#what if there is something neither of them told him

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[anon-vester]

Jason would go for his morning jog down the same route he always takes. He rather enjoyed it, but over the past several weeks, he had been noticing an annoyance on his jogs. Two guys would be in the same spot and would be staring him down every time he jogged by. He got it; he was a hot athletic looking guy, but the looks were getting annoying.

One morning, Jason decided to go something about their annoying looks at him. As he was jogging up to that same spot, he stopped in front of them. "My name is Jason. I see you two here a lot." He spoke being friendly.

"Hi, my name is Jake and this this is Tom. We just love this area in the morning." Jake spoke up. There was some truth to his statement. They did love the area, but mainly because of one particular person that jogs in the morning through the area.

"Why don't you swing by my place later on today. We could hang out." Jason offered them. He told them his address for them to put in their phones, and to be there around 5. He then went back to jogging.

Tom and Jake were shocked that they were invited to the hot guy's house. They never expected that would happen. They were excited to come to his house this afternoon. They wondered what the experience would be like.

A little before 5pm, Jason heard the doorbell ring. He opened the door to see Jake and Tom standing there. "Come in," he invited. He let them in and shut the door. They followed him to his den. He motioned for them to sit down. He turned on ESPN to watch some game highlights. "You two want something to drink?" He asked.

"Sure," both Jake and Tom responded back to his hospitality.

Jason came back with three glasses on a tray. He handed two of them to Tom and Jake. He started to sip on his while he watched them began to drink theirs. By the time he was halfway through with his, they had completely drunken theirs. "How was it?" He asked them, smiling.

"It was good." Tom spoke as he placed his glass down.

"What was it?" Jake asked, wondering what the tasty drink was.

"Oh, something special just for the two of you, actually." He paused. "I noticed that you two like staring at me on my jogs, so I decided to let you have an upclose experience."

Both Jake and Tom looked confused at what he could possibly mean. Suddenly, they both felt strange. They were both shrinking in size at the same time. Jake saw Tom began to turn orange colored. Tom saw Jake turn black. Both saw that their skin was becoming like fabric material. They wanted to ask what was going on, but found they had no voice to call for help or ask why.

Jason saw the look of question and distress on their faces. "One of you will be my black tank top and the other will be my orange compression shorts to wear on my jog. The formula you drunk was a durability and transformation mix." He paused as his next words would probably scare them. "Unfortunately, the transformation is permanent. I can't reverse it, and neither do I want to. Now you get to go on my jog with me as long as I want. Plus, you will last for years to come." He laughed as they took their final form permanently.

Jason picked up the black tank top and compression shorts. "You might be complaining, but I can't hear a single word of it. Welcome to your new life, boys. You are my property, now." He added.

Jake and Tom were mentally screaming for help from which no one would hear them. They did find the guy hot and attractive, but not enough to be permanent workout gear. They couldn't move or speak, nor could they go back to being human.

THREE WEEKS LATER....

Jason took a brief break to catch his breath. He looked at his black top and orange compression shorts. They were still looking good after he turned them three weeks ago. They were still just as comfortable as well. The day he turned them was also the last day he ever spoke to them. They were clothes now. They needed to be treated as such if they were to get use to their new permanent lives. He had saw two missing persons poster put up about a week ago. Each had their faces on it. He had thought about reporting where they are, but who would actually believe they were turned into clothing. He was glad that he was the only one who knew they weren't missing but were serving their master by absorbing his sweat nearly every day without choice.

[bunnys-kisses]

⋆⋅☆max v. with a trans masc partner☆⋅⋆

max verstappen knew what he liked. while he usually put the front as a heterosexual man, he had always been a little more fluid about his sexuality outside of the limelight. he had kissed many men in his life as with women, even those who were neither men nor women. kissing was fun, sex was fun. and he wasn't going to limit himself to one set of tools to get the job down. a cock down the throat could be as delightful as sinking into a sweet pussy.

so it was more of a surprise for you to receive max's advances than it was for him to give them.

you remembered when you grandmother told you that she was concerned about you transitioning because you may "never find love" and you told her that it didn't matter. cars were your love, you didn't need a person to fill that gap. so when you met the three time world champion as the new mechanic for the 2024 season, you honestly didn't think too much about wooing him romantically.

but, max was wooed by you. especially when he saw that your lockscreen of your phone was a picture of your two cats, and when he brought up his cats, you just lit up. max liked that you treated him like he was a person. and you simply said, "mate, i'm pretty certain they don't let robots drive these cars." then slapped him on the back, "but i will make you bleed red if you total my car." then flashed him a smile.

you remembered the first time max kissed you. the dutch grand prix had been a total success and within the quietness of the garage post-race with the trophy max had won near by. he took you by the waist and kissed you. he'd later admit that he wanted to do it right on the track.

"do you kiss all your mechanics like that, verstappen?"

"no, only the ones who allow me to win." you two had spent almost the entire season bitching about red bull. max wondered if or when he eventually jumped teams, if he could take you with him. as he held you in his arms. chest to chest.

you admitted close to his ear, a little insecure, "i hope you know. i've built myself... i was born a girl, but became something more. different." then tried to pull back, fearful of his response. you weren't trying to trick him, you'd rather have it on the table.

but he pulled you back in, his blue eyes on you, "you act like i don't know what transgender people are, mechanic." he said as he leaned you back a little, to get a fuller look at you, "you act like i've never been to bed with one."

"i don't want to be a one night stand." you said, your hands on the front of his polo shirt. his hat long hit the floor in the heat of the kiss. you swallowed, "i won't be a toy, verstappen. i have too much respect for myself."

he chuckled, "that's what i like to hear." he held you around the waist and you kissed once more. he could feel the rise in his blood pressure. while you could've easily done it in the garage, max gave you the address of where he was staying and the lie to tell security.

the mechanics team were in another hotel, but if you wore your red bull branded uniform and had your mechanic's pass then you'd get in easily. they'd never suspect that you'd be intimate with the star of the team. and you did just that. even flashing a smile at security before you headed up to the elevator. they didn't even ask questions, which made your life easier.

you found max's room and he happily brought you in. but once the door was closed behind you. his strong arms were around you. he smiled at you, happy to see you. you carefully touched his face, part of you believed this was a strange dream after too many rum and cokes. but as you felt his facial hair under your hand, this was all painfully real.

"do you want this?" he asked.

you nodded and responded with a question of your own, "do you?"

his smile grew a little more, he leaned in closer to you. you only now realized how blue his eyes were, "since the moment i saw you come to the garage. you were more impressed with the car than with me... i found it endearing." he chuckled.

you held his face with both hands and gazed at him, "yeah, because it's a piece of shit car for a champion. it's like giving the king aluminum instead of gold."

he laughed before he leaned in for a kiss. you held his face close to yourself and you felt something bloom in your gut. eventually you got your worn sneakers kicked off and the jacket of your uniform off. it left you in a white t-shirt and max started to strip as well. you eyed his form and he eyed yours.

you felt his heated gaze linger on your chest for a moment and without thinking you crossed your arms across where your top surgery scars were. it was habit at that point.

max was in just his jeans and socks. he reached for your arms. feeling your warm under his palm as he carefully moved your arms away. he wanted to admire you, all of you.

"must've felt very different after the surgery." he said as he held your wrists, his eyes gazed on the fading scars. he was in no way to judge about scarring. at least yours were for something worthwhile, to change yourself in such a fundamental way, "was it scary?"

you shook your head, "no... i wanted to do everything afterwards. my doctor basically put me on bed rest because i was trying to push myself too hard. what was a four week recovery turned in seven."

he placed his hands on your flat chest and could feel the slight raise of the scars under his palms, "you push yourself too hard."

you swallowed, feeling the heat in your cheeks, "if you want to be the best. you have to do more than your best." your gaze met his. it felt so painfully intimate. this wasn't just sex in a hotel room, this was intimacy. max wanted more than your body, he wanted to know all the nooks of your soul and what inhabited them.

he leaned in once more, "we have that in common." before he kissed you once more. his kiss was sweeter, an assurance that you and your body were nothing to be ashamed of. if anything he admired it, even though he couldn't relate to the feelings you carried. he could at least understand the guts it took to go through it.

to become more than you what was given to you. it endeared you to him as you broke the kiss and continued to get undressed. the more of your bodies exposed to one another, the hotter the room got. even with the air conditioning rattling in the room. you could feel the heat between you two.

max sighed, "i don't have condoms... i can pull out or we can do something else." he explained as he got into the bed with you. both naked. his broad hand grazed across your body.

you responded and placed his hand on your lower abdomen, right before your pussy, "hysterectomy. six months before i started. are you clean though?"

he replied, "yes. been a long time since i've been with someone anyway." he was telling the truth. since you started at the season, everything had become a blur with you and the championship being a central focus.

his pointer finger trailed across the scar for a moment before he took your face in his hands and kissed you once more. you could go on about the shape of your face, but in his hands it felt very small. you hadn't realized that max verstappen had paws instead of hands. the thought made you giggle a little into the kiss.

he pulled away and looked at you before he laid you out on your back. he asked with a small smile, "what are you laughing about?"

you looked up at him and said, "didn't realized that formula one drivers had such big hands. every seen them up close like this before." then yelped a little when max grabbed you by the hips and pushed himself up against you.

he curved his back over you and maintained eye contact, those blue eyes were swimming with lust, "well. it's good you haven't seen others this close up. i might get a little jealous."

you looked away for a moment with a stupid grin on your face, "okay, flirt. why don't we get to it before i melt into this bed." then a soft moan left your lips as he rubbed his cock up against your wet cunt.

he admired you for a moment, hoping the image of your naked body stayed with him for weeks to come. you looked masculine. he wasn't going to say "technically" it's not having sex with a man. you were a man just as much as he was if not more. you had to create your manhood and you made it to perfection.

"i want you." you said softly.

he leaned forward and kissed you gently on the lips before he eased his cock into you. he replied with an equal softness, "i want you too, mechanic." the nickname made your ears hot as he moved against you. he thrusts were gently but gained a steady momentum.

you held onto the covers under your back and let him move against you. once you got a hold of his rhythm, you were able to meet his movements as well. the kisses you two shared grew hot as max planted both hands on either side of you and moved.

you two were moving against one another, locked in a heated kiss. the bed shifted slightly under your movements. max was thankful that were was not a bed on the opposite side of the wall. and that this place had enough insulation to keep your noises muffled.

the last thing he wanted was your integrity to come into question. that you only got to where you were because of your seductive ways. the noises between you two were soft. there was no need to rush, the race was over and tomorrow you'd be on the flight to the next one.

he took your hands and held them by your head, which kept you two close but also allowed him to keep you pinned under him. when you broke the kiss, you rested your forehead against his. the noises were harder to keep under wraps the more you moved. the pleasure felt like fireworks in your brain.

you moaned a little bit before you said, "i was thinking something stupid."

max chuckled his sweaty forehead against yours, "tell me."

"i realized what your eyes remind me of." you admitted softly, "i couldn't quite pin it after we met." you were breathing heavily as you locked your fingers further with his.

