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endzithefangirl · 10 months ago

Text

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #f1 #formula 1

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nottslove · 2 months ago

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Hello! My favorite song at the moment is bed chem sabrina carpenter

event; profile; nav;

4.6k words. longer than i expected. istg i should call these long-ass fics instead of mini-fics.

hi anon! thank you so much for requesting!! so since this song came from a summer album, it gave me summer vibes... as in, a summer romance vibe. and who better to fill in the role than our favorite, italian reverie? presenting.... none other than theo nott!

warnings: google translated italian, fluff, angst, use of y/n.

song: bed chem, sabrina carpenter slytherin boy: theo nott

Italy in the summer was nothing short of magical. Ever since childhood, you had dreamt of wandering its sun-drenched streets, breathing in the scent of fresh espresso and warm pastries, getting lost in the hum of its language. Finally, after years of waiting—graduation behind you, a job secured—you seized the moment. Three months of careful planning had led to this: a solo summer in your dream country.

From the instant you arrived, Italy wove its spell around you. The rich culture, the lyrical cadence of the language, the way history seemed to press against the very walls of the cities—it all made your heart swell. Rome for the first week, Venice for the second, Verona for the third, before returning home to England. A carefully mapped-out itinerary, structured yet bursting with anticipation. And yet, only two days in, the thought of leaving already felt unbearable.

Your schedule was packed, each day a whirlwind of exploration. Today, you were on a mission—to find the restaurant your coworker had raved about. But somehow, amidst the maze-like streets, you lost your way. A wrong turn led you somewhere unexpected—quieter, tucked away from the usual tourist bustle. The air here felt different, carrying the aroma of fresh bread and roasted coffee.

That was when you saw it.

A small, unassuming café nestled into the corner of a street you hadn’t intended to walk down. At first, you nearly passed it by, lost in thought, until your hip accidentally brushed against a potted plant perched on an outdoor table. As you bent down to set it upright, your gaze traveled to the building—soft yellow paint, ivy cascading like a green waterfall over the doorway, curling around the windows as if cradling the café in a warm embrace.

Through the glass, maritozzo sat temptingly on display, golden and pillowy, just waiting to be devoured. Your stomach made the decision for you—you stepped inside without another thought.

The café had a charm that was impossible to ignore. Dim lighting, shelves stacked with books worn from time, the quiet murmur of conversation blending into the clinking of porcelain. You spotted the perfect table by the window and moved toward it, but something stopped you. A pull, inexplicable yet undeniable, tugging you gently in another direction.

You turned.

There he was.

A classic Italian gentleman, effortlessly poised, his fingers curled around a porcelain mug. Dark curls framed his chiseled features, his presence magnetic, as if he had been waiting for someone—perhaps, for you.

He sat there with an effortless grace, the kind that spoke of quiet confidence rather than arrogance. His strong jawline framed a face that seemed sculpted by the hands of an artist—sharp cheekbones softened only by the warm olive tone of his skin. His deep brown eyes, rich like freshly brewed espresso, carried an intensity that made it impossible to look away. They held stories, secrets, a depth that hinted at a life well-lived, or perhaps, one waiting to begin.

The soft curls of his dark hair, slightly tousled yet undeniably charming, brushed against his forehead, the kind you could easily imagine running your fingers through absentmindedly. His neatly pressed shirt, a shade of crisp white that contrasted beautifully against his sun-kissed skin, was unbuttoned just enough at the collar to suggest a sense of ease. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing toned muscles beneath, a glimpse of strength tempered by elegance.

As he lifted his coffee to his lips, the movement was deliberate, languid, as if savoring not just the drink but the moment itself. His fingers—long, graceful—curled around the porcelain mug, and you couldn't help but wonder how they might feel tracing against yours.

There was something about him—an air of mystery, a quiet magnetism—that pulled you in. A presence that demanded attention without asking for it. And in that instant, as the world outside continued to bustle on, he was the only thing that mattered.

His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching, electric—a mesmerizing shade of aquamarine that seemed almost unreal, like the sunlit waters of the Amalfi Coast. They held something—an unspoken challenge, curiosity, or perhaps recognition. A glint of amusement flickered beneath the depths, but there was something else too, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if, in that single moment, he had unraveled you entirely—seen you in a way no one else had.

The way they caught the light, reflecting hints of seafoam and cerulean, made them impossibly captivating, as if they carried fragments of Italy itself. And just like that, without a single word, you knew—this summer, your summer, had shifted in a way you never anticipated.

Just like that, your summer had changed.

It didn't take long before you were at his apartment, tangled up in his sheets, bodies pressed close, the world outside forgotten, him feeding you strawberries with your head on his chest.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into quiet contentment. He reached for a strawberry, holding it delicately between his fingers before pressing it gently to your lips. The sweetness burst against your tongue, mingling with the lingering taste of his kiss, and somehow, it all felt so natural.

It was intimate in a way you had never experienced before. Here you were, in the arms of a total stranger, yet somehow, you felt safer than you ever had in a long time. It had barely been two hours since you met, and he already knew so much—the tender details of your childhood, the wistful echoes of your first love.

You exhaled, staring at the soft rays of the golden setting sun filtering through the window. Was it him, or was it simply Italy itself—the spell this country seemed to weave around everything and everyone? Were all Italian men this effortlessly charming, this easy to talk to, to surrender yourself to?

"Come mai la tua bella testolina è così silenziosa, hmm?" he murmured, large hands sliding down your hair and brushing it away from your face.

You giggled, reaching for another strawberry and placing it between his lips. "I already told you I don't understand a word of Italian..."

"I've heard I'm a very good teacher," he replied with that confident, lazy smirk of his. "I could show you Italy better than any..." he paused, furrowing his brows slightly to think of the word. "guida turistica..."

Once again, you giggled softly, the moment he pressed his lips to your fingers to lick up whatever was left of the strawberry his mouth had just stolen from you. "tour guide?" you asked, trying to provide him with the correct word.

"Si. Tour guide. I can be yours, if you like..." He punctuated his suggestion with a series of open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbones.

And just like that, all plans of going to Verona and Venice were out the window, and you rescheduled your return trip to a whole month later than your original return date.

His name was Theodore Nott, but you called him Teddy for short.

He had somehow managed you to move into his penthouse, where you spent every morning waking up in his bed, and the scent of freshly brewed espresso all over the penthouse.

Every morning, without fail, he insisted on spoiling you. Before the sun had fully risen over the terracotta rooftops, before the city outside had begun to stir, he was already at work in the kitchen, crafting something new—something special—for you.

The aroma would reach you first, warm and inviting, coaxing you from sleep before his voice did. And then, there he was, standing at the edge of the bed, tray in hand, a knowing smile playing at his lips. He never let you lift a finger.

It was never the same meal twice. One morning, perfectly flaky cornetti dusted with powdered sugar, paired with rich, velvety cappuccino. The next, eggs cooked just right, fresh tomatoes bursting with flavor, crusty bread straight from the bakery down the street. Then, perhaps, a delicate frittata, infused with fragrant herbs, the kind only someone born into the heart of Italian cooking could master.

He knew what he was doing. Better than half the chefs you had encountered. Every bite was a revelation, every flavor precise yet effortless, as if he were drawing from an endless well of knowledge passed down through generations.

And there, in the quiet glow of morning light, the two of you would share more than just the meal. Between sips of coffee and bites of something impossibly delicious, the conversations flowed—deep, unfiltered, woven with laughter and confessions.

It was indulgent, intimate in a way that felt rare, precious. You had never been cared for like this before, never been seen in such a quiet, effortless way.

And each morning, as he looked at you over the rim of his cup, you wondered how you could possibly go back to a life without this. Without him.

But both of you knew that this golden relationship you had wasn't meant to last. It would be over once the summer came to an end. It was nothing but a summer romance, no matter how real it felt.

