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bizarrelovetriangel · 4 months ago

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interruptions.

all he wants is to have you all to himself but everyone keeps getting in his way.

fluff and slightly suggestive. brief references to chaotic velocity and his myth.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He groans against your lips as his hands caresses your hips, urging you to grind against his thighs.

His bedroom is silent apart from the sounds of your exchange of heated kisses, your heavy breaths in-between, as well as the rustling of your clothes as your bodies yearn for friction.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sylus thrusted up to let you feel his excitement, and you responded by palming him through his pants, earning a low growl from his parted lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled away as the ringtone of his phone blares closely next to you. You gave him a look before he pinches his temples and reaching for the device on his night stand.

"You better have a good reason to interrupt me on such an important time."

This is the third time in just two days.

Sylus doesn't know how much more interruptions he can take.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our time short again." Sylus frowns as he gets up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it."

Being Onychinus' leader can be demanding, so you're not mad at him at all. In fact, at the moment, you're doing your best to hold back a laugh.

"Before you leave, maybe take a cold shower first."

Two days later, as you were leaving your workplace, you ran into your lover who's dressed in his favorite leather jacket, bathing in darkness.

"Sylus?! What are you doing here?"

It's the middle of the week. You usually don't get to see each other until the weekends, unless spontaneous plans come up. You figured this is one of those special cases.

"Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?"

"No, but you do need to be cautious when picking up said girlfriend from her job, which may or may not be interested in catching some suspicious people who love lurking in the shadows."

There's not an ounce of worry in his eyes at all. "Luckily, I have a strong kitten who'd protect me should anyone dare to put their hands on me."

You playfully punched his arm as you walked next to him. "You could've at least texted me."

"A surprise usually works out only if someone doesn't know what'll happen." He then taps your head. "There's a restaurant that I've been meaning to check out. Want to come?"

Your heart and stomach cheered happily, deeming him as your savior. After all, you're starving after such a long day at work. "Of course!"

Around ten at night, dinner was done and you ended up relaxing at an empty, quiet park. You sat down on a bench surrounded by red flowers and you rested your head on his left arm while he holds your right hand.

At first, the two of you enjoyed the moment of silence and appreciated each other's warmth and company.

You could've fallen asleep then and there.

If only Sylus didn't start leaving kisses all over your face. He dropped them one by one, slowly and softly, as if you're something precious that could vanish at any second if he isn't careful enough.

As his lips pressed against yours, his right hand brushes up and down from your knee to your thigh, warming up your body during the cold night.

Sylus' ragged breaths urged you to deepen the kiss while caressing his face, though your makeout session was short-lasted as a group of chatty, cackling teenagers had decided to hit up the very spot that you two are in.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus stood up and reached out one hand for you. "I guess this is our sign to leave. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't even bother to hide your disappointment that your time together was once again shortened.

He came with you back at your apartment, though Sylus couldn't stay the night due to plans he has later on.

He wasn't even supposed to see you tonight; he forced it in his busy schedule because his urge to see you was just unbearably strong during these past few days, and the constant interruptions are absolutely not helping.

It's as if the world is purposely getting in the way.

The next interruption came during dinner at a restaurant that you and Sylus have been wanting to visit for months. You made a reservation two weeks ago, and you got to enjoy all the delicious meals and drinks that made the place worthy of Sylus' attention.

You were given the best seats in the restaurant, which would be the special table on the rooftop, decorated with dimmed, beautiful lights to illuminate the dark night, and flowers for your eyes and nose to feast on.

As you were finishing up your wine, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop to observe the scenery around you.

For a moment, Sylus remained seated, only shifting his position so that he could admire you in your beautiful dress.

It's one of his favorite views — you facing away from him, eyes beaming with happiness and lips curled into a soft smile, completely lost in the scenery around you and unaware of how bewitching you are and the trance that you always put him in.

He'll never get tired of it.

"Sylus, look!"

At your call, he appears behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. He gave you a light kiss on the shoulder before moving his gaze to wherever you were pointing at.

Unfortunately, Sylus never got to learn what caught your interest because suddenly, you received signals that a Wanderer is nearby.

And so, dinner ended early and you spent the rest of your energy jumping in action.

The Wanderers certainly became Sylus' punching bags for the night.

At last, you finally won some time to spend in the N109 Zone.

You're at his house and you've just finished eating the dessert that you two made together a few hours ago.

And now, you find yourself trapped against the counter table with Sylus blocking all the ways to escape.

"Can't run from me now, kitten."

His lips touched yours.

"Boss, look what we found!"

"...."

"....oops..."

"...sorry!"

Luke and Kieran were frozen by the entrance of the kitchen, almost dropping the fancy looking weapon they were carrying.

You let out a laugh to break the silence. "Hey guys!"

Sylus sighs defeateadly. He did acknowledge the twins and the gift they brought to him by giving them a quick but sincere "well done" before turning back to you with a certain glint in his eyes. "I hope you're up for a midnight ride."

"Wait what?!"

He took your left hand and started leading you out of the kitchen.

"Right now?!"

Luke and Kieran only gave you a wave of their hands, still feeling guilty about the interruption. Sylus didn't look mad at them, but he does look frustrated.

Whatever he has planned out with you, they know not to interrupt. Even Mephisto stayed still after giving you a look.

"Here."

Sylus helped you put on a black and red helmet that matches the one he's about to wear.

You eyed the motorcycle and couldn't hold back your excitement.

"Blackrose Archfiend!"

The half-black, half-pink motorcycle with the trademark of a golden crow made you recall the first time you and Sylus rode it and race against other motorcyclists.

"It's been a while!"

Sylus smirks proudly. "I modified it again. I meant for us to test it out tomorrow when we have more time, but this is gonna be our ticket to peace and quiet so we'll use it now."

"Ticket to peace and quiet?"

He ascends the motorcycle and turns on its engine before reaching out a gloved hand for you, inviting you to join him.

"Will you let me be selfish for a little while?"

With a soft smile, you took his hand and sat behind him, holding onto his waist.

You didn't care where he'll take you or how long it'll take to get there.

Your heart races at the adrenaline rush from the roar and speed of the motorcycle, and the cold wind dances all around you as you dart across the moonlit, empty roads of the N109 Zone.

A high mountain roadside, underneath the stars.

That's where you ended up in.

Other than the noises made by the animals that live in the surroundings, there's absolutely no other sounds that'll disturb the comfortable, peaceful silence.

The only light source you have is the full moon right above you, but that's more than enough for you to see the look of content in Sylus' face.

His features are highlighted in such a way that makes him look like an artwork that deserves to be admired by many, and yet you're the only lucky one to see him like this at this.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"And what about it?"

He smiled and scooted closer to you so that your arms are overlapping as you sit on a giant boulder planted deeply on the ground.

"That means I get to stare at you as much as I want in return, right?"

You held up one hand in front of your face and used it as a wall to block his intense gaze. "No!" The way he gazes at you makes your stomach want to explode with various emotions.

No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to make you flustered as if it's just the beginning of your relationship.

Sylus laughed at your hand before intertwining his fingers with yours and putting your conjoined hands on your lap.

"You're mine for the rest of the evening, sweetie. Any objections?

You shook your head, melting at his words. "Not at all."

Despite your playful rejection earlier, Sylus' eyes were unable to keep away from you, finding you more entrancing than anything around you. While he could look at the moon, the stars, and the city lights, he can always see them every night.

He can't say the same for you.

Once upon a time ago, he lost you and you lost him. It was like having your entire world ripped away from you.

The day he found you again... he'll never forget the way that it felt. It was like seeing light for the first time in forever. Like gasping for air after holding your breath for so long.

He's reminded of how lucky he is to be given a second chance of a life with you. Even though he complains about the distance between your homes and your jobs sometimes get in the way of your plans, he'll always be grateful that he can spend any time with you at all.

He'll always cherish every second with you, and he will never take you for granted.

You didn't keep track of the time at all. You two sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, talking about whatever comes up in your head while admiring the stars above and the lights of the N109 Zone from below.

There were times when you two would pause your conversations and just embrace the silence, bringing nothing but comfort that made you want to cuddle — and you did.

At some point, your body had been enveloped by his arms. You're seated between his legs and your back is against his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat that would occassionally lose its rhythm.

You're spared from the wind's icy kiss, but not from Sylus' warm, gentle ones.

It started off with him casually dropping kisses on random parts of your face. Sometimes, while you're in the middle of rambling, his lips will linger on your skin and you'd forget everything that you were about to say.

Then, his kisses gradually became more fierce. From the moment he fixated on your neck, you'd become a mess that's unable to talk.

After leaving a couple of marks, Sylus wore a satisfied grin before diving into your lips with his own.

He kissed you over and over and over again, taking full advantage of the isolation. Finally, no one can interrupt.

No one can take you away from him ever again.

#happy sylus week!#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads #sylus lads #lads sylus #lnds #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lynnsfics

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moechies · 7 months ago

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kaiser hates when you're angry with him. he tries -- tries his hardest to reason with you and resolve the growing tension, but you're damn stubborn. stages of ignoring him, responding snarkily and angrily with a mean pout, or simply bursting into tears and stomping your away out of his vision when he pushes you over the edge.

at times like these, kaiser feels hopeless. it's not that the man thinks he's better off doing something more significant instead of chasing after his pissy girlfriend, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit sick with your little outbursts.

so no matter how you resist, the blue haired man is ought to get you on your back, with his handsome face shoved in-between your plush thighs. he knows that the first step to resolving your anger is to get you to calm down, and his words weren't doing much good -- therefore he'll settle for sinking in-between your thighs.

"calm down."

your legs are propped onto his bulky shoulders, body pulled to the edge of the mattress and messing the sheets. he's propped up on his knees, lapping sweetly at your sopping cunt, begging for your forgiveness.

kaiser won't admit it out loud - but he loves when he feels your leg quiver against him. as if a signal that's telling him you feel good - that he's making you feel good despite your refusal to tell him verbally. you gasp when he suckles at your pearly clit, nudging the heel of your feet into the concave of his back.

"m--micha, stop," you whine, fidgeting in his hold. you're falling pliant to his ploy, one you know too well.

"i'm sorry, liebling. i won’t ever, ever, do it again, 'righ'? don't be so angry."

he whispers breathily against your flushed folds, the warmth of his breath transversing across your sensitive cunt.

"y--you're not, only saying t--that." you hiccup, back arching simultaneously when he slivers his tongue into your swollen hole. “go awa—“

"i promise, liebling." he mumbles, looking up at your poor expression, his heart clenching with fervor when he notices the slight quiver in your bottom lip and your bubbly eyes. "i do. micha doesn't break promises, ha?"

he sighs with relief when you finally give in - nodding your head although reluctantly. his plush lips press a soft peck to your swollen nub before backing away, hands caressing your body upwards with featherlight touches before he reaches your neck. he soothes a calloused thumb over your damp cheek, then over your damp lashes, following with a kiss to your swollen lips. "i love you. i'll be better, kätzchen, i will."

“now lay still, let me make my baby feel good? ha?”

#blue lock kaiser #michael kaiser #bllk kaiser #bllk smut #bluelock smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #kaiser smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser smut #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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bi-writes · 1 year ago

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ghost doesn't think he hears you correctly, not at first. there's a ringing that's still in his ears from the bullet he nearly ate earlier. (cw: dubcon, 18+)

"wot?"

"can you please please please--pretend to be my boyfriend--just for one minute--!"

"heyyy, sunshine," a nasty little voice sings. you spin around, cowering by the bar, just as someone a little too drunk and a little too big comes into your space. you scoot away from him, but he's coming closer, leaning over you, and ghost tilts his head to the side as he watches the way you flinch at the stink of his breath.

ghost fits into the space at your back quite easily. your back arches a little as his big hand finds the bend of your waist, and you squeak a little when he forces you back, pressing your ass against his pelvis as he tucks you into his shadow.

"who's this fuckin' nitwit?" ghost mutters, clicking his tongue under his mask. you swallow, blinking up at the man, shrugging as you try and press yourself a little closer against his heat.

"i-i dunno," you whisper, and it's shaky, afraid. "h-he won't stop...following me."

"tha' right?" ghost hums, and you're so afraid of the man in front of you that you don't really register the way ghost's big hand is slipping lower, over the curve of your denim jeans and squeezing the fat of your ass that fills the palm of his hand all too nicely. "ya botherin' 'er?"

the man swallows a little, hiccuping. he stands up straighter, a little more sober, and he just shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer.

"just...she's so pretty, ya know--agh!"

ghost reaches over and grips him by the fat of his neck. he squeezes hard, drawing him closer, would be spitting in his face if he wasn't wearing the balaclava over his head.

"'f i see ya around 'er again, i'll paint the fuckin' walls with y'r teeth, mate, yeah? now get outta my fuckin' sight before i do it just for fun."

when ghost lets him go, he struggles to breathe, holding onto the bar and coughing as he scrambles to put distance between you. you shake a little, turning towards the bar, picking up what you assume is his drink and sipping it slowly to try and calm the nerves. you close your eyes gently, shaking your head.

"thank you," you say softly. "i-i couldn't shake him off, he was following me everywhere, i..." you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling up at him. "that was really nice of you. i'm...sorry if i caused you any trouble."

ghost tilts his head to the side, fitting himself back behind you. he reaches over, putting both arms on either side of you and leaning over one shoulder, breathing hot against your neck.

"wot you mean?" he murmurs, and you blink, not understanding.

"for pretending to..." you laugh a little, looking into his eyes. "just...it was nice of you to do that. to pretend like that, i--"

"dunno wot y'r talkin' about," ghost chuckles, and you seize when he reaches down between you, cupping you between the legs as he palms at your pussy over your jeans. you keen a little, leaning into his touch, nasty brute pressing two fingers against where you're most sensitive and forcing your ass back against him, where he's hard, chubbed up since he first saw you, leaking into his cargos.

"i-i--" your eyes are wide, but you don't pull away, don't push him back--why am i not running? why can't i leave? what's happening to me--

"i wasn't pretending. were you?"

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witherby · 7 months ago

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The Littlest Wayne

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

Platonic!Reader and Batfam

"Bruce."

"Don't freak out."

"Bruce."

"You're freaking out. I can see it in your eyes, but don't do it."

"This is a problem. This is an actual addiction and you need help."

"You're overreacting. I need everyone to take a deep breath, in and out, and not freak out."

Dick crossed his arms and glared at his father, narrowed eyes shifting up and down in an extremely pointed manner. Tim and Jason were wearing similar expressions, looking either at Bruce himself or the bundle in his arms.

