#that wasn't in the x-men AU

[lead-acetate]

I've been listening to Mamma Mia on repeat during my morning exercises (shut up) and I feel like there should be a Jangobi Mamma Mia AU?? or something. Jangobi with these vibes.

now, I haven't seen the movie, but I have read an X-Men Mamma Mia AU (shut up) and I feel like this is Jangobi level of absolutely ridiculous drama. this whole who is the parent, exes-to-lovers, some fucking island, yada yada yada, "how could resist you," "here I go again."

petition for the exasperated child to be Fox.

[just-a-simpel-narrator]

X-Men Evolution Logan Practice&Concepts bc I love him deeply.

(Bonus Doodle under Cut)

My hyperfixation rn be like:

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[snoopyracing]

birds of a feather // cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 30k (i know i've got issues)

warnings: google translate french and swearing

includes: friends to lovers, childhood bestfriends, soulmate au if you squint, heavy pining, and angst

summary: follows charles and the reader through childhood all the way to present day. based off of 'birds of a feather' by billie eilish.

masterlist

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

five and eight

It's a hot summer day in Monaco the first time Charles meets you.

The evening sun cascaded through the windows, golden rays bouncing off the walls as the smell of his Mother's baking wafted through the house. Charles' legs soon carried him into the kitchen and to his delight he found her oven-mitt clad hand pulling out a tray from the oven. His eyes widen when he sees what it is, it's one of his favorite sweet treats; cookies. His Mother spots him as she turns to set them on the counter. "Bonjour chéri!"

Charles doesn't answer, he's too focused on the cookies. He knows she won't let him have one, it's too close to dinner time, but he could probably sneak one when she had her back turned. So when she goes to put something back in the fridge he knows this is his chance, but he's not fast enough. His little hand barely hovers over one of the cookies before his Mother is gently smacking it away.

"No Charles! They are for the Y/L/N's." She hands him a stack of plates, motioning towards the table. "Now go set the table, s'il te plaît." Charles whines about it not being fair before stomping towards the table.

All day the only topic of conversation in the Leclerc household was about how an old family friend was to be moving back to Monaco today. Charles and Arthur had no idea who the man their Father spoke so highly about was, but Lorenzo mentioned something about him being their "uncle", but not really their uncle. Something that at only eight years old, confused Charles.

Even during dinner it seems like his Father mentions their "uncle" somehow during every conversation. Between the constant talk of this mystery man and the cookies sitting feet away from him Charles thinks tonight's dinner is the longest dinner of his life. He can see them sitting there, the cookies taunting him the whole time he tries to eat the unpleasant brussel sprouts on his plate. He hears his Father mention their "uncle" again and his attention is brought back to the conversation. "Papa. Is he really our uncle?" Charles asks as he shoves around the food on his plate with his fork.

"Ah, no. I mean he practically is, but not by blood. He is a very old friend of mine. We grew up together, but he moved to America around nine years ago." He pauses for a moment, eyes flickering between Charles and Arthur. "I hate that Arthur and you don't know him, but he's back now, so hopefully you boys will see him as an uncle like Lorenzo does. Plus, their house is just down the street, so I'm sure we will be spending lots of time with each other."

All Charles can do is nod at him, he isn't sure that he can call this random man "uncle", but for his Father he will try to like him as much as he clearly does.

Dinner is over shortly after their conversation, with a little help from his Father's impatience to go see his old friend. And before Charles can try and sneak a cookie again they are out the door, the cookies held securely in his Mother's hands, heading to their "uncles" house.

Charles realizes his Father wasn't lying when he said their house was just down the street, in fact it's only a block away. He's surprised his Father wasn't dragging them here earlier today with how close it is.

His Father knocks on the door and after a moment a man answers."Hervé!” 

"Y/D/N!"

The two men embrace each other, big smiles plastered on both of their faces. "If it was up to me we would have been over as soon as you guys arrived earlier today, but Pascale insisted we give you guys a little time to settle in."

"Oh nonsense. You're fine." The man steps aside, motioning for everyone to come in. "Come on in. Don't mind the million boxes scattered around."

"It's a beautiful home." Pascale states as she glances around.

"Merci."

The man's eyes wander to Charles and his brothers. His arms extend towards Lorenzo and the two of them hug, the man tousling Lorenzo's hair as they pull away. "Dieu te regarde! You're practically a man!"

Lorenzo can only laugh at the man, whose attention is now on the two youngest Leclerc boys. He crouches down so he's at eye level with them. "Bonjour. I don't think we have met yet. I'm Y/D/N, a very old friend of your Papa's." His hand reaches out for Charles to shake. "You must be Charles."

Charles gently takes Y/D/N's hand and shakes it, something he's seen his Father do hundreds of times. "I am. How did you know?"

A smirk plays at Y/D/N's lips. "When your Papa and I speak, he loves to talk about his boys. Even the ones I didn't get the pleasure of meeting until now." His attention now moved to the youngest Leclerc. "Like you little Arthur." Little giggles came from Arthur as the man pinched his cheek.

"Are we going to get to meet the other members of your family Y/D/N?" Pascale asks.

"Patience still isn't your strong suit, is it Pascale?" The man teases as he leads them towards the kitchen.

As they enter the kitchen they find a woman with an American accent putting away dishes into the cabinets. From what Charles can gather from the conversation the adults are having is that their "uncle" met his wife while on business in America. They fell in love and he ended up moving there to be with her. They got married and had a daughter. He wanted to raise her here so they decided to move back to Monaco.

"Guess you should all meet the reason we moved huh? Y/N! Ma chérie come here!" Y/D/N yells.

And here you came, barreling into the kitchen, not knowing that there were five strangers standing there until it was too late. Cheeks turning pink as you hid behind your Mom's legs. "This shy little thing is our daughter, Y/N."

Pascale's face lit up at the sight of you. "Oh tu n'es pas une poupée? She's beautiful you two!" She glances over at your parents then back to you. "You look to be around the age of my two youngest boys, no?" She squats down so the two of you are eye level as you peak around your Mom's legs. "How old are you?" As you lifted your hand, little fingers all stood up straight indicating that you were five, Pascale smiled. 

"Oh, that's the same age as my Arthur." She points towards the smallest boy, who's dirty blonde hair almost covered his eyes. She then points to the slightly taller boy in the middle, his soft blue eyes watching his Mom intently. "That is Charles, he's a little older than Arthur and you. He's eight." Then she finally points to the obviously very older son. "And that is Lorenzo, he's a lot older. It makes me feel old to say this but he's eighteen!"

Your shyness somehow slowly got chipped away by Pascale and you were now standing beside your Mom, not behind her. "Go on baby. Say hi to them." You Mom encouraged as she brushed your hair out of your face.

Even if you had braved coming out from behind your Mom's legs, the idea of talking to these strangers still scared you. You looked over to your Dad who stared back at you, a smile on his face and a slight nod in your direction told you everything was going to be okay.

"Hi." You said meekly.

The two younger boys gave you a small wave in return.

The adults had started to converse, leaving the kids to stand there awkwardly. Not knowing each other well to be the one to initiate conversation or play.

Your Mom had noticed the quietness between you and the boys, and your constant presence by her legs. "Why don't you kids go play out back? The house luckily came with a playset that is begging to be played on." She pulled open the sliding door, motioning for the kids to go outside.

Arthur was the first to run outside, he was practically already at the door when he heard the word playset. His little legs were already running up the slide by the time Charles and you had exited the house.

You watched your feet drag across the grass as you swung back and forth on the swing. Your Dad's voice playing in your head as you heard Charles and Arthur's laughter echo through the hot summer air.

"I know this is a big change for you mon amour. But I promise, we wouldn't have made this big move if your Maman and I didn't think it wouldn't have been a good idea. It may take some time for you to adjust, but knowing you, in a couple weeks you'll probably be more of a Monégasque than me!"

"I'm only half though. How could I be more than you Papa?" Tiny giggles escaping you as you gave your Father a questioning look.

"Anything is possible chérie! Plus you remember me talking about your uncle Hervé? Well, he has two boys that are around the same age as you. And I'm positive you three will become the bestest of friends like we were at that age in no time. When your Uncle Hervé and I were younger people would always say "Wherever there is a Y/L/N there is a Leclerc" and I'm sure it will live on through you three."

As you watched the two Leclerc boys chase each other through the yard, you knew your Dad would want you to get up and go join them. He seemed so excited at the idea of you and the boys being friends and you didn't want to disappoint him, but at only five years old, your shyness overruled the majority of your decisions.

Charles, even though he was playing with his brother, had noticed how you hadn't left the swing since coming outside. He tried to put himself in your shoes, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to move halfway across the world.

What it would be like to leave everything you've ever known behind and move to a country that is nothing like the one you'd spent your whole life in so far. Even if your Father was from here and technically Monaco is as much of your home as America ever was, he knows that at least right now, this place means nothing to you.

So, being the empath that he is, Charles decides that it's his mission to make you feel at home. To make you realize that Monaco has been your home all along. That if he was you right now, all he would want is for someone to befriend him, make him feel less alone. His first step; asking you to play.

His skinny frame soon occupies the empty swing next to you, hands gripping the chains as he barely moves back and forth. His feet mimicked yours, dirt and grass staining his white sneakers.

"Hi." Charles watched as your head perked up at his voice. Your doe eyes timidly looking over at him like you weren't sure if he was speaking to you.

"Hi."

"Do you wanna play with Arthur and me?" Charles hopes you don't run back inside after hearing his question, but when your face lights up, head nodding enthusiastically, his worries dissipate. You were just so glad that he had come over and asked you, because you would have sat there on that swing all evening if he hadn't.

In a matter of minutes your shyness and worries about upsetting your Father were replaced with bouts of laughter as Arthur and you ran from Charles. Gleeful screams and giggles filled the evening air as the three of you played and for the first time since getting told you were moving you felt carefree.

The loud laughter and yelling had gotten the attention of the adults and as they watched their children play through the sliding glass door they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.

"That didn't take long did it?" Your Mom felt a relief wash over her. At only five years old she knew this move was going to be hard on you, and she wished they could have just stayed in America. But who was she to deprive you of experiencing the life that was quite literally half of you. Deprive her husband of seeing his little girl experience the same things he did as a child.

And as she watched the way the three kids played together she knew it was the right decision. For you to come out of your shell so quickly meant that maybe things weren't going to be so bad here after all.

"Of course it didn't." Your Dad stood behind your Mom, his hand on her shoulder as he watched his little girl laugh and run around. "Because wherever there is a Y/L/N-"

"there is a Leclerc." Hervé finished, an equally big smile on his face.

The painting of orange and pink hues that filled the evening sky told everyone that the sun was making her farewell for the day. Though, that didn't stop you and the boys from still playing and eventually as the colorful painting turned to a star filled sky you all were called inside.

Rosy cheeks and sweaty foreheads adorned all three of your faces as you clambered into the kitchen. "Looks like you kids had fun." Pascale had grabbed the cookies off the counter, but as she opened the lid to offer the kids one, she had a better idea. "How about some ice cream?" Charles' eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. He loved cookies, but his one true love was ice cream. "I think the place down the road is still open."

And with an unspoken agreement, they are all out the door and headed towards the ice cream shop. Charles and you walk side by side with Arthur trailing behind the two of you. His complaints about being left out falling on deaf ears as Charles tells you about how good the ice cream place is.

The walk isn't a long one and before you realize it, you've arrived. The sickeningly sweet smell hits you as soon as you walk through the door, and your short legs carry you towards the counter, not paying mind to any sort of line that was already formed. Your face was practically pressed against the glass as you looked at all the flavors to choose from. But even with flavors like triple chocolate or strawberry or peanut butter cup. You always go with your tried and true; vanilla.

Charles and Arthur had joined you, faces as equally as close to the glass as yours.

"You think Maman will let me try them all?" Arthur asks, mouth practically watering at the sight in front of him.

"I don't know about that." You recognize your Dad's voice behind you. "You guys tell me what you want and then go wait at the table outside with Lorenzo." The three of you reluctantly turn away from the ice cream and when Arthur tells your Dad he wants mint, Charles and you share a disgusted look. "Ok mint for Arthur, what about you two?"

"Vanilla!" Comes out of both Charles and your mouth. Big smiles spread across your faces as you realize you both said the same thing.

"No way that's my favorite flavor!" Charles exclaims.

"Mine too!"

By the time your Dad comes outside with the ice cream Charles and you had established that; vanilla was the best flavor of ice cream ever, blue was your favorite color, red was his, you both loved dogs, and that he wanted to be a Formula 1 driver when he grew up. You didn't really know what that was, you think you had heard your Dad talking about it or watching it before, but the way Charles talked about it, it seemed like it was something big.

After many brain freezes and Arthur trying to make Charles and you try his mint ice cream, the night was coming to an end. The walk back home was filled with talks of things that you guys had to do this summer, according to Charles, and about how tonight would not be the last trip to the ice cream shop.

As you arrived at your house the grownups said their farewells and goodnights, while you gave everyone a simple wave goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow!" Charles yelled as you entered the front door, and all you could do was yell back.

"Ok!"

And Charles wasn't lying, you did see him the next day, and the day after that. In fact, any free day that you or the youngest Leclerc boys had were spent in each other's company that summer. By the time school started back up the three of you were inseparable. 

The idea of starting at a new school in a different country while knowing no one scared you, so you were glad to have Arthur with you in class and just knowing Charles was in the building made you feel more at ease. Any worries you had about moving to Monaco had dissipated and Charles had just somehow knew that he had accomplished his mission of making you feel at home. It may have taken him all summer, but you were practically family at this point to him.

So when he heard from Arthur about a couple boys in your class not being the friendliest towards you, something about you being an annoying American, he knew he had to defend you.

Charles fortunately had caught them in the act one day. Your cheeks slightly damp and eyes red told Charles it wasn't just them saying you were annoying. You wouldn't tell him what they said to you, but that didn't stop him from telling the boys off. It didn't take much for them to run off, heck Charles could have just stared at them and they probably would have darted, him somewhat forgetting they were probably only five or six, but still there was no reason for them to be mean to you.

Charles wiped away your tears before pulling you in for a hug. "They shouldn't bother you anymore, but if they ever do come tell me. You know you've always got me and Arthur and if it gets bad enough I guess we could tell Lorenzo." The mention of the oldest Leclerc boy made you giggle and Charles was so happy to see a smile on your face again. "You've always got me Y/N, we've got each other. I promise." He held out his pinky finger towards you and you hooked yours around his, officially sealing the promise

And from that moment on, you two always did have each other.

 ten and thirteen

Five years had passed since you first met Charles, and in those five years your bond only grew stronger. Not only with each other, but with each other's families too. To Pascale you were the daughter she always wanted and your Dad treated the Leclerc boys like his sons. It was like you guys filled in the missing pieces in each other's families.

Multiple scrapbooks were filled over the years with memories that would last a lifetime. Pictures of the joint family vacations that were taken every year, first and last day of school pictures, birthdays, and major milestones all filled the pages.

Looking back now your Mom could have kicked herself for ever second guessing the decision to move. Clearly this was where you guys were supposed to be, where you were supposed to be. Everything just felt right. It felt like home.

A new thing that had become a part of your life in the past five years was karting. No, you didn't drive them, but Charles and Arthur did. So, that meant it was now a part of you. Multiple weekends were spent going to watch them race, the smell of exhaust and the sound of the engines were ingrained into your brain, but you had grown fond of it.

Although, in the last couple years Charles had started to take karting very seriously. You knew his dream was to be an F1 driver, and you knew (from him teaching you everything about it one day) how much dedication it took from a young age to get to the top. So, over the last year, when almost every weekend he was busy, you tried not to take it to heart.

Unfortunately for Arthur, this year his family had decided to focus solely on Charles' career for the time being, as karting was expensive, and having two boys doing it was just not something they could swing. But with Charles busy and Arthur now free it was almost like the boys had flip flopped positions in your life.

Between the two youngest Leclerc boys it was always very obvious that you gravitated more towards Charles, the two of you having a bond that many didn't understand, especially considering your age gap.

Three years isn't crazy per say, but at the age you two are right now it's a little different. Charles is thirteen, officially a teenager, while you're still only ten. Two very different stages in kids' lives, and sometimes recently it seemed like Charles was moving on, or growing up, and you worried that he wouldn't want to spend time with you anymore. Because really what thirteen year old wants to willingly hang out with a ten year old? You know you wouldn't want to hang out with a seven year old. 

But the slight gap that Charles was currently leaving in your life, Arthur had no problem filling it in.

During the school year you spent basically all your time with Arthur, being in the same grade and him not dedicating all his time to karting at the moment was a big contributing factor. You still saw Charles, but nearly as much as you used to. He had moved up to secondary school a year or so ago and unfortunately Arthur and you were still in your last year of primary school. So your time to see Charles was limited to his rare free weekends and sometimes after school. 

You had thought come summer time you would be able to see him more and were banking on your annual family vacation, but you were wrong. In fact, you barely even saw Arthur this summer. They were so busy with Charles karting it was like they didn't even live in their home. And when they were home your family was busy doing something.

The annual family vacation had to be canceled and you had basically gone the whole summer without seeing them. That was until today, two weeks before school started, when you came downstairs to see Charles and Arthur sitting on your couch talking to your Dad, who was sitting in a chair opposite of them.

"Ah, there she is." Your Dad had spotted you from the doorway. "They've come to steal you."

Rounding the side of the couch you were now stood in front of the two boys. Arthur was the first to jump up from the couch, his arms squeezing you into him, the two of you slightly swaying back and forth as giggles escaped past your lips. "Tu m'as manqué aussi Arthur."

As Arthur finally let you go your eyes fell on the middle Leclerc boy, who was still sat on the couch. "Charlie." The nickname you had given him that first summer had still stuck around five years later. It fell off your tongue with ease, basically second nature for you at this point. He never minded when you called him that, in fact sometimes he preferred it, but god forbid anyone else call him that.

You could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, dimples peaking out as he tried to resist it more. As he stood up from the couch he finally let it free, the corners of his eyes crinkled and dimples on full display as he wrapped his arms around you. You noticed you guys weren't almost the same height anymore, your head hit at about his shoulder now. Had he gotten taller since the last time you saw him? There was no way he had grown that much in almost two months, but yet the proof was standing right infront of you.

"Tu m'as manqué." Charles stated as he pulled away from the hug.

"I figured you'd have your kart seat stuck to you when I saw you again."

"Well when that seat becomes an F1 seat, I know who will be the last person I invite to a race."

You wedged yourself between the two brothers on the couch as you rolled your eyes at Charles. "Yeah I won't need an invite because I'll have a permanent paddock pass." You weren't even sure if such a thing as a permanent paddock pass existed, but when Charles makes it into Formula 1, you had better have one.

"No doubt about it." Charles states, which gets him a smile from you in return.

"So what was Papa talking about? You guys are stealing me?"

"We've got something fun planned." Charles had a small smile on his face as he made eye contact with you. And as you stared back at him you noticed something else that had changed in the past two months, his hair. It was shaggy and almost covered his eyes if he didn't have it pushed to the side. You were surprised Pascale hadn't made him cut it yet, or that she hadn't snuck into his room at night and at least trimmed the hair around his face. It was just another sign of how long it had been since you'd seen each other.

You glanced over at your Dad, unsure of what "fun" they had planned, but he was no help. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise." Charles had stood up from the couch, eyes staring back down at you. "Well come on. We don't have all day."

"Be careful! Je t'aime!" Your Dad hollered as the three of you walked out the door.

"Je t'aime aussi!" You hollered back.

The warm sun beat down on you as you walked the familiar streets of Monaco, following the two boys in front of you. Your insistent pleas of wanting to know where you were going were ignored. And it didn't take long for you to just start guessing random places, which were all met with groaned no's from the boys.

Thankfully you guys had arrived at your destination because you were running out of places to name, but the place you were standing in front of was not where you had expected to end up. Though truly you should have known better.

"Did you guys really just bring me here to watch you two drive go-karts?" Of course they brought you to the track. It wasn't like you didn't like watching them race or even just screw around on the karts, but as of recently it was the one thing that was keeping Charles away from you. It just would have been nice to do something that didn't involve karting.

"We aren't the ones who are going to be driving them." Arthur's devious little smile on his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I don't think that's safe, and don't we need an adult with us?" So perhaps you were slightly scared at the idea of driving – no you were actually more worried than scared. You didn't want to seem like an idiot because you didn't know what to do or wreck and make a fool of yourself. That little shy five year old girl was slowly creeping back in as Arthur and Charles practically dragged you inside.

"The adult is already here." Charles points at Lorenzo who's filling out paperwork at the front counter. "I think it's time for you to learn, no?" Your eyes focus on Lorenzo, praying as an adult he has enough sense to not let this happen. But it was no use, he had already handed the worker the paperwork and was walking towards you with a bunch of gear in his hands.

"No chickening out this time petite soeur. Today is the day." Lorenzo stated.

Before you can even protest anymore Lorenzo is handing you all this stuff to put on, arms overflowing as you stare at him wide-eyed. "Do I really need all of this for" you glance over at the track then back at Charles "an indoor track?"

"Safety first Y/N. Plus you need to have the full karting experience." His dimples on display as he gives you a reassuring smile, that somehow works wonders on you, because you're putting on all the gear without him even asking. "Oh wait you're gonna need this." He slides a hair tie off his wrist and hands it over to you. His action put a smile on your face as you quickly tied your hair back.

It was something Charles had done for a couple years now, always having a hair tie on him. You were always pushing your hair out of your face or complaining about it being hot and of course you never had a hair tie with you. So, he just started wearing one on his wrist, so when you eventually needed one, he was there to provide.

With your gear on you guys walked over towards one of the karts and you made sure to listen intently as Charles explained how to work everything.

You slipped the helmet on and sat down in the kart, praying that you could remember what Charles had told you. "You've got this. Just remember what I said and we will be right here if you need us. I’ll be right here. I promise." Charles holds out his pinky finger, the familiar gesture between the two of you meant much more than just a simple promise. And as you hook your finger around his, you know it's going to be okay. "Please be careful. I think your Papa will have my head if you come back with even just a scratch." Lorenzo says as he double checks that you're strapped in well enough.

"I'll be fine."

You gave Charles one last final glance, who stood there giving you a thumbs up, before pressing your foot down on the accelerator. At first you were going so slow, scared that if you went too fast you were gonna wreck. But as you completed a couple laps you started to feel more comfortable and the cheers from the boys helped you out too.

"Floor it!" Arthur yells as you pass by on another lap.

You were really starting to have fun, so you listened to Arthur and pressed the pedal all the way down on the next straightaway. You felt like you were flying, but what you didn't know was that they had put you in the slowest kart, so you really weren't going as fast as you thought you were.

After a couple more laps Charles stood by the starting line, waving the checkered flag, a cheesy grin on his face as you passed by him. As the kart came to a stop you understood why they loved karting so much, it wasn't just fun, it was exhilarating, addicting, you already wanted to go again.

The boys surrounded the kart as you undid the straps and climbed out. As you took off the helmet you couldn't wipe the grin off your face. "Looks like you might have some competition Charles." Lorenzo teases.

Charles ignored his big brother's teasing and shifted his focus back to you. He had felt bad about not seeing you all summer and in all honesty not that much over this past year. But things in his life were changing, karting was becoming a much bigger deal, and he was winning, like a lot. He knew things were only going to go up from here. And as much as he loved racing, and god did he love it, he breathed it he dreamt it, racing was in his blood. There just weren't many times anymore where he felt like a thirteen year old, like a kid. It sometimes felt like he was missing out on things.

But Charles knew that when he came home from a busy weekend or practically a whole summer filled with racing, that things would always be the same at home. His Mom would always make spaghetti on Tuesday nights, you had to jiggle the handle on the gate to the backyard to get it to open, if you went into the ice cream shop on a Thursday night when the owner wasn't there you'd get extra ice cream, the lady across the street will yell at your for playing in the street, and you will always be a couple houses down. 

He knew that when he was around you that he could feel like a kid again. Sure, he had made plenty of friends through racing, but it seemed like all their conversations always somehow revolved or ended up referring to racing. Which wasn't a bad thing, because of course Charles loved racing. But sometimes he just wanted to talk about video games or other sports, or just something random. And he could do that with you.

Now granted, for someone who wanted to have a little break from racing before school started, you'd think he wouldn't be back at a track the first chance he got. But Charles had wanted to teach you how to kart for years, but each time he had mentioned it you chickened out. So he had finally gotten the nerve, with a little help from Lorenzo and Arthur, to just force you to learn.

He knew you'd do a good job, he never had a doubt. It was just your worries that prevented you from learning earlier. He knew you had grown to love the sport, from tagging along to some of his races, or how you can't wait for the Monaco grand prix every year, not to mention how glued you are to the TV when his free weekends and the F1 schedule line up. So, somehow in his own weird way, Charles knew you'd be a natural.

"You did do a good job, I'm proud of you." Charles flashes you a smile as you guys exit the track.

"Merci Charlie." You quickly shed all the gear and handed it back to Lorenzo. "I don't know why you guys didn't teach me earlier. That was so much fun. I see why you guys love it so much."

"Don't act like we haven't tried for years to get you to learn." Charles teases. "We basically just had to force you today."

Memories of all the past failed attempts at teaching you how to kart flooded your mind. The one time you hid in the bathroom claiming to be throwing up, the time you 'tripped' on your way into the building and said you sprained your ankle, or the many times you just flat out refused. So maybe them forcing you was for the better, because you wouldn't have taken the initiative on your own to learn.

"Whatever. At least I finally learned."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The walk back to your house was filled with Charles filling you in on his exciting karting filled summer. From the new friends he had made to the races he had won, he didn't spare any detail. And you just walked beside him, listening to his every word, grateful to just have him back around. Arthur would pipe in occasionally to contradict something Charles had said, fulfilling his little brother duties. And as the three of you traveled through the principality, the summer sun high in the sky, you wished every day could be like this.

The fragrant jasmine shrubs that lined the sidewalk told you guys that you were close to home. "You guys wanna stay for dinner? It's Friday which means Mom's making something pasta related."

Charles would never turn down a Friday night dinner at your house and so he had no trouble in accepting your invitation. Arthur declined, stating that he was going to hang out with some of his other friends, and Lorenzo had split from you guys at the track. Which meant it was just Charles and you, which was fine with you.

The smell of your Mom's famous red sauce, that she swore had to cook for at least half the day, filled your nostrils as you walked through the door. "Mom! Papa! I’m home!"

"In the kitchen!" You heard your Mom shout.

You found your Mom furiously stirring something on the stove as Charles and you sat at the island counter directly in front of her. She tore her attention away from her cooking just long enough to notice Charles was with you. "Well look who's back! I hope you're staying for dinner?" A big smile accompanied her words as she spoke to Charles.

"Of course, you know I love Friday pasta nights."

"Well it's still gonna be a little bit until everything is ready, so if you kids are hungry grab a little snack or something." Her attention was already back to the bubbling pot in front of her before she had finished speaking.

Charles' stomach had been growling the whole walk home, and now sitting here smelling your Mom's cooking had it growling even more. So, he took up her offer and grabbed two tangerines from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Without even thinking about it, he peeled the first one and handed it over to you.

"You're spoiling her by peeling that for her Charles." Your Dad stated as he walked into the kitchen.

Charles shrugged at your Dad's comment as he continued to peel his own tangerine. "I don't mind it. I know she doesn't like to peel them and it's really not a big deal to me. So I guess as long as I'm around she won't have to."

You never gave a second thought about Charles peeling your fruit for you. He's done it ever since you expressed your dislike for peeling them years ago. To you it wasn't you being spoiled, it was just your best friend doing something nice for you. You gave Charles a smile as you popped another piece of the tangerine in your mouth. "Merci Charles." As you looked back towards your parents, you caught them staring at each other, eyebrows slightly raised, and smiles on their faces. "What?" You questioned.

"Oh nothing sweetie." Your Mom answered, attention turning back to the food. She knew you'd figure it out eventually.

The topic of conversation during dinner was all about karting. Your parents wanted to know all about Charles' wins and if anything exciting had happened during any of his races. Charles truly was like a son to them, granted all three of the Leclerc boys were, but you knew Charles was their favorite. They sat there listening intently as he told them everything and your Dad gave him nothing but praises back.

"You're gonna do great things Charles. I just know it."

And finally when Charles changed the conversation to how he finally taught you how to kart, your Dad though first worried at the idea of you getting hurt, was ecstatic to hear that you were quite good and that you enjoyed it. Your Mom didn't like the idea at all, the sour look on her face told you everything. "I can barely handle watching Charles, let alone my baby."

"I was the only one on the track, Mom. Plus it was just for fun, you don't have to worry about me doing the real thing. I really was not as good as Charles says I was." You tried to reassure her, but she still didn't seem pleased.

"Maybe it will help to know that we put her in the slowest kart." Charles chimed in.

Your head whipped to the right of you, where Charles was sat. "You put me in the slowest one?! You really thought I’d be that bad?"

"It was your first time! You were nervous as is, let alone putting you in a fast one."

A scoff came from you. "I feel cheated out of a real experience."

"Well, the slowest is fine with me. In fact, how do we find one slower than the slowest?" Your Mom inquired, nothing shy of a serious look on her face.

As dinner came to an end Charles and you helped clean up and then ventured out back. The sun had just set, allowing for dusk to settle in, the remnants of the sunset still lingering in the sky. The two of you found yourselves on familiar territory, the swings. The metal chains had slightly rusted over the years, but still held strong as the two of you swayed back and forth on them.

Silence fell between the two of you as you tried to figure out how to talk to Charles about the thing that had been subconsciously bothering you for a while. 

Him forgetting about you. 

He had his head down, staring at his feet as he slowly swung back and forth on the swing. "Charles?" He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, blue eyes slightly covered by his shaggy hair.

"Yeah?"

Your hands gripped the chains tighter as you stilled your movements, feet planted firmly in the worn patch of grass. "I need you to make me a promise."

