#mb; crash and burn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dae-chwiita · 6 months ago

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Wrecked and found

Pairing : reader x ranchowner!Hongjoong

Summary : One morning, you pick a bag, your car keys and take the road, wanting to get far from the life you've built, needing to get away from your breakup as you can. You come back to reality the moment your car crashes on the side of an unknown road in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, a cowboy was on a walk right where you are.

Warnings : mention of breakup, being unsatisfied with life, slow burn but also quick time wise? Pure romance and kinda long lol mb

A/N : so the cliche country trope BUT, I really wanted to do it and nobody could have stopped me. Also spent a lot of the fic describing things, really wanting to put an ambiance so if you want solely romance not the best place, especially since its a slow burn oopsi but the romance is good and sweet !NOT PROOFREAD!

---

You didn’t expect your car to break down in the middle of nowhere. Not when you’d been pushing it as hard as you had, the old rental grumbling with every mile. The car wasn’t built for this kind of journey, and truthfully, neither were you. But that didn’t stop you from throwing everything you had—what little of it there was left—into the backseat and leaving the city behind with your whole life still there. It had been an impulse decision, fueled by heartbreak and the suffocating walls of your empty apartment. The breakup wasn’t fresh, but the sting of it hadn’t dulled. You’d spent weeks pacing the same cramped space, surrounded by the detritus of a relationship you didn’t know how to pack away. You’d been desperate to escape, to outrun the memories that clung to you like smoke.

So, one morning, you did.

There was no plan. You’d tossed a duffel bag together with a few essentials—clothes, toiletries, a water bottle, and an old dusty road atlas you found buried in a drawer. You didn’t even pack food, there wasn’t time to think, not with the buzzing anxiety driving you forward. You left your phone charger behind, too, though you wouldn’t realize that until hours later when your battery died somewhere on the open road...You’d driven west, or at least you thought it was west, the sun was your only guide as you fled the city limits and plunged into the countryside. At first, it felt exhilarating—freedom in its rawest form. The highway stretched endlessly before you, flanked by rolling hills and wide, open fields. It was the kind of scenery you’d only ever seen in movies, and for a while, it was enough to distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. But as the miles piled up, so did the doubts; you hadn’t thought this through. You had no destination, no safety net, the money in your wallet wouldn’t last long and you didn’t even know where you’d sleep tonight. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d figure it out as you went, but as the hours dragged on and the car sputtered ominously beneath you, the weight of your choices pressed down hard. By the time the engine gave out, you’d been driving for what felt like an eternity. The road you were on wasn’t even marked on the atlas, a desolate stretch of cracked pavement cutting through an ocean of dry grass. The sun was a merciless glare overhead, beating down on the hood as you rolled to a stop, the noise of the car breaking almost mocking you. Smoke billowed from the engine, and you cursed under your breath, slamming the steering wheel. You popped the hood, but the sight beneath it offered no answers—just a mess of metal and wires that meant nothing to you.

Great. Just great.

You glanced around, hoping for some sign of civilization, but there was nothing. No houses, no gas stations, not even a distant power line, just the endless expanse of golden fields and the occasional tumbleweed bouncing lazily across the road. The realization hit you all at once: you were stranded. Alone, with no phone, no charger, and no idea where you were. The panic crept in slowly as you came out of your frenzy, tightening your chest and making your hands tremble as you leaned against the now useless car. What now? You didn’t have a backup plan, you didn’t even have a place to go back to ! You’d left everything behind in your frantic need to escape, and now you were paying the price. Every serial killers cases start like this; with a stranded lost young woman in the middle a desolated road. It wasn’t just the breakup that had driven you to this point, it was everything—the job you hated, the friendships that felt hollow, the sense that you were stuck in a life that wasn’t yours. Leaving had felt like the only option, a way to reclaim some control of your own life. But now, standing on the side of the road with the sun beating down on you, all you felt was foolish for leaving your comfort. You didn’t cry, though, you wanted to—you could feel the tears threatening, burning behind your eyes—but you forced them back. Crying wouldn’t help. You had to figure something out.

That’s when you saw him.

He rode up on a chestnut colored horse, the kind of sight you’d expect to see in a movie rather than real life. His dark brown cowboy hat was tilted low, shielding his eyes from yours, but you could feel his gaze on you as he approached. The fringed leather jacket and worn boots covered with dried mud were straight out of a western, yet there was something effortlessly modern about him. He reined his horse to a stop a few feet away, dust kicking up around him, and you swore the sun flared brighter just to frame him perfectly.

“You lost?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

You blinked, trying to process the sheer magnetism of the man in front of you. “Uh, more like broken down.” You gestured to your smoking car with a weak, tired laugh.

His eyes flicked to the vehicle, then back to you. He lifted his nose a little, finally showing you his dark eyes. They were sharp, assessing, but not unkind.

“You’re lucky I came by." He said, titling his head to the side. "Not many folks out here this time of day.”

You tried not to stare as he dismounted with a practiced ease, his boots crunching against the gravel. He was smaller in stature than you expected, given how tall the horse made him look, but he carried himself with an air of authority that made him seem larger than moutains. His hair, a deep dark brown, peeked out from beneath his hat, and his sun-kissed skin glowed in the harsh light.

“I’m Hongjoong,” he said, offering a gloved hand. “I own the ranch just a mile up the road. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

You smiled, relaxing your shoulders. "Thank you, really."

---

You didn’t expect to end up at his ranch, but Hongjoong had insisted your car wouldn’t make it anywhere until morning so it came naturally to offer you to stay at his ranch until then. His property was sprawling, acres upon acres of open land dotted with grazing cattle, a barn that looked as old as time and a modest but charming farmhouse perched on a hill. The air smelled of hay and sun-warmed earth, and the sound of horses and cows nickering greeted you as he led you past the stables. He explained, in his calm and deliberate way, that he’d call the local mechanic in town first thing tomorrow. For now, you were his guest. You felt out of place among the rugged charm of the ranch, your then white city-worn sneakers kicking up dust as you trailed behind him. But Hongjoong? He moved like he belonged here, like he was part of the land itself. He guided you across every corner of his land, and you were struck by how expansive it truly was. What you thought might take an hour stretched into the better part of the afternoon, but you didn’t mind. With every turn, Hongjoong revealed something new: a crystal-clear creek winding its way through a cluster of trees, the wildflowers that painted the meadows in vibrant swathes, and the rolling hills that seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon. You followed him without question, each new sight leaving you in quiet awe. There was a serenity here that you’d never felt before, it felt almost surreal, as if your car breaking down had been less an accident and more a deliberate push into some kind of hidden paradise. That feeling lingered even as the sun began its slow descent, casting the ranch in warm golden light. When Hongjoong finally led you back to the house, you felt a pang of reluctance, as though you weren’t quite ready to leave the perfection of the outdoors behind. Inside, he insisted you sit at the modest dining table while he prepared dinner. The smell of sizzling meat and fresh vegetables soon filled the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. You sat at the table, chin resting on your hand as you watched him move around the kitchen. His movements were fluid and precise, like he belonged in this space as much as he did out on the ranch. The way his fingers worked deftly to chop vegetables, the soft hum of concentration in his throat, the quiet clink of utensils against the pan—it all felt oddly intimate. The golden light from the setting sun streamed through the window, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, his forearms, now visible since he took his jacket off and rolled up his sleeves, flexing with every movement. He looked almost unreal, like he’d stepped out of a dream, and yet here he was, cooking for you with such easy kindness as if he knew you for months. Your chest tightened at the thought; how could someone so effortlessly handsome, so gentle and kind, be real?

When he set the plate before you, the first bite was enough to make you pause. The flavors were rich and vibrant, the kind of freshness you’d only ever heard about but never tasted.

“This is amazing!” you murmured between bites, your voice thick with genuine appreciation.

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you eat.

“Glad you like it.” he said simply, his tone carrying just a hint of pride.

You didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you—how he seemed amused and charmed by the soft sighs of satisfaction that escaped you as you worked through the meal. For you, everything about the moment felt perfect, from the taste and smell of the food to the warmth of his quiet company. When dinner was done, he led you to the room you’d be staying in for the night. The cozy space was simple but welcoming, with soft lamplight illuminating the carefully made bed. Your bag was already there, placed neatly by the door.

“You’ll be comfortable here.” Hongjoong said, his voice low but warm. "It's been long since someone slept in here tho, might be dusty."

"It's ok, really." You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Thank you. For everything.”

He dipped his head slightly in response, hiding his face with the front of his hat, before stepping back, his presence leaving a quiet stillness in the room. As soon as you lay on the bed, a deep, contented sigh escaped your lips. Your eyelids grew heavy almost immediately, and before you could even process the day, exhaustion took hold. You drifted off to sleep, the last thing on your mind being the image of the man who had turned what should have been a disaster into something extraordinary.

---

You woke up to the sound of birdsong and the faint, rhythmic clinking of metal tools outside the guest room window. The bed beneath you was firm but comfortable, a far cry from the lumpy motel mattress you’d imagined you’d end up on when you’d left the city. The room was simple, with whitewashed walls and wooden furniture that seemed lovingly handcrafted. The window framed a picturesque view of the ranch, with golden fields stretching as far as the eye could see. You got up as you rubbed your eyesn walking towards the window to investigate what was making such a noise. You spotted Hongjoong by the barn, his figure silhouetted against the morning sun as he hoisted a bale of hay with an ease that made you wonder just how strong he really was. You didn’t feel right about staying here and doing nothing, he’d already done more than enough, taking in a complete stranger without hesitation. The least you could do was help. You quickly took the change of clothes neatly put on the desk, getting out of yesterday's clothes before heading out of the room. When you made your way to the barn, the fresh air of nature caressing you as gently as the sun while he glanced up, his sharp eyes softening slightly when they landed on you.

“Mornin'.” he said, wiping a gloved hand across his brow. His voice was rough from sleep, but it held a warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“Morning!” you replied, fidgeting with the hem of your borrowed button up shirt—one of his, which hung loose on your frame.

Hongjoong cleared his throat softly.

