#WHEN I HAVE NO GUIDES. NO NOTES. THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS

[ducktoo]

Guess some things never change

Babymonster's Asa X M!Reader

Note: everyone say thank you for @wonyology for their asa fic that got me into baemon. Guess I have joined the Asa cult now.

(This girl is lethal)

You’re halfway through shovelling leftover fried rice into your mouth when your phone lights up—an incoming call. You glance at the name and blink.

Asa. At 9:52PM.

You let it ring once, twice, debating whether she butt-dialed you or if she’s calling to ask you about that meme you sent earlier. Then you pick up, still chewing.

“Hello? Enami?”

“Come get me.”

You pause mid-bite. “��Eh?”

“I want to drink.”

You blink. “Water? Milk? Gatorade—”

“Soju.” Her voice is flat. Final. Like she’s been preparing to say this line for months. “I wanna try soju.”

You nearly choke. “Ya, You said you didn’t want to drink until next year.”

“I changed my mind.”

“It’s 10PM on a Tuesday—”

“I changed my mind now.”

You close your container slowly and grab your keys. “And you’re legally allowed to do this?”

“My manager said it’s fine. I’m off schedule. As long as I’m with someone responsible.”

There’s a long pause.

You sigh. “Unfortunately, that’s me.”

Despite your tone, it took you exactly 2.3 seconds to hang off the call, toss the half-folded hoodie on the couch, and start digging through your closet for something that screams “casual but responsible adult who knows how to drink responsibly and won’t let their friend pass out in a gutter.”

By the time you pull up to the dorm, Asa’s already outside. Hoodie, cap, mask, the whole stealth mission look. But her eyes—those give her away. Wide, jittery, practically sparkling in the streetlights that is very out of her character. She’s nervous. But also… excited. Like a kid about to try cotton candy for the first time. Except this cotton candy could make her blackout if she drinks it too fast.

“You look like a celebrity trying to rob a bank, Enami.”

She climbs in wordlessly but smirks. “And you look like a broke intern who got roped into driving me around.”

You glance at her. “Tsk. You’re not wrong.”

She doesn’t say much during the short ride, just keeps glancing out the window like she’s mentally preparing herself for a test. You know she’s trying to act casual, but her leg’s bouncing slightly. That never happens. Not with Asa.

She’s always in control. Of her image, her schedule, her words—and sometimes even you.

But tonight… something’s different.

-

The soju bar is tucked in the side alley of some random block you remembered from late-night food runs after company dinners—quiet, not too flashy, just busy enough not to look shady.

You guide her inside like it’s sacred ground, letting her sit first. You’re not about to let her first drinking memory be one where she burns a hole through her throat with hardcore original flavour or gags over raw oysters.

Asa looks around like she’s entered another realm. The sticky tables, clinking of glass, the smoky smell of meat and oil and… whatever that sauce is that always sticks to your fingers no matter how many napkins you use.

“It’s louder than I thought,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, even though no one’s paying attention to the two of you. “Also… kinda cozy.”

You order quickly—soju, kimchi pancake, spicy pork, and tteokbokki. All the good, greasy stuff to cushion the impending regret (and also a glass of water as precaution).

She watches you pour the first shot like it’s an ancient ritual. Her fingers are toying with the paper napkin, twisting it slowly.

“You nervous?”

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“Sure, and your foot’s shaking.”

She freezes. “It’s because it’s cold.”

“It’s July.”

“Mind your business.”

You chuckle, pouring her glass carefully. Then yours. The green bottles glint under the old fluorescent light. “You’re really doing this, huh?”

She takes the glass in her hand. “You got to try it a year ago. I want to see what the hype’s about.”

You tilt your head. “What if it’s terrible?”

She smirks, finally looking at you fully. “Then I’ll blame you.”

You clink glasses. “Fair.”

And she downs it.

Immediately, her face contorts like she’s been punched by regret. Her eyes squeeze shut, lips twitching, throat working overtime.

“Oh my god. Ugh.” She coughs once, then fans her tongue.  “Why is it sweet and also like death??” she croaks, chasing it with a gulp of water and a piece of spicy pork.

You burst into laughter.

“Why would anyone willingly drink this!?” she exclaims, slamming the glass down and reaching for the water.

“To forget how embarrassing they were in their rookie days,” you tease, sipping yours easily.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yet here you are, choosing me for your first drink.”

She sticks out her tongue in defiance, then winces again as the aftertaste kicks in. “Remind me to dox you tomorrow.”

“Boo hoo. You’re already in my debt.”

“How?”

You lean back, stretching. “Because no one else would take you to a suspiciously greasy soju joint at 10PM, knowing full well you’re going to either cry, confess something weird, or fall asleep on the table.”

Asa looks at you, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Confess something weird?”

You raise an eyebrow. "Eh? You actually have something?"

She picks up the bottle and pours her second glass, this time with less drama. Her voice is quieter.

“Well…I guess I just… wanted it to be with you.”

You pause, your glass halfway to your lips. “Enami, your weirding me out…”

She shrugs, playing it off like it’s nothing, but her voice dips a little. “It’s a first. I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. You’re… safe. And stupid.”

“Are you praising me or dissing me now?"

“Shut up,” she mutters, cheeks going a little pink. Maybe it’s the soju. Or maybe it’s the honesty.

And that’s when it hits you.

She always has a way of getting what she wants. Of pulling you by invisible strings, wrapped around her finger and spun like candy floss. But tonight, this isn’t control. This is… her choosing you. Not because she has to. But because she wants to. Probably.

She shrugs it off quickly, popping another piece of pork into her mouth and avoiding your eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

You don’t. But your smile lingers a little longer than it should.

-

One bottle turns into two.

Two becomes three—split evenly, of course. But Asa’s tolerance is about as solid as a wet tissue, and you start noticing it around halfway through bottle two. The way her words start tumbling out quicker, how she stops blinking at regular intervals, and most importantly—how she starts talking.

A lot. Asa’s slipping.

A slight flush to her cheeks, blooming in splotches just beneath her skin. The stiffness in her shoulders began to soften. Her fingers, once fidgeting and tight, now lazily twist a chopstick wrapper between them like it's a ribbon. She’s quiet—not in a sullen way, but in the way someone gets when their thoughts start moving just a beat slower than usual.

“Okay,” she mutters, poking at the pork with her chopsticks. “So like—explain to me again why people like this?”

The edges of her voice softened. Still teasing. Still Asa. But without the deliberate bite. That performative lilt that usually kept people at arm’s length. You noticed it the way you always did — not in the things she said, but in the way she stopped measuring them.

“It’s bitter and numbs your brain.”

She stares at her glass, then at you. “So... like you, but in liquid form?”

You bark out a laugh. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

She points her chopsticks at you dramatically. “Exactly. You’re so easy to control.”

“You’re three drinks in. Calm down, puppeteer.”

“No,” she says, all wide-eyed and mock-serious, “because like… at the dorm, the members never listens to me. They pretend to. But it’s like…never.”

You blink. “Ehhhh… Surely not?”

“Rami keeps using my skincare without asking. And she thinks I don’t know? I do. She uses, like, three pumps. For one cheek.”

You try to hold in your laugh as she rant her heart out. "Do I have to sit here to hear you out?"

She ignored you. “And Rora keeps using my Spotify account to listen to those depressing piano ballads. Now my algorithm thinks I cry at 3AM every day. I don’t cry. I sulk. It’s different.”

You nod slowly. “Of course. Totally different emotional palette.”

“And Ahyeon—don’t even get me started on her ramen stash. That kid hides it in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?”

“Yes! She thinks no one will look there. I found it, though. Who the heck hides ramen there?”

You’re wheezing now, trying to eat without choking. “Ya, you made it like it's PTSD.”

“It is.” she huffs, dramatically lifting her shot glass. “Dorm? Nah, it's a bloodbath.”

“You live with other teenage girls from hell, Enami. It’s not 'Saving Private Ryan.’”

She slams the empty glass down. “You don’t understand my pain.”

“Nah, I just endure it weekly when you spam me voice notes complaining about towel rotation.”

“It’s a serious issue,” she insists, waving her chopsticks again like a mic at an awards show. “They never wash the beige towel. The beige one. It smells terrible.”

You almost choke on your drink from laughing. “Oh my god, you’re drunk if you're complaining about that."

“Nooo,” she groans, dramatically letting her forehead fall onto the table. “I’m buzzed. There’s a difference. I googled it.”

“Did Google-chan also tell you it’s not normal to confess your entire dorm’s shenanigans after three drinks?”

She lifts her head and points a wobbly finger at you. “You said this was a safe space!”

“I said this was a soju bar. Not a confessing booth.”

She squints at you, then slowly leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “…You’re enjoying this.”

“Well duh.” you reply, chuckling. “You want me here.”

By the fifth shot, she wasn’t talking much anymore. Just resting her head against the wall of the booth, humming softly under her breath. Something half-familiar — maybe one of her group’s own songs, or something her mom used to play in the car. Her fingers still moved, idly tracing shapes on the table. Your arm. Whatever was near.

Then she’s just… staring at you. Not saying anything. Just watching. Her eyes soft, hazy, but focused in that quiet, unnerving way that makes your breath catch a little.

“What?” you ask, trying to sound casual even though your heartbeat has decided to double its pace.

“…You’re a good one,” she mumbles. “Like… the best person I could’ve had my first drink with. And….you’re kinda cute when you let me win.”

You feel that stupid flutter in your chest again. The one you keep locking behind jokes and sarcasm and poorly timed drink orders.

But before you can say anything back, she slaps the table.

“I want ice cream.”

"Eh?" You blink. “We just had food?”

“Exactly. So it's dessert time.”

She’s still swaying slightly as she stands, and you quickly stand up to catch her arm before she stumbles too hard. She leans into you with a laugh, head bumping against your shoulder. A lazy, contented kind of drunk. The kind that came with knowing you were safe — that someone would make sure you got home.

“Hey…” her tone was uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah?”

“If I ever drink with anyone else, I hope they’re not as fun as you.”

You try not to grin. You fail. “What a weirdly sweet curse, Edamane.”

“Shut the hell up and buy me ice cream.”

-

You wake up to muffled giggling.

Not a good sign.

The first thing you register is a dull ache in your back.

You squint at the unfamiliar ceiling, momentarily disoriented. The lighting is too soft, too pink—definitely not your apartment. There’s a faint scent of vanilla mixed with whatever detergent they use for idol dorms, and—Wait. Dorm?

You shift slightly, only to realize your arm is firmly locked under someone’s grip. A leg’s also slung over yours. And that someone has short dark hair, a familiar hoodie, and the deeply unbothered expression of someone who passed out without consequence.

Asa.

Dead asleep. Still clutching your hoodie like it owes her money.

You blink once. Twice.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper, trying to shift, but her grip tightens in response, like even asleep, she’s not ready to let go.

“Mmnnnhhh,” she groans and immediately wraps herself tighter around you like a python. “Warm.”

“Enami,” you hiss, nudging her shoulder. “Let go. I need circulation in my arm.”

She doesn't respond. Just sighs dreamily and buries her face into your chest.

Your whole body tenses. This is bad. Very bad. "Ya, Edamane-"

Then comes a voice. Light, teasing, far too awake for this hour.

“Oh my god. She really kidnapped him.”

You freeze. Chiquita.

“Shhh! She’s going to freak out if she sees us—”

That’s Rora, now peeking into the room over someone’s shoulder. You hear another snort. Probably Ahyeon.

Then someone—probably Ruka, from the distinct sound of her boots on the floor—goes, “I knew it. I told you all that she will get weird when she drinks.”

You groan under your breath.

And then Asa stirs. Her brow furrows as she blinks herself awake, blinking sleepily at your shirt. You feel her register the warmth. The situation. The arm. The leg.

Her eyes shoot open.

“…Why are you still here?” she croaks, voice raspy with sleep and shame.

“You wouldn’t let me leave, Enami” you mutter, deadpan. “I tried. You latched onto me like a damn cat.”

There’s a beat. A slow, silent second where Asa processes it all. The fuzzy memory of soju, the booth, the confession, the awkward lean on your shoulder… then dragging you to her room and practically chaining you down like a hostage pillow.

Her cheeks go red in record time.

And then she kicks you. Hard. Right off the bed.

You grunt as your back hits the floor, pillow thudding beside you.

“GET OUT!”

“Hey! I tried!” you protest, rubbing your side as you sit up. “I was this close to calling 911.”

The door swings open fully now, and all of BABYMONSTER floods in like sharks smelling blood in the water.

Pharita has her phone out instantly, barely hiding her laugh. “This is gold. Asa-unnie, you really slept with him?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Asa yells (which is rare). “He was supposed to drop me off, not—ugh!”

“You literally dragged him into your bed and held him hostage,” Rami says flatly, arms crossed, already sipping her morning juice box like this is just Tuesday.

“I have video,” Ahyeon adds.

Asa lets out the most undignified sound you’ve ever heard — a squeaky groan — and grabs her blanket to hide her face. Then, like she just remembered how to breathe, she scrambles up and shoves herself behind you, using your body as a human shield.

“She’s using him as a meat shield,” Ruka deadpans.

Rora snickers. “So much for ‘I don’t even like him like that.’”

“Shut up, you girls.” Asa mutters into your back.

“You know,” Chiquita pipes up, grinning. “If you like him, you can just say it. Kidnapping seems excessive.”

“I don’t like him,” Asa snaps, still refusing to show her face. “I just didn’t want him to leave while I was drunk.”

“That’s what liking someone means,” Pharita says, deadpan.

"She's not lying" You added.

"Don't even- whatever…" You feel Asa groan again against your back like she wants the Earth to swallow her whole. You’re trying really, really hard not to laugh.

Eventually, the girls begin filing out one by one, throwing in their final parting shots like siblings leaving a war zone behind.

“Next time, tell us if you're taking someone hostage.” “Use protection, please. Like a seatbelt. For your victims.” “Oppa, you need therapy.”

The door closes. Silence.

Then, Asa lets out a breath that’s somewhere between a whine and a growl and gently smacks your back. “This never happened.”

You turn to face her. “Uh, it very much happened. My ribs are bruised. And I think they solidified their conspiracy that I’m your sugar daddy now.”

Asa glares, cheeks still burning red. “If you ever bring this up again—”

“You’ll what?” you tease, leaning closer. “Kidnap me again?”

“Don’t tempt me, dumbass.”

The two of you stare at each other, tension still thick, but something’s shifted. Softer now. You’re both too aware of what happened last night. Too aware of what wasn’t just the soju talking.

You’re about to get up and sneak out with the last sliver of your dignity when her grip on your shoulders tightens.

“Ya.”

"Hm?" You glance back.

“…Stop calling me Enami.”

You blink. “Eh?”

She looks away, biting her lower lip.

“Just… call me Asa.”

The way she says it is awkward. Like she hates that she cares so much. But there’s no joke behind it this time. No teasing. No hidden manipulation. Just her, finally stepping out from behind the wall she built—even if it’s just a toe over the line. “It’s weird. Formal. You’re the only one who still does.”

“I thought you liked it when I sounded respectful.”

“I do. But not from you.”

That pulls a small smile out of you. You tilt your head. “So, what, Edamane?”

"No, you- hah…." She leaned her head against your back. “Call me Asa…please…?”

You widened your eyes at her plea. “…Asa-ah?”

She flinches slightly. “…Ew, say it less romantically.”

"Ya, what should I say when you ask me that?" You chuckled. "I wasn't even trying to-"

“You did.”

“Did not.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You kidnapped me, Asa-ah.”

She groans and looks away, but you don’t miss the way her face softens—just slightly.

You smile. “…but Edamane is cuter, though.”

She kicked your butt again. Guess some things never change.

[g3rdens0fb3byl0n]

Johnny Splash x Singer

SYNOPSIS: Johnny is in absolute jealousy and denial everytime homeowner sings in the shower, their voice could guide anyone into tears of joy. Johnny's heart twists at their voice, the two sides of his brain quarrelling, trying to decide if he hates or loves their siren song.

EXTRA DETAILS: Can be read as x reader or x oc, i wrote with an oc in mind but i didn't describe them. Homeowner is written as gender neutral and can be read as any gender, but my oc is female so it may be female (or atleast feminine) leaning. This is so ass I'm sorry princesses (gender neutral).

AUTHORS NOTE(S): sorry this took a while to write and post, i get anxious posting my writing and i went back and forth a lot.

All dividers by @cursed-carmine

Word count: 826 (drabble?)

It was this every morning.

Every morning, they stepped into him, and perfect notes escaped from their throat, echoing throughout the tiles of the bathroom.

It was infuriating.

What do they think they're doing, anyway? Flexing their perfect, angelic voice. Him and Jean-Loo were pushed aside, everyone marvelling at their voice instead. He ranted to Jean-Loo about this regularly, about them stealing the show.

Not that the (c)rapper cared. Maybe that was his issue, nobody else cared. Nobody cared about his or Jean-Loo's musical talent, not even Keyes or Rainey, it was always a hesitant nod or a polite smile everytime he tried to show off, but this human sings acapella at the top of their lungs and suddenly their siren song is luring everybody in. The water from his head cascades down their body, and they lure people in for their feast.

Huh. That's quite a good description. He'll use that for a song. He made a mental note to tell lyric to write that down.

The siren song was soon cut short when Johnny bribed river into going cold on the humans body, much to their displeasure as they yelped out of their song and stopped the water fall.

"Please, mama"

"No! I happen to like their voice."

"..I won't do my practices so loud that i disturb you in the pipes"

"..."

When they got out, they wrapped a towel around themselves, quietly thanking Tyrell.

Lucky bastard.

Johnny, as per usual on a night, was at the breaker box, his voice carrying throughout the bar. He thought he was doing quite well, though if he actually opened his eyes and payed attention he'd see the grimace on just about everyones face. He thanked whatevers above that Cam was too distracted the empty bottles Eddie had provided him to insult the performance.

And he did open his eyes, eventually. He would have hit the next note, he swears, that was until he saw the human's smiling face talking to Volt, and he swears the air left his lungs. Gosh darn it - sorry for the language, momma.

Volt approaches the stage.

"Johnny, my friend. Live wire has gotten a certain spark of motivation to get on the stage..I'm sure a.." he takes a long, impolite pause "..preformer like you can understand. Perhaps you can give them the stage?"

"But-"

"Please?"

With a dramatic sigh and slouch of his shoulders, Johnny ends the performance early, at Volt's not so subtle encouragement, and the human makes their way to centre stage. This may have been the worst day of his life.

Apparently, he unknowingly said that aloud because Cam whispers back to him, unlovingly as ever:

"If a talented person taking the stage is the worst day of your life, maybe you should take a look at your own performances"

Argumentative responses conjured in his head, before he got distracted as Volt kissed the humans hands as he departed from the stage, and his stomach twisted. An ugly feeling in his guts - was that.. no, he was not jealous, no less at someone who has the misfortune at being affectionate towards this human. He pities the man, honestly.

Phonicia plays some instrumental from her speakers, and the human starts. They're as good as ever, much to Johnny's displeasure.

He recognised it as rock - grunge rock, 90s probably, something about a heart shaped box. He considered himself much to classy to listen to that. If theres any rock he'll listen to, it will be smooth 60s, thank you very much.

It wasn't a very ambitious song, he inwardly scoffed, with a voice like the humans, you could sing a much better song than this, he had heard it first hand, yet they didn't. Of course, his voice was just as good...

Eddie and Volt leant on the bar, little smiles on their faces as they listened to them. Infact, when he looked around, everyone seemed quite pleased by their voice. A horrible, ugly feeling rose to his chest again, as his eyes settled back on the human.

He slouched as he watched them, their angelic voice that could inspire any musician, their face that could inspire any poet, the small smile on their face as they did what they loved, what they were best at, the smile that reached Johnnys face as he watched them.

Oh.

Oh.

Perhaps..perhaps it wasn't just envy settling in his chest, making his heart and voice rattle so - oh, darn, pardon his language.

Perhaps his jealousy was towards Volt, not the human. Towards everyone in this house that got to touch them so gently, got to hear their beautiful voice and laugh. Got to occupy your brain and heart, because you had occupied all of his brain and heart since you had gotten into his house. Since he heard your voice you had so graciously given him.

Oh baby, oh mama, how smitten he was.

Time to make it everyone else's ears problem.

Hope you enjoyed! I tried to make his switch between hatred and loving pretty quick because he's just a dramatic, hopelessly romantic loser. Isn't he sweet? I mean, i tried to, anyway, this is ooc at points methinks.

@fangirlanxiety74

x

[hearts4hughes]

— table for two !!

clark kent x reader warnings: emotional distress, unreliable narrating, angst angst angst note: i wrote this in fifteen minutes so i apologize for any mistakes word count: 1,112k

clark had the surprise all planned out. he’d left work early. stopped by that bakery you loved, the one with the little frosted cakes and grumpy cashier who always winked at you but glared at everyone else. picked out wine even though you teased him for being a lightweight, lit candles even though you said the smell gave you a headache (he bought different ones this time, softer, like sugar and linen). dinner was nearly done. pasta from scratch, red sauce simmering on the stove, bread warming in the oven.

he moved with a kind of reverence—slow, careful, like the walls might shatter if he breathed too hard. music played low from the record player in the living room. the one you insisted on rescuing from a flea market last spring, swearing it had soul. he set the table for two. folded the napkins. tucked your fork a little closer to the plate, just how you liked it. everything was perfect.

you’d be home any minute and he couldn’t contain his excitement. everything had to be perfect. after all, it was your one year anniversary. clark couldn’t even believe he was saying it. ten months of nothing but joy, love, and passion with you. he knew you were the one the second you waltzed into the daily planet with a smile that could knock anyone out. he knew you were the one when you’d blush after he held your gaze a beat too long. he knew you were the one when you’d clean up his cuts after a long day. he knows you’re the one.

“clark?” you call into the apartment, juggling your work bag and umbrella. you kick the door shut with your bare foot and float into the kitchen. “smells good in here.” your fingers brush his arms, the touch practically weightless.

he turns around, a boyish grin tugging at the ends of his lips. “happy one year, baby.” he places the wooden spoon down and holds his hand out to you. you place your hand in his, his warm touch enveloping your cold hand. “i meant to have it all ready when you walked in, but the pasta had other plans.” he chuckles.

you laugh, soft and airy. it sounds like a memory of laughter more than the real thing. “smells like that time you almost burned down my kitchen.”

“hey,” he grins, guiding you toward the table, “i saved your kitchen.”

“sure,” you murmur, teasing, your lips brushing his cheek like smoke. your eyes flick to the candlelight dancing between the plates. “you even lit candles? what happened to ‘those things are fire hazards’?”

“got different ones,” he says quickly, glancing at the labels. “unscented. sugar linen or…whatever.”

you hum approvingly, trailing a finger along the rim of your glass. you don’t pick it up. he moves to the oven. slides out the bread, golden and crisp. the heat fogs the kitchen windows. somewhere behind him, you say, “i’m gonna go get changed.”

he doesn’t turn. he doesn’t need to. “okay,” he says, “dinner’ll be ready in five.”

“hey, krypto.” you coo as you pass the menace of a dog. krypto doesn’t jump up or fly towards you, he just continues his slumber, peacefully unaware. you shrug and hum as you walk away.

clark stirs the sauce a few more times. wipes the counter again, though there’s nothing left to wipe. folds your napkin a second time. fixes the flowers in the middle of the table—cheap tulips, plastic, one of them bent at the stem. you always liked real ones. he meant to grab some, but forgot. time ticks by. five minutes blur into ten.

he calls out, a little louder this time. “hey, dinner’s ready!” no answer. he frowns, drying his hands on a towel, head tilting toward the hallway. he listens and…nothing. not just quiet—silent. a stillness that wraps around his ribs like a vice. no footsteps. no drawer opening. no rustle of fabric. no heartbeat. his own skips. “baby?” he says again, moving slowly through the kitchen. his hand brushes the wall as he turns the corner into the hallway. it’s empty.

the bedroom door is a semi closed and dark inside. he doesn’t open it. his breath comes shallower now. something presses at the back of his throat. his eyes dart around, trying to find something, anything to anchor him. that’s when he sees it. the card. not there a moment ago. right beside your untouched plate. he picks it up, the edges are worn. tears well in his eyes but he smiles anyway. he always loved that photo of you—eyes squinted, smile bright, and cheeks warm. he took it after your first date. it was in the park down by your old apartment. he set down a plaid blanket near the flowers you often stared at and pulled out your favorite snacks. it was perfect.

he holds the card like it might vanish if he blinks too long.the pasta begins to burn. he doesn’t move. his thumb drags across the faded type beneath your photo, a name and two dates that don’t make sense side by side. not when he swears he just saw you. just heard you. your laugh still hangs in the corners of the room like perfume. your breath was warm on his neck, wasn’t it? he swallows hard. tries to look away. but your eyes are still looking up at him, frozen in ink.

he staggers back a step. the chair legs screech against the floor. something splashes onto his shirt—sauce boiling over. he doesn’t feel it. the card slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “no,” he breathes. krypto lifts his head lazily, then sets it back down. so unbothered as if nothing is wrong. as if the apartment isn’t trembling under the weight of it.

he grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. listens again—strains until his ears ache. still no heartbeat. not yours, anyway. he stumbles down the hall, throws the bedroom door open. just as empty as yesterday. not even the ghost of you remains. the closet is closed. the bed untouched. his throat tightens. his vision goes starry at the edges. “baby?” he says again, like he hasn’t already, like maybe this time it’ll work. “please.” but there’s no answer. there hasn’t been for two months. he sinks to the floor. the room spins. he presses the heel of his palm to his eye, hard, like he can force the hallucination back. like he can bring you with it. you were just here. you were here. his voice cracks. “you were here.”

from the kitchen, the record skips. again…and again…and again.

taglist ~ @leynetto @illumoria @witchofswans @mauvesmax @kisses4rafey @jimmys-tiara @blushhbambi @sunnliqht @bugisastranger @whyistheskypink @soul-of-daises @take-it-on-the-run @hi346736 @iamthepawn @athenaluvsu @makiplan @replaythatrayrae @maralovescassianandmark @namgification @xsimbaaa @erisemptyskull @bangtanevermore @sugarplum444161 @ursogorgeous13 @rinakran @fran-the-man @mslflvrss @angel06babysworld @deafeningbearhottub @biancasisstuff @chamorunsmiles @fattynana @howiswhatawhy @kissmxcheek @mama-a-girl-behindyou @bribria @ryileeee @bbsaeko @allllium @differentcandycreation

[skyespaddock]

You & I ✨ Chapter Nine

Lando Norris x Madeline Green (ofc)

Summary- Madeline Green’s life has always been intertwined with Lando Norris. An invisible string has always tied them together, but what if they were meant to be more than friends?

What happens when the universe flips their lives upside down? One moment, one line crossed, and they are forever connected by more than just an invisible string. 

Warnings-  Friends to lovers, growing up together, parent with cancer, loss of parent, pregnancy, angst and a whole lot of fluff. 

Notes- TW mentions of blood, fall, head injury

Once again I am sorry (not really) for this angsty chapter, I did try to sprinkle in some fluff in at the end. But I promise that after this I will leave my babies in peace (for a little while). Check the trigger warnings on this one and enjoy! - Skye x

Series Masterlist

Time ticked on, uncaring to Madeline’s inner turmoil. Minute by minute the world continued. Two days passed. In a slow and painful silence that she could not bear. 

She couldn't stomach the fact that Lando was disappointed in her, couldn't live with the fact that she had yelled at him in reaction to his expressed concern. That's all it came down to. He was worried about her and he had every right to be.

They both said things they regretted that night, words they wished could be erased. That much was clear. But where did they go from here? How did they fix something so broken? The fragments so small Madeline didn’t know where to look for them, much less glue them back together. 

She stared at her travel mug of tea, as if her burning gaze would make it steep faster. In twenty minutes she would be out the door, off to work. A task that no longer lit the same passion inside her, not since it had been the very thing to tear her away from Lando.

“Try and eat something.” Pietra slid a plate in front of her, toast and eggs. Something simple for her to keep down in wake of her raging nausea.

The only person more upset than her about Lando’s absence and their current uncertainty was her baby. Gifting Madeline with violent bouts of morning sickness as if to voice their high distaste for their fathers distance. A baby that was still so tiny, the size of an apricot to be exact. With no proof of its existence, except a small amount of bloating in the evenings. 

“You still haven't heard anything from Lando?” Her friend questioned. Trying to play it off casually as if asking about the weather and not her boyfriend and baby daddy that was in another country for work after the biggest argument of their life.

Madeline played with her piece of toast, guiding it around the plate in unmotivated circles. “No, unless you count the lunches he’s sent me the past two days.” Madeline almost cried in the middle of her office when she received the food that first gloomy day after their argument and Lando’s departure. 

To anyone it was just Lando taking care of his girl, making sure she was fed and loved. But to Madeline it was a peace offering wrapped up in brown paper and plastic containers. To Madeline it whispered “I love you” into the sterile silence of her office. Even though she didn't know why he still did, why he was still trying.

“That most definitely counts.” Pietra smiled. 

“But why is he doing it? I yelled at him, called him an asshole, why is he still taking care of me?”

“Because he loves you Madeline and you love him too. You just need to be able to see eye to eye, have a calm conversation.”

A calm conversation, those had proven to be difficult for them lately.

“Look, I think a few days apart will do you both some good, just reflect and you will both have clear heads when he comes back.” Pietra’s words were solid advice, however Madeline didn't want to wait. She wanted Lando now. She never knew how much she loved him till their tether weakened. It was still there, she could feel it. But instead of a hefty rope it had been worn down to a thin thread.

___

Their time apart grew to three days. Three days without Lando, and Madeline felt every one of them like a stab to her heart. The only reminder of his love was the delicious bundle of lunch that was delivered once again to her office at 12 pm on the dot. 

The food brought a smile to her face. She imagined him sneaking off during interviews and press photoshoots to pick out her next meal. The thought brought a smile to her face every time it crossed her mind. Before she was suddenly reminded of why this was currently their only form of contact. The argument echoed around the confines of her mind like a ghost.

She just wanted him back, wanted him next to her in bed at night, she couldn't sleep without him. Her nights were spent pondering on all the other things she could have said to him that night, instead of calling him an asshole.

The door to Madeline’s office locked behind her at 7pm on the dot. An hour over her planned schedule, she had her boss and a last minute meeting to thank for that. However she had notified both Max and Pietra of her extra obligation. 

A promise she had made herself since that night. If she was going to work overtime it could only be an extra hour and she had to tell someone. A promise that she would hold herself accountable for. She had to if things were going to work with Lando, he deserved that much.

Crippling exhaustion fluttered behind her eyes. A result of the painful combination of the extra work and overall lack of sleep. Madeline crossed her fingers as she buckled herself into the car, that she would find sleep that night. And maybe, just maybe a beautiful curly haired boy would bless her dreams.

___

It was a minor miscalculation. A mistake that occurred within a fraction of a second, one that she was helpless to stop . 

A shampoo bottle had fallen from the ledge in her shower it had previously been perched on. Tumbling right into her path, just as she took a step forward. The slick unsteady bottle found itself right in her path.

Madeline was already leaning her full weight into the step when she realized, just a second too late. Too late to react, to change her step and save herself from slipping. From falling.

Her foot landed on top of the wayward shampoo bottle, sending her flying back onto the slick shower tiles. Her hands flailed desperately to grab onto anything that would stop her fall, stop the inevitable. But it was too late. 

Madeline was sent crashing onto the unforgiving hard tile. 

Head hitting hard against the shower bench behind her. For a split second she couldn't see, her vision clouded, her ears were silenced by a deafening ringing. Then came the pain. White hot pain pulsing from the back of her head. Seeping into the rest of her panicked body.

She couldn't move, it was as if she was paralyzed. Completely helpless.

There laying on the cool tiles, warm blood escaping from the gash in the back of her head, all Madeline wanted was Lando. She wanted him to pick her up, hold her in his warm safe arms and tell her everything was going to be okay.

Her sobs continued under the no longer comforting spray of warm shower water as her trembling hands moved to her stomach.

Her baby. Was her baby okay? She had no way of knowing. 

Her jumbled thoughts were cut short by a panicked voice outside the bathroom door.

“Madeline?” Pietra’s voice carried through the closed door. “Are you okay? I heard a really loud bang.”

Madeline opened her mouth to respond. To yell back that she needed help, that she was terrified and in excruciating pain. To say anything. But just like the rest of her body her vocal chords were paralyzed. Squeezed so light by the suffocating pressure building in her lungs that nothing could reach her lips.

After a moment too long of silence, the bathroom door opened. “Okay, I’m coming in Madeline” Pietra's voice came out shaky and anxious this time. 

Madeline had never been more grateful for her friend’s slightly overbearing loyalty. She made a mental note to never complain about Pietra’s noseyness ever again. Not if it got her out of this.

She couldn't see from her curled up position on the shower floor, but she could sense her friend's footsteps stop, for a split second. She imagined the sight was quite the shock. Madeline couldn't see her current state, but judging by the excruciating rushing in her head and the warmth pooling beneath it. This was no minor cut.

“Oh Madeline.” Pietra instantly rushed to her, calling for Max in a panic stricken voice. 

At the sight of her friend Madeline’s sobs increased in strength, only worsening the pounding in her head.