Yet, despite knowing, neither of you spoke of it. The truth lingered between kisses, between laughter that melted into quiet sighs, between mornings wrapped in sheets that smelled of sun and him. It was there—in the way his touch lingered a moment too long, as if memorizing the feel of you. In the way you watched him, tracing every detail, as if trying to capture something fleeting, something slipping through your fingers.

It wasn’t just a romance. It felt bigger than that. Real, golden, drenched in the warmth of a summer that would soon end. But endings had a way of creeping in, of pressing against even the sweetest moments. The whispered promise of farewell was in every embrace, every shared meal, every sunset you watched together with unsaid words weighing in the silence.

And yet, despite it all, neither of you pulled away. Because for now—just for now—it was enough. It had to be.

He was true to his word. He showed you Italy better than any tour guide would. All the intimate places he spent his time at, all the tourist spots... everything.

And he did it with a kind of quiet pride, as if sharing these places with you meant something—meant more than just sightseeing. He led you through the winding alleys of Rome, past the bustling piazzas and into corners untouched by the hurried footsteps of tourists. The hidden cafés where the locals greeted him by name, the bookstore tucked away in a side street where he had spent lazy afternoons, the unmarked trattoria where the food was better than anything you’d find on a guide’s list.

But he didn’t ignore the classics. He took you to the Colosseum when the sun was soft, when the crowds hadn’t fully formed, so you could stand there in the open space and feel the weight of history pressing against your skin. He pointed out the details in Michelangelo’s work, things that even the guides didn’t mention. He let you linger at the Trevi Fountain, grinning when you tossed a coin in and made a wish, teasing you about what it might be.

"What did you wish for, cara?"

"Would you like to know?" you replied with an air of mystery and a suggestive raise of your eyebrow.

Venice came next, the city that felt suspended between reality and dream. He showed you how the water reflected the light just right in the early evening, how the gondoliers sang not for show, but because music was woven into the city’s bones.

And in Verona, he traced his fingers along the worn letters left at Juliet’s wall, smiling as you read them, as you let yourself believe—for just a moment—that love like that could live beyond legend.

He gave you Italy. Not the packaged version, not the curated one. He gave you the one he loved, the one that had shaped him, the one that mattered.

And in doing so, it became yours too.

He showed you Italy, and you showed him your soul.

He had given you Italy—the real Italy, the one written in hidden alleyways and the scent of fresh espresso, in the history etched into crumbling stone and the rhythm of a language that felt like poetry.

And in return, without meaning to, without even realizing it at first, you had given him pieces of yourself. The quiet corners of your heart, the stories tucked away for only the most deserving ears. The fears, the dreams, the moments that had shaped you. He saw them all—held them gently, as if they were something precious.

And somehow, he remembered all of it.

The way your fingers moved when tying your laces—quick, practiced, a subconscious rhythm you never thought twice about. The way you stirred your coffee absentmindedly, always three times, never more, never less. How your nose scrunched up ever so slightly before a sip, testing the temperature without thinking.

Then, of course, there was the pineapple on pizza—your unforgivable offense. He had gasped dramatically when you first admitted it, clutching his heart as if wounded by the mere thought.

"Mio Dio!" he had gasped, when he had first seen you put pineapple slices on your slice of the pizza he had spent four hours making for you at home, from scratch. "Stai rovinando tutto! This is a betrayal..." he declared, eyes alight with playful scandal, yet he still took your hand that evening, still kissed you like you belonged to every part of Italy.

And perhaps that was what struck you most—how easily he collected these pieces of you, storing them as if they were something worth keeping, worth cherishing.

It was fleeting, ephemeral, destined to fade when summer did.

But for now, he knew you, and you knew him.

It was unexpected—the way he let you in, the way he unraveled parts of himself that felt sacred, deeply personal.

He showed you the school where he had spent his earliest years, where he had first learned to chase dreams too big for a boy his age. He traced his fingers along the worn stone walls, the graffiti scrawled by restless students, and laughed as he recounted the trouble he used to get into, the teachers who never quite knew what to do with him.

Then, there was his childhood home—a modest place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, walls filled with echoes of the past. He told you about summers spent on that tiny balcony, about the way his father used to hum old songs while cooking dinner, about the arguments, the celebrations, the life that had unfolded within those walls.

But it was when he brought you to her grave that everything shifted. His mother—the woman who had shaped him, guided him, loved him deeply, and left too soon. He didn’t speak much at first, just stood there, quiet, thoughtful, fingers brushing the cool stone. Then, slowly, he told you about her—the warmth of her presence, the lessons she had given him, the ache of losing her.

And in between, you lived with him—fully, unapologetically, as if time had no claim on the moments you shared.

You laughed until your stomach ached, until your cheeks hurt from smiling, until your laughter tangled with his and filled the spaces between you like music. You cried in ways you hadn’t before—not from sorrow, but from honesty, from the weight of stories told that had never been voiced so openly.

Together, you existed in a space untouched by reality, wrapped in something golden and fleeting. Neither of you spoke of the end, but it lingered, always, just beneath the surface.

Yet, somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.

And you loved him.

You loved him like you had never loved anyone else in your entire life. And he knew it.

Tangled up in the sheets after yet another round of him completely rocking your world, your head was resting on his chest when you tilted your head to look into his eyes and whisper the two little words that you had learnt on Google just for him.

"Ti amo..."

His grin stretched wide, unmistakable, almost wicked in its delight—the kind that sent a thrill down your spine, that made you wonder what thoughts ran through his mind in that exact moment. It was the kind of smile that could pull you in effortlessly, like a secret he was daring you to uncover, like he had already won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

The corners of his mouth curled with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with mischief, amusement flickering beneath the striking aquamarine depths. He leaned forward slightly, as if savoring the way the words hung in the air between you, his fingers tracing absent patterns against the table, his body relaxed, utterly at ease.

Without hesitating, he said it back, "anch'io ti amo, tesoro."

But all good things eventually come to an end, and within the blink of an eye, your summer had come to a close.

You had gotten to know his soul in depth— every inch of him, every quirk, every flutter, every mark on his body. It was a lifetime of love experienced in one single summer.

A love that burned brightly, condensed into fleeting moments, yet carrying the weight of something much greater.

You knew him. Not just his laughter or his charm, but the quiet pauses between his sentences, the way his fingers twitched when he was deep in thought, the crease in his brow that only appeared when he spoke of things that truly mattered. You memorized the rhythm of his breathing, the softness of his voice just before sleep, the way his presence wrapped around you like warmth you never wanted to let go of.

Every mark on his body told a story, every scar a memory, every glance a secret shared only between the two of you. And in the golden stretch of those summer days, you traced them all, learning him in ways that felt impossibly permanent.

A lifetime of love, packed into stolen kisses beneath a foreign sky, into whispered conversations at dawn, into the soft pull of fingertips against skin.

And yet, when the season came to its inevitable close, when the sun dipped lower, signaling the end, you both knew—this was exactly how it was meant to be.

No regrets. No bitterness. Just a summer that would live in your bones forever.

And when the time came, when the final days of summer settled upon you both like the last golden rays of the evening sun, there was no bitterness. No desperate clinging, no sorrowful goodbyes laced with regret.

You had known him completely—every detail, every quirk, every unspoken thought behind those aquamarine eyes. And he had known you just the same. There was nothing left unexplored, no corner of his world, or yours, left untouched.

Yet, this was how it had always meant to end. Not in heartbreak, but in understanding. A gentle farewell, filled with gratitude for what it had been, rather than grief for what it could not be.

Right person. Wrong time. Right place.

You stopped at the café where it all began one more time before he dropped you off at the airport.

It had been almost two months ago that you met him here, but now?

It felt like a lifetime ago.

And so, beneath the amber glow of the setting sun, with Italy wrapping itself around you like a final embrace, you made a promise.