“I talked to the mechanic in town,” he said, his voice steady but careful, as if gauging your reaction. “Your car will be ready in a few days.”

You nodded slowly, the words settling over you like a weight. A few days. That was all the time you had left here.

“Thank you.” you murmured, your voice quieter than you intended.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his eyes unreadable under the shadow of his hat. “Don’t mention it.”

You sighed, looking around before looking at him again, closing an eye to shield it from the rising sun.

“Need any help?” You asked, smiling warmly.

"Help?" Hongjoong arched a brow, clearly skeptical. "With what?"

You gestured to the bales of hay stacked neatly behind him.

“Anything. I feel bad just sitting around while you’re doing all the work.”

His lips quirked into a lopsided smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. You’re a guest.”

“Then let me earn my stay.” you insisted, crossing your arms. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

"“Alrigh", city girl." He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

You regretted your bravado almost immediately.

Hongjoong handed you a pitchfork and showed you how to spread fresh hay in the stalls. It seemed simple enough, but after the third stall, your arms were already aching. Sweat trickled down your back, and your sneakers—already caked in dust from yesterday—slipped on the uneven barn floor. Hongjoong didn’t say much, but you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable.

“Am I doing this right?” you asked, pausing to wipe your forehead, anxious about his staring.

He stepped closer, his boots crunching against the hay. Without a word, he took the pitchfork from your hands, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment.

“Like this.” he said, demonstrating the proper technique. His movements were fluid, precise.

Then, to your surprise, he stepped behind you, guiding your hands back to the pitchfork. His chest was close enough that you could feel the faint heat radiating off him, his voice right at your ear.

“Keep your grip firm,” he murmured, his warm calloused hands adjusting yours gently.

Your breath hitched, the proximity sending your thoughts into a whirlwind. You could barely focus on his instructions, the closeness of him sparking something unfamiliar in your chest—a nervous flutter mixed with a warmth you hadn’t felt in ages.

“See?” he said, his tone soft as his hands lingered just a moment longer before stepping back. “Not so hard, right?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, your voice lost somewhere in the haze of nerves and something undeniably new. It took a few tries, and a lot of calming your heart, but you eventually found a rhythm.

“Not bad...” he said, leaning against the stall door. “For a beginner.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Thanks, I think.”

By midday, you were exhausted but strangely satisfied. Hongjoong had taken over the heavier tasks, like lifting the hay bales, but he let you help with feeding the horses and mucking out the stalls.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” he said as the two of you sat on the porch steps, sipping glasses of cold water he’d brought out.

“I wanted to!” you replied, staring out at the fields. “It feels good to actually… do something.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “You did good today.”

The compliment warmed you more than the sun ever could.

---

The second day began much the same as the first, but this time, you were ready.

You joined Hongjoong outside with the same button up he landed you the day before just as he was saddling up one of the horses, a sleek orange like mare he introduced as Grami. She was a beautiful creature, her coat shimmering in the early morning light.

“You’re up early.” he remarked, adjusting the saddle.

“I figured I’d save you the trouble of convincing me to help again.” you teased, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Fair enough. Think you’re ready to meet the rest of the ranch?”

You blinked. “There’s more?”

"A lot more." He nodded, leading Grami out of the stable. "The cattle are grazing out in the north pasture. Thought I’d check on them today. You’re welcome to tag along."

“On foot?” you asked, eyeing the distance he gestured toward.

"On horseback." he corrected, giving you a knowing look. "We’ll take Grami."

You blinked. “Both of us? On the same horse?”

He shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Unless you want to walk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the playful glint in his gaze made it impossible to argue.

“Fine.” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your heart thudded at the thought of being so close to him.

Hongjoong swung up into the saddle first, moving with a practiced ease that made you momentarily envious.

“Come on city girl.” he said, reaching a gloved hand down to you.

You hesitated for only a second before placing your hand in his. His grip was firm and steady, effortlessly pulling you up behind him.

“Hold on.” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You swallowed hard and wrapped your arms around his suprisingly tiny waist, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. You felt the warmth of his back pressed against you as you tried to focus on anything else—the soft sway of Grami’s movement beneath you, the sound of the horse’s hooves on the dirt path, the gentle rustling of the wind in the grass, the faint sound of water flowing far away. The ride to the north pasture felt like it stretched on forever, but you didn’t mind. Hongjoong’s presence was steady and grounding, even as your thoughts kept drifting to the closeness of him and his comforting warmth.

“You alright back there?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

“Yeah!” you said quickly, hoping he couldn’t hear the slight tremor in your voice as you got out of your daze.

Grami carried you both through a sunlit meadow, the scent of wildflowers hanging heavy in the air. The moment felt oddly intimate, and for a brief second, you let yourself relax against him, your cheek almost brushing his shoulder. When you reached the pasture, Hongjoong dismounted first and turned to help you down. His hands found your waist as he guided you to the ground, the touch brief but enough to leave your skin tingling.

“Thanks...” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you smoothed your shirt.

The rest of the day unfolded much like the first, with Hongjoong showing you how to check the fences and tend to the cattle. He was patient as always, his quiet explanations punctuated by moments of comfortable silence.

---

By the time you returned to the farmhouse, the sun was dipping low in the sky, painting the horizon in fiery shades of orange and pink. As you sat down to dinner, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him across the table, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. There was something about him—his quiet confidence, his kindness, the way he carried the weight of the ranch without complaint—that made it hard to look away. You felt a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the food or the cozy farmhouse and as you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where you were meant to be.

This place, this man… it was starting to feel like something you didn’t want to leave behind.

---

The days passed in a blur.

One day turned into two, then three, as the mechanic faced delay after delay. You couldn’t be upset, though, not when Hongjoong was… well, Hongjoong. He was kind but guarded, the kind of man who said more with his actions than his words, he’d hand you a glass of fresh juice after a particularly hot afternoon without a word, or fix the loose porch step you slipped on two times. He’d taken to showing you around the ranch in the mornings. It started small: a walk to the stables, a brief introduction to the horses but over time, he seemed to open up. He’d tell you about the ranch’s history, about how it had been in his family for generations.

“Most people don’t want this kind of life anymore.” he said one evening, leaning against the fence as the sun dipped below the horizon. “It’s not glamorous. It’s hard work, and it can get lonely.”

You watched him as he spoke, his profile illuminated by the golden light. There was a wistfulness in his voice that made your chest ache.

“I don’t think it’s lonely.” you said softly.

He turned to you, brows furrowing slightly. “No?”

"You’ve got the land, the animals…" You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "It feels peaceful. I would say it's a good kind of lonely."

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you in that moment made your heart stutter.

You weren’t sure when the shift happened.

Maybe it was the way his hand brushed yours when he handed you a tool while fixing the barn door. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered just a little too long when you laughed. Or maybe it was the fourth night when you’d joined him on the porch after dinner, the stars stretching endlessly above you as he played a soft tune on his guitar while you hummed to the unfamiliar tune as he stared at you, like he so often did. He’d asked you about your life, your dreams, your fears. And you’d told him everything, surprising even yourself with how easy it was to talk to him. From moving to the city for your ex, leaving your family and close friends behind to the breakup and you deciding to leave everything again but, this time, for yourself.

“You’ve got a brave heart.” he said quietly, his fingers stilling on the strings.

"Brave?" You laughed, the sound tinged with disbelief. "I’ve been running away from my problems for months."

He shook his head, his gaze intense. "You’re here, aren’t you? Sometimes that’s the bravest thing you can do—just show up somewhere unknown."

It was slow, this thing between you.

A stolen glance here, a fleeting touch there. The way he’d smile when he caught you watching him, or the way his voice softened when he said your name. You found yourself lingering in his orbit, drawn to him in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. And Hongjoong? He seemed to feel it too but he held back more than you did, always keeping a careful distance, like he was afraid of what might happen if he let himself fall, watching you from afar seemed enough for him. The night it all came to an end, the fifth one, was one you’d never forget.

---

A storm had rolled in, sudden and fierce, forcing you and Hongjoong to rush through the downpour to secure the horses. Now, trapped in the barn, the rain hammered against the roof in relentless waves. You huddled together in the corner, both drenched to the bone, your breath mingling in the chill air. A new button-up shirt he'd lent you clung to your skin, his scent faint but unmistakable on the fabric, a cruel reminder of just how close he felt yet how far away he always seemed. He’d been nothing but kind—steadfast, patient, even protective—but there was a wall around him, one you couldn’t seem to scale no matter how much you tried. Every time you thought you might be breaking through, he’d pull away, his quiet reserve leaving you aching with questions you didn’t dare ask. You turned your head slightly, catching the profile of his face as he nervously watched the storm, his jaw was set, his brows furrowed in thought, and you couldn’t stop the longing that twisted in your chest. Why did he have to be so careful with you, so distant? The words escaped before you could stop them.

“Why do you do this?”

Your voice was barely audible over the storm, but he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“Do what?”

“Push people away.” you said, your heart pounding as you catch your breath. “I can see it, Hongjoong. You’re afraid of letting me get close.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush you off. But then he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.

“It’s not that simple.” he said quietly. “This life… it’s not easy. I’ve lost people before, I don’t want to go through that again.”

"But what if you don’t have to lose them?" You reached for his hand without thinking, the warmth of it surprising you. "What if they stay?"

He looked at your joined hands, then back at you, and you saw something shift in his eyes, now so visible without his hat in the way.

"I don’t want to lose you." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Since you've been here, everything feel perfect, like the missing piece, and I don't want to get used to it only to loose it."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the storm outside was nothing but a distant hum.

“You won’t.” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your chest.

His lips parted, but no answer came right away. The seconds stretched, his silence only making your chest tighten more.

“I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep-” he said finally, his voice thick with something unspoken.

“You won’t.”

For a moment, the words hung in the air between you, raw and fragile. You bit your lip, steadying your breath as you searched for the courage to say what you’d been holding in for days, your head spinning with how quick everything was going.