"and what do they remind of you?" he asked, curiously. he had heard people refer to them like the ocean, the sky after a store, the definition of blue.

you replied, "home. the lake near where i lived. not scary like the ocean. familiar like the lakes i grew up near."

max had no words, he simply laid another kiss on you. his hands grasped your tightly as you two moved together more. the pace quickened and max knew that he wanted to be in your life for a long period of time. he wanted you to be his home.

you moaned against the kiss, feeling the heat leap in your belly as you felt closer to orgasm. you came first with your lips against his. your back arched but your hands were pinned to the bed. it felt good as pleasure rushed to your brain.

max broke the kiss and continued to move against you. he let go of your hands in favour of your hips where he bounced your further against his cock. it made crackles of pleasure appear in your brain. and he was no better, his heavy breathing and occasional moan fueled his need to finish. and when he did, he did so inside of you. max never thought too much about the surgery you had, but he was thankful for it tonight.

he stayed inside of you for a moment as he cooled down before he left a kiss on the corner of your mouth. full of such tenderness as he pulled out of you and ran his fingers through his short hair.

you laid out next to him and heavily panting, feeling so vulnerable. he stayed closer to you, eventually pulling you to him and resting his chin on top of your head. you got comfortable against him.

"if you have any questions, i can answer them... about the whole trans thing." you swallowed, even now you felt embarrassed bringing it up. you felt it was a mood killer.

he took you by the chin and made you face him. he smiled down at you. he asked one question, "are you happy? did you get the life you wanted?"

you nodded in response, "everything and more." and that was enough for max. anything else you felt the need to tell him would be told with time, after all, max expected to be in your life for many years to come. both as his mechanic and lover.

-

max would only come clean about the relationship two years later. the end of his contract with red bull and a final championship was enough for the driver to retire peacefully. and when he retired, you retired and you made a home in monaco.

the coming out post set the internet ablaze. especially given how long you two had been together. wasn't anything too special, just a small collection of photos that he had taken over your time together. like the time you wore his helmet in 2025 with a big thumbs up. and that time you thoroughly messed up a birthday cake for him, and with the camera in your face, he rubbed the icing off your cheek. the one that really captured eyes was the one that a friend took of you at a house party when max came to visit your home country, with his legs over your strong lap and his lips against your face. you were smiling like the sun. being the center of a media storm was only braved with max by your side. at one point turning your phone off and throwing it onto the couch. his kisses were still loving as always, his words soft, and his affirmations of your gender were often so sweet that you'd cover your face in embarrassment.

you were always comfortable with the idea of not meeting your 'other half', you had been given a second chance at life once you came out. and if no one could accept you then so be it. but as you laid out on the couch laid out against your boyfriend with sassy at your side and your cat between the crook of your knee, you felt loved. <3

a/n: i do write for masc readers as well, both cis and beyond. just not as often because many request femme readers. but if an idea is cooking in your head. hit me with it!

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Hold Your Hand - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Ben has two modes. One: take care of Her. Two: take care of Her (with sex). This is the former.

Title from Waste by Foster the People.

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary/Warnings: You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Request from the amazing @ciuguapa! Takes place post series (I'm getting bold), or any time after Chapter 28. Usual warnings.

Ben roared Her name, because he was fucking dying. His gut was being ripped and torn apart,his whole body was sensitive—Ben wasn’t supposed to fucking be sensitive, ever—and something felt like it was contracting around things that were not supposed to be contracted around.

She was in bed, and didn’t even goddamn look up when Ben stomped into their bedroom. He opened his mouth to say Her name again—and maybe fucking tell her to look at him and smile and let him crawl between the sheets and hold her until the pain faded—but he froze. She didn’t look good. She looked beautiful—She always looked beautiful—but her expression was made of deep lines and lips that looked crusted with quickly drying blood, and her eyes were squeezed shut. She’d curled into a ball, her hands were smoking in the sheets, and her heart was pounding out of her chest, making the ringing in Ben’s ears almost unbearable.

Ben marched to the edge of their bed, glaring down at Her as he tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. He felt like death, She looked like death, and Ben had no goddamn intention of going out from some stupid fucking cramps, so he needed to work out what was happening right now. It couldn’t be poison, neither of them could be poisoned. It couldn’t be some sort of sickness, because they couldn’t get sick. It felt like he was being fucking stabbed, but there was no one else in the room but Her, and this didn’t make anything fucking sense-

“Hi,” Her voice was muffled in the sheets, and she slowly rolled onto Her back with a soft, strained moan of pain. “Ben-“

He hissed Her name through his teeth, crawling over the mattress to hold her perfect, flushed face between his hands. “What the fuck is happening-“

“It’s-“ She cut herself off with another strangled noise, her hands curling in Ben’s shirt and another rush of pain hit his gut. “Fuck, I got my period-“

“Your what-“

She gave him a flat look, whacking his arm with a weak slap. “Shut the fuck up, Benjamin, you know what a period is-“ She paused, scanning over Ben’s face with a worried expression. “You do know what a period is, right?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Of course I know what a period is, brat, I’m not a fucking idiot-“

“I know you’re not, I just wanted to check, you were raised before sex ed was really a thing, and-“ She moaned again and Ben clenched his jaw, using all the strength in his body to haul them both up and hold her in his lap. “Fuck, I’m sor-“

“No.” He muttered, forcing himself to ignore the hot, sore pain squeezing in his stomach and focus on rubbing soothing, slow patterns over her skin. “No apologies, Sunshine. What do you need.”

She leaned back, pretty lips in a slight pout as her hands moved to hold Ben’s face. “I’m, shit, I’m okay, you-“

Ben had felt that brand new roll of pain, could fucking see her curl further into his arms, and scoffed. “You are not fucking okay.” He snapped Her name. “You look like death-“

“You look like death.” She mumbled. “I know you can feel this, Benjamin, and don’t even think about telling me you can’t-“

“If you know I can feel this,” Ben drawled, holding Her glower with his own. “Then you know not to fucking lie and say you’re okay. What do you need.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and Ben knew he’d fucking won. She felt fucking sick, there was sweat across her brow and something boiling at the base of her abdomen, and Ben could fucking feel it all. She knew he could feel it all, and She knew that Ben wouldn’t fucking move until she told him what to do—how to fix this—so he’d goddamn won.

“I,” She sighed, grimacing as the pain hit a steady point of just fucking living in her body. “I need, um, I need supplies.”

“Supplies.”

“Tampons and pads. Annie should have some, I know she gets it pretty bad and I think she just finished hers-“

Ben gave a rough nod. “How much of that shit do you need.”

“Enough for two-ish weeks-“

“Two fucking weeks-“

“Or three. I only get it once a year, because of the V, but it’s long, and the first week is going to be pretty much just this the whole time.” She sighed, dropping her head to Ben’s shoulder. “Sorr-“

“Shut up. What do pads and tampons look like.“

She let out a breathy, soft giggle, wrapping her arms around Ben’s neck. “Just tell Annie, she'll know. Ask for the diaper ones.”

“Diaper-“

“I’m shitting blood out of my cunt, Pretty Boy.” She kissed the base of his throat, and the words didn’t sound half as disgusting as they should when She said them. “I need a diaper.”

Ben nodded slowly. He’d seen grosser shit anyway. Heard grosser shit. Done grosser shit. “The tampons are the fucking bullets, right. That go, uh, inside.”

She hummed an agreement, and Ben grinned as pride swelled through his body. Warmer than the pain, pushing it down into a drive of Her. Ben could fucking moan and wallow and pussyfoot around after, right now was about making sure she was comfortable. Loved. Not looking like fucking death and still smiling. 

"What else."

"Um," She paused, pulling back to examine Ben's set, determined face before mumbling, "Chocolate, please. And Advil."

“I got opioids in the cabinets-“

“Why the fuck do you have opioids in the cabinets-“

“Frenchie gave them to me. And don’t lose your damn mind, Sunshine, Ryan can’t reach them.” Ben kissed the top of Her head, pushing on. “Take the opioids instead of the Advil. No painkiller is going to work on you, might as well take the strong shit-“

“I don’t want opioids-“ Almost like it could fucking sense Her protests, the pain doubled—spreading higher up her gut and squeezing—and she groaned. “Opioids are fine, actually. Please get me opioids.”

Ben lowered Her slowly back onto the mattress, and forced himself not to just flop at Her side and ride this the fuck out. She was more imporant. “We got a fuck ton of chocolate, I’ll grab some with the opioids. Don’t move.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, gripping Ben’s arm as she mumbled, “Like I fucking could if I wanted to.”

Not bothering to hide his snort, Ben leaned down, muttered “Brat” against her brow with a soft kiss, and dragged himself to his feet.

Ben called Annie in the hallway, and she picked up on the third ring.

He didn’t bother with stupid fucking formalities like a greeting. She was in pain, and all that mattered was fucking helping. “I need diapers and bullets.”

There was a brief moment of silence, long enough for Ben to wonder if Annie was even fucking there, and then, “What?”

“Diapers and bullets-“

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why do you need diapers and bullets? Is there like, a baby supe we need to deal with-“

“No.” Ben snapped, another gnawing twist of sickness hitting his stomach. “I’m on my period.”

Ben heard a sigh, long and labored, through the speaker. “Is,” Annie said Her name carefully. “On her period?”

“Fucking obviously-“

“And,” Annie continued, ignoring Ben. “Did she tell you to get pads and tampons?”

Ben scowled. “Yes. The diaper ones.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ve got some left over. I can be there in thirty minutes-“

“Good.” Ben paused, glaring into the air. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Tell her I’ll be there soon.”

Ben nodded, not caring that Annie couldn’t see it, and marched downstairs. The chocolate was easy to find—Ben kept some of it fucking everywhere, in pretty much every fucking form he could find—so he grabbed a fistful of it, dropped it on the counter, and heated up some hot chocolate for the extra fuck of it. He crushed up some of the opioids into the mug, carried it carefully upstairs, and pushed back into their room.

“Annie’s coming.” He told Her, placing the mug on her bedside table. “Put the drugs in the chocolate. I can make more if you want.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at Ben as she pushed up on her elbows. “You take very good care of me.”

She was teasing him, but Ben still couldn’t stop the wide grin on his face as he stopped her movements up, dropping back onto the mattress and pulling Her into his arms.

“I do,” he muttered in Her ear, holding her upright in his lap, her back pressed to his chest. “That’s my fucking job, Sunshine, and I’m damn good at it.”

Her head dropped back, tilting so She could meet Ben’s gaze. “All that work for no payment, Benjamin. You’re a hero.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re my payment and you damn know it-”

She snorted, wiggling slightly in his hold. “I don’t think that’s as romantic as you think it is.”

Ben shrugged, grabbing the mug and passing it into Her hands. “I don’t fucking care. I love you, so I take care of you, and that’s fucking that.” He kissed the top of Her head as she hummed, and let Her drag one of his hands to cover her stomach as he continued. “I don’t need stupid fucking thanks, darling. I got you.”

“You do.” She sighed, taking a long sip of the hot chocolate and smiling up at him. “You got me, Ben. Good luck getting rid of me.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dare to try.” Ben moved his free hand to swipe his thumb over a line of chocolate off her upper lip, lowering it for Her to suck off. She did—without a fucking thought—and Ben loved Her so fucking much. “Stay here.“

Her grip tightened on his hand across her body. “Where are you going?”

“Forgot some chocolate downstairs-“

“I have this,” She raised the mug slightly, twisting enough for Ben to see the full, pretty pout of Her lips, the soft, needy hope in Her eyes, and lose any will to move before she even spoke. “I’m okay.”

Ben frowned, the pain slightly softened, but still fucking overwhelming. “You need-“

“I need you.” She kissed the base of his jaw, placing the mug back on the table to hold Ben’s face between her hands. “Please stay.”

