilt your head. “How what would feel?”

He gestures to your hand, to the new diamond just hardly glinting in the low light. “Seeing a ring on your finger, knowing I didn’t put it there myself.”

The ground beneath your feet feels marginally less solid as your gut churns and your nerves sway. Your teeth sink into your cheek, pain blossoming as you bite down.

“And?”

Sae runs a hand through his hair.

“I hate it.”

It’s blunt and raw, the way the words slide off of his tongue. And he stares at you when it says it, refusing to break eye contact. You take a step toward him, no reasonable explanation for the movement beyond the fucked up magnetism that still pulls you toward this false promise of true north.

“Why, would you have gotten me something nicer?”

It’s dizzying, this conversation. The way words keep coming out of your mouth unbidden, filling the gaps in years worth of silence. Stroking a bruise, scraping a scar.

“You hate gold,” he replies evenly, and your hand subconsciously goes to your neck. To where a silver chain sat for years before you finally tore it off and threw it in an envelope marked with Sae’s address.

His eyes wordlessly track the movement.

“Do I?”

He steps toward you, closing the dwindling gap further. And you swear you can feel it—a subtle charge in the air.

Sae nods, reaching out to lightly take your hand in his. He holds it up to inspect. “And this diamond’s too big. Too square. You like small stones, something vintage.”

He’s right.

You stare at him, all too aware of the familiar feeling of his skin against your own.

“You sound confident.”

He knows he’s right.

And he doesn’t falter. “There’s been a ring sitting in a small, velvet box in the back of my closet for five years. I haven’t forgotten what it looks like.”

A—

Words die feebly in your throat as you weakly croak, “—what?”

Sae sits down on the edge of his bed, looking down at his own hands. “I had it all planned out. I was so fucking nervous, it was ridiculous. And then I woke up that morning and realized that I was being selfish trying to tie you down to me permanently.”

He meets your gaze as you stare back at him, dumbfounded. Your knees feel weak.

“You were going to propose?”

Sae nods.

You move to stand in front of him, your socked feet nudging his own. “Did you fly all the way home to finally tell me that?”

He looks up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’re not sure what happens first—the brush of your knees against his own or the spreading of his thighs. But you find yourself between his legs all the same, denim resting against your sheer stockings and the fabric of your skirt.

“What am I supposed to do with this information, Sae?”

His eyes burn through you.

“Tell me to get rid of the ring. Tell me you want nothing to do with me. Tell me you hate me.”

His words strike like flint against the raw edges of your nerves.

“I hate you,” you tell him, even as you reach out let your fingers ghost along the curve of his jaw.

Sae’s eyes fall shut, and he leans into your touch.

You let your hand slide higher, into the soft locks of his hair.

His intake of breath is audible.

“I hate that you left me. I hate that you made the choice without me. I hate that you were right, because I never would have come this far in my career, and I never would have gone this far with my education.”

“I’m sorry—” His voice comes out hoarse, and he collapses forward, head pressed against your abdomen.

“I hate that I still love you, even now. Even after all this time.”

Sae’s arms wrap around the backs of your legs even as he mumbles, “Don’t say that.”

You feel like you could catch fire at any moment.

“Why not?”

He shifts his head, rubbing his face against the bottom edge of your sweater, and the material rides up just enough to expose a sliver of skin.

“I don’t deserve to hear it.”

You drag your hand to the back of his head, tugging the hair there to tilt his chin upward to meet your gaze once more. Your heart lurches in your chest at the sight before you.

“Probably not, but you decided to kick off honesty hour, so.”

Sae tips his head back downward, his breath hot where his mouth rests against the bare skin above the waist of your skirt.

“I wish you’d tell me not to touch you.”

You shiver. “Should I?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

You don’t answer him as every reasonable part of you goes quiet, drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears and the reckless desire that shamelessly shudders its way down your spine.

“And if I don’t?”

It’s pointed this time, the way Sae’s lips press to your stomach in an open-mouthed kiss.

Logically, you know this isn’t right—standing here between your ex-boyfriend’s legs in the darkness of his childhood bedroom. Not with an engagement ring on your finger. Not when he’s got a girlfriend waiting on him somewhere. Not when this well should be dry, this bridge should be burned.

The bruise should be gone and the scar should be healed.

But—

But you’ve known him more than half of your life.

And for as much as the past five years have hurt—

For as much as you’ve missed him.

For as much as you’ve wanted to forget him.

For as much as you want to hate him.

—you’ve never regretted anything when it comes to Itoshi Sae.

Not once.

You climb onto the bed, straddling Sae’s lap. He reaches up, pointer finger curling beneath your chin as his thumb presses against the edge of your bottom lip.

“I can’t promise I’ll be a good man if you don’t tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

Your pulse quickens, and you part your lips slightly, heat flooding your gut as Sae slides his thumb into your mouth.

This is a terrible idea.

You flick your tongue against the tip of the digit, and he holds your gaze as he slowly pulls his thumb back out.

“I want you to touch me,” you finally say.

Sae’s other hand, now resting at the base of your spine, slides up your back, stopping once he’s cupping the back of your head. He leans in, forehead resting against your own.

You’re maddeningly aware of every single spot his body is touching yours.

“Say it again.”

You let your nose brush against the side of his as you murmur, “Touch me, Sae.”

It drags all of the air from your lungs—the feeling of Sae’s lips crashing into yours.

His mouth greets you like a long-lost lover, like a dog-eared page. Like worn in soles and the perpetual creak in the step at the bottom of the stairs.

His lips move with the purpose of car tires down a street you’ve known most of your life. With the muscle memory of feet across a childhood home in the dark.