He had copied your actions, even going as far as turning slightly to face you as he spoke. "For what?"

"I need you to promise that you won't forget about me. That when you make it into F1 and become super famous that you won't think I'm some loser. Or even when you move up to F3, just please promise me you won't forget about me."

Charles frowned at your words, never in a million years would he forget about you, or think you were a loser. He didn't want to get into F1 to become famous, yeah it was a perk of the job, but he wanted a seat in F1 because he loved racing, and it meant that he was one of the best in the world.

He held out his pinky finger towards you. "Do you remember what I said to you when those boys were teasing you during your first year here?" You shook your head, the memory replaying in your mind. "That you’ve always got me and I’ve always got you. So that means I don't think I could ever forget about you Y/N, whether I make it into F1 or not. And If I do, I'm gonna need my number one supporter there by my side aren't I? So I promise I won’t forget you."

A big smile spread across your face at his words and as you hooked your pinky finger around his, you knew the promise was true.

But what you didn't know was that sometimes promises are broken.

thirteen and sixteen

Thirteen is a very weird year for you. 

It’s not puberty or the ever revolving drama that comes with being thirteen that is making it a weird year. It’s the embarrassingly painful crush you’ve got on Charles. 

It’s a cliche really, having a crush on the cute older boy you’ve grown up with. 

And one might ask why is it embarrassing? For starters, you can’t be around him for more than five minutes without turning into a blushing mess. He stares at you for longer than a second? Game over. He smiles at you? Done for. He laughs at something you said? You’re dead. 

He doesn’t know he’s turning your thirteen year old brain into mush just by simply existing and it’s embarrassing to even think about him knowing that. 

On the other hand, it’s painful. You’re thirteen and he’s sixteen, once again at very different stages in life. And you know that he doesn’t like you back, that he only sees you as a little sister, but it still hurts. It hurts because you’re thirteen and you think that you’re mature for your age and you honestly think why wouldn’t he like you back. It’s something almost every young girl goes through, and unfortunately it’s happening to you with someone you are very close with. 

Yes, you had always thought he was cute, but that's because he was. That fluffy brown hair, long thick eyelashes that adorned his pretty eyes, his dimples, the little crinkles by his eyes when he smiled. Okay– so maybe that's how you would describe him now, but still, he was a cute kid also, there was no denying that. 

 But if you really had to figure out when you realized you had a crush on Charles it had to have been this past Christmas.   

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The holidays in Monaco were somewhat different than the few years you remembered back in America. You had stopped celebrating Thanksgiving after your Mom’s failed attempt at trying to make a Thanksgiving dinner your first year here. It wasn’t that your Mom was a bad cook, it was that it was somewhat hard to find everything needed for a Thanksgiving dinner in Monaco. And as hard as your Mom tried to make it work, it just wasn’t the same without that damn Ocean Spray cranberry sauce. 

So to make up for not celebrating Thanksgiving your family truly went all out for Christmas. The couple Christmases that you could remember back in America were nothing shy of magical, but ever since moving to Monaco, your family took Christmas very seriously. There was no denying that part of your household was American, because every year your house looked like it came straight out of a cult classic Christmas movie. Like Kevin McCallister or Clark Griswold had taken up residence in Monaco for the holidays. 

It wasn’t just the outside that was decorated, the inside was just as festive and of course the tree was the main focal point. It was a busy tree, your Mom never liked an aesthetically pleasing tree, it was sentimental or nothing to her. Ornaments that were passed down on her side of the family, ones you had made in school, and some you had gotten after moving all had a home on the tree. 

And as if decorating wasn’t enough for your family, your traditions were even more of a big deal. The most important one to you though was making cookies on Christmas Eve. Mainly because Arthur and Charles had been doing it with you since your first Christmas in Monaco. 

Christmas music played on the record player in the living room, the sound traveling into the kitchen as your Mom and you made sure you had everything ready to bake. You were in your own little world, picking out your favorite cookie cutters and humming along to Wham!’s Last Christmas when you heard your Mom speak up. “You’re just in time Charles.” 

Your eyes moved away from the pile of cookie cutters up to the garland decorated doorway where Charles was standing. A smile slowly crept its way onto your face as the two of you made eye contact. He looked cozy, the sweater he had on was slightly oversized and his hair had a messy fluffy look to it. 

You watched as he talked to your Mom, she was surely talking to him about racing, and he would always gladly answer her questions, as she was nothing shy of a second Mom to him. The longer you stared at him, you could feel your heartbeat quickening. And a feeling was arising in you that you had only ever experienced with a boy in your class a year or so ago.  Though, the feeling didn’t last long, you had caught him picking his nose, and with that went away any feelings you had towards him. 

You didn’t even want to think about the word that was happening right now, the idea of it only making your heart race even faster. You tore your eyes away from Charles and noticed that the youngest Leclerc brother was missing, so you blamed your rapid heart beat and surely pink cheeks on that.

You cleared your throat and tried to gather yourself before speaking. “Where’s Arthur?” 

Charles' attention was torn away from your Mom over to you. He pursed his lips, he didn’t know how to say nicely that Arthur said that baking Christmas cookies was for little kids, and he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He let out a sigh before speaking. “He’s not coming, he said he’s too old to be baking cookies.”

“But its-” 

“I know. I told him that it’s tradition and that you would be upset, but he wasn’t budging. So you’re stuck with just me.” 

It annoyed you that Arthur had bailed on you. There was no such thing as being too old to bake cookies, he was just being a jerk. And as far as you were concerned, he’s not allowed any of the cookies when your families have Christmas together tomorrow evening. 

On the bright side you get to have some one on one time with Charles, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise– Arthur bailing on you. You picked up the recipe card from the counter, waving it around in the air. “Well let’s get to work then.” 

Charles is at your side in an instant, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater as he waits for further instruction. 

“Do you think you kids can handle doing it by yourselves this year? I’ve got some last minute gifts that need to be wrapped.” Your Mom inquired, hopeful that you wouldn’t burn the house down on Christmas Eve. 

You didn’t even look up at her, eyes focused on the recipe in front of you, this was clearly something you took seriously. “Yes Mom.” 

Without a word she was gone, leaving Charles and you to your own devices. 

You can feel Charles peering over your shoulder. He’s practically right up against your side and you can feel the soft material of his sweater on your arm. All you can smell is his cologne, something he had started to use within the last year or two, thankfully moving on from the Axe body spray phase. And you’re trying not to make this seem like a big deal, because it’s truly not, but something has shifted in your thirteen year old brain. The same brain being scrambled by him right now, and you think you’ve read the damn recipe card at least ten times now. 

“Did you forget that the recipe is in American measuring terms?” Charles asks. The recipe was your Grandma’s and your Mom had never been bothered to convert it to the metric system. 

“Nope, just double checking everything.” You force a smile as you set down the recipe card and grab a mixing bowl. You added all the ingredients and made Charles do all the labor, which meant he had to mix it and then roll out the dough. 

You dug through the pile of cookie cutters looking for Charles favorite one. “Herree it isss.” You spoke in a sing songy voice as you held up the cookie cutter to Charles. His favorite in question? A penguin with a Santa hat on. Without fail, every Christmas, for the past eight years. Charles made an excessive amount of Santa hat penguin cookies. 

A grin spread across his face as you placed it in his hand. “Wouldn’t be Christmas without this guy.” He wasted no time in pressing the cutter down into the dough and before you guys knew it the first batch was done and in the oven. 

As you started on the next batch Charles kept a close eye on the baking cookies. The two of you allowed for Michael Buble to fill silence in the air and the mouthwatering smell of the cookies soon filled your nostrils. “You know you still call her Mom?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at Charles' random statement. “Huh?” 

He walked away from the oven and back to his original spot next to you. “You still call your Maman Mom.” 

“Yes?” You weren’t really sure where he was going with this, it was nothing new to either of you. 

“I just figured by now you would have made the switch. You speak French with everyone else.” 

You shrugged your shoulders at him, you had never really considered it, the idea felt weird even just thinking about it now. “I’ve always spoken English with my Mom and French with Papa. It would feel weird to switch stuff around now.” You stirred in the flour as you continued the conversation. “You know I could give you some English lessons if you’d like. I think that might have been what you were hinting at.” You teased. 

Charles' eyes widened at your words. “Are you saying my English is not good? I think I speak English very good!” 

“Well.” You didn’t skip a beat. 

“What?” 

“You think you speak English very w-” 

In an instant there is flour all over the upper part of your body, your movements stilled as you’re processing what Charles had just done. You’re mad at first, actually seething because your hair looked so good today and now it’s covered in flour. And you can’t see Charles because you haven’t moved an inch since he threw the flour at you, but he went from having a shit eating grin on his face to a oh shit expression. Your quietness has him worried that you’re actually really pissed at him, but when he hears his nickname come past your lips he knows you're not that mad at him. 

“Charlie. You better run.” 

He isn’t sure he’s heard you right, but when he sees you pick up the whole bag of flour his sock clad feet are sliding on the floor as he runs around the other side of the kitchen island. You're playing cat and mouse around the island for quite some time. The beeping from the oven time ignored multiple times as giggles from both of you filled the room. 

As Charles rounds the corner again his foot catches on one of the barstool legs and you know you’ve finally got him. He doesn’t fall, but he slips just enough to allow you to fully catch up to him. And you may or may not have thrown the whole bag of flour at him, but him being covered head to toe in flour says it was the whole bag. You definitely got him 10x worse than he did you and from that gleam in his eye you know what he’s going to do, but you can’t get away fast enough and his arms are around you in an instant. He shakes his head trying to get as much of the flour off of him and onto you and by you trying to free yourself from his grip he’s transferred a good amount from his clothes onto yours. “Charles! Let me go!” Your pleas are pitiful, laughter dripping off every word. 

“Oh my god!” 

Both of your eyes widen, bodies frozen at the sound of your Mom’s less than pleased voice. The two of you sheepishly stood there as your Mom looks like she’s about ready to cry and cuss you out at the same time. “I can’t leave you two alone for an hour?!” Her eyes shift to behind the two of you, panic written across her face. She’s practically running towards the oven and that’s when you realize the burning smell. And when she not so softly sets the cookie sheet onto the counter you know she’s really not happy. The cookies were burnt to a crisp, the poor Santa hat penguin never stood a chance. “I’m sorry Y/M/N. It was my fault, I started it.” Charles rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

“I don’t care who started it because you’re both cleaning up this mess.” A deep sigh came from you Mom as she really took in just how big of a mess the two of you had made, her head shaking in disapproval as she left the two of you to clean up. 

When you knew she was out of earshot you couldn’t but let out a little giggle, it was like in school when you weren’t supposed to be laughing, but everything is just so funny, and Charles follows your actions seconds later. The two of you fools, covered in flour, cookies burnt, and in trouble as you stood there laughing. 

That night you couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in your bed, your brain would not shut off. And it wasn’t because you were excited for Christmas morning, you only wished that was the reason. You couldn’t get how good it felt to have Charles arms wrapped around you out of your mind, or how that stupid sweater made him look even more attractive than he already was. 

As you stared up at the ceiling, you knew you were screwed. You had a big fat crush on Charles and it was going to ruin your life. You knew he only saw you as a little sister and that made everything so much more worse to you. Why did you have to develop feelings for him of all people? 

Christmas morning came and went and before you knew it evening had arrived, meaning the Leclerc’s would be arriving soon. You were in charge of setting the table, a task you didn’t mind, considering being in the kitchen with your Mom on any holiday was like asking to get yelled at. As you folded the last napkin neatly and placed it in its rightful spot you heard commotion coming from the front door, undoubtedly the Leclerc’s arriving. You spotted Pascale struggling to juggle all the presents and you hurried towards her, quick to offer a hand. “Merci chéri.” A grateful smile painted across her face.

The pile of presents grows as you place them under the tree and you’d think your family hadn’t already opened some this morning. Everyone settles into their usual spots in the living room, but your usual spot by Charles is left empty, as you’ve scurried into the kitchen. You’d rather face the unwarranted wrath from your Mom than be unable to compose yourself around Charles. But you don’t get to hide in the kitchen for very long because she’s practically done with everything, so you help her bring in all the food to the table, and admire your table setting skills as you do so. 

Dinner is pretty uneventful and luckily your Dad has Charles preoccupied with racing talk for most of the time. But you can’t help but catch his eye from across the table every once in a while and every time you do your heart skips a beat. By the time presents start getting passed around you had successfully avoided Charles for most of the day, but that is ruined when he plops down next to you on the floor, shoulders brushing as he gets situated. 

“Are you mad at me for yesterday?” Charles' voice is low, like he didn’t want anyone to hear, but he could have talked at full volume, no one would have heard him over how loud your Dads were being. 

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“You’ve been avoiding me all day.” 

Your fingers toyed with the lifted corner of wrapping paper on the present in front of you, your brain trying to figure out what to say. Yes, you had been avoiding him, but it wasn’t because you were mad. It was actually the opposite, but you couldn’t tell him that. “I’m not mad at you. Just didn’t want there to be another flour fiasco today. You thought she was mad yesterday, now imagine that while she’s in her holiday cooking zone.” You give him a reassuring smile, hoping that he’s bought what you’ve told him. But he doesn’t get the chance to respond as your Mom’s voice fills the room. 

“Ok does everyone have all their presents? Our Santa this year was less than enthusiastic about handing out the presents.” Your Mom shoots Arthur a look as he sits down on the floor across from Charles and you. 

“There is nothing left under the tree. I promise.” Arthur states. 

“Alright then everyone get after it!” 

Piles of wrapping paper fill the empty spots on the floor in no time and excited gasps fill the room as everyone unwraps their gifts. You’re always so grateful for everything the Leclerc’s get you for Christmas, they treat you like one of their own, and sometimes you feel they spoil you a little too much. 

With each present that you unwrapped that wasn’t from Charles, you start to get a little worried. You guys exchanged presents every year and if he didn’t get you something this year, you think you might die. So when you come to your last present and it says it’s from his parents, you try to hide your disappointment, especially because it’s an amazing gift. You hop up from your spot on the floor and make sure to go thank them personally, hugs and all. And you’re pretty sure you hear them say something about how you’re their daughter too and how you deserve it, but your brain is still thinking about how Charles didn’t get you anything. 

When you go back to your spot a little perfectly wrapped box with a bow on it is sitting there. You know you weren’t sitting on that, so it had to be placed there after you got up. You think it’s one of Charles that he forgot about, but when you bend over to pick it up you see Charles sloppy handwriting on it. A smile spreads across your face as you look over at Charles who has an equally big one on his. You quickly sit down, eager to know what’s inside. 

“Did you think I didn’t get you anything?” Charles questions, a smirk toying at his lips. 

“Maybe.” Yes. 

“I would never.” He bumps his shoulder into yours, motioning for you to open it. “Well, go on. What are you waiting for?” 

You don’t want to seem like you're absolutely ripping into the present, but it probably looks like you are. It’s a tiny box, like one used for jewelry, and you really aren’t expecting Charles to have gotten you jewelry. But when you open the box, nestled in the velvet cushion, is a ring. You glance over at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then back to the ring. It’s just a simple sterling silver ring and somewhat on the smaller side. To be honest Charles could have gotten you a bag of candy and you would have been happy to have just gotten something from him, let alone a ring. 

But when you pick the ring up from the box you see exactly why it’s smaller, and it makes your heart swell. On the inside of the ring you see the words pinky promise engraved into it and as you look over at Charles, he’s holding out his pinky finger, a matching ring adorning it. Your cheeks are hurting from how hard you're smiling, but you don’t care. It’s the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten you and as you slide it onto your pinky finger you feel yourself smiling even more, if that’s possible. Your arms are around Charles instantly, pulling him in towards you, thank you’s tumbling out of your mouth as he giggles in response. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He pauses, trying to figure out the right words to say. “Things are changing. I’m moving up from karting and hopefully into Formula 3 within the next year. It’s just a reminder that we’ve always got each other, even if I’m gone racing or you’re off doing something, we can look at the rings and know we’ve got a piece of each other with us, always.” 

You can’t stop smiling at him, and that crush you’ve got has tripled in size in a few short hours. Your teenage brain over exaggerates everything and you basically think this means you’re gonna be together forever, even though you aren’t even together. 

While you’re in make believe land, your parents are observing the two of you. Whispers and knowing glances are exchanged, between them and your Moms can’t help but think it’s cute how close the two of you are. While your Dad in particular, no matter how he feels about Charles, thinks no boy is good enough for his little girl, let alone some sixteen year old boy. 

Perhaps you may be a little dramatic when you say that this Christmas was the best one you’d had so far, but honestly it was the truth. Sure you realized you had a huge crush on Charles that will probably end in tears, but you also got the most thoughtful gift ever, that you will cherish forever. So yeah, this was a good Christmas, crush aside. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

And so you lived with admiring Charles from afar for months. Enjoying what time you got together and just holding out hope that maybe one day he wouldn’t see you as his little sister. But life had a funny way of hitting you in the face with reality, especially at thirteen. 

When Charles shows up to a joint family dinner one night with a girl around his arm you feel like all the air has escaped your lungs. And when he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend you plaster on a smile even though you feel like someone has pulled your heart out of your chest and ran it over multiple times.

It’s the longest dinner of your life and while everyone gushes over his girlfriend, asking her all about her life and interests, you poke your food around with your fork. It’s not like you have an appetite anyways, getting your heart broken will do that to you. And it sucks even more because she’s so nice, like insanely nice, you couldn’t even hate her if you wanted to. Not to mention how pretty she was, she was everything, and you were some pimple faced, awkward bodied thirteen year old. 

You fidget with the ring on your finger and your heart races at the idea of Charles not wearing his anymore, your eyes glance over at him and when you spot the ring still on his finger it calms you a little. But that still means nothing, just that he clearly still sees you as a little sister. What you don’t see is how your Mom has been watching you the whole night. You’ve never told her about your feelings towards Charles, but she’s your Mom, she just knows things. And she knows you're hurting right now, so when she changes the topic of conversation at the table you’re eternally grateful. 

It’s an early night for you that night, not bothering to join everyone for a game of UNO, claiming that you aren’t feeling well. When really you couldn’t wait to go upstairs and just cry it out. What did you do to deserve something like this? It hurt so bad, but you knew there was nothing you could do about it. And as you laid in bed that night all you could think about was how are you going to live without him liking you back?

sixteen and nineteen

Newsflash you do live without Charles liking you back. In fact your crush goes away by the end of that year, no thanks to the new boy in your grade, who eventually ends up being your boyfriend. But it was safe to say you were over Charles, at least you think you are. 

Charles, on the other hand, stayed with the girl who made you go crazy at age thirteen for over a year, but they broke up over text. And to your disappointment, Charles never told you the reason why. Ever since then it’s been somewhat of a revolving door of girls in Charles' life. Okay – maybe not a revolving door, but at least three different girls in the past two years. None of them lasted for more than a couple months though, and it was getting to the point where no one in either of your families got to know the girls.

Everyone knew that they would be gone sooner than later. After his last “breakup” a couple months ago, he hadn’t brought around a new one, he claimed that he needed to focus on racing, that F1 seat was almost in his grasp and that was all that mattered to him right now, but you knew there was something else going on. 

While Charles was having issues in the relationship department, you were actually flourishing. You had met your now boyfriend Lucas, when he was the new kid your eighth grade year. You thought he was cute from the moment he walked into your History class the first day back from winter break. And when the seat next to you was the only open desk you tried to hide your excitement as he sat down, but when he smiled at you first, it was hard to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was the first to speak, asking if you had a pencil. But his accent made your ears perk up – he was Spanish. The big brown doe eyes and dark hair fit him, now that you realized he was Spanish. 

“Do all Spaniards come unprepared on their first day?” You teased as you handed him a pencil. It was his turn to be the one blushing as he stifled a smile. 

“No, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” 

So he was a flirt – noted. 

The two of you became good friends rather quickly, but per your parents rules, you couldn’t date until you were fifteen. So, you played the long game and prayed that no one else peaked his interest. Luckily for you, he was so infatuated with you that he was willing to wait, and on your fifteenth birthday you went on your first date. He was nothing shy of a gentleman, even going as far as asking your parents permission to take you out, something your Dad was very fond of. And as your parents watched their little girl walk out the door hand in hand with a boy, they couldn’t help but feel a little sad. 

“Our little girl is growing up.” 

Your Mom wrapped a comforting arm around your Dad. “I know. I’m glad though, I figured she would waste her teenage years waiting on Charles.” 

A questioning look washed across your Dad’s face. “What?” 

“Oh honey. Don’t act like you’ve been blind these past ten years. They’ve always been drawn to each other, her more than him. She was absolutely heartbroken when he brought his first girlfriend to dinner that one time.” 

“Guess I do remember being less than thrilled at Charles getting her that ring for Christmas that one year.” Your Dad huffed. 

“Hmm,” she rests her head on his shoulder, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen as they still stand there, staring at the door. “You know Pascale has always said that Y/N would end up with Charles.” 

Your Dad scoffs at your Mom’s words. “And what do you think of that?” 

“I think only time will tell.” 

While your parents were discussing your love life back at home, you were having a grand time on your date. The pizza place Lucas had taken you to was cute, a fitting place for two fifteen year olds to be on a first date. Thankfully it wasn’t awkward or tense, and you had to thank the two of you for being friends for a year before your date for that. It was just like the two of you hanging out. 

On the walk back to your house your hands never separate, even when they start to become sweaty. And when he pulls you closer to him, so you're basically hugging his arm, you realize you could get used to this.The way his brown eyes look like pools of honey when the sun hits them just right as he looks down at you, the feeling of his thumb gently rubbing circles on your hand, and the way your name rolls of his tongue when he talks to you, especially with that accent of his. All of it has that all too familiar warm fuzzy feeling appearing in your stomach. 

When he stops in front of the ice cream shop near your house he doesn’t even have to ask you if you want any, you’re already dragging him towards the entrance. The little bell on the door rings as the two of you walk inside and the all too familiar sugary sweet smell hits your nostrils. 

“Ah! Chérie!” 

The owner Mr. Martin – a short older man, probably in his sixties, with what you would call haystacks for eyebrows was beaming at you from behind the counter. He had grown fond of you and the Leclerc boys over the years, claiming that he loved seeing the three of you grow up, as he never had any grandchildren of his own. Though, when his eyes shifted to the right and saw Lucas standing next to you his smile fell briefly, if you hadn’t been staring at him you wouldn’t have caught it. 

“Who is this handsome young man?” He asks as the two of you walk towards him.. 

You introduce Lucas to Mr. Martin and it’s at that moment that you realize that this is the first time you’ve brought him here. Something that didn’t seem possible to you because you were here so often that you had to have brought Lucas here at least once, but you can’t recall a time. 

Only when a vanilla cone is in front of your face are you brought out of your thoughts. Of course Mr. Martin didn’t need to ask you what you wanted, it’s been the same thing every time for the past ten years. Lucas had already sat down at one of the little tables, chocolate cone in hand, while he waited for you. 

“I was surprised to see you with a boy other than Charles.” Mr. Martin states as he wipes down the counter. “He must be special because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here with anyone other than your family or Charles.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Yes, this was your first time you had brought Lucas here, but you know you’ve brought other friends here. There was no way in your ten years here that you hadn’t, but once again your mind was drawing a blank. As you glance back over at Lucas a knot forms in your stomach, it suddenly feels wrong to have brought him here. Like in some way you were tainting this place with his presence. Ruining whatever special hold this place has on your relationship with your family– with Charles. 

You completely ignore Mr. Martin’s statements and just give him a smile and thanks before making up an excuse as to why Lucas and you need to leave. He doesn’t take much convincing when you claim to want to see the sunset. His hand is back in yours as you hear the bell ring once more as the two of you leave. And it’s like as soon as you guys are back on the sidewalk walking towards your house, the gut wrenching feeling is gone. The only evidence of it is left in the ice cream and by the time you’re standing on your front porch step it’s all gone. 

Lucas has a lopsided grin on his face, one you’ve grown to love, as the two of you stand facing each other. “You know we are missing the sunset you wanted to see.” His fingers lightly toy with yours, before finally intertwining them again.

“Mmh. It’s okay.” You were getting lost in those big brown eyes of his, the sunset the last thing on your mind. 

“I’d rather stare at you anyways, you’re much prettier.” 

His words make you practically putty in his hands and before you know it you’re having your first kiss. It’s sweet, metaphorically and literally, the taste of ice cream still on both of your lips. His hand cups your cheek and you have to wonder if he’s done this before. But when he pulls away he only has you craving more, so you lean up and steal on more from him. Giggles escaping past your lips as you see the light blush on his cheeks, you were sure yours were bright red. “Guess this is where I ask you to be my girlfriend huh? Not like I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day of school, been waiting all year or anything.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk on your face. “Are you going to properly ask me?” 

By the end of the night when you’re laying in bed, you had officially gone on your first date, had your first kiss, and obtained a boyfriend all in a matter of hours that day. You were a giddy mess, excitement coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but repeatedly feel your lips, the feeling of Lucas’ still fresh in your mind the whole night. You couldn’t wait to feel them on yours again. And when he texts you that he wants to hang out tomorrow you think your heart just might leap out of your chest. 

Being with Lucas was like living on cloud nine, you truly couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend. As the year progressed you really wondered how you had snagged someone like him– tall, dark, and handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and he made you feel like it too, until he didn’t.

That’s the funny thing about first loves, you really think nothing could ever come between you, that it’s going to last forever. But the only thing that lasts forever is the damage they leave when they’re gone. 

You aren’t really sure what switched in Lucas, but after a year of being together he turned into someone who was never happy with what you did, always picking fights over stupid little things. And you know you should have left him already, but you love him, and you think you guys can make it work. You’re only sixteen and your Mom tells you relationships shouldn’t be like this at this age, shouldn’t be mentally draining, but unfortunately this one is. 

All your arguments as of lately had been about Charles. Lucas, though denying it every time you brought it up, had become jealous of him. You weren’t even sure where the jealousy had come from, you barely saw Charles like you used to. He was in F2 on the cusp of getting that F1 seat and you were busy with school and spending time with Lucas. You had even gone as far as rejecting invites to hang out with your other friends to spend time with Lucas, something now you regret very deeply. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It’s a chilly Friday night in February when everything comes crashing down. The argument started over Charles texting you asking if you wanted to hang out. You were already with Lucas, but you hadn’t seen Charles in a couple weeks and you knew once the season started seeing him would be even more scarce. So, you make the big mistake of asking Lucas if he wanted to hang out with Charles. 

“Why would I want to hang out with him?” His back was turned to you, but you already knew from his tone that this was going to turn into an argument. 

“Well I haven’t seen him in awhile and he texted me asking to hang out, I thought we all could hang out.” You thought maybe by including Lucas in the plans that it would make the situation better. Wrong. 

He turns to face you, walking towards your bed where you’re currently sat. “Did he mention me in the text?” 

“Well no but-” 

“Exactly,” Lucas scoffs at you, his expression sour as he looms over you. “He doesn’t want me to come. I would get in his way.” 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics, Charles was not the guy Lucas made him out to be. “Don’t know what you mean by you getting in his way.” 

“Oh don’t act cute about it Y/N.” Hearing your name roll off his tongue no longer sounded like music to your ears, it now more resembled nails on a chalkboard, like each time he spoke your name it was venom coming out his mouth. “Bet if I gave him the chance he’d try to get in your pants at the first opportunity.” 

Your eyes widened, cheeks getting hot at his accusations. “What kind of girl do you think I am Lucas?” 

“All I’m saying is your friendship with him isn’t normal, and it makes a guy wonder.” 

You were up off of your bed now, the two of you standing in the middle of your room. “This is getting old. I’ve told you, you have nothing to be jealous of.” You had started to twist the ring on your pinky finger, a nervous habit you had developed over the past couple years. 

“That is why your friendship isn’t normal.” Lucas grabs your hand, his fingers twisting at the ring trying to pull it off your finger. “What kind of girl wears a ring another guy got her while in a relationship? Huh? Even worse that you’ve got matching ones.”

Yanking your hand free from his grasp you can feel your blood starting to boil, and you’re thankful your parents aren’t home tonight because you can tell this is going to get ugly. “We fucking grew up together! He’s like a brother Lucas!” You were the first one to yell and you had unfortunately opened the floodgates because now Lucas is yelling.

“Who hasn’t heard that before?! He’s like a brother. Give me a fucking break. You’re telling me you’ve never had feelings for him? Not once in your life?”  

The accusations and ideas he was throwing around tonight were beyond ridiculous. 

“I’m not thirteen anymore Lucas. You know I only love you.” And you don’t realize what you’ve basically admitted until it leaves your mouth and you hear Lucas let out a dry laugh. 

“Ah. There it is. I think that last part may have been a lie, because you still wouldn’t be wearing that ring if you didn’t still feel something for him.” 

You shake your head at him, why couldn’t he get what you were saying though his thick skull. “I only have platonic love for Charles. It’s nothing like what you and I have.” 

He clicks his tongue, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. “Prove it.” You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused as to how you are supposed to prove that you love only him. “Take the ring off and give it back to Charles.” 

You tuck your hands behind your back, afraid he’ll try and rip it off your finger again. “No. It’s just a ring Lucas. You’re giving it more power than it has.” 

“If it’s just a ring then take it off.” You shake your head no at him. “Take it off Y/N.” You shake your head no again and he stalks towards you, causing you to back up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Take off the fucking ring!” He’s yelling and you can feel the tears starting to pool in your eyes. He’s never gotten this crazy before and you can tell that this is the end of the two of you. 

“Lucas just go.” You're trying to hold back your tears, but when he tries to reach around to grab your hand you let out a sob. “Lucas, leave! Now!” 

He backs up, and for the first time that night you get a good look at his eyes. They are no longer the pools of honey you once found yourself getting lost in, their dark, like a black void, and he almost looks unrecognizable as he stands there. “You never truly loved me did you?.” 