Fuck him, Ben couldn’t say no to that. She was so fucking beautiful, and looking at him like he was everything, and if staying here was what Ben needed to do to take care of Her, he was not fucking strong enough to walk away. Not when he could fucking feel the warmth spreading over her body, the ease of the sickness and aching and stabbing as the drugs and chocolate set in, and She looked so goddamn happy here.

He did take good fucking care of Her. She passed out in his arms before Annie even arrived, and Ben stayed right fucking there. His hand still resting over her stomach, watching Her look so fucking perfect and relaxed—humming and making small sounds of content in Her sleep—and dozing in and out with the rushing and waning of Her pain. Annie could let herself in, Ben needed to stay right fucking here, with Her, for as long as she needed.

End Note: Thank you to @ciuguapa for the extra domesticity! This one was sitting in the backdrafts because of secret Ben x Sunshine lore I had to hide (they can feel each other's pain) but I also just finished my own period, so I'd just call it good timing.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask! (Separate from main taglist)

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[gay-dorito-dust]

Viktor’s journal.

How can you mourn someone that you weren’t quite sure was dead? You couldn’t simply afford to make funeral arrangements just to bury an empty coffin six feet underground when you yourself were unsure of what has become of your beloved Viktor.

You didn’t exactly know where the arcane had taken him. So should you even at all assume him as dead or just more so in another plan of existence far beyond your reach? And if so would he ever find his ways back? or did he think that where he was currently was a suitable place for his misguided and misconstrued ideologies of perfection? Seeing no point in returning to you after all he’s done?

You weren’t quite sure what to make of all of this but that didn’t ease the ache in your heart as you found a journal of his laying nearby, a thin layer of dust covering it, clearly showing the passage of time of the last viktor stepped foot in this room becoming more painfully evident as you brushed it clear before opening it. It was a rather standard journal filled to the brim of notes, sketches and annotations belonging to Viktor throughout the ever evolving stages of understanding the hexcore, nothing new as it was the only thing he talked about so passionately with a gleam in his eyes.

He wanted to use it for good and for the betterment of others but as you look at the notes and recall the memories of Viktor telling you the advancements they could make with hextech, it felt all but painful now knowing and experiencing what you have at the hands of the hexcore; you and everyone else almost became one of those weird sleek white and gold plated humanoid creatures not too long ago. So it was needless to say that your feelings towards the hexcore weren’t the same as they use to be, though then again neither was Viktor’s when he changed.

‘I want to use it to better the lives of others.’ He once said as his amber eyes gleamed brighter than you’ve ever seen before.

You wished that was the case but as the old saying went: evil deeds are paved with good intentions.

Viktor’s heart was in the right place but the hexcore corrupted his mind into ignoring it, ignoring his humanity in his pursuit in perfecting the imperfect. You had lost Viktor to the hexcore on multiple occasions way before his physical and mental change after the attack upon the council, an attack he was meant to die in. You had lost him and thus didn’t know where you were qualified to mourn a man who could potentially still be still living in another plan of existence.

The further you delved into the journal, mind lost in the memories as you tried to use to make sense as to where everything went wrong, that you didn’t notice that you had reached the very end of the journal and notes regarding the hexcore had become notes regarding yourself. The chicken scratch writing of a scientist had become notes written in the most beautiful and eloquent handwriting you’ve ever seen.

Notes such as;

‘The initial reaction i had towards my newfound feelings towards y/n was to deny them. They were my friend and I thought as such for a long time until I began to think about them on a regular basis, almost as though I need to have them close to properly function. it’s distraction but it’s a distraction that I welcome without annoyance, an distraction that I want to have near me all the time just to claim I had a good day.

‘They didn’t come by today, which is something that I shouldn’t let affect me as greatly as it does. However I couldn’t help but keep looking back towards the door to the lab in hopes that I would see them. I was told that I was looking as though a love sick puppy dog, waiting for them to come through those doors as per usual and yet I couldn’t help but feel a little sad when more of the days pass and I didn’t see them. Maybe they’ll come back tomorrow?

‘The feelings have a name as I’ve found as of recent, love. It’s love that I feel for them. They’ve consumed my thoughts and I’ve found myself tinkering with spare parts in hopes of making things that they’d like, all of which I have locked away in a box beneath my bed that I’d open sooner or later in hopes of improving them. Will i ever give them to y/n? Perhaps after I crack this equation for the hexcore, I’m so close to a breakthrough and feel as if the excitement I’ll feel will bring me to confess to them in a heat of the moment type scenario.

I hope they reciprocate my feelings.

That was the last entry of his notes and it was dated as the day before the attack on the council and you softly closed the journal, holding it close to your chest as you closed your eyes, breathing deeply as the idea that things could’ve been extremely different had things not escalated the way they did.

So once you had composed yourself enough to go to Viktor’s house in order to find the box he spoke of in his notes, finding that it had already been opened, almost as though his spirit knew you were going to come here afterwards and made it more accessible to you; and within it was a plethora of beautifully wielded masterpieces in the form of mechanical birds, flowers and even smaller things for you to fidget with should your nerves get the best of you.

Viktor was so thoughtful and you couldn’t help but let out a pained whimper as you cradled the box in your arms before finding yourself falling asleep in Viktor’s old bed with dried tears upon your cheeks. Life was cruel to take Viktor away from you but for some unexplainable reason, you’ve never felt closer to him than you did as you held his journal and gifts close to your chest.

Unaware of how one of the Birds eye’s glowed blue and the petals of the flowers blossomed in a similar colour.

[insidekatmind]

Between Two Brothers~Jobe Bellingham and Jude Bellingham (love triangle)

The situation had started almost by chance, as often happens with things that later become complicated. You had met Jobe first, at an event where some mutual friends had invited you. He was charming, charismatic, with that slightly shy but captivating smile that seemed to promise laughter and adventures. By the end of the evening, you had exchanged numbers, and a few days later, he invited you out.

Your evening with Jobe had been perfect: a quiet dinner, strolling under the city lights, and, at the end, a sweet and gentle kiss. You liked Jobe, truly. But then, something unexpected happened.

Just a few days later, at another social gathering, you met Jude. Older, more self-assured, with an entirely different energy than his younger brother. Jude had a magnetic aura, and it didn’t take long before he, too, asked you out. You hadn’t found the courage to say no, perhaps out of curiosity, perhaps because you hadn’t yet realized how complicated things would get.

With Jude, the atmosphere was entirely different. There was nothing sweet or delicate about your time together: your date was full of sparks, passionate conversations, and intense, lingering gazes. When you kissed, the chemistry was undeniable.

You didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t your intention to create a conflict between them, but the truth wouldn’t stay hidden for long. And indeed, the day after your date with Jude, the two brothers found themselves alone at home, and the tension was palpable.

“So, explain this to me,” Jobe said, crossing his arms and glaring at Jude accusingly.

“What’s there to explain?” Jude replied, seemingly calm, but with a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You went out with her, didn’t you?”

Jude sank onto the couch, leaning his head back. “And what if I did? You went out with her too. It’s not like you own her, Jobe.”

“This isn’t about ‘owning’ anyone!” Jobe raised his voice, his fists clenched at his sides. “But you knew I liked her. I told you about her!”

Jude stood up, facing his brother directly. “And? Was I supposed to step aside just because you decided she’s ‘yours’? That’s not how it works, Jobe. She’s free to choose.”

“Oh, really? And you think kissing her made things easier for her?”

At that, Jude fell silent for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you over a girl. But I can’t ignore how I feel.”

“Oh, because you think it’s any different for me?” Jobe shot back. “I can’t believe you did this. You betrayed me, Jude.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Jobe turned away, heading toward the window. Jude stayed where he was, staring at the floor. Eventually, Jude broke the silence.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, okay? I didn’t do it to… to steal something from you. But when I’m with her… it’s like nothing else matters. I can’t just pretend.”

Jobe turned slowly. “And you think it’s any different for me? Jude, you’re my brother. You’re the person I’ve always trusted. And now, this…”

Jude sighed, the weight of his emotions evident in his eyes. “Maybe we should talk to her. Let her decide. I don’t want this to ruin us.”

Jobe looked at him, the pain and anger still present, but a flicker of understanding beginning to show. “Maybe you’re right. But don’t think I’ll give up without a fight.”

Jude offered a faint, sad smile. “Neither will I.”

---

The situation was far from resolved, and you knew it. That evening, when you received two separate messages—one from Jobe and one from Jude—you realized that you could no longer avoid addressing the issue. You had to make a choice. But which brother would win your heart?

[luvismenu]

09 — miss your touch ✎ ,, index

nsfw warnings: kissing.

note: she's not pregnant you guys dw 😭

wc: 3.4k

a week.

it's been a week since you've seen jungkook.

there were a few texts from him, asking if you were okay, but nothing beyond that. you answered with short replies; a yes or a no. sometimes, you asked how he was, and he'd say he's okay. but there’s a clear shift now, an invisible line drawn between you two.

a line you’d already crossed once but now seem to be retreating behind. back to where you started; strangers who just happened to share something.

you might’ve overreacted.

the thought stings, but yeah, maybe you did. he wasn’t even that late. you believe him when he said he had to deal with something. that something being a female, it’s not like he hid it. still, for reasons you can’t explain, just thinking about it makes you roll your eyes.

but he came straight to you after that.

and you know jungkook doesn’t lie. at least, that’s what you’ve learned about him in these two months.

two months.

it’s been two months, and yet here you are, acting as if he’s yours.

he isn’t.

and that’s good. you don’t want a relationship. you never did. relationships are nothing but unnecessary stress or drama. or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

you can’t let jungkook fall into the “relationship” category. but calling him your casual fuck buddy feels off, because you’re both closer than that now. thinking of him as just a friend, though... that feels wrong. unnatural, even.

it’s so complicated.

it shouldn’t be. but it is.

sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t care. you wish he’d show more emotions, something more than his usual calm, nonchalant demeanor.

it feels like you’re the only one overthinking this while he’s just... fine. unaffected.

why do i feel like a wreck? is it just me? you wonder.

you don't wanna miss his touch.

you don't wanna miss him.

but you miss him more than you want to admit.

and now, you don’t even know how to approach him. things feel so awkward. you’re not sure how to cross that line you’ve suddenly drawn.

a week without seeing him feels like forever. especially when, for the past two months, he’s been part of your every day. whether it was texts or calls, he was there.

which is why you’re here. at the business expo everyone’s been working so hard for.

you don’t know much about it, just the bare minimum yoongi mentioned. apparently, other majors can attend as long as they say they’re interested in learning something.

as if. you would never attend something like this.

but for him? for jungkook?

you’re here anyway.

jungkook feels like a wreck.

he misses you.

a lot.

but at the same time, he thinks he needed that break. from everything. a week isn’t much, but it gave him enough space to clear his head.

iseul tried to contact him again. he blocked her number.

then she tried to approach him in person. he blocked her out of his life too.

he knows she’s probably furious, and maybe even hurt, but he couldn’t let her keep dragging him into the same cycle. not anymore.

“jungkook, i’m sorry, honey, i didn’t mean to snap at you that day—” she said, her voice was soft, almost pleading.

but he cut her off, firm and final, his words heavy but deliberate.

