#yeah i thought id say hello

[flyingupward]

;; *waves very tentatively*

[pineappical]

would calling this something like "the sun to his earth" be a little bit too cliche? maybe...

[karinyosa]

cleaning out my following list and am being reminded of the phase i had where i was trying to make myself feel about being wlw the way i felt about being mlm (which is not what i called it at the time and also i was bisexual at this time) and i did this by. following every random carol fan blog i could find jshdsjhshjdsdcjhsdjchsbjdcgshdcjsdghcjh

[chasebird]

forgot my password 😞 my ass is NEVER logging out of here brah

[kr0hbar]

important note on my page:

now thats taken care of, i will be changing my username soon to suit myself better instead of "kr0hbar" since im not exactly Krow anymore

[charlieism]

moving into a flat as a person whose grown up poor with a flatmate whose grown up rich... girl what the fuck is going on

[ace-with--a-mace]

removing your wisdom teeth is actually not that bad

[the-secret-formulaone]

prompt: you and max have been secretly together for years. neither the fans or the media have a clue. what happens when you and max are neck and neck for the drivers championship and you get the unexpected news that you’re pregnant?

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari! reader

word count: ~7.6k

warnings: 18+, cursing, mentions of sex but no real smut, mentions of miscarriage, some mention of blood

a/n: hello, i'm brand new at writing fanfic for f1. i've had this idea for a while and it was eating at me so i hope you enjoy. i thought it would be cool to have it be like a normal fic with a bit of that social!au content that the fandom loves.

this is pt.1 of how everything is going down and then the next and final part will be what happens after, her pregnancy and what reader does this time around. along with some fan social media mayhem.

id love to hear your thoughts!

enjoy!

LAS VEGAS, USA | NOV 2024

The nausea settling in the pit of your stomach is unbearable, it gets worse with each lap you complete. You're confident you can push through and finish the race without throwing up in your helmet, until the track begins doubling and tripling.

You haven’t felt this dizzy since you crashed in Spa three years ago due to rain. There were no stakes then as you were having a bad race weekend and started P7. Today you’re P1 and the gap between you and Max is getting shorter as you slow to try and compensate for the nausea and dizziness.

You hear your team in your ear, asking you if the car's giving you trouble since there’s no apparent reason for you to be slowing down at this point. Especially with ten laps to go.

“The car is fine,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to relax your abdomen to keep the nausea at bay.

“Then what’s the matter? Are you okay?” Riccardo, your race engineer, asks. His tone is stern yet concerned.

“Yeah, I’m perfectly fine. My head feels like it’s spinning is all.” You're nonchalant but deep inside you’re panicking. This race means so much to you and your team. Now is not the time to get sick.

“Can you finish the race?” His filtered voice asks through the radio.

“Yes, I’m finishing the bloody race,” you curse, pressing on the gas pedal and tightening the hold on the steering wheel.

“If you continue feeling this way, box immediately,” he orders, not wanting to risk the safety of his driver, “By the way Max is 2 seconds behind you.”

“Fucking hell.” After all the work to create a 10 second gap Max is catching up because your body decided to get sick.

There’s rage building inside of you, keeping Max away is the most difficult part of racing. It took pure skill to keep him at a distance, he’s only catching up because you’re slowing. You're letting yourself down.

It’s been a battle of pole positions and fastest laps for you two. The championship is within your reach, threatening to break Max’s two year streak. It's why Max is giving everything he has to get ahead of you. If he wins this race he’ll be on top once more.

Another bout of nausea takes over your body, shivers running down your spine. Why are you nauseous and dizzy? You were hydrated before the race, the temperature in the car is warm as always but it’s cool outside, unlike Singapore, and you felt perfectly fine earlier.

It’s most likely karma for teasing Max this morning and leaving him with a raging hard on.

You notice Max in your peripheral vision. He’s ready to attack and regain P1. You accelerate and block him as best you can but nearing the turn you miscalculate giving Max the perfect opportunity to pass you.

He settles right in front of you, mocking how he got ahead so easily. If you didn’t love him and felt the bile coming up your throat you would’ve cursed at him. You were famously known for insulting the men driving the other cars.

At this point, you weren’t driving straight and your race engineer, Riccardo was telling you to pit and pull out of the race.

“I promise you I’m good enough to finish the race,” you say after a moment to swallow the bile coming up. You'd rather die than DNF'ing with a handful of laps to go.

“Norris is catching up. Let’s finish this race quickly so you can get checked.”

You’re glad you created a gap at the beginning of the race, otherwise Lando and Charles, your teammate, would’ve caught up already.

You see Lando trying to overtake you but you surprisingly block him and go as fast as you can. It’s not your best work and the FIA will have something to say about it but you make do.

Finally, down the final straight you press on the gas and cross the finish line. You finish the race out of pure muscle memory since you can’t rely on your distorted vision. Ignoring the celebratory cheers, you pull up on the spot marked #2. No one says anything about the askew parking job.

Your hands are clumsy, pulling out the steering wheel and standing. One of your teammates is right there giving you the hand you clearly need as you sway and almost fall straight out of the car.

Max is none the wiser, calmly getting out the RB and running over to his team who congratulate and scream his name. In his head, you lost control of your car, giving him a way to pass you. That's how F1 works.

You pull on your helmet and all the straps fast, the Ferrari team member helping you when he sees your urgency. As soon as you pull off your balaclava you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach.

Privacy be damned.

It’s not pretty. You’ve been holding this in for 20 laps and it’s not going to stop any time soon. The cameras focus on you as you push away the Ferrari team and finish throwing up. Ready hands catch you and you’re sat on a wheel chair as they roll you over to the medics. You close your eyes and throw your head back, everything around you spinning.

The murmurs of the crowd and the media cause Max to notice. He catches sight of you being wheeled away into the back. He takes a tentative step towards you, itching to be by your side but remembers the agreement you made to keep your relationship a secret.

Sometimes he hates how stubborn you are. At this point, the world should know you two are together, married even. Yet he understands your hesitancy with how cruel the media and the fans can be.

Max stays rooted on the spot, watchful eyes and dozens of lenses noticing every movement. Lando gets close to Max trying to avoid the cameras.

“What happened?” Lando asks referring to you.

“No idea, mate,” Max says, staring intently at the door you were just rolled through. A sleuth of Ferrari members following.

“She wasn't driving straight,” Lando shakes his head. He knew something was off when he caught up to her. “It was so unpredictable it made it harder on me to battle it.”

Max didn’t think much when he pulled up behind you but he did think it was strange how easy it was to overtake you. You always give him the hardest time.

He remembers this morning when you were in bed kissing him, touching him, teasing him. You were so cheeky, his length in your hand as you sweet talked him. 'Convincing' him to throw the race. Not like he’d ever do it. You were simply having your fun with him.

There wasn’t any sign of sickness then. It’s not like you spun out during the race either. You had been flawless out on the track until you weren’t.

“I'm going to check on her,” Max tells Lando, motioning with his head and wondering what exactly is wrong with his wife.

"Just wait," Lando stops him with a hand on his chest. They notice Charles in the Ferrari garage, heading to the back where they have you. "If you go, it'll stir up rumors."

Max tenses his jaw and looks away. With a roll of his eyes he turns to get weighed. He doesn't like it but Lando is right. He doesn't give a damn about his reputation only yours and the promise he made you.

f1_news tweeted: Ferrari’s Princess is transferred to hospital after race. It was heard through their radio she was having severe motion sickness, giving Max Verstappen the lead. Not many details are known as of this moment. More updates coming soon!

comments:

user2: hope she’s doing okay! she needs to come back to kick max's ass and take the championship from him 😮‍💨

user3: bet max is celebrating

-> user4: he looked very concerned when he saw her in the wheelchair

-> user14: who wouldn’t, she looked like death 💀

user4: did ya'll notice max disappear after the ceremony?

-> user5: lol he was making sure his favorite rival was okay 🤣

-> user101: no point in staying if he can’t rub it in her face 🤐

user6: our ferrari princess 👸 looked out of it. not sure how she made it out the car

user7: the podium felt so empty without her in it 😓

-> user8: did you notice max kept looking at the spot she was supposed to be as if expecting her to suddenly appear

-> user9: she’s like his best friend and his enemy wrapped in one. can’t live with her, can't live without her

-> user10: i swear he’s in love with her. 🗣️ it’s not normal the way he looks at her

-> user11: please, she’s married. you guys need to stop being delusional and stop shipping her with every guy on the grid

-> user10: not every guy, just max and maybe charles… -> user76: let's take a moment to appreciate charles immediately asking about her and leaving the track to see how she was. it's a win for us predestined x princess shippers

In the hospital, they quickly take you into a private room. The nurses retake your vitals and give you a shot to help with the nausea. A doctor comes in relatively quickly, asking you an array of questions to help him figure out why you got sick.

"The nurse should be in quickly to draw blood. I'm not too worried about this being anything other than a virus but we just want to make sure you're all good before leaving."

"Thank you, doc," you respond, lying back on the bed. They've given you one of the flimsiest hospital gowns in existence but you've gotta admit it's more comfortable than your race suit.

It's awfully lonely in the hospital room but it gives you time to relax and wind down. Fred and Riccardo were extremely concerned for your well being- not related at all to the fact you're on the run to win the championship-forcing you to go into the hospital.

Their stressed energy, the ambulance ride and then the nurses fussing over you was overwhelming. It would've made your nausea worse had it not been for the shot.

You're snoozing off when the door opens and your husband walks in. Max has a backpack slung over his shoulder with a set of clothes for you, along with your phone and other personal belongings you left at the paddock. He hurries over to you, dropping the bag and wrapping his arms around you.

"I was so worried, schatje," Max says in your ear, kissing your temple. The softness of his hoodie and the familiar scent he carries is comforting.

"I'm okay. You should keep your distance though, doc says I have a virus," you tell him, slightly pushing him away.

He’s stubborn as he keeps hold of your hand. "I don't care if I get sick. We've got two weeks until the next race, plenty of time for me to get better." Max sits on the chair next to your bed, asking you what happened during today’s race and listening to every word you say.

"What did they do for podium?" You later ask curiously, turning on your side to get more comfortable. Max props his head on his hand as he leans on your bed, getting closer to you despite your protests.

"Riccardo was there to accept it," Max tells you, kissing the back of your hand. He had been really worried. A part of him kept checking his surroundings for any sign of you.

It’s days like today where he wishes your relationship wasn’t secret. Max wants to express how worried he was about his girlfriend wife. He wanted to say ‘fuck you’ to all protocol and go after you.

He understands your reluctance and the need for privacy in your personal life. He knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded and Max agrees that good things have come out of keeping your relationship a secret but you’ve also had to miss out on others. One day, you’ll have to come clean to the public to be able to live your life to the fullest.

The doctor returns before he can vocalize this. He knocks on the door as he steps into the room, a tablet in his hands. “Results have come back. Would you like the gentleman to step out or is it okay if he stays?”

“He’s my husband,” you tell the doctor.

You're used to people not recognizing you outside of Formula One but Max is more known than you. You wait for the doctor to react at the sight of Max, except there’s not an ounce of recognition in his face. Good, or else, you’d have to rely on his patient-doctor confidentiality.

“Let’s get into it then. Lab’s show dehydration which is normal for the state you came in like. In addition, to the fact, you had just finished a physically demanding race. Surprisingly they also showed that your quantitative hCG levels are high meaning—"

“I’m pregnant?” You pan, shocked. Max's hand tightens around yours. Last year's endeavors left you with enough knowledge to know what that term means.

“Yes, you are pregnant,” he nods.

Max instantly turns towards you in complete shock. There’s part of him that’s happy but then there’s another that’s concerned. Personally, he’d love to have a child but it would mean you would have to sacrifice the championship.

You stare at the doctor with parted lips and furrowed brows, “That’s impossible. I have an IUD.” This couldn't be happening at a worse time.

“All methods of contraception have a percentage of failure,” the doctor sighs. “Your pregnancy explains today's sudden dizziness and nausea.”

“Do you know how far along she is?” Max asks, holding your hand tightly to show his support.

“We would need an ultrasound for that but based on her last menstrual period it can’t be more than 6 weeks.”

“Six weeks,” you breath out. You could only hear your pounding heart and the air coming in and out of your mouth. God, you've been training and driving the whole time. For fucks sake, just two weeks ago you had been celebrating your win with lots of alcohol.

You hardly hear the doctor excuse himself, leaving you and Max alone. Tears brim your eyes at the cruelty of the universe. You have in your hands the two things you want most in life. A shot at the championship and the opportunity to become a mother.

Max sits on the bed, wiping away your tears. He doesn’t say much, at a loss of words. There’s not much he can say to make this better but he thumbs away your tears and pulls you into a hug.

You fist his shirt in your hands, crying onto his shoulder, “This is not fair.”

“I know, schatje.” Max is at a loss. He understands the conflicting feelings you have. It’s no easy thing especially after everything you and Max went through.

“I can’t go through this again,” you sob, remembering the painful memories of the previous year.

United Arab Emirates | Nov 2022

The last race of the season has come quickly, deeming Max the World Champion for the second time running. He’s at the top of the podium as the Dutch national anthem plays. You look up at him from the third position, smiling at him proudly.

You’re frustrated that you weren’t able to catch up to him but you’re confident your time will come. Every year you’ve spent in the grid you’ve been able to rise through the ranks and get great contracts.

Mercedes took a chance on you this year and you’ve made them proud. It was a challenge against Ferrari and Red Bull but as the only woman you’d say you did brilliant.

You’re going to miss this next year but a break is due. After years of hard training and dedicating everything to your career you’ve decided to focus on your personal life.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve married Max and the conversation surrounding children becomes more constant. It's a nagging sensation in the back of your head. A longing you can't stop.

Feeling at peace with your performance, you decided to take this next year to become a mother. You’re young so in two years you’re sure you can come back stronger than ever and give Max a run for his money.

As the ceremony comes to an end, the party begins and the champagne bottles are brought out. “Don’t run,” Max laughs, spraying the frothy liquid in your direction.

You fight back, shaking the bottle and spraying some at Max and Charles. They gang up on you as Charles blocks your way and they both spray you. That will keep the fans making edits for months to come, the implication of the action clear.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Charles yells over the cheers when you aim the spray at his mouth.

Getting off the stage and into a private room, Max takes off his hat and pulls you in by the waist to press his sweet tasting lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. “Congrats two-time world champion.”

“Thank you, schatje,” Max responds, brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead.

“Get a room you two,” Charles huffs, knowing you forgot he was there.

“Sorry,” you say with a blush.

“I’m not,” Max laughs, stealing another kiss.

Outside, reporters of all kind were waiting to interview all three of you. They want Max’s celebratory words and you and Charles’ disappointment and regret. They live for the heartfelt promises you'll make for next season.

“Over here!” A reporter calls you, handing you a microphone. “What’s the plan for next year? Are you renewing with Mercedes or is there another team making offers?”

“I come with sad news,” you pout at the camera, “I won’t be on the grid next year.”

The reporter stares wide-eyed at you. This is the first time you've said those words out loud. “Could you share with us why?”

You nod at his question, fixing your hat as you speak the words you rehearsed many times before. “Since I was young I was prioritizing racing and getting into Formula One. I love how far I’ve come but I want to take a step back and enjoy my personal life for a little while. As you know, I got married a year ago and I want to enjoy that newlywed life. I will be back though,” you say with a smile and a wink at the camera.

“Is there a chance you’ll tell us who the lucky guy is?” The reporter questions, not really expecting you to answer. That the one thing you won't disclose.

You laugh, shaking your head at him, “No chance. I like to keep my personal life private.”

“Worth a shot," the reporter laughs with you. "Thank you for your time and we hope to see you soon!”

youtube upload: The Grid's Princess QUITS

thumbnail 📸: Toto Wolff looking angry and yelling at a Mercedes staff member. Lewis Hamilton with an arm around an upset looking reader.

comments:

user25: our queen is leaving? 😫 user30: who is going to keep the boys in check -> user5: i bet that’s why she’s taking a break, it’s not easy keeping charles and max under control user6: aren’t we curious as to who this mystery husband is? 👀 -> user17: i bet it’s either someone old or a billionaire, or both, i mean did you see the rock on her finger? -> user 46: oh they must be loaded to win over the grid's princess -> user96: i'm sorry but until i see proof of this man i will continue to set her up with charles user59: please, use a more dramatic title user48: i'm ready to fight 🤺 whoever made her stop racing. she's the only reason i watch them go in circles. who else is going to learn french to curse out charles properly? user55: *sigh* guess it’s time to rewatch all of the edits of her and max on repeat until she returns user104: let’s make a game. take a shot every time max and charles mention her next season.

Monaco | March 2023

When you temporarily retired, you thought you'd become pregnant in a matter of weeks. That is not the case.

Movies make it seem so easy to become pregnant, when in reality, it’s a challenge. It took nearly four months and multiple doctor visits for you to become with child.

The Winter break was spent tangled in sheets, keeping warm in each others embrace. Max was insatiable and so were you. Any chance you had you’d be dragging him somewhere private, his hands pulling at your underwear to tug them off...or to the side.

Max's voice would be in your ear as he spoke of how good you take him. He'd encourage you with words he'd never otherwise use. His cologne would intoxicate you, putting you in a trance.

His hold was firm and steady, making you shake and arch against him. His length sinking into you until you came with his name on your lips and his seed inside you.

Then, it finally happened. A positive pregnancy test in your bathroom counter. The alarm rang loudly, making you and Max share a nervous glance.

“You look,” you say with a shaky voice and shakier hands. Your period was late, followed by your tender breasts and the morning sickness. You fear your body was making it up because you wanted it so much.

“Before that,” Max says, cupping your face, “Don’t be disappointed if it’s negative. We’re just getting started and we have a whole year to try, yeah?”

You place your hands over his and nod with a small smile. Max presses a kiss to your forehead before he picks up the home test.

Max erupts in a smile, nodding and showing you the word positive. You scream, falling into his arms. He spins you around, kissing all over your face.

You and Max are over the moon, giddily waiting for every appointment with your doctor. Every ultrasound was recorded along with the babies heart beat.

Max is ecstatic. He's been wanting to have a family with you since he realized you were the one. He thought it wouldn't happen for a long time but then you revealed you wanted it too and soon despite your career.

It took a long conversation to figure out how to go about it with both of your careers being at their peak but you came to an agreement. He was ready be a father and you were ready to be a mother, even if it meant putting your career in pause.

Your desire to bring a child into the world was greater than giving the championship another shot. Whenever you're ready to return to F1, he'll take a step back and support you.

Max planned a dinner with the whole family where you told them you were expecting. Plans to decorate the nursery littered your coffee table and your internet browser history was filled with shop links with cute clothes and baby items.

Weeks later, it happened. Something felt wrong, off.

“Maxie,” you breathe heavily, feeling wet between your legs. Cramps littering your lower abdomen.

“What's wrong?” Max sits up in bed, sensing your distressed state. His gaze fixes on the red stain forming on the white sheets.

“I’m scared,” you cry, afraid to move or do anything. Cramps squeezing your insides like a bad period.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” Max reassures you, “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah? I’ll call the doctor.”

A quick trip to the ER confirmed it. You miscarried.

You couldn’t look at Max that night, hugging yourself tightly as he drove home. You ignored all the glances he threw your way, shiying away from the hand that reached out for you.

All that happiness you felt drained out of you, leaving complete sadness behind.

Max was sad about the baby but he was more focused on you and the toll it took on you. It was always a possibility. The doctor spoke about what to expect on the first trimester and this was one of the things he mentioned. You both chose to ignore it at the time.

Max kept most of the lights off in the apartment. Remembering the bags with baby stuff from your online shopping. He kept the spare bedroom closed, where you were planning how to arrange it and paint it to transform it into the nursery.

He’s never seen you this devastated. After years of knowing you and dating you he never had the chance to see you at your lowest. It breaks his fucking heart.

Max holds you that night while you're in pain and bleeding. He rocks you as you cry, tears spilling from his eyes too as all that new hope is crushed.

You need him. Max is all you have at the moment because while he goes to race on the weekends and clear his head, you stay home with the weight of losing a baby.

Zandvoort | August 2023

With medical clearance and a couple of months to heal mentally. You and Max got to trying again.

You aren’t quitters and again you both desperately want a child. There's lots of sex, more than before. Something reignited in the relationship, like when the relationship began. Nothing could keep you away from Max back then.

He would fuck you wherever he could. Often times risking being seen. It was a moment where neither of you cared about being caught or being exposed to the whole world.

The Two-Time World Champion and the Grid’s Princess. Happily Married and Horny for Each Other.

The second time you found out you were pregnant was in Zandvoort, Max’s home race. You weren’t traveling as much trying to give your body rest and hopefully encourage it to take but this was a special track for Max so you tagged along.

Similar symptoms were arising so you waited to arrive at Zandvoort to take the test with Max. You were once again in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. He was between your legs, his head on your chest, waiting for the four minutes to be over.

“If it’s negative?” You asked, your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp to relax him.

“Then we try again and again and again,” he says cheekily, grabbing onto your thighs and kissing you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you,” you giggle, pulling at his roots to make him groan.

“Perhaps but I’m not the one yelling out my name,” he smirks, recalling the other night when he had you with your legs up on his shoulders as he entered you slow and deep. If he closes his eyes he can hear your whiny moans begging for him to tip you over the edge.

“Poor Checo had to call the front desk and fill in a complaint,” you giggle, hiding your face from Max with your hands.

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see his text,” Max shrugs, not having a care in the world.

He was in his suite with his wife, having fun and trying to conceive. It’s not his fault he was making you feel so good you felt the need to scream his name and it’s not his fault Checo’s bedroom was right next to yours. Blame the Red Bull team for reserving two suites right next to each other.

The triggering alarm sounds, making your heart race. This time you grab the test, deciphering what the faint lines mean. You ran out of the good pregnancy tests and you were too lazy to go out and get new ones.

“It’s positive!” You squeal, showing the home test to Max.

Max’s eyes widen, “We did it!”

“I'm so happy,” you tear up from joy, hugging Max’s shoulders. Nothing is stopping him tomorrow on the track. He’s going to ride this high as long as possible.

Max grabs your thighs, forcing you to wrap your legs around him. He carries you over to the bed, kissing your lips, your neck, your chest.

Max was going to make you scream out his name again.

There was little celebration. You and Max kept the news to yourselves for a while longer. You took every precaution on the book. You stopped traveling with Max afraid it was one of the causes of your first miscarriage. You took care of your diet, you did minimal exercise, took every prenatal vitamin you could find but much like the first time, it happened again.

This time you felt so defeated, like something was wrong with you. Like maybe you weren’t meant to bring a child into the world or become a mother.

Max found you on the balcony one night after it happened. It was freezing outside so he got a blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“‘I'm sorry,” you sniffle, not meeting his eyes. Your tears were cold against your cheeks.

“For what?” Max asks, watching you carefully. Your eyes red rimmed and nose runny.

“There’s something wrong with me and I can’t give us a baby,” you cry softly, wiping away at your tears.

You feel so ashamed and embarrassed. Having a baby shouldn’t be this fucking hard. You’ve done so much in life and this simple thing you can’t do. Something your body was designed to do.

“Hey, no. You know what the doctor said. There’s nothing wrong with you and there’s so many other ways we can have children together,” Max chides you, pulling his chair closer and grabbing your shoulders so you look at him.

“If there’s nothing wrong with me why does it keep happening?” You ask as your eyes well with more tears. They haven’t stopped in a good ten minutes.

“It’s not our time yet.” It’s the only thing Max can say. He doesn’t have all the answers in the world but there is one thing he’s sure of. “I love you no matter what.”

“I don’t want to go through this again.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. The words getting caught on your throat.

It’s not like you don’t want children because you desperately do but you can’t go through another disappointment. More pain and more blood. More false hope.

“You don’t have to,” Max tells you, comforting you the best way he can. He picks you up, settling you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your head, coming up with words to make you feel better.

He doesn’t want a child if the process is going to cause you so much suffering. It’s hard seeing you like this when he’s used to seeing you be this independent strong woman, who broke barriers in a field of men.

He’s discovering a new side to you deep into your relationship. He loves you but it’s shocking to see you be this vulnerable when a lot of times you love to handle things on your own. In a way, he’s happy he’s able to be here with you and help you.