Tongue dancing against the seam of your mouth, your lips part for him, desire and longing cresting in equal measure as he grasps your hips and pulls you impossibly closer.

Sae kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you in five years.

He kisses you like no time has passed at all.

He kisses you like he wants to tell you something more between tongues and teeth, between slick saliva and gasping breaths.

You don’t mean for it to come out so desperate, so needy—the way you breathe out his name when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites and sucks his way to the edge before letting go.

“Sae.”

You hardly have time to register the way the room spins when Sae’s grip on you shifts, your back softly colliding with the mattress as you find him staring down at you.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

You shake your head, and he moves backward, pushing up your skirt, spreading your legs and settling down between your thighs. In the meantime, you slip off your sweater and toss it aside. Sae watches you do it, watches the way the tight black tank top you’re wearing underneath clings to your body, the way your peaked nipples sit on display through the fabric of your thin bralette.

The heat that licks within your abdomen flares white-hot when he drags a thumb against your mound, your stockings already damp from the arousal soaking through your underwear.

There’s a slight tug in the material, followed by a ripping sound.

“Really?”

“There was already a hole.”

“You’re lying.”

Sae shrugs, but he doesn’t look sorry about it. “Yeah.”

You don’t have a chance to give him a hard time about ripping your stockings, not when you’re suddenly met with the feeling of two of his fingers sliding through the slick, creamy folds of your bare, soaked slit.

“Sae,” you whine.

The bed creaks when you buck your hips upward while he circles his middle finger around the outer edges of your fluttering hole.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmurs, staring at you intently as he slowly slides a finger into your tight channel.

You try to swallow it down, the moan that dangles at the edges of your lips while the slender digit slips deeper into your cunt. But as you tightly grasp the sheets on either side of you, it’s a lost cause when he pulls it out, only to stuff it back in up to the last knuckle.

Sae’s mouth closes over yours, tongue sliding in past your lips in a messy, spit soaked kiss. You moan into it as he slowly finger fucks you, one digit becoming two, his thumb stroking your swollen, aching clit with each stroke, with every thrust.

“Always loved how wet you get for me,” he rasps before capturing your tongue between his lips and sucking on it, the sounds nearly as filthy as the slick, creamy squelch of your cunt around his fingers.

You gasp, spine arching, thighs spreading wider as you rock into his touch, hands stretching downward until they brush the stiff press of Sae’s erection against the zipper of his jeans.

He groans into your mouth before pulling back, murmuring against your lips. “Are you sure—”

You squeeze his cock through his pants in return, kissing him again.

Sae’s exhale is labored as he extricates his drenched fingers from your pussy just long enough to kick off his jeans and boxer briefs, leaving both in a discarded pile on the floor as he climbs back on top of you.

Your soaked panties and stockings are a lost cause by now, not worth the battle of peeling off, not when the torn hole allows him to rub the leaking head of his cock against your slit all the same. Tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes as stares down at you while he eases his shaft into the grip of your cunt inch by inch, until he’s balls deep and your legs are wrapped around his waist tugging him impossibly deeper.

“Fuck,” he gasps, one hand splayed at the back of your head, the other sliding up your shirt and beneath your bra to palm at your breasts.

Just the sensation of his thumb stroking its way across one of your pebbled nipples alone has you twitching beneath him, cunt grinding against the base of his shaft. Your muscles tremble with pleasure as Sae pulls out of you, only to rock back in. The room echoes with the wet sounds of your pussy swallowing his cock, the accompanying little moans begging to trickle out past your lips silenced by the two fingers he slides into your mouth in turn.

Because Sae hasn’t forgotten any of the little ways to take you apart, not at all.

There’s no apprehension in the way you shamelessly suck on his fingers, a trail of drool spilling out past your lips and dripping down your chin, the arousal churning between your legs going molten.

“Good girl,” he murmurs—if for no reason other than the fact that he knows what it’ll do to you.

And the way your pussy clenches down on his cock makes it abundantly clear.

The corner of Sae’s mouth lifts, caught somewhere between a smirk and a rueful smile. It’s the satisfaction that he still knows you, that this is more than just muscle memory.

He knows you like the stars know the night sky.

Like the shore knows the tide.

He kisses you again, languid and deep. Like this means so much more than a quick fuck on a cold December night caught in the throes of the liminal space of his childhood bedroom.

Like this means so much more than finally ending it where it all began.

“I love you,” Sae gasps against your lips as he thrusts into you.

The coil wrapped tightly in your gut unfurls, rapid and quick, and a scorching wave of pleasure washes over you as your cunt spasms and contracts around his length.

“I love you, too,” you choke out, bordering on a sob, and Sae’s fingers brush away the tear that slips down your cheek as he fucks you through your climax.

You can feel when he’s on the verge of pulling out, and you shake your head. His lips crash back into yours with a rough groan as his cock pulses inside of you, spilling rope after rope of thick, hot cum deep in your cunt.

Sae eventually collapses beside you, rather than climbing off of the bed, and he pulls you to his chest. You lie there like that for a moment before slowly sitting up, and he watches you quietly as you raise both hands, grasping your occupied ring finger. The sound of metal clinking against wood echoes in the silence of Sae’s bedroom as you turn to the nightstand before laying back down beside him.

He takes your now-empty hand in his, pressing his lips to the heel of your palm.

Like the shore knows the tide.

#itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock #dee writes #falalalala drabbles

342 notes · View notes

aajjks · 5 months ago

Text

Fan(cy) You (m)

synopsis. Meet your biggest fan a.k.a. your biggest nightmare.

pairing: idol yn x fan!jungkook

warnings. DÁRK CÓNTÈNT, psychótíc bèhàvíóúr, sàsàèng jk, yándèrè thèmès, nón cón kïssïng, dèvótïón, 18+ thèmès

note. Let’s welcome another JK. Also, this was my older fic. Written for Jimin. But I decided to publish this as a JK fic. It was called devotee before. I hope you all will like him!