"For the first time in a long time, I feel like my life is… right. Like it means something." You took a shaky breath, holding his hand tighter. "Maybe it’s just the change—everything so different and new—but I don’t care if it’s an illusion. I want to try, and I want it to be with you. But only if you’re willing to try too."

Hongjoong’s gaze softened, the storm outside and the noise of the horses seeming to fade. Slowly, he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on yours as his wet hair fell in front of his face.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” you breathed, the word tumbling out before he could even finish the question. “Please. Finally.”

His lips were on yours before the last syllable left your mouth. The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as though he was still convincing himself you were real. But when your hands slid up to his drenched shoulders, pulling him closer, something shifted. His fingers tangled in your damp hair, his other hand finding the curve of your waist as the kiss deepened, the warmth of him chasing away the cold that clung to your skin. The warmth of his hands seeped through the damp fabric of the shirt, anchoring you to the moment. His touch wasn’t hurried; it was deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every sensation. Your fingers curled into the material of his shirt, clinging to him as if letting go might shatter the fragile, electric connection between you. His lips moved against yours, gentle yet insistent, and you felt every ounce of his hesitation melt away. The storm outside was relentless, but it only seemed to heighten the intensity inside the barn, the roar of the rain a distant hum compared to the wild beat of your heart. When he pulled back for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven on your cold skin. He looked at you, his eyes searching, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something far deeper.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me...” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands still gripping his shirt. “Pretty sure I have an idea.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating between you, and for a moment, the tension broke, replaced by something lighter, softer. But his hands didn’t leave your waist, and you didn’t step away.

“I meant what I said.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. “I want to try, Hongjoong. Whatever this is, I want it.”

He nodded slowly, his thumb brushing against your side in an almost absent-minded motion, as if he couldn’t stop touching you.

“So do I.” he admitted, the words coming out like a confession.

Your chest swelled at the vulnerability in his tone, the weight of his walls finally crumbling in front of you. You smiled, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, the simple act filled with a quiet certainty that this—whatever it was—was worth the risk.

“Good to hear, cowboy.” you said softly, your lips brushing his. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

"You really aren't since your car isn't working."

You both laughed slightly, leaning against each other. And with that, he kissed you again, this time deeper, his hands pulling you closer

The kiss deepened, desperate now, as if both of you were clinging to the moment, afraid it might slip away. His hands roamed, pulling you against him, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you, his touch frantic, hungry. His lips were insistent, pushing against yours with a wild urgency that made your pulse race, each movement of his mouth eager and desperate. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into the small of your back as he pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours. You could feel the heat of him, the way his chest rose and fell erratically as his breath mingled with yours, soft groans of need escaping him. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the wet strands, pulling him closer, if that was even possible. The intensity of the kiss matched the ferocity of the storm outside, the rain hammering against the barn roof as though it too was desperate to kill the fire between you. You felt his lips move down to your neck, kissing, nibbling, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The sensation made your back arch instinctively, a shiver running through you from feeling him so close, so urgent. But then, just as quickly as it had started, you felt him stiffen against you, his hands halting their movements, making you sigh in frustration. He pulled away abruptly, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with something that looked almost like panic while his lips where red and full, making it hard to not kiss them again.

“Hey.” Hongjoong said, his voice rough, but with a tone of concern.

“Mmmh?” You hummed, staring at his lips while biting your own.

“We should go back inside.” He pulled back slightly, his hands on your arms now, steadying you. “Before you catch your death out here.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, breathless and confused, the remnants of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He seemed to have pulled away not because of you, but because of something else—something in him that was fighting with the intensity of his emotions. You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and warmth at his words, unsure whether it was the cold or the abrupt end to the kiss that left you feeling so undone. He gently took your hand, guiding you back toward the farmhouse as he ran, the storm still raging above, but for the first time since your breakup, the world didn’t feel so chaotic. Not with him by your side. You entered the house giggling as he quickly wrapped a blanket around your wet body while you looked at him in awe. He snickered before kissing you again, as gently as he could. The rain drummed on the roof above you, but you didn’t hear it. All that mattered was the way he tasted, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his kiss made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

Thank God your car broke down.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #x reader #hongjoong x reader #cowboy ateez #cowboy x reader

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nayiana0 · 2 months ago

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Quiet Until You | 4

⋮ ⌗ ┆analysis : you had everything under control—your grades, your goals, your walls. but when Choi San, the school’s troublemaker, gets assigned the seat beside you .. control is the first thing to go. he talks too much. smirks too often. And somehow, when detention throws you two into each other’s orbit for real, the tension gets harder to ignore—and so do the feelings. she was quiet. until him.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ genre : slow burn, fluff/angst, romance, enemies to lovers.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ warnings : mild angst, alcohol, emotional intensity

⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc: 7.2k

a/n : once a player always a player also i think i wrote this drunk ngl so mb if something doesnt make sense......

══════════════════════ ✧. ┊⋆ ★

*Chapter 4: Unlocked**

You sat at your desk, eyes blurred from reading the same line in your textbook over and over. Your highlighter was uncapped, but you hadn’t touched the page in minutes. your phone buzzed. A message from San.

San:

you’ve been studying all day. take a break, come out with me. just us. i promise.

You hesitated. Things had been up and down with him — but lately, there was something different in the way he looked at you, spoke to you, touched you. you bit your lip, staring at the screen before finally replying:

You:

where?

The sky was painted in soft shades of pink and orange as San waited for you at the edge of the local boardwalk, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, sneakers tapping against the wooden planks. He looked up the moment he heard your footsteps.

"You came," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"You asked," you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You walked together along the quiet path, the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore. San wasn’t his usual cocky self — he was quieter, thoughtful, his body language soft and open.

"You know I’m not great with words," he said, breaking the silence. "But… I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for a while now."

You looked at him, curious but cautious.

"I was a mess before I met you. I pushed you away, lied, acted like I didn’t care — and that’s on me," he continued, his voice low. "You didn’t deserve that. And I don’t know how to make up for it all, but I want to try. If you let me."

You didn’t say anything. You were trying not to cry. But San wasn’t done.

"I’m not gonna pretend to be perfect. I’m not. But I’m trying — for you. Because this…" he paused, pulling something small from his pocket. A delicate silver ring with a thin band, understated but beautiful, catching the last light of sunset.

"...is my promise. That I’m serious about you. About this."

your breath caught in your throat as he gently slid the ring into your hand. your fingers trembled. It was so sudden, so sincere, so him.

"San…" your voice cracked, and that’s when the tears came. Not dramatic, sobbing tears — but soft, confused ones. Joy. Sadness. Relief. Fear. you didn’t even know what to say, so you didn’t. you just hugged him — tightly, wordlessly.

"I meant it," he murmured into her hair. "I’m not letting you go."

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your cheeks damp, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes were already on you — and there was something about the way he looked at her that made the entire boardwalk disappear.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly.

You nodded.

And he leaned in — slowly, almost hesitantly — brushing his lips against yours. Gentle at first, then deeper, as if he'd been waiting to do this properly all along. You kissed him back, fingers curling in his hoodie, heart bursting with every second.

Then suddenly — laughing a little — he pulled away and without warning, scooped you up in his arms and spun you around once in a playful, lighthearted twirl.

Your laugh broke the tension like sunlight through storm clouds.

"You're insane," you said breathlessly.

"Insanely into you," he smirked, setting you down gently.

You rolled her eyes, cheeks pink, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

"Wanna keep this night going?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "No pressure, but... I was gonna order food, maybe watch something. You could come over. Just chill. No games."

For once, you didn’t hesitate.

"Okay," you said.

And with fingers interlaced and hearts still racing, you walked back together — this time, toward a night filled with warmth, stories, and the beginning of something real.

———————

You didn’t expect his house to look like that.

Pulling up to a place like this — modern, quiet, clean lines with huge windows and warm lights spilling from behind navy curtains — had you stunned for a second. You weren’t sure what you imagined, but it wasn’t this. It was like something out of a magazine. Calm. Expensive. Lived-in, but in a way that said he paid attention to things.

“Come in,” San said, holding the door open for you with that half-smirk of his. “Make yourself at home.”

You stepped in, trying not to gape too much, but the place was... kind of beautiful. Wooden floors. Soft lighting. A couch that looked dangerously comfortable. A candle was lit on the kitchen island — sandalwood and something faintly sweet. It smelled like warmth and confidence.

You were still standing near the doorway when he reappeared — and that’s when your eyes betrayed you.

Gray sweatpants. Low on the hips. Tank top. Barefoot. Hair slightly messy.

You didn’t mean to look down — you really didn’t — but your gaze dropped for half a second, then snapped back up like you got caught stealing. San raised an eyebrow, clearly catching it.

“What?” he asked, all fake innocence.

“Nothing,” you muttered, too quickly, walking past him like your dignity wasn’t hanging by a thread.

He followed you with that smug look that made your face heat up instantly. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He flopped onto the couch, spreading out like he owned the world — which, judging by the house, he might. “C’mon. Sit. You hungry?”

“A little,” you admitted, sitting down but keeping just enough space between you two.

He glanced at you sideways. “I’ll order something. But first...” He leaned closer. “That kiss earlier. You meant it, right?”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Didn’t seem like you minded it.”

He gave a low chuckle, then reached out and gently touched your knee — just enough to make your stomach flip. “You’re different, Y/N. Like... I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You weren’t sure what to say. All you knew was that his fingers were warm, his house smelled like something intimate and masculine, and that you might be in trouble.

The good kind of trouble.

———————

You were halfway through some ridiculous rom-com he claimed to hate but kept laughing at, and somehow, the space between you had disappeared.

Not all at once — gradually. First, it was your legs brushing. Then your knee rested against his. Then you leaned a little when you laughed and didn’t pull away. Now, his arm was stretched behind you on the couch, not touching, but definitely there.

“I still don’t get how you picked this movie,” you teased, tossing popcorn at him.

“Because I’m generous and selfless,” he said with a straight face. “Unlike you, clearly.”

“You love this movie.”

“I love watching you watch this movie,” he said smoothly.

