#thank you all for the amazing tags and notes on my fics here too!!

[keeryhours]

don’t say you love me - chapter one

Masterlist Series Masterlist Tag Lists

Eddie Munson x Hopper!reader, Billy Hargrove x Hopper!reader

Summary:

You get yourself into a situation with two guys you should have absolutely nothing to do with.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected and protected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, weed use, angst, pregnancy, love triangle

Word Count: 7.8k

A/N:

Thank you so much @feral4youu my love for the idea for this fic! Your mind never ceases to amaze me.

You loved your dad.

As far as parents go, he was the best you could ask for. Loving, kind, not too terribly strict despite being the police chief. And he really, truly did love you.

Your mother had always been distant. When she left the two of you with nothing but a note, it hadn’t even been that big of an adjustment. It had always been you and your dad, and as long as you had him, you knew things would be alright.

You’d always had the type of relationship where you felt you could tell him anything. He’d come home from a long day at work and sit in the recliner with his beer, happily listening to you tell him the latest gossip in your friend group. He would listen with full attention, every now and then a genuine reaction - raised eyebrows, “Tina did what? With Carol’s boyfriend?”

The only things he could be strict about were grades, and boys.

You weren’t allowed to date until you were 15. And even then, any guy who wanted to take you out had to go through such rigorous questioning, they felt it wasn’t worth the effort. You were popular - head cheerleader, friendly, friends with the right people, smart and head of your class, and beautiful, according to the Hawkins population. So it’s not like you had a shortage of guys willing to take you out.

But your dad was having none of that.

“You don’t understand,” your dad would say. “Men are dogs, sweetheart. You’re better off without ‘em.”

Things changed your senior year.

You properly met Eddie Munson, first of all. He was a Super Senior, on his second attempt. And it’s not like you didn’t know of him before - everyone in Hawkins knew of Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Most of your friends had been buying weed from him for years.

Eddie always flirted with you. He’d act like a total gentleman any time you were around, making space for you to walk, holding doors open for you, pulling your chair out when you sat down during class. When you’d go with Carol and Tina to buy, he’d single you out specifically, call you beautiful and make eye contact with only you.

“Think the Freak has a crush on you,” Carol laughed as the three of you left with your stash of weed.

“You think?” you asked with hope in your voice and butterflies in your stomach.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you’d consider it?” Tina said, her eyebrows raised.

“No, of course not,” you said. “I just…didn’t think he liked me like that.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Carol said. “It’s obvious. He’s got a major hard-on for you.”

You blushed. “I don’t think-“

“Oh, he totally does,” Tina added. “So gross.”

“And you know Jason Carver has been into you for years-“ Carol said, but you cut her off.

“You know my dad doesn’t let me date,” you reminded her, mostly just to get off the subject of Jason.

“Which is so dumb,” Carol said. “Does he want you to die alone?”

“Probably,” you mumbled.

The next time you saw Eddie, you were both alone. You had been sitting out on the picnic table in the woods behind the school, wanting time alone. The sound of Eddie’s footsteps had startled you.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, a friendly smile on his face as he held his hands up. “Didn’t expect anyone to be out here.”

“Me either,” you said, putting your feet back on the ground to get up. “Sorry, I’ll just-“

“No, stay,” Eddie had said. “I could use the company.”

Eddie was easy to talk to. He was funny, he was nice, he made you feel comfortable. And when he ended up standing between your legs, his lips on yours and his hands gripping your bare thighs, well, you couldn’t say it was totally unexpected.

Eddie was your first, and you were his. But once you’d had sex, he was feral for it. You hooked up near constantly, any time he could pull you away without suspicion, he would.

You had been scared at first. You knew it would be a disaster if your dad found out. Not only were you not supposed to be doing anything with guys, but this was Eddie Munson. Your dad knew perfectly well what Eddie did for extra cash.

You had a few particularly close encounters. You always either rode the bus or got a ride from a friend home after school - your dad worked late and never had time to pick you up. So, you started spending your time with Eddie after practice.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie panted from behind you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, light bruises appearing beneath his fingers. He didn’t even notice, too lost in his own pleasure he was chasing inside of you. “Always so tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum.”

“Please,” you gasped out. “I want you to.”

Eddie groaned, his hair tickling your back as his head dropped forward on his shoulders. His hips were rutting into you desperately, pumping his entire length into you. You could feel every ridge and vein of him - but you knew his shape by heart at this point.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body flush against his own. He thrusted hard into you a few more times, then, with a cry of your name, he came, filling you deeply.

When he pulled out, he could see his cum dripping out of you. He watched with wide eyes, wanting nothing more than to dive back in, his cock already twitching back to life-

There was a banging on the side of the van.

“Munson!” your dad yelled. “I know you’re in there, and it better not be with my daughter.”

You both froze. “Fuck,” Eddie whispered, jumping into action and pulling his boxers and jeans back on. “Fuck!”

You pulled your dress back down, then searched all around you. “Eddie, where are my panties?”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, a sheepish grin on his face as he pulled the thin lace material from the pocket of his jeans and handed them over. “Just thought I’d keep a souvenir.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you put them back on. There was another loud banging and then Eddie threw open the back doors just as you straightened out the skirt of your dress.

Hopper looked into the vehicle, looking very pissed off. He said your name. “What are you doing in here?”

You wished you had thought of an excuse before this moment. “We have a project together.”

“Oh yeah?” Hopper didn’t sound like he believed you at all. “Where is it?”

Eddie met your eyes, like, you started this one, it’s on you. “We were just brainstorming. We just got it assigned today.”

Your dad sniffed the air- no doubt searching for the smell of weed. You just hoped he couldn’t smell the sex. When he didn’t recognize anything that set off alarms, he looked at you again. “Well, come on. I’m driving you home.”

You bid Eddie an awkward goodbye, then followed your dad to his car. You avoided looking at him as you buckled your seatbelt - you did just get your back blown out by Eddie in the back of his van, after all.

“Don’t hang out with him,” your dad said as he drove you home. “I’m serious. Anyone but him. Munson is trouble.”

“Dad, he’s not a bad guy-“

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “I know what he does. And you’re too good to get involved in any of that. You have such a bright future, I don’t want to see it wasted on some loser.”

“Dad, Eddie is not a loser-“

“Sure,” he said. “But my point stands either way. Don’t waste time with him.”

You could still feel Eddie’s release between your thighs the whole way home.

Billy Hargrove came crashing into your life all on his own. He had come to Hawkins his senior year, taking over as the most popular guy in school. 

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Steve had said, slamming his locker shut to make the point. “Seriously. Stay far away from him.”

It seemed like that had always been a personal challenge for you.

You actually met Billy when he joined the basketball team. You spent a lot of time with the basketball guys, being head cheerleader. It was his first game with the team, and you had to admit, he impressed you. Billy was really good. Your eyes stayed glued to him the entire game, and he definitely noticed with the way he kept smirking in your direction every time he’d do something cool.

“I think Billy’s looking at you,” Chrissy leaned over and said with a huge grin on her face.

You found yourself smiling back. Sure you’d heard the rumors about Billy already, but it’s not like you needed him to fall in love with you. You were down to just have some fun.

Billy loved that about you. You caught his attention the first time he ever saw you, but once he realized you were down for no strings attached hookups? You became his favorite girl in town.

He approached you after that game as everyone was running to the showers. He was a smooth talker, that was for sure. He gave ladies man vibes the second you saw him, but hearing him talk, you could really see it. It didn’t take a lot of flirting before you were sneaking into the men’s locker room with him after everyone else had left, letting him undress you and then take you against the wall while the steam and heat surrounded you.

Billy couldn’t get enough of you once he’d had you. And once he found out you wanted to keep things secret because you were the police chief’s daughter? That made you even more irresistible.

“You’re hooking up with Billy?” Eddie said, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hargrove?”

“Um…yeah,” you’d said awkwardly, as Eddie was naked between your legs. He was kissing across your inner thighs, nearing where you needed him the most.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I like him?” You sat up on your elbows, looking down at Eddie. “He’s not the worst guy ever like everyone says.”

“Only he is.” Eddie moved in and licked a stripe along your folds, making you gasp. “He’s a huge fucking asshole.”

“Well, I like him,” you defended as strongly as you could while Eddie was eating you out, groaning as he devoured you. He always knew how to get the last word of an argument.

“Why don’t you stop thinking about him and let me take care of you, baby?”

You were putting the last of your books away in your locker for the day when you felt a set of muscular arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you close into the owners’ firm body. Carol, Tina, and Chrissy gave you a mischievous look - it wasn’t hard to imagine who it was.

“Hey, baby,” Billy whispered into your ear. “What are y’doing?”

“Just getting ready to go home,” you said. “Carol’s driving me.”

Billy looked over at your friends as if noticing them for the first time. He gave them a wolfish grin before looking down at you. “Yeah, I think you’re gonna have a change of plans.”

“Oh yeah?” you laughed.

“Yeah,” he said again easily. “I think I’ll bring you home tonight.”

“Have fun, you two,” Carol said, then you watched as your friend group left you with nothing but a knowing look on each of their faces.

Billy was already kissing down your neck, his large hands sliding beneath the hem of your cheer skirt. “Need you so bad.”

You leaned back into his touch, nearly forgetting yourself and where you were. “Let’s go.”

You spotted Eddie on your way out, smoking a cigarette in the parking lot. You gave him a nod and he watched as you walked off towards the Camaro with Billy’s hand on your ass. For once, he thought it would be pretty funny if the police chief just so happened to be here.

Billy opened the passenger door for you, his hand trailing up your thigh as you slid into the seat. He was being needier than usual. Once he was seated himself, he started the car, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped off.

You always loved it when Billy drove with one hand like this. His fingers pushed up your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. You were wet already, pushing down against him.

“Needy slut,” he hissed, although he was the one nearly begging for it. “Wait until I can get my hands on you.”

You expected him to take you to Lover’s Lake as usual, but instead he pulled up in front of his house. At least you assumed it was his house - a single story home with a screened in porch. No cars were outside. Billy had never taken you home before.

“Is this your place?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he said. “But my dad and step mom went out of town for the weekend, so…we’re good.”

“What about your sister?”

“First of all, she’s not my sister,” he said. “And she’s staying with her friend. She won’t bother us.” He leaned over the seat towards you, placing a kiss on your lips. “We’ve got the place to ourselves all weekend. You could…even stay, if you wanted to.”

Billy was really asking you to spend the whole weekend with him? “Maybe.”

Billy smiled. He kissed you one more time, then the two of you climbed out of the Camaro. Billy unlocked the front door and you followed him inside. The inside of the house was much different than you expected. It hardly even looked like a family lived here. Billy’s weights were set up right off the living room with a tiny TV next to them. There was a closed bedroom behind it that you assumed was Max’s, then a hallway with more rooms to the right.

He dropped his denim jacket on the couch then opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, popping it open and taking a long drink. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt underneath the jacket, his even tighter jeans hugging his huge thighs. You could never say he wasn’t easy on the eyes.

He finished the beer and tossed it in the trash can, then turned to you. “D’you want anything? A beer, a soda, water…”

“I’m good,” you said. Billy smiled softly at you and then he spun you around, leading you down the short hall with his hand on your lower back. He opened the last door, revealing a bedroom that was definitely Billy’s, yet neater than you had been expecting.

His plaid bed sheets were tucked neatly, the bed made. There were no dirty clothes strewn across the floor. His cassettes and record collection were organized and put away. There weren’t even clothes poking out from his drawers. He had posters on his wall, Metallica you recognized, as well as some you didn’t know and some posters of girls.

Billy stepped around you, closing the door. “‘s not much,” he mumbled.

“It’s nice,” you smiled. He returned it.

“Now,” he said, “I’d like to see you on my bed.”

“Yeah?” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around you again, kissing all over your face and neck, down to what was exposed of your chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. His hands slid up your skirt again, grabbing your ass. He slapped it, making you gasp. 

“Billy!”

He groaned. “I can’t help myself, baby. Every time I get my hands on you, I can’t fucking help myself.”

He pushed your skirt down your legs so it pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it, kicking it away. Billy was already working on your cheer top, pulling it over your head.

His hands roamed your body, left in nothing but your bra and the tiniest pair of panties that left little to the imagination. Billy was losing his mind at the sight of them, his hands rubbing over your ass, up your sides and to your tits, nipping at your neck and chest.

“Gonna mark you up real good,” Billy grumbled against your skin. “Let Munson see what he missed out on.”

You playfully slapped at him- “Billy, don’t be an asshole.”

“What?” he asked innocently. “If I have to share, I can at least send you back with the proof of what I did to you.”

You gasped out a moan as he bit down particularly hard on your neck, sucking on the skin and running his tongue over the bite. “Fuck, I need you right now.”

Billy pushed you down onto his bed. You bounced slightly as you watched him watching you, eyes never leaving your body as he kicked off his shoes, tossed his shirt and worked his belt open. You were practically drooling as he revealed more of his incredible body to you. You had never been too concerned with muscles or build before, but Billy’s body was something else entirely. He was hot.

He was already rock hard as he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down. He wrapped a large hand around his shaft, tip flushed red and glistening with precum. You could see his hand shuddering as he stroked himself, eyeing you like he could eat you alive.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He crawled over your body, pulling your panties down and tossing them anywhere. He placed his hands on your knees and slowly spread your legs, groaning as he finally saw your pussy, so wet and ready for him.

He made quick work of your bra, getting rid of that and immediately wrapping his lips around your nipple. You arched into him, bare pussy grinding against his cock, desperate for him to stop teasing and fuck you already.

“God, you’re such a needy little slut. And everyone thinks you’re this good girl.” He nuzzled against the side of your head, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “What would your daddy think if he could see you like this? Desperate for my cock?”

“Billy,” you whined. “Please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

Billy chuckled, pulling back to drag his cock through your folds, teasing your hole every now and then. “I bet he thinks you’re off somewhere studying right now. Gonna get into a real good school, right? Following the rules, never lying…” His tip slipped inside and you gasped, fingers gripping onto his sheets. “Definitely not letting guys like me fuck you stupid.”

He sunk fully into you with a roll of his hips, his entire thick length splitting you open. He moaned as he began thrusting into you quickly, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. You held tightly onto his shoulders.

“Billy,” you moaned, fingers threading through his mullet of dirty blonde curls. You pulled on them slightly - he always loved when you did that. This time it earned a stutter from his hips, a weak “H-oh,” from him.

Billy never liked to admit weakness, but he was weak for you. You knew all the right things to do, the places to touch, the things to say. What was he supposed to do?

He buried himself in you with every thrust, each one powerful and strong, rocking the mattress. He would never admit it to you, but he never fucked the other girls the way he fucked you. He loved to take his time with you, to feel every inch of you, to savor it. He loved fucking you slow, watching the cute faces you’d make every time he hit your g spot with the head of his cock. He just loved looking at you - especially when your face was twisted in pleasure he was giving you.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking down at you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, cheeks flushed, the slightest bit of sweat across your forehead, lips parted. You looked so beautiful like this, he thought.

He grabbed onto your thighs and pushed them up, spreading you wider and giving himself a better view. He was able to get deeper like this, pound into you faster, and he took advantage of that.

“You feel how deep I’m in you?” he grunted, hand resting on your lower belly.

“M-mmhmm,” you attempted to hum in agreement, but then he was pushing down, groaning as he could feel the pressure against his cock, and you were- oh god-

“Billy,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum-“

“Yeah, shit, yeah, cum for me,” he panted, fucking you faster, his own release imminent. He hiked your leg up over his shoulder and leaned over your body, kissing you hard as he nearly bent you in half.

Your orgasm hit you, but every thrust of his cock was still hitting that spot and making it feel like it was lasting forever. You tried to tell Billy it was too much, but the way he was laying on you made it impossible. A few actual tears slipped from your eyes.

Billy noticed immediately. “Holy shit,” he said, and then he dropped his head into your neck and cried out as he came, pumping his load into you, thrusting in as deep as possible to make sure you got every drop.

His trembling body remained on top of you for a bit longer, then he rolled off, pulling out and laying down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, nuzzling his face into your neck. Billy Hargrove was not a cuddler after sex - usually it was okay thanks, bye. But with you…he never wanted to let you go.

You didn’t question it. You weren’t sure you wanted to go down that path.

Billy played with your hair as you laid there. He thought - about you, mostly. Should he actually ask you out? He’s been playing this cool guy who only does hookups role for so long, he’s almost forgotten how to initiate a relationship. Did he want one? With you, yes. Absolutely. So why didn’t he just ask? It drove him crazy that he knew you still slept with Munson. He had stopped sleeping with other girls. Sure, he hadn’t exactly told you that yet, because wouldn’t that make it too real? Would you even like that? Or would it scare you right back into Eddie’s arms? But if there’s one thing Billy knew, it’s how he felt about you.

You liked Billy. You really did. But could you even be together if you wanted to be? Your dad certainly knew of Billy, too. He’s just as high on the stay away list as Eddie.

But you let Billy cuddle you. You let him twirl your hair, trace your skin with his fingers, pepper your body in kisses and affection, whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

Maybe it was wrong of you. Maybe you just wanted to feel loved. Maybe you really could love him back. Or maybe you never would.

You spent that weekend with Billy, with a promise to your dad that you were at Chrissy’s. You felt horrible lying to him, but there’s no way he would have let you stay otherwise. The thought was laughable.

You had never lied to your dad before this year. It felt horrible, like grime stuck to your skin you could never wash away. And to lie so you could sleep with guys? Who even were you becoming?

You didn’t dwell on that thought for the weekend. You allowed yourself to be spoiled by Billy - you fucked, you watched movies, fucked some more, cooked together, slept in bed cuddled together, fucked again. When you finally left Sunday evening, Billy had a perfectly sated smile on his face, leaning against his bedroom door in nothing but a pair of boxers, smoking a cigarette as you packed your stuff.

You heard the door open as you were zipping up your bag, then- “Ew, gross.”

You smiled as Billy scrambled to throw some sweats on. “Hey, Max.”

“Hey,” she greeted you. She always liked you, the times you’d been in the car while Billy drove her home or to the arcade. At least you were nice and didn’t totally ignore her.

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Billy asked gently as you headed for the front door with your cheer bag. His hand rested on your cheek, looking into your eyes like you held the secrets of the universe there. “I don’t like you walking alone.”

“That would kind of give away the lie,” you said, with a forced playfulness. You didn’t exactly want to walk all the way home either, but you weren’t going to pull up at home in Billy Hargrove’s Camaro.

“Let me at least take you part way,” he said. “It’s a long walk.”

Eventually, you agreed to that. Billy put a shirt on and escorted you out to the car. He drove you most of the way home, stopping half a mile from your cabin. “You sure you’re good from here?”

“Yes, Billy,” you said. You were already climbing out of the car with your bag slung over your shoulder. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he said. “See you.”

Billy watched you walk as far as he could see, then found a spot to turn around and go back to his own house. He knew he needed to be there before his dad and Susan got home.

When you saw your dad was already at home, you breathed a sigh of relief that you hadn’t let Billy drive you all the way. You knew it was unlikely, but it was still a possibility. You walked up the front steps and let yourself inside.

Hopper looked up as you walked in, a smile on his face. “Well if it isn’t my beautiful daughter I never see. How was Chrissy’s?”

He didn’t sound suspicious at all, which was a good thing, but only made you feel a million times worse. “Good. We had fun.”

“Good,” he said. He took another sip from his beer. A pause. “That Munson boy called for you again.”

You almost rolled your eyes. You had told Eddie time and time again that you would call him. “Oh yeah? Probably just about the project.”

Your dad hummed. “You know I don’t want you spendin’ time with him-“

“-anymore than I have to, yeah I know,” you said. You tried not to let visions of things you and Eddie had already done flash through your mind, but you were powerless to stop it.

“He’s bad news, honey,” he said. “We’ve had him in the station a lot. Him and that…new Hargrove boy.”

Your cheeks flushed. Of course your two hookups were the entirety of the list. “I won’t, dad. I hardly even know them.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he said. “You’re a good girl. You’re not dumb. Don’t do something dumb.”

“Where were you all weekend?”

Eddie’s voice purred in your ear as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close into his lean body. You giggled, letting him hold you, touch you.

“Billy’s,” you said, like it was nothing.

Eddie froze. “You were at Hargrove’s all weekend?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning around in Eddie’s arms. “His parents were gone for the weekend, so he asked me to stay over.”

Eddie was looking at you with his brows furrowed. “That’s serious.”

“No it’s not,” you said dismissively, waving that idea off. “He just wanted to get laid all weekend.”

“I’m telling you,” Eddie said, looking at you seriously. “It is. If Hargrove asked you to play house with him all weekend, it’s because he feels something for you. More than just sex.”

“Eddie, do we have to do this right now?” You played with the curls at the bottom of his neck, the ones that always drove him crazy. Eddie groaned, the fight leaving his body.

“Jus’ don’t want you forgettin’ about me,” he mumbled.

Your heart sunk. “Eddie, that’s not gonna happen.”

Much like Billy, Eddie also had constant thoughts of why he didn’t just ask you out. You were everything he wanted. The only thing he wanted. He didn’t look at other girls at all. He knew the thing with your dad would be an obstacle, but it didn’t have to mean there couldn’t be anything, right?

And he thought you liked him, too. That was until Billy came into the picture. Before Billy, you and Eddie just hooked up with each other, no one else. It was just a few words away from being official - at least that’s how Eddie saw it. When he learned you had started sleeping with Billy, he had to pretend to be a lot less phased than he was.

Because he had been hurt.

“What if Billy asks you out, huh?” Eddie asked. “What would you do?”

You looked up into Eddie’s big brown eyes. “Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Eddie didn’t know what to say to that. His lips parted, but no sound came. Before he could think about it too much, you connected your lips to his. Any thoughts that had been in his head swiftly left as he felt your tongue prodding against his bottom lip.

“Take me somewhere,” you whispered, and Eddie’s grip tightened on you like he was scared you’d drift away.

“Let’s go to my van,” he said.

You and Eddie practically ran out of the school hand in hand, giggling as you sprinted for his van. You got some strange looks from other students - even your friends didn’t understand your weird flip-flopping between Eddie and Billy - but you didn’t care. You never had. And you were well liked enough that no one was going to go tattling to your dad.

Eddie started up the van and drove off. He could and would have fucked you right there in the school parking lot where everyone could see the van rocking as he pounded into you, but he thought you deserved more than that.

So Lover’s Lake it was.

He pulled to a stop in front of the familiar lake, killing the engine. He nodded back towards the back, and you didn’t have to be told twice before you were climbing between the seats and to the large open space behind them. Eddie was right behind you, and then he was all over you.

He felt every inch of your body, like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. You kissed frantically, hands and lips everywhere. Eddie groaned, his pants even tighter than how they began. He shuddered when you ran your hand over the bulge in his jeans.

“Please,” he gasped. “Need you.”

Eddie could be dominant, but for the most part he was much more submissive than Billy. He had no problem begging, or letting you take control. Billy was different. He liked pushing you down, taking what he felt belonged to him. Eddie was all sweet touches and pleading and looking up at you with his doe eyes while he begged to cum.

You began undoing his belt and jeans while Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your dress. He stroked you over your panties, feeling the material soaked from your arousal. Nothing got Eddie off like seeing how badly you wanted him.

Just as you shoved his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock, Eddie pulled away from you, pushing you back and making you gasp as he dove in between your legs. He buried his face against your cunt, breathing in your scent, nose pressed against the wet material of your thin panties. You gasped again when his tongue came out and licked you over the fabric.

“Need to taste you,” he begged. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet. Can’t resist this pussy.”

You whined. “Please.”

Eddie didn’t need to hear anything else. He slipped his ringed fingers beneath the waist of your panties and pulled them down, wasting not a single second before he was burying his face in your bare pussy. His long tongue licked along your folds, then he really dove in, two fingers slipping inside of you until you could feel the metal of his rings against your skin.