“You’re going to be okay, just breathe we're going to get you to the hospital.” Madeline could barely register the words, becoming more and more lightheaded by the second.

Her shoulders eased ever so slightly as a warm towel was wrapped around her bare, slick skin. A second towel was placed at the back of her head. Madeline would surely need new towels after this. Her poor baby pink bath towels would never be able to recover from this.

“The paramedics are on their way, Madeline.” Max reassured from above her, eyebrows creased in a way Madeline had never seen before. 

Wait, when did Max get here? How long had it been since she fell? 

She could feel herself slipping further and further away from consciousness. The world around her slipped through her fingertips, as the fog clouded more of her thoughts, only one stuck out.

The baby, her child. Lando's child.

Were they okay? Had she just damaged them beyond repair?

Her words were slurred, coming out in a mumbled disoriented mess. “The baby.”

“We’re gonna get you to the hospital so they can check on the baby and fix you up okay.” Pietra’s voice sounded like she was under water. Madeline felt like she was underwater. 

She blinked. 

Once.

Twice.

The third time her eyes didn't open again, darkness taking hold of her vision.

___

An obnoxious beeping rattled around her skull. The high pitched sound bounced between her ears in a steady beep, beep, beep.

Madeline blinked her eyes open, desperate to find the source of the sound and shut it up for good. Only for her eyes to rapidly close, instantly regretting her division to open them in the first place.

Bright fluorescent lights blinded her. The ringing in her ears intensified. 

Where was she? Why did her head feel like it had been split open?

“Hey sweetheart, take it easy.” A soft grounding voice spoke from above her. Madeline then took notice of the warmth in her hand and the softness wrapped around her body wrapping her in steady safety. She was laying down, in a very bright room, and someone was holding her hand. That's all she knew.

“Just relax, you're gonna be okay.” The soft voice eased her pain away, the hand overtop hers gently soothing her cold clammy skin.

That voice.

Madeline could have sworn it was her mother’s, that soothing tone she hadn't heard in years. The one that consoled her when she fell off her bike or got a bad grade at school, the one that never judged her. Just welcomed her with open arms.

Madeline blinked again, desperate to see the face of her mother again. To see those eyes that looked like an older, wiser version of hers.

The lights were brighter than ever as her head pounded in protest. With every blink of Madeline’s eyes the misty silhouette before her became clearer and clearer. Its edges becoming more refined until Madeline could see that the familiar voice did not belong to her mother.

Her shoulders sagged at the realization but the pounding in her head subsided at the sight of Cisca Norris. Leaning over her bed, worried eyes pooling behind the thick rims of her glasses. However her calm was short lived as one burning thought flashed through her mind. Bringing with it a flurry of blaring alarms and flashing lights.

“The baby” her voice came out as a weak whimper.

“The baby’s okay sweetheart, it’s you we’re all worried about.” Cisca gently wiped a cool damp towel over her sweaty forehead.

Madeline felt the tension instantly ease from her shoulders. The crippling weight of the thought of hurting her own child easing ever so slightly with the news that they were unharmed. She hadn't failed them yet.

Madeline rabidly surveyed the room, eyes scanning wildly. An action that gave her whiplash and only made the defining pulse behind her eyes more violent.

A white sterile hospital room was laid out around her, the room empty save for the two of them. Cisca’s hand tightened around Madeline's, the gesture bringing her back to earth.

“Your dad is talking to the doctor and Adam is picking up some food. I sent Max and Pietra home for the night an hour ago.” 

Madeline took in the details, her heart rate calmed at the mention of the familiar names, until one more was added to the list.

“Lando is also on his way, he should be here any minute now.”

Shit.

Lando.

It only took seconds after their argument last week for Madeline to know she regretted the words she spoke to him.She was frustrated and couldn't understand his refusal to meet her halfway. She shut down instead of trying to understand him, but she could see it now. He was worried about her. He had tried to voice his concerns about her overworking herself and coming home too tired.

In response she called him an asshole, told him he didn't know what he was talking about.

Now look at her, in the hospital with a cracked open head and what felt like a concussion all because she had overworked herself and stupidly slipped on a bottle in her exhausted state.

But most of all Madeline was ashamed. Ashamed of the fact that she had put their baby in danger. All because she couldn't put her toxic work habits aside.

She couldn't face Lando, not after she just proved him so right. He was sure to be disappointed in her and that was the last thing Madeline wanted to face. She could stand many things but Lando’s disappointment was not on that list.

“No” her words came out in a choked sob. “No I can't see Lando, he can't see me like this. Not after our argument.”

Cisca tilted her face to the side, eyes downcast with pity. “Madeline, he is not angry at you, he’s worried sick about you and the baby.”

“But it’s all my fault, he told me he was worried about me and I didn't listen and look what happened.” Madeline sobbed, tears making their journey down the expanse of her puffy cheeks. “I’m already a terrible mother, he’s going to hate me.”

“Sweetheart, I know my son. There is nothing you could ever do that would make him hate you. You both said things you regret, that's part of being a team, and Madeline you are not a terrible mother.” Cisca’s fingers continued to brush soothing patterns over the back of Madeline's hand. “You’ll talk it out and learn from it, in the meantime you need to rest, okay?”

Madeline nodded. Instantly regretting the attempt to jostle her head.

“What the hell happened to me?” She asked, dazed.

“You cracked your head open sweetheart. Luckily it didn't need many stitches but the impact gave you a nasty concussion. You’ll need to recover and stay off your feet for a while.”

“Okay.” Madeline whimpered, the rest of her thoughts cut short as the hospital room door opened. Just a crack, as if whoever was on the other side was still deciding whether they wanted to fully enter or not. 

A moment passed with the white door hanging in its half open state, Madeline unable to see who was on the other side. Until the door swung fully open. Revealing an anxious Lando Norris occupying the doorway. Hair messy, still dressed in his team kit as if he was plucked straight out of a press meeting to be here. His eyes were glassy, tired and fully of worry, with dark eye bags to match. 

Cisca looked between the two, the beginnings of a smile rising to her face. “I’ll leave you two kids to it.” She rose from the chair speaking directly to Madeline this time, “you let me know if you need anything.”

As the door closed behind the woman Lando still stood frozen in place.  Eyes scanning her, Madeline felt their heat accessing every inch of her body. 

She couldn't take the silence, couldn't take his worried gaze a second longer. Her voice escaped her lips in a desperate plea “Lando.” Tears spilled over her eyes once more. Despite the raging in her head she let them fall.

The pained tears sparked action in Lando “Hey, baby I’m here, I’m here.” He cooed, at her side in an instant no matter how much she had hurt him. 

Madeline’s hands blindly searched for her light in the dark, vision impaired by the flood of tears and white hot pain of her head. 

“I’m right here Mads, I’ve got you.” His hands met her trembling ones in a soft embrace. One hand moving to her check, tracing gentle rhythms along her skin. Soaking up the salty tears beneath the gentle pad of his thumb, careful to avoid her head.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lando.” Her violent sobs ricocheted off the hospital walls hitting her in the chest where it hurt the most. 

She had let him down.

“You were worried about me, about me working too hard and not taking care of myself. I called you an asshole for it and then went and proved you right.” She looked up at him, eyes momentarily clearing. Only to find him already watching her, observing every slight movement she made. 

Madeline couldn't bear to watch him, couldn't stand to face his disappointment, so she continued her rambling. “You were right I’ll move to Monaco I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t leave me.” Her sobs reached and all time high, making her dizzy, slightly falling back on the hospital bed. Until secure hands caught her, lowering her back to the safe cushion of the pillows below. 

“Mads just breathe. I’m not mad, I just want you to breathe. Can you do that for me?” Lando’s voice was calm, not a trace of anger within the words. His voice a prefect whisper that didn't worsen the pounding in her head. 

He was watching her, assessing the air as it entered and left her lungs in a slowing rhythm. Gone where her shaky breaths and rushing blood. Her vision cleared with every breath of clean air, until it was clear enough to see the boy before her.

The curly head of hair she adored was flattened, as if hands had raked through it thousands of times in the past hour, the skin around his eyes sagged with worry, darker eyebags painted his previously bright skin. He looked as bone tired as she felt, she could only imagine what a sight she was. Likely a horrific one. 

“There she is.” Lando cooed, settling down into the chair next to her. Hand still warm on her cheek. The brush of his thumbs guiding her breaths. A breath in as it trailed up, a breath out as it slid back down. 

“I was worried sick about you Mads. You were barely conscious when Max called me.” 

“I-I’m sorry.” Madeline whimpered, at a complete loss of how she could possibly explain herself.

“It’s not your fault baby, it was a freak accident. I should have been there to help you, to keep you safe.” He leaned in closer, positioning his face right above hers. Heart racing as she watched him lean in further, closing the gap between them. Placing a loving kiss on the bridge of her nose. 

“You were right, you were right and I let you down.” She breathed. Exhaustion lacing every word.

“No, no you didn't. Max told me you texted him about running late and you came home right after. This didn't happen because of work Mads, I’m not mad at you. I could never be truly mad at you.”

“But you were, the night of the argument. You slept in the guest bedroom.” She reached up to wipe her tears, feeling loopy and like her hands weren't quite her own. Ending up hitting herself in the nose instead of brushing the tears away. Lando jumped into help, the delicate pads of his thumbs doing the work for her.

“That wasn't because I was mad at you, I just needed space to calm down. I think we both said things we regret that night and I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had.” He spoke the truth, she could see it in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry” Madeline croaked, all other words escaping her vocabulary leaving the apology playing on an endless loop.  

“Madeline Green, if you apologize one more time we're going to have problems.” A laugh left his lips, that glorious world ending sound. A small smile graced his face but his eyes still held buckets of worry.

The words left Madeline’s lips before she could think. “Sorry.”

Lando’s smile widened, “I love you.”

Madeline’s lips curved upwards, unable to form a full smile “I love you too.”

“About the argument and our living situation.” Lando started with a sigh. “It was stupid of me to want you in Monaco. You're right, it doesn't make sense. I would never want to take you away from your life, from your mother.”

Madeline’s head sank deeper into the pillow with relief. It was a small step, but a step in the right direction. It was progress.

“I want us to have a place here. I want a house with you. So you can have your dream kitchen and a perfect garden, just like we always talked about as kids.”

The sharp lighting of the room still stung Madeline’s eyes but everything felt safer under his touch, protected by his warm full-body love.

“Yes, yes I want that Lan.” 

This time when he met her with a smile it reached his eyes, she swore she could see a glint there, maybe two. 

“Prefect, you just worry about getting better.”

“Okay, and I’m sorry about overworking, I’m trying to get better I promise.”

“I know you are, let's do this. I'll focus on finding us a place to live if you talk to your boss and lower your hours. You already work from your laptop at home. Do you think you could move some work to home?” The suggestion made sense on paper, what didn't make sense was the fact that Madeline had never thought of it. He was right, she worked extra from home, worked from the road, why couldn't she take her normal work from home on certain days? 

“Deal” she whispered, rewarded with a careful kiss to her browbone. She didn't deserve him, his love, his patience. Most men would leave and never come back after what she said to him. So why hadn't he?

“Why are you still here, still taking care of me? Is it just because of the baby?”

Lando sighed in amusement as if she said something particularly funny. “You Madeline are a very stubborn woman. I love you so I’m going to take care of you, not just because of the baby. I have loved you my entire life Mad’s and I will continue to till I am buried in the ground, you just have to let me.” The words came out as a sacred prayer, Madeline wished she could write them down. Read them every morning so that she would never forget his devotion to her.

It was hard to stomach, being that loved. Madeline was so used to working, to doing things for herself. She never stopped to wonder what it would feel like to have a partner in all this chaos.

“I can take care of myself, Lan.” She whispered, the splitting pain in her head not allowing her volume to rise any higher.

“I know you can, baby.” Lando matched her tone. “You still can, but I’ve joined the party now, and we can take care of each other. Okay?” 

Madeline attempted a nod only to be met with pulsing pain. She settled for a slight downturn of the chin instead. 

“Good. Now let's get you some food.”

___

The darkness became a blanket for Madeline’s senses. A warm hug of darkness washed over her like a peaceful ghost. 

She had been released from the hospital with pain meds, ultrasound proof that her baby was safe and unharmed, and doctor's orders for a full week of complete rest.

Rest that included minimal time on her feet, low lighting, lots of little naps, and absolutely zero screen time. Subsequently meaning that Madeline now found herself with an entire week off work. Good thing she had stock piles of medical and sick leave that had never been touched. But it still felt wrong. Madeline knew that a step back from work was necessary, but an entire week of nothing was disorienting to say the least.

If Madeline thought she was going to get away with five extra seconds on her feet during her week of rest. She was sorely wrong.  Her caretakers stuck hard to their list of requirements, allowing zero room for being talked into letting her slack off on recovery. 

All of her screens had been confiscated for safe keeping, Madeline got all her meals delivered right to her bed, and her room remained a dark cozy retreat. Courtesy of the blackout curtains Lando had spent way too long installing. 

Her loyal caretakers worked around the clock, making sure she didn't so much as lift a finger.

The caretakers in question being Lando, Max and Pietra. After leaving mid media duties Lando had taken a leave of absence of his own, one Mclaren thankfully allowed.

Madeline was thankful for the support, and the unyielding love they showed her through all hours of the day. Even when she was cranky from being woken up from her fifth nap of the day. 

While days with nothing to do, no work and no priorities sounded good on paper. Four days into Madeline’s strict rest she was getting bored. Not just bored, she was out of her mind restless.

Low buzzing accumulated under her skin with every moment spent still. She could take a week off of work, that wasn't the issue. The issue was having nothing to do, movies were out of the picture, so was anything on her phone, she couldn't leave her bed, and just the thought of reading made her head pound.

Having a task made her feel safe and laying in bed, wrapped in four soft heavy blankets, had lost its appeal two days ago. 

“How are you feeling baby?” Lando’s familiar voice whispered through the dark. The volume of the house had been lowered to a whisper until further notice. Madeline thought it was sweet how her friends had taken to whispering in all parts of the house even when she was not present. 

Madeline only grumbled from her bed, becoming increasingly agitated with her lack of activities. 

“Oh that good are we?” Her boyfriend laughed softly.

Madeline rolled over at the sensation of her mattress dipping, anticipating the warm embrace that found her shortly after. Encased in safety, Madeline nuzzled her head into the safety net that was Lando Norris’s chest. 

“What can I do to help?” Warm hands kneaded the tired muscles of her shoulders, prompting her to curl deeper into the boy. 

“I’m just restless. My mind doesn't know how to just relax, how to do nothing.”

“Okay, so let's give your mind something to do.” His voice was soft and full of love, in a way that made Madeline want to crawl into his skin and call it home.

“I can't do anything Lan, that's the problem."  She added. Madeline would love to give her brain a task, but when her orders were to do nothing that became near impossible.

“I didn't say you were going to do anything Mads, you’re going to stay right here.” Lando leaned over, crossing the bed to reach her side table. Gently picking up the book that rested there. A new cheesy romcom that Madeline had waited months for. 

After obtaining the book he leaned back, grabbing her sleep mask from the bed post. “Here put this on.” He directed with soft steady care.

“Lando what-” her words were cut off by him completing the task for her. Covering her world in a familiar darkness. 

“You can’t be around bright light, and I need the lamp on to read to you.” He mumbled as if it was normal to care this much for one person. 

“You’re going to read my cheesy romcom to me?” An amused laugh escaped her lips as he softly steered her head onto its rightful place above his heartbeat. 

“If it’s going to help you settle, then yes, yes I am. Now be quiet and let me practice story time.” With a soft kiss to her forehead, he began to read. Accidentally skipping over the occasional word, and jumbling over sentences once and a while. But Madeline didn't care. She treasured his soft whispered voice against her ear. The familiar rustling of him turning each page. 

Madeline’s world was plagued with darkness and stillness, but with Lando next to her. His voice, her soft landing. Rest didn't seem so scary, not if it was with him.

___

By the sixth day of bedrest, soft color began to return to Madeline’s skin and the violent throbbing in her head subsided to a barely noticeable ache. 

Madeline’s cheesy rom com now resided back on her shelf. They had finished it the night before, she had rated it five starts. Not because it was groundbreaking, but because she could drown in her narrator's voice. He could read a Mcdonalds menu in his soft whisper and she would still rate it five stars. 

A new book now rested on the bedside table, this time on the one next to Lando’s designated side of her bed. He had demanded they start another book and Madeline didn't dare argue. The last couple days had passed in gentle bliss. Hours spent under the safe covers of her bed, with only Lando’s voice and the turning of pages to fill the silence. It was soft, intimate, and everything she wanted for the rest of her life. 

The blackout curtains were now cracked, allowing just the smallest amount of light to grace her room. Madeline allowed her fingers to skate across the flecks of light scattered around the duvet. A pleasure she hadn't experienced for the past six days.

“Good morning pretty girl.” Her favorite nursemaid hummed, entering the room with tea and breakfast. Her first trimester classic, eggs and toast. Judging by the perfect fluffy scramble of the eggs she could guess that they were Pietra’s work and not Lando's. The meal was safe and liked by her passenger. So as long as it worked Madeline would continue to eat it like it was her job.

Thankfully her morning sickness had subsided this week, as if the tiny life could sense that their mom needed a little peace and quiet. Madeline thanked them for it, grateful for every second she spent nausea free.

“Good morning Lan.” Madeline moved to sit up, only to be stopped mid stretch.

“No, no Mads, let me help.” Lando set her breakfast down, freeing his hands to help prop her up against the freshly fluffed pillows. 

Madeline laughed, this had become their new normal. Lando had always been attentive, but after their argument and her accident, he lifted every finger so she didn't have to think about moving a single one. “Thank you Lan, but I can sit up on my own.”

“Ah, ah. What did we talk about Mads?” Lando kneeled beside the bed, bringing them to meet at eye level. “We take care of each other, and part of that means accepting help. Even if you could do the task on your own.” 

Madeline leaned forward, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. Before leaning in, pressing a kiss on his forehead, then on his nose. Before finally meeting her mark on his lips. Soft and sweet, taking just a little too much to be considered a peck. “I love you.”

“I love you Mad’s, with every piece of my soul.” He moved the breakfast into her lap. Making sure she was fed. Before sitting next to her in bed, tucking his feet underneath the covers.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, now that you’re feeling a little better.” He tentatively turned towards her.

Madeline had a feeling she knew what was on his mind, as the same thoughts likely owed rent in her own brain. 

A deep exhale exited his lips, shoulders dropping with the heavy release of air. “We haven't talked about the argument since the hospital, and with everything that happened I wasn't sure how clear it all was in your head. I wanted to make sure we’re still on the same page.”

Madeline removed the plate from her lap, briefly parting from her eggs and toast.

“I remember, if that's what you're asking.”

Lando nodded, the movement soft and slow. Madeline followed it with her eyes.

“I remember agreeing to stay in the UK, close to home, close to family. If you still want that?” She reassured.

“Yes, yes I want that, a hundred percent." Gone was Lando’s uncertainty from their previous conversations on the issue. His confident tone told her he was fully on board, wasn't settling, or saying what he thought she wanted to hear. They wanted the same thing. Finally.

“I’m sorry for making you feel wrong for wanting that, wanting to stay home. I was every bit the asshole you called me.”

“No you weren't Lan.” Madeline intertwined their hands. Tracing unknown shapes on the ridged calluses on his palms. “This is new to you too, you were just doing what you thought was right. I’m sorry for not seeing that.”

Lando smiled, he didn't say it, but Madeline read the words glowing in his eyes. Thank you.

“If this is going to work we can’t have any more stupid arguments over miscommunication. From now on we talk things out, we work as a team.” Lando concluded. “That includes you allowing people to help you Mads.” He added with a smile, not to poke fun at her. But to show her that she was loved, faults and all. 

“Deal, and I’ll talk to my boss when I return to work. I know my work habits were harmful, I’m sorry that I put you through that.”

“It’s not your fault, we both made mistakes.” Lando reassured, and that was that. They were ready to move on, together.

There in the cozy embrace of her bedroom, surrounded by blankets and pain meds. The clouds lifted, Madeline could see it clearly now. 

A future. One including her, Lando, and the beautiful miracle they created.

[voitier]

HANS - In your Hands

넷 : For one who's lost, another is found

In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.

Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.

What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?

WARNING: a shit ton of smut but I doubt you will like this one. anyway, grinding, making out, semi-public spaces, self reflection regarding the use of sex and women as coping mechanism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: my loves. hi. i'm in a terrible fucking mood, so i was like "i will post chapter 4 and gain serotonin from interactions and praise", cause that's who i am, a slut for approval. anyway, regarding this chapter: it isn't pretty, or, at least, it's not meant to be. it is filled with filth, but i ask you to see between the lines, to overanalyse things that seem completely normal, interactions, words, thoughts. they're spiraling, both of them, gradually getting weaker as we speak. so yes, this chapter is 90% smut, but it's also much more than that. enjoy.

3:30 a.m. 

An ungodly hour to wake up to, but the perfect one to commit sins that get blown away by the deep night’s breeze.

The whole team had to leave the hotel at 5, but you had woken up a couple hours earlier to shower and put away all your remaining belongings in your suitcases.  

Everything changed once you had heard the little screen outside your door beep multiple times, Taehyung appearing like he had done earlier that day.

“Hey,” his voice came as a low murmur, respecting the early hour and your need of silence when just woken up. He dragged his suitcases in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He squinted his eyes as the blinding lights flooded his eyes, quickly heading towards the light button to turn the ambience lights on instead. Lights dimmed, body still warm from your shower, you had to fight the urge to curl up on the bed and sleep even more.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, letting the steam from the bathroom curl and unfold all around you as you stood by the door, a fuzzy warm towel wrapped around you. Taehyung smiled softly at you, closing up the space that divided you two by wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You gasped, your whole body going tense before Taehyung guided you to the nearest wall, humming as his nose traced the curve of your neck, the shape of your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder. “We got interrupted earlier. I figured it would benefit us both taking advantage of this time when everyone’s sleeping and we’ve got a nice, private room to ourselves.”

Taehyung’s hands traveled to your hips, dragging up the fabric wrapped around you before letting it fall back to its place. “But say the word and I won’t push any further, I’ll just help you pack everything left to pack. Your choice, Vel.”

You wanted to cry.

Actually cry. 

Because he was offering something you knew you wanted and needed, something that you had been dragging for far too long for your own wellbeing. And if the little encounter in the pool wasn’t a sign of your resolutions crumbling to the ground, this one was definitely gonna be. But at the same time…

“Okay,” you whispered. Quick, hurried, almost imperceptible even to your own ears, your voice coming back to you as the one of someone else entirely. But to Taehyung, your “okay” had sounded loud and clear. 

His cock twitched in his sweatpants, and a whole celebration party was happening in his head. Outside, though, he was like you had always remembered him being: calm, composed, confident. A small smirk had taken place on his lips as the realisation that he was gonna have you back in his arms after years had dawned on him. 

His lips hovered over yours, brushing ever so slightly. “Are we still on the no-kissing rule?” he asked, his voice accidentally coming out more restrained than he had intended to show. 

“Fuck that rule,” you murmured, and in a second his lips were on yours desperate, raw, aching for something only you could give him. You tilted your head back, allowing him to deepen the kiss, his hands finding home at the sides of your face.

If you had known that Taehyung kisses like he’s desperate for air sooner, you would have given him the go already back in college. 

"Tae—" you moaned softly, throwing your head back to the wall with a dull thump.

Taehyung groaned, a desperate "oh fuck" leaving his mouth before he latched his lips on your neck, letting his hands explore your body as he best pleased. He pressed his knee between your legs, applying pressure until you gave him space to slip his leg in. 

Your breath hitched, hands grabbing his shoulders through the soft material of his sweatshirt to anchor yourself. Taehyung's knee rubbed back and forth slowly, drawing out moans and whimpers and cries out of your mouth, your body going completely lax under his touch. You felt yourself clench around nothing as he pressed his painfully hard cock to your thigh, soaking what was of the towel and pants that were touching your scorching hot skin. 

Taehyung's fingers clenched around the towel, letting it fall open with a single tug. "Shit, please," he moaned to no one in particular, hooking one hand under your leg and bringing it around his waist. His hips ground against yours, rolling in a painfully slow rhythm. 

Frustration built quickly inside you. You needed more, anything more. Your face scrunched in what was a mix of pain and pleasure, stuttered breaths and broken moans the only sounds echoing in the quiet of the night.

"Tae, Tae... fuck– get on the bed, now."

Nodding, the brunette didn't wait any longer to follow your instruction, dragging you with him. He laid on the bed, sprawled like it was his— but it didn't matter, not when your only thought was getting on top of him and finally get the friction you needed, not even when you noticed the clearly wet mess your needy body had left on his black sweats. 

You couldn't help but let out a loud cry as pleasure finally spiked in your body, soon muffled by Taehyung's fingers slipping in your mouth. "I fucking love your sounds Vel, but we can't risk anything now."

Drool seeped from his fingers as you sucked them, sometimes your mouth going completely lax as a particular pleasurable wave overcame you and left you shaking in need. 

"Vel," groaned Taehyung, his eyes pleading. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep going like this." Leaning with your hands on his toned chest, you let your hips grind deliberately free now, watching with heavy eyelids as Taehyung had to bite his lip in order to contain his sounds, making the plump flesh of his lips bleed. 

"Shit, fuck it," he moaned, and in a second his hands were on your hips, guiding them to rock rhythmically while he thrusted his hips up in sync with yours, his cock throbbing as it leaked more and more sticky precum that covered his thighs and abdomen.

One hand reached for the back of your head, pushing you flush against his body to attack your lips again, tongues dancing together in a kiss that was everything but romantic — messy, bruising, desperate, your mouths swallowing the sounds of the other as you both finally tipped over the edge, shaking and crying out in pure bliss.  

Whimpering, you pulled back from the kiss, leaning your forehead on Taehyung's who was still recovering from his own orgasm, his breath coming out in irregular puffs every now and then. 

His hands sneaked around your waist, hugging you close to his warm body. You basked into his warmth, trying to calm down the shivers running down your body. 

After a moment, when both of you seemed to be a little calmer, Taehyung asked "You alright, Vel?", his hands grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it off him, then ever so gently helping you wear it. 

You nodded, feeling your body relax and melt onto the comfy bed and the warm sweatshirt that smelled of coffee, your eyes dropping closed as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

"I'll pack the rest of your things, you can rest," were the last words you heard before you shut down completely, letting the comforting smell lull you to dreamland. 

4.47 a.m.

Taehyung’s hand laid protectively on your lower back, warmth radiating from his freshly showered body. He nudged you outside your room, his hand an everlasting presence even when he dragged all your suitcases out the door and locked it shut. 

A few doors down the hallway another door opened. There, Jeon Jungkook walked outside his hotel room with a couple of suitcases, the rest of them probably already in the lobby waiting for him. His eyes lit up as he spotted you, but they quickly flickered to your lower back, where Taehyung’s hand was still laying comfortably. It was only for a second, really, the movement of his eyes almost imperceptible, just long enough to let his brain register what he had seen, and then they flickered back up again. 

He stood there for a moment, locked in place as he watched your fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist, squeezing for a brief second to signal him to let go, all while trying to cover it up by wrapping your hand around the handle of one of your suitcases and dragging it towards the doors of the elevator that opened as soon as you had hit the call button.

“Wait– Y/N!”

Jungkook watched frozen in place as you blatantly ignored him, not even sparing him a glance as you got inside with Taehyung and let the doors close. Right in his face.

His stomach clenched in something he could describe only as a mixture of guilt and… anger. Yes, he had fucked up, he shouldn’t have had dismissed your words as something futile, but he was willing to talk it out. And what did you do? Ignore him. Even when you said that you would speak to him after your appointment with the physio you didn’t, and if he was left to feel like shit it was only your fault. 

Not his, never his.

7.28 a.m.

“Quiet, they’re looking for me.”

Jungkook knew that what he was doing wasn’t morally right: not only because having sex was his way of not thinking about things that bothered him – in this case, the blatant way you had been avoiding him for the last 24 hours – but also because he had no fucking clue of what the blonde’s name was. And to top it all, they were hidden inside a “STAFF ONLY” room of the airport, probably filled with cameras, too.

He didn’t care, not as much as he was sure he would once the horny frenzy left his brain, leaving him to rethink all the life choices that led him to this very moment. Right now, all he could focus on was the bruising grip he had on the girl’s hips, guiding her body to meet his thrusts halfway, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as a warning when she got too vocal. He didn’t want to get caught, understandably so. More importantly, he didn’t want to get caught by you. This had to be his dirty little secret, a self indulgent sin that existed only in the moment to just drown out the voices screaming inside his head. 

Jungkook looked at the girl once – hands against the door, her cheek flush against the painted surface, lean body begging for more. Her thick, long hair bounced back with every thrust, every now and then covering what was visible of her already half hidden face. 

Jungkook didn’t do face-to-face positions, especially not with casual hookups he randomly met. They were too intimate, too raw, too real. Definitely not something he would want with some random model or actress or anyone of that sort. 

But this? Having them splayed against a surface, face hidden away from him? This was optimal: no random eye contact, no intimacy, no real people connecting through their actions. Just his body and the girl’s body. Nothing else, nothing more. This was safe. 

The girl whimpered softly, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook groaned as she squeezed him tight, clearly losing a battle against her own body that was tightly tensed in anticipation.

“Want me to touch you?” he rasped, his hand already traveling to her inner thigh. The girl shook her head no, moaning a weak “No need to, I can cum like this.”

Jungkook hummed, slipping his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her body flush against the door. He hummed satisfied as the girl immediately complied, his hand leaving her body to land on the door, right beside hers, the new angle allowing him to push himself deeper and deeper, until each thrust had him buried to the hilt. 

His brows furrowed, lips shut tight in concentration as every muscle in his body locked up. Just a little more, a little more, a little—

Jungkook shuddered, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he came, head thrown back in relief. He stayed like that for a couple seconds, letting his body come back from the… high? Well, kinda. Normally he would feel differently: more relaxed, more blissful, more satisfied. 

But right now? None of those could describe the mediocrity of what he was feeling. Instead, he was left feeling a huge amount of relief. Sexual relief? Probably, but it almost felt like he was relieved that it had ended. 

For the first time, Jeon Jungkook truly felt like he had just emptied his body almost in a mechanical way, just like anyone would feel when emptying their bladder, for example: it was something almost robotic, totally indifferent to the human sphere of emotions, an action done just because it has to happen in order to function correctly. 

Fuck, maybe you were right. 

His throat closed up, forcing Jungkook to cough to try and lessen the knot that had formed. No, you couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Right? 

Of course, of course there had to be one. Jungkook was awfully quiet as he pulled his pants up, fixing his appearance to appear as normal as possible. He gave the girl another look. There had to be something that subconsciously set him off wrong. There had to be.

Only… he couldn’t find what. Objectively speaking, she was hot, and her voice wasn’t annoying nor were her moans fake. She wasn’t too much work, and she seemed to be completely aware that all they had was a quickie, nothing more nothing less, that it probably wouldn’t happen again and that she couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

Truth to be told, she was the perfect hookup partner, probably the best he had had in months.

So, what was wrong exactly…

He sighed, a bitter taste filling his mouth, much like uneasiness had filled his whole system. 

Before he left, he muttered a polite “Thank you,” then crossed the threshold and never looked back again. 

© voitier 2025

series masterpost here

[nymphaea-blue]

"Being appreciated." oneshot

Info : 1.1k+ word count, fluff, possible spelling mistakes, hurt/comfort, supportive Rafayel, reader feels uncomfortable with how they look, reader wears makeup.

Notes : For all my girlies that need a confidence booster right now ❤️

You come back to your apartment after a long day, sighing as you kick off your shoes and head straight towards the couch. 

Work was hard lately, keeping up with deadlines wasn’t easy and that wasn’t even the worst part. Lately, you bought yourself some new clothes and makeup as a little treat for your hard work and you were so excited at first, yet it only took a moment for your mood to sour.

You quickly learned that you didn’t know how to do makeup, you wanted to look pretty but somehow, with makeup you felt even worse. The clothes? You thought they looked nice but your coworkers kept snickering behind your back about how you looked “childish” and it hurt. Probably more than it should have. 

Just as you reached the couch, you felt that you got a new notification on your phone so you checked it out. Luckily, it was from your boyfriend, Rafayel.

“heyy cutie is your work finally over?”

“cutie??”

“miss bodyguard??”

“rude”

“if you don’t answer me soon i will start spamming you with phone calls”

“come home reddie misses you (and his owner too btw)”

Right, you forgot to tell him that your work was running late today.

Just as you were about to respond to him, Rafayel called you and you picked up right away.

“Finally! I was starting to think my miss bodyguard forgot about me again! What took you so long? I could’ve died, you know.”

“I’m so sorry Rafayel, I just had… a hard day.”

Rafayel must have heard how tired you were because his tone softened as he spoke.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just- exhausted, honestly.”

“Get some rest then, lie under a blankie and your wonderful, handsome, thoughtful boyfriend will take care of the rest!”

“... Rafayel, what are you planning?”

“I’m planning to take care of my hardworking cutie partner, duh. So you just rest there and relax, I’ll come pick you up in about ten minutes!”