His words cut through you, because you really did love him, and you thought he loved you. But someone who loves you would never treat you like he has you. “I loved you more than you’ll ever know, but clearly you’ve got some shit mixed up in your head to think that I didn’t.” 

“But you are always going to love Charles more Y/N. You can tell yourself it’s only platonic love, but we both know it’s not.” 

You wipe away your tears as you sit back down on the side of your bed, this was getting old. “I can’t do this anymore. Truly. I’ve tried to tell you how much you mean to me, but Charles is a part of my life and if you can’t deal with that,” You take a deep breath, scared for what's about to come out of your mouth. “Then maybe we should break up.” 

And for the first time that night Lucas doesn’t respond and you’re actually surprised that he doesn’t put up a fight. “Alright then I guess we are done.” When he doesn’t immediately leave and decides to squat down in front of you, you're confused. Especially when he wipes away your tears as his hand cups your cheek. “I never wanted us to end up like this, but I can’t share your heart with someone else.” 

He should be screaming and instigating more arguing, not being gentle and loving. More tears fall down your cheeks as he presses a final kiss on your forehead before walking out your bedroom door. You can hear your parents greet him downstairs, what great timing for them to arrive home, and when the front door slams you’re surprised your Dad isn’t going after him. 

You’re immediately calling Charles and you don’t even have to speak, your sniffles and ragged breathing lets him know that you need him. As you hang up the phone you hear a gentle knock on your door and you see your Mom peek her head in, her heart breaking when she sees the state you’re in. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

“It’s over Mom.” You choke out between sobs. 

She does the only thing that she knows you need right now and just holds you, lets you get it all out as she runs her fingers through your hair. 

But seconds later you’re both greeted with an out of breath Charles standing in the middle of your room. Your tears subside for a moment, as you see him doubled over trying to catch his breath.

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you two be.” Your Mom gives you a reassuring kiss on the head before exiting your bedroom. 

Charles takes her spot next to you on your bed, his arm immediately pulling you into him. “Did you run here?” You ask as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you expect anything less when you called me crying?” He’s deadly serious when he says it, and you don’t know it, but he’d drop everything to come to your aid, no matter if you asked or not. You don’t answer him, but when you wrap your arms around his waist and basically tuck yourself into his side, he knows you appreciate him being here. “Am I wrong for thinking this has something to do with Lucas?” 

The tears start to fall again as the fight replays in your head. “We broke up.” Your words barely above a whisper, but Charles has no trouble hearing them, even over your sniffles. 

“Never liked that asshole anyways.” 

You rolled your eyes at Charles' statement, lightly laughing because he was totally lying. “Don’t lie, you liked him, hell everyone liked him.” 

“Ever thought I am just a very good actor? He made you happy, so I just pretended to like him, for your sake.” 

“Wish you would have made your dislike of him known, maybe I wouldn’t be a hot mess on a Friday night right now.” A sigh escapes past your lips, the feeling of Charles gently rubbing circles on your side had started to soothe you. And you wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his embrace. 

Charles doesn’t mean to pry, he knows you’ll tell him when you're ready, but he’s curious as to why the two of you had broken up, as far as he was concerned the two of you seemed happier than ever. But he wasn’t going to lie and say he wasn’t happy about the two of you breaking up, for reasons unknown to him yet. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” 

Your grip on him tightens and he thinks if he let you, you’d be under his skin if it was possible. “He was jealous of you.” 

Charles feels his heartbeat quicken and he’s not sure why, but he does know he wants to hear the whole story. “And?” 

You know you’re going to start crying again, but it's Charles, you can tell him anything. So you take a deep breath and spill the beans. “It started a couple months ago. He’d pick fights over stupid stuff at first and then it turned into stuff concerning you. I tried to just let it go and make sure he knew he was my number one priority. But tonight’s fight was the worst one yet and I just couldn’t handle it anymore. He was basically insulating that I loved you more than him and I tried to tell him it was only platonic love that I had for you, but he wasn’t convinced.” 

There’s a strange feeling that blooms in Charles' chest as your words hit his ears and it clouds his mind because he’s never had a feeling like this when he’s been around you. It’s foreign and it scares the shit out of him.

You hold back some information from Charles, mainly because you were still processing how you really feel about him. Trying to sort through what Lucas had planted into your brain and what might have already been there, left over from thirteen year old you. But your ring clad finger searches for his and when you feel the cool contrast of his ring, you wrap your pinky fingers together. “Do you think our friendship is normal Charlie?” 

He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused as to what you meant. “Where’s this coming from?” 

Your eyes never break away from your intertwined fingers, matching rings staring back at you. “Lucas said our friendship isn’t normal and basically the fact that we have matching rings isn’t normal either.” 

Now Charles' gaze is also on your rings and for a moment he thinks maybe it isn’t normal, but then he realizes this is your guys normal. So fuck what anyone else or Lucas thought about his friendship with you. “Think he might have been just pulling shit out of his ass at that point. Jealous that he doesn’t have anyone in his life like we do each other.” 

Charles' words do make you feel a little better, because you know no matter what you’ll always have each other and tonight is proof of that, but that doesn’t stop your still broken heart from showing.

“Still kind of made me feel like shit though, like he made it seem like I didn’t love him at all, when I clearly did. I mean god Charles he was my first date, first kiss, first everything. Even with how badly he had treated me these last couple months, we’re always gonna have that connection. How am I supposed to find someone like that again? Fuck. I mean he literally has a part of me that I’ll never get back.” 

And Charles can feel his heart tightening at your words, because you’re truly the most amazing girl he knows, and to know that Lucas treated you badly when all you deserve is the best awakens something in him. 

“I wish you could see how you look to me, how amazing you are. Yes, you have those connections with Lucas, but believe me when I say you aren’t going to have a problem finding someone else.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face as you hear Charles speak. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You’re funny, kind, the best listener, and you’re so beautiful. Truly Y/N, anyone would be lucky to have you. And Lucas is clearly stupid for letting you go.” 

The blush on your cheeks probably looked like a bad sunburn with how much you were blushing and as you made eye contact with Charles you suddenly felt like that thirteen year old girl again. His blue eyes burning into yours and when he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach. And for a brief moment Charles had pushed your thoughts about Lucas to the back of your mind. 

He pulls you into a hug and if there is one place you feel the safest in the world, it’s in Charles arms. And when he whispers into your ear that everything is gonna be fine, you know it’s going to be, as long as you’ve got Charles in your life. 

seventeen and twenty 

He had done it. 

Charles had finally gotten into Formula 1. The thing he had only dreamt of since childhood had finally come true. The long weekends away from home, the training, the tiredness, the stress, it was all worth it in the end. That seat was finally his and you couldn’t have been more proud. He had been in talks with a couple of the teams for a while and he always kept you updated on the possibilities, some weeks it sounded like he would sign with one team, and then the next another. The whole situation was beyond stressful to you, so you could only imagine how Charles felt about it all. 

The day you found out that he signed with Suaber was one you’ll never forget.

Charles had tried to plan some elaborate thing to announce the big news to you, but that meant he would have to keep it a secret from you for at least a day or two. Something he found to be rather difficult once he got home, because the only thing he wanted to do was tell you. 

It didn’t matter to him that it was almost midnight by the time he had gotten home from the airport, he was going to tell you tonight no matter what. He pulled his phone out of his pocket– thumbs moving rapidly as he texted you. 

After dozing off multiple times in the last half hour you had decided to call it quits on your binge session of The Office for the night. You had switched the TV to something random to actually fall asleep to and it didn’t take long for you to be on the cusp of actual sleep until– 

DING

A groan escaped past your lips and you contemplated ignoring it, but when the second alert went off you snatched your phone off the nightstand. It felt like you were staring directly into the sun as your eyes struggled to read the text notification. 

Charlie: come out back 

Your eyes glanced at the time – 12:15. What the hell could he possibly want this late? But you begrudgingly got out of bed, slipping on some shoes and a sweatshirt before quietly going downstairs. 

The light on the back patio illuminated the backyard just enough for you to see Charles sitting on the swings waiting for you. And If you were even thinking about sneaking up on Charles that would have been impossible with the sliding door to the backyard. The thing screeched like nails on a chalkboard even with you opening it just enough to slide through it. His gaze now locked onto you as you scurried off the porch and towards the swings. 

The smile that he greeted you with was one beyond measure. He was clearly happy about something and you could tell just by the crinkles around his eyes and those dimples that right now looked to be deeper than canyons. 

“What’s got you so happy, Leclerc?” 

Your eyes focused on Charles' frame as he swayed back and forth slowly on the swing. He was clearly too big for it – his legs were bent awkwardly and his swing creaked everytime he moved. You could feel the sides of the swing digging into your hips and you realized you probably looked as ridiculous as him. 

“Just happy to see you. Missed you.” His smile still ever prominent. 

You scoffed at his words, he had just seen you a couple days ago. “Yeah right. You wouldn’t have texted me at midnight if there wasn’t something going on. In fact, how did you know I was up or even home? It’s a Friday night you know.” 

“Because I know you Y/N. Your Friday nights are usually spent at home watching some show until you can’t stay up any longer.” 

A grimace finds its way onto your face, what an amazing life you live. “Okay when you say it outloud it makes me sound like a loser.” 

His eyes had softened as the two of you made eye contact. “Nothing wrong with how you spend your Friday nights.” 

You wanted to get off the topic of your nonexistent social life and onto the pressing matter at hand tonight – what had Charles so giddy? “So are you gonna tell me what is actually going on or what?” 

He took a deep breath, he couldn’t believe he was finally getting to say these words out loud. “I’ve got a Formula 1 seat next year.” 

A blank expression is all that is staring back at Charles and he’s worried that you’re somehow mad or upset, but that’s far from the truth. You aren’t sure if you’ve heard him right, because you think you heard him say he’s going to be racing in Formula 1 next year, but your brain has seemed to have short circuited– your heart beating a mile a minute. 

You’re able to get out, “Sorry – what?!” and when you hear those words come from him once again you’re practically leaping out of the swing and into his arms. The fact that it’s nighttime and people are sleeping is the last thing on your mind as you're shouting excited nonsense at him. 

His laughter filled your ears as he stood up from the swing with you still wrapped up in his arms. You just couldn’t believe it, something he had worked so hard for, dreamt about since childhood, had finally come true. If anyone was deserving of it – it was him. 

“Putain de merde Charles! When did you sign and with who?” You asked once you had finally peeled yourself away from him and were able to form a coherent sentence. 

“Sauber – I just signed yesterday. I know it’s not Ferrari like we had hoped-” 

Your jaw dropped and you lightly smacked his arm. “Ferrari will always be there, I promise. And maybe after they see how good you do this upcoming season they’ll regret not signing you. But what I’m really wondering is why you told me you were going to do testing for one of the teams instead of telling me you were going to sign with them!” 

He put his hands up in defense, but the cheesy grin on his face still remained. “I wanted to surprise you! But then as soon as I signed that contract all I wanted to do was tell you. I literally just got home from the airport when I texted you!” 

The fact that Charles wanted you to be the first person he told had you melting and the butterflies in your stomach had you thinking about those unresolved feelings you had towards him. But you pushed it aside because tonight was not the night for that to be lingering in your mind. 

You reached down to his hand and linked your pinky fingers together. The gesture no longer just meant for a promise, but also one of comfort and reassurance. “I do hope you know though how immensely proud I am of you. How proud your Papa would be of you. I knew from that first time you ever mentioned something about becoming a F1 driver when we were kids that you would accomplish it and now look at you.” 

Charles' eyes soften at your words and when he looks into your eyes he feels that funny foreign feeling. The one that blooms in his chest and travels down to his stomach, the same feeling from last year when he held you after Lucas broke your heart. The feeling he chooses to ignore as he pulls you back into his arms, hugging you tightly, like someone might take you from him. He knows his life wouldn’t be the same without you and that he owes some of this success to you– for constantly believing in him even when he didn’t, for dreaming with him, and for being the light on even his darkest days. 

“And I hope you know that I wouldn’t have made it without you. You’ve been my biggest supporter since we were kids, always believing in me, pushing me, coming to support me when you could, and I can’t imagine you not being at my first race.” 

“Oh do you not remember what I said when we were younger? Think I said I’d have a permanent paddock pass, so you bet your ass I’m gonna be there.” 

A small laugh escapes past his lips and his dimples are back out in full force for what seems like the millionth time tonight. “Truly Y/N. Merci, I couldn’t have done it without you. Je t'aime.” 

“Je t'aime aussi Charlie.” 

His pinky finger finds yours once again and when he curls his finger around yours a wave of deja vu washes over you. And that’s when you remembered the last time the two were out here together. You were still kids, but you had made him promise not to forget you once he got into Formula 1. 

Now here the two of you stood, high on the exciting news of him achieving that goal. You can’t help that pit that starts to form in your stomach as you think of what you feared at age ten coming true. You try to hide it, not wanting to dampen the mood, and you know all you can do is pray that he keeps his promise. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

That following March you make the trip to Australia with the Leclerc’s and your family and it’s everything you could have ever dreamed of. Sure you had attended the Monaco Grand Prix every year, and some of Charles F2 races, but you had never been really in the thick of it like this. Maybe it was because it was Charles' first ever F1 race, but the feeling in the air was indescribable. The roar of the engines, the cheers from the crowd, it was something you could get used to experiencing. 

It’s surreal to see him in the car, see him flying around the circuit like it’s nothing, because all you can imagine is eight year old Charles saying he wants to be an F1 driver when he grows up in that car. He ends up placing P13 and for his first ever F1 race you couldn't have been more proud. And you aren’t afraid to admit that you shed a few tears, honestly you think everyone shed a few tears seeing him finally accomplish that lifetime dream of his. 

When you see him after the race he’s beaming like he’d won the thing and you could only imagine what he will be like when he actually wins his first race. You can practically feel the adrenaline radiating off of him when he wraps you up in his embrace. 

“You did so good Charles. You did it, you made it.” Your words slightly mumbled against his shoulder, but he hears you just fine. 

“I’m glad you were able to come. Wouldn’t have been as special if you didn’t.” You don’t think he’s wiped that smile off his face ever since he got out of the car and it only intensified as he spoke to you. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” And it’s true because there’s no other place you’d want to be right now. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next time you see him is for the Monaco Grand Prix and he’s nearly shitting himself the whole week before. You would have thought this was his first ever time in a F1 car with how nervous he was. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, knows this circuit like the back of his hand, but he still spends an unnecessary amount of time on the sim, trying to perfect every little thing. 

With what little amount of time you see him between practice sessions and qualifying before the actual race you try and reassure him, let him know that he’s still an amazing person and driver no matter the outcome on Sunday. And it seems to have worked because by Sunday his spirits seem to be much higher and he’s got a good feeling about the race, hoping to score some points, and maybe win his home race. 

But when his brakes fail and he ends up crashing into the back of another car resulting in a DNF you’re heartbroken, but you know he’s even more upset. You know he’s going to be so hard on himself and overanalyze the whole situation, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to try and make things a little better. 

When you find him he’s pacing back and forth in what little space he has in his drivers room. Helmet still strapped onto his head and his race suit still done up. You spot one of his gloves on the physio table and the other on the ground — evidence that he had thrown them. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t even see you standing in the doorway as he paces. 

“Charlie.” Your voice is soft and you hope by using his nickname that it may calm him a little. 

His movements stop when he hears your voice and when he finally sees you standing there in the doorway all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and die. What an embarrassment to have his first DNF at his first home race. It’s like the gods wanted to punish him for reasons unbestowed to him. 

Your reflection stares back at you through his visor as you approach him, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your hands find their home on them. You finally work up the courage to flip up his visor so you can actually look at him and when you see red puffy eyes staring back at you your heart breaks a little more. 

“Let’s get this helmet off, yeah?” 

With a small nod given from him as permission you reach your hands up to undo the strap. You’re trying to be delicate with your actions, but when it comes to taking off his helmet there really isn’t a way to be nice about it. And Charles knows because he’s got his hands over yours, aiding you in taking it off. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he practically tore off his balaclava and threw it haphazardly somewhere in the room. As silly as it seemed, the indentions that it left behind on his face somehow made him more attractive. Combine that with his hair being a tousled mess and his skin glistening from the sweat (and tears) and post race Charles may be your favorite Charles. You watched even more intently as he unzipped his race suit, letting the upper half fall at his hips, exposing the tight fireproofs that you loved more than you should. 

Those unresolved feelings that you’ve tried to shove deep down for years had seemed to be crawling their way back up recently. But for today you pushed them back down because you were here to comfort Charles, not ogle at him, no matter how good he looked at the moment. 

He sat down on his physio table with a defeated sigh, hand running through his already messy hair. “I’ve let everyone down – the team, my family, myself, you. Maybe if I wouldn’t have braked too hard at turn seven or didn’t push as hard in the tunnel-” 

You moved to stand in between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders. He was on the edge of spiraling and you knew if you didn’t take him back from that ledge he’d be in his head about it for weeks. 

“Charles. There was nothing that you could have done differently, it was an issue with the car. Which means it had nothing to do with you as a person, as a driver, or your talent.” Your hand subconsciously searches for his, and like it’s muscle memory your pinkies link seconds later. “I promise.” 

“A ‘once in a generation driver’ would have avoided crashing.” 

Ugh. The phrases that the media used to describe Charles were – yes very flattering, but they came at a price. He took them personally and the idea of being anything less than what they claimed him to be took a serious mental toll on him. 

“You had no brakes Charles. What were you supposed to do? Bust your feet through the floor and Fred Flintstone it?” You could see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at your comment and you knew he was backing away from the edge. His hands find their way around your waist and he’s pulling you into him, your head finding a home on his shoulder. 

“I’m still immensely proud of you. Hell, you could finish dead last in every race and I’d still be your number one fan.” This time there is an actual smile that washes across Charles face, but you don’t get to see it, your head is still resting on his shoulder. “ And I know it’s easier said than done, but please try not to be so hard on yourself, especially when it comes to things out of your control.” 

“What would I do without you?” It’s a serious question that Charles asks himself often. You’ve been each other's rocks for twelve years now. Through the amazing times and the horrible times. No one knows either of you like you do each other. 

You’ve pulled away from his embrace now, your eyes staring back at his. “Hmmm. I don’t know. You’d probably be absolutely miserable without me.” 

And when you finally see that pretty smile of his, dimples and all, you know you’ve accomplished your mission. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Although after Monaco– things changed. 

The first thing and probably the most inevitable was Charles moving out. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t done it sooner, but in between the Monaco GP and Canadian GP he moved into his own place. Which in theory wasn’t a big deal, but that meant he wasn’t just right down the street from you anymore. He had gotten an apartment further into the city, which in Monaco that’s not that far, but you knew it would make a difference. 

The days of popping into his house and expecting him to be there were long gone. The whole thing really shouldn’t have been such a big deal to you, but you couldn’t help but think that him moving out was only going to aid in your worries of him forgetting about you to come true. 

After Monaco your communication with Charles started to slowly lessen.Texts that once were answered in minutes now went hours without an answer or sometimes no response at all. You blamed it on his busy schedule, trying not to think too much about it. But much to your dismay, your worries do come true. 

It’s inevitable to you that you are drifting apart when you realize it’s been three months since you’ve seen him, almost a month since you’ve talked to him. And when you see him make it official with some girl you hadn’t even heard mention of after the British GP you feel like it’s just another nail in the coffin. 

You don’t even make the effort to reach out anymore, in fact you make sure not to after seeing that he’s got a new girlfriend. You’d just be wasting your time and energy. And it may seem like you're giving up on keeping Charles in your life, but really what else could you do? It truly hurts like hell to see the person you care about the most not seem to care about you, but you can’t force someone to talk to you or see you. 

He’s living his dream, traveling the world, partying, surrounded by stunning women. You’re still in school, still only seventeen, and not sure what you want your life to look like. It was inevitable really, for the two of you to drift apart, but that little part of you that ten year old you still holds on to, hopes that Charles remembers that promise he made and eventually comes to his senses. Because you know and you know he knows that you two are always going to have that special bond, the ring on your finger a constant reminder of it. And you wonder if he still wears his, but you don’t hold on to much hope that he does. 

Even though Charles and you aren’t exactly the closest at the moment you do want to try and attend another race before you start your final year of school and are forced to give that all of your attention. So when Arthur texts you asking if you want to go to Monza with Pascale and him you don’t pass up the opportunity.

Arthur filled you in on stuff regarding Charles during the flight, not that you asked, but he knew the two of you hadn’t really been talking. And you don’t mean to ask about his girlfriend, but you do, and you can see Arthur tip-toeing around his words. “She’s… nice. I’ve only met her once so I really couldn’t tell you much. You haven’t met her yet though, right?” 

You shook your head at him. “I haven’t even seen Charles since the home race. So no, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her.” 

“Merde. I didn’t think it had been that long.” 

What Arthur doesn’t tell you is that Charles doesn’t know their Mom and him are coming, not to mention you. You only figure it out when Arthur says something about making sure Charles doesn’t know to the Sauber team member who gives him three VIP passes. Arthur claims you guys are here to surprise Charles, give him a little pick me up after his last two races were DNF’s. 

The idea of seeing Charles again after so long already had your stomach in knots, but now knowing he doesn’t even know you’re coming makes it even worse. You were under the impression that he knew you were tagging along with Arthur. And everyone knows Charles is horrible at hiding his emotions, what if he sees you and can’t hide the fact that he doesn’t want you here? A million possibilities ran through your brain as Arthur dragged you towards the Sauber garage, while Pascale went to hospitality. 

Qualifying had just started and you were thankful for the extra time to mentally prepare yourself to see Charles again. With the way you were acting you would have thought you hadn’t seen him in years, but truthfully these three months had felt like years. 

The roar of engines were slightly muffled as you put on a headset, eyes focused on the monitor in front of you. Even with your nerves through the roof, it felt good to be back at a race. The atmosphere was intoxicating, you loved the hustle and bustle of it all, the adrenaline you got from just being here was crazy. 

You were so engrossed in watching Charles that you didn’t even notice someone come up behind Arthur and you until you felt him tap your shoulder. When you turn around the person standing there is the last person you expected to be seeing.  

Leah— Charles' girlfriend.  

Her lips are moving, but you aren’t hearing a word, and that’s when you realize you’ve still got your headset on. You quickly pull them down around your neck just in time to hear her say. “You must be Y/N?” You're shocked she knows who you are and from the look on your face she knows exactly what you’re thinking. “Charles has mentioned you before. It’s nice to finally meet you!” 

It’s sad to say that you had a hard time believing that Charles talked about you to her, but you put on a fake smile and accepted her invitation for a hug. “It’s nice to meet you too!” While Arthur and her spoke you tried to get a good read on her, but it was hard to tell if she was naturally this friendly or if it was all just an act. 

Time slipped away as the three of you chatted and you hadn’t realized Q1 was over and that Charles hadn’t made it into Q2 until you saw Leah’s eyes widened at something behind you. That something turned out to be someone and that someone turned out to be Charles. Leah’s practically hanging off of him while she’s trying to take a million photos and videos. And that’s when you know why Arthur tiptoed around his words about her earlier. Yes she was ‘nice’, but she was clearly using Charles for her own benefit. 

Charles on the other hand was oblivious to Leah shoving her phone in his face. His vision had zeroed in on you from the moment he entered the garage, even with your back turned to him he could spot you in a crowd of hundreds. When you finally turned around he felt like his feet had been cemented to the ground. His body felt hot, like a fever was running through his veins, and it wasn’t from being in the car moments ago. 

Arthur wasn’t supposed to be here and you weren’t either– especially talking to his girlfriend. It throws him for a loop and he can’t seem to get his brain and mouth to work together to even greet you, so he stands there while Leah makes sure everyone knows she’s dating a Formula 1 driver. 

The tight lipped smile you throw his direction doesn’t help how he’s feeling. You should be beaming at him, in his personal space (preferably in his arms), laughing at something dumb he said, anything other than how you were right now. And he knows it's no fault but his own, but it still hurts to see you stand there and act like you don’t like him, like you haven’t known each other for twelve years.

Charles could blame his absence in your life on his career, but that wasn’t the whole truth. 

He had seen your texts and truthfully sometimes he was so busy that he would forget to text you back. But those times when he could give you his full attention over text or the occasional facetime were times he never took for granted. He loved hearing your laughter, seeing your smile, or even just having you send him a text about your day. But with those things he loved so dearly came that funny feeling in his chest. 

The same feeling that he first felt last year when Lucas broke up with you, the night he told you he made it into F1, at his home race, and sprinkled in occasionally at other times. He had realized what it was not too long after the Monaco GP and at first he denied it, he thought there was no way it was possible. But then when that feeling would happen just from getting a text from you he knew he was fucked. He wasn’t even going to say the word out loud, not even think it, afraid of what might come if he even allowed the universe the satisfaction of him accepting what he was feeling. You were supposed to be his best friend and not someone he had feelings for. 

So what did he do to combat this insane revelation he had found out about himself? 

Distance himself. 

If he wasn’t in contact with you or seeing you, then surely this silly little thing, that he once again would not acknowledge by its government name, would go away. Plus his ever so busy career was the perfect excuse for him to use in case his Mother or you questioned him. 

And at first it wasn’t hard at all, he had gradually weaned himself off from facetiming you and then texting. And it wasn’t that bad because he had racing and training and media duties and parties– all the stuff that his life involved now to distract him. But then your texts became less and less and then on one off week he realized just how badly he missed having your stupid contact photo pop up on his phone and how he may have fucked everything up. 

But then he met Leah through another driver’s girlfriend and he had her to distract him even more. He knew what kind of person she was from the get go, but he was basically using her too, so if she wanted to make her whole instagram about him then so be it as long as his brain was free of that thing that must not be named about you. And Leah worked for awhile, she was relatively nice and it helped that she was pretty, but she wasn’t you. 

There was no real connection between them and sometimes Charles would rather watch paint dry than have a conversation with her. And most of the time he just let her sit there and talk while he scrolled on his phone, trying not to act like his heart didn’t skip a beat when a post of yours would pop up on Instagram. 

He wanted to contact you so badly, but what was he supposed to say? Hey, I've been so busy that I haven't even picked up my phone to text you hi. 

He knew he had caused some damage to your relationship when his Mom asked why he wasn’t coming home to see you anymore and that you weren’t yourself. He feels like shit about it, the idea of him making you upset is practically nightmare fuel for Charles and he doesn’t know why he thought distancing himself would make things better, they had just made things worse. Made him miss you even more without even realizing it. 

Clearly Charles had never heard the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder because if he had then maybe he wouldn’t have been stood there like a fool in the Sauber garage right now. Heart racing faster than the car he just got out of at the sight of you standing here in front of him for the first time in three months. 

What the hell was happening to him? What was this sudden effect you had on him? Had it always been there and he hadn’t realized it until now? He couldn’t think straight – it was clearly not a good idea to have tried to ignore these realizations (feelings) he had about you. A bad idea to not see you for months because now that you are here everything is rushing back up to the surface 10x worse than before. 

“Long time no see stranger.” Your voice brings him back to reality, but your closer proximity has him searching for an out. His head glancing in every direction for someone– his race engineer, one of the mechanics, Leah, anybody to distract him from you. 

When his search comes up short he resorts to making his stomach hurt even more by talking to you. 

“Yeah. How have you been?” God. Did he not even know how to talk to you anymore? Small talk with someone you know better than yourself had to be a torture method used by government agencies. 

“I’ve been good.” Lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I see you’ve been living it up since I saw you last.” 

You were expecting a little awkwardness between the two of you, but the way Charles was acting was insane, it was like it was your first time meeting or something. He couldn’t maintain eye contact to save his life and honestly looked like he’d rather be someplace else at the moment. Your fear of him not wanting you here was clearly not a silly worry, it was reality. 

“Um yeah. Always busy doing something recently.” 

You’ve been fidgeting with the ring on your pinky finger the whole time and your movements catch Charles' gaze. His eyes immediately locking in on the silver ring still shining on your finger. He’s surprised after the way he’s treated you these past couple months that you still have it on, but yet here you stood in front of him with it on, a sign to Charles that he did not deserve you one bit. 

When he sees you realize that he’s staring at your ring and then sees your eyes shift to his naked finger his heart rate quickens once again. His stomach feels like it's about ready to drop out of his ass at the sight of hurt on your face that’s then quickly replaced by a blank stare. He can’t get his words out fast enough, he’s chewing on his words, mouth drier than the Sahara desert. 

“I-um-It’s in my-” 

“It’s fine Charles, really. We’re not little kids anymore. I shouldn’t be holding on to silly childhood promises.” It wasn’t fine, it was far from fine. You’re blinking back tears, your words referencing everything but the ring. But it’s a combination of everything that’s got you upset. The two of you drifting apart, the broken childhood promises, wanting to hate him right now but still being so proud to see him out there doing what he loves, and that damn ring. 

You felt stupid for still having it on, for thinking that he would still have his on. You needed to start being more realistic, but you were still only seventeen. An age that held so much fun and whimsy, you should be out having fun with your friends, not getting upset over a guy who clearly didn’t feel the same about you. The two of you were always going to be at two different times in your lives, it was never going to work out, but fuck there is always going to be apart of you that still holds onto him. He’s got his fingers dug so deep into you that you think you'll be old and gray and still wonder what could have been. 

Each word you spoke felt like a stab to Charles' heart. He wanted to tell you that he still wears his ring. That it’s sitting on its designated spot in his driver's room. But once again he can’t get his words out fast enough, his brain still hung up on your words for some reason. He’s hoping you would realize that the reason he doesn’t have it on was because he had just been in qualifying, but when he sees you slide your ring off and toss it in your bag those stabs to the heart intensify. He feels like he’s losing everything right in front of him, but he can’t seem to get his mind and body to work together to stop it. 

He feels an arm wrap around his and he knows it's Leah. Where was she moments ago when he was looking for an out? Maybe this situation could have been avoided and Charles wouldn’t feel like he had just lost the one person in his life who truly cared about him. 