He thrusted his fingers as he worked that talented tongue over your clit, making your head absolutely spin as you writhed on the messy floor of his van. But how many times had he fucked you back here already? Eddie had fucked you lots of places, to be fair.

“Eddie, I’m- oh!” 

You cried as he sucked hard, your thighs trembling around his head, fingers tangling in his curls. You pulled on his hair, making him moan against your pussy. He was thrusting against the blanket beneath you, his dripping cock rubbing against the material providing some kind of relief.

He just needed you to cum for him, at least once. He didn’t think he could survive without it, didn’t want to cum inside you without the taste of your own release still on his tongue.

You were going to give him exactly what he wanted. You could feel it building deep in your belly, your chest heaving faster with the speed of your breaths. He sped up the pace of his fingers, his tongue working over you exactly the way he remembered you loved.

“Eddie!”

Eddie groaned as you tightened around his fingers, cumming all over his hand and mouth. He fucked you faster through your release, until you were covering your face and telling him to stop. When you couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back and placed a final kiss against your clit.

“Always taste so good,” he said with a wicked grin, like he’d gladly do it all over again. If he knew how Billy had made you cum so hard you cried, he would take it as a personal challenge.

He kissed you, pushing your dress up your body. You could fully taste yourself on his tongue, and it excited you. The first time Eddie had kissed you after going down on you, you weren’t sure you liked it - but it grew on you. He slipped your dress off over your head and threw it to the side.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” he asked quietly as he nuzzled between your tits, kissing over every bit of exposed skin he could get to.

“That’s not true,” you said, like the natural reaction to being called beautiful was to shut it down as soon as possible.

“But it is,” he said. He looked down, then back up. “Do you see what you do t’me?”

“That’s not that hard to do,” you teased, and Eddie smiled.

“To this level, yeah, pretty hard to do.” He kissed you. “I only get this hard for you.”

“How romantic,” you giggled. Your laugh turned into a gasp when he bit down on your neck, covering a hickey Billy had left over the weekend.

“I can be romantic, if that’s what you want,” he said. “I just thought you liked getting fucked like a whore.”

“I do,” you said quickly. “I like both.”

Eddie smirked down at you. “I could be slow and gentle sometimes too, y’know.”

“I like when you fuck me,” you pouted.

Eddie chuckled. “I like fucking you too. I just, I don’t know…sometimes I wanna take it slow. Really look at you. Really feel you.”

Your heart was beating faster. “Yeah?”

Eddie was kissing across your chest now. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Can I do that?”

You thought about it. It seemed like it was awfully close to catching feelings, which you had promised yourself you wouldn’t do, for either of them. But the way Eddie made your heart beat, the way you wanted him to make love to you, wanted him to love you-

“Okay,” you said. “Just this once.”

Eddie smiled. He unhooked your bra and let you pull his t-shirt over his head. He kissed all over your body, taking his sweet time working his hips back between your legs.

“Don’t wanna use a condom,” he mumbled. “I wanna feel you. All of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “I’m on birth control, you know that.”

Eddie knew that very well. He was paranoid about the consequences, though - usually he used a condom every time anyway, just to be safe. But sometimes…

“No fucking condom,” he said. He kissed you hard again as he lined himself up at your entrance, pushing just barely inside. He sunk into you with a slow roll of his hips, your body turning to pure electricity as you felt every single inch of him inside of you.

He was slowly grinding his hips into you, carefully thrusting at a pace slower than he’d ever used. It took everything in him not to pound you into the floor, but he was loving the feeling of savoring your body. He could really feel every inch of your velvety walls, the way you clenched around him, holding his cock tightly within your warmth.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, whispering right in your ear as he made love to you. “Feel so fuckin’ good. Always so tight for me, like your body was made for me. Only me.”

Eddie always got a little possessive, especially if he knew you had recently been with Billy. He would never say it, but it was obvious that it drove him crazy. He needed to claim you for his own.

Eddie’s lithe body rolled as he pressed his cock into you over and over, holding your body close to his. You could feel his heart beating against your own chest, and you wondered if he could feel yours, too. Eddie kissed your neck as he fucked you, covering every mark Billy had made.

He reached in between your bodies and rubbed against your clit. You whimpered, something had already been building just from the feeling of the way he was fucking you, taking you apart.

“Eddie,” you whined, “I’m…I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned. “Yeah, baby, I want you to. Got to taste your cum on my tongue, now I wanna feel you make a mess on my cock.”

You whimpered again as Eddie began to lose himself, his hips speeding up back to a normal pace for him. His hips were snapping against yours, his moans becoming shaky and weak. You were throbbing around him as your orgasm built and built.

When it snapped, your mouth dropped open in a wide O, your nails digging into Eddie’s back and scratching down his skin, leaving bright red marks. You cried out his name again and again like a prayer, and the feeling of your pussy clenching around him combined with the look on your face pushed Eddie over the edge.

He came hard inside of you, grunting your name until it turned into more of a whine, a plead. He shook as he held onto you - Eddie always came so hard, so much. You could feel him filling you, feel the way he came so much it was dripping out from around him.

When he pulled out, he inhaled sharply, eyes glued to the mess he left behind. His favorite part, the part he didn’t get to enjoy when he used a condom. This was worth the risk.

“Fuck, look at you,” he remarked. “That’s so fuckin’ filthy.” His eyes remained glued to you, taking in the view, until a lightbulb went off in his head. “Shit, wait! Don’t move.”

You watched him curiously as he reached under his seat. He came back out holding a polaroid camera - and your eyes widened.

“I got it for us,” he said sheepishly. “Can I…?”

“You want to take a picture?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll be looking at this one every night.”

You weren’t sure how comfortable you were with this exactly, but he seemed so excited, you didn’t want to tell him no. “Okay. Just don’t get my face in it.”

“You got it.” Eddie moved back between your legs and lifted the camera to his face. He lined up the shot and took the photo. When it came out of the bottom of the camera, he held it up, waiting for it to develop. You knew it had when a wolfish grin spread across his features - “Oh, that’s a good one.” He looked up at you. “Do you wanna see?”

“I’m good,” you said, scrunching your nose up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see yourself in that way - he could keep that to himself. He certainly seemed to love it, though, the way he kept staring at the image.

“Gonna cherish this,” he said with a smile. He stuffed the photo in the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed a towel from the floor and cleaned you up with it, then handed you your clothes. You both redressed in a comfortable silence - you’d been here many times before.

“What do you want to do now?” Eddie asked. He pulled a cigarette from his pack. “I don’t really want you to go.”

You shrugged. “What do you think?”

Eddie lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips, taking a long drag. “We could smoke,” he offered. “We could make out. We could go back to my place and listen to music, smoke, and make out.”

You laughed. “Alright. Your place it is.”

It took you too long to realize something was wrong.

Being on birth control, you didn’t always get your period - so that didn’t set off any alarm bells for you at first. It was when you started getting sick after breakfast, when your clothes felt like sandpaper against your boobs, when you had to pee 50 million times a night. That’s when you got scared.

“What’s wrong with you?” a wide-eyed Tina asked at school when you showed up dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, hood pulled over your disheveled hair and dark circles beneath your eyes. “You look like shit. Like actually.”

“Yeah, are you okay?” Carol asked. She put the back of her hand against your forehead.

“I’m pregnant,” you said.

The girls froze.

“…What?” Carol asked, sure she hadn’t heard what she’d just heard. Her, Tina, and Chrissy leaned in. “Say that again.”

“I don’t know for sure, but-“

“No, say what you just said again,” Tina said. “You know, the thing you said just a minute ago.”

You looked up, willing the tears brewing in your eyes not to fall. “I’m pregnant. I think.”

The girls just blinked at you.

“Did you take a test?” Chrissy finally asked.

“No,” you said. “I haven’t…I’ve been scared.”

“Well, don’t just go around telling people you’re pregnant when you don’t even know,” Tina said.

“Oh my god,” Carol said, shoving her books back into her locker. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Carol led the way out of school. No one stopped the four of you as you walked out with confidence, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. No one ever questioned the four of you.

Carol drove you all to the pharmacy. You had a whole entourage with you as you went inside, picking up one of the results in 30 minutes! tests. Minutes later you were shut in your downstairs bathroom, grateful your dad had such a set work schedule, and taking the test while the girls bickered outside.

“If she’s pregnant, I’m the godmother-“

“No, she would pick me, we’ve been friends longer-“

“Yeah, but she likes me best, so-“

The chatter stopped when you walked out. Your friends looked at you with concern. “30 minutes,” you said, as if that wasn’t a potential death sentence.

They tried their best to keep you entertained and your mind off things as you waited the 30 minutes, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by like hours.

When the 30 minutes were up, each of your friends squeezed your hand, offering their silent support as you went inside to see the results. You looked down, and, sure enough- blue. Positive.

You choked out a sob. The girls rushed to your side, looking down at the results and then pulling you into a group hug.

“Oh, honey,” Carol said, stroking your hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re not in this alone,” Chrissy said. “We promise. You have us.”

“Do you…” Tina began awkwardly, like she knew she shouldn’t ask what she was about to but couldn’t help herself. “Do you know who the dad is?”

It occurred to everyone at that exact moment. No. You didn’t.

Something broke inside and the tears began flowing freely. You covered your face as choked sobs escaped your lungs - you were scared.

The girls did their best to calm you, to assure you everything would be okay, but you didn’t believe them. This was a fucking disaster. A baby, and no idea who the father was. There were two very possible options.

And what the fuck happened to your birth control? Useless, apparently.

The girls stayed with you all day. No one cared about skipping school, even though it was the first time you’d really done it. By the time the school day was over, you had come up with somewhat of a plan.

“Can you take me to Billy’s?” you pleaded with Carol.

She raised her brows. “You want to tell him? Now?”

“Yes,” you said. “I just…he’s…you know how Billy is.” You twisted one of your rings around your finger. “He…gets upset. So I just want to get it over with. I don’t want him to find out through a rumor or something.”

“We’re not gonna tell,” Carol said. Her eyes darted over to where Tina stood across the room. “Well, I’m not gonna tell. But yeah, I’ll drive you.”

You insisted Carol drop off Tina and Chrissy before taking you to Billy’s. The nerves were in place, and you admitted you were putting it off. Once the girls were gone and Carol’s car idled in front of the Hargrove residence, you just stared at the front door. Billy’s car was here - he was home. You didn’t see any other cars.

“You sure you want to do this today?” Carol asked, her face full of concern. “You don’t have to. You can wait.”

“There’s no point,” you shrugged. “He has to find out. I might as well…get it over with.”

Carol watched as you got out of the car and walked the sidewalk to the porch. You’d only been here the one time before, but you knew you were at the right place. You raised your fist - and let it hover over the door. You stood there - god, what would you even say? Would Billy be pissed? Would he blow up? Would he do something?

Your hand came down against the door.

as always, comments & reblogs are so appreciated!!

tag list

@rincallistis @emxxblog @loserboysandlithium @kellsck @jaybbygrl @lissssaarae @jeangeniex

[checkeredflagggs]

Subject of Interest

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!photographer!reader

summary: fans love carlos’ girlfriend and her unhinged comments and photography hobby

a/n: needed a slight break from the lando fic and I love doing these small photography based smaus. I will probably be doing these for more drivers — feel free to request someone you’d like to see!

a/n 2: fyi this is all google translate Spanish 🤷‍♀️

a/n 3: I tried to write horny for the first time and I think? It went? Ok?

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,231,445 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: mi amor, ¿sabes lo que me vas a hacer? Either put that thing away or put it to use. (My love, do you know what you're going to do to me?)

view all comments

user1: ahhhh love to see the princess back in action

↳user2: girl we missed you and your unhinged comments

landonorris: thERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT

↳princesa: then leave? I know you have enough of a brain in that empty head of yours to do that

↳landonorris: I just wanted to congratulate my friend!! Why are you so mean?!?

↳princesa: niño…(Boy)

↳landonorris: nope! Lando!

↳oscarpiastri: seriously?

↳princesa: I’m glad he’s your teammate now

↳oscarpiastri: thanks 😑

↳landonorris: hey!

carlossainz55: Of course princesa…On an unrelated note, where are you again?

↳landonorris: not you too!

↳princesa: 🚪 here’s the door! Use it

↳landonorris: I’m gonna report you for bullying

↳princesa: try it twig!

carlossainz55: Hermosa…you tell me to behave but post that picture?

↳princesa: 🤭🤭

↳carlossainz55: 🥵

↳princesa: I’ve got the car waiting for you

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user3: girl I’m begging you for just one chance

↳carlossainz55: No

↳user4: when you pull up for a competition to worship the princess and your competition is Carlos Sainz

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 1,975,245 others

tagged: carlossaiz55

princesa: 🏎️ 💨💨 vroom vroom — the cars may go fast but I’d like to take my time with you baby

view all comments

user5: congrats on the podium Carlos!!

user6: did she just…

↳user7: imply they fuck? Yes.

↳princesa: 😉

↳user7: girl Ferrari is gonna put you in pr jail

↳princesa: 🤷‍♀️ I look good in handcuffs

↳carlossainz55: 👀👀

↳princesa:😘💋❤️

landonorris: just once I’d like to open instagram and not be assaulted with you and your gross relationship 😠🤮

↳princesa: boo hoo does A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP scare you

↳landonorris: NO

↳carlossainz55: Oh?

↳landonorris: it’s your horny ass comments! Leave it at home!

↳princesa: it’s ok Lando — someday you’ll have a girlfriend

↳landonorris: ive haD GIRLDFRIENDS BEFORE

↳princesa: you’re behavior says otherwise tbh

↳landonorris: STOP LYING TO THE INTERNET

user8: did you guys go on a bike ride?

↳princesa: Carlos did! I was sitting pretty in the basket while he showed me around town before taking us to the beach, letting my man treat me right.

↳carlossainz55: As you should princesa, never lift a finger when I’m around

↳user8: wow that’s so cute and so sappy

↳user9: this comment thread called me single in every language

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,790,469 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: thank you baby for the amazing break. I’m glad I got to spend some alone time with my handsome man. Next week it’s back to the grind — I just know you’ll be on top 🏆🏆

view all comments

carlossainz55: Princesa, I’d take you to the ends of the world if you’d ask

↳user10: same! 😭

↳carlossainz55: Not this princesa

↳princesa: I’d follow you anywhere you wanna take me handsome

carlossainz55: And you know I look good on top

↳princesa: i don’t know…wanna refresh my memory?

↳carlossainz55: I do need to get my cardio in today…

↳princesa: well let’s see how fast you are then…I’m waiting 😉

↳user11: YOU ARE IN PUBLIC

user12: I gotta say it…I’ve missed these horny comments. Insta just isn’t the same without them

↳user13: heeeeyyyy 🍑🍑🍆🍆💦💦

↳user12: eww no

charles_leclerc: Forza Ferrari Sempre!! Second half of the season will be ours!

↳carlossainz55: You know it!

↳princesa: Go Ferrari!

user14: no disgusted lando comments? What’s happening?

↳princesa: i blocked him for this post 😊

↳user14: 🤣🤣

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 2,982,122 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: Ferrari might be all red but baby, blue is your color — I believe a congratulations is in order Mr Race Winner

view all comments

user15: what a race…a Ferrari, McLaren, Williams podium was not on my bingo card for the year…

user16: petition for Ferrari to officially change its color to blue

↳user17: girl like 10 different drivers dnfed

↳user16: but Carlos won!

carlossainz55: Thank you mi amor ❤️

↳princesa: No tengo las palabras para describir lo orgulloso que estoy de ti! (I don't have the words to describe how proud I am of you!)

↳carlossainz55: Conozco mi amor y eso está bien. (I know my love and that's fine.)

↳princesa: I do know how I’m gonna congratulate you tho!

↳carlossainz55: 😳😳

carlossainz55: Are you going to be my prize, mi amor?

↳princesa: oh baby you know it!

↳princesa: just wait and see what I’ve got planned for you

↳carlossainz55: 🥵🥵

↳landonorris: 🤮🤮

↳landonorris: why? Must I? Suffer?

↳princesa: i should have kept you blocked

↳landonorris: i just wanted to congratulate my friend?

↳princesa: do it on your own post and let me be horny for my man in peace

↳landonorris: you’re uninvited to my party tonight?

↳princesa: for what? You dnfed like first

↳landonorris: 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

alex_albon: congrats man! It was great to be able to share a podium with you!

↳carlossainz55: Felicitaciones a ti también (Congratulations to you too)

↳carlossainz55: it was good to see you on the podium as well

oscarpiastri: great race!

↳carlossainz55: You as well!

princesa

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 2,556,223 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: Winning looks good on you baby. You should do it more often 🏆

In all seriousness, congratulations on your season Carlos — you did fantastic this year and it was such a pleasure to travel with you and watch you live your dreams.

That said — I’m very excited for the couple of months we will have to ourselves 😘💋❤️

view all comments

carlossainz55: Princesa…I loved every second of this year, racing and traveling with you. Thank you for agreeing to my crazy idea and following me around the world.

↳princesa: oh my love…No había ningún otro lugar en el que preferiría estar que a tu lado. (There was no other place where I would rather be than by your side)

↳carlossainz55: No podría haber pedido un mejor socio (I couldn't have asked for a better partner)

carlossainz55: All to ourselves huh? 🤔

↳princesa: i know! Whatever will we do with all that time? 🤭😉

↳carlossainz55: Oh I can think of a few things 😏

↳landonorris: YEAH. GOLFING. HANGING OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. VISITING FAMILY!!

↳princesa: Oh, estoy tan contenta de tener un par de meses lejos de este niño... (I'm so happy to have a couple of months away from this child)

↳landonorris: Wrong!

↳carlossainz55: Since when can you read Spanish?

↳princesa: since when can you read?

↳landonorris: I’m reporting you again for bullying! And google translate exists ya know

↳landonorris: also! I’m gonna be visiting you this break

↳princesa: sorry not interested in a threesome

↳landonorris: NOOOO

↳landonorris: Carlos promised me a couple rounds of golf so there 😝

↳carlossainz55: it was a moment of weakness

user18: oh to have a champagne soaked Carlos Sainz sprint over to me to kiss me senseless after a spectacular race,,,

↳princesa: it’s a great experience! But get your own — this one is mine

↳user18: girl we’ve seen all your comments this year. We know

↳princesa: just like reminding people they can look but not have 😊

user19: i know everyone has been focusing on their…horniness this year but damn she must love him too. To quit her job just to follow him across the world…

↳princesa: it was a scary thought at first but I’m so glad I did it

↳carlossainz55: I am as well

↳landonorris: I’m not. Go away

↳princesa: I’m gonna be honest with you. We get worse with distance — you got off light this year

↳landonorris: nooooooooooooooo

↳user20: and they’re back to their regular programming

user21: my favorite part of the season is now knowing Lando Norris is the type of person to clutch his pearls at the sight of an ankle…

↳user22: right? Not what i expected

↳landonorris: I AM NOT!

↳user22: sure Jan

↳landonorris: I CAN HANDLE SEX JUST FINE THEIR JUST BEING MEAN TO ME

↳user21: ok grandpa, let’s get you back to bed

↳landonorris: NOT YOU GUYS TOO…

carlossainz55

liked by princesa, landonorris, user, and 4,822,445 others

tagged: princesa

carlossainz55: No more Ferrari PR jail, no more hiding these in my camera roll. My gorgeous gorgeous girl 🥵🥵 I’m so glad to be able to call you mine

view all comments

princesa: well let’s not completely get rid of the jail…I do quite like the handcuffs ☺️

↳carlossainz55: I could be persuaded

↳princesa: meet me in five?

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user23: oh my god you guys were being tame???

↳princesa: oh absolutely

↳user23: oh my god…

user24: can Carlos fight? Like seriously?

↳carlossainz55: Yes

↳user25: I think if a group of us get together we could take him

↳carlossainz55: You’d be wrong

↳princesa: sorry girls guys and nonbinary pals — I am a one man girl

↳princesa: and I think I’d have to report you to someone

↳user25: you know what? That’s fair

↳used24: and hot!?! Gotta love that kind of loyalty

landonorris: I’m gonna deactivate my account

↳princesa: I didn’t think I’d get my Christmas present so early!

↳landonorris: 😑😑

↳carlossainz55: I’ll give you a Christmas present 🎁

↳princesa: a big one?

↳carlossainz55: Oh you know it

↳landonorris: NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD. GO AWAY

user26: Sad to see Carlos leave Ferrari but good god am I excited to see the more unhinged version of him in Williams…

↳user27: thank god I’m not the only one

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[iamquiantrelle]

LADY HAMILTON (part one) • iamquaintrelle

# summary: everyone thinks that being lewis hamilton’s wife is sweet—it is for the most part—but every high has its lows. # pairings: lewis hamilton x black fem reader # tags: @barcelonesa, @lewismcqueen, @summersoniccc, @christmasbales, @issfaith, @amori1i, @toutouslilwrld, @literallysza, @jessnotwiththemess, @sailurmewn, @127hydrangeas, @that-90s-girllll, @queenshikongo3, @cocobutterqwueen, @muglermami, @beauty-gurl, @palefacestudentlove, @firstlyferrari, @kinggbl, @vintagesoul-01, @nervousstudentmiracles # warnings: formula one drama, family feuds, breastfeeding issues, postpartum depression, angst, cursing, adult themes - 18+ # author's note: although this fic shows the "high life" of being a wag - this does not support or glamorize "wag culture"; it does the opposite and sheds light on the not so fun sides of dating/marrying an athlete, especially in f1. if you are triggered by depressive epsiodes and feeling hopeless, please do not read this fic.

yourusername posted on your story 16 hours ago!

IG story comments:

lewisfantillidie: omg these are too cute!! is she here?!! stillirise: 🍼👶🏾 44forever: 😭 😭 😭 teamlhitalia: Il piccolo Hamilton è qui allora, giusto? plus44world: looking amazing as always lady hamilton mission44: so excited to to meet the babes!! fencer: uncle miles reporting for duty 🫡 ⤷ yourusername replied to fencer you’re a bit early unc 😉 she’s still wombside 13thwitness: 🤯 🤯 is it time? holy shit!! ⤷ yourusername replied to 13thwitness almost time prologic: bro didn’t even text us yet 😔 ⤷ yourusername replied to prologic we just made it to the hospital

**********************************************

lewishamilton and 2 others • The Beatle’s “All You Need Is Love”

liked by fencer, f1, scuderiaferrari, yourusername, and others

lewishamilton: We’re so blessed to welcome our third daughter Earthside yesterday morning. The staff at the hospital was amazing! Thank you all for your prayers, kind words, and support! I will take a few days offline to enjoy this moment with my family and see everyone for the final race of the season in Abu Dhabi. Everyone say hello to Love Acacia Cherise Hamilton 💕 ~ her big sisters Leia and Lake are already in love with her! 😉

view all comments….

mercedesamgf1: omg she’s so cute! congrats on another healthy baby girl lewishamilton ⤷ lewishamilton replied to mercedesamgf1 you guys were definitely betting on this…lemme guess Bono won the bet? ⤷ mercedesamgf1 replied to lewishamilton yes he did 🤗 f1: We love Love!! 💕 (get it? 🤭) ⤷ lewishamilton replied to f1 😂😂 roscoelovescoco: i’s a big’s brother’s again’s 🐶 scuderiaferrari: Benvenuto nel mondo Amore! ⤷ lewishamilton replied to scuderiaferrari: Grazie mille 🙏🏽 susiewolff: oh she’s precious!! I need to pop in for a visit for some snuggles 🥰 ⤷ lewishamilton replied to susiewolff you’re always welcome 🤗 fencer: MY NIECEE!!!!! BRUV I’M IN TEARS RIGHT NOW 😭 😭 spinzbeatsinc: damn brother can you make a boy? 👦🏾 ⤷ hamazinglew replied to spinzbeatsinc I don’t think he can 🤣 ⤷ lewisfanforever replied to spinzbeatsinc man had 3 girls in 3 and a half years - he isn’t getting any sons 😂 ⤷ user67836 replied to lewisfanforever damn 3 children in 3 and a half years is crazy work! My prayers for his wife and lewishamilton stay off her man!! dangerusswilson: congrats lewishamilton 🥳 ⤷ lewishamilton replied to dangerusswilson my guy im trying to be like you 👀 ⤷ dangerusswilson replied to lewishamilton the lord said to be fruitful and multiply and you shall, my G 🙌🏾 ⤷ kingjames replied to dangerusswilson hey now don’t give him any ideas 😏 broncos: We can’t wait to meet her!! 😊 ⤷ lewishamilton replied to broncos you guys will see her soon georgerussell63: Congrats Lewis!!! pierregasly: 🥹🥹🥹 charlesleclerc: lewishamilton please bring pictures next week! ⤷ yukitsunoda replied to charlesleclerc and lots of videos please… lewishamilton

The Dubai skyline glittered like scattered diamonds outside your hospital window.