And he hung up. You should have expected that he wouldn’t let go of it so easily, he always seemed to know when you were feeling especially bad and he each time made sure to do something about it, and despite all his dramatics - you loved him for it. 

So you did as he asked and laid down on the couch, scrolling on your phone as you relaxed under your blanket that he gifted you once. After a while, you heard your doorbell ringing so you went to open the door. There he was, your boyfriend, in his usual white shirt that’s somehow not paint stained yet.

The two of you drove in his car, heading right towards Rafayel studio and his home. The drive there was pretty silent, mostly because you were too tired to really answer. It only took a short while to reach his place, as you got out of the car after Rafayel opened the door for you, you noticed that he was carrying a plastic bag full of something.

“What’s this?” You asked as you pointed at the bag when the both of you entered his home.

“Some snacks, food and other necessary things to cheer my cutie up. I got them on the way to pick you up.”

You felt your eyes tear up at that, he was always so thoughtful, always so gentle with you. 

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that-”

“Yeah I had to, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t try to make my lovely partner feel better? Now come on, lie down on the couch for me.” Rafayel said smoothly as he approached you and you did as he asked.

When he came over, he sat next to you and gently guided your head to his lap and wow, did it feel comfortable. You could honestly fall asleep right there because of how soft and warm he was. But then it got even better as he started to brush your hair with his fingers.

“Now tell me what sits in that pretty head of yours. I’ll listen to everything.” He said with a gentle voice.

And you did just that. You told him about what happened the last view days, about how hard the missions were, how much you missed him.

“Hold up- repeat that for me cutie, they said what now?”

“They said that I looked childish… and I don’t know why it hurt so much but it did. I was really excited for this, I thought I would look good and maybe I would like myself a little more but I just feel even worse now.” You cried out softly as you talked to him. You would feel bad for crying but at this point you knew that Rafayel doesn’t mind it if you are emotional with him.

“That’s nonsense, don’t listen to them. There is nothing wrong with wearing different clothes, they just don’t understand that not everyone likes the same fashion. I bet they are just jealous. In fact, I think that your clothes look very nice on you and you should wear them more often, and my opinion is valid since I know what’s pretty as an artist!”

Despite your tears, you managed to laugh a little at the determined way your boyfriend was trying to cheer you up. Rafayel always got like that when he disagreed with something, but it meant he cared.

“But.. What if they are right? I can’t do my makeup, it looks ugly and I don’t see anyone else wearing similar clothes.” You asked as you sat up a little to look at him properly, tears still running down your cheeks.

“Nuh uh, I won’t hear that from you. Just because others don’t wear it doesn’t mean it’s not valid, it just makes you more extraordinary for being brave enough to be special.” He said as his hand gently touched your cheek before he softly caressed it with his thumb.

“And the makeup? Well, I think you look good with and without it but if you are unhappy, I can teach you a thing or two.”

“You know how to do makeup?”

“Of course I do, it’s not much different from painting. If I can paint an entire sky, then I can do eyeliner too. Cheer up cutie, I don’t like the way tears look on you.”

Rafayel gently guided you to a hug then and you embraced him. He let you cry in his arms for a little longer before eventually he pulled out some snacks, got you a change of clothes and the rest of the day was mostly a mess of food, talking, trying makeup and watching movies with him before you fell asleep in his arms.

Happy, safe, comfortable and appreciated for who you were, and you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

[kyunghwannie]

“White Noise” (Part: 1)

Kim Dahyun x M!Reader

Available in Patreon too (Free and Paid members all can see, no worries lol.)

➤ Genre: Slight Angst / Romance/ Smut (in Pt.2 | This part doesn't have here)

➤ Teaser: You and Dahyun accidentally get locked inside a top-secret “White Room”—a completely soundproof studio used by JYPE’s R&D division to test new acoustic designs. The door auto-locks for 4 hours during internal maintenance tests. No phones. No communication with the outside world. Just complete silence. It’s said to mess with people’s heads if they’re in there too long. But for Dahyun and you… silence makes things louder.

➤ Note: I was just experimenting with concepts hehe. And wassup people. Iam finally back after 2 months. 🥀

The hallway lights flicker faintly as you walk past the secured area beneath JYPE’s main building. You tap your badge, waiting for the scanner to blink green. The door slides open with a sharp hiss.

“Creepy,” a voice chirps behind you. You turn. Dahyun’s standing there with her arms crossed, a curious tilt to her head. She's already ditched her stage heels for comfy slides, her hair loose. “What is this place? Some kind of vault?”

You smirk, motioning her inside. “Kind of. It’s called the White Room. Soundproofed testing lab. Engineers use it to simulate pure silence for audio calibration.”

“Or a very boring episode of Black Mirror,” you say, pulling out the tablet to run a systems check.

Dahyun steps in slowly, her gaze drifting up the stark white walls and seamless panels. “So… like an anti-studio? This is freaky. I feel like I’m in a sci-fi horror movie.”

“Engineers measure vocal decay. Musicians test isolation mixes. I’m just here to supervise the new acoustic software they’re testing.”

She spins in place, arms slightly raised. “So you just… sit here in silence?”

Dahyun walks to the center and claps once. Nothing. No echo. No feedback. The sound just dies in the air. “Whoa.”

You chuckle. “Exactly. It absorbs 99.9% of all sound. Even your breathing sounds weird after a while.”

You raise an eyebrow.

She stares at you, lips slowly forming a grin. “Wanna know something weird?”

“My heart's beating louder than my thoughts right now.”

You blink. Before you can reply, a red light flashes above the only door. Then silence.

A robotic voice echoes once through the system: “SECURE LOCKDOWN ACTIVATED. DOOR SEALED FOR FOUR HOURS.”

Complete silence. Dahyun’s smile fades as she turns to you. “…Was that supposed to happen?”

You slowly lower the tablet. The battery display is dead. No service. No connection. You meet her eyes. “No. It wasn’t.”

She stares at you. You stare back. And in that perfect, pure silence, you both realize: You’re completely alone.

You lean against the wall, the white panels cold through your shirt. Dahyun’s still standing near the center of the room, but now, her shoulders relax a little.

You speak softly, your voice almost unsure if it belongs in a place this silent. “So… what brings you here, Dahyun?”

She turns to you, that soft look in her eyes—the one that only shows when she’s not trying to entertain a camera or carry a stage. “You,” she answers simply.

You blink. Your lips curl just slightly. She’s always been like this with you lately—warm, effortlessly close. It wasn’t always like that.

“I saw you head down here after our recording, and I thought… why not follow?” She shrugs, casually, but her gaze lingers on yours.

But over the past few months, after countless late-night recording sessions, guide vocal practices, and snack runs during long mixing hours, something between you two clicked—not just as idol and manager-producer, but something softer. Something that lingered in the way she’d bump your arm with hers when no one was looking, or how she always waited for you to walk her out of the studio, even if the others had already gone. With TWICE, you were always their comfort. But with Dahyun, you were her… curiosity. Her choice.

“You didn’t have to,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. She steps closer now. Two feet away. One. The silence makes her footsteps feel heavier than they are. “You always wait for us after recordings. Thought it was my turn.”

There’s a pause. You watch her tilt her head gently to the side, eyes studying your expression like a puzzle she’s trying to solve without rushing.

Her scent reaches you first—something clean and subtle. Laundry soap, vanilla lotion, and maybe a hint of iced americano still clinging to her hoodie.

You swallow. She looks around the room again, then back at you. “It’s weird in here… how quiet it is.”

“Yeah. Almost feels like the world doesn’t exist outside.”

She nods slowly, then takes another step forward. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Your shoulder brushes hers. She doesn’t move away. Neither do you. The rising tempo of two hearts choosing not to speak.

Dahyun turns away briefly, eyes scanning the wall where the red emergency lock light still glows faintly. Her brows furrow as if only now realizing what just happened.

“Wait… Four hours?!” You nod slowly, arms crossed as you lean into the wall behind you.

“Yeah. That ‘my heart’s beating louder than my thoughts’ line?” You raise a brow, smirking slightly. “Pretty sure it triggered the vocal sensitivity test. Voice command mode. It's supposed to pick up natural speech and lock in to test acoustic decay.”

She stares at you—mouth slightly open, a flash of panic in her eyes. “So I did this?” “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking mortified, “I just wanted to say something poetic…”

You shrug casually. “I mean, your voice is officially the reason we’re stuck. Congratulations.” You laugh softly. The silence around you swallows even that—making the moment feel surreal. She’s pacing now, her steps echoing through your bones more than your ears.

That’s when you really look at her.

The sterile white walls of the room only make her glow more. Dahyun’s black hair, long and softly curled, cascades over one shoulder like silk. The slight side part frames her face in a way that’s effortlessly mature, almost cinematic under the harsh lighting.

Her fitted white crop tank clings just enough to hint at the gentle curve of her waist. A soft, almost unreadable font is printed across her chest, teasing your eyes even when you try not to linger. The thin straps show off her collarbones, delicate and toned, and the natural gleam of her skin is almost hypnotic—pure, porcelain-like… tofu, just like her nickname. Silver hoop earrings catch a glint of light as she turns. Her thin necklace sways gently with her motion.

“You look really good today,” you say, tone genuine—quiet, but firm enough to carry meaning in a room like this.

She stops mid-step. Turns to you. Her lips part, eyes blinking once… then she gives a breathy laugh, cheeks blooming with color that even the cold light can’t hide.

“W-What?” Her hand instinctively rises to her cheek.

You walk slowly toward her, hands still in your pockets. “I mean it. Hair looks amazing. That outfit’s… dangerously stylish.” You smirk a little. "But the blush kinda completes it"

“Stop,” she says softly, almost giggling. “You’re not allowed to say things like that in here.”

You take one more step. You’re close enough now to see the subtle shimmer in her eyeliner, the way her pink lips part slightly with every quiet breath. “Because I can’t hide my reaction.”

She turns her body slightly, flustered, but her eyes remain locked on yours. “It’s too quiet. I feel like you can hear my skin heat up.”

“I can.”

She doesn’t move. Not away. Not closer. But her expression softens, lips twitching like she wants to say something clever… but all that comes out is a whisper. “This room’s dangerous.”

You nod once. “Only if you’re hiding something.” And from the way she’s looking at you now? She’s not hiding much anymore.

You both settle down slowly—Dahyun perched casually on the low padded platform lining one wall, her legs crossed beneath her, and you a few feet across, leaning back on your palms. The White Room doesn’t echo, but it absorbs sound in a way that makes every word feel like it stays between your lungs and hers.

Time isn’t moving in here.

But the past seems alive in both your voices.

“We’ve been so busy lately,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Recording, meetings, fitting rehearsals… It’s like, no one’s officially said it, but we’re sprinting again.”

“I’ve noticed,” you reply, letting out a light sigh. “I think I’ve listened to the demo for ‘Set Me Free’ more times than I’ve slept this week.”

She laughs, bright and honest. “Sorry about that. I kept re-recording my lines for that one. I thought I sounded flat.”

“You never sound flat,” you say without missing a beat. “You sounded like Dahyun. That’s what makes it work.”

That earns you a small look—quiet thanks glowing in her gaze. “That’s what we wanted,” she murmurs. “We’ve done the cute stuff. The elegant stuff. The safe stuff. This one felt like… we were owning it.”

You continue, shifting your weight a bit as your back presses into the smooth wall behind you. “The whole ‘Ready To Be’ concept is really something though. Mature, open, confident. It’s like TWICE is finally stepping into that stage where you’re not just idols anymore. You’re artists.”

You watch her as she talks—her tone calm but passionate, her hands occasionally gesturing as she describes a scene in the recording booth or a moment during choreography rehearsals. The way she speaks, you can tell she’s proud. And she should be.

“You helped with the vocal direction for the chorus on ‘Got the Thrills,’ right?” she asks suddenly.

You nod. “Mhm. And some of the bridge layering on ‘Wallflower.’ A lot of that was just me and Minji whisper-fighting at 2 a.m. about whether reverb should shimmer or echo.”

“That’s the goal,” you reply. “You sing the dream. I build the cloud under it.”

She smiles again, a private little grin. “I didn’t know you were part of that. That part felt so dreamy when we sang it.”

For a moment, the room settles again. Your words sit between you, soft as mist. Then she asked, “Do you remember the first time we met?”

You chuckle under your breath. “Oh yeah. How could I forget getting smacked in the head by TWICE’s sunshine tofu? You apologized like ten times and offered me half your banana.”

She bursts into laughter, a sound that feels twice as loud in this padded silence. “I swear, I didn’t see you! I was stretching and then BAM—elbow right to your skull. And you ate it, too!”

“It was a very sincere banana,” you say solemnly.

You smile at the memory. That chaotic day, with cables everywhere, girls in sweats and vocal warm-ups filling the room, and Dahyun bouncing around with more energy than the rest of the team combined. And somehow, even in that whirlwind, you saw her. And she saw you.

Her laugh softens, eyes crinkling. “I remember thinking, ‘he’s not like the other producers.’ You didn’t get all stiff or weird about it. You just laughed and asked if you could keep the bruise as a souvenir.”

“I think that was the first time I felt comfortable around someone new so quickly,” she admits. “You didn’t try too hard. You didn’t treat me like glass.”

“Maybe it’s because you almost cracked my skull instead,” you joke, and she nudges you with her foot in protest.

There’s something about this moment—this room—that makes the air feel different. Time drips slowly, your heartbeats almost audible. The White Room was designed to remove distractions. But maybe, that’s what makes her the only thing you notice.

She leans back now, propping herself up on her elbows, face tilted toward the ceiling. “It’s so strange. In here, I don’t feel like an idol. Or a celebrity. Or anything with rules.”

You glance at her, studying the soft rise and fall of her chest, the relaxed curl of her fingers. “You feel like Dahyun.”

“Yeah.” She turns her head toward you. “And you don’t feel like a manager or a producer.”

“What do I feel like?”

She pauses. Looks at you, not with humor this time, but with something rawer—stripped of polish and idol composure. “You feel like… someone I don’t want to stop talking to.” That silence returns again—not awkward, not uncertain. It simply exists, like a bubble you’ve both stepped into together. “Then tell me something else,” she says.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

You smile softly. “Well, we’ve got four hours.”

So you talk. About the time you accidentally called Jeongyeon “JYP” during a feedback session and she didn’t let you live it down for a week. About Mina’s obsession with the demo keyboard’s cat meow sound. About how you secretly think Sana rigs the snack voting results on the group chat polls.

She laughs at all of it. Adds her own stories. Little things. Tiny cracks in the walls of professionalism—moments neither of you ever dared to talk about in open space.

Here, in the room where sound barely echoes, you’re louder to each other than you’ve ever been. Things changes . Not with heat. But something close. Something called possibility.

“HELLO?” Dahyun suddenly yells, cupping her hands around her mouth dramatically. “Testing—testing—can the walls hear me?!” Her voice doesn’t echo. The sound just… dies softly in the padded air, like it never existed at all. “Wow,” she says, blinking in mock awe. “Okay, this is either a billion-won recording room or a really expensive padded cell.”

Dahyun nods gravely, still in character. “I knew it. This is JYPE’s plan to replace our dorms. Lock us in stylish prisons with soundproof despair.”

You let out a small laugh. “Definitely the second one if we stay here long enough.”

“Well,” you shrug playfully, “at least they’d be soundproof. No one would hear Sana stealing midnight cereal again.”

She grins wide, clearly amused by her own dramatic performance, before turning around and lightly tapping her knuckles against the wall. “You ever wonder,” she starts, voice dropping into a mock-spooky whisper, “what if these walls... remember?”

You arch a brow. “Dubu, are you seriously trying to summon ghost acoustics right now?”

“Maybe!” she beams, then immediately goes serious and slaps her cheeks. “No. Focus, Dahyun. No ghosting. Just... talking.”

But then something shifts. Her playfulness slows. A breath slips through her lips, and she walks back over, quietly sitting cross-legged again—closer this time. Not touching, not crowding. Just... closer. And for the first time in minutes, she doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

The silence in the room swells like something alive, but not awkward—more like it’s waiting. She stares ahead for a beat too long before finally speaking again, softer this time. “You know,” she murmurs, “I think I like this place... because it lets things come out that I usually keep buried.”

You glance at her, sensing the sudden shift in her tone. She exhales, as if trying to unclench something that’s lived in her chest for a while.

“I’ve been smiling a lot lately. I mean, I always do. It’s my thing, right?” Her lips tug into a faint, tired smile. “Dahyun—the sunshine. The mood-maker. The one who’s supposed to cheer people up.”

You stay quiet, knowing she isn’t fishing for comfort.

She’s peeling something. “But lately, I’ve been scared,” she confesses. “Scared that... I’m getting older in this industry. That people will stop looking at me with the same light in their eyes. That my voice will be too soft, or my image too tame. That maybe... TWICE moves on and I just fade into white noise.”

The air is too still now. Even your breath feels loud. You shift, not to interrupt, but just to be present. So she knows you’re not pulling away from her words.

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder if I’m actually enough.”

There it is. Soft. Heavy. Raw. Her eyes don’t meet yours now. They stare at the blank wall, like she’s talking to herself but wants you to hear it.

You don’t rush your response. You take your time. Let her know her voice is safe here. Then gently, “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who fills a space just by existing the way you do, Dahyun.”

That gets her attention. Her eyes flick to you, surprised—but not dismissive. You continue, voice calm but firm. “You could be the last to enter a room and still be the first person people feel. And it’s not about your laugh, or your energy, or your idol image. It’s... you. You, when you’re just being.”

Her lips part slightly. “And when you are scared... that’s okay too. It makes you real. Not less.”

There’s a silence again, heavier this time, because now it holds everything she said—and everything you meant. Then… Dahyun breathes in. “You always know how to say things like that.”

“Even when I’m pretending I’m okay. Even when I’m not sure I want anyone to see what’s underneath… you just see it anyway.”

She says it softly, but it lands hard. She doesn’t look away now. She shifts closer, her knee brushing yours. Neither of you moves away.

“Do you know how rare that is?” she whispers. You don’t. You feel it, though.

Her gaze falls on your lips for a brief second before snapping back to your eyes, and now your own heart stirs in your chest like a stirred pot—something simmering that’s no longer just comfort or friendship.

You open your mouth to speak but she beats you to it.

She leans in slightly, not all the way, but just enough to make your skin hyperaware of the space between your mouths. You swear you can feel the warmth of her breath. “You made me feel like I was enough. Just now. And that means more to me than I can explain.”

You blink, throat dry, not from nerves—no, something else. Something awakening. “Dahyun…”

“I’m not trying to make this weird,” she whispers quickly, voice hushed. “I just... I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel it anymore.”

You search her expression. Her eyes are wide—but not afraid. Hopeful. Vulnerable. A beat passes.

You swallow thickly. “Feel what?”

“This.” She presses her palm gently against your chest, right over your heart. Not forcefully. Just... being there. Feeling your heartbeat answer her touch like it was waiting for her hand. “Being with you, even in this white silence,” she says slowly, “feels louder than most of the stages I’ve stood on.”

Your breath stutters.

“You make me feel safe… but also like I’m standing on the edge of something I’ve never tried.”

Your hand finds hers, resting over your chest, and you close your fingers slowly around it. Your voice is low now, almost hoarse. “I know the feeling.”

The contact is soft. But the weight of it? Undeniable.

And suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so white anymore. It feels warm. Colorless but not empty. Quiet, but full of something on the verge of blooming.

You held her hand a few seconds longer than you should have. Her palm, resting against your chest, felt impossibly small and warm. And yet, the intimacy of it—raw, silent, and steady—was almost too much to bear.

Your throat worked around a lump you didn’t know was there. “Dahyun…”

You had to say something. Anything. Because if you didn’t, if the silence stretched even one second longer, you weren’t sure what either of you would do next. So you reached for humor. A shield. A lifeline.

“You know,” you began, forcing a small chuckle into your voice, “when we were designing this white room system, someone actually joked it could turn into a secret idol dating booth.”

Dahyun blinked. You felt her tense very slightly before her brow arched in curiosity. “Wait, what?”

You nodded, backing up just enough to put a breath of space between you. It took effort. “Yeah. The acoustic padding, temperature control, no mics, no cameras, no echoes…” You smirked faintly. “Someone said it was so private, it could probably host the first ever K-pop underground speed-dating event.”

She stared. And then— “PFFT.” Dahyun burst into laughter, body curling in a small reflex of joy as she slapped your arm lightly. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” You leaned back against the wall, smiling. “Our sound engineer actually coined it ‘The Secret Sin Suite’ once during testing. JYP nearly choked on his tea.”

Her laughter spilled out again—light, clean, effortless. You let it wash over you, grateful. Because for a second there, you were sure you were about to kiss her. And not out of impulse or lust—but because the room had suspended everything else. Because she’d reached into something unspoken, and you had almost answered.

You weren’t even sure what stopped you. Maybe it was the way her hand trembled just a little. Maybe it was the knowledge of how complicated this could get. So you stepped back—gently, comically. Masked with ease.

And Dahyun, ever bright, let the laughter carry her for a while. But even as she grinned, you noticed it. A flicker. Small. Subtle. There—just behind her eyes. Not pain. Not frustration. Just... disappointment. The kind you don’t want to admit, even to yourself. And that hit deeper than you expected.

You looked down at your hands, clasped in your lap now. You could still feel the echo of her fingers against your chest, where your heart had thudded loudest. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” you said quietly, a touch of remorse slipping in despite the joke.

Dahyun tilted her head, smile softening. “You didn’t.” You looked up at her. She offered a small shrug, eyes tracing your features like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’ve always known how to make me feel safe,” she said, “even if it means pulling me back from the edge.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what you wanted to say, but she cut in gently. “It’s not a bad thing, Y/N.” Her voice dropped a little. “Just… sometimes I wonder if I could be reckless, even once. And if I’d still feel okay afterward.”

There it was again. That something blooming beneath the surface. Longing, maybe. Freedom? Maybe just a moment of selfishness she rarely lets herself have. You sighed, leaning your head back against the padded wall. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Wanting to do something just because it feels like it’s yours. Not a concept, not a schedule, not a headline. Just... yours.”

Dahyun looked at you for a long moment. “Maybe that’s what this room really is,” she murmured.

You turned to her. “What do you mean?”

“A place where you don’t have to worry about being someone for everyone else.” She smiled faintly. “Just for each other. Even if it’s just for four hours.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because the warmth that filled your chest was starting to lean into something heavier. Something magnetic. And again, you were standing on that invisible edge.

You chuckled under your breath, trying to break the tension. “If we really wanted to go full rom-com cliché, we’d just start playing Truth or Dare or something.”

Dahyun laughed—thankfully. “Please. You’re like the human embodiment of ‘slow burn.’ You’d spend 80% of the movie convincing me not to fall for you.”

You grinned. “That’s better than being the guy who kisses the girl and disappears in Act Two.”

She nodded. “Fair. But maybe I’d rather be in a messy, unscripted one-shot anyway.”

Your eyes met again. And for a second—just a second—you both sat in the static hum of mutual restraint, tangled with awareness.

You didn’t know what would happen next. But the white room didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt like a heartbeat. Like breath against skin. Like something neither of you were ready to name. Yet.

Time slowed in the White Room. That was part of the design—no clocks, no echoes, no distractions. Just you, your breath, your heartbeat, and whoever was in there with you.

And right now, that was Dahyun.

You could feel the shift begin—the atmosphere doing its strange, sterile magic. The kind you and a few others theorized about during development. “Psychological bareness,” someone had called it once. A sensory state that stripped away noise and made people more honest. It sounded like a gimmick back then. But now? It felt real.

Because the moment after your playful banter, silence wrapped around you again—not awkward, not tense. Just... transparent. It was like sitting in a snow globe of truth. Everything you said echoed inside your head instead of the room.

“Okay, okay,” Dahyun suddenly said, pushing her hair behind one ear, her eyes glinting with a smirk. “Truth or Dare, but make it memory edition. We swap funny or embarrassing stories until one of us breaks.”

You laughed. “You mean cries or walks out?”

“Cries. Obviously. No walking out. We’re trapped here, remember?”

“Right. Four hours of hell.”

“You mean heaven.” She leaned her cheek into her palm, grin widening. “With me here?”

You shook your head, playing along. “Yeah, yeah. Sunshine tofu incarnate. Alright, go.”

“Okay…” Her brow furrowed, lips twitching as she searched her memory. “Ah—remember that time we had to record ‘Talk That Talk’ and I totally forgot the lyrics mid-take, so I just made up fake English that sounded sexy?”

You choked. “You mean ‘Touch the cup and fly, baby elevator’?”

“YES.” She collapsed into laughter. “And nobody stopped me for, like, three takes!”

“I was in the booth dying, you know. I thought you were doing some avant-garde remix.” You both laughed until your stomachs hurt.

Then it was your turn. “Alright,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes. “This one’s bad. There was a day I was reviewing your group’s solo tracks for that unreleased unit project. I accidentally left a mic on while praising your vocals… very dramatically.”

Dahyun raised a brow. “Define ‘dramatically.’”

You mimicked your own voice, exaggerated and swooning. “‘Dahyun’s tone is like being kissed by clouds. If clouds had hips. And a master’s degree in emotional control.’”

She shrieked. “WHAT?”

“Minji still brings it up.”

She was wheezing. “You’re never living that down.”

The more you talked, the more the room faded. It was just you and her now. And each laugh peeled away another layer. It didn’t stay entirely innocent, though. Things slipped. As they tend to do when you feel too safe.

“Okay, my turn,” you said. “But be nice. I’m trusting you.”

“Spill it.” You hesitated, but... the room demanded truth. “I haven’t kissed anyone since my last ex.”

Dahyun blinked. “Wait… how long ago was that?”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Six years.”

Silence. Then— “PFFT—six?!” She cackled, nearly doubling over. “No way!”

You groaned. “Why is that so funny?”

“I don’t know!” She was breathless now. “It’s just… you! You’re you! All… warm and responsible and nice—how is no one climbing you like a tree?!”

You squinted at her. “I’ll pretend that wasn’t the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received.”

Still, her laughter wouldn’t stop. “I’m serious!” she giggled. “You mean to tell me, in all this time, not one kiss? Not even a mistake?”

“Nope. And,” you raised a finger dramatically, “Don't dare ask about my sex life”

That did it. Dahyun slapped the floor with a laugh, her whole body vibrating with the force. “STOP!” she wheezed. “I can’t breathe!”

You waited. Then raised a brow. “You’re one to talk.”

Her laughter slowed, replaced by a playful squint. “Excuse me?”

“You’re also pretty conservative,” you said, eyes gleaming now. “Why are you teasing me like you’ve been out here living wild?”

She crossed her arms, clearly pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’ve at least kissed people since my trainee days.”

“Two? "

“Maybe four.”

You grinned. “Wow. Scandalous.”

“Shut up!” she smacked your arm again. “I just don’t believe in wasting energy on someone who doesn’t feel right.”

Her tone sobered a little as she said it. And your smile faded into something softer. “Yeah.” You nodded. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The White Room had returned to its usual magic. No noise. No echo. Just the thrum of two hearts, and the quiet unraveling of guardrails.

Dahyun looked at you again, still amused—but beneath it, her eyes held a new sort of warmth. “You’re kind of a unicorn, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Because I’m rare or because I’m a mythical virgin?”

She burst into laughter again, but this time, it faded faster. “No,” she said, voice suddenly gentle. “Because... you still believe there’s value in waiting.”

You shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just scared of the wrong kind of intimacy.”

Dahyun leaned closer, resting her chin on her knees. “Or maybe,” she whispered, “you’re the only one in this industry who still knows what intimacy really is.”

That caught you off guard. Because she didn’t say it like a compliment. She said it like a confession. Her eyes searched yours for a long moment. And for the first time tonight, you didn’t laugh. You didn’t tease.

You just let the silence hold both of you, like a weighted blanket. There was more to say. There was always more. But tonight, the room didn’t demand it. It only asked that you sit with the truth. And maybe—for now—that was enough.

You let out a dramatic groan and threw your head back. “Ugh, Kim Dahyun, why’d you have to make it weird?”

She burst out laughing again, the sound echoing only inside your chest thanks to the room’s eerie silence. You heard nothing but the breathy rhythm of her joy and the beat of your own pulse hammering in your ears.

“I didn’t make it weird!” she grinned. “You’re the one dropping six-year celibacy bombs and mythical unicorn lines.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one looking at me like I just unlocked a new level of intimacy or something.”

“Because you did!” she pointed at you like a scandalized toddler. “Do you know how rare it is to find a guy who hasn’t kissed anyone in six years? That’s not even rare—that’s endangered!”

You rolled your eyes, but the red rising to your cheeks betrayed you. You pulled your knees up to your chest and turned slightly away from her, hiding behind your hands like a kid caught with a crush. “I should’ve just lied,” you muttered.

“But you didn’t,” she said softly, her teasing tone dropping for a moment. “And that’s what made it sweet.”

You peeked at her between your fingers. She was grinning again. That warm Dahyun grin that always reached her eyes—eyes that crinkled, soft and sunshine-filled, and made you forget the rest of the world existed.

“Still weird,” you grumbled, trying to sound annoyed.

“Oh, for sure,” she agreed cheerfully. “But the kind of weird I like.”

You sighed and dropped your hands with a half-hearted glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I am.” She inched closer on the padded white floor, now sitting cross-legged right beside you. Her shoulder brushed yours, casual but electric in the sterile stillness. “I’m enjoying you,” she added, quieter this time.

Your stomach flipped. You stared at her, but she just kept looking forward, fiddling with her necklace like she hadn’t just thrown a verbal grenade between you both.

The silence didn’t help. The lack of sound made every heartbeat louder. The absence of echo made her presence feel louder. Her nearness felt sharper. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—to diffuse it. But nothing came. She finally turned to you with that impish smile again, tone lightening. “You okay there, unicorn?”

You groaned and flopped sideways onto the floor, covering your face. “Please stop calling me that.”

“Never.” She giggled, laying beside you, staring up at the blank white ceiling.

“Well,” she sighed dramatically, “only three and a half more hours to go. Think we’ll survive without accidentally falling in love or something?”

Your heart stuttered. But you didn’t answer. Because something in her voice sounded too light… and something in your chest felt too heavy to joke back. You just smiled—small, quiet—and let the White Room take the silence again. For now.

You exhaled deeply, eyes flicking up toward the seamless panel of the door. There had to be a way to override the damn thing. Even if it was designed to be foolproof, you were one of the fools who helped build it. So, naturally, you stood up and marched toward the wall with a new sense of purpose.

Dahyun’s gaze followed you, her head tilted in amused curiosity as she rested her chin on her palm. “What are you doing now, MacGyver?”

“Bypassing the lock,” you said with faux confidence, brushing your hands along the edge where the seamless panel met the wall. “This room may be high-tech, but I know its secrets.”

“Do you now?” Her smile widened. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to start talking to the walls like they’re listening.”

You grinned, kneeling by the near-invisible access point, fingers tracing the faint notch. “You’re laughing now, but I helped design this room’s AI interface with Jihoon. There’s a hidden manual override. All I need is to—”

You stopped. Your brain blinked. Dahyun raised a brow. “Don’t tell me.”

You turned slowly to look at her, the color draining from your face. “...Jihoon changed the override code last month.”

She blinked. “Okay… and?”

You gave her a tight-lipped, awkward smile. “And I told him to make sure only he and I could access it.”

Her eyes narrowed with mock suspicion. “...Let me guess.”

You nodded grimly. “I made him program it to only accept his fingerprint and a one-time voice passphrase.”

“And?”

“And we left our phones outside.”

There was a beat of silence. And then Dahyun burst out laughing. She collapsed back on the cushioned floor, wheezing like she had just watched the best comedy of the year. You could only stare, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.

“This isn’t funny,” you grumbled.

“It’s hilarious!” she cackled, kicking her legs lightly against the white floor. “You really locked yourself in a room you designed with no way out?”

“I didn’t lock myself in, you did when you mumbled some poetic crap about your heartbeat activating the system!”

She paused. “That’s fair. But you’re the genius who gave full access to the guy who eats cereal with chopsticks.”

“It keeps the flakes crispy!” you argued, half-heartedly defending Jihoon before sighing and leaning your back against the door.

Dahyun rolled onto her side to face you, still grinning. “Well, at least now we know we’re here for the full ride.”

You nodded slowly, letting your head thud gently against the wall. “Four hours in a memory-erasing room with Kim Dahyun. I mean, could be worse.”

She smirked and playfully tossed a small pillow at you from the center seat. “Careful. I might make you spill more secrets.”

You caught it and threw it right back. “Only if you promise not to laugh at my tragic dating history again.”

“No promises.”

The air between you shifted again. Even after all that teasing, all that banter, there was still a warm hum settling in the space between you. The kind that didn’t echo or fade—just lingered, quiet and charged.

Dahyun sat up, legs folding beneath her, her long black hair cascading like velvet across her shoulder. Her silver hoops caught the sterile white light, and the way her tank top clung to her frame felt almost too intimate for such a bright, neutral place.

You watched her out of the corner of your eye. She was watching you too. “So,” she said softly, “we really can’t get out early, huh?”

You sighed. “Not unless Jihoon breaks protocol, which he won’t. I specifically told him to treat the system like a sacred vow. ‘No interruptions. No overrides unless it’s a real emergency.’”

“And us being stuck together with growing tension and no phones doesn’t count?”