You turned to him with a scoff, but he was already looking at you — that kind of look that makes your whole body go still. His lips quirked up just slightly, but there was a different energy now. Slower. Warmer. Eyes darker.

Your breath hitched. You looked away, but it was too late. You felt it — the air between you buzzing.

You shifted just a little closer without meaning to, and when your thigh accidentally brushed against his again... you noticed it. The subtle inhale. The way his jaw flexed.

His legs tensed slightly — you caught it in your peripheral vision — and you weren’t imagining the heat radiating off of him. You knew exactly what that shift meant.

But San? He said nothing. Didn’t even flinch. Just draped his arm over the back of the couch and leaned his head closer to yours, like he hadn’t just gotten hard next to you. Like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You good?” he asked, voice low.

You swallowed. “Are you?”

That smirk.

“Define ‘good,’” he murmured.

The movie continued to play — distant now — while the air between you simmered. His fingers brushed the back of your shoulder absentmindedly, and even though nothing else happened…

But you couldn't ignore it

San’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders now, your legs tangled loosely with his under the blanket. His chest rose and fell with a kind of stillness that made you think he was trying really, really hard to focus — just not on the movie.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your position — and that’s when you felt it.

…Oh.

You blinked, frozen for a second. There was no way to mistake it. The pressure against your thigh. The tension in his body. Heat crawled up your neck, but instead of panicking — you smiled.

“Are you…” you turned your head, squinting at him through the dim light, “...seriously hard right now?”

His eyes widened. “What—? No— I mean—” He sat up slightly, flustered, trying to pull the blanket a little higher over his lap. His voice cracked, and for the first time… he looked nervous.

You caught a glimpse of his dimples as he laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “You weren’t supposed to notice that.” he mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow. “How could I not?”

“I—Look, it’s not—It’s your fault.”

“My fault!?”

“You keep moving around and wearing those shorts and like—” He groaned quietly, cheeks tinged with red. “Whatever. Don’t look at me like that.”

You couldn’t help but grin. Seeing him like this — a little bashful, caught off guard — was new. Kind of endearing. Definitely unforgettable.

You nudged him playfully with your shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to reclaim his usual cool demeanor. “I’m never embarrassed.”

Before you could say anything back, he leaned in and kissed you — deep and warm and unhurried, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t get out in words. His hand slid to your waist, thumb tracing small circles.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath hitched.

“I shouldn’t be asking this,” he said slowly, almost cautiously, “but... do you want this? Like—me. Not just this moment. I mean… all of it.”

Your heart stilled.

He was looking at you like he was bracing for rejection, eyes darting across your face to catch any flicker of hesitation. It wasn’t just a horny question. It was vulnerable. Real.

You could still feel him — hard against your hip — but his expression told you he wasn’t trying to push anything physical. Not unless you wanted it too.

“I...” you started, unsure how to even form a sentence with him staring at you like that.

He offered the tiniest smile. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I needed to ask.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you leaned in again, kissing him slow. Not urgent this time. Just... honest.

“I don’t know what I want yet,” you murmured against his lips, “but I want to find out. With you.”

He let out the softest exhale, like you’d just lifted something off his chest. “Okay,” he whispered. “That’s enough for me.”

You curled into his side after that, the movie still playing faintly in the background, his arm wrapped securely around you. You could feel his heartbeat steadying against your back, his fingers laced with yours again — like they had been at the end of that first night.

And for the first time in a while, it felt okay not to have all the answers..

===============================================

The morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking you from a peaceful sleep. You shifted in the bed, the familiar warmth of San’s body next to you still present, but he was already awake — you could tell by the faint sound of clattering from the kitchen.

You stretched and sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “San?” you called, half-expecting him to still be asleep, but he didn’t respond. You pushed the covers off and slipped into the soft slippers by the bed, the cool floor greeting your feet as you walked toward the kitchen.

When you stepped in, the scene that greeted you was both surprising and oddly endearing: San was in the middle of flipping pancakes, a little messy, but he looked... content. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing only a hoodie and sweatpants, his usual cocky smile replaced with something more relaxed.

“Good morning,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

He turned to face you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Morning, baby,” he said, almost too casually, but there was something different in the way he said it.

You blinked, unsure whether you heard him correctly. “Baby?” you raised an eyebrow, stepping fully into the room now. “Since when do you call me that?”

San smirked, flipping the pancakes onto a plate. “Since now,” he said, his voice light, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. The cockiness was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp — more teasing. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I do,” you replied quickly, feeling warmth spread across your chest. It wasn’t just the cute nickname, but the fact that he was cooking breakfast. Cooking. San. You shook your head with a small laugh. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he teased, winking as he set the plate of pancakes in front of you at the kitchen table. He then sat down across from you, his smile genuine. “Eat up. You’re gonna need energy.”

You smiled and took a bite, the pancakes surprisingly delicious. “Wow, these are really good,” you said between bites.

“Don’t act too surprised, I’m full of surprises,” he said, but there was a sincerity behind the words — he wasn’t trying to play it cool this time, just enjoying the moment.

You took another bite, savoring the food, but your curiosity got the best of you. “So what’s the plan for today? I’m guessing you didn’t make me pancakes just to start the day off right…”

San leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you, his eyes thoughtful for a moment before his smirk returned. “Well,” he began, his voice almost too casual, “I was thinking you could take the day off school. Just you and me, no distractions.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Wait, what? Take the day off? From school? You want to skip everything just for... what, more pancakes?”

“No,” he said with a little chuckle. “I mean, I could make you pancakes every day if you wanted, but no. I actually wanted to show you something. Something... special.”

The way he said it made your stomach flutter. You had no idea what he had in mind, but the idea of spending a day with him, just the two of you, was too tempting to pass up. “What is it?” you asked, leaning in slightly, intrigued.

San’s smile softened just a little, and he reached over to squeeze your hand. “It’s a surprise. But trust me, it’s worth it.”

You hesitated for a moment, still thinking about school. “I’m going to miss the whole day though…”

“Are you really going to make me cook for you and then go to school?” he teased, but his voice had an edge of seriousness to it, like he really wanted you to say yes. “Come on. Its a Friday. We never get time like this, just the two of us. Don’t you want an entire weekend to just... be with me?”

You bit your lip, considering it. San wasn’t usually the type to make things feel real like this. He was always so cocky, so nonchalant. But now? He seemed sincere, like he really wanted to make this weekend special for the both of you.

Finally, you smiled and leaned back in your chair. “Okay, fine. I’ll skip. But you better make this weekend worth it.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, I will. I promise.”

==========================================

"Alright, so what's this surprise?" you finally asked, your curiosity getting the best of you. "You’ve been talking about it all day, but you won’t tell me what it is."

San put down his fork, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something almost serious. He leaned back in his chair and smiled that devil-may-care smile that had always intrigued you. "The surprise? Well, you’re going to meet my parents today."

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth as you stared at him, processing what he just said. "Wait... meet your parents?" you repeated, voice filled with shock. "Like... your real parents?"

San nodded, his eyes locked on yours with a certain intensity. "Yeah. I thought you might want to meet them. I’ve been wanting to take this step for a while."

A nervous fluttering settled in your stomach. Meeting his parents? That was a big deal. You knew it wasn’t something he took lightly, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were ready for it. But then again, the way he was looking at you made you feel like it was the right thing to do.

"Are you sure about this?" you asked, swallowing your nerves.

San’s grin widened, and he stood up, walking over to you. He gently took your hand in his. "I’m sure. It’ll be fun, I promise."

He helped you finish breakfast, and the two of you left the house together. The drive to the restaurant was filled with light conversation, but the nervousness you were feeling couldn’t be ignored. You kept wondering how his parents would react. What if they didn’t like you? What if they thought you weren’t good enough for their son?

==============================================

As the car pulled up to a fancy restaurant, San looked over at you with a soft smile. "Ready?"

You nodded, trying to hide your anxiety. "I think so. But I can’t believe you’re actually doing this."

San parked the car and led you inside. The moment you stepped through the doors, you were immediately hit with the warmth of the ambiance — the rich smell of fine food, the sound of soft chatter, and the glow of dimmed lights that made everything feel intimate.

He walked confidently up to a private table in the back where his parents were already seated. As you approached, you saw his mom and dad sitting together, looking like they were having an easy conversation. But when they saw you, the smiles on their faces faltered for just a second before returning, a bit more formal now.

Mom, Dad, this is Y/N," San said, introducing you with a forced casualness. "Y/N, these are my parents."

You smiled nervously at the couple standing before you. They looked kind but also... a little taken aback, like they weren’t expecting you to be there today. The awkward silence was palpable.

“Uh, nice to meet you,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

But just as you were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, San’s mom smiled warmly. "It’s nice to meet you too, dear," she said, her voice kind and welcoming.

But then San’s dad, who had been quiet up until now, looked at you for a second before turning to San. "You never mentioned you were bringing someone with you," he said, his tone a little cold, but it could’ve just been a misunderstanding.

San’s smile faltered for a moment. "Yeah, I was going to mention it, but... things just happened."

The tension in the room was thickening, and you could feel your heart beating faster. This wasn’t going how you expected. San’s parents weren’t exactly making you feel comfortable.

You tried to smile through the discomfort, but San, noticing how stiff you were, reached over and placed his hand gently on your back. "Why don’t we just go into that room over there and catch up?" he suggested, trying to steer things away from the awkwardness.

But just as you were about to follow him, his mom spoke again, this time with a slightly raised voice. "You know, San, you really should have let us know. This is a lot for us to process."

Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t how you imagined meeting his parents. It felt too rushed, too uncomfortable.

San, sensing the tension, gave a quick look to his parents before turning back to you. "I’m sorry about this," he muttered, his jaw clenched. "I thought it’d be fine. But we can go if you want."

Before you could answer, San’s dad spoke again, this time a little more pointedly, "You know, San, you’ve got to start taking things more seriously. I just don’t see you settling down with someone like this."

San’s face hardened, and his grip on your hand tightened. "That’s enough, Dad," he said firmly. "I’ve got this."