You shifted carefully in the bed, every movement a reminder of what your body had just accomplished. Love was sleeping in your arms – all six pounds, four ounces of her, impossibly small and perfect. Her dark hair was soft as silk, and when she'd opened her eyes for the first time, they'd been Lewis's exact shade of brown.

"She's beautiful," Lewis whispered from the chair beside your bed. He'd barely left that spot in the thirty-six hours since Love's arrival, as if moving too far might break the spell of this moment.

"She is," you agreed, though your voice came out rougher than expected. Everything felt raw still. Not just physically, but emotionally too. Like you'd been turned inside out and hadn't quite figured out how to exist in your skin again.

This was supposed to be easier by now. Love was your third baby. You knew what to expect, knew the rhythm of newborn life, knew how your body typically bounced back. But something felt different this time. Harder. Like you were swimming through honey while everyone else moved at normal speed.

"The girls are gonna lose their minds when they meet her," Lewis said.

"They're gonna be so gentle with her," you said, trying to inject warmth into your voice. The truth was, the thought of managing three kids under four made your chest tight with something that might have been panic.

Lewis reached over, brushing his thumb across Love's tiny fist. "Can't believe we made something this perfect."

You looked at him – still in yesterday's clothes, stubble shadowing his jaw, eyes soft with wonder – and felt a familiar ache. He was so good at this. So natural. Already planning family adventures, talking about teaching Love to swim, to drive, to be brave and kind and everything good in the world.

Meanwhile, you were wondering if you'd ever feel human again.

"Dr. Mohammad said we can go home tomorrow morning," you said instead of voicing any of that.

"Good. The penthouse is all set up. Got the bassinet by our bed, all her clothes organized by size..." Lewis trailed off, studying your face. "You okay, baby? You look tired."

Tired. That was like calling the ocean damp.

"Just ready to get settled," you said. "Hospital beds aren't exactly comfortable."

Lewis nodded, but his expression remained concerned. You turned back to Love, letting her tiny fingers wrap around yours, and tried to ignore the voice in your head that whispered you weren't doing this right. That a good mother would be glowing with joy instead of feeling like she was drowning.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table – another flower delivery, another congratulations message, another reminder that the world was watching Lewis Hamilton's perfect family welcome their third perfect daughter.

Perfect.

The word sat heavy in your chest as Love stirred in your arms, making those soft newborn sounds that should have melted your heart completely.

They did. But underneath the love was something else. Something that felt too much like fear.

*****************************************************************

The Dubai penthouse was a study in understated luxury.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the marina, where yachts bobbed like expensive toys. The nursery Lewis had set up was a dream in soft whites and pale yellows, with a custom mobile that played a melody he'd hummed during your pregnancy.

Your husband had left before dawn for the circuit, kissing you goodbye while you were still half-asleep. Now it was just you and the girls in the sprawling penthouse, watching the world wake up thirty floors below.

"Mummy, when does Daddy's race start?" Leia asked from her spot on the enormous sectional, still in her pajamas and clutching her stuffed elephant.

"Not for a few hours, sweetheart," you said, shifting Love to your other arm as she made those soft newborn sounds that meant she'd be crying soon. "We'll watch it together."

Lake was already planted in front of the massive TV, even though it was just showing the morning news. At two and a half, she didn't understand what Formula 1 was, but she knew it meant seeing Daddy on the big screen.

Love started fussing, that escalating whimper you'd learned meant hungry, tired, uncomfortable, or some combination of all three. You'd been trying to nurse her for the past hour with limited success—your supply was still inconsistent, and she seemed perpetually frustrated by the slow flow.

"She's crying again," Leia observed helpfully.

"I know, baby. Mummy's trying to help her."

But twenty minutes later, Love was still fussing despite your best efforts. The pre-race coverage had started, and Lewis was in the garage, going through his usual routine. He looked focused and calm, but you felt like you were barely keeping your head above water.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix then unfolded like poetry on screen.

You sat with Love finally settled in your arms, Leia and Lake curled up on either side of you on the sectional. The girls were surprisingly good at watching races – something about the speed and colors kept them engaged.

"Daddy!" Lake squealed as the camera caught Lewis climbing into his car.

"He looks fast," Leia added seriously, as if speed was something you could see in someone's posture.

Lewis did look good today. The Mercedes was responding well, and you could tell from his radio messages that he was feeling confident. This was his goodbye to the team that had given him six championships. It mattered.

When he crossed the finish line, you felt tears prick your eyes despite your exhaustion. The relief in his voice over the radio was palpable, the joy of his team infectious even through the television.

Then came the donuts. Lewis spinning his car in celebration on the main straight, smoke billowing from the tires, pure euphoria in every rotation. The camera caught him climbing out for the last time as a Mercedes driver, helmet off, that brilliant smile breaking across his face.

You watched him embrace Toto, then Bonon, then his mechanics, then every team member he could find. Watched grown men cry as they hugged the driver who'd brought them so much success. Watched Lewis himself wipe away tears as he soaked in the moment.

"Daddy's happy," Lake observed.

"Very happy," you agreed, bouncing Love gently as she started to stir.

On screen, Lewis was glowing. In his element. Everything he'd worked for condensed into this perfect farewell.

Here in the penthouse, however, you felt like you were watching through glass.

Your phone buzzed constantly with notifications – congratulations messages, news articles, social media tags. You let them pile up, unread.

"When is Daddy coming home?" Leia asked.

"Soon, sweetheart. He has some things to do first, but he'll be back tonight."

Lewis would have media obligations, team celebrations, probably dinner with people from Mercedes. He'd be riding the high of this moment for hours.

You'd be here, trying to figure out why Love wouldn't stop crying and why your body felt like it belonged to someone else.

*************************************

Lewis came home around midnight, tired but still buzzing with emotion.

You met him at the door with Love in your arms – she'd been having one of her difficult evenings, crying on and off despite being fed and changed and rocked.

"How are my girls?" he asked, pulling you into a careful hug, mindful of the baby between you.

"Good," you said automatically. "Leia and Lake fell asleep watching the replay. They were so excited to see you win."

"P5," Lewis corrected gently. "But it felt like a win."

"It was a win. A perfect send-off." You meant it, even though watching his triumph had made the contrast with your own struggle feel sharper.

Lewis studied your face in the dim hallway light. "You look tired, baby."

Tired. There was that word again.

"Love's been fussy," you said instead of listing everything else – the successful feeding attempts that lasted only minutes, the endless cycle of crying and soothing that never quite worked, the way your body still felt foreign and wrong.

"Here, let me take her." Lewis reached for Love, and you handed her over gratefully.

Within minutes, she'd settled against his chest, finally quiet.

"How do you do that?" you asked, sinking onto the couch.

"Fresh hands," Lewis said simply, but you knew it was more than that. He had a natural ease with the babies that you envied.

"She's been like this all day. I can't figure out what she wants."

Lewis settled beside you, Love peaceful in his arms. "Maybe she's just having a hard day. Babies do that sometimes."

You nodded, though part of you wondered if Love could sense your own anxiety, if somehow your inability to relax was making everything harder for both of you.

"How was the race really?" you asked, needing to focus on something positive.

Lewis's face lit up as he described the strategy, the car's performance, and the emotional team meetings afterward. You listened and smiled and asked the right questions, letting his joy wash over you even as you felt separate from it.

This was what you were good at – being Lewis's wife, supporting his dreams, celebrating his victories. It was the other stuff – the daily grind of motherhood, the management of your own needs – that felt impossible lately.

Love stirred in his arms, making soft sounds that would escalate to crying within minutes. Your breasts ached with the persistent reminder that your milk supply still wasn't where it should be.

"I'm so proud of you," you said, because that was true and safe to say.

"Proper send-off," Lewis said softly.

You nodded, glancing over at Love as she began to fuss. "Feeding time?" you asked.

"I'll get it," Lewis said immediately, handing Love to you.

As he disappeared into the kitchen to heat up a bottle, you shifted Love in your arms, studying her perfect face in the soft light. She was beautiful. She was healthy. She was everything you'd hoped for.

So why did you feel like you were failing her already?

London was grey and drizzly when you arrived a week later.

Carmen met you at Heathrow with the biggest smile, immediately reaching for Love while Linda corralled Leia and Lake, who were vibrating with excitement about their new sister.

"Oh, she's gorgeous," Carmen breathed, cradling Love with the expertise of someone who'd raised multiple children. "Looks just like Lewis did as a baby."

"She's got his eyes for sure," you agreed, grateful to have your arms free for a moment as Leia and Lake attached themselves to your legs.

"How are you feeling, love?" Linda asked quietly as you all headed toward the car. "Really?"

"Good," you said automatically. "Tired, but good. Still adjusting."

Carmen gave you a look that was too knowing for comfort, but she just nodded. "That's normal. Take all the time you need."

The house felt different when you walked in. Not bad different – just fuller, somehow. There were flowers everywhere, cards and gifts from friends and family, and a banner that read "Welcome Home Love" in glittery letters.

It should have felt like coming home. Instead, it felt like stepping onto a stage where everyone was expecting a performance you weren't sure you could give.

"Mummy, mummy, we made Love a picture!" Leia announced, waving a crayon drawing that appeared to show a family of stick figures.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," you said, shifting carefully towards her. The movement was too fast, and you bit back a wince.

"Bath time!" Linda announced cheerfully, herding Leia and Lake toward the stairs. "Let Mummy get settled with baby Love."

As their chatter faded up the stairs, Carmen settled beside you on the couch where you were attempting to nurse Love. Again.

"How's feeding going?" she asked gently.

"It's..." You paused, watching Love fuss at your breast, clearly frustrated by the slow flow. "It's harder this time. I'm not producing as much as I did with the other two."

"That's normal, Y/N. Stress can affect supply. Maybe we could supplement with some formula—"

"No." The word came out sharper than you'd intended. Carmen blinked in surprise.

"It's just," you continued, trying to modulate your tone, "I breastfed the girls exclusively for months. I can do this. I just need to be more consistent with pumping, drink more water, get more rest..."

Carmen's expression was careful. "Of course, love. But there's nothing wrong with formula if you need it. Fed is best, isn't it?"

Something hot and defensive flared in your chest. "I know that. But I don't need it. Love is gaining weight fine. The pediatrician said—"

"Y/N." Carmen's voice was gentle but firm. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just saying it's okay to make things easier on yourself."

The word easier hit wrong. Like she thought you were taking the hard way for no reason. Like you were being stubborn or prideful instead of just trying to be a good mother.

"I'm sorry," you said quickly, the fight leaving you as suddenly as it had come. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just... it's been a long week."

"You don't have to apologize," Carmen said softly. "You're doing brilliantly. But you don't have to do everything perfectly, you know."

Love had given up on nursing and was starting to cry again. The sound made your chest tighten with familiar anxiety.

"I just need a minute," you said, standing abruptly and passing Love to Carmen. "Just... I'll be right back."

You escaped to the pantry, closing the door behind you with hands that shook slightly. The small space smelled like coffee and spices, familiar and safe in a way that made your throat tight.

This was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous. Carmen was trying to help, and you were being defensive and ungrateful. You were home, your family was healthy, Lewis was going to live his dream with Ferrari.

Everything was perfect.

So why did you feel like crying all the time?

You grabbed a packet of biscuits from the shelf, tearing it open with more force than necessary. The first biscuit disappeared in three bites, then the second, then a third. You ate mechanically, barely tasting them, just needing something to fill the hollow feeling in your chest.

A knock on the pantry door made you freeze.

"Y/N?" Linda's voice was soft. "Everything alright, love?"

You swallowed the biscuit in your mouth, wiping crumbs from your lips. "Fine! Just grabbing a snack. Be right out."

You shoved the packet back onto the shelf, straightened your clothes, and opened the door with what you hoped was a normal smile.

"Better?" Linda asked, studying your face.

"Much better," you said brightly. "Just needed a sugar hit. Where are the girls?"

"Clean and in pajamas, waiting for a story." Linda's eyes were concerned, but she didn't push. "Want me to take Love so you can tuck them in?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

You climbed the stairs toward Leia and Lake's chatter, leaving the hollow feeling in the pantry where it belonged. There would be time to deal with whatever this was later.

Right now, you had daughters who needed their mummy to read them a story and tuck them in and be everything they expected you to be.

You could do that much, at least.

***************************************************************

Lewis's farewell tour took him to Malaysia first, then Germany, then finally to Brackley.

You watched his Instagram stories from the London house, surrounded by the controlled chaos of life with three small children. Lewis in the Malaysian heat, hugging mechanics he'd worked with for years. Lewis in the Stuttgart factory, looking emotional as he packed up his driver's room. Lewis at Brackley, speaking to the team that had become his family.

Each post showed him glowing with gratitude and excitement, ready for the next chapter with Ferrari. The comments were full of love and support, fans celebrating his legacy and wishing him well.

You double-tapped each photo and tried to ignore how distant it all felt.

"Mummy, Love is crying again," Leia informed you from her perch on the couch, where she was coloring very seriously.

Love had been crying on and off all morning. Nothing seemed to soothe her for long – not feeding, not rocking, not the white noise machine Linda had suggested. Dr. Patel had said some babies were just fussier than others, that it wasn't necessarily anything you were doing wrong.

It felt like something you were doing wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," you said, lifting Love from her bouncer and immediately feeling the familiar weight of failure when she continued crying in your arms. "She's just having a cranky day."

"Like Lake yesterday?" Leia asked without looking up from her coloring.

"Something like that."

Lake had had a spectacular meltdown the day before when you'd served her lunch in the wrong bowl. Two hours of tears over a blue bowl instead of a pink one, while Love screamed and you felt your patience stretching thinner and thinner.

"Can we call Daddy?" Lake asked from where she was playing with blocks on the carpet.

"Daddy's working, sweetheart. He'll be home soon."

Soon felt relative when you were running on three hours of sleep and your last proper meal had been whatever you'd managed to grab from the pantry yesterday.

Carmen appeared in the doorway, taking in the scene with practiced eyes. "Want me to take her for a walk? Sometimes fresh air helps."

"I can manage," you said automatically, then caught yourself. "I mean, that's very kind, but she's probably just hungry again."

But when you tried to nurse Love, she latched for barely a minute before pulling away, crying harder. Your supply had been inconsistent all week, despite the supplements Linda had suggested, despite drinking enough water to float a boat.

"Y/N," Carmen said gently. "Maybe just a small bottle? To take the edge off?"

The suggestion hit like a physical blow. "She doesn't need formula."

"It's not about need, love. It's about making things easier—"

"I said no." The words came out harsher than you'd intended, sharp enough that Leia looked up from her coloring with wide eyes.

Carmen's expression shifted to something like concern. "Alright. Of course. You know what's best."

The silence that followed was heavy with things unsaid. Love continued crying in your arms, and you continued bouncing her with increasing desperation, feeling Carmen's worried gaze on your back.

"I just need a minute," you said finally, your voice cracking slightly on the words.

You handed Love to Carmen before you could think too hard about it and walked quickly from the room, ignoring Carmen calling your name softly behind you.

The pantry was becoming a habit.

This time you didn't even bother with the pretense of getting a snack. You just sank onto the floor between shelves of tinned goods and let yourself cry.

Quietly, because the girls were just down the hall. Quietly, because Carmen and Linda were trying to help and didn't deserve to deal with your breakdown. Quietly, because Lewis Hamilton's wife didn't fall apart in pantries over feeding schedules and fussy babies.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Lewis: Missing you girls. How's everyone doing?

You stared at the message for a long time, then typed back: All good here. Love you.

Because what else could you say? That you felt like you were drowning? That you couldn't figure out why this time felt so much harder? That you were hiding in a pantry crying over baby formula like it was a personal failure?

Lewis was living his dream, surrounded by the excitement of his new team, and you were going to tell him his wife couldn't handle what millions of women did every day?

You wiped your eyes, stood up, and straightened your shoulders.

When you opened the pantry door, Carmen was waiting with Love, now quiet in her arms.

"Feeling better?" Carmen asked softly.

"Much," you said, reaching for Love. "Thank you."

Carmen studied your face for a moment longer, then nodded. "I'm going to start dinner. Why don't you rest with the baby for a bit?"

"I should help—"

"You should rest," Carmen said firmly. "Doctor's orders."

You wanted to argue, but Love was finally peaceful in your arms, and the thought of sitting down for even ten minutes felt like a luxury you couldn't refuse.

*************************************************************

Lewis came home on a Tuesday night, tired but glowing with excitement about Maranello.

You met him at the door with Love in your arms, Leia and Lake bouncing around his legs like puppies as he hugged you carefully, mindful of the baby between you.

"How are my girls?" he asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently taking Love. "And how's my littlest girl?"

"She's been good today," you said, which was mostly true. "Slept for three hours straight this afternoon."

What you didn't mention was that you'd spent those three hours frantically cleaning the house, responding to emails about Mission 44, and trying to pump milk with increasingly frustrating results.

"Daddy, Daddy, we learned a new song!" Leia announced. "About baby sharks!"

"Oh no," Lewis said with mock horror. "Not the baby shark song."

"Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo," Lake began singing, and Lewis winced dramatically while you laughed despite your exhaustion.

This was good. This was normal. Family chaos and silly songs and Lewis making everything feel lighter just by being here.

"How was Brackley?" you asked later, after the girls were in bed and you were both on the couch, Love finally settled in her bassinet.

"Emotional," Lewis admitted. "Lot of tears. But good tears, you know? Like, grateful tears."

"I saw the photos. Everyone looked so proud."

"They are. I am." He reached for your hand. "Feels like the end of one chapter and the beginning of something incredible."

"Ferrari's lucky to have you."

"Think so?" Lewis turned to study your face. "You've been quiet since I got home. Everything okay?"

The question you'd been dreading. Because everything wasn't okay, but you couldn't figure out how to explain that without sounding ungrateful or dramatic or weak.

"Just tired," you said. "Love's been a bit fussy, and the girls are excited about Lake's birthday coming up."

"Speaking of which," Lewis said, his face lighting up. "I was thinking we could do something special this year. Since it's my birthday too, and Love's here now..."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Zoo party. In LA. Rent out a section, get a cake shaped like a giraffe, let the kids run wild." Lewis was already planning, you could see it in his eyes. "What do you think?"

The thought of managing a party with dozens of kids while dealing with a fussy newborn made your stomach clench with anxiety. But Lewis looked so excited, and Lake would love it.

"Sounds perfect," you said.

Lewis squeezed your hand. "You sure? You look a bit overwhelmed."

"I'm fine," you said automatically. "Just thinking about logistics."

"We'll have plenty of help. My mum, Linda, probably half the crew will want to come celebrate." Lewis leaned over to kiss your cheek. "You don't have to worry about everything, baby. Let other people help."

You nodded, even though the idea of letting other people see you struggle felt impossible. Lewis Hamilton's wife had her shit together. Lewis Hamilton's wife could handle a zoo party and a newborn and two toddlers without breaking a sweat.

Even if that wasn't remotely true.

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lewisfantillidie: 🍼👶🏾 ferraripilots: lewis in daddy mode always gets me 😭 😭 😭 fencer: my nieces!!! ⤷ yourusername replied to fencer 🥺🥺

a few weeks later....

The Los Angeles Zoo was chaos in the best possible way.

Kids ran everywhere, hopped up on sugar and excitement, while parents chased after them with varying degrees of energy. You'd rented out the children's zoo section, complete with petting areas and a private party pavilion decorated in jungle themes.

Lake was in heaven, toddling around in her birthday dress with a crown that kept sliding over her eyes. Leia had appointed herself tour guide, dragging anyone who would listen to see the goats and sheep.

And Love... Love was having one of her difficult days.

She'd been crying on and off since you'd arrived, despite being fed and changed and rocked. Now she was working herself into the kind of red-faced wail that made other parents look over with sympathy and judgment in equal measure.

"Hey, sweetheart," you murmured, bouncing her gently as you stood near the party table. "What's wrong, hmm? What do you need?"

Love's response was to cry harder.

You tried nursing her, but again she latched for barely a minute before pulling away in frustration. Your supply had been particularly low all week, despite everything you'd tried. The pump sat at home like an accusation, producing less and less each day.

"Maybe she's overstimulated?" suggested one of the other mums, whose daughter was Lake's age.

"Maybe," you agreed, though you'd tried taking Love somewhere quiet an hour ago with no success.

Across the party area, you could see Lewis laughing with a group of kids as they fed the goats. He looked relaxed and happy, reverberating with his own big 4-0 magic, fully present in a way you envied. When was the last time you'd felt fully present anywhere?

Love's crying escalated, that particular pitch that made your back teeth ache and your anxiety spike. Other parents were definitely looking now, and you felt heat creep up your neck.

"Come on, baby," you whispered desperately. "Please, just... please stop crying."

But she didn't stop. If anything, she got louder, and you felt your composure starting to crack in the way that meant you were about to cry too.

"Y/N?" Lewis appeared at your elbow, having crossed the party area in quick strides. "Everything okay?"

"She won't stop crying," you said, and your voice came out more shaky than you'd intended. "I've tried everything. She was just fed, she's clean, I don't know what she wants."

"Here," Lewis said, reaching for Love. "Let me try."

You should have been grateful for the help. Instead, something sharp and defensive flared in your chest.

"I've got it," you said, stepping back slightly.

"Baby, you look exhausted. Just let me—"

"I said I've got it." The words came out rougher than you'd meant, loud enough that a few nearby parents glanced over.

Lewis's expression shifted to something like concern. "Y/N, it's okay to need help."

"I don't need help," you said, even as Love's cries reached a new decibel level. "I can handle my own daughter."

But even as you said it, you felt yourself starting to shake. Your chest was tight, your breathing shallow, and Love's crying was drilling into your skull like a physical pain.

Lewis stepped closer, his voice gentler. "Hey. Look at me."

You met his eyes reluctantly, and whatever he saw there made his expression soften completely.

"Take her," you said suddenly, practically shoving Love into his arms. "Just... take her for a minute."

Lewis accepted Love smoothly, immediately shifting into the rocking motion that somehow always worked for him. "Of course. Take a break."

"I can't take a break," you said, but you were already backing away from them. "I have to cut the cake, and the party bags aren't ready, and—"

"Y/N." Lewis's voice was firm but not harsh. "Take a walk. Please, baby."

You opened your mouth to argue, to insist you were fine, but the words stuck in your throat.

"Go get some ice cream," Lewis said, his eyes kind but unyielding. "I've got the girls."

Something in his tone broke through your defenses. Maybe it was the way he said it like it wasn't a request. Maybe it was the fact that Love had already started to quiet in his arms. Maybe it was just that you were so tired you couldn't fight anymore.