Damian walked across the room and peered down at the bundle, expressionless.

"Father, come on."

Bruce carefully brushed the edge of the blanket away from your face. You scrunched your tiny nose, disturbed, then settled back down without issue. The billionaire had found you abandoned outside the garage doors of the Gotham Fire Station, left there by some overwhelmed mother no doubt. Unfortunately, that particular station was closed on the weekends, because of course this damned city couldn't staff a fire station 24/7, and if he hadn't found you on patrol, you would have frozen to death on the ground.

"They were in danger!" Bruce insisted firmly, but kept his voice soft so as not to frighten you. "Look — they don't have black hair or blue eyes. You can tell I didn't do it on purpose."

"Why not take the baby to the GCPD, then? Or a hospital?" Jason piped up, unamused. "B, cut the bullshit. You can't keep 'em."

"I brought them here first to ensure they didn't need any immediate medical attention."

"Which is something a hospital could do," Tim said.

"An overcrowded and understaffed hospital, that doesn't have the time to spare to give them direct and undivided attention?" Bruce argued. "The med ward in the Cave is just as efficient as an emergency room, if not more so."

"And the fact that you aren't down there with the baby — the baby you are not keeping," Dick chimed in, holding out his arms for you, "means that they're perfectly fine and can be transported safely somewhere else."

"They're sleeping right now," Bruce said, completely deadpan, and made no move to relinquish his hold over you. "We can't put them in a noisy car and upset them. We can drop the baby off in the morning."

"He's getting dangerously attached," Dick hissed to his brothers. "We need the big guns."

"I'll alert Pennyworth," Damian declared, already ducking out of the room. Bruce scowled, aware the battle was quickly turning against his favor. But he could play dirty, too.

He dropped his shoulders and the furrow of his brow turned slightly down, weary and forlorn. He stopped looking at his boys and instead studied all your tiny features, tracing a finger down the bridge of your nose, gently across your lashes, and over your plump little cheeks. You were absolutely adorable. He was already thinking of names for you in his mind.

"You know, I never got to raise any of you from infancy," he stated, not in any pointed manner, just as objective fact. Just quietly enough that they could think Bruce hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Not that I would've wanted to steal that experience from your birth parents. I would never. But...I don't even know what Damian looked like when he was this small."

Dick's eye twitched. The glare was still in place, but his frown was less severe. One down.

"I'm sorry, boys," he sighed, acting as though he were giving in. "The Mission has taken up so much of my time, it's hard not to wonder what I would have been like as a normal father. Just the formative things, like... like changing diapers, and doing Tummy Time, and helping you guys learn to walk."

Tim's eyes grew distant, likely thinking of his own parents and the loneliness he felt growing up in Drake Manor all by himself. He was no doubt recalling how much he wished his mom or dad had been around, to play or to talk to or just to physically be there with him, instead of off traveling the world and leaving him behind to fend for himself.

Two down.

But Jason, despite all that had happened over the years, despite the strain on his relationship with Bruce, had always been the most emotional of his children. He would not be hard to win over.

"This would be a mistake," Bruce stated, looking his second oldest right in the eyes. "They'd be happier somewhere else, somewhere normal. Maybe...maybe one of you could hold them and I can go start the car? I can feel myself starting to get attached, and that's not fair to you, boys. I didn't mean to stress you all out. I wasn't thinking."

Jason huffed, lowering his feet from where they'd been propped up on the coffee table, and stood from the couch to come take you from Bruce. His arms carefully held you to his broad chest, your weight settling against him pleasantly.

He made the mistake of watching you scrunch your face and whine softly, itty bitty hands poking out from your blanket and gripping onto his shirt sleeve with all the strength your small body could muster.

Jason's expression dropped immediately, and he practically melted as he tucked you closer.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Damian and Alfred walked into the living room to find Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Tim all cooing and fawning over you, and the war was lost.

Welcome home, Littlest Wayne.

#batfam x reader #baby reader #y/n wayne #batfam adoption au #littlest wayne au

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corkinavoid · 8 months ago

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Thank you, @aceinacorner, for this gem:

You are the inspiration for

DPxDC Ring of Rage? More Like Ring of Engage [pt. 3]

[<- part 2 | part 4 ->]

Duke narrows his eyes.

He swears Tim was not in the Cave just five seconds ago, and yet, in the brief moment when Duke wasn't looking, he just materialized out of motherfucking aether. Smelling like Chinese food and holding a chicken skewer that looks so good that Duke's mouth waters.

"Can I have a piece?" He asks, the divine smell of food overriding the urge to ask 'where did you get it' or 'how did you get here'.

Tim nods, smiles, and hands Duke the whole skewer before going for the elevator.

Is it Duke's hallucination, or is he really humming something as he goes?.. Actually, that doesn't matter. The chicken tastes even better than it smells, and Duke is perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut in exchange for food.

You don't talk with your mouth full, after all.

~☆~

Cass watches Tim over the table. She hasn't heard him coming into the dinner room - no steps in the hall, no rustle of clothing or breathing. It's like the boy has somehow appeared right in front of the door out of nowhere before entering.

What's more, he seems obviously not hungry, picking at his food with an absent, if a bit dreamy, expression. Granted, Tim always picks at his food, but Cass can see the difference between 'Tim's mind is busy with a new case and therefore too distracted to eat' and 'Tim already had dinner elsewhere and is too full to eat now'.

The bags under his eyes are also not as dark as they usually are. Come to think of it, Cass hasn't seen him in a bad mood for a few weeks now, which shouldn't really be that strange, but it's Tim. The smallest of inconveniences can put him in a bad mood.

Tim notices her looking and raises an eyebrow.

Cass blinks and goes back to her plate. Whatever is keeping her brother happy, it deserves her full approval.

~☆~

Jason is... not so sure as to what is happening.

He did notice that Tim was really chill lately, but this is going a bit overboard.

"Did you spike it with arsenic, Replacement?" He asks, suspiciously looking the offered cup of coffee over without taking it. Tim - surprisingly, actually - doesn't react to the nickname in the slightest, instead giving Jason a deadpan look. Then, he brings the cup up to his mouth, takes a sip, and hands it back again.

Okay, well, that proves no arsenic, at least. It's still very weird. Tim doesn't just buy coffee for people, and he especially doesn't buy coffee for Jason.

"Am I going to owe you something for it, or what?" He asks, slowly reaching for the cup. Tim sighs.

"No. It's just a drink - my boyfriend loves it, and I think you'd like it as well," he explains with a shrug, and Jason is honestly too befuddled to ask about anything. Including the boyfriend part.

No, but since when does Timbers have a boyfriend? He sure hadn't mentioned anything about it to any of the others.

The drink turns out to be not coffee but something else, tangy and thick, and when Jason takes the lid off, it's green like Mountain Dew.

It does taste great, though, and later Jason considers asking Tim for another one. He hadn't had anything better in ages.

~☆~

Damian strikes through the last one of the training holograms, breathing heavily. And yet, just as the 'simulation complete' message pops up in the air, he hears a step behind him.

He turns around faster than a lightning, and-

Finds Timothy's neck at the tip of his katana, with his hands up in surrender.

"What are you doing here?" Damian sneers, lowering his weapon, and Tim swallows. Not because of surprise or fear, though, he clearly had some half chewed up food in his mouth.

"Inaccurate drop off," he says, looking Damian straight in the eyes, "I was aiming for the main floor."

He smells of Indian food and spices, and Damian almost sneezes.

"What do you mean 'aiming'?" He demands, but Drake just waves him off, heading towards the elevator up.

"No worries, I'll do better next time," he shoots a smile over his shoulder, "See you on patrol!" And with that, the elevator doors close after him, leaving Damian alone.

Drake has always been strange, but this is too much even for him.

Not that it's Damian's business. He huffs and starts the simulation over again.

~☆~

If Dick didn't witness it with his own two eyes, he would have never believed it. Alas, he did, and even though the swirling green vortex has already disappeared like it was never there, Tim, whom the strange portal just spat out on the floor of the Cave, is still here.

"What the fuck was that?" He nearly yells, and Tim looks up, a face of perfect innocence.

"What was what?" He returns the question, and Dick can't find the words to explain, so he just wildly gestures to the place where the portal has been less than five seconds ago. Tim blinks, "Oh, that. That was my date."

Dick chokes on his breath.

"Your date?" He parrots, hoarse and breathless, and Tim nods, like there's not a single thing wrong with anything that has just happened. "Since when do you go on dates? Wait, I thought you were engaged, you said it was cheating to date anyone else, even if you didn't know the spouse, you said-" he cuts himself off, feeling his own face slowly falling and his stomach sinking down in horror. "No. No, don't tell me."

But the shit-eating grin on Tim's face is already proof enough.

Dick clears his throat. Takes a deep breath.

Seeing that Tim is still in one piece, and, well, that he did just casually come out of a magic portal in the middle of the Cave, it's probably safe to say that it's not the first time.

And, judging by the mirth in Tim's grin, it's also safe to say he's been rather enjoying it.

Dick releases one long, loud breath and forces a smile on his face as well.

"So, how is it?" He asks, trying in vain to sound light-hearted, not suspicious. Tim's smile gets wider, and there's a glint of excitement in his eyes now, which Dick considers a good thing, all in all.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask."

~☆~

Bonus Scene (that somehow turned out longer than I planned)

~☆~

"Where's Tim?" Bruce asks when all the rest of his kids are already seated around the table for breakfast.

"At Danny's, probably," Steph shrugs before digging into the waffles on her plate. Bruce frowns.

"Danny's?" He asks. He hasn't heard that name before. Is that a friend of Tim's?

"Drake's paramour," Damian clarifies, not bothering to look up from his own food, and Bruce's mind comes to a screeching halt. He blinks stupidly, looking around the table and sincerely hoping it is some sort of a prank, but Cass smiles and nods, and Dick has an expression of pure exhaustion on his face, and Duke is huffing a snort of laughter at him for it.

"Since when-" Bruce starts, but he is suddenly cut off by a glowing circle that appears just a few feet away from them all.

It grows quickly, morphing into a vortex, a green and ominous tear in reality big enough for a person to walk through, hanging in the air a few inches over the ground. The space around it feels staticky somehow, and the color is too bright to look at directly, and it definitely doesn't belong to their dining room. But before Bruce is able to say another word or do anything at all, Tim steps out of it, his hair and clothes ruffled.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters upon seeing them all, and turns around, sticking his head into the vortex just as it starts to close. The vortex pauses.

Bruce is almost too stunned to move.

His kids don't share the sentiment, though, most of them not paying the portal any attention at all. Bruce would have reprimanded them for the poor awareness of their surroundings if he didn't notice how Damian simply glanced up at it before going back to his food.

They saw the portal. They just didn't deem it dangerous. For some reason.

Tim's face comes back out, and he turns to Bruce. His expression looks different than before: a bit smug, a little mischievous, and just a tad bit nervous.

Then, another head pops up through the surface of the portal. A boy - or at least they look like a boy - with snow white hair that floats in the air and bright, almost neon blue eyes. His skin is far too pale for him to be human, and- he has freckles that look like constellations.

For some reason, that's the part that makes Bruce finally resign to the fact that this is just how his life is. With breakfasts interrupted by green portals and otherworldly boyfriends - because who else might it be, really - before he even had his morning coffee.

"Hi!" Said otherworldly boyfriend grins and waves his hand. "I'm Danny, Tim's fiance," he introduces himself, and Bruce conjures the last scraps of his scattered mind to smile and nod back.

"Good morning, Danny. I'm Bruce." He has no idea what else to say; it seems like a bit late for shovel talk, but a bit early for welcoming speech.

"Would Young Master Danny care to join us for breakfast?" Alfred's calm, but still slightly amused voice comes from the door. Bruce turns to look at the butler with a sense of exasperation - is he really the last one to learn anything in this house? - but the man seems... well, not surprised, at least not on the surface. But his grip on the pitcher of orange juice is just a little too tense for him to have been in the know all along.

Danny turns to him and smiles nicely - his teeth are also way too sharp for a human - before shaking his head, "No, sorry, I was just dropping Tim off."

"For God's sake," Tim rolls his eyes, "Just put on some pants and come out, I refuse to suffer through this alone."

Dick chokes on his toast. Steph gasps, her eyes snapping between Tim and Danny in delight. Cass snorts and kicks her under the table. Damian groans.

"Spare me from the details of your personal life, Drake. Need I remind you that I am thirteen," he narrows his eyes.

The constellations on Danny's cheeks shine just a bit brighter, and Bruce has no idea what that is supposed to mean, but his guess is along the lines of embarrassment. Especially when the boy completes it with rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You mean to tell me that, at thirteen years old, you don't know what sex is?" Tim deadpans, running a hand through his hair in a useless effort to smooth it and taking his seat at the table. Dick's coughing fit comes back with renewed force.

"We didn't-" Danny starts, still kind of hovering midway through the portal, but Damian pays him little attention.

"I do. Yet, I prefer my mind free of the knowledge when it applies to you."

"I want all the details, though," Steph pipes up, looking at Danny from her seat, "Can you, like, sprout tentacles or something, because I know for a fact Tim likes that kind of-"

"Steph!" Tim yells at her, face red, and then turns to Danny, who suddenly has a very interested, if a bit mischievous, look on his face, "Don't you dare."

"Yeah, okay," Danny snorts and disappears back in the portal. Bruce half-expects it to close after him, but the vortex stays.

Which probably means the boy - the King of Infinite Realms, Keeper of Unseen Worlds, Eyes of the Universe - is going to be right back.

After he puts on some pants, supposedly.

Bruce watches Tim rub his face in frustration while Steph giggles and elbows him in the side, and sighs. This is so not how he expected this morning to be.

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st6rrrs · 5 months ago

Text

Bunny! Reader thinks rafes to big!

BUNNY! READER MOOD BOARD

P link

"not right now...rafey" you say pouting up at him as he stares at you confused

it was about 7:30pm, you and rafe were sitting on his balcony to his room, just enjoying the nice breeze as the sun begin to set.

"What the hell do you mean, not right now?" he groans rubbing his buzzed hair

"not right now." you huff whirling your hair with your finger and avoiding eye contact

"What are you on your period? ‘Cause you’re really starting to piss me off." his tone shifts. "you never turn me down?"

"no! im not...its just" you stammer your voice shaking slightly.

You fidget nervously as rafe stares at you impatiently

"your too big." you squeal covering your face with your hands and laying your head on his lap embarrassed.