•••

His heart could explode in his chest.

Actually, it might’ve already did. Jungkook took a deep breath as he tried again to calm himself down. Walking almost fast as he bumped into his fellow— no.

There was only one devotee of you. And that was Jeon Jungkook.

Your biggest fan. Your biggest supporter. Your only lover.

Oh! How heart was shaking in his chest. “Please welcome the fantastic Y/N L/N!!!” His heart stopped.

You— You walked in all your glory. He covered his mouth as his eyes widened at you. You were here!!! You were finally here.

You finally came for him. After such agonising wait... you were finally closer to him.

“Excuse me sir.. can you stop shaking?” His eyes averted to the random person sitting beside him. Jungkook simply rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, shitface.” He spoke in a cold tone. And looked ahead.

Where you sat. Just right infront of his eyes. A huge love dazed smile started creeping up on his doll like features.

God you are so ethereal.

Were you real? His breath hitches in his throat the more he stared at your face.

His computer couldn’t/never ever did justice to your actual beauty.

He was going to sue the computer company.

It wasn’t really the first time that he was seeing you, oh no. He saw you a long time ago. When you had just debuted as a lead singer of the group.

He knew you the longest, and the most.

Actually more than your own self. Your favourite colour, your every single group EP. Your singles. Your group comebacks, your favourite drinks, your favourite chocolate brand, your favourite clothing, makeup brands. Your favourite bubblegum flavours, your favourite artists, the languages you could speak, your address, your house structure, your car. Your past relationships. Secret or not.

He bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed at the thought of your past relationships. The metallic taste on his tongue, the taste he was so familiar with.

...how could you date someone else? When he was there? How dare you. It was the most horrifying time of his life.

Crying day and night, not eating, tearing everything apart.

Trying to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He could never bring himself to hate you.

“Umm. You know, it’s your turn now...” the weirdo from before spoke again. But this time Jungkook smiled brightly. “Y-Yes!” He quickly stood up and fixed his outfit.

It was his turn now!!! He walked with excitement. HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG.

Admiring you from afar was pure torture.

“Hello mr!” You smiled sweetly. Your eye smile making his heart do so many flips.

God he could kiss you right now!

He really could...

“H-Hi” He meekly replied... getting lost in your beauty. As you signaled to sign his album. His gaze never left your lips.

“I-I love you!!! I love you so much.” He confessed suddenly as you giggled while signing his album. “ aw really? I’m so happy that you do. I love you too.” You replied sweetly.

“What’s your name mr?” You looked up at him. Waiting for his response but he just went silent. he looks weirdly fit, familiar… those tattoos.

You asked again, to the tattooed man, sweetly patiently. when he didn’t reply, just waited for a few moments and that’s when you started noticing his features.

He’s pretty attractive

However, your trail of thoughts was cut short when he grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

Gasps were heard as your eyes widened in shock, your brain taking in the situation as he moaned in your mouth. His hands grabbed your face tightly.

You tried to push him away, the security tried too but he didn’t budge.

His dark hair was all you could see, when you felt his tongue licking your lips. “Mphm!!!” You tried to push him away but again... no use.

He kissed you like starved man. And after what felt like eternity he finally pulled away.

You stared at him in shook, while he just licked the lipgloss from his lips. “I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He finally introduced himself.

And your heart stopped. “W-What?!” You stuttered as flashbacks hit you. He just smirked in response.

“You can’t be!” You exclaimed again. “Y-You’re that Sasaeng?!!” You shivered in fear.

Jungkook just giggled. The infamous Y/N L/N’s crazy fan. No. Crazy was an underestimate. He was sickly, dangerously obsessed.

The only one who could do anything for you. “The one and only, my love.”

839 notes · View notes

chahnniesroom · 8 months ago

Text

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

843 notes · View notes

lixie-phoria · 1 year ago

Text

↳ ♡₊˚. rest please ꒱

9th!member reader falling sick from overwork and stress

requested - yes // Would you be able to possibly do a skz x ninth reader where she’s not feeling well and like throws up everywhere, and chan and the members help her though her not feeling well then specifically chan?

gn!reader x ot8 // warnings - reader is overworked, faints, mentions of diets, reader throws up (lmk if I missed anything!)

there is only one bang chan. you're sure of it. but as you stand up from the floor of the dance room, you see double images of your leader looking at you in confusion.

"yn?"

his voice resonates through your head, like an echo from someplace far, concern woven through his urgency.

you should probably reply to him, right?

"yn? can you hear me?"

when he steps forward, the world shifts. a searing pain runs across your head, like a red hot spike drilling into your skull.

"wha-"

you see it happen in the mirror - your figure collapsing onto the ground, jeongin's panicked yell, and the thud that follows immediately after before everything goes black.

it was just the three of you in the practice room that day, the others too busy with vocal training or recording or filming. it was comeback season, and to top things off your solo project was nearing too, closely following the release of your group album. and to say that you were overworked was an understatement. you don't remember the last time you slept for longer than an hour.

your days revolved around practice, recording, photo shoots, diets, promotions, and what not. this was busiest you have ever been, and it was slowly starting to show.

you register a dull pain in your upper arm and the throbbing of your head as you blink up at the bright ceiling lights glaring at you. you're covered in sweat, lying on the couch with your head awkwardly propped up against it's arm rest.

"she's up!" someone shouts as your senses return to you slowly. you're still in the dance room, but everything feels stuffy. someone is pressing an ice pack against your forehead.