"Okay," you whispered. "Just for a few minutes."

"Take your time."

You walked away on unsteady legs, past the party chaos and toward the ice cream cart near the main path. Your hands were shaking as you ordered a vanilla cone, and you had to blink back tears as you paid.

Finding an empty bench, you sank down and pulled out your phone while taking mechanical bites of ice cream you couldn't taste.

The first blog post that came up made your stomach drop.

Lewis Hamilton's Wife Shows Post-Baby Body in L.A.

The photos were candid shots – you holding Love, looking exhausted and overwhelmed. Your body in the flowy dress you'd chosen specifically to hide how soft you still were around the middle. The comments were brutal:

She used to be so fit

Looks like she's given up trying

Third baby really did a number on her

Remember when she was hot?

You scrolled through them like self-harm, each comment landing like a physical blow. This was what people saw when they looked at you – not a mother trying her best, but a woman who'd let herself go. Who wasn't bouncing back fast enough. Who wasn't good enough anymore.

You finished the ice cream cone in three large bites, barely chewing, just needing something to fill the hollow ache in your chest. Then you wiped your mouth, dried your eyes, and stood up.

Time to get back to the party. Time to smile and cut the cake and pretend everything was fine.

Because that's what Lewis Hamilton's wife did.

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***************************************************

Love's one-month checkup fell on a rainy L.A. afternoon.

Dr. Patel was kind and thorough, weighing Love and checking her reflexes while you sat in the chair beside the examination table, trying to look like you had everything under control.

"She's gaining weight beautifully," Dr. Patel said, making notes on her chart. "How are you feeling about feeding?"

"Good," you said automatically. "We're getting into a rhythm."

It wasn't entirely a lie. You and Love had found a routine of sorts, even if it involved more formula supplementation than you'd wanted to admit. Your milk supply had continued to dwindle despite every intervention you'd tried.

"And how are you doing, Y/N?" Dr. Patel asked, setting down her pen and really looking at you. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," you said. "Tired, but that's normal with a newborn."

Dr. Patel nodded, but her expression remained attentive. "Any concerns? Anxiety? Mood changes?"

Something in her tone made you shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Nothing unusual. Just the normal adjustment period."

"Mmm." Dr. Patel was quiet for a moment, studying your face with the kind of attention that made you want to fidget. "Y/N, are you familiar with the term 'baby blues'?"

Your back straightened automatically. "It's just stress. A lot is happening right now – Lewis is starting with Ferrari, we have three kids, it's busy."

"Of course. But sometimes what feels like stress can be something more. Postpartum depression affects many women, especially after multiple pregnancies in a short time." Dr. Patel's voice was gentle but persistent. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I don't have postpartum depression," you said quickly. "I'm just tired. And adjusting. It's completely normal."

Dr. Patel nodded, but she was reaching into her desk drawer. "I'm going to give you some information, just in case. And the contact for a therapist who specializes in postpartum mental health."

She held out a card with a woman's name and phone number printed in elegant script. You took it reflexively, then immediately wanted to hand it back.

"I don't need this," you said.

"Maybe not. But having the information doesn't hurt." Dr. Patel's smile was understanding. "Y/N, there's no prize for struggling alone. If you were diabetic, you'd take insulin. If you had a broken arm, you'd wear a cast. Mental health is just health."

You nodded and tucked the card into your purse, knowing you'd probably throw it away the moment you got home. Because you didn't have postpartum depression. You had a new baby and two toddlers and a husband starting the biggest career change of his life.

You just needed to try harder.

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Colorado was a winter wonderland.

Snow blanketed the mountains around the house, turning everything soft and pristine. The girls were beside themselves with excitement, having spent the morning building snowmen with Lewis's parents while you caught up on sleep.

For the first time in weeks, you felt something like peace.

"Mummy, look what we made!" Leia called from outside, where she and Lake had constructed what appeared to be a snow family, complete with stick arms and carrot noses.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," you called back through the window, Love content in your arms for once.

Your milk supply had finally stabilized, helped by the rest and reduced stress. Love had settled into something resembling a routine. You'd even managed to do yoga that morning for the first time since her birth.

Maybe Dr. Patel had been wrong. Maybe it really had just been stress and exhaustion. Maybe you were finally getting your groove back.

"How are you feeling?" Lewis asked, appearing in the kitchen with rosy cheeks and snow in his hair.

"Good," you said, and meant it. "Really good. Like myself again."

Lewis smiled, the kind of smile that crinkled his eyes. "I can see it. You look... lighter."

"I feel lighter. I think I was just overwhelmed with everything happening at once. But we're finding our rhythm."

"Good." Lewis pulled you closer, careful not to disturb Love. "Because I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"Aspen. Just you and me, for the weekend. Mum and Dad can watch the girls, and we can just... reconnect."

The suggestion sent a flutter of anxiety through your chest. "I don't know if I should leave Love. She's still so little."

"She'll be fine with Mum and Linda. They raised kids, remember?" Lewis's voice was gentle but persuasive. "When's the last time we had time just for us?"

You couldn't remember. Between Love's birth and Lewis's farewell tour and the constant demands of daily life, you and Lewis had barely had a proper conversation in weeks, let alone time alone together.

"What about her feeding schedule?" you asked.

"We've got enough pumped milk to last the weekend. And if not, formula won't kill her." Lewis studied your face. "Baby, when's the last time you did something just for you?"

The question hit harder than it should have. You couldn't remember that either.

"Okay," you said finally. "But just one night."

"Two nights," Lewis negotiated. "I already booked us somewhere special."

Despite your lingering anxiety, you felt a smile tug at your lips. "You were pretty confident I'd say yes."

"I was hopeful." Lewis kissed your forehead. "You deserve to be taken care of, Y/N. Let me take care of you."

The words settled something in your chest you hadn't realized was wound tight. When was the last time someone had taken care of you instead of the other way around?

"Okay," you said again, more firmly this time. "Two nights."

Lewis's smile was radiant. "I'm going to spoil you rotten."

"I'm holding you to that."

yourusername and 2 others • Bing Crosby's “Winter Wonderland”

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*****************************************************

The next morning arrived with reluctant goodbyes and detailed instructions.

You stood in the kitchen, Love sleeping peacefully in Carmen's arms, while you rattled off feeding schedules and nap times with the intensity of a military briefing that your retired Army commander father would be proud of.

"And she likes to be swaddled tight for sleep, but not too tight around her hips. And if she gets fussy after eating, sometimes holding her upright for ten minutes helps. Oh, and the white noise machine—"

"Y/N, love," Linda interrupted gently, a knowing smile on her face. "We've done this before, remember? We raised kids of our own."

"I know, I just—" You caught yourself mid-sentence, recognizing the spiral for what it was. "Sorry. I'm being ridiculous."

"You're being a mum," Carmen said warmly, adjusting Love in her arms with practiced ease. "But we've got this. Three kids, including one baby? We could do this in our sleep."

Lewis appeared in the doorway with your weekend bag, looking unfairly handsome in his ski jacket and that easy smile that still made your stomach flutter.

"Ready, beautiful?"

You looked around the kitchen one more time – Leia and Lake happily eating pancakes, Love content in Carmen's arms, Linda already planning activities for the weekend. Everything was under control.

So why did leaving feel like jumping off a cliff?

"I guess," you said, then immediately felt guilty for not sounding more excited.

Lewis must have caught your hesitation because he crossed the kitchen to where you stood, his hands settling on your shoulders.

"We can stay if you want," he said quietly. "If you're not ready."

Part of you wanted to take the out. To say you weren't ready, that Love was too young, that you needed to be here. But Lewis was looking at you with such gentle understanding, and you realized this wasn't just about what you needed – it was about what you both needed.

"No," you said more firmly. "I want to go. I need to go."

"You sure?"

Instead of answering, you kissed him – soft and quick, but real. "I'm sure."

The drive to Aspen was stunning, winding through snow-covered mountains that looked like something from a postcard. Lewis took the Range Rover for the weekend, and you found yourself actually relaxing as the Colorado landscape rolled past the windows.

"Feel that?" Lewis asked as you curved around another mountain bend.

"What?"

"Your shoulders. They're not up around your ears anymore."

You rolled your shoulders experimentally, surprised to realize he was right. "Huh. I didn't even notice."

"You've been carrying tension like that for weeks," Lewis said, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. "I was starting to worry you'd given yourself a permanent crick."

"I've been stressed," you admitted. "About everything. Love, the girls, your Ferrari move, just... everything."

"I know. That's why we're doing this." Lewis's voice was warm. "When's the last time you did something just for you?"

The question hit you harder than it should have. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done anything that wasn't related to the kids or Lewis's career or managing the household. Even the yoga classes you used to love had been sacrificed to make time for everything else.

"I can't remember," you said quietly.

"Exactly. So this weekend is about you. About us. About remembering who we are when we're not just Mummy and Daddy."

The idea was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Who were you when you weren't taking care of someone else? You weren't sure you remembered.

The Aspen resort was a winter fairy tale.

Your suite had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking snow-covered peaks, a fireplace that crackled invitingly, and a bathroom bigger than most bedrooms. Lewis had arranged everything – champagne chilling in ice, rose petals scattered across the bed, candles flickering on every surface.

"This is incredible," you breathed.

"Only the best for my wife," he said, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "You deserve to be spoiled."

The word 'spoiled' made something tighten in your chest. You weren't used to being spoiled anymore. You were used to doing the spoiling – making sure everyone else was comfortable and happy and taken care of.

"I don't need all this," you said, though you didn't pull away from his embrace.

"I know you don't need it. That's not the point." Lewis pressed a kiss to your temple. "The point is that you deserve it. That you deserve to feel special and beautiful and taken care of. This weekend, I want you to remember what it feels like to be Y/N. Not Love's mum or Leia and Lake's mum or my wife. Just Y/N." His grip tightened around your waist. "Think you can do that?"

The request felt impossible and necessary in equal measure. "I can try."

"That's all I ask."

The dinner reservation was at an intimate restaurant tucked into the mountainside. You found yourself actually tasting your food for the first time in months, engaging in conversation that didn't revolve around feeding schedules or sleep routines.

"So Ferrari wants me in Maranello at the end of the month," Lewis said over dessert. "Full testing program, meeting the team."

"That's exciting," you said, though the thought of him leaving again made your chest tight.

"Come with me. Bring the girls. The kids could practice their Italian." Lewis reached across the table. "I want you there for this."

The logistics felt overwhelming immediately. "Lewis, Love is barely two months old. Traveling with three kids so much..."

"We'd have help. The team would arrange everything." Lewis's voice was gentle but persuasive. "It's a big moment. I want my family there."

You wanted to say yes. Part of you desperately wanted to be there for Lewis's first steps with Ferrari. But the thought of managing three kids in a foreign country while still feeling like you were barely managing at home felt impossible.

"Let me think about it," you said.

Lewis nodded, though you caught the flash of disappointment. "Of course. Whatever you're comfortable with."

But there was pressure, wasn't there? The pressure to be the supportive wife, to make everything work, to say yes to adventures because that's what Lewis Hamilton's wife did.

The conversation moved on, but something had shifted. You could feel Lewis watching you more carefully, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Back in the suite, Lewis built up the fire while you changed into silk pajamas you'd packed but never wore at home. They felt too delicate for real life, too impractical for the constant demands of motherhood.

"Better?" Lewis asked as you settled on the couch beside him.

"Much." You curled against his side, feeling your shoulders drop for the first time in weeks.

You watched the flames dance in comfortable silence, Lewis's arms around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. This was nice. This was what you'd been missing – just being together without the constant demands of everything else.

"Y/N," Lewis said quietly.

"Mmm?"

"Are you happy?"

The question caught you off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean are you happy? Really happy, not just getting through each day." Lewis shifted so he could see your face. "Because lately you seem like you're just... surviving."

The word hit like a physical blow because it was so accurate. You had been surviving – checking off tasks, managing crises, making it through each day. But happiness? That felt like something that happened to other people.

"I'm fine," you said automatically.

"You keep saying that. But I'm starting to wonder if you even remember what fine feels like."

Something cracked in your chest at his words. Because he was right – you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt genuinely okay, let alone happy.

"I love our family," you said instead of answering directly. "I love you, I love the girls."

"I know you do. That's not what I'm asking." Lewis's voice was gentle but persistent. "I'm asking about you. How are you doing?"

The tears came without warning, hot and sudden. "I don't know."

Lewis pulled you closer immediately. "Hey, it's okay. What's wrong?"

"I don't know," you repeated, and your voice broke on the words. "I can't tell the difference anymore between being tired and being sad."

"Oh, baby." Lewis's arms tightened around you. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Since Love was born. Maybe before." The words spilled out now that you'd started. "Everyone keeps asking if I'm okay, and I keep saying yes because I should be okay. I have everything. Beautiful family, husband I adore, healthy kids. What do I have to be sad about?"

"You don't need a reason," Lewis said firmly. "Your body's been through massive changes. You're exhausted and overwhelmed. Of course you're having a hard time."

"But I should be better at this by now. This is my third baby."

"Says who?"

The question stopped you short. "Says... everyone? I'm not a first-time mum. I should know what I'm doing."

"Every baby is different. Every recovery is different." Lewis's voice was getting firmer. "You're not superhuman, Y/N."

"Sometimes I feel like I need to be." The admission felt dangerous. "Being your wife comes with expectations. I'm supposed to have it all together."

"Not from me you don't."

"From everyone else. The media, the fans, even our families sometimes." Your voice was shaking now. "They watch everything – how I look, how I parent, how I support you. And I feel like I'm failing at all of it."

"You're not failing at anything."

"I am though. I can barely keep up with the kids. I'm snapping at people who are trying to help. I hide in pantries to cry." The confession slipped out before you could stop it.

Lewis went very still. "You hide in pantries to cry?"

Heat flooded your face. "It's nothing. I just sometimes need a minute alone."

"That's not nothing, Y/N." Lewis's voice was gentle but concerned. "How long has this been going on?"

"It's just stress. New baby stress. It's normal."

"Is it?" Lewis shifted so he could see your face fully. "Baby, look at me."

Reluctantly, you met his eyes. The concern there made your chest tight.

"Don't do that," he said softly.

"Do what?"

"Don't minimize what you just told me. Don't pretend it's fine when you're clearly struggling."

"I'm not struggling." But your voice cracked on the words.

"You're crying in a mountain resort telling me you hide in pantries. That's not normal adjustment." Lewis cupped your face gently. "That sounds like you need help."

"I don't need therapy."

Lewis blinked. "I didn't say therapy."

"Didn't you?" But even as you said it, you realized he hadn't. Your mind had jumped there defensively.

"Although," Lewis continued carefully, "would that be such a terrible thing? If talking to someone helped?"

"I can talk to you."

"And I'm grateful for that. But baby, I'm not objective about this. I love you too much to see clearly sometimes." Lewis's thumb brushed away a tear. "I just want you to be okay. Really okay."

"I am okay," you said weakly.

"Are you?"

The question hung between you, heavy with truth you didn't want to face. Were you okay? You loved your family fiercely, but happiness felt like a luxury you couldn't afford. Joy felt like something that happened to other people.

"I don't know," you whispered finally.

"That's okay. Not knowing is okay." Lewis pulled you closer. "But hiding it isn't helping anyone."

You cried then, months of held-back emotion spilling over. Lewis held you through it, not trying to fix anything, just being there while you fell apart.

"I'm scared," you admitted when the tears slowed.

"Of what?"

"Of admitting I need help. Of people thinking I can't handle being your wife." Your voice was small. "Of you realizing I'm not as strong as you thought."

"Y/N, asking for help doesn't make you weak. It makes you brave." Lewis's voice was firm. "And anyone who thinks less of you for taking care of yourself isn't worth worrying about."

"But what if—"

"What if nothing." Lewis tilted your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. "I fell in love with you because you're real and honest and brave. Not because you're perfect."

The words settled something in your chest that had been wound tight for months.

"I found the card," Lewis said quietly.

Your blood went cold. "What card?"

"The therapist referral. It was in your jacket pocket when I was packing."

Defensive anger flared. "You were going through my pockets?"

"I was packing your things for this trip. I wasn't snooping." Lewis's voice remained calm. "But I found it. How long have you been carrying it around?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't need it."

"Maybe you do. Maybe we both do." Lewis's hands framed your face. "There's nothing wrong with getting help, baby."

"There's nothing wrong with me," you said, but your voice shook.

"I didn't say there was. I said maybe we could use some support figuring this out."

You wanted to argue, to insist you were fine, but sitting here in Lewis's arms with tears still wet on your cheeks, the pretense felt exhausting.

"You think I'm broken," you whispered.

"I think you're a person going through something hard who deserves support." Lewis's voice was soft but sure. "That's not broken. That's human."

"I don't want to be weak."

"Taking care of yourself isn't weak. It's the strongest thing you can do."

You cried again, quieter this time, Lewis holding you steady while your world rearranged itself around this new possibility – that maybe you didn't have to carry everything alone.

"Okay," you said finally.

"Okay?"

"I'll call her."

Lewis's smile was soft with relief. "Good. And in the meantime, we're going to figure out how to get you more support at home."

"I don't know how to let people help differently than I would do things."

"We'll work on that too." Lewis pressed a kiss to your forehead. "One step at a time."

..........tbd

[lewisvinga]

detectives | carlos sainz x fem! reader

summary; y/n thought she was being sneaky when she kept staring at a certain section during a concert, unfortunately for her, her fans are good detectives.

fc; madison beer

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3

note; requested ! the feminine urge to mention real madrid in every carlos fic, sorry y’all i am a madridista at heart

masterlist !

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yourusername: the love is real madrid

username: real madrid mentioned 🔥 wtf is not having 14 ucls🔥

username: not her concert being at the bernabeu too😭😭

username: anyone notice how she was extra smiley tonight….🤔

username: BEST CONCERT EVER!!!

yourbestfriend: AHHAJDLSKDKWID😍😍😍😍😛😛😛😛😛

yourusername: SO TRUE BESTIE🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

username: she kept staring at the right side sm, it makes me wonder why🤨🤨🤨

username: y/n i love you!!!

username: why is carlos sainz in the likes😭

username: WHO?🤨

username: f1 driver for ferrari!!

username: a vroom vroom man….

username: mother !!!!

carlossainz55: i enjoyed it a lot! amazing like always!

yourusername: thank you💗 so glad to have you here!

username: ariana what are u doing here 😂

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yourusername: exploring madrid 😴

carlossainz55: well all the best stuff is in madrid 😉

yourusername: the bernabeu was quite fun

vinijr: ‘quite fun’ IT WAS CHAMPIONS LEAGUE NIGHTS!!!😒😒

yourusername: my bad vinicius jr🙄🙄🙄

username: carlos 🤨🤨🤨 what u mean by that

username: vini 😭😭

username: madrid girlie

username: SHES A MADRIDISTA!!

username: my delulu ass says its bc of madridista carlos 😣😣

username: her fits r so cute omg

yourbestfriend: the players were cute asf tho😋

yourusername: he says i can’t agree🙄

username: WHOOOOOO says???

username: omg she fr has a boyfriend im crying

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carlossainz55: monaco 🇲🇨

yourusername: you watch tennis?🤔

carlossainz55: it’s fun when you’re with the right people 😁

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charles_leclerc: glad you guys enjoyed monaco🤣😂

carlossainz55: we had a lot of fun😁

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username: he’s so fine fr and so is y/n, they’re the finest couple ever even if they haven’t revealed themselves yet

username: the way we’re all convinced they’re dating IJBOL😭

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and others !

yourusername: well you guys are just some good detectives ….

tagged; carlossainz55

carlossainz55: mi reina 👸❤️ [my queen]

yourusername: love of my life 💗

username: why am i shocked like it wasn’t the most obvious thing

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yourbestfriend: I WAS THERE FIRST

carlossainz55: u snooze u lose 🙄🙄

yourbestfriend: watch ur back carlos sainz.

yourusername: 😭😭😭

username: he’s so bf here😩

username: THE PICS IM ALDJAODK

username: sleeping on the highway 2night fr😖

username: we’re the best detectives 🤓

username: to be fair, it felt like they weren’t trying to be sneaky 😭

yourusername: God forbid i smile at my man during my concert in his home town😔😔😔

username: i get u queen, if i was dating carlos i’d be staring at him 24/7 too🙂‍↕️

[mrs-delaney]

Letters You Never Sent | Part Two

read part one →

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 14.4k-ish words

request: college sweethearts since ohio state 🫶 but by 2023, fame starts to change joe. he acts single, barely mentions his girlfriend, and reader starts feeling invisible—like she doesn’t even exist in his world anymore. so she starts writing letters. not to give to him—just to survive it. just to say the things she doesn’t feel safe saying out loud. they break up in january 2024. she moves out in a rush and forgets the letters. months later, joe’s in a new (casual) relationship. and the girl finds the letters. she gives them to him. he reads them. and it wrecks him. realizing how badly he hurt someone who loved him with everything she had. and maybe… just maybe… there’s still a happy ending. 🥺❤️

📝 Author’s Note: y'all this one wrecked me. it's the most emotionally honest thing I've written to date. i literally cried.

thank you to everyone who showed up for part one with so much love. the messages, the tags, the dms—i read every single one. you reminded me why i wanted to tell this story in the first place.

this chapter is for anyone who’s ever had to grieve someone who was still in the room. who stayed too long. who loved so hard it hurt.

creative liberties were taken.

alexa play “from the dining table” by harry styles 🥀

✨ my masterlist ✨

💌 want to be tagged in future fics? join my taglist here 💫

🌙 ask box is open — come keep me company, i’m around tonight 💌

April 2023 - The Team Event

You're standing in the corner of Tyler Boyd's backyard, holding a beer you haven't touched, watching Joe laugh with a group of teammates you don't recognize. It's the annual team barbecue, the kind of casual gathering you used to love because it felt like family.

Now you feel like a stranger.

"Y/N!" Kierra Boyd approaches with a bright smile, but there's something careful in her expression. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. How are you?"

"I'm good," you say automatically. "Just busy with work."

"How's the hospital? Still loving pediatric nursing?"

You're touched that she remembers, that someone still asks about your life outside of being Joe's girlfriend. "Yeah, it's great. Challenging, but I love it."

"That's so amazing. I always thought it was so cool that you had your own thing going on, you know? Not just..." She gestures vaguely toward where Joe is holding court with a group that includes some women you don't recognize.

The pause is loaded. Not just what? Not just a football girlfriend?

"Yeah," you say, trying to keep your voice light. "It's important to have your own identity."

Kierra nods, then hesitates. "Can I ask you something? And please tell me to mind my own business if I'm overstepping."

Your stomach drops. "Sure."

"Are you and Joe okay? I mean, you guys seem... distant lately. At events and stuff."

You glance over at Joe, who's now taking selfies with some of the women in the group. Young, pretty women wearing Bengals jerseys and bright smiles. He hasn't looked for you once in the past hour.

"We're fine," you say, but the words taste like lies. "Just figuring some things out."

Kierra follows your gaze and her expression softens. "Tyler mentioned that Joe's been different this season. More... I don't know, guarded? Less like the guy who used to talk about you all the time."

"He used to talk about me?"

"All the time. Like, to the point where the guys would tease him about it. 'Joe's girlfriend this, Joe's girlfriend that.' It was actually really sweet."

The past tense hits you like a physical blow. Used to.

"Things change," you say quietly.

"They don't have to."

Before you can respond, Joe appears at your side, his hand settling on your lower back in a gesture that should feel familiar but somehow doesn't.

"Hey babe," he says, but he's looking at Kierra, not you. "Kierra, have you met Madison? She works for the team's social media."