Not one bound by desperation or longing, but by understanding. By the quiet certainty that, though your story was meant to end now, perhaps—just perhaps—it wasn’t meant to end forever.

"If you’re still single," you murmured, fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup, voice steady but soft, "meet me here. Ten years from now. Same place, same table."

He studied you for a long moment, aquamarine eyes deep with something unreadable—something like hope, something like fate. Then, slowly, he smiled. A real one. A promise sealed with nothing but the weight of the unspoken.

"Ten years," he whispered softly, but you knew him well enough to know what he was saying. "If you find yourself lost, or lonely," he continued softly, looking at you longingly, like he wanted to tell you to stay, but he knew he would be asking too much. "Will you come find me?"

He looked like he was losing a part of himself that he had never realized was missing until he met you.

Your lips curved into a watery smile. "Of course I will..." you replied, your fingers gently brushing his jaw, the way you had done countless of times. "I'll always find you, Teddy..."

And just like that, leaving him was easier, leaving Italy was easier, carrying the summer in your bones, the memory of him pressed into every part of you.

Maybe you’d return. Maybe he would. Maybe, just maybe, the right person at the wrong time would, one day, become the right person at the right time.

He was your soulmate. You never believed in them before, but you certainly believed in them now.

With your pact in mind, of a futuristic promise, you had finally agreed to part ways.

And just like that, it was over.

No tears, no grand gestures—just a quiet understanding, a moment suspended in time, wrapped in the golden haze of a summer that had changed you both.

He had dropped you to the airport, and your heart felt heavy and full as you parted ways.

One last goodbye kiss.

One last fleeting touch.

One last look of his beautiful aquamarine eyes meeting yours.

And then, you turned your back on him and began to walk away.

"Wait," he had called right before you fell out of earshot.

You turned, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from making this farewell harder for you than it was supposed to be.

A moment of silence.

And then he spoke.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he murmured.

"Goodbye Teddy."

It was only when you had turned around fully and passed through the security gates that you allowed the tears to finally spill.

But you held hope in your heart.

You walked away, carrying the weight of what had been, the tenderness of shared mornings, the electricity of stolen glances, the laughter, the knowing, the love—brief but undeniable.

Yet there was no sadness in the goodbye. Because, in the heart of Rome, beneath the watchful gaze of history itself, you had made a promise.

Ten years. Same place. Same table.

And whether fate would honor such a pact, whether time would lead you back to him, was a mystery left to the future.

But for now, you carried him with you, and he carried you with him.

And maybe—just maybe—Italy would call you home once more.

Ten years passed faster than you anticipated. The years slipped through your fingers like sand, faster than you ever imagined.

Lovers came, and lovers went. Life unfolded—new places, new faces, fleeting romances that never quite ignited the way that summer had.

Theo was embedded into your soul. He was there in every, single thing you did. Your summer in Italy was no longer a distant memory, but a whole different lifetime, one that was etched so fiercely into your soul that it was a part of you. You lived, you loved, you lost, and yet, through it all, Theo remained.

Not in a way that haunted you, not in a way that stopped you from moving forward. No, he was simply there—woven into the fabric of your existence, stitched into the smallest, quietest moments.

It was in the smallest things—the subconscious gestures, the habits formed over a lifetime. In the way you lingered at cafés with ivy-clad doors, in the way you stirred your coffee three times, in the soft ache that settled in your chest when the golden glow of evening light reminded you of the way his skin had looked beneath the setting Italian sun.

Your summer with him wasn’t just a memory—it was a lifetime, a part of you, embedded so deeply that no amount of time could erase it. It had shaped you, changed you, taught you things no other experience ever could.

Because that summer lived within you, etched into your very being, woven into the quiet moments of your day.

It was there in the way your lips curled into a soft, private smile whenever a passing scent reminded you of fresh espresso in a hidden café. In the way your fingers brushed against ivy-covered doors, lingering as if searching for something lost. In the way your heart skipped—just barely—when the evening light mirrored the golden glow of those long-forgotten afternoons.

It wasn’t just a memorable summer vacation. It was a presence, a whisper of something untouchable yet undeniably real.

And whether the promise would be fulfilled or left behind in the folds of time, one truth remained—Italy had never truly let you go.

And neither had he.

And now, here you were. Ten years later.

Standing in front of the café where it had all begun.

Heart pounding. Breath shallow.

Wondering if fate still had a place for the two of you.

The café still looks the same. The ivy overgrown a little more, the paint a little more faded and worn and the steps that lead to the café a lot more rough and round-edged.

You stepped inside, your breath shaky as you tuck your handbag underneath your arm, tilting your head back to shake the hair all away from your face.

Your heart in thumping, your fingers are sweaty as you look around once, a quick scan of your eyes across the room.

And everything stops.

Your breath catches.

Just like that, time collapses.

Ten years, a lifetime’s worth of moments, all fading into insignificance the instant your gaze locks onto his.

He’s there. Exactly where he said he would be.

The same table, the same quiet confidence, the same presence that had once unraveled you completely. But different too—aged by experience, refined by the years that shaped him in your absence.

It's his eyes that give it away— that he's the same person as he was a lifetime ago, the same person you fell so hard for.

His eyes—impossibly vivid, the color of sunlit tides and forgotten dreams—burn into yours, a tether pulling you back, back to a time when love was effortless and fleeting, yet somehow eternal.

Yet, as his aquamarine eyes meet yours, as recognition flashes across his face, as his lips part ever so slightly in stunned disbelief—none of that matters.

"Teddy," you whisper breathlessly, your eyes meeting his, the rest of the occupants of the café fading into a blur— nothing else matters as much as him.

It takes two strides for him to reach you.

"Y/N," he pulls you into his arms, and your lips crash against his, tears spilling down your cheeks as you hear the golden sound of his voice calling out your name.

And you're finally home.

Because this was never truly a goodbye.

And somehow, somehow, it feels like the beginning all over again.

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©nottslove 2025. do not copy, steal or claim any works/graphics as your own.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 month ago

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Finally Home

Summary: Joaquin Torres x fe!Reader -> You and Joaquin have been friends for years, but once you start dating and he comes home, he realises you've tracked each day until he came home.

Disclaimer: I wrote this one a while ago -- mostly just fluff, established relationship. Not Proof Read.

Finally.

He was home. As much as Joaquin loved his job and the luxuries it afforded him, such as being Sam Wilson’s - aka Captain America’s - right hand man. He was happy to be home.

This was the longest he’d been away from you since you’d both started dating two years ago. You’d both been close friends for almost ten years, having met at College. But it took nearly eight of those to realise the reason why no girlfriend ever worked out, why he never wanted anyone else, was because what he wanted was you.

He was careful when opening the door to your apartment. Six months into your relationship, you’d asked him to move in with you. It hadn’t taken much thought, really. Most of his stuff seemed to emigrate into your apartment anyway. It just made sense. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t lived together before.

After his first tour, he’d come back and had been looking for apartments. Since you had a spare bedroom, it just made sense. Eventually he had moved out – a day that hurt a lot more than it should have done for both of you.

But he was glad to be back.

Almost nothing had changed since he left. The curtains he’d helped you put up before he left had changed into your summer ones, as had the cushions. But the smells, the feelings, the complete and utter comfort that washed over him knowing you were less than seventy paces away from where he stood.

That hadn’t changed.

Quietly, he slipped his boots off and dropped his things by the door before hanging up his jacket. From there, he carefully walked across the living space and towards the kitchen to grab a glass of fresh water. And for a few moments, he took in the silence of your home.

It was in doing that he spotted something that had changed.

On the other side of the apartment, where two windows looked out to the rest of the city that wasn’t just the main street, there was a section of wall. That had always been there.

What hadn’t always been there, however, was a large piece of brown craft paper. On it was a large map of the world with sheets of a calendar underneath. On the map were different permanent marker colours with long forgotten pin holes inside their centres. Each landed on a different country. But the one that stuck out to him the most was where a piece of string was pinned to New York and stretched across the map before stopping at a very recent location to Joaquin.