The room fell silent. You felt a twinge of discomfort, but you didn’t know how to respond. You could tell this was more than just a simple family visit — it was a deeper tension, a pressure that San was under, one you hadn’t realized existed until now.

And in that moment, as San turned to look at you, you saw a side of him you hadn’t seen before — vulnerable, conflicted. You weren’t sure what to say, but you could tell this wasn’t the surprise he had hoped for you.

As things settled down, San pulled you into another room, away from the tension. "I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I had planned," he said quietly.

You squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. But... this is a lot. Maybe we can talk about it later?”

He nodded, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.”

The surprise wasn’t what you expected. But even though it was messy, it was real. And you couldn’t help but feel like you were just starting to scratch the surface of what San had been hiding.

——————————————————

The silence in the car was different this time.

Not comfortable. Not playful. Just… heavy.

San had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the armrest between you. His fingers were drumming against it slowly — not out of boredom, but restlessness. Like he was trying not to think too hard. Like he didn’t want to acknowledge what just happened back at the restaurant.

You hadn’t said a word since you both left.

But it was eating at you.

The words.

“I just don’t see you settling with someone like this.”

They repeated over and over in your head like a skipping record.

When you finally got back to San’s place, you moved around each other quietly — shoes off, keys dropped, jackets hung. It was almost robotic, like neither of you were really there.

You sat on the edge of the couch, hands nervously folded in your lap, while San disappeared into the kitchen. He was pretending to look for something, but you knew he wasn’t. He was stalling. Processing.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“You okay?” you said softly.

He turned slightly, then walked back into the living room with a bottle of water, sitting down next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah.” he said, his tone low and unreadable.

You glanced over at him. His brows were tight, his eyes tense. He was trying to stay cool — like he always did. But there was a flicker there. A crack.

You swallowed.

“…Why did your dad say that?”

San blinked, clearly not expecting you to ask so directly.

You continued, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“*I don’t see you settling with someone like this.*”

You paused. “Do they really not… accept me?”

He was quiet.

Dead quiet.

For a second, you thought he might lie. Or brush it off. Or make one of his cocky jokes like he always did when things got uncomfortable.

But instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting out a slow, heavy breath. His voice came out low, tired, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it.

“They don’t accept *anyone*, Y/N. Not really.”

You looked at him carefully. He still wasn’t facing you. Just staring down at his hands.

“My dad…” he started, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared it. “He’s not exactly the ‘picture-perfect’ parent people think he is. Neither of them are.”

He finally turned to you — and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked genuinely… small. Not in size. But in spirit.

“Yeah, we’ve got money,” he continued. “Nice cars. A nice place. A restaurant reservation every time I snap my fingers. But none of that means shit when you grow up in a house where nothing you do is ever enough.”

You felt your chest tighten.

San looked away again, biting the inside of his cheek.

“My dad’s… hard. Always has been. He thinks affection is weakness. That showing love makes you soft. Growing up, it was always about image. Grades. Winning. ‘Who’s she? Where’s she from? What does her family do?’ It’s always about status. Appearances.”

His voice was trembling now, but he was doing everything he could to hold it together.

“They gave me this place so I could ‘learn independence,’” he said, gesturing around at the house. “But it was more like they just didn’t want me around. I’m the disappointment, remember?”

“San…” you whispered.

He finally met your gaze.

And there it was — tears pooling in his eyes, barely held back, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching.

“I brought you tonight because I wanted them to see the real me. How I am with you. But I should’ve known better.”

You shifted closer instinctively, placing your hand on his.

“And now I ruined it,” he whispered. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. I wanted to show you off — show them what I found, what makes me happy — and all they did was tear it down.”

The tears broke free then. Just a couple. But enough to make his eyes shine. Enough to leave faint trails down his cheeks.

He looked away, brushing them off quickly with the back of his hand, trying to laugh it off with a dry, broken chuckle.

“Shit, sorry. That’s embarrassing.”

But you didn’t let go of his hand. You gripped it tighter.

“Don’t do that,” you said quietly. “Don’t hide.”

San turned toward you again. His jaw relaxed slightly, lips parting like he wanted to say something — but nothing came out.

So you leaned his head against your chest, your hand on his cheek, gently wiping away a tear with your thumb.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said. “You were… amazing tonight. You defended me. You showed up for me. That’s what matters. Not your dad. Not their opinions.”

His breath hitched again, but this time he didn’t pull away.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered.

And in that moment — even with his walls cracking and everything around him feeling unsteady — San let himself believe it.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he didn’t want to let go.

Like maybe, with you, he didn’t have to.

==============================================

The next morning, San woke you up by dramatically throwing open the bedroom curtains.

"Rise and shine, princess," he said with a smirk, sunlight flooding the room. "We’ve got a very important mission today."

You groaned and pulled the blanket over your head. “What mission requires me to be up at this hour?”

“Retail therapy,” he announced, jumping onto the bed next to you. “I’m spoiling you today. No arguments.”

You peeked at him from under the covers, skeptical. “Is this your way of making up for last night?”

His smirk faltered just a little, his expression softening. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But mostly I just wanna see you smile again.”

That shut you up real quick.

—

The two of you ended up in the heart of the city — surrounded by boutiques, pop-up stalls, vintage stores, and overpriced coffee. The sun was high, the air warm, and San was dressed in a black tee that was doing way too much for your sanity.

First stop: a small thrift shop that smelled like lavender and nostalgia.

You tried on a pair of sunglasses that were three times too big for your face.

San turned and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you look like a bug.”

You dramatically adjusted them. “A fashionable bug.”

You both cracked up, and in the mirror’s reflection, you caught him watching you — soft smile, eyes lingering.

“Alright, my turn.” He grabbed a ridiculous patterned shirt off the rack and threw it on over his tee. “How do I look?”

You blinked. “Like you’re about to ask me to join your cult.”

“Perfect,” he grinned, “join me.”

You took a picture instead — one you knew you’d scroll back to later just to remember how this day felt.

—

“Okay, you have to stop buying me things,” you said as he handed you a new hoodie from one of the trendier shops.

“Correction,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “I get to buy you things. It's an honor, actually.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you’re spoiled. Get used to it.”

—

A quiet moment fell between you as you stopped in front of a small stand selling handmade bracelets and rings. San picked one up, twirling it between his fingers thoughtfully.

You browsed silently — fingers grazing the soft leather bands, the warm brass.

Then you felt him beside you again.

“This one,” he said, holding out a simple, silver ring with a subtle pattern etched around the band. “It remins me of you.”

You looked at it.

“It’s pretty.”

“Understated. Cool. Kinda stubborn-looking.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Stubborn-looking?”

He grinned. “In the best way.”

You laughed as he slipped it onto your ring finger, like it had always belonged there.

“There. Perfect fit.”

Your heart squeezed a little. And from the way he was looking at you, you knew he felt it too.

—

On the Way Home

The bags rustled in the backseat. Your hand rested in his over the console. His thumb gently brushed your knuckles.

"Hey," he said, glancing at you at a stoplight. "Thanks for coming with me today."

You smiled. "Thanks for dragging me out of bed for it."

"It was worth it," he said. "You’ve been smiling all day.”

You looked out the window, the promise ring he’d given you yesterday catching the light, your chest warm and full.

So this was what it felt like — to be chosen. Not for a game. Not for a secret. But just for you.

——————————————

You sat cross-legged on San’s couch, still buzzing from the shopping trip and the unexpected café run-in. His place smelled like cedarwood and that cologne he always wore—clean, warm, undeniably him. You glanced toward the hallway when he called out, towel slung over his shoulder, “Gonna hop in the shower. Be right out.”

“Okay,” you called back, smiling softly to yourself.

A few minutes passed. The soft rush of water in the background. You shifted, eyes landing on his phone lying facedown on the coffee table.

You didn’t mean to stare. But it was right there.

Your fingers twitched.

Curiosity began to bubble up. You weren’t trying to snoop... but something about today, his mood, it all just made you wonder. Is he always this quiet about everything?

You reached over and picked it up.

Passcode screen. You hesitated.

Then you typed in his birthday. Nope. Your own birthday. Just for fun.

Click. Unlocked.

Your heart jumped. Why would he use my birthday? The thought made your chest flutter a little. But also… now what?

You hovered for a moment, then tapped on Messages.

You weren’t planning to go deep. Just a glance.

You scrolled.

Then you stopped when you saw your name—except it wasn’t your name. It was some ridiculous contact title like “my favorite headace 🤦” and you had to slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

What the hell?

You scrolled further, rereading some of the old messages. Sweet, flirty, some even stupid. But all… endearing. Real.

Then you noticed another name: “Kali”.Your stomach tightened.

You tapped.

It wasn’t what you expected. She messaged him a lot. Flirty. Forward. A little desperate, even.

But San?

He was cold. Distant. One-word replies.

"busy." "don't text me like that." "i have a girl."

Still, you stared. If he’s ignoring her… why is she still trying? Why are they all still trying?

Your chest suddenly felt heavy. What if you’re not enough? What if they know something you don’t? What if… this is just how it always ends with him?

You exhaled slowly, shaking the thoughts away. Before you could overthink more, you swiped over to Photos.

Silly. Random. Blurry. But so many of you.

Sleeping on his chest. Wearing his hoodie. Selfies he took of you when you weren’t paying attention. Dumb videos of the two of you laughing at nothing. You couldn’t help it—you smiled. Giggled under your breath.

Then—

Shower shuts off.

Your eyes widened and you scrambled to lock the phone, but you don't think you did. Setting it back down just where it had been before and quickly folding your hands in your lap like nothing happened.

A few seconds later, he walked out, towel drying his hair, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low. His eyes flicked from your face… to the phone.

“You good?” he asked, narrowing his gaze slightly.

You blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

He nodded slowly, stepping closer and grabbing the phone. “Dunno. Just... felt like someone was being nosy.”

You tried to act casual. “Please. I was too busy thinking about how you’re probably using three-in-one shampoo.”

He smirked, but he was still watching you. “You sure you weren’t, I don’t know… checking to see if I’m texting someone that isn’t you?”