Monza | November 2023

In Formula One rumors spread like wildfire. Within the teams and its members and riders the reason for your break didn’t remain a secret for long.

It didn’t stop certain teams from reaching out and persuading you into joining them. As far as they know you’re not pregnant yet and you did promise to return one day.

As the only woman in the grid you pull in lots of sponsors and the media and fans love you. Having you on a team is a win all around, considering you also bring in trophies.

Ferrari is a big team showing their interest in you. They’ve sent your manager multiple invitations for you to come and visit Ferrari Headquarters. No strings attached just a simple tour and meeting.

It’s tempting. Driving for Ferrari is every F1 racers dream and to be invited to test out their car and talk business is an honor.

You went quietly to the meeting, undecided if it’s the choice you want to make. Mercedes awaits your return whenever you’re ready, having led them to victory many times alongside Lewis.

Oh, Toto Wolff has you in his sight constantly. If he knew you were at Monza he’d probably fly down and get you out. You’re one of his biggest assets yet.

“There's our princess,” Charles greets you, running up to you and giving you a big hug.

He missed having you around. The fans never let him forget of all the good times, constantly tagging him on instagram and twitter.

“Hey Charles,” you laugh as he sways you from side to side.

“I missed you,” he says as he guides you over to the garage.

“Missed me kicking your ass?” You quip, playfully pushing him.

“Please, competing against Max on my own is exhausting. Too much responsibility,” Charles admits.

“He’s having the time of his life.” Max has the most fun when there are challenges and Charles has proven to be a worthy one. Insults and all. He loves getting a rise out of him.

The Ferrari team sets you up with a bright red race suit, giving you a visual of what your future has in store.

The feel of the baclavla is familiar around your head and the weight of the helmet comforting. It’s been a year since you last wore the uniform and it feels like home.

You step into the car, slidding in the steering wheel. The crew gives you the signal to pull out and you do with a push on the gas.

The rumble of the engine is exhilarating as is the blend of colors around you. It comes back so naturally, knowing when to push the car when to break. Learning this car is easy, like it’s made for you.

It has the potential to be a winner, to help you achieve the goal of becoming world champion.

“Ready to join Scuderia Ferrari?” Frederic Vasseif asks you once you get out of the car. There’s a smugness to him. He knows you enjoyed it and you’re itching for more.

“I don’t know. Carlos seems to be doing really well,” you try to play it cool, taking off your helmet and baclavla to shake off your hair.

“He’s good but you’re the greatest,” Fred says, giving you a knowing look.

“If I accept it’s because I want to win the Championship,” you negotiate. Charles is the first driver and it makes sense he stays there since he’s been with the team longer but you will not sacrifice yourself for him.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Fred agrees, extending his hand to shake yours.

“The predestined and the princess?” Charles smiles, wrapping an arm around you.

You smile and bite your lip, “It’s time to take down Max Verstappen.”

No wonder the fans think there’s a long standing rivalry between you and Max. You talk a lot about taking him down and winning the championship. With the trust you two have he bites back with words of his own. It makes for quite a show. They’re going to lose it once it’s revealed you’re joining Ferrari.

Your joy returning home is palpable. Max notices it the moment you walk into your shared home in Monaco. The cats notice it too as they weave between your legs asking to be pet.

"Hi, love," Max greets you, placing his hands on your hips and kissing you. You wrap your arms your his neck loosely, smiling into the kiss.

He doesn't let you go when the kiss breaks, his thumbs caressing your back. You smile at him, a hand on his face, as your fingers brush over his stubble. He leans into it. “How did it go?”

“It's top secret," you say cheekily.

"Really?" Max follows along amusedly, "You can't even tell your dear husband Max Emilian?"

It's been an inside joke since you started dating that the person you're dating is Max Emilian and not Max Verstappen. Helps keep things separated to a certain degree but mostly it's funny.

"Well, if it's Max Emilian asking I can tell him that I've just signed with Ferrari and that Max Verstappen will have some serious competition next year," you tell him as your smile widens.

“Congratulations!" Max exclaims, hugging you tightly. You laugh is music in his ears. From the moment you stepped in he knew something changed. You were laughing and smiling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m a Ferrari girl now and I’m going to take that title from you,” she boasts, playfully pushing him.

“That’s a big statement,” he says, playfully caging her in his arms. Max adores that her competitive streak is back, it's one of the things he fell in love with when you began dating.

Being married means being there in the bad and the good, in sickness and in health. He'll be by your side through it all but he'd rather have you be happy and competitive than depressed and anxious.

“What you think I can’t do it?” You laugh when he tries tickling you. Your this close to elbowing him if he doesn't stop.

Finally letting up, he cups your face and looks into your eyes as he says, “If there’s someone who is going to do it, it’s you. You're my girl after all.”

f1 posted on instagram: The Princess is back and in red. Everyone bow down. 📸: Reader wearing a Ferrari race suit posing in front of the new Ferrari SF-23. Comments: user8: holy shit she’s back

user95: this was not on my bingo card, but it was in my dreams every night since she left -> user57: like a wise woman once said in rome; this is what dreams are made of

user72: guess she had enough of that married life and is back to wreck these boys

user14: i might actually fucking cry. our queen is back and in ferrari red -> user98: red is definitely her color. -> user67: you know who's color it is too? charles... ->user53: you know who likes charles? max... ->user17: i can't with you 💀

user67: i want to see max squirm with both charles and her against him -> user55: please if anything it’ll turn him on -> user45: hell even i'm turned on

user88: wait does this mean she can’t curse at charles anymore? -> user68: don't worry, the second charles gets in her way it's coming. don't you remember that one time she almost crashed with lewis and she let him have it? -> user 90: i've never seen lewis be that fast outside of a car

user12: i’ve got my editing program ready, i’ll get all the edits. max x princess, predestined x princess, max x charles, i got them all -> user56: i'm not picky, i'll help -> user02: you should do one where she's walking in like in those wwe fights with the dramatic music

Monaco | Nov 2024

The conversation about the pregnancy is kept on pause. You and Max wait till you're back home in Monaco to continue it. It's fresh in your minds though as you try and make sense of he timing of it all.

There's only two more races to the season, you are so close to the end. You wish you hadn't found out till much later, they do say ignorance is bliss.

You're filled with fear and uncertainty. What if this pregnancy ends up like the rest? What if you give up the championship for something that might not even happen? But what if you chose the championship and give up a viable pregnancy?

The morning after arriving at Monaco you're in the kitchen with your laptop in front of you as you schedule an appointment with your doctor. The cup of coffee you made earlier is now cold as you could barely drink it with so many thoughts in your head.

You cover your face with your hands, groaning at the headache forming so early in the day.

Max finds you like that and he knows it's time to talk. He comes up behind you, pressing a kiss and resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugs you from behind.

"What's on your mind, schatje?"

You take a deep breath, focusing on him to try and gather your thoughts, "I don't know what to do, Maxie. What do I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do. I can tell you that I want to have a baby with you but I don’t want you to go through all that pain again or feel pressured that you need to do this for me. I love you and I want you to be happy. If it's choosing your career I'm here for you. If it's starting a family I'm here as well," Max says as he hugs you tighter until you relax against him.

You shake your head, lacing your fingers with his as they lie on your midsection. "It's the fact that the first two didn't end well and it was such a horrible experience. If I knew for a fact I was going to give birth to this baby I would drop the championship in a heartbeat."

"I'm happy with whatever you choose. Even if you decide that carrying a baby isn't for you. Later on we can try surrogacy or adoption."

It's 2024 and there are tons of options out there in the case you want to become parents. It doesn't have to be one way or no way. Plus, they are young and have their lives ahead of them.

"Really? You couldn’t be like one of the awful men who insist women need to have a baby? You’re making this hard on me," you lightly joke, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it.

Max laughs along with you. He knows you've made a decision even if you haven't realized. He's only there to guide you. “You already made a decision, schatje.”

Your eyes return to your laptop where the appointment with the specialty clinic is displayed. “I need to give this pregnancy a chance. I mean think about it. I've raced, I've drank alcohol and it's still here. It happened against all odds, Maxie. What if it’s a sign? That the timing is right,” you say, recalling the conversation you had with him a year ago. “I just hate I need to withdraw from the rest of the races.”

Max made a decision that same moment, “I’ll pull out from the races too.” It feels shitty that because you're a woman you have to pull out the races for your safety and the baby's while he continues on like nothing has happened.

“What? That’s insane Max,” you exclaim, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s only fair. You have to do it to have OUR baby, why do you have to be the only one who quits?”

You laugh and shake your head, placing your hands on his chest, “You’re not doing that, Max. This is F1 and it’s ruthless which is why you’re so good at it. Besides, with last Sunday's race you're already ahead of me and there's no chance the others are catching up with two races to go. The title is yours," you reassure him, kissing the corner of his mouth, “It’s not my time to be a world champion yet and maybe it never will. I have to accept that."

Max scoffs, poking his tongue on his cheek, “No, you will be. Once you have this baby you’re coming back even if I have to give away my seat in Red Bull.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you hum, looking into his eyes.

“You beat me on your rookie year,” he reminds you.

Back when you started in F1 and neither you or Max were on the top you had friendly battles in the midst of the races. It wasn't for podium but it kept the fans entertained and recruiters eyes on you both. Max beat you most times but there was one day you beat him on a wet race which is unheard of.

“Once!”

“Once was enough!” He insists. Max fell in love with your competitive side, it didn't matter if you beat him or not. That day when you approached him with that big smile and malicious intent in your eyes he was done for.

“How will we handle the media?” He steers the conversation a different place. He's not sure how much longer he can keep the relationship a secret with a baby on the way.

“Same as always. They can’t know about us yet, Maxie. They will throw your name on the ground and say horrible things.”

If the media finds out that you're pregnant with Max's baby they will say it's sabotage cause he felt threatened that you were going to take the title from him. They don't care for details.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this a secret,” he confesses, trying to reason with you.

“Not long okay? After the baby comes,” you promise him. After the baby comes you will tell the world everything.

F1_news tweeted: The Grid's Princess is withdrawing from the rest of the races this season due to her health. Not much is known yet. Carlos Sainz to take over her seat.

comments:

user56: not again please -> user97: i'm in tears -> user57: alexa play 'see you again' by charlie puth

user64: i hope she's doing okay and is able to return next year. she was so close on getting the championship

user76: i love the queen but i'm happy to get charlos back again! -> user34: it's very bitter sweet isn't it? -> user57: i wonder if she'll be back with ferrari next year? -> user45: well her contract is for two years so if she's okay when the next season starts i don't see why not -> user08: contracts mean nothing in F1 user04: get ready to witness a pouty max -> user 87: these next few races will be a piece of cake and he hates it -> user72: i love lando and charles but there's no way they are going to give him a hard time

user46: this is the end of the princess, who is going to want her back? -> user 43: get the fuck out of here you hater -> user345: who asked for your opinion?

F1_fanpage: The Grid's princess seen walking out of a clinic specialized in complicated pregnancies. 📸

user45: holy shit, it all makes fucking sense she’s pregnant -> user58: i didn't want to say anything but dizzy and nausea? it’s textbook pregnancy

user67: our queen is having a prince(ss) -> user176: who is the fucking dad? -> user404: he needs to be a part of F1 for her to still be around when she should be home resting

user47: she's glowing

user68: not her audibly rooting for carlos on the latest race -> user99: well it is only temporary and it's not like they kicked her out. she left because she had to -> user55: we love a supportive queen either way

user88: did ya'll see her interacting with max and charles after the race? they were so careful with her. it makes so much sense! -> user44: i'm hyperventilating we got a max hug! -> user 67: better yet we got a charles hug! -> user12: opening up my editing program as we speak

Part 2 Coming Soon

The world is aware you're now pregnant. You got a job working for the F1 social media and interview team during your pregnancy. Rumors keep spreading about who your husband and baby daddy is. Fans keep shipping you with Max and Charles. Max might just explode if he doesn’t tell everyone, but will he?

[lacy-oh-lacy]

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

[menagerofmischief]

Nugget Update (MV1)

sumary: y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

driver!reader x cat sitter!max verstappen -> habs incoming... series masterlist

cw: not fia approved words, a bit of lance hate (I don't actually hate him), mutual pinning, the grid teasing the reader, lot of appearances from the reader's cat, kissing, kinda mean!reader (to the grid)

wc: 4.1k

a/n: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so bear with me. also, I low key hate this and it may be shit. not proof read!

“Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine?” A voice called out, disturbing the peace - or the closest thing to peace you could have near a Formula 1 track.

Your gaze snapped up, eyes narrowing as you took in the man standing on the entry of the RedBull garage. “Hello, Charles,” you replied, a teasing bite obviously heard in your voice as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I know you wanted to experience what a successful garage looks like but I thought Ferrari had a better hold on you.”

Charles laughs, his eyes crinkling as his lips stretch into a smile. Teasing Charles was always a fun time but that’s all it was, just a bit of fun. It never stretched into something meaner, just two people showing affection by teasing each other.

Charles had been your very first real friend on the grid. The first to offer his hand with a smile and genuinely mean it. The first to congratulate you on a win after getting out of the car or the first to say that the next race would be better. Really, he was your best friend, but you would never tell him that or it would go to his head.

“Funny, very funny.” He said, his accent thick. His eyes slid around the motor home until finally meeting your own. “Lot of drivers are going out for drinks, came by to invite you.”

“I don’t Charles,” you started to say, going through your mental list of excuses, searching for the best one to use to avoid this social interaction.

“Oh come on!” He whined, rolling his eyes. He gave you a look that let you know you could stop thinking about an excuse because he wasn’t going to be buying it. “We won’t stay that long and it’s night race tomorrow so you don’t need to wake up at the crack of dawn.”

You pressed your lips together, the lip gloss previously applied making them slide against each other easily. 

Charles kissed his teeth, nodding his head along. Fine, he’ll play the game. “Some of the WAG’s are coming as well.”

“Are you really trying to lure me out by promising female company?”

“Is it working?”

“Eh,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Will you pay my tab?”

Charles scoffed. “Pay your tab?” He asked, sounding as if you had asked him for his firstborn. “You’re filthy rich! You have a bigger salary than me!”

“Yeah, they do pay world champions a bit extra, comes with the title.” You replied, grinning at him, a wide teasing grin, your eyes twinkling. 

“Fine whatever, I’ll pay your tab.” He said, raising his hands in surrender. “Now go take that suit off and shower, you look disgusting.”

“You look like a trash can threw you up!”

“It threw me up because it saw you!” Charles shouted back in response, his back already turned to you as he walked away, back to the Ferrari garage. 

And that’s how you ended up in the bar, an hour later. Squished in the not too comfortable and definitely not meant to sit so many people, booth. With George’s girlfriend Carmen on your left, and Pierre’s girlfriend Kika on your right, and deep in conversation with both of them. 

You feel your phone vibrate under your hand on the table, and the screen lights up, showing off your wallpaper, a picture of your beloved cat Nugget.

You tune off from the conversation the moment the message arrives, grabbing your phone and pulling it in towards you. Your face lights up, lips stretching into a smile as your eyes focus on the sender ID. Maxie.

Or rather Max. The very cute guy who was your cat sitter whenever you were out and about in the world, chasing the racing track. 

With a quick move of your fingers, you swipe up, opening your phone and going into the message app. Fingers quickly tapping along the screen of your phone as you type out your reply.

With a smile you closed the messages app, pressing your fingers against the button on the side of your phone, watching the screen go black before setting it face down onto the table. As you looked back up, Lando’s amused yet teasing expression caught your eye.

You leaned forward against the table, pressing your hands to the wooden surface as you attempted to get a bit closer to the driver on the other side of the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh nothing,” he said with a laugh. “Just wondering who you’re texting, that’s all.” He intertwined his fingers, elbows pressed against the table and leaned forward as well. “You were all grumpy cat but then you get a message and suddenly you’re all smiles.”

“Grumpy cat?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at the McLaren driver. “I’m not a grumpy cat. And for the record, that was Nugget’s babysitter and he was sending me a picture of Nugget.”

Lando laughs, there’s a twinkle in his eyes that tells you he wants to say more but he holds himself back. “Can I see? I haven’t seen the orange gremlin in so long.”

“That’s very mean,” you say, opening your phone to show him the picture, that Max had sent you. “Nugget would never say that about you.”

“That’s because Nugget can’t speak.” He looks at the screen and his lips twist upward in a smirk. “Who’s Maxie?”

You breathe out through your nose, teeth digging into your bottom lip. When you speak your voice is sharp, it leaves no room for questioning things or an invite to ask more questions. “The cat sitter.”

“I’m sure that’s all he is.” Lando laughs when you show him your middle finger before settling back into your seat and returning to the previously abandoned conversation with the two WAG’s.

The race went pretty smoothly, as always. Starting from pole, keeping the lead the whole race and with a 20s gap to car in P2. Everything after that was pretty much a blur, the interviews, partying through the night with the grid and boarding the jet early in the morning.

The sun already started setting by the time you made it to Monaco. With a sigh you rummaged through your bag, blindly feeling around the stuff inside before your fingers finally wrapped around the keys.

Opening the apartment door you walked inside, gently laying down your suitcase as your eyes settled on the scene in your living room. Right there, laying on your couch, in deep sleep, and cuddling your cat is Max Verstappen. 

His hair had fallen over his eyes and the position he’s in looks rather uncomfortable, you’re sure his body will be aching when he wakes up. His chest was raising and falling with each breath he took, little sighs slipping past his lips. Nugget was cuddled up to him, curled in a ball.

You looked at him for a few moments before starting to move around as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. 

Max had been cat sitting for you for a while now. Half of last season and now half of this one so almost a year. He was a sweet, kinda shy, mostly nerdy guy you ran into in a coffee shop and spilled his coffee. You offered to buy him a new one and he joined you for the coffee and you got to talking when he said he was looking for a job so you offered him to become your pet sitter.

At that point you really did need someone to look after your cat while you were gone, since you had broken up with your ex who usually took care of Nugget while you were away. And you couldn’t leave Nugget with your parents since your father was allergic to cats.

Now, your best friend who had been working in a different country had returned to Monaco and said she’d be more than happy to look after Nugget - but you wanted to keep Max around. 

Already having grown used to coming home after a race weekend to find him there, just existing in your space.

Nugget’s whiskers twitch, his eyes opening and he pulls himself away from Max, stretches out and then trots over to you, rubbing his head against your leg affectionately while purring. He let out a happy, albeit a bit too loud, meow when you picked him up and on the other side of the room Max began stirring from his sleep.

He opened his eyes, a bit confused, and rubbed his knuckles against his eyes to wake up, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light filling up the room. 

“You’re back,” he says, his voice is gentle, still sleepy and a bit quiet. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sweet smile that has you immediately smiling back at him. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s no problem,” you reply, running your hand over Nugget’s fur as the cat lay happily in your arms. “You can use the guest bedroom if you’re tired, you know. The couch may be expensive but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable for sleep.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” Max said, pulling himself up into a sitting position. You approached the couch and sat down, the cat nestling in your lap and purring in content. Max smiled, reaching out his hand and petting Nugget.

“Nonsense Max, you’re not overstepping.” You cut him off, leaving no room for argument. You always told him to feel at ease in your apartment, that he was welcome to any food in the fridge and free to use the guest room as he pleased but even after all this time there was still a slight air of awkwardness backed up by the fear of going a bit too far.

Max’s eyes settled on you, your own focused on your cat so you didn’t notice him looking. He watched the way you cooed at Nugget, asking if he was a good boy while you were away and petting him gently, and his lips stretched into a small, careful smile.

He spoke before thinking. The words left his mouth before he even finished the thought inside of his head. “I watched the race,” he said, and your eyes instantly snapped up to meet his. He swallowed, already too deep to back down. “It - “ he licked his lips, trying to decide his next words, feeling like his tongue had tied itself up in a knot. “You were spectacular. It was lovely … simply lovely.”

You let out a breath, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards and you gave him a thankful look. Max swore he could feel his heart beating in his throat, and felt his cheeks heat up. “Thank you,” you said, your voice gentle, holding a comforting tone. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And it’s nice - knowing you watched.”

“It is?”

You bit your lip, teeth scraping against you bottom lip as you looked at him, your brain running faster than the Sauber (like it’s hard) as you tried to come up with a response. “It’s kind of comforting,” you finally said, after what felt like a small forever.

You hummed, looking down at your nails. “I was thinking about bringing Nugget with me to the next race. It’s been a while since he was in the paddock.”

“Oh,” Max said, an edge of confusion noticeable in the tone of his voice. “Does that mean that you don’t need me coming over next week?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with.” You say, before you can talk yourself out of making the proposition.

Max tilts his head to the side, kind of like a confused cat and you try your best not to giggle at the mental image. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“If you wanted to attend the Grand Prix,” you tell him, running the edge of one of your nails along your skin. “Cuz’ I’m still gonna need someone to look after Nugget, and you do that in general so this would just be an added bonus of traveling.”

Max is silent for a few moments and you think he’ll decline. You wouldn't fully blame him if he did, you know what the pressure of the paddock can be like. You’re about to open your mouth, tell him that ‘never mind, it was a stupid idea anyway’ and put him out of the trouble of finding a polite way to decline when he finally speaks. 

“I suppose, if you want me to then yeah, I’ll come along to watch Nugget.” He says, trying to ignore the nervous feeling building up in his chest when you smile at him, a wide happy smile that makes him instantly smile back.

“Great!” You said, the excitement evident in your voice. “Someone from the team will contact you in a while to arrange the tickets and leave the rest to me.” Max nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with the way his throat is closing up and it makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Look at you all giggly,” Charles teased, gently pushing your shoulder with his hand. He wiggled his eyebrows, a laugh slipping past his lips as you glared at him.

“Charles, why don’t you turn around and flash your pretty face to the crowd.” You said, rolling your eyes. You looked at the stadium full of people who were shouting out for their favorite drivers, waving banners and cheering happily. You smiled towards the stadium and lifted your hand up, waving your fingers to the public. “Give them a wave.”

“See, I always knew you thought I was pretty,” Charles replied, waving at the public. The two of you and the rest of the grid were in a wagon, going around the track for the drivers parade, so essentially you were stuck with him for at least five more minutes. “Now, do tell who’s got you smiling like that.”

“Is it Maxie?” Lando asked, the teasing tone evident in his voice. He pushed himself closer to you and Charles, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Didn’t your mom teach you not to eavesdrop?” 

“No, no!” Charles said, shaking his head as he waved his hand dismissively as you, his full attention now focused on Lando. “Who’s Maxie?”

Lando smiled at him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “The cat sitter,” he said in a sing-song kind of voice. 

“The one you brought to your garage?” The Ferrari driver asked, his attention back on you. “The pretty one.”

“Hold up!” Lando almost shouted, raising his hands. “You brought him with you to the Grand Prix?!”

“I didn’t … well I did bring him.” You said with a sigh, there was no escaping this now. “But it’s not like that. He’s here to watch Nugget.”

“And for you to watch him - because boy that is one good arm candy.”

“Charles, your homosexual is showing,” you warned.

“But you’re not denying it,” Charles noted, giving you a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him but finally gave in. “Yes, I’m not denying it.”

You stepped back into the motor home, your eyes immediately searching for Max and finally you found him talking to your lead engineer. As you approached the two you could start to hear their conversation and quickly realized they were talking about how the car worked and what went on behind the scenes at a Grand Prix. You found it cute that Max was interested in that.

His eyes met yours and his face lit up, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile. “You’re back!” He said, “After terrorizing everyone around and getting pets, Nugget decided to settle down for a nap. He’s in your driver's room.”

Max gave you a wink after saying that and you had to hold in a giggle. You excused yourself to go to your driver’s room, with Max following behind you. The first thing you noticed when you went inside was Nugget, curled up on the massage bed and sleeping without a care.

The next thing that grabbed your attention was a dozen pastries lined up on a small table next to the couch. They were all individually wrapped in tissues.

“Max,” you said, picking up one of the pastries and unwrapping it. “I really did mean only one pastry, you know?” You bit into the chocolate filled pastry, moaning at the taste of a treat you weren’t usually allowed to have when it was race week. “My trainer will strangle me if he sees.”