“Good luck tomorrow Charles.” 

You don’t feel like sticking around any longer, especially if you have to look at Charles and Leah. You let Arthur know you're gonna go find Pascale, but you don’t leave without taking one last glance at Charles. 

It’s a long evening with Arthur’s prying questions about what's going on between his brother and you. All you can do is shrug your shoulders because really you don’t actually know what happened yourself, you assumed you drifted apart, but was there something else that happened that you didn’t know about? 

The next day you decide to watch the race from Sauber’s hospitality with Pascale, hoping to get away from Arthur’s never ending questions and Leah’s presence in general. Pascale luckily hadn’t pressed you on the Charles matter, but she’s practically your second Mother and she knows too that there’s something going on between Charles and you, she’s known from the beginning.

Charles ended up placing eleventh, which is miles better than his last two races, which were DNFs. Though you don’t even bother to go to the garage with Pascale, opting to stay in hospitality until it’s time to leave. It may have been petty of you, but you really weren’t in the mood to see Charles again and from his behavior yesterday he clearly doesn’t care that you're not there. 

But that was far from the truth. In fact Charles was praying that you would show up in the garage this morning, but when Arthur shows up solo he can’t hide the frown that forms on his face. The praying then moves onto seeing you post race, but that is quickly diminished when his Mother shows up without you in tow either. 

Your words from yesterday hung heavy in Charles' mind all last night. I shouldn’t be holding onto silly childhood promises bothered him more than it should have. And he wracked his brain trying to figure out what you could have been referencing. It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he remembered a certain promise that the two of you made at ten and thirteen. Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he laid there wide awake staring at the ceiling recalling the memory in his mind.

He was such a fucking asshole. He’d done the one thing you promised him not to do. Granted he never really forgot about you, you were still clearly on his mind these past three months, but to you it really did seem like he had forgotten about you. Like he had gone off and became this famous race car driver that couldn’t be bothered to text his childhood best friend.

God he had fucked up, like truly fucked up, and all he wanted to do was explain himself (without revealing you know what), apologize, and try and get back to the way things used to be. That though, was proving to be easier said than done when you wouldn’t even come around. And by the time he’s done with his post race duties you’re back at the hotel ready to head back home. Charles doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance to redeem himself and you're left wondering why you even agreed to come in the first place. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A week later you're at home sitting on your bed, face shoved into a math textbook trying to figure out some formula when your phone rings. Charles' contact photo pops up on your phone and you contemplate not answering it. You haven’t had any contact with him since Monza so you wonder why he’s decided to call you of all things on a random Monday. But against your better judgment you press answer and put it on speaker before tossing it back down on your bed. 

“Bonjour?” 

There’s muffled sounds in the background, but Charles hasn’t spoken a word, and you wonder if he accidentally butt dialed you. 

“Y/N.” His voice finally echos through the speaker and you hate the way your heart flutters at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue. 

Charles had been working himself up to call you for hours, his finger hovering over your contact too many times to count. He thinks he may have blacked out a little when he finally pressed his thumb down on the screen and then heard your sweet voice, hence his delayed response. Today was his last chance to tell you the big news he'd hoped to tell you last week in Monza, but that clearly didn’t work out. 

The big news in question? Him finally signing with Ferrari. 

The team that he had dreamt of driving for once he got into F1 had finally given him a chance. It was not only his dream, but his Father’s dream for Charles too. Many weekends with his Father spent at race tracks had all led up to him getting that initial seat this year and then finally getting that Ferrari seat for next year, he only wished his Father could be here to witness it. Charles couldn’t have been more happy to finally accomplish that dream not only for himself, but also his Father. 

The other person who knew about how badly he wanted to be sporting that Ferrari red and supported him in finally reaching that goal was you. And to Charles it didn’t matter if you guys perhaps weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now, he wanted you to be the first person he told, just like last year when he got into F1. He sure as hell didn’t want you to find out from the press release, so here he was telling you over the phone. 

“Oui?”

“I’ve done it. I’m driving for Ferrari next year.” It feels good to say it outloud, especially to you because you know just how much it means to him. 

There’s silence from your end for some time and Charles checks to make sure you hadn’t hung up on him, but the call time is still going. He’s about ready to say your name when he hears sniffles echo through the speaker.

“Are you crying?” He’s worried he’s somehow done something once again to make you upset. 

You are in fact crying, as much as you hate it. It’s a mixture of happy and sad tears that you're desperately trying to wipe away like he can see you. Happy tears for him finally signing with Ferrari, a goal that you knew he would accomplish with no issue. Sad tears because you wished he was here telling you in person, wished that things were like they used to be, wished that you never developed feelings for him, and wished that whatever that situation was in Monza last week had never happened. 

“I’m just really happy for you Charlie.” His heart skipped a beat hearing you call him Charlie, it had been too long since you’d graced him with that nickname for his liking. “I told you Ferrari would see what they had missed out on and come running.” 

A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled that night on the swings when he told you about him getting into F1. “I wanted you to be the first person to know.” You can’t ignore the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of him thinking about you, wanting you to be the first to know, but you’re still crying, your emotions all over the place. 

When silence fills the line and he still hears your sniffles, he knows it’s not just happy tears you’re crying. It was time to face the elephant over the phone. 

“Listen I know things have been weird between us these past couple months and,” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “I know it’s my fault. I broke that promise I made you and I hate myself for it everyday.” The idea of him distancing himself from you was the dumbest idea he’s ever had. He wasn’t better off without you, he was better with you. His feelings towards you aside, he’d rather die than not have you in his life. 

“I got so caught up in this new lifestyle and I lost myself for a while.” Maybe he shouldn’t be lying to you, but he wasn’t about ready to admit you know what. He’d already fucked up enough, he didn’t need to go spilling his guts and fuck everything up even more.

“And then in Monza I was shocked to see you there and I felt like an ass for forgetting about you and I was trying to figure out what to say, but you were clearly upset and it was honestly just a mess.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Basically what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for being a dick and that I really miss you.” 

His thumb toyed with the ring on his finger as he waited for your response  and he remembered you still didn’t know he still wore his. “I also still wear my ring. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to put it back on after qualifying last week.” His gaze never broke from the ring as he spoke. “I don’t like that you think I would ever stop wearing it. Gonna wear it till the grave Y/N.” 

His last sentence was mumbled, but you heard him loud and clear. Your gaze shifted towards your dresser where the silver ring had sat for the past week. Perhaps you had jumped the gun with your actions last week, you knew he had to take off his jewelry when he got into the car, but in the moment your emotions were telling you otherwise. “You made me feel like shit Charles. It’s a horrible feeling to see someone exiting your life in real time and knowing you really can’t do anything about it.” 

“I know and I’m so sorry.” He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, and he thinks he’s done it so many times that he might have a bald spot by morning. 

You feel like you’re forgiving him too easily, but you’ve missed him so much. And to hear him finally admit that he fucked up and say that he missed you too has you unfortunately very easily swayed. He’s been in your life for so long it’s felt like a piece of you was missing these past couple months without having contact with him. So, you forgive him, because you love him.

“I want things to go back to normal, like before.” You’re standing in front of your dresser now, ring rolling between your fingers. 

“They will.” He glanced back down at his ring. “I promise.” 

“You promise?” You asked as you slid the ring back on your finger, a missing part of now you back in its rightful place. 

“I promise.” 

twenty two and twenty five

Over the past four years Charles and you had matured significantly. 

You had graduated and landed a job that you loved at home in Monaco. It required you to travel a lot, which you loved, but also came with amazing off time and flexible hours. A perk you were beyond grateful for because that meant you could attend the majority of Charles races. You had also gotten your own place, a cute little apartment, and was truly embracing adulthood. 

When it came to the love department though– Charles was still there.

Over the four years you had your share of talking stages and two boyfriends who both only lasted a couple months. Your hectic work schedule didn’t help matters, but neither did your feelings towards Charles that you’ve been harboring for the past eight years. You really would have thought you’d have gotten over those, figured it was a thing of adolescents, but your twenties came and the feelings never went. It wasn’t as bad as when you were younger, you learned to handle yourself better and your job keeping you busy helped that. The two of you were at a good place in your relationship and you came to terms that unless you were a big girl and confessed your feelings to him, then you were just going to have to live with him at arms distance. 

Like you when it came to romantic relationships–  you were still Charles number one, as much as he tried to make it work with other girls, they just weren’t you. He had thought multiple times over the years that he was going to tell you how he felt, but you were either talking to someone or had a boyfriend, the timing never right. So he learned, like you, to live with his feelings towards you. A thing that was necessary if he didn’t want a repeat of what happened when he tried to distance himself from you.

So here the two of you were– adults who were completely oblivious to how either of you felt about each other for years, hopelessly pining over each other. 

Charles' career on the other hand was more of a success story than his love life. In the past four years he had accomplished his Maiden win in Belgium during his first year with Ferrari and then his second the next week in Italy. Then went on to win three more races during this year's season. 

A season with three wins may sound like a great accomplishment, but the thing was that he should have had more than three. To say that Charles' fourth season with Ferrari was stressful was an understatement for the ages. He had never been more happy for winter break to arrive than he was this year. He had started the season out on a high by winning the first race of the season, but life somehow had a way of humbling him. 

Horrible strategy calls from the team, bad pit stops, and car troubles had cost Charles his chance at the championship. It seemed like for every high he had– five lows followed. So needless to say when he saw the checkered flag at Abu Dhabi he was somewhat relieved that the season was over and perhaps making the podium may have lifted his spirits a little too. 

But that relief was short lived, because in true Charles fashion, he can’t get out of his head about the what ifs from the season. He had wanted to just let it go, leave it behind him and look forward to this time off and the new season ahead. But all his brain wanted to think about was maybe if we would have gone with softs instead of hards or pitted one lap earlier or managed his tires better then maybe he would have been still coming down from the high of winning the championship right now instead of sulking about. 

He’d been a little distant since break started and you knew he was probably in his head about everything. So when a text pops up on your phone from him late one evening telling you to meet him at the harbor you don’t even think twice about telling him you’ll be there in ten. If you had to guess what he had planned, you’d bet all your money on taking his yacht out to look at the stars. It was something the two of you had done for a couple years now, but it was usually over summer break, not the week before Christmas. But for Charles you would do anything, even brave going out on the water, at night, during the winter. 

When Charles see’s you walk up to his slip on the dock wearing what looks to be the coziest outfit and holding his favorite blanket from your apartment he thinks his heart is about ready to explode. “You’re lucky I love you Charles. It’s gonna be so cold out on the water.” 

I love you. The words echo in his mind as he helps you into the boat. It’s nothing new for you two to say it to each other, and he’s under the impression you’re saying it platonically, but god does it sound so heavenly to hear those three little words come out of your mouth and be directed towards him. 

“I’m the luckiest man alive.” He’s referring to you and that glimmer in his eye would tell anyone that he was, but you don’t see it, you’re too busy getting situated in your designated spot next to the captain's seat. 

Once he’s got the boat a good enough distance out into the water he deploys the anchor and you make your way out to the loungers on the deck. You push two of them together, making a big enough space for both you and Charles to relax. 

You’re already cozied up with the blanket by the time he makes his way over to you, but he doesn’t even have to ask, you’re already pulling back the blanket for him to slide under. 

He lets out a sigh once he gets comfortable beside you. “I needed this.” 

A hum in agreement comes from you as you scoot a little closer to Charles, a gust of cold wind blowing through the air. 

“There’s the big dipper.” Charles points his finger up to the sky, your eyes following where he’s pointing to. The two of you take turns pointing out what you think are constellations, but are undoubtedly random stars in made up shapes, but it doesn’t matter to either of you. 

The gentle lull of the waves crashing against the boat fills the silence that falls between the two of you once you’ve run out of things to point out. And you’ve somehow ended up cuddled into Charles' side, his arm wrapped around you, and your head on his chest. You couldn’t help it, he’s always been a walking furnace, and when the opportunity presents itself to be in his arms you were gonna take it. 

It was something that was happening more and more with you two recently– pushing the envelope per say on what your friendship entailed. Cuddling, staying the night at each other's apartments, hands lingering a little too long after a hug were all normal things for friends to do– right?  Friends who somehow while doing these things couldn’t tell that the other person felt the same as they did. 

Love may be blind, but in Charles and your’s case, you were blind to love. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been out here, but you think you could spend eternity out here with him. The feeling of comfort, safety, and the feeling of home that he brings you when he’s around is something you don’t think you can ever live without again. He’s your person and you hope you're his, no matter what the future for the two of you entails. 

The feeling of his fingers ghosting across your arm and down towards your hand tells you he’s searching for one thing and when his pinky finger links with yours you know he’s got something on his pretty little mind. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You whisper, your head still resting on his solid chest.

He doesn’t respond for a while and you think he perhaps didn’t hear you, but then he speaks and it sounds like blasphemy coming out of his mouth. 

“What if I quit?” 

Your body freezes at his words and you’re hoping he’s not meaning what you think, but when you lift your head to see nothing close to a joking manner on his face you know this is about to get serious. 

“I’d think you’d be miserable. You love racing, you were born to do it, it’s in your blood Charles. All the hard work you’ve put in from a literal child to now–” You shake your head, not even wanting to think about him quitting racing. “Don’t be stupid and throw it all away. You’re just only getting started.” 

A deep sigh comes from him, his eyes fixated on your now intertwined hands as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m not going to, but there were so many times this past season that I thought about it. I know that’s crazy to say after I won three times, but god the lows of racing truly are lows. I’d have a good weekend and then have literally a weekend from hell the next race week. It’s just a lot– mentally. Trying to live up to everyone’s expectations, the teams, the fans, the media, and my own is like a mental prison sometimes.” 

You had sat up at this point, and almost like a small child Charles had clung to you, his head in your lap as you gently ran your fingers through hair. You knew he had a rough season, but you didn’t think it had taken this much of a toll on him. 

“And you’re right. I love racing and I’d be miserable without it, but sometimes I’m miserable with it.” 

The frown that had formed on your face moments ago had deepened at his confession. “I didn’t know the season had affected you this much Charles. Wish you would have talked to me sooner about it.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Charlie, you’re allowed to feel how you feel. And I know you probably get sick of hearing me say it, but I’m still so immensely proud of you. Like I’ve said before, you could finish dead last in every race and I’d still be proud. I know this season was a rough one at times, but you won three times and were on the podium eleven times. That’s still something to be proud of. So for every time you're miserable because of racing, think about me telling you repeatedly how proud I am of you and maybe you’ll just be miserable because of me instead.” 

You see the corners of his mouth move up and you know you’ve gotten a little smile out of him. “That’s funny that you think me hearing you say that you’re proud of me would make me miserable. It actually has the opposite effect, so your plan may work, but it would result in me being happier instead of more miserable, which is what I think we want to accomplish right?” 

“Yes, I love happy Charlie, but I still love miserable Charlie too.” 

He’s sat up, the two of you sitting face to face now, and you aren’t sure if it's the cool breeze or him staring at you that makes a shiver run up your spine. “That’s good to know.” 

He’s still staring at you and even with only the moon as your source of light, those pretty blue eyes of his are as bright as ever, and staring into your soul. And for a split second you think he’s leaning in and you think this might be the moment he’s gonna kiss you, the moment you’ve been waiting for since you were thirteen. But you’re completely wrong, he’s only reaching for the blanket as he leans back onto the lounger once more. 

“Merci Y/N, truly. For always being here for me, especially for tonight. It was nice to finally get that off my chest. Je t’aime.’ 

You claim your spot back next to Charles and you don’t even second guess yourself when you lay your head back on his chest. “Je t’aime aussi Charlie.” 

Charles, while he can’t complain about having you in his arms and your head on his chest. He can kick himself for that moment mere seconds ago. He was finally going to do it, it was the perfect time, but he chickened out and reached for the blanket instead of using that hand to cup your cheek. He could drive a race car at 230 mph, but couldn’t work up the courage to kiss the girl he was in love with. Maybe he’d find the courage sometime in the next four years. But for now he could live with having you cuddled up against him and knowing that even if it may be platonic, you love him too. 

twenty three and twenty six 

The Monaco Grand Prix. 

An world renowned event. A pinnacle for motorsports. People from all around the world come to the tiny principality every year to watch twenty of the world's best drivers race around the streets of Monaco. 

As a child you watched the grandstands go up every year and you dreamed of getting to watch Charles race those very same streets that you took to school. The two of you as kids watching from the crowd, not knowing that some of those drivers Charles would drive alongside one day, even being teammates with some of them. Charles could only hope that one day that would be him on that top step, hearing his own national anthem play at his home race.  

That one day had yet to happen after six seasons in F1. After three DNF’s, horrible strategy, and two lost pole positions– Charles really didn’t think winning his home race was ever going to happen. He had started to believe the “Monaco curse” more and more year after year. 

You on the other hand didn’t believe that the curse existed. You did believe that the idea of one had made Charles be more in his head when the race came around every year, and in a sense perhaps making him not perform the best at times. But no, you didn’t believe in the Monaco curse.

Every year you had hoped he would win and sadly when he didn’t you were there to pick up the pieces. You knew his time would come and granted you didn’t think it would take this long. But the universe works in mysterious ways, there’s a reason for everything, and you knew there was a reason Charles hadn’t won yet. 

And as this year's grand prix rolled around you hoped that this time the universe was ready to give him what he deserved. 

You did have a good feeling about the race this year, or at least a better feeling than prior years. It was mainly because Charles had been so– carefree these past couple days. He’s usually already thinking about Monaco at the race the week before and the nerves have set in come media day, but this year he’s different. 

He’s excited of course, to be at home for the week and to see everyone for more than a couple days, but during the days leading up to media day he doesn’t show you any sign of nervousness or doubt. And you can’t help but think that this year is the year, he seems to finally be in the right headspace to win this thing. 

Charles and you had spent basically every free moment the two of you had together this week. It was nice, the two of you together again like old times. You had gotten the week off from work, a perk from your job, and it wasn’t like Charles had to travel to another country. So, the two of you took full advantage of the week. Dinner with both families together, hanging out with friends, and just enjoying each other's company filled your Monday through Wednesday. 

But come Wednesday evening you found yourself at Charles apartment after a long day on the water with all your mutual friends. You’re absolutely beat and ready to be back at your place when Charles asks you to come back to his, and you want to say no, but the way he looks in golden hour could be used as a hypnotization technique, so you say yes. 

He claims he’s got something to show you, but the whole car ride and trek into his apartment he won’t budge on telling you what it is. It isn’t until he sits down at his piano with a blush creeping up his neck that you know what he’s got to show you. 

“Have you been working on new music?” You ask with a hopeful smile on your face. 

His fingers ghosted over the keys and his pinky lightly tapped one– the sound filling the room. “For a while now and I think it’s finally ready.” The blush had made its way onto his cheeks and he’s fidgeting with his bracelets as he makes eye contact with you. “So, I think it’s only right that the person that it’s for should get to hear it first.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise and now you’ve both got crimson painted cheeks. “You wrote a song for me?!” 

“Yeah.” He states sheepishly. 

You’ve always loved hearing Charles play the piano. There were many late nights spent where you sat in his apartment and just listened to him mess around on the piano. Those nights were shamelessly some of your favorite moments with Charles, it was like the world didn’t exist and it was just you two and the piano. So to know that he thought and even cared enough about you to write you something had your heart about ready to leap out of your chest. 

“Well, let's hear it then.” You sat down on your usual spot on the couch and eagerly waited for the music to hit your ears. 

He hesitates at first, his fingers slightly slipping on the keys, but once he gets himself sorted the sound that comes from that piano nearly brings tears to your eyes. It’s beautiful and heartfelt and you can’t believe he wrote something like this while he was thinking of you. It’s tugging at those feelings you’ve still got for him after ten years and you try not to get your hopes up that this means he feels the same as you. 

When the song is over his head immediately turns to you for reassurance, but all he sees is your body barreling towards him. You’ve got your arms around him before he can even process what’s happening, but from your excited words of nonsense he knows you loved it. 

“Oh mon dieu!” Is the first coherent thing you’re able to get out. 

“I take it you liked it?” 

“Liked it? I loved it Charlie! It was beautiful and the fact that it was for me made me love it even more. Truly what did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life? Merci a million times.” 

“I’m glad you loved it. I’ve been working on it for months, wanted to get it perfect in time to show you now.” 

You’re both beaming at each other and to anyone from the outside looking in, the two of you looked so in love it was crazy. Crazy that the both of you have been harboring feelings for each other for years and years and neither of you have made the first move. 

“Will you play me some more?” You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes and of course he can’t say no to you, puppy dog eyes or not. You give him one last hug as a thank you before you sit back down on the couch and let the melodic sounds soothe you. In fact it soothes you so much that combined with the tiredness from being on the boat all day you end up eventually falling asleep. 

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you feel Charles gently shaking you awake telling you that is time for bed. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to spend the night at one another’s places. You’ve spent many nights in Charles' guest bedroom after drunken nights out or sometimes just for fun. You’re clinging to him, still basically asleep, as he helps you walk towards what you think is the guest bedroom, but it’s his. 

Charles was only going to grab your pajamas that you had left here last time, they were just in the laundry basket on his dresser and it would just take a second. But you followed him into his room still thinking it was the guest room and Charles doesn’t even know you’ve come in behind him until he turns around to see you crawling into his bed.

That all too familiar feeling starts to bloom in his chest as he sees you curled up and comfortable in his bed. He’d want nothing more than to climb in next to you and hold you all night, but he knows the guest room is his room tonight. Charles doesn’t even make it two steps before you call out his name. When he turns around he’s not expecting to see you lying there staring at him with those sleepy eyes, comforter pulled back as you pat the empty spot next to you. He knows he shouldn’t, this is different than cuddling on the couch or sharing beds as kids, it feels different at least. But against his better judgment he climbs in next to you and like he’s your missing puzzle piece you instantly slide into Charles arms. 

It’s like home, being in each other’s embrace. 

The next morning when you wake up in Charles' room it takes you a minute to remember everything, but the blush that creeps onto your face at the memory of you and Charles cuddling in his bed is embarrassingly bad. And you thank god Charles isn’t next to you right now to see it. 

You do wonder where he’s gone though. He’s not in the living room or kitchen, and it’s still too early for him to have left for media day, but then you hear complaining coming from the bathroom. 

“Maman! No, that's going to be too short!” 

As you peek around the door frame you find Pascale cutting Charles' hair, a tradition the two of them have had every year before the Monaco GP. 

“Charles last time I checked you’re not a hair stylist, let your Maman do her job.” You teased as you finally entered the bathroom and you see him roll his eyes at you in the mirror.

Pascale lights up at the sight of you and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Mon amour, you’re here early.” The look on her face tells you she knows you spent the night, but it’s not like it’s something new or anything happened. Hell even if she didn’t know she could definitely tell you had just rolled out of bed. 

“I spent the night. Fell asleep after we were out on the boat all day.” You shrugged your shoulders, it truly was no big deal (you sleeping in his bed and cuddling with him aside). 

She doesn’t say anything, but she does nothing to hide the smile on her face and sly looks she gives you and Charles the whole time she’s cutting his hair. She’s been waiting for the prophecy to fulfill itself forever and that prophecy just so happens to be Charles and you ending up together. Call it Mother’s intuition, but she’s known you two were made for eachother since you were kids. If you didn’t end up together soon she was going to have to do her own plotting to get you two to fess up about your feelings.

Pascale can see how you two look at each other, how Charles’ eyes light up when you enter the room. How you’ve always been his soft spot since you were little kids. The way you speak about Charles like he’d hung the stars and the moon in the sky. She knew you fell first and Charles a couple years later. All these little things she’s noticed and stored away for that eventual wedding day. 

You can see Charles staring at you through the mirror and it’s making you squirm, his eyes burning into you. “You gonna get rid of that facial hair too?” You try to get him to focus on anything other than you at the moment. 

His mouth opens in fake shock and Pascale curses him for moving. “I’m actually thinking of growing a full beard.” 

“Oh please don’t.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘’t.” 

Charles and you don’t speak about you spending the night in his bed or in his arms. In fact you don’t see him again until qualifying on Saturday where he puts it on pole. You’re ecstatic and you can tell he is too even though he’s trying to remain calm and collected while he does his press duties. He’s gotten pole two times before in Monaco, he knows pole doesn’t mean you win, but he can’t help but think it’s a good sign. 

That night you find yourself back at Charles' apartment by his request once again. Which was a surprise, you figured he’d want to be alone the night before the big race. But it’s quite the opposite, he wanted your company, he can’t get how good it felt to have you in his arms in his bed the other night and he selfishly hopes it happens again tonight. 

“Feeling good about tomorrow?” You asked as the two of you sat down for an amazing pre race dinner of pizza. His trainer may not like it, but you two thought it was a good idea. He needed all the positive energy he could get and if that meant pizza for dinner, then so be it. 

“Yeah. The car has been consistent the past two days and I’ve got pole.” He paused for a moment and you can tell he wants to say something, but he stuffs his mouth with pizza instead. You don’t press the matter anymore, figuring he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to possibly jinx anything. It’s a relatively quiet dinner the rest of the time, he asks about how your job is going and you two shamelessly gossip for a moment about two old friends who recently broke up. 

It’s not until you’re putting the leftover pizza into the fridge that he brings up tomorrow again. 

“It feels right this time.” He’s leaning against the counter, eyes trained on you as you turn back around to face him. “I mean tomorrow– it feels right. I think it’s gonna happen.” 

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you move to lean against the counter next to him. “I think so too. You’ve been different too, more relaxed this week. Think it might be the universe telling us it’s finally gonna happen?” 

A deep sigh comes from Charles. “Mon dieu I hope so.” 

You glance over at the time on the microwave– 11:00 p.m. Shit. You didn’t think it was that late already. 

“It’s getting late Charles. You should be in bed and I should be heading home. It’s a big day tomorrow.” You go to give him a hug goodbye, but he’s just staring at you, and it throws you for a loop. “What’s wrong?” 

He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Was he sure he wanted to ask you this? Would it make things weird? It never has before when he’s asked you, but this time felt different. Fuck his palms were drenched in sweat and he could feel his heart beat racing. 

“Um– well you could just spend the night if you wanted to” 

You try not to act like you weren’t silently hoping the whole night that he’d ask you to stay. You had figured he wouldn’t want you to again after you basically invaded his bed the other night, so hearing him tell you to stay made you a little giddy. 

“Traffic is a nightmare this time of year…” You act like you're weighing your options while you fully know you’re going to say yes. “Probably take me twice as long to get home, even at this time of night.” You fake ponder some more, really putting on a show. “Yeah I guess I’ll spend the night.” 

He tries to hide the smile on his face when he hears you finally accept his offer and as much as he would like to stay up and talk some more, he really did need to be getting to bed. “Well, I probably should be in bed by now. So I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I should go to bed too.” 

So you follow him down the hall towards the bedrooms. When he reaches his room he opens the door, but lingers in the doorway. You being a couple paces behind him, figured he was just waiting to tell you goodnight. But when you reach the guest room, which is across from his room, he doesn’t say anything to you. Your hand lingers above the door knob and something inside of you tells you not to open it– to turn around instead. 

You’re met with his piercing blue eyes staring at you as you turn around. His gaze sometimes could be so intense, but this time you matched him. There was an obvious tension in the air, but neither of you were brave enough to be the one to break it. Then suddenly you see Charles nod his head towards his room before finally going past the doorway. He’d left the door open behind him and you knew that was just another unspoken invitation. And like a moth to a flame you followed behind him, not even second guessing your actions. You hadn’t even opened the guest bedroom door, you were a goner as soon as he asked you to spend the night. 

For the second time in a week the two of you shared the same bed, not sexually, but it definitely wasn’t friendly or at least how normal friends would share a bed. But tonight he’s in your arms, your fingers lightly combing through his hair as he rests his head on your stomach. He falls asleep rather quickly, his light snores filling the room, but sleep evades you that night. Your heads a mess, you can’t help but think that Charles has to feel the same way as you, there’s just no way that he doesn’t. 

What man is this intimate with someone in a non sexual way and doesn’t have the slightest bit of feelings for them? But then your heart breaks at the idea of him just stringing you along and you know you’ve got to set up some boundaries to protect yourself. Unfortunately you were never going to be the one to admit how you felt first, so unless he spills his guts, then this was the last time you’d share a bed with Charles like this. 

The next morning he’s already gone and at the track by the time you wake up and when you grab your phone from the nightstand you see he’d sent you a text. 

Charlie: i left early this morning and you just looked too peaceful to wake up before i left. so i’ll see you before lights out. 

A sigh escaped past your lips as you tossed your phone on the bed, today was going to be a long day. 

You made the journey back to your apartment to get ready and then fought the traffic again to get down to the circuit. The hustle and bustle distracts your brain from continuing your spiral session from last night, something you were grateful for. You were here to cheer on and support Charles, not go into a frenzy once again about whether or not he likes you. 

A good amount of your time is spent in Ferrari’s hospitality chatting with everyone and discussing potential outcomes for the race. You don’t end up seeing Charles until the time between the drivers parade and race time. He’s in his drivers room when you find him and he’s literally the calmest you’ve ever seen him before a race. 

His face lights up when he sees you and he’s immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Didn’t think you were gonna come for a second. We’ve usually seen each other by now.” 

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Just got caught up talking to everyone and you know how our Moms get in a large group. I had to wrangle them in before they invited everyone over for dinner tonight.” 

“Well I don’t plan on being home for dinner tonight. I’m going to be out celebrating.” He’s got a cheeky grin on his face as speaks. 

You laughed lightly at his new found confidence. “Oh someone is sure of themself.” 

He only laughs along with you, as the two of you sit down on his physio table.

The two of you chat some more about random things, like if he’s planning on going to Jimmy’z or someplace else tonight. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been talking until he gets a knock on his door letting him know it’s twenty minutes till lights out. Before you leave you stand in front of him, holding out your ring clad pinky finger and like a natural reflex Charles wraps his around yours, pulling them close to his chest. 