“i think it’s for the best if we move on now.”

he couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth, but for once, he didn’t regret them. saying it felt like a weight had been lifted, one he’d been carrying far too long.

it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

now, though?

all he can think about is you.

you told him you were fine now. the conversations between you two since then have been brief, surface level, and awkward. it feels like a wall has been built, and though neither of you acknowledges it, it’s there.

jungkook wishes you’d talk to him soon, break through whatever tension is lingering.

when you told him to leave that day, he froze for a moment. it stung, but he understood. if you needed space, he’d give it to you. the last thing he wanted was to make things harder for you when you were already unwell.

but he feels awful.

all he did was add to your stress, and now the guilt is eating at him. he’s ready to do anything—absolutely anything—to make things right with you, to hear you say you forgive him.

yet, it feels strange.

why does he feel this way about you?

whatever this is between you, it was supposed to be no strings attached. that was the deal. you both made it clear from the beginning. but somewhere along the line, things shifted. you’re not just a hookup to him anymore. you’re so much more than that, though he’s not sure how to define it.

he wonders if he should set boundaries, remind himself of what this arrangement is supposed to be. but it’s hard—impossible, even. every time you’re together, he’s drawn to you. it’s like you’ve got this pull on him, and he doesn’t even want to resist it.

he doesn’t wanna miss your touch.

and right now?

right now, he just misses you. everything about you.

“jungkook, is that you?” a voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. jungkook turns, searching for the source of the familiar voice.

“ah, it is you!”

his lips twitch into a smile when he spots the person approaching him.

“jin hyung,” he says, a little surprised to see him.

jin strides up to him, pulling him into a firm hug and patting his back.

“took you long enough to show up,” jungkook says as they pull apart, raising a brow.

jin lets out a dramatic sigh. “had to deal with things, you know how it is,” he says, waving a hand before flashing a grin. “but hey, i’m here now, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you are,” jungkook replies, shaking his head lightly, though the smile on his face betrays the faint scolding in his tone.

“oh, come on,” jin says, feigning offense. “is that it? is that all the welcome i get? give me a proper one! i am one of the guests tonight, after all.”

his grin grows wider, and jungkook can’t help but chuckle at his hyung’s playful energy.

where is jungkook?

you're in the auditorium, surrounded by bustling booths, neatly arranged tables, and groups of students passionately discussing their projects. you didn’t realize business majors went all out for an expo like this.

you feel like yelling his name at the top of your lungs. you've been walking around, searching through a sea of unfamiliar faces, but you can’t find him anywhere.

“uh, hey,” you say, tapping a guy’s shoulder, interrupting his conversation.

woah, this guy has really broad shoulders.

he turns around, and you’re momentarily taken aback. the man is tall, dressed in a suit that looks like it was tailored for him, glasses framing his handsome face, and hair styled perfectly.

“yes?” he asks, polite but slightly curious.

you hesitate, then decide to go for it. “do you know where i can find jungkook? i mean, jeon jungkook? he’s supposed to be here somewhere,” you say, unsure if he even knows who jungkook is. but you’re desperate now.

his lips curl into a small smile. “why, of course. i was just speaking with him a few minutes ago. he excused himself to use the restroom, so he should be back shortly.”

“thank you,” you reply quickly, already preparing to make your way toward the direction of the restrooms. maybe, just maybe, you’ll bump into him as he’s walking back.

“are you one of his friends?” the man asks suddenly, stopping you from taking a step forward.

you glance at him, unsure how to respond. “uh... yes, kinda. sure,” you say awkwardly. you catch the faint arch of his brow, as if your answer only piqued his curiosity more.

why didn’t i just say yes? you mentally scold yourself, feeling ridiculous.

clearing your throat, you quickly excuse yourself.

"excuse me,” you mumble before turning and walking away, hoping the restroom isn’t far and jungkook will finally appear.

you walk through the rows of booths, still scanning the area for any sign of jungkook. the loud chatter of students and the hum of discussions fill the air, but all you can focus on is the thought of finding him.

as you near the restrooms, you catch a glimpse of a familiar figure standing by the entrance, hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture relaxed yet somehow tense.

it’s him.

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes you. he looks as good as ever, effortlessly drawing your eyes to him. he’s wearing a sharp black suit that fits him perfectly, making him look every bit as important as you’re sure he is. he must be a key figure in this expo, you think.

all you know is that he’s supposed to give some kind of presentation. that’s it. nothing more. you didn’t bother to find out the details because, honestly, none of it matters to you.

all you want right now is to see him.

you walk towards him, taking slow steps, unsure how to act. you haven't seen him in what feels like forever, and all that awkward tension you’ve been trying to ignore creeps back up.

when he notices you, his eyes widen for just a second before a small smile breaks across his face. it’s a smile you haven’t seen in a while.

“hey,” he greets you.

you nod, trying to keep your cool despite the rush of emotions. “hi,” you say, feeling your heart race. you look at him, searching his face for any clue about how he’s been, but you can't tell much.

“i didn’t think you’d show up,” he admits, his gaze flickering over you. “thought you were gonna skip it.”

“just wanted to see what this is all about.” you say, trying to sound casual

he chuckles softly, his eyesglancing down. “didn’t expect you to be interested in this stuff.”

“well, i’m not,” you say, feeling the need to explain yourself. “but i wanted to see you. jungkook.”

there’s a brief moment of silence as his expression shifts, and you can’t tell if he’s surprised or if he’s just been waiting for you to say something. his eyes meet yours, and there’s an intensity there that makes you second guess every word you just said.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says quietly, stepping a little closer. “i know things have been... off. and honestly—”

loud chatter in the background interrupts him, making both of you exchange a quick glance before he speaks up again.

“follow me.”

you follow him without thinking. the sound of people fading away as you walk through the crowd. he leads you to what feels like an empty lecture hall, making sure to lock the door behind you. you stand there, waiting for him to speak, the quiet now heavy between you two.

“i know things have been different recently,” he starts again, his voice soft. “and i honestly don’t know why...” he sighs. “but i want to apologize for that day. i’m really sorry.”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i forgive you,” you say, your voice steady, but there's still an uncertainty in your chest.

“really?” he looks at you, his gaze searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“yeah,” you nod, “i was just sick and i guess i overreacted a little, i’m sorry for that.”

he shakes his head quickly. “you didn’t. you didn’t overreact.”

a quiet but heavy silence fills the space between you both.

“so, uh, cool event,” you say, trying to break the tension.

“don’t act like you care,” jungkook smiles, the familiar smirk finally making its way onto his face.

you smile too, shrugging lightly. “yeah, i don’t.”

there’s another brief silence. you’re not sure what to say next, the awkwardness still lingering in the air. what if he’s going to end things? what if he’s had enough? what if.

“jungkook, i—”

his lips are on yours before you can even finish your sentence. the kiss catches you off guard, but his arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling you in, and any hesitation melts away. his warmth seeps into you, grounding you in the moment as his lips move against yours with a desperate sort of tenderness.

you don’t pull back. instead, you let yourself fall into it, let him guide you. the kiss deepens, and with it, the questions and uncertainties that had been weighing you down dissolve, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him. here, now, with you.

when you finally pull back, your chest heaves as you gasp for air. your mind is racing, your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t know how to respond. a part of you wants to spill everything; how much you’ve missed him, how unbearable the distance has been, how empty you’ve felt without his touch. but the words catch in your throat, like they're stuck somewhere.

“i’m sorry, i…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. his hands don’t leave your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might slip away. “i missed you.”

those three words hit harder than you expect, stirring something deep inside you. warmth spreads through your chest, a quiet comfort you didn’t realize you’d been craving.

it’s simple, almost too simple, but it feels like it’s enough. like it’s the answer to everything that’s been weighing on your heart; the confusion, the space, the silence between you two. suddenly, none of it matters.

“you missed me?” you ask softly, your voice trembling just slightly. it’s as if you need to hear him say it again, to be sure you’re not imagining it.

he nods, his eyes locked on yours. his voice is gentle. “yeah, i did.”

you stare at each other for a moment, the air between you thick with many unspoken feelings. then, without thinking, you lean in, closing the distance as your lips find his. your arms wrapping around his neck as if pulling him closer could erase all the time you spent apart. he responds immediately, his lips pressing against yours with equal fervor, like he’s been waiting for this.

your right leg slides up instinctively, brushing against his hip, and he understands your silent request. his hands move to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lifts you effortlessly. your legs wrap around his waist, and his strong hands shift to cup your ass, holding you securely against him. the closeness sends a rush of heat through you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

the kiss deepens, his tongue teasing against your lips until you part them, granting him access. his tongue brushes against yours, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of warmth straight to your core. you hum softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating between you, and his grip on you tightens.

he places you on the nearby desk, his lips never leaving yours. his hands grip your waist, keeping you steady. your fingers slide down to his chest, gently gripping his shirt as if holding on for balance. he pulls back for a brief moment, giving you both a chance to catch your breath.

without hesitation, he shrugs off his blazer, carelessly tossing it to the floor. the sound of it hitting the ground barely registers as his hands return to you, cupping your face with a tenderness that contrasts the heat between you. his lips find yours again, urgent yet soft, and you let him take control, your hands moving to cup his face too.

your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and you can feel his soft bulge pressing against you. the sensation is enough to make your breath hitch, and you instinctively tilt your hips toward him, craving more of the pressure.

he pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “you drive me crazy.”

oh fuck.

“what—” you start to ask, but the sound of knocking interrupts you.

both of your heads snap toward the door, your bodies tense.

“jungkook!? you in there?” a familiar voice calls out, loud and clear.

jungkook immediately recognizes it and clears his throat, trying to steady his voice. “yes! jin hyung, i’m here.”

“i’m about to give my speech, so you better be there asap!” jin’s voice is full of its usual dramatic flair. “i came all the way here for this moment, and i don’t want you to miss my glory.”

you hear his footsteps retreating, his words lingering in the air.

jungkook exhales, his head leaning slightly forward until it rests against your forehead. his hands remain on your waist, his touch warm, grounding you in a moment that feels anything but steady. he mumbles under his breath, almost as if he’s scolding himself. “of all the times…”

your heart races, and your mind spins in circles. what does he mean by you drive him crazy? the weight of those words presses down on you, heavy and confusing.

“jungkook,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think you should go.”

he lifts his head to look at you, his brows furrowing slightly. the regret in his eyes is unmistakable.

maybe i shouldn’t have said that. he thinks as he takes a small step back, creating a gap between you that suddenly feels too wide.

“are you going to stay?” he asks cautiously, his voice softer now.

you open your mouth to answer but hesitate. you don’t know what to say. this was never part of your plan. all you wanted was to see him, to tell him you were sorry too. but now, standing here with him, everything feels so much more complicated.

“___,” he says your name gently, snapping you out of your daze. your gaze meets his, and he blinks at you, his expression searching.

“i know things have changed between us, and—”

“what do you mean? we’re fine, though,” you cut him off quickly, the words spilling out as if saying them will make them true.

he lets out a heavy sigh, “are we?”

the question catches you off guard. your frown deepens as uncertainty settles in your chest.

are we?

your silence answers for you, and he notices. he always notices.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, almost like he’s trying to soothe you. “i don’t know how to deal with it either.” he pauses, his voice quieter. “i don’t know what we are right now.”

what are we?

the words echo in your mind, and you hate how much they hurt. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you never wanted it to turn into this mess.

“i think…” you start, and his eyes are on you immediately, waiting, hoping you’ll say something that will make this all easier.