Your heart dropped.

You looked at him wide-eyed.

He smiled—that kind of smug smile. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to recover, but he sat down beside you, close, hand brushing yours.

“I don’t care about them, Y/N,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’ve got what I want.”

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder, and for a moment, the noise in your head dulled.

Still, something inside you couldn’t help but whisper: Then why do I still feel like I have to compete for you?

==============================================

The room fell quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the gentle flicker of the TV that neither of you had really been watching. San leaned into your shoulder, sighing, his damp hair brushing your cheek. It was calm. Too calm, maybe.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice low.

You turned slightly to look at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his tone.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, fingers fidgeting with the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Can I tell you something? Like... real?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

He paused for a second longer than you expected, like the words were catching in his throat. “I don’t really let people in,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Like, ever. Not really. Not like this.”

You stared at him, heart starting to thump.

“I’ve had girls,” he continued. “Plenty. But it was never like this. Not where I care if they text me when they get home. Or—” He laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “—not where I hand over my phone like it’s nothing. Not where I give a shit if I screw it up.”

He looked at you now. “And I know I almost did. Multiple times. I’ve been reckless with you. I know that.”

You didn’t speak—just listened.

“I want to get it right this time,” he said quietly. “With you.”

That flicker of honesty—the crack in his cocky armor—stirred something deep in your chest. You reached out and took his hand, lacing your fingers with his, grounding him.

“I know,” you whispered. “That means something.”

He looked at your joined hands like he couldn’t believe they were real. Then: “I feel like if I mess this up, I’ll never forgive myself.”

You didn’t respond. Just leaned in slowly and pressed your lips to his. Soft, slow. Not out of lust—out of quiet, aching emotion.

He deepened it, pulling you in by the waist, and soon you were back in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, the kiss deepening into something more.

But then—

His phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

You both paused. He reached for it casually, unlocking it without a second thought.

Then his whole expression changed.

You watched his jaw tighten.

“San?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the screen. Then, finally, he flipped it toward you.

“Kali” .+1 New Message

“So you’re really gonna ghost me after everything? Thought you were different.”

You blinked. “What does she mean... after everything?”

He stared at you, mouth parting slightly. “Y/N—”

You pulled back.

“No—don’t do that,” he said quickly, grabbing your hand. “I didn’t do anything with her. I swear. She’s just… she’s obsessed. I talked to her once—months ago. That’s it. I told her I was with you. I’ve ignored her since.”

But your heartbeat was loud in your ears now. “Then why is she talking like that?”

“She’s manipulative,” he said firmly. “It’s what she does.”

You could feel your chest tightening again.

“I’m being honest with you,” San insisted. “I’ve only been serious about one person. You.”

You looked down at your lap. “I want to believe you.”

“Then do,” he said gently. “Please.”

He cupped your cheek, trying to meet your eyes. “Tell me what to do to prove it. I’ll do it. You just—say the word.”

There was a long silence.

And then, like a whisper:

“Okay,” you said. “I believe you.”

But you didn’t realize until you said it that your voice was shaking.

You told him you believed him.

But the weight in your chest said otherwise.

You sat there, stiff, San still holding your hand as if afraid to let go. He studied your face, trying to read it, trying to figure out what you weren’t saying.

“I can tell you don’t,” he finally muttered. “Not really.”

You blinked. “I said I believe you.”

“Yeah. But your eyes are screaming at me.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Because maybe he wasn’t wrong.

San leaned back, hand falling from yours. “You think I’m some walking joke, huh? Player boy makes good girl fall, still sleeps around behind her back—”

“I didn’t say that,” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. “But what do you expect me to think? Girls still texting you like they have history with you—”

“Because they’re desperate,” he cut in, voice rising. “Because they want something that I’m not giving them anymore.”

You flinched at his tone.

His jaw ticked. “You know what sucks? I tell you the truth. I open up to you. I show you my whole goddamn heart, and you still look at me like I’m lying.”

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered. “You made it complicated.”

There was silence—heavy and suffocating.

Then San stood up.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of you.

“You went through my phone, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I didn’t tell you the passcode,” he said, quieter now. “But it was unlocked when I came out. You don’t trust me.”

Your lips parted—nothing came out.

“You don’t trust me,” he repeated, like saying it hurt.

“I wanted to know what I was getting myself into,” you shot back, defensive now. “Is that a crime? I’ve been nothing but honest—.”

“You don’t trust me,” he said again. This time, there was no anger in his voice. Just something else.

Defeat.

“You know what, that’s fine,” he muttered. “You don’t have to. But don’t pretend like this is some fairy tale. You want to keep looking for reasons to doubt me? Go ahead. I’m done trying to prove I’m not that guy.”

Your throat tightened. “So what, you’re just giving up?”

He turned toward the hallway. “I’m not giving up. I’m stepping back before I fuck this up more.”

“San—”

But he was already gone, disappearing into his room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing louder than anything else.

And just like that, the warmth of the day, the softness of the morning, the laughter in the mall — all of it vanished. Like it never happened.

You were alone again.

This time, by choice. His.

—————

The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the guest room.

The sheets were perfectly folded, the room untouched — unfamiliar. It was colder here. Not just the temperature, but everything. The air, the silence. Like you’d stepped into a space that wasn’t meant for you.

But you laid down anyway.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly, your thoughts moving too fast for tears. Every moment from the day — his dimpled smile, the laughter in the mall, the way he spun you around and kissed you like you were his favorite thing in the world — all of it looped in your head and collided with his voice when he said, “You don’t trust me.”

And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You just didn’t know how to silence the part of you that kept preparing for the fall.

Still, you hated how it ended. Hated that you were now lying on a guest bed in the house of someone who used to hold you like you were his.

You turned on your side, curled into yourself, and tried to sleep — but all you could feel was the space between you.

===============================================

You stepped into the kitchen slowly the next morning, the smell of coffee greeting you first.

San was already there, shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair still damp from the shower. He didn’t look up right away — just stirred the sugar into his mug like it had all his focus.

The silence was suffocating.

Then, without looking, he said, “Why’d you sleep in the guest room?”

Your stomach flipped.

“I figured,” you said cautiously, “after what happened last night... you didn’t want me near you.”

He looked up at that — slowly. His jaw tightened before he set the spoon down.

“I was mad. Not at you. Just... everything.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervous.

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” he admitted. “I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t welcome here. That’s on me.”

You nodded slowly, but your eyes stayed on the floor.

“But...” He moved closer, voice softer now. “Y/N, if we’re gonna keep doing this — if this is real — you have to trust me. I’m not gonna be perfect. I’ll screw up. I’ll get overwhelmed. But I’m not hiding anything from you. I’m not playing a game.”

You looked up at him.

He stepped forward, brushing his fingers gently down your arm. “And if you ever feel like something’s off, just ask me. Don’t search for proof like I’m already guilty.”

Your throat felt tight again, but this time for a different reason.

You nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

His lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Okay.”

He opened his arms, almost hesitantly.

And when you stepped into them, it felt different.

Not like the day before — playful and new. This felt heavy, fragile, raw. Like both of you were choosing to try again, even though it hurt.

——————

Masterpost Next

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downbadace · 1 month ago

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ok so more katseye f1 thoughts!! meizini as the mclaren duo would acc be heartbreaking, dani crashing out and blaming herself, nonstop apologising to megan bc she didn’t mean to take it that far. and tell me why i can see it like brocedes, both of them fighting for the championship and team orders forcing megan to eventually lose the wdc to dani (maybe smth like megan being told they’re gonna keep track position for a race midseason bc of the red bull (lara) behind, so she doesn’t need to worry about defending, but danis race engineer telling her to race anyway, so she overtakes in the last couple of laps, giving dani the win for that race and eventually winning the championship by like 2/3 points) so megan leaves mclaren after that season to go to a team that acc respects her, her and dani have a rocky relationship for the next year or so but they get over it eventually. MY FERRARI MEGAN AGENDA

and ugh i can so see lara as max yk she just has that chaos if im gonna burn everyone’s gonna burn with me vibe on track but an absolute sweetheart who loves her cats off track, an absolute beast behind the wheel and would fs have smth similar to the mad max nickname in her rookie year. i could see that mellowing out though and her becoming complete wdc material, still crazy aggressive behind the wheel but much more refined, knowing when to make a move. and megara having a lestappen-esqe dynamic would be the shit, both of them starting in karting together and basically growing up as rivals, always having that competitiveness but also being each others closest friends, with a tad bit of homoerotic tension. just how max is different w charles lara would be different w megan. and megan also having a cautious yet slightly aggressive driving style, but being more aggressive w lara, their battles are to die for bc they push each other to their limit in ways only they know how. AND A MEGARA TITLE FIGHT… both of them trying their hardest to make sure the other doesn’t resent them, lara never apologises after crashing into someone but for megan she makes an exception, and megan accidentally impeding lara in qualy; she’s already jumping out of the car to talk to her

mb if this is a lot i just love katseye and f1 sm lol

-🫡

nonono NEVER apologize for your thoughts cause im eating this the fuck UPPPP 😍 jeez yeah i gotta put this into an fic (maybe seperate AU from the one i already got but wtv i'll cook smthing) cause holy shiteee esp with the megclaren conflict shit like yessss need a segway to ferrari megan and then lestappen/megara and then and then AAAHCJJSNCJSNC im sorry i cant put down coherent thoughts cause im hungover asf still but yeah, just gotta say thank you for matching my niche not a lot of eyekons are also f1 fans so yeah i need this ��😭

anyways, imagine megan seeing dani for the first time after she switched to ferrari and they're just like "hey..." "...hi" AND ITS JUST SUPER AWKARD AND LIKE THE MEDIA PICKS UP ON IT AND EVERYONE'S JUST SPECULATING AND JAKDHAMCNASDNS so dani forces herself to make amends cause she misses the friendship they had between each other and she doesn't want anything messy to happen :(((( and when they do make up theyre like actually bffs now like nothing happened cause fuck the team their friendship is way more important anyways and then like lowk them talking about sophia and lara being each other's wingmen cmon guys WALK WITH MEEEEEEE!!!!!! yeah i need to put this down in an AU cause i need a megara rivals to lovers >~< okay okay okay im gonna write this cause FUCK i have so much to say but i can't put it down in words that make sense rn 😭 THANK YOU ANON ILY AND YOUR THOUGHTS 🫶🫶🫶🫶

#katseye #katseye imagines #katseye thoughts #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 thoughts #katseye x formula 1 #daniela avanzini #megan skiendiel #lara raj #daniela avanzini & megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x lara raj #sophia laforteza x daniela avanzini #asks #🫡 anon #ace speaks

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bekaterrier · 11 months ago

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Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I started a new series and caught up on some new episodes that released this week.