A blonde woman materializes beside him, all white teeth and perfect highlights. "Nice to meet you," she says with a bright but empty smile, already turning back to Joe.

"Madison was just telling us about this new campaign she's working on," Joe continues. "Really innovative stuff."

You watch him light up as Madison launches into an explanation of her work, the same way he used to light up when you talked about your patients. When did he stop looking at you like that?

"That's really interesting," Kierra says politely, but you can see her watching the interaction with growing concern.

"Joe," you interrupt, "can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," he says, but he doesn't move away from Madison. "What's up?"

You glance around at the group, realizing he expects you to have this conversation in front of everyone. "Privately?"

Joe's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Can it wait? We're in the middle of something here."

The dismissal is casual but clear. In front of his teammates, in front of their wives, in front of some woman he just met, Joe is choosing not to step away with you.

"Of course," you say, your cheeks burning. "Sorry."

You turn and walk toward the house, needing space, needing air, needing anything but the sight of Joe giving someone else the attention he used to give you.

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face and stare at your reflection. When did you become the kind of woman who gets dismissed at parties? When did you become someone Joe treats like an inconvenience?

When you come back outside, Joe is exactly where you left him, still deep in conversation with Madison. He doesn't notice you return.

* * *

May 2023 - The Foundation Event

The children's literacy event is at the community center where you and Joe volunteer regularly.

But everything feels different.

"Y/N!" Mrs. Rodriguez waves you over to where she's setting up reading stations. "I'm so glad you're here. Sofia has been asking about you."

You smile, remembering the eight-year-old who'd been one of your patients last year. "How is she doing?"

"So much better. She starts fourth grade in the fall." Mrs. Rodriguez glances around. "Is Joe coming today?"

"He's here somewhere," you say, though you're not entirely sure. He drove separately, saying he had a meeting that might run long.

You spend the afternoon reading with kids, helping with crafts, doing the work you genuinely love. It's only when you're packing up that you realize you've barely seen Joe all day.

You find him by the sign-in table, talking to a reporter from the local news station. There's a camera crew setting up nearby.

"...really important to give back to the community," Joe is saying. "These kids are our future."

"And what brought you to this particular cause?" the reporter asks.

"I've always been passionate about literacy. Education is everything."

You wait for him to mention that this is your regular volunteer spot, that you work with many of these families through the hospital. You wait for him to acknowledge that this event was partially your idea.

He doesn't.

"We'll be right back with more from Bengals quarterback Joe Burrow," the reporter says to the camera, "after this quick break."

During the break, you approach the group. "Hi," you say to the reporter. "I'm Y/N."

She looks at you politely but without recognition. "Nice to meet you."

"Joe's girlfriend," you clarify, feeling pathetic for having to introduce yourself that way.

"Oh!" Her face lights up with professional interest. "Are you involved with the foundation as well?"

"I volunteer here regularly, and I work at Cincinnati Children's Hospital, so—"

"We should probably wrap this up," Joe interrupts, checking his watch. "I have another appointment."

The reporter nods. "Of course. Thank you so much for your time."

Joe is already walking away, leaving you standing there mid-sentence. The reporter turns back to her cameraman, the moment lost.

You follow Joe to the parking lot, your frustration building with each step.

"Joe, wait."

He turns, keys already in his hand. "What's up? I really do have to go."

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"In there. With the reporter. You completely cut me off."

Joe sighs. "Y/N, it was a quick interview about the event. Not everything has to be about you."

The words sting worse because of how casually he delivers them. "I wasn't trying to make it about me. I was trying to talk about the work we do here together."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I've been volunteering here since before you ever came to an event. These families know me. This is my work too."

"Okay, and? You want a medal for reading to kids?"

You stare at him, genuinely shocked by his tone. "I want my boyfriend to acknowledge that I exist when we're doing something together."

"You exist, Y/N. You're standing right here."

"But I'm not part of your story anymore, am I? When you talk about your life, your work, your future—I'm not in any of it."

Joe runs his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "Can we not do this here?"

"When, then? When can we talk about the fact that you're erasing me from your life?"

"I'm not erasing you from anything. You're being dramatic."

"Am I? Because I've been keeping track, Joe. It's been six months since you posted a photo of us together. Four months since you mentioned me in an interview. Three weeks since you introduced me as your girlfriend instead of just saying my name."

"You're keeping track?" Joe looks at you like you've admitted to stalking him.

"I'm paying attention."

"Look, I have to go. We can talk about this later."

"When later? You're always busy, always somewhere else, always—"

"Later, Y/N."

He gets in his car and drives away, leaving you standing in the parking lot of a community center where you've volunteered for years, feeling like a stranger in your own life.

* * *

June 2023 - The Interview

You're at the hospital, just finishing your shift, when Emma texts you: Turn on ESPN. Joe's on SportsCenter.

You find a TV in the break room and catch the tail end of an interview about the upcoming season. Joe looks good—confident, relaxed, every inch the franchise quarterback.

"So Joe," the interviewer is saying, "what's your support system like? Who are the people who keep you grounded through all the pressure?"

Your heart speeds up. This is it. This is where he talks about you, about how you've been there since college, about the partnership you've built.

"Well, first and foremost, my family," Joe says. "My parents, my brothers. They've been my foundation since day one."

You nod along. Of course. Family first.

"The coaching staff and my teammates have been incredible. Really can't say enough about the organization and how they've supported me."

Okay. Team second. That makes sense.

"And just having good people around me, you know? People who knew me before all this, who help me stay focused on what matters."

You wait. The pause stretches.

"That's really what it's about," Joe continues. "Surrounding yourself with the right people who believe in your vision."

The interview moves on to football strategy, and you realize with a sinking heart that he's not going to mention you. Not at all.

You think about the AFC Championship loss, when you were the first person he looked for. You think about all the times he's credited you with believing in him when no one else did.

Now, apparently, you're not even worth a mention when he talks about his support system.

Your phone buzzes with another text from Emma: That was weird, right? That he didn't mention you?

You don't respond. You can't find the words.

* * *

September 2023 - Season Opener Party

The rooftop bar overlooking the city is packed with players, coaches, and their families celebrating the season opener win. You're wearing the dress Joe complimented you in last year, hoping tonight might feel different, might feel like old times.

It doesn't.

You've been here for two hours and have barely seen Joe except in passing. He's working the room like a politician, stopping to chat with everyone, taking selfies with fans who somehow got invited, deep in conversation with teammates you've never met.

"Excuse me," a woman with perfect curls approaches you by the bar. "Are you with the team?"

"I'm Y/N," you say, extending your hand. "Joe's girlfriend."

Her face lights up with recognition, but not the kind you want. "Oh! I'm Ashley, Mike's wife. I was wondering... we haven't seen you at any of the family events this season."

Because you haven't been invited to the family events this season. Because Joe keeps "forgetting" to mention them until after they've happened.

"I've been busy with work," you say.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a pediatric nurse at Cincinnati Children's."

"That's amazing! You know, Mike mentioned that Joe was single. I thought maybe I'd misunderstood, but here you are." She laughs, but it's awkward. "Men are terrible at sharing information, aren't they?"

Your stomach drops. "Mike thinks Joe is single?"

"Oh, I'm sure it was just a miscommunication. You know how guys are about talking about personal stuff."

But you can see in her eyes that she's trying to make you feel better about something that can't be explained away. Joe has been telling his teammates he's single. Or at the very least, he's not mentioning that he has a girlfriend.

"I should find Joe," you say weakly.

You spot him on the other side of the rooftop, laughing with a group that includes some women you don't recognize. When you approach, he glances at you briefly.

"Hey," he says, not moving to include you in the circle. "Having fun?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Kind of in the middle of something here. Everything okay?"

The group is watching now, and you feel like you're being dramatic, needy, clingy. All the things you never wanted to be.

"Never mind," you say. "I'm going to head home."

"Okay. I'll probably be here for a while."

He doesn't offer to come with you. Doesn't ask if you're feeling alright. Just turns back to his conversation like you were never there.

You take an Uber home alone from your boyfriend's season celebration party.

* * *

October 2023 - The Sports Illustrated Profile

You're on your lunch break at the hospital when Emma texts you: Have you seen the SI article about Joe? It's really good.

You pull up the piece on your phone: "Joe Burrow: The Evolution of a Champion." It's a beautiful profile, full of gorgeous photos and thoughtful writing about his journey from Ohio State benchwarmer to franchise quarterback.

The writer traces his path through LSU, the Heisman, the draft, the injury, the comeback. They interview his parents, his coaches, his teammates. They talk about his leadership style, his work ethic, his vision for the team's future.

Six years of your relationship gets one line: "Burrow keeps his personal life private, preferring to let his performance on the field do the talking."

That's it. Six years reduced to "private personal life."

No mention of the girl who believed in him when he was third string. No mention of the support system that helped him through the transfer decision, the injury, the comeback. No mention of the pediatric nurse who moved her entire life to Cincinnati to build something with him.

You think about all the interviews you've watched where he gushes about his parents, his brothers, his coaches. People who matter enough to mention. People whose support he acknowledges.

You read the article three times, looking for any reference to you, any hint that you exist in his story.

There's nothing.

* * *

November 2023 - The Charity Kitchen

The Cincinnati Children's Hospital benefit dinner is one of your favorite events each year. It's where your two worlds—your work and Joe's platform—come together for something meaningful.

You arrive separately because Joe had a meeting that ran long, but you're not worried. You know this event, know these people, know how important this cause is to both of you.

"Excuse me," a woman with a clipboard approaches you near the registration table. "Are you here to volunteer in the kitchen? We're running a little behind on prep."

You look down at your cocktail dress and heels, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"The volunteer kitchen staff? We have appetizers that need to be plated."

"Oh, no. I'm not a volunteer. I'm here as a guest."

She looks at your dress again, clearly confused. "Are you with one of the corporate sponsors?"

"I'm here with Joe Burrow. I also work at the hospital."

"Oh!" Her face changes completely. "I'm so sorry! I thought... well, we had several volunteers sign up to help with service, and I just assumed..."

You smile tightly. "It's fine."

But it's not fine. Because this is an event honoring the work you do every day, at the hospital where you've worked for three years, and the event coordinator doesn't recognize you as Joe Burrow's girlfriend.

Later, during cocktail hour, you watch Joe work the room with practiced ease. When a reporter approaches him, you instinctively move closer.

"Joe, tell us why this cause is so important to you," the reporter says.

"Children's Hospital does incredible work," Joe responds. "Being able to support the families who are going through the hardest times of their lives—that's what it's all about."

The reporter nods. "Do you have a personal connection to pediatric care?"

Your heart speeds up. This is it. This is where he mentions you, mentions that his girlfriend works here, that you see these families every day.

"Not personally, but when you're in a position to help, you help. It's that simple."

The interview moves on, and you're left standing three feet away from your boyfriend while he talks about your life's work like he has no personal connection to it at all.

* * *

December 2022 - The Birthday

Joe's 26th birthday falls on a Tuesday, which should make it low-key. Intimate. Just the two of you, the way you've celebrated every year since you've been together.

Instead, Joe announces he's having a party.

"A party?" you ask, looking up from your laptop where you've been researching weekend getaway ideas for just the two of you.

"Yeah, just a small thing. Some of the guys want to celebrate."

"Oh. Okay. Do you want me to help plan it?"

"Nah, Tyler's wife is handling most of it. Thanks though."

Kierra is planning Joe's birthday party. Not you, his girlfriend of six years. Kierra, who barely knows Joe outside of team functions.

"Where are we having it?"

"That new rooftop place downtown. Should be fun."

The party is not small. It's at least fifty people, most of whom you don't know. Joe works the room like he's campaigning for office, taking photos with everyone, making sure he talks to each guest.

You spend most of the night standing with the other girlfriends and wives, feeling like an accessory rather than the guest of honor's partner.

"This is a great turnout," one of the newer wives says. "Joe's really popular."

"He always has been," you reply, watching him pose for photos with a group of women you don't recognize.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Six years. Since college."

She looks surprised. "Really? That's so sweet. You're like childhood sweethearts."

"Something like that."

Later, when the crowd starts to thin out, you find Joe on the rooftop terrace, looking out at the Cincinnati skyline.

"Good party," you say, joining him at the railing.

"Yeah, it was great. Good turnout."

You stand in comfortable silence for a moment, and for just a second, it feels like old times. Just you and Joe, away from the crowd.

"I got you something," you say, pulling out a small wrapped box.

Joe takes it, looking surprised. "You didn't have to get me anything."

Inside is a watch—simple, classic, the kind he's mentioned liking but never gets around to buying for himself. You'd noticed him checking his phone for the time constantly and thought he might appreciate having a nice watch again.

Joe looks at it, turning it over in his hands. "This is really nice."

"I know you've been wanting a new one," you say. "And I thought... I don't know, I wanted to get you something you'd actually use."

Joe is quiet for a moment, still looking at the watch.

"Thank you," he says finally. "This is really thoughtful."

But he doesn't put it on. He just closes the box and slips it into his pocket.

"Should we head back in?" he asks.

You nod, following him back into the party, where he immediately gets pulled into another group conversation. He doesn't mention the gift to anyone. Doesn't show it off the way he used to show off thoughtful presents from you.

At the end of the night, as you're getting ready to leave, you realize that Joe never introduced you to anyone as his girlfriend. You were just "Y/N" all night, floating around the edges of his birthday celebration like a guest who didn't quite belong.

December 11, 2023

Joe,

Today was your 26th birthday. I've been there for five of your birthdays now, and this one felt different than all the others.

I gave you a watch for your birthday. Something simple that I thought you'd actually wear since you're always checking your phone for the time.

You said it was thoughtful, but you put it in your pocket and never mentioned it again.

I used to be the person who planned your birthdays. Now I'm the person who shows up to parties planned by someone else, where I don't know half the guests and you don't introduce me as anything more than my first name.

I used to be your person. Now I feel like I'm just... here. Taking up space in a life that you're building without me.

I keep waiting for us to talk about what's happening. I keep waiting for you to notice that we're falling apart. But you seem completely fine with the distance between us, and I don't know what that means.

Are you trying to break up with me without actually breaking up with me? Are you hoping I'll just fade away so you don't have to do the hard work of ending things?

Because I'm starting to feel invisible, Joe. I'm starting to feel like I don't matter to you at all.

And the worst part is, I don't think you even notice.

Y/N

* * *

December 2023 - The Christmas Party Photos

The team Christmas party is at the Omni, elegant and festive with perfect lighting for photos. You've been looking forward to it because Joe seems more relaxed lately, and you're hoping it might feel like the old days when you were part of things.

Joe looks incredible in his navy suit, and when he compliments your red dress, you feel a flicker of hope.

"You look beautiful," he says, and for a moment, his smile is real.

The party is lovely—good food, open bar, festive atmosphere. You mingle with the other wives and girlfriends, most of whom are polite but distant. The newer ones don't seem to know who you are.

Then the photos start.

Joe poses with his teammates at the bar. Click. With the coaching staff by the Christmas tree. Click. With the team owners near the dance floor. Click.

"Joe!" the team photographer calls. "Let's get one with all the players and their families."

This is it. This is your moment to be included, to be part of the team family, to exist in the visual record of Joe's life.

Joe joins the group, and you start to move toward him, but he's already positioned himself between Ja'Marr and Tyler. The photographer is arranging people, and somehow you end up standing behind a group of wives, partially obscured.

"Perfect!" the photographer says, snapping several shots.

Then comes the couples photos. You watch as player after player poses with their significant other. Sweet, intimate shots that will probably end up on the team's social media.

You wait for Joe to look for you, to gesture you over.

He doesn't.

Instead, he starts chatting with the team's social media manager about posting strategy, completely forgetting that couples photos are happening.

By the time he's done with that conversation, the photographer has moved on to group shots with the front office staff.

You stand by the dessert table, watching everyone else create memories, and realize you're going to be the only long-term girlfriend who doesn't have a single photo with her partner from this event.

"Y/N!" Robin Burrow appears beside you with a warm smile. "You look gorgeous, honey. Are you having fun?"

"Thank you. Yes, it's lovely."

"Where's Joe? I wanted to get a photo of you two. You never take pictures anymore."

Your throat tightens. "He's busy with team stuff."

Robin follows your gaze to where Joe is now posing with a group of sponsors, laughing at something someone said.

"Hmm," she says quietly, and you can hear years of motherly wisdom in that single sound.

When you get home that night, Joe is already scrolling through the team's Instagram stories, watching the photos from the party pop up.

"Good party," he says absently.

"Mmm."

"Oh, look, they got that group shot." He shows you his phone, and there it is—the team family photo where you're barely visible behind three other people, like a ghost at your own boyfriend's Christmas party.

"Nice," you say.

Joe doesn't seem to notice that you're not really in it. Or if he notices, he doesn't care.

That night, you lie awake thinking about Ashley's comment from September: Mike mentioned that Joe was single.

You think about the Sports Illustrated article where six years of love and support were erased completely.

You think about being mistaken for kitchen staff at an event honoring your own workplace.

You think about watching every other couple at the Christmas party take photos together while your boyfriend forgot you existed.

And you finally admit to yourself what you've been avoiding for months:

Joe Burrow has already broken up with you. He just hasn't told you yet.

December 25, 2023

Joe,

Merry Christmas. I'm writing this while you're asleep next to me, and I can't stop thinking about how different this feels from every other Christmas we've spent together.

Last night at the team party, I watched you take photos with everyone except me. I watched every other couple create memories while you forgot I was there. I stood by the dessert table feeling like a stranger at my own boyfriend's Christmas party.

Your mom asked why we never take pictures anymore. I didn't know what to tell her.

I keep waiting for you to notice that you're erasing me from your life. I keep waiting for you to care that I'm disappearing. But you seem fine with it. More than fine—you seem relieved.

I think I finally understand what's happening. You don't want to be the bad guy who breaks up with his college girlfriend, so you're just making me disappear instead. Death by a thousand small cuts instead of one clean break.

It's working. I feel invisible.

I feel like I don't matter to you at all.

And the worst part is, I don't think you even realize what you're doing. I think you've convinced yourself that this is just how things are now, that this is normal relationship evolution.

But it's not normal to erase someone you love from your life.

It's not normal to treat your girlfriend like an inconvenience.

It's not normal to act single while you're in a six-year relationship.

I'm writing this letter on Christmas, and it might be the last one I ever write to you.

Because I finally understand that you don't want me in your life anymore.

And I'm too tired to keep fighting for someone who doesn't want to be fought for.

Y/N

* * *

January 14th, 2024

You're in the kitchen making coffee when Joe comes downstairs, already dressed in his team-issued workout gear. The playoff loss was yesterday—a heartbreaking end to what should have been a championship season—but he looks like he's ready to move on.

"Morning," he says, grabbing a protein bar from the pantry.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, even though you already know he won't give you a real answer.

"Ready to get back to work. Season's over, but next year starts now."

There's no mention of how devastating the loss was, no acknowledgment that you were there in the stands watching his dreams slip away. No need for comfort or processing or any of the emotional intimacy that used to define your relationship.

"Joe," you say, setting down your coffee cup. "We need to talk."

He checks his watch. "Can it wait? I've got a training session at nine."

"No. It can't wait anymore."

Something in your tone makes him look up, really look at you, for the first time in months.

"What's going on?"

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what you've been building toward since Christmas. "When did you decide you didn't want to be with me anymore?"

Joe's expression shifts from confusion to something like annoyance. "What? Y/N, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that you've been acting single for months. I'm talking about the fact that you've erased me from your life so completely that your own teammates think you're available."

"That's not—"

"When was the last time you introduced me as your girlfriend, Joe? When was the last time you posted a photo of us together? When was the last time you mentioned me in an interview about your support system?"

Joe runs his hand through his hair, that familiar gesture that used to seem endearing but now just looks irritated. "Why does everything have to be about social media and interviews? Why can't our relationship just be private?"

"Private and invisible aren't the same thing."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to act like you want to be with me. I want you to stop treating me like I'm some embarrassing secret you have to hide."

Joe leans against the counter, crossing his arms. "I'm not hiding you."

"Really? Because at the Christmas party, you took photos with everyone except me. At the hospital benefit, you talked about pediatric care like you had no personal connection to it while I was standing right there. A Sports Illustrated profile about your entire life mentioned me for exactly zero sentences."

"You're keeping track of magazine articles now?"

"I'm keeping track of being erased from your life!"

The words come out louder than you intended, and Joe flinches slightly.

"You want to know what I think?" he says, his voice getting colder. "I think you're looking for problems that don't exist because you're insecure about me being successful."

The accusation hits like a slap. "Insecure about your success?"

"Yes. You can't handle that my life is bigger now, that I have more obligations, more people depending on me."

"Joe, I've been supporting your dreams since you were riding the bench at Ohio State. I moved my entire life to Cincinnati for your career. I have never, not once, been anything but proud of your success."

"Then what is this about?"

"This is about you changing. About you deciding that the girl who loved you before you were famous isn't good enough for the life you want now."

Joe is quiet for a moment, and in that silence, you see something shift in his expression. Not denial, not confusion. Recognition.

"Maybe," he says slowly, "we're just in different places now."

The words are careful, diplomatic, but they land like a confession.

"Different places," you repeat.

"I'm trying to build something here. A legacy. And maybe... maybe that requires making some choices about what fits and what doesn't."

"And I don't fit."

It's not a question, but Joe answers anyway.

"I don't know."

The honesty is almost worse than a lie would have been. After six years, you've been reduced to "I don't know."

"You know what the worst part is?" you say, your voice surprisingly steady. "It's not that you've changed. People change, I get that. It's that you've been too cowardly to just end things. You've been hoping I'd get the hint and leave so you wouldn't have to be the bad guy."

"That's not—"

"Isn't it? You've been making me smaller and smaller in your life, erasing me bit by bit, hoping I'd just fade away so you could move on without having to actually break up with me."

Joe doesn't deny it, which tells you everything you need to know.

"I think," you say, surprising yourself with how calm you sound, "we should end this."

Joe looks up sharply. "Y/N—"

"No, it's okay. You don't have to pretend anymore. You don't have to keep me around out of guilt or obligation or whatever this has become."

"It's not guilt. I do love you."

"I know you do. But you love the idea of your future more, and I'm not part of that picture anymore."

Joe is quiet, not denying it, not fighting for you, and that tells you everything.

"I'm going to pack some things," you say. "I'll come back for the rest later."

"Where will you go?"

"That's not your problem anymore."

You turn to leave the kitchen, but Joe's voice stops you.

"Y/N. I never meant for it to happen like this."

You look back at him, this man you've loved for six years, who looks genuinely sad but also relieved.

"I know," you say. "But it did happen like this. And we both have to live with that."

* * *

You pack quickly, mechanically, throwing clothes and essentials into suitcases while Joe presumably goes to his training session. You can't think too hard about what you're taking or you'll fall apart.

Your nursing textbooks. Your favorite jeans. The Ohio State sweatshirt you've had since freshman year. A few photos from before everything went wrong.

The wooden box of letters sits in your nightstand drawer, forgotten in your rush to get out. Six years of loving someone documented in careful handwriting, left behind like everything else that used to matter.

When you're done packing, the apartment looks the same except for the empty spaces where your things used to be. Like you were never really there at all.

You leave your key on the kitchen counter next to your coffee cup, still half full and growing cold.

By the time Joe comes home from training, you're gone.

* * *

Two days later, Joe texts you: Can we talk about practical stuff? I want to help with your transition.

You're staying at Emma's, sleeping on her couch and trying to figure out your next move, when the text comes through. You almost don't respond, but there are things you left behind that you need.

You meet him at a coffee shop near the hospital, neutral territory. He looks tired, guilty, like he hasn't been sleeping well.

"I found an apartment for you," he says without preamble. "Downtown, close to the hospital. I want to pay for it."

You stare at him. "What?"