“You’re gonna do great and when you take that top step on the podium I’m gonna be there front and center cheering you on.” 

“You better be.” He’s serious, he doesn’t want to win this thing if you aren't right there alongside him.

“I promise Charlie.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You think you might pass out or throw up when the lights go out and the race finally begins. It then turns into thinking you’re going to do both when there’s a red flag not even halfway through the first lap. Your mind automatically goes straight to Charles and your stomach churns at the idea of him being hurt, screw the win, all that mattered to you was that he was okay. Thankfully he’s not involved in the crash, but the red flag lasts for what seems forever. And eventually you have to endure the start of the race again. 

You’re a nervous wreck the whole race, but you think with how hard Pascale has been gripping your hand that she might be more nervous than you. It’s the longest 78 laps of your life and you’re praying he can maintain the lead, put a big enough gap between Oscar that he can just ride this race out. Lap by lap he’s holding steady but that just makes you more nervous. The knot in your stomach grows more and more as that lap number gets closer to 78. 

He’s driven so well the whole time you couldn’t have been more proud. You’d been holding back tears since lap 68, but when you hear him over the radio on lap 75 say that he’s just going to bring it home you can’t help but let a couple tears fall. And by now you know the win is his. He’s got almost a nine second lead and as long as he keeps his head clear he was going to be the first one to see the checkered flag. 

The feeling of seeing Charles cross the finish line and knowing he had won was indescribable. The whole Ferrari unit was going crazy, already rushing down to be there when Charles got out of the car. You’re cheering as tears run down your face, your Mom and Pascale hugging you, the two of them also in tears. It’s surreal, him finally winning, you can only imagine what he’s feeling like right now. You waste no time in heading over to get the best spot to watch the podium ceremony. You’re front and center, the metal barrier pressed up against your abdomen as more people fill the crowd behind you. 

The feeling you got seeing him come out, take that top step, and proudly hold that trophy was something you wished you could feel forever. To see him wrapped up in the Monaco flag as the anthem played, the visible weight taken off of his shoulders. You were so unbelievably proud of him and so utterly in love with him. The tears just wouldn’t stop coming as you watched him shine up there. The universe had finally decided that this was his time, he was destined to win this race today. 

Charles feels on top of the world as he looks down at everyone in the crowd, he can’t believe he’d finally won his home race. He’d immediately spotted you as soon as he took that top step and he could see how happy you are for him, tears streaming down your face paired with that beaming smile. His heart has never felt as full as it does right now. And as he stands there hearing his national anthem play at his home race he knows that today was meant to be. The universe put him here, put you here, for a reason. He’s tired of pretending like his life wouldn’t be better without you being his. The two of you haven’t broken eye contact for awhile, both of you grinning like fools, and he decides that now is the time. 

“Je suis amoureux de vous” He mouths to you. 

It takes you a moment to realize what he was saying, but when you do you think you’re dreaming. There’s no way he just admitted to being in love with you right here, during his podium celebration. You pinch yourself just for good measure before mouthing it back to him. And if it was even possible his smile gets even bigger. 

You’re the first person he wants to see after the celebratory champagne pop. He can’t wait a second longer to tell you how he actually feels out loud. He doesn’t care that he’s drenched in champagne or that there’s hundreds of people around. He’s waited too long to let a moment like this go by. He’s pushing his way through the crowd to find you, he’s basically getting manhandled, but he doesn’t care, you’re his priority. And when he finally finds you it’s like a scene straight out of a movie. 

His adrenaline is pumping and he doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, he’s just running straight towards you, his heart fluttering when you smile at the sight of him. His hands cup your face and in an instant his lips are on yours. It takes you by surprise, but once your brain finally processes what’s happening, you grab him by his race suit, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne and sweat, his lips soft, and his facial hair tickles your face. Kissing Charles is everything you could have ever dreamed of and more, you’d never thought the day would come. 

When you finally pull back it feels like the world is spinning and Charles laughs at you being drunk off one kiss from him. His hands cup your face once more causing you to focus on him. “I’m in love with you. Have been for years, but I’ve just been too scared to say anything, but winning today let me know the universe was on my side. And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity once again to tell you how I feel.” Your eyes widen at hearing him say he’s been in love with you for years. “Don’t act so surprised. I made it painfully obvious sometimes.” His dimples peaking out as he smiles at you. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen Charlie.” 

Now it’s his turn to look surprised. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Was too scared that you didn’t feel the same.” 

“I could never not love you Y/N. It’s always been you, you’re my person. I wish I would have  told you sooner so I could have been doing this more often.” He pulls you in for another kiss and you think if he didn’t have his arms around you your legs would have given out. 

Never in a million years did you think that Charles would be confessing his love to you after he’d just won his home race. If thirteen year old you could see you right now she’d probably die. You can’t believe the man you love with every fiber of your being loves you back. The universe definitely wanted today to be a win not only for Charles, but for you. 

He grabs your hand and presses your ring clad pinky finger to his lips. “Mon coeur.” Then he presses another kiss to your lips. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime aussi.” 

thirty three and thirty six

The summer sun had started to make her farewell to the principality of Monaco, pink and orange hues swirled in the sky. A little boy and girl play on a weathered playset, their giggles echoing through the open air. The sound of a screeching sliding door tells them that their Maman is coming to get them before they even hear her holler their names. “Come say goodbye to grand-mère and grand-père!” 

Their tiny bodies run towards the house and are soon met with lots of hugs and kisses from their grandparents, who they see very often, but it wouldn’t seem like it by the way they were acting. 

“Ok, who wants ice cream?” Their Papa asks after all the goodbyes are said and they are out the door. 

“Me!” Is said in unison from the two children. 

The little girl has her Papa wrapped around her finger, he just thinks the world of her as they walk hand in hand down the street, while the little boy is definitely a Maman’s boy. 

“You know your Maman and I used to come to this place all the time when we were younger.” 

“We know Papa, you’ve told us a hundred times, and we come here all the time.” The little girl sasses her Papa.

“I know but I just like to reminisce.” The man gives his wife a wink and she knows he’s about ready to go down memory lane.

The journey to the ice cream shop is filled with stories about their younger years and luckily for the children the ice cream shop isn’t that far away. 

That all too familiar sweet smell soon fills the parents senses and it brings them back to when they were around their children’s age. That same bell on the door dings as they enter and that same old man who should have retired a decade ago is still working behind the counter. 

“Ah the Leclercs! My favorite family. You know I’m gonna have to start making extra vanilla ice cream just to accommodate you guys.” 

taglist: @rana030 @blueflorals @sltwins

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalyptic Omegaverse AU

Summary - You missed the end of the world. Fine by you. You thrived in your new surroundings, content to be on your own. Until something happens during your third winter.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. Uh... This came to me in a fever dream. Consider this a prologue. 141 x reader

You think you're pretty lucky all things considered. You had always been self sufficient and your childhood gave you skills you were able to call on after the entire world shat itself. To be honest, you hadn't even noticed the world had completely gone to ruin until you tried to call your pharmacy to refill your heat and scent suppressants.

The line was dead. So you called the grocery store. Dead. The movie theater, the diner, the post office. Dead dead dead. Panic seized you by the throat and you dropped your home phone onto the ground. You splashed cold water onto your face and looked into the mirror with puffy eyes and shaking hands.

What were you going to do? The world couldn't have ended. Right? You should have noticed sooner. "Fuck," you said, pulling on your shoes and grabbed your car keys, you got into your car, "fuck!"

As it turns out, you did in fact miss the ending of the world. You yelled obscenities and banged on your steering wheel. The entire small town you lived near was deserted. Windows were boarded up and cars were parked by the road with tires missing or windows smashed in.

You missed the entire end of the world.

As it turns out, the end of the world wasn't that bad. Nothing really changed. Well besides the rarity of getting your hands on heat suppressants and scent blockers. The first week after you finally got caught up on the whole "the world has ended" thing you raided.

You avoided using your car after you got a mild scare that someone else had been attracted to the noise. Hiding in the very smelly gas station bathroom while you listened to the sound of boots crunching on glass was enough to teach you that lesson.

You tore apart the pharmacy the first week, finding what had to be at least four months worth of scent blockers and nine months of heat suppressants. You took everything you deemed useful and stuffed it into your backpack before hiking back home.

You set up a routine, patrol the forest edge twice a day, care for your garden and check any trap for animals to eat. Self sufficiency had never been such a blessing.

It was the middle of winter three years later when you first saw them.

Men. No, not just men. Alphas. Their scent almost made your knees buckle when you smelt it down wind. For a moment your mind went hazy as their smells flooded your mind until that part of your brain that had been responsible for your survival kicked back in.

Alphas. In your territory. Your territory. It felt like a crime and you felt your inner omegas turmoil. As you watched the four men walk down the road that led into town through your binoculars you debated on what you should do. Run, flee while you are down wind. With shaky hands, whether from the cold or fear you didn't know, you climbed down from the perch you were on and sprinted back home while doing your best to cover your own tracks.

You went in circles, outside in the cold long past when your hands and feet had gone cold. But you were sure they couldn't follow. You were sure they didn't even know you were there.

Three years. You had been off of heat suppressants and scent blockers for years. After a while your heats had stopped coming, whether it was from lack of sleep or stress or some evolutionary thing that happened when no one to mate was around, the bottom line was that you were unprepared.

You boarded up your door and threw water on your fire. You grabbed every blanket in the house and ran into your bedroom. At first you did it for warmth. If you were going to hide you couldn't have fire to give out smoke and you needed to be warm.

Then you continued to mess with the blankets and pillows. You huffed, growing increasingly frustrated at your inability to get it right. You grabbed your laundry and threw it in too, arranged and rearranged until it felt right. It wasn't until you took a step back that you realized what you had done. Something you haven't in years. Before you was a nest. Large enough to fit many in it. Maybe even five. You swallowed hard as your fingers dug into your stomach. It was going to be a long winter.

[astonmartinii]

the father who stepped up | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem gasly!reader

mr leclerc has been spotted with an all too familiar dog recently.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | BROTHER'S BFF MASTERLIST

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 1,094,523 others

yourusername: ceo of milf industries

view all comments

user1: i am NO better than a man

user2: i think enough time has passed... when do we get enzo's paddock debut

user3: i'm hearing monaco at least

pierregasly: this is false advertising

yourusername: enzo is my child, i am his mother

pierregasly: you're not cute enough to be a milf, sorry!

yourusername: just cause you've got the hairline of a grandpa is not mine or enzo's fault

pierregasly: MY HAIRLINE IS FINE

yourusername: PUSH BACK THE FRINGE

pierregasly: how dare you! this is a big insecurity of mine - you are NOT a girl's girl

yourusername: pierre why is mum calling me? PIERRE WHY IS MUM CALLING ME?

user4: i bet they have a get along shirt

yourusername: all i can say is that someone rocks it, and someone doesn't

pierregasly: are you still being mean while on the phone to mum????

yourusername: the hater grind never stops

estebanocon: enzo is getting so big 😭😭😭

yourusername: time flies, oh gosh i'm crying

estebanocon: motherhood does that to you

user5: i love how pierre and este are mortal enemies but y/n is besties with him regardless

yourusername: an opp of pierre is a friend of mine

charles_leclerc: cutest boy in the world

yourusername: i didn't know you had given up that title?

charles_leclerc: oh i-

pierregasly: STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM AND STOP BLUSHING IT'S JUST Y/N

user6: say it's just y/n as if it's NOT Y/N??

liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly: I SAW THAT

pierregasly

liked by francisca.cgomes, charles_leclerc and 897,556 others

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly: what's the point of having a sister if you can't steal her dog

view all comments

user7: this pooch has to be one of the most spoilt and pampered dogs in the world

user8: i wish i died and was reincarnated as enzo

yourusername: oh sure, i'm sure i'm great for plucking your eyebrows and helping you text back girls (@francisca.cgomes you're welcome)

pierregasly: do you mind?

yourusername: did you really ever think you'd pull kika with your charm alone?

pierregasly: yes?

yourusername: the delusion of men should be studied

pierregasly: do i have to call mum again?

yourusername: you call yourself tripod, if anything i should be calling the POLICE

user9: i know kika must have the patience of a saint to deal with their bickering

user10: i fear for any man who wants to get with y/n cause lord knows at his big age pierre will be wheeling out the overprotective brother act

pierregasly: that's my god given right

yukitsunoda0511: not in the photo dump... i see how it is

yourusername: every girl for themselves sorry yuki san

yukitsunoda0511: i think pierre is just jealous of our looks

yourusername: i think that is exactly it yuki

charles_leclerc: yuki not in the post but i wasn't even invited 🤨

pierregasly: you're literally in italy?

charles_leclerc: and?

pierregasly: god forbid a man doesn't want to be bullied by you and y/n

yourusername: (pussy)

user11: not to be a freak but charles and y/n would be so cute together

pierregasly: say anything like that again and you're getting blocked

yourusername: they hate to see a girlboss winning

pierregasly: excuse me?

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, joris_trouche and 2.784,566 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: no paternity test needed

view all comments

user15: okay.... like... they're slay

user16: i'm personally going to celebrate now before the pierre tantrum

yourusername: oh i've already blocked his number lol

pierregasly: knock knock

yourusername: HELP HE DROVE ALL THE WAY FROM PARIS

user17: is charles dead? can we have a sign of life?

charles_leclerc: they can't get rid of me bitch

pierregasly: you're hiding in the bathroom I CAN HEAR YOU GUYS GIGGLING

yourusername: you're BREAKING AND ENTERING

pierregasly: i have a key?

charles_leclerc: for emergencies?

pierregasly: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I NEED TO BEAT YOUR ASS

yourusername: not his ass!!!! it's so cute :(

pierregasly: not the time

user18: i can't - why are they having a conversation in the comment section when they're separated by a single door

pierregasly: WHY IS ESTEBAN HERE????????????

estebanocon: 1. i love drama and i love annoying you 2. y/n called me as back up

yourusername: you're being insane and i needed the lanky man to escort you out!

pierregasly: i just want to talk

yourusername: I CAN HEAR THE SOCK

charles_leclerc: THE SOCK?

estebanocon: i can confirm he has the sock

yukitsunoda0511: why don't i know what the sock is :(

yourusername: it's a sock full of loose change that you swing as a weapon @ MEN OF ITALY PLEASE MOBILISE YOUR GOD IS IN DANGER

charles_leclerc: tell enzo i love him :((((((

pierregasly: WHY IS MAX HERE AS WELL?

maxverstappen1: i am nosey

maxverstappen1: and esteban left the door open

danielricciardo: i am also here

alexalbon: me too, @yourusername can i have some of the dessert in the fridge?

yourusername: is the entire population of monaco in our house?

charles_leclerc: with that many witnesses he can't do anything

pierregasly: WHY DID YOU GUYS GIVE THEM ENOUGH TIME TO GET OUT AND LET Y/N GET HER SOCK

pierregasly: HELPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

user19: what the fuck have i just read?

user20: are alpine down a driver?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 1,789,467 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: did you guys know i recently became an only child?

view all comments

user23: now this could either mean that she has disowned pierre or that we did actually witness murder by sock

user24: enzo down an uncle

maxverstappen1: i am more than ready to take his spot

danielricciardo: me too

alexalbon: me three

pierregasly: i'm still alive?

yourusername: GHOST 🫵🏻

charles_leclerc: someone get the sage STAT

pierregasly; do not try and cleanse me away

yourusername: then stop STINKING UP THE GAFF WITH YOUR ATTITUDE

pierregasly: THEN STOP FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND

charles_leclerc: 🤓👆 she's actually in love with me

yourusername: that's true i am actually in love with him

pierregasly: there's a difference?

yourusername: your fuckboy is showing... kika i'm so sorry

user25: we got a 'LOVE' guys it's real

yourusername: we have a child, this is so real

charles_leclerc: locked in for life 🫰🏻

estebanocon: he just passed out in the sim

yourusername: good 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: he'll come around at some point, but for right now i love you too much to care

yourusername: i love you too charlie x

charles_leclerc: i love you more

yourusername: NOT POSSIBLE

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, arthurleclerc and 2,309,877 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: two years strong, no pierre tantrum can stop that :P

view all comments

user26: this is my official countdown to another pierre meltdown.

pierregasly: TWO YEARS? TWO YEARS? 730 DAYS? I CAN'T BE BOTHERED/CAN'T DO ANY MORE MATHS THAN THAT?

charles_leclerc: bro is proving why we didn't tell him in real time

pierregasly: i will choke you

charles_leclerc: you can't kill enzo's dad and be an absent uncle?

pierregasly: I AM NOT AN ABSENT UNCLE WHERE ARE YOU?

yourusername: newsflash bozo we thought ahead and are at a super secret second location

pierregasly: are you at max's?

yourusername: yes.

pierregasly: i knew you were too lazy to leave the building

yourusername: but you don't have a key to his place 😤

user27: y/n is real for that

maxverstappen1: EVERYONE BEHOLD I AM ABOUT TO COMPLIMENT CHARLES: enzo is very well trained and good with the cats

charles_leclerc: why thank you max

maxverstappen1: he must get it from his mother

charles_leclerc: rude! i thought this was a compliment to me?

yourusername: if it is my trait, it's singularly mine god lord it hasn't been passed down to all the gasly kids

pierregasly: i can read that you know

yourusername: you can read? next you're going to tell me you're potty trained as well

pierregasly: that's it i'm calling mum again

charles_leclerc: btw she already knows about us - i got permission from your parents

pierregasly: SO EVERYONE KNEW

yukitsunoda0511: i didn't :(

pierregasly: you're not in the family yuki that's not a big surprise

yukitsunoda0511: that's not what you said the other day... :((((((

pierregasly: i can't win these days

user28: first the alpine tractor and now this, pierre can't catch a break

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,784,560 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

pierregasly: i guess we're bffs for life now

view all comments

user32: balance has been restored to the force

user33: the way it only took some puppy dog eyes from both charles and enzo and the past three week civil war was forgiven

yourusername: thank god, you really aren't made to be a drama queen, keep it for the radio

pierregasly: you're just lucky you chose a guy i like

yourusername: you forced me to hang out with him my whole life, so really this is all your fault.

pierregasly: ????

yourusername: it's always a man's fault

pierregasly: i give up. you win. sure it was my fault

user34: y/n ain't never losing an argument i feel sorry for pierre and charles

charles_leclerc: she's never wrong 🫡

yourusername: this is how it should be ladies

charles_leclerc: how does it feel to be the third favourite to your parents now?

pierregasly: really? i can get the sock back out?

charles_leclerc: i'm sorry!!!

pierregasly: but you are right, y/n is the favourite

yourusername: baby is always the favourite

arthurleclerc: true

charles_leclerc: 🙄

pierregasly: 🙄

yourusername: are we done being dramatic now? can i come to races and can we go to dinner?

pierregasly: don't you dare wear red

yourusername: too late :P

pierregasly: excuse me

yourusername: i've always been wearing red in some way every race

charles_leclerc: i can confirm

pierregasly: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

fin.

note: finally back with my fave ever trope and the pics of little leo just gave me that burst of inspiration. leo is so cute and so is the ice cream, charles really coming for babygirl of the year

[cheyisagirlkisser]

"She Gets the Job Done!"

Cowgirl Ellie x Fem! Reader

Content: Cowgirl Ellie, Fem! country reader, Ellie is western type of cowgirl, reader is southern, badly written accents(guys I am southern but idk how to write a western accent), smut, clit rubbing(r! recieving), scissoring, making out, biting, some implied homophobia, reader is written as a lesbian, modern AU, reader has female anatomy, very loosely based off of Chappell Roan's unreleased song.

Word Count: 2.4k

Resource Credits: Here and Here!

Description: You're a true southern girl who is fed up with these country boys who just can't please you. What you really need is a woman, but that's kind of hard to seek out in a small southern town. When Ellie Williams moves into your town along with Joel Miller, she ends up working at the farm nearby, and you really want her. It's true: only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.

Wow, you really hated living in the south sometimes. You mostly loved the summer heat complimentary with trips to the creek on the weekends. You always loved going to rodeos where you obsessed over the dandies. You loved southern food, the nature, the farms and the small town life.

What you didn't love was the men.

You were always a romantic at heart, reading steamy western novels with a flashlight under your blankets at the age of 14 or writing love letters you'd never send to cowboys in town. However, as you grew up into a woman, you realized you'd slowly started replacing the men with cowgirls. You spent your nights wondering what it'd be like to be actually satisfied in a relationship. You grew up in a traditional-minded town, so you tried to push down those desires. You had a couple boyfriends, but men just weren't it for you. They were too rough, too awkward with you in bed, too greedy. None of them knew how to please a woman, at least not a woman like you. After a while, you gave up on the dream cowgirl you had in mind. The novels became difficult to pick up once you began to believe you'd never get the chance to experience real passion or real pleasure. That was what you'd felt like, at least until Ellie moved into your town.

Ellie Williams wasn't much for the south. She was a western girl at heart, adorned with thick leather boots and messy auburn hair. You'd seen cowgirls before, so that wasn't what surprised you. You just felt a calling to her, you adored her from her freckles that faded out in the sun to her messy hair that had a tint of red when light hit it in the right way. She was strong, that was for sure. Her biceps looked so firm, like they could handle if you sank your teeth down into them. She wasn't an extremely strong-looking girl, but that only enticed you more. Her eyes told a lot about her, said she wasn't looking for anything funny, but you wondered if she was silly under all the bravado.

She moved from the west side of the states with Joel Miller, who wasn't a wealthy man by any means, but grew up in your home town. At first, you couldn't tell if Ellie and Joel were related or not. Joel was more friendly, talked to older folks in town, but Ellie often kept to herself. She'd spend most of her time helping out with the farm next to your father's. It was when you were walking to the farmer's market that you noticed her for the very first time.

Your father was a nice man, well known in town. You were living with him until you had enough money to afford your own small place. He owned a farm and wasn't the most rich man, but he made ends meet. Today was a nice day, which mean he unfortunately encouraged you to walk to the local farmer's market instead of stealing his truck for the errand. Of course, you kept your complaints to yourself. Your dad was a sweet old man, and you should've been thanking him anyways, cause you met the most gorgeous girl the world had to offer.

Poor Ellie was too busy herding in sheep to notice your stare, to even notice you pass the road. It only made you more intrigued, that she was such a hard worker.

After that day, you'd always look out for her presence. You avoided using your dad's truck when you needed to run errands, saying it would be a quick walk. You just liked being able to pass by her as she worked on the farm, get the extra few seconds to admire her. You really felt like a creep, but this was the first time you really felt such adoration for a person. Such attraction.

The first time you spoke to her, she was driving Joel's truck down the dirt road after she had finished up with your neighbor's farm. You at the time were walking, coming home from the market with a bag of peaches for a peach cobbler. Ellie noticed you, and that was really when the two of you clicked.

She was used to pretty girls, the west and south had no shortage of them. However, you were perfection for the cowgirl. You wore a cutesy pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt underneath, and Ellie had a soft spot for feminine girls. She came to a slow stop on the dusty road, putting the transmission in park.

"Hey, you! Need a ride?" She shouted with a smile plastered on her face. Your heart melted. You'd expected her to be more serious or smug, but she seemed almost nervous. It was only making your heart beat faster.

"I only live next to this farm, it's really no problem." You assured, though you really hoped she'd push the matter. Thankfully, she did.

"Really, Joel would kill me if he found out I let you walk home. It's getting late."

You, an utterly hopeless lesbian, couldn't resist. You said fuck it and let her reach over to open the passenger door for you, and your boots reached up into the truck to plop down into the passenger seat. You placed the brown paper bag of peaches in your lap and gave her a quick thanks as she began driving. Small talk felt more like two old friends hitting it off, and you liked her accent. It made you a tad more comfortable.

The two of you grew really close after that day. She'd be in the local rodeos and you looked forward to the sleepovers that came after. A few months of friendship helped you get to know her in a way that you could confidently call her your best friend. You still liked her though, feelings only growing the more the two of you bonded. You noticed that while she was a bit shy, she came out of her shell when she was around people she knew. She was quite sarcastic to Joel, and you loved the way she made fun of you at times. It made your heart flutter, and you imagined she was saying the opposite of whatever insult she had created for you.

Ellie wasn't much like what you'd imagined, and you partially felt bad for the feelings harbored away for her. She was a cowgirl who loved horses, sure. But she shared some private interests with you that shouldn't have made you want her more, but it did. One night, Ellie and you were sitting outside in her cow field, a blanket laid out beneath the two of you. She turned to you with a genuine smile, the warm look that she only gave very few people, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to space."

You turned to face her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Really? You? In Space?" You couldn't help the surprise in your tone.

She laughed softly at your expression. "Yes, dumbass. I used to listen to the first moon landing recording on repeat. Somethin' about it was really magical, ya know?"

You couldn't help but melt a little at her confession. The thought of Ellie being obsessed with astronauts was really endearing. But you couldn't stop the teasing, either.

"Is that why you have those nerdy space comics on your shelf? You told me those were Joel's!"

Ellie scoffed and swatted your arm playfully, but her hand lingered on your skin. "That's a topic for another time. Be grateful I share my secrets with ya."

You felt the warmth of her fingers, the way they softly traced patterns on your bare arm. Right then and there, you suddenly needed to risk it all.

"Ellie...I..I really need to tell you something." You sounded shaky and uncertain, but you needed to get your feelings out, even if it meant facing a possible rejection. This girl was too perfect to let get away.

"Yeah, what's up?" She sounded curious, unaware. That made you feel uneasy.

"I just..well, when I first saw you, I thought of you as a completely different person. And I really liked you. I liked you in a romantic way. I got to know you, though. The thing is, I think I like you even more. And I'm so sorry if you-" You were suddenly cut off when her plush lips met yours.

You were shocked, but quickly kissed her back, hands grasping at her everywhere, pulling her to lay on her side so you could tangle your legs with hers. It felt so nice to be kissing her. She tasted like fruit and smelled even better, and her tongue felt hypnotizing against yours. It made you crave much more.

Soon, you were rolled onto your back so the cowgirl could lay on top of you. Her hands were trailing from your sides to your stomach, her hand pausing above your shirt, her eyes meeting yours to search for any hesitation. When you nodded, her hands slid up your shirt to massage your tits through the fabric of your cotton bra. You let out a quiet whine, the feeling of her weight pressed on your body, and she leaned in to press her lips against your neck. In response, you tilted your head back, desperately craving more of her. You could feel the shakiness of her breath, and it reminded you that she was just as nervous as you were.

"Do you wanna keep going?" She asked, and you really noticed how different her tone was from when she was usually speaking to people. One of her hands trailed down the button of your jeans, and she didn't continue until you nodded.

Her hand quickly unzipped your jeans, her eyes meeting yours. She thought you were just too beautiful, looking up at her with wide eyes. She adored you. Her fingers slipped into your panties, and she let out a little "fuck" when she felt the damp patch in your panties. You laughed with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Please, Ellie." You sounded so desperate, Ellie quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on your lips. This one was much more confident, more sloppy and hungry than the first. She took your tongue into her mouth, giving it a hard suck which made you buck up into her hand, trying to get her to just fuck you.

"Patience, mkay?" She said softly as she pulled away, a shaky exhale leaving her mouth at the sight of the string of saliva the kiss had pulled from the two of you.

You nodded even though you weren't the most patient person. Ellie kept you at bay by rubbing at your clit with the pad of her finger, swirling moisture around the soft bud. You made one of the most heavenly sounds Ellie had ever heard, your eyes fluttering shut as she touched you. For the first time, someone actually focused on you. She struggled to pull your shirt off with just hand but you helped her out and soon, your bra was quickly unclasped. Ellie continued to rub at your clit as much as she could through your jeans, but she eventually gave up and pulled her hand out of your jeans, eliciting a cute whine from you.

"Off, please?" She requested, her voice so sweet and yet so demanding. Now that she knew you wanted her, she wasn't playing around. You nodded eagerly and lifted your hips as much as possible to pull your jeans and panties over your hips. Soon, you were left naked on the blanket. Ellie sat up to strip off her own clothes and you admired the sight.

Something about watching the girl strip, her pale skin coming into view in contrast to the stars above the two of you, it was perfection. Her body was slim and she was lean but had muscle on her. There they were, those perfect biceps..you couldn't help but sit up with her to plant kisses on them which soon turned into hungry little bites.

She let out a shaky laugh at your biting and joked with you, even in the heat of the moment. "You're gonna take a bite outta my arm, jesus."

You ignored her teasing and instead moved your lips to her pointy tits, smiling slightly as she shuddered. You found her weak spots. You dragged your tongue over both of her tits, feeling her nipples harden against your touch. She was getting impatient now. She pulled you closer so you were sitting with your legs tangled together, moving to slot herself between your legs. You let out countless desperate pleas as her wet cunt came into contact with yours.

You couldn't help but buck your hips into her no matter how much she tried to stabilize you, both of your moans filling the field. Her cunt was so wet against yours and you could feel her clit and lips both rub up and down all over your own clit. The stimulation felt so good but it had you desperate in ways your body knew, your whines getting louder when Ellie would lean in for wet, lazy kisses and trail her lips all over your neck, hands snaking around to squeeze your ass.

"Fuck, Els. Please, I'm gonna cum..I want you, please.." You pleaded with her, your orgasm building up inside you. This would be the first time you actually came from another person's actions.

"Cum with me, mkay? Cmon baby, you can cum for me.."

You'd never heard Ellie speak so filthy before. Sure, she had a sailor's mouth. She'd swear and curse even on her death bed. But just hearing her beg you to cum, it really sent sparks down into your pussy.

You frantically ground against her pussy, words coming out probably incoherent to Ellie's ears. "Fuck, I'm cummin', I love you Els.."

Your orgasm hit you like fireworks, all of the butterflies you'd felt for Ellie over the months released into intense bliss. She came with you, your juices mixing together, wetness coating both of your thighs.