@tellnotalespod S2 E16 - Love is Stored in the Carpet Burn: I didn't cry (maybe because I was driving and had to keep it together) but I definitely got emotional listening to Leo, Riley and Julia talk to Noah. They have their people back! I'm glad they're finally going to do something that makes Frank uncomfortable too. Hopefully they get the answers they need...

@desertskiespodcast Desert Skies FM - Someone Crashes the Show: I love Nonny so much, she is a gem. And her segment on this edition of Desert Skies FM was beautiful. "Something inside of me tells me it's best just to start out loving people, the moment you meet them."

@storiesfromylelmore Episode 201 - The Garden Club: They're back!! I'm so excited that season 2 has started, and this was a great episode to welcome us back. I love the worldbuilding so learning more about the little spirits and the traditions to help them was so much fun. I felt like I was Rion and Elas, with so many questions to begin with and just in awe of the whole process. It was also great seeing more of Keryth's moms and how they interact with the kids and other witches. I love that Keryth and Rion fighting is just them saying each other's names back and forth with different inflections. True friendship right there.

Case Study IREC-A59 Episode 1 - Too Close for Comfort Encounters - Part 2: The crew of the IREC-A59 seem very competent. I'm curious how they're going to proceed in dealing with this human they have on board. The distorted effects when the human is talking are a neat approach, giving us some insight but still not letting us know too much more than the crew themselves (who can't understand the human at all).

@hinaypod Episode 44 - Tula (Poem): Add this one to the (not insignificant) pile of truly creepy Hi Nay episodes. I loved hearing one of DJ's personal stories, and getting more info on what might have happened to the Sauvard family. That reveal at the end though...ahhhhhhhh I'm still not over it!!

@midnightburgr Chapter 37 - The Paradise: MB always has so many things going on and I love it. The Paradise, the Leifs, the wedding, Ava, the wolves, DAVID... incredible.

The Dead Letter Office of @somewhereohio - DLO 1-13: Another podcast created and performed by just one person. I am always in awe. These letters are so good at being normal on the surface, but being a little off, a little wrong... with things getting more and more wrong with every letter. And poor Conway is all caught up in it! I'm curious to see what Wren ends up doing.

#audio drama sunday #tell no tales #tntpod #desert skies #stories from ylelmore #case study: IREC-A59 #hi nay #hi nay podcast #midnight burger #the dead letter office of somewhere ohio

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jonasiegenthaler · 1 year ago

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Hi so I was wondering about something. Your gifs always seem super high quality (like amaze 👌🏼) but how do you do that? Because when I want to post a gif it gives this like ‘can’t be bigger than 10 mb’ error.

ah thak you anon! a buddy of mine made a more comprehensive tutorial than i'll ever be able to so hopefully one of the links on there helps!

but specifically for the file size issue keeping the number of frames down (splitting one clip into 2 or 3 gifs) or messing with the colouring until there's less colour variance can help (like if the ice has too many shades of gray its easier to just even that out by fiddling with the brightness).

a mistake i used to make a lot was keeping the image size massive but they don't need to be wider than 540px (and the height can be anything), this chart from 2014 is still how the tumblr dashboard works so that might come in handy!

as a last ditch thing if none of that works the just mess with one of these until something works

the biggest thing imo is just to try a bunch of different shit, go crazy go stupid and save at every step (or don't!) making photoshop crash and burn just as you've figured it out is a rite of passage

#hopefully this makes sense lol #but my dms are open and i’m happy to help out with troubleshooting pr anything photoshop related!#definitely check out fir’s resource list either way though they’ve done a great job #asks #anon

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minusgangtime · 2 years ago

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Allow ME to tell a story,based on this in the gorenight RP-)

With the parasite removed from her body,the giant cat immediately collapsed to the ground,unconscious.)

“Mi-mi?..”

MB looked at his daughter,glad she was finally free from it,but he felt bad for attacking her eye,though it was in self defense,she must’ve been in so much pain..)

(Before MB could approach her,a loud screech echoed through the air as bloody strings grabbed MB as he screamed!)

The parasite still had some of midnights blood,so it had mutated into a giant bloody cat head with wings on it,MB finally seeing this monster for what it REALLY was as it grinned at him,as it slowly flew higher and higher,it knew without a body,it was only a matter of time before it died,so it decided to take down MB with it,flying higher and higher slowly,as MB and the parasite engaged in a final song as they rose above the clouds.)

Back on the ground,midnight had waken up thanks to MBs scream and watching and listening in horror to what was happening above her..)

(Back above,Near the end of the song MB had managed to get free but he held onto the bloody strings as he realized how high he was!)

Once the song finally finished,he felt his adrenaline pumping,when he felt something warm,his adrenaline had activated his fire powers as little sparks were beginning to set the bloody parasites strings on fire! He grinned as his eyes,wings and tail blew for a moment.

“Burn in hell you bitch!”

(He let go,shooting a fireball at the parasite,it immediately exploded as MB began to rapidly fall to the ground,he was about to flap his wings but he began to panic as he realized,from the force of the wind and how fast he was falling,if he used his wings,they could possibly be torn off by the wind! He closed his eyes,if he survived thanks to his phoniex powers,it was gonna be a VERY painful landing..)

However,back on the ground,midnight saw her papa falling,luckily,the song had given her just enough time to get her footing,though she was still sore she waited for her chance and once he was close enough,she jumped lending out her paws to catch her falling papa!)

(She caught him,hugging him into her chest as she fell back onto the ground with a harsh fall! Gracking the ground as she crashed into nearby buildings..)

-mod Shelby

(Oh nuuuu ;~;)

#mod speaks

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ironmanstan · 2 years ago

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My lovely little computer and her moronic little brain issues

#i.e. the cpu is making me homocidal rn #WHY are ur temps so high #i have 2 hope it is the thermal paste being cringe which honestly it probably is. mb for not replacing it at all recently #in the meantime i have to take apart and clean out all these mf fans so babygirl doesnt crash and burn my files just bc i opened photoshop #I HAVE THINGS TO DO. I DONT HAVE TIME FOR KEEPING TH SYSTEM STUFF OPEN ON THE SIDE SO I MAKE SURE ITS NOT OVERHEATING #me and my paper that has 100 words written bc i feel sick and awful suddenly. me and my graphic designs that arent done #wwowooohoyoowowwowowoaoaoaoaohoyoowowowoahahhaAAAAAAAAAAA #the gamer speaks uwu

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gikairan · 3 years ago

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News outlets are doing reports on the weird Neom project and like... I know theres going to be an incredibly interesting documentary about this project when it inevitably fails

But I bet it'll never happen until the Saudi crown prince dies u_u.

#this project advertised in the UK for a few months last year #the advert was just SUPER weird?#But also gave like 0 details on what it was #after seeing it for weeks i incognito mode searched it up and when i saw #'futuristic city concept funded by Saudi Arabia' i was like.... ah... a scam then #yes saudi has a tonne of money to throw at stupid projects but....#the very concept had so many red flags to me haha #advertising it before ground had really been broken....#the futuristic vision is literally impossible with our current techology #the fact that the specific bit being advertised was 'The line'#a literal.... line of a city.....#a report from like... a week or two ago? basically even said like... no work is really being done #theres a bunch of people paid silly money to consult on it #but most of them are leaving before anything happens #its just... a concept... that billions is being poured into and absolutely nothing is happening with #because its the crown princes idea and people have to cater to his ~ideas~#and like i know this is a project that is absolutely going to fail and fail HARD #but because its Saudi.... you know we're not going to get the Fyre festival type documentary until MBS is dead.....#but seriously... keep your eye on news about this project #its going to crash and burn i just know it

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maccreadysbaby · 2 years ago

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CRASH AND BURN™︎

fem!oc x preston garvey

in which a strange girl shows up in the commonwealth to tell the minutemen that an old enemy is rising up from the capital wasteland, and they’re not just coming for kicks and giggles. oh, and an unassuming second-in-command manages to catch her silver eye, even on the brink of war.

❝ if this is what it feels like to fall for you, garvey, i don’t want to stop until i crash and burn ❞

this is chapter eight. full chapter masterlist can be found here.

TW: none

❝ SETTLE ❞

Vault 62, DC, Capital Wasteland

Aug 11, 2287, 0900

— HEARTLEY HADN’T SPOKEN TO ANY OF HER FRIENDS BESIDES MARKUS, CHICAGO, AND MERCURY FOR FOUR DAYS. Simon and Tuesday’s father, after hearing about the wedding lying extravaganza, forbade them from hanging out with, quote-on-quote, bad influences. Jericho’s mother, after he got spontaneously better from the spontaneous sickness, had him on total lockdown; Heartley hadn’t seen him once. Scout had gone completely off the grid, probably wrestling with the fact that Riot may or may not be living anymore. Markus, Mercury, and Chicago’s families all knew that Riot was missing, and all knew varying degrees of what the children had been up to, but none found it fit to punish their kids. Neither did Heartley’s mom.

Whatever her mother said to Alec, thankfully, stopped him from throwing the kids in confinement again. It was past the weekend and he hadn’t made an appearance. Heartley was thankful.

She sat in her mother’s lab, spinning around and around in her desk chair. Riot’s disappearance was still a phenomenon within vault sixty-two, but no one dared speak about it outside of hushed tones and locked rooms. That’s always how it was when something went down in the vault. Because, when something bad happened in a vault, the person behind it had to be inside, lurking.