On the calendar sheets below, each day had been crossed off and the next day had block capital letters.

HOME.

The longer Joaquin looked at it, the more he saw.

Two clocks above the map. One was on New York time, the other was on Italy’s time. Beside the map was a colour code. Each base he’d been at, when he’d been there and for how long. Each ink stain seemed older than the last.

Had you been doing this since he joined the Academy?

He’d known you for a decade. He’d lived with you for several months, long before you both started dating. How did he not know about this?

Smiling, he allowed his fingers to trace different sections on the map, over your handwriting beside it. Then, finally placing his glass down, he turned around.

By the time he reached the bedroom, he paused by the door for a few moments. You were fast asleep, one of your hands reaching out to his side of the bed. On your nightstand was another book, different from the one you’d last told him you’d been reading. There was also a picture of both you and him. Taken long before you were dating, but at a time when he knew he was definitely and completely in love with you.

Joaquin smiled.

Walking inside, he sat down on his side of the bed, facing you before reaching out and taking your hand in his. He stayed still for a few moments letting the feeling of your hand in his again, sink into his skin.

God, how he’d missed you.

Joaquin kissed your hand before holding it to his chest and turning to look at you. You were slow to wake up, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad to be home.

“It’s just me, Angel.”

Carefully, he brushed the stray hairs from your face as you stirred awake.

“Joaquin?” By the tone in your voice, you were probably still sleeping. Dreaming that you’d heard him.

“It’s just me, mi amore.”

Again you stirred, except this time your eyes slowly opened. Your vision was blurry at first, trying to focus on the feeling of your hand. You’d had this dream before and when you’d finally woken up for real, you came to find your home without Joaquin.

But then you gasped.

Squeezing your hand, he squeezed back. And spoke.

“I’m home.”

“Joaquin.”

Saying his name was as easy as breathing. Hearing you say his name made him feel as if he was finally breathing again.

You were quick to sit up, practically launching yourself at him to hug him. To hold him. To know he was real.

He fell back, landing still on the mattress as he held you against him. From his grip alone, he was holding onto you like you were his anchor. And he was determined to never let you go.

All your senses became filled with him in an instant. Something that had slowly been fading in the last few weeks without him. With the heat and keeping your windows open when you were home, it had let some of his memories out.

But he was finally back.

Finally.

“Are you real?” You could cry. Maybe you were.

“I’m real.”

You leaned back a little to look at him properly. Well, as properly as you could in the dark with nothing but the moon and street lamps from outside lighting your room up.

With your hands, you held onto his face. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Then, for the first time in months, you kissed him. And it didn’t take long for him to kiss you back. His hand in your hair, cradling the back of your head, all the while his other hand pulled you closer to him until you were fully laying on top of him, at your hips.

The kisses peppered out and away, across his cheek and to his neck before you hugged him again. You could feel his lips kissing your skin, too.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have waited up.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” Joaquin told you. “We finished up early so Hill brought us back. I asked her and Sam not to say anything.”

You sighed, your entire body relaxing back into him. “I’m so happy you’re back. I know you being away is nothing new to me, but this is the longest we’ve ever gone without seeing each other.”

“I know.”

“And…I just wanted to tell you I love you.”

Joaquin held you tighter. “I love you, too.”

You pressed a kiss to his neck, cheek and finally, his lips. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

He kissed you. “I’m glad to be home.”

Once more, you hugged him again just before you felt him roll you both over so you were the one under him with your back to your mattress.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Joaquin told you as he leaned over you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Do you know how long you’re back for?”

He shook his head. “No idea. But, I know Barton is looking for help with training some recruits. If Sam doesn’t need me, I’m gonna see if I can help there. It’ll mean I’ll be home for a while, at least.”

You nodded. “You should. It’ll be nice to have you home.”

Joaquin smiled before leaning down and kissing you once more. This time, slowly and deliberately. He’d been away for months. He promised himself he’d savour the moment you were back in his arms, his kiss combining with yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Finally.

He was home.

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres fluff #new falcon x reader #new falcon x you #fluff #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x you #established relationship #friends to lovers #mutual pining #kissing #falling in love

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yeoslattes · 4 months ago

Text

Lowkey

Genre: smut

Wc: 7.6k

Pairings: bodyguard!Yunho, rich girl college student!reader, chauffeur!Mingi

Summary: Yunho desperately needs someone to put you in your place

Warnings: smut, threesome, dom/sub themes, late 20s Yunho/Mingi, early to mid twenties reader, mild dumbification, Yunho is lowkey patronizing, fingering, oral both fem and male receiving, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm, cream pie, cum shots, clothed sex, backshots, mild choking, use of pet names (doll, slut, tiny), mentions of size difference, spoiled reader, no use of YN, unprotected sex, alcohol use, reader is a party girl

A/N: my Yungi fic is finally out!!! I had so much fun writing this! While I edited I realized how Yunho goes from really shy to suddenly getting fed up and wanting to put her in her place (character development 😭). Also Mingi is really mostly a side character here, most of the readers interactions are with Yunho but don’t fret I have stuff planned for Mingi in the future. I hope you guys enjoy and ofc any feedback is appreciated just be nice about it🫶🏼

The sun beams through your sheer curtains smacking you right in the face. Your tired warm body is snuggled under the cream white fluffy duvets that your mom had purchased for you in Italy. Cracking an eye open you stretch your limbs and groan softly, sitting up on the bed. A shiver shakes through you, the AC causing goosebumps to erupt on your soft skin.

With only one class in your schedule for today you took on the task of getting ready for university. Fashion was an art to you, it was a sole representation of who you were and how you liked to express yourself. And what exactly was that self expression? Well, clothes from the most expensive designers of course. Your parents owned one of the top marketing companies in all of New York and were currently in the works of expanding worldwide, to say you got everything and anything you wanted was an understatement; the fact that you were an only child only ever added to just how much your parents spoiled you.

“Darling! Yunho is up front waiting for you, don’t be late, traffic in the city is only going to get worse.” Your mother’s voice reverberates through the tall walls of the grand mansion.

“I'll be on my way soon!” You respond back, quickly spraying your sweet perfume and heading downstairs. You may have been perfect in your parent’s eyes, or maybe they just liked to act oblivious but behind that perfect daughter act you put up was something more. You loved to shop till you dropped, that was a known fact but what many didn’t know was the absolute party animal you had developed into over the course of your college career.

There wasn’t a club in New York that you hadn’t graced with your presence. Even when you traveled outside the country for an already expensive vacation, you'd still find a way to get into the most renowned clubs wherever you were on the map. You’d always come up with an excuse to go out, perhaps an important dinner, or sometimes a friend of a friend’s birthday party; your parents would always believe you. Your friends were no saints either, rolling in money themselves they were always there to join you in any escapade you had. You were living the ultimate college student life and no one was ever there to say no to you.

You adjust your bag on your shoulder and slide into the sleek black Escalade. Yunho sits on his phone in the driver’s seat, immediately dropping the device into the cup holder when he hears you settle into the back.

“Good morning Yuyu.” You beam, “good morning miss,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, he sends you a smile through the rear view mirror which you return. Yunho’s heart flutters slightly as he steals glances of you. Your fingers type away on your phone, updating your friends with the latest gossip you have. Yunho’s gaze keeps flicking to you in the mirror, his admiration suddenly turning into pure irritation at the constant ticking of your phone’s keyboard. He’s so annoyed he almost misses the turn to your best friend's house. He slams on the breaks, sending you flying into the back of the passenger seat. You groan loudly while holding your forehead.