The two of you spent the next few minutes catching your breaths, a comfortable silence exchanged. You were collapsed against her, arms around her as she held you close. She was so warm, and it was now a comfort more than a turn-on.

Soon, she spoke up in a soft, quiet murmur just for you.

"I love you too, by the way.."

[oukabarsburgblr]

Perfect to Pamper [Pet AU]

FEATURING : AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

Two hot men adopt hybrids as pets! Experience their dynamic and their antics with you as a household animal!

little to no dialogue, fucking ur hybrid matured pet is normal in this universe

Find out more under the cut!

[LOADING SCENE...] AITO SOUSUKE!

Moving to a new neighbourhood wasn't easy for someone like him. Aito Sousuke had recently bought a new home, down in the quiet suburbs at the edge of the city. The down payment took a pretty penny out of his pocket but that wasn't the most of his concern.

With his resting bitch face, tall and muscular stature and burnt red hair, it seemed that his neighbours were reluctant to approach him. Although that specific neighbourhood was known for its residents being kind and friendly, it seemed that Sousuke had received the poor end of the stick.

He asked for advice from his small group friends and they all suggested for him to get a pet. Maybe a hybrid pet. Easy for conversation starters, a new housemate and someone to live with. Sousuke wasn't too keen on the idea at first but succumbed nonetheless since he felt so lonely.

As he arrived at the pound, he gazed at the young, old dogs, even hybrid ones as well but what caught his eyes was a young hybrid who looked to be around the same age as he was.

Bright (e/c) staring up at him behind jailed cells, his fluffy blonde ears surrounded by (h/c) hair perked up. His tail wagging behind him. A golden retriever.

Sousuke grabbed the tag taped on the cell and read its name. "(m/n)?" The hybrid stood on his feet and peered up at Sousuke, his tail wagging excitedly. The hybrid didn't look like he belonged there.

The redhead found himself bringing home a new dog, ordering a new bedframe and some wet food for the dog.

The morning after, he found the hybrid at the foot of his bed. Staring up at him as he sat plush on the carpet of his bedroom. Sousuke felt like he started to regret his adoption.

The dog followed him everywhere, nudging him when he was cooking, scratching his door when he was in his home office and even shoving his hand under the bathroom door while he was taking a shit.

Sousuke was annoyed, this wasn't the reason why he wanted a pet in the first place. But of course, the golden retriever managed to prance his way into the redhead's cold heart. Slowly, Sousuke looked forward to spend time with the dog, scratching his head, laying on the couch to watch TV, or even bathing together.

However, when he had taken (m/n) to the vet for vaccine shots, the vet had warned him about his late rut cycles. Mostly due to new surroundings and bonding with a new owner and it had been a while since Sousuke had adopted him.

One morning, Sousuke was horrified as he dashed out the door and into the backyard. (m/n) had been trying to jump the fence, climbing over the wooden boards, drooling over the cat hybrid next door. Turns out, his heat had came and his first desire was to mate with his neighbour's pet.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! BAD DOG!"

Sousuke locked him in the guest room, immediately calling the vet for advice and all he received was to wait it out or help him with his own devices. The redhead chose the former, checking in after a few hours.

Creaking open the door, the hybrid didn't notice his owner peeking in as (m/n) desperately humped the sheets. Sliding his cock between a pillow, drooling and growling to himself. He had tossed aside his shirt, sweat dripping from his skin and he was oozing slick from his ass as well.

"Fucking hell man..." Sousuke groaned to himself before entering the room. It wasn't a peculiar relationship for a hybrid to form a sexual bond with their owners, especially mature hybrids. The redhead thought he would never indulge in one.

"Hngg... mmnhh anhh..." Sousuke quietly groaned into the hybrid's ear, his pants bunched at his ankles as the redhead rutted his hips further into (m/n)'s ass. The dog only growled, mewling as he clenched tightly around his owner's cock slamming in and out of his slicked hole.

(m/n) was starting to get loud, howling and whining and Sousuke didn't want the neighbours to call the cops on him so he laid himself on top of his pet. The hybrid on his stomach at the end of the bed and Sousuke laying on top, (m/n)'s sweaty back pressing against the redhead's tight compression shirt. The fluffy wagging tail was a bother to Sousuke, that kept swishing around as the redhead pulled it back and focused his eyes on the twitching furry ears instead.

He pulled the collar on (m/n)'s neck, curling his fingers underneath it as he pulled him close, forcing the hybrid to arch his back. Sousuke put his arm around the dog's neck, putting him in a headlock as Sousuke slumped his head into (m/n)'s shoulder when the hybrid bit into his forearm.

Sousuke moaned loudly as he spurted cum inside the hybrid, (m/n) yelping as he felt semen dripping from his asshole as he milked more of Sousuke's cock, swaying his hips more. The hybrid bared his teeth again, and gently pressed it onto his owner's arm, carefully chewing the skin, not breaking it like a baby suckling on a bottle feeder.

The (h/c) came, rolling his eyes as he squirted from both ends, staining the sheets and making cum drip onto Sousuke's crotch from his ass. His ears flickering as he does so. Sousuke began to fuck himself into the dog, pounding his hips again as he pressed his tip into the dog's prostate. (m/n)'s drooling tip dragging against the messy sheets.

After cumming for the nth time, Sousuke found himself passed out in the guest bedroom, (m/n) snuggling under his arm, his face stuck in his armpit, smelling his mild scent. The redhead left him after cleaning the mess, not daring to face his pet after having sex with him.

(m/n) was confused, his ears flopping against his head as he barked to get Sousuke's attention. His owner had just warmed up to him but now he's cold again. It wasn't until the week after that the redhead began to pay attention to his adorable golden boy again.

The (h/c) was sneaky, grinding behind Sousuke, rutting his crotch against his owner's hips. The redhead glared at him while he was busy going through his files in his bookshelf. Wordlessly, he held out a hand in front of (m/n)'s crotch who immediately dropped his pants and began to jerk his cock into his owner's hands until he stained the shelves.

Sousuke wouldn't properly fuck him, only letting him use his hands or his fingers to fill his hole. Not until one night that Sousuke got drunk, insisting that if they would have sex again, he would have to get drunk for this bullshit.

"I need a drink...I can't do this sober." Downing another glass, Sousuke couldn't fathom that he was developing a sexual bond with his pet. Either it was from the shock that was inhibiting him, or it was the attraction developing in his heart that made him hesitate.

Nonetheless, that didn't stop his dog from climbing into his lap, grinding on his bulge and licking all over his face. Sousuke ripped (m/n)'s pants and forced him to ride him for the rest of the night. He never got close to his neighbours for a good month but he did get to fuck a cute puppy for the rest of his life.

[END SCENE]

[LOADING SCENE...] DAISUKE YUICHI!

"A cat...for my birthday?"

Skimming over the papers, he looked up to his father's secretary who nodded at his question. His birthday had passed a week ago, and he had fun celebrating the date of his birth but he didn't expect his father to prepare a post-event gift.

On the tables were multiple papers with pictures of kittens, young hybrids. His dad wanted to buy a hybrid from a breeder. Daisuke managed to pause the brakes on that one. He requested an older cat, one that is around his age, not a kitten. He felt a bit guilty that the fact it was from a breeder but proceeded nonetheless.

When (m/n) had arrived, Daisuke was fascinated with his hairless ears, seeing the bare skin in contrast with his (h/c) hair. A sphynx breed, but almost as tall as he is. His tail was long and skinny, the ravenette mesmerized as he tried playing with the cat with toys he bought but was ignored.

Turns out, the cat disliked Daisuke as much to his dismay. He refused to even entertain his new owner. Hissing and scratching at him, even cowering at corners of the room, although Daisuke could clearly see his stature.

The ravenette thought the best action was to give him space, acting as if the cat didn't exist, letting (m/n) smell his hands. Regularly placing the treats near him. It was working, the (h/c) purring and perking up and staring at him whenever he walked into the room with starry eyes.

(m/n) was such a lazy cat however, only eating expensive treats, he ignored all store bought food whenever Daisuke randomly bought them in a rush. Daisuke was tired but amused seeing him laying lax around the modern couches. He was still picky with people though, not liking butlers and preferring his owner, that made Daisuke's heart melt even more.

It was swell until Daisuke left the balcony door open and he came home to find out (m/n) had ran away. Immediately deploying a cat hunt, he found his pet three miles away hissing at a poodle. He was crying and sobbing when he reunited with his cat and at home, he found out that the reason he had ran away was because it was mating season and the sphynx had gone into heat.

Deep purrs reverberated through the cat's throat as (m/n) climbed on the couch to nuzzle against Daisuke's chin, his naked tail swaying seductively behind him. The ravenette stared at him with a hesitant smile. "...I'm not a bottom..." He jokingly spoke.

It wasn't until (m/n) dropped down on his hands and knees and wiggled his ass to Daisuke's direction did his dick flinch and he realised (m/n) wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Moments had passed and clothes were tossed to the side, a naked Daisuke was huffing and shivering. His bare nipples twitching as the cat purred, perched in his lip. Trailing his fangs over his shoulder, (m/n) dragged his course tongue across his owner's neck, sucking on the skin roughly. His hands were Daisuke's pecs, kneading on the soft supple skin with his trimmed claws.

"F-Fucking hell..." The ravenette cursed as he pulled the (h/c) by his collar and bent him over the coffee table. Daisuke pulled out his heated penis from his pants and slipped it inside his pet without prepping him.

(m/n) mewled in pain, scratching at the coffee table as Daisuke leaned down, pressing against his back. "That's a good kitty..." He mumbled, licking (m/n)'s cat ears and biting on his nape.

Grinding his teeth against the loose skin, Daisuke blushed wildly, a horny smirk stretching on his face as he fucked his cock deep into the meowing cat. The (h/c) had his ears flopping against his hair, his tail coiling around Daisuke's thigh as he yelped every time his owner thrusted against his prostate.

(m/n) dug his claws into the table as he clenched around Daisuke's tip, spurting cum onto the white carpet. His owner not lasting any longer as he pounded his remaining cum inside his pet's throbbing hole.

The dynamic in their household changed, Daisuke lessening the amount of staffs inside his home. The ravenette would regularly entertain his cute kitty, sometimes he would trap his pet in his bedroom for his own pleasure. (m/n) was now the most valuable treasure in his home.

His toys were all thrown away and replaced with golden versions or by the least, his favourite play-string was a Swarovski necklace. (m/n) had his own bedroom with an extended catio that stretched out into the balcony.

Although no matter how much the bathroom was renovated, (m/n) still disliked bathing. And with how frequent their sexual encounters were, it was war everyday for Daisuke since he was his pet's favourite person. However, Daisuke would battle whenever and whoever if it meant getting to spend his time with his new spoiled pet.

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts:

not my best work

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever @pato-spoiler-27 @citrusequalsfrogs @animefan106sposts @bensontrechic @partywalker @gaynesspersonified @yanrandom @theorye @jentlesoldier @apotatoishereee @blepp0c @g0ldencl0ver @mazunzunne @basketbaal

[girlygguk]

CRAZY | JJK (Part 2)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 13.2k

chapter content [read part one for full character & story warnings pls.] jk & oc first encounter, jungkook lowkey goes a bit yandere in one two of the scenes 😭, jk punches another guy, love at first fuck lets b real, mention of oc's superior abusing their power (not jk), hyungwon appearance 🙄, heejin appearance 🙄, hobi appearance 🎉, bff jiminie appearance 🎉, time skips, jealous mcs, heated argument, jk lies but like... for the greater good? god idk

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system and degradation consent, doggy, dirty talk, protected p in v sex, praise kink, um slight exhibition kink, rough sex, squirting...(on their first fucking encounter yeeeppp help me god)

a/n this is only 75% edited bc i honestly wasn't going to post it for a whilee as i'm working on some other things atm but i felt bad just watching her sit in my drafts all sad n semi finished 😢 alsoo if a bit of the smut dialogue looks a lil familiar... cough salsa.. its bc i was gonna completelyy change up the sexy scene 🥺 and so i used the smut as inspo for the salsa drabble so it didnt go to waste... bye im such a clown. okay thank u, enjoy, and pls lemme know what u think <3 mwah

crazy pt 1 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

801 DAYS AGO

Your twelve-month contract as a temp Administrative Assistant at Jeon Corp was creeping to an end, and it was safe to say that you were fucking pissed.

You had put everything into this place—countless overtime shifts, moved into an overpriced house in the city near the firm so you were never late. You eat, sleep and breathe this fucking company. And what did you get for it? An almost certain rejection, apparently.

You were more than sure they'd offer you a permanent position. Your stats spoke for themselves. They were flawless. You’d single-handedly cleaned up the absolute fucking disaster left behind by the previous administrative assistant who bailed after Jeon Jun-seo’s passing—and that was not light work.

And by "bailed," you meant that they were part of the bloodbath that ensued when Jungkook took over and wiped out almost half the staff for incompetence.

The staff who remained still grumbled about it—loyalists, maybe, or just people too comfortable with the way things used to be. They hated him for it. He was ruthless, sure, but effective. Jeon Corp wasn't just successful; it was dominating. They went from merely hitting targets to blowing right past them. And that shift started with him.

Jungkook was good. Really fucking good.

He was young, driven, passionate, and not to mention—a sight for sore eyes. Even as someone who didn't like to openly praise men, you couldn't help but be impressed.

Still, you knew your fate wasn't in his hands directly. He wasn't going to be the one deciding whether your temp position would become permanent. He was the CEO—too high up to care about such things. And besides, you'd never even spoken to the guy. You spent most of your time on the twelfth floor, and he was always buried in work on the nineteenth.

Except for that one time.

Maybe three months ago? You had shared an elevator with him when you both arrived at work around the same time. For eleven floors, you stood silently beside him. Well, you were silent. He was on the phone, speaking in that low, gravelly tone that had a way of crawling under your skin. Being so close, you could hear the slight slip of a Busan accent when he spoke. He wasn't rude, just... intense.

Even while curses slipped from his lips to whoever was on the other end of the line, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was just his usual tone—whether he was speaking to a business partner, an enemy, a lover. Either way, you didn't think it was negative. It was just him.

You knew bits and pieces about the guy from what Jimin had shared—him being Jungkook’s assistant and all—but nothing too personal. Not that you needed to know. Though, admittedly, he had piqued your interest.

A month prior to that elevator ride, you’d caught a glimpse of something that had you squirming in your seat. From your office, you had glanced over to see him leading a meeting on your floor. His suit jacket had been tossed over the back of his chair, revealing the dirtiest, prettiest fucking sleeve you’d ever laid eyes on. His big, tattooed bicep flexed with each movement as he pointed at the projector screen.

The sight had you groaning, pushing your unfinished lunch aside and retreating to the bathroom.

You’d tried calling your boyfriend, hoping to pull him into some filthy phone sex, but he was too nervous to go through with it. In the end, you hung up frustrated, finishing yourself off in the stall, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

The elevator ride felt quicker than usual. You kept your eyes fixed on the LED screen, watching the numbers tick up, though you were more focused on the way his cologne filled the space, light but somehow intoxicating. By the time the doors slid open on your floor, his call had ended. You adjusted your bag, turning to him with a polite bow.

"Have a good day, seonsaengnim," you'd said, your voice soft as you smiled.

He didn’t say anything back, just looked at you for a second, his dark eyes sweeping over your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he gave you a subtle nod, and you walked off, feeling his gaze linger as you left.

And that was it.

You didn't see him again. Not in the lobby, not passing by in meetings, not even when your car and his were the last ones left in the parking lot after late shifts. It wasn't unusual; he was literally the CEO, always busy, always somewhere else. He didn't have time to notice you.

But you couldn’t help but think about it more than you’d like to admit.

If you'd known that you'd never cross paths with him again, never ride the same elevator, never exchange more than those few words before your temp contract ended—would you have done something different? Said something more?

Maybe you would've clicked a higher floor.

But here you were. No offer. No permanence. Just three job offers from other firms sitting in your inbox, waiting for your reply. Of course, you had a backup plan—you weren't that naive. But something about it stung anyway. You'd take one of those offers at the end of the week, move on, and maybe one day, you'd forget about Jeon Corp entirely.

Sigh.

You were really going to miss Jiminie, though.

“So... how's your shift going?”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping as you twisted the cap off your water bottle, taking a sip before tearing the lid off your salad. Your phone sat on your desk, Hyungwon's voice crackling through the speaker.

"It's going good, Hyungwon," you replied, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Same as every day."

A sad chuckle echoed through the receiver. "Oh, yeah? Well, we just got new printers at the firm, you know, the Lexmark MX8s? What about y—"

The forkful of salad that was halfway to your mouth dropped back into the bowl. "Hyungwon," you interrupted, incredulity dripping from your tone. "Did you really call me to talk about printers?"

"Well, I—no, I just—"

You sighed, reaching for your water again and setting your untouched lunch down. "Hyungwon, I hope you're okay, I really do. And I'm happy for you and your fancy printers," yours were two seasons ahead, "but this isn't helping. You're not going to feel better if—"

"I just miss you, Y/N," his voice cracked, and instantly, your appetite evaporated. You let out another deep sigh, rubbing your temples, as Hyungwon's next words came out shaky. "And I just want to know what I did wrong. We were doing so well. W-what did I do?"

"Hyungwon…" You picked up the phone, taking it off speaker as you leaned back in your chair, eyes focused on the ceiling. "You didn't do anything. You're a great guy, okay?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, his voice bitter and teary. "Girls don't break up with 'great guys' after an amazing year together out of the blue, Y/N."

Was it out of the blue? Had it been amazing?

"We've been over this," you sighed, adjusting the phone in your hand. "A hundred times in the last month. It's not about what you did. We just—"

"Weren't right for each other," he finished, his voice robotic, like he was reciting a script he'd memorized against his will. A sniffle followed as you heard him reach for tissues. "Just… wanted you to know I miss you. And… could I come by next week? Pick up my clothes?"

You took a long drink from your water bottle, feeling a headache forming. "I’ll leave it with reception. You can pick it up from the office—"

"No," he cut in, his voice tight with desperation. "Please, from your place. I just… I need to see you one more time."

You exhaled deeply, eyes unfocused as you stared out your floor-to-ceiling window. It had been a month since you ended things with Park Hyungwon—a month since you stuffed his clothes into a box and offered to drop them off. A month of excuses, a month of him putting it off, dragging out these unbearable phone calls, asking to see you in person, to talk.

You knew why he wanted to make the exchange in person. You weren't stupid. But lately, something about his calls had been giving you a bad feeling—a taste in your mouth that lingered long after you hung up. Hyungwon wasn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt a fly. But he was... off. These calls always followed a pattern.

First, 1:15pm, right when you started your break, your phone would buzz. You'd glance down, see an incoming call from P.H, and immediately regret ever sharing your lunch schedule with him.

Then, he'd be kind. Sweet. Boring. Asking about your shift, your day, until something—something trivial—would break his composure. He'd start to crack, voice shaking, or worse, he'd burst into tears over something like… printers.

By the end of the call, there was always that weird shift. Not angry, not sad… something in between. A mix of emotions that left you unsettled, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why. You could feel the resentment beneath it all, though—like he definitely blamed you for the breakup, no matter how many times he asked what he could've done to keep you.

That was fine. You were used to people resenting you. You were top of your major, gorgeous, and a bit of a bitch. But hearing that tone in Hyungwon's voice? A human puppy dog you'd spent a year of your life with? It made your skin crawl in a way you couldn't shake.

And now, here he was, asking to see you again. For what? Closure? An emotional showdown? You didn't care. You just knew you had to end this, fast. Another call filled with sniffles and pleas, eating away at what little break time you had? You'd throw yourself out that fucking floor-to-ceiling window before you let that happen again.

"Fine," you sighed, glancing at your watch as you switched the phone to your other ear. "You can come over next week. I'll check my schedule."

"Really?" His voice immediately brightened, and you rolled your eyes. "Shivers! That sounds great! Just text me when—"

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat. Shivers? SHIVERS?

"Break's over, Hyungwon," you interrupted, forcing a smile into your voice. "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Y/N. I'll call you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and your fist clenched around the phone.

"God," you muttered to yourself, tossing it onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, "I'm changing my fucking break time."

"Should I come back later?"

You yelped at the sudden voice, spinning around in your chair to see your best friend standing in your office doorway, his signature Cheshire grin firmly in place.

"Jiminie!" you beamed, frustration melting away as you rushed over to pull him into a hug. "No, it's okay. It was just—"

"Hyungwon," Jimin finished for you with a knowing, apologetic nod. "You know, you could always just… not answer when he calls?"

You rolled your eyes, brushing a piece of blonde fringe from his face. "And have his suicide on my conscience? No thanks."

"He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions," Jimin shrugged, laughing when you widened your eyes in faux shock.

You shuffled back to your desk, stabbing a cherry tomato from your salad. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me to run back into his arms and admit I was wrong? Some sort of cousin code or something?" you quirked a brow teasingly, humming around the mouthful.

He laughed softly, adjusting the files in his hand. "I'd never tell you to go back to something you were clearly miserable in, Y/N. Even if he is my cousin."

You swallowed another bite, giving him an appreciative smile before finishing the rest of your water bottle. "That is why I love you, Park." You threw the rest of your papers into a folder and linked your arm with his. "And why I'm going to miss you so much." You pouted playfully.

Jimin rolled his eyes, guiding you out of your office. The usual hustle and bustle of level twelve filled the air as he snorted, "Don't say that. You're not going anywhere, Y/N."

"Mm, I beg to differ." You shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. "I haven't heard a word about permanency, and my contract ends in four days." With a dramatic sigh, you added, "Guess you'll just have to visit me at KimCo on your lunch breaks instead."

"First of all," Jimin smirked, "I wouldn't drive across town on my lunch break to visit anyone, even you." You squinted at him as he teased, "And second, yeah, it's shitty that you haven't heard anything about the promotion—"

"And unprofessional," you interjected, rolling your eyes. "And discourteous, and obnoxious, and plain fucking rude—"

He chuckled, cutting you off with a light shrug. "Yes, all of the above," he agreed as you both reached the elevators. Unlinking his arm from yours, he pressed the button to go up. "But… have you accepted the offer at KimCo yet?"

You frowned, glancing at the lit-up arrow pointing up. "No, not yet. I was going to tonight…" You trailed off, turning to him in confusion. "Jiminie, why are we going up? Our meeting's on level seven."

Jimin glanced down at the file in his hand before his mouth opened to respond, but the elevator dinged, catching your attention.

The doors slid open, and you were immediately hit with the faint scent of tobacco and Bvlgari. Your head turned slightly, seeking the source.

Jungkook stood inside, eyes focused on the phone in his hand, dressed in a perfectly pressed designer suit that somehow looked more sinfully casual on him than it had any right to.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from him and turning back to Jimin, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh yeah, uh, the meeting's been pushed back a bit," Jimin said, nodding to the elevator. "But you're needed upstairs for a moment."

You frowned, glancing down at the heavy folder in your hands as you stepped into the elevator. If the meeting was postponed, you wouldn't have dragged this big fucking thing around with you. You left some space between yourself and the CEO and Jimin happily slid in between, his usual smile bright and easy.

The doors closed, and silence settled over the small space. Jungkook was still looking at his phone. Jimin still hadn't pressed a button.

You frowned. "Jiminie, why haven't you clicked a floor?"

He turned toward you, feigning confusion as his eyes flicked toward the panel. "Oh, because it's already pressed." He shrugged, flashing a quick smile before turning forward again.

You stared harder at the panel. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook's broad frame. His phone was tucked away now, but his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. He hadn't said a word.

"Level nineteen?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

Jimin nodded, offering you a simple smile.

The elevator crawled its way up slowly with a few more words exchanged between you and Jimin. Then, finally, the elevator dinged open at level nineteen, and the air shifted.

The sleek, pristine hallway stretched out before you, polished floors gleaming so bright that you could almost see your reflection in the tiles. You had only been here once before, for a department meeting with the CCO, Kim Namjoon.

Jimin politely bowed to his boss as you instinctively stepped back, allowing Jungkook to exit first. His gaze never wavered as he nodded in acknowledgment, his movements calm as he stepped out.

As you followed Jimin down the hall, you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet everything was. The glass-paneled meeting rooms stood empty, the reception desk vacant. The last time you were here, the place had life, but now… nothing.

Jungkook disappeared into his office without a word while you and Jimin continued walking. Your confusion only deepened as you glanced through the glass panes into all the very empty meeting rooms.

Jimin slowed at the entryway to Jungkook's office.

"Jiminie, what's going on?" you asked, gently grabbing his arm. "Am I supposed to have a meeting with Jeon Jungkook-seonsaengnim? Why wasn't I informed? I need to know what's required—"

"Y/N," Jimin interrupted softly, his hand covering yours reassuringly. "I'll explain soon, okay? I know it's last minute, and I'm sorry for that. Let me just make sure everything is on track." He smiled at you before gesturing to the plush seats outside the office. "Take a seat. I won't be long."

You hesitated, but trusting your best friend, you nodded, setting your folder on the table before sitting down. Jimin gave you one last encouraging smile before disappearing inside Jungkook's office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Your eyes darted around the hallway as you waited, the clean surroundings feeling almost too sterile, too perfect. The glass walls of Jungkook's office made it impossible not to glance inside. You caught a glimpse of him flipping through a file, his expression focused, detached. Jimin approached him, placing his own file down on the desk as the two exchanged quiet words.

Jimin greeted his boss again with a respectful bow. "Seonsaengnim," he smiled, placing the file in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook didn't look up from the papers he was thumbing through. "Is she waiting for me?"

"Yes, sir," Jimin replied, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "You have about thirty minutes before the board meeting, so I thought now could be a good time for you to meet with Y/LN Y/N… The temp administrative assistant from level twelve? Her contract ends in—"

"Four days," Jungkook finished, finally closing the file in front of him. He reached for the one Jimin had brought, flipping it open. "Why hasn't her contract been extended? Her performance is strong, and she has streamlined operations in her department. Does she not wish to stay with the company?"

"She does, sir," Jimin nodded. "But I was informed by Namjoon-seonsaengnim's assistant that Lee Dohyun does not plan to extend her contract. He intends to let it end."

Jungkook's brow twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he flipped through the papers. "And why does Dohyun plan to do that? She's efficient, profitable. She cleaned up the mess the last administrative assistant left behind." His tone was clipped, irritation poorly masked.

Jimin shifted on his feet, the hint of hesitation visible in his posture. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. It's mostly hearsay, but…" he cleared his throat, glancing at Jungkook before continuing cautiously, "there's a rumor that she rejected one of Dohyun's advances a few months ago. Since then, word has flown around that he's been less than accommodating toward her."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his fingers stopping their idle flipping as his gaze snapped back to Jimin. "So, he's punishing her for not entertaining him?"

Jimin's silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook's jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders building. He flipped the file shut, the subtle thud of the paper echoing in the quiet office.

"Why have you brought her to me, Jimin?" he asked, shooting a sharp look at his assistant. "There's a chain of command. At least six people between Dohyun and me."

"There are," Jimin acknowledged. "But some months ago, you mentioned noticing a significant increase in productivity and efficiency in Administration… You said the improvements could be attributed to the new assistant's work. I just thought considering her contract ends in four days, you'd want to meet her personally before she accepts another offer."

Jungkook leaned back against his desk, glancing at the glass door where you were sitting, your legs crossed, eyes absentmindedly focused on a strand of your hair. His gaze flicked over your tight black pencil skirt, the cream blouse that hugged your figure, the neat ponytail held in place by four bobby pins.

"She's very good," he admitted, eyes dropping back to the folder. "But I don't meddle in the hiring department. Tell Dohyun to reconsider his decision."

Jimin shifted slightly. "He's on leave for the rest of the week, sir."

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then go to the next in command, Jimin. I'm not—"

"She's accepting an offer from another firm tonight, Jungkook," Jimin said quickly, catching himself. "Jungkook-seonsaengnim," he corrected. "Once she signs the contract with KimCo, there won't be time to make a counteroffer."

Jungkook went quiet; his eyes focused on the closed folder in front of him as Jimin pressed on. "Just five minutes, sir. That's all she needs."

Jungkook's eyes flicked up to meet Jimin's. He rolled his eyes, leaning back on his desk, arms crossing over his chest. "You're supposed to make my life easier, not harder, Park."

Jimin couldn't help but grin, looking over his shoulder to catch you glancing down at your Apple watch. He bit back a snicker when you rolled your eyes, clearly getting impatient.

"She'd be a big loss, seonsaengnim," Jimin said honestly as he turned back to his boss. "I believe I'm making your life easier. You live, eat, and breathe this company."

Jungkook groaned, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. "Send her in. Five minutes."

"Thank you, seonsaengnim." Jimin bowed, turning toward the door.

"Jimin," Jungkook called out, his assistant's hand freezing on the handle.

"Yes, sir?"

"Draft effective immediate termination papers for Lee Dohyun and put them on my desk when you leave for the night."

Jimin bit back a grin. "Yes, sir."

You straightened in your seat as soon as you saw Jimin approaching, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He looked like the cat that caught the canary, and you didn't trust it for a second.

"Y/N, this way, please—"

"No," you snapped, swatting his outstretched hand away. "Brief me."

There was no way you were walking into a meeting with the fucking CEO without any preparation. Was he fucking high?

Jimin chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Relax, Y/N. It'll only take a few minutes. Jungkook's not much of a talker…" He reached out again, and you batted his hand away once more.

He laughed again, then pouted, blinking at you with wide, innocent eyes. "Please, Y/N? Just trust me."

"God, you're a cunt," you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare as you stood and smoothed your skirt. Reluctantly, you started toward the office.

"Unprofessional…" Jimin teased with a grin, snickering when you turned and mouthed 'get fucked' at him before stepping inside.

The glass doors clicked softly behind you as you entered the impeccably tidy office. "Seonsaengnim," you greeted with a bow. “Y/LN Y/N. It's nice to formally meet you."