"An apartment, living expenses, and enough money that you can focus on whatever you want to do next without worrying about bills. Ever."

"Joe—"

"I know how this looks, but I just want to make sure you're okay. That you land on your feet."

The offer is generous. Too generous. A one-bedroom downtown would probably cost more than you make in several months, and the financial security would give you time to rebuild without the stress of money.

It would also mean accepting his guilt money. It would mean letting him buy his way out of feeling bad about how he treated you.

"No," you say.

"Y/N, be practical. You've been living a certain way for years now. You shouldn't have to struggle financially because of how this ended."

"No." Your voice is firm. "I don't want your money, Joe."

"Please. Just let me do this one thing right."

"Doing this right would have been having this conversation six months ago instead of making me disappear from your life piece by piece."

Joe's jaw tightens. "I'm trying to help you."

"You're trying to make yourself feel better. And I'm not going to take your money so you can sleep better at night knowing you paid me off."

"That's not what this is."

"That's exactly what this is Joe."

Joe is quiet, and you can see that part of him knows you're right.

"I want to do this," he says finally. "Please let me do this."

"I want to do this myself."

You stand up, leaving your untouched coffee on the table. "I'll get my things this weekend when you're out of town."

"Y/N—"

"I don't want your guilt money, Joe. I want to forget this ever happened and build something that's mine."

You walk away before he can argue, before the practical part of your brain can override your pride, before you can change your mind about money that would solve all your immediate problems.

Because taking his money would mean staying connected to him, staying grateful to him, staying small.

And you're done being small.

* * *

Three weeks later, you sign a lease on a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood. It's nothing fancy—old hardwood floors, a kitchen barely big enough for one person, a view of the parking lot—but it's yours. Paid for with money you'd saved over the years while Joe covered most of your living expenses.

Emma helps you move your few boxes of belongings. You buy a couch from Facebook Marketplace and hang up photos from before everything went wrong.

It's small and humble and nothing like the life you thought you'd be living at twenty-six, but when you sit on your secondhand couch in your empty living room, you feel something you haven't felt in months:

Peace.

You don't think about Joe during the day when you're busy with patients. You don't check his social media. You don't wonder what he's doing or who he's with.

You think about the little girl in room 304 who's going home next week after three months of treatment. You think about the continuing education class you're taking to specialize in pediatric oncology. You think about the book you're reading and the weekend plans you're making with Emma.

You think about building a life that belongs entirely to you.

And if sometimes you lie awake at night remembering what it felt like to love someone that much, to believe in forever that completely, you remind yourself that loving Joe Burrow was the best and worst thing you ever did.

The best because it taught you how much you were capable of feeling.

The worst because it nearly made you forget how much you were worth.

But you remember now. And that's enough to start over.

* * *

July 2024 - Six Months Later

Melissa finds the box on a Saturday morning while Joe is at training camp.

She's been staying over more frequently lately—nothing serious, just convenient—and Joe mentioned she could reorganize the bedroom furniture if she wanted. "Make it feel more like home," he'd said, though they both know this isn't going anywhere permanent.

"She's moving the nightstand to get better morning light when she notices it's heavier than it should be. When she opens the bottom drawer to see what's weighing it down, there's a wooden box pushed all the way to the back.

It's beautiful—polished wood with delicate metal hinges, the kind of thing someone keeps treasures in. Melissa stares at it for a long moment, knowing she shouldn't be curious about Joe's personal belongings. It's probably documents, maybe family photos, something private that's none of her business.

But something about the box draws her in. It looks old, well-loved, like it holds memories.

She almost closes the drawer and pretends she never saw it. That would be the right thing to do. But her fingers are already reaching for it, already lifting it out to examine the craftsmanship.

The box isn't locked. The hinges open easily, as if they've been opened countless times before.

Inside are letters. Dozens of them, written in careful feminine handwriting on different papers—notebook pages, stationary, hotel letterhead. Some are dated, some aren't. The oldest ones are from 2017, the newest from December 2023.

Melissa's stomach drops. She shouldn't be reading these.

Instead, she picks up the top letter, dated October 15, 2017, and reads the first line:

Dear Future Famous Football Player,

I'm starting this collection because someday you're going to be a famous football player...

Melissa sets the letter down immediately, her heart racing. These aren't just personal—they're love letters. Someone wrote love letters to Joe, and they've been hidden in this drawer for God knows how long.

She should stop reading. Should put everything back and pretend this never happened. Joe's past relationships are none of her business, and reading someone else's private correspondence is a massive violation.

But the date catches her attention. 2017. These letters span years, not months. This wasn't some casual relationship—this was something serious, something long-term that Joe has never once mentioned.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Melissa picks up the letter again and reads the whole thing. Then another. Then another.

By the time she's read five letters, she understands she's holding someone's entire heart in her hands. Six years of love letters from someone named Y/N, documenting a relationship that clearly meant everything to her and apparently meant enough to Joe that he kept every single letter.

But if these letters are so important, why are they hidden in a drawer? Why has Joe never mentioned this woman who obviously loved him completely?

Melissa has heard the name exactly once, in passing, when Joe mentioned his "ex from college" without elaborating. She'd assumed it was some brief relationship, nothing significant enough to discuss.

These letters tell a different story.

She reads about Ohio State, about late nights studying together, about Joe being too nervous to make a move. She reads about LSU and the Heisman and the draft. She reads about moving to Cincinnati together, about building a life, about talks of marriage and forever.

Then she reads about the slow dissolution. About feeling invisible, about being erased from his life, about watching the man she loved become someone who treated her like an inconvenience.

The final letter, dated December 25, 2023, makes Melissa's chest tight:

I'm writing this letter on Christmas, and it might be the last one I ever write to you. Because I finally understand that you don't want me in your life anymore. And I'm too tired to keep fighting for someone who doesn't want to be fought for.

Melissa sits on the bedroom floor, surrounded by six years of someone else's love story, and feels sick to her stomach.

Not because she's jealous—she and Joe aren't in love, aren't building toward anything serious. But because these letters paint a picture of a man she doesn't recognize. A man who systematically erased someone who loved him completely, who slowly broke someone's heart while they begged him to remember what they used to mean to each other.

When Joe comes home from training, Melissa is sitting at the kitchen island with the wooden box in front of her.

"Hey," he says, dropping his gear bag by the door. "How was your day?"

"I found something," she says quietly.

Joe glances at the box and his face goes completely white. He stares at it like he's seeing a ghost.

"What is that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I was hoping you could tell me." Melissa's voice is careful, controlled. "I found it in your nightstand drawer when I was moving furniture."

"Joe's face goes completely white when he sees the box. "That's Y/N's. She had it when we moved in, but I never... I never knew what she kept in it."

"Joe—"

"I remember Y/N having this, but I never knew what was in it." He reaches out to touch it, then pulls his hand back. "What's inside?"

"Letters. A lot of them. From her."

Joe's face crumples like he's been hit. He sits down heavily in the chair across from her.

"Y/N wrote me letters?"

"You really didn't know?"

"I had no fucking idea." Joe's voice is strained. "She must have left it when she moved out. I never... I never cleaned out that drawer. I never had any reason to."

Melissa watches his face carefully. The shock seems genuine, but so does something else. Fear, maybe. Or dread.

"Did you read them?"

"Some of them." Melissa's voice is careful, controlled. "Enough."

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of six years of hidden love letters between them.

"She was so in love with you," Melissa says finally. "These letters... they're six years of her heart on paper."

Joe nods, not looking at her.

"And you just... what? Got tired of her?"

"It wasn't like that."

"What was it like?"

Joe runs his hands through his hair, a gesture Melissa now realizes probably drove Y/N crazy with familiarity. "It was complicated."

"She doesn't make it sound complicated. She makes it sound like you decided she wasn't good enough for your new life and slowly pushed her out instead of having the balls to break up with her."

Joe flinches. "That's not what happened."

"What was it then?"

Melissa reaches into the box and pulls out a letter from September 2023. "She writes about your teammate thinking you were single. About you not mentioning her when you talked about your support system." She looks up at Joe. "Sound familiar?"

"You don't understand the pressure I was under—"

"From who? From your agent? Your publicist?" Melissa's voice gets sharper. "Or from yourself because you wanted to be available?"

Joe is quiet.

"There's a letter in here about you liking Instagram photos of other women. About her friends having to tell her because she didn't know." Melissa shakes her head. "That's not pressure, Joe. That's cruelty."

"I never meant to hurt her."

"But you did hurt her. For months. You made someone who loved you feel like they were crazy for expecting basic respect."

Joe finally looks up, and Melissa can see something breaking behind his eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Melissa says, standing up and gathering her purse, "I can't be with someone who treats people like that. And because she deserves better than having her love letters hidden in a drawer like they're something to be ashamed of."

She pushes the wooden box across the island toward him.

"Read them," she says. "Read what you threw away. And then figure out how to live with what you did."

After Melissa leaves, Joe sits alone in his kitchen staring at the wooden box. He's never seen it before in his life.

He turns it over in his hands, examining the delicate metal hinges, the worn spots where fingers have traced the edges countless times. It's clearly old, clearly meaningful, clearly not something that belonged to him.

Y/N must have left it behind when she moved out. In six months, he's never cleaned out that nightstand drawer—never had a reason to. He'd assumed she took everything that mattered to her.

The fact that she forgot this, whatever it is, feels significant in a way he can't quite name.

With trembling fingers, Joe opens the box.

His heart stops.

Inside are dozens of letters, some on notebook paper, some on stationary, some on hotel letterhead. They span years—he can see dates ranging from 2017 to 2023. Six years of letters he never knew existed.

Joe picks up the first one with shaking hands, dated October 15, 2017:

Dear Future Famous Football Player,

I'm starting this collection because someday you're going to be a famous football player, and I want to be able to show you that I always knew you could do it...

The words blur as Joe reads about nineteen-year-old Y/N, sitting in her dorm room after their library study session, so sure of his potential that she started documenting her belief in him. She writes about his terrible impression of Coach Meyer, about the way he looked when he talked about football, about being proud to love someone chasing such big dreams.

He had no idea. No idea she was writing to him, about him, for him. No idea she was creating this record of their love story, this proof of her faith in him when he barely had faith in himself.

The second letter is from after their first date, gushing about his nervousness and his sweetness and how she's already falling for the frustrated quarterback who everyone overlooks.

The third is from LSU, about missing him but being so proud of his courage to transfer, so sure he'll prove everyone wrong.

Letter after letter of unwavering support, of love, of belief. Y/N documenting every milestone, every moment of growth, every step of his journey from benchwarmer to Heisman winner to NFL quarterback.

But it's not just about football. She writes about the way he makes her laugh, about his terrible cooking, about lazy Sunday mornings and shared dreams. She writes about loving him not because of what he might become, but because of who he is.

Joe reads for hours, watching their relationship unfold through Y/N's eyes. The joy in her words when he wins the Heisman. The excitement when he gets drafted. The love when they move in together. The security when she writes about their future like it's inevitable, beautiful, certain.

Then come the 2023 letters, and Joe's heart breaks completely.

The shift is gradual at first—confusion replacing confidence, questions replacing certainty. She writes about his Instagram activity, about feeling invisible at events, about being erased from his life piece by piece.

March 15, 2023: When I tried to talk to you about it, you called it "my problem." You acted like my feelings were irrational, like caring about this made me crazy and jealous.

Joe remembers that conversation. He remembers dismissing her concerns, making her feel small for caring. Reading her words now, he sees how cruel he was, how blind.

July 15, 2023: I gave you a watch for your birthday—something I thought you'd actually wear since you're always checking your phone for the time... You said it was thoughtful, but you put it in your pocket and never mentioned it again.

The watch. Joe looks down at his wrist where it sits now, the watch he wears every day but never thinks about. He'd forgotten it was from her, forgotten the love behind the gesture.

December 25, 2023: You don't want to be the bad guy who breaks up with his college girlfriend, so you're just making me disappear instead. Death by a thousand small cuts instead of one clean break.

The accuracy of her observation hits him like a physical blow. That's exactly what he did. Too cowardly to end things cleanly, he slowly erased her instead, hoping she'd fade away so he wouldn't have to face what he was doing.

The final letter, written on Christmas night, destroys him:

I'm writing this letter on Christmas, and it might be the last one I ever write to you. Because I finally understand that you don't want me in your life anymore. And I'm too tired to keep fighting for someone who doesn't want to be fought for.

Joe reads it three times, each word cutting deeper than the last. Y/N, the woman who loved him before anyone believed in him, reduced to begging for basic recognition in her own relationship. Y/N, who documented six years of loving him, finally admitting defeat on Christmas night.

When Joe finally closes the box, the sun is coming up outside his kitchen windows. He's sitting in the same spot where he dismissed her concerns about Instagram, where he made her feel crazy for wanting to matter to him, where he let her walk away rather than fight for what they had.

For six months, he's told himself it was for the best, that they just weren't compatible anymore, that he was doing them both a favor. The letters obliterate every lie he's told himself.

Y/N didn't leave him. He systematically destroyed her until she had no choice but to save herself.

And she'd been documenting it all—not to hurt him, but because she loved him so much she couldn't stop believing their story mattered, even when he was busy erasing her from it.

Joe picks up his phone, Y/N's contact still saved under a heart emoji he never changed. His fingers hover over her name.

But what could he possibly say? How do you apologize for six months of cruelty? How do you explain that you never knew someone was writing love letters to you while you were busy breaking their heart?

How do you ask for forgiveness when you finally understand you don't deserve it?

Joe sets the phone down and stares at the wooden box containing six years of the most genuine love he's ever received. Love he never knew existed, never appreciated, never deserved.

Love he destroyed because he was too blind to see what he had and too selfish to protect it.

For the first time in his adult life, Joe Burrow understands what he's lost. And it's too late to get it back.

* * *

August 2024 - The Unraveling

Joe starts saying no.

No to the networking events that feel hollow. No to the sponsor appearances that require him to be "on" for hours. No to the parties where he doesn't know anyone and everyone wants something from him.

His agent is confused. His publicist is concerned. His teammates start asking if he's okay.

"I'm fine," Joe tells Ja'Marr over lunch. "I'm just trying to figure some things out."

"This about Y/N?" Ja'Marr asks.

Joe looks up sharply. "How did you—"

"Dude, you've been different since she left. And you used to talk about her all the time." Ja'Marr shrugs. "Now you act like she never existed."

"Did I really talk about her that much?"

"Constantly. It was actually annoying. Y/N this, Y/N that. You were gone for that girl."

Something cold washes over Joe. He'd forgotten that version of himself—the one who couldn't shut up about his girlfriend, who was proud to be claimed by someone who chose him when he was nobody.

"What happened? You never told me." Ja'Marr asks.

"I got stupid," Joe says simply. "I thought I wanted something else, and I threw away the best thing I ever had."

* * *

Fall 2024 - The Work

Joe starts seeing a therapist.

Not because anyone suggests it, not because it's trending or good for his image, but because he reads Y/N's letters again and realizes he doesn't understand why he became the person who could treat someone like that.

Dr. Andrews is in her fifties, has probably never watched a football game in her life, and treats Joe like any other patient working through relationship issues.

"Tell me about fame," she says during their third session. "How did it change you?"

"It didn't change me. It just... amplified things."

"What things?"

Joe thinks about this. "The need to be perfect. The fear of being vulnerable. The idea that I had to be worthy of the attention."

"And being in a relationship made you feel unworthy?"

"Being in a relationship made me feel... tied down. Like I was missing out on something."

"What were you missing out on?"

Joe is quiet for a long time. "I don't know. That's the fucked up part. I threw away something real for something that doesn't even exist."

Dr. Andrews nods. "Fame can be a very effective shield against intimacy. It's easier to be loved by thousands of strangers than to be truly known by one person."

The observation hits Joe like a physical blow, because it's exactly right. Loving Y/N required him to be real, to be flawed, to be human. Fame let him be perfect, untouchable, always performing.

* * *

Winter 2024-2025 - The Isolation

Joe spends his first off-season in years actually off. No training camps in exotic locations, no promotional tours, no appearances. Just him, his house, and the uncomfortable silence of not being constantly busy.

He gets back into reading actual books, not just playbooks. He cooks real meals instead of ordering out or having his chef prepare them. He takes long walks without his phone, remembering what it feels like to think without interruption.

He also writes letters he'll never send.

Y/N,

I read your letters. All of them. I had no idea you were writing to me, documenting us, believing in me even when I was too stupid to believe in myself.

I wish I could explain why I became the person who hurt you, but I'm still figuring that out. All I know is that somewhere along the way, I started believing my own hype and forgot that the best parts of my life had nothing to do with football.

You deserved so much better than what I gave you. You deserved to be chosen every day, not slowly erased because I was too cowardly to face what I really wanted.

I hope you're happy. I hope you found someone who appreciates what I was too blind to see.

I hope someday I become worthy of the love you gave me, even if it's too late for us.

Joe

He writes dozens of these letters, each one an attempt to understand what went wrong, to take responsibility, to imagine a version of himself that could have been better.

He never sends them. But writing them helps him understand the difference between regret and genuine remorse.

* * *

Spring 2025 - The Breakthrough

"I think I understand now," Joe tells Dr. Andrews during a session in March. "Why I did what I did."

"Tell me."

"I was terrified of being ordinary. Y/N loved me when I was just a backup quarterback, when I was nobody special. Part of me always worried that if I stayed with her, I'd stay ordinary too."

"And now?"

"Now I realize that being loved for who you really are is the most extraordinary thing in the world. And I gave that up to be loved by people who don't actually know me at all."

Dr. Andrews nods. "That's significant insight, Joe. What are you going to do with it?"

"I don't know. She's moved on. She's probably with someone else, someone who deserves her. But I want to become the kind of person who could be worthy of that kind of love, even if it's too late for us."

* * *

Summer 2025 - The Changes

Joe starts living differently.

He buys groceries and cooks his own meals. He calls his parents every week just to talk, not because he needs something. He volunteers at the children's hospital—not for publicity, not for photos, but because Y/N's passion for helping kids finally makes sense to him.

He stops following Instagram models. Stops going to parties where he doesn't know anyone. Stops saying yes to every opportunity just because it might look good.

His social media becomes quieter, more authentic. Less brand management, more actual life.

People notice. Teammates comment that he seems more relaxed, more present. His family says he sounds like himself again for the first time in years.

"You're different," his mom says during a visit home. "More like the Joe we raised."

"I'm trying to figure out who that person is again."

"He's a good person," Robin says. "He just got lost for a while."

* * *

Fall 2025 - The Understanding

Joe has dinner with Tyler and Kierra Boyd, something he hasn't done in years—just dinner, no agenda, no networking.

"Can I ask you something?" Joe says as they're finishing dessert. "How do you stay real when everything around you is fake?"

Tyler and Kierra exchange a look.

"You remember what matters," Kierra says finally. "You remember that the football stuff is what you do, not who you are."

"And you surround yourself with people who knew you before," Tyler adds. "People who'll call you out when you're being an ass."

Joe thinks about Y/N, who used to tease him about his terrible jokes, who kept him grounded without even trying, who saw through his bullshit even when he couldn't.

"I had that," he says quietly. "I threw it away."

"Y/N?" Kierra asks gently.

Joe nods, surprised she remembers.

"She was good for you," Kierra says. "You were different when you were with her. More... yourself."

"I know. I just didn't appreciate it until it was too late."

* * *

2025 - The Growth

Joe's first full year of therapy focuses less on what he did wrong and more on building the person he wants to be going forward.

He learns to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of numbing them with work or distractions. He practices vulnerability in small ways—admitting when he doesn't know something, asking for help, letting people see him struggle.

He dates occasionally, but nothing serious. Partly because he's still working on himself, partly because everyone feels like a pale imitation of what he had with Y/N.

"I keep comparing them to her," he tells Dr. Andrews.

"That's natural. She was a significant relationship."

"It's more than that. She was... home. She was the only person who made me feel like I could stop performing and just be."

"Do you think you could create that feeling with someone else?"

"Maybe. But not until I can be that person without needing someone else to bring it out of me."

* * *

Early 2027 - The Readiness

By his third year of therapy, Joe has become someone he actually likes. Someone who can sit in silence without needing constant stimulation. Someone who asks his friends about their lives instead of waiting for his turn to talk. Someone who volunteers because he wants to help, not because it looks good.

He's still successful, still driven, still competitive. But those things don't define him anymore.

"I think I'm ready," he tells Dr. Andrews during one of their sessions.

"Ready for what?"

"To be in a real relationship again. To be the kind of partner someone deserves."

"What would that look like?"

"Present. Honest. Willing to be vulnerable. Someone who chooses their partner every day, not just when it's convenient."

Dr. Andrews smiles. "That sounds like growth."

"I know she's probably moved on. I know I probably lost my chance with her forever. But if I ever get another opportunity to love someone that completely, I want to be ready for it."

* * *

Late 2027 - The Invitation

The wedding invitation arrives on a Tuesday in October: Kyle McClain & Emily Stevens request your presence...

Joe remembers Jake from Ohio State—offensive lineman, good guy, someone who knew both him and Y/N back when they were just college kids figuring things out.

His first instinct is to decline. Weddings are complicated, full of people from his past who might ask questions he's not ready to answer.

But then he thinks about the person he's become over the past three years. Someone who can handle awkward conversations. Someone who doesn't need to perform or impress. Someone who can show up as himself and be okay with that.

He RSVP's yes.

He doesn't let himself think about whether Y/N might be there. He goes because Jake is a good friend and because he wants to celebrate love, even if his own chance at it might be gone forever.

But as he drives to Columbus the morning of the wedding, Joe allows himself one small hope: that if he does see Y/N, she'll be able to see the man he's worked so hard to become.

The man who finally understands what he lost.

The man who might, just might, be worthy of a second chance.

* * *

October 2027 - Columbus, Ohio

Joe sees her before she sees him.

She's standing near the bar at Kyle and Emily's wedding reception, wearing a navy blue dress that skims her knees, her hair longer than he remembers and pulled back in a way that shows off the elegant line of her neck. She's laughing at something the woman next to her is saying, and the sound carries across the room like a melody he'd forgotten he knew.

For a moment, Joe can't breathe. Three and a half years of therapy, of growth, of becoming someone better, and the sight of Y/N still hits him like a physical force.

But this time, it's different. This time, he doesn't feel the desperate, possessive ache he might have felt years ago. Instead, he feels something quieter, more complex—a mixture of joy at seeing her looking so genuinely happy and a profound sadness for everything they lost.

She looks good. More than good. She looks like she's thriving.

Joe stays where he is for a few minutes, just watching her interact with the other guests. She's confident in a way she never quite was when they were together, engaging in conversation with an ease that seems effortless. When she throws her head back and laughs at something, Joe can see that this is who she was always meant to become.

He's about to turn away—maybe slip out early, let her enjoy the evening without the complication of his presence—when she glances around the room and her eyes land on him.

The recognition is instant. Her smile fades slightly, not in an unfriendly way, but in the way of someone who's just been reminded of a different lifetime. They stare at each other across the crowded reception hall, and Joe feels like they're nineteen again, meeting for the first time in that orientation session.

Y/N says something to the woman she's talking to, then begins making her way across the room. Joe's heart rate picks up, but he stays put, letting her come to him.

"Joe," she says when she reaches him. Her voice is warm but careful. "I wasn't sure you'd be here."

"Y/N." He smiles, hoping it looks more natural than it feels. "You look... you look really good."

"Thank you. So do you."

There's an awkward pause as they both try to navigate this moment. The last time they saw each other, she was packing boxes and leaving their shared life behind. Now they're adults at a mutual friend's wedding, trying to figure out how to have a normal conversation.

"Beautiful ceremony," Y/N says, falling back on safe territory.

"Yeah, Kyle looked like he was about to cry during the vows."