"yn you scared us!"

all the members seem to have assembled in the dance room, crowding over your figure.

"what happened?" your voice is hoarse and your head feels groggy as you sit up, leaning away from felix as he tries to push you back down.

"you fainted! you were out for nearly fifteen minutes!"

"what?"

"yeah. scared the life out of chan hyung," jeongin adds.

"of course she did! do you know how worried we were?"

you feel mortified. you can't believe you fainted in the middle of practice.

"are you ok? does anything hurt? you fell pretty hard."

you shake your head - no. of course, the pounding in your head was getting worse and you were sure you bruised your arm but you weren't going to tell them that. being the maknae meant they already babied you a lot. there was no way you would admit how sick you felt.

"alright good. let's leave then."

"leave?" you stare at chan in confusion as he goes to unplug his phone from the speaker.

"yeah. you don't think we're going to let you dance after this, right?"

your eye twitches in mild annoyance as you listen to him speak so matter of factly.

"how come i don't have a say in this?"

"because the last time we let you have your say, you passed out."

"i'm ok! i don't need a break," you hiss, eyes narrowing as chan turns to look at you exasperated.

"yn-"

"i passed out, so what? big deal! you can't just call off practice when we have an album coming out!"

your voice escalates as you snap, and the others look at you in shock.

"yn calm down-"

"stop asking me to calm down!"

you don't know where the burst of annoyance was coming from, but it was strong and red hot, urging you to take it out on your members.

"i'm fine! stop treating me like a baby!"

you push away felix's hand from your shoulder, standing up to prove your point.

but that was a big mistake.

an ugly feeling immediately rises up your chest, slithering through your throat as the world tilts again and the lights blink at you.

"fuck."

you were far from fine, and that is the last thing you register before pushing past lee know and han, running out of the room and to the nearest washroom you can find, heaving your insides out.

it's terrible, kneeling on the ground as your head pounds worse than ever and flashes fill your vision.

"yn!"

you distantly register chan's panicked voice as he skids into your cubical, wasting no time in kneeling down right beside you, pulling your hair up into a makeshift pony.

"i need you to breath, ynnie. let it all out," he whispers softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you back as your body tembles from the gags.

a small part of you wonders what chan is doing in the washroom, before realizing that in your hurry you probably ran into the common staff bathroom.

"are you feeling better?"

chan's hands hover behind your back as you weakly get to your feet, mustering the energy to pull the flush and rinse your mouth with water.

you can do nothing but nod, slumping against him as you exit the bathroom, and his hands immediately clasp your waist, holding you up.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes as you let him guide you to wherever he decided was best.

"it's not your fault."

"i shouldn't have yelled at you."

"it's ok, yn. we all have our bad days."

you feel the cold breeze on your face as you open your eyes to see he's walking you out of the building's back door, with your manager waiting with the car.

"if I take you to the dorms will you please rest?"

your brain wants to refuse. you need to perfect your choreography. you don't have time for rest.

but your body is an entirely different story. you can barely walk or see straight.

"ok."

your voice is small, and chan immediately knows you're reluctant.

you hear him sigh softly as he helps you into the car before climbing in himself.

"ynnie, please rest. or you'll get worse and might not recover until the release day. wouldn't that be worse?"

he does have a point.

"and taking a break is okay. you're doing so well, you don't have to push yourself when there's nothing you're lacking in."

he ruffles your hair softly as you lean into the seat.

"thank you."

"don't thank me when I didn't even realise how overworked you were until you literally collapsed!"

you laugh softly, slightly leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"don't blame your-"

you're cut off when Chan's ringtone blares into the silence and he jumps slightly, fishing out the device from his pocket.

"fuck."

"what's wrong?" You turn to look at his steadily paling face.

"I forgot to tell the others you're okay and I'm taking you back to the dorms."

"shit," you agree, wincing as chan hesitantly slides the accept button.

"hello...?"

"YAH WHERE ARE YOU BOTH WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING THE BUILDING FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES IS YN OKAY?"

lee know is loud, and chan has to lean away from his phone as the second oldest's voice comes out loud enough as though he's on speaker.

"minho-ah I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you guys. She's okay now we're going to the dorms."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT?"

you sigh before taking the phone from chan as his wince deepens.

"I'm okay. I'm so sorry for worrying you but please calm down."

the change in lee know's voice is so immediate it earns a snort from chan.

"oh yn, of course! Please take care, I'll bring back some soup and ramen for you when we come back from practice."

"thank you! Now please stop worrying."

you hand back chan his phone as he flashes you a grateful smile.

"i hope he brings me back ramen and soup too."

taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

2K notes · View notes

alonetimelover · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: Ginger Spice daughter!reader x Max Verstappen (ex!Harry Styles

fc: Sabrina Carpenter

summary: YN and Max can't catch a break from her past, can they? So when the song is "leaked" another one can be as well. There won't be any consequences. Unless that past will text the unexpected person.

warnings: swearing, probably just that

a/n: Took me some time, but it is here!!!!

masterlist part 1 part 2

—————————————————————————————————

maxverstappen1 added to his IG story!

—————————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and 4 003 845 others

yourinstagram oops! just an inchident on the race (in the studio) nonsense christmas remix somehow available right now???

view all 200 932 comments

maxverstappen1 I've already bought the Santa Claus costume

⤷ yourinstagram i'll take you for a ride?

⤷ maxverstappen1 I'm available right now.

⤷ landonorris not in the public comments, GUYS

⤷ yourinstagram go away, lala

landonorris thank you for traumatising me once again... WHY DID YOU DO A REMIX?????