Jungkook barely glanced up, his dark eyes sweeping over you for just a moment before he dropped them back down to the file on his desk.

His nod was curt, his voice low and indifferent. "Jeon Jungkook," he said, as if his name wasn't already plastered across every inch of this building.

When he gestured toward the seat in front of his desk, you sat down, crossing your legs as he settled back into his chair. His attention returned to the open file. "Your contract ends in four days."

"Yes, sir," you nodded, hands resting in your lap as you held back any trace of bitterness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" His voice was steady as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. "No, sir. I do wish to stay. But I haven't heard anything from management regarding a permanent position."

"Who do you report to?" Jungkook asked, though you were sure he already knew the answer.

"Lee Dohyun-seonsaengnim."

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his tattooed fingers lightly against the desk as he skimmed the file. "Your work is impressive."

"Thank you, sir." You smiled softly, ignoring how those four simple words made your stomach flip. "That means a lot coming from you."

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he closed the file and set it aside. "Y/LN Y/N," he said, his voice calm, "Why do you think your contract hasn't been extended?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "I'm not entirely sure, seonsaengnim."

Jungkook hummed. "You've been here almost a year. Your work speaks for itself. Yet your contract hasn't been extended." His gaze locked on yours, and for a second, he almost looked genuinely interested. "Why?"

You inhaled slowly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "I've heard rumors, sir. But I'm not one hundred percent certain."

An eyebrow arched, and Jungkook tilted his head slightly. "Let's say the rumors are true. Do you think personal reasons should outweigh performance?"

"No, sir," you answered steadily. "But I don't control the decisions."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with amusement. Whether he appreciated your honesty or just liked watching you squirm, you weren't sure. "Do you plan on accepting an offer from another company, Y/N?"

You gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir. My first choice is KimCo. They've offered me a permanent coordinator role in their administration department. I plan on sending my letter of acceptance tonight, after my shift."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over you lazily, but enough that it was impossible not to notice. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked finally, his voice casual as he leaned back in his chair. "Or are you happy to go to KimCo?"

"I would prefer to stay, sir," you said, holding his gaze. "If Jeon Corp is willing to match the salary offer and I'm guaranteed a permanent position."

"What's the offer?"

"₩67m, sir."

Jungkook's expression didn't change. "We can do eighty."

"Wha—"

"I'll have your permanent administrative coordinator contract drafted by tonight and emailed to you. Will that work?"

It took you a second to process his words before you blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir," you replied, fighting to keep the smile tugging at your lips in check. "It would."

Jungkook leaned back further in his chair, his eyes flicking over you once more, lingering in a way that wasn't accidental. Then, with a simple nod, he closed the file in front of him. "Good. I'll expect your response by tomorrow morning."

You still don't really know how it happened.

Maybe it started when you stood to give him a polite bow before leaving his office, and he reached out for a handshake at the exact same moment. His cold hand accidentally brushed against the side of your inner breast through your blouse as you leaned forward, and suddenly, both of you froze.

Jungkook pulled his hand back sharply, his brows furrowing as he stared down at the file on his desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world, muttering a low apology, his usual confident tone suddenly gone.

It was... so cute.

Seeing the man who looked like he could ruin your life with just a snap of his fingers suddenly all shy and flustered as if he was more embarrassed than you were? Fucking adorable.

Maybe it was his instinct to avoid an HR complaint, to maintain professionalism in what could have been misconstrued as an inappropriate touch.

But you weren't going to misconstrue it. It was an accident.

And, honestly... you always were kind of a sucker for bad boys with soft eyes.

"Fucking goodddd!!!" you moaned, your voice barely coherent as your cheek pressed against the cold surface of his desk. Each relentless thrust from Jungkook had your body jiggling under him, your mind lost in a haze as his hips slammed into you without mercy. "S-so fucking b-biiiiig."

Your eyes rolled back, throat raw from the croaky whimpers that escaped between each ragged breath. His hand was firm on the back of your head, keeping you pinned down, helpless as he took you apart, piece by piece.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his voice laced with that condescending pout that only made you clench harder around him. "I know it's big, baby. But you can take it, can't you?"

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing lightly over your flushed cheek in a teasing, mocking pat. Then, without warning, he pulled back and slammed into you harder, deeper, until you felt him hit that spot. That fucking spottt. Your breath caught in your throat as he didn't stop, didn't let up, just kept going, over and over and over.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, nails scraping into the polished wood of his desk until you felt the lacquer gathering beneath your fingernails. The loud, wet slaps of his hips against your ass echoed through the room, his heavy balls smacking into your swollen clit.

"'Course you can take it. 'Cause you're such a hard worker, hm? Such an overachiever, aren't you, baby." His voice dripped with dark amusement, each taunting word sending shivers down your spine. His hand pressed your head harder into the desk, the weight of him leaving you trembling, drool pooling on the wood beneath you as you gasped and whimpered, completely at his mercy.

"You can take it, Y/N. Know you can," he murmured, every word like a filthy promise, his gaze locked on the way your body was surrendering to him, giving him everything. He wasn’t going to stop until you broke. Until you were his.

"Color, baby." He growled into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He hummed in delight when he felt you swallow, your gasps feeding into his satisfaction.

"Green," you choked out, barely able to form the words. "Do anything to me. Green, fucking green to it all," you cried, voice raw as tears blurred your vision, and Jungkook groaned, teeth grazing the delicate skin of your throat in approval.

His grip tightened in your hair again, yanking you upright until your back was flush against his chest. "G-g-godddddd," you choked out, body trembling, tears threatening to spill as his thrusts grew quicker, more brutal, each one slamming harder and louder, drowning out everything else.

Your hands shot up, clawing desperately at the back of his neck as you tried to hold on, your body burning from the inside out as he destroyed you. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin just as his hand slipped down your stomach, his fingers finding your swollen, slippery clit with ease.

Jungkook's pace became punishing, driving into you harder and faster, your body quivering under his touch. His lips brushed lazily over your neck, whispering filthy praise into your ear as his fingers circled your clit, sending a jolt through your entire body. The wet, sloppy sounds of his hips smacking into your ass filled the room, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you gasped, your voice cracking as his pace quickened even more at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's s-so… fuck…"

He groaned low in your ear, his hand fisting your hair tighter, yanking your head back as his hips crashed into you over and over. "So good, Y/N baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with lust. "You're doing so fucking well. Taking it so good."

The praise made your throat bob, your entire body teetering on the edge of collapse. You couldn't think of anything but him—full, Jungkook, full, Jungkook. It was all-consuming, the only thing that mattered.

You weren't just wet anymore—you were disgustingly soaked, your arousal dripping down your thighs, mixing with the sweat on your skin as he ruined you. You let out a sob as tears streaked down your cheeks, your mascara no doubt smeared beyond repair as your entire body burned with pleasure.

"Careful, baby," he hummed darkly, voice tinged with amusement. "Don't want anyone to hear you, huh. Coming to check if you're okay..."

Your eyes flicked toward the glass doors, your head lolling back into the crook of his neck as you realized the vulnerability of your position. Fucked out, skirt bunched up around your waist, tits spilling over your bra, completely on display and helpless in his arms—holy fuck. The idea of someone seeing you like this had your thighs pathetically trembling as you felt yourself get even wetter. Sicko.

"S-sir," you stammered, the words forced out between his relentless thrusts that threw your body forward. "Cl-close the blinds."

Jungkook's lips curled into a smile against your neck at the lack of conviction in your words. Fucking perfect. His breath was warm as he whispered, "Why would I want to do that?" His hand slid to your chin, his fingers gripping firmly as he forced your eyes to the glass. "Y'look so fucking pretty, Y/N. Who would want to hide all that?"

Humiliation mixed with need, making your core throb even harder. The reflection of your wrecked form stared back at you—trembling, sweaty, makeup running down your tear-streaked face.

Well, he wasn't wrong. You did look kind of pretty.

The thought of how many other women had been in this same position with him briefly slithered through your mind, but you whimpered, pushing it away.

"H-harder, Jungkook… please," you gasped, voice a broken plea. "P-please, baby?"

That was all it took. His low groan vibrated through you, his hands gripping your waist tight as he snapped his hips into you with a force that made the desk rattle beneath your hands. One hand cupped your breast, tugging harshly at your nipple, while the other slipped down to mercilessly slap at your clit over and over.

"Shit, shit, shit, shittttt!" you sobbed, your voice high and broken, pleasure tearing through your body.

"You're close, aren't you?" Jungkook rasped, his voice rough as his thrusts grew erratic, harder, faster. "Getting so fucking tight around me. Gonna come for me, aren't you, baby?"

Your mind was gone. You couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you, owning you. "J-Jungkook..." you slurred, your head falling back against his chest, "please make me come, baby, pleasepleasepleaseeee."

Jungkook's arms tightened around your trembling body, and in one quick motion, he sat back in his office chair, pulling you down into his lap. You cried out as his hands hooked under the back of your knees, planting his feet on the ground and spreading your legs wide, completely open, and facing the see-through fucking doors.

He didn't give you a second to breathe before he started pounding into you again, his fat cock hitting so deep at the new angle that your body shook uncontrollably. You couldn't even hear your own cries—just the wet, obscene slapping of skin and Jungkook's gorgeous groans in your ear.

"Rub your fucking clit," he commanded, his voice thick with urgency. "Come. Now, Y/N. Fucking come."

Your hand flew to your clit, trembling fingers rubbing furiously, slipping because you were so fucking wet. "Jungkook," you gasped, voice breaking, tears pouring down your cheeks.

"No, baby, f-fuckkk, I'm sor—" You couldn't stop the sobs, your body convulsing as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you. "Jungkook, I'm—I'm so sorry, ahhhh fuckkk! I-I'm gonna squirt, oh my goddddd!"

"Fuck, yes," he growled, and just as your body started to seize up, his hand shot down, pressing hard on your lower belly and bladder, right where he was buried deep inside you. His hips didn't relent, pounding into you with the same brutal pace.

The pressure on your abdomen made everything inside you snap. Your scream tore through his office as your walls clamped down hard on him, your body shaking violently as your hand trembled, losing its grip on your clit. You came so hard that your hand slipped away entirely, but before the overwhelming release could fade, Jungkook's hand was there, replacing yours instantly. His fingers rubbed your swollen clit with intense pressure, refusing to let you stop.

"Fuckk, look at that fucking pussy, Y/N," he growled as he slapped your pulsing clit over and over. "Keep going, fuck, keep squirting on my fucking dick, baby, holy shittttt."

The filthy command tipped you over the edge again. The sensation was too much, and you started to gush even harder. Wetness sprayed everywhere, soaking his lap, drenching the desk. You were fucking gone.

"Holy fuck," Jungkook choked out at the sight of your cunt gushing out liquid, his hips jerking erratically as his body tensed beneath you. He came hard into the condom with a deep, broken groan, his grip on you tight as he rode out his release, still rubbing your clit with nasty, unrelenting strokes, making sure you didn't stop.

Your body convulsed violently, your legs shaking uncontrollably as he kept rubbing, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you were a trembling, sobbing mess. His big hand cupped over your warm pussy, feeling it throb beneath his palm as he slowed his thrusts, easing you through the last shudders of your release.

"My godddd," he growled, his voice raw with awe as he moved his hand and looked down at the mess you'd made. Your quivering pussy, glistening and red, his slacks drenched, the chair wet, and even some paperwork on the desk soaked through.

Fuck, he groaned internally. He's obsessed.

Your chest heaved as you slumped against him, completely spent, your head falling onto his shoulder. Jungkook’s hands glided up and down your trembling thighs, suppressing the smile tugging at his lips as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

"Well done," he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. You could still feel his heart racing against your skin as you tried to catch your breath.

"Seonsaengnim," you muttered, still panting, "I'm so sorry about your papers—"

"Shut up," Jungkook cut you off with a roll of his eyes, your sudden shift to formalities clearly grating on him. His hands continued their soothing path over your stomach, fingers brushing lightly over the soft skin before he gently adjusted your legs on his lap. His strong thighs kept your feet dangling above the floor, his touch softening as he patted your belly absentmindedly, his voice easing. "It’s alright."

You tried to gather yourself, your mind still spinning. "I haven't done that in a while," you mumbled into his neck, the words slipping out without thought. "God."

Jungkook swallowed hard, suppressing the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Pride at making you feel this way. Anger at knowing someone else had. His jaw clenched briefly before he cleared his throat, forcing a casual hum of acknowledgment. "Good."

He patted your belly a couple more times, as though resetting his focus. "You okay to get dressed?" he asked, his voice slipping into something nonchalant, though the grip on your thighs lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I've got a meeting soon."

You cleared your throat and nodded, feeling a little unsteady as you began to push yourself up from his lap. His hands helped guide you as you stood, and you winced slightly as he slipped out of you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but you ignored the sensation, letting your skirt fall back into place. You glanced around the room, searching for your panties.

You crouched down, looking under the chair, then the desk, even flipping through some of the papers on his desk, but there was no sign of them.

"Have you seen my…?" you trailed off, turning to look at him, feeling the confusion settle in as you noticed his casual indifference. Jungkook, now having disposed of the condom, zipped up his slacks with an air of calmness that seemed just a bit too casual for your liking.

You raised a brow, suspicion growing. His expression mirrored yours with a glint in his eyes.

"Where are they?" you asked, narrowing your gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his shirt. Then, he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, and that's when you caught the faintest flicker of black lace peeking out from one of them.

You scoffed, stepping toward him, but before you could snatch them back, Jungkook caught your hand. He snickered softly as he brought it to his lips, pressing a mocking kiss to your knuckles.

“01J09. Lock the door when you leave, Y/N." His tone was commanding but light as he slipped past you, grabbing his suit jacket as if nothing had happened. He gave you one last look before walking out of the room, leaving you standing in the middle of his messed-up office.

You slumped back into his chair with a huff, quickly adjusting your bra and buttoning your blouse. As you started to tidy the room, you found some disinfectant wipes in a cupboard and began cleaning the desk, trying to distract yourself.

The sound of the door opening behind you startled you, and you quickly turned, assuming Jungkook had returned. But when you locked eyes with your best friend smirking widely at the scene, your stomach dropped.

"You fucking slut!" Jimin shouted, closing the door behind him as he made his way toward you, cupping your face with both hands. His grin was bright, teasing, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Holy shit! I'm mortified that I just walked past and saw my best friend getting railed by my boss… but I'm also so fucking happy! So, are you staying? Are you guys a thing? How did it happen? Holy fuck—"

"Jiminie," you whined, pulling his hands away and turning back to the desk to finish cleaning, "I'll tell you later. My legs hurt, and we need to get to the meeting—"

"The meeting's over," Jimin interrupted with a snicker, "it's been an hour."

"What the fuck?!" Panic washed over you as you turned to face him, eyes wide.

Jimin just shrugged, still wearing that smug smile. "It's fine, Y/N. I took notes; they're on our shared drive. It wasn't anything important. Definitely not as important as the 'meeting' you were in."

You snorted, tossing the used wipes into the bin and slipping your heels back on as you made your way toward the door, legs still shaky. "Jesus, Jimin, I can barely walk."

"I noticed," Jimin teased, his voice full of amusement. "Want me to carry you?"

"No thanks," you replied quickly, shuddering at the thought. "I'd rather crawl than have anyone see you carry me out of here."

"Are you at least going to the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup?" he asked, eyeing you critically. "You look like you were attacked by a swarm of wasps..."

You groaned. "Yes, Jiminie. I'm going to the bathroom. Now stop pestering me, or you'll be having movie night alone tomorrow."

His smirk softened into a playful smile. "Okay, okay. I'll wait for you in your office."

You waited for him to leave before entering the pin code to lock Jungkook's office door. After hearing the beep and confirming the door was secure, you turned to head toward the bathroom, only to find Jimin still blocking your path, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"Jimin-ah, move—"

"He gave you the code to his office?" Jimin's voice was serious now, the lightheartedness from earlier gone.

You blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yes. Can you please move?"

Jimin didn't budge. His frown deepened as he processed the information. “Y/N… He doesn't just give the code to his office out. To anyone."

Your stomach twisted at his words. "Maybe he'll change it later. He said he had a meeting to go to—"

Jimin shook his head. "He hasn't changed that code since he took over. And… he just canceled his meetings for this afternoon. I thought it was because…"

The sinking feeling in your stomach grew worse. Of course, Jungkook lied and just wanted to leave. What was he supposed to do—sit there and cuddle you? Offer you aftercare? This wasn't new for him. You weren't special. Just another woman in a long line.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. "Jiminie, can I… meet you downstairs? I need to go to the bathroom."

Jimin's expression softened instantly, his hand reaching out to brush some hair from your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Okay, love. I'll get you some water and wait in your office."

You thanked him quietly before heading to the bathroom, locking the door before you leaned heavily against the sink. Staring at your reflection, you sighed at the sight. Your sleek ponytail was merely a distant memory, makeup smeared beyond repair. And there, on your neck, was a deep hickey blooming against your skin.

"Idiot," you muttered to yourself as you turned the tap on, starting to scrub your face clean in attempt to erase every trace of what just happened.

What was happening to you? You never let stuff like this get to you. You'd had more than your fair share of one-night stands, and you knew better than to let them mean anything. It was nothing to him, and it should've been nothing to you.

But god, it felt like so much more than nothing.

"Idiotttt," you muttered again, this time more frustrated. As you aggressively wiped away the mascara and dried tears, your eyes kept drifting back to the hickey. You sighed, knowing you had no makeup to cover it until you got back to your office.

With a huff, you walked toward the toilet and sat down, your hand grazing the mark on your neck while you peed. The memory of his lips still lingered fresh in your mind, and the longer you sat there, the more the reality of it all began to sink in.

Fuck, you groaned internally. You're obsessed.

Jungkook pulled the keys from the ignition, stepping out of his car and adjusting the collar of his suit jacket when it shifted out of place. The door clicked shut behind him as he locked the Mercedes, casually slipping his phone into his pocket—right next to your panties, still snug in the black fabric of his slacks.

When he reached the reception desk, a fake redhead sat behind it, focused on a stack of paperwork. She didn’t notice him at first, not until the sound of his footsteps caught her attention. The moment her eyes met his, Jungkook noticed the way she straightened in her seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted, her voice sweet but dripping with an attempt at seduction. “Welcome to Jang Merriott. How can I be of service?”

Jungkook swallowed the grimace threatening to surface, but his lips curved into that fake, charming smile he’d perfected for work events. “Hi, darling.” His voice was smooth, just the right amount of warmth. “I’m here for a business meeting, but I’m so silly...” He leaned in slightly, watching her eyes widen. His voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. “I forgot which room it’s in. Think you could help me?”

His eyes flicked to her nametag—Cho Minju—and when he looked back, he could practically see her mind spinning. “I-I…” she stammered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Do you have the name of the—”

“Lee Dohyun,” Jungkook answered easily, not missing the way she gulped when he added softly, “Thank you, baby.”

“L-Lee Dohyun,” she echoed nervously, typing the name into the system with shaky fingers. Then she paused, biting her lip. “I, um… I really shouldn’t if you aren’t—if you’re not on the guest list…”

“It would really help me out, Minju-yah,” Jungkook murmured, his voice taking on a softer, boyish edge. His brows furrowed just slightly as he leaned in a touch more, looking at her through his lashes. “If I’m late, Dohyun-seonsaengnim will kill me… I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Her wide eyes blinked up at him, her lip caught between her teeth. He could see the internal battle playing out in her head—protocol versus the hot guy in front of her. Predictably, protocol lost.

“Floor 13, room 304,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you, baby,” Jungkook replied with a charming smile, slipping a hundred-dollar bill into her tip jar before walking toward the elevator. Minju’s breath caught again as he turned and walked toward the elevator, not looking back once.

As the elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, Jungkook’s facade dropped, and he let out a small, amused scoff. He thought that was going to cost him at least a couple grand.

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended. When the monotone voice announced floor 13, the doors slid open, revealing a quiet, plush carpeted hallway. Jungkook strode out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he made his way to room 304.

“Jungkook-seonsaengnim?” Dohyun’s voice cracked in surprise when he opened the door, eyes widening at the unexpected sight of his boss. “I’m on leave, sir, is everything oka—”

The words barely left his mouth before Jungkook’s fist connected sharply with the side of his jaw. The force of the blow sent Dohyun crashing to the ground, his head snapping back as he sprawled out, half-dangling outside the doorway. His feet splayed awkwardly on the floor, barely moving. Jungkook nudged his limp body inside with the toe of his polished shoe, stepping over him as he calmly closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Everything’s fine, Dohyun.” Jungkook’s voice was casual, almost too calm, as he crouched down to level his gaze with the man on the floor. Dohyun was clutching his jaw, eyes wide with terror, blinking back tears as he struggled to sit up. Confusion mixed with fear spread across his face, trembling as he tried to find his words.

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow, cold smirk pulling at his lips. "Great, actually," he continued, the menace in his voice unmistakable. His eyes flickered over the man on the ground as if he were nothing more than something to be dealt with. “And it’ll be even better in a second.”

TODAY

The soft click of heels against tile echoed down the pristine hall of level nineteen. Jimin and Hobi were either side of you, all three of you deep in conversation about Jimin's latest epic love saga.

“And afterward, we went and got ice cream,” Jimin sighed, a dreamy smile spreading across his lips. “And he even paid for my cone. I think he’s the one.”

You and Hobi shared a knowing look before turning back to him. Hobi giggled, shaking his head, while you leaned your head on Jimin’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “I’m sure he is, honey. Was it at least a double scoop?”

Jimin beamed, nodding enthusiastically, but his excitement faltered the second he caught the teasing smirks plastered on your and Hobi’s faces. His expression morphed into a pout as he narrowed his eyes at the both of you.

"Whatever. Just because you—" Jimin shot a pointed look at Hobi, "—don’t sleep with anyone more than once because of your deep-rooted commitment issues, and you—" he turned his accusing gaze to you, "—have found the only person in Seoul as crazy and fucked up as you to spend the rest of your life with, doesn’t make Min Yoongi any less of a perfect prince."

Hoseok grunted, crossing his arms dramatically as you broke into laughter. "You're not wrong," you hummed with a shrug, right as Hobi muttered defensively, "I don't have commitment issues."

It was Hobi’s turn to receive knowing looks from both of you before he sighed, dramatically slowing his pace as you reached the entrance of the meeting room. "Whatever, you guys suck."

Snickering softly, the three of you stepped inside, bowing politely to the handful of executives already seated around the large meeting table. As usual, the three of you were early, but you noticed that a few others had already claimed their seats. Unfortunately, there weren’t three consecutive spots left for you all to sit together.

Your gaze immediately went to the head of the table, the seat reserved for the CEO, which was still empty. You knew Jungkook was in a meeting with Kim Namjoon that had run overtime, so their arrival was indefinitely delayed.

The seat closest to the CEO’s chair—Namjoon’s usual spot—was unoccupied, but the one on the opposite end, typically claimed by you, Jimin, or Hobi, was already taken. You felt your blood boil when you saw Heejin, the newly appointed temp head of Communications while Sana Minatozaki was on maternity leave, sitting there comfortably, scrolling through a document on her laptop.

Jimin caught your eye, noticing Heejin as well, and gestured toward the chair next to her, silently offering it to you. You just shook your head, flashing a small smile as if to say, no fucking thanks. He and Hobi settled into two seats beside each other, leaving you to scan the rest of the room for an available spot.

Your options weren’t great.

A middle seat between Hailey and Vernon—two relentless chatterboxes from levels three and four—caught your eye. You grimaced immediately at the thought of being dragged into their non-stop, ping-pong conversation about god knows what. They could probably talk about fucking office supplies for hours if given the chance.

Then your gaze shifted to the next option: a seat next to Kang Minho, the scruffy finance head. As expected, he was already twirling a cigar between his fingers, his eyes twitching in clear defiance of the new no-smoking rule in meetings. The urge to light it was practically vibrating off him.

You sighed.

That left the only bearable choice: a seat next to Oh Sehun, the head of Technology and Innovation. He was known to be quiet and professional, and most importantly, he's least likely to annoy you.

Resigned, you pulled the chair next to Sehun, placing your laptop and phone on the table in front of you. He glanced over with a polite smile, nodding in greeting. You returned the gesture, settling into your seat and immediately focusing on starting up your laptop.

The room settled into a quiet lull, with only a few hushed conversations breaking the silence. Most of the attendees were either finishing up side discussions or preparing for the meeting as they trickled in. As your laptop booted up, you instinctively picked up your phone, slipping it under the table. Your fingers moved quickly, opening the location app and tapping on Jungkook’s name. The pin was still loading when you heard a throat clear beside you.

Oh, here we fucking go.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You locked your phone and turned toward Sehun with a forced smile. "Yes, Sehun-ssi. How can I help?"

His smile widened slightly, a little shy. "Uh, I just wanted to say… congratulations. Your promotion to Head of Operations & Efficiency—it's no small feat. Not an easy title to earn or handle. But I've seen your work, and it's… admirable. Truly."

You almost frowned, caught off guard. That was… really sweet.

"Oh," you replied, your voice softening. "Thank you, Sehun-ssi, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate it a lot." You smiled genuinely this time. "And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Running your department is also no easy task, and you do it well."

Sehun grinned, his head dipping slightly as his ears turned a bit red. "Ah, thank you so much," he murmured, looking humbled. "I’ve learned a lot from our CEO, Jungkook-seonsaengnim. He’s incredible. One day, I hope to have my own business and run it just like him."

You bit the inside of your lip, warmth swelling in your chest at the compliment to your man. "He is," you agreed softly, your smile a little more private this time. "And I’m sure you will."

Sehun’s lip was caught between his teeth as his eyes seemed to linger just below yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing your attention. You turned toward the entrance.

Jungkook and Namjoon strode into the room, their presence immediately commanding attention. Namjoon greeted the department heads with a dimply smile, but your eyes locked onto Jungkook. His gaze, however, wasn’t on you—it was unwaveringly fixed on Sehun’s reddened face. A flash of something dark crossed his features, and he didn’t spare you or anyone else a glance as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Straightening in your chair, you swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention already on the file in front of him as he flipped through it silently. Namjoon’s eyes flickered over Jungkook’s hardened expression before realizing the CEO wouldn’t be opening the meeting. Clearing his throat, Namjoon stood up and took over.

"Good morning, everyone. Glad to see you all here," Namjoon greeted, flashing a bright, toothy smile. The room responded with polite murmurs. "We’ve got a full agenda today, so let’s start with—"

About thirty minutes into the meeting, you were still focused on your notes. Namjoon was wrapping up his discussion on a new marketing campaign strategy that had piqued your interest. You were typing up the last few points when Jungkook’s deep voice suddenly rang out. Your body reacted instantly, muscles relaxing after hearing him finally speak after what felt like hours of his silence.

"Sehun," Jungkook called out, his tone firm and commanding, and your head snapped up instinctively, surprised to find that Sehun had leaned over, perhaps about to whisper something to you while Namjoon was speaking.

"Did you have a question about the campaign strategy?" Jungkook’s voice was measured, but you felt the tension behind it.

Sehun jerked back, startled by the sudden attention. "Oh, I- no, sir, I was just—"

"Conversing with your colleague while your superior was in the middle of speaking," Jungkook finished for him, his dark gaze unwavering, pinning the tech head in place. "I'm sure I’d be more than capable of answering any questions you have regarding the project. Go ahead."

It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

Sehun swallowed nervously, eyes flicking down to his laptop as if it held the answers. Then, foolishly, he glanced at you, probably hoping for some kind of lifeline. You could only offer him an apologetic look, knowing your boyfriend's ways.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched visibly, his irritation evident as he barked out, "Do you need her to speak for you?" His fist tightened on the table beside him, knuckles paling. "Are you that incompetent?"

Your gaze slowly shifted from Sehun, who was visibly shaken, to your boyfriend, who was fucking seething. You sighed softly, dropping your gaze back to your laptop, fingers resuming their typing with a small shake of your head.

And then his voice came again. A little softer, but still pissed. "Did you have something to add, Y/N?"

Your fingers froze mid-typing. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. You could feel every pair of eyes turning to you. Everyone knew about your relationship with Jungkook. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something you had announced over the firm intercom, either. Most of the department heads were aware and knew better than to draw attention to it, but there were still some, like poor Sehun, who hadn’t quite pieced it together yet.

When you looked up, Jungkook’s dark eyes were locked on you. From your peripheral, you saw Jimin and Hobi exchanging wide-eyed glances, while Heejin’s gaze flickered nervously between you and the CEO.

Every fiber in your bratty being wanted to fight back, make him repeat himself, ask him what the fuck he was trying to prove by putting you on the spot in front of a room full of department heads. But the professional in you won out, forcing you to bite your tongue.

You shook your head calmly. "No, sir." The silence was deafening. You turned to Namjoon, whose eyes were carefully trained on his papers. "My apologies, Namjoon-seongsaengnim," you said. "We didn’t mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Namjoon nodded appreciatively, sending you a brief smile before moving on. “Right, as I was saying…”

The meeting finally wrapped up, and everyone began packing up their things. Some were quicker than others to vacate the room, with Kang Minho leading the pack, cigar already halfway to his lips, lighter flicking in agitation.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than intended, irritation still simmering under your skin. Grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, you stood, feeling Sehun shifting beside you, fumbling to gather his things. You could almost sense the apology hanging on the edge of his lips, and you sighed internally, praying he wouldn’t try and engage in conversation with you again.

Jimin and Hobi walked over, ready to leave, but your attention was drawn to Heejin’s voice as she spoke to Jungkook. Your movements slowed as you listened.

“Thank you for such a great meeting, seonsaengnim,” she said sweetly, her fingers tapping the edge of her laptop.

You clenched your jaw slightly, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Namjoon had handled ninety percent of the presentation—what the fuck was she even thanking him for?