“...i should go.”

you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop just slightly, the smallest sign of defeat. you hesitate for a moment before sliding off the desk, your movements stiff and uncertain.

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his gaze one last time. “good luck with your presentation,” you say softly. you linger for a second, watching him, hoping he’ll say something to stop you. but all he does is nod, his response quiet and unreadable.

with a deep breath, you turn around and walk toward the door. every step feels heavier than the last.

behind you, jungkook exhales a long, weary sigh, running a hand through his hair.

did i mess it up? he wonders, his chest tightening with something he doesn’t know how to name.

a/n: um haha.... jin with glasses yay!! 🏃🏻‍♀️

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @wombatkitten127 @hoseokteardrop

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097

[arrowfleur]

✩‧₊˚ Redacted HC’s ✩‧

I’ve been pretty shit at writing and posting this past year, which is crappy because I enjoy it so I wanted to do something that was less pressure than writing fics but could still make people happy. I’ve put every main redacted couple - plus a few extras - on a spin wheel and will be writing a long list of HC’s each day depending on who I get :)

Anyways, Part 1: Lasko and Dear

Dear loves thrifting but they didn’t want to take Lasko with them at first in case he found something they wanted, before they did. Now they borrow each others clothes so it wouldn’t matter anyway.

When they eventually took him he spent the entire time trying to find things they liked.

Dear has two toned hair

Lasko has never stopped thinking that dear is the coolest person to ever walk the earth, ever.

Sometimes dear wears colour contacts for fun

Both of them have a pocket watch on a chain

For their first anniversary Dear bought Lasko a locket, with a picture of the entire Damn Squad in it.

He added a photo of them to the other side

Dear has pet rats, they take such good care of them and their cage is huge

Lasko was slightly weary at first but he warmed up to them pretty well

Dear is very good at fixing things.

One of the first times they went to his apartment, his Ac broke. Dear just calmly listened to his apologetic rant about it before asking where the toolbox was.

Dear has tattoos behind their ears

Lasko is very good at saving but he’s not tight and always tries to pay for the whole table.

Very rarely has he succeeded

Dear has a collection of paper boy hats.

Lasko wears earmuffs when it’s cold because he always gets earaches

Dear has curled their hair with coke cans before

They love old black and white movies

Lasko likes really crappy b-movies

Can’t be let down if you know it’s going to be bad before it starts

Dear can keep up very well with Damien’s academic discussions and sometimes debates him just for the sake of it. Damien enjoys the challenge.

Dear is not the biggest Christmas enjoyer but this year they’re looking forward to it.

Lasko has booked a couple of Christmas markets for them

Dear HATES the idea of a cruise. Not because of the ocean but because they can’t get off the boat once it sets off.

Lasko always takes those little pots of jam and the little shampoo/conditioner bottles whenever he goes to a hotel

Neither of them can ice skate well whatsoever

Lasko has and will continue to use those little penguins meant for children. Dear finds it fucking hilarious all while they’re clinging to the side of the rink themselves

They share grandpa jumpers

When they first started dating, dear would pretend to forget their lanyard so that lasko would have to go down and let them in.

They both wear lots of rings and love playing with each others hands

Lasko used to wear those fake glasses from Claire’s

Dear is so casually flirty with Lasko that he thought it was just their personality at first

That’s why they eventually just had to go into his office and straight up ask him out

Dear kisses Lasko’s nose often, especially when they’re saying goodbye to each other or he’s severely overthinking

Dear really enjoys those mugs that change colour when you put hot water in them

Lasko has an entire cupboard dedicated to board games

Dear was delighted

Dear reads random niche comics and webtoons

And they have a lot of figurines

Lasko is an unsweetened oat milk enjoyer!!

Dear inhales food like it’s nobody’s business

It doesn’t last five minutes on their plate

They also never get indigestion

Their go-to cocktail is an old fashioned

Lasko hates it

Dear will simply repeat what Lasko says in a teasing tone to fluster him

Or they’ll just randomly start acting like the weirdest story is sexy.

‘And then he, he told me they’d have to charge me more for these stupid tires that I didn’t even ask for!’

‘ and what did you say? 😏

‘Well I- I told him,

‘ did you stick up for yourself? 😏😏

‘ well I told him I wasn’t going to pay for it’

*dear looking him up and down’

‘Good job, I don’t like it when other play dirty with you’

And they’re making out, Lasko doesn’t know how they do it they just have a way. It literally doesn’t even make sense.

Lasko’s hair grows incredibly quick. He shaves ALOT.

His skins is also so beautiful, it’s so soft and clear and glowy.

Dear has acne scars and they do little skincare nights together but Lasko thinks they’re HOT AS FUCK

Okay that’s all, also my proof that I got these guys first

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 2: support our son

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm still trying to figure out what app/site to make the texts on so if anyone has a good suggestion please help please i'm struggling

previous | masterlist | next

You used to come over to Jay’s place nearly every other day. But it had been two weeks, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was to the point that Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon began asking if you would ever come over again, to which Jay was forced to answer that you were probably hanging out with Huening Kai. He didn’t know your actual whereabouts most of the time, but he guessed. Which made him internally cringe every time.

What he disliked the most, however, was his incessant urge to text you whenever the smallest inconvenient thing happened in his day. He was sure you would very likely reply, but he was scared of what it would be like now that the dynamic of your relationship changed. It should probably be the same, but what if your voice over text changed because now you were seeing someone else?

Jay wasn’t fond of the idea in the slightest. Did you even really like Huening Kai? Who the fuck was he to take you away from Jay? (Yet you weren’t his to begin with.) He missed you, but he could hardly voice it out to himself, let alone you.

The day he nearly killed a man on the spot was when he saw you and Huening Kai walking side by side on campus. It wasn’t just that, actually, because the two of you were holding hands, and you were laughing about something Kai had said. It was even worse because he was clearly walking you to class — a class that you shared with Jay. So you were bound to cross paths, and no matter how hard Jay tried to slow his pace down, you still managed to notice him.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” you called him over with a smile on your face. It was brighter than he remembered, and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his brain playing tricks, or whether you were genuinely happier than he had ever seen you before. “You know Kai, right?” you asked innocently, but it only brought back Jay’s anger from the Sanctuary Café.

Heeseung just wanted to take Jay out to an open mic. Neither of them knew that it would also be the day of your first date with Huening Kai. Jay hated every second of being there, but to you, it must’ve been an unforgettable night.

“And Kai, this is Jay,” you said with a smile, pointing at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Kai stretched out his hand forward, but the gaze with which he beheld Jay told him that he knew everything about you and Jay. That you gave him every single gory detail of what had been going on before the two of you began dating, and that made Jay even more furious. Because he refused to acknowledge any other emotion he felt.

He ignored the tightness in his chest as he shook Kai’s hand with a nod. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” Jay replied, not lying, because he genuinely knew nothing about Kai besides the few pieces of gossip and what Heeseung divulged some time ago. Kai wasn’t surprised by that information at all. You hadn’t told Jay anything about him either.

“We have to get to class, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” You looked at Kai with such admiration in your eyes that Jay wanted to step between the both of you and push Kai out of the way. But he couldn’t do it. All he could do was stand and watch and constantly clench and unclench his fists.

“Yeah, of course,” Kai replied, bending down to kiss your temple, but you grabbed the collar of his band tee and brought his mouth down to your lips. Kai let out an involuntary giggle as it happened, and Jay had to abruptly turn away, incapable of not rolling his eyes.

“Bye,” you mumbled quietly, a soft smile decorating your lips.

“Band practice starts at five.”

“I know, Kai,” you laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be there. We need to support our son.”

Jay furrowed his brows, but with Kai’s knowing grin and playful roll of his eyes, neither of you was going to elaborate on what you actually mean.

Your son?

And yet that was the first thing Jay asked about once Kai was finally leaving you alone, his back turned to the two of you. “Your son? The fuck happened in the last two weeks?”

You chuckled at Jay’s confusion, an amused look brightening up your features. “Yujin’s still in high school,” you said, shaking your head. “The keyboardist. If you remember him. He’s actually just started his second year.”

“So you call him your son?”

“Yeah, he’s the whole band’s son. And mine, now.” You grinned proudly, just thinking about Yujin. “Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately, but I’m still getting used to this whole new dynamic of me having a boyfriend and all that.”

“Oh, you’re official already?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, shrugging. “What about you? Any new conquests lately? Surely, you already found someone else? Maybe you’ve already had someone on your roster, you know, that kinda stuff.” 

If Jay wasn’t too busy cringing at your words, he’d probably notice how tense your tone was, and how much you hated saying them, but he didn’t. All he heard was that you really didn’t care about him any more than a casual fuck and perhaps a somewhat close friend. 

“Nah, not really,” Jay replied anyway. “I’m actually kinda… I don’t know. Haven’t felt like doing much lately.”

“Right. So just you and Jane?” you asked teasingly.

“What?” And maybe it should’ve hit Jay instantly that you were speaking of his guitar, but instead he thought that you were suggesting he really was with somebody else already, and he did not like that. “Oh.” He realised moments later.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He nodded. Jay had to count all his small victories of today among the losses, too, however, because you were actively speaking to him finally. And not just that — you sat down next to him in class.

tags: (send an ask or comment to be added!) @moonpri @addictedtohobi

[idyllcy]

soul ("are we mates?" "I don't see what else we'd be")

leon kennedy x reader || childhood friends / vague college au

wc: 482 || summary: some habits are hard to shake

"You've ruined yourself beyond repair. What now?"

You blink at nothing in particular, staring at Leon in his car as you lean in on the windowsill, blinking slowly.

"I don't know. I didn't think I'd actually do it."

You know Leon mourns it more than you do. You've grown null to the feeling over the years, but you had despised it with every inch of your soul to a point that you had sworn you'd never touch music again. You're sure he misses when you sang when he played piano, and you're certain that he really did think that you were lying just like you had told him just now. Neither of you truly expected it, maybe. The death of your ability to sing was never something you really yearned for. It was just the dream that one day people would forget that you ever sang and stop asking you to join them.

Leon remembers fairly clearly, quiet blinking at you in the crowd as you had sung back in freshman year, sparkle still in your eyes — his fingers itching so that maybe one day he could meet you halfway and you'd bring him as your pianist. You offered once back in sophomore, but he hadn't the money at the time. He's sure his parents would have sent him if he really wanted to go, but he had been plenty happy listening to you complain about the behind-the-scenes. 

Maybe he mourns it more than you do. His piano somewhere in his room now that the two of you are older, and he blinks at you when you tell him that it's kind of just left you.

An empty feeling that maybe you really did love it at one point, but the part of you that you've crushed and erased like some poor soul who had been drained of all adoration for something you once loved only to be stuck staring into nothing. 

"Will you find it again?"

"I'm not sure." You close your eyes, letting Leon press his palm to your cheek and brush the bags of your eyes with his thumb.

"Nadia's almost here."

"I know." You mumble. "You'd rather be caught dead than caught brushing my cheek as gently as this. You refuse to even hug me."

"It's so no one misunderstands."

"I know." You open your eyes, observing Leon. "I can't believe you're scared of people misunderstanding like this yet somehow you offered to have me sit at your grad table with your entire extended family."

"That was different. I wanted to celebrate with you. I really did."

"I know you did." You hum. "Well, it's fine. I wanted you at mine too. She's here."