“What the fuck Yunho, ugh.” You exclaim tossing your phone on the seat. “Can you be more careful?” His gaze hardens as he peers at you through the mirror for the umpteenth time this morning. He gulps and sucks in a deep breath. Your voice only adding to his irritation. “Don’t forget to pick up Cassie and Yeri.” You say typing away on your phone again. Yunho can only sit in silence, his mind going to the fat paycheck he’d get at the end of this week for driving a CEO’s daughter around. You were such a joy to drive except when you weren’t, but he’d endure anything if it meant he got to work for you; his boy crush only growing by the day.

He’d been picking up your little group of friends every morning since you started your freshman year at NYU, while also driving you around town and picking you up from clubs while being drunk off your mind. It was taking a toll on him, he rarely got any sleep before he had to be up at the ass crack of dawn again, but the pay was good so maybe that’s why he didn’t mind it as much. At least that’s what he liked to tell himself whenever he felt his feelings for you bubbling up. “My daughter is off limits. I trust you understand that right?” He vividly remembers your father saying as he signed the contract. He’d been employed by your dad right before you started college, you had ended up totaling your first car, and with your father’s company status on the rise he decided it’d be best to keep you safe by hiring a chauffeur. You were now halfway through your 3rd year of college with Yunho still as your driver.

He didn’t talk much but when he did he would only ever say the most encouraging things. After you had been stood up on a date you had cried your eyes out in the car, it had upset him seeing you that way so on the ride back home he pulled over and gave you a pep talk of just how much you deserved; since then you had grown fond of him. But it was only ever friendly, until recently. He was tall and extremely handsome, always looking better when you had too many drinks for your own good as he hauled you out of an A list New York club. While he had his good moments with you, there were times where you grinded his gears, like this morning’s drive to school or when you were too “tired” to carry all your shopping bags and just shoved them in his hands without saying please or thank you. As smitten as he was with you, you were his boss’ daughter and that was a zone he did not want to enter.

As he pulls up close to the curb in front of the main area of campus, he sits in silence like always and listens to the loud chatter between you and your friends.

“Alright girlies! Shopping after school? Let's meet up here, Yunho will be driving us!” You say loudly smacking your peppermint gum, your girlfriends all speak loudly, agreeing between giggles. You were the last one to step out of the black Escalade, “bye Yuyu see you soon mwah!” You blow him a kiss and he smiles at you, only shaking his head with a breathy laugh after the door closes.

With a couple of hours of free time, Yunho decides to kill time at a nearby coffee shop, the tired chauffeur sits in the corner of the rather empty cafe. His face lights up mid sip when Mingi walks in. He greets his long time friend, the equally tall man sitting adjacent to him.

“Man, it's like I barely see you nowadays.” Mingi sighs, relaxing into the chair. Yunho checks his watch, your class was short and he’d be expecting a text in about an hour.

“Yea…work is work. It's been kicking my ass recently.” He groans, “do you at least get a vacation?” Mingi asks curiously, Yunho shrugs, “Maybe I would if I asked for it, but I’m trying to rack up at least 3 more checks before I take time off. Besides, taking care of the SMB Enterprises future successor isn’t so bad; she has her bad days but her and her friends make it worth a while.” Mingi chuckles at his friend, “ah really? How so?” Yunho shrugs yet again, “lets just say free reality TV but in person.” Mingi playfully scoffs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. However, there was something more that Yunho wasn’t saying, being friends since childhood had its perks as he knew Yunho better than anyone else and could read him like a book..

“There’s something more though that makes it worth your while right?” Mingi asks curiously and Yunho’s cheeks flush red. Mingi nods trying to suppress a smile, “you like her.” Yunho mentally curses, he chuckles nervously and shakes his head. “Well yes…but I could never. Her father would have my head; I have to keep things strictly professional.”

While Yunho said one thing, Mingi would be thinking the opposite. He was a carefree soul, he didn’t care about anything, “you should-” he starts but Yunho cuts him off, “I can’t that’d be violating my contract.”

The pair talked for a few hours just until around the time your class ended. Yunho is about to check his phone when he sees you walking through the cafe doors, his brows shoot up in confusion, awkwardness filling him when you suddenly walk up to the table he and Mingi were sitting at.

“Oh I'm so sorry, I didn’t know you'd be out 30 minutes early.” He says swallowing thickly and standing up. He could only hope you wouldn’t tell your dad about his cafe date with Mingi.

“Yea my professor let us out a bit early and I wanted a coffee.” You say, texting away on your phone yet again, Yunho suppresses an eyeroll. “But don’t worry I wont tell daddy about your little…date.” You say taking a peek at Mingi. He sends you a tight lipped smile. “Okay well, are you ready to go miss?” You shake your head. “Mm mm, I gotta wait for Cassie and Yeri, and after can you take us to Soho? I need to pick up a few things.” Yunho nods, “for sure. I’ll go bring the car.” You take his seat, not sparing a glance at Mingi, who still remains in his spot after waving goodbye to Yunho.

“So…” he starts,

“Not interested.” Sending him a smile, you walk over to grab your coffee from the mobile order area, “See you around! Yunho’s friend.” You shout walking out of the cafe. Mingi sits back dumbfounded, “unbelievable that he fell for a bitch.” He mutters silently.

***

You had over 5 bags up to the brim with the latest fashion trends. You were sure you’d bought at least one mini dress for every weekend of the month. Your feet ached and you were drained from carrying the bags all through the streets of Soho. Yunho remained inside the car, parked in the designated parking area waiting for your text.

You step out of Neiman Marcus and wait for your ride to pull up in front of the doors. When your driver sees you struggling to the car he immediately hops out to put your and your friend’s bags all in the trunk.

“Good shopping day miss?” He asks, and you nod, stretching your back deliciously against the leather seats of the Escalade once you’re finally inside. The rest of the ride is abnormally quiet, even Cassie and Yeri lay against the headrests with their eyes closed, the day's exhaustion catching up to you three. Before you know it Yunho is pulling up the long curved driveway, stopping right in front of your front doors.

“Thank you for driving us around today Yunho, I know it can be a bit much.” You sheepishly thank him, a soft blush covering your cheeks. “Of course miss, I’m only doing my job.” He gives you a smile and you retreat into your house with him following close behind. This was one of those moments where he absolutely adored you.

***

Friday morning something shifts when your father calls you into his office. You stand barefoot, sporting sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt, feeling slightly awkward as Yunho is also standing there. You can feel him eyeing you, clearly not used to seeing you in your lounging attire.

“Darling, due to current articles and the uprising of the company I have decided to promote Yunho to your bodyguard.” Your father says, his hands resting politely atop of his desk. You can't help but stare at him dumbfounded, it was the calm before the storm. Yunho could see your gears turning, he could almost calculate when your outburst was going to happen.

“What do you mean you’re assigning me a bodyguard? Absolutely not! I do not need a babysitter.” Your father’s demeanor changes.

“I will not tolerate your attitude.” He says raising his hand up.

“But dad, I am in college! Actually, I'm about to graduate college. I don’t need someone to look after me!” You state, close to stomping your feet in a tantrum.

“It’s not that you need it dear, it's just for safety precautions. SMD is gaining popularity and I cannot have you walking around without any protection.” He reiterates. You look at Yunho and he can only look down at his feet. “But why him?” At your words his head pops up to look in your direction, his eyes gleaming with mild offense.

“Why not Yunho? He’s perfect for the role. He’s worked with us for 3 years now, knows all your friends and is very familiar with your lifestyle.” Your father defends.

“Well yes but I like him as my chauffeur…I am not here for this dad.” You argue, pointing aggressively at him as you try to prove your point.

“I hired a new chauffeur, per Yunho’s recommendation. He will be here tonight for whatever dinner you have going on this time.” Immediately you knew who he was talking about.

“That loser from the coffee shop!?” You say looking at Yunho this time. Your father brings a hand up to massage his temples, Yunho is about to respond but is cut off.

“Yunho is your bodyguard, and Mingi is your new driver. So either put up with it or stay home tonight. End of discussion!”