“I actually had a few concerns for the Communications department that I was hoping to run by you—"

"Take them up with your superior," Jungkook replied, not even bothering to glance her way as he slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way toward the door.

Heejin smiled, clearly undeterred as she closed her laptop and followed after him. "But you are my superior," she giggled. Your brows furrowed as you turned to look at her follow after your man like a lost puppy. Your grip on your laptop tightened.

Jungkook sighed, forgetting she had even been promoted recently. Still, he didn’t glance at her. “Make an appointment with one of my assistants, Heejin,” he said, his voice dripping with impatience. “I have somewhere to be. Excuse me, please.”

Excuse me, please? You rolled your eyes. Why doesn't he just tell her to get on her knees and get to work?

Heejin nodded, still all smiles as she left the room, laptop clutched to her chest. You gathered your things and fell into step with Jimin and Hobi. Jungkook paused near the end of the table, his gaze boring into you, but you ignored the stare, slipping between your friends as you headed out.

“Y/N-ssi,” Sehun’s voice cut through the air as he jogged to catch up with the three of you.

You sucked your teeth, glancing down at your watch. Fifteen minutes until your production conference. Enough time to grab something to eat since you’d skipped breakfast—thanks to Jungkook’s insistence on christening yet another room in your new house this morning. The laundry room, this time. And as it turns out, sex on top of a dryer was a lot better and less uncomfortable than you’d expected.

Jimin took your laptop from your hands, giving you a soft smile. "I’ll drop this off at your office. Hobi and I are heading that way."

You nodded in thanks, turning back to Sehun, only to catch Jungkook’s eyes glaring at you from behind the tech leader’s frame. His brows were furrowed, a silent question written all over his face—what the fuck are you doing?

Ignoring your fuming boyfriend, you refocused on Sehun. "You alright?" you asked.

Sehun nodded quickly. "Yeah, I just—" He started to say more but stopped abruptly, his body stiffening as if he could feel Jungkook's glare on the back of his neck. Turning, he blinked, clearly startled to see the CEO still there. "Oh—hi, sir. Once again, I’m so sorry about—"

"It’s okay, Sehun-ssi," you cut him off, drawing his attention back to you. "I need to grab something to eat. Is this important?"

Sehun shifted nervously. "Ah, well... it can wait." His ears were going red again. "How much time do you have? Did you want to stop by the cafe on level 10 before your conference? I was heading there anyway—"

At that, Jungkook’s head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in as he pushed himself off the table. You stepped around Sehun, positioning yourself between him and your clearly furious boyfriend.

"No, thank you, Sehun. I’ll catch you later, okay?" You kept your tone light, ignoring the fact that you had definitely not told him that you were on your way to a conference.

Sehun, still a bit confused, turned slightly to see what had you moving so quickly. And that’s when he saw it—Jungkook’s dark, cold glare burning holes through him. Before Sehun could stutter another word, Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to you, noting the goosebumps on your arms. He grabbed the jacket from your hands and silently made you slip your arms into it.

That’s when the realization hit Sehun like a fucking brick.

His face went ghostly pale, and you could visibly see him swallow nervously. "Oh my god… are you—are you two—"

You nodded simply, sliding your arms into the jacket as Jungkook remained silently brooding behind you.

"I—I am so—sir, I’m so sorry! I would never—"

"Sehun-ssi, it’s fine." You gave him a polite, almost bored smile. "Let's talk later."

Sehun barely managed a shaky nod before he bolted, red-faced and flustered, out of the room.

"You’re such a jealous psycho," you muttered under your breath, turning to face Jungkook, who was still fuming quietly. You puckered your lips for a kiss.

Jungkook just glared, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before leaning down to give you a quick, soft peck. You frowned, leaning in for another, but he pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Why’d you sit there?" he asked, glancing down at your jacket, noticing you hadn’t done up the top two buttons. When he reached to fasten them, you smacked his hand away, refusing to let him make you look like a nun.

"Because your girlfriend was in my usual seat," you shot back, poking him in the stomach before turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

"And I’m the jealous one?" he muttered, flicking the lights off as he followed behind you.

"Yes," you hummed, walking down the now-empty hall, clear of all the departmental seniors and visitors.

You reached the elevator when Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek as you reached out to press the down arrow.

"That poor boy almost pissed himself because of you."

"I felt like I was very soft on him," Jungkook shrugged, taking a deep inhale of your honey scented skin before pressing a kiss to your neck and standing upright. His hands slipped under your jacket to rest on your belly over your blouse, his fingers grazing your skin gently. "Could’ve been a lot worse."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t resist the urge to look up at his adorable pout. You puckered your lips again, and this time, he gave in, leaning down for a proper kiss. Spinning in his arms, his hands fell naturally to rest on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

A soft moan escaped your lips when his tongue slid between them, licking into your mouth in the way only he could. It felt like only milliseconds before the elevator dinged, snapping you back to reality. You reluctantly pulled away, biting his lip gently before spinning around to face the opening doors.

The elevator revealed Kim Namjoon, standing there with his head tilted, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook-ah, the board is waiting. Answer your fuckin' phone, man," the CCO huffed, gesturing for you both to step inside with a hurried wave of his hand.

You smiled at Namjoon and walked into the elevator, Jungkook right behind you. His hand found its way back to your belly, rubbing absentmindedly as you hit the button for level 12.

Namjoon scrolled through something on his phone, snickering. "What time are you planning on getting there tonight, Kook? The RSVP says 6, but they don’t start serving drinks until 8, so I'll be there around 9," he chuckled.

Your ears perked up at the mention of the event. You fiddled with Jungkook’s tattooed fingers on your stomach, glancing up at him as you waited for him to respond.

"For what?" Jungkook asked, not looking up from his phone.

You almost frowned at his response. He already told you he had a sponsorship function tonight. Jungkook never forgets things like that.

Namjoon barely glanced up. "That promo celebration for the girl taking over for Sana-ssi?" He explained, locking his phone and leaning back. "Shit, I forgot if we need to bring gifts. I'll check with my assistant—"

You didn’t hear anything after that. Everything faded, the muffled sounds of the elevator blending together like white noise. Jungkook’s hand stiffened against your stomach, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

He hadn’t gotten his schedule mixed up. He knew damn well what event Namjoon was referring to. The "sponsorship function" was actually a celebration for that dirty slut from level 7, and that dirty slut from level 7 had gotten a permanent promotion, which would bring her even closer when fucking working with him.

The elevator doors slid open, and without a second thought, you shoved Jungkook’s hand off you and stormed out.

"Baby," Jungkook was immediately on your tail, ignoring Namjoon’s confused calls from behind.

"Wh— Jungkook-ah? What the fuck? Where are you going?"

"Baby, wait." Jungkook's voice was tense as he caught up to you, but when his hand reached out to grab your arm, you shoved it off aggressively.

"I’m so fucking serious right now, don’t touch me, Jungkook." You spat, whipping around to face him. He just shook his head, trying to step closer, but you put your hand up, keeping him at a distance. "I’m not fucking kidding—"

"Baby, listen to me—" he tried, his voice urgent.

"Get the fuck away from me," you snapped, digging into your pocket for your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. "God, you know I fucking hate it when you lie, and you just—" You groaned, your fist tightening around your phone as you shoved his hands off you once again.

"Who are you texting?" Jungkook frowned, trying to get a look at your phone over your shoulder.

"None of your fucking business," you spat, stepping out of his reach.

"Y/N, don't. If you're not going to let me explain—"

"My mom," you snapped sarcastically, your fingers flying across the screen as you started typing. "They finally adapted technology so you can get cell reception six feet underground now. It's great."

Jungkook scoffed, clearly unamused, but he continued following closely behind you as you started walking again. "If you can lie to me, then I can fucking lie to you, right?" you added mockingly.

He tried to grab your phone, but you dodged him, sending the message just in time. His jaw tightened when he saw the screen. "Like hell you’re sleeping at Jimin’s tonight, are you fucking crazy?"

"Well, I’m not staying in a house with a fucking liar, that’s for sure," you shot back, your tone sharp as you moved further away from him.

"You’re not staying at Jimin’s," he repeated firmly, his voice absolute.

His certainty made you laugh bitterly. "I’m staying at Jimin’s or I’m staying at Hyungwon’s. You fucking choose."

Jungkook’s fists clenched at his sides, his face hardening in disbelief. "Why the fuck would you say that, Y/N?"

"I don't have anywhere to go, Jungkook!" Your voice rose, frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. You could feel eyes on you from the staff scattered around the floor, but you didn’t care. "You are my home. I don’t have anywhere else to fucking—"

Jungkook’s expression softened when your voice broke, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He stepped closer, his hands slipping under your jacket, palms smoothing down your hips. "Then don't fucking go, baby. Just don’t go anywhere, please. Don’t go to Jimin’s." He begged.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the warmth of his hands, the familiar comfort of his body close to yours. His face rested in the crook of your neck, and despite your anger, you found yourself leaning into him slightly, knowing full well that getting to your conference on time now was just a lost cause.

"Tell me why you lied then," you mumbled, your voice quieter, your sniffles betraying you.

Jungkook pulled back, his thumbs swiping gently under your eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fully form. His fingers brushed under your nose as he wiped away the dribble there. "Because I knew it would upset you. We’ve been doing so well in our new place, baby—I didn’t want anything to ruin it." His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was only going to make an appearance and come home straight away."

You studied his face, your own expression softening despite the anger still bubbling inside you. You understood him, you really did. But you still hated when he lied. "Then why didn’t you just ask me to go with you?" Your voice wavered, doubt creeping in despite yourself. "Did you... not want to be seen with me?"

You didn’t even know where the self-doubt was coming from. Jungkook loved you. He loved letting people know you were his. He didn’t care who was around when he kissed you or rested a hand on your body, claiming you without shame. But something about Heejin… She got under your skin in a way that you couldn’t describe. Maybe it was because she’d been here longer, known him longer. She was going to be in meetings with him now—department head meetings, one-on-one meetings. The thought alone made you feel sick.

Jungkook sighed, his hands cupping your cheeks, and pressed two quick, soft kisses on your lips. "Don’t say dumb shit like that," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "I wanted to have a joint office, but you said that was unprofessional or whatever." He rolled his eyes, giving you a little smirk.

You blinked, hugging your arms around yourself, stepping back a little. "Then why?" Your voice was quieter now, laced with the confusion and hurt you couldn’t hide. "Why didn’t you want me to go? I’ve gone with you to plenty of functions."

Jungkook hesitated, and you felt the tension settle back into the air between you. His silence weighed heavy, and that familiar twist of anxiety and anger began to gnaw at you again.

"It’s because of Hyungwon, isn’t it?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "You didn’t want me to go because people from his firm are going to be there, and he could be too, right?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening slightly as he averted your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His silence confirmed everything.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. Not only did he keep you away from a party celebrating the one woman you couldn’t stand the most when it came to him, but he also made sure you didn’t go because of the one man he had a problem with the most when it came to you was attending.

"Fucking hypocrite," you muttered, stepping further back from him, your stomach turning in disgust.

"Baby, it’s not like that—" he started, his tone filled with urgency.

"Then what is it like, Jungkook?" Your voice rose again, frustration spilling out as you threw your hands up. "You didn’t tell me about the party because you knew it would piss me off that it’s for Heejin. But you also didn’t want me to go because there was a chance Hyungwon could be there! So, what? I can’t go because you have a problem, but I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for you like a fucking housewife while you go to a party for a bitch that you know I can’t stand? How the fuck does that make sense?"

Jungkook’s face was a mixture of guilt and frustration. He took a step toward you, but you held up your hand again, stopping him in his tracks.

"God, can you just go away?" you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you felt the tears begin to well up again. Shaking your head, you started to walk away.

"Baby," Jungkook grunted, his frustration growing as he followed you.

"No, Jungkook. I need space. Seriously." You didn’t even turn around, your voice sharp as you neared your office.

"We don’t do space. That’s not how we work," he argued, right behind you.

"Well, maybe we need to start doing space," you snapped, reaching for the door handle.

Before you could pull the door open, Jungkook grabbed your wrist, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were intense, wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. "If you keep walking away from me, I'm going to follow you into that conference room and make you sit in my fucking lap during your entire presentation."

The seriousness in his voice made you want to roll your eyes, but you kept your expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop. "I can’t have you two in the same room, Y/N." His voice was low, almost dangerous, as if just saying Hyungwon’s name triggered something in him.

You just blinked, still silent.

“If I see him anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.” Jungkook said it simply, like it was just another fact. “I wouldn’t regret it. But they probably won’t let you stay in my cell with me, would they, baby?” His brows furrowed, head tilting as he asked, like he was genuinely curious to know the answer.

a/n i cut it here because the rest is nawttt edited at all and very rough 😬 but any takers on a part 3 ??!!?! just give me 6 months and it's all yours xx

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire: Part 2

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes’ territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well….but not this time.

Part 1

Your anger and frustration towards Bucky fizzled out after two days. You knew that it really wasn't his fault the cafe got shot up. He told you firsthand when you bought the property of the risks of having a business in his territory. But he always reassured you that whatever damage happens, he'd take care of it.

Like a true mob boss, he kept his word.

Even with his busy schedule, he came in every day to help oversee the work that was being done. He wasn't much help though. You'd tell his men what to do, what goes where, how things should look, etc. He just pays for everything.

However, when some of the new tables and chairs came in, you put Bucky to work.

While everyone was working in the front, you and Bucky assembled the furniture towards the back of the cafe. Bucky looked at the instructions and let out a breath of relief, "Thank god these have written out instructions. Not like other instructions where it's all pictures. Shit gets confusing."

You snicker as you lay out the pieces by their labelled sticker, "Honestly, these shouldn't be too hard to do. They're similar to the ones I had before."

"Ready when you are, boss," Bucky says with a smile.

You snort, "Never thought I'd hear you call anyone else 'boss'."

He shrugs, "You're the only one I'll listen to, sugar," he gives you a wink and you look away as your cheeks start to heat up.

You can't deny that Bucky is attractive, funny, and charming. He's also sweet and intimidating, but also caring. Sure what he does isn't lawful in any means, however, he cares for everyone in his family's territory. He knows everyone by name, helps them when they ask, and make sure everyone's protected and safe.

You told yourself when you first met him not get close to him, but years later, you know you're more than close to Bucky. You two are attached to the hip. At first, you considered him as a friend, but in the most recent years, you've started to see him as more. That scares you a little.

You moved to Brooklyn to get away from those feelings and here you are, right back to where you were. All because of Bucky Barnes.

You love him. You know you truly do, you're just not sure if he feels the same. Sure he flirts with you, but he doesn't mean it. You've seen him flirt with a bunch of other people too, so it definitely doesn't mean anything when he flirts with you.

"Sugar, gimme a hand?" he breaks you from your thoughts.

"Sure," you move closer to him, "What do you need?"

"Just hold these two pieces together while I screw this in."

"M'kay," you hold to pieces of a chair together, and Bucky twists the screwdriver to secure them in place. Your face is close to his, you smell the coffee on his breath and his expensive cologne. You see the bags under his eyes and it makes you frown.

"There. Than-what's with the frown?"

"You haven't been sleeping well," when he looks at you confused, you point to his face, "the bags under your eyes. Bucky, you should be at home resting, not spending early mornings with me here."

"It's fine, sugar."

"No, it's not. You should be well rested because you have a lot of work to do-"

"And they're getting done, just not all by me. Things are getting handled, Y/N, don't worry. I wanna be here."

"Why? Nothing much for you to do here. Your guys have it covered."

He shrugs, "Just in case you need me or," he gestures to the furniture pieces, "need someone to help you build furniture." He smiles when you giggle. His heart flutters, "I'll be here every day until you tell me to fuck off."

"But why?" you genuinely ask him in curiosity.

He looks away from you and at the half-assembled chair in front of him, "Because I do what I can for the people I love." He then clears his throat and goes back to assembling the chair.

You stare at him in disbelief. He loves you. Bucky Barnes just said he loves you. He-

Bucky's phone starts ringing and he answers it. He hugs it between his ear and his shoulder as he screws in another piece of the chair, "Yeah?" He listens to the caller and lets out a long sigh, "Alright. I'll be over in a bit. Keep 'em awake. Bye."

You look at him with concern, "Everything okay?"

"Got more info on the guys who shot us up. Need to meet with Romanoff." Bucky grunts as he stands, pocketing his phone. His runs a hand through his brunette locks, "If you're still here when I'm done, I'll come back. Maybe I can get you some food since I know you don't eat when you get too busy."

You stand, meeting his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. Bucky knows you so well and you can't believe its taken you this long to see how he truly feels.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. He's frozen in place and by the time he registers what's happening, you pull away, "I love you. Thank you for always taking care of me and being there for me."

"I, uh-" his face starts turning pink, "Ye-Yeah. Of course, sugar. I-shit." He hides his face in his hands and you can't help but laugh. You've turned The White Wolf of Brooklyn into blubbering, blushing mess.

He drops his hands from his face and he's smiling wide, "You love me? Really?"

"I do. I've loved you for a long time. I-I always hoped you felt the same. I thought you did with the flirting and how you were always there for me. But I'd see you do the same with others so I figured-"

He shakes his head, "No, sugar. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so confusing. I-shit, Y/N, everything I do and say is because I love you. I love you so fucking much. I'd burn the world for you," he steps closer, placing his hands on your hips, nose grazing yours.

"For a big scary mobster, you're quite the softie, aren't you?"

"Don't let the guys know. It'd ruin my reputation," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

"It's fine. We already know," Steve says as he stands there with his arms across his chest and a smirk on his face.

Bucky frowns, "Way to ruin the mood, Rogers."

Steve shrugs, "Sorry, but we have some important stuff to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bucky steps away with a pout, "Sugar-"

You pull him back in for a kiss and he's quick to kiss you back this time. You then break the kiss with a grin, "Go take care of business, boss."

Bucky is a little dizzy and has a goofy grin on his face, "You got it, boss." He pecks your lips one last time and then steps away, "Got another reason to call you sugar now."

"Yeah?"

He nods, "'Cause your lips taste so sweet," he says with a wink and follows Steve out of the cafe.

You're not sure how you can get back to work after that kiss and confession. But you'll have to do your best!

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Arranged marriage AU!Toji x Reader

Summary: Your son with toji, Megumi, said his first words today

CW: toji is cold and distant mostly hurt and no comfort mild fluff i guess??

Idk this was a random thought and now its here

REQUESTS OPEN!

Marriages were not always done out of love. Some were done out of necessity or desperation. Much like the one you were currently in. It was necessity of clans and land squabbles and power hungry old men that didn't care for the feelings of those around them - only getting what they want.

And in your case they got what they wanted. Did you get anything you wanted? Well kinda.

Being in an arranged marriage to Toji wasn't the worst thing to happen to you. It could be worse but it could also be much, much better.

You had known each other since you were children as it was planned from a young age that you two were to be married. You hadn't minded. Toji was attractive and you had a mini crush on him for the longest time but he always detested you. You knew of the numerous women he had slept with before your marriage, having run into them multiple times. It felt like he was trying to push you away, to force you to beg for an out but you both knew that wasn't happening.

You had only been married for a short time now almost two years. It had been mostly uneventful in the name of new marriages aside from - ya know - the whole baby you had. Toji and you were told to waste no time in trying to produce an heir and really that was the only Toji showed you any affection. Outside of those moments he was cold and inattentive. Those moments were only out of the necessity to reproduce anyway. He didn't interact with your son Megumi very much either.

You cleaned up the kitchen after dinner in your large but yet lonely house. Toji was still out. Work or something else you weren't sure. Megumi babbled and bounced as he watched you move around the kitchen from his highchair, music played in the background. You smiled at him as he babbled. "Hi 'Gumi." You waved at him smiling wide. He laughed giddly at your voice, his mop of black hair bouncing with his movements.

He was the happiest and the cutest baby you had ever seen. You were more than proud of yourself. It was only mildly hurtful that Megumi was identical to Toji. His dark hair, his facial structure screamed Toji. The only thing he had gotten from you was your eyes. They reflected back at you as you approached the bouncing baby putting him on your hip.

You danced along to he music, bouncing him around as he laughed and babbled.

You put him down on the floor as you turned off the music. He continued babbling to himself as he crawled around. "Dadadadadada"

You turned almost comically slow to look down at your son. "What?!" Your smile was wide and your face was full of surprise.

Megumi babbled on again almost coherently. "dadadadadada"

You were so in shock you could barely move. Picking him up and swiftly sitting him on the counter. "Gumi did you say dada?! Say it again! Say dada."

Megumi laughed and babbled at you. You repeated the word multiple times, he watched intently his mouth moving as if trying to copy you. More coherent this time. "Dada"

You smiled wide and clapped at him. "Good job Megumi!! Oh my we have to tell Dada don't we? Such a smart boy."

Within the same moment Toji burst through the front door. You looked up at him as he passed by the kitchen, not even taking off his shoes before going to stomp up the stairs. "Toji! Oh my gosh come here Megumi just-"

"Leave me alone." He marched up the stairs. You heard his footsteps through the house and his bedroom door slammed. You looked down at Megumi as his small hands held onto your shirt and he looked up at you with big eyes. "Dada." You smiled softly at him. "Yeah baby... dada." Looking towards the stairs as if seeing him stomp up to them all over again.

Hours went by and he never came back down. You texted him that his dinner was in the fridge, that you wanted to show him something, that you were here for him if he needed anything, that you were sorry he had a bad day and he never answered or even read a single message.

Since figuring out he could say 'dada' Megumi had not stopped repeating it. You knew it wasn't to annoy you but you couldn't help feel a pang of hurt every time he said it. Toji was rarely around. Why couldn't his first word be mama, the one who is always around?

It was Megumi's bed time but you really thought Toji hearing Megumi would lighten up his day a little. You sighed to yourself as you built lego towers with Megumi upstairs in his playroom. Here you were, still trying to be the wife but he really was making you into a stranger.

You bathed and dressed Megumi in his pjs and held him close as he looked up at you. "Should we go see if dada is busy Megumi?" His eyes widened at the word and continued his babbling mantra of it. You walked through the east half of the house where your room and Megumi's plus your own office, some extra rooms and Megumi's playroom were. Toji's side was the west wing. If you were actually husband and wife you would share the north wing, where the extravagant bedroom - apartment practically - sat bare and collected dust. You looked to the double doors at the end of the north hall with disappointment before making you way to the west end and stepping up to Toji's door.

You hesitated before knocking softly. Waiting a moment before looking down at Megumi and shrugging. "I don't know if he's awake bud." You thought for a moment before slowly pushing the door open and peering inside. The light were on so you entered even though you knew you shouldn't. Toji never let you in his room. You'd only be in here a handful of times and all those times were unpleasant.

You walked through the sitting area into the bedroom until you noticed the bathroom door shut. You shook your head, looking to Megumi, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think we will show dada tomorrow okay?" Megumi was unusually quiet, maybe being able to feel the tension that grew in your body. Turning swiftly you made for the door you came through but before you made it out of the bedroom the bathroom door opened.

"What are you doing in here?" Toji's voice was loud and cold. You turned to look at him. Water dripped from his wet hair, his body damp with steam. A towel hung loosely around his waist. "Did I say you could come in my room?" His eyes bore holes into you. The heat that rushed into your face gave away your fear.

You looked down to the son you both created, trying to look anywhere but at the way his muscled form rippled infront of you. It was easier to pretend you didn't find him attractive or care about him or have feelings for him when he wasn't right infront of you.

"Oh... sorry... I just..."

He eyed you, how you stayed focus on Megumi. The small boy holding onto your free hand. "What happened? Is Megumi ok?" His expression changed as he approached the two of you. His voice still cold and annoyed but a hint of concern hid underneath it all.

Your head snapped to him. Eyeing him closely for a reaction. "Nothing I just... he said his first word today. I thought it might cheer you up to hear it if I can get him to say it again."

His features softened ever so slightly. "His first word?" Toji tilted his head in thought. "What was it?" You couldn't help but notice the small amount of excitement in his voice.

Megumi bounced in your arms at Toji's voice, babbling along as if trying to figure out how to say it all over again. I smiled at Toji and then back down at Megumi. I pointed at Toji. "Who's that Gumi? Hmm? Say dada! Say it again baby show dada."

Megumi babbled and pointed towards Toji for a few moments before sounding out dada once again.

Toji's face immediately brightened. "What?! Dada??" He chuckled deeply, one that sounded genuine and it shook something in you. "He actually said it. Good boy Megumi." Toji stepped up to you and the baby as he spoke. Brushing Megumi's heap of hair back.

You kissed to side of Megumi's head as he bounced on your hip. "He hasn't even said mama yet." You chuckled softly but the tinge of hurt was in your voice. "Anyway that was all I wanted to tell you. Sorry for coming in your room, I know I'm not supposed to."

He shook his head. "it's okay." He assured as he watched Megumi babble and squirm in your grip. He was overtired for sure. Toji seemed to be a different person than the one you had come accustomed. His permanent scowl was gone and he looked almost happy. "Can I hold him?"

His question shocked you. Eyes widening but you handed him over.

Toji softly cradled him, rocking him back and forth as he whispered to him. Megumi didn't cry or fuss, even his overtired babbling stopped. Slowly his eyes got heavy and closed. You watched intently as Toji interacted with your son. If it could be like this all the time.

"He really does have my hair. He's got your eyes too." Toji commented quietly while admiring his son. His eyes flicked up to yours for a moment.

I smiled at him. "Yeah... he does..."

Toji chuckled softly. "He really does look like me. It's kinda scary."

You laughed a little more sincerely than you intended. "He does, has your personality too."

Toji chuckled low. "Yeah, he's cold and distant just like me?"

Your smile dropped, panic set in at his words. "Oh n-no I didn't mean it like that..."

Toji shook his head and looked up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips at your panicked expression. "I was joking, I know what you meant." He assured as he watched the sleeping Megumi in his arms.

You let go of a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "oh right."

Toji whole aura seemed to relax when he held Megumi. You wished he could be around all the time. That he could be the father figure Megumi needed. That he could be the husband you wanted. To come home after a long day, and sit together. To be able to go to him when you needed a hug or reassurance or just wanted to feel loved. Your eyes focused as you realized that Toji was watching you deep in thought. Shaking your head you held out your arms. "I can take him now if you want. I don't want to bother you."

He held onto Megumi for a moment, seeming almost reluctant before handing him over to you. You smiled and nodded at him, turning to leave. He called out to you as you reached the door. "Wait, Y/N-"

You turned to look at him. "What's up?"

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it slowly. "Never mind sorry. Goodnight."

You eyed him for a moment before reluctantly turning away. "Alright... goodnight."

He couldn't bring himself to tell you the things he wanted to say. He couldn't find the words. How does he make up for the suffering you already endured? You had always so easily melted his cold dead heart, so he kept you at a distance but you had been so close. He already felt it melting.

[flwrstqr]

CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader

genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold

warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting

word count: 7k

AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .

taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss

ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.

Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.

"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.

You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.

"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.

"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.

"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.

"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.

"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.

"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.

"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.

"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.

"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.

"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.

"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.

"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.

"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.

“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).

MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)

"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."

"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.

"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?

"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.

"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.

"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"

"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.

Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."

"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Sure," you replied.

"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.

YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.

"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.

"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.

"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.

"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.

"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."

"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.

"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.

Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.

"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.

"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.

"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.

As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.

"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.

"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.

"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.

You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.

“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”

"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”

"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.

"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"

"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.

“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.

“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.

"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.

"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.

"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.

“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.

"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.

"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.

"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.

Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.

You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.

"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.

A  FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.

You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.

Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.

"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.

"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.

"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.

"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.

"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.

"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.

"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.

"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.

"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.

You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."

Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."

"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.

"I think you are," he jokes.

"In your dreams," you shoot back.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.

"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.

"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."

"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."

"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.

"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.

"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.

"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack. 

With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.

"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"

"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.

"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.

"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.

"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.

"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.

"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.

"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.

"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."

"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.

"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.

"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.

"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."

"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.

"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?

HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.

“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.

With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”

"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.

Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."

"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you. 

"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.

"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"

"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."

Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.

"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."

Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"

"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.

"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.

"I... I think I am," you replied

"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.

"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.

"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.

"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."

"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.

"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.

"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.

"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.

HEESEUNG LAY ON  HIS BED,  staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.

YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><

Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:

Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.

Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.

Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.

You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.

"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.

"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"

"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.

"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.

"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.

"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.

"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."

"Fine."

With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.

"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.

YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.

"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.

"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.

"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.

"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.

After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.

"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.

"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.

"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?

"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.

"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.

"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?

"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.

"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.

"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.

"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.

"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.

At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung.  The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.

 Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else

HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.

As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.

"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.

"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong? 

"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.

"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.

"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.

"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.

With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN.  You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.

Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion. 

HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.

"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.

"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.

"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.

"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.

"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.

"T-the dance?" you stuttered.

"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.

"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.

"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.

As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.

WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.

"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps.  The dress hugged your figure perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.

"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.

"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.

"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.

"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.

"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.

"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.

Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.

He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I

"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.

"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"

The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, it was until you excused yourself to the bathroom, to then meet Jiho.

"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.

"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.

“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.” 

“God I hate you Jiho.”  you spat, feeling your anger rise.

"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.

“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.”  you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled. 

“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.”  Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.” 

“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him? 

"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy. 

YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home. 

"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room. 

"Why didn't you text me?" 

"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets.

"Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you. 

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible. 

"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace. 

"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart." 

Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?" 

"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."

"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head." 

"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. 

"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?" 

"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."

"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes. 

"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see." 

"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.

HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.

The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.

When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?

Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.

"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.

"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.

"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance. 

"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”

Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.

"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.

"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”

Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.

"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.

“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled. 

“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.

IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.

"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.

"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.

"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied

"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.

"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession

"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done 

"No, but it all seems non-real," you confessed.

Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"

"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 

MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.

"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.

"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.

"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.

"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.

"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.

"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.