“I swear, no one saw anything.” Max said, shuffling over to the couch and sitting down. “I was sneakier than Nugget when he’s stealing my food.”

“Oh, now that’s a very serious claim.” You told him with a laugh, his own laugh echoing back. You picked up one of the wrapped pastries and offered it to him. “Take one, or five. There’s no way I’m eating it all.”

He takes the pastry you’re offering him, his fingers brushing against your own as he takes it from your hand, sending sparks of electricity down your spine. After a second of hesitation you sit down next to him, the two of you eating the treats in comfortable silence.

His thigh nudges against yours and you turn to face him, finding that he’s already looking at you. He smiles and you don’t hesitate to smile back.

The practices go great, P2 in FP1, P1 in FP2 and P1 in FP3. 

The qualifying is where a slight setback shows up, with quali being ended early due to a crash and a red flag, putting you in P10 for the start of the race tomorrow.  

Once the car had rolled back into the pits you wasted no time getting out, putting the steering wheel back into place before storming into your driver’s room. 

You pulled your helmet off, fingers curling into the bottom of your balaclava as you pulled it off, throwing it next to your helmet before bringing your hands up to smooth down your hair. 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Pepe.” You said without turning around, assuming it was your race engineer coming to talk about the outcome of qualifying. “Fucking Lance and his fucking money made seat - if that little frog screws up another quali, I’ll be the one crashing him out.”

“I’m not Pepe,” the other person in the room says and you instantly turn around, your eyes wide as they meet Max’s blue ones. “And I’m certainly glad I’m not Lance.”

You looked him up and down, eyes trailing over his figure. You took notice of Nugged, cuddled up in his arms and looked at you curiously, and reached your hand out to pet the cat, a long breath slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I didn’t really mean for you to hear that.”

Max barely heard what you were saying. Too distracted by the sight of you for his brain to properly register your words. Your skin was slightly glistening with sweat, an imprint from where your helmet and balaclava had dug into your skin still visible on your flushed cheeks. Your messy hair, and your chest raising and falling with each breath you took as you were still working on catching up your breath.

Max blinked, finally snapping out of his thoughts and focusing his attention back to what you were saying. “They should have let you finish the lap.” 

“I agree but sadly that’s not how it works.”

Max nodded along, not really knowing what to say to that so he switched to the next topic. “I ran into your friend. He invited you, and me, out for drinks. I think it would be nice to go, you seem like you need a drink.”

“Yeah, I definitely do.” You replied, taking Nugget from his arms and into your own, stroking down the cat’s body. “Which friend?”

“Uh,” Max started, thinking of a way to describe the guy since he couldn’t remember his name. “Wears red, pretty, sounds French.”

You laughed, smiling at him. “That’s Charles. I hope you didn’t tell him he sounds French, he gets offended by that.”

“Then it’s great I kept it to myself.”

You laughed in reply, putting Nugget down to the floor, the cat immediately moving to a cozy corner and curling up into a ball on the floor, shutting his eyes. “The hotel is right next to the track, you can take Nugget back while I shower and then we can go - if you want to.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Max replied with a smile.

You showered and put on a clean set of clothes just in time to meet Max after he finished dropping Nugget back to the hotel, leaving him with toys, food and water. The two of you made your way to the bar to join the rest of the grid for a night out. 

Some of the drivers were playing pool while their girlfriends were engrossed in a conversation so that left you and Max sitting together, sharing drinks and talking.

“I just …” you started, cracking your fingers. “I don’t know, this quali really messed up my mood and I was riding on such a high after the practices going well. It all feels shit now.”

“Maybe you just need more motivation for the race.” Max offered, drinking the rest of the liquor from his glass in one go. 

“You have something in mind, Maxie?” You asked, the nickname slipping past your lips without a thought now that you’ve had a few drinks. 

“How about a kiss if you get on the podium?” He said, his voice suggestive. Normally he never would have dared to say something like that but the alcohol courage really worked wonders. 

Your eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to be so bold or to suggest that. He took your reaction as a bad sign, immediately straightening up as a wave of dread quickly sobered him up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, the expression on his face shifting into a panicked one. “That was stupid. It was thoughtless. It was -”

“A great motivation,” you cut him off, putting a finger up against his lips to silence him. “It was a great motivation.”

His cheeks burned as his eyes met yours. He looked so vulnerable, his bright eyes impossibly wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“One more corner to go but you’re in the clear,” Pepe’s voice echoed over the radio. You blinked, your eyes focused on the track before you, the checkered flag already visible along with your team gathering in the front. “That’s P1, Y/n. Phenomenal drive today, you deserved it!”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you moved your hands, going through the last corner and speeding towards the finish line. “Thank you, Pepe.” You repeated, swallowing your spit. “It was lovely, simply lovely.”

You put the car into P1, getting out and posing for a picture on top of your car. You could hear the shouts, the cheers, the celebration. You took off your helmet, ripping off your balaclava and putting them both into the car before turning around to face the team, eyes searching for a particular face. 

Finally, you spotted Max. Standing besides your engineer, a proud expression on his face as he looked at you with a wide smile. You didn’t hesitate, feet moving before you could think and then you were in front of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down, smashing your lips into his.

The kiss was desperate, both of having waited long enough for it. He wrapped his arms around you, the best he could with the fence between you, kissing you back with need. 

You finally pulled away when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, learning your forehead against his. Nothing else mattered, not the public, not the team, not the celebration. Only him, finally yours.

“Simply lovely, right?” You asked, your voice breathless.

“Simply lovely!” Max repeated back to you, before kissing you once again. And he really did mean it - everything was simply lovely.

tag list: @formula1-motogpfan @misty-inferno @thelemonque3n @marvel-hotchner @strangemaximoff @folkloresreputation @pippyth3hippy @adharacambridge @theseerbetweenus @sebastianstansblog @tellybearryyyy @six-call @grussellsprout @oikarma @justcharlotte @annimausi

i hope i tagged everyone who said they wanted to be on the tag list. hope you enjoyed this one and keep an eye out for the poll about the next part of the series <3

[saythenametotheworld]

Backburner | k.mg (18+)

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: friends with benefits, smut Pairing: Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader Warnings: angst, explicit content (18+) Notes: 21k words. Part 2 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Backburner by NIKI. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Backburner by NIKI, Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, Another You (Another Way) by Against the Current Taglist: @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @katfaceu

It was midnight, and what was usually a quiet evening was shattered by the persistent ringing of your phone—tucked inside the drawer of your nightstand. You shifted from your comfortable position on the bed, laying on your back to stare at the ceiling, your ringtone still playing and making the nightstand buzz faintly.

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, groaning as you moved to grab your phone. The backlight made your eyes sting. Squinting at the words on the screen, you recognized the unique caller ID: ‘R18+++’ 

One week of nothing and here he comes, calling you in the middle of the night. The audacity.

You shouldn't pick up. You were mad at him after all. But what if he had something important to say? Even if he didn't, would it really hurt if you pick up?

Not you trying to justify the desire to talk to him.

“Hello?” you answered, against your better judgment (or not).

“Hi…” said Mingyu from the other line, his voice more dragged out than usual. Deeper. Lonelier. “Did I wake you?”

He did. “No. Not at all.”

He hummed on the other side. “Can't sleep? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” you sighed, sinking deeper into your soft pillow. “What’s up with you?”

“Me? I was just working on this paper,” he replied. You could hear him groaning as if he was stretching his limbs. “This course is kicking my ass.”

“Professor Jung?” you asked, remembering how he often complained about the same professor.

“Yeah. He’s the worst,” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “I’ve been staring at this screen all night, trying to make sense of it. You know when you read the same line over and over, and it still doesn’t click?”

You hummed in acknowledgment, shifting on your bed. “Sounds like every assignment I’ve ever done.”

He let out another laugh, soft and hollow. “Right? This one’s on some theoretical nonsense. I keep typing, hoping something’s gonna make sense eventually, but it’s like... whatever. I’ll probably just wing it.”

You could hear the faint tapping of keys on his end as if he was still half-distracted by the work in front of him. But something felt off, and somehow, you knew exactly what it was. He didn’t really want to talk about the homework, he was just stalling. The words were just filler—something to pass the time, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I’ll just email the professor and tell him the universe swallowed my homework. Think he’d buy that?” Mingyu joked and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Probably not,” you replied with a soft smile of your own, but your mind was elsewhere now, sensing the unspoken heaviness behind his casual complaints.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he chuckled followed by a soft groan and the sound of him falling back on his bed.

Another pause settled between you, and this time you didn’t wait for him to fill it with more empty chatter. “Wanna come over?” you asked instead, and he was quiet for a moment.

“Well… yeah, I’d love to. I mean…” he paused and then chuckled. “If it’s alright.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it’s alright. You'd always taken it in stride when he ghosted you and returned like nothing happened. Sometimes you wonder if he was genuinely oblivious or pretending not to know. “Sure. You know where I’ll be.”

After hanging up, you let the phone slip from your hand, staring at the ceiling. You weren’t supposed to do this. Mingyu was someone you should’ve been keeping at arm’s length, a complication you couldn’t afford. The smart thing would’ve been to ignore his call. But you didn’t. No matter how much you tried to keep your distance, you would always find yourself waltzing back towards him. 

You thought about how easy it would be to send a quick message, tell him not to come, maybe even block his number if you really wanted to make a clean break. You should. A single text, a few words, and it would all be over. Your fingers hovered over the screen, but you didn’t type anything.

Then the knock came, gentle but firm, and you abandoned all protests, tossing them aside as easily as you tossed your phone back into the drawer. You didn’t hesitate as you crossed the room, your hand already reaching for the doorknob.

When you opened the door, there he was—tall, tousled hair, a lopsided smile, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d actually let him in.

“Hey,” Mingyu said softly, standing in the doorway like he’d been there dozens of times before—he had.

“Hi,” you replied, your heartbeat picking up pace, louder now that he was here, standing in front of you.

Without another word, he stepped inside, scooping you up by the waist like it was a habit, crashing his lips into yours. For a split second, your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrayed you. 

You kissed him back, letting yourself sink into the feeling. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and any remaining hesitation crumbled as the tension between you both sparked to life.

He was completely unaware, lost in the moment, and you let him be—because pretending felt easier than confronting the truth. It felt easier to let him kiss you like this, to let him believe everything between you was simple—as if you weren’t standing on the edge of something much heavier.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a grin. “Is Mina here?” His voice was teasing and light.

“You wouldn’t be here if she is,” you replied, breathless, your words barely forming as you watched him tug his sweater off, the urgency in his movements sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

For a moment, you stood there, watching as his sweater hit the floor, your heart racing against your better judgment. Here you go, again. You could stop it right here—send him home, tell him you don’t want to see him again even if that was a lie. Again, you didn’t. You reached for him, pulling him back toward you, his lips meeting yours with a kind of hunger that made you forget everything else.

The door clicked shut behind him, and with it, any resolve you thought you had.

“Wait, hold up. Let me just—” You made a rolling gesture with your fingers, trying to gather your thoughts. “—roll it back a bit. I think I went straight to the intense part.”

Seungcheol’s calm demeanor didn’t budge. He leaned back. “Didn’t feel intense to me.”

“Yeah, well…” You shifted in your seat. “I should’ve started by telling you how we met, right? Or how we even ended up in… this kind of arrangement.”

He nodded. “Context would help.”

You paused, sipping your water. “Okay, so… I first met Mingyu in freshman year. Second semester, to be exact. We had one class together—gen-ed history. I was late the first day.” You smirked, remembering how rushed you’d been, shoes squeaking against the floor as you slipped into the back row, heart pounding from running across campus.

The only available seat was next to Mingyu. You didn't notice him at first because the room's quietness was the first to catch your attention.

You tugged his sleeve. “Hey, sorry to bother you.” You told him your name. “I just came in. Did I miss anything important? I feel like I did.”

He glanced at you, brows slightly raised. He looked half amused, half confused. “I'm Kim Mingyu. And… yeah, you missed a bit. Professor gave us five minutes to pray for the diagnostic test.”

“Pray?” you’d repeated, your disbelief clear, eyes wide as you stifled a laugh. “How hard could a gen-ed diagnostic exam be?”

Very hard. 

You cringed at the memory of that test and how you didn’t know the answers for most of it. Mingyu was grinning beside you, walking in easy strides. “Still think you didn’t need those five minutes to pray?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite to it. “Alright, fine. I’m humbled. But you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’m just teasing. Anyway, don’t worry about it. The test won’t affect your grades or anything.”

Before you could respond, another classmate who overheard had stopped to join your conversation. “Actually, it does count. It goes straight into your record.”

Mingyu snorted, clearly doubting it. “No way. It’s just a pre-assessment.”

“The professor said so herself. You probably didn’t hear because you left too soon.” She looked at you with a sympathetic smile. “But hey, I bombed it too, so… you’re not alone.”

You felt a strange sense of closeness with her, but mostly, you were trying to process what that meant for your grades. “Great,” you muttered, but you weren’t sure if you were saying it sarcastically or just in defeat.

“I'm Mina,” she said, offering her hand for a shake.

“Nice to meet you,” you chimed, shaking her hand and telling her your name.

“I know. See you around!”

When Mina walked away, you expected Mingyu to say something mocking, but instead, he just laughed lightly. “Guess I should’ve prayed too.”

Over the next few weeks, Mingyu became someone you interacted with mostly during class. You’d sit near each other by default—mainly because the two of you are often the last ones to arrive, you being late most of the time. You exchanged quiet jokes when the professor wasn’t looking and sometimes teamed up when group discussions were required. But outside that lecture hall, you led entirely separate lives.

In the hallways, you'd pass by each other every now and then. He’d nod or smile—never stopping, never lingering. Just a brief acknowledgment as you walked in opposite directions. Sometimes, you’d give him a quick wave, or he’d send you a lazy salute with his fingers.

During class breaks, when the professor let everyone stretch their legs for a few minutes, you’d talk. Mingyu liked to complain about how boring the lectures were, though his grumbling always seemed exaggerated, more for humor than actual frustration.

“Think I might pass out,” he’d groan, letting his head drop to the desk dramatically. “I don’t know how anyone stays awake for this.”

“You’d stay awake if you actually took notes,” you’d tease back, scribbling in your notebook as you spoke.

“Ah, but see, that’s what friends are for,” he’d reply, flashing you a playful grin. “You can lend me yours later.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” you’d retort, shaking your head with a smile.

But that was it. When class ended, he went his way, and you went yours. He wasn’t someone who crossed your mind outside of that classroom, and you suspected it was the same for him. Mingyu wasn’t a constant presence in your life, just a classmate who made lectures slightly more tolerable.

There was a comfort in that distance. He was easy to talk to, someone you didn’t have to think too hard about. No expectations, no complications. Just small moments of shared boredom, passed with lazy smiles and half-hearted complaints.

For a while, that was all he was—someone who filled the pauses between lectures. That is until the night of your first off-campus party for the semester.

The music pulsed around you, louder than it needed to be, vibrating through the floor and into your chest. You were seated at the edge of the crowded party, a half-empty cup of something strong in your hand, watching as your ex-boyfriend paraded his new girlfriend around like she was a shiny new toy. Every touch between them felt like a jab. You couldn’t care less about him, not really. But watching him be all giggly and touchy with her after he’d cheated on you with her, no less—yeah, that was annoying.

You took another sip from your drink, trying to keep your irritation in check. It didn’t help that they were standing close enough that you could hear snippets of their conversation—his low, stupid laugh and her breathy giggles.

“Someone’s pissed.”

The voice came from beside you, startling you out of your thoughts. You turned, finding Mingyu standing there with a half-smile, hands tucked in his hoodie pockets as he glanced over at your ex and his new girlfriend.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, though your sarcasm was clear.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Come on. I’ve seen you shoot daggers at them from across the room.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and staring into your cup. “I’m not pissed. Just... annoyed.”

His eyes flicked over to the couple again, then back to you. “I get it. Ex-boyfriend?”

You hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. Not that it matters. We broke up ages ago.” You bit your lip before adding, “But he cheated on me with her. So, you know... watching them be all gross together isn’t exactly fun.”

Mingyu winced in sympathy. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s not worth the headspace, though.”

“He’s not,” you said quickly, and you meant it. “But it’s still annoying.”

He snorted. “I don’t blame you. If it makes you feel any better, they look like a bad reality show couple.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, they kinda do.”

Mingyu shrugged, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “If it’s bugging you that much, want me to help you take your mind off it? We can head somewhere else, or... just stay here and make fun of them quietly. Your call.”

You hesitated, glancing at your ex one more time, then back at Mingyu. The idea of staying here, stewing in the background while they flaunted their new relationship, made your stomach turn. Maybe leaving was the better option.

“Actually,” you said, standing up and finishing the last of your drink, “let’s get out of here. This party’s boring anyway.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised but pleased. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The two of you slipped out of the crowded party and into the cooler, quieter night. The noise faded behind you as you stepped outside, the crisp air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the party. You hadn’t really thought about where you were going, just that you needed to leave.

“Any place in mind?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you, hands still casually tucked into his pockets.

You scoffed. “I don’t know. This was your idea.”

He shrugged, glancing at the sky briefly before turning back to you. “We could walk a bit. Sober up.”

“I barely drank.”

Mingyu nodded. “Okay, fair. If you want, I’ve got some soju and beer at my place. Not much, but it’s better than whatever was in that cup you were drinking.”

You glanced at him. There was no pressure in his tone, no hidden motive—just a suggestion. Still, something about the idea of going to his place made your heart beat a little faster.

“Exactly how many ulterior motives do you have right now?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him in mock suspicion.

A grin spread across his face. “For now, zero,” he replied, showing a zero with his fingers.

“For now?” You rolled your eyes. “Better keep it at zero.”

Mingyu winced with a mock-hurt expression. “Do I have to make promises too? Man, this is a lot of work.”

“Kim Mingyu!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, raising his hands. “Come on. It’s this way.”

The walk to Mingyu’s apartment wasn’t long, but the conversation between you was comfortable. He was funny, as always. By the time you reached his door, your cheeks were red and slightly hurting with how much you were laughing.

His place was a studio, small and cozy with a few mismatched pieces of furniture. It was tidy, except for the couch, which was covered in a pile of unfolded laundry.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered, laughing awkwardly. “I forgot about that. Let me just—”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t mind at all,” you said, waving your hand dismissively.

“Nah, there’s nowhere else to sit,” he insisted, kicking off his shoes and quickly tidying the couch.

While he put his clothes into a basket, you took a moment to look around. The tidiness of his home was unexpected. You rarely judge people’s living spaces but it was surprising for a man to be this clean. Then again, that was just the stereotype speaking.

Mingyu grabbed two beers from the fridge, tossing you one as you settled onto the now-cleared couch.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting the can. “You promised me soju.”

He chuckled, opening his own drink. “Well, you told me to keep my motives in check, so soju is out of the table.”

“You’re no fun.”

As you sipped your drinks, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about class, made fun of the test you’d failed, and joked about the people at the party. But somewhere between the laughter and the quiet moments, the atmosphere began to shift. The space between you felt a little smaller, the eye contact a little longer. It wasn’t forced, just... there.

At some point, Mingyu’s arm stretched across the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder. You didn’t move away. Instead, you leaned into him slightly, the warmth of his presence comforting.

“I think you should go,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Wow, okay. There’s no need to shoo me away. I’ll go,” you scoffed, offended. You stood up instantly, reaching for your jacket but he grabbed your wrist.

“No, I don’t mean—” he paused, sighing as he looked at your annoyed expression. “I’m sorry. Come sit. Don’t go.”

You didn’t answer, instead, swatted his hand away and put on your jacket. Mingyu stood up, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“Please,” he sighed, holding your gaze.

You were exasperated. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so confusing all of a sudden?”

There was a glint of hesitation on his face. “Can I be honest?”

You retracted your hand and crossed your arms over your chest. Then you raised an eyebrow, urging him to speak.

Mingyu leaned back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I have at least six ulterior motives.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Six? What are they?”

“Are you sure you want to find out?” he asked back, but it didn’t seem like a question to know how curious you were. Somehow, it sounded as if he was asking for permission.

You held his gaze, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the air around you charged with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. Time seemed to slow as you considered his question.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice steady but low. “Yes.”

Before you could think about what came next, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. There was no hesitation this time, no second thoughts. The tension that had been building all night finally found its release as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

You kissed him back, slowly at first, as if testing the waters, but it didn’t take long before the hesitation melted away. You know where this was going—but whether it was just the alcohol, the moment, or something more that drove you to do this, you didn't know. But for now, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way Mingyu’s lips felt against yours, the quiet hum of desire building between you as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

Your fingers drummed rhythmically on the table, eyeing Seungcheol as if trying to gouge out his thoughts. His head was tilted slightly, thinking about your question: ‘What do you think happened next?’

“You became friends with benefits,” he said with certainty.

Your fingers stopped abruptly. “Really? You didn’t think we’d started dating after that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Did you?”

“No,” you replied sheepishly. “But you seemed so sure that we were gonna be friends with benefits.”

“I had a hunch. It didn’t seem like your connection was building up to a romantic relationship just yet.”

You scowled, confused. “What do you mean? You didn’t think our connection was romantic?”

“Not at all. You were just friends. There was nothing that hinted any romance until the night you went to his flat.”

“Ah, I see what you mean.”

Seungcheol nodded, not smiling but he seemed pleased with himself. “So, what happened next?”

What happened next? You and Mingyu became friends with benefits, that’s what happened. Despite that arrangement, Mingyu was thoughtful in ways that made it hard to draw a clear line between what was casual and what wasn’t.

At university, nothing changed. You were still just classmates—maybe not even that close. You’d smile at each other in passing, maybe sit near each other in a lecture like usual, but that was it. To anyone else, you were barely acquaintances. But behind closed doors, it was different—passionate, fervent, and surreally euphoric.

Soon after that first night, you moved your rendezvous to your place. Your apartment was bigger than Mingyu’s tiny studio, with enough space for both of you to comfortably exist, though most of the time you didn’t bother with space. Whenever he came over, it didn’t take long for his hands to find you or for you to pull him in. There was something magnetic between you, like a spark that kept reigniting no matter how many times you tried to cool it down.

The passion was always there, and you were always eager to touch each other. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even make it to the bed—his lips on yours, your hands tugging at his shirt, and before you knew it, you’d be tangled in each other, the sheets forgotten. Other times, when the heat had subsided, you’d lay there talking, conversations flowing easily about anything and everything.

It was odd, in a way—how effortless it felt when you were alone together. You could laugh, joke, and even sit in silence without any discomfort. Yet, in public, it was like nothing existed between you. Mingyu never brought it up, and neither did you. It was easier that way. You weren’t together, after all—just two people who couldn’t get enough of each other when no one was watching.

Sometimes, the heat was so consuming, that it blurred the lines between passion and affection. And yet, after the fire died down, there was always this: Mingyu, showing up with bread that you loved, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re here already?” you asked, surprised to see Mingyu standing in your living room, browsing your bookshelf like he had all the time in the world.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted, flashing a smile as he carefully returned a small ceramic bear to its place.

“How did you get here so fast? You texted me like ten minutes ago,” you said, dropping your bag on the sofa as you walked toward him. 

“I was nearby,” he said with a casual shrug, wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, the familiar spark flickering between you. When he pulled away, he said, “I picked up some bread on my way here.”

“No way, is it the same ones you brought last time?” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you reached for the bakery bag he’d left on the coffee table.

He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Yep, that’s the one.”

You sat in the living room that afternoon, talking over warm cups of chocolate and bread. You barely paid attention to the football game on the TV, giggling and pawing at each other, feeling cozy despite the cold weather outside.

At some point, Mingyu’s hands moved to your shoulders, and you sighed in contentment. “Thanks, I needed this,” you murmured, closing your eyes as his skilled fingers worked through the tension. It was one of Mingyu’s many skills, massages.

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “We should take this inside.”

You opened one eye, pretending not to understand. “Take what inside?”

Mingyu chuckled, his lips curving against your skin. “Well, if you want to do it here, that’s fine too but we should probably turn off the TV. I don’t feel comfortable having my idols watch,” he replied, making you turn to face him.

“Your idols?”

Mingyu shrugged and then nodded towards the TV where the football game was still on. Scoffing, you grabbed a throw pillow and hit him with it. You both laughed about it for a while, but eventually decided to lock yourselves in your bedroom.