You pressed your lips shut, suddenly feeling defeated by your father. You knew discussing the matter further with him was a lost cause, there was no budging him when he set his mind on something. Finally you drop your head in defeat and nod. “Now go, I have to finish some work here. Yunho my apologies for that, you are dismissed.”

You spent the rest of your afternoon laying in bed just staring at the ceiling, then scrolling on your phone and switching between apps. Nightfall approaches and it's time to get ready for a night in the city. You start with a long shower, exfoliating, shaving and moisturizing. You pick a dress from the countless different ones you’d bought earlier in the week. Delicately pulling the tag off, you slip it on. Your phone startles you as it vibrates aggressively on your vanity table, blindly you answer and are met with Cassie’s face.

“I love you but you have to hurry, our VIP reservation is at 11.” Cassie urges, you nod at her through the camera. “Yes yes I'll be there soon, there were new arrangements made today. I’ll tell you all about it.” You hang up the phone and hurry down, where Yunho waits for you by the door. You don't notice the way his eyes rake over your frame and he suppresses a little smirk. He opens the car door for you and when you slip onto the leather seats you are met by the same guy from the cafe. You’ve got to be kidding me, you think to yourself. He’s dressed in a suit just like Yunho, he doesn't say anything else besides a small hello. You only watch the way he smirks at Yunho when he slips into the passenger seat. A smirk that makes you wonder if you had been a topic of discussion between them. The car ride is silent and soon you are pulling into the valet of the night club.

“Mingi right?” Your voice breaks the silence and he nods, “nice to meet you miss. I look forward to tending to whatever you need.” Mingi replies and you almost roll your eyes at the automated response.

“Nice to meet you once again Mingi, welcome to your first day on the job.” You scoff hopping out of the car, the entire debacle between you and your father clearly still filling you up with annoyance.

***

The night starts off slow, you sip on a cocktail while Cassie leans into your ear. “So who's the new one?” Your eyes shift to Mingi who stands next to Yunho, his big hands crossed at his pelvis. He sports a dark pair of shades making it impossible to see where he was looking, yet you can sense his gaze is on you and your best friend.

“Mingi, he’s friends with Yunho. My dad decided that I suddenly needed a bodyguard and promoted Yunho, then hired Mingi per Yunho’s recommendation.” You mock your father’s tone.

“Hmm,” she hums, her teeth digging into her glossy lips, “can I have one?” Looking over to Mingi, you can see his attention is now fully on Cassie despite the dark lenses covering his irises. She waves at him and he sends her a smile. Your friend almost melts into the couch at the subtle advances of your driver.

“No.” Your voice is flat, “I fear they’re both mine.” You joke, except you're not sure how much of it is a joke. The more the alcohol kicks in, the more appealing the pair looks to you.

Your party of friends grows bigger by the hour and more regular club goers fill the space, the bass of the music pounds on your chest, it’s not long before you start feeling the slight fogginess of the alcohol clouding your judgement. Shot after shot kept coming, bottles of the most expensive liquor being served to your table. You’re up now dancing freely with your friends, Yunho standing within close proximity, he’s had to stabilize you on your feet twice now. He points to his watch when Mingi looks at him. “We have to bring her home in about an hour. Her dad’s rules.” He informs his counterpart through their ear piece. Time flew by and by the time that hour hits its 3 a.m.

Yunho sucks in a deep breath and leans down to your level. “It’s time to go.” He says loudly, and you shake your head, “it’s only 3 Yuyu. I don’t wanna go.” You pout holding your stance. It’d only get more difficult from this point on, “I understand that miss but your father’s rules were clear.” You ignore his words and try to tread through the crowd but a heavy hand pulls you back.

“Stop it!” you say twisting your arm from his grip, “I don’t wanna go! You two and my dad can go kiss my ass!” Yunho sent a nod to Mingi. Suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Mingi clears up space as Yunho walks with you over his shoulder through the crowd. His large hand holds the bottom of your dress down. Your small fists pound on his back, as you try to flail yourself all over the place.

“Put me down Yunho!” But your bodyguard refuses. Back in valet Yunho waits for the car, while apologetically smiling at a few other employees as you yell every profanity under the sun. Mingi stands beside Yunho and you manage to catch the edge of his sunglasses with your fist, smacking them off his face and scratching him in the process. Mingi winces, holding the raised skin of his face as he picks up his glasses. Yunho shoves you in the car and soon you’re all on your merry way home with you passed out in the backseat.

“I’m regretting this job.” Mingi mutters, running his finger over the scratch on his face. “She’s usually not like this, I guess daddy’s new rules are getting to her.” Yunho responds, sending a pitied look to his best friend. “Usually?” Mingi asks, shaking his head in annoyance.

***

“Mom, did dad give me a curfew?” You ask your mother the next morning, you did your best to ignore the pounding in your head. You can see her eyes shift as she tries to put up a front.

“No baby, what do you mean? Or at least I don’t know of any curfew.” She replies, folding her laundry neatly.

“Because last night that I was out with my friends…at the dinner I told you about. I left at a specific time and that's not how Yunho and I usually operate.” With crossed arms you stare at your mother waiting for whatever excuse she’s come up with.

Instead she gives you a pointed look, “and how do you usually operate?” She smirks, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Uh, I let him know when I'm ready to go.” You state as if it were an obvious fact. Your words hang in the air and she shrugs.

“I’d ask your father directly honey, I wouldn't know.” You huff in annoyance and head back to your room to freshen up and dispute this with your father.

The door to his office echoes loudly when you swing it open, startling Mingi and Yunho who currently sit in the seats facing the desk.

“Pumpkin I'm discussing busine-”

“Did you give me a curfew?” You ask cutting him off. Your father sighs in defeat, he knew that you’d come to him with questions sooner or later.

“Not necessarily a curfew hon, just a set time to have you home.”

“That’s literally the definition of a curfew! Dad, what is going on? Are you trying to ruin my life?” Your father, clearly on the edge already, is having none of it.

“Is 3 a.m not enough for your clubbing activities?” Your eyes suddenly widen at your fathers words. How'd he know? Then your eyes shift to Yunho who now stands besides Mingi against the wall. Both men stoic in the face as if the entire debacle isn’t going on in front of them.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You keep telling your mom and I that you are going out to important dinners, come to find out you're out at clubs getting absolutely wasted with those trashy friends of yours.” You shake your head, “You don’t underst-”

“What I don’t understand is why my daughter is acting like this. Look at the gash you gave Mingi last night, all because he wanted to ensure your safety back home and you just can’t help but act a fool! Do what you like, you are an adult, but under my house you’ll be home when I say!” He yells, his voice booming through the office.

“But-” You try to argue, and he shakes his head.

“Don't you get it? With our status you cannot be acting like this; it’ll end up in the tabloids and what does that mean for SMD?” Your father searches your face for some type of answer, but you hide by crossing your arms and looking down at the wooden floor.

“You swipe my Amex like it's nothing, you buy what you want, you go where you want, what more do you want? So no, the curfew isn't going anywhere. End of discussion. Now please leave so I can finish business.” Your words are caught in your throat.

You stare at your father before your eyes shift to the two men dressed in black on the side, Yunho sporting a very sly smirk as he watches your eyes sparkle with tears. He was enjoying this little meltdown, he enjoyed the fact that someone had finally said no; after all you were a spoiled brat and while he loved that about you, it was time for a reality check. You stomp out of the office slamming the mahogany door behind you causing you father to flinch and apologize to the pair.

“Don’t have daughters.” Your father sighs.

***

The next week you spent going to your scheduled classes and swimming. The weekend had been the opposite of relaxing between your fathers argument and the raging hangover, you decided to reconnect with nature, touch some grass if you will. Every single time, Yunho was out there with you, and there was nothing he could do about the skanky bikinis you sported every time you sat out in the sun. In his head he cursed Mingi for being able to take a break, after all he was your only real bodyguard.