You take a step back as Leon takes back his hand, staring quietly, eyes lingering on you as Nadia reaches for a hug, and you hum.

The lingering sense of dread is still there on you, Leon finds.

It's alright. He'd just talk to you about it later. 

[lovelyshu]

I ONLY TALK TO DOGS BECAUSE THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND ME — with Minho

001 DESCRIPTION — how minho deals with a crying teenager he cares about

002 TAGS — all platonic, gn reader, use of yn like once, very fluffy, a tiny bit of angst if you squint (reader doesn't trust parents with problems or anyone else tbh + like lots of crying), very self indulgent

003 COMMENTS — what does crying at least once a week in the middle of the night does to a person? It gives them ✨ideas✨. Also this was inspired by my brother even if I never told him much. He was the only person I allowed to see me cry.

004 TAGGING — @hannamoon143 @jisunggy

Minho doesn't remember exactly when did he got so close to you. And to be honest, neither did you.

But now you were someone very important to him, going as far as calling you his little sibling.

And that's also one of the reasons he accepted when you asked to sleep on his house that night.

The other reason being that he knew you weren't feeling so good these days. Even if you tried to hide it, your obvious reactions to which no one seemed to notice or care gave it away.

Well, that didn't mean he was expecting to her crying in the middle of the night.

It was 1:35 am. And Minho had no idea on to why were you still awake. He was still feeling sleepy and tired, but as soon as he heard the sob coming from the other room, his mind put to the side any sleepiness in his body.

Slowly, he walked to your room, standing right outside your door. Minho thought about knocking on it, but you would probably just ignore.

So that's why he just - slowly - opened it, to which made you freeze, trying to pretend to be asleep.

“yn? Are you alright?”

No response.

Sighing, he walked closer to you after closing the door, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Minho knew you had trouble with opening up to other people, even sympathizing with the feeling. Knowing that, he put a hand over your head, patting it softly.

“If there's anything bothering you, I'm more than happy to help you. You don't need to bottle up everything.”

As you stayed in silence, he continued.

“And I can also just listen, if you'd like. I won't tell anyone about this, unless you ask me to.”

The silence continued for a short moment, until he heard you speak, voice cracking slightly. A clear sign you were indeed crying.

“Not even my parents?”

“No. If you don't want them to know, I won't tell them.”

You slowly turned to face him, sitting up. Minho seeing this slowly puts your head on his shoulder, letting you take your time with talking.

“Minho... I'm sorry..”

“What are you sorry for?” - he spoke in such a soft and calm tone that made you get even more emotional than you were.

Trying to find the right words, more tears begun to found their way to your eyes as you tried your best to not let them fall.

“For everything. I'm a failure, I can't do anything right, my parents are alright but it seems like I can never make them proud. The only thing I give them is shame.”

Minho moved you a bit, enough so that you could hide your face on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

“Sometimes I just want to disappear.. I always ask myself if anyone would even care if I did...”

Hearing your words made Minho hug you tightly, mumbling in such a low voice that you might've missed if it wasn't for the silence.

“You're not a failure. If anything, you are the most talented and intelligent person I've ever met.”

Minho sighed as he noticed that you were crying even more, knowing those words might mean something way too big for your own heart to bear.

“And you don't even see it. If you ever disappeared, I'd go all around the world to find you.”

Slowly, he laid you down again, but now, laying down as well, still holding you.

After some long minutes, Minho noticed you were drifting off to sleep, which somehow, got him in peace enough to do the same.

Not until he whispered again.

“You're not alone. Don't forget that.”

Was the last thing you heard before closing your eyes, comfortably sleeping while cuddling no one other than Minho himself.

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

LU Wild x Reader Part 3: Sharing stories

Okay, I forgot how long this piece was but I'll be slowly putting it up every week. Part three yayyy we get to meet Malon hehe! Sorry its a bit short, I actually need to edit some parts so there's extra work to do but here we goooo

Start here!

Malon and Link’s house is adorable, it’s the cutest little place tucked away in a farm, looking over the forest and rest of castle town. Just stepping underneath the expanse of the blue sky makes me want to live here.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so jealous of your house!” I can’t contain my excitement, wrapping my hands together. A few moments later the door opens, and a beautiful woman steps out, Time is smiling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. She reaches her arms around him, both melting into each other. I can’t help admiring them, tilting my head at the endearing look they share. My gaze falls towards Wild for a moment, raising a slight brow in mockery and nudges my arm.

“I can’t lie, their adorable.” I say, echoing the sentiment everyone else is probably feeling. Most of us are staring in pure admiration, watching them pull away. Time places a soft kiss against Malon's head.

“It feels like forever,” she says, letting go then stares at the rest of us, a hand against her hip before landing her eyes on me.

“Oh! I you must be y/n," Link wrote about you so much to me, come in the rest of you.” I look towards Link, finally this time the old man actually smiles at me, to my relief. I almost let out an audible sigh.

“Told you he was fine.” Wild whispered. I roll my eyes, continuing inside as they lead us into their home. It’s so cozy, and there’s already a whole table full of food set up for us. For a long moment we just let them be, sitting around as we all hungrily stare at the plates. Neither of us reaching for food, striving to be polite. Wild pouts, and Legend reaches his hand out before Sky swats his arm.

“Not yet! Can’t you just be a little patient?” it all makes us laugh, but then my stomach cramps. Hungrily.

“Oh! You guys can all eat, what are you waiting for? We’ll be there in a moment.” Her eyes are still on Time’s, it’s almost like he’s forgotten the rest of us exist. I can’t blame him really, but I still keep looking towards them.

Perfect, their so perfect together.

Again I catch Wild glancing towards me, a smirk growing on his face until I snap out of it, realising their all looking at me. A blush spreads across my face, embarrassed.

“What’s up with you? Daydreaming about having a life like that?” I kick Wild’s leg, a few others noticing, like Twilight.

“Ew, no? what on earth.” I stutter, not coming out the way I intended at all.

“Isn’t it what everyone wants? It’s cool to explore the world but at the end of the day something like this is peaceful…well having someone.” Sky says, hand against his cheek. I keep my face non chalant, but it’s true. And knowing I may not ever get it, really stings.

"that’s so lame.” Legend rolls his eyes, but the others are quiet.

“It definitely warrants that, and who are you lying too? We know how much you miss-“ Sky gives Warriors a cautionary glance, softening his expression as Legend looks genuinely hurt. I’m still quiet, staring below at the floors.

For the rest of the evening Malon kindly asks us questions, about where we’re from. And me, which is a little hard to explain granted I sort of jumped through a well and ended up here.

“Do you think you’ll stay?” she poses the question casually, and everyone looks at me.

“Aha well…I don’t really know yet. It would be nice to stay, but then everyone else will have to go back home at some point, and I suppose my home isn’t really here.” The realisation hurts, and suddenly I don’t have a huge appetite anymore. Time looks at me sympathetically, and Wild also softens, knowing how I truly feel about Twilight right now. He may already have someone in mind anyway right? Best to keep expectations low.

“Whew! I’m kind of full, I think I’ll go for a walk. Would it be okay if I walk?” I push my plate forward, clearing my throat. The tension is making my face heat.

“Oh of course, just don’t wander too far. I’d hate for you to run into a monster at this time.” Time almost looks traumatised just as before, but Wild chips in once again.

“I can come!” I look at him, surprised, but suppose it would be good to talk. He’s really the only one I can sort of confide in right now.

“Sure.”

It’s cold, really cold around here that’s worse than the camp night. I’m shivering, pulling my sleeves while looking up at the moon, remembering that story Time told us about how it had almost fallen and crushed the entire world. It still feels like a silly fable, but then again this whole chance to be in Hyrule is pretty unbelievable.

“So that’s the moon in question? It looks friendly.” Wild says, staring up at while removing his cape, placing it over my shoulders. I freeze, holding onto the end then glance towards him, holding onto the fabric. It carries the scent of peppermint and wood, all the adventures he told us around the fire lingering in this fabric.

“What- aren’t you cold?” I say, letting my hand down. He puffs out his chest, albeit very much freezing and not doing a good job of hiding it.

“I’ve braved snow capped mountains in this tunic, this is nothing.” His teeth chatter, but I giggle.

“Alright, if you’re sure, hero. Also, the moon looks like cheese to me.”

“Cheese?”

“See the craters?”

“Well if I look too long I’m afraid it might start to resemble a face. Do you think the old man was serious about the moon falling?” I give him an incredulous look.

“Do I? at this point anything is possible for me.”

“Oh…right. I mean in my world it turned red. A very, aggressive and blood sort of red. Then at exactly midnight all the creatures and monsters I slayed came back to life." He narrates his story again, walking through the fields while I listen intently watching his eyes colour with intensity.

Once we're closer to the edge of a hill, We come to a stop, overlooking the town square, quiet at this time with a few fires flickering distantly. My stomach churns, the lingering realisation becoming more prominent each day that all this will fade. Wild stops talking, facing me.

“Wait sorry- I forgot about your world-“ he says quietly, "Tell me about it!" I'd been pushing away any thoughts about home, even though I'd come from there, part of me never felt like I'd belonged.

"Nothing too interesting to talk about, really." His expression fades, curiousity dimming. "Really? I thought you were a writer though, I'm sure you've got some stories to share." They weren't worth speaking about here, I'd told them about my journals, all the books I'd read but to tell them something from my life still felt like a raw wound. Stories were best shared as scars, but mine hadn't quite healed yet.

"Umm, I don't really want to, sorry." I mumble, but he smiles again.

"Oh well, but I'm going to hold you to it. You owe me!"

[lovesickforprice]

"Bi-Han and Y/N, former lovers, struggle with forbidden feelings while serving the Lin Kuei."

---

Frosted Shadows (Part 1)

The moon hung high above the Lin Kuei temple, casting its pale glow over the frost-covered grounds. The team had returned from the southern outpost hours ago, the threat neutralized for now. But Bi-Han’s mind wasn’t on the mission’s success—it was on you.

He sat alone in the training grounds, the cold wind biting at his skin through his sleeveless uniform. His arms rested on his knees, the frost around him spreading like a reflection of his restless thoughts. He knew you would come. You always did.

“You’re freezing the training mats again,” your voice came softly from behind him, a teasing lilt that carried the warmth he craved.

Bi-Han didn’t turn immediately, letting your steps draw closer. When he finally looked up, you were standing over him, arms crossed and a faint smirk on your lips. You had discarded your mask, something you only did when it was just the two of you. The sight of your face, unguarded, was a reminder of everything he’d lost—and everything he still wanted.

“I’ll replace them,” he said gruffly, his lips twitching into a shadow of a smile.

You raised an eyebrow. “Or you could stop ruining them in the first place.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but the banter faded quickly. Your gaze lingered on him longer than usual, and he saw it—the same longing he felt every time he looked at you.

“You’ve gotten taller again,” he said suddenly, his voice low, almost reverent. His eyes swept over you, taking in the subtle changes. “And your hair…it’s longer now.”

Your expression softened, and you crouched down in front of him, your face now level with his. “And you’ve gotten rougher,” you replied, your tone gentle but firm. You reached out, your fingers brushing against the coarse stubble on his jaw. “You didn’t have this back then.”

He caught your wrist gently, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. His thumb brushed over your pulse, steady and strong beneath his touch. “It’s been a long time since ‘back then,’” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours.