"He did cry. I saw him wiping his eyes when Emily was walking down the aisle."

Joe smiles. "Good for him. They seem really happy together."

The conversation continues in careful, polite territory for a few more minutes. They talk about the wedding, about how good Kyle and Emily look together, about how strange it is to be back in Columbus. Neither of them mentions their past directly, but it hangs between them like a third person in the conversation.

Then Y/N mentions, "I actually moved to Chicago about a year ago."

"Chicago," Joe repeats. "That's great. For work?"

"Partly. I got into a pediatric oncology program at Northwestern. It's what I always wanted to do."

"I should probably go find my table," Y/N says eventually. "It was good to see you, Joe."

"Wait," Joe says, surprising himself. "Would you like to dance? I mean, if you're not here with someone..."

Y/N hesitates for a moment, and Joe can see her weighing the decision. "I'm not here with anyone," she says finally. "And... okay. One dance."

The band is playing something slow and romantic as Joe leads Y/N to the dance floor. When he places his hand on her waist and she puts her hand on his shoulder, muscle memory takes over. They fit together the same way they always did, her head at the perfect height to rest against his chest if she wanted to.

She doesn't, keeping a careful distance between them, but Joe can smell her perfume—something different than what she used to wear, more sophisticated—and feel the warmth of her hand in his.

"This is weird," Y/N says with a small laugh.

Joe nods. "I was thinking the same thing."

They dance in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Joe wants to say so many things—wants to apologize, wants to explain, wants to tell her about the letters and the therapy and the person he's become. But he also knows that this moment isn't about him or what he needs to say.

"You seem happy," he says instead.

"I am," Y/N replies, and there's something in her voice that tells him she's surprised by her own certainty. "It took a while, but I am."

"I'm glad."

"Are you? Happy, I mean."

Joe considers this. "I'm better. I'm not the same person I was when... when we ended things."

"None of us are the same people we were at twenty-six."

"No, I mean really different. I spent a lot of time figuring out why I became someone who could hurt you like that."

Y/N looks up at him, and for the first time tonight, he sees something vulnerable in her expression. "Joe..."

"I'm not trying to relitigate the past," he says quickly. "I just wanted you to know that I understand now. What I did, why it was wrong, why you deserved so much better."

"I appreciate that," Y/N says quietly.

The song is ending, and Joe knows this moment is almost over. When the music stops, Y/N will go back to her table, and he'll go back to his, and they'll finish the evening as polite acquaintances who used to mean everything to each other.

"Y/N," he says as the final notes play. "I know this might be presumptuous, and I know you probably have a whole life in Chicago that I don't know anything about, but... would you have dinner with me sometime? Just dinner. Just to talk."

Y/N is quiet for so long that Joe starts to prepare himself for rejection. But then she looks up at him with those same eyes that used to watch him across library tables and football stadiums, and he sees something he hadn't dared hope for.

Curiosity. Interest. Maybe even a little bit of the old warmth.

"I'd like that," she says simply.

The music stops, and they step apart, but neither of them moves to leave the dance floor immediately.

"I'm flying back to Chicago tomorrow night," Y/N says. "But I'll be in Cincinnati next month for a conference."

"Text me," Joe says. "When you know your schedule."

"I will."

They stand there for another moment, both seeming to realize that something significant has just happened. Not a reconciliation, not a grand romantic gesture, but something quieter and more important. A door opening, just a crack, to the possibility of finding out who they might be to each other now.

"I should let you get back to the celebration," Joe says finally.

"Yeah," Y/N agrees, but she's smiling now, a real smile that reaches her eyes. "It was really good to see you, Joe."

"You too."

Joe watches her walk back to her table, where her friends immediately lean in to ask what that was all about. He can see her laughing, shaking her head, probably deflecting their questions with the same grace she's always had.

He doesn't stay much longer after that. He makes his rounds, congratulates Jake and Emily, and slips out before the bouquet toss. But as he drives back to Cincinnati, Joe feels something he hasn't felt in years.

Hope.

Not the desperate, grasping hope of someone trying to reclaim the past, but the quiet, mature hope of someone who's done the work to become worthy of a future.

Y/N said she'd text him. Maybe she will, maybe she won't. Maybe dinner will lead to more conversations, or maybe it will give them both the closure they need to finally move on completely.

But for the first time since he read those letters in his kitchen three years ago, Joe Burrow allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the best love stories are the ones that teach you how to love better the second time around.

* * *

November 2027 - Cincinnati

The restaurant Joe chooses is small and quiet, the kind of place that values conversation over ambiance. Y/N arrives exactly on time, wearing a simple black sweater and jeans, looking nervous but determined.

"Hi," she says, sliding into the booth across from him.

"Hi," Joe replies, and they both laugh a little at the awkwardness of it all.

For the first hour, they stick to safe topics. Her work at Northwestern, his off-season training, mutual friends from Ohio State, the food. But gradually, carefully, they begin to venture into deeper waters.

"I read about your foundation work," Y/N says over dessert. "The literacy program you started. That's really beautiful, Joe."

"Thanks. It actually started because of something you said once. About how reading was the first way you learned to escape when things got hard."

Y/N looks surprised. "You remembered that?"

"I remember a lot of things I wish I'd paid attention to at the time."

They're quiet for a moment, the weight of their history settling between them.

"I found your letters," Joe says finally. "After we... after you left. I had no idea you'd been writing them."

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly. "I forgot them when I packed. I almost came back for them, but..."

"I'm glad you didn't. Reading them made me understand what I'd actually lost. What I'd thrown away."

"Joe—"

"I know we can't go back," he says quickly. "I know too much happened, too much hurt. But Y/N, these past three years, I've done everything I could to become someone worthy of the love you gave me. Not to win you back, just to... to honor it, I guess."

Y/N reaches across the table and touches his hand briefly. "I can see that. The way you are tonight, it's different. You're present in a way you never were before."

"Are you happy?" Joe asks. "In Chicago, with your life?"

"I am," she says, but then adds quietly, "but I think I could be happy other places too. With the right person."

They look at each other across the table, both understanding that something fundamental is shifting between them.

"I don't want to rush anything," Joe says. "I don't want to mess this up again."

"Good," Y/N replies with a small smile. "Because I'm not twenty-six anymore. I know what I'm worth now."

"You're worth everything," Joe says simply. "I just hope I'm finally worthy of you."

When they leave the restaurant three hours later, Joe walks Y/N to her rental car. They stand in the parking lot, neither wanting the evening to end.

"I fly back tomorrow," Y/N says.

"I know."

"But I could come back. For another dinner. If you'd like that."

Joe's smile is soft and genuine. "I'd like that very much."

This time, when he kisses her goodnight, it feels like a beginning.

[luvdixon]

# MIDNIGHT LOVE ★ arthur frederick

summary: you’re a popular book youtuber living on a farm in the countryside. you find it difficult to make friends as most of them would be long distance, so your best friends have to push you out of your comfort zone to meet new people.

content: SMAU, fluff, your bestfriends are jack edwards and ellie neale, long distance

author note: in my arthurtv era and this is so me core that i had to make a smau of it...in another life i’m arthurtv’s book gf. also this is quite short but i needed to get something out while i finish my will fic

liked by: jackbenedwards, eleanorneale and 90,839 others

﹫ yourusername: new vid out now!! farm tour, book reviews, and coffee shop side quests!

jackbenedwards: queen of book yt

⤷ yourusername: if i’m queen and you’re king.. who’s driving the bus?

eleanorneale: sooo cute!! 🥹 miss you

⤷ yourusername: miss you soo much ellie

livvydimartino: who is this gorgeous girly omg

⤷ yourusername that’s all you beautiful x

user: i live for these vids

user: jack and y/n vid when? i miss u guys together

⤷ yourusername: keep ur eyes peeled!!

liked by: jackbenedwards, eleanorneale and 160,991 others

﹫ yourusername: dipping my toes into the london scene

tagged ﹫ jackbenedwards, eleanorneale

jackbenedwards: she’s a city girl!!!

eleanorneale: 3 book girlys escaped their cage!!

arthurtv: the last pic😭

⤷ glambyflo: of course he’s here... you look amaze!

⤷ yourusername: thank you bb you are stunning x

user: arthurtv lurking

user: i smell a new vloggg

user: what books did u get?

⤷ yourusername: soo many!! dw i’ll show them in a vid asap x

liked by: georgeclarkeey, livvydimartino and 454,653 others

﹫ yourusername: turns out they have horses in london too?? go watch the new useless hotline vid!!

tagged ﹫ georgeclarkeey, max_balegde, arthurfnhill, livvydimartino

max_balegde: fav guest so far

georgeclarkeey: thanks for coming on 🫡

livvydimartino: be my photographer full time

arthurfnhill: of course we have horses...

glambyflo: sooo cute 🥹

arthurtv: i’ll never be free from the prank calls

⤷ yourusername: sorry art xx

jackbenedwards: ur horses miss u

⤷ yourusername: give them a kiss 4 me!!

user: oh she’s famous

user: nooo mi niche youtuber

user: 400k likes im crying

liked by: arthurtv, livvydimartino and 218,412 others

﹫ yourusername: gang at the gaff!!

tagged ﹫ georgeclarkeey, arthurtv, italianbach, livvydimartino

arthurtv: this over the city anyday

italianbach: got bitten by 900 spiders

livvydimartino: look at me carrying isaac omg

georgeclarkeey: ur horses are scary

user: 7TH SLIDE???

user: living for this group

glambyflo: sorry i couldnt make it!!!

liked by: arthurtv, jackbenedwards and 376,712 others

﹫ yourusername: lazy days 🤎

jackbenedwards: so cute🥹she’s all grown up

arthurtv: 🤎

jamesmarriott: me and will in another universe

⤷ willne: bro

livvydimartino: babe this is SO cute

glambyflo: thank u for taking him away from the flat x

user: HARD LAUNCHHHHHH??

user: theyre so nonchalant abt this

user: need an arthur and y/n channel tbh

liked by: yourusername, italianbach and 230,724 others

﹫ arthurtv: happy birthday to my favorite girl. i cant imagine my life without you.

tagged ﹫ yourusername

yourusername: 🥹 i love you!!!!

willne: cute

italianbach: 🏆

livvydimartino: so happy for you guys

georgeclarkeey: everyone say thank you jack

jackbenedwards: you are WELCOME!

eleanorneale: now this is adorable

user: hard launch wasnt needed. we knew x

user: y/n is so gorgeous😭😭

user: is she moving to london?

⤷ yourusername: maybe in the future. for now im staying here with my babies :)

liked by: arthurtv, italianbach and 182,439 others

﹫ yourusername: a little life 🥹

arthurtv: we are so lucky to have you

livvydimartino: my fav

willne: holy peak

italianbach: blud is the podcast queen

faithlouisak: ❤️❤️

user: shes living the dream life fr

user: im so happy for her this is so cute

user: feeding us with ukyt content diva

﹫luvdixon ♡ do not reupload my content anywhere else & do not copy paste it and claim it as your own!

taglist: @clarkeyscherry @willnees @taylorlovesgc @theoreticallythe @luvrgeorge @pretendyoucantseeme

[bitchlessdino]

ProRider (m)

Pairing: Boo Seungkwan x f!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 4.6k rating: R tags: MDNI, open ending, mentions food, cruiser!seungkwan, ride attendant!reader, open ending, face riding, thigh grinding, exhibitionism, nipple teasing Summary: Anywhere there’s a FlowRider, you can just about ride any big or small artificial waves safely for any size rider, but there’s nothing artificial about the waves Seungkwan is trying to make with the cute attendant at one of these rides. Just how big of a wave is he going to make? Will he prove himself a pro? And will someone discover themselves to be a pro rider? Author Note: Thank you @camandemstudios for another amazing collab. shorter form fic lets gooooo. posting mostlyedited and will fix in post. sorry in advance for any mistakes. its been a long few months

Working the FlowRider booth was usually easy, and don’t get it wrong, it really was. All the cruises you’ve worked have made it easier since they were so accommodating, despite the lack of vacation days, but maybe you’ve been at sea for too long because all the cruisers on this cruise feel more annoying than the last.

Or maybe just one in particular.

“Hey. You're here again today. You following me or something?”

The young, admittedly handsome man looked toward you with charmingly turned-up lips as he leaned against the railing. You returned with disinterest, glazing over his figure attempting to stand before you aloof and carefree, but he couldn’t look more like he was trying hard. “Nope. I just work here, and you keep coming back.”

As he has done the last two days since the cruise began.

“I’m just joshing!” He grinned, swatting a playful hand. “Of course I know that. How can I forget such a beautiful ride attendant?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He pretended to think. “No, we’re still at a sea day, and…I’m looking at the most interesting thing on the boat.”

“Zipline is right there.”

He chuckled. “I’m not just talking about the FlowRider ride.”

This wasn’t the first time you’ve been hit on, but this one was persistent. You were grateful it wasn’t some old geezer trying to get sleazy with someone when his wife wasn’t looking, but that didn’t mean you were abandoning your post for some pretty face and sweet words. The crew took their job seriously here, and if anyone was caught doing otherwise, they’d next claim ‘the hole,’ aka the worst cabin crew lodging in the entire ship. It was deprived of windows, air conditioning, and good lighting; had bedding with the integral structure of cardboard; and rumors say someone died in there because they were locked inside and forgotten.

Then again, it was just a tall tale. No one actually believed that to be true, but you weren’t taking any chances. 

You gave him a deadpan expression. “Are you going to go on the ride today, or are you going to stand here and throw lame pickup lines at me again?”

He playfully pouted. “Why can’t I do both?”

You rolled your eyes. “Have at it then.”

His eyes lit up, charging to approach, doing pushups on the railing he’s leaning on. “Been waiting for you to say that all day—”

“The ride!” you clarified. “Your turn is up next.”

His gaze didn’t falter, unironically saluting you with two fingers. “I won’t be long, beautiful.”

He snatched a board that was conveniently within reach and ascended the stairs at the ride's summit, his focus intensely fixed on you even as your attention was directed elsewhere. Your gaze landed on another familiar face, his friend, who often accompanied him, seeing him display an apologetic smile. 

You matched his expression, feeling a mutual sentiment towards him. “You here again too, Chan?”

He gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Seungkwan kinda dragged me when Hansol ran off. I only wanted to try it out the first time; I didn’t know he’d make this a regular thing. Sorry.”

You shook your head reassuringly. “It’s fine, but why do you let him do this?”

“...He chipped in for my entry. I’m indebted to him.”

Acknowledging the overextended favor, you gave the unfortunate kid a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, your gaze following his friend's clumsy takeoff and subsequent tumble on the amusement ride.

”I’m okay!” he said before a stream blasted in his face as he lifted himself off the board. 

It wasn't one, wasn’t two, wasn’t three times, but six times that day he attempted to conquer the ride in that single day, and to much avail, nothing seemed to work. Embarrassing was putting it lightly.

"I swear I'm athletic!" echoed above the crashing water, his pleading gaze fixed on an observer standing nearby.

"Don't you gotta eat? Other people wanna ride this ride, you know—" 

Not registering–or rather ignoring–your chiding, the drowning resurfaced, water streaming from his hair, a wide grin plastered across his face. "And I get to the back of the line after every failed attempt, just like everyone else. Don't you worry about me, gorgeous!" His playful retorted, winking.

"Right…you have to take a break sometime." Suengkwan wouldn't admit it, but you knew the sheer physical exertion of his repeated attempts was surely taking its toll.

Yet the challenge wasn't just the wave; it seemed to involve proving his prowess to the cute attendant his eyes were sent on. The young man responded with exaggerated offense, clutching his chest. "And allow you to think I'm incapable of staying on a little board? No way!" 

"The ride is gonna end soon anyway,” you warned.

His excitement faltered, and the tension in his shoulders eased. A hint of disappointment flickered across his features, but the underlying enthusiasm remained. "Oh, well… I guess I can come back again tomorrow."

You shut your eyes, as if you were expecting that response, yet need to brace for impact. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

For three days, he’d come to see you, and all those days he’d failed to succeed the flow rider, but of course, there was no need to stop it there. Undeterred, Seungkwan would come even on disembarkment days, pestering you for another two days for almost every shift.

Until the cruise docked in the country everyone seemed most excited for, including Seungkwan. During all hours of that day, he didn’t see you at your shift. You should’ve been relieved, thanking whatever higher being for sparing you one day of his nuisance. You’ve had to mentally prepare every day to face his cheesy words and cocky smiles; this time, you were shown some mercy.

But weirdly, you missed it. Missed him. He had become so consistent this cruise, he felt like a natural routine. You didn’t think a cruiser could affect you that way, let alone one that used your work position as an advantage to hit on you.

Yet, the sweltering heat of the summer sun paired with the seemingly infinite night skies scented by salty ocean breeze made for a potent combination.

“Oh, hi…”

After the end of your shift, just a hair before dusk, you came up the elevator from your lodgings, heading in the direction of the pool before a familiar face appeared on a floor to the way up. His eyes widened in shock in your appearance, a hint of a smile on his face at your sudden appearance before it vanished as his gaze caressed your scantily clad body.

His silence earned your narrowed gaze, knowing very well the source of rare occurrence for one’s mouth who has talked non stop the moment you first locked eyes. “...stop staring.”

He jolted back to his senses, as if broken from a trance. “Sorry. Uh. Heading off to the pool?”

“Yeah. Got a good hour and a half left before it closes and with the big show tonight it should be mostly empty.” You briefly swept your gaze over his well groomed appearance. “You…clean up nice.”

A corner of his lips jerked up in a smile before he dusted imaginary dust off his suit jacket. “Finally noticed, hmm?”

“Where are you supposed to be? That doesn’t really look like buffet attire.”

“Me and my group booked dinner at a specialty restaurant; we just finished up. But just to be clear, I always look this nice. Maybe you just don’t like my wet and sexy look. That’s fine.” He took in your soft chuckle, savoring the laugh he was finally able to elicit from you. “Did you have dinner?”

You nodded, your voice lighter and less dry than expected. “I grabbed something at the buffet and wanted to take a last dip in the pool before it closes for the night.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned out…and all by yourself?”

You shrugged, internally surprised you were able to maintain a conversation with the man without warning him about safety measures and scolding him for repeatedly rejoining the FlowRider line with several tens of kids more than half his age that have waited patiently. “Usually. Nice change of pace from having to look over people several hours of the day with almost no breaks.”

“I know it's a long shot, but would you be opposed to me joining you then?”

You opened your mouth the spew the routine rejection you’re used to giving, but scanning over his groomed, fitted appearance, you held your tongue. Instead, you clicked your tongue in thought, meeting his hopeful eyes with a curious gaze. Shrugging, You came to a decision. “Sure, why not?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Wait, really?”

“Do you want me to say no?”

“No!” he exclaimed a tad too loudly. “I mean—no, nothing like that. It’s just,” you watched his ears turn a bright red, and a timidly meek air overtook his presence, “I just didn’t expect you to agree.”

“Well, you’ve certainly tried hard to get my attention, and albeit it was during work hours—the worst time to do it—you’re not…hard to look at. I’ll give you that.”

His lips curled up into a small, but transparent, grin.“So, I’m joining you in the pool?”

You nodded with a resigned sigh. “Yes, Seungkwan.”

“Y-you know my name.”

“I’ve seen and heard you enough times to remember it. You leave quite the impression.”

He doesn’t know whether to take it as a compliment, but decides to anyway. “Oh…mmh, thank you.”

“…So you gonna get changed or will you be swimming in your formal wear?”

“Come with me!” He tugged you with him and surprisingly you obliged, following him all the way to his room. “Wait here, please.”

He disappeared behind his cabin, leaving you alone with your thoughts, second guessing if this decision was such a good idea with all things considered. You even thought of ditching him in the midst of waiting, going back on your offer. But before you can put that idea into action, Seungkwan reappeared with a new appearance, ditching his dress shirt and slacks for a pair of mid-length trucks, a beach towel, and the skin on his body.

Your eyes shot open just briefly before regaining composure, quietly taking in his fit, toned physique. Your breath had gotten caught in your throat before you exhaled quietly through your nose, drawing the outline of his figure internally. You crossed your arms, putting weight on one side of your body, eyes washing over him in disbelief, and something else you hadn’t realized was there before. “You had a body like that under a rash guard?”

Blood rushed to his cheeks as he held his folded towel to his chest. “It was UV protective.”

“You know they offer free towels on the deck. You just have to return it at the end of the day.”

He clutched the towel tighter. “I-I’m aware.”

You softly scoffed, grinning at his bashful disposition you’ve only recently been acquainted with tonight, and you took his hand, warm and clammy in yours. “Come on, FlowRider boy.”

You had hoped it wouldn't be too crowded, and if luck would have it someone answered your prayers. The expansive pool deck lay mostly deserted, with only a handful of individuals scattered like colorful specks near the far end, their laughter a faint echo against the water's surface. A mischievous spark ignited in your eyes as a plan turned the gears in your head. You turned to him, a devious, playful smile spreading across your face.

“Hey, why don’t you go ahead get comfortable, I just need to grab a towel.”

He nodded with a smile. “Sure.”

Returning with a clean towel over your forearm, you come back to the sight of his bare back, muscles flexing as he propped his elbows on the edge of the pool as he soaked his lower back half. You licked your lips, feeling a growl hum in your throat the longer you stared, suddenly hot at the thought of seeing this man in compromising positions you wouldn’t otherwise think about if you hadn’t run into him tonight.

“Temperature good?”

He turned his head back towards you, beaming at you for not ditching him like he thought you would. “You’re back. Yeah, it’s real cool in here… So what did you eat for dinner?”

“Just your typical buffet food. Nothing extraordinary… but tonight I think I found something that looked extra…delicious.” You let your gaze linger on his toned form as he swam back towards you, water glistening on his skin as he rested his elbows on the pool’s ridged edge.

“Glad to hear it.” He grinned, unintentionally flexing, letting the ridges of his muscles play with shadows companied with dimmed lights. “I saved you a spot.” He gestured to the lounge chair.

“What a gentleman.” You sat, your gaze following his every movement as he ran laps in the water, each stroke revealing the sculpted lines of his back and shoulders. The way his wet hair fell across his forehead looked especially tantalizing under the dusk sky.

He stopped at the edge of the pool, shaking the water from his hair like a wet dog, sending droplets your way. “What would you be doing if you weren’t here with me?” You pondered.

He grabbed a towel, the terry cloth momentarily obscuring his view before he lowered it to his neck.

“Well, there was a musical, but I’ve already seen a previous showing. I would’ve just been there to study.”

You mused at his answer. “Study?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m a musical actor.” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Hmm, wouldn’t have thought.” 

He beamed, clearly pleased by your reaction. "I would invite you to one of my shows back home, but realistically, what are the chances of our paths crossing again, even if I'm on another cruise?"

You shrugged with a slight smirk. “You never know.”

He leaned in a little, earnesty coating his eyes. "Even though my job involves a lot of acting and putting on a show, I really had to rack up the nerve to approach you.”

You let out a soft scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Just doing what I do best,” he shrugged, with a cheeky grin. “Front like my life depends on it, but I have to admit it was pretty fun finding ways to hit on you. At some point, I started believing in my confidence.”

“You’re an interesting person, Seungkwan.”

A soft hue of pink flushed his cheeks. “I try to be. So, what made you want to work a ride on the cruise?”

“Money, curiosity, a love for travel. Thought this was one of the best ways to start getting my sea legs because I much rather than than on a plane.”

“Fear of heights?”

You shook your head with a frown stained with disdain. “Fear of passenger bullshit. At least on the boat, it’s so big you can avoid them, unlike on a plane. It doesn't require as much effort compared to becoming a flight attendant.”

He chuckled at your honesty. “Was that initially the goal?”