He sat in a chair in the shade, his eyes drinking in every area of uncovered skin behind his sunglasses. His mind went places and he couldn't help but readjust himself multiple times. Your demeanor with him had also changed, you were more talkative than before, asking him about himself, offering him lemonade made with your own secret recipe. You were sweet talking him and he knew it was your way of trying to get him to break the rules for you next time you went out. But if there was one thing about Yunho it was that he wasn't a people pleaser, and he wasn't one to give in easily especially not to brats like you.

The week flew by for him and like usual, here he was on his way with you and Mingi to another top club in New York city. You were dressed in a two piece set this time, the skirt so short your underwear peeked through every time you sat down. With wandering eyes everywhere, in order to shield you Yunho’s big frame stood in front of you. He takes your hand and you smile up at him with big eyes, but he averts his focus to his job at hand which was protecting you.

***

By midnight you're drunk out of your mind, so drunk that you ended up booking a hotel room in the building where the said club was at. You told yourself you deserved to get wasted and spoil yourself in a luxurious hotel after the hell week you’d had.

“I-i don’t wanna go home, just take me up to my room whenever. I forwarded you the reservation email.” You told Yunho. It wouldn’t align with your father’s rules but Yunho was sure you'd twist up some pretty lie to get out of being asked too many questions. “Tell my parents I'm crashing at Cassie’s.” Yunho could only agree, because what else could he do in this situation? Would it put his job in jeopardy? Yes, was he annoyed with you? Also yes, but he'd rather deal with your father later than have you cause another scene for him and Mingi yet again.

“One more drink Yuyu please?” You ask, your eyes big and glassy as you stare up at him. He shakes his head, “I don’t think it's a good idea to keep drinking miss. At least take a break.” He suggests, your lips form a pout but you were too tired to fight him. Eventually you manage to slip through the crowd and to the bar. Mingi and Yunho search for you but their panic is short lived when you reappear with another martini in hand.

“Do you want some?” You ask, there you go again with that suggestive gaze that has him reeling. He shakes his head and as you're about to take another sip he pulls the glass away from you. “I said no more.” You pout at his harsh tone.

“Fine, take me to the bathroom then.” You say crossing your arms. Yunho sighs internally, deciding that having you use the restroom alone was too risky he convinces Cassie to take you. The blonde holds on to your arm as Yunho clears space for you to walk through. He stands outside the door and motions Cassie to bring you in.

Yunho waits outside for what feels like an eternity; after 20 minutes he knocks on the door. Cassie opens and without a word pulls him in. “what-” but Cassie shakes her head, “she threw up about half of the drinks she drank. I fed her some water, she should be sobering up.” You sit against the wall of the fancy bathroom with your eyes closed. You feel a hand going around your bicep to hoist you up and you shake your head.

“Don’t move me, I’d rather wait it out here. Just get me some water please.” Not daring to have your eyes obliterated by the harsh light you keep them closed. You hear the bathroom door open, letting the noise of the club in for a second before it muffles out again.

A full bottle and a half of water later, you had sobered up almost entirely. You rinse your mouth in the sink and pat some cold water on your chest to freshen up and head back out where Yunho stands.

You walk through the crowd heading straight for the bar, ready for at least another round of drinks but Yunho pulls you back. “No more drinks.” He states flatly. Your brows draw together, sending him a confused look. “Um, who says I can’t? Cause as far as I can remember you’re just my bodyguard not my dad.” Now you have taken it upon yourself to mess with him. You were tired of being bossed around. Your eyes bore into his, his gaze has shifted in a way you had never seen before; he was pissed. Sucking in a deep breath he leans down to your ear, “you are done for the night.” You swallow thickly and shrug trying to play off the sudden ache in the bottom half of your body. You take the lead, both men following close behind you.

Despite sobering up, the exhaustion after drinking is catching up to you and the little alcohol you have left in your system still keeps you a bit unstable on your feet. The elevator ride up to the room is tension filled. You can feel both men’s gazes on you, and out of the corner of your eye you see the way Yunho and Mingi exchange glances.

As soon as you step through the door Yunho breaks the silence, “I need you to sit down and drink some water.” Taking the water bottle from his grip, you sit down purposefully taking small sips. Both men watch you carefully, pulling their blazers off and draping them over a chair, leaving them both in their white button ups.

“I don’t really want any more water.” Your hoarse voice says, pushing the bottle away from you. You go to stand up but Yunho stops you.

“Sit the fuck down.” He points at the seat as soon as you rise to your feet.

“Excu-”

“Now.” You plop back down on the soft chair in defeat.

“You’ve been a real fucking pain the ass you know that right?” At that you giggle, biting your lip a little too hard at his frustration.

“She thinks it's funny Min.” A low hum rumbles through Mingi’s chest.

“Do you want me to blow you as a thank you for being the best bodyguard ever and putting up with me? Because I will.” Your body is now burning hot, just the mere thought of Yunho having you on your knees in front of his best friend who is also your chauffeur excites you. You slowly rise to your feet, stepping carefully towards Yunho as if testing the waters. Your bare feet on the carpet showcasing the sheer size difference between you and the dark blue haired man. Without second thought his hands cup your face and pull you into him for a kiss. Everything goes fast, your hands grip his wrists as he still has a hold of your face as he kisses you with pure fervor.

“Fucking brat.” Yunho pulls you away and redirects you towards Mingi who is now standing by the bed. Your arms stretch out to reach for the Mingi, he pulls you into him and you meet his lips as Yunho manhandles your skirt. Mingi wastes no time laying you down, the skirt of your two piece set now resting on your waist from the vigorous movement, your panty clad cunt on full display. Yunho presses you down into bed by your chest, his opposite hand coming down to play with you. His fingers rub over the fabric of your now soiled underwear.

“Such a good girl huh Yunho?” Mingi says chuckling at your writhing form. Yunho smirks,

“Sit behind her, why don't you.” Yunho pulls you up and Mingi slots himself between you and the plush pillows, your back now resting flush against his chest. His arms encircle themselves around your waist as Yunho tugs your panties down. He holds the fabric up by his finger, “We’ve been getting peeks of this slutty thong all night, how cute.” Yunho chuckles.

His fingers toys with you before slipping two slender digits inside. Immediately your back arches against your chauffeur’s chest, his grip only tightening on you. His eyes are focused on his fingers splitting you open, his hand coming down to rest right above your pelvis. He starts with languid strokes, and the way you only spread your legs further for him eggs him on to pick up speed.

“Look at you, spreading your legs open like a slut.” There’s a condescending look on Yunho’s face when he speaks to you. The veins on his arms slightly bulged out from the excretion. You could only whine and attempt to buck your hips on his fingers. Between the haze of the alcohol and the duo's cologne invading your senses you feel yourself spiraling. A knot forming in the pit of your tummy builds up fast. Your lower body begins to shake as your legs threaten to close, that's when Mingi reaches for one of your legs and he hooks his hand behind your knee pulling you open for Yunho.

“Open up pretty.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Im gon-na, Yuyu.” You squirm in Mingi’s grip, your whines picking up in volume. You can barely keep your eyes open and then your orgasm hits you. Your body shudders heavily under the two men. Yunho sends you encouraging words as you cum all over his fingers. Mingi leans down to press feathered kisses on your cheek, his lips inching slowly towards your now messy glossy lips. He kisses you hard, his hand unhooking from your leg and coming down hard against your pussy. Your whole body jolts at the action you can only cry out and take what they give you.

“Come here baby,” Yunho says, pulling you up swiftly. Your legs are shaky as you stand close to him, his hands on your face again, this time you lean to kiss him, glossy lips working desperately against his. But Yunho wasn’t about to let you do what you wanted, not this time. He pulls away, his large hand wrapping around your throat as he squeezes lightly, only enough to take your breath away momentarily.