Later that night, you stirred, the quiet glow of a laptop screen pulling you from sleep. Blinking, you realized Mingyu was no longer beside you. He was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the bed, fingers tapping rapidly on the keys.

Reaching out, you squeezed his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep.

Mingyu paused, turning slightly to kiss your knuckles. “Go back to sleep, baby. I just need to finish this.”

“Can’t it wait till morning?” you mumbled, burying your face in the pillow.

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you. With a soft shush, he ran his fingers through your hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be done soon. Just sleep.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed your forehead. At that moment, it seemed so normal, so typical of him. But you didn’t realize at the time—it was a sign that Mingyu had trouble sleeping through the night.

Mingyu had a quiet way of making you feel seen. It wasn’t grand gestures or romantic proclamations, but in the little things he did—thoughtful acts that slipped under the radar until you realized just how much attention he paid. One time during class, he came over holding a tiny ceramic bear, almost shy as he handed it to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the figurine over in your hands.

“I noticed that your bear family didn’t have a dad, so,” he said with a small grin, watching as your eyes lit up in recognition. 

It was such a simple thing, but the fact that he remembered your collection, that he’d thought of you—it left you feeling touched.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmured, smiling. “But thanks.”

“It’s a grizzly, not a polar bear. Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect,” you giggled. “He’ll have to take up the responsibility of taking care of kids who aren’t his though.”

Mingyu shrugged, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his expression. “He’ll be a good stepdad to them. I can vouch.”

“You barely know the guy,” you laughed, playing along.

It wasn’t just gifts. Mingyu had a habit of taking care of the little things in your life without even asking. Like the time the lightbulb in your bathroom had gone out. You didn’t mention it to him, but the next time he came over, he had a replacement bulb in his bag. 

“Didn’t realize you were an electrician now,” you joked as he stood on a chair, screwing in the new bulb.

He laughed. “Just figured you’d forget to buy one.”

“I wasn’t going to forget,” you protested, even though he was right. “But… thanks.”

It was like that often with him—effortless, natural.

“Alright, let’s see,” he said, stepping down from the chair and reaching for the switch to test if it worked. When it did, he let out a satisfied hum. “There you go. Good as new.”

“How much for your labor, good sir?” you quipped, wiping away the tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The grin Mingyu gave you was menacing, shamelessly checking you out in your tank top and shorts. “I’ll have you know I do not accept monetary fees.”

You knew what he meant and he made it especially clear when he casually pressed his palm on your left boob. You just scoffed and swatted his hand away. “I see you work pro bono. Thanks a lot.”

With a teasing grin, you walked away. In the kitchen, he cooked dinner while you sat on the counter, munching on an apple. You found it amusing that the wok he used was something he had brought from his own flat. It's been in your kitchen for a while now. Today, he brought his own kitchen knife.

“You might as well move in at this rate,” you teased after he warned you to be careful with his sharp knife. “What’s next? A drawer for your clothes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll consider it.”

“You might as well do since you’re here almost every day,” you jeered. “You should bring your own toothbrush too.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” He moved toward you, placing a kiss on your cheek as he rummaged through the paper bag resting on your lap. From there, he fished out two toothbrushes, holding them up like a peace offering. “Look. They came in pairs.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I use an electric toothbrush, you know.”

“Then keep it as a backup,” he shrugged, still grinning. “Or don't. It’s not a big deal.”

You’d joked at first, but eventually, you started using the toothbrush he brought. It felt like a small connection, something that tied him a little more closely to you, even if neither of you talked about it.

And he remembered everything. When you ordered food, he always knew exactly what you wanted without asking. “Chicken katsu with extra sauce,” he’d say, already placing the order. He’d put on music that matched your mood perfectly, like the playlists you loved but never had to mention. Even the book you had been reading—he remembered the title, asked if you’d finished it yet.

Those little moments kept piling up, making it harder to separate the physical nature of your relationship from the real deal. Every time he remembered, every time he took care of something small, you wondered if maybe this wasn’t just friends with benefits after all.

But then there were moments of uncertainty that made you question how much you really knew about him. Sometimes, in quiet moments, he would zone out, lost in thought. You vividly remember one evening when you were curled up together on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. You had been laughing at the antics on-screen, leaning into him, when you glanced over and found him staring blankly at the flickering light of the television.

When he slept over, you’d sometimes wake up to find him staring at the ceiling. His face was relaxed, but there was a tension in the way his jaw was set, a hint of a furrow in his brow. You reached out to touch his face, hoping to draw him back into the intimacy you cherished.

“Mingyu?” you whispered, your voice thick with sleep.  He’d blinked, as if waking from a dream, and he turned to you then. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I was just… thinking,” he replied, his voice trailing off. You could see it in his eyes—something was weighing heavily on him, a thought he was wrestling with that he didn’t want to share.

“About what?” you prodded, trying to gouge out something—anything that he’s willing to share. He shifted slightly as if the question made him uncomfortable.

“Just stuff. Don’t worry about it,” he said, a noncommittal answer that only left you more curious. He pulled you closer in a warm embrace. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

The way he shrugged it off felt like a wall going up between you, and for a moment, the warmth of his embrace dissipated. You didn’t push further; you never wanted to pressure him. Instead, you closed your eyes, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

You wanted to know, to understand what made him so distant at times, but every time you tried to get closer, he would slip away like sand through your fingers. You had asked about it in passing, and while he always deflected your inquiries with a joke or a change of subject, it left you wondering if there was more to his silence. You didn’t want to overthink it; after all, it didn’t happen often. Or so you told yourself, hoping that with time, he would open up.

But instead of that, Mingyu disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that echoed in the spaces where he once filled your days with warmth and laughter.

“Are you keeping up?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at Seungcheol who seemed to be quite slow at processing what you’d just told him.

“Yeah, of course. Though, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little lost,” he admitted, arms crossed and holding his chin. “If you don’t mind, can I ask why he disappeared?”

You smirked, standing up at once. “I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

Seungcheol’s understood. “By all means.”

Mingyu’s disappearance wasn’t sudden or unexpected; there were signs you hadn’t recognized until he was gone. It began with him replying late to your messages, then not replying at all. You’d see him in class, and when you approached, he didn’t avoid you outright but dodged your questions and made excuses to avoid conversation. Eventually, he started sitting on the opposite side of the lecture hall, far from you and even missed a handful of classes.

You were upset, not just because he chose to stop seeing you but because he didn’t give you any warning. You had been easing into it, getting used to the idea of something more. But when he left so abruptly, you felt foolish.

Still, you had to come to terms with the fact that there was no commitment between you—what you shared was temporary, and he was free to walk away just as you were. It didn’t change the fact that his action was a total jerk move.

“It’s okay. We were just fooling around anyway,” you told yourself after almost two weeks of silence. You forced a smile at your reflection in the mirror. “That’s right. You’ll be fine.”

You tried to push Mingyu out of your mind, diving into a busy social life—going out with friends and meeting new people. At one party, you were in the midst of flirting with a cute guy when you spotted Mingyu across the room. A wave of warmth washed over you at the sight of him, but you played it cool, pretending to be engrossed in your conversation. 

“So, are you always at Jinwoo’s party?” you asked, trying to sound charming but feeling more like a dork.

“Only when there’s free food,” he replied, a little too eagerly.

You forced a laugh, trying to play along. “Well, they do have snacks... and drinks.”

He leaned in closer. “You know, I’m really into snacks. Like, I could talk about snacks all night.”

Your stomach turned slightly at the sudden wave of ick. You couldn’t tell if he was serious, or just saying it to be funny. What the hell does that even mean?

You caught a glimpse of Mingyu from the corner of your eye, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange with an amused expression. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you realized how embarrassing this was—Mingyu was listening, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him hearing you flounder like this.

“Right, snacks. That’s... cool.” You shot him a tight smile, glancing around the room in a bid to escape. “Speaking of snacks, I’m gonna go get me some more. Excuse me,” you smiled and slipped away from the guy, the weight of Mingyu’s gaze following you as you headed outside.

“Wow, that was awful,” Mingyu said, appearing beside you just as you stepped into the cool air.

“You,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Hello to you too,” he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “What’s your opinion on people eavesdropping on other’s conversations instead of minding their own business?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he teased, though the grin on his face suggested otherwise. “I can’t help it if you guys were loud enough for me to hear, can I?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business,” you replied smartly, looking away with a frown.

Mingyu’s laugh was deep, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way that was all too familiar. “Alright. I’m sorry. How about hanging out with me so you need not deal with all those lame guys?”

“Pretty sure you’re much much lamer,” you scoffed. 

He called your name softly, a teasing smile playing on his lips but his eyes were more serious than before. You failed to ignore the way your heart began to race. “Lighten up. I missed you, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you now?”

“I did.” Mingyu’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before he grinned again. “I missed you so much, I thought I’d go nuts.”

The confession caught you off guard but your annoyance was stronger. You scoffed, struggling to hold back and trying not to just go ahead and smack him. “Then you shouldn’t have ghosted me like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. The air between you shifted again, the playful banter fading into something heavier. Mingyu didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—just filled with something unspoken.

After a long pause, he finally nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry about that.”

You smirked, looking away and fixing your gaze into nothing. He should be sorry, it’s only right to be. But the fact remained: you were not in the kind of relationship where you could hold him hostage for something he was allowed to do. Yet here you were, feeling more hurt than you were allowed to be.

You let the silence hang between you, thick with unspoken tension. It went on for a while before it was broken by the sound of people clambering out of the main door, their drunken laughter echoing in the cool night air.

“Wanna get out of here?” Mingyu finally asked, breaking the spell.

“Took you long enough to ask,” you replied, striding toward the street with him following closely behind.

As you were passing by the parking lot filled with cars, Mingyu suddenly grabbed your hand. “We’re not walking to your apartment. That’s like a mile-long hike.”

“What?” you asked, confused but still allowing him to lead you toward a black SUV.

He opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in. While he rounded the car to the driver’s side, you glanced around the unfamiliar interior, a fleeting thought crossing your mind that maybe this wasn’t his car. But as soon as he slid into the seat and turned the key in the ignition, you relaxed a little.

“Please tell me this is yours and you didn’t just steal it.”

Mingyu chuckled, his smile easing some of your lingering unease. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last time I checked, you didn’t have a car,” you replied, watching him navigate the vehicle out of the parking lot.

“Oh, this is my dad’s. He’s letting me borrow it while I’m staying with them.”

You blinked, surprised. That was the first time Mingyu had mentioned his family or anything about his life outside of university. Naturally, curiosity sparked in you.

“You moved back to your family’s house?” you asked, hoping to finally get some insight into where he’d disappeared to.

“Yeah, had to,” he said casually, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“Why?”

He hesitated, fingers tightening on the steering wheel for just a second before he shrugged. “Just some stuff came up. Nothing major.”

There was something vague about his response, and you could sense the conversation wasn’t going to go any deeper. He’d always been good at deflecting when it came to his personal life.

You nodded, accepting the explanation without pressing further, even though the curiosity still lingered in the back of your mind. It was frustrating, but at the same time, you’d gotten used to the fact that Mingyu shared only what he wanted, and nothing more. Maybe it was just his way of keeping distance—emotional distance, that is.

When you arrived at your apartment, you barely had time to take a breath before Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. It was like being caged, but in a way that made you feel safe, wanted. You couldn’t explain how much you had missed this—missed him. His warmth, his touch, the way his presence alone seemed to fill the space around you.

As you moved together from the living room to the bedroom, it felt inevitable, like gravity pulling you into his orbit once again. You knew you were letting yourself fall, diving headfirst into the abyss of passion and euphoria that was Kim Mingyu. And yet, even knowing that, you didn’t stop yourself.

You couldn’t.

“You missed me, didn’t you?” he whispered as he took your breast in his mouth.

Yes, you wanted to scream out, but all that ever left your mouth was a lewd moan. And when he heard that, he slid a hand under your dress, moving down to your hips and slipping inside your lace panties to put pressure there. He caressed your sex slowly, and then urgently in circling motions while his kisses trailed up from your breast to your neck, nipping at the supple skin before they found your lips.

Your hands had a mind of their own, greedily removing his jacket, and then running your fingers on the firm muscles and warm skin underneath. As the pleasure grew, it clouded your brain and you clung your arms around his neck in fear that your trembling legs would collapse under you.

“Lie down, baby,” he rasped in your ear, pushing you gently towards the bed.

You let yourself fall on the mattress, bouncing slightly. You watched as he undid his belt and kicked off his jeans before moving to undress you out of your dress. You saw how he ogled your body with those beautiful lustful eyes before he hovered over you and traced the outline of your face with his fingers.

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” he whispered. He slid a finger into your mouth and you sucked it, making him exhale sharply and dive in to kiss you feverishly.

You were almost breathless with desire, your skin prickling with anticipation of what was about to happen—of what Mingyu was about to do. You could feel him against your thigh, hot and hard, so you spread your legs open, welcoming him.

And then with one push, he was filling you—stretching you in the most exquisite way possible. His body pressed against you as he thrust in and out in a rhythm that sent ripples of pleasure through every single nerve in your body.

And all of a sudden, he stopped, leaving you momentarily confused. He stood up and said, “Come here.” 

Without a word, you obliged, walking toward him in a haste. He then spinned you around so you were facing the full-length mirror in the corner of your room. “Take a good look at yourself.”

You saw yourself in the mirror; messy hair, flushed cheeks, and your lips swollen from kissing. You could see him in your reflection, standing behind you with fire in his eyes. You watched as he reached for your breast, while his other hand cupped your sex, collecting the slick in his hand before bringing it to his tongue.

You gasped at how hot he looked, and seeing your reaction made Mingyu grin. Without warning, he pushed you back on the bed, lifted you by the waist so your ass was sticking out. Then he pressed your face on the mattress before you felt a sharp, delightful pain on your buttcheek where he smacked you with his palm.

“Oh, Mingyu!” you cried out.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That’s not loud enough, baby.”

“Mingyu, please!” you begged, needing nothing but to be filled again.

Once again, he pushed his cock inside you, making you whimper in the most obscene manner.

“Fuck,” he grunted. His fingers dug hard into your hips as he thrust deeply and vigorously. Your hand held onto the sheets, pleasure so intense that you couldn’t think anymore—you couldn’t even see your own naked, sweaty self in the mirror in front of you. But you could hear the sound of bodies slamming into each other again and again and a breathless moan that must have been coming from your own throat.

When the ecstatic high engulfed the two of you, he loosened his hold of your waist and your legs felt so weak you could barely hold yourself up. So you collapsed on the bed, followed by Mingyu, panting beside you with a satisfied look on his face. 

“How was that?” he said smugly, knowing damn well how wonderful he made you feel.

You just laughed, snuggling into him as you put off washing up for a few more minutes.

The heated passion gave way to a quiet intimacy as you both settled into bed. The sound of rain tapping against the window filled the silence, soothing and rhythmic.

You chatted lazily about random things—music, classes, friends—until you finally gathered the courage to ask, “What happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

“I’m really sorry. I got busy with school and stuff at home,” Mingyu replied, his tone casual. But you could sense something unspoken beneath his words, as always. “Did you miss me?” he added, trying to keep it light.

You had missed him. A lot. But you weren’t about to admit that. “Barely. Didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Is that why you were out there flirting with every cute guy you meet?”

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You seem to know an awful lot about me. One might think you’re interested or something.”

He laughed softly, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter. “You’ll find that I am, in fact, very interested,” he said with a quiet conviction. And suddenly, the air between you shifted again, filled with tension—desire mingling with uncertainty.

“Say,” Mingyu began, his voice lowering as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to be exclusive?”

Your heart raced at the word. “Exclusive…? Like—”

“Like not sleeping with other people,” he clarified, though that wasn’t quite the question you were about to ask.

You were about to ask if he meant dating. Thank God you didn’t.

“Oh…” you trailed off, unsure how to respond. “Why?”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone still casual. “No reason. It’s okay if you don’t want to. You’re free to do whatever you want. But… it’d be nice, don’t you think?”

There was no reason to say no. The truth was, you’d stopped considering other guys long ago, the moment this thing with Mingyu began. Still, his offer made your heart race—both giddy and nervous. But there was no way you’d let him see that.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like a fair deal,” you quipped, hiding behind banter.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, curious. “Wait, what does that mean?”

You shrugged again, refusing to elaborate, though it didn’t really mean anything.

“Hold on—what?” He sat up, feigning shock, and flexed his arms dramatically. “You don’t think this is a fair deal?”

“Where?” you teased, squinting at his muscles like you couldn’t see them.

Mingyu grinned and started flexing even harder, pointing out specific muscles like they were on display. “You seriously don’t see this? Look closely and tell me this isn’t a fair deal.”

You giggled, reaching for him with your toes. Grinning, he grabbed your foot and pulled you toward him. The sudden tug made you squeal.

“Come on, baby, take it back.” He leaned down, hovering over you, eyes soft. “Take it back while I’m still being nice.”

“I didn’t ask you to be nice,” you taunted, your coy smile daring him.

Mingyu chuckled low in his throat. “You’re extra beautiful when you’re naughty, did you know that?”

“No idea,” you replied, grinning as he leaned in, capturing your lips again. When his hand cupped your boob, you pulled away from the kiss and pushed him off. “No.”

“Aw, fine,” he sighed in defeat, falling next to you on the bed. Quietly, he settled behind you, wrapping an arm around your torso and sliding his other arm under your head. “Get some rest.”

He didn't say much after that, but there was a warmth in the way he pulled you closer, an unconscious act of intimacy that made your chest tighten.

It hit you then—how much you’d come to crave moments like this, not just the passion, but the feeling of being with him, of having him there with you in the silence. You’d never felt this way before, not even with past relationships, and the realization made your heart race. You were falling for him, had already fallen. It wasn’t the way he teased you or the way he kissed you, but the quiet moments in between, where you felt like he saw you, really saw you.

It had been a long week. Between schoolwork, dealing with your chaotic schedule, and pretending like everything with Mingyu was still as casual as it used to be, you were exhausted. The tension gnawed at you—this thing between you two was starting to feel like more than it should. It wasn’t something you were ready to acknowledge yet, but it lingered in the back of your mind.

You walked into your apartment after a particularly grueling day, half-expecting the silence to greet you. When you walked into the kitchen for water, you found a small plastic bag filled with food on the table. Next to it was a tiny ceramic panda bear, about half the size of your palm.

You blinked, trying to process it. It wasn’t there this morning. Mingyu must’ve stopped by.

You walked over to the counter, looking at the items. Inside the bag were a couple of your favorite snacks—nothing big, just the kind of things you liked to nibble on when you were too tired to cook. There was no note, but the panda felt like something only he would give you. It was cute in an oddly sentimental way, like he knew you’d smile at it.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly set the bear back on the counter, hurrying to open it. Mingyu stood there, casual as ever.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that familiar, easygoing grin.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back. “Did you stop by earlier? Or do I have a creepy psychopathic stalker who’s obsessed with me and thinks it’s romantic to leave food for me at home while I’m away?”

Mingyu laughed heartily. “What are you gonna do if the creepy psychopathic stalker was me?”

“I’m calling the police,” you told him, closing the door to his face. He didn’t stop you, nor did he knock for about thirty seconds after you closed the door so you opened it again. “Come on in, then.”

“I was in the area so I thought I’d drop by and surprise you but you weren’t home,” he explained, kicking his shoes off at the foyer.

“Snacks and a panda?” you asked, raising an eyebrow but smiling. “That’s quite a combination.”

Mingyu shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. “I saw it in this shop near campus. And I figured if it was you, you wouldn’t leave it alone in that shop.”

“I don’t go around adopting every bear figurine I see, Mingyu,” you snorted, picking up the panda again.

“Maybe, but since he’s already here, you should have it up there with your little bear family,” he beamed, taking the panda from your hand and placing it up on the shelf with the rest of your bear collections. “She can be their Chinese aunt.”

“Because she’s from China?” you asked and saw him nod his head. You both laughed. “I’m sure they appreciate you making their family bigger.”

“Thanks for saying that,” he smiled, not the mischievous kind of smile that he usually sported, but a sincere one—as if he was touched by your statement. “I’m glad I could make them happy,” he added, staring at the bear family.

You stared at him for a moment, something warm and unfamiliar swelling in your chest. This wasn’t just some casual fling anymore, was it? You tried to play it cool, but the way he just knew—the way he quietly showed up in your life, making you feel special in small but wonderful ways—made it harder to keep pretending you didn’t care. You could only hope he’d open up to you and let you into his world. That way, you could love him properly.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah?” he asked, turning his gaze back at you. “You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart skipped a beat. “Shut up.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was like he wanted to say something but was holding back. You were holding back too, both of you toeing the line of something you could not bring up.

“I’ll make you dinner,” you offered, trying to fill the silence.

“You don’t have to,” Mingyu replied, but you were already walking toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction.

The rest of the evening was spent with each other’s company, sitting together on the sofa with your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly stroked your hair. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained; if anything, it was soothing, the kind of peace that made you feel safe and whole.

It is in moments like this that you realize you need not fill every moment with words. Being with him like this was comfortable and nice.

Mingyu shifted slightly, one hand holding your shoulder as he reached for his phone on the coffee table. You glanced up at him, watching as the light from the screen cast soft shadows across his face. You’d memorized every detail of how he looked by now—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, that playful smirk he always wore. But tonight, something about him felt different. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed his forehead just the right way, and you couldn’t help but think of how soft it looked—how soft it felt the mornings you ran your fingers through it when he was half-asleep. He always looked good, like some kind of casual perfection, but right now, with his face relaxed in the glow of the phone, he looked almost unreal.

You’d thought he was handsome the day you met him—he’d always had that charm that caught you off guard—but now, now that you’d spent nights tracing every inch of him, mornings laughing at how messy his hair could get, and afternoons like this where he seemed so unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts... it hit you all over again. He wasn’t just good-looking. He was beautiful in a way that made you ache a little, like your mind couldn’t fully comprehend that someone like him was sitting here with you.

His voice broke through your reverie, a gentle reminder that this wasn’t some dream you’d conjured up. He really was here. “Ah, I almost forgot. Exams start tomorrow. Are you ready?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, suddenly reminded of the real world. “I’ve gone through all my notes, but I’m not sure,” you muttered, the conversation feeling trivial compared to what was really on your mind. You weren’t thinking about exams. You were thinking about how, with him beside you like this, nothing else seemed to matter.

“We could pray,” he snickered. “For our grades.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you have to. You’re gonna ace everything and graduate with flying colors.”

Mingyu chuckled. “We’re freshmen—ages away from graduation.”

“Yes, but if you continue at your current pace, you’d really graduate with distinction.”

He hummed, kissing your forehead. “You think too highly of me. I like it more when you used to call me a himbo. Less pressure.”

Without thinking, you let out a soft sigh, turning to look at him. Really look at him. His focus had shifted back to his phone, his long fingers casually scrolling through whatever app he was on, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw, like maybe he was thinking about something too.

“Let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” you said, nuzzling into his shirt.

Mingyu sighed, pulling you closer as he placed his phone down. “Sorry. I have to be home tonight.”

“Oh.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so disappointed, but it slipped out anyway.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sensing the shift. “I just have to help out at home tonight. My parents…” He trailed off, leaving the explanation half-formed, and you didn’t press him for more.

“Right. Of course,” you said, forcing a small smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

There was an awkward pause before he kissed the top of your head again, his voice soft. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” You sat up as he rose from the couch, the warm space he left behind feeling a little colder already.

Mingyu grabbed his jacket from the chair, glancing at you with a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll text you.”

You nodded, watching as he left, and once the door clicked shut behind him, the silence of the room felt a little too loud.

“He’s just busy with exams,” you told yourself, sitting in your living room with your elbows propped on your knees, chin in your hands. You stared at the bears on the bookshelf, speaking to them as though they could somehow offer an answer. “Or maybe he had stuff to take care of at home.”

It had been four days, and you hadn’t heard from Mingyu. He texted after he left your apartment like he said he would, but after that—nothing. The last thing he mentioned was that he was spending time with his father. But then, radio silence.

“He should at least check in on me, right?” you muttered, leaning back into the sofa. “It’s been four days.”