"Too big?" he repeated a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you knew he would be like this.

“Well I don’t know” he teased "Maybe you're just too tight, huh?" he chuckled as his hands moving up and down on your body.

you whine embarrassed again and cover your ears.

"everytime we fuck i feel like your suffocating my dick ya know?" he yanks your hand away from your ear and whispers that.

"Stop it, Rafe!" you whine as your face burns with embarrassment

you feel his laughter vibrating through his body.

your voice barely above a whisper. "

You're just so… big, and it hurts." you whimper sitting up now looking at him with your pretty, wide doe eyes.

"Maybe we just need to work on… stretching you out a bit yea?" he suggests his voice full of cocky confidence.

"ahh this isn't helping!" you moan into the bed below "it hurts"

you were on your hands and knees as rafe was behind you

"Ah come on baby relax your squeezing me." Rafe says as he pushes himself deeper into you.

you whine in frustration

"Ow, Rafe, stop! Just stop for a second" your voice high pitched and frustrated.

you were someone who rarely ever gets mad, you were the softest so this shocked rafe a bit.

Rafe pauses and looks at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"You're not going to break, baby," he says rubbing your head

you take a deep breath and try to calm down

Rafe's expression softens and he leans down to kiss you gently.

"I'll go slow okay? I'll make it feel good I promise." He starts to move again his thrusts slow and gentle.

you feel yourself start to relax and it doesn't hurt as much.

"Oh, Rafe," you moan "That feels…really good."

Rafe starts to move a little faster.. his thrusts still gentle but more insistent.

you feel yourself getting more and more turned on

"Rafe oh my god" you whimper, your voice rising. "I'm going to...I'm going to cum rafey..." the wave of pleasure crashes over you and you let out a little squeal.

you huff in exhausted and fall off your hands onto you stomach but rafe grips your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you. His fingers are digging deep into your skin

As Rafe's cock thrusts deeper into you, you feel a sudden jolt of sensation as he hits your cervix.

you gasp as Rafe's cock rubs against your cervix. it hurts but it feels so gooddd

Suddenly he's crying out

his voice a loud groan of pleasure as he cums inside you. you can feel his hot seed spilling into you, filling you up with a warm, sticky sensation.

his hips jerking as he rides out the wave of his orgasm.

He's collapsed beside you.

Rafe's voice is low and husky

"You just needed to be stretched out, baby," he says "You were a little tight but I knew I could loosen you up."

“Don’t be embarrassed baby” he whispered his voice smooth almost teasing.

“You’re cute when you’re shy”

#artists on tumblr #smut #outer banks #nostalgia #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #drew starkey x reader #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x fem! reader #bunny reader #bunny!reader

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vivwritesfics · 2 months ago

Text

Sugar, Sugar

Max accidentally becomes your sugar daddy. He doesn't mean to, you don't mean for him to. It just sort of happens.

Warnings: 18+, smut, creampie, sugar baby x sugar daddy dynamics (accidentally), oral

The Bag

He tightened his grip on you, fingers bruising your hips as he came inside of you. "Fuck," he choked out, slumping forward. His body rested over you as you tried to stop yourself from collapsing.

But Max wrapped his arms around you, holding you up. "You okay?" He asked, still trying to catch his breath.

When you nodded, he slipped out of you. "Yeah," you managed, settling yourself against the cushions. "Yeah, I'm okay." You needed to get into his shower, needed to clean yourself up.

As Max stood from the bed, he looked at you. You were obviously tired, worn out. Sweat clung to your skin and your hair was a mussed up mess.

He loved having you like this. He loved having you on his bed, worn out because of him. "I'll get the shower running," he mumbled and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom.

It was casual sex, nothing more. Neither of you were in the position for anything more than carnal desires.

But he had something for you. A present, something he had found just for you. All because you sent him a text, complaining about how your trusty work bag had broken.

He started the shower, held his hand under the steady stream of water as he waited for it to heat up. When it did, he called you into the bathroom.

You kissed his cheek as you walked past him. When you weren't having sex, it never went further than that. Just a passing kiss on the cheek, nothing more.

When you stepped beneath the water, Max left the room. He heard you humming to yourself as you scrubbed your skin and washed your hair. (Max knew how much more you preferred his shower. Every time you came to his apartment, after every time he had you on your back, knees, whatever, you used his shower. Took your sweet, sweet time and came out smelling like him).

You both had the option to sleep with other people. You could sleep with all of Monaco, if you so desired, and Max didn't have the right to get angry. Just like he could sleep with other people when away at Grand Prix.

But the both of you chose not to. You were each others only sexual partners, and that worked for you.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around yourself. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend the night in his bed. Each time, the two of you kept the entire bed between you. But, through the night, you migrated closer and closer, until you were touching.

You dried your hair as best you could and walked out of the bathroom. Still humming as you went, not paying attention to anything. Not paying attention to Max on the bed as you grabbed your hairbrush. "My mum is convinced we're dating," you mumbled as you brushed through your wet hair.

Max cleared his throat.

You were still talking when you tired towards him. But you stopped when you saw what was on the bed in front of him. "What's this?" You asked, your voice pitching slightly.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "You said your work bag was broken."

Your work bag was broken, he was right. As pretty, as expensive as the bag in front of him was, it wouldn't do as a replacement. Not big enough for all of the things you lugged to your office.

But you sat in front of him on the bed and took the bag from him. "It's gorgeous," you said, your eyes lighting up. Because you really did like it.

"It's for you."

You put the bag down as you looked at him. "Seriously, Max, thank you," you whispered and threw your arms around him.

There wasn't much better than the feeling of his large hands against your back.

The Instagram Likes

Your likes kept appearing on his Instagram feed. It was his fault for not following more people on his private account, for not filling his feed with things that weren't you.

But it was all you. Your posts. Your tags. Your likes. Things you wanted, things you had liked. Things that were now in his shopping cart or on its way to his apartment.

He was just being friendly, right? Because you were friends. At the end of the day, you were friends. You had been friends before you started sleeping together and you were still friends now. It wasn't weird he was buying you things.

At least, that was what Max kept telling himself.

He had it all stashed in his Monaco apartment, waiting for you to come over. But it had been a triple header and you had been busy during the week.

All the things Max had bought for you (clothes, bags, shoes, jewellery) were piling up in his apartment. It was becoming a little embarrassing.

After the triple header (which had at least one win for him), Max invited you over. Just for some casual sex, nothing more. He definitely didn't have good food and good drink in the fridge, and a good movie queued up on the television.

He hated that he missed you. But, the second you walked through the door, he was upon you. No words were exchanged as he pinned you to the door and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, hooked your leg around his waist.

"Fuck," he grunted. You grinned as you tugged at his hair. Your favourite sound in the world was his groans of 'fuck' while he was deep inside of you.

I missed you.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept them in his mouth. But he had missed you, every part of you. He just wanted you on your back, your thighs squeezing his head as he ate you out.

He dragged you away from the door. Dragged, but you went willingly. You were happy to let him pull you into his room, to undress you.

Your clothes were discarded on the floor as Max climbed on top of you. He pressed his hips against your as you whined and moaned. Max knew how to fuck like like nobody else. There was a reason you kept going back to him. He made you see stars.

"I got something for you," Max mumbled as you both laid there.

Turned on your side, your eyebrows rose at him. "You got something for me?" You echoed.

"A couple things."

He stood from the bed and walked over to the cupboard. Several bags fell out and Max picked them all up. He brought them over and dumped them in front of you. "Saw your likes on Instagram, thought I'd buy you some of the stuff."

Tipping the first bag upside down, a bracelet fell into your hands. "Fuck," you whispered as you let it dangle from between your fingers. It was simply gorgeous. "Thank you Max, seriously. You didn't have to do this."

"I didn't," he replied as he laid back beside you. "But I wanted to."

You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The Car

It had been three days since your car last started. You'd called the garage, but there was no way for you to be able to afford the repairs.

You didn't tell Max with the aim of getting him to buy you a car. The thought didn't cross your mind. You were just ranting to a friend as you walked the distance to work instead of driving.

The next time you went to Max's house, you immediately went to kiss him. Frustration and anger welled up inside of you, and you just wanted some release. That release was supposed to be Max.

Instead of pinning you against the wall and snogging you, Max took your hands. "What're you doing?" You asked as he brought you over to the sofa.

"I know your car is busted, so I got you something," Max said. He pressed something into your palm and closed your fist around it.

You frowned at him and opened your fist.

"You didn't."

Max kept grinning as he looked at you. "I did," he said.

"I can't accept this from you."

"Yeah you can."

You opened your fist.

A set of car keys sat in your hands. Brand new keys to a brand new BMW. "Max," you began. "Seriously, I..."

"At least until you get your car working. Forever, if you want."

You sucked his dick extra good that night. He held the back of your head as you moved, as you took him down your throat.

He came three times in your mouth alone that night. It was an all night affair, the both of you losing track of time.

There was a few days before you used the car for the first time. Just to meet your friends. It didn't exactly feel wrong, but you didn't feel right about it either.

They looked at you with raised eyebrows. "Where the hell did this come from?" One asked as you walked towards the group.

"Gift," you mumbled as you locked it and dropped the keys into your bag. "From Max."

The raised eyebrows became knowing grins. "Ah," somebody said and the group started giggling.

"Girl, you've got yourself a sugar daddy."

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bbokicidal · 2 months ago

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Shut Up And Drive | SKZ

Can you handle the curves? Can you run all the lights? If you can, baby boy, then we can go all night

Hyung Line ☼ Smut ☼ MDNI: Car sex, Oral sex, Fingering, PinV ☼

Chan

He was a little hesitant when you had first suggested anything in the car - His top priority is you and your safety and if he's driving that means that your life is in his hands.

But when he sees the way you look reaching up to pull your hair back, the way you clip it behind your ears so it stays out of your face, the way you look over at him and look to see if he'd caught on - God, he's gone. He's not going to stop you and honestly he can't with the way you tug his fly down and tug his cock out. He's already half hard just from your conversation earlier on in the day and now it's happening - Your lips are wrapping around his tip and he's breathing heavy at the feeling of your tongue sliding over him. You're taking him in your throat and he's choking back quiet growls of pleasure.

He loves it way more than he should - and even though he wants to relish in the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock when he bucks his hips up, he has to keep his focus on the road.

Though he does let himself indulge in you a little by threading his free hand into your hair to to push your head down. Just a little.

Lee Know

Minho's never felt so desperate for touching before. The drinks from the bar had flooded his system and even though he'd only had two, he felt so.. hot. His skin felt on fire everywhere your hands laid and he was sure you felt the same. With the way he had guided you back to the car only to open the back door and push you onto the seat, his hands wandering your body and pushing up under your shorts just to yank them down.

He's hasty and quick with it, his movements rough as he pushes your top up next. His hands push over your chest, nudging the fabric up towards your collar bone and sighing out every time his lips leave your throat. He doesn't want to move any lower but he has to; He needs to taste you, even if it means he won't be able to hear your moans right in his ear.

His hands push back down over your hips, gripping at your curves and pushing down to hold you against the leather seat while he laps between your thighs. Shoulders broad and heavy with muscle keep your legs pushed apart, his lips pressing kisses and sucking at your clit with an eagerness you hadn't felt from him before. If this was how he was after just having a couple drinks to loosen him up, maybe you'd be having more nights in at home; You know, with wine. Or shots.

Changbin

"I can't keep going if you squirm like that, baby. You've gotta sit still for me."

He can't complain about how cute your squirming is with his hand between your legs but when you wriggle like that it makes it harder for him to focus on two things at once. Changbin already can't multitask very well but he's doing his absolute best. Eyes on the road, hand between your legs and two thick fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. He's not doing bad either, his fingers curling to find that soft spongy spot against your walls that makes you whine. He just can't get over how he can feel your pussy clenching around him, leaking down

"Need it," You gasp out as your head pushes back against the headrest. "I need your cock, Binnie. Please. Please, it feels so good but I need it.."

And who is he to deny you when you're whimpering like that? Changbin goes quiet for a moment before a soft huff of air escapes his lips, the corner curling up into a knowing smirk. Alright, yeah. Since you were begging so nicely and since it was clear he'd made you incredible wet,

"Let me pull over, baby. Then I'll give you anything you want."

Hyunjin

"Oh my God," Hyunjin chokes out the words as his head drops back, resting against the middle seat. His hands had fallen to the seat beneath him, fingers curling into the leather as the soft plap of your hips meeting his own filled the car. He wanted to touch you so bad but you were doing just fine on your own so far, so he wouldn't until you need support.

Your hips slam down on his own, hands finding his shoulders to keep a tight hold onto his sweater so you wouldn't slip up. You'd learned your lesson before. He's happy to let you grab and grope at him as much as you want, even when your hands wander to his chest under his sweater so you can get a grab at him.

He keeps his eyes on you, lidded and warm and heavy with want. It's the moment your hips stutter and your breathing becomes heavy that he takes over, his hands finding your hips to control your movements instead. It's a little sloppy but he's doing what he can in the cramped backseat, hips bucking up to meet you halfway. His cock pushes in deeper when he's in control, tip kissing and pushing at your cervix every time he drives into your pussy with more force.

His teeth sink into his lip as he whines, looking up at you. "I don't want this to ever end." Which was.. pretty much code for; You weren't getting away after just one orgasm.

#skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #bangchan x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #leeknow x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #bangchan smut #lee know smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut

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swanlikely · 2 months ago

Text

Current Brainrot: Drunk Reader! w/ Boyfriend Caleb!

Author's Note: I wanted to write something sweet again—him being a little overbearing but it’s cute. This is Caleb and his girl being gross and cringe, and in love, as usual. Please check out the artist! She's such a sweetie, and she's talented! (Artist & Original Post)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB!reader, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use (reader), slight dub-con (if you squint), suggestive ending.

Caleb is the kind of boyfriend who says, “Go have fun, baby,” and means it; but still stands posted, watching, in the corner of every bar you drag him to. He lets you dance, drink, flirt with your friends, yell-laugh at karaoke, and scream-sob over fries in the back booth like it's a sacred ritual. All while he nurses a single drink and watches you with the kind of soft-eyed amusement that says: That’s my girl. Loud, messy, gorgeous. Mine.

Anyone who looks too long gets a stare. Not a scowl; not enough to draw attention. Just a faint warning in his eyes. He doesn't interrupt, only hovers. But everyone knows you didn’t come here alone.