⤷ yourinstagram CAUSE MY MAN KEEPS ON GIVING

⤷ landonorris I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW THAT

⤷ maxverstappen1 You asked, you got an answer.

⤷ landonorris go away, charles dickens

⤷ yourinstagram you know it's-

⤷ landonorris I DON'T WANT TO KNOW

daniericciardo Christmas dinner without Max then?

⤷ yourinstagram dad won't hear this one :))

⤷ christianhorner Too late, young lady.

charles_leclerc wasn't it supposed to be an album release?

⤷ yourinstagram too little of an inchident to somehow release a whole album, wasn't it?

⤷ yourinstagram also, can't you keep some secrets, you know, SECRET?

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh!

ynupdates WHAAATT????

ynsmybestie what in the hell is this??????

ynsmymama not yn 'leaking' a song just like harry to take the spotlight. QUEEN BEHAVIOUR.

ynshands no tthe inchident

formula1wags someone's coming for that no.1 spot

maxandyn WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THE LAST SLIDE????

—————————————————————————————————

maxverstappen1

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1 864 320 others

maxverstappen1 Snowflakes in my stomach... Congratulations, shatje

view all 100 403 comemnts

yourinstagram wouldn't happen without you, my love

⤷ maxverstappen1 Glad to be of help.

landonorris your welcome for taking yet another sickening photo of you two

⤷ yourinstagram sickening?

⤷ maxverstappen1 You were just scrubbed from the New Years' party list. Good job!

⤷ landonorris you wouldn't

⤷ yourinstagram but i would

danielricciardo how does it feel to be the no.1?

⤷ maxverstappen1 The usual.

⤷ yourinstagram you're so hot

⤷ maxverstappen1 Well, thank you.

⤷ yourinstagram bed.

⤷ danielricciardo NOT UNDER MY COMMENT. COME ONE GUYS

charles_leclerc when are you singing on a track?

carlossainz55 congratulations yn!

ynupdates how i love them

maxnadyn they are the best couple

ynsmybestie second photo taken after yn got that charles dickens

formula1fan94 not max posting his girl on ig???? who are you?

ynfan49 this is the support a girl needs!

ynfan299 not the stop in responses after yn called max to bed

⤷ landonorris and why would you pu those words from your brain, through your fingertips and post here?

⤷ danielricciardo are you still in love with yn?

⤷ landonorris not that again

⤷ ynfan94 LANDO IN LOVE WITH YN????? NO WAY

—————————————————————————————————

redbullracing

liked by yourinstagram, gerihalliwellhorner and 583 100 others

redbullracing This is a public announcement stating that Max Verstappen is very suitable for Christmas dinner at Horner's. Big boss please say yes

view all 85 148 comments

yourinstagram i love you admin

⤷ redbullracing I love you, YN YSN

gerihalliwellhorner That was a very good try, Max!

landonorris someone's desperate!

danielricciardo i thought you swore to max to never post it??

⤷ redbullracing challenging times call for desperate measures

danielricciardo btw! it was filmed month and months ago. mx was learning all the lyrics to impress geri

⤷ yourinstagram no way!!!!! maxie

ynupdates THIS MAN JUST KEEPS ON GIVING

formula1fan85 26th day without Max win be like:

charles_leclerc when are you releasing an album?

⤷ yourinstagram next album: i sing, you play piano, max is background singer and dancer. deal?

⤷ charles_leclerc deal.

—————————————————————————————————

maxverstappen1 and yourinstagram added to their IG story!

—————————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, danielricciardo and 1 903 302 others

yourinstagram christmas at horners were a blast 🎄💫

view all 89 302 comments

maxverstappen1 I liked the host's daughter.

⤷ yourinstagram scandalous.

maxverstappen1 You are so beautiful.

⤷ yourinstagram falling deeper in love with you with each day

landonorris I made it not only to horner's christmas party but to yn's instagram feed????

danielricciardo jpeg account when?

gerihalliwellhorner I love a full house but never thought that they can cause that much trouble.

⤷ landonorris that broken lamp wasn't my fault, ms Geri

⤷ charles_leclerc that red stain on the couch isn't from my wine

⤷ carlossainz55 i did eat the whole cake

⤷ yourinstagram and I frank that 1952 wine

lewishamilton Thank you for inviting me and Roscoe!

sebastianvettel It was a pleasure spending Christmas with you all!

georgerussell63 I've never eaten so good in my life

ynupdates not the whole f1 grid having a Christmas together??? at horner's house???

ynsmybestie oh she looked so beautiful

comment liked by maxverstappen1

maxandyn iiiii lllloooooovvvvvveeeeee tttttthhhhhhheeeeeemmm

formula1fan93 Lewis at horner's??? wtf

ynsfan943 not yn just bringing whole grid home and destroying the house on chritians expense

—————————————————————————————————

landonorris, danielricciardo and yourinstagram added to their IG story!

—————————————————————————————————

a/n: little bit of fluff with some drama and some secrets being kept. do we like it so far??

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen x singer!reader #max verstappen fic #harry styles x reader

1K notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 7 months ago

Text

CENTURY | myg

pairing: boyfriend!idol!yoongi x f. reader

genre: smut

word count: 3.6k

summary: when yoongi needs inspiration for the song he's been working on, you're not hesitant to help him.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: idol yoongi working in his studio being all stressed out is a warning on its own, he's also immensely hot and calls himself oppa (god help me i am a weak girl), mentions of a nasty punishment, yoongi is kinda mean, and a little bit horny, clit spanking *heart eyes*, oral sex (f. receiving), praise kink—usage of stickers, raw sex.

note: my god, this was a drag at first but because i feel sm better today, i finally finished this and i feel myself returning to the hoseoksluna that i was before i got sick. :( this was fun to write today omg. yoongi is absolutely delicious in this and i can't wait to start writing smoke 3 after this. my babies, enjoy this smutty one shot. i love you. spam my inbox, i miss you! give me a warm welcome, please. MWAH.