Just as you were spiraling further into your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your hand, making you sit back up with a jolt. Your heart raced at the thought of Mingyu finally texting you, but your excitement died down as quickly as it came. It was just Mina.

Mina: otw to pick u up. U ready?

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, bolting upright. You scrambled to your bedroom, throwing on the first outfit you could find that was semi-decent for a party.

You spent the next five minutes getting ready, knowing Mina lived nearby and would be here in less than ten minutes. By the time you heard the knock on your door, you were almost done with your makeup, except for the lipstick that you decided you’d do in the car.

“Coming!” you called out, rushing to slip on your shoes as you headed for the door. But when you flung the door open, it wasn’t Mina standing outside.

Mingyu stood there, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, wearing the faintest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed, gripping the doorknob to resist the urge to leap into his arms. “What are you doing here?” 

 “I thought I’d drop by. Is now a bad time?”

“No! I mean, yes—kinda! I’m going to Hoshi’s party,” you rambled.

Mingyu nodded, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “Ah! I was supposed to go there too. Should we go together?”

“My friends are already on their way to pick me up,” you said quickly, wincing. “Come inside for a bit.”

You pulled him in by the sleeve, shutting the door before Mina could catch you in this whirlwind of confusion. Mingyu was here—after four days of nothing—and suddenly, all those unspoken thoughts came rushing back. Why hadn’t he reached out? What was going on?

“You said you’re supposed to go to the party?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah,” he answered, walking closer and resting his forehead on your shoulder. His sigh was long, deep, and heavy. Much heavier than you expected.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his back.

“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been exhausted these days,” he confessed, sighing again. He wrapped his arms around your waist. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

And you did. You let him stay there, gently stroking his back in hopes that it would bring him comfort from whatever it was that was bothering him. It was as if you could sense the weight of his worries pressing down on him.

In that silence, your mind raced. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but something in his demeanor urged you to hold back. Instead, you focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest. He needed this comfort, and for now, it felt like enough to be there for him. You didn’t move, not even when you heard the first series of knocks on your door. You just stood there, giving Mingyu the warmest hug you could offer.

When the second knocks came, followed by Mina’s voice calling your name, Mingyu pulled away. “Is that your ride?”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost in a whisper.

He smiled at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, lingering for a moment—thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I’ll see you there, then.” 

“Alright,” you whispered, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I’ll go first, okay? You can stay for as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing your lips softly.

In the car with your friends, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Mingyu. Is he okay? What happened? Why did he seem upset and sad? Where was he these past few days?

“Where’s Mingyu these days?” Mina asked, tugging on your elbow to get your attention. “You guys are close, right?”

“Huh?” you asked, surprised by the question. What you have with Mingyu wasn’t a secret, but you didn’t openly tell other people about it. Whenever someone noticed that you seemed close, you always told them that you were friends. And in a way, you were.

Mina tilted her head slightly, confused. “Was I wrong? I thought you two got along.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re friends.”

Mina said, “I haven’t seen him around campus in a while. Is he okay?”

“I think he’s fine, yes. Why’d you ask?” you replied.

“Well, something happened a few days ago,” Mina said, hesitating. She turned to Jill, your other friend who’s driving. “Jill, tell her what happened.”

You met Jill’s gaze in the mirror briefly. “Lea and I saw him getting slapped outside the campus.”

Your heart ached. “When was it? Who hit him?”

“It was probably his mom,” said Lea, glancing at you from the shotgun seat. “She looked like it and Mingyu got in her car after. Luckily there weren’t many people there and I think only a few noticed. But he seemed really depressed at the time.”

You leaned on the backrest of your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you wondered about Mingyu. Is he having problems at home? Is that why he was upset?

“You’re worried. You must be close,” Mina said, probing for answers about your relationship with him.

“He’s my friend. Of course I’m worried.”

When you reached the party, you were stuck with your friends for a while, playing a round of drinking games with other people. When that was over, and you’d managed to slip away unnoticed, you searched the crowd for Mingyu.

You leaned against the wall, holding a half-full cup of punch, scanning the crowd. You spotted him nearby, talking to a group of friends, his usual easy smile lighting up his face. You smiled too, watching him. It was almost effortless with him, how he could make everyone around him feel comfortable. You’d noticed it before—Mingyu was always the life of the party wherever he went. 

But then you remembered what your friends told you, and the smile faltered from your lips. How much pain was he hiding behind those sweet smiles? Were they fake the whole time? Or were they real and was he only able to smile this much outside his home? What was going on with his life? With him? At this point, the most fitting question would be, ‘Who is he really?’

You were about to join him when you noticed someone approach him—some girl you hadn’t seen before. She was tall, pretty, with perfectly styled hair and an outfit that screamed confidence. She touched Mingyu’s arm lightly, leaning in to say something that made him chuckle. It was a small, polite laugh, the kind he gave when he didn’t want to be rude, but that didn’t stop the knot from forming in your chest.

You tried to ignore it, reminding yourself that it didn’t mean anything. But when she took another step closer to him, her fingers lingering on his arm, you felt a strange tightness, a familiar sensation that crawled under your skin. 

Jealousy.

Jealousy was a strange thing. You had never felt it before—not like this. The idea of losing him, even though you weren’t “together,” made your stomach flip. 

Mingyu’s eyes flicked over the room, and then they landed on you. For a split second, you thought about looking away, playing it cool. But the look in his eyes, the way his face softened when he saw you, stopped you in your tracks. He smiled—his real smile, the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners—and the knot in your chest loosened a little.

Without a word, Mingyu took a small step back from the girl and made his way over to you. You tried to act casual, leaning against the wall as if your heart wasn’t racing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. He stood close, the heat of his presence drawing you in.

“Hey,” you replied, trying not to let the relief show on your face.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him over the music.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you said, shrugging. “You seem popular tonight.” You couldn’t help the slight edge in your voice, even though you tried to play it off as a joke.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tone. “You mean her?” he asked, tilting his head toward the girl who was now talking to someone else. “She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly, huh?” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. “Looked like she was being a little too friendly.”

Mingyu laughed softly, stepping even closer. His hand brushed against your arm, sending a familiar warmth through you. “Did you know I like my women territorial?” he teased, but his tone was gentle.

You scoffed, trying to hide the sudden rush of embarrassment. “Go find yourself someone territorial then,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his when you pushed past him.

Mingyu chuckled, turning to grab your wrist and stop you from leaving. “I don’t need to find one.” He tugged you towards him, hugging you from behind and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “I have my territorial girl right here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered. “Get off me. Why are you doing this in public?” you chided, shaking him off but not putting in any strength to actually get away from him.

“Oh, is this not allowed?” he asked and you were about to fire a retort when you caught your friends’ gazes from across the room. You felt your cheeks flare, looking away to avoid Mina’s teasing grin.

“Get off.” You pushed him away and straightened your clothes.

Mingyu chuckled heartily, tugging your shoulder so you’d face him. He was smiling softly, a softness that made you feel seen in a way that was more intimate than anything else. “Don’t worry. I’m yours exclusively.”

You stared at him, trying to read what was on his mind. You wish you could, but it was impossible. 

The words hit you harder than you expected. Exclusively? He must be talking about the fact that you were exclusive fuck buddies. You wished he wasn’t, but you’d rather not have false expectations. 

“I know,” you said, your voice quieter now.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung in the air between you, thick and unspoken. You didn’t need to say anything more. You both understood.

“Mingyu!” shouted someone from across the room. You both turned your heads in the direction of the voice and saw a guy waving for Mingyu. “Come on, man! It’s your turn!”

Mingyu chuckled, waving back. “You guys continue without me!” he shouted back. Then he took your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gave it a small squeeze. “Wanna ditch?”

You shrugged.

“Come on. I know you want to leave and go for burgers right now.”

You felt a smile tug at your lips. “Did you just read my mind?” 

“No, but I have a manual in my head with your name on it, and that information is saved here,” he replied, pressing an index finger to his temple.

“You’re so obsessed with me. Aren’t you embarrassed?” you quipped, pushing off the wall and walking toward the door, feeling the familiar warmth of Mingyu’s presence right behind you.

The night ended in your apartment, as expected. In the heat of the moment, you set aside everything—your confusion, the questions, everything. There was only you and him in this moment of passion. Once more, you let yourself spiral into the momentary distraction of pleasure. And when the high slowly dissipated, you found yourself in the warm bathtub, with your back leaning on Mingyu’s chest.

“Are you staying?” you asked softly. “Over, I mean. Or do you need to go home?”

“I’d love to stay,” he replied. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” You closed your eyes, content with his answer. “I don’t even want you to leave,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu chuckled lightly. “I don’t want to leave either. I wish I could just stay here. Forever, if that’s even possible,” he said and it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you—” You bit your lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. You weren’t used to confronting things like this. You looked up to meet his gaze, looking into his eyes. “Where will you disappear next time, Kim Mingyu?”

For a second, his expression shifted—just a flicker of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite read. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Not unless you want me to.”

Your chest tightened. His words were simple, but the weight behind them hit you harder than you expected. How long had you been waiting to hear something like that? To know that, at least for now, he was yours, and he wasn’t going to slip away without warning like he had before.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice again. “No. I don’t want you to go.”

Mingyu smiled, that same easygoing grin that always seemed to make everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t. “Then stop worrying,” he said, his thumb still tracing those soft circles on your skin.

He didn’t make a promise, and maybe you should’ve asked for one. Because even though he stayed for a while, it didn’t stop him from fading away all over again.

You were at Mina’s apartment, sitting on the edge of her bed while she packed her things. Beside you, Jill was cradling a bag of chips, pointedly refusing to share.

“I still don’t get why you’re moving out,” Jill grumbled, slapping your hand when you reached for a chip. She shot you a glare and continued, “Can’t you just tell your parents you don’t want to live with them?”

“Asian parents,” Mina sighed, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Exactly! I don’t understand why they’d move to another state just to follow you here,” Jill said, incredulous. “That’s some next-level parenting!”

“They moved because they can’t stand being away from their daughter,” you chimed in, swiping a protein bar from Jill’s stash. “Also because they can.”

“Yeah, and that’s why it’s so confusing,” Jill scoffed, gesturing toward Mina. “My parents love me too, but they wouldn’t move out of their hometown just to keep me close. Are all Asian parents like hers? Do they really want their grown-ass kids living at home?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it happens more often than you’d think.” Your mind briefly wandered to Mingyu, remembering how he’d moved back in with his parents.

Before you could say more, music blared from outside the bedroom, cutting through the conversation. You looked up to see Lea entering the room, a towel draped over her shoulders like a makeshift cape. She carried a speaker in one hand, which she promptly set down on the nightstand.

“You say!” she belted, voice dramatic as she launched into the opening lines of a Hamilton song. “The price of my love is not a price that you’re willing to pay!”

The three of you groaned in unison.

Mina rolled her eyes, standing up to shove Lea out of the room. “Get out, nerd,” she said, feigning annoyance but unable to hide her smile.

“She’s sad. Let her grieve,” you teased, glancing toward the door where Lea continued knocking persistently.

Mina sighed and switched off the speaker, silencing the music. “She’s just overdramatic, that’s what she is. It’s not like we won’t see each other anymore.”

“Maybe you won’t,” you said, shrugging. “Who knows? Some people like to disappear and not say a word. Only to show up out of nowhere and act like nothing happened.”

Mina crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly as she observed you with a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “Where is this coming from?”

You shrugged, glancing at Jill who was giving you the same look. The chuckle you let out was awkward and defensive. “Nowhere. I’m just yapping for no reason. You know me.”

“Yeah, we know you,” Jill said, grinning playfully. “We know you’re hiding someone up at your apartment.”

“WHAT?” you exclaimed, backing away and laughing incredulously. “No. When did I ever! You’re crazy," you denied, snorting.

“Uh-huh? Then why haven’t we been invited there in like, six months already?” Jill interrogated.

You looked away. “I didn’t know you guys were keeping count.”

“Who is it?” Mina pressed, a teasing smile on her lips.

“No one,” you said briskly. “We haven’t talked in like, a week.”

“Oh, is it over before we even found out who it was?” Mina asked, appalled.

Before you could respond, Lea’s voice rang out from outside the door, full of flair. “You’ll be back! Soon you’ll see! You’ll remember you belong to me!”

Yeah. Mingyu will be back. Like always.

You went on with your life, like always. You’d learned to adapt. Classes came and went, each lecture merging into the next. On the first few times that Mingyu would disappear, you used to be distracted. Now you just went on as usual. Each day passed in a blur of classes, late-night study sessions, and the occasional laugh with friends.

“You still haven’t told us who this mystery man is. He’s not a professor, is he?” Lea questioned while you were at a cafe one evening.

“No! What the heck?” you said briskly, shaking your head at the ridiculous accusation.

“Is it Mingyu? You guys seem... close,” Mina teased.

“No,” you lied, blatantly.

Mina nudged your elbow. “Then why won’t you tell us?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your plate. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Jill asked, leaning in, her eyes glimmering with curiosity. “He ghosted you, right? You’re better off without him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you said, but the words felt heavy in your mouth. You could not bring yourself to tell them that he’d done this before, and that he’d be back. When he does, you’d take him back like you always did.

You didn’t want to tell them how much you craved his presence, even if it was a source of confusion and pain. The idea of him laughing and teasing you again, the thought of being held by him, being one with him in body and mind—it all felt like a drug you couldn’t resist. How could you tell your friends that? They’d kill you if they can’t kill Mingyu first.

Mina reached out, squeezing your hand. “You deserve someone who’s all in. Not someone who just pops in and out of your life.”

“I know,” you nodded, appreciating their concern. You know they were right, but you still wanted to wait for Mingyu.

Just as the ache began to dull into a familiar rhythm, you were in the library, buried under a pile of textbooks. The quiet hum of studying students surrounded you, but you were in your own world, focusing on an assignment.

“Hey, stranger,” said a familiar voice that made your heart race. You looked up to find Mingyu and your stomach flipped as you caught his eye. He looked goofy—exactly as you remembered. “Missed me?”

“More like I forgot what you looked like,” you retorted, trying to play it cool.

He laughed, that warm, infectious laugh that always made your heart flutter. “Oh, come on! You know you missed my face.”

“Not as much as I missed your annoying habit of interrupting my study sessions,” you shot back, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face.

Mingyu grinned, leaning closer. “I can’t help it. What’s more interesting than me?”

Your heart swelled at his playful confidence, and for the first time in weeks, the tension in your chest eased a little. “A lot of things, actually,” you teased, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Lies,” he said pouting as he slid on the seat next to you, scooting so close that your shoulders were squeezed together. “So, any plans tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, but inside, you felt the warmth of his presence filling the void he had left.

Mingyu started to integrate himself back into your life seamlessly. He would swing by your apartment with snacks, distract you with silly anecdotes, and make you laugh until your sides hurt. You need not mention that most of these nights were spent with your limbs tangled underneath your sheets—half his weight pressing on you, your fingernails digging into his skin, as your moans blended with his soft grunts, creating a beautiful melody that made you lose your mind.

One afternoon, you found yourselves in the park, lounging on the grass under the fading sunlight. “So, what’s new with you?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Not much. Just the usual—classes, studying, hanging out with the same friends,” you replied, your gaze drifting to the clouds above.

He raised an eyebrow. “Just that? No wild adventures? No spontaneous trips?”

You laughed softly. “You’re my wild adventures, Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s expression shifted, his playful demeanor softening as he studied your face. “I’m sorry for disappearing like that. I just needed some time to take care of stuff,” he explained, playing with the ends of your hair. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

His words hung in the air, and your breath caught in your throat. The way he looked at you made you feel special again—loved even. You could feel the warmth spreading in your chest, a blend of relief and yearning.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said softly, your heart swelling with hope.

“I know,” he replied with a teasing smirk, but his eyes were sincere. You stayed like that for a while, just staring at each other, not quite understanding what your eyes were trying to tell each other, but content nonetheless.

“I should go,” you said, sitting up. Mingyu followed, holding your hand and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Go where? I was hoping we could hang out again tonight. How does steak sound? I’ve gotten good at it recently.”

“I am tempted, but maybe next time. I made plans with the girls.”

“Can I sleep over tonight, then? I don’t wanna go home,” he pleaded.

You winced. “Mina’s sleeping over tonight.”

“Didn’t she sleep over the other day, though?”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t have an apartment anymore. It’s a long story.”

Mingyu gasped playfully. “Is she moving in with you?”

“No, not really. But she’d be sleeping over sometimes.”

“Not your friend cockblocking me.”

You threw your head back laughing. “Dumbass. Go away.”

As the days turned into weeks, you settled back into the regular rhythm with him. Mingyu seemed lighter, more carefree. Every moment felt precious, as if you were both making up for lost time.

But behind the lighthearted moments, you could feel it—the underlying tension that often accompanied Mingyu’s presence. You pushed it aside, choosing to savor the time you had together instead of dwelling on what might come next.

Then, one chilly evening, it happened.

You’d heard somewhere before that one should expect disappointment. That way, the said disappointment would hurt less once it comes. They were only half-right.

“What’s your opinion so far?” you asked, watching Seungcheol lean back in his chair.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not really in a position to comment.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one asking.”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think you’ve got yourself stuck in an impasse. And honestly, it’s a frustrating one, because you knew what was going on, you didn’t like it, and you knew exactly what you could do to get out of it.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is, you could have spared yourself the trouble. You could have chosen differently—confront him, walk away, tell him to leave if he’s just gonna keep doing what he’s doing,” he replied.

You shot him a teasing smile. “Notice how you’re listing all the things I could have done, instead of what Mingyu should have done?”

There was a flicker of realization on Seungcheol’s face, clearly caught off guard. “Oh…”

You chuckled softly. “Exactly. That’s because people generally don’t trust men to be capable of picking up after their messes.”

“That’s actually a good insight,” he admitted with a nod. “So what happened after that?”

“You know what happened. It’s where I started when I told you this story. He called me after a week of radio silence, complaining about his annoying professor. Then I invited him over, we had sex, and we fell back into the same cycle of pretending like nothing was wrong. With him. Or with us. Then he vanished again.”

Seungcheol nodded quietly as he refilled your empty glass. For some reason, the gesture felt like a pat on your shoulder. In your mind, you thought that maybe this was his way of comforting you. That is—if he cared at all.

“That was the first time we fought,” you added, smiling bitterly at the memory.

At that point, you’d recognize the cues. You’d had Mingyu memorized and knew exactly from the way he was beginning to get detached that he was about to disappear again—late replies, making excuses and avoiding you at the campus. The thought of being abandoned by him once more struck a chord in you. Before you know it, you were confronting him, demanding to be heard.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, just as he was reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu stopped, looked back at you, and blinked, confused. “Doing what?”

You gestured at him at the door. “This. The avoiding, the excuses.” Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been busy—”

“Stop!” you interrupted. “Just stop it! Don’t lie to me, Mingyu. You think I don’t notice? You’re pulling away, and you always do this right before you disappear!”

Mingyu sighed, backing away from the door and facing you fully. He uttered your name—softly, pleadingly. “Come on, baby. Let’s not do this right now.”

“What? Am I supposed to just take it in stride while you disappear to God knows where without so much as a word? No. We’re doing this right now,” you demanded. The corner of your eyes began to sting with the tears threatening to fall. 

He reached to touch you but you recoiled, and he could only clench his fist then withdraw his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say?” you asked, appalled.

“I don’t wanna make excuses.”

“Who said you have to?” you asked quietly,  your voice unsteady. “You just have to be honest.”

“It's easier said than done!” he snapped, exhaling sharply as he held your gaze. You could see the hesitation on his face before he looked away and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What do you want from me, Mingyu?” you croaked out, trying to steady yourself on your feet. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” he said defensively, reaching out again but you backed away.

“But you do! And I feel like absolute shit because… because…” The words got stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to explain the constant tug-of-war inside you? The feeling of wanting more but being too scared to ask for it? “Am I just someone you use when it’s convenient? Someone you need when you’re lonely, then toss aside the moment you’re done?”

“No! Don’t say that!” Mingyu growled, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug. You tensed at first, but then you felt it—the way his arms wrapped around you, not in anger, but in desperation. “I care about you. I care a lot about you.”

The force of his hold spoke louder than anything he’d said. His grip tightened slightly, but it wasn’t suffocating. It felt… conflicted, as if he was holding onto you for dear life but didn’t know how to tell you why. You felt his breath, unsteady against your hair, like he was battling with words that refused to come out.

But it wasn’t enough.

You stiffened in his arms, resisting the urge to melt into his warmth like you always had before. “Mingyu,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, “if you care about me, why won’t you just be honest?”

He didn’t let go, but his grip faltered, his fingers loosening just enough for you to feel the uncertainty. His silence stretched on, filling the air between you, but he still couldn’t say it. He couldn’t give you what you needed—a promise, a reason, something to hold onto.

“Go,” you said, your voice raw with pain.

Mingyu faltered, his arms falling to his sides, his eyes pleading as if you’d just said something he wasn’t ready to hear. “Please…” he whispered, reaching out again.

You turned your back on him. “Just go, Mingyu,” you repeated, voice cracking as you struggled to keep your tears at bay. “Go. I can’t do this right now.”

With your back turned you didn’t see him linger by the door, hand hesitating on the knob. You didn’t catch the sadness clouding his eyes, the way his fingers twitched as if to reach for you one last time. And you missed the way he looked at you—torn, broken—before he slipped out of your life once again.

And with Mingyu gone, he didn’t see your legs give out beneath you. You collapsed onto the living room floor, where the two of you had spent countless hours together, making memories that now felt like they belonged to a different time. Your sobs filled the silence of the empty room, the weight of everything crashing down on you, and for the first time, you let yourself break at the place where you had once felt whole.

You went on with your life, almost mechanical now with its repetition. Classes, study sessions, dinners with friends—it was all about keeping your head above water, distracting yourself from the void Mingyu had left behind. You had been through this before, so in some twisted way, you were used to it. He always came and went, and every time he left, it hurt less. The only difference was that this time, you weren’t sure if he’d ever come back. 

You missed him in the morning. Your eyes searched for him around campus all day. And your soul ached to be held by him at night. Your friends noticed your distracted state, and they had asked once but didn’t press on when you’d hinted that you didn’t want to talk about it. They figured that, eventually, you'd open up. In the meantime, you stuck to your routine, pretending everything was fine. And in a way, it was. Your tears eventually dried up and the restless nights decreased. The pain had dulled, and you were starting to accept that maybe this was for the best. 

But it seemed like fate wasn’t done toying with you yet. One evening, you were lounging on the couch with Jill, Lea, and Mina. You were halfway through a movie you’d been meaning to watch, a quiet evening like so many before when your friends had kept you company so you weren’t left to your sad thoughts.

Then your phone rang. At first, you thought it might have been a mistake, that you were hallucinating when you saw Mingyu’s nickname on your screen.

“R18 plus plus plus? Who’s that?” Mina teased, noticing the name flash on your phone. “A fling?”

“It’s no one,” you muttered, still staring at the screen.

“Aren’t you gonna pick it up? It’s kinda loud, love,” said Jill, motioning to the TV.

You stood up, heading to the kitchen to answer the call. You knew you shouldn’t, but a part of you—the part that still hoped, still craved his presence—wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice shaky.

“Hi.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, and they said your name uncertainly.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Dan. Your number was on the phone so I called. Can you come to the bar downtown? It’s right across from 00 University. The owner of this phone had a little too much to drink. Can you come pick him up?”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Mingyu? You hadn’t heard from him in weeks. “I… yeah, I’ll be there,” you managed, glancing at your friends. “Give me twenty minutes.”

You ended the call and stood, grabbing your coat. Mina raised an eyebrow, but you avoided her gaze. “I have to go,” you said quickly.

“Now, now. You’re not ditching us for Mr. R18 plus plus plus, are you?” Mina teased again, but you weren’t in the mood for jokes.

“R18? Is that a booty call?” Lea chuckled.

“It’s not what you think, guys.” You sighed, offering a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for their protests, you rushed out the door, your heart pounding. You were confused and surprised. Mingyu drunk and alone in a bar? This was so out of character for him. He’d never done anything like this before.