You catch his gaze across the bar more than once. He doesn’t budge. Just lifts his brows like, You sure? — and when you pout, he caves. Of course he does.

He doesn’t even like dancing. He just likes you.

And he follows you like it’s instinct. Loyal in that unshakable way; like a dog who’s chosen their person and never once thought of looking back. He keeps the dog tag you gave him years ago in pristine condition, always polished and shining on the chain around his neck. You joked about it once, calling it his collar.

He’d smile, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. Like it was a privilege he never planned to take off.

Sometimes, when you’re feeling extra bratty, you'd call him your golden retriever boyfriend.

Big. Loyal. Always underfoot. Quick to roll over and give you anything you want.

He usually snorts, eyes gleaming. “I’m a Colonel, Pips, not a pet.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, poking at his chest. “You follow me around all night, you take my boots off, you carry my bag, and you’d probably bark if I asked.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He considered it, for a moment at least.

You pause, then snicker. “Actually, you’re more like a German shepherd.”

He just shrugs, smirking. “I bite if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. My big tough lapdog.” You slur as those glossy lips lifted into a grin.

That earns you a growl: low, playful, and way too pleased.

By the time he gets you home, you’re giggling at nothing and absolutely useless. Your boots are halfway off, your eyeliner is migrating to your temples, and you're swaying on your feet like the floor’s made of jelly.

But Caleb? Caleb lives for this part.

He’s all quiet efficiency now. Scoops you into the bathroom with one arm around your waist and sits you on the counter. He holds your chin with his cool metal hand as he swipes away your makeup with a cotton pad, eyes fixed on your face like you’re some precious artifact.

“You had fun tonight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. “You look like a raccoon.”

“You love raccoons,” you grin, and he huffs a laugh.

He helps you out of your clothes next — not even in a weird way (not yet, anyway), just slow and patient, peeling off layers like you're delicate. Your socks are the last to go, and he rolls them down with that same robotic hand, his touch cold but sweet as he kisses the inside of your ankle.

He adores this. Taking care of you. Spoiling you. Making sure you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. You’d barely have to ask; Caleb would already be there, already doing it, like it’s wired into him.

“You’re such a sap,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

“Maybe,” he says, lips brushing higher up your leg. “But you’re mine.”

His voice dips on that word. Not playful. Final.

And when he presses one more kiss — higher, warmer, slower; your breath hitches just a little.

Not so drunk now, are you?

He chuckles at the look on your face. “C’mon, Pips,” he says, voice low as he leans in. “Let me tuck you in. And if you’re real good…”

His mouth brushes your ear.

“…maybe I won’t stop there.”

You barely get a breath in before his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, unhurried like he’s tracing a map he’s already memorized. His metal hand drifts up your thigh, cool and relaxed, while his other curls behind your knee, tugging you just a little closer to the edge of the counter.

“You were drivin’ me crazy tonight,” he murmurs, and your skin begins to vibrate. He was electrifying. “Spinnin’ around like that, laughin’ like I didn’t want to drag you out of there and keep you all to myself.”

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” you catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something uniquely Caleb—clean, a little musky, and completely intoxicating. “All night, I wanted to touch you—wanted to pull you close, but I held back.”

“I was good,” he hums, voice low. “I waited. But damn, it was hard not to just… reach for you.”

There’s no teasing in it. Just that low, confessional tone he gets when he’s close to breaking. When he’s been good for too long.

“I watched you have your fun,” he says, lips brushing your sternum, “now let me have mine.”

Your head lolls back against the mirror as his tongue flicks against your skin, warm where his hand is cold, and your whole body goes pliant under his touch. He kisses down your stomach, sinking to his knees without a single word of warning, spreading your legs with a reverence that makes your pulse stutter.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, but a shiver and a flash of heat travels through your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded as he presses a kiss between your thighs, like a thank you. Like a promise.

“You don't have to do anything else tonight, Pips,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does.

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finallychaoticeffigy · 2 months ago

Text

Yandere Emperor x reader

You woke up with a massive feeling of headache. The mattress you're in was too soft and grand to be yours. The feeling of unfamiliarity is eating you up.You look around to see... nothing? The hell why it is so dark.You questioned trashing around. Even worse you're left ankle was chained to the massive bed your in.

Just then a little bit of light came to sight. You almost jumped in fear as the door suddenly opened.

Revealed a tall huge man yet you can't see his face properly. He slammed the door behind him leaving you to see the darkness again. The situation you're in is super scary.

You can't see him yet you can totally feel his dark aura moving closer and closer, not to mention that heavy breathing.

"Who are you? Where am?" You asked, clutching the heavy metal to try and break free although you know you can't, it's too hard and difficult.

"Baby, Baby,My Baby Y/n !" .He said as he lunged at you, trapping your shaken smaller figure on his massive ones.

"Baby finally, finally i have you, I love you a lot Fuck you're really mine" he commented, almost suffocating you with how tight he's holding you. Heck he's even sniffing you and keeps kissing your neck.

No way. "You highness?" You asked bewildered, why did he even kidnap you? why did he take you? So many questions run through your mind but you stay still. You're afraid of him. I mean who doesn't? He's the fucking evil tyrant emperor who everyone feared.

You've noticed him always staring at you when you attended the same events. Now that you thought about it, he's everywhere you go. But you didn't pay no mind to it. You assumed you were just being delusional.

He pulled away and looked at you "Baby , you're trembling,are you scared of me?hmm?are you afraid? Don't be I'll never hurt my wife. But Fuck you're even adorable when you're scared" He said in lowly voice before attacking your lips hungrily kissing you.

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spidybaby · 1 month ago

Note

do you take f1 requests? if u do, please do a Lando x reader where reader is his personal assistant and he likes her but hides it by being mean until one day he sees her talking with other driver during an event and decided to confess and u can choose the way it ends pls

Personal Assistant

Summary: Lando hides his feelings behind cruel words until he is forced to let the truth out.

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Hi, I want to say that I don't know much about F1, so I did my best with this request. If I got something wrong, sorry. Hope you like it 🥺💛

"You are late, again." Lando says, looking at you from the sofa. "Do you have my breakfast?"

You nod, still out of breath. You show him the paper bag, smiling at him, moving quickly to the kitchen to serve the food in a plate.

You have to be careful, he has this way of eating his food that if anything mixes, it will cause a disturbance on his day.

You place the plate and drink in front of him, moving back to get the bread and fork. You notice he's reading something on social media.

"Did you have any chance of reading the schedule I made for the trip?" You ask him, handing him the fork. "I talked to your manager, and he says that it's good."

He looks at you, not answering. Instead, he goes for a bite of the food. You hold the urge to roll your eyes.

"It needs salt." He says, waving at you.

You nod, walking to the kitchen to get the salt. You take a deep breath before walking back, already stressed, and it was only 8 am.

"Carlos called, he wants to know if you want to go to dinner with him when you land in Barcelona."

He nods, turning the tv on. "Did you book Magui's tickets?"

"About that." You whisper, looking at your phone. "They only have tourist class on the day she wants to come."

"Well, then fix it." He shrugs. "Or it's on you to tell her that she can't come because you don't know how to do your job."

"I-" you wanted to reply, but you shut your mouth. Knowing that this was something he wanted.

"You what?" He smirks, looking at you.

"I'll do my best to find her a better seat." You say, wanting to punch him. "Do you need anything else? I need to pick your clothes from the dry clean."

He shakes his head, continuing with eating and watching tv. You turn back to the door, grabbing your bag and the ticket you left on the counter, next to your bag.

"Actually, Y/n." He calls before you close the door.

You quickly turned, getting your head inside so he could see you. "Yes?"

"Can you help me look for my green hoodie?"

You nod, walking back inside to look for his hoodie. You walk inside the room, noticing the mess.

"Fuck." You whisper, knowing that you need to schedule for the cleaning services to come when hes out. "The green one you say?" You ask from the room.

"And the baby blue one."

You frown, walking to the closet. You take one look at the closet and feel the anger inside. It was a disaster.

You just organized it per Lando's request to do so. You organize it just like he likes it, hoodies on one side, jackets in other, pants and joggers separated.

You sigh, not being able to complain to what he did to your organization. You grab the piles of hoodie, remembering to check with him if he wanted to get rid of anything.

You spend a good twenty minutes looking through the piles of clothes, you search the dirty laundry basket, nothing.

You then think that he did have a green one, but you can't point to the baby blue one. Maybe it was a new one he got recently, and you can't remember.

You take another fifteen minutes re checking the entire closet, searching the suitcases he has that sometimes have unpacked clothes.

When you turn to find him looking at you. "You scared me." You whisper, hand on your chest.

He smirks, walking closer to you. "Any luck?"

"Actually, can you tell me what that baby blue hoodie looks like? Does it have a logo?" You ask, looking around to see if you can spot it.

He doesn't let the smirk go. "Actually, I forgot that I was meaning for you to get me a hoodie like that. I don't have it yet."

You look back at the mess of clothes you spent more than half an hour looking at. You turn back at him, noticing he finds funny how frustrated you look at his actions.

You sigh and nod. "Any brand?" You ask, tired of his games.

He shakes his head no. "Surprise me." He smiles. "And you can take the three hoodies from Balenciaga. I don't like them anymore."

You pick them from the floor. "This one has the tags on." You say checking it. "Are you sure you don't want to keep one?"

He held his hands out for you to give it to him, and you handed him the hoodie. "Do you like it?" He asks, turning the hoodie to where you are.

You nod, grabbing the sleeves. "It's a good hoodie."

He hands it back to you. "Keep it if you want it." He smiles.

"Really?" You smile, grabbing the hoodie closer. "Thank you, Lando."

"Yeah, now can you pick my clothes? They have my shirt that I want to use tonight."

You nod, walking to where your things are. "Do you want anything else before I come back?" You ask before walking outside of the apartment.

You left the hoodie on the sofa, not having enough space to bring it to you because of Lando's things in the car.

He doesn't answer, so you pick your things and walk outside of his apartment. You think about the hoodie he just gave you. It was the F1 Balenciaga hoodie you liked. You know they gave it to Lando as a PR, but you were thankful for the little gift.

You know that this costs more than you could afford, so it was something you were happy with.

You feel your phone vibrate, Lando's name on the screen. He was asking you to get him half a dozen of those protein cookies you get him on the bakery on the other side of the city.

You pout, knowing that this day was going to be crazy with all the requests he's been having lately. If it was not him asking for breakfast, it was him asking for something that you could only get on the other side of the city.

And if it was not that, it was him making you go crazy with requests he knows are not going to have a successful end for you.

You can't complain, you have a job.

You pick his clothes, finding the green hoodie he wanted in the pile of clean clothes. You then moved to the other side of the city to get the cookies.

You try reaching him over text to see if he wanted a special flavor or the normal chocolate chip cookies.

You order a dozen, six of the flavors he likes the most and six of the normal ones. You have them packed on different containers for him not to have an excuse not to eat it.

You are back with the clothes and the cookies. Walking inside of the apartment, careful not to drop anything.

You grab your phone, answering to Mark about some scheduling that needed to be added. You confirm with him some other things.

You feel someone walking inside of the room, but you were busy writing something on your notebook to see who it was.

"Lando, I didn't know if the cookies you wanted were the normal ones, so I got a variety of them."

You hear a giggle, turning your head up and finding Magui. "Sorry if I scared you."

You blink a few times, surprised that she's even there. "Oh, hi." You whisper. You haven't even had time to look at the plane tickets, now knowing it was not necessary. "You are here! I was going to message you about the flight."

"I wanted to come and see him before the GP."

"That's amazing." You smile at her.

You can't lie, you feel awkward around her. You don't know if you can be totally cool with her or if it's going to be a gf of the boss kind of situation.

"Lando is taking a shower. He told me to tell you that if you wanted to go to Mark's, he's fine with you arranging the schedule."

You nod, giving her a small nod. "I'll get going then. Do you need anything before I leave?"

"Not at all, don't worry about us. We are fine."

You nod, walking to the sofa and grabbing the hoodie. You say a quiet goodbye to her and leave.

You close your car door, finally being able to rest for more than five minutes. You've been running around for him during the last few days.

You drive over Mark's house, grabbing some things that Lando needs to drop. You have to organize the agenda of Lando.

"Hey Mark, got you some coffee." You say, giving him a quick hug.

"Where's Lando?" He asks, accepting the coffee. "He needs to be here. What happened?"

"Maguie happened." You smile. "He was showering when I left his apartment, so he might show up."

You walk with him to his office, opening your agenda on the desk. You grab your highlighters and your pens.

"Okay, let's get to the good stuff." He jokes, making you laugh.

You planned the agenda around the events that he officially has with the Team and also the ones you know he has outside of the clock.

"When we land, we need to get him to fitting."

"He has lunch with Carlos." You say, marking the time as busy. "He confirmed this morning, and it's planned already by Carlos."

"Okay, now what about after." He asks, checking the times. "Anything during that time?"

"Not that I know, so fittings it is."

You two work on the perfect schedule that you know Lando is somehow going to fuck up. He always does and then blames you for not being able to accommodate him.

"Now, let's pray this kid follows the plan." Mark sigh.

🍊🍊🍊

You feel someone pulling your hoodie cap, making you turn and take your airpod out.

Lando was standing behind your seat, smirking at your sleepy eyes. "Do you have any gum?" He asks, knowing he only does this to bother you.

You nod, grabbing your purse and searching for the gum. You always carry gum because his ears tend to get clogged on the air, so you always buy some gum before getting into the plane.

You hand him a pack of gum, he takes a seat next to you. You place your airpod back on, turning back again to the window to get back to your nap.

You feel him getting your airpod out of your ear, you turn to him and finding him placing it on his ear.

"Justin Bieber?" He asks, listening to the music you are playing on your phone. "Thought you were a one direction fan."

You nodded, eyes closing as you fight the urge to go back to sleep. Just when you thought that Lando was leaving you alone, he opens his mouth.

"I'm bored, talk to me."

"Talk to Mark." You whisper, craving the sleep.

"But he's sleeping." He pouts, poking your side. "Plus, you are my assistant, talk to me."

You take a deep breath, squinting your eyes as hard as you can. "Fine, what do you want to talk about?" You ask, seating normally.

"Actually." He smiles at you, handing you the airpod. "I think I'll go back to my seat." He says, getting up and walking to the back.

You blink a few times, the sleep is gone, the anger is in. You know he does this just to bother you.

You try to get back to sleep, but you can't. You spend the rest of the flight irritated at the laugh of Lando in the back.