You didn’t look away, and neither did he. There was no shyness between you, no hesitation. You’d already been past that point long ago. The two of you had shared too many late-night conversations, too many stolen kisses in shadowed corners, too many whispered promises of forever before it had all been ripped away.

“You never wanted this, did you?” you asked, your voice softer now.

Bi-Han’s grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, though not enough to hurt. “I wanted you,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But it was never about what I wanted.”

Your parents had disapproved of him from the start, despite your history. To them, he was destined to be Grandmaster—a role too sacred, too demanding for something as fleeting as love. And to the Lin Kuei elders, your relationship had been seen as a distraction, a weakness he couldn’t afford.

But to him, you were never a weakness. You were the one thing that made him feel alive in a world of duty and ice.

“You still want me,” you said, no question in your tone, only certainty.

He let out a low chuckle, one without humor. “You don’t make it easy to forget.”

Your hand slipped free of his grip, only for you to place it on his cheek, your touch soft but grounding. “Then stop trying.”

The words hung between you, fragile yet unyielding. His resolve cracked, the frost around him dissipating as his other hand reached up to cover yours. His calloused fingers were rough against your smoother skin, but you didn’t pull away. You never had.

“I can’t,” he said, though the words felt hollow. “You know why.”

“I know what they’ve told you,” you countered, leaning closer. “But what about what you want, Bi-Han? What about what we want?”

Your faces were close now, close enough for him to see the faint lines of frost still clinging to your lashes, the way your lips parted slightly as you waited for him to answer. He hated how easily you unraveled him, how your presence alone made him question everything he’d been taught to believe.

“I’ve always wanted you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But wanting doesn’t change the rules.”

Your lips twitched into a faint, sad smile. “Then break them. For once, stop being the Grandmaster and just…be you.”

He didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. You knew him too well, knew the war raging inside him. And despite everything, you leaned closer, your forehead pressing gently against his.

The cold air around you seemed to still, as if the entire world was holding its breath. His eyes closed, and he allowed himself this moment—this stolen fragment of time where it was just you and him, no titles, no expectations.

“I miss this,” you whispered, your breath warm against his lips. “I miss us.”

He exhaled shakily, his hand moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. “So do I,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

For a heartbeat, it felt like everything else had fallen away. The rules, the clan, the burdens of leadership—they were distant echoes in the face of the one thing he truly cared about.

But then, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor. The moment shattered, and Bi-Han pulled back abruptly, his expression hardening once more.

You blinked, your hand slipping from his face as you stood. The mask was back—not just the one you wore as his second-in-command, but the one you both wore to protect yourselves.

“Goodnight, Grandmaster,” you said, your voice carefully neutral as you turned and walked away.

He watched you go, his chest heavy with everything he couldn’t say.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, though you were already gone.

As the frost crept back across the training mats, Bi-Han clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He would lead the Lin Kuei. He would fulfill his duty.

But deep down, he knew the frost in his veins could never erase the fire you’d left behind.

----------

This is my first ever fanfict guys so I'm sorry if it's bad but I just really like bi han so I wanted to write this for a long time 🤷🏽‍♀️

[i-ship]

What’s up with Cait’s behavior in this press tour? A SamCait fic it is!

Some fluff, some angst, some steam 🔥

Don’t Play with Fire -

The dull hum of the air conditioning filled the hotel room as Sam shut the door behind him. Caitríona stood at the mini-bar, pouring herself a whiskey, her back turned to him. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her awareness.

He dropped his coat onto the armchair by the door, watching her carefully. “You’re avoiding me,” he said finally, his voice low but steady.

Cait took a long sip before turning to face him, her expression unreadable. “And you came here to call me out on it?”

Sam shrugged, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Seemed like the kind of thing we should talk about.”

She scoffed, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. “What’s there to talk about, Sam? We’re here doing press, just like we’ve always done. Nothing’s changed.”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, Here’s the continuation:

Sam’s blue eyes locked onto hers, frustration flickering behind them. “Don’t give me that. You’ve been acting different—closer, touchier. You’re pushing, Cait, and I don’t know what game you’re playing.”

Her jaw tightened. “Game? Christ, Sam, you think this is a game?”

“I don’t know what it is,” he snapped, stepping closer. “But for years, you’ve kept me at arm’s length, and now… now you’re looking at me like—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair.

“Like what?” she pressed, her voice quieter now but no less biting.

“Like the way you used to,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caitríona’s gaze softened for a moment, but then she turned away, pacing toward the window. The city lights outside cast her in a faint glow, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I tried, Sam,” she said finally, her voice cracking just slightly.

“Tried what?”

“Tried to move on. To build something stable, something… normal. But it’s not working.” She leaned against the window frame, her arms wrapped around herself. “Tony’s a good man. He’s safe. But it’s not—” She stopped herself, shaking her head.

Sam took a cautious step toward her. “Not what?”

“Not this,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Not… whatever the hell this is. It’s messy and painful, and half the time I hated it, but it was real. It was alive.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. When he did, his voice was laced with bitterness. “And yet, you were the one who walked away.”

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing. “What choice did I have, Sam? Do you know what it was like, being told we couldn’t be because it didn’t fit their narrative? Watching them parade you around like some bachelor fantasy for the fans while I had to pretend I didn’t care?”

“I hated it too,” he shot back. “But I would’ve fought for us. You didn’t even give me the chance.”

“Fought for what?” she retorted, stepping closer. “A secret relationship we could never acknowledge? A love that could only exist behind closed doors? That’s not a life, Sam. That’s a prison.”

“And your marriage isn’t?” he countered, his voice cutting.

Her face crumpled slightly, and she looked away. “Maybe it is,” she admitted. “But at least it felt like a choice. With you… everything felt like it was out of my control.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Sam took a step closer, his voice softer now. “You say it was out of your control, but you were always the one holding the reins, Cait. You decided when it started, and you decided when it ended. And now, after all these years, you’re here… doing this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed. “I just know that I’m tired of pretending. Pretending I’m fine, pretending I don’t miss you, pretending I don’t think about what we had every goddamn day.”

His defenses crumbled at her words, and he closed the distance between them in two strides. “Then stop pretending,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “If you miss me, if you still feel it… then stop.”

For a moment, she just looked at him, her breath hitching. Then, as if something inside her snapped, she grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely.

Sam froze for half a second before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him as if she might disappear again. The kiss was hungry, desperate, years of longing and restraint unraveling all at once.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breathing ragged.

Sam watched Caitríona, her face pale and tear-streaked, and his chest tightened like a vice. He hadn’t prepared for this. Not for her to unravel everything he’d so carefully buried over the years. She was his constant—sharp, cynical, and maddeningly stubborn. But tonight, the cracks in her armor were laid bare, and it was pulling something primal out of him.

He dragged a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice came out low and rough, tinged with frustration. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening with Tony?”

She blinked at him, her lips parting as if to answer, but nothing came out.

“For months, Cait,” he pressed, his voice rising slightly, though not with anger. “Years, even. You knew things were falling apart, and you didn’t tell me. Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you with him, trying to convince myself you were happy?”

Her shoulders sagged, and she wiped at her eyes again. “I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought… if I told you, it would make things harder for both of us.”

“Harder?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, pacing away from her before turning back, his blue eyes blazing. “Cait, do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from calling you? From showing up at your door? From saying something bloody stupid during interviews because I can’t get you out of my head?”

Her breath hitched, and she stared at him, her expression stricken.

“I tried to move on,” he admitted, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I tried so damn hard. But every time I saw you—even when we were just reading lines, or doing those bloody awkward press tours—it was like… like I was right back where we started. Like none of it ever ended.”

Caitríona stepped closer to him, her hand hesitating before brushing against his arm. “Sam…”

He shook his head, stepping back, the distance between them feeling both necessary and unbearable. “I can’t do this again, Cait. I can’t let myself believe we have a chance, only to watch you go back to him.”

“I’m not going back to him,” she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly but resolute. “Sam, I’m done. I told him months ago. He’s hardly even been home since.”

“Then why are you still with him?” Sam demanded, his frustration bubbling to the surface again. “Why haven’t you—” He stopped himself, his fists clenching as he tried to regain control of his spiraling emotions. “I need to know, Cait. Are you going to leave him? For good?”

Her lips trembled, and she looked down, her silence stretching too long for his liking.

“Because if you’re not,” Sam continued, his voice breaking now, “if this is just… some moment of doubt, or guilt, or whatever, then tell me. Because I can’t handle you breaking my heart again. Not after everything.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s not doubt, Sam. Or guilt. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

His breath caught, and he stared at her, his heart thundering in his chest.

“I was scared,” Caitríona admitted, her voice trembling. “Scared of what leaving would mean. For Leo, for my career, for everything. But after Dad died… and after you showed up for me, I realized I couldn’t keep pretending. I couldn’t keep trying to make something work when my heart was… somewhere else.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly, her words sinking in like a balm and a blade all at once. He wanted to believe her, to let himself hope, but the years of longing and hurt had left scars that wouldn’t heal overnight.

Finally, he exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “If we’re doing this, Cait… I need all of you. No half-measures. No turning back.”

She nodded, her hand slipping into his and squeezing tightly. “I’m all in, Sam. I promise.”

Their lips met again, slowly this time, letting everything that just happened soak in. God, she missed kissing him like that.

Sam’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Caitríona tilted her head back, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging

with the kind of desperation that made his pulse race. This wasn’t a soft reunion—it was years of frustration, longing, and buried feelings exploding into something they couldn’t contain.

“Cait…” he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed her back against the wall.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer, his body taut with restraint he no longer wanted to hold. Their movements were hurried, as though time itself were against them, each touch igniting a spark that threatened to consume them both.

She tugged at his shirt, her fingers fumbling in their haste. “Why do you always wear so many bloody layers?” she muttered, earning a low chuckle from him even as he helped her pull it over his head.

“Blame Scotland,” he quipped, but the humor faded as soon as their skin met. The heat of her body against his sent a shiver down his spine.

“God, Sam,” she breathed, her voice thick with need.

“Cait,” he groaned, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, his thumbs brushing the curve of her waist. “You have no idea…”

“I do,” she cut him off, her hands splaying across his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. “I always have.”

Their lips met again, this time slower, but no less intense. He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. They fell together in a tangle of limbs, each touch, each kiss, each whispered name filled with an urgency that spoke of years spent apart.

For a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just them, raw and unguarded, the barriers they’d built around themselves crumbling into nothing.

“This changes everything,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “But maybe it changes nothing. We’ve always been this… fire we can’t put out.”

Her lips quirked into a sad smile. “And fire burns, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “But it also keeps us alive.”

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Chapter 5

Days in the sun when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done will I ever leave you. Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. Will you now forever remain. Out of reach of my arms. Oh, those days in the sun. What I’d give to just relive one. Undo what's done. And bring back the light. Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark days bring. The spell we are under. Still is the wonder of us I sing of tonight. How, in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love, endure. I was innocent and certain, now I'm wise but unsure. Days in the past, I can't go back into my childhood. Oh, those precious days couldn't last. One that my father made secure. I can feel a change in me. Oh, hold me closer. I'm stronger now, but still not free. Days in the sun, will return. We must believe as others do. That days in the sun. Will come shinning through.

Flashback

The woods always felt alive, even in their stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. A young Mausi skipped over roots and around trees, her worn shoes crunching against the earthy path. This was her sanctuary, a place where rules didn’t matter, where she could dream endlessly and imagine a world beyond her small village.