“Watch it slut, you want something you have to work for it.” He spits, backing you into Mingi. “Who goes first? Me or you?” The driver chuckles and pulls your arms behind your back bending you into the bed. “I’ll break her in for you, how about that?” Yunho smiles at him, “don't let her cum. Tiny has to learn to work for things, she can’t just swipe daddy’s Amex here.” Yunho mocks.

You climb onto the bed face down, ass up, with your hands resting behind your back. Mingi’s belt buckle resonates loudly in the room, echoing in the haze of your brain. Yunho suddenly comes into your line of vision, his pants also unbuckled.

“Are you ready baby?” He asks, feigning a pout at the tears lining your eyes. You lift your head, your hands coming to support you as you push yourself up. You nod vigorously,

“Please Yuyu, I want it so bad.” You whine. Yunho shakes his head and points at Mingi, “why don’t you ask Mingi nicely baby.”

You pant softly and crane your neck to look at the man behind you. “Please Mingi, I want it so bad.” Your hips wiggle back towards him. Mingi’s mushroom tip prods at your entrance

“You want it?” he teases and you nod, taking your lip between your teeth, his large hands grip your waist as he gently pushes in. His girth alone splitting you open slowly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, at the intrusion.

“Hands behind your back girlie.” Yunho whispers, your arms reach back and Mingi holds on to them as he pulls you onto him, his entire length buried in you. His warm skin comes in contact with your ass and suddenly he’s set a delicious pace that has you reeling. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you're sure you've now gone dumb. Yunho is talking to you but you can barely hear him, until he taps your cheek, his hand cupping your chin and gently lifting your face up. His leaking tip pokes your lips, you open your mouth, wide eyes looking up at him. Yunho bites lip, his hands caressing your face.

“Good fucking girl baby.” You hum around his cock and he gently moves further in until he hits the back of your throat. You gag slightly, tears now rolling down your cheeks freely.

“Being used from both ends, baby. Look at you.” Mingi moans, his thrust now becoming erratic, he eventually resorts to barely pulling out, his hips jutting hard against you just bullying his tip against your cervix. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your orgasm fast approaching. Yunho takes notice of the way, you're going limp on the bed, your whole body twitching.

“She's about to cum, don't let her finish. She doesn't deserve it yet Min.” He grunts, pulling out of your mouth and cupping your chin once again. He watches with an amused smile as Mingi struggles to slow down and pull out, just as you're about to fall over the brink it all stops. Your tired body collapses on the bed, writhing in discomfort at your fading high.

“Yun-ho, please.” You whine, rubbing your legs together.

“I'm pretty sure I gave myself blue balls man,” Mingi shudders, his hand running up and down his cock, trying to keep the stimulation going. Yunho ignores his friend's comment and takes his place instead, he looms over you now. He pulls you on your back, tugging on the top you still wore, which was now soiled with spit and tears. He tugs at the stretchy material until it sits comfortably under your chest. Your tits spilling over, nipples perky and waiting for attention. He toys with your tits, fondling them and laying a flat smack that irritates the skin. You're panting like a dog, legs open waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

“Are you ready to work for it?” He asks, once again in a condescending tone. You nod, your hands reaching around the bed feeling for Mingi. Yunho leans down pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your lip, your mouth drops open as he slips inside, instantly buried to the hilt. He gives you one last kiss and pulls away, instantly setting a brutal pace. Pleasure spreads all over your abdomen, as his cock hits that spongy spot deep within you. You're a moaning mess, legs trying to cage him in and hips lifting to meet him but he doesn't let you.

“You're acting like a bitch in heat baby, you wanna cum?” He asks, and you nod, letting out a strangled cry. “Ye-yes yuyu please.” Mingi’s hand works heavy on his cock, trying to match the grip your cunt had around him.

“I said work for it, remember? So why don’t you be a doll and help Mingi.” He motions over to the man beside your head. You do the best you can to replace his hand, your pace is shaky, barely consistent, he leans a bit closer and you are able to get his red tip in your mouth. His hand coming down to cup the back of your head, helping you lift up without causing much strain. Mingi lowers his hips, lodging himself deeper in your mouth. You can barely focus anymore, your headspace far from reality.

“She's going dumb look at her,” Yunho grunts, Mingi breathes heavily above you. And you suck gently and somehow that's enough to push him over the edge. His cum spills into your mouth at the same time your high is building up. You pull from him, his tip still leaking, now spilling all over your lips and chin. Yunho hold your hips and your hands come down to grip his forearms as he fucks you into the bed.

“You earned it tiny, go ahead and fucking c-cum.” Yunho strangles out, your orgasm builds up until you're falling over the edge. Your body locks up, legs shaking as you ride your high, loud whines falling from your lips. You relax into the bed and Yunho who ruts against you suddenly stills and spills into your gummy walls. He sucks in a deep breath as the pulsing in his cock comes to a slow halt. He pulls out and his seed is spilling out from you, running down between your lips and onto the bed creating a wet patch.

Your eyes are closed, lungs still trying to suck in air from the heavy exertion. You feel yourself getting moved around, a warm towel wiping your face and then between your legs. Someone pulls you out of the matching set that was still bunched around your waist.

You feel a tap on your cheek and you open your eyes to be met by Mingi and a water bottle. “Here's some water doll.” You sit up and gently sip from the bottle, humming at the cool liquid running down your scratched throat. Yunho slips on the white button he sported on you. Mingi looks at him as he puts the blazer back on.

“I’ll stop somewhere for a button up in the morning.” Yunho says when he feels Mingi’s judgemental gaze on him. “Get some rest doll, Mingi and I will be back for you in the morning.” you pout as they tuck you into the plush bed. “You can't stay?” You ask but you knew the answer. Yunho shakes his head, “gotta report that you are safe. It'll also look suspicious if we stay, you know you got eyes on you everywhere now.” You nod and nuzzle into the bed.

The door clicks softly behind them as they walk towards the elevators. “I can tell she really likes you.” Mingi informs his best friend. Yunho shrugs, “That's rocky territory, I couldn't imagine what her father would do if he ever found out.” In a way it hurt his chest the thought of never seeing you again if your father found out. After pining over you for the past 3 years in secrecy, and it coming down to tonight's activities he was happy, but it was also bittersweet that nothing further than this could ever happen; he could never call you fully his out of fear.

Yunho rests against the elevator wall, anxiety creeping up on him at the thought of trying to play this all off in the future. He avoids the front desk personnel’s gaze as she gives him a questioning look on his attire as his bare chest peeked through the expensive blazer. When they're both back in the car he reports to your father through text that you'd insisted on crashing at Cassie’s place and that they’d be back for you early in the morning.

***

The following weeks were a blur at least for Yunho, he couldn't concentrate on anything other than you, all he ever saw was you. He caught himself admiring more than ever before; so much so Mingi had to often snap him back to reality. Aside from that, there was nothing he could do besides stay quiet and do his job. He had Mingi to vent to but that ended when the man resigned after he got a job opportunity as a producer. He was shortly replaced by Hongjoong, he was cool and all but he couldn’t have deep conversations with him like he did with his best friend.

The lewd activities from that night replayed in his mind and he just couldn’t help how much his feelings for you kept growing since then; he was sure he was now in love. He envied Mingi and how easily he relaxed in situations where Yunho was conflicted.

“Why are you stressing, man? We all had a good time, it doesn't need to be brought up again.” His friend would say, but that was easy for him to say when he wasn't in love with you.

You on the other hand had developed a full blown crush on your bodyguard, you liked the way he handled you, that was all you needed in your life. Not being able to hold back any longer you’d began to sneak out into the greenhouse that sat in a quiet corner of your grand backyard. Yunho would meet you for quickies, which would eventually lead to the two of you talking till the late hours of the night all while your parents remained clueless inside. You knew how much Yunho feared losing his job and being faced by your father, but of one thing you were sure; you always got what you wanted, and Yunho would be yours one way or another.

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