When the plane finally landed in Spain, you were the last one to get out of the plane. You know that Lando was going to be eager to get to the hotel and then meet with Carlos.

"Can you walk slower?"

"Is that a request?" You say, walking very slow. "Is this slow enough?" You smile.

"Hurry, Carlos is waiting for me." He frowns, closing the window of the car.

You hand your bag to the chauffeur, thanking him and getting on the ban with Mark and Lando.

"Did you check if my parents were at the hotel already?"

"Yes, Magui and them are at the hotel." You say, opening the agenda. "You have to be on fittings after lunch." You say, reading the schedule. "And a meeting with the team at the hotel once we are back from fittings."

"Wait, no." He turns to you. "Who planned this?"

"Not you, obviously." Mark chuckles. "We did, and it's final."

Lando turns, mad at something he can't do anymore. You take your phone, checking social media as a way to distract yourself.

When you get to the hotel, you grab Lando's luggage and walk inside with it. Mark and him were talking as you placed the luggage on the hotel car.

"I'll go to the meeting room. Please, make sure he's on time for fittings." Mark says to you.

You follow Lando to the elevator, getting inside with him. "Do you want me to call you a car to go see Carlos?"

He doesn't answer, normal thing when he's mad at something or at you. You take that as a yes, searching for the car service you hired before.

"The car will be here in twenty minutes. You can fresh up or whatever before that." You inform, thanking the hotel guy as he leaves the luggage in the room. "You parents are with Magui. They are having lunch with Piastri's parents."

You stay there for a moment, waiting to see if he was going to ask you for something. He was scrolling on his phone, ignoring your presence.

"I'll go to my room. The car is picking you up in fifteen." You say, grabbing your bag. "If you need anything, text me."

You walk to your room, throwing your bag on the floor and walking straight to bed. You needed a good nap before continuing with the day.

Sadly for you, just like your nap on the plane, your sleep was interrupted by the door. You groan, turning to the side and ignoring it.

Thirty seconds later, you hear the knocks again. You open your eyes, angry, getting up to see who dares to interrupt your sleep.

"What?" You say, opening the door. You find Lando on the other side, smiling at you. "Oh, it's you."

"I texted you five times." He says, showing you the phone. "Let's go, the car is already here."

"What car?" You ask, confused because of the sleepiness.

"The car that's supposed to take us to Carlos. Now let's go." He says, walking away. "Y/n, move it."

"Do I have to go?" You whisper, letting a groan out.

You shake your head, running to the bed to grab your phone and handbag. You ran quickly to the elevator. He's holding the door for you.

" < text me if you need anything > " He mocks your voice. "Then you leave me ignored and abandoned."

"I never leave you abandoned." You say to him.

You notice how his hair is messy, you know he hates to have pictures with messy hair.

"Come here." You say, stretching your arm to him. You comb his hair with your fingers, eyes focused on his curls. "Done, that looks much better."

He looks at you, checking if his hair is better than before. He then shakes his head a little, going back to reality.

"Why did you schedule the fittings after lunch?" He asks, frowning. "That was stupid."

"It would've been easier if you were there." You say, frowning too. "You told Magui to tell me to deal with it."

"But fittings after eating?" He chuckles. "That's dumb, admit it."

"Yes, Lando, it was." You say, rolling your eyes.

"You see how easy is it when we agree?" He asks, poking your side. Something you hate when he does. "Who do you think is going to win?"

He asks this, expecting you to say his name. He always asks you as if you are a fortune teller and your words are going to be written on rock.

"Hopefully, Piastri." You say, getting out of the elevator as soon as the doors open.

Lando stays there, mouth forming a perfect "o" You try to hide your smirk, not wanting to get another reaction out of him.

mclaren

❤️ 91,7mil 💬91 ↗️ 201

mclaren 6️⃣ Races + 6️⃣ Podiums = a successful triple 😍

#Mclaren #F1

"Y/n, hi!"

"Hi, Lily." You smile, giving her a hug.

Lily is Oscar's girlfriend, you have a nice relationship since you see each other a lot during the GP, during practice, during press days.

"Busy day?" She asks, walking over Lando's space.

"Yeah, I've been running around these past few days." You giggle. "How are you?"

"Amazing, happy to be here. Love Canada!"

"Yes, I hope our boys win." You smile at her.

"Yes, that would be so amazing." She smiles, thinking about it. "Hey, tell me something. I know gossiping is bad, but what happened to Magui and Lando? I'm asking because Oscar told me about the fight in front of the team"

You think if it was the right thing to talk about what happened to them. On one side, Lando is your boss, and talking about him like that was bad. However, they did make it everybody's problem when they did it in front of everybody.

"Don't kiss and tell, but Magui slapped Lando during practice because Lando told her he liked someone else."

"So they are done?" She asks, whispering.

You nod, making sure the boys aren't coming. "She said goodbye to me before leaving, telling me that Lando was an asshole who lied to her." You whisper.

"Oh." Lily says.

You try to hide the smile you want to let out. You can't lie that Magui leaving gives you a sense of happiness.

You know that Lando would never think about you in that way, and you know you can't think about that because he is your boss.

However, thinking is free, and your mind sometimes betrays you, showing your deepest thoughts.

You two continued talking for a while, changing the topics. They guys were on a team meeting, so you were able to talk with her.

Both Lando and Oscar came back to their areas. Lily said goodbye to you, going to Oscar's. You watch Lando as he walks inside his area.

"Where's Mark?" He asks, you can tell he is mad. "I need to talk to him."

"He said he had a call to make, want me to go look for him?" You ask, he was trying to get out of a jacket.

You stand up, helping him with the jacket. You can tell he's mad about something, so you try to make it easier for him.

It's never a good thing for him to be angry before driving. You always try for him to relax and to mentally prepare.

"I picked your favorite snack." You say, pointing at the snacks and drinks. "And your parents called. They are ready to see you drive."

"Can you believe they couldn't come?" He asks, pouting. "I wanted them here."

"I know, but I'm sure they will be there for the next one. I'll start with their transportation as soon as tonight."

You help him with his suit, making sure it's neat. You grab his hand, taking the watch off of his wrist.

Lando can't lie when he says that he loves it when you take care of him. It makes him feel special, it makes him feel like you care about him.

"Are you nervous?" You ask, noticing that he is tense.

He scuffs, "No, what kind of stupid question is that?"

You would love to understand the shifts he has. Why does he suddenly go from a friendly boss to an asshole who's mean to you.

"Sorry." You whisper, placing his watch next to the snacks table. "I'll go get Mark."

You walk outside to look for Mark, he was probably lying talking to Oscar's manager. You find him talking to a group of people.

You don't want to interrupt, so you just wait for him to finish. You were in such a good mood, but as always, Lando does something or acts up in a way that makes you feel uneasy.

"Hey, kiddo." Mark says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Lando is looking for you." You smile at him.

He thanked you, walking inside the teams placed to meet with Lando. You waited outside, watching everything from the distance.

You can't lie that this job has been the best. You have to travel to places you never thought you would ever visit.

You travel in a private jet, eat at the best places, and sleep at the nicest hotels. You can say it's a dream job.

Sometimes you do wonder if you are good at what you are doing, with Lando calling you out for doing things he doesn't want to do.

It gets to you, making you feel like you fail, but Mark always makes sure to let you know that Lando is like that and that he's joking.

You check the time, the race was going to start in a little bit, so you walk back inside to see everything from his station.

"Ready?" Oscar asks you as you walk back.

You nod, giving him a high five. "Good luck." You say to him.

You see Lando walking to the entrance, he was trying to zip up his suit. You can tell he's nervous by the way his hands aren't coordinating.

You grab his shoulders, making him stop. You take his hands away, pulling the zipper up and patting his chest.

"Wish me luck." He whispers.

"You don't need it." You whisper back. Moving to the side so he could walk to the entrance.

He looks back at you before going out. You wait for him to do it to get to his station. Laying on the couch for a moment.

You spend the first half of the race inside. Hearing everybody being happy outside. You decide to join them.

You walk to where the team is, joining them. You stand next to Mark, who's smiling because Lando and Oscar are on the first five positions.

Mark got you a pair of head of headsets. You love watching the action going on, it makes your heart go faster.

You love how the team works fast to get them through pitz in no time, how they give him instructions, how they support each other.

"Last five, team!"

You notice that both Piastri and Lando were on the top five. You hope that they get to a double podium.

You feel your heart stop when Lando and Piastri collapsed together. Making Lando have a DNF, he wasn't able to finish the race.

"I'm okay, guys." He says out of breath over the radio. "I'm sorry, it was my fault."

Your heart breaks for him, the sound of his voice is making you feel like crying. You wait for him to get there to check from afar if he is okay.

Once he is out of the reach of the camera, you see how he kicks the wall. Closing his asignated area.

Mark walks over to where he is. They have a person from the medical team check him for any injury and ask him if he feels some type of way.

Oscar landed the fourth place, it was something for the team. You take the headsets, walking over to where Lando and Mark are.

You stand outside, not wanting to disturb him. You waited for a moment, deciding to walk away. You don't want to be seen like a bother.

You walk back to the front room, Lily was there. She asks how is Lando, you shrug and tell her that you were giving space.

Mark texted you, letting you know that Lando and him were leaving back to the hotel. To take care of whatever is left back and that he was going to send the car back to get you after they drop them off.

You text him that you will take care of that, walking back to collect everything that Lando left behind.

You wait inside, not feeling like answering how Lando was from the team. You don't even know how he is, so you don't feel like lying on top of everything.

When the car was there, you walked silently to the exit. Getting inside and texting Mark that you are on your way to the Hotel.

He asked you to give the things to Lando and force him to eat something. He needed to leave to see some sponsors, and he wanted you to take care of that for him.

When you get to the hotel, you thank the driver. You decide to leave Lando alone for a little bit more, maybe he is talking to his parents, maybe he is still mad or angry, maybe he wants to be alone.

You decide to walk to your room and take a shower. You were going to order your food at the same time as his, so you check if he actually eats.

You take your time, dry your hair, and apply your creams. You change into some leggings and an oversized t-shirt.

You take the things, grabbing the room key. You over to the other side of the floor. You were three rooms away from his room when you notice Charles Leclerc, who was staying on the same floor, walking over.

"Hey, I know you." He smiles, stopping when he notices you. "You work with McLaren."

You nod, not feeling like correcting your work to him. "You work for Ferrari." You joke.

He let out a big laugh, grabbing his belly. You frown for a moment, not finding your joke to be that funny.

"Did you enjoy the race?" He asks, making more conversation. "I mean, one of your drivers crashed and didnt finished, but apart from that."

"Yeah, I enjoyed your fifth and sixth place." You smile.

"Fuck, you are feisty." He jokes, smiling at you. "Like every McLaren girl."

"Well, nice to meet you, mister Leclerc." You say, wanting to get to Lando.

"Same thing here, miss..." He pauses, waiting for you to say your name.

"Y/n, that's my name."

"Well, miss Y/n. Nice to meet you." He smirks.

You walk away from him, not making much distance before hearing Charles talk to you again.

"If you ever get tired of working for McLaren." He says, making you turn to him. "Find me at the Ferrari spot, I'll get you a better spot on our team."

You smile, nodding. "Thanks, I'll have it in mind."

You wait for him to walk away to turn back to find Lando's room. You find him crossed armed, looking at your with a frown.

"Hey, how are you?" You say, walking over to him. "I have your watch, but are you okay?"

"What were you talking about with Leclerc?" He asks, not caring about the questions you asked him.

"Oh, he was just saying hi." You say, rolling your eyes a little.

"Really?" He scuffs. "I heard him offering you a job."

You frown, confused about why this is important. "I mean, yeah, but I'm sure it was him teasing."

You hand him his watch, looking at him and at his angry expression. You don't understand where that's coming from.

He turns back to his room, leaving the door open for you to get inside. You close the door, noticing the little disaster he made.

"How are you?" You ask again.

He doesn't answer, he is searching for something on his luggage. The frown on his face is making you worry.

"Lando, are you okay?"

"You care now?" He scuffs.

You frown. "What do you mean? I've always cared."

"Sure, fucking sure." He laughs. "That's why you didnt even come see me after the fucking crash."

"I gave you space, Lando." You explain, not wanting for him to feel like you don't care.

You care more than he thinks, you always cared for him. You feel hurt that he thinks you don't care how he is doing.

"I wanted to give you space." You repeat.

"I waited for you, I needed you there." He says, elevating his tone of voice. "I didn't leave earlier because I was waiting for you to come see me."

"You called me dumb moments before the race. Do you really think I was going to go see you when your feelings were raised?"

"I was joking."

"Were you?" You ask, scuffing. "You always do that, Lando. If it's not because I messed up the order of your food, if it's because I pack the wrong shirt, if it's because I don't have your water cold enough."

He covered his face, yelling into his hands. You shake your head at him, not believing that he was mad at something he created.

"That's why you were talking with Charles?" He asks, thinking about it.

"What?"

"He was talking about you going to Ferrari to work with him." He says, walking closer to you. "Are you leaving me?"

"Lando, no." You say, grabbing his arm. "I don't want to work for Charles or Ferrari. I'm with you."

"Are you?"

You swear you could hear your heart breaking. You worked very hard for him, you have given more than you should just for him to notice your effort.

You don't feel like proving a point that it was obvious he didn't understand. You let go of him, backing a few steps away from him.

"If you are not happy with my job or with how I do something for you. Take this as my two week notice."

You turn to the door, feeling his hand grabbing your arm. "What do you mean your two week notice?"

"Let go of me." You say, looking at him. "Lando, let go."

He let go of your arm, giving you a chance to open the door. You want to get away from him, feeling too hurt with his words.

"I'll go with you to Austria, but after that I'll go back to London, alone." You say to him.

You walk back to your room, you slam the door shut. You try not to cry, taking deep breaths. You walk over to your bed, thinking about what just happened.

"Y/n, open the door." You hear Lando's voice. "We need to talk."

You stay quiet, wanting him to leave. He doesn't give up, keeping the knocking on the door.

"I'm not leaving, open the door."

You bring your knees to your chest, hugging them as you see the door. You hold the urge to open the door and throw something at him.

After a few minutes, Lando stopped with the knockin. You throw yourself in bed, closing your eyes.

mclaren

❤️110 mil 💬916 ↗️338

mclaren An unfortunate end to today's GP, but we'll continue to push to get the most out of every opportunity 👊🏻

#Mclaren #F1

"Miss Y/n, are you ready to see the race?"