As she wandered deeper, a muffled sound stopped her in her tracks. A soft, hiccupping sniffle.

Curiosity, tinged with concern, bubbled inside her. Who could be crying here, in her woods? The sound pulled her forward, her little feet quiet now, as if afraid to disturb the sadness lingering in the air.

And there he was—a boy, crouched by the base of an ancient oak tree, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. His clothes, though finer than hers, were dirtied from the forest floor. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell. His form was curled in on itself, as if he wanted to disappear, to fold himself into the shadows of the woods and never come out.

Mausi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know why, but seeing him like that hurt her in a way she couldn’t name. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ignore someone in pain—especially not when that someone seemed so lost.

She took a cautious step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Why are you crying?”

The boy stiffened but didn’t look up. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice raw and shaky.

Mausi frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. She wasn’t the type to be scared off easily, not by a little grumpiness.

“I’m Mausi,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was softer than usual, as if she knew not to push too hard.

Silence.

“My dad calls me that. It means ‘little mouse.’” She paused, glancing at him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’ll just call you ‘grumpy boy’ then,” Mausi said, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

At that, he finally looked up, his tear-streaked face partially hidden by unruly blonde hair. His green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a connection neither could fully understand.

“I don’t need friends,” he said, his tone defensive but weak.

“That’s fine. I don’t need another friend either,” Mausi replied, shrugging. “But I’m not going anywhere. You look like you need someone.”

The boy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was a nuisance or a lifeline. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he let out a sigh.

They sat there in silence, two small figures against the vastness of the woods. The weight in the air began to lift, little by little, as the boy’s sniffles faded into the rustling of leaves.

From that day on, the two became an unlikely pair, their connection forged in the quiet corners of the forest where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them. The boy never told Mausi his name, and though curiosity burned within her, she never pushed him to share it. Somehow, she understood that names held power, and his reluctance was less about hiding and more about protecting something fragile within himself.

Instead, they created a world of their own, one where names didn’t matter, and labels were irrelevant. They met in the same secluded spot beneath the ancient oak tree, the one whose roots snaked into the earth like veins carrying the lifeblood of the forest. It was their sanctuary—a place where laughter, exploration, and quiet companionship thrived, untainted by the weight of expectations.

The boy was guarded, his words often clipped and his demeanour prickly. He had a way of snapping when he felt too exposed, a defence mechanism Mausi came to recognize as fear rather than anger. But she had a gift for disarming him. Her chatter filled the silences he carried like armour, and though he’d roll his eyes or let out exaggerated sighs, Mausi noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She talked about anything and everything:how her father was always building something; how she didn't have a mother, how she loves adventures and reading, hoping one day she'll get an adventure of her own, how in her village they made fun of her for being different. Her words painted vibrant pictures, filling their little world with light and warmth.

At first, the boy didn’t respond much beyond a grunt or a sarcastic comment, but slowly, the cracks in his shield began to show. In stolen moments of vulnerability, he shared pieces of himself—little glimpses into the life he kept hidden.

As the weeks turned into months, the boy’s edges softened further. He taught Mausi how to skip stones across the surface of the creek, laughing when her first attempts sent the rocks plunging straight to the bottom. In return, she showed him how to whistle using a blade of grass, their giggles echoing through the forest as they competed to see who could make the loudest sound.

Yet, no matter how much they shared, there was always a heaviness in the boy’s eyes, a weight Mausi couldn’t quite name. 

One day, as they sat side by side on the bank of the creek, Mausi noticed a scar running along the inside of his wrist. It was faint, almost hidden by the dirt smudging his skin, but unmistakable. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against it before she realized what she was doing.

The boy jerked his arm away, his expression darkening. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” Mausi stammered, pulling her hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, his tone firm. But the way he turned away from her, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists, told a different story.

Mausi didn’t say anything else, afraid that if she pushed too hard, he might disappear again. But the scar stayed with her, a silent reminder that the boy she called her friend carried more pain than she could see.

Even in their happiest moments, the shadow lingered. It was in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if he were reliving something he couldn’t escape. It was in the way he flinched at sudden noises, his head snapping around as though expecting danger.

Mausi wished she could take that shadow from him, to make him laugh so hard it disappeared forever. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Some hurts ran too deep to be erased by kind words or shared laughter.

Still, she stayed. Because even if she couldn’t heal him, she could be there—to listen, to laugh, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

And in return, the boy gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. For all his guardedness and sharp edges, he made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. When he looked at her, it was as though she mattered—not as the village’s ‘little mouse’ but as Mausi, a girl who could climb trees and weave daisy chains and bring light into the darkest corners of the forest.

Together, they carved out a space where the weight of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was theirs. And for a while, that was enough.

The rain came suddenly, drenching the forest in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky hung low and gray, casting the woods in a shadowy gloom.

Mausi clutched a bundle of wildflowers in her hands as she raced toward their spot, her heart pounding with a strange urgency she couldn’t explain. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t care. Something felt wrong—terribly wrong.

When she reached the clearing, she saw him.

He was curled up at the base of their tree, just as he’d been the first day they met. But this time, his sobs were not muffled. They tore through the air, raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of sound that made the world feel heavier.

Mausi dropped the flowers and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head, his hands clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together.

Mausi hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she did the only thing that felt right—she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know if it was. “You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he stiffened in her embrace, as though the kindness was too much to bear. But then he broke, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I can’t—” he choked out between gasps. “It’s gone. They’re gone. Everything’s gone.”

Mausi didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t need to. She just held him tighter, her own tears mixing with the rain as she tried to absorb some of his pain.

For weeks, he didn’t come back.

Mausi visited their spot every day, her heart sinking a little more each time she found it empty. She left little gifts for him—wildflowers, pebbles, even a tiny carved mouse she’d made from a piece of wood. But they remained untouched.

She began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

When he finally did, he wasn’t alone.

Mausi’s face lit up when she saw him, but the joy was short-lived. The boy she knew was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. He stood with a group of older boys, their laughter sharp and cruel.

“You’re here!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was so worried. Are you okay?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What, are you some kind of puppy?” he sneered. “I don’t need you following me around.”

The words stung, but Mausi refused to let him see. “That’s all you have to say?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After disappearing for so long?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “I’m not your friend. We’re not even on the same level.”

The boys around him laughed, their jeers echoing in the clearing.

Mausi blinked back tears, her heartbreaking in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I cared.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the flowers she’d brought for him lying on the ground.

The boy watched her go, his fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to call her back, to apologize, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“She’s better off without me,” he told himself. “Everything I care about gets taken away. It’s better this way.”

But as her figure disappeared into the shadows of the woods, he felt the weight of his words crushing him. For the first time in his young life, he wondered if pushing someone away hurt more than losing them.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. Thank you so much for the love and support this story has gained. We got a flashback, wonder who that boy is. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for the love and support on this story again. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. I think that's all. Thanks for reading <3

[lilac-hecox]

hi! do you think you would write ianthony sharing clothes? thank you!

Ian/Anthony - ianthony - Sharing clothes

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“Ian,” Courtney begins.

Ian looks at her from where he’s pouring his coffee, standing at the counter in the kitchen of the Smosh office.

Courtney’s waiting for her frozen breakfast to cook in the microwave and as she waits, her eyes scan him, head to toe. Ian nervously touches the corner of his mouth, wiping at his face just in case he has any remnants of the gluten-free muffin he had eaten for breakfast when he arrived at the office.

“What’s up?” Ian asks because he can’t handle Courtney’s surveying gaze any longer.

“Is that…isn’t that Anthony’s shirt you’re wearing?” she asks, biting her lip, her voice low, but there is a clear sense of amusement in her eyes.

Ian looks down at himself.

Fuck.

The shirt he’s wearing is, in fact, Anthony’s. They’ve been spending so much time at each other’s places, sleeping over, that it’s natural that their possessions are missing. Anthony had a dedicated drawer in the dresser in Ian’s bedroom, but Ian hadn’t pulled this t-shirt from that drawer this morning. He had plucked it from his closet. Sure, he had noticed the shirt was a bit baggier than usual, but Ian attributed it to him eating more vegan meals to align with Anthony’s dinners.

Courtney must note Ian’s wide eyes before he can school his features into something more composed. She’s got a sly little smile on her face like she’s a cat that got the cream. Ian wills himself not to flush or really even react more than he already has. He clears his throat.

“Uh, no, I think this is mine. We must have gotten the same one. You know that happened in high school all the time.”

It’s not a very convincing lie but it’s all Ian’s got because neither he nor Anthony is ready to reveal their newfound relationship and how it has evolved into something beyond friendship and into a firmly romantic territory.

“Well,” Courtney says. She reaches out and adjusts the collar on the t-shirt, smoothing down the fabric on the shoulders. “It looks good on you.” She winks, thankfully taking mercy on him and not dragging out her questions or suspicions.

Ian adds his minimal sweetener to his coffee, plucking out a spoon from the drawer and stirring his coffee until it shifts from a deep black into a pale tan.

Anthony is at the office today and it isn’t too long before Ian finds him in their shared office. Ian slinks inside and shuts the door with a sigh.

“What’s up?” Anthony asks, looking up at Ian from his computer. “Coffee troubles?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I put on your shirt this morning?” Ian asks.

Anthony raises an eyebrow and then scans over Ian. He laughs brightly and fondly.

“Shit, you did, huh?”

“Yes, and Courtney absolutely noticed.”

Anthony doesn’t look nearly as panicked by this information as Ian happens to feel.

“Okay, well, it was just Courtney. She likes fashion, of course she noticed.”

“How do I reasonably explain why I’m wearing your shirt?”

“You don’t tell them it’s my shirt,” Anthony says.

Ian goes and sits at his desk, setting his cup of coffee down on the desk.

“I told her we owned the same one.”

“So,” Anthony says, amusement on his face, “I gotta buy a second one?”

Ian laughs, “I guess so. Unfortunately for both of us, our styles are pretty opposite so when one of us is wearing the others clothes…it’s noticeable. I don’t think anyone expects me to wear a Junji Ito shirt.”

“Tell them I influenced you. You know, the way you and Shayne own the same shirt.”

“Well, no one is going to think I’m dating Shayne since he and Court hard launched their marriage.”

Anthony shrugs, “You could be their third.”

Ian wrinkles his nose. “Don’t ever say that to me again. They’re like our kids at this point.”

Anthony laughs, “Our married kids.”

Ian shakes his head, “You’re so stupid, dude.”

“Not stupid enough to wear my boyfriend’s shirt to work,” Anthony mumbles, sipping his protein drink he typically has for breakfast.

Ian groans. “Okay, new rule. We’re establishing a ‘fit check’ before we come to the office from now on.”

Anthony wipes his mouth and sets the protein drink on the low coffee table in front of him and grins.

“Maybe I like you wearing my shirts.”

“Anthony,” Ian says warningly.

Anthony shrugs, “What can I say? I do. You look good in them. It makes me feel like a part of me is with you all day.”

“You sappy fuck,” Ian teases.

“Hey, you knew this about me when we reunited,” Anthony says with a shrug.

Ian abandons his coffee and moves across the interior of his office, going to drop on to the couch next to Anthony. He tucks himself against Anthony’s side.

“Yeah, I did.”

Anthony’s hand reaches out and runs down the line of Ian’s back, warm and comforting.

“Let ‘em talk,” Anthony says, as he draws Ian in and presses their lips together in a sweet kiss.