You turned to her slowly. “...Was that your way of saying there’s tension?”

Her lips curved. “You said it first.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “That was implied tension. Yours sounded confirmed.”

She gave a lazy shrug, but there was a spark in her eyes now. Mischievous. Bare. “Maybe the room’s doing what it was meant to. Strip away the noise, the distractions, the outside world…”

Her voice trailed as her eyes fell to the floor between you. Then slowly back up to yours. “...and make it impossible to lie.” You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

The white room held no echo—but somehow, her words felt louder than ever.

You drop beside her like a deflated balloon, shoulders sagging as your pride leaks out your pores. "There. Happy? I'm your prisoner now. Do whatever you want."

Dahyun doesn't even try to hide the satisfaction curling on her lips. She's reclined comfortably, legs stretched out, her hand lazily fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve like she owns this soundless little white cube. "Took you long enough to give in. Didn’t expect the great boss of JYPE to lose to a room."

You let out a dramatic sigh, resting your head back against the smooth white wall. The silence in this place is maddening. Not a single echo. Not even the sound of your heartbeat feels natural. You can hear your every blink.

"Well, this boss forgot his phone," you mutter.

"And forgot he told Jihoon to change the code," she adds smugly, nudging your foot with hers.

"And that too."

She hums, pleased. You glance over at her as she starts playing with the hem of her top, eyes wandering around the blank ceiling.

The room does weird things to your mind. Maybe it’s the sensory deprivation, maybe it’s Dahyun’s calm presence—but you don’t feel the need to fight it anymore. You let yourself breathe. Let your brain unspool for once.

She glances at you again, and her smile softens. "You always act like you're carrying the whole world. Even now, you sat down like a tragic hero."

"A tragic idiot, maybe."

She snorts. Then silence again. But this time, it doesn’t feel pressing. It feels… shared.

You tilt your head sideways and look at her. "So, what now? Gonna interrogate me? Make me sing? Force me to play 'Truth or Dare' with no dares allowed?"

"Nah." She pulls her knees up slightly. "I just want you to relax. I already got you to sit. That’s enough for today."

You sigh again, but this one has less weight. "Why do you always know what I need before I know it myself?"

"Because I actually look at you when you’re not pretending."

That stops your breath for a second. You blink. You think she realizes what she just said too, but she doesn’t take it back. Instead, she hugs her knees and leans her cheek on them, her gaze still on you. "You’re always pretending a little. Even when you smile at us."

You stay quiet. You’ve never felt more seen in your life. The silence doesn't push. It lets you breathe. Let things pass through, like she said.

"It's okay to let go sometimes," she adds softly. "You don’t need to be the strongest one in the room. Especially not with me."

You glance away, heart skipping oddly. "Then what do I do? Just... lie here and obey you?"

"Exactly," she says playfully, stretching like a cat. "Lie down, teddy bear. I'm leading this session now."

You groan, but comply, letting yourself slump sideways onto the floor. You’re close enough to feel her warmth, but not touching. The air between you hums.

"You know," she says, voice lower now, more relaxed, "this might sound weird… but I like seeing this version of you."

"Which version?"

"The one that’s tired but still here. The one that stops fighting when he doesn’t need to fight."

You turn your face toward her. She meets your eyes, and suddenly there’s something thick in the air. Not heavy—just… full. Like something unspoken might bubble up if either of you breathes too deeply.

"And what if I stop fighting for too long?" you ask, quietly.

She shrugs. "Then I’ll fight for you instead."

Your heart clenches—hard. There’s no laughter now. No teasing.

Just two people sitting in a white room, letting things pass through. Letting walls fall that neither of you realized were still up.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself do nothing but be. And she doesn't ask for anything else.

You leaned your head back against the sterile white wall, sighing as Dahyun paced in front of you with that unmistakable smirk she always wore when she knew you were on the ropes.

“You’re trying to score me into one of your rare-kiss club, huh?” you said, voice low and teasing. “One of the few, the proud, the chosen?”

She paused mid-step, her head whipping toward you with a sharp but amused glare. “Excuse me?”

You shrugged, letting your lips twitch into a small smirk as you locked eyes. “You said it earlier yourself. You barely kissed anyone before. So, what? You wanna make me number… what, three? Four?”

Dahyun scoffed, crossing her arms but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I didn’t say barely kissed anyone. I said I was selective.”

“Which in K-pop translation means barely,” you shot back playfully. “Gotta protect the image, right?”

She walked closer, arms still crossed as she loomed over where you sat. “You really think I’m trying to kiss you?”

“I mean…” you raised your brows dramatically, gesturing to the isolated room, the weird tension, the locked doors. “We’re alone. In a white void of emotional exposure. You’re laughing at my lack of experience. I’m feeling weirdly comfortable. If this isn’t a slowburn rom-com episode, I don’t know what is.”

She burst into laughter, slapping your shoulder lightly before sitting down beside you again. “You’re such a loser.”

“A virgin loser,” you added, mock-proud. “But also, emotionally reliable. Very kissable loser, from what I’ve heard.”

Dahyun giggled again, covering her mouth, but she wasn’t denying anything. You turned your head slightly to look at her, catching her side profile—the gentle line of her jaw, the tiny birthmark near her ear, her warm yet mischievous gaze as she stared ahead.

There was a pause. Not awkward. Just present. Comfortable in a way you only get with someone you trust too much. Or not enough.

“So?” you asked. “Would I even qualify for your kiss list? Or do I need to go through some application process?”

She gave you a sideways glance, eyes narrowed. “Hmm… well. You’re not terrible-looking. You make me laugh. You’re emotionally honest. And clearly deprived.”

“I prefer the word: pure.”

“You cried watching ‘Inside Out.’”

“Because Bing Bong deserved better!” you defended, pushing her lightly.

She giggled again, this time leaning back with her palms behind her. Her hoodie sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing her wrists, delicate and pale. She tapped one of her knees idly, then glanced at you.

“But for real,” she said, the air thinning just a bit, “what would you do… if I did kiss you?”

Your smile faltered for a second. You weren’t expecting that turn. Not yet. “…I’d probably combust.”

She snorted. “No, seriously.”

You tilted your head, giving her a more genuine look now. “I’d probably freeze. Then overthink it. Then joke about it. Then wonder what it meant for weeks. Then…” you trailed off, voice softer. “Then I’d probably want it to happen again.”

She looked at you, expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she smiled. “You're hopeless.”

“So you’ve told me.”

Another silence settled, warmer this time. The weird white acoustics of the room made even your light breathing sound loud. Your shoulder was barely grazing hers, but it felt amplified under the sterile lights.

“You know I don’t kiss easily,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“I know.” You nodded. “That’s why I’m teasing. Because if you ever did… I’d know it meant something. Even if it’s tiny. Even if it’s just curiosity.”

She played with her hoodie drawstring, pulling at it slowly. “I think it’s funny… how it’s always the unexpected ones that make you think about stuff.”

“I’m the unexpected one?”

She met your eyes. “You’re the one I never thought I’d talk like this with. Or feel this… weirdly at ease with. Even when you’re being annoying.”

“Aw, Da. You really do like me.”

She groaned, but her cheeks were pink. You both laughed again, the mood lifting slightly.

“You’re not getting a kiss out of me tonight, don’t get your hopes up,” she warned, poking your side.

“So, there’s a chance next time?”

“Ugh.”

You chuckled, then leaned back again beside her. And in the calm silence of that too-white room, your heart beat just a little louder in your chest. You didn’t need a kiss tonight. Not really.

The fact that the thought was possible… that she didn’t say “never”… was enough to keep your smile going for the rest of the night.

[maxestie]

HEY DADDD your lists are so based I need you to do more. Can you relate my top 5 drivers to any fictional character accross...anywhere...(estie,yuki,alex,charles,max)

is this what I'm reduced to, Mitchell? Making lists of millionares who will probably never see thi–

Esteban Ocon as REMUS LUPIN.

LISTEN TO ME. Remus Lupin grew up with a curse; bitten as child, turned werewolf. It's a condition that subjects him to stigma and exclusion throughout his life. Yet rather than letting this bitterness define and deafen him, he continues to fight for what he believes in, quietly finding ways to contribute to the Order of the Phoenix and later, to teach and guide others.

Esteban grew up poor, but still he fought. He fought so, so hard and drove so, so well that his family had enough confidence in him to risk most their financial situation and spend it on him. And it worked. He won a race in a GODDAMN ALPINE for fucks sake. He teaches, he guides, he's guided Ollie multiple times.

Both Lupin and Ocon are insiders enough to understand the system, yet outsiders enough to see its flaws and navigate it so. Lupin lives on the margins of society, tolerated but never fully embraced due to his lycanthropy. He's coined as a freak ehen all he wnats to do is live. Ocon has often been viewed as an outsider in a sport dominated by privilege, money, and legacy names. He's noted as "One of the rudest drivers" When often he's the one pulling shy drivers (Lance) closer in groups to make them feel included :(.

SHIPPING: wolfstar/pierresteban

For Remus and Sirius, their friendship is strained by misunderstandings, separations, and long years of pain. When they reunite, there is love and loyalty, but also an unspoken grief for what was lost.

Esteban and Pierre also share a complicated history. Childhood teammates, then rivals, then teammates again, their relationship has seen its share of friction. There's a sharp taste of blood in their mouths when their relationship turned bitter.

But, just like wolfstar, they always come back. Brazil 2024 happened like Sirius meeting Remus again in the Prisoners or Azkaban, hugging, gripping eachother so tight their knuckles turned white.

hm: deadpool!!

Yuki Tsunoda as KANG SAEBYEOK.

Me and the 5 other yuki fans cheered okay. Saebyeok grew up in North Korea with her father mostly absent due to military. She escaped to South Korea and has felt like the odd one out there ever since; too sharp, too daunting, rude, arrogant...but she's not like this with people she cares about. She's not her anger, and her anger isn't all of her. It's like she was molded by this. With the environment she grew up in, it's only fair to have tough skin.

Yuki was grown from the same vine, cut from the same cloth, fed from the same hand. He, born in a small town of Sagamihara, but pursued a sport dominated and focused on Europeans. Yet, he never dulled himself to fit; he stayed brash and blunt, his rage his armor, while carrying the quiet weight of knowing he needed to prove himself faster than anyone else just to stay.

Both Yuki and Sae‑byeok exist in spaces that were never built for them. They know what it is to be judged at first glance, for their size, their accent, their temper, their origins. Both wear their sharpness on the outside, but beneath it is grief and grit braided together: Yuki fighting to stay in Formula 1, Sae‑byeok fighting through the games for her brother's future and her family's dignity.

SHIPPING: jibyeok/yukierre

Jiyeong and Sae‑byeok, their bond lives in the little moments. An arm slung over a shoulder. A glance that says "I know what you’re feeling, because I feel it too." A willingness to put your own comfort aside because you believe the other deserves more than what the world has handed them.

Jiyeong is someone who feels everything, like Pierre, and Saebyeok is someone who "feels nothing" like Yuki. They both know it's a lie.

Yukierre is not about grand gestures. It’s the way Pierre would stand slightly closer to Yuki in interviews when he got nervous, the way Yuki tried to make Pierre laugh even on bad days. Yuki looks at Pierre and sees someone who made it through the same cruelty he’s now facing (RedBull...). Pierre looks at Yuki and sees someone who deserves the chance to thrive and quietly makes sure he gets it.

hm: wally west

Alex Albon as CHANDLER BING.

Uhh. I was going with Jake Peralta at first but he doesn't have the mommy issues. Anyway.

One of the most prominent traits shared by Chandler and Alex is their use of humor as emotional armor. Chandler’s sarcastic quips often serve to deflect serious conversations and shield him from vulnerability. He rarely allows himself to be earnest, choosing instead to undercut tender moments with comedy. Similarly, Alex employs a dry, self-deprecating sense of humor in media interviews and public appearances. Whether joking about his performance or playfully roasting himself for past races, Alex's light-hearted public persona conceals an overthinking individual for SUREE.

Both Albon and Chandler have been profoundly shaped by early emotional turbulence and familial instability. Chandler's childhood was marked by the dramatic and public divorce of his parents, followed by strained relationships with both. This experience left him with deep-seated fears of abandonment and emotional intimacy. Similarly, Alex's background includes a public family scandal involving his mother's imprisonment, and he has often referenced the instability and pressure he faced during his early years in racing.

SHIPPING: mondler/galex

Monica and Chandler were friends for years before anything romantic developed. Their relationship didn't start with sparks or drama, it evolved through small moments, sleepovers, and emotional intimacy. Their love was as slow as it could burn.

George and Alex met in karting as literal kids. Over years of traveling, racing, and maturing, they built a bond on shared experience and mutual understanding. They weren’t always in the same team or tier, but the connection stayed. It wasn’t flashy; it was foundational. Like chandler and monica, they were always there for each other long before anyone realized how important they’d become. (George and Monica are BOTH control freaks DEFFO)

And it's like?? So perfect?? Friends to lovers for life!!

hm: jake peralta...george is soo amy

Max Verstappen as CHO SANGWOO.

These are two of my hyperfixations so you're in for a LONG LONG LONG yap session. Buckle. The. Fuck. Up.

Cho Sang-woo is introduced to us as the pride of his neighborhood, Seoul National University graduate, once believed to be the one who made it out. Similarly, Max was born into the elite of motorsport. Jos was a former driver, known as much for his talent as his brutal, disciplinarian and ABUSIVE (!!) parenting style.

Max has spoken openly about the intensity of his childhood: how Jos once abandoned him at a gas station after a poor karting performance, how every mistake was met with rage rather than understanding. Just as Sangwoo internalized that failure was unacceptable, so deeply that he’d rather kill himself rather than return home in shame of not gaining any money after playing a death game. Max grew up with the unshakable belief that he must win, not just to succeed, but to deserve love.

Sangwoo's most defining trait is his pragmatism. In the Squid Game, he quickly abandons sentimentality in favor of logic. He betrays Ali, lies to others...but that's not what does when it's just his Gi-hun, right? He doesn't do that when it's his childhood friend, looking at him with the eyes that scream, "You don't need to do this."

The most unfortunate thing about Sangwoo is that he's not evil.

He feels deeply; guilt, shame, regret. But represses all of it until the final moments. His calm demeanor masks internal torment. He doesn't cry until the very end, when he realizes he HAS to do this. He has to kill himself, his best friend or they both walk out with no money. He can’t even apologize properly. He simply carries the weight of his decisions in silence. Max operates more or less the same way. He rarely one to cry in public. He’s not one for emotional speeches. But him after a DNF, he withdraws, sits on his car for no more than 2 seconds in silence.

Sangwoo becomes the "villain" of Squid Game, not because he is evil, but because he is willing to do what others won’t. In a rigged, unforgiving system, he adapts. His ruthlessness isn’t born of sadism; it’s born of fear. Max has also been cast as the "villain" of modern F1. His abrasiveness, refusal to play media, and on-track aggression have led many to label him as arrogant or dangerous.

But like Sang-woo, that label ignores context. Max is not a villain; he is a product of terror, a man built to perform under crushing pressure. He was taught to win by any means. He was never trained to be diplomatic or charming. He was trained to dominate or he wasn't something.

They're both antisocial (kinda autistic coded) as fuck until and unless it's one of their childhood homoerotic connections, no, then they both need to touch, need to grab them. Their love language is definitely physical touch even though it's not words if affirmation. They're not antisocial because they don't feel. They're antisocial because they feel too much, and feeling has always cost them.

Bi kings.

SHIPPING: sangihun/lestappen

Childhood friends from Ssangmundong, gihun and sangwoo share a nostalgic, intimate bond. Gihun looks up to sangwoo, who was "the pride of the neighborhood" for going to SNU. He admires him. In the games, their history becomes both an advantage and a curse, they trust each other deeply, yet that trust becomes fragile when survival is at stake.

Grew up racing each other in karting, forming a bond of mutual respect (and frustration) from a very young age. Interviews show Charles and Max knew each other at 11–12 years old, already racing like bitter rivals (an old married couple!!).

As adults, they’ve matured into enemies and yet… they smile at each other too easily, know each other too well, and push each other too hard.

Gihun never stops mourning sangwoo. He never touches the money. He dyes his hair red, unable to reconcile the pain. He walks away from the plane. He’s haunted by a love he can’t name.

After the title fights, Charles still talks about Max with respect. When Max wins, Charles smiles. When Charles wins, Max hugs him (Monaco 24 can you hear me Monaco 24...)

They circle each other like satellites. There’s still something there.

hm: DEXTER. and Charles as Rita :(

everybody knows the best picture of your ship is a low quality one taken when they're gripping eachother for life.

Charles Leclerc as SEONG GIHUN (456).

Charles Leclerc lost his godfather Jules in 2015, followed by his father in 2017. He drove his first F2 win the day after his father died, a feat laced with emotional devastation. Every victory carries a shadow, he wins for them, despite them not being there. Gihun, too, is shaped by grief. He has lost his job, his pride, his marriage, and most painfully, his relationship with his daughter. His mother dies while he is away in the games, underscoring his powerlessness and how deeply he’s failed those he loved.

Empathy doesn’t win; not immediately. Gihun survives only by killing one person and even then, it breaks him. Charles’s goodness often gets trampled by strategic errors, betrayals, and team failures.

Gihun looks harmless, but he is emotionally intelligent and incredibly strategic when he needs to be (e.g., in the marble game or when he refuses to kill Sang-woo). His final act, to not spend the prize money until he can make something good out of it shows his depth.

Charles lashes outwhen he's been messed with. When he does, it comes from deep betrayal. He is calm, but not passive. He’s dignified, not docile.

SHIPPING: sangihun/lestappen

yapped in max's section! (I'm only doing s1 bc of sangwoo)

hm: luke skywalker

Thank you for another yapping ask though Mitchell. IM SORRY FOR ALLLL THE OTHER ASKS IN MY INBOX I WAS SITTING ON THIS ONE FOR SOO LONG. IDK IF THIS IS ACCURATE

[noxiatoxia]

How To: Spot a Danganronpa (2) Beta Sprite

Hi! I'm unsure how many people are as interested in this as I am, but I wanted to write a little guide for people curious if a piece of merch or promotional material they come acrossーor some other in-game assetーis actually using a beta sprite.

For clarity, this guide focuses on SDR2 in particular. DR1 beta sprites undergo a much different process, as do V3's (from what I can gather). I focus primarily on SDR2 as it is the game whose characters' beta sprites are reused the most, and are also the most readily identifiable.

Simply put, there's actually a very easy way to tell, and that is: line weight.

Let's look at some examples, and in the best places to spot when looking for beta sprites.

1: Hands

Hands, as long as they're integral to the sprite, are a magnificent place to start. Below are two sprites of Komaeda: The final version from SDR2, and the beta mistakenly reused in DRS.

There's multiple differences between these two, but there's one really obvious one: Komaeda's hand.

The finished SDR2 version has much finer detail in the palm. The line weight is thin, while in the beta version, the line weight is thick with little pen pressure.

This can be seen for many characters. Take these two photos of Koizumi, one the final sprite and one the beta:

As you can see, the final version has much more detail to the hand with varying line weight. The beta version has 0 line weight differences, and little detail.

There are more differences between the two than just this, but this is the quickest way to tell.

Now, please be wary this isn't always true. For example: here is a beta mistakenly used for Komaeda's UTDP card, compared to the final SDR2 sprite:

These sprites are indeed different, but the hands are the same. So while this is a very handy (heh) trick, please do not use it as the end-all be-all...which leads into the second thing to look out for, and how we can easily identify this particular example.

2: Ears

While the hands might be the same, look at Komaeda's ear.

Not only is the line weight completely different, there are also clear detail differences. For example, there is almost no detail to the upper inner ear (above the strand of hair) in the beta sprite, while the final sprite does have detail.

Similar are these two sprites, first the final from SDR2 and an earlier beta used in DRS.

Both look very similar, but the most noticeable difference is Komaeda's ear.

Though small, you can clearly see line art differences in the top part of Komaeda's ear.

3: Hair

What if both hands and ears are out of the question? Well, a very big one is the details in the hair. Depending on the character and how early the sprite is, hair is either the easiest way to tell if it is a beta right off the bat, or virtually useless.

Nevertheless, it's as I laid out earlier: beta sprites lack line weight. So, if you see a sprite that lacks line weight in its hair, take note of it. Let me show an example.

Below is the final sprite of Nanami used in SDR2, and next to it is an official piece of merch that mistakenly used a beta sprite.

Do you already see the differences?

Where the lines are supposed to tapper off in thickness to create a sharp edge, the beta sprite lacks this, and instead the line simply ends bluntly.

This can be seen in an Owari sprite, too.

Although, what's interesting about this particular Owari beta is the lack of texture that all Danganronpa sprites usually have. Her beta sprite here is the only time I've seen this happen, though.

The conclusion: beta sprites lack normal line-weight variation, so try looking for spots that would normally require sharper lines such as the ears, hands, and hair.

Sometimes, however, there will be outlier cases. Maybe only the line art of the eyes changed, or they added a button to the character's shirt. But in most cases, using this trick will help you spot a beta sprite.

But, please try looking! If you ever see a sprite on a piece of merch, promotional material, or any other official source, try looking for these little differences. They still happen to this day!

Just today, as of posting this, dangan_official released this tweet:

...With a beta Monomi hiding in plain sight:

Shading differences are actually pretty rare in most sprites, even betas -> finals. But this Monomi sprite has several differences to the final SDR2 sprite in its shading, where many spots were erased for the final sprite.

This is the same beta Monomi sprite that was misused for UTDP, most likely.

I hope you all find this interesting/informative. And please let me know if you ever come across one yourself!

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

Hey.

...So ending 7 huh. - Forget-me-not?

Two and a Half Studios how could you do this to us.

[lokissweater]

a good man

{bodyguard!kento nanami x rich girl f!reader}

summary: kento nanami has been your appointed bodyguard since the age of nineteen. his poised, calm, respectable mannerisms having you falling to your knees over him as he was completely different than any of the other boys in your life… for he was a man— taking care of your rowdy party girl behaviors and guiding you with the best advice and judgement he could possibly muster, and you loved him, gutted over the fact that he possibly only thought of you as a spoiled little brat who was useless and incompetent, as a client, and you wanting to be more than just that to him… except you were. for kento had already fallen over his knees for you.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, BRATTY AFFF RICH GIRL SPOILED READER she’s a little baddie o yes, LOWKEEEYYY brat tamer kento MEEOOOWWW, FLUUFFF GALLOOREE!!, slight angst!!, kento is SOOO SOOFTTT AND A LIL GENTLEMAANN, blowjob YUM, oral m receiving, mentions of doing the sex, deep throating, SEDUCTIVE AF READER BRO, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sexual themes, kento is older than reader by three years, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 20.3k (i yap i fear)

authors note: I NEED A FUCKING MAN !!!! LIKE KENTO !!! RAAAAHDVSJSBSJSJ this BEAUTIFUL precious concept was a blend and mixy of multiple requests i got for sir nanami blended into one!! :,)) i hope i did you guys justice to those who requested and sent in ideas my loves !!! <3333 AND I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE ITTT JUST AS MUCH AS I DOOO AAHHH !!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SOOO MUCHHH MWAAHHH !! <3333

“please don’t do that.”

you were undoubtedly the most defiant, stubborn girl kento had ever met.

“and why not?” you pouted. “it’s just for a little bit… and i can’t leave my friend hanging when she’s dealing with such a crisis! she needs my help.”

“your help.” kento repeated. “she needs your help going to a party…. at one in the morning.”

“it’s not a party it’s a small gathering—”

“y/n the hour is ungodly right now…” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “i don’t believe this is very wise.”

you finished applying your blush and stepped back from your large vanity, quickly placing your brush back in it’s holder and grabbing your bottle of perfume, spritzing it.

“it’s fine ken!” you looked up and smiled. “i’ll just be gone for a little while i’ll be back before—”

“i’m sorry—” he held a palm up. “you’ll just be gone? darling, you realize i have to go with you.”

“but whyyy?” you mumbled, slouching dramatically and chucking your perfume bottle on your bed. “two hours! just give me two hours i promise i’ll be back—”

“i’m afraid not.”

“whyyyy!” you whined again, and kento only looked at you with a straight stoic face.

“because it’s my job to go with you and you know that.”

and you’d always been defiant and stubborn, kento having known you since you were a little girl as both his and your father were family friends for years, your upbringing a little different from his as your father was exponentially wealthy and owned various companies and properties, his parents just so happening to work for him and gain special bonds and camaraderie over the time of your growing lives.

though kento was only three years older than you— the gap nothing notable or too drastic, it sure as hell felt like it with how bratty and rebellious you were sometimes on a day to day basis that he had to bare witness of since the age of fourteen.

so why kento thought of you so much when you were the epitome of a spoiled princess… was a little unclear to him.

or maybe he did know exactly why— the reasoning transparently clear, to a fucking T actually… yet his pride and the oath he had set with your father the minute kento started pursuing his desired career after high school, hindered him from ever admitting anything to anyone. especially you.

and because he constantly ignored the way he felt, he was regrettably perplexed every time he was around you— which was literally every single second of every waking day since the moment he received his protection licensing… for kento was your bodyguard, hired by your father who saw his interests in technical protection training, and trusted no other man around his daughter other than kento himself, encouraging him to pursue it as a career in the promise that he would guarantee him a position— one with a pay that would have him set for the rest of his life so long as his precious little daughter was happy and safe.

and kento took the offer without so even as a twitch in his serious expression for two reasons.

the first was the obvious, to solidify proper employment for himself in the career that he’d always paid particular interest in ever since he was a kid— to make a man out of himself and work under prestigious and professional levels of security with someone, your father, who’s orders of authority were equivalent to a president, and a man he admired like no other and dreamed of owning a business that was as fruitful as his.

and the other… was to keep an eye on you.

you were reckless, bratty, naive, troublesome, silly, and never took absolutely anything seriously— all things that worried kento to no end anytime you so even managed to slip from his sharp attentive line of sight since the both of you were young.

and you escaping him happened a little more often than he’d like to admit.

like now.

“y/n—”

kento sharply turned upon hearing your snickering little giggles zooming past him and trailing from down the hall already, him swiftly retrieving his blazer that he had previously set on one of your lounge chairs and settling it over his arm, long and hasty steps striding out of your bedroom and down the hall, him peaking in several dark open doors and hallways of your ginormous mansion of a home on his way— the clicking of your heels and you still giggling serving as a guide for him to find you.

he sighed.

“darling, this isn’t going to change the fact that i still have to accompany you—”

kento rounded the corner and entered one of the many lounge area rooms your father used for business meetings and partnerships, your little head poking out from behind one of the large sofas with a disgruntled pouty look.

“says who?”

“says me.” he took the blazer from his arm and extended it, shaking it out a little and preparing to put it on. “and your father.”

you let out a tiny grumble, getting up off your knees and standing.

“but don’t you wanna go to sleep ken?”

“very much so.”

“so then go! i’m giving you permission heh!” you chirped, sending him a striking smile. “i won’t tell my father! or anyone! you deserve a good nights rest—”

“i’m going with you and that’s final.”

you threw your head back and groaned in frustration, kento finding your tantrum a little amusing as he chuckled and shrugged on his blazer.

“you want to go to this event, yes?”

you funnily slugged on over to his side with dragging steps, eyes to the floor. 

“mhm…”

“so then enough fighting and let’s go.” he stepped to the side and gently ushered you forward. “i’d like to be back before your father wakes up.”

you walked forward and out of the lounge room, the both of you beginning your journey down the hall and towards the grand staircase, kento following behind you as you still internally huffed and puffed about him coming along.

your refutes to kento joining you weren’t because you didn’t like him or anything like that… it was quite the opposite actually.

you were obsessed with that man.

“you scare my friends you know…”

the side of his lip quirked.

“do i?”

“mhm.”

“how so sweetheart?”

“i think it’s your face.” you turned your head around and looked behind you as you walked, hands wringing behind your back with a cute grin. “it’s so serious. and it might be because you’re always staring them down whenever they hang out with me.”

kento calmly walked ahead of you and stepped down a few steps, his hand automatically coming up to assist you and you taking it as you carefully descended down the steps, a gentle act he always did for you.

he pursed his lips. 

“i’m simply doing my job… but i suppose i could lay off a bit.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay ken! i agree. they just don’t know you like i do.”

ever since you practically met him you were obsessed— him being the most poised and respectful piece of hunk to ever grace your life, as kento was so unbelievably different from all of the other straight up boys in your life that deemed themselves to be men, when in reality they didn’t even come close to that whatsoever.

kento nanami was the definition of a man.

and out of everything that you’ve ever received on a silver platter with zero hesitation since technically birth… you wanted him the most.

except you were convinced he wasn’t obsessed with you like you were with him.

because the second kento became your bodyguard at the age of literal nineteen, there wasn’t ever a moment that you remember where he wasn’t with you and pulled to your side like a magnet— guarding and watching your every move and making sure that you were out of harms way no matter what, all things that were automatic and essentially part of the job description.

but you feared that it was just that.

that kento didn’t view you the way you viewed him… that you were just a client to him and that the reason he was always around was because he had to be, and not because he wanted to.

you feared that kento only saw you as some helpless spoiled girl who couldn’t do anything for herself and therefore always needed guidance, and you also feared that because he’d known you since you were little and became your bodyguard when you were sixteen, that he still saw you as a sixteen year old and not the full grown woman that you were now.

the thought was mortifying to you.

and you wondered if kento had ever thought about you as something more than just— a client? maybe.. maybe as a lover?

did he at least view you as a friend?

but more importantly, if he wasn’t your bodyguard… would he stay? 

kento assisted you down to the very last step as you shook away your thoughts, the both of you making your way out through the front glass double doors and over to his car in the open driveway, a sleek and shiny black luxury SUV that you always preferred to sit in rather than your own vehicle as his little passenger princess— always and forever and at times putting up a fight when your father would make you drive instead of kento, spouting some nonsense about how he didn’t want you to forget how to drive and become an incompetent girl.

and you’d each time just scoff and roll your eyes— your father always looking for ways to jab scoldings at you and fuss over every choice you’d make regardless of how big or small it was, believing you to be an incompetent girl anyways and you choosing to ignore him and scowl as you moved behind kento’s big buff frame to hide, him knowing to take over and speak for you whenever you did, as your father listened to him better than he did you ever since you were young.

kento in a way also scolded you often and fussed over your choices… but he was gentle. never raising his voice at you or overstepping any boundaries that made you feel like you were stupid and incapable of things, him always giving you the chance to fix it or refute with an open mind and heart to hear you out… and you loved kento. that was a given.

and your dramatic self deemed that the day kento yelled at you for the first time for whatever reason— was the day that you died.

kento smoothly smiled over what you said with closed lips and opened the car door for you, you getting in and pinching the skirt of your flowy mesh dress to readjust once you were seated, straightening it up over your legs as he rounded over and got in the drivers seat.

“i know a way you can lay off a bit so you don’t scare off my friends tonight ken!”

he started the engine and flickered on the high beams, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness ahead of you.

“and that is..?”

you grinned and leaned over the center console, placing your elbow on it and propping your chin up with your palm, him looking at you expectantly.

so handsome.

“why don’t you stare at me instead of staring at them!”

kento breathed in as he looked away, steering around and out of the driveway while your close proximity and sweet expensive perfume wafted all around him— filling up his every system with everything that was wonderfully you as he tried hard not to let it show.

“i believe i already do just that.” he spoke. “it’s my job to watch you darling.”

“okay then watch me harder.”

he blinked, your wording somehow twinging a sense of provocativeness when it wasn’t anything like that at all, and he wanted to wash his brain out with holy water for thinking of something inappropriate like that with you.

but you leaned even closer, lips by his ear as he turned the steering wheel to make an easy left.

“you’re supposed to have eyes only for me right?”

kento swallowed.

“i’m supposed to have eyes everywhere.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back a bit. “okay… but maybe for tonight, just me!”

“i’m afraid if it’s just you i won’t be able to watch for any other signs of abnormality—”

“oh my god booo!” you huffed and plopped back down in your seat, arms crossing as you stared ahead. “you’re no fun…”

kento chuckled and lifted his arm, patting your head and you blushing before he placed his hand back on the gear shift, the only thing on your mind now was how much you wanted to stuff his big fingers in your mouth—

“the event is still the one on melrose street, correct?”

your eyes snapped in his direction. “huh? oh yes! yes it is.”

he pursed his lips, an uncertain look on his face as you faltered and furrowed your brows.

“what ken? what’s wrong?”

“is it the same host and organization as last time?”

“umm…” you pulled your phone out from your purse and scrolled to the initial invite you had received through a friend, perfectly manicured nails tapping away. “uh huh! i’m pretty sure… how come?”

“i don’t think it’d be very wise to go… you got extremely inebriated the last time we went.”

you snorted and waved him off. “that’s because it was my friends birthday ken. i was celebrating!”

“you barfed in a bush as soon as we got home.”

“part of the experience!”

kento shook his head and sighed through his nose, a small smile on his face as he peaked over at you from the side.

“rowdy little girl.”

little girl.

and you felt an unpleasant tug at your heart, you pursing your lips and wanting to defy what he called you.

“i was fine after though, was i not?”

you suddenly grabbed his hand and dropped it down on your exposed thigh, his rough hand making contact with your skin as he accidentally jerked the steering wheel and looked at you with bewildered eyes, you only throwing your head back and laughing.