When you arrived at the bar, you spotted him immediately. Slumped against the counter, his head hanging low, he was a mess. His hair was tousled, his eyes half-closed, and his cheeks flushed with alcohol. The confident Mingyu you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow, drunken version. You approached him, appalled at the sight of him looking wasted.

“You must be her,” asked the bartender. 

You nodded, glancing at Mingyu. “How long has he been like this?”

Dan sighed. “A few hours. He was drinking alone, staring at your number. Said he wanted to call, but wasn’t sure if he should.”

Your heart twisted at that. He wanted to call? He was thinking about you? But then, why hadn’t he?

“How much did he drink?” you asked, eyeing about a dozen bottles of beer in front of him and hoping he didn’t drink all of those by himself.

Mingyu stirred at the sound of your voice, his head lifting slightly. He tried to focus on you, but his eyes were hazy. He mumbled your name. “...is that you?”

Dan gave you a sympathetic smile. “He’s all yours.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” You sighed, wrapping an arm around him, trying to lift him to his feet. He leaned heavily against you, his body sagging.

He whispered your name again, slurring the syllables, and for a moment, something inside you softened. But no. You couldn’t do this again. Not like this.

With a struggle, you managed to get him outside. “Kim Mingyu, you’re gonna have to pull it together, or I’ll leave you here.”

Mingyu groaned, trying to straighten up. “I missed you,” he mumbled, his words barely coherent. He stumbled, reaching for your face but missing, his hand landing on your shoulder instead. He rested his head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath. “Missed you so much.”

You winced at the words, unsure of what to feel. Did he mean it? Or was it the alcohol talking? “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

In the cab ride back to your apartment, he kept trying to pull you closer, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. Every time he said your name, it felt like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he hurt you so easily, and yet make you feel so needed at the same time?

When you got him inside, your friends were still there, their faces full of questions. Jill stood first. “What’s going on?” she asked, though the answer was obvious.

“He’s drunk,” you said simply, guiding him to the couch. “I’m sorry. Can we call it a night? I promise I’ll explain later.”

They exchanged looks but didn’t argue. Lea gave you a quick hug before leaving, followed by Jill and Mina. “Text us if you need anything,” Mina said quietly, her eyes lingering on you as if she wanted to say more.

Once they were gone, you turned to Mingyu, who had collapsed onto the couch. He was mumbling your name again, his eyes barely open.

You knelt beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You’re a mess, Mingyu.”

He smiled lazily, his hand reaching for your face. Then he chuckled. “Dan, you bastard, what did you put in my drink? Why am I seeing things?" he drawled out the words.

“You’re not seeing things,” you chided, albeit softly, as you pushed his hand away.

You sighed, pulling away from his touch. You started to help him out of his jacket, his body warm and damp with sweat. As you worked, he kept trying to pull you closer, his hands wandering over your body, his lips trying to find yours but clumsily landing on different spots in your face.

You swatted his hand each time, and pushed him away as much as you could. You stripped him down until he was left with only his boxers. Afterward, you gave him a blanket and were about to leave when he grabbed you by the waist.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Just like that, the tears you thought had dried up started welling your eyes again. You stood there, letting yourself get enveloped by his warmth again. If only he could stay like this—open, vulnerable, needing you. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t real. Tomorrow, he’d be gone again.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and gentle. You stirred awake, feeling a familiar ache settle deep in your chest. The first thing you did was rise out of bed and go to the living room. Mingyu was still asleep on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the edge, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.

Quietly, you walked over to the couch. You sat down on the floor next to him, folding your legs beneath you. Your eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, softened in sleep. He looked peaceful—vulnerable even, like he wasn’t the same man who’d disappeared for weeks without a word.

How many times have you told yourself not to expect more? That he wasn’t yours to keep. He was only yours in stolen moments—when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other. But those moments were fleeting, like a breath you couldn’t quite hold on to.

You sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. “Damn you, Kim Mingyu.”

What if this time was different? What if, just once, he stayed? Hope was a dangerous thing. Every time you thought you were free from him, he pulled you back in, sometimes with nothing more than a look, a word, or the weight of his presence. 

Mingyu stirred, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. His gaze found yours almost immediately, bleary but aware. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just looked at each other, the silence heavy with unsaid words, with everything you were too afraid to admit. The hurt. The longing. The quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

His eyes lingered on your face, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. You felt exposed under his gaze, like he could see through the walls you’d built to protect yourself from him.

Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hand, warm and tentative, cupped the side of your face, and you leaned into his touch instinctively, closing your eyes for a second as your breath caught in your throat. When you opened them again, his gaze was intense, searching.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and familiar. Then, his grip on you tightened, and you found yourself sinking into him. For a few moments, it felt like nothing else mattered. The pain, the confusion, the nights spent wondering where he was—none of it existed here.

You knew this wasn’t safe. Letting him back in, letting him hold you, kiss you—it was a cycle you couldn’t break. But you didn’t pull away.

He guided you to the bed, his hands sliding over your skin with tenderness, as though he was afraid you’d slip away from him. You weren’t sure who needed who more in this moment—whether he was seeking comfort from you, or whether you were the one hoping he would stay, if only for a little longer. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Your clothes fell away slowly, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you. His touch was familiar, yet it felt different somehow—softer, more cautious. You shivered as his lips trailed across your collarbone, your breath hitching in your throat.

He then lay on his back, guiding you to straddle him. You’d miss everything about him these past few weeks, but you didn’t know how much you longed for him until he was deep inside you. It hurt a little, but you didn’t falter, you just stayed there for a second, adjusting to the stretch that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Mingyu sat up, his hands supporting your back as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You okay?” he asked, his lips ghosting over your skin. You nodded, moving ever so slightly. Mingyu kissed the side of your head. “Good girl.”

You didn’t reply, too caught in the moment to think beyond the feeling of his hands on you, and his manhood inside you. Soon you were breathless on top of him, grinding rhythmically, back arching with each motion. His hands were as strong as they had always been, gripping your hips as he guided your movements. You did not contain your moans, knowing Mingyu preferred hearing them—that he loved hearing you.

Just as you were nearing release, Mingyu shifted your positions, pinning you underneath him. He stared into your eyes for a moment, caressing your cheek before he kissed your open mouth. And once again, he thrust into you. The room was filled with soft sounds—quiet breaths, gentle whispers of each other's names. Everything felt slow, like time had stretched out just for you two, giving you space to exist in this fleeting moment.

There was no rush, no frantic urgency. Just two people, tangled together in a slow, deliberate, and passionate sex driven not solely by lust but by something more powerful. 

Love. You felt it in his every push, every kiss, and every touch. It was different this time. His hands lingered longer, his lips sought yours more often, and the way he whispered your name—it wasn’t just desire. It was more, and you felt it deep within your chest, like an ache that had finally found its release

And when it was over, you lay together, his arms wrapped around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. You traced lazy circles on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His body was warm, his presence grounding you in a way that made you want to believe he could be yours.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You froze, your hand still on his chest as the words hung in the air. You weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “What did you say?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, a faint smile playing on his lips as he repeated the words that made your breath catch. “I said, I love you.”

Your heart swelled, but with it came a surge of doubt. Could you believe him? Could you trust these words from the same man who had vanished from your life without a second thought so many times before? It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from free-falling into something that could either break you or save you.

You wanted to say it back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but they felt too heavy, weighed down by all the times you’d convinced yourself that this moment would never come. Instead, you settled for leaning up and kissing him, slow and soft, your lips lingering against his. Maybe this kiss could say what you couldn’t. Maybe it could be enough to bridge the gap between hope and reality.

When you pulled back, you looked at him again, the uncertainty gnawing at your chest. “Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended. “Or are you just saying it because… because of what just happened?”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with something unreadable. He reached up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I mean it,” he said, his voice rougher now, like the words were harder for him to say than he let on. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You both knew what this was, even if neither of you was ready to admit it.

You pressed another kiss on his lips, your hand cupping his face. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Seungcheol’s eyes stayed locked on you, you could see curiosity and concern written on his face. You just stared right back, keeping your lips tight.

“That’s it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “That’s it.”

He blinked slowly, clearly not satisfied with your answer. He’d been so engrossed in the story that neither of you had noticed how late it had gotten. 

“It can’t be,” he murmured. “What happened after?”

You let out a breath, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “We talked. Well, fought, mostly. I asked him what he wanted—if he’d finally commit.  In the end, he didn’t pick me. After everything, I thought he would. You know confessing his love and all that. But… meh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s how it went.”

Seungcheol leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “So you walked away?”

“I don’t wanna go into details anymore, but yes I walked away with my dignity intact. I mean,” you paused to laugh. “I couldn’t keep letting him do that to me, could I? I had to stop it. I was better than that, though it took a while for me to finally grasp that fact and walk away.”

Seungcheol nodded slowly, but there was something unsatisfied in his expression. “Well, good for you. You deserve that. You deserve better.”

“I know,” you chuckled, but the laugh felt forced. “It’s funny, looking back. I acted so stupid for him. But I’m just glad it’s over now, you know? That chapter is closed.”

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “That’s good. Although I dare say, your storytelling is a bit, I don’t know… anticlimactic?”

“Is it?” you asked like it wasn’t something you already felt too. You forced a shrug. “Maybe. But that’s how it went. Things kept circling back to the same pattern and this part is basically the same. There’s only so many times you can replay the same argument, you know? I just skipped it,” you added with a forced smirk, hoping it would distract him from prying any further.

Seungcheol observed you for a minute, and you wondered if he could see right through you. Seems impossible. He didn’t really know you until today, and you were a pretty decent liar.

“Right,” he said, his tone softening, though the doubt hadn’t entirely left his face. “What’s next then?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, who’s next?” he clarified, leaning back in his chair. “Kim Mingyu is not the only guy you’d ever dated, is he?”

You let out a short laugh, but it was strained. “No, there were others. But it’s late, Mr. Choi. The lady needs her sleep.”

He shot to his feet, his face immediately contrite. “Ah, of course! I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. If you want to hear more, you can ask the front desk for me. Tomorrow’s my day-off so I have time. We can also discuss the fee you promised,” you said, smiling and then narrowing your eyes at him. “That is, if you haven’t forgotten about it.”

“I remember.” He smiled. “Good night then.”

“Thanks for listening,” you said with a small wave as you turned to head toward your room.

As you made your way back to your quarters, thoughts of Mingyu swirled in your mind. You’d lied to Seungcheol. The ending between you and Mingyu wasn’t anticlimactic at all. It had been messy, filled with bottled-up anger and days wallowing in misery. But you’d never admit that to Seungcheol. Sharing a failed romance with a stranger was one thing; baring the ugly truth of just how miserable and pathetic you felt back then? That was something else entirely.

At the time, you thought he’d finally let you in. He did, for a moment. Mingyu had opened up about the weight of familial expectations, how it crushed him to follow a path that wasn’t his. He talked about the people and dreams he had to leave behind. And he confessed that the reason he couldn’t choose you, after all this time, was that same fear—that one day, he’d have to turn his back on you too.

“You don’t have to,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be here. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had someone to rely on?”

He’d smiled at you then, a smile filled with gratitude and maybe something like love. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

And so, you stayed. And Mingyu? He stayed the same—thoughtful, goofy, always consistent. Sometimes, he’d come to you in low spirits, and you’d let him lean on you in silence, even though he never fully shared his feelings. You fell deeper in love with him, slowly realizing that everything felt emptier, harder without him. You barely noticed time fly by, but you did notice that Mingyu no longer disappeared. He no longer detached himself from you. He was there all the time, even on days when he didn’t feel like himself.

Freshman year passed and you went up with him at his family’s estate to spend the break. He lived in a big house but his parents weren’t home the whole time you were there. It was nice to get a glimpse of his life, of the place he grew up in and the person he was before you met him. You spent time hanging out, making love, and being each other’s support system.

But despite how wonderful it was, despite the burning passion, the cloud of uncertainty loomed over you while you were there. The happiness you felt was so overwhelming, it scared you. It felt too good to be true, like the calm before an inevitable storm.

This storm would come earlier than either of you expected. And it came in the mail.

“What is it?” you asked, wrapping your arms around Mingyu’s seated figure. You tried to peek into the letter, but he put it away.

“Nothing important,” he replied, holding your arm and rubbing it as he looked up at you. He smiled at you and then pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Where were you?”

You pointed at your head, wrapped in a towel. “In the bath,” you said, straightening up and walking toward the bed to undo your hair.

“You were gone for an hour.”

“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you to join me,” you said, not hiding your disappointment.

He groaned. “Oh, man. You should’ve told me.”

You grimaced. “No, you should’ve looked for me when you noticed I was gone.”

He tucked the envelope in the drawer before jumping in the bed with you. He pinned you down, making you squeal. Then he started peppering you with kisses all over your face. When he caught a whiff of your neck, his expression immediately shifted from goofy to naughty.

“I’d love to do it in the tub, but the bed isn’t such a bad idea too,” he lilted, undoing the ribbon of your robe.

“The bed is the best place to do it, dumbass.”

Mingyu hummed in satisfaction. “I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he said, making you laugh. 

That afternoon was spent being one with each other too, like the previous ones. When you fell asleep, Mingyu was beside you, his head leaning on your chest while you play with his hair. But when you woke up, it was already dark and the spot where Mingyu laid was cold.

You pushed yourself upright, wrapping your robe around you as you padded across the room, calling out his name. “Mingyu?” The sound echoed back in the silence. You checked the bathroom, the living room—every corner of the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. No sign of him.

You tried his phone next, only to find it sitting on the nightstand. Thirty minutes passed, then an hour. Your calls for him became more frantic, though still unanswered. It was only when the housekeeper returned that she offered some explanation.

“He went out earlier, ma’am,” she said, smiling kindly. “He didn’t say where, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Mr. Mingyu would never leave you alone.”

Right, he wouldn’t. Yet that wasn’t reassuring at all. This housekeeper might have watched Mingyu grow up, even took care of him during those years, but she had no idea what Mingyu had put you through. Still, you wanted to believe in him.

The hours passed, and the next morning came. He hadn’t come home yet. You waited until the evening, and the following evening on the next day, and the next, and the next. Still no Mingyu. The house felt hollow without him, as though the walls themselves knew something was wrong.

It was on the fourth day, when your frustration turned to desperate curiosity, that you found the letter tucked away in the drawer of his desk. Your fingers trembled as you unfolded it—an acceptance letter to a university abroad.

He hadn’t mentioned this. Was he planning to leave? Had he already left?

You’d looked for him and asked everyone at his house for help but no one seemed to know where he went. They even had to contact his parents and you didn’t really expect them to know either, but it was frustrating to hear them say it.

“Have you checked his flat, ma’am?” the housekeeper asked.

You blinked. “I thought he moved out of his flat?”

The housekeeper shook his head. “No, ma’am. He’s been living here again, but that place in the city still belongs to him. Maybe he’s there?”

It wasn’t like him—not anymore. Ever since the two of you had gotten closer, you thought the days of him pulling away without warning were over. You had let yourself believe that, anyway. But now, you felt the creeping sense of something breaking, something final.

You commuted back to the city and went straight to his flat. You hated this feeling—the waiting, the uncertainty. It felt like standing on the edge of something crumbling beneath your feet.

And now here you were, in front of his door, heart pounding as you knocked. You didn’t expect him to answer. But, he did.

Mingyu stood there, looking disheveled, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. The sight of him was both a relief and a frustration, all the hurt and confusion swirling inside you.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing past him into the apartment before he could say anything.

He closed the door behind you but didn’t move. “I know,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “What’s going on, Mingyu? You disappeared. Again. After everything we talked about. After you said you didn’t want to keep doing this.”

He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m sorry,” he said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady. 

Mingyu finally looked at you, his expression torn, like he didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words. “I don’t know… I needed time. I couldn’t—”

“You always need time, Mingyu,” you interrupted, your frustration boiling over. “You say you don’t want to do this alone, but then you push me away every chance you get. Do you even want me in your life?”

“I do! I’ve never wanted anything else! But I can’t… I—” he paused, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t keep dragging you into this.”

“You’re not dragging me, Mingyu. I’m here to stay! But if we’re gonna keep having this… if you’re gonna keep doing this to me, then what’s the point?” you asked, the words heavy with your anger and frustration. “I’m sick of this, Mingyu. Aren’t you?”

His eyes widened, and you could see the conflict in him. But he didn’t answer. He didn’t say anything, and that silence hit you harder than anything else.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a step closer to him. “If you don’t want me, just say it. Tell me to go, and I will. But if you want me to stay…” Your voice faltered as you searched his face, desperate for any sign. “Tell me to stay, Mingyu. Say it.”

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your uneven breaths. You waited. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Mingyu, please…” you pleaded, holding back your tears. “Just say ‘don’t go,’ and I won’t,” you added, shaking your head.

Mingyu reached for your face, staring at you with tears in his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead against yours as he sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart sank, the answer clear even though he never spoke the words. You took a shaky breath, nodding to yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, wiping away a tear that rolled down your cheek. “I get it.”

You backed away and then turned toward the door, your chest aching with every step you took. But before you could reach the handle, you stopped, glancing back one last time, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to stop you.

But Mingyu stayed silent. And with that, you walked out with finality in your stride.

To say you were a mess after that was an understatement. You were a wreck—miserable and sad, wandering through the days like a ghost of your former self. You ran to your friends, crying in their arms for hours, the kind of raw, gut-wrenching sobs that left you breathless. You thought you’d only cry about it for a few days and get over it. But it went on for a whole month.

Some nights, after too many drinks, you’d find yourself dialing his number, the alcohol loosening the grip of reason in your mind. “Mingyuuuu,” you’d whine into the phone, your voice slurred and pathetic. “I love you so much! Take me back!”

The next morning, you’d wake up to the shame of your drunken confessions, staring at the ceiling with the weight of regret pressing down on you. You’d replay the conversations in your mind, cringing at how desperate you sounded, wondering how you let yourself fall apart so completely.

Your friends did their best to pull you out of the darkness, but every attempt felt futile. You’d join them for outings, but you were barely present, laughing too loudly at jokes that didn’t register or staring blankly at the world around you. One night, they dragged you to a party, insisting you needed to have fun. But there you were, clinging to your drink, watching everyone dance and laugh, while the memories of Mingyu spun in your mind. Once the reality set in that he was no longer there to ditch the party with you, you stumbled to the bathroom and locked yourself in, sobbing into your hands as the beat thudded through the walls.

Even the simplest tasks became challenges. Your studies slipped away; assignments piled up, and your grades plummeted. You’d sit in your lectures, staring at the board but absorbing nothing. Friends would express their concern, but you brushed it off with a half-hearted smile, not wanting to burden them any more than you already had. 

Eventually, you hit a breaking point. On one particularly dark day, you sat alone in your room, surrounded by empty cans and bottles and crumpled tissues. The realization hit you like a freight train: you couldn’t do this anymore. You weren’t just grieving—you were drowning.

In the haze of your despair, you made the impulsive decision to skip the semester and move back home with your family. The thought of facing another day in the city without Mingyu felt unbearable. Packing your things felt like burying a part of yourself, but it was your only option. Every corner of your apartment did nothing to help your move on anyway.

You took one last look of the place where you made the most memories with Mingyu. And as you closed the door, you hoped it would also close that chapter in your life.

Your parents welcomed you with open arms, concerned and confused by your sudden return. You pretended everything was fine, but they noticed the shadows under your eyes, the way you flinched at the slightest mention of your time at university.

In the quiet of your old room, you often found yourself staring at the ceramic bears on your nightstand, remembering the small joy of building a family for these inanimate decors. Your friends tried to reach out, but you brushed them aside, too ashamed to admit how far you had fallen. They understood, giving you the time and space that you needed, knowing you'd be back once things were all better.

And as the weeks passed, something began to shift. The sun shone a little brighter, and the weight of your grief slowly lightened. You spent time with your family, rediscovering old hobbies and connecting with friends who reminded you of who you were before Mingyu. Slowly, you started to feel like yourself again. You laughed more, shared stories, and realized that life still held moments of joy, even in the absence of him.

One day, while cleaning your room, your eyes caught your little bear family, focusing on the grizzly and panda Mingyu had gifted you. Their faces seemed more cheerful now and you felt a bittersweet pang in your chest. 

Where could Mingyu be right now? How is he? You had no idea, but you wished he was in a better place than before. Somehow, you wish you could at least extend a hand to comfort him, even as a distant friend.

Then an idea came. You picked up the grizzly and the panda, memories flooding back—of laughter, of warmth, of love. But you knew that holding onto them was holding you back. And right now, you didn’t really need them anymore.

You wrapped the figurines carefully in bubble wrap and wrote a short note:

“I’m sending these with a happy heart and I hope that instead of bitterness and sorrow, they will bring a smile to your face, just like they did when we first met them. Thank you for the memories. Know that I do not regret meeting you, and if I had to do it again, I would. Although, maybe I’d make better decisions then. You’ll always have a space in my heart, Gyu. I hope you’re in a better place—both in your heart and mind. Love, me <3”

As you dropped the package off at the post office, you felt lighter, liberated. The storm that had raged within you had dissipated, replaced by the gentle promise of new beginnings. You smiled to yourself, knowing that while the past would always be a part of you, it no longer defined you. You were ready to embrace whatever came next. You’re young, you have a whole life ahead of you.

And if you happen to run into Mingyu again in the future, you hope he will be in better circumstances. Whatever he was going through, you wished he’d get over it and be genuinely happy.

[fin]

[maneskinwh0re]

ghostface!sevika x feminine!reader 👻

impulse fic for arctober 29th {sevika day}

men/minors dni, nsfw 18+

middle pic art creds to @ guccipussay 🖤

╔═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╗

cw: dom!sevika, sub!reader, fem!reader, a man…(reader has a bf but dw he don’t last long :3), blood, gore, violence, cheesy horror movie clichés, implied murders, mask k!nk, choking, kn!fe play, wlw smut!

╚═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╝

♱ halloween night — you sit next your boyfriend, cuddled up on the couch with your legs draped over his lap. his eyes linger up and down the black lingerie dress that hugs your curves, while your own eyes are focused on the horror movie playing on the tv.

♱ saw. a great franchise and the original being one of your all time favorites. as you watch, with every jump scare, your boyfriend grabs at your waist or tickles you, which is usually followed by you screaming and then playfully hitting his arm or chest.

♱ you want to like him. you do like him, but he gets on your nerves. yeah — you often go on errand trips and gym sessions with him and yeah — while you’re there, he occasionally flirts with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. but spending your favorite holiday with him is a must. after all, what could go wrong with a simple horror movie marathon? everything is perfect, yet the night is still young.

♱ the city has been getting more and more dangerous recently, and as the clock nears midnight, all the kids must’ve gone home. the neighborhood is quiet with the exception of owls and chirping crickets.

♱ suddenly, the movie is interrupted by your phone ringing — a call from an unknown number.

♱ typically, you don’t answer a call unless the number is in your contacts, but your boyfriend irritably pauses the movie and insists you pick it up.

♱ with an agitated sigh, you answer. “hello?”

♱ “hello,” the person says on the other line. the voice is deep with a feminine undertone, laced with a rasp that almost catches you off guard.

♱ “who is this?”

♱ “you tell me your name, i’ll tell you mine.”

♱ “i don’t think so. can i help you?”

♱ “i just gotta ask you one question, baby.”

♱ baby? who does this creep think she is? you can’t help but admit her voice sounds attractive. “yeah? what is it?”

♱ “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

♱ your stomach drops and you end the call with a shudder, tossing your phone to the cushion next to you and breathing slow. something in your gut is telling you not to engage.

♱ “so… who was it?”

♱ “probably just some bratty teenagers prank calling or something.”

♱ “you lying to me?”

♱ “no! what?” you blurt out, almost angered with his distrust towards you. with a huff, you push yourself off your boyfriend’s lap and head towards the bathroom. “keep it paused, gimme five.”

♱ after rinsing your face with water, you take some deep breaths in front of the mirror. calm your nerves, it was just a phone call. the tense feeling in your gut still lingers as you walk back to the living room only to see your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. calling out his name, you sit back down on the couch and pick up your phone to dial his contact.

♱ “ugh- i’m not in the mood for this shit!” you yell out to him as you call his phone.

♱ you hear his phone ring in the other room and decide to make your way to the kitchen. you see it buzz repeatedly on the counter, watching it and zoning out as if waiting... something’s not right. where the hell is he?