You turn to the voice, finding Charles. You smile at him, noticing the dog on his arms.

"Who is this little guy?" You ask, getting closer. "Hi, baby."

"He is Leo, my and my girlfriend's dog." He smiles, giving the dog a kiss on the head. "He's a nice boy, just like his daddy."

You nod, understanding the undertone. "I bet he is." You say, stopping with petting the dog. "And to answer your question, I am ready for the race."

"Nice, nice." He nods, looking at you up and down. "Did you think about my offer?" He asks, eyebrows moving up and down.

You sigh. "I did, but I'm loyal to McLaren. They have been my team since two years ago, and I can't picture myself in another team."

He nods, smirking. "You know where to find me if you change your mind, eh." He says, pointing at your while walking away. "Best of luck to your guys, but I'm beating them."

You wave at him, giggling at how funny that statement sounds. He has this aura of confidence that now you understand why makes other drivers feel intimidated.

You turn, finding Lando looking at you. Oscar was talking to him about something. Obviously, he did not care about what Piastri was saying, eyes fixed on you.

You walk back to Lando's space. You grab your phone, checking on Mark to see if he needed something.

He was with some sponsors, taking them to the palcos that McLaren had available for sponsors and other important people they invite there.

"Y/n," Lando calls, walking to where you are. "We need to talk."

You don't meet his eyes, the sound of your keyboard is filling the room.

"Tell me, do you need something before the race?" You ask him.

"I want us to fix things." He says, grabbing your arms. "What were you talking with Charles about?"

You were about to answer, but you noticed his parents walking towards you. The smile on their faces is enough for you to feel happy.

"Oh, hi." You say to them, moving out of Lando's hold. "So happy to see that you are here."

His mom hugs you, saying hi to you. His father does the same, thanking you for making possible for them to come.

"I got your favorite snacks, Mister Norris." You point at the table. You have different snacks that you know his father and mother love. "And your favorite drink, Miss Norris."

"Isn't she an angel, Lando?" His dad asks his son.

"I'll give you some space." You say, walking out of the room and closing the door.

You walk to where the rest of the team is preparing. Saying hi to some of the pitz guys, they make conversation with you.

You feel sad that you are going to say goodbye to all of this. It's been the best times of your life, being friends to the team, finding a small family in all of them.

You feel disassociated, not finding real how quick the time flies. You notice that Lando's parents are next to you because his mom places her hand on your shoulder.

"Lando is calling for you."

You nod, thanking her and walking to his space. You say hi to Oscar on the way, he was texting and ready to go.

"You needed me?" You ask, opening the door.

"Help me with my suit." He says, looking at himself in the mirror. You nod, walking inside of the room. "Close the door."

You do, getting closer to him as you fix the sleeves and fix the necklace he has on. He cant keep his eyes away from you.

You feel his hands on your waist, you try to act normal. You grab his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from you.

"Lando, stop this." You say, looking at him. "Let's not do this, you have to go. The race is about to start."

"Promise me you are not leaving right after the race." He says, hands gripping your skin, not to hurt you but to keep you steady. "Please."

"You have to go." You repeat. "Let's go, Oscar is waiting."

"Oscar can fuck off, I need you to promise me that you are not leaving me."

"Lando, let go of me."

"Please." He begs, eyes like a puppy.

You sigh, knowing that there was no way for you to make him leave without him pulling a fight. "I promise."

He looks into your eyes, nodding and letting you go. He zips his suit, looking at you for the last time, walking outside of the room.

"Y/n." Lily calls. "You coming?" She asks, smiling at you.

You nod, walking with her to where both Oscar's and Lando's parents are. They all have a pair of headsets. Lando's mother offered you a pair, you take it with a smile.

The race started, you aren't going to lie, you are too distracted to care about the first half of the race. Your mind is somewhere else, replaying memories of the different races you have been to.

"I'll be right back." You say to Lando's parents.

You think very hard about breaking the promise. You think very hard about leaving and going back to the hotel.

But you can't seem to do it, you can't send the text to Lando. The text you have written and deleted multiple times, trying to make it perfect.

Your plan was for you to leave before the race ended. That way, you have time to pick your stuff and go to the airport.

Mark was very sad about the news, he thought it was because you feel like the F1 rhythm wasn't for you anymore.

You hear the commotion outside, making you frown. You block your phone, walking outside to see what was going on.

You then noticed the screen, Lando was first, and Oscar was second, Charles was running behind them.

You place the headsets back on. You can't lie that all the ideas of leaving are now out of your head. You are excited for the last 10.

You grab Lily's hand, eyes glued to the screen. Lily was shaking with exciment, moving to get some anxiety out of her system.

You can't help but jump as Lando scores the first place on the Podium, and just two seconds later, Piastri is scoring second place.

You don't care who comes after them, you turn and hug his mom. Happy about him, he needed this win after what happened in Canada.

You see how the team runs to where they are. Happy about the first and second place in twenty five years.

You stayed behind them all, watching as Lando, Oscar, and Charles threw champagne at each other.

You chuckle at Lando throwing more champagne than normal to Charles. You can hear his laughter even when you are not near him.

You grab your phone, deleting the big text you had prepared for him. You write a simple thank you. Sending it him before grabbing your bag and walking to the parking lot.

You call an Uber, cursing at the fact that it was going to take a while because of the big traffic outside of the circuit.

Your phone on your pockey feels like it's burning. You want to look at your messages to see if he read the text or if maybe he's too busy celebrating this big moment.

Your thoughts were answered when you hear your name being called. You turn to find Lando running to you.

"What are you doing?" You ask. He was drenched in champagne and out of breath. "Lando, you need to be celebrating with your family. Go back."

"You promised."

You stay quiet, not knowing how to answer. You just look away. "I stayed, but I need to leave now."

"Why?"

"Because I'm tired, Lando. It hurts to see you not trusting me even after all this time. I would've never chosen Charles over you, you know that."

"I was stupid, a fucking child act. I admit that, but when I saw you with him in the corridor and then today. My blood boiled."

"Why do you care that much?" You ask, turning your whole body to him. "Does Charles really bothers you that much?"

"He doesn't bother me." He scuffs.

"Then tell me, what was the reason for your reaction?"

"I was jealous."

You pause for a moment, processing what he just spat at you.

"Jealous of what?"

"Of him being so close to you, offering you to leave with him. I was jealous when I saw you laughing with him at the hotel, when I saw you today with him and his dog."

"You were jealous of Charles trying to steal your personal assistant?"

"No, fuck sake." He says, passing a hand to his hair. "I was jealous of losing you, and by that, I don't mean you as my assistant. I mean you as a person, you as my safe place, you as my confident, you as my biggest support when nobody's there."

He wants to yell at your confused face. You don't quite understand what he is trying to say, or better say, you are still not believing what he is trying to say.

"I like you." He confesses, finally using the right words. "I've been trying to hide this feeling for so long, I thought me being with other girls was going to help. It didn't, I can't forget about you."

You look into his eyes, the same eyes you are so familiarize with. The same eyes you can describe without looking at them.

"Y/n?" He asks, afraid of fucking things up. "Please say something."

You don't say anything, you grab his face into your hands. You join your lips together, pressing his drenched body to yours.

His hands go to your back, holding you closer as he deepens the kiss. You don't care about the air running short, you dont care about the feeling of your clothes getting wet.

You care about him, how his lips sink with yours, and how your tongues are dancing in a perfect way. Sadly, the air was making things end.

You press your forehead to his, breathing heavily. Your eyes are still closed, not wanting to open them.

His hands move, grabbing your head and separating it from him. He gives your forehead a kiss.

"Does that mean you feel the same?" He asks, kissing your temple. "Mmm?"

You giggle, nodding. You separate enough to peck his lips. "I do."

You two are interrupted by the sound of your phone. You grab it, reading the notification of the Uber app.

"My Uber canceled." You say to him, blocking the phone and putting it away.

"Good," he says, pecking your lips again. "I wasn't planning on letting you go."

mclaren

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ggukivrse · 1 month ago

Text

THE ART OF PRETENDING - JJK | 07

summary. when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there’s only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend.

but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre/warnings: exes to lovers, fake dating, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, swearing, fluff, angst, they finally communicate yayay, (1) pov switch, (2) cliche kdrama scene, (eventual) explicit sexual content ( mdni ! ), ft. seokjin, namjoon, hoseok, jimin, taehyung, yoongi + four female ocs

word count: 7.7k

notes: one more chapter to go!!!! i hope this one explains everything :< if it doesn’t, please do drop by in my asks so i can over-explain everything until you guys are sick of it lolol. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are very appreciated!! enjoy reading my darlings <33

⤷ chapter seven — zombie girl

"maybe i've been getting you wrong / i cover you with questions / cover you with explanations."

“Jungkook. You’re a fucking idiot.”

Taehyung’s voice is blunt and tired as it carries across the quiet living room.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away. He’s still lying on the couch, one arm flopped over his eyes to shield them from the grey haze of early morning light seeping in through the wide windows. His neck hurts. His back’s worse. And the blanket he grabbed last night is too damn thin. But more than anything, it’s the weight in his chest that keeps him from sleeping again.

Well, that and Taehyung who's crouched by the coffee table, in sweatpants and a plain top, his hair sticking up in multiple directions. He’s holding two mugs, and one gets plunked onto the table in front of Jungkook.

“I mean it,” Taehyung says, settling onto the floor, legs crossed like he’s gearing up for a lecture. “Like actually. You're an idiot.”

Jungkook sits up slowly, wincing as something in his shoulder clicks. Despite looking comfy, the couch had felt like concrete to sleep on last night. He takes the mug and mutters a thanks, even though he knows he’s not off the hook.

“Fuck, Kook.” Taehyung drops his head back and groans into the ceiling. “Okay. Let me get this straight. She said she wouldn’t take back an ex, in a game, while she was acting like your girlfriend, and instead of thinking ‘oh maybe she’s just playing the part’— which, by the way, is what you literally asked her to do— you spiral like you just got dumped or something?”

When he puts it like that, it does sound stupid, so Jungkook doesn’t answer. He just takes another sip of coffee.

“I need you to hear how insane you sound right now,” Taehyung adds, pointing at him. “You’re acting like she tattooed the words ‘I hate Jungkook’ on her forehead.”

“You don't get it, hyung. I— I kissed her,” Jungkook says quietly.

Taehyung’s mouth snaps shut. He stares.

“And then she said that. Or didn’t say anything. Whatever.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots. “I know it’s stupid. But it felt… like I was wrong for thinking it meant something. Like I got my hopes up and she was just being nice. Or drunk. Or— fuck, I don’t know, trying to keep things from getting awkward.”

Taehyung leans back on his palms. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

Jungkook keeps talking.

“But it's fine now. I'm giving her space. Clearly she doesn't think of me in the same way anymore and fuck— it sucks but I'll learn to live with it.”

Taehyung exhales slowly. “Okay.”

“I just… I miss her. All the time. Even when she’s right there.”

Jungkook sets the mug down and leans forward, placing his elbows onto his knees. There’s something about saying it out loud, finally, that makes his chest feel like it might breathe again.

Taehyung watches him carefully with that frustratingly calm stare that always comes out when he’s being more perceptive than people give him credit for.

“You do realise you're fucking leaping to conclusions here, all based on something so miniscule.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for her,” he says eventually, voice quiet.

“Then just stop trying to protect her from yourself and talk to her," Taehyung says, voice laced with exasperation. "Maybe you're right after all — though I seriously fucking doubt it — but you'll never know unless you talk to her.”

“I can't."

"Why?"

“Because if I do—” Jungkook sighs, leaning his head back against the couch. “Then I have to hear her say it. That she’s done. That she doesn’t love me anymore. And, hyung, I don’t think I can handle that. I really don’t.”

Taehyung is quiet for a long moment. His eyes are unfocused, like he's thinking through a million things at once.

“Okay.” His voice is calm, but Jungkook knows him too well to miss the edge underneath. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say she doesn’t feel the same way anymore.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Let’s say the kiss meant nothing to her,” Taehyung continues. “Let’s say she’s over it. Over you. That all of this”— he gestures vaguely between them —“is just her being polite and going through the motions.”

He pauses, watching Jungkook carefully.

“If that’s true... don’t you think she would’ve walked away by now?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, but something in his chest twists.

“She’s not stuck here, Kook,” Taehyung says, voice softer now. “She’s not trapped. We’re not kids. We’re all adults, and she doesn’t owe anyone anything — not even Jin hyung and his proposal plans. If she really didn’t want to be around you, she wouldn’t be. She wouldn't have agreed to your plan in the first place.”

Jungkook swallows hard. “I never said she hated me. I just… I don’t think she loves me anymore. Not like she used to.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung raises a brow. “And what makes you so sure?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Because the truth is: he’s not sure. Not really.

"You can't keep pretending that you know how she feels because it's easier than actually finding out, Kook. You can't just avoid her under the guise of giving her space that she never asked for."

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face. “When you say it like that, I sound like a coward.”

“You are being a coward,” Taehyung says plainly. “But I also get it.”

That surprises him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “You’re scared. That makes sense. You’ve always loved hard, and you’ve never really figured out how to deal with the idea of it not being returned.”

Jungkook looks at him, something almost defensive rising in his chest, but then it fizzles. Because it’s true.

He has always loved hard. Maybe too hard. Maybe in a way that’s always been just a little too much.

“And maybe she’s scared too,” Taehyung adds. “But she’s still here. Still trying. And it's not fair if you don't try either.”

Jungkook’s throat feels tight again.

He thinks about your voice last night. The way it cracked, just slightly, when you said he couldn’t kiss you one day and ignore you the next. He thinks about the way you stood in the living room and asked if you could talk, like you were still trying to hold onto something.

Maybe she’s scared too.

That thought sticks.

“She deserves better than this,” Jungkook murmurs, barely audible.

“Then stop making her guess how you feel,” Taehyung says simply. “Be honest with her. With yourself.”

Jungkook leans forward again, elbows digging into his knees. His hands are clasped, jaw clenched. There’s a thousand thoughts running wild in his head, none of them helpful. But under all of it — under the fear and the guilt — there’s one quiet thought that keeps returning.

She’s still here.

Taehyung watches him for a second longer, then pushes up off his palms and stands, stretching his arms overhead until his back gives a quiet pop. He groans at the sound, rolls his shoulders, and then grabs his now half-empty mug off the table.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, glancing down at Jungkook, who’s still hunched over like the weight of the entire conversation is settling into his spine. “You don’t have to figure it out right this second. But whatever you do, just don’t hide from her.”