“what?” you spoke in between giggles. “i’m cold! and your hand’s so warm—”

“honey—”

“your job is to take care of me right?” you sweetly smiled, and he felt a flutter of familiar yet confusing affection swirl up in his chest at the sight. “and you’re doing just that!”

kento cleared his throat and nodded, hand staying on your thigh and you giddy on the inside as he held it.

“just know that i have a blanket in the back in case my hand doesn’t suffice.” he mentioned, pulling up to a gated community. “the weather is a bit colder these days.”

your eyes softened, staring at the side of his chiseled jaw and face as he exchanged a few words with the security guard at the front, flashing his ID before the guard gave him the all clear and muttered something over his walkie talkie, the gates slowing sliding open as a result.

“why do you have a blanket in the back ken?” you asked softly and looked down, the tip of your index finger tracing over the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

“for you.” he replied. “you get cold frequently.”

you grinned.

“awww you remembered!—”

you unbuckled your seatbelt, jumped up from your seat, and flung your arms around his neck and practically stuffed his cheek up against your chest as you gushed, kento’s eyes blinking wide eyed and cheeks fucking flaring as he tried to keep steady hands on the wheel and not swerve into the garbage bins in front of the designated mansion, music already blaring through and seeping through the vents of the car as he fumbled to shift the gear into park— stiffening the hell out of his neck and not daring to turn his head even the slightest in your direction in fear of facing your breasts head on.

“i— i appreciate the sentiment sweetheart—”

you pulled back a tiny bit, your arms still tightly locked around his neck but giving him enough space to turn his head to look up at you now, your twinkling hyper eyes shining even through the darkness of the car, kento almost forgetting about the close proximity between the two of you entirely, and also almost forgetting about how this was— regrettably… considered to be inappropriate.

he was your bodyguard, he was supposed to protect you, not think about the way your perfect smile right now was so incredibly soul crushing and doing it in just the right way too— suffocating his entire being as he tried hard again, in real time, to kick those disrespectful thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on what he was meant to be doing and thinking… all of which pertained to his guidance for you, and your safety, most of all.

but you were beautiful. 

there was no denying that.

“you know me best out of anyone ken.”

and he did. he truly truly did.

but to kento, you were that forbidden fruit, cast away up into the highest of branches and dangling off of the tallest most unreachable tree of all— glimmering against the sun, magnificent… waiting to be picked by the person who dared to and claim it as their own without a single worry of the troubles that came with ravishing it.

but claiming and ravishing that forbidden fruit definitely came with it’s dire consequences, and kento nanami was an honorable man. 

if he were to give in to his pulsing desires for you, desires that he couldn’t even exactly make sense of as he continued to manifest total and utter blockage in his mind to prevent those thoughts from seeping through, not only would he deal with the embarrassing repercussions with your father— his boss, but inevitably drag you down with him too, as he knew your father has always been rather harsh with you.

and you didn’t deserve to be dragged down just because he couldn’t control his emotions.

you frowned, tilting your head as you assessed kento’s strange far off look.

“ken?” you asked. “kenny ken?”

“eh?” he blinked rapidly. “oh i’m sorry y/n. i was… thinking.”

“thinking?” 

you let him go and sat back in your seat, the warmth from your arms dissipating and the goosebumps around his neck prominent now by the chilliness of the car.

“thinking about what?” you quipped, smiling again. “about meee?”

night and day.

“i’m afraid not.” he switched off the ignition and held the keys in his hand. “more about how you should be at home and in bed and most definitely not here.”

you pouted, slumping in your seat as you watched him get out of the car and walk over to your side, opening your door for you and offering a hand for you to take.

“but ken i’m helping a friend.” you took his hand and carefully stepped out, him closing the door behind you as you began walking up the sidewalk with kento following close behind you, the car beeping and flashing its lights to signify he had locked it.

“honey, your friend is a grown woman.” you both walked up the steps and continued down the long wide driveway, other guests traveling alongside you towards the mansion. “she doesn’t need moral support from you to attend an event.”

“yeah and i don’t need a bodyguard for every little thing i do, do i?” you countered, slowing down your steps a little and nudging your shoulder with his. “hm?”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“actually, you do.”

you scoffed. “no i do not.”

the two of you entered through the grand entrance— doors already open and with a set of security guards on each side as you passed them, kento’s already alert senses amplified now that you both were in an unpredictable loud environment such as this, and with way too many people for kento to keep track of besides yourself as he scanned the area, ticking the usual and automatic tiny boxes in his head that indicated the area was alright for the time being.

“if my friend is such a grown woman, then so am i!” you yelled over the music as you walked through the mansion to get to the pool area outside, passing by several caterers and butlers with small appetizer dishes on silver trays or champagne glasses, you taking one as your gaze switched between person to person to see if you could try and find anyone you recognized.

kento shook his head a little.

contrary to your popular belief, you never acted like a grown woman sometimes— constantly rebellious and spontaneous with no hesitations to do anything remotely reckless… and that worried him to absolutely no end as he was living in constant stress over something happening to you— something that he could easily prevent and steer you away from because that’s what he was fucking there for.

but you were always against it, and he didn’t know why when it was simply just protection.

upon entering the pool area, your eyes lit up at the rowdy scene before you— party guests jumping into the pool in full fledged clothing or throwing each other in, the bar at the end of the backyard lively and busy with multiple individuals already drunk off of their minds as they clumsily passed by you and nearly tumbled you over, kento each time quick to grab your shoulders and gently pull you away so they’d just about miss you and continue on.

and the minute he caught sight of your group of friends off to the side of the bubbling jacuzzi right before you did, every single one of them already inebriated and rambunctious, he knew he was in for a night of chasing you around and getting you to sober up a little to refrain yourself from running across the lawn in only your undergarments like the last party you both attended.

“y/n! hi!” one of your friends slightly slurred, the one with the ‘crisis’, reaching behind her to grab a red solo cup of god knows what and passing it to you. “here! i just got some from the kitchen!”

“what is it?” you laughed, on the verge of placing the brim to your lips when kento suddenly nudged you, gently prying it away from your fingers and lifting it up to his nose for inspection, you playfully rolling your eyes as you turned back to your friend.

“dunno!” she shrugged, flashing you a wobbly grin. “it’s a mix of tequila aaanddd… cranberry tonic! yeah!”

“smells awfully strong.” kento muttered in your ear, passing the cup back to you. “just moderate your intake.”

“okay dad.” you mocked, the little side smile on your face never failing to deactivate any further scoldings from him about how you shouldn’t drink that mix and maybe get something else, him deciding to just let you have fun regardless of the work he was about to be put through… as it was hard for kento to say no to you at times anyways.

you brought the rim back to your lips and took a sip, your face immediately scrunching up and gagging.

“the fuck is this?” you placed a hand over your mouth. “tastes nothing like cranberry and just straight vodka—”

you ended up drinking the entire cup and two more fills after that, kento each time gently advising you not to and that you’d had enough, but you only pouting and bratty and defying him with every attempt he made at pulling the drink away from you, a water bottle in hand that he’d snagged from one of the coolers as he swiftly moved through the twists and turns of the crowd to stay caught up with you, a skill he was an expert at at this point considering how often you disappeared from his line of sight.

“sweetheart please—” kento caught you by the waist just as you were about to literally jump in the pool, you giggling and hiccuping as he dragged you away. “let’s take a seat for a moment alright? you need to drink water.” 

“what i need is a teeny weeny kiss from you ken!”

he faltered, eyes dropping to the ground as he continued to half drag and half carry your body to a nearby table away from the commotion by the pool, setting you down on a chair.

“you need water.” he pushed as he knelt down on a knee in front of you, unscrewing the cap. “and i’m forbidding you from attending any events like this for a month.”

“a month?!” you whined, head dramatically falling back in desperation. “but why? what did i do?!”

“i told you to moderate your intake.” he gently grabbed your jaw and brought the water bottle to your lips, carefully holding it up for you to drink. “you were just about to jump in the pool darling and ruin your dress.”

lowering the bottle, your cheeks cutely puffed up with water as you shook your head side to side.

you swallowed. “lies. i was simply walking!”

he fixed the strap of your dress that was halfway sliding off, pulling it back over your shoulder.

“yes into the pool.” he brought the water bottle back to your lips and you drank some more before he lowered it again. “you need to be more careful y/n.”

you pouted. “are you mad at me ken?”

“not mad just quite stressed—”

“pull my dress up and spank me then.”

kento slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head, cheeks buzzing pink at your ludicrous statement.

“don’t say things like that honey.”

“and why not?” you tilted your head, pearly white teeth glimmering against the warm lights of the backyard as he dropped his hand. “thought you loved me.”

“please sober up.” he breathed out exhaustedly, heart hammering against his fucking chest as he made you drink water again. “before you say something silly again—”

you abruptly pulled back and a few droplets of water dribbled down your chin, kento quick to grab the handkerchief in his suit to pat you dry as you narrowed your eyes.

“you think loving me is silly?” you muttered, a little slur at the end of your sentence.

“of course not darling.” he spoke softly, placing the handkerchief down on the table behind you. “the other thing you said was silly—”

“what— spanking me?” you lit up again. “but it’s hot. and i want it. you should do it once we get to the car—”

kento slapped a hand over your mouth this time, wide frantic eyes looking around to see if anyone had heard your loud lewd blabbering, his face absolutely fucking red at this point as he tried not to vividly imagine what you had just said… and pathetically failing at it too.

“enough. we’re going home. you have brunch with the monroe’s tomorrow.”

“nuh uh!”

you pulled his hand away from your mouth and gripped the edges of your chair, trying to cement yourself to it as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled and tugged, you laughing when he’d manage to of course— lift you up… but the chair along with it as well.

“let go please.”

“nope!”

“i said let go y/n.”

“if you give me a kiss!”

kento put you back down and sighed.

“you are unbelievably inebriated.”

“and you are unbelievably handsome.” you cheesed as you got closer, your nose brushing against his and kento’s breath catching in his throat, stiffening up.

“darling you don’t know what you’re saying—”

“yes i do.” you spoke, endearingly nudging your nose softly with his and kento’s eyes warming at the act. “you’re gods favorite.”

hopeless hopeless girl…

his eyes sinfully flickered down to your pretty lips, plushy and delightful as they perfectly stretched in such a way to form a striking smile that always sent men to their knees wherever you both went, him baring witness to it all as your bodyguard… and him included— falling to his knees over you.

for kento was just as hopeless as you.

but he was better at ignoring it until it became this puzzling blur in his brain that confused the ever living shit out of him.

“let’s go home.”

his breath fanned against your lips and you softly shook your head.

“kiss me then we’ll go.”

kento’s forehead fell against yours, eyes closing in borderline pain as his big hands came up to cup your cheeks, your own eyes loopily widening with overactive exciting thoughts over what was about to transpire.

if he was about to kiss you… could this mean he didn’t view you as just a client? as a little girl? but a woman?

was he considering it? did you have a chance? was he actually about to fucking kiss you?—

kento sharply breathed in and turned your head slightly to the side, planting his lips hard on your cheek and him unmoving for a moment, you still wide eyed and shocked as your cheek mushed up against the force of his mouth.

he pulled back with a smack! and stood, hand extending out for you to take.

“ready now?”

your fingers slowly came up to the side of your face in a complete daze, because though it wasn’t a full blown kiss, the linger of his lips was still there even after the gesture was long over, your little cheek tingling and warm.

you nodded, taking his hand and attempting to stand but reeling over as you did, your head in complete drunken disarray as kento’s arms quickly shot out and caught you from falling face first on the ground.

“i can’t—” you giggled, hiccuping between each laugh. “i can’t walk ken. and my feet hurt.”

“i’m aware.” he sighed, sitting you back down on the chair and kneeling again, grabbing your ankle.

“what are you doing?” you asked, watching the way he propped up your foot and tugged at the clasp on your heels, carefully sliding it off and beginning to do the same with the other.

“you’re in pain, yes?” he slipped your other heel off and stood, placing your heels on a nearby table before positioning himself next to you, sliding a hand under your knees. “put your arms around my neck sweetheart.”

you did as told, your little heart singing happy drunken tunes over him being such a gentleman and taking care of you in the way that he was, you knowing in the morning you’d regret it and be embarrassed, but choosing to bask in the moment for the meantime and deal with the horrific hungover consequences later.

kento easily lifted you with only one fucking arm supporting you under your knees as you held on, his other hand grabbing your heels before weaving through the other tables and venturing out of the pool area, everybody else too inebriated to care or notice some big bulky man carrying you out through the backyard and inside the mansion, your head resting against his chest.

“are you alright?” he asked, taking a quick glance down at you as he reached the grand entrance to exit. “do you feel ill?”

“no i’m okay.” you smiled. “just thinking about the fact that you’re a cheater.”

he chuckled. “a cheater? in what way?”

kento carefully stepped down the steps and began his walk across the spacious lawn back to the car, you tightening your grip on his neck and wanting him to hold you like this forever.

“the deal was for a kiss.”

“and i gave you one.” he softly smiled, squeezing your thigh a little in emphasis.

“on the cheek!” you retorted. “i wanted one on the mouth.”

kento blushed furiously and looked away, trying to straighten himself up as he walked down the sidewalk with you in his arms.

“you didn’t specify darling.”

“yeaahhh right.” you mumbled, watching the lights of his car flash up ahead as it unlocked by the click of kento’s keys, him coming up to the passenger side and opening the door. “just say you’re repulsed by me.”

he scoffed. “you’re saying silly things again.”

“the proof is in the pudding.”

kento carefully bent and set you down on your seat, placing your heels next to you on the floor and straightening out the skirt of your dress for you. 

“the proof is that you’re drunk. i’m not making any moves like that when you’re not in the correct state of mind.”

you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth. “are you saying you would have? if i was sober? did you bring my water with you? i need to drink it right now where is it—”

“dear god i did not say that.” he closed the door and came round to the other side, an amused little smile on his lips as he got in. “and i’m sorry but i left it behind.”

“kentooo!” you whined. “now how else are you supposed to kiss me?”

he shakily pressed the ‘on’ button for the ignition and looked away, your bold words and requests and moves serving as sheer torment to him as they one after the other kept being thrown at his face, him aware this is how you usually were anyways, but ten times unbelievably worse now that you were intoxicated.

and kento was growing weaker.

“i’m not supposed to do anything.” he backed out of the parking space and sped off. “and it’s nearly four in the morning y/n. you have brunch with the monroe’s at ten and you’re supposed to be up by eight.”

you groaned, head dropping back against the headrest as you crossed your arms. 

“i never wanted to go to that in the first place.” you muttered. “the monroe’s and their girl friends and whoever else is going are a bunch of boring bitches. all they talk about is what their daddies just bought them.”

the yearly monroe brunch was a way for you and the other daughters of your fathers various business partners to bond and maintain connections, some sort of peace treaty between them all so long as their little preppy daughters were kept satisfied and spoiled, your father forcing you to go every year and demanding you to keep friendships with them all, insisting that it would serve beneficial to him with their parents and help nourish the business even more than it already was.

you genuinely liked the monroe daughters and the rest of the girls at first, sixteen year old you seeking their validation and acceptance for years and constantly following after every little thing that they did, afraid of slipping up and landing in their rotten graces as soon as you did anything that would upset them… until they started badmouthing kento.

after that you didn’t give a fuck. 

because anyone that was so willing as to talk bad about such a respectful and kind man as kento to you, was someone who immediately feel in your rotten graces, each and every one of them doing so the minute they started calling him weird for constantly following you around, putting him down for it and saying he should find something better to do than be your bodyguard, and that you didn’t need such high class protection and deeming it unnecessary.

whether they were jealous of the fact that you had a bodyguard and they didn’t was mystery to you, but ever since that day, you despised the yearly monroe brunch, you now aware of who they truly were and realized how blind you were to it just because you were seeking their validation— wanting nothing to do with them from that point forward and begging your father to just let you skip out and that they were better off without you there anyways.

but he never listened.

kento laughed, nodding curtly over what you said. “although true, you still have to go honey.”

“i don’t know why my father can’t just piss off.” you sighed and looked out the window, cars zooming past you as he drove down the freeway. “i really don’t see the point in me going.”

“you’re an important asset.” he spoke. “all of the daughters coming together is tradition.”

“what— to sit there and drink tea and eat muffins? stupidest tradition i’ve ever heard ken.”

he chuckled, reaching over to pat your thigh and your cheeks going pinky as he did so, your drunken mind still somehow clearly recalling when he had his warm hand on you earlier in the car prior to the party.

he went to retract his hand and you quickly stopped him, timidly placing it back on your thigh and settling your hand over his big one, the both of you nervously avoiding eye contact and choosing not to say anything.

kento understood wholeheartedly why you hated going to the monroe brunch so much, for he wasn’t particularly a fan of hearing them talk for hours about who’d they just dumped or what they’d just bought, and he sympathized with you— really, your father although a man he admired for his work ethic and sought after for his approval, was unrighteously stoic with you and always dismissed your thoughts and opinions, the fact saddening kento whenever he witnessed it first hand.

“you’ll be alright.” he spoke up quietly again, noticing the way you were dozing off a little in your seat. “it’s just for brunch. you won’t have to worry about seeing them again until next year.”

“you mean until the dinner party we’re hosting next week.” you sleepily muttered, eyes closed as both of your hands laid over his that was on your thigh, holding it almost as if you were afraid that kento would pull away, his eyes softening at the thought.

“ah, that’s right.” he pulled into your gated community, the security guard already recognizing kento and his car as he merely waved and pressed the button to open the gate, driving through once it did entirely. “i had forgotten.”

“mmm..” you hummed, and he smiled, facing the road again and turning the wheel with every curve and turn of your neighborhood, your dimly lit mansion coming into view eventually and him pulling up to park in your grandiose driveway next to you car, turning off the ignition.

you laid still and pretty in your seat, chest slowly rising and falling as you softly breathed through your nose, you in a drunken slumber as kento quietly got out of the car and went over to your side, opening your door.

“darling.” he whispered, shuffling an arm under your knees and the other on your back. “i need to carry you up, okay? hold onto me please.”

you mumbled incoherently and did so, your arms limply wrapping around his neck as he carried you out of the car and shut the door with a push from his leg, locking his car and the little horn going off again as he hoisted you up, walking up the stone path of your driveway and up to the grand double doors— one of your housekeeping staff already there holding the door open for you both, them also used to your late night partying and shenanigans.

“thank you.” he whispered gratefully as he passed, and they nodded, locking up the house behind you as kento continued on up the staircase and down the spacious hallway, his dress shoes clicking against the shiny flooring and echoing across the silence as he reached your bedroom.

he carefully set you down on your bed once inside, you groggily rubbing your eyes as he stepped back and over to your large vanity, rummaging through your things and drawers while knocking a few nail polishes and perfumes over— various clatterings and kento cursing under his breath over the noise, it making you sleepily giggle.

“what are you looking for ken?” you whispered, one of your eyes tiredly peeking open.

“your— ah… i’m afraid i can’t remember what it’s called—”

he gestured to his face. “you remove your makeup with it sweetheart.”

you closed your eye again. “oh my wipes..? they’re in the bottom drawer to your left.”

he opened the corresponding drawer and reached in, taking out your makeup remover wipes and walking back over to you, peeling open the packing and sliding an individual white wipe out, you lifting a hand out to grab it but stopping once he moved it away from you.

you drowsily looked up at him, about to speak until he took your chin in between his fingers and tilted you up, him bending a bit and lifting his hand to wipe off your makeup, delicately removing it with precision as you tiredly let a small smile grow on your lips.

“i can do it ken it’s okay.”

he shook his head, you closing your eyes as he wiped off your mascara. “oh it’s alright you’re exhausted… and i’ve seen you do it quite a few times.”

you peaked your other eye open, his handsome face so unforgettable against the moonlight streaming through your balcony doors that your little sleepy heart started gushing over literally just who he was, your head leaning into his touch.

“kay…”

he finished wiping the rest of it off after a minute, tossing it into your little bin under your vanity desk before walking over to your walk-in closet and disappearing for a few moments, coming back out with one of your silk baby blue pajama sets in hand, offering it out to you.

“change please.” you sluggishly took the set from him and nodded. “i’ll be just outside—”

“no it’s okay.” you stood and reached for the hem of your dress. “you can stay—”

you pulled up your dress with no fucks given and kento’s eyes bulged open, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes and spinning around with his heart thumping on overdrive, the image of your perfect body adorned with a lacy white bra and panties a hard one to try and— unfortunately— forget for the sake of respecting your privacy and the most intimate parts of yourself.

you giggled and kento shook his head in desperation, placing a hand on his hip.

“don’t do things like that honey.” he scolded gently, a hand still over his eyes as you changed. “at least wait until i avert my attention—”

“you don’t wanna see?” you pouted, finishing by buttoning up your top and tugging at the sleeve of his suit for him to turn around. “it’s all for you ken.”

for— for—

oh dear god help him.

“it’s time to sleep.” he reached around you and pulled back the covers of your bed, you whining. “come on you have brunch with the monroe’s—”

you grumbled and climbed on, dropping yourself on the mattress and shuffling under your various fluffy blankets and sheets, him helping you in pulling them over you until they were settled comfortably by your chest.

“kento.”

“hm?” he hummed, still fiddling with your blankets and basically tucking you in, you finding it incredibly sweet.

“thank you for always taking care of me.”

he stopped, eyes flickering to yours before a soft close lipped smile spread across his face.

“of course darling.” he patted your head. “it’s what i’m here for.”

you knew what he was actually supposed to be there for was only for your protection— to only clock in when you went to events and clock out the second said event was over and done with and you were back home safe and sound.

except kento clocked in the moment your eyes opened for the day, and clocked out as soon as they closed again at night, him by your side through everything in your life and not just for special events, but making sure you had had enough to eat and that you weren’t sick after you spent the day out without a jacket (much to his pestering), that you finished your homework when you were in school and helped you with it as best as he could, and that he was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father yelled at you over something idiotic again— all in all taking care of you like you thought a lover would do for their most treasured thing.

and you hoped you were kento’s most treasured thing.

he was yours, after all.

“i like when you call me darling.” you murmured softly. “and honey. and sweetheart.”

kento swallowed and blushed, thankful that it was sort of dark in your room and that you couldn’t see how pink in the face he actually was over something so minimal.

“i’m glad.” he replied. “you’d let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable correct?”

you quickly shook your head. “it never makes me uncomfortable ken… ever.”

he nodded, smiling in satisfaction.

“you know what does make me uncomfortable?”

he faltered, brows furrowing in concern.

“what honey?”

“the fact that you still haven’t kissed me on the lips—”

he sharply breathed in and leaned back to stand upright, you giggling and protesting as you flung your arms around his neck before he could, bringing him roughly back down to you and basically pulling him on top of you as kento let out a little oof at the force.

he planted his palms flat on your mattress, trying to lift himself up a bit but unable to due to the astronomical grip you had on him.

“y/n i’m crushing you let me—”

“so?”

“you won’t be able to properly breathe—”

“and? this is the way to go!”

kento laughed into your neck then, managing to lift himself up at least a little bit  to look at you.

“silly girl.” he murmured, and you grinned.

how stunning.

his eyes dangerously switched to your lips, and you noticed this, your heart skipping a small beat in your chest.

“ken.”

“yes?”

“what do you view me as.”

his gaze shifted and locked with yours, his brows pinching together.

“what do you mean honey?”

“like—” you pursed your lips, looking away to the side in embarrassment. “do you see me as just… a client? or just a friend? or like a little girl who doesn’t know how to do anything? or spoiled?”

“a client?” he repeated. “not at all that’s— an awfully wrong term for what you are.”

your head snapped in his direction.

“really?”

he sat up, sitting himself down on the edge of your bed next to you and you scooching over.

“you are spoiled.” he continued, chuckling once he saw the hopeful expression on your face fall and turn sour. “but it doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing things… i’ve never once thought of you as such.”

you hummed in acknowledgement, relieved a little.

“do you see me as a woman?” you asked softly.

he looked at you confusedly.

“well— of course. that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“no i mean—” you sighed, struggling to get the words out as a blush rose to your cheeks. “like a woman. like the kind that makes you want to…”

you faltered, and he waited patiently for you to continue.

“like the kind of woman you’d want to kiss and things… like— like the kind you’d see yourself falling in love with… or am i just— a friend?”

kento froze.

were you still drunk?

“sweetheart it’s not wise to talk about things like this when you’re inebriated please rest—”

“i’m not!” you frantically shook your head. “i sobered up a long time ago…”

dear god.

he can’t answer your question. he can’t answer your question without straight up lying to you just so he can keep that boundary of respect he had for you and your father, to keep the vow kento had with him as your protector, as your guide…

but kento nanami wasn’t a liar.

and kento nanami loved you— a feeling he had idiotically mistaken for confusion when it was actually the plain and utter truth, for what he felt for you was clearer than anything else in his life, and absolutely nothing about it was ever confusing like he swore up and down before that it was.

he’d known…. he’d always known. and that’s perhaps why he took the bodyguard position in the first place without a fret to your father.

to stay by your side. 

to make sure you were safe… with him.

but did he dare?… did he dare to take the pretty forbidden fruit he had tried so hard for years to stay clear from? to leave it glimmering and healthy to flourish on its own no matter how badly he wanted to harvest it and claim for himself?

“i—”

he hesitated, your beady doe eyes looking at him so hopefully that it clenched his heart without mercy.

“i love you…” he spoke softly. “but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice.”

you blinked, unsure if you should take that positively or negatively—

“but i love you still… you know that.”

you looked at him.

“but love in what way?” you responded.

because love you in the way of a friend or family member sure, and you knew kento did at least that much and wouldn’t have spent so much time with you since the ages of eleven and fourteen if otherwise.

but did he love you?

“love… in the way that makes me want to kiss you.” he tugged at the watch on his wrist, referencing to what you had said before. “and love in the way that makes me want to give everything i have to you honey.”

because he has. he’s been.

“really?” you whispered, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs as he picked up his head to look at you, nodding.

kento opened his arms out for you then and you slowly pushed the covers off of you, crawling over and extending your arms to wrap around his abdomen, his around your shoulders while you tucked your face into his chest.

“but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice my love…” he repeated, and you frowned, already feeling your bottom lip wobble.

“why?”

“i have too much respect for you and your father.” he explained, caressing your hair through his fingers. “and i feel that i’m taking advantage of my position by being with you always… that i’m not giving you a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else—”

“i don’t want anyone else.” you cut him off. “i don’t need to explore to figure that out ken.”

you looked up at him, cheek mushed up against him. “you’re with me always too… do you need a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else?”

“no.” he shook his head. “no i absolutely do not.”

you giggled softly. “see? then why would i need one?”

he stared down at you softly, a warm smile that could kill millions if he so let it on his face, and you blushed. 

“i guess you’re right sweetheart.”

kento continued to run his big fingers through your hair, you dozing off a little at the soothing feeling.

“i don’t think your father will be very happy knowing i love you.”

you grumbled. “who cares what that old fart thinks—”

he snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder in a form of scolding, you laughing and holding him tighter.

“he doesn’t have to know for now…” you murmured. “and honestly i didn’t even know you loved me so i think we’re okay—”

“i’m sorry?” he blinked. “i thought i made it somewhat… clear?”

“no!” you countered. “you rejected every move i made ken… you had me basically begging for you.”

his brows pinched in guilt. “i’m sorry my love… i was doing it more for you than for me i— … i didn’t have any ill intent behind it.”

“it’s okay ken.” you smiled cutely, pulling back and propping yourself up by your palms on your mattress, leaning and planting a sweet kiss to his cheek. “though you could’ve just told me you had a begging kink i would’ve understood and begged you to put your fingers in my—”

kento’s eyes widened and he shut you up with a hand over your mouth, your muffled giggles seeping through as he shook his head.

“you have the most vulgar mouth.”

you took his wrist and brought it away, your lips coming next to his ear.

“do something about it then.”

he stilled.

“or do you want me to say what other things i want you to do to me?”

“enough you need to rest—” he placed his hands on your waist with the intent to pull you back and lay you down to sleep… but he just couldn’t do it, his grip shakily tightening instead.

“what i need…” you slid your hands agonizingly slow up his chest and around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his with hot steamy desperate breaths fanning across each others faces. “is to know what it’s like to have your fingers in my mouth ken…”

“darling please—”

“—i wanna lick all over them—”

he respects you... dear god kento respects you he— he couldn’t possibly indulge in—

“—so i can show you how good i can suck and choke on your cock—”

kento mushed your cheeks together with his fingers and swallowed your lips up, you letting out a little squeak of surprise as his other unoccupied arm locked around your waist and pulled you flush against him, him hungrily kissing you and gulping down your humming moans of satisfaction as you hurriedly swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him.

you disconnected from his lips and pulled back, taking his hand and bringing it up to your mouth as you pushed him down on the mattress with your unoccupied one, kento looking up at you so hot and bothered and astonished as you hovered over him, plump precious lips wrapping around his index and ring finger and sensually sliding it deeper and deeper in your mouth across your wet tongue.

“jesus sweetheart…” he breathed out, eyes entirely transfixed on the way your lips closed around his fingers entirely and sucked, your head pumping slowly and you delighted over how hard he felt underneath his slacks over something as just you sucking on his fingers.

“m’gonna suck your dick.” you spoke with a mouthful of his digits, and he sat up a little.

“my darling you don’t— you don’t have to do that it’s alright—”

you slid his fingers out of your mouth and pouted. “but i want to… unless you don’t want me to? or do you prefer someone else to do it—”

“what? stop that.” he shook his head, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as you snickered, his hand coming down to cup your cheek. “i’m just worried about keeping you up… you have to get ready in a couple of hours.”

you shrugged, giving him a little grin.

“if it’s you and your big dick keeping me up i could care less.”

you swung your thighs off of his lap and stood momentarily, dropping down to your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs— kento’s rounded eyes and shaky breaths making you laugh a little as you reached for the buckle of his belt, tugging the clasp open and him helping you in slipping it off before reaching in his pants, a trembling but needy hand pulling out his thick cock and slowly pumping it.

kento would’ve never thought you’d be kneeling in between his legs and about to do something he’d only fleetingly thought of, the sinful images quickly grabbed by him before he could materialize them in his head any further and tossed in the trash without looking back, embarrassed and awkwardly flustered that he’d thought of such a thing when you were usually just sitting there on your vanity desk dolling yourself up, or simply speaking to him.

he would’ve never thought that the questions of being something more to you than just your bodyguard, would actually actualize itself, your pretty lips beginning to wrap around the tip of his cock and all he can think about is you and how many days he spent yearning for you, confusing it for uncertainty, and lying to himself before giving in to the fact that he did love you. 

and very much so.

to kento, it was a privilege to undergo this intimate experience given by gracious you, and he only wished he didn’t push it away for so many years and dismissed your obvious attempts.

for what was happening now, was heavenly compared to the fleeting thoughts he had tossed in the trash prior… and your pace was rapid, your deprived little mouth that had begged for him time and time again slurping the ever living soul out of him as he clenched his jaw to keep his moans in, afraid of your father or any of the other housekeeping staff hearing what was filthily happening inside your bedroom— his face crossed over in pleasurable shock at how messy and drooly you were all over his dick without even allowing yourself the chance to breathe as you sucked. 

“honey—” he heaved, swallowing hard as he gathered your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. “s—slow down or you’ll choke—”

you didn’t listen, your thighs clenching together to ease yourself a little as you sunk your mouth down and gagged, the tip of his cock lodged in the back of your throat so deliciously that he let out a string of rare curses from his lips.

you slurped back up and pulled off of his length with a pop, you sticking your tongue out and smiling too as you tapped his girthy dick on your tongue teasingly.

“but i want to choke ken…” you placed an open mouthed slutty kiss on the side. “and i’d like you to fuck my mouth too please—”

“shit—” he cleared his throat, his balls feeling awfully full and heavy as you parted your lips and took him in again. “but i could potentially harm you—”

you pulled off again. “kento i don’t care just use me or i’ll make you—”

he quickly gathered your soft hair again, leaned back on an elbow and shoved you back down, bucking his hips up and hitting your uvula so hard that you choked, eyes immediately watering and you moaning as he continued to buck his hips up and force you down, sloshing gurgling noises from you fueling his every being with ecstasy, throwing his head back and eyelids fluttering closed.

“you have such a dirty mouth sweetheart…” he grunted. “where did you learn that from? huh?”

you tried to respond, his relentless hip thrusting and filling your mouth up preventing you from getting anything out besides choking noises and spit, kento picking his head back up and looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“i hope you’re not speaking to other little dumb boys with it and teasing them the way you tease me…”

you tried to shake your head no and get it across that you absolutely were not— that you were physically repulsed by any other man making moves on you in your life because they were never him… but his big cock stuffing your throat was drowning out your every attempt so good that you couldn’t.

“no?” a little dazed smile played at his lips, his abdomen tightening and signifying that he was about to blow his entire pent up load in your mouth. “good honey… i don’t want you wasting your time.”

he bucked his hips up faster and forced your head down deeper, his panting and low grumbling moans making you fucking wild as you tried your best to take all of him and suck him, tears from how many times you gagged and choked trickling down your cheeks and you not giving a single fuck and pushing through, noticing that kento’s increased fidgeting and gasping was a signal that he was probably close.

and when you felt him loosen his grip on your hair, gently trying to pry you off so that he could cum somewhere else and not in your throat like the little gentlemen that he was, you slipped your mouth down again and held yourself firm, lips pumping up and down as you jerked him alongside, kento running a hand down the side of his cheek with eyes screwed tightly shut.