Habitually, singing for him was your escapism. You’d close yourself up in a bubble, withdrawing from the surrounding gray world, and you’d slink away to a realm brimming with vivid colors. In his songs, you could be anyone. A figment of his imagination that had more life in its veins than you ever had the taste of. You’d forget, for hours upon hours, about the anguish of your daily life and mental issues that would trouble you and, taking his hand, he would take you to Neverland, watch over you, then take you home.

This time, however, he didn’t take you to that fantasy land.

He took you somewhere darker.

The energy in his lab was potent with something that tickled you ever so gently when you stepped inside. A dusky room with an even heftier, crepuscular layer of vexation. You could feel it thumping beneath your skin after it grazed you with its fingertips, weaseling its way in, settling, stilling. Your boyfriend didn’t turn around when he heard you shut the door, nor when your tights-clad feet paddled on the floor, as absorbed as he was in his work. No shoes inside the Genius Lab—that was the first rule, one you were disciplined enough from him to remember, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night.

You paid a great price, once upon a time.

You had walked in with your Nike’s when he called you over, wet and smeared with the snow from the winter’s artwork outside. Despite the fact you rubbed the soles on the mat in the building of his workplace long before you strutted all the way to his studio, there were still little snowflakes that clung to your sneakers. It was your first time there and Yoongi seemed to have forgotten to let you in on the rules. And once he saw the mess you made, he told you off.

Kissed you quite roughly.

Made you promise to never do that again, playfully.

Sank you to your knees and bent you over those melting snowflakes. Spanked you so hard that he engraved the first rule of the Genius Lab into your system.

No shoes inside.

Then, he patted your head.

Gave you a silver star sticker, resembling the snowflake, for being such a good girl that learns well.

You had stuck it on the table right beside his laptop, an etched memory that you recollected every time he’d invite you over.

It’s what he’s mindlessly rubbing with his fingertip as you walk over to him, another winter later, embedding your digits into the ebony night of his hair, the long strands so satiny and sleek. Yoongi gazes up at you from his computer, pale violet flecks adorning the skin beneath his weary, yet ever so trenchant eyes, and you pout at the sight of him. There must be something wrong with the process of his album-making and he’s determined to fix it.

Yoongi takes off his headphones, wraps an arm around your waist. You’re wearing a little black dress for him with a low neckline that uncovers everything private as he leads you to sit down on his lap, greeting you with a raspy hello and a kiss that tells you he needs you more than his own countenance lets on.

You linger in the close proximity, peppering his mouth with tiny kisses that make him visibly relax—his shoulders slump against his chair and he lifts your knees, placing them in the snug crook between his side and his arm, his hand spreading forest fire down your calf, stopping at your ankle, swathing it with those flames.

You cease your kisses, overcome with his body heat, and butterflies zap you in your tummy when he continues to kiss your mouth with those sweet little pecks.

Prolonging the last kiss, he peers down at you with the world’s most affectionate adoration and you blush. You’ve tasted the dulciness of all the seasons with him, and yet it feels as though you’ve just started dating. His love has long made its home within you, but you can still sense its freshness in your bones.

It will never get old.

“I love these, baby,” he husks, his eyes growing more lidded in the heated, cozy atmosphere guarded by the fire of his body, and he drags a hand up and down your leg, spreading his admiration on the nylon of your tights that he speaks of. “You came just at the right time.”

He nuzzles his face in your neck while he paws at your feet and you soften, brushing your fingers through his hair. You think he needs to get out of this place and breathe in some fresh air for his brain to recuperate and be filled with the flimsy, ivory sparks of inspiration.

It’s snowing outside.

It always seems to be when he invites you to his secret spot during the winter months.

“What’s wrong, hm?” you ask, requiring the specifics in order to help him as much as you can. “What is it this time?”

Yoongi grumbles nonsense in your neck, the sound muffled and indecipherable, and you laugh, softly, lifting his head.

“I literally didn’t catch a word you said,” you whine, squishing his cheeks, and Yoongi feignedly sobs, scrunching his eyes shut. You laugh, wiggling his head, encouraging him to tell you what made him darken the energy of his studio so devastatingly.

He inhales a deep breath in and takes his hand to your bum, fondling it. “I miss your pussy.”

You burst out into obscene laughter, wiping a hand down his face. “Be fucking serious.”

Yoongi chuckles, but then breaks into false little sobs all over again. “The melodies aren’t working together, I can’t transform the ideas in my head into this song and I just miss your pussy so bad. I wanna eat it.”

So that’s the source of that dark energy in the lab.

He’s horny.

He wails into your bosom, deepening your laughter that melts into an endearing coo. One that lifts his head and makes a grin blossom on his pale face, a dab of color rushing to the surface.

A pretty lotus flower, opening for you.

You poke a finger into his cheek, your heart constricting at the cute way your nail makes a round dent in that flourishing flesh. “I thought you called me over because you wanted my vocals.”

Yoongi squeezes your bum, sucking in a breath. “I did. I wanted to finish the melodies so I could record your voice, but shit fucking happens. I thought we could write the lyrics together.”

You bite your lip, finding the idea mesmerizing, and your chest clenches, a certain longing for it forming inside. A light flickers in Yoongi’s abysmal eyes at your reaction—and you wish you could fix this situation for him, remove the block and replace it with a creativity of your own.

An idea pops into your mind, abruptly.

You widen your eyes, your smile growing, little by little. Yoongi straightens, his features mirroring yours, and the picture hope paints upon his countenance only drives your idea forward.