Jungkook nods absently. Not a promise, but not nothing either.

Taehyung takes a few steps toward the kitchen, then stops and glances back.

“Oh,” he adds casually, “and maybe be careful around the girls today.”

Jungkook finally lifts his head, brows knitting. “Why?”

Taehyung smiles over his shoulder. “Apparently Jimin overheard them planning to fight you if ____ needed them to."

Jungkook blinks.

“They were very enthusiastic about it,” Taehyung says, disappearing into the kitchen. “Might wanna watch your back.”

Jungkook huffs out a soft laugh despite himself, dragging a hand through his hair. Rain has started to tap against the windows again in a steady manner, and he's starting to find the glum weather to be rather mocking of the situation and everything going on.

He finishes up the last of his coffee in one, bitter sip before standing with a sigh and moving into the kitchen. His legs are stiff, muscles tight from sleeping in the wrong position — or maybe not from sleeping at all. He doesn't really know anymore.

He finds Taehyung leaning against the counter, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly while sipping from his mug with the other. The sliding glass doors are to his right, blurred slightly by the rain dotting the glass. It’s not heavy. Just enough to leave streaks down the panes and a soft grey veil over the view outside.

Jungkook makes his way over to the coffee machine, and nudges the kettle into place. His mind feels weirdly quiet now. Not peaceful, but blank in an odd way. Like there’s nothing left to think until something new sets off the spiral.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Speak of the devil,” Taehyung mutters.

The tone pulls Jungkook’s attention immediately. He glances over, brows furrowing. “What?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer right away. Just lifts his chin toward the window.

Jungkook follows his line of sight.

Out on the sand, maybe a few metres from the lazy ocean, sits you. Hood down. Legs pulled to your chest. Arms wrapped around them loosely. Your hair’s getting damp from the light rain, sticking slightly to your skin, and you're just sitting there.

No umbrella. No towel. No rush to move.

Jungkook watches for a few seconds, expecting you to shift, to stand, to brush off your jeans or shake your head and head back in, but you don’t.

You just stay where you are.

Taehyung exhales next to him, tapping the edge of his mug with his thumb. “She been out there long?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know. Instead, he simply says, "She's gonna get sick."

Taehyung hums noncommittally, eyes still fixed outside. “Yeah. Probably.”

The rain’s light but steady, enough to soak through clothes if you sit in it long enough. Which — judging by the look of it — you’re doing. You're not curled up for warmth or sheltering your head with your arms. Just sitting, with your back to the house, posture unreadable, and from here, Jungkook can’t even make out the expression on your face.

That bothers him more than he’d like to admit.

“She doesn’t even have a jacket,” he mutters. His hand hovers near the kettle, but he doesn’t go for another cup.

Taehyung leans against the counter, casual as ever, and sips from his mug. “You think she’s out there because of yesterday?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

Because what’s he supposed to say? That he doesn’t know? That he hopes so, because at least then it means you still care — but also hopes not, because it means he really fucked up?

He looks down at the floor briefly, and shakes his head. “Maybe.”

Another beat of quiet.

Then Taehyung says, like he’s thinking out loud, “Or maybe she just needed to be alone.”

That makes Jungkook hesitate.

Because yeah, maybe you’re out there for space. And maybe walking out with an umbrella and a few soft apologies isn’t what you need right now. He could keep doing what he’s been doing — hanging back, trying not to make things worse, convincing himself that silence is safer than saying the wrong thing.

But where has that gotten him?

Nowhere good.

The kettle clicks behind him, but Jungkook doesn’t move to fill his mug. Instead, he sets it down on the counter and walks toward the door, eyes flicking briefly to the umbrella stand that’s been sitting there since the trip started, untouched.

He grabs the handle of the nearest one. It’s a little worn at the edges, slightly bent near the tip, but it’ll do.

He stands there for a moment, the umbrella resting loosely in his grip. He still doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he gets to you — if he says anything at all. Maybe you won’t even want to hear it. Maybe you’ll ask him to go. Or maybe you won’t say anything, just let the silence stretch between you the way he did last night.

But watching you from behind the glass, doing nothing, feels worse.

The air that greets him as he pulls open the door is cool and damp, the scent of sea salt drifting in with the breeze. He steps out, closing the door behind him, and pops open the umbrella with a soft click.

The sky is painted a murky blue — too dark to be morning, but too light to still be night. The kind of early where the world feels like it has come to a still.

You sit in the sand, your knees drawn up, your fingers tangled together just to keep them still.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here. Long enough for your plaid pyjama pants that you hadn't bothered to change out of, to get damp where they press against the ground. Long enough for your fingers to start going cold. The rain has softened to a mist, barely more than a whisper now, but you’re already soaked through at this point. Still, you haven’t moved.

You should. You know that. It’s not warm, and you didn’t exactly dress for sitting in wet sand like a ghost of your former self. But movement feels like a thing that belongs to people who have direction. And right now, you don’t.

You just feel untethered.

Not angry. Well, not exactly.

Just tired in a way you haven’t let yourself admit until now.

The past few days have been a slow unravelling. And yesterday — yesterday pulled at the last few threads.

You think back to the living room. The sound of rain tapping against the windows. The way you stepped in front of him, heart in your throat, trying to speak. Trying to say something — anything — to bridge the space that had suddenly, grown between you.

"I’m sorry the kiss didn’t mean anything.”

The words still sting.

You don’t think he meant it to sound cruel. Jungkook doesn’t weaponize words like that. But it definitely landed cruel.

Because it did mean something. It had to. Or maybe you just wanted it to so badly, you convinced yourself it did.

You glance down at your hands in your lap. Sand clings to the skin between your fingers. There’s a bit under your nails. You brush at it absentmindedly, then give up.

If you're being honest, this isn't really about the kiss. Or the argument.

It’s about how he’s been holding you at arm’s length ever since.

You keep trying to understand it. What changed. What line you must’ve crossed in that kitchen or at the beach or in the thousand unsaid things between you.

You try to make sense of his silence in the morning, of the way he ignored the coffee you made, the way he got up from the couch when you tried to sit beside him, and you keep circling back to the same hollow conclusion: he’s done trying.

But if he’s done trying, why does it still feel like he’s watching you every time you’re not looking?

You sigh, pressing your thumb to the inside of your palm, grounding yourself in the motion. Your eyes drift to the grey ocean that stretches out in front of you. It reminds you of Jungkook in that way. Always steady. Always showing up. Even when you didn’t ask him to.

Even now, after everything.

A part of you still feels like you’re waiting for something. For him.

And maybe that’s the worst part — not knowing if you’re waiting to forgive him, or waiting to finally let him go.

You hate that it’s not clear.

Because you don’t hate Jungkook. Not even close.

You’re hurt. You’re confused. You feel like you’ve been spinning in circles while he holds all the answers and refuses to hand you even one. But you don’t hate him.

You can’t.

He was your best friend before he was anything else. He’s still the person you catch yourself thinking about when something funny happens. Still the person you instinctively turn to in a crowd. Still the name your mouth almost forms when you’re half-asleep and dreaming about something soft and good.

And maybe that’s why all of this feels so impossible to sit with.

Because loving someone that much doesn’t always fix what’s been broken.

You close your eyes.

You don’t hear the sliding door or the soft crunch of footsteps in damp sand. You’re too far out to notice much of anything but the breath of the ocean and the thrum in your chest that won’t quite settle.

The rain stops rather abruptly.

Or at least… it stops hitting you.

You open your eyes, confused.

There’s an umbrella above your head.

And beside you, a quiet figure crouches, a little out of breath, holding it over you like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be here.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. His clothes are damp, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The shadows under his eyes and his hair seem to almost match in colour.

You look at him, but don’t speak.

He meets your gaze briefly. Then drops his eyes to the ground.

“Can I?” he gestures, motioning to the space beside you, his voice soft.

You don’t answer. Instead, you simply turn your face back toward the water like the question never left his mouth.

The space between you is narrow but it feels impossible to cross. And still, you feel him hovering there beside you, like he’s waiting for a sign you’re not going to give.

He hesitates before sitting down, the action almost cautious.

You hear the shuffle of damp fabric, the gentle thump of his weight settling into the sand. He angles the umbrella to cover the both of you, his arm stretched awkwardly behind you to keep it in place. You can feel the tension clinging to him in every movement.

The rain ticks against the nylon of the umbrella and the ocean murmurs. You can hear the faint sound of him breathing. You don’t look at him.

Not because you’re angry — okay, maybe a little — but because you don’t trust what might happen if you do. You’re too raw, too exposed, and you’re still trying to figure out if the ache inside you is grief or something worse — hope.

You’re tired of hoping.

Seconds pass in silence that slowly melts into minutes. You start to wonder if he's going to speak at all, or if he's continue his bullshit from yesterday when you hear him sigh quietly.

“I thought you were talking about me,” Jungkook says eventually, voice low, almost embarrassed. “When you said you’d never take back an ex.”

Your stomach twists as the realisation dawns on you.

“And I know I shouldn’t have assumed,” he adds quickly. “I should’ve asked. Or at least waited. But I didn’t. And it felt like… you were drawing a line. Like the kiss meant nothing to you.”

He shifts slightly beside you. You don’t look, but you can feel him angling toward you, tentative, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I didn’t say it to hurt you,” he continues quietly. “What I said last night. I just—” He sighs again. “I was hurt. And confused. And scared that I was the only one who still cared that much.”

You blink slowly, eyes on the sea.

He sounds sincere. He always does. But sincerity doesn’t patch holes. It doesn’t rebuild trust. Not when you’re the one who’s been standing in the wreckage for weeks, waiting for answers that never came.

“I didn’t know what to do when you didn’t answer me that night,” Jungkook says after a beat. “When I asked if you meant it. You just… went quiet. And I panicked. I thought maybe you were just being kind. Or that you were too drunk to really mean it. Or worse — that you were trying to keep things from getting awkward. And then I started thinking about what you said during the game, and I just—” He breaks off. “I spiralled. I thought I’d made it worse. That maybe being close to me again was just... exhausting for you.”

You still don’t look at him.

Not yet.

He sighs again, softer this time. “So I pulled back. I thought it was what you wanted. I thought, if you didn’t care anymore, then maybe I was just in the way. And I couldn’t take the risk of asking. Because if I asked and you told me straight out that you didn’t care for me anymore in the way I cared for you, I— I wouldn't have been able to handle it."

You finally turn to look at him. Just slightly. Just enough to see the way he’s holding himself — like everything inside him is tense and tired and barely holding together.

“You think I don’t care about you?” you ask quietly.

He blinks, startled by your voice, by your words, by the fact that you’ve finally turned toward him.

You shake your head slowly, incredulous. “You think I’d agree to your stupid plan to in front of our closest friends if I didn’t care about you in the slightest?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he says.

“I let you kiss me,” you continue, voice a little stronger now and sharp with disbelief. “I let you touch me like nothing had changed. I’ve spent every night in the same bed as you, Jungkook. Do you honestly think I would’ve gone through all of that if I didn’t care?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Do you know how hard it’s been? Watching you treat me like a stranger one second and like something you still want the next? Pretending it doesn’t bother me every time you walk away when I try to sit beside you, or when you ignore the coffee I made, or when you act like I’m the one who created this distance?”

His jaw tightens, expression pinched like he’s finally hearing all of it — the hurt, the confusion, the vulnerability you’ve been biting back since this trip started.

You look at him then. Fully. And it takes everything in you not to cry from the weight of finally saying it.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says quietly. “When we broke up.”

The more he speaks, the more questions that form in your head. You look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes are fixed on the ocean now, like he can’t bring himself to meet your gaze again.

Your voice is low when you finally speak. “The right thing?”

He nods once, but doesn’t elaborate.

You wait.

And when he still doesn’t say anything, you ask, “For who?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long beat, he says, voice so quiet that the sound is almost lost to the wind, “For you.”

That stings more than you expect. Because if this is what him doing what’s best for you looks like, you don’t want to see what the opposite would’ve been.

You want to speak, but you stop yourself. You want to hear the whole story — no more fragments, no more half-truths — and you want him to want to tell it.

Jungkook sighs again, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. His other arm is still outstretched, holding the umbrella over both of you. You wonder how long he’s going to keep it there before his arm gives out.

“I know you’re mad,” he says finally, softly. “You have every right to be. I just… I needed you to know it wasn’t because I stopped caring. I never stopped.”

But that isn't enough anymore. You've learned to realise that caring and choosing are two different thing, and he chose to walk away for reasons you're still unsure about.

The silence between you stretches long and thin. You return your gaze to the sand in front of you, but you can feel him in every fidget and every glance he throws your way.

“Then why did you?”

He doesn’t ask what you mean because he knows.

And maybe that’s the worst part — that he’s known this whole time, that you’ve been drowning in confusion for weeks and he’s been standing on shore with the answers in his pocket.

His voice is hesitant when he eventually speaks. Almost as if he never wanted to say the words out loud.

“I saw the email.”

Your brow furrows before you even realise it. You glance at him, and he’s already looking down, lashes low, jaw set.

“What email?” you ask.

“The one from Berlin.”

Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t told anyone. Not back then. You were still trying to figure it out yourself — if you could do it, if you even wanted to.

You never imagined he’d seen it.

“How?” you ask, a little sharper this time. Your heart racing now.

“You left your laptop open. You were in the shower.”

Your lips part slightly. “So you… read it?”

“Just the subject line.” He looks guilty. “The name of the program. The ‘congratulations.’ That was enough.”

You look away, back to the ocean. You remember the moment now — coming out of the bathroom, finding him on the couch with his phone in hand, your laptop screen closed.

He must’ve seen it and said nothing. Carried it and let it snowball.

You blink slowly, trying to process. “You should’ve asked me about it.”

“I know.”

“Instead, you—” You stop yourself. Swallow hard. “You broke up with me?”

His answer comes quickly this time, like he’s been holding it in ever since.

“I didn’t want to hold you back.”

It’s so simple. So clear. So frustratingly stupid.

You let out a short, humourless laugh and shake your head. “So you just made the decision for me?”

Jungkook goes still beside you.

“You didn’t even ask what I wanted,” you say, voice soft but steady. “Didn’t give me the chance to choose.”

“I thought—” He breaks off, then runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve talked about wanting to live abroad since freshman year. About how you’d take any opportunity you could get if it was the right one. And that program? It was a huge deal. You worked your ass off for that email. I couldn’t be the reason you turned it down.”