“darling i feel—” he quickly sat up, his expensive watch glistening against the moonlight as his hand fell over his heart. “i feel my release let me—”

he pushed at your shoulders gently and you refused, continuing to suck him off and drive him to the edge until a low gutting groan left his lips, you squeaking as he suddenly went feral and pushed the back of your head down and filled your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you could while he held you there.

“christ i’m sorry—” he let you go and you came off of him, gasping for air and with a mix of cum and drool seeping down your chin as you fell back on your ass, your chest moving erratically as you tried to catch your breath.

kento immediately stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped it up, standing and placing his hands on your waist as he easily picked you up off the floor and sat you down next to him on the bed, concerned tumblings over your well being falling from his mouth as he moved your disheveled hair away from your face.

“honey i can’t tell you how sorry i am…” he dug into his blazer for his handkerchief, your tongue lapping up the excess drool and cum from your chin as his cheeks went red over you doing that, quickly stepping in and wiping off the rest for you.

“sorry for what ken?” you hummed, your voice a little hoarse and making kento feel guiltier as he sighed, placing the handkerchief down on your nightstand. 

“for abusing your throat y/n…” he spoke gently, ushering you to bed again as he pulled back the covers. “i wasn’t letting you breathe—”

“but i liked it.” you countered softly, crawling to your pillow and planting a tender little kiss to his cheek on your way, settling under the covers. “i asked you to use me baby… and you did just that! good job!”

kento playfully rolled his eyes and brought your blankets up to your chest. 

“yes but i could’ve done it in a better way.”

“in a better way likeee…?” you grinned cheekily. “like sex? well then you should’ve just asked ken i can take off my—”

you sat up and began unbuttoning your top, kento’s hands shooting out and stopping you midway as he flusteredly buttoned it back up, you laughing.

“please sweetheart you need to rest… it’s nearly six in the morning.” 

you groaned and plopped back down on your pillow. “just tell the monroe’s i’m sick. i’d rather be getting dicked down by you than drinking tea with them—”

“alright okay okay—” he brought the covers back up over you with an amused shy smile. “we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. at the monroe’s.”

you huffed and turned your back to him, kento chuckling before leaning over and placing a delicate lingering kiss on your temple, a slow sleepy smile crossing your face as you relished in the fact that he actually loved you… your fear of him seeing you as nothing more than just a spoiled brat quickly dissipating from the second he uttered his bashful but yet authentic confession to you.

you had been living in absolute worry and defiance and frustrating yourself when that wasn’t necessary at all— kento was just a gentlemen, a man, and his apprehensions for indulging in something more between the two of you were very real and valid and you understood… but you also didn’t care, your stubborn unruly (and spoiled…) personality and mind wanting nothing more than just kento.

and as long as you had him by your side, you didn’t care about anything else.

even when you had only gotten a total of a solid two hours of sleep before you had to wake up for brunch with the monroe’s, you didn’t care about that either, because kento was the one to wake you up with a soft hand down your back and gentle murmurs that slowly eased you awake, him delivering you a warm cup of hot chocolate for the morning because he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee, and the brunch itself not seeming so bad too since you knew he would be there with you through the entire thing.

your newest biggest fear now though… was what your father would say once you told him. 

“are these alright for your hair miss y/n?”

you stopped applying your eyeshadow for a moment and turned your body from your bench seat, a tray of cute shiny pearled up bobby pins that you had requested a week prior sitting neat and ready for you, you looking up and smiling sweetly at your housekeeping staff.

“oh yes! these are beautiful thank you!”

she nodded. “do you need help putting these in? or are you okay?”

“i’m okay! if anything i’ll just ask kento hehe.”

she laughed softly, nodding again before placing the little tray down next to you on your vanity desk and turning to leave, passing by none other than kento on her way as he peaked through your door, giving your housekeeping staff a polite smile and allowing her to pass through first, making his way inside your bedroom once she left.

a cup of misty tea was carefully placed next to you on your desk, and you moved your eyeshadow brush away from your face again to see kento looking down at you with a kind grin, you instantly brightening up and scooching down on your seat to give him a little room to sit with you.

“you didn’t have to bring me this ken you gave me hot chocolate this morning!”

your voice was still a bit hoarse, and that’s precisely why he brought you hot tea to begin with, sighing softly through his nose as he sat down on the other side of your bench next to you.

“it’s for your throat honey.” you continued to buff out your eyeshadow, putting your brush away upon finishing and reaching up to fiddle with your bun, taking a few strands out for a more candid look. “how do you feel?”

“horny.”

kento went into a coughing fit and you laughed, his reactions to your ludicrousy always being a favorite of yours as you pecked his cheek in apology.

“sorry sorry—” you wiped the gloss you got on him off of his chiseled cheek, picking up your little tea cup after and taking a sip. “i mean it’s true i want your dick inside of me but—”

“darling.”

“okay!” you set your tea cup down, grumpily took some of your pearl bobby pins from the tray and started sticking them in your hair. “just say you don’t want to have sex with me it’s fine—”

“that is not what i’m saying whatsoever—”

“you refused to have sex with me last night and you’re doing it again right now mph!—”

he clasped a big hand over your mouth and pulled your head in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“there is nothing more i want than to be inside of you and split your warm little cunt open.”

your eyes blew out in shock.

“so enough or you won’t get anything.”

he turned your head to make you look at him directly.

“understood?”

you quickly nodded and he lowered his hand, grabbing one of yours and kissing the back of it before standing and walking to the door.

“your father wants you in the car with me in twenty minutes sweetheart. i’ll wait for you there.”

you watched him click the door shut behind him and you spun your head back around to face the mirror, shakily moving some strands away and quickly fanning yourself in attempts at calming the fuck down, completely thrown off course on what you were supposed to do next in your routine as you couldn’t even remember what you had just done.

because kento had a secret feral mouth that you had no idea of until now…

and you wanted to hear it again.

eventually you gathered yourself up and finished putting the rest of your bobby pin pearls in your hair, shuffling around in your room looking for your chiffon scarf and breathing out a sigh of relief once you caught sight of its pastel yellow fabric, it matching your summery dress and peeking from your bed as you snatched it and looped it around your upper arms, the fabric falling gracefully in a low curve behind you as you grabbed your clutch and made your way out the door.

you didn’t know what energy to exactly expect from the car ride as you trotted down your staircase and out to his car, but you were nonetheless still surprised to see that kento carried on like he didn’t just mutter in your ear that he wanted to rearrange your guts and for you to behave, you blinking at him and perplexed when he just went on about what things to pay attention to that the girls say because he knew your father would ask you about that certain topic later, not wanting you to get in trouble and an earful if you weren’t able to answer his questions about it.

and you were still perplexed upon arriving at the monroe’s estate— their place of living the only thing you really liked about the yearly brunches, as they lived in what looked like a fucking english regency palace instead of the plain modernized mansions you were accustomed to (including yours…), and you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous each year of the wonderful labyrinth the monroe’s had, an endless place of history and poise that your own home very much lacked.

but as beautiful as their estate was, it still didn’t make up for the absolute bitches that lived in it.

“ken if you turn this car around right now i will do absolutely anything you say and not go to any parties for two months instead of just one—”

he chuckled loudly and shook his head, rounding their grand water fountain that sat extravagantly in the center of their lawn outside, other sleek cars already parked in the front. 

“it’s just for a couple of hours honey.” he parked the car and turned off the ignition, unbuckling his seatbelt. “just indulge in their conversations for a while… and listen please. your father will ask about it later.”

kento shut the door as you unbuckled your seatbelt, him opening yours on the other side while offering a hand out for you to take, you gratefully doing so with a stoic dead look on your face as you kept your eyes locked to the grabble below.

“they don’t even like me.” you muttered, flashing a polite smile to the housekeeping staff that was waiting up ahead, walking up the steps. “the monroe’s and their girl friends don’t even like each other they’re all just a bunch of fake—”

“y/n!”

both of your heads shot up just as you entered the estate, the eldest of the monroe sisters trodding up to you with a smile.

“it’s good to see you!” her eyes shifted to kento. “and with nanami. of course.”

bitch.

“mhm! yup!” you exchanged polite hugs and stepped back. “are the rest of the girls here?”

“yes they just got here actually! they’re all out in the garden with my sisters i was just heading there now!”

“great! i’ll see myself then, you go on ahead.” you tightly smiled, and she shrugged, bidding you a ‘see you later’ before disappearing off into the depths of her home, you slowly turning around with a stressed out twitch in your eye but faltering when kento wasn’t behind you like you thought he was.

you spun around as your tried to look for him, gaze scanning the area to find him and stopping once you did, your brows furrowing in confusion upon seeing him at the other side of the corridor staring at something.

you slowly began walking down, eyes locked on what he was looking at and it making you stop in your tracks next to him once you got close enough to see.

the wall in front of you was littered with wedding photos of the monroe sisters parents and the generations before— the ceremony, cake cutting, pictures of their first dance, and singular portraits of various brides and grooms on their wedding days scattered about with smiles on their faces, all things kento was just staring at without any indication in his expression that could let you know as to what was going on in his head.

“ken?” you asked softly, and he looked to you.

“oh i’m sorry.” he glanced at his watch. “are you ready to head out into the garden?”

“y—yeah…” your eyes switched back to the wall ahead.

“you were looking at their wedding photos?” you smiled. “they’re cute huh? i look at them too every time we come.”

he nodded, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you away from the wall and towards the garden again. 

“i was only curious.” he spoke. “there’s an awful large amount of them.”

you snorted in agreement and continued walking, feeling like there was something he was thinking about and not telling you— you looking to the garden entrance ahead then deciding to take a peek at kento again through the corner of your eye, you suddenly finding him looking over his shoulder at the portraits still.

and your eyes softened.

you slowed down and reached up, gently turning his head from the portraits to you.

“what’s wrong ken?” you looked over at the wall and back to him. “why do you keep looking at the pictures?”

“oh— i didn’t realize.” he readjusted his yellow lensed sunglasses and continued ushering you on with a hand on your back. 

you frowned.

“ken you wouldn’t look at something for that long without any reasoning behind it…”

“it’s truly nothing.” he responded simply, the both of you entering the garden now and drawing nearer to the long table set up amidst a bed of roses and daisies, the rest of the girls beginning to take their seats. “enjoy your brunch darling.”

“no! but—”

“it’s alright go say hello—”

“i’d rather actually rot—”

“hello y/n!”

you stopped fidgeting and dropped your arms, another tight smile on your face as you greeted the youngest monroe sister from the table, deciding to ignore kento’s chuckling from behind you and walk up, taking a seat with the rest of them and looking over the extravagantly set up table for anything to stuff your face with— it filled with little pastries and appetizers from top to bottom, a pretty strawberry shortcake cake in the middle surrounded by a tier of cupcakes and scones, little baked sandwich platters, and a porcelain tea cup set at each of your designated seats to enjoy.

you lightened up a little over all of the cute details and selections, forgetting that the monroe’s always knew how to put on a lovely brunch for all of you every year as you extended an arm, grabbing the nearest tea pot and carefully pouring the steaming liquid in your cup.

“girls! just the other day my father bought me another set of those diamond jewels from the franziska’s!”

that’s why you’d always forget.

the rest of them gushed and looked around the table to the eldest monroe, her neck clad in a pretty diamond necklace with matching earrings and rings.

“i know right? i had lost my previous set while swimming in the lake and my staff couldn’t find them.”

“oh that happened to me once.” one of their girlfriends piped up. “it was an exclusive emerald set from europe… only one in the entire world made!”

the rest of the girls gasped and murmured.

“i had my staff looking in the lake all day and night for three days until one of them finally found it!”

“oh thank god!” the middle monroe sister breathed out. “i would’ve absolutely hated to lose those! especially since they’re a one of a kind!”

“mhm yup! and you know what else actually? just the other day i found out francis— you know the girl from the faltis family?”

the girls faces turned knowing and they eagerly nodded.

“i found out she was asking up and down various jewelry shops and makers for my emerald set!”

they all gasped.

“you’re kidding!”

“no! the girl either wanted to copy me or make the same exact set to still copy me.”

“oh! that sleazy—”

you completely tuned them out beyond this point, your brain literally pulsing with the stupidest shit you had ever come across to hearing in your life, choosing to sit there and enjoy the weather and pretty cherry blossoms around you as you ate a cranberry scone and thought about the things you wanted to do for the weekend.

it’s not like you were a total opposite from the rest of the girls.

you too liked jewels and pretty things, luxury branded vehicles and a little bit of gossip here and there.

but it was the way they talked about it and handled each thing was what aggravated you the most.

they were ungrateful, greedy, and bitchy— no other girl that was a loose connection from them allowed to have the same jewelry set as theirs, the same set of friends as theirs, or the same set of dresses for your monthly bashes and dinner parties as theirs, turning utterly nasty if they so even got a glance of someone else having the same thing as them.

all things that were pointless and unrighteous to be upset about.

and just for the sake of keeping your father from putting your head on a stick, you remained civil with them and refrained from wearing anything similar to theirs at an event if you knew they would be in attendance.

but it was easy, for your taste was completely different than the lot of them, and you preferred pearls anyway over any kind of diamond or emerald or sapphire jewel piece.

“oh! and you know what i heard?” another girl friend spoke up. “akio from the corvus family has a little crush on miss y/n over there!”

kento’s ears perked up.

you jumped upon hearing your name, the rest of the girls gushing and ‘ooing’ as they turned their attention to you.

“i’m sorry what? who?”

“akio!” she laughed. “that man is obsessed with you! he asks for you at every single gathering.”

akio? 

akio… akio…

“the one that looks like a toad?”

the girls laughed at your comment, covering their mouths or learning forward as you just blinked at them, unaware of how what you said was so funny.

“oh you’re too much!” the youngest monroe waved you off. “yes him! any time he sees any of us at an event he always asks if you’re there with us.”

“you know what yes!” the eldest exclaimed. “i heard he wanted to strike up a proposal with your father! i think he already did!”

you dropped the cupcake you were holding.

and kento froze.

“a— a— propo—”

“oh my god congratulations y/n!”

“lucky you!”

“oh a bride already!—”

you turned in your seat to look at kento, but he was looking the other way, an unreadable expression on his face.

you turned back to the girls.

“is this a rumor or it’s actually happening?” you asked. “i don’t want to get married to him!”

they laughed again.

“why not?! yes he’s ugly but that man is loaded. has money to last him and you entirely without having to work a day in your lives!”

your blood ran cold, because anything you knew that was ordered by your father, was bible.

a housekeeping kitchen staff came around then and refilled a few platters of pastries and appetizers.

“ahh you’re so fortunate y/n!” one of the girl friends gushed. “i’d love to be wed to a man with money like akio… i could care less what he looks like!”

“you can have him.” you quickly sputtered, and they laughed again. “no seriously i don’t want him take him please—”

“oh don’t be silly!” the youngest monroe sister waved you off. “akio wants you. he’s kind of creepy about it too.”

“why me?!” you whined. “i’ve only spoken to him a handful of times—”

“why don’t you ask him at the dinner party you’re hosting next week? i’m pretty sure he’s going!” another girl friend spoke up. “i have a feeling he’s gonna propose to you there.”

you propped your elbow up on the table and placed a hand on your forehead in misery, feeling like you were living in a total nightmare.

“i’d honestly rather go broke.”

they all burst out laughing again.

what the hell was so funny?

“you’re too much!” the middle monroe sister gasped. “just give him a chance! once you see all the things he can buy for you, you’ll change your mind. plus… i think it’d be nice to have a break from mr. nanami don’t you think?”

you picked your head up.

“…kento?”

“uh huh!” the eldest continued. “god that must be exhausting having him around watching over you like that… it’s like he’s babysitting you. must be tiresome for him too.”

babysitting?

“with you and akio’s marriage i’m sure he’ll dismiss nanami’s services, and you can go your separate ways finally!”

“but—”

“and mr. nanami sure is handsome too.” another girl piped up with a hushed voice. “he’ll find a rich girl to settle down with in no time—”

“oh that’d be so great!—”

you abruptly stood, the silverware and tea cups clattering as you did so, the rest of them falling silent.

“sorry. excuse me.” you mumbled, eyes casted downward as you moved around your chair and off to the side, the girls shrugging and uncaring as they proceeded to babble on about other nonsense as you walked ahead, further and further away from the table and the chattering and through the garden, passing by several other flower beds of orchards and sunflowers until you reached the little duck pond by the end of the garden.

you stopped and sighed, bitterly crossing your arms and damning your father for ever discussing something as serious as marriage without your consent, marrying you off basically, or even lacking giving you a god damn warning before you came to brunch today— you and your father both knowing how much of a blabber mouth all of the girls were and how much they fed off of gossip like that.

you felt like a fucking idiot.

and who the hell was akio exactly? you knew of him and kind of had an idea of what he looked like, but you never really paid attention whenever he came up to talk to you at events or parties, his face almost entirely blurry in your mind besides the obvious features he had that did in fact make him look like a damn toad.

and another thing that was obvious too, was how creepy he was.

the only thing the monroe’s shit talking got right.

“honey?”

you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“hi ken.”

the rustling of grass filled the otherwise peaceful ambience as he stepped beside you, the both of you looking out ahead over the sparkling duck pond.

“are you alright?”

you nodded.

“i know you’re not alright i can see it.” he readjusted his lenses. “i’m assuming it has to do with the information the monroe’s told you?”

“i’m being married off ken.” you mumbled, eyes switching to him. “how are you so calm about this?”

“oh i’m not.” he spoke simply. “i’m quite agitated actually.”

you faltered, eyes falling down.

“i’ve always respected your father ever since we were young. and every choice he made with you i always agreed that it was what was best for you.”

you listened.

“but i can’t—” he paused. “… i can’t see how this is best for you. and i don’t know if it’s because i love you and i’m being selfish or if it actually is what’s best for you… so my thinking is— adhered.”

“how can marrying me off like the fucking renaissance period be what’s best for me?” you muttered, and he chuckled softly.

“and i love you, kento.” you continued. “my thinking’s also messed up.”

he placed a hand on your lower back and gently nudged you to him, you complying and falling into his side, wrapping your arms around him.

“it’s your choice y/n.” he spoke softly. “i know akio isn’t… the greatest. but he’s qualified to be your husband.”

your eyes widened.

“what are you saying? what about— what about you?”

he looked down, a sad smile on his face.

“i’ll stay for as long as you need me sweetheart.”

the ducks fluttering wings from the pond ahead filled the silence, tranquil splashes of water that followed after their every move with little quacks and hoots.

“so you’re just gonna give me away.” you mumbled. “just like that. easy peasy. who cares—”

“no—”

“i want you to be my husband ken.”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“darling don’t joke about things like that—”

“oh i’m not joking.” you separated from him, frustration swirling in your chest. “why is it always considered a joke to you when i talk about being with you?”

he paused, sighing a little through his nose.

“i feel incredibly lucky that a woman like you could envision a life with me.” he spoke. “but i’m also aware that i’m very… boring. i’d feel it wrong to tie you down to a life without excitement like the one you live now.”

kento slipped an arm around your waist and brought you back in again.

“akio seems to be more like you… maybe you could learn to get along.”

your lip began to wobble, and kento’s eyes softened. 

“sweethea—”

“i don’t care about any of that stuff.” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks. “you of all people should know this—”

“don’t cry please you’ll ruin your hard work—”

kento dug into his blazer and pulled out a little handkerchief, carefully patting down your face.

“yes i like to go out a lot but so what? it’s not something that’s a part of me it’s just something i like to do.”

you took the handkerchief from him and pressed it into the corner of your eye. 

“you’re a part of me ken… and i want a life with you, i’ve known since i was freaking sixteen. i don’t need it spelled out for me.”

kento swallowed.

he’d always admired how stubborn you were, because to him it meant a strong mind and an ambitious drive in contrast to the negative connotation that that word seemed to have— things that were absolutely who you were and why he fell in love with you in the first place, and why you were such a gem.

but he worried still that you’d regret it and change your mind.

that he wouldn’t be able to live up to your lifestyle and your wants and needs, and that you’d get bored of him… leaving in the end.

kento doesn’t think he could bare the thought of you leaving him, much like how he couldn’t bare the thought of you marrying akio either.

but if it meant what was best for you, then so be it… except it wasn’t. 

he was sure of it.

“you’re a part of me as well.” he murmured. “i’m sure you know that—”

“i don’t.” you grumbled, and he chuckled. “you’re always switching up on me with your rejections and then your confessions i’m confused—”

kento silenced you with a kiss to your lips, his big hands on either sides of your face as your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his built frame, your arms snaking around his neck and his bringing you closer by the waist as you tenderly deepened the kiss— soft lips smacking and moving with such love that it almost made you cry again.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, whispering against your lips. “it’s completely unfair to you—”

“s’okay ken.” you whispered back, the cutest smile he had even seen in his life on your face. “i’ll forgive you if you keep kissing me.”

“deal.”

your lips mushed up against each others once more, kento breathing you in and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed up against his, his hands slowly roaming around from your waist to your sides— still trying to be respectful of his hand placement until you took one of them and lowered it to your ass cheek with a squeeze, him laughing against your lips.

you were so silly.

silly and bright and spontaneous and beautiful, today another reminder from countless others with your frilly pastel yellow sundress and the pearls in your hair, your entity different from the rest of the women he���d come to know and thankful that he was lucky enough to have grown with you.

to have protected you. 

and the both of you were relieved to see that the monroe sisters and their girl friends didn’t seem to care where you two had ventured off to, for you didn’t know how long you were gone either as you approached the table again— the dessert piles, scones, and strawberry shortcake cake nearly nonexistent, you taking a seat again and secretly reapplying your lipgloss since kento had basically sucked it off of your face, your cheeks pinky and the butterflies in your stomach running rampant.

you were glad then that the monroe’s and their minions were such dim witted bitches too, because their level of self-absorption inhibited them from knowing or picking up on any clues of what could have transpired between you and kento in the garden, them immediately going to you upon arrival and chatting up a storm about mindless things again like you had never left the table to begin with.

but all you could think about was what you were going to tell you father about akio.

and you didn’t want to think about it honestly… because you knew there was a strong chance of you getting literally violent and landing yourself in deeper shit with him than ever before.

that didn’t matter either though if it meant being with kento… and for real this time. the thought of simply just him giving you the push that you needed to trudge up your grand staircase once you got home from brunch, kento trailing behind you and pleading with you to take a little breather before going in to speak with your father, but you absolutely done over the situation seeing as he only ever saw you as a thing and not his daughter if he was willing to marry you off like that.

“my love please relax—”

you stopped in front of your fathers study and knocked curtly, ignoring kento’s words.

“come in.”

you pushed down the handle and walked through, kento following close behind you and clicking the door closed as you stepped to the front of your fathers desk, your arms crossed.

“ah y/n. nanami.” he looked up from his documents, eyes switching between the two of you. “how was brunch with the monroe’s?”

“good.” you replied.

“was the food selection still as grandiose as always?” he looked back down at his paperwork.

“mhm.” you crossed your arms. “they had strawberry shortcake cake this year.”

he hummed. “the monroe’s always know how to put on a good event don’t they? for their daughters? and how are they by the w—”

“they’re fine.” you cut him off sharply. “but you know what isn’t fine?”

he eyed you.

“what?”

“that you’re marrying me off to akio—”

he sighed loudly and placed his documents flat on his desk, leaning forward and wringing his hands together to rest on the surface.

“he’s a good prospect.” he began. “he came up to me with some very impressive ideas about the future of my business, and also how much he was interested in you.”

you scoffed. “so this is what the arrangement is about? your business?”

“i thought you would be happy about this?” he extended his hands out lazily. “akio comes from a wealthy background. you’ll be taken care of in whatever you need and he’s qualified to take over my business once the time comes—”

hurt flashed across your face.

“why would you consider akio taking over your business and not your daughter?”

he laughed humorously, shuffling some papers about mindlessly on his desk.

“y/n you can’t possibly think that i’d consider you to take leadership over my business.”

“and why the hell not?”

his eyes narrowed.

“because you’re incompetent.” he spoke harshly. “you don’t know the meaning of responsibility, you’re stubborn, you’re spoiled, and all that you concern yourself with is parties and outings. you think i would allow you anywhere near my business?”

with each insult and jab that was thrown in your face, the blurrier and blurrier your vision got, you desperately trying to blink your tears back and put on a brave front, but finding it difficult when it was your own father that was dumbing you down to nothing.

“you’re not ready for anything like this and i don’t think you will ever be.” he stood up from his chair. “i’m thinking of what’s good for you and you’re being ungrateful yet again with your complaints—”

“sir with all due respect please try to see where she’s coming from.” kento interjected. “i’m sure she has the future of your business in her best interests, but marrying her off to someone she doesn’t know very well is upsetting her—”

“she’s never had any interest in the state of my business son you and i both know that—”

“sir she’s an extremely capable woman and independent i assure you her contribution to the business would serve prosperity—”

your father scoffed. “there is no prosperity with her. all she brings is disorder and foolery and i appreciate you trying to vouch for her but—”

“please if you’d just give her a chance—”

“i’d give you more of a chance over her—”

“then give the company to kento!” you yelled, the both of them snapping their heads to you and kento’s eyes widening. “i could care less what you think of me everything you told me isn’t new fucking information—”

“young lady language—”

“—i’m not here to try and convince you to give me the business that’s not what i’m here for.” you spat. “but don’t you dare stand there and say that i’ve never cared about the state of it when that’s bullshit.”

kento placed a hand on your shoulder and you shook it off.

“give the company to kento.” you repeated firmly. “if you give it to akio he’ll run your business to the ground and you know that.”

“and how would you know he isn’t qualified—”

“are you kidding?” you shook your head incredulously. “akio is a little dumb boy who goes to his daddy for help any chance he gets because he can’t do anything for himself. he puts on a show about how he’s this mature experienced man when he’s nothing but a joke.”

“i thought you said you barely knew him?” your father asked. “where is this information coming from?”

“the monroe sisters.” you spat. “they’re blabbermouths and their opinions are garbage, but their gossip is always truthful.”

it’s how you found out about the arranged proposal after all.

“i’m stubborn, i’m spoiled, i’m too stupid to handle anything for myself i’m helpless— fine. whatever you say but him?—”

you pointed to kento.

“he’s the most qualified for this position and you and i both know that.”

“y/n no—” kento tried to interject again, but you cut him off.

“he’s seen you handle the business since he was fourteen and knows it inside and out and just as much as you do. any task you’ve ever given him he’s gotten it done and more and i assure you that the business will flourish if you give it to him.”

you stepped forward, your father standing there with a neutral expression.

“believe it or not i care about what you worked so hard for to create, and i care about you, and regardless of what you think of me and the fact that you’ve shown me the complete opposite, it’d kill me to see akio ruin all of it.”

you wiped your cheeks and continued as you turned around, making your way to the other side of your father’s study. 

“kento’s a good man. everything will be in good hands with him.”

you threw open the door and stomped out.

“and i’m not marrying akio!—”

“y/n return at once—”

“sir i advise you to—”

your father and kento’s words drowned out the further down the hallway you got, tears spilling from your eyes now that you were away from it all as your heels hastily clicked against the shiny marble flooring, quiet sobs racking through your body.

you spouting repeatedly how you didn’t care what your father thought about you was a complete lie.

because you very much did care… you always have. and no matter how hard you tried to prove to him that you were capable of more than just parties and brunches and pearls and pretty dresses and shoes and cars, it was never enough. 

you were never enough.

“y/n—”

kento distantly burst out from your father’s study and quickly strode up to you, concern etched all over his face as you shook off your chiffon scarf and chucked it somewhere behind you in frustration. 

“my darling—” kento picked up the long piece of fabric and continued on after you. “my darling i’m so sorry—”

“i need to be alone ken.” you sobbed. “i’m sorry too i just need to be alone—”

“i refuse to leave—”

you slammed your bedroom door shut and kento picked up the pace, his eyes big in alarm at the sound of tumbling and thudding in your room as he stopped in front of your door, swinging it open to reveal you on the other side throwing your heels across the room along with several other pairs and things, your pretty pearls and jewels flying as he stood there in shock.

kento caught sight of you picking up your favorite porcelain flower vase amidst your rage to throw, him quickly stepping in and snatching it from you and fighting your thrashing as he held you to himself.

“kento stop it!—”

he placed the vase safely on your vanity desk and spun you around, his arms grabbing your shoulders tightly as he bent down to your level.

“sweetheart breathe please—” 

he hurriedly snagged off his cream colored blazer and tossed it off to the side, leaving him in his blue button up and suspenders as he rolled up his sleeves and placed his hands back on your shoulders.

“hey— it’s alright.” his hazel eyes frantically darted over every corner of your face, him snatching off his lenses now and tossing them. “it’s alright breathe for me y/n please—”

you could only sob, your mascara stained cheeks and heartbroken expression crumbling and ripping kento to pieces as he looked at you, his hands coming up to cup and caress your wet face.

“everything he said was the farthest thing from the truth don’t let it upset you like this—”

“no but he’s right he’s right!” you sobbed. “i’m useless i can’t do shit for myself and i’d probably be off somewhere dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for you—”

“do not say things like that—”

“kento you can’t be with me.”

he faltered. “i’m sorry?”

“you can’t be with me it’s embarrassing to be with me you’re better off with someone who’s capable and responsible like you i just bring you down—”

“stop that i’m serious i won’t ask again—”

“no kento you’re not listening!” you cried, your shoulders violently shaking. “you’re a good man. you’re such a good man and you’re way too good for me and i don’t deserve to be with you you can’t keep babysitting me like this—”

“how could you ever possibly say these things about yourself?” he shook his head. “how could you ever say that you’re too good for me when it’s the other way around?”

your eyes narrowed.

“no it’s not don’t give me that—”

“your father is full of shit.”

your mouth snapped shut.

kento never badmouthed your father no matter what it was, and he also never cussed so forceful and purposeful no matter the situation.

“he’s always been too hard on you and too stoic for reasons that i will never understand nor ever agree with.”

he leaned closer.

“do not upset yourself over the things he said any longer and do not worry about your marriage arrangement with akio.”

“ken—”

“do not think about the pearls you just threw over your balcony do not worry about anything— i will take care of it.”

“i—”

“i love you and i will take care of it.”

you continued to cry, letting your body slump wholly against his as he caught you and held you tight.

“please.. i beg you darling to believe me when i say that you are the most capable woman i know.” he spoke against your ear, his chest aching over your soft sobbing. “you’re witty and you’re intelligent and you’ve come so far simply because of who you are and the way you carry yourself. it’s a shame your father can’t see that.”

“no one can see that—”

“i can see it. everybody else can see it too and i’ve been around you all my life to testify for it.” 

you sniffled, burying your face in his neck.

“believe me my love…” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “you’re everything. you’re an asset. don’t let your father’s words take that away.”

you sniffled a little, standing there silent as your hiccups and sobs settled down gradually, your heart beating prominently against your ribs at kento’s sweet murmurings and affection, because though your fathers actions and decisions were bible, so were kento’s words.

he was a good man.

“thank you.” you mumbled, and he nodded, gently guiding you to your bed to sit.

“i’ll take care of you sweetheart.” he pulled back and placed a soft kiss to your lips. “i promise you.”

you smiled a little, a small warm gleam in your eyes as you sniffed and nodded.