“What?”

“Oh my god, Yoongi.” You clasp a hand over your mouth. “What if we write the lyrics first and just hum random melodies, see what fits best?”

He thinks about it, tilting his head. And then destroys the realm that your little idea created.

“I’m sorry, baby, but that never works with me. I know artists that do that, but whenever I tried, I just reached a dead end,” he mutters and you pout, furrowing your brows. He lets you soak in it for a little while before he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.”

Yoongi pushes his laptop to the side and lifts you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing, setting you down in place of it. He moves his chair forward. Spreads your legs. Kisses the inner of your thigh and you fall back, your palms landing on the ivory keys of his keyboard and creating a soft music that raises his brows.

“Do that again.”

You smile and lift your hand, dropping it on the same notes that you did by accident. He looks over to see which ones you played and he kisses the front of your thigh before he reaches over for his notepad and pen, writing it down.

“You’re my little angel, I swear,” he says without taking his eyes off of his writing, then he extends an arm behind you and finishes the melody with a certain ease that causes him to relax even more—and your smile to deepen in your face.

You blush, feeling like that winged creature—assigned to his side to help him.

“I brainstormed some lyrics the other day,” Yoongi mumbles and begins to stare you down with an intention that coils in your gut, your heart quickening its rhythm. “How about you bounce off of it, make up some lyrics while I eat you out? I can play the melody for you that we just made.”

Your mouth parts, your throat drying. Warmth pools in your core, the idea of Yoongi playing on the keyboard while he does something so intimate to you bringing you down to an abyss of madness. He hands you his notepad after he flips to the page with the lyrics he mentioned. Your eyes skim over his neat, black handwriting, the random words that could string together a sentence if there was a little work put in it.

But how are you supposed to focus in those circumstances? It’s not just his dick that makes you braindead—it’s his tongue that does it in the first place.

“What do you say, baby?” he persists, dipping down and scattering kisses along that sensitive part of your thigh, his breath wafting over your core as he switches to the other one, spoiling it with those same wet kisses.

You catch a glance of his shining tongue and that does it for you.

Your heart thumps, violently—and your pussy drools.

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

That does it for him, too.

He goes to rip your tights right in the middle, but you yelp, stopping him.

“No, don’t rip them. They were expensive and they’re my only pair for the winter.”

Yoongi gives you a look, cocks his brow. “Why didn’t you say? I could buy you some.”

You clamp your mouth shut. You don’t like to use his money to buy yourself personal stuff because you have a job of your own and you’re able to take care of yourself, but lately, with prices rising and the rent growing more expensive, there’s little from your paycheck that you could spend on things like these. And you still need to save up for way tougher times.

“I could never ask you to do that, are you kidding?”

Yoongi’s gaze darkens. “Who said you couldn’t?”

You open your mouth to argue with him, but only a yelp comes through when he swiftly tugs the waistband of your tights over your bum and up your legs, lifting them in the process and folding you in half.

You’re sure he’s ripped them.

You’re fucked.

You lean back, landing once again on his keys and at this point he laughs, darkly, telling you which notes to write down and with a shaky hand—you do.

“You’re getting so many fucking stickers today.”

Your heart stops its feral beats and you gaze down at him with a tormented look, your brows furrowed, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed. Yoongi bites his lip and gets his sheet of silver little stars.

He peels one out. “This one's for you coming at the right time.” He sticks it to that one side of your inner thigh that he left unkissed, the sticky part latching to your skin without a hint of a problem. “And this one’s for your smart little brain.”

He sticks it to the bone right across your cunt, smoothing it out with his thumb that then begins to travel and crosses the distance to the soaked center of your panties. Yoongi sucks in a breath as he peers down at the outline of your flesh, parting your thighs a little to gaze up at you through his lashes. “You have two tasks,” he rasps, brushing his lips across your clothed, dampened flesh.

You grip the table beneath you, letting out a whiny sigh, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Pay attention.”

A simple, low order and you pop them open, breathing out in staccatos. He runs that thumb over your clit, puts a little pressure over it. You bite your lip, straining your ears, but the faint pleasure makes it a little bit difficult for you.

“I’m gonna rub this clit and you don’t get my tongue unless you tell me the name of the store, where you’re getting new pairs of tights from today.” He focuses on your nub, circling it with soft grazes that he knows they get you riled up nice and fast, needy and drenched. It’s what he does when you’re watching a movie together and wind up not knowing how it ends. “And once you come for me, you get another sticker for being such a good girl. Is that clear?”

Your lungs heave and your mind spins, your brain cells shrinking with your arousal. You lick your lips. Wetness stains your panties even more. “And the other task?”

He slaps the side of your thigh, making you jump. “I asked you a question, did I not?”

Such abrupt meanness. Other times, it would get you going, but today it’s not something that you’re really feeling. Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re ovulating and you need the gentleness that he’s more than capable of giving you.

You drift a hand down his face, stopping with your thumb at his lips, tracing the upper line. So soft, so puffy. “Be nice to me, Yoongi.”

His eyes round and a glint perches itself on the top of his chocolate irises. Yoongi sets your feet on both of his armrests. Leans his head against your thigh, looking up at you with a tender half smile.

“Is that an order?” he asks, flattening his fingers across your clit and strumming it, the pleasure heightening and you sink your teeth into the bottom pillow of your mouth, your body following the wave of the delight he provides you, rolling.

“Yes. Be nice or no pussy.”

He gasps, lowly, his smile transforming into that smirk of his that has the tendency to weaken you through and through. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

Your heart throbs and you love it. “Yes, I would.”

You go to close your legs and sit up, but he stops you. “Okay, fair enough.”