“But I did,” you say, not looking at him. “I turned it down.”

He’s quiet.

“I turned it down before we even broke up,” you add, and there’s no satisfaction in saying it. “I read it, I thought about it, and I knew I wasn’t ready to leave.”

You glance at him, and he’s staring at you, frozen. “You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you that.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Because you didn’t ask.”

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath. “I thought I was doing the selfless thing.”

You finally meet his eyes. “It wasn’t selfless. It was cowardly.”

He flinches a bit, like you hit him, but you don’t take it back.

You don’t enjoy saying it. You don’t want to hurt him. But it’s the truth, and the truth matters now more than ever.

You look away again, toward the sky and the dull curve of the horizon. Your voice is quieter when you speak. “You say you never stopped caring. But caring about someone means you talk to them. You trust them to make decisions with you, not for you.”

“I didn’t trust myself,” he admits. “Not to be selfish. Not to ask you to stay.”

Fuck. In a way, he's right in that sense — you would've stayed if he'd asked you to and you're not sure if that makes you proud or foolish.

You draw a shaky breath and hug your arms tighter around your knees.

“Do you know what it felt like?” you ask, voice just above a whisper. “Thinking I wasn’t enough?”

Jungkook’s voice is immediate. “You are.”

“It didn't feel like it, Jungkook. It felt like— like you just realised one day that I wasn't good enough so you left. That I was something you could just throw away without looking back.”

“I just— I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed.”

Your chest tightens. You wish he’d said that weeks ago. You wish you didn’t understand it now.

The umbrella has started to dip, though Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His shoulders are slumped, his hand shaking slightly where it grips the handle. You don’t reach out. You don’t steady it for him.

Instead, you stare at the ground.

Because for the first time in weeks, you feel like you’re finally getting answers. And for the first time, you wish they didn’t hurt this much.

For a while, neither of you speak. You simply watch as the ocean laps at the shore gently, trying to quiet your mind.

Jungkook shifts slightly beside you, the umbrella angling just enough that a light drizzle brushes the edge of your shoulder. Still, neither of you move. He must feel it too, but maybe, like you, he’s not sure if he has the right to fix anything anymore.

You tuck your chin against your knees.

“I thought you were going to propose.”

He freezes.

You don’t look at him. Just keep staring down at the sand, wet and rippled and full of small, wavy lines. “I found the receipt from the jeweller. A few days before it happened. You’d left it in the glove compartment.”

His breath catches, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t know if I was imagining it,” you continue. “But… you were acting different. Distant and like, nervous. You’d been asking Tae weird questions. I figured maybe you were just waiting for the right moment.”

Another beat passes, and you let out a soft, bitter laugh. “And then you left.”

You finally glance at him.

His face is tight with something like regret. Shame, maybe. His eyes are focused on a point in the distance, jaw clenched so hard you can see the tension in his neck.

“I was,” he says, voice low. “Going to propose.”

You swallow hard, throat dry. “Why didn’t you?”

He hesitates. “Because I saw the email, and I panicked. Everything just—shifted.

“I thought if I proposed, it would be selfish. Like I was tying you down. Making you choose me over something bigger. Something more. And I didn’t want to be that person.”

“You weren’t tying me down,” you say. “You were supposed to be part of the future. Not the thing standing in front of it.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally flicker to yours.

“I know that now,” he says. “But at the time… all I could think about was what if you said yes because you felt like you had to? Because you didn’t want to hurt me? And then a year from now you’d wake up in some apartment with me and wonder what could’ve happened if you’d left when you had the chance.”

You blink hard, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “You should’ve trusted me to make that choice.”

“I didn’t trust me,” he says. “I loved you so much it scared me. I still do. And it felt like— like too much of me was wrapped up in you. Like I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t think straight. I just—”

He breaks off, eyes cast low, voice thinner now.

“I thought letting you go was what I had to do.”

You breathe in slowly, trying to steady your pulse. “So you let me go. Without asking. Without warning.”

“I know,” he says. “I know I handled it all wrong.”

You nod once, slowly. “You did.”

“I kept waiting for you to call,” you admit. “I thought that maybe you’d change your mind. That you’d wake up and realise it was a mistake.”

“I did,” he says, instantly.

The wind brushes past you, loosening strands of hair from behind your ear.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, quieter now. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I guess I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier. For both of us.”

You look down at your hands.

As stupid as it was, he thought he was being selfless. But really, he was afraid. Of being the one who made you stay. Of being the reason you didn’t go. Of being loved too much, and losing it anyway.

You don’t know what to do with all that.

You’re not sure if it’s something to forgive, or just something to live with.

The umbrella’s starting to tilt. His arm’s been outstretched too long.

You glance at it, then at him. He’s not complaining — just sitting there, jaw tight, fingers white-knuckled around the handle.

You reach over without thinking and adjust it yourself, steadying the angle so it stops dripping at the edge. Your hands brush, and his flinch is barely perceptible — not from the touch, but from the way it happens so easily. Like it always used to.

The umbrella rights itself. The air between you doesn’t.

God, this would've been so much easier if you didn't still love him. If you didn’t still want to know how he’s doing first thing in the morning or wonder if he’s eaten. If your body didn’t still tilt toward his in a room without meaning to, like it forgot what happened.

But you do. You still love him.

And love — the kind you had, the kind you have — doesn’t just go away.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t make the hurt disappear either.

You lower your hand, letting go of the umbrella. Letting go of him, too, just a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur.

Jungkook swallows hard. “I don’t want you to say anything you don’t mean.”

“I mean,” you start, then stop. “I need time.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits a little straighter, arm still raised, rain still pattering gently over the both of you.

You continue, voice careful. “Not because I don’t care. I just… I’ve been so tangled up in everything that happened, and in what you did and didn’t say that I haven’t had a second to think for me.”

You draw in a deep breath. “And I need that.”

Jungkook finally lowers the umbrella. Not all the way, but just enough that the edge dips again and the mist kisses the back of your neck. He nods slowly, like it hurts, but he understands.

“I want to be honest with you,” you say, softer now. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if we’ll fix this. But I do know that pretending we’re fine, or jumping back into what we had— it wouldn’t be fair. Not to either of us.”

Jungkook blinks fast and nods again.

“But I meant what I said the other night,” you add. “When I didn’t move away. When I let you kiss me. It did mean something to me.”

He exhales shakily. “Okay."

You don’t say anything after that. Neither does he.

The sky has slowly started lightening into morning. You know you're going to regret sitting out here later — you can already feel the ache building in your back. But for now, you hug your knees a little closer to your chest and stay.

The stars are bright tonight, painted across the dark sky in constellations. A soft breeze rolls through the open balcony, and the air is cool against your arms where they rest along the wooden railing.

Up here, it’s quieter than usual. Everyone's gathered around in small groups as you stand a few steps off to the side.

Your body relaxes into the railing, elbows hooked over the edge. You haven’t really spoken to anyone tonight. You’d slipped back inside after the beach and crashed on the bed without a second thought. It’s the first time all week your mind hasn’t been a mess of things you don’t want to admit out loud.

Now, you feel the last of it — the fog of that sleep — still lingering at the edge of your awareness. You blink slowly, eyes tracing the way the light spills over the floorboards, how it wraps around Namjoon and Aria as they talk quietly near their door. Jimin’s halfway through telling a story to Hoseok, animated as ever, and Yoongi keeps interrupting with deadpan commentary that earns a laugh every time. Kiara rests her head against Hoseok’s shoulder, her hand absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie.

They’re all waiting.

Yasmine isn’t here. She’s with Seokjin and Haeun, probably directing the last-minute touches for whatever proposal magic he's cooked up. She swore everyone else wasn’t allowed downstairs yet. “You'll ruin the surprise,” she said earlier, shoving Jimin back up the stairs when he tried to sneak a peek.

Your gaze drifts over the group again, pausing for a beat on the spot where Jungkook isn’t.

You haven’t spoken to him since this morning. You hadn’t meant your words to sound like a wall going up, but maybe they had. He's been giving you space ever since, and you'd taken it.

You’d gone inside and slept like you hadn’t in days. And now you’re here, awake and still somehow tired, unsure what to say even if you knew where he was.

You rub a finger along the edge of the railing just as you hear footsteps from behind you.

Jungkook comes to a stop beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne — faint and familiar, buried somewhere in your memory alongside sun-warmed sheets and midnight conversations. He rests his forearms on the railing, mirroring your stance. There’s a careful sort of quiet that settles between you, more comfortable than awkward.

“You slept,” he says after a moment.

You nod. “Yeah. Knocked out.”

His voice is soft. “Good. You needed it.”

“I think my body gave up arguing.”

He hums in agreement. “You looked peaceful.”

You glance sideways at him. “You were watching me?”

He shrugs. “Just… passed by. The door was cracked.”

You hum and let the silence return, not rushing to fill it.

Down the line, Jimin says something that makes Kiara burst out laughing. The sound is warm, and it pulls a small smile from you too.

You don't notice Jungkook moving until he's pulling something from his hoodie pocket. “Hey, um— before you say anything,” he starts, holding up his hands a little, “this isn’t me trying to win you over or anything. I just… I got you something.”

You blink, turning to him more fully.

He holds out a small bundle wrapped in crinkled tissue. “I actually bought it the day we went into town. That’s why it took me so long to ‘get water.’”

You stare at the bundle, then slowly reach out and take it from his hand.

“I saw them and just… thought of you,” he adds quickly. “That’s all.”

You unwrap the paper. Your fingers pause when you see what’s inside.

Earrings.

Small pearls that are almost identical to the ones you lost.

Your breath catches, but you don’t say anything. You just hold them in your palm, letting the weight of them settle, letting the quiet linger while your heart does something you’re too scared to name.

You turn the earrings over in your hand and the light catch on the glassy stones. They glint, just like the pair you used to wear.

“They’re almost the same,” you murmur.

Jungkook leans a little closer, arms still resting on the railing. “Yeah. I thought they were, too.”

You glance at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile before he looks away.

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You brush your hair back and slip one earring in, then the other. They’re light, barely there. A part of you wonders how long he had them tucked away. How long he’d been waiting for the right moment — or maybe convincing himself there wouldn’t be one.

When you glance at him again, he’s already watching you. His eyes flicker to yours for half a second too long before he looks away, clearing his throat.

“They look good on you,” he says.

You smile, small and real. “You always say that.”

His mouth pulls into something like amusement, but there’s something else there too. Something quiet and tender.

He doesn’t say anything else.

For a few long seconds, you both watch the stars. And in the quiet, you feel it again — that thing that’s never fully left. The pull. The ache. The way being near him still feels like second nature even when everything else feels unsure.

The earrings catch the light as you turn back toward the sky, your profile soft in the glow of the overhead bulbs. You don’t say anything else, and neither does he. Jungkook stays still beside you, watching the curve of your cheek, the gentle sway of your hair in the breeze.

He lets out a slow breath and shifts his gaze forward.

There’s a strange peace in this moment; like standing on the edge of something that used to be home, knowing it may never be again, but still loving it anyway. He’s not sure what to do with that.

Then, from the stairwell behind them, Kiara calls out, voice bright and breathless, “They’re coming up!”

Everyone turns, chairs scraping and voices rising.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away. He watches as you straighten up, tucking your hair behind your ear. You walk forward a few paces, toward the centre of the balcony, just as Seokjin and Haeun step up into view.

“She said yes!” Seokjin beams, his hands thrown up in triumph.

Haeun laughs, eyes glassy and shining. “Of course I did, idiot.”

The group erupts — cheers, clapping, congratulations tumbling over each other. Jimin shouts something about planning a bachelor party that immediately makes Yoongi groan. Namjoon pats Seokjin on the back so hard it nearly knocks him forward.

Jungkook stays back, leaning against the railing.

He watches as you move forward and wrap Haeun in a hug, then Seokjin too. Your smile is wide — real — the kind that lights up your whole face. It hits him all at once: how beautiful you look in this moment. How easy it is to picture a future like that with you.

How close he’d come.

His hand twitches at his side.

He remembers standing in a jewellery store with Taehyung a few months ago, holding a ring box in his hand and wondering if you’d cry when he asked. He’d imagined this exact scene — your friends around you, stars overhead, your arms wrapped around him instead.

But it hadn’t happened. Because he hadn’t let it.

Because he’d thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go before he became something that held you back. Before he became the reason you said no to the rest of the world.

And yet here you are.

He swallows hard, pushing the thought down. It’s not just regret — there's something more than that. Something like almost.

Almost asked.

Almost said yes.

Almost forever.

Jungkook exhales slowly, and from across the balcony, you glance back at him.

It’s only a second, but he can tell you feel it too.

You look away first.

Only because Kiara calls your name, reaching out to pull you back into the circle forming around Seokjin and Haeun. Jungkook watches as you step into it easily, your laughter mixing with the others’, your hands clapping as Jimin demands a full retelling of the proposal, as if none of you saw it coming.

Jungkook doesn’t move right away.

He lingers at the railing, hands buried in the front pocket of his hoodie, eyes still trailing after you. There’s something familiar in the way you laugh at whatever ridiculous thing Seokjin is saying, the way you throw your arms around Haeun without hesitation, nudging Seokjin with a mock-scolding look. Like nothing’s fractured. Like you belong there.

You always did.

And maybe that’s what makes it hurt — how natural it still feels to love you in silence.

Eventually, he moves. Makes his way over with a grin that feels steady enough. He wraps both Seokjin and Haeun into a hug, murmuring something that makes Haeun laugh and Seokjin say, “Took you long enough.”

Just as he steps back, the first firework cracks open above.

A deep, thunderous sound fills the air before gold floods the sky, scattering into a trail of light that fades into falling blue sparks. Instinctively, everyone presses in toward the railing, crowding together. In the quiet jostling, you end up beside Jungkook again.

Neither of you speak.

You’re watching the sky like it’s something brand new. Head tilted back, arms loosely crossed on the railing, lips slightly parted. The reflection of the fireworks dances across your face in flashes; amber, silver, a soft lavender that makes your eyes seem even softer.

Jungkook doesn’t watch the sky.

Not really.

He watches you.

In the brief pause between bursts, he sees your lashes catch the light, your expression unguarded.

How are you still the most beautiful thing in a sky full of fire?

Another firework blooms — gold again, then violet, then a wave of silver sparks that make the whole group gasp.

You exhale slowly, like you’ve been holding your breath.

“It’s so pretty,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jungkook doesn’t look away. Not even for a second.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes only on you. “It really is.”

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