“okay ken.”

words didn’t need to be said between the two of you to know the unconditional love you both had for each other, one that was born and bred and made a fact upon your lives crossing paths through fated connections, and strengthened from the day kento decided to be your bodyguard and protect you with everything that he had.

and words didn’t need to be said between the two of you as you both fell in each other’s soft embraces either, kissing with lingering hands and bated breaths as kento delicately laid you back on your bed after a moment of soft chattering, him making sure you were okay, and scattering hungry open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck and your body language alone with your needy whines enough of an indicator to him that you needed all of him, just as much as he needed all of you, his calloused hands undressing you and worshipping your bare body and everything that you were.

skin to skin contact that was hot to the touch, your arms that barely reached around his broad built shoulders trembling as kento made love to you that night, foreheads resting against each others as he pumped slowly and intimately in and out from inside you, your gasps catching themselves in your throat and him moaning with every thrust and snap of his hips that sent you down a ditzy fucked out road that you never wanted to back track from.

and kento treated you like a delicate little pearl all while at the same time desperately marking and bruising you up with hickeys and bites, afraid from the start that he would accidentally cross the line and hurt you due to his size, but you reassuring him with your perfect smile and pretty face while whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he filled you full, him swallowing you whole and man handling you so much to the point where he had to have you biting down on his tie to keep you quiet while he fucked you senseless.

everything about it was meaningful and cherished and nothing like you’d ever experienced before in your life— a night you wanted to remember for as long as you lived and prayed that you got to repeat over and over again… with him.

with kento and kento only.

he was the only man capable of simmering down your tears and making you feel so much better about a situation as horrid as the one that transpired, and he was the only man that was capable of getting you to listen when you didn’t want to, an incredible talent in itself that spoke volumes in how much of a gentle and kind and reliable person he was… and you only hoped that you provided him with things of the same caliber.

and the thought of that only amplified upon you waking up to find that kento wasn’t next to you in your bed the next morning… when you clearly remembered falling asleep in his big arms the night before.

you slowly sat up, one tired eye peeking over at the vacant spot next you and around the room, finding nothing and honestly feeling a little down about his disappearance as you groggily got out of bed.

maybe he went to eat breakfast? or get a cup of coffee?

you continued on anyways with your morning and freshened up for the day, your legs nearly giving out and sore in the shower due to the pounding he gave you— skin tender and purple under the running water and you loving every mark, shrugging and getting ready quicker than normal so you could finally see kento downstairs to share a little smooch or two with him.

you zoomed through styling your hair and doing your makeup before spritzing a bit of perfume, not bothering to locate your phone before you opened the door to your bedroom and stepped out, bidding your usual good mornings to your housekeeping staff as you skipped down the grand staircase and over to the kitchen, a place he was usually at if not already with you in your room.

but he wasn’t there.

and you frowned.

where was he?

you spent a total of thirty minutes looking for kento— practically turning your mansion upside down and even sticking your head in rooms you had never stepped foot in before, your mind fucking confused and worried that you couldn’t locate him anywhere and that your staff didn’t even know where he was when you asked, for him doing something like this was completely unheard of.

upon going back upstairs, you speedily walked past your fathers study and stopped.

could he be in there…?

but your father was for sure in there, and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking or even looking at him at the moment without fury clouding your judgement again.

but kento could be in there…

you took a deep breath and walked back to your fathers door, hesitantly knocking gently.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind you before turning around and shoulders slumping when you didn’t spot him in here either.

dammit.

“good morning.” your father spoke. “what can i do for you? it’s rather early for you to be stopping by.”

“oh yeah sorry i just—” you played with the ends of your hair. “i was just looking for kento… i thought he might’ve been in here.”

he shook his head.

“he’s not. he left.”

you froze.

“he— what?”

“he left.” you father repeated. “nanami stepped down from the position of being your bodyguard earlier today. he left a couple of hours ago.”

what the fuck?

“i don’t—” you tightly gripped the table next to you, balancing yourself. “i don’t understand—”

“you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard within the next coming week—”

“did he say why?” you breathed out. “did he say anything at all?”

your fathers eyes scanned you.

“amongst various other things, he said he simply couldn’t fulfill that position anymore.”

“did you fire him?!”

he scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous y/n i would never do something like that to nanami. i tried to get him to reconsider.”

holy fucking shit.

kento quit? kento left? kento left you?

it didn’t make any sense. nothing about it made sense to you this— this wasn’t like him at all—

“like i said you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard soon i just need to finalize nanami’s paperwork—”

you swung open the door and ran out, your eyes already filling with tears as you pushed through your housekeeping staff and ignored their beckoning and calls, you bursting through your room and throwing everything around to try and find your phone through your heaving and panic.

why did he leave you? was it something you did?

did he finally realize you were nothing but a useless spoiled girl?

you hurriedly wiped your eyes and kept looking, transitioning from your bed over to your vanity desk and knocking over everything to try and find your stupid phone to call him, some of your expensive bottle of perfumes clattering and spilling and you not giving a rats ass about it as your tears increased in intensity, about to run out of your room and get in your car to literally drive around your fucking city to look for him until you snapped your head up.

a small yellow sticky note sat stuck to your mirror. 

you stopped, dropping the items you were holding and stepping closer— pulling the note from its position and bringing it in.

i’ll be in the garden waiting for you when you wake up.

kento.

you hiccuped and wiped your eyes again, kicking the clothes you had thrown about in search for your phone (that you still couldn’t find) as you hurriedly left your room and trudged down the hall, confusion and hurt suffocating your head over the information you had just learned about him and his leave, you reaching the bottom of your staircase and rounding through various hallways and lounge areas to get to the entry way of your little garden, one that wasn’t exaggeratingly massive like the monroe’s, but one that was a great size and that you loved with everything in you— various flowers and herbs planted by yours truly as you periodically took care of them from time to time.

and sure enough, as promised, kento was standing at the end of your garden, his back turned to you as he overlooked the acres of land your father owned that stretched beyond the premises of your rosey labyrinth, him dressed in a casual yet dressy tight long sleeve sweater and dress pants— a sight you weren’t used to seeing at all as you always saw him in a full blown suit everyday without fail.

kento heard the soft rustling of grass and he slightly turned, a soft smile stretching across his chiseled face until he caught sight of your tear stained cheeks and pissed off expression, his face dropping and brows pinching.

“honey what’s wrong?” he walked over to you and you glared. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you quit.” you muttered, already annoyingly feeling your waterworks trigger again. “my father said you gave up your bodyguard position.”

“oh.” his shoulders relaxed, and his nonchalance only further pissed you off. “i did my love yes—”

“why.” you pushed. “why are you leaving i don’t— i don’t get it did i do something wrong? i—”

“what?” he shook his head and took your hands in his. “no dear god no you didn’t do anything.”

“then why are you leaving?” you sniffed, and kento wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“i told your father i love you.”

you stiffened.

“he wasn’t very pleased.” he continued. “i figured he wouldn’t be… but he didn’t make me step down from my position darling, i chose to do that.”

you blinked confusedly.

“but why?”

“i don’t want to be paid for something that i was born to do as your man.” he smiled warmly. “it didn’t feel right to me… and i don’t want to be labeled as that anymore either.”

he wiped away your remaining tears.

“i want to only be known as yours now. not your bodyguard or anything else in between.”

you were left speechless, unmoving and rigid at everything he was saying.

“however… your father did make me choose between you and the business.”

your brows furrowed, taken aback.

“the— the business?—”

kento nodded, a content smile still on his face.

“he was impressed by what you said yesterday sweetheart.” 

you scoffed. “what that his words were bullshit and that he doesn’t care about me—”

he laughed, little crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head.

“he was satisfied to see that you weren’t angry about not getting the company for yourself, but because he was going to give it away to someone who wasn’t qualified to maintain it.” 

you pursed your lips.

“he was offering it to me in exchange for letting you go. i refused immediately.”

your eyes shot up.

“kento no i— fuck—” you looked around exasperatedly. “this is your dream! this is everything you’ve ever wanted i feel horrible for taking that away i don’t—”

“sweetheart don’t be stupid.” he chuckled. “i thought i made it clear enough that you’re everything i’ve ever wanted… not some business. i don’t need any of that. just you.”

your eyes softened.

“are you sad at all?”

he shook his head and gently kissed your forehead.

“i’m the happiest i’ve ever been y/n.”

and that was the truest of truths.

kento was truly and incandescently happy, no longer tied down and restrained by his inner monologues of former idiotic confusion, or jugglings of what was best for you and whether you should be with him or not no longer standing in the way either as he finally welcomed the fact that yes— a woman as gracious and lively and stunning as you could indeed love a simple man like him, an absolute privilege and honor to have someone as special as you want a life with him in it that he just couldn’t understand how his feelings were ever considered confusing to start with.

for him thinking of nothing but you and his occupation as your protector and your guide, a job that he saw himself doing beside you until his very dying day, was all simply a mask of him thinking out the rest of his life with you in the form of work.

and it was so clear that he loved you. so much.

how could he not? how could the way he stared at the monroe’s generational wedding portraits and photographs, swapping their faces out with his and yours, and his constant weighings of ‘if she was mine’ and ‘does she actually feel the same way’ from before not already give away enough that he loved you?

but it was even clearer now, with him giving up the opportunity to build and nourish a reputable business like he’d always aspired to do, turning it down without so much as a blink because he wanted you and you only, not feeling an ounce of regret in his body and knowing that he never will.

kento was looking forward to spending the rest of his days with the woman that he’d always envisioned it with— the forbidden heavenly fruit that he had deemed impossible to reach and wrong to even try, him unknowing of the fact that that same glistening fruit sat dangling and waiting as it would only ever let itself be harvested and picked by him… for kento was the one who planted and had been nurturing it for as long as it could remember.

planted it… nurtured it… kept it safe.

kept you safe.

and funnily enough, another individual was also looking forward to seeing your life with kento unfold… your father— curious to see how exactly two opposites became compatible, and when it was that the two of you fell in love as it managed to wholeheartedly slip past his radar completely when most things didn’t.

had he really been this absent in your life?

… though regardless if he was or wasn’t, it was too late to dwell on it now, seeing as you were a grown woman and capable and your father was grateful that you at least had a companion with you through the many days he wasn’t, and an honorable man such as kento— taking care of you and guiding you through every step of your life when he didn’t even need to be asked, his willingness to do it and overlooking your reckless habits reading numbers to your father.

and even more so now as he leaned against his studies stone balcony ledge from above, it overlooking the entirety of your garden plus the acres of land he owned during the annual dinner party he put on for the business, kento sitting peacefully on a lawn chair with you in his lap while drinking glasses of sparkling champagne, soft echoing laughs and giggles heard from below as you enjoyed each others company away from the bustling crowds and nosy relatives.

it was a pleasing sight, to say the least.

and it was exactly why your father was going to give his business to kento when the time came, because when given the choice between gluttony and love, kento chose love.

he chose you.

“i’m thinking of planting tiger lilies soon.” you hummed, your head resting on kento’s shoulder as he delicately ran a hand down your back, sipping his champagne. “it’s almost their season… right?”

“i believe so, yes.” he nodded. “i think that’s a great idea.”

“thanks!” you cheesed, running the tip of your index finger absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. “will you help me? i need your big manly arms to carry the soil out from the flower shop tomorrow hehe.”

he chuckled, tracing his fingers gingerly over your upper arm. “i’ll pick it up for you in the morning sweetheart. don’t concern yourself with it.”

you smiled to yourself, cheeks warm as you pressed a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

“i am concerned about something else though…”

his brows pinched, lowering the glass from his lips and looking at you in concern.

“what is it?”

“when we’re gonna pick our wedding date—”

kento laughed boastfully and shook his head, setting down his champagne glass on the little table next to him and settling his hand over your thigh, the material of your classy black dress smooth under his touch.

“you asked me this just last night my love.”

“okay so?” you grinned. “you don’t want me to be your precious wife? the birth giver of your offspring?—”

“i never said that—”

“because i could y’know.” you caressed his jaw with your thumb. “i could be your wife and be the mother of your children… isn’t that what you want?”

with all of his heart.

“it’s what i want at least.” you pouted, and kento smiled handsomely, the vision of you soaked in the rays of the setting sun before him a lethal one as he felt his heart rattle against his chest.

“me promising to take care of you has marriage included above all else my love.” he spoke gently. “you will be my bride someday, i assure you.”

you stared at him warmly, your cheek falling to rest against his as you placed your hand on his chest and over his white crisp button up.

“i also assure you that you’ll continue to be happy and protected, alright?” he squeezed your thigh. “just because i’m not your bodyguard anymore doesn’t mean my duties are done with.”

you nodded against him, the slight prickling cold wind brushing against your skin as the stunning sun continued to set.

“you’re a good man, ken.” you murmured. “and i love you.”

and that was another truest of truths.

because as he reiterated that same three worded phrase back to you and held you closer to his built frame, grabbing his blazer from the arm rest and draping it over your goose bumped filled shoulders, and with a tender kiss to your lips?

it was obvious that kento nanami was born and raised to be just that.

a good man.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[xazse]

Ahhhh I loved your reader hybrid works, literal chefs kiss 😩🤌 can you pls pls pls do a bunny! Reader x Suguru and Satoru

You can’t!

Synopsis: Poor Bunnygirl and puppyboySatoru are experiencing the worst heats ever, good thing their owner Suguru is there to take care of them.

Notes: Hi I decided to bring in our Puppy!BoySatoru if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll revise this entire thing for you!!

Pairings: Puppy!HybridSatoru x Bunny!GirlReader x Suguru

Warnings: Hybrid!Reader + smut + humping + Hybrid!Satoru + drooling + licking + penetration + lots of cum very nasty + Suguru is a good owner + collars

Suguru is exhausted when he read online that getting a hybrid would take a lot of work they weren’t lying especially Bunnygirls and Puppy!Boys.

He thought he would be ready and prepared, it should be a walk in the park! Of course bumps and falls would occur but with someone as patient as Suguru everything will turn out fine.

A year in everything was so fucking perfect, You and Satoru listened so well he really lucked out with the two of you. Most people would complain on online forums that handling was the hardest thing.

The issues started arising when you and Satoru started getting needy, you were kinda independent before but now you both are always on or under Suguru, you both felt the need to always have your hands on him, roaming his body and even touching each other. More issues started to come when it felt like you and him were so feverish and always sore.

A quick google search brought Suguru to the page of hybrid heats. It happens often and can be unpredictable, it’s slapped in his face and he isn’t sure what to do

“Please-Suguru hurts so bad..”

He surely wasn’t expecting to walk into the scene he’s seeing right now, Satoru laid on his back with you atop him, tears are brimming in both your lashes it looks like you two have been crying and whining for the longest time.

You’re in nothing but panties and a thin tank top with him sporting just his underwear. Satoru’s cock is fully hard pressed agains’t your cunt so snugly and he’s already made a mess: his cum seeping through.

It looks like this is what you two have been doing for all this time, just grinding against each other. He feels terrible, he hadn’t taken the time to fully explain what would be happening to your bodies.

He makes his way over to his dumb pets and you both follow so obediently, leaving each others arms to fully envelope in his. Satoru starts licking and sucking on his neck, he isn’t shy to rub his cock so blatantly, smearing his thick load even more.

He needs to teach his hybrids how to pleasure themselves whilst he isn’t here, he stops Satoru from his suckling. He gently has you lay down admiring just how cute you look, your ears are standing at full attention but your hazy eyes aren’t all there.

He pulls off your sticky panties, a clear line of your cum visible when they’re discarded.

He’s met with an even messier sight when admiring your pussy, your folds are glistening as well as his fingers when he teases your little clit.

Suguru positions Satoru in front of your spread legs, he isn’t sure what to do with himself besides following Suguru’s every direction.

Suguru dips his fingers in your cunt again, guiding them to Satoru’s mouth he has him suck them clean.

Satoru absolutely loves the taste of you, he groans so lewdly as he’s lapping up what’s left of your essence.

When he finishes that up Suguru grabs Satoru’s leaky cock with a rough grip and taps it a few times on your soddened clit, this elicits a few moans out of the both of you. It feels so good already, and yet Suguru can’t wait to show you both just how good cumming feels.

He guides Satoru’s hips pushing his sensitive pink tip past your tight entrance.

“Ahh..ngh…”

The whimpering starts, poor puppy Satoru’s brain can’t comprehend this feeling, he knows the pleasure part of his brain is needing more but his body wants to pull away at the same time, he’s scared at how wet and hot it feels. He isn’t telling Suguru to stop so he continues.

His bunny isn’t fairing any better, you’re gripping the pillows for dear life as a fat cock, something foreign pushes inside of you for the first time.

Suguru sets a slow nice pace, hands still on Satoru’s hips guiding him inside of your wet cavern and out again and again. He’s doing all the work but he doesn’t mind one bit.

Suguru pauses working Gojo into you and lets him feel you, for real this time. Your walls are twitching and clamping down on him so hard.

He slides down into the crook of your neck and cries right there, it’s such a sad sight but so arousing at the same time.

“Cmon Toru, gotta make bunny feel good too.”

Satoru listens and begins licking your sensitive neck, he knows that’s a weak spot of yours, always triggering it when he’s roughhousing with you. His hips begin speeding up, the wet sounds of your cum mixing together and being slammed against one another is loud and bounces off the walls.

You cry out loud letting Suguru know that you feel weird, your tummy feels weird and it’s hurting. He reassures you and says to just let it go.

Suguru teases and grabs Satoru’s balls, head diving into his first load of the afternoon, it’s a good bit of cum he produces, Suguru is going to spend a good hour cleaning the both of you up!

[nana-au]

More bff!mark content please I BEG YOU

(Bonus points if it’s smut)

absolutely anon! MDNI

𝐁𝐅𝐅! 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 | your first time together gets ruined by sex pollen

note: this is rlly shitty mb i just wanted to write some dirty freaky nasty smut

warnings: corny sex pollen trope, afab/fem! reader, unprotected sex, slightly rough sex, tummy bulging, marathon sex, cum eating, sloppy gross makeout im sorry

bff! mark who always pictured your first time together as this slow and sensual moment where he confessed his deepest desires. he imagined himself taking his time - kissing up and down your body until you're putty in his hands... until you are so pliant and needy and breathless. he always knew he wanted to massage the fat of your thighs, the same ones he practically drools over whenever he has the pleasure of getting to see you in shorts. he knew he wanted to play with your tits; he was desperate to find out how sensitive they were. always wondering if he could make you come just from sucking on them. all and all, mark knew for his first time he wanted it to be special. unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

bff! mark who goes on some random mission cecil sends him on one hot summer day. he expects to be there and back by the days end, and he was. the alien creature that was disturbing some beach goers was shockingly easy to defeat. the only thing he wasn't expecting was the sweet gas it let out upon its death that left mark woozy. his flight home was a blur - he couldn't remember the plane he narrowly missed or the flock of birds he frightened. all he could think about was getting home. not to his - but yours.

bff! mark who stumbles through your bedroom window - not before flying right into it first. you were surprised it didn't shatter from the impact. you jump upon hearing the loud thunk of his body hitting the glass before running to your window to see mark in a daze on the ground below. your friend rips his mask off in an attempt to orientate himself and you call out to him. he shakes himself awake, floating back up and gliding into the now open window.

bff! mark who is not acting right. he's sweaty and jittery and completely out of it. he can barely form a sentence let alone a thought - unless it has to do with nestling his cock deep in your pussy. it takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realize what is happening. at first you think he must've lost too much blood - all though he looks pristine all things considered. your hands search over the fabric of his suit, trying to feel for what your eyes are obviously missing as mark all but hangs onto you. your palm skims over the ridges of his abs while your other arm shakes from supporting his weight on yours. he digs his face deep into your neck upon the invasion of your hand on his abdomen - his body practically vibrating under your attention as he lets out a soft moan. "mark, talk to me. what happened?" you ask, desperate to discover what has your best friend acting like this. the only response you get is his raspy breath in your ear. your skin tingles from his heat on you and you struggle to keep the both of you up right.

you guide the two of you to your bed, setting mark down on the plush fabric of your comforter causing him to slump over. he groans from the loss of contact - his eyes squeezing shut while his mouth pleads for you. "i need you, please," he begs. his arms feeling heavy as he reaches out for you and his whole body shakes, like he was suddenly in pain.

"mark what happened?" you ask, grabbing his hand that was lamely searching for your body. he wastes no time dragging you down beside him - suddenly having no issue finding his strength.

"please," he sobs, pulling you flush against him. "it hurts when i can't feel you," he admits which only leaves you more confused.

"i don't understand, mark," you tell him. his eyes shoot open and it's then you notice how large his pupils are. "jesus mark..." you gasp at the sight, his eyes almost completely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. "we need to call cecil," you tell him and he groans.

"don't need cecil... i need you," his bottom lip quivers and his hands abandon you as he searches for a way to get his suit off. you watch your friend struggle with the suit he wears every day - desperately grabbing at the fabric before ultimately deciding to rip it off. you hear the tear loud in your ears as he rips it down the center, exposing his glistening skin and a whole lot more underneath.

"mark, oh my god," you cough out, not before looking away upon the realization he is completely naked underneath. you can tell he is struggling ridding his limbs of the tight fabric from the way the bed shifts under his weight.

"i think we really need to call cecil," you tell him shyly, refusing to look over at him. you hear him groan again - much more childish then before. he's getting frustrated - and desperate. his hand reaches for yours and you jump at the contact.

"c'mere" he practically whispers, pulling you by your hand back into him. you close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest - terrified of seeing your friend's naked body in such a vulnerable state. you can tell he successfully freed himself from his suit by the soft skin of his legs rubbing against your own - clad in only your sleep shorts. you lay tense beside him, unwilling to move which just wont do.

bff! mark who pulls your body onto his. he picks you up like you weigh nothing just to plop the fat of your ass against his dick. you're rigid against him, realizing you can feel his dick throbbing against the curve of your rear. "fuuuuuuuck," he lets out, his own body relaxing after finally getting an inch of the attention he's been needing.

"mark," you can barely get out, swallowing roughly while you feel your best friend rock steadily against you. his precum wicks against the fabric of your shorts and you feel the cold, wet fluid on your right cheek. "mark... what are you doing," you ask him - unsure if he even knows. he doesn't respond, just grunts while bucking pathetically against you and you feel terrible for taking note of just how big he is - but how could you not? it had sprung out of his suit painfully red and stiff and here he is rubbing it on you. you begin to grow dizzy from the realization of what was actually happening to you: mark, your best friend, the guy you grew up with and had a painfully pathetic crush on is hot and bothered underneath you, of all people. while you're deep in thought, he shifts, grabbing the base of his dick and shoving it into the right leg hole of your shorts before continuing to rock - savoring the feeling of his cock sandwiched between your shorts and underwear. you're speechless - utterly confused yet entirely turned on. you feel guilty - sure that mark has absolutely no clue who you even are at this point.. that is until he grunts out your name which causes your eyes to open. you look down at him, his usual doe brown eyes are black and his mouth is slack from looking up at you in awe. his hips start to pick up pace upon seeing your eyes on him - his body burning for more.

bff! mark who can't wait anymore. he needs to be inside you. "in.. in.. in.." he's chanting, moving your body as he pleases without so much as a struggle. he flips you around until you're beneath him, his toned body resting just above yours. you can practically feel his heat wafting off of him - threatening to cook you alive. his eyes are still glued to yours - like they're the only things he wants to look at. they're intense which causes you to look away, now focusing on his wide shoulders encompassing you. you feel oddly safe underneath his strong body before an overwhelming wave of arousal ripples down you. he shivers above you - his whole body shuddering like he felt the exact same sensation as you just now. he reaches down - ripping your shorts and panties in one go - freeing them from your body and giving him access to where he wants the most. his hand reaches down to check if you're ready for him and you both gasp at what he finds. his warm fingers explore your cunt - running his calloused pads against the velvety skin that is slick with your desire for him. it's almost like his brain has a moment of clarity - like he knows its his first time seeing your cunt and he should take the time to savor this moment - to feel your walls snug against his digits but that goes as quickly as it comes and he's back to his mission of getting his dick as deep inside you as possible.

bff! mark who all but forces his way in. he's on autopilot - plunging his tip past your entrance and sinking himself in. he can feel your pussy resisting his girth and a whine catches in his throat. "mark.." you cry out softly, "go slow... please," he hears you and normal mark would rather die than hurt you. normal mark would have taken hours to prep you for him to ensure when he finally sunk into your warmth that you would be ready for him. but this wasn't normal mark - this was mark high on something and the only cure for it was his tip kissing your cervix. he continues pushing himself deeper and deeper and your body has no choice but to accept him completely. you're uncomfortably full when he reaches the hilt and he breathes out a sigh of relief. you sniffle below him and instead of pulling out and apologizing until his vocal chords fry he only reaches down to kiss the tear streaming down your cheek.

"d'you feel me?" he can't help but ask... god do you feel him? he can see himself poking through your tummy! "s'sooooo good," he murmurs, dragging his dick out of your gummy walls, only to shove himself back in. he's hypnotized, watching how when he inches out the bulge disappears - only to reappear when his cock slides right back in.

"mark -god," you cry, feeling his veiny cock drag against your walls, each drag sweeter than the last as your body gets used to his intrusion. your winces turn into whines that mark catches in his mouth. his lips are soft against yours and they feel like the missing piece to your puzzle. you move your lips against his and he sinks down lower, resting on his elbows. your bodies rub against each other as mark fucks you. you can feel every bump of his perfect abs and smooth pecs beneath the fabric of your tank top. the same tank top that has ridden up your body from each snap of hips that fuck you into your sheets. you reach behind mark, running your palms down his muscled back - enjoying the feeling of the individual muscles moving as he guides himself in and out of your sweet cunt.

bff! mark who you realize can last for hours. he's been fucking you for what seems like an entire day - failing to run out of steam - or even cum. he's fucked you in every position imaginable. you've been on your back, on your stomach, your knees, your side, on him....

you two only have the sounds of your pussy - stuffed full of his cum - to listen to. the squishy sounds bounce off the walls of your bedroom and into your ears. the sweet snap of his hips punish your g-spot repeatedly - his full weight on top of you, his cock slipping inside of you from behind. by this point you are more out of it than mark, who by his fourth orgasm is finally starting coming back down to earth.

"i always knew you would feel this good," he huffed out, breath hot in your ear while his tongue reaches out to lick the ridges of your earlobe. you can't speak at this point, the only thing on your mind is the rhythmic plap plap plap of his hips against yours. both of you are covered in each other's arousal - spreading it all over every time your skin meets. his v-line is drenched in your sticky arousal and he doesn't think his body could look any better than this.

"you still with me?" he asks you, calling you by your childhood nickname. he chuckles to himself when you don't respond to him, still just focused on his fat tip reaching places you didn't know existed. he's been in his right state of mind about two orgasms from you ago, but instead of that causing him to stop - he realized he only gets one time to give you a good first impression. and he was definitely going to give you a good one if he could help it.

bff! mark who doesn't hesitate to eat his cum out of you once everything is said and done. what can he say? nothing in this world could taste better than the flavor of you both connecting in the most intimate way possible. his tongue drags and slurps against you while you twitch and cry. of course he's eating you out from behind, ensuring his nose teases your entrance while his tongue flicks on your little clit. you're laying flat on your stomach, face buried in one of your pillows from the overwhelming feeling.

when he finally comes up he's drenched - lower face coated in your mixture and he pulls your head up to give you a sloppy kiss. ensuring you, too, get the essence of the both of you on your face.

[squipa]

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes

[viennakarma]

Just the Same

Lestappen x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: After many years, you finally found your soulmates, but what happens when they're in an already established relationship and you become the odd one out?

Word count: 4.7k

Tags: Female reader, established Lestappen, soulmate AU, angst, daddy issues, trust issues, max is a lil mean (he's overwhelmed), not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Notes: Thank you so much to the anon who sent this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to finally get to it, but I was writing it slowly. Anyways, here it is, part 2 is halfway through so let me know if you want to be tagged and what you would like to see in it! Comments and feedback are appreciated.

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You always had that emptiness of missing your soulmate. It was an uneasy feeling, not too painful, but still it was a feeling that was always lingering there, somewhere deep down. It got worse as you got older, and you saw your friends, family, everyone eventually finding their halves, falling in love, getting married.

It got particularly hard during holidays, when you’d sit around with your family and their soulmates, and you’d be all alone, wishing and praying you’d find yours.

Eventually, you’d find yourself browsing the government website where they talked about what to do if you never find your soulmate, support groups and the last resource, medicines to deal with soulmate absences. Many people lived a good, healthy life even if they never got to meet their soulmate and you started to try and make peace with the fact that you never might.

You laid awake, staring at the soulmate tattoo on your wrist. It was a monogram of your initial and the initial of your soulmate, but it only had your initial and it’d be complete the moment you and your soulmate first touched. You had looked at your parents’ tattoo many times when they weren’t looking, too busy staring lovingly into each other’s eyes to notice you.

-

You were walking the shore, it was a warm summer night, you had just watched the sunset by yourself, sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you quickly looked around trying to find the reason for that strange feeling. The pier was considerably full, people coming and going, a lot of locals and tourists, so it was hard to tell where that feeling came from. You kept walking and looking around when you stumbled into someone, hard. So hard it had you falling on your ass on the ground. You looked up to see one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He said politely, offering a hand to help you up, but as soon as he pulled you up, you felt your soulmate mark tingle, and when you looked, a letter C showed up on top of your own initial, and as you looked at his wrist, both of you shocked, your initial showed up on top of his own monogram.

“Oh, my god…” You whispered, noticing his monogram wasn’t just his initial, it had another one too, an M, “What…?”

“I think… we might be soulmates…” Charles said with a startled giggle, “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You said your name back and offered a hand, exchanging a handshake and it felt good, a special kind of warmth spreading through your chest.

“I- I thought I already had found my soulmate…” Charles said, suddenly, “but…” He touched his own tattoo, “we might be a trio.”

Charles smiled as he offered his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you wherever. It didn’t matter when the feel of his touch was so soothing, so right.

Trios of soulmates aren’t common, but they’re not exactly rare. You had met a few through your lifetime, and your own grandparents from your maternal side were a trio of soulmates. Charles seemed eager, happy, and you allowed yourself to be just as giddy, he spoke fast, in a heavy accent looking like he was besides himself for having found you.

“I… I had always had this lingering feeling that something was amiss, even after I met Max, but I thought it was just my mind playing pranks on me… Oh, by the way, Max is my boyfriend and soulmate, and he’s probably yours too!” Charles was speaking a hundred words per minute and you could only smile at him, as he invited you to his car, to drive you to his boyfriends’ place, for you guys to meet because he could bet Max’s initial would join his on your soulmate mark. 

When you arrived at a fancy building, Charles guiding you to the elevator, you two looked at each other. Charles was flushed and breathless, looking happy.

“Max, mon coeur!” Charles called out as he dragged you into a big apartment, your hands intertwined together.

Max was a big guy, blonde, tall and handsome and his gorgeous eyes had your breath hitching on your throat when they met yours for the first time, the same feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. He had a confused face as he came out of one of the rooms, his eyes immediately dropping to Charles’ hand around yours.

“What is this, Charles?” His face was stormy, like he was getting angry.

“She is it. She is our soulmate…” Charles said, tugging you forward, closer to Max and you could see his contempt, like he didn’t like that one bit, it made you cringe internally, wanting to look good, to leave a good impression.

“I don’t think this is right…” Max said, carefully picking his words. You could sense his hesitation but you could also see how he was being careful to not hurt Charles’ feelings.

“It is, look!” Charles showed his soulmate mark, your initial now engraved on top of the C and the M.

Charles, for his part, looked so excited that he failed to notice the tension, Max’s hesitation and you with your stomach dropping to your feet. You felt crushed, the giddiness and the happiness you had felt meeting Charles now dampened by Max’s evident displeasure with all of it.

Despite being painfully aware of Max’s dislike of the situation, for a while you thought it was just the suddenness of everything, of him being used to only Charles as a soulmate. You attributed it to him being caught by surprise.

So you gently removed your hand from Charles’ and offered it to Max in a handshake. He hesitated, taking a couple of steps back, pretending to be busy with something else. You dropped your hand back to your sides.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said with a tentative smile, despite the weird feeling of a knot in your chest tightening, making your insecurities bloom, your eyes meeting Max’s again.

-

Slowly, you started to be included in their routine. You knew that if it were by Charles’ decision, you’d probably have moved on day one. But you needed the space to adjust to the idea, you spent so long thinking you would never find your soulmate that finding out there were two of them was a little unnerving. And also, to let Max adjust to your existence, as he seemed a little reluctant still.

So you started getting to know each other every Wednesday night, when you usually went to their places, and you ordered food and chatted about life, about childhood, family, everything and anything.

And so, Wednesday dates became twice a week, and then two dinners and a lunch, and soon, you were part of each other’s routine. An intricate routine was built as it went, your meetings, your dates, they flying you out to the places they went for pre-season.

Despite integrating into each other’s lives fairly quickly, you still were keeping a safe distance, you had not kissed or even made love yet. You knew you had to take things slow, adapt to the change as much as you wanted to jump in head first. Max was… trying. You could tell he was trying, but he had a hard time adapting to abrupt changes. Charles called you over one time, alone, to explain that Max needed some time and patience, and even when they first got together, he had a hard time adjusting to a soulmate, to feeling them, to get familiar with the person and the avalanche of emotions that came with them.

It took a couple of weeks for Max to touch you, for your soulmate marks to grow complete.

You were flying overnight with them in Max’s private plane, you, reading a book in one of the seats, Max across from you on his phone. Charles was long gone, lying on the bed inside the other room, sleeping soundly for a couple of hours, through the night flight. You could feel Max’s gaze on you every few minutes, sometimes you looked back at him with a lazy little smile. You had put on a few of your PTOs to accompany them to the first race of the year, to try and get yourself immersed a little more in what seems to be a great part of their lives.

You tried staying awake, shouldering through the pages of your book, forcing yourself to read it. But the exhaustion was slowly creeping up, the letters starting to blur.

You blinked, and when you realized, you were waking up, feeling your soulmate mark tingling slightly. You looked up, Max was carrying you, the strong scent of his cologne filling your lungs, his warmth around you as you blinked again, confused.

“Sleep now, I’m taking you to bed,” He muttered, and it was the softest you’d ever heard his voice address you as.

You didn’t say anything as you felt him place you on a soft bed, low lights as you closed your eyes, feeling Charles’ warmth again. After a little sleepy scooting, you were half asleep between both Charles and Max. Charles’ legs between yours, his cheek against your shoulder on the right side, Max to your left side, pulling a blanket on top of you three. His arm reached across you, laying on your middle and his hand landing on Charles, like he wanted to feel both of you in your arms. Before fully falling asleep, you stared at his wrist, your initial finally joining his and Charles’ on his skin.

With a soft smile, you felt the happiest you’d ever felt, cocooned between the two loves of your life, relaxed as you fell asleep.