Heartley sighed as she spun around for the up-teenth time, glancing at her mother, who was fiddling with a little electronic machine on her worktop. She had her tongue sticking halfway out of her mouth, and was wearing some glasses with makeshift magnifiers on the lenses. Heartley was just thankful she wasn’t poking at a liver or something.

“-and then I just tighten this stupid little screw that my stupid little screwdriver can’t fit in-“

“Mom,” Heartley started, pausing the spinning chair to face her mother. “You’re narrating. You’ve been narrating for twenty minutes.”

She didn’t even look over at her daughter. “I’m focusing.”

“Calling your tools stupid helps you focus?”

Her mother only snickered lightly.

Heartley brushed her hair over her shoulders. “What are you making now, anyways?”

“A very small machine,”

The girl rolled her eyes with a smirk. “You’re a real joy to talk to when you’re working.”

“It sends electrical pulses. Kind of like a pacemaker,” She explained.

“A what?”

“Pre-War medical equipment that sends electrical pulses to help the heart beat on time,”

“Ah,”

There was a short silence.

“Hey, mom?”

“Hon?”

“What did you see in Alec?”

Her mother paused, glancing over at her. “Where’d this come from?”

Heartley shrugged. “Just curious.”

Her mother chuckled, a melodic sound. “Alec used to be different. Kind, charming, smart and loyal. Much like your friend Markus is to you.”

“Mom,” Heartley groaned, running a hand over her face.

“Just saying, Heartley. Anyways, I was one of the Enclave’s biologists, he was an engineer. We had to work together sometimes. I guess it just sprang from there. Acquaintances, friends… We got married twenty-one years ago, and a year later, we had you,”

Heartley nodded along, spinning again.

“He was… the only guy my age that I worked around. All the other men were front liners, clonking around in power armor, having to fight the useless wastelanders. I was scared if I didn’t pick him, I’d never get to pick anyone,” She murmured, still fiddling with her little screwdriver. “That I’d be alone.”

Heartley hummed. “So you didn’t actually love him, then?”

“No, I did. Just… not as well as I could have,” She admitted. “He loved me. Oh, he loved me. I could tell by the way he looked at me. He was head over heels and I… well… I chose the first boy that was presented to me.”

Her mother sighed, lifting the small machine with her hand. “That’s why, Heartley Hathaway, you don’t settle for someone just because you want a relationship. If you wait, one day, you’ll find the person that loves you endlessly that you can love endlessly, too.” She stated. “Love is a two-way street. An expressway where both directions go the same speed. If either of you are driving in the slow lane, it’s probably best you pull over.”

Heartley snickered, watching the white ceiling spin above her. “Wow. I didn’t know you had such emotionally charged intellectual rigor, mom.”

Her mother snorted. “I can say it in less philosophical terms,” She muttered, clearing her throat. “You jump the gun, you end up divorced with the biggest dick in the vault as your ex.”

Both women chuckled that time, the older of the two ending with a sigh.

“Hey, mom?”

“Hey, Heartley?”

The girl stopped spinning, glancing down at the desk. “What if I never find that person? I’m friends with pretty much all of the options available to me and… I don’t feel that way toward any of them.”

“Yet,” She added.

“I’m serious, mom. Markus is my best friend and I love him to bits but I could never ever date him. Simon and Tuesday are great and all but they’re like brothers. They’re all like brothers. The only one that wasn’t was…”

“Riot,” Her mother finished the sentence for her.

“Yeah, he was different. But I’d still never date him. I can’t see myself having a future with any guy in this vault,” Heartley complained. “I’m gonna be alone forever!”

“Y’know, staying unmarried isn’t a bad thing. You can use your time to focus on yourself, and whats most important to you,”

Heartley spun again. “But I… don’t do anything. I don’t have a job. I cant follow in your footsteps because I’d need an hour just to memorize the titles of the books you know by heart. If I stay alone, then I’ll be… nothing.”

“Heartley, honey, your worth isn’t in your job or how successful or well known you are. Your worth comes from what’s inside. Your character. The positive and negative traits that make you a unique and diverse individual. Your strengths and your weaknesses, and everything in between… that’s what gives you value,” She murmured.

Heartley’s brown tilted inward. “If you believe that, then why does the Enclave hate wastelanders? Aren’t they just people, too? People with positive and negative traits that make them unique and diverse individuals? They have strengths and weaknesses and everything in-between…”

Her mother looked over at her, sternly, and it made her shut her mouth.

After a few moments of silence and spinning, her mother piped up: “You know why I want you to be with Markus?”

Heartley paused and looked over at the silver-haired woman, suppressing an annoyed glare. “Why?”

“Because I see the potential in him to be so much more than Alec ever was… and I want you to have that. I don’t want you to go through what I went through, I want you to have the perfect person, from the start. Because you deserve it,”

Heartley smiled warmly. “I know you only want the best for me, mom, but I think the best for me is to find my person myself. Wait until we find each other, like you said earlier. And whether that’s Markus in seven years or someone in this vault I’ve never spoke to before, I still want to wait, not settle. Weren’t you just lecturing me about not settling, and now I'm lecturing you on it?” Heartley chuckled, and her mother did, too.

“I guess so,” She stated, lifting up the magnifiers from the lenses of her glasses. “You’re an astounding young woman. Whoever has the privilege of finding you, Markus or not, will be an incredibly lucky young man.”

Heartley smiled again. “Thank you, mom.”

A pleasant silence passed, during which Heartley thought about her future. She wondered who in the vault it would be. Maybe it really was Markus, and they’d look back and laugh at all the times they called her mother crazy. Maybe it would be Simon, and they’d have wished they got married when they pretended they were. Maybe it’d be… maybe it’d be…

…Riot. Maybe she’d find him. Maybe he’d come out of hiding. And she’d never let go of him again.

Her mother snickered.

“What?”

“You haven’t taken off Simon’s lab coat since he let you take it,”

Heartley scoffed, glancing down at the white coat that covered her jeans and purple flannel. “Why take it off when it gives me a perfect excuse to play scientist with you?”

They both chuckled, but abruptly stopped when the lab door slid open with a muted hiss. Their eyes both flicked to the door, the same confused expression crossing their similar features.

Tuesday Jones was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, scanning every nook and cranny of the lab. After he’d successfully dissected the entire room his expression fell into a state Heartley had never seen on him before: fear.

“Oh my God, this can not be happening. This can not be happening,” He muttered, turning and escaping back into the hallway. Heartley and her mother shared a glance, the youngest of the pair hopping out of the chair and jogging after him.

She turned into the hallway, trotting to keep up with his quickly fading back. “Tuesday. Tuesday, what’s going on?”

“You still have his lab coat,” He muttered, not turning back or pausing on his way to the stairs. Heartley jogged behind him.

“Does he need it back?”

“He went to get it back last night. He was going to you and coming right back, I should’ve gone with him, but I was so stupid I didn’t even consider it. I just said okay and went to bed, how-“

“Tuesday,” Heartley caught his shoulder before he could take the first step down the stairs. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He turned to her, his brown eyes empty. He was disheveled; Heartley had never seen him like that before. “We can’t find Simon. Dad and I were in bed when he left to get his lab coat back from you. He wasn’t there when we woke up.”

Heartley’s blood ran cold, and she felt a little dizzy. “What time did he come to my room?”

“Maybe midnight, or half past,”

She wracked her brain for any memory, but it came up empty. “I was already asleep, I think. Mom surely would’ve told me if he came to the door.”

Like her words were a queue, her mother poked her head out of the lab. “Honey, everything okay?”

Heartley glanced over at her, frowning harder. “Did Simon come to the door last night?”

Her mother humphed. “No. Why?”

Heartley turned back to Tuesday, whose face was losing color. She didn’t have time to answer her mother before he continued: “I’ve checked everywhere he would go.”

“Mercury’s?” She tried.

“That was the first place I checked. Mercury hasn’t seen him,”

“Chicago’s?”

“Nope, hasn’t seen him, either,”

“Markus?”

“Last saw him in the medbay with you,”

“Jericho?”

“His mom used some very colorful words to tell us no,”

“Scout?”

“He’s been in confinement since the night you and Simon told us about the terminal. Long story short he drank himself senseless and tried to talk to Alec,”

“Closet?”

“Empty,”

“Medbay?”

“Likewise. I told you, Heartley, I checked everywhere he would go,” He stated, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“Have you told security?”

“Not after what they did to us over Riot. I think my dad will soon, though,” He stated. His hands were starting to shake by his sides. “I can’t… I can’t think. If I could just think I might be able to solve this. I’ve watched dad do open heart surgeries, I’ve seen people on the brink of death, this… this should be nothing. I should be fine.”

“Tuesday. Slow down. Breathe,” Heartley ordered, placing her hands on his shoulders. His eyes met hers but they were shielded — cold. “Our friend disappeared out of thin air and now you can’t find your twin, you have the right to be upset. It’s okay to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” He brushed her hands off and continued down the stairs, and she followed him. “I just need to sit down and think. There’s always a solution, there has to be. Everything in life has a formula. An answer. Everything is an equation, and if you put the pieces in the right place, you’ll find the answer.”

“Tuesday,” She tried as she trailed along behind him. He was making for the medbay, and she could see his father inside.

“I just need to-“

She stepped in front of him. “Breathe, Tuesday. You need to take a minute and breathe.”

“I am breathing,” He shot back.

“You’re also shaking, and pale. Give yourself a minute,” She stated, stepping a bit closer.

He wouldn’t meet her eye. “I’m not going to waste time being upset when I could be finding an solution.”

She reached up and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. His eyes trailed down to the floor, and a second later, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why did it have to be him?” He muttered. Heartley frowned, stepping forward and pulling him into a one-sided embrace. It wasn’t often she hugged Tuesday Jones, he never needed it.

This was bad.

#oc; heartley #mb; crash and burn #preston garvey x oc #fo4 preston #preston garvey #preston

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