♱ “your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging syste-” the sound of your call going to voicemail snaps you back to your senses before hanging up and looking around. you’ve seen too many scary movies to know this is how it all starts, and you try not to let the thought freak you out.

♱ startling you again, your own phone buzzes. unknown caller id. taking a deep breath, you tap the green button on your screen. “hello?”

♱ “hello again, beautiful.”

♱ that damn voice again. your anger rises at the woman on the other line. “what is this? some kind of sick joke? a prank?”

♱ “no no, baby. a game. a real easy one. y’ wanna play?”

♱ “what the f… do i have a choice? what’s stopping me from hanging up right now?”

♱ “maybe it’s your fear that you may not live through this very night.” yeah, right. anyone could make threats like this. she continues through your silence, “you never told me your name…”

♱ “why do you wanna know my name?”

♱ “i wanna know who i’m looking at.” your anger fizzles and breath hitches. fear smothers all the oxygen in your lungs and words are caught in the back of your throat. “you do have a choice, dove— to play or to die.”

♱ “fine,” you agree with a shaky breath, you internally scold yourself for turning to grab the nearest knife. who cares if you’re overreacting? you’re not dying tonight. you grip the knife’s handle tight as you hold your phone up to your ear. you start walking out the kitchen and down the hallway before your question is cut off with her single word. “how do i-”

♱ “colder...”

♱ you stop in your tracks. as a horror film fan, you have yelled at your television screen when a character makes a dumb decision or if you’ve wanted a better plot line. you always thought you would make logical choices if you were ever —hypothetically of course— put in a situation like this. but in this current moment, your head is only clouded with uneasy thoughts and vicious worry. you take a step backwards and start to return to the kitchen.

♱ “warmer… warmer,” her voice trails on as you play the game step by step. you pass the living room and enter the kitchen, stopping when you hear her voice again. “ah ah- cold.”

♱ you turn around and slowly creep your way back to the living room. the thought of her eyes constantly watching causes you to feel a mixture of fear and something else. your short steps continue towards the sofa where you sat care-free maybe only 10 minutes ago.

♱ “warmer… warmer… keep moving, baby. you’re doing so good… red hot. riiight there...” the mysterious woman taunts as you look around. and once you catch the sight behind the couch, you can’t help the horrified gasp and shriek that escapes your lips.

♱ your boyfriend lays motionless, face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. deep gashes and slices have left his body mutilated. yet no weapon is left anywhere.

♱ fuck. this means she’s already in the house. your heartbeat races and your ears start ringing. no- that’s the phone—the sound of a dial tone. she hung up.

♱ you go to grab a bigger knife from the kitchen but they’ve all been taken. what’s the next best weapon? the only other option you see is the dirty pan that’s been left on the stove from dinner. looks like you’re sticking with the smaller knife you grabbed earlier.

♱ your phone goes off again, causing you to yelp at the ringer and then internally curse yourself for being so jumpy. it’s her again. you try to sound confident, but anxiety and dread involuntarily rises from the back of your throat. “what the fuck do you want?”

♱ “you, baby,” her voice is low and sultry, and you try not to let it get to you.

♱ “you’re psychotic…”

♱ “hm… sorry about your boyfriend. all those muscles didn’t help much,” she replies before ending the call again.

♱ you wander the house, preparing yourself to fight at every corner you turn. “where are you, motherfucker?” you whisper to yourself as you start to creep down the hallway. and before you realize what’s happening, a gloved hand reaches around to cover your mouth from behind, muffling your panicked scream that follows.

♱ your phone drops to the floor as you quickly swing your arm back to stab the tall figure behind you. your aggressive attempt to defend yourself is reversed as the woman dodges the knife and spins you so you’re now pinned against the wall. her right hand still muffles your mouth and the left holds your wrist above your head.

♱ your hold on the knife above you is weak as you freeze in her grip, your free hand clawing at her forearm. you can feel the size of her muscular arms in your struggles. once your vision clears, your squirming slows to a stop as you are face to face —or face to mask— with your intruder. her towering figure is clothed in black-hooded fabric and a long black and white mask is layered over her head, its mouth shaped as if screaming.

♱ you breathe through your nose in short gasps. “look at you… even prettier up close.” she tilts her head as if studying you. you’re unable to see her eyes but it’s obvious she’s looking you up and down as if you’re her next meal. “scream for help and you die. y’ got that, angel?” her hand tightens its grip on your mouth and her tone is short and stiff, like a merciless general commanding orders to a feeble soldier. you confirm you understand with a small nod, eyes still welled with tears until you soon blink them away. once your breaths even, she lowers her hand. “there you go, now was that so hard?”

♱ “what the fuck do you want from me?” you ask accusingly, making sure to not get caught up in anger. luckily, your shaky words don’t provoke her and only bring her to a deep chuckle.

♱ “such naughty language,” she says with a tut, almost amused with your fear as she lifts your chin with a gloved finger. you try so hard to push away the butterflies that form in your stomach. “besides, i thought we went over this already.” she lifts her leg between your thighs, teasingly pressing her knee up against you and trapping your body against the wall. a short gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, and she smirks under her mask. she uses this position as leverage to take the knife from your grip and lazily toss it down the hallway. the sudden sound of it clattering to the floor makes you flinch and her hands quickly return to your wrists, pinning them high above your head. “i’m not going to hurt you, angel,” she whispers, her disguised face leaning in close. “not unless you want me to…” and at the end of her sentence, your name rolls off her tongue. how the hell does she know your name?

♱ “y-you’re a damn creep,” you spit back less harsh than intended, and she can tell your barriers are wavering. if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s difficult to focus on your frustration when her actions are affecting your body like this. your mind is fuzzy, your chest feels tight, and your core aches. a moment passes as you stare at the woman in front of you, her broad build dominating your figure. the flesh of your bare thighs involuntarily clench on either sides of her knee. you’re in short, black lingerie… of-fucking-course you’re feeling vulnerable in her arms. “what ‘re you gonna do to me then?”

♱ “only things you want me to do, sweetheart.”

♱ and at this, she has you. her words bring a breathy whimper from your lips and you grind yourself against her knee. like a slut. you’re not proud, but it feels good— fear and distress not dissipating but mixing perfectly with pleasure. it’s exhilarating. intoxicating. arousing. it’s a way you’ve never felt before in relation to sex, with your boyfriend or anyone else for that matter.

♱ “y’ dirty little thing. you like this? tryin to get yourself off at the threat of your fuckin life?” she asks, her degrading tone not doing anything to help you come to your senses. “if y’ want help, jus’ use your words.”

♱ “h-help… please,” you nod up to her, squirming and going to cover your face with your hands until you're reminded of her own gloved hands restricting you by the wrists. you want to hide— hide from her, from your shame, from the lust, from your lack of wanting to fight whatever this is. but as soon as she lowers her hand to feel how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear, all negative thoughts abandon your mind.

♱ “give up the fight, dove.” the masked woman’s voice is rich and warm, and you finally pinpoint her subtle puetro rican accent while she speaks. she feels you relax into her hand at her words and loves hearing the quiet sounds you make as one of her fingers slowly circle your clit through the thin, dampened material.

♱ “i give up- i… i give up. please, just-”

♱ “you want me inside you, baby?” she whispers into the nape of your neck, the bloodied plastic of the mask grazing across your exposed collarbone. your hurried nod cues her to remove her right glove, and her left hand lazily shoves it in the back pocket of her black jeans under her cloak. you catch a glimpse of her veined hand before she pushes your underwear to the side and thrusts two thick digits into your wet cunt. you clench around her middle and ring fingers, watching how white rings of cum drip and gather at the dark skin of her knuckles.

♱ her free hand trails up your chest and grips you by the neck, squeezing lightly and bringing a strained moan from the back of your throat. “been watchin' you for a while now. 've seen the way your fingers wrap around this throat as you touch yourself, thinkin' no one could fill those filthy desires o' yours.” your hands grasp at her forearm again and force her grip harder against you. she chuckles once she realizes what you’re trying to do, and decides to give you what you want, a tightening hold that's hard enough to leave bruising. “you like my hand right here? choking the damn life outta you? y're a sick little slut, it’s adorable.”

♱ as her long fingers thrust and curl inside your heat, you find yourself at her mercy while she fucks you against the wall. the thought of your boyfriend's cold, rotting body in the other room is long gone. and you can only focus on how warm this womanly murderer feels against you, killing just so she can get to you. now that thought is what makes you weak in the knees.

♱ “can y' keep yourself standing, baby? or do i need to fuck you on the floor?” she asks as her fingers quicken their movements.

♱ “mph- i can stand!” you insist, trying so hard to keep your jelly knees from buckling under your limp self. you feel your back start to slide down the wall, disproving your protest. you're visibly unable to hold up the weight of your own trembling body. it's not your fault your trespasser just makes you feel so fucking good. so fucking close... until she stops.

♱ her fingers pull out quickly and she seizes one of your arms, not bothering to wipe your juices off her fingers. you feel how soaked two of her fingers are as her large hand grips your upper arm, tightening to a painful squeeze.

♱ “clearly, you don't have the strength. so we're gonna try s'mthin' new,” she says before tearing your underwear off and throwing you to the wooden floor. you lay there for a moment, shock hitting you as you try to take in oxygen again. facing away from the intruder, you bring your forearms close and try to crawl towards the other end of the hallway. your hips roll to the side with every other crawl so you can rub your thighs together, attempting to recreate that same friction you felt seconds ago.

♱ in the state of hysteria, you miss the foul act of the masked woman tucking your underwear into the other back pocket of her pants.

♱ you turn your head up to see her slowly bending down to pick up the kitchen knife she tossed away minutes ago. you see the back of her head through an opening in the mask's fabric. her dark hair is short, maybe reaches just past her ears. but any further sight of her human characteristics are cut short once she stands up and her posture straightens. her head turns to you. and your breath quickens. she begins walking. every brisk step passes faster than the last as she gains more speed down the hallway, knife clutched in her fist.

♱ is this how it truly ends? a trick to get edged and then end up killed? some scary movie.

♱ alarms blare in your mind and genuine fear takes over as you try to crawl away. prey chased by predator. think y' know who wins in this twisted game.

♱ a gloved hand clutches the flesh on your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you can't seem to help your panicked scream that erupts into the fabric of that same damn glove. she removes her palm with a forceful shove away and pins both your wrists to the floor on either sides of your head. she lowers her body on top of you and straddles your hips, shushing you and reassuring she won't hurt you.

♱ you almost believe her until your frightened eyes watch her arm lift, the knife held tight in her fist. she brings it down hard causing you scream again and squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to watch how she guts you. when you don't feel any pain, you peek an eye open to watch her laugh. laugh at your terror, knife still in hand.

♱ rightfully pissed off now, for both fearing for your life and the pleasure she has delayed you of, you spit up at her ghost of a face. your saliva scatters across the plastic, but surely she felt mist of it directly through the patches of the eyes and mouth. she pauses. and if only you could see that sadistic smirk of hers, just so proud of your little defiant act.

♱ but every bad action has its consequence.

♱ the knife lifts again and is slammed down into the floor, just inches to the right of your head. the handle points up to the ceiling and your ghostface girl guides your hand up and wraps your fingers around it, then follows suit and wraps her own left hand around the handle as well. it's sentimental, you tell yourself as you focus on calming your breathing.

♱ her right hand trails down your chest and returns to its place at your cunt. she teases a finger before pushing in two again, and you can't tell how long she keeps delaying your needed orgasm. one moment, you're a pleading mess. the next, you can't speak because her gloved hand clutches at either your mouth or throat. she smells of dried blood and alcohol, bringing you close only to pause her movements for the second time.

♱ “please, i can't keep doing this. i... need to-” your begs are cut off by her taunting words.

♱ “need to what?” she asks, her mask leaning close to your face. “say it.” her intensity rises a blush to your cheeks, and when you can only let out a shy whimper, she withdraws her fingers from your aching heat again.

♱ ignoring your protests, fusses, and pouts, she shoos your hand off the knife's handle next to your head and yanks it out of the floor in one swift movement. she trails the sharp point of the blade down your torso, from your chest all the way to your mound. you can't help the little buck of your hips as the cold metal lightly grazes your clit.

♱ that little movement brings her to a chuckle. “i know a lot o' things about you, dove. but i wasn't sure you'd crave knife play this badly.”

♱ you can only muster a strained groan. and with that, she flips the weapon and gently pushes the handle into your soaking walls. the most provocative of sounds is brought at the contact, and it's music to her ears. she groans in satisfaction and ogles at how well you take it.

♱ her thrusts are slow, careful, gentle, turning and pushing and pulling... mindful of how easily she could injure the flesh of your inner thighs or even your pretty pussy with one wrong move. her skilled hands work you up again, probing your body with her calloused skin.

♱ you feel that knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. in a moment of impulse, your shaky hands reach up to grab hold of the ghostface's mask and pull it up to reveal your intruder's real identity. she just lets you, casually watching your wide-eyed reaction to her appearance as she fucks you faster.

♱ she's fucking gorgeous. you first notice her eyes, a shining grey in contrast to her darker skin. her nose is wide and hooked, her lips are plump and soon turn upward in a sly smirk as you study her. she notices your focus lingering at her lips, so she allows herself to lean in and place a light kiss to your slightly open mouth. your jaw is slack as you continue to take staggered breaths, yet you want more. you chase the kiss once she begins to pull away. connecting your panting mouth to hers again, she pushes her tongue into your mouth with a groan and swallows every sweet whimper she brings from the back of your throat.

♱ the handle of the knife continues to pump in and out of your leaking cunt. she knows you won't last much longer. you can't. you break the kiss at the last possible moment to gasp for air, and she uses that short second to pull her ghostface mask back down with her gloved hand.

♱ she wants her lips to be on yours again, but she'd be damned if she returns to the sensation. she's already internally scolding herself for becoming too attached to the taste of you, but she is just loving how you make vulgar curses sound sweet in the ways they spill from your panting lips. “f-fuck, fuck! i'm gonna-”

♱ “i know, baby, i know,” she says, her deep voice slightly softens as she speeds up her pace and grazes your clit with her thumb. “sevika,” her deep voice mutters close to your ear. and when you bite her clothed shoulder as a way to mute your own uncontrollable whimpers and moans, her gloved hand returns a threatening squeeze to your throat. after forcing you back down to the floor, she speaks again. “scream for sevika. scream my name as you cum on my fingers, dove...”

☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆

♱ blue and red lights move across the walls through the windows. the blaring sounds of sirens are heard from outside. you think you find peace until you hear muffled yells from police officers at your front door, warning anyone who is in the entryway that they're breaking it down. you hear a countdown and loud pounding, but the ringing in your ears is louder.

♱ by the time the officers run down the hallway and get a sight of you, there's scattered radio chatter followed by paramedics springing into action and bombarding you with questions.

♱ “ma'am, can you hear me?” ... “can you tell me your name?” ... “have you been stabbed?” ... “is there anyone else in the apartment with you?” ... “who did this?”

♱ you're coughing and sputtering. your body is in a heap of blood, sweat, and tears (and cum but it's not as noticeable). at this point, you only remember little flashes.

♱ sevika. you never got to tell her how pretty that name is. you remember the outlines of her face. the trace of her fingers... the trace of that knife before it was plunged into you. not deep, nor anywhere vital. you remember being in that post-orgasm gaze... a whisper in your ear — “for evidence...” — and then a sharp pain sliding its way in and out of your side, bringing you to a pile of blood and pained tears on the floor. you were already covered in sweat — she had made sure of it, but then she had to go ruin you again. ruin your body twice.

♱ a flashlight is shining in your eyes, bringing you back to the present as well as attention to the obvious growing blood stain in your clothing. your breathing becomes strained and labored as your vision starts to cloud.

♱ “victim has three visible injuries-” you overhear paramedics take note of your body's condition as they bring in a stretcher to carry you. “stab wound and two abrasions, neck and chest...”

♱ a subtle grin sneaks its way onto your face once you realize why sevika left you in an open pile on the floor. she didn't want to kill you, but she also didn't want to see your name in a court file. seems like getting found with a stab wound would lower your chances of being high suspect for your boyfriend's murder. they have no other leads so far, but sevika made it seem like you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

♱ you know police will pester you with further questions and investigations, but you don't care. your lips are sealed.

╔═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╗

♡ this was so rushed i actually don’t like it but WHATEV

♡ hope y'all enjoyed! lmk if y'all want this to be a series bc i love halloween too much to only post spooky themes once a year...

- 🐝

╚═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╝

tag list: @lovinglywriting ♡

[wasteddmoondust]

little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

[yuri-is-online]

Can I request a part 2 for when the guys leave some of their stuff in the guest room? Can it be with Azul, Jamil, and jade please? Thank you!

While cleaning the Ramshackle guest room, the prefect occasionally finds items that remind them of their guests. Sometimes that is because those items actually belong to them and need to be returned, other times it's just a happy coincidence. Either way, the item needs to be delivered, might as well invite them over again? Or just chase them down, whatever is most convenient.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I was a bit surprised to get this request! In a nice way~ No warnings for this one, just pure fluff. The first one can be found here and more fic can be found on the Masterlist.

Antique Coin

Azul Ashengrotto is a well put together young man. His suits are pressed, his shoes are neatly polished, his rooms are always orderly and without dust.

Which is why he notes immediately when something is even mildly out of place, and completely falls apart once he's in the privacy of his own room. He knew he never should have paid attention to that stupid article Floyd had shared in their group chat, coins being symbols of good luck wouldn't make him relatable to anybody and now he's missing one of his best coins! How stupid could he have been to think that-

"Hello, this is Azul speaking." He snatches up his phone without even checking the caller ID and immediately begins sweating when he hears your familiar breathing (he swears he's not a creep, really! He's just noticed that whenever you speak on the phone, not that you do that often really just when he can work up the nerve and hey this is technically the first time you've called him! Progress he's making progre-)

"Hey there, you got a moment?" Azul can feel the heavy sweat drop on his forehead. He's done enough research to know conversation starters like this are never good.

"I'm a bit busy right now." He tries to lean casually against his desk and glares at the book that has the audacity to fall off his desk and startle you. "Is this terribly important or can it wait?"

You, laugh? Is it nervous, or is it affectionate? Does even know what that sort of laughter would sound, is it bad that he finds your voice terribly beautiful even if it's mocking, even if it's- "Um sorry, but are you missing a coin?"

"A... coin?"

"Yes! I remember you saying you collect them and this one I found in my guest room smelled a bit like the ocean so. Yeah. I thought it might be yours." He smiles.

"My dear, you know I'm just going to say 'yes' and take it from you." You laugh again, how silly that last one was nerves. This one is affection, his hearts are fit to burst with it so it must be. "I'll be there in thirty minutes. If that’s acceptable?"

"Of course! I'll be here." Perhaps that article wasn't completely wrong after all.

Red Feather Accessory

There are few things Jamil hates more than being sick. Assassins don't have sick days, or maybe they do. Maybe they have better benefits than he does. Maybe he'd make a really good assassin in some alternate universie like that one video game series from your world you told him about once, the one with the emblems and gangrene? He doesn't remember much of the conversation Kalim tricked him into having by saying he wanted to hang out in your guest room yesterday.

"But you were so happy to see them!"

Because of course, that had been Kalim's justification. And sure, he probably had been really happy to see you. He'd been running quite the fever and he can't imagine you made that temperature any better.

"Good morning, prefect." He manages it smoothly, you look properly embarrassed to see him this early, your eyes flicker to his hair and linger just a moment longer than normal. "Sleep well?"

"Mostly." You try to focus on his face, but his hair is clearly distracting. Your eyes keep darting back to it, Jamil expected to be embarrassed, but this is oddly empowering. "Is there a reason you're here so early?"

"I think you know why I'm here." You don't, he can tell that much from how you swallow. "Can I come in?"

"Sure?" You move just the bit and Jamil let's himself inside, the doors in Ramshackle always look so damn similar. Just how do you find your way around in here? "Um, Jamil?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know why you're here?" You look lovely

"Of course." He laughs. "I left a hair accessory here yesterday when Kalim decided to visit." How odd, normally you'd flinch if he worded it like that. Instead you just look sort of blurry.

"I see." You're close now, but he can't see you through this weird fog that's filling your hallways. You push back his headband and press the back of your plam to his forehead. "Oof. Well that's not good." Your arm encircles his shoulders and boosts him back up to his feet. He supposes he can afford to lean towards you, there's enough plausible deniabilty in what he's said already to keep his feelings to himself.

"C'mon." You do your best to boost him and march back towards the door. Jamil is smiling similar to how he does when he gets one over on Azul, but you doubt he's planned this. He's so feverish that his skin has gotten clammy. "I already took your hair pin back to Scarabia, ok? Let's get you back to bed."

"That's so kind of you." His hoarse voice tries to purr. "Perhaps you'd like to stay for breakfast?" Thank the seven Grim isn't awake yet. You'd never hear the end of this from either of them.

Encyclopedia of Tea

Books are expensive, you can count on one hand the ones you own unrelated to your school work scattered around your dorm. They are precious to you, signs of your life in a world you don't belong in. A way to tell something about you if someone decided to look at the little shelf you had finally put up in your guest room.

And someone had, because you know damn well this book isn't yours, the process of returning it is guaranteed to be a headache but the longer you hesitate the more ammunition the book's rightful owner will have to accuse you of stealing it. Assuming that's what Jade's goal was anyway, it seemed like something he would find funny to do. You could picture him slipping the book onto your shelf with that calm look on his face.

Jade's face isn't what you would call wildly expressive. He smiles pleasantly most of the time, seldom do you see him frown. Even now when his forehead is knit in concern there's nothing really resembling the scowl you saw during Azul’s overblot.

"Hello Jade, forgotten something?" You hold the book up and shake it slightly. His eyes widen, and his smile drops into something more nuteral. This expression is adorable, it stays as Jade speaks, allowing you to admire it longer

"Oh?" He blinks, Jade wakes easily enough so your own expression flickers to concern at how slow he seems for just long enough to give him back his confidence. "It seems the simplest solution was correct. Thank you, prefect." He reaches for the book, hands lingering near yours as his eyes focus on the title of the book. He is painfully slow in taking it back.

"Do you really take this everywhere with you?" Your hand involuntarily flexes as you retreat back into your personal space. Sometimes you wish you could read minds, it would make this heavy feeling in your heart more explainable. Let you notice the way Jade's teeth display for you and not hide inside your own insecurities, how he wishes you would keep your eyes on him.

"Of course, it helps to have some light reading on hand when things get slow." He wishes you had kept the book long enough for it to retain your scent or some of your warmth. Perhaps now that he's set this precedent, he can fake it. Leave his jacket or his scarf? But no, that wouldn't be believable. He's Jade Leech, the Vice Warden of Octavinelle. You would never believe the real reason the book ended up where it did. His dreams are his to dwell in alone.

"Perhaps as thanks I could prepare one of my favorites for you? To clear the debt so to speak." For now.

[spdrwdw]

Art by marmar0u on instagram

Pairing: GhostFace!Miguel x f!reader

warnings: 18+, Smut, Roleplay, oral (m/f receiving) , unprotected intercourse, hair-pulling, choking, no use of y/n, slight hair pulling

Summary: It's Halloween and you in for a trick and treat of your life.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested GhostFace! Miguel! Sorry if this on kinda sucks. I'm not good with writing scary, suspenseful stuff lol. I did use some of the dialogue from the first movie and tweaked it a bit. If you want to be tagged in my future fics, just let me know! Or, you can also turn on notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. I hope everyone enjoys and have a safe and fun Halloween!

Word Count: 2.8k ( I promise I'll make my fics longer one day)

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

It was Halloween night, and you were home alone. The tv was on, playing some random scary movie. You had music also playing in the background. 

Trick-or-treaters would be constantly ringing the doorbell. At first, you thought about simply leaving the bowl of candy by the doorstep, but you loved seeing all the costumes the kids and teenagers were wearing. 

You were wearing a costume, yourself. A simple angel. Nothing too flashy since you were simply handing out candy. Just a halo and wings in a white t-shirt and white shorts. You wore your more “suggestive” costume at last weekend’s Halloween party a friend threw. 

While making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some popcorn, you heard your cell phone ring. It was a number you’ve never seen before, but it had your area code, so you decided to pick it up. 