Oh, that solid calmness of his, perfumed with his horniness. You grin, pleased. “Will you be nice?”

Yoongi licks over the bare skin of your thigh, rubbing his face in it. “I’ll be an angel like you if you do the tasks.”

You roll your eyes. A quid pro quo. Fair enough.

“Okay, be an angel to me then and come here,” you purr, aware of the fact that he got you into this mirrored maze of his horniness and you love it, delight in it, which is the sole, unabashed reason why you tug the back of his head down to your cunt, holding him to you.

Yoongi opens his mouth just at the right time, licking over your clothed clit and moaning. But then he fights against your hold and spanks your pussy, smiling playfully up at you while biting his lip.

You jump, whimpering.

“I didn’t hear you say the name of the store,” he retorts, rubbing, properly, your bedewed nub with slow, agonizing circles.

Fuck.

Your breathing quickens and you scramble your blank brain to remember any store that has the least expensive tights. You say the name of the first one that pops up.

Yoongi doesn’t like your answer, though.

He spanks your clit, gently.

“Think again. I’m not buying you anything that will last you for a day. Don’t play me.”

You can’t help the heavy smile rising on your face, your cheeks heating up so much that they ache. And it helps you, his bull-headedness on buying you high-quality garments that are worth the money, to fight—like he did against your hold—your deeply imprinted independence and utter, shyly, with little hiccups, the name of the store that will keep your legs warm throughout the unforgiving Korean wintertime.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Let Oppa take these off now.”

Your stomach flips at the title. You’ve always been obsessed with it—as it, without fail, provoked your independence and slowly transformed you into the mindset of a little girl, taken care of by someone stronger, smarter and older than her. All while keeping it intact.

Yoongi knows you can do everything on your own. And he supports it. But it doesn’t mean he’s not willing to give you a hand.

The same hand he now uses to bring your panties to the waistband of your thighs near the back of your knees, dragging it down that skin. He spreads your cunt with both of his hands, gasping lowly at the sheen that greets him and magnetically pulls him in.

He kitten licks your clit and your elbows tremble, giving out on you—another melodies wafting through the air that make him chuckle into your pussy, engraving vibrations that encourage you to lean back all the way and take what he gives you.

“Write that down, can you do that?” he asks, and when he hears you clicking his pen, he tells you which notes those were. You scribble it down, messily, your hand quivering and painting an obscure picture in his notepad as he begins to suck on your clit in intense waves. You shudder, terribly, the lines of his own pen dark, long and disordered like you.

You give in, moaning so loud that he intones with you.

And what you never expected—the tones of your noises provide him with an inspiration he cannot miss. Withdrawing with a wet chin and stealing his pen from you, he jots it down, propping the notepad on your thighs, smiling at the picture you painted.

Writes something else down, too, while you quiver for him, waiting for his tongue.

He kisses your thigh, ravagedly. “Sing these lyrics.”

Taking it from him, the words blur on the paper because he sinks a finger inside your heat, curling it to that spot that he favors, fucking you with a fast motion that unables you, completely, to let out a sound colored by his geniality.

“Come on, baby. Sing for Oppa.”

You cry out, clenching your muscles—scream as he latches his mouth to your clit, flicking it with the tip of his equally genius tongue.

The lab spins, not just your mind.

“I can’t—I can’t. Oh my God, Yoongi, fuck,” you drag out the curse word, the notepad falling out of your hand and plopping onto the ground.

Yoongi hums, delighted, sucking on your nub so vivaciously that your orgasm nears. As if sensing it, he adds another finger in. Validates the incoming of your splendid explosion by making quick, little, deep sounds that lead you to that peak.

You grasp his hair, tightly, humping his mouth. From your own spill screams that fade into soft moans, resplendent of the notes he liked so much and he fucks your hole faster. Pulls out his mouth just a little, flicking your clit from side to side—and you realize he did it so he can watch you come for him.

Come for your Oppa.

And you do. With a squeak, one that fades to a legato, tender moan of his title. With an eye contact that freezes time for a century. And, suddenly, just like that—it’s just you, him and the winter.

Snowflakes that ache to seep into yours and his cheeks.

Yoongi growls. His male pheromones spill out of him like liquid that washes over you and you get a sticker.

Right in the center of your mound.

And he fucks you into wintry oblivion, a snowstorm that swaddles you closer and closer to him. The table rattles, key notes sound out, the slapping of skin conjures ideas in the magnificence of his brain. And then he comes.

With a final stroke and a rope of his cum all over the sticker near your pleasured cunt, he resumes the time.

But both you and him are newly constituted by that winter-kissed century, chiseled by it and irrevocably changed by it.

Yoongi cleans you up and dresses you. You find out he didn’t rip your tights and you give him such a soft, endeared look for it that he coos, chuckling, and pats your disheveled hair, smoothing it down. He kisses you once he fixes you up and, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet, he drives you to the mall, to that exact store you mentioned, to buy you a myriad of tights to last you for a half of a century, grazed and fondled by winter.

And he leads you back to the studio, besprinkled with the snow’s affection, where you watch him create a song out of your pleasured voice, sampling one of your favorite oldie’s tunes that you end up yanking him up to his feet to dance with him to it. The raspy voice of Ray Charles envelops Yoongi’s hands as he guides your hips and he kisses you until the late night hours.

And in those late night hours, he watches you, like the angel you are, as you sing the poetry he wrote with your help.

Neverland doesn’t exist anymore. Not for you at least.

The darker place he took you to is one breathing with the gesture of helping your lover. Warm, moody and timbered. The licks of flames and the earnestness of a love that depends, without fear, on the other person.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ divider by kthice ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

BACK to masterlist

900 notes · View notes