When you woke up again, a few hours later, Max wasn’t in bed, he was back at his seat, talking on his phone, while Charles was awake beside you, lazily doom scrolling, his legs still tangled with yours.

“Slept well, mon coeur?” He asked as he noticed you waking up.

“Yeah, I did…” You mumbled, rubbing your face, “Did Max sleep?”

“Yes, for a couple of hours. He doesn’t sleep much during flights. Why?”

“Did you see?” You whispered, almost giddy as you raised your hand to show him your wrist, mark now complete as Max finally touched you. Charles smiled softly, pulling your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your soulmate mark.

“See? He’s warming up…” Charles whispered back, eyes shining.

When you arrived in Australia, going straight to the hotel, smiling with Charles as Max made the check-in, your stomach dropped when the receptionist talked about “Two rooms”, not just one for you three. You gulped as Max gave you one of the keys, took the other one as he took Charles’ hand in his.

Your eyes dropped to their hands, and when your gaze met Charles’ he knew, you could see the same hurt in his eyes as in yours. You followed them into the elevator, and your room was right beside theirs. With a lump in your throat, you didn’t trust yourself to look at them one last time before entering, so you just didn’t, the first tears falling down your cheeks as the door clicked shut behind you.

After a quick shower, you sat in bed, wrapped in a robe telling yourself that this was fine. You’ve met them only a couple of months before, it was natural that they’d take time to adjust to you. Despite reading and hearing all about things like once you meet your soulmate, you never want to be apart from them, nor them from you.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself again.

Around an hour later, Charles texted you to get ready for breakfast, and the puffy of your eyes was long gone as you dressed in a casual little dress and went downstairs to the restaurant to meet them.

Both were already there as you joined, walking towards them, you noticed how they checked you out, and that was almost enough to forget the fact you weren’t sharing a room with them, you chatted some more over breakfast. Despite Max being still slightly distant, you could see he was trying. Trying to talk to you, actively listening to your answers, joining in conversation.

Later that day, they ended up having to go to media day, which they asked if you wanted to go with. They said there wasn’t much going on, and for that exact reason you decided to go, it’d be better to get around the paddock on a day that it wasn’t full of people.

They showed you around, and that moment Max was slightly more talkative than he’d ever been, probably because it was a comfortable subject for him, talking about racing, about cars and tracks. You loved hearing him explain, talk about his passion, what he did on the daily and his routine there.

At some point, Charles left to record something with his team, but you and Max barely noticed his absence as you listened to the champion talking. Then, someone found you two and said Max had to go.

Max left you at the hospitality.

“Will you be okay here?” He asked, reaching into his pocket.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. If anything happens I’ll text you or Charles,” You said, and he held up your paddock passes, gently placing the string around your neck.

“If anything happens, you can go back to my room. You remember how to get there?” Max said, pulling your hair atop the strings of the passes.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Thank you, Max.” You whispered with a soft smile and he nodded, seemingly hesitating to hug you or something like that. You watched as he stepped back and went with the team person.

You ate, drank and opened your ipad to do some work, sitting in a far corner of the hospitality room, hoping the headphones would tune out the loud noises of the paddock.

Charles found you first after a couple of hours, he crouched before you, hands on your knees, looking soft.

“Tired of waiting?”

“I’m okay,” You said, reaching for him, gently brushing his hair that was out of place.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel? We might take longer here…” He offered, and you hesitated, despite wanting to stay, you were still somewhat sleepy from the overnight flight.

“I guess I could use a nap, and I might need to go shopping. I didn’t bring many weather appropriate clothes.”

Charles had a driver take you back to the hotel, after a short nap, you went out in the city to buy some clothes for the following days. During your shopping spree, you ended up going to a salon to do your nails, and on a whim, you decided a change would do you good and the boys might appreciate it, and you had the hair stylist darken your hair, and you chopped it off, shoulder length, a cool and fresh haircut.

When you arrived at the track, Charles was the first to greet you, a gentle smile as addressed your new look.

“Oh? Changed your hair? It looks nice, it’s so pretty.”

“Thank you, I thought it was about time I tried something new…” You preened under his praise, turning to Max, hoping to please him somehow.

“You look good,” He said with a little smile while Charles rolled a strand of your hair on his finger, softly feeling its texture.

You don’t tell them you did it to somewhat look more like Charles, to get Max to like you. And the way their eyes lingered softly on you… it meant something. Something that had you feeling a nice little warmth in the pit of your stomach.

Over a couple of days, you three grew more comfortable around each other, especially as you were the one coming into an already established relationship. So you really wanted them to naturally grow easier around you, you didn’t push, but every morning you had breakfast together and dinner too. You liked it, the routine, the softness of easy conversations about life, learning more about theirs, making plans for the future.

That same weekend, the race was… bad. Really bad for both of them, but especially for Max. Charles had started P5 and unfortunately ended P7. But Max… Had started P2 and due to a couple of race incidents and one 10 second penalty, ended up P13. According to what you heard from the race commentary it was his first actual bad race in quite some time. And you could see in his eyes the way he was fuming post-race.

During their post race commitments, you stayed out of their way, you knew they’d have press and meeting with their team, so you stayed at the Ferrari hospitality, grabbed a bite while you researched some way to help their de-stress later, maybe a swim in the hotel pool, or just soaking in the big jacuzzi in their hotel room.

After a couple of grueling hours, you decided to go find Charles first, since he’d probably be in a slightly better place mentally than Max. You went to his little room, but he wasn’t there. A helpful member of the staff said he had gone to see Max, and suggested you went there too.

You made your way through the maze of people towards them, grabbing a couple of small chocolates to give them. Charles had mentioned once that a little sweet treat would always lift their moods after a tough day.

As you arrived at his room, you could hear their voices through the thin walls, and it took you a few steps to notice they seemed to be arguing. You stopped before you could make your presence known, standing behind the door.

“-Look, I know you’re frustrated, the race today was fucking nuts…” Charles started, apparently trying to calm down Max.

“All of this sucks. But you don’t understand… because you’re you…” Max replied, still agitated, “You are kind and welcoming, but this is not cool with me, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t do changes like you, Charlie…” Max sighed, seemingly unable to put into words whatever was plaguing him, “I feel so… I don’t know. I just hate that my car changed, that I’m battling it as much as I’m battling other drivers week in, week out. You’re also changed, Charlie, and I’m- here. And there’s…” Max’s voice died for a moment, and he whispered your name. The sound of it, the contempt in his voice… it had you rooted to the spot.

“What about her?” Charles asked, his voice almost shaky, as if he knew exactly where this was going.

“It was better before!” Max snapped, his voice an octave higher because of the outburst.

You froze, the weight of his words landing right on your chest like a deep, dark blow. Dread filling your lungs and aching like acid as you held onto the wall.

“You don’t mean it,” Charles whispered, sounding disappointed.

“It was, you know that! N-now because of her, we have to rearrange our schedules, and adjust our whole lives to fit her. When it was perfect the way it was before!”

“Don’t say that, Max,” Charles muttered, sounding hurt, “that’s awful.”

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a lot of change for us, Charlie. We have the same life, we travel the same places, we are almost always in the same time zone, the same bed, face to face. She is not from this life. And now we have to stretch our already packed schedule and life to accommodate her. Do you think this is fair to me?”

Silence. A silence that spoke volumes, a consenting confirmation that Charles probably felt the same. That all your trying, all your efforts amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. You were just you and they were Max & Charles, 2-in-1, soulmates, halves of a whole. There was no space for you, there was never another spot available in their midst, in their bed. You were always set to fail, to be the stranger in their relationship.

You stepped away from the room, unable to put yourself through hearing more, walking aimlessly through the paddock. That had been enough for your heart to take, to understand its place in all of this. Even in their lives, there would never be any space for you. You’d never mean to Charles the same as Max, and you’d never mean to Max the same as Charles.

Trying not to cry, you swallowed the thick, painful lump in your throat, eyes red as you fought the tears, to not pull any unwanted attention to yourself as you blended with your surroundings.

You were like one of those sad soulmates stories you had read in forums on the internet, the loose string that would never fit with their counterparts. They could even love you as any soulmates did, but did they like you?

How long had you walked aimlessly? You didn’t know, but eventually, you heard your name being called by Charles, and you turned in time to see them waving you over. Max seemed moody, still, but slightly calmer, controlled.

“We were looking for you,” Charles said with a soft smile, one that made you break a bit more inside.

“I was a bit lost…” You said, unable to hide the redness in your eyes and nose.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, and that caught Max attention, who stared at you more attentively.

“Yeah… just sleepy, I guess.” You lied, which they seemed to buy.

You three ended up going back to Monte Carlo a couple of hours later, both of them not finding any reason to stay there any longer. You kept quiet and distant most of the time. You sat in your seat, trying to read a book but your mind was elsewhere. Your mind was in the decision to make knowing you’re not wanted somewhere and make yourself scarce.

“Hey,” Charles said, and you looked up at him, “We’re going to bed to catch some sleep,” He pointed towards the small room with the big bed you three had slept on, on the way there, Max had changed from his t-shirt into a fluffy sweater, “Wanna come?”

You shook your head softly, “Let me just go through some more of my book. I’ll join you later, okay?”

He nodded, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he went to bed. You watched over your book when he joined Max on the bed, both of them cuddling softly, whispering things you couldn’t hear, intimacy you weren’t privy to.

The odd one out.

You stared at them for a few minutes as they fell asleep, Charles’ face tucked into Max’s neck, his arm around the monegasque, pulling him flush to his side. A blanket pulled up to their waists, cocooning them in warmth and affection. Sharing something you would never be part of.

Your eyes watered as you looked away, trying to tune out the ugly envy that wanted to rip through your chest and flood you. Because you wanted that, so much that the knowledge you won’t have any of it, made your chest constrict in tiny little pieces. The tears fell down after the first hour of their sleep, a sob ripped through your chest but you quickly covered it with your balled up coat, trying to breathe through it, to tone it down. You cried silently for the next few hours, trying to force yourself to stop, but every time you remembered Max’s words, a fresh wave of tears came over you.

Eventually, before sunrise, you managed to go to the bathroom and pull yourself together just enough to let the swelling in your face go down. You managed a nap in the reclined seat, never daring yourself to go to bed with them, despite how much you wanted it.

You woke up with Max touching your arm to wake you up, saying something about putting the seat belt to land. You walked with them quietly to the car, letting them sit together in the back seat while you went to the passenger seat. Max noticed, but he didn’t say anything as Charles sat down beside him, leaning against his shoulder.

You met his eyes through the rearview mirror, looking away after a second.

Whispering, you told the driver the address to your place.

“You’re not coming with us?” Max asked, and you just shook your head.

“I have some work things to fix.” You lied, not looking back at him.

It worked differently with trios. If the three parts were apart from each other, then they all would suffer those symptoms. But if two out of three were together, it didn’t matter much. The two would still feel the lingering absence of their third but they could ultimately live a comfortable, happy life. Your own grandparents, back in the day when Grandpa Joe passed away unexpectedly, your Grandma Everly and Grandpa Harold still managed to live together comfortably despite feeling the absence of their third.

So in a way, you knew Charles and Max would be fine without you.

You, on the other hand, would take the worst of the pain. 

And you were already feeling it, the shake of your hands as you stepped out of the car, quietly. Unnoticed. There was a tight knot coiled in your chest, and as they drove away and you went back home, you could feel it about to snap. You held back as best as you could because you knew the moment you got home it would snap. And break you forever.

And break you it did.

The moment you walked inside your place and the door was safely locked, your first sob ripped through your throat like a thunder, and you allowed your legs to wobble until you slid your back down the wall, until you were nothing but a pool of tears and heartbreak.

It’s a complicated thing, this feeling, this urge to be with them bellied your need to make them happy. But the knowledge that they were happy before you… without you… it stung. And if that was the way to make them happy, you’d do it and bear the short end of the deal. You’d take the pain if it made them happy.

That alone was enough to ease the burning pain in your chest.

So you pulled away.

Forty minutes later, Charles texted you wanting to know if you were still coming over for dinner as you had mentioned in passing during the trip. You lied, telling him you had a family problem to solve. Charles, bless his heart, got worried and offered help. You lied some more saying it wasn’t a big deal.

That’s how you started pulling away, the race two weeks later you had agreed to come, you canceled, saying you had work piled up and you’d have to stay back.

You progressively reduced texting with Charles, deciding to go slow, weaning, so he wouldn’t notice. His calls grew shorter and far between. The wave of heat and comfort you felt hearing their voices, seeing their faces made it worse when you had to hang up the call.

The pain got worse as you stopped talking with them. Your chest would hurt, a pointed pain that came in waves and made your hand press into your chest in a soothing massage.

The less you spoke with them, the pain grew to the point you had to find a doctor. A soulmate doctor who you told you lost your soulmate. Initially she prescribed heart medication, a pill you’d take every morning to ease the aching in your heart. She said that if at any point the pain got worse than the pills could prevent, you’d have to change to the medicine implant.

Soulmates were a complex thing, many times each case bringing complexities of their own, but overall, treatable. The medicine would considerably ease the pain to a liveable point. The depths of their absence will become something manageable, something you’d learn to live with.

edit: guys, everyone asking to be tagged in the comments, will be tagged! just letting y’all know bc I won’t have time to reply to everyone!

[trashytracktales]

Girl i need. NEED. Lando and reader sneaking out of their own wedding to fuck. i can’t get it out of my head pls pls pls pls.

like imagine himmmm: obsessed with how she looks, can’t stop being handsy and touchy and always looking for kisses and attention that at some point he drags her in some bathroom and gets under her massive bridal skirt AAAASSAASNFHDJS i can’t pls pls make it happen 😭😭

5 minutes. 7, tops | LN⁴

☁️ summary ──── Lando has never been the one to resist her. And on their wedding day, when she looks the most beautiful he’s ever seen her, wrapped in white and glowing just for him, he doesn’t even try.

☁️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x Wife!Reader

☁️ rating ──── explicit

☁️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, dirty talk, swearing, banter and emotional intimacy, smut, semi-public, brief fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, teasing, possessiveness, unprotected (bathroom) sex.

☁️ word count ──── 4.2k

☁️ date ──── Jun. 22, 2025

☁️ a/n ──── Based on this ask, this os was highly requested for some reason, so take a slice until I find a way to finish the other 5 I started 🫴🏻🍰

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” a voice cuts through the air, loud and vibrating with excitement. “For the first time ever, I have the honor to present you: Mr. and Mrs. Norris!”

A set of double doors at the back of the hall swing open, and a wave of applause and cheers rolls forward as the newly married couple appears in sight.

Lando is holding her hand tightly, like he has no plans of letting go ever again. He looks like a fairytale, wearing a tailored black suit with clean lines down the legs, the kind of cut that says money but doesn’t scream it. His shirt is a stark white beneath, the collar buttoned all the way up, his tie coordinating perfectly with her dress without being too much. There’s a hidden message in those seemingly small choices that might go unnoticed. But they say more than words ever could. No loosened collar means a man who knows exactly who he belongs to, and the matching tie means that, from now on, every step is made with her in mind.

His smile is blinding, spreading all over his face and lighting his features with happiness. He’s not smiling for the crowd or cameras, but for her. His eyes keep flicking sideways to catch hers like he still can’t believe this is real.

“Let’s go, Landooo!” someone shouts, making the guests laugh, and his smile blooms even further.

They walk in perfect harmony toward the center of the room, surrounded by clapping and whistles, artificial fog and confetti, and her dress molds softly against her legs as they move, his steps steady and sure, despite the fact that on the inside, Lando already fainted three times, received CPR twice, and died once.

They reach the dance floor, and as the first notes of their song begin to play, everything shifts. The noise drops off almost instantly, the crowd falling silent, while the lights dim just a little. The music fills the room with something much heavier than melody just as Lando places a hand on her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. Her back fits perfectly against his palm, and when she gazes up at him with those eyes that still make his heart skip more than one beat, lips curling into a smile that’s been haunting his thoughts ever since the day he’s met her, Lando is gone.

Her dress glimmers, hugging her curves like it was crafted for the sole purpose of undoing him. And truth is, it was.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, starting to guide her in the steps they’ve been practicing for months now. It became muscle memory, carved into quiet mornings before he left for work or rehearsed in his driver’s room between practice sessions; they’ve been stealing moments whenever they could, and now everything blends together effortlessly, like it was always meant to lead here.

She giggles, blushing a little but enjoying the way his voice drops when he’s being honest. Honest and absolutely in love with her.

“Don’t you have other lines, Mr. Norris?” she teases, eyes sparkling under her curled lashes.

He leans in, lips slightly brushing her ear. “Not unless you want to show everyone in here how you melt if I say something else,” he replies under his breath.

She looks at him again, emboldened by the intimacy in his words. “Like what?” she challenges him.

Lando’s jaw clenches. He spins her slowly, her dress fanning out, revealing just enough leg to make his vision blur. When she lands back in his arms, her chest presses against him, and he hisses softly.

“For starters, your boobs look insane in that corset,” he says, eyes flicking down for the briefest second.

She exhales a soft sigh, half scandalized, half thrilled, her fingers tightening around his shoulder.

“It’s torture,” adds Lando, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “I was hard the second you walked down that aisle.”

The girl finally gasps, eyes darting to his. “Lando.”

“I’m so serious, baby,” he insists, laughing softly. “It hasn’t let up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait ‘til we get home,” he punctuates it with a look so intense that her knees nearly give out. She clutches his shoulder firmly, her pulse slowly rising, everything below her waist aching at the thought. “I just want to fuck my wife.”

Well, shit.

The word echoes in her head like church bells, giving her chills all over her body — wife, wife, wife! She loves the way he says it, like it’s something he’s earned. She melts further into his frame, their bodies brushing in a way far too suggestive for the room full of people watching them.

She lifts her chin, brushing her nose against his in the barest tease of affection. “You’re not the only one suffering, you know,” she whispers, her lips grazing his. “I’ve been a mess since I saw you in this tux,” she continues, smoothing the material with her palms sliding down his chest. “My husband looks like sex.”

Lando lets out a high-pitched chuckle. “Shoot me in the balls, it would hurt less.”

“I really appreciate the visuals,” she laughs in return.

He twirls her once more, slower this time, his eyes never leaving her. When she lands back in his arms, her back arches just slightly, pressing her breasts against his chest. It’s easy to feel the shift in him, and how his fingers tighten around every part of her body that he’s touching.

As the song is coming to an end, Lando’s hand slides up to her throat, holding her there. Her breath catches right away, but he doesn’t wait for permission. He already got it the moment she said yes to him in fornt of their families, friends, and the entire world. So he crashes his mouth to hers, putting up a show for everyone, without shame. It’s not the delicate kind of kiss people expect during a first dance. It’s months of tension and restraint, and the thrill of calling her his wife unleashed all at once. Her fingers curl into the lapels of his suit, so dizzy that she can barely hear the music anymore. But she feels it in the way their bodies sway together, the way the room goes still again, before the crowd erupts in wild applause.

Just as the final chord fades out, his lips leave hers, bringing her back to reality.

“Should we dip?” asks Lando, staring at her with a subtle look.

She arches a brow, grinning. “Dip?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs with a slight tilt of his head, completely serious despite the smirk. “Sneak out. Just for a bit.”

Her eyes widen. “We can’t leave our own wedding, Lando. We literally just got here.”

He smiles, leaning in closer, voice laced with enough honey to make her swoon. “Come on,” he insists. “Just a quickie in the bathroom,” his lips touch her cheek gently as he speaks, “We’ll be five minutes. No one’s gonna notice.”

She pulls back to shoot him a questionable look. “Five minutes?”

Lando rolls his eyes. “Alright. Seven, tops,” he says.

Her pulse is jumping wildly as she presses a hand to his chest, half to hold him back, half to steady herself. “Baby, our parents are here.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “As if we didn’t go at it in my childhood bedroom with my mum watching The Crown across the hall,” says Lando in a casual voice, studying her face. “What?”

“You’re such an idiot,” she says, fighting to hide a smile.

In response, Lando lifts his left hand to her eye level. “Your idiot,” he reminds her, pointing at the ring on his finger. “Forever.”

The girl shakes her head. “Your point?” she asks.

Lando grins. “I’ll make it fast, darling,” he assures her, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers pressing into the small of her back. “I’ll be in and out. Like, literally”

“So romantic,” she says sarcastically. “My husband, everybody!”

Just then, the voice of the wedding planner cuts in again, echoing through the mic like a divine intervention, “Now that the dance floor is officially heated up,” she calls cheerfully, “We’d love for all of you to join the lovely couple and let’s get this party started!”

She hesitates. For just a second, and that second is all he needs. He sees the flicker in her eyes, the war between logic and lust and, luckily, he knows her too well to know exactly which one’s winning this time.

With a playful wink, he intertwines his fingers with hers and gives her hand a gentle, insistent tug. “Come on, Mrs. Norris.”

As they weave through the crowd, hands still clasped tightly, guests stop them every few steps, offering hugs and heartfelt congratulations. They smile, nod, thank everyone politely, but there’s a quiet urgency in their movements, a shared look between them like they’re trying not to be swept up in the chaos. If they could melt into the walls unnoticed, they would, but right now, all they want is to be alone.

For just five minutes. Seven, tops.

The second they disappear around the corner, his hand is already on her waist, pressing her back into the wall beside the bathroom door. His mouth finds hers again as hot as earlier, pulling soft whimpers out of her.

The bathroom is nothing short of extravagant, like everything else at this wedding. Soft golden sconces glow against marble, casting a warm light that reflects off the tall mirrors lining on the walls. The sinks are sculpted from polished stone, ivory and veined with gold, with delicate faucets that look more like something made by Michelangelo than plumbing. Plush white hand towels are rolled perfectly beside trays of expensive perfumes and colognes. Everything sparkles, and it smells like luxury: jasmine, sweet vanilla, and a hint of champagne.

They stumble through the door like they’re drunk, her giggles breathless and lips kiss-bitten, while Lando spins her gently and backs her toward the counter. Her body presses to the edge, dress fanning out as she leans back whithout resistence. Then her leg slips out from the slit in her gown, forcing Lando to drop to his knees immediately, as if pulled by gravity.

He shoots her one look, with dark eyes and puffy lips from all the kissing. His hands trail slowly up her thighs, parting them delicately, then pulling her panties down. The white of her dress pools around his shoulders, brushing against his cheeks and collar, framing him in folds of pearlescent fabric.

Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him; he looks angelic between her legs, surrounded by pure white, but when his tongue touches her, there’s nothing holy about it.

Lando groans the second his mouth finds her folds, his hot tongue lapping confident strokes that make her head tip back against the mirror with a dull thud. He said quickie, but doesn’t rush. He tastes her like he’s savoring the first gulp of water after the Singapore Grand Prix, and hearing her silent moans only makes him thirstier.

“Lan…” she whines, fingers tangling in his curls.

He smiles against her skin, already pulling back, lips wet and glistening. “You are a fucking dream,” he tells her. “Such a mess f’me, you don’t even need prepping.”

He’s up in a blink of an eye, lips brushig her jaw so lightly that she’s sure she imagined it, until Lando cups her face gently, thumb brushing her cheek as he tilts her chin up, searching for her eyes. The warmth of his other hand slides back between her legs, fingers sliding through slick heat. All he gives her is just a couple of slow pumps, the kind meant to tease and announce their presence, not satisfy. His eyes stay locked on hers the whole time, reading every shift of her breath like it’s a private language only he understands.

“You like being sneaky so much that you’re dripping already, hm?”

She’s trembling, thighs closing around his wrist. “No,” the girl lies.

Lando hisses. “No?” he shakes his head, laughing softly. “I think you like knowing they’re all out there celebrating us, while you’re in here soaking my fingers.”

He’s well aware of the effect he has on her; always were. He knows all it takes is just a little look, and she’s done for. It’s a power he’s been taking advantage of countless times in the past, but this time, he uses it almost like a gentle reminder. While maintaing that look, he unbuckles his belt with the other hand, the soft clink echoing in her head like choir of angels. Then, he unzips with practiced urgency, pushing his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.

And she realizes that Lando was nothing but honest, as usual.

His cock is already hard and flushed, the head swollen, leaking slightly at the tip. He wraps his hand around the base with a quiet hiss through his teeth, dragging it once down his length. He keeps his other hand working between her legs in the meantime, coaxing her higher with every stroke.

“See what my wife does to me?” he asks rhetorically, then slows, easing his fingers out with maddening care, watching her with a knowing gaze.

She can barely breathe at this point.

Deftly, Lando’s hands land on her hips, hiking her dress up her waist, until white silk bunches around them, revealing the heated skin beneath. He hooks one of her legs up over his waist, angling her until her core presses right against him. He knows it was the perfect choice, because her back arches in an instant, and breath starts stuttering when she feels the head of his cock sliding through her folds, catching on her clit and dipping back down, spreading her wetness over both of them.

The skin-on-skin contact makes her whimper in anticipation.

“My pretty liar,” she says, making Lando puff out a sigh. She lets out a shaky breath, body already aching, but the longer he lingers, the more her frustration bubbles up. Her fingers grip his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “You said five minutes,” she whispers, eyes narrowed but glittering. “And now you’re playing games?”

His jaw clenches as he pushes forward, just enough for the head to catch against her entrance. Then, continuing to hold her gaze, he thrusts in. All the way.

Lando chokes on a breath. “I said seven, tops,” he defends himself.

He stills inside, eyes closing for a moment, brain gone entirely blank at the feeling of her, as if it’s the first time. Her pussy grips him tight, warm and slick and perfect and his, and for a second, all he can do is focus on his breathing. No coherent thoughts, no words, just the mind-shattering realization that he’s buried inside his wife.

Each breath is punctuated by the slow beginning of his hips rolling, starting to move, dragging his cock against her walls again and again, as if trying to relearn every inch of her from the inside out.

She’s maddening around him, her body molding to his like it was made for him to hold. In his selfishness, Lando actually believes she was. Because it’s not just the physical. It’s everything that bonded them over time. And now, it’s the weight of the ring on her hand as it clutches at his shoulder. The way she gasps his name like it’s the only word she knows. The look in her eyes that says, I’m only yours.

His breath gets shallow and unsteady in a way she’s never heard him before. Like Lando’s unraveling in real time, coming apart at the seams just from being inside her. And she moves with him, meeting every thrust with the same need. Her nails scrape gently down the back of his head, then dig in when he shifts just right, making her entire body shiver in response.

“Mine,” he chokes on the words, thrusts slowing for a heartbeat as if to savor it, while she hums in pleasure. “Feel how wet you are? That’s all me, yeah?”

She nods, but it’s not enough. She turns her head, mouth finding his jaw, his neck, trying to stay anchored in the moment while her body rocks with his. “Always you, my love,” she replies, sounding like she’s on the verge of despair.

His laugh is breathless, like she’s just broken something open inside him. “Fuck, I won’t last. Two minutes,” he informes her. “Dropped to two minutes.”

She laughs, too. But his next thrust is harder, less controlled, making her cry out instead, all needy and high-pitched. She gasps his name, fingers clawing at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as his hips continue to move in earnest, thrusting into her with a delicious rhythm. She fumbles with the tie and buttons, trying to peel the fabric from his shoulders, craving more of his heat and skin and the way his muscles flex every time he slams forward. But Lando’s pace only increases, and it ruins her effort.

His jacket slips halfway off, one sleeve hanging limp from his arm, the other clinging stubbornly to his shoulder. He can’t stop. The sight of her like this, with her legs spread, dress hitched up, and soft body pulling him in with every thrust has obliterated every ounce of patience he had left.

“Fucking, fuck,” he growls, burying his face in her neck. His mouth presses a small kiss there, but his lips twitch with restraint, the need to mark her thrumming violently through him.

“Don’t,” she warns, knowing every filthy thought that’s ever crossed Lando’s mind.

“Please,” he whines. “Let them know I fucked you in the bathroom at our own wedding.”

Her voice trembles as she moans loudly, her arms locking around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Her back arches off the counter, hips meeting his, as her body folds to the rhythm.

“You’re already fucking up my wedding dress,” she gasps, breath hot in his ear. “Trust me, baby. They’ll know.”

Lando pulls back to look at her, sweat beading at his temple, a gremlin-like smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s the only time you’re wearing it anyway.”

After that, his hands clamp down on her waist, firm to fuck her harder, burying himself to the hilt with each movement. She cries out, head falling on his shoulder, completely unraveling for him as her slick walls tighten around his cock. Her body clings to him in every possible way, shaking with the promise of release, and all Lando can do is just hold on, driven by the feel of her, the sound of her, the truth of what they are now.

Husband and wife. And so completely owned by each other.

Her body is ready to give up under his force, every inch of her strung tight with need, already teetering on the edge. Her hair’s falling in messy waves around her flushed face, eyes glassy as she encourages him to take her harder.

Fueled by her demand, Lando does exactly as he’s told.

“My wife.”

Thrust.

“Mine.”

Thrust.

“Making me go crazy.”

Thrust-thrust-thrust.

His words slam into her as hard as his hips do, leaving her gasping, dazed, dizzy. And wanting more. She lets out a string of moans, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket still stubbornly clinging to his shoulder. Her entire world feels like it’s collapsing around the rhythm of his body and the ragged devotion in his voice.

“You have no idea,” he grunts, “How fucking excited I am to fuck you like this for the rest of our lives.”

“I might have a few ideas,” she replies. “Especially if this is you before our wedding night. What’re you gonna do when I’m wearing nothing but your last name and asking for more?” she asks, tilting her hips enough to make him feel the shift. “Think you can keep up with me, husband?”

A guttural noise tears from his throat as he slams into her faster, chasing the release like it’s his lifeline. Their bodies slap together with wet sounds, the soft rustle of her dress and the quiet creak of the counter drowned beneath their wild breathing.

“That answers your question, eh?”

“Shit. Yes. Fuck,” she replies. “Lando,” the girl pants, mouth brushing his.

And then she breaks. Her orgasm hits fast and hard, her thighs shaking, body trembling as she cries out, voice echoing off the walls of his skull. But before she can fully scream, Lando covers her mouth with his, swallowing the sound.

Their kiss is messy and soaked in panting breaths and wet lips, and with her convulsing in pleasure beneath him, is too much for Lando to hold back. He thrusts deep once, twice, then groans into her mouth as he spills all his love and lust inside her. The blinding sensation knocks the air from his lungs, their bodies shaking together as they fall apart and hold each other through it.

Trying to catch her breath, her cheek rests against his shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around his back, one of her legs still hooked around his waist. His hands stay firm on her hips, not wanting to let go, still inside her, connected, and in no rush to move, because time doesn’t exist in this little corner of their universe.

But a few moments later, Lando lifts his gaze, catching sight of them in one of the tall mirrors. The reflection hits him hard: his dark curls are pointing in every direction, his jacket hangs crooked from one shoulder, tie just halfway undone. Her dress is wrinkled and bunched around her thighs, and her lipstick is smudged everywhere on his face from all the kisses they never planned to stop. And what truly gets him is the look in his own eyes — he’s glowing. Like he’s just crossed a finish line, but this time it wasn’t just him in the car.

He sees her holding onto him like she always will.

He sees himself holding her like she’s the only safe place he’s ever known.

Suddenly, he realizes he’s a husband now. Her husband. And he’s going to wake up to this woman for the rest of his life. Through every challenge, every joy, and every storm, he has a partner that’s here to stay. Even when life throws everything it can at him, she will be his constant. His only source of peace. His home.

Lando’s throat tightens, emotion rising so violently it nearly drowns him. Gently, he leans in, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, breathing her in as he closes his eyes.

“I promise to always be yours,” he starts whispering his vows again. “To protect your heart like it’s my own.”

Her breath hitches, her brain just coming out of the haze of pleasure caused by her husband.

“To love you when things are easy,” he continues, “And love you even harder when they’re not.”

With teary eyes, her arms squeeze him tighter. Even if she finds it hard to hold him like that, because her body melts under the weight of his words, she does it because she knows how important it is for Lando to remind her that, at the end of the day, it’s about this: them.

She’s just about to whisper something back after Lando stops talking, but he’s always managed to leave her speechles, one way or another. This time, he reduces her to a soft moan when he slowly pulls out of her. At that, her body clenches involuntarily as the absence of him leaves her sensitive and throbbing. The warm aftermath of their pleasure slips slowly out of her, making her thighs twitch around the sensation.

Lando sighs as he watches it happen, forehead dropping to her shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, voice raspy as if he just woke up. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment, but fucking hell. It kills me every time I pull out,” he explains, drawing back to look at her, his hand trailing over her thigh, possessive and adoring all at once.

She exhales a breathy laugh despite herself, her chest still rising and falling from the intensity, cheeks all flushed. “You’re such a boy,” she scolds playfully, giving his shoulder a half-hearted push, still giggling.

“I’m grieving,” he says, faking innocence.

“You’re done,” she cuts him off, the affection in her voice making it sound more like a vow than a complaint.

Still perched on the counter, she leans forward, trying to tame the wild curls now clinging to his forehead. Her fingers thread through his hair with the kind of tender frustration only a woman in love can pull off, pushing it back, smoothing it, even if it’s completely in vain.

Lando closes his eyes and hums like a man being worshipped. “That’s your mess, by the way,” he says satisfied.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile. “My beautiful mess.”

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