“Hello?”

“Hello?” A voice on the other end responded. 

“Yes?” You replied back. 

“Who is this?”

“Who are you trying to reach?” You asked, slightly confused.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” Honestly. Dude dialed the number, right?

“I don’t know.” Ugh.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number. It happens. Take it easy,” and with that, you ended the call and began to head back to the microwave to check on the popcorn before your phone rang again. 

Reaching back over for it, you checked the caller ID. It was the same number. Should you pick it up? At first, you thought about letting it ring but, eh, whatever. You answered it. 

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number,” the same guy on the other end responded.

“So why did you dial it again?” You asked. 

“To apologize,” he replied.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Bye, now.”

“Wait! wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to you for a sec.” 

“Why?” Okay, this was getting a little weird. You really should just hang up. 

“Just want to know a little more about you. How about telling me your name?” He asked. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. 

“Well, do you have a boyfriend?” He changed the subject. 

“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” as if you were going to give this guy a truthful response. Plus, you did have a boyfriend, so you wouldn’t have accepted either way. 

“You never told me your name.” There he goes again, asking for your name. 

You were now walking around your house, organizing some things as you entertained this weirdo.

“Why do you want to know my name?” No really. Why?

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

What?

You suddenly stopped, feeling your heart drop.

“What did you say?” Your voice now grew quiet. 

“I want to know who I’m talking to.”

“That’s not what you said,” you pointed out as you began making your way around the house, turning more lights on, as well as the lights from your back porch. You really should hang up and call the police if this guy was stalking you from somewhere. 

“Then what did you think I said?” He asked. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“What do you want?” You knew if you hung up now, he would just call back. So, you made another round around the house to make sure everything was closed and locked. 

“I just want to know your name.” 

“You don’t need to know my name. Now what do you want from me?” You questioned.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe go out together on a date.”

Now you were peaking through the curtains, making sure no one was actually outside. Which was futile since there were still a lot of people out trick-or-treating. Maybe he was just messing around. But, you wanted to be sure.

“Can you see me?” He suddenly asked. 

How did he know you were looking for him? “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your voice was now shaky, as well as your body. 

“They’d never make it in time. It’s Halloween. Probably think you’re prank calling them or something.”

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice cracking and tears welling over your eyes. 

The line was quiet for a second, then you heard him chuckle. 

“To see what your insides feel like.”

The line disconnected, and there was a sudden flicker of the lights. He was here. He had to be. 

You were checking every single closet and door, your heart beating fast, panicking. Where was he? He had to be somewhere in your house. 

Your cell phone rang again. You didn’t bother to check the number. You knew it was him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking as you struggled to hold the phone in your hand. 

No response. 

“This isn’t funny! I’m going to call the police!” You threatened as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep your eyes everywhere. 

You heard the man chuckling again at the other end, causing goosebumps to raise the thin hairs on your arms. 

“Aww! Don’t be like that, baby. I’m just having some fun.” You could practically hear him smirking.

“Well, I’m not!” You spat before the lights began to flicker again. 

“Stop it!”

“Alright, alright. You’re being such a party-pooper. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop messing with you, if you let me fuck you.” 

“Excuse me?!” You gasped, eyes widened. 

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll even keep my mask on,” he cooed. 

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’m a trick-or-treater. I already did my tricks, now I’m ready for my treat.”

“I-I have a boyfriend!” You then blurted out. 

“You just told me you didn’t.”

“I know that.”

“So that ‘no’’ was a yes? I don’t like that you lied to me like that. Hmm..well, he doesn’t have to know, baby. It’ll be our little secret.”

“No,” you replied. 

“Alright. Fine. We can do this the hard way,” he responded just before the lights went completely dark. The line cut off on the other end, and you were left with silence. 

You covered your mouth and tried to calm down. You had to find something to defend yourself with. Maybe a baseball bat or something. Or you could go back to the kitchen and grab a pan or knife. 

Without removing yourself from the wall, you began to make your way to the kitchen. 

In the dark, you quickly made your way to the drawers and found a knife before proceeding to turn on the flashlight on your phone just as you heard something coming from upstairs. 

“Shit shit shit!” You breathed, gripping onto the knife with one hand and your phone with the other before you slowly began to make your way up the stairs , looking all around you.

You jumped when you heard a door slam behind you, and you slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hall. 

“Who are you?!” You called out, taking a couple steps back, still gripping the knife tightly. Your legs began to tremble a bit. 

The figure then turned around. A white ghost-like mask covered their face. You could hear a low chuckle coming from them as they began to take a step closer, holding their own, bloody knife in his hand. 

“Get away from me! I’m serious!” You threatened, but he continued to make his way closer to you, so, you dashed into your bedroom, not noticing something on the floor that caused you to trip and fall onto your bed, the knife slipped out of your hand, along with your phone, both landing on the floor with a thump.

Once you managed to push your body up, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the figure standing right behind you, causing you to scream. You tried to scramble back, but he grabbed one of your legs, lifting the knife towards you to strike. 

You quickly reached for a pillow and started hitting him with it. It worked for a second, and he stumbled back. But, it gave you enough time to get out of bed. 

However, your efforts were not sufficient,and he grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed with a thump before he crawled over you, pinning your hands behind your head and straddling your waist. 

A low chuckle could be heard coming from him before he leaned over and whispered against your ear, “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”

Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to break free as tears pricked over your eyes. 

“Please, let me go..” you whimpered. 

“Not until I get my treat, sweetheart,” he reminded her as he sat up and began to pull down his pants underneath the black cloak. 

“Aye, mierda, this thing..”he huffed under his breath as he hiked the cloak up above his waist. 

Wait a second. That voice..it sounded familiar. Too familiar. And there was only one person you knew who would curse like that. 

“M-Miguel?”

“Yeah?” He paused, looking down at you through his mask, his persona now forgotten. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you doing this the whole time?!” You shrieked as you started smacking him, hitting him with all your might. 

“You asshole!”

Miguel simply laughed as he grabbed hold of your hands. 

“Come on, nena! I was just messing with you!” He continued to laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was adorable.”

“G-get off of me!” You were pissed at the stunt your boyfriend pulled. 

“But I want my treat,” you just knew that he was pouting under his mask. 

“I’m not giving you anything you big jerk! Now get off and turn my lights back on!” You demanded, shoving him off of you. 

“Fine,” he muttered before fixing himself and got off the bed and headed out of your room. 

You laid in your bed for a moment, trying to relax. You never thought Miguel would do such a thing. He really had you scared shitless. 

Shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, you got up from bed, grabbing the knife you dropped on the floor and began to make your way downstairs just as the lights came back on. 

Miguel was already in the kitchen, mask removed and munching on the popcorn you had made. 

You placed the knife back where it belonged before turning to face Miguel, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Miguel looked over at you after popping some more popcorn into his mouth, giving you a cheeky grin. 

“Heeey..” he reached over to you, pulling you over by the arm. “Don’t be mad. Please. Forgive me?”

He gave you big puppy dog eyes. And for someone as big as him, it was actually adorable. But you were still mad at him. He actually had you fearing for your life. 

“No,” you respond curtly, glaring up at him. Why did he think you would just forgive him so easily?

“How did you even get in here?” You asked as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“You showed me where you keep your spare key, remember?”

“Oh, yeah..” 

“Soo..”he smirked then. “Can I get my treat now?”

“You’re insufferable. Fine! Fine,” you finally agreed with a nod. “But, I swear if you do something like that again, I’m breaking up with you."

Miguel gave you a toothy grin before pulling his mask back down before pulling out his knife from under his cloak. With closer inspection, you realize it was just a fake prop knife with red paint over it. 

“Wait, how did you change your voice?” You suddenly asked. 

Miguel pulled out a little box-like device and held it to his face before speaking to it, his voice sounding completely different. 

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Miguel stated before he started chasing you around the kitchen, with you now playing along. 

After you had given the last of the candy out to trick-or-treaters and finished up the popcorn, you and Miguel were upstairs in your room, with you on your knees, sucking him off. 

He was still clad in his costume, having his cloak bunched up around his waist. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. Just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you bobbed your head and pumped him in your hand. You couldn’t help but to slip your hand into your panties and finger yourself, letting out moans around his cock.

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding your head still with his hand. You continued to finger yourself. 

“Such a naughty little angel you are, nena. Taking my cock in so well,” he praised before letting out another groan, feeling himself close to his orgasm. However, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stunting his release. He wanted to be inside you for that. He pulled up on onto your feet before he knelt down before you, removing his mask before shooting you a playful wink and removed your white shorts and panties before half of his face disappeared between your legs. 

You let out a moan when you felt it. His tongue, running along your folds, picking up your wetness with greed. He lifted you up by the thighs, placing a hand on your back before lifting you up on the floor and blindly made his way to the closet wall, pinning you there. 

“Oh, Miguel!” You whined, tilting your head back against the wall, squeezing his head between your thighs as he slurped and nipped at your aching pussy.

Muffled moans could be heard coming from his mouth, sending vibrations through your body. You started bucking your hips against her mouth, needing more of his tongue. 

You let out another whine, needing more. You needed more of him. You needed him inside you.

“Migueeeel!” You pouted as you continued to grind your hips against him. All he needed was his mouth to send you over the edge, and he knew how to use it well. He had you seeing stars and reaching for the moon with how his tongue danced along your bundle of nerves and slipped into your soaking pussy.

However, he pulled away before you were able to reach your peak. 

“No!” You cried out, causing him to chuckle. He gently removed you from his shoulders and carried you to your bed, dropping you. 

“Don’t fret, nena. We got all night. It’s still Halloween. And I am going to enjoy my treat for as long as I can. I did tell you and wanted to feel your insides, after all,” he said as he slipped his mask back down and took off everything else, leaving himself naked. 

He proceeded to remove most of your clothes, leaving just your halo and wings on before flipping you over so you were on your stomach. 

“On your hands and knees, angelita,” he ordered, giving you ass a playful smack, causing you to let out a yelp. You did as he said and positioned yourself before him, ass in the air and face down onto the mattress. 

You could hear him stroking himself in his hand, and the sound made your mouth water. 

“I know you want me in that tight little pussy, nena. Don’t worry, I got you,” Miguel smirked before plunging himself into your warm, wet cunt, causing you to arch your back and cry out his name. 

Miguel didn’t wait to set at a brutal pace, pivoting himself against you, balls slapping against your clit. You let out a lewd moan, your eyes rolling back just as Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over, his phone in hand. He took a quick photo of the two of you. 

“You better not show that to anyone,” you whimpered. 

“Of course not. This is all for me. No one gets to see you like this, angelita,” Miguel cooed, and you felt him resting his masked face against your hair, as if trying to give you a kiss. 

“Now, you gonna cum for me?”

You could feel him hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, and you cried out a ‘yes’ in response, nodding your head. 

“Yes! Yes yes! I will! Please..just like that!”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, giving your ass a hard smack that had you cumming instantly. 

You gripped onto the bed sheets as Miguel continued to thrust into you past your orgasm. He loved filling you up and mixing your juices with his. And that’s just what he did. A couple more thrusts and he came inside you. 

“Oh, fuck..that felt good,” Miguel sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, marveling at how your cunt dripped with his seed. 

Taking off his mask completely, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately. 

“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded him, poking him hard on the chest.

He simply laughed and pecked your lips a couple of times. “Sorry, nena. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he cooed, nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Happy Halloween.” 

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

@xaaaaaaax, @randomwriteralan, @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

[quin-ns]

Neighborhood Dilf (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: joel finds out he has a nickname and he asks you what it means

Tags: pre-outbreak this is a happy fic guys!! I didn’t specify a year but let’s put it at 2000 for funsies so sarah is like 11 and joel is like 30ish. also fluff, humor, flirting, age gap, goofy plot (I don’t know what this is honestly), joel being the definition of a dilf and not knowing it, crushes, overall cuteness. also suburbia

A/N: I saw a tiktok where someone said they just knew joel was the neighborhood dilf and they were so real for that I had to write it. and no I don’t care that the word was popularized online we’re using it here. I’m here to provide a cute fluffy fanfic not a historically accurate one lol. also sorry if your name is bee, I tried to come up with a name for the friend that was a nickname so if it was someone’s actual name they could just imagine their full name (I overthink)

TLOU masterlist + main masterlist

The loud music coming from outside woke you up from your afternoon nap. After spending a semester at college struggling to find even an hour of sleep, you were taking as many of those as possible. You were a little grouchy at first as you threw your covers off and stormed to your window, but quickly calmed down when you realized it was the annual block party your neighborhood hosted during the summer.

You’d gotten an in-person invite from Bee, another girl home from college who you’d been friends with in high school before going your separate ways. You still kept in touch since she was nice enough, which is how you found out her family was hosting this year. She’d confided in you personally that she would quote “go crazy if it was all kids and old people.”

As you looked out into their front yard, which was diagonal to yours, you saw that’s pretty much all it was. Since you were such a good friend, you decided that you’d go. 

You were getting dressed (at a leisurely pace) when your phone started to ring. You picked it up from your desk after you pulled your pink sundress on and flipped it open. The caller ID read Bee’s name and you answered, ready to tell her you were on your way.

“He’s here,” she said, sounding mistified, before you could even open your mouth. 

“Who?” you wondered, furrowing your brows a little to yourself as you went to the window.

“The neighborhood dilf,” Bee replied under her breath. 

The nickname made you laugh. It reminded you of high school. It had started as a joke, something you had started calling the new guy who’d moved into the neighborhood with his daughter a few years back. Later you found out his name was Joel Miller, but the nickname spread like wildfire to all the other girls in the neighborhood and it just stuck. 

Everyone knew about it; the girls of course, their confused parents, jealous boys who thought Joel was stealing their attention—the only person who wasn't aware of the moniker (as far as you knew) was Joel. Well, you hoped his daughter didn’t know either. Thankfully, after time, everyone forgot that you had started it. It was a bit embarrassing.

You walked away from the window to your closet and slid on your flip flops—it was summer in Texas, after all.

“You need to get over here, Y/N—what?” the last word sounded distant from the phone. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be on her way,” Bee replied, but to someone else.

“Um, hello?” you asked, waiting.

Bee was quiet for a few seconds, then whisper shouted into the phone, “you’ll never guess what just happened!”

“Let me guess, Joel just walked up and professed his love for you,” you teased, laughing at your own joke. “What, were my parents asking for me or something?” you guessed for real that time, recalling the small bit you had heard her say.

“Unfortunately no, and also no,” she sounded a little too disappointed about the first part, which made you chuckle again. “He did just ask me about you though.”

“Who?”

“The dilf.”

“Just use his name,” you told her with a roll of your eyes, heading out of your room to the stairs. “Wait.” You stopped for a second. “Joel asked about me?” 

“Yeah. I changed my mind, you’re not invited.”  If it wasn’t for her obvious sarcasm you might’ve thought she was serious. “He heard me say your name and asked if you’d be here soon. I—hey!” she yelled, causing you to pull the phone from your ear for a second. You continued your descent down the stairs as she yelled something about ‘kids’ and ‘stay out of there’. “I gotta go,” she said suddenly, then hung up.

You just shook your head with a small, amused smile and left your phone on the counter. Stupid dress and no pockets. 

You headed out the front door and walked across the street towards the party. 

It was in full swing. Music, games, food table—it looked like something out of a magazine. The Grants had a huge front yard—it was one of the nicer houses in the neighborhood—and it seemed like everyone was there. There were kids running around, adults all mingling—some sitting at the fold out tables, others walking around, others chasing their kids—there was also a group of dads surrounding the grill. You glanced that way and didn’t see Joel. You wondered where he was and if you should find him, but Bee found you first.

“The kids aren’t supposed to go inside alone and two of those little jerks went into my room,” Bee complained right away, straightening out her white blouse over her jean shorts. Her pinned back brown hair was a little messy, though. You wondered what happened, which she quickly answered. “I saw them jumping on my bed through the window.”

“Sounds like fun,” you commented sarcastically. Bee looped her arm through yours. 

“My dad set up ring toss and it’s all little kids, I don’t wanna be the only adult playing. Come on.” She dragged you along in that direction and you willingly went with.

You saw a few kids from the neighborhood playing, mostly the preteens who were too old for hopscotch but whose parents had told them they weren't old enough for the mini golf (one of the boys had overshared that little comment). 

“Y/N!” a girl's voice called. You looked that way and saw Sarah Miller walking towards you. A few days out of the week when her dad was working late, you’d go over to their house and keep an eye on her (before you left for college). It was the easiest babysitting gig you ever had; she was polite, always did her school work, and hardly caused any problems. Her dad had raised her very well. 

She looked older than you remembered her being, but you had been gone for both fall and spring semesters—well, you had been home for winter break briefly, but not enough to see anyone other than your parents.

“Sarah, hi!” you greeted, accepting the hug she offered when she got close. “How are you?”

“Good!” she said with a smile. “Are you guys gonna play with us?” she asked you and Bee. “I keep beating them and it’s not fun anymore.” 

You and Bee both laughed at that. “Sure, why not.”

“It feels weird playing with her after talking about how hot her dad is,” Bee whispered in your ear when Sarah went first. “You think he’ll come over here?”

“And what would you do if he did?” you challenged while hiding a chuckle, raising your brows at her.

“Um, probably nothing,” she admitted, cheeks a little pink. “He’s fun to look at though.” 

You hummed. “You’re not wrong.” 

The two of you played a few rounds of ring toss, although Bee got very bored quickly. “Can we go get some drinks?” she asked after not that long of playing.

“Sure,” you decided. You waved bye to Sarah and the others as the two of you walked off towards the cooler.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed some of the other girls in the neighborhood that hadn’t been in attendance before. For a couple that you knew, it didn’t seem like their scene. 

“What are they doing here?” you asked Bee.

“I may or may not have also told them the neighborhood dilf was here. They, uh, wanted to… see him,” she answered, avoiding eye contact.

You raised your brows in slight disbelief. “Are you serious?” 

“I wanted more people our age here,” Bee defended. “I wasn’t sure if you were even gonna show.”

You scoffed out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” you told her.

You reached the cooler and knelt down. You handed Bee a water, but she didn’t accept it. You looked up at her.

“Keep an eye out for the dilf, I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll be right back,” Bee told you, taking off before you could say anything. You guessed the bathroom given her speed walking inside.

You laughed a little to yourself as you stood back up. You kept the water for yourself. You looked out amongst the crowd, realizing you were now on your own while everyone was in groups. You saw a couple people you were friends with and thought of maybe going up and joining them, but someone else spotted you first.

Joel Miller, the aforementioned neighborhood dilf, was walking towards you. Bee would be jealous, especially if she knew you and Joel were actually friends.

You had thought about telling Bee and some of the other girls that you were friends with Joel, given how much they just loved to gossip about him (how he was still single, how he looked really good in his pajamas getting the mail, that one time he took his shirt off while mowing the lawn—that was a big day) but then you thought better of it, not wanting to be run out of town by a jealous mob.

You were already getting glances by the time Joel stopped by your side so maybe your humbleness was pointless.

“Saw you all alone, thought I’d come keep you company,” Joel broke the ice with ease.

How long had he been watching you? The thought made your cheeks feel warm.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” you teased lightly, causing Joel to chuckle.

“I try,” he joked back, shooting you a small wink.

When you had first met Joel you were nervous around him. It was much easier to talk to him now that the two of you had become friends rather than acquaintances. He was an easy guy to get along with and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company rather than just gawking at him in his yard from your window (like you used to do in high school). Your crush hadn’t disappeared though, so you joked around with him as a way to keep things casual and avoid getting in your own head. 

“Sarah told me you were finally here, she was happy to see you,” Joel mentioned with a light smile.

That made you smile back. “She’s a sweet kid,” you told him. “I was happy to see her too.”

You fiddled with the water bottle in your hand as you spoke, trying to unscrew the cap. The stupid thing was stuck and after a few seconds you gave up.

Joel gave you an amused look, glancing between your face and hands. “You want help with that?”

“Yes, please,” you handed it to him. “There you go again, proving chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you.”

Joel unscrewed the cap with ease and handed it back. “Happy to be at your service.”

“So, you guys been here a while?” you asked, sparking up conversation.

“Not too long, only an hour or so. It’s been fun though,” Joel explained. “More for Sarah than for me,” he admitted, glancing around to find his daughter. He spotted her and she waved, then continued playing with her friends.

“Why’s that?” you wondered, looking up at him just as he looked down at you. 

“Just… I mean, everyone is nice and all,” he started. “But I just feel like I got nothin’ to talk about with them, y’know? Except you.”

“Really?” You tried to not sound too thrown off by that, but you didn’t know he felt like that. It was interesting to say the least. 

“Is that such a surprise?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow curiously.

You shrugged. “Maybe a little. I get it though, I haven’t really talked to anyone other than Bee yet.”

“I don’t know if you’re friends with them, but I saw a bunch of girls your age walking around,” Joel said as a suggestion. 

“Nah, I’d rather just talk to you,” you said casually, before you could even think about what you had said. The look on Joel’s face changed a little, like he was trying to bite back a bigger smile.

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said after a moment. Your eyes met his and the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. You had to look away to be able to breathe, almost certain you were reading into things. You really, really did not want to be disappointed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Joel said, making you realize you hadn’t spoken yet.

“Sure, yeah.”

“You know… young person lingo, don't you?”

You laughed at the awkward wording. If it had been any of the other adults here using the word “lingo” you would’ve cringed, but there was something cute about the way Joel said it. You tried to snap that thought out of your head.

“Mostly, yeah,” you replied with a little chuckle paired with a curious tone. “What’s up?”

“Do you know what a dilf is?” he asked bluntly. That alone told you he had no idea. 

You were so stunned, all you could think to say was, “why?”

“Well, those girls I mentioned… I overhead some of them calling me that,” he explained, his eyebrows furrowing a little. “It’s not bad, is it?” 

Was this karma coming back to you for starting the nickname? It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“It’s not bad, no,” you assured while also avoiding the main question.

“What is it then?” Joel’s interest was piqued now and while you couldn’t blame him, you also couldn’t think of a way to make this not weird.

“It’s an acronym,” you started. Joel watched you intently, waiting for an explanation. “It means dad I’d like to…” you trailed off, hinting at him the word to fill in the blank.

Joel just looked even more confused. “To what?”

Somehow he made cluelessness incredibly attractive.

Screw it, you thought. This was already weird. Rip the bandaid off, right? “Fuck,” you finished before you could think better of it. 

“Oh,” he stated. You knew it took a second for realization to hit. “Oh. So that means they, um,”

“It’s basically like saying you’re hot,” you explained, filling in when he couldn’t. You hoped he wouldn’t find it insulting or anything like that.

Joel looked a little bashful but found amusement in the situation nonetheless. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you suggested, then sipped your water. You looked out at the people milling about rather than meeting his gaze.

“Do you think I’m one?”

You nearly choked on your water. “What?”

“Sorry,” Joel apologized quickly, trying to laugh it off. “I shouldn't've asked that.”

“It’s alright,” you assured him. You paused for a minute, contemplating what you might say to that. You got a rush of bravery. “If you’re asking if I think you’re attractive… the answer is yes.”

Joel couldn’t hold back his smile. He tried, but it was a failed effort. It was like he was trying to contain his anticipation. “What about if I wanted to ask you out? What would your answer be then?”

“Yes.”

Joel grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he admitted. 

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice caused the two of you to look away from one another. You saw her running up to you guys and hoped she hadn’t heard a word of your conversation. “Can you come play with me? Mr. Grant just set up a bean bag toss!” 

“Sure, kiddo,” he told her. She grabbed his hand and started to drag him away. 

You smiled a little to yourself at the interaction—he was such a good dad.

Joel slowed her down a little bit to look back at you. “I’ll call you later, okay?” 

“Sounds good,” you replied, chuckling lightly. 

The Millers disappeared into the roaming people. You tried to follow them with your gaze but your attention got torn away.

“Waiting in a line for the bathroom in my own house is messed up,” Bee said, popping out seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s got you so happy?” she wondered, eyeing the smile on your face that couldn’t be erased.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” you replied. A part of you still couldn’t believe it. “I’ve got a date with the neighborhood dilf.”

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl @shannonmariebee

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message! <3