“Not really, I always felt drawn to water. Deep down, I probably knew one day I’d work around it.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

His grin stretched from one beautifully high cheek bone to the other. “Beautiful and profound. Can you be any more amazing?”

You broke out in a laugh. “Shut up”

“I mean it. It’s nice to hear what’s on your mind instead of guessing whether you hate me or not.”

You rolled your eyes, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t like me either,” He pointed out lightly.

You shook your head, a sincere smile melting on your face. “If I didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be talking to me during my off hours right now.”

His eyebrows jumped, curiosity bringing his eyes to life. “So you’re saying I have a chance?”

“Whatever makes your showtuney heart happy.”

He daydreamed mid-conversation. “I’m already imagining how many kids we’ll have and the name of our dog. Do you mind ‘Mr. Flufferton’?”

"You are unbelievable," you finally breathed, gazes locked, neither willing to break the connection, a strange mixture of disbelief and something akin to reluctant admiration fogging your vision. The moment stretched, the very air around them seemed to vibrate with a lingering tension Seungkwan almost failed to notice. 

"I'm heading to the hot tub," you announced, abruptly breaking the spell and severing of the intense connection that had held you both captive.

“What about the pool?” The confusion was clouded by his intrigue as he finds himself pushing out of the water.

A soft smile played on your lips as you turned slightly towards him. "Suddenly, I want a bit more…relaxing setting. Wanna join me?" 

His head snapped up, a flicker of surprise and something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. A blush crept up his neck as he nearly slipped on the wet ground as he approached, the unexpected offer clearly catching him off guard. "Y-yes," he stammered, his voice a touch higher than normal as he scrambled to gather his discarded towel and scattered belongings, baring a tremor of anticipation.

You rose gracefully from the lounge chair, the lingering scent of ozone and exertion clinging to your skin. Without waiting for a verbal confirmation beyond his initial agreement, you turned and began to walk towards the quieter side of the pool area as he trailed after you, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure.

You led him towards a secluded spa area, a haven of warmth and soothing jets hidden away in a bed of of still water. Your eyes instinctively scanned the familiar layout, locking onto the discreet blind spot near the far corner – a little well-known spot known to staff that wanted their privacy. A knowing smile touched your lips as you gestured towards it. "Come."

Reaching the control panel, you activate the spa mode. The gentle hum of the jets intensified, and the water began to churn, releasing a cloud of steam into the tranquil air and a welcoming bed of bubbles. You dipped a tentative toe into the welcoming warmth before sliding in completely, the swirling bubbles immediately enveloping your feet and legs, only parts of you not submerged being your chest and up as you settled against one of the molded seats.

Seungkwan hesitated, his eyes darting around the open space before reluctantly stepping into the warm water. He chose a seat on the opposite end, maintaining a respectful distance, his gaze fixed on the swirling water in front of him, carefully averting his eyes as if unsure where else to look. Anywhere but your wet, near-naked body.

“Isn’t this nice?”

Seungkwan tried to enjoy the warmth, he really did, but you just a mere few feet away from him gave him labored breaths. “It is.”

"Why are you sitting so far?" You grinned.

He shifted hesitantly. "I thought it’d be what you wanted. Should I move closer?" He asked already timidly preparing to do so.

Your aloof response was subtly laden with interest. "If that’s what you’re comfortable with." 

“…then, I’ll work my way up towards it.”

His nerves settled as he heard your soft laughter, albeit aimed at him; it was delightful nonetheless. "You’re a lot shyer than I thought you’d be”,” you softly admitted, “It’s cute." 

He broke out in a smile before he cleared his throat to respond. “I was acting like I knew what I was doing, remember? I’m kind of losing my shit over here being the same water as you.”

A low chuckle rumbled in your chest as you watched his reaction. "Maybe that's exactly what I'm into," you repeated, your voice a husky murmur that seemed to hang in the humid air. The amusement dancing in your eyes accompanied by the almost predatory stillness of your body.

“W-What?”

Without breaking eye contact, you began to close the small distance, every step deliberate, approaching him. You noticed the way his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat, the almost imperceptible bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

You paused, gaze sweeping over him with leisurely appraisal. "Bubbles look cute on you," you finally said, your voice a low purr.

“They are?” His question came out more breathless than anticipated, his heart steadily beating faster every passing second.

You took another slow step, the cool water now just inches from his legs. Your eyes continued their deliberate exploration, lingering for a moment on the flush creeping up his neck. You deliberately bit your bottom lip, "Really cute," you confirmed, your voice dropping even lower. "Just like how you're acting right now." 

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he finally managed to ask, his voice still a little shaky, "Are you usually this forward?"

You chuckled, inching even closer that he flinched, feeling both your feet make contact in the water, while it didn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you normally this timid? What happened to the guy reading me pickup lines that he probably found on the Internet?”

He softly scoffed, turning his head to reveal his ears. “It was easier when you were blowing me off…I knew what to expect.”

“And what?” Your torso resurfaced from the water to corner him, “Now I make you flustered?”

He let out a shattered breath, shutting his eyes. “No. You make me heated. Putting all kinds of thoughts in my head.”

“Oh. FlowRider Boy has some fire, hmm…?” You straddled his lap, feeling the tension of his thighs underneath yours. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling yourself towards him so that he had no choice but to hold you in place. “It’s kinda hot. Maybe I do like the wet look on you.” 

He holds your gaze for a moment, lips parted in pure disbelief. “...Fuck.” 

“Wow…Your thighs are just as hard as the rest of you, but maybe not as hard as this,” you said, giggling as you brushed against his growing arousal.

He threw his head back. “You’re killing me.”

“Oh, yeah. What else do I do to you?”

“If I start listing it all out now…who knows how much time I’ll have left with you.”

“If you do a good job…I’ll let you decide that for me.”

His eyes shot open as an aroused gasp escaped his lips before it melted into a moan as you closed the distance and pressed yourself against him. His cock, harder than he’s ever experienced, flat against your stomach. “Oh fu…”

“Do you know how good you look right now underneath me?” You teased, slowly moving your hips, getting wet with something that the jacuzzi couldn’t offer.

“Not as good as you look grinding on me right now.”

You let out a soft hum, tips of your noses grazing against each other. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

He visibly swallowed. “Y-you read my mind.”

You splayed one last smirk before smashing your lips against his, arching into him as his hands found your hips. You swallowed his whimpers before they were replaced with grunts, his fingers digging into your flesh with such hunger that you had hardly the time to process it. You shifted in his lap, flattening against him closer as an arm draped over his shoulder while a hand had your digits run through his hair.

“How is this happening?” he mumbled against your lips.

“I told you. You looked cute in bubbles.”

“I might actually pass out. Please pinch me.”

You chuckled before your fingers grazed over his chest, doing what he asked as you rolled a stiff peak tight between your fingertips. His mouth dropped in a soft moan as he sent an accusatory look at you. “You—“

“You never said pinch you where.”

He let out a soft moan as you tightened your pinch. “That was the last place I thought you’d do it.”

“Well, are you going to do anything about it?” you challenged.

His gaze drifted over your chest, your nipples poking through your swimsuit deliciously as water droplets adorned your skin. He met your gaze once more, finding a flirtatious anticipation in your eyes before he took the plunge. His full palm gripped around your breast in a spiteful squeeze, and you shuddered against him. His thumb teased the outline of a nipple, while he softly panted from the excitement of his own actions. A tingling sensation burned his busy hand, while the other lowered to your ass before he claimed the flesh of its weight.

You softly moaned against his lips, breaking out in a smile and letting it collide with his mouth, tasting the festering hunger inside him as his tongue more freely explored you. “Mmh, I didn’t think riling you up would be so fun.”

He snickered lightly, maintaining his gaze, “Keep touching me and I’ll show you how much more fun I can be.”

You felt a flutter in your stomach and heat pooling between your legs. “Your room. Take me there. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a swift, almost unconscious movement, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist in an instant. The realization hit them both at the same moment as you locked eyes. His arms, strong and sure, held you aloft, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to pause. He found himself momentarily stunned, not just by the sudden intimacy, but by the sheer naturalness of the gesture and perhaps the heartbeating in your chest in tandem with him, leaving you for once speechless. 

A blush warmed his cheeks as the implications of your position dawned on him. “I…should probably put you down,” he stammered with a hesitant uncertainty, and suddenly all he could think about was the ship’s surveillance cameras. The weight of you in his arms felt strangely right, yet the awareness of their surroundings forced him to act against his animalistic desires.

“Unfortunately.”

He sets you on your feet before taking your hand and guiding you gingerly back to his room. The moment that door closed, it was free rein. You jumped back in his embrace, anchoring your legs around his torso as he was forced to push against the door to keep you in place.

“Finally,” he softly breathed before colliding with your lips again, wholeheartedly kissing you with every sane breath he had left.

“What do you want to do, baby? I’m all ears.”

He felt shivers at your sudden pet name. “I want you to do what you did in the hot tub, but on my face.”

You were taken back, suprised he came up with the idea, and lightning struck your spine at the thought. “That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

You pushed him on his back, letting your hand crawl up his wet, flustered skin as you prowled toward him, ravenous hunger in your gaze. You crawled over him, looming over his figure as clear anticipation heated up in his eyes, stealing his breath.

“How much have you thought about this?”

He smiles, panting from the adrenaline rush. “Enough to have the neighbors recall your name by my voice alone.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” You hovered your groin over him, watching his eyes follow the path of your molten heat, dripping pool water on his cheeks.

You raked your fingers through his hair, tugging from the roots as you angled his face up, his gaze glistening his anticipation as he traced over his lips with his tongue. The second you felt his lips, you could melt right there on top of him. Moans replaced your once dry responses, while Seungkwan weak filiratious advances was traded in for hungry fervor, satiated by your taste.

Seungkwan may not have mastered the FlowRider, but it seems someone was able to master him.

[j1nxyo]

hungry for you— #sylus

Sylus x Reader

synopsis: You've always been afraid of anything intimate with anyone, but when things get too heated between you and Sylus one night you decide to let all that fear go.

word count: 1.4k

tags: 18+, smut, a bit of fluff lolz

authors note: hii!! this is my first official fic that i've actually finished, just wanted to write a quick one shot and take a break from my animation work :3 currently 5am as i'm writing this lolol, anyways please excuse any typos or errors it's late and im eepy haha. I've actually never written smut before so I apologize if it's not good… I hope you enjoy it ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

p.s: this is HEAVILY inspired by @kitimeq !! (layout included, pls so show her some love she's amazing) thanks so much for your sylus (say yes to heaven) fic!  you inspired me to pick up writing/reading fics again hehe <3 i hope to see more of your work in the future !!

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Hungry for you—

Sylus always was a patient man whenever it came to you. you've never seen him as gentle with anyone else than with you. He never once rushed you into anything you didnt feel comfortable with— but a man has desires. Sylus always suppressed himself with you. in truth you wanted to see how long he would suppress his feelings for, but that was just a cover, in all actuality you've never once felt the embrace and sensual love from a man before. Sylus was your first real relationship and you didn't know how to act. What kind of things are you supposed to do in a relationship with your partner? How do you initiate intimate activities? You didn't know. Sylus would get in the mood sometimes but you were always so afraid to go any further than intimate makeout sessions.

"What are you doing sitting all by yourself by the window?" He says, his husky voice sending chills down your back. Only because you've been pondering to yourself about how to bring up the whole intimacy thing to him. You stare at him for a while before finally throwing some words out your mouth. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in question.

"Nothing, just thinking" You spit out. He looks at you in confusion. He sits down next to you and grabs your hand, pulls it up towards his cheek and starts rubbing it along his face.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything…right?" He says in a very soft tone. Your eyes match his and you smile and nod. You feel silly, how could you let something like this bother you when you could just be open about it from the beginning. 

"Yes, Sy". You reply, letting out a small chuckle while continuing to rub your on his face. You steal your hand back from his grasp and give him a small kiss on the cheek, which surprises him.

"Oh, did you not like that?" You say in response. He looks you up and down, gives you a small chuckle and picks you up and starts walking while kissing you all over your neck. You close your eyes in response to all the love you're receiving, letting out soft moans here and there. Before you realize it you're in the bedroom. He lays you down gently on the bed kissing every nook and cranny on your  body while doing so. He's so gentle with you, he always has been. Even now—taking his time and being gentle with your body and mind alike. You grab him by his hair and start twirling it around your fingers, letting him know you like what he's doing. He looks up at you while near your stomach. He gives you a cocky grin and proceeds to lift up your shirt. You let out a shocked moan at the feel of the cold air hitting your skin, goosebumps start to cover your skin.

"Oh no…looks like someone is cold, maybe I should warm them up" He says. He then starts kissing you all over your stomach, making his way down to your panties. He starts to move his hands underneath when you let out a loud gasp and grab his hands. Then quickly let go.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" He said while bringing his head up to meet your eyes. You meet his lips with yours and grab his hand and set it on your boob. Nodding and moaning at the same time—letting him know you are ready for this. He flips you over and pulls off your pants, you've never seen him act like this before. Hungry for you.

Sylus wastes no time, after he pulls off your panties he kisses all over your stomach, when his lips finally reach your vagina he kisses it softly and then starts doing unimaginable things with his tongue, swiliring your clit around his mouth. Tasting every ounce of you. You close your eyes and grip his hair to keep your mind distracted from the immense amount of pleasure you're feeling.

"You taste…delicious." He says. You let out a sharp moan letting him know he's reached your sweet spot. You open your eyes for a second and your eyes match his, feeling embarrassed you quickly close them again.

"No, Kitten. Keep them open. I want to see you while I pleasure you." He says, out of breath from slurping all of you. You keep your eyes open, even though this feels degrading for him to tell you to do so, but you're oddly into it. You let out a loud sharp moan which suggests that you're near.

"Nuh uh…" He says. "Not yet, sweetheart." He stops sucking on you and proceeds to take off his pants and everything that follows. You open your eyes for a second only to be eye to eye with his penis. It's huge not only in girth but in length as well. You audibly gasp and he looks at you and chuckles.

"You can take it. Kitten" He says. "I'll go slow". He slowly slides it in, you let out a sharp gasp, while grunting. Sylus slows down, when you catch your breath he slides it in further. Sylus lets out a loud moan

"Fuck…".

"You feel so good Y/N…".

He's not even fully in yet but you can feel yourself pushing your limit. He starts to slide in and out, the wetness of your vagina acting as a lubricant.

"You're such a good girl, taking me like that." He says, short of breath. His praise turns you on, you let out loud moans letting him know you like that. He kisses your neck while thrusting in and out of you. Each thrust becomes more welcoming to your core. You could see the pleasure on his face, each bead of sweat that fell down his forehead made you feel a certain happiness inside. You wrapped our arms around his neck, picked up your legs and wrapped them around his back, making your hole even more welcoming for him to enter. He liked that. With each thrust in, he spent more time inside of you than pulling out. His trusts becoming even more loving than before.

"Fuck, Sylus. Please" You moan. Which boosted him into high gear. Hearing that from you made all of his exhaust leave out the window next to you. He continues to thrust into you while leaving all types of love bites all over your body. Your nails scratching his back. Everything all at once just felt so ethereal. You felt yourself reaching your climax, and so was Sylus. Everything turned black. Your nails dug into his back for the last time, and everything just left your body all at once. You let out a loud moan, that reached even the furthest parts of Sylus's Residence. Your legs tighnted around his back for a second, then ultimately felt like noodles and fell on the bed. Sylus, after hearing you come, ultimaely came himself as well. He did one last thrust into your body and let out a loud moan, you could feel him twitching a bit as he came inside of you. Feeling him fill you up you tighten your grip on him, making sure he felt that. He releases himself from you and you both lay next to eachother on the bed. You can feel his juices leaving you as he speaks:

"I love you Y/N." He says while catching his breath. Your eyes snap to his. You cant believe he said that just now, I mean you guys have been dating for a while, but you wondered if it was just the sex high that made him say that.

"I've been meaning to tell you that for a while, and this isnt just the sex talking." He says. He knew you so well. He knew the things you were thinking before you even said it. That's what made you guys such a perfect match.

"I love you too, Sy" You say out of breath as well. As the night comes to an end and you both are laying on the bed next to eachother, he drags his body towards you and hugs you from behind. Feeling his body warmth, and comfort from the embrace you fall asleep, and so does he.

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HAHHAH i wrote this in like 2 and a half hours pls excuse the errors or messed up language, this is also my first time writing smut so pls be gentle lol...

[velvetyh]

⌜Ticket to Temptation⌝

꒰ PAIRING ꒱ Police Captain!Juyeon x implied fem!reader ꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ Provoking a police officer just for fun didn't end up the way you thought it would... is it bad, though? ꒰ WORD COUNT ꒱ 7.2k (I am so sorry) ꒰ TW ꒱ very poorly written, 18+, (semi?) car sex, public sex, lots of pet names, attempt at writing sexual tension, y/n calling Juyeon "Captain", ass spanking, oral (fem receiving), doggy style, degrading praising pet names ꒰ NOTE ꒱ the beginning of the fic is the same as my previous fic with eric!! I got a sweet person asking for an alternate fic in the same genre, so here it is! feedback is greatly appreciated !! <3 ꒰ REQUESTED ꒱ yes! sort of? (thank you for your ask, btw! <3)

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“Good morning, Officer,” you greeted with a smile as you exited your vehicle parked not far from the police station to get to your work.

Honestly, working next to a police station had its benefits. Seeing handsome men in uniform was always a sight to see and knowing that they could be there in the snap of a finger in case of emergency reassured you.

“Morning, ma’am,” the officer answered after finishing talking to a colleague through a talkie-walkie, giving you a polite nod and a brief smile. You keep walking until you hear the same voice calling out for you.

“Ma’am, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” you turned around, looking in the man's eyes with a smile. He maintained eye contact briefly before clearing his throat, shoving his hand into his uniform pocket.

“You are the owner of this car, right?” he asked as he pointed at your black Audi RS3, and you nodded, staring up at him.

“Yes, why?”

“It’s not the first time that I've seen it poorly parked, you should be careful. It might disturb the traffic and cause an accident, or someone could accidentally smash it if they’re not paying enough attention,” you obediently nodded again, offering him your best smile.

“I promise to be careful next time. Have a good day, Officer!”

However, the next morning, you parked yourself the same way you did yesterday, the same police officer standing in front of the station. You got out of your car as if it were nothing, but you immediately bumped against a broad chest, recognising the same masculine fragrance as yesterday.

“Ma’am? What did I tell you yesterday? Your back tyres aren’t among the lines, and they’re almost hindering the traffic. Next time I catch you doing this I’m giving you a fine, understood?”

“Yes, Officer Sohn,” you mumbled as his name tag was almost hitting your nose at your proximity.

“Good.” You stared up at him for a few seconds and apologised again before he stepped aside, nodding again before walking away, going back to his spot in front of the police station.

You were doing this on purpose because he was hot, and the uniform didn’t help at all. You wanted to see how long you could play dumb until it went too far, but what could happen aside from a fine?

Maybe something amazing? you considered.

The next morning, you weren’t in the mood to play. You had started your day pretty badly, the waitress at the Starbucks drive-through had accidentally spilt your beverage on your brand-new blouse as she handed you your drink, not only ruining the fabric but also your mood and your good hopes of having a good day. And after being stuck in traffic for god knows how long, you finally made it to your workplace.

“Ma’am, this time-“

“Yes, Officer, I know that I’m not parked inside the lines, I know. Have you seen the side of your parking spaces and my car? It won’t fit, and I can’t take public transport from where I live, it’s way too far from my workplace to function properly the rest of the day. So just give me a fine so I can move on from this shitty day,” you snapped at the officer, whose eyes opened widely, and he took a step back, giving you space.

You sighed in annoyance and stared up at him, seeing him keeping a relaxed attitude somehow managed to calm you down a bit, which was something unexplainable.

“Rough morning?” he calmly asked, hand going to his talkie-walkie on his shoulder to quickly dismiss it as his colleague's voice buzzed from it.

“Yes, this morning's rough. I just want to go home to forget about everything,” you annoyingly said while looking at the traffic jam in front of you, the police officer looking at you with his hands on his hips.

“Okay, this is the very last time I let you run away with this. I’m being very indulgent with you today because I don’t want to worsen your day. Consider yourself lucky not to have met my superior yet. Captain Lee is not as lenient as I am, trust me. He would’ve fined you each time you wrongly parked, as well as the window tints that seem a bit darker than allowed,” Officer Sohn stated, his finger grazing against your windows, barely able to see the steering wheel and the front seats.

“Everything is up to date and in compliance with current requirements, Officer,” you spat, crossing your arms against your chest, hissing as the remaining bits of coffee went through the fabric onto your skin.

“If you say so,” Officer Sohn sighed, not convinced at all by your words, “when you arrive tomorrow, I strongly advise you park well, understood? I might not be on duty here tomorrow, so I won’t be able to let you get away with it.”

“Fine. Have a good day, Officer,” you mumbled while locking your car, leaving the police officer on the pavement and watching you angrily enter the building you worked at.

Your day didn’t get better despite praying whatever God to help you. As soon as you stepped foot in the building, the big boss saw you with your stained top and had to share his opinion in front of everyone, telling your manager that she wasn’t doing a great job at teaching her employees the company dress code.

So, of course, when the CEO was out of sight, she took all her anger on you, and it exploded in a big fight in the open space. All the precedent events had already angered you, but this was just the cherry on top. You almost said things that could have gotten you fired, and you were frustrated when she took her afternoon off for “personal issues”, leaving you to take care of all her daily assignments alone.

When you got out of work, you were mad at the world, ready to punch someone and yell out your frustration. You were thankful your intern was a hardworking person and tried to handle the work you gave him on his own, feeling bad when he walked on eggshells to ask for guidance, kind of scared of you after witnessing your row with your manager.

Car keys in hand, you walked to your parking spot, only to find it empty.

Your car was no longer there.

“What the fuck,” you mumbled, looking around, as if you had become delirious throughout the day and parked it somewhere else. No, no, it was supposed to be parked in front of the police station, on the left side of the main door. Yet, your Audi was nowhere to be seen.

Stepping foot into the police station, you cleared your throat as anger rose in your chest, finding Officer Sohn at a desk, focusing on a task on his computer.

“Officer?” you asked, and he looked up, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of your figure.

“Ma’am? How can I help?”

“I am looking for my car, a black RS3 Audi. I parked it right there this morning.”

“I remember, yeah,” he smirked, the vivid argument between you two coming back to mind.

“Well? Do you happen to know where it is?”

“I know where it is,” a voice rose from behind you, making you turn around.

A tall, muscular figure appeared from the staircase, a serious frown on his lips contrasting with the curious softness that his eyes held. The weight of the bulletproof vest he wore didn’t seem to bother him, his movements as fluid as water. Slender fingers pushed some hair away from his face as he confidently approached you.

“You’re looking for an Audi RS3? Black, tinted windows? Poorly parked?” his deep voice made you shiver, and you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s my-“

“Towed to the pound,” he proudly stated, your face falling in shock making him smirk.

“What?” you almost screamed.

This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Did you really tow my car? Just for two wheels outside the parking lot? Don’t you have other things to do, like arresting real criminals, Officer?”

You failed to notice Officer Sohn’s eyes growing wide at the title you gave the man, the latter angrily scowling at you.

“First and foremost, when someone does not respect the laws, they are, in my eyes, a criminal. You didn’t park the way your little instructor taught you during your little driving lessons, so that makes you a valid criminal.”

You scoffed, your reaction not amusing the man in front of you.

“And, ma’am, for the record, this little symbol you see here,” he patted his upper torso with a smirk, “makes me a Captain.”

You read the name on his uniform.

Captain Juyeon Lee.

Oh shit.

You briefly looked at Officer Sohn, whose eyes held some sympathy in them mixed with an “I told you” gaze.

“Respect goes both ways,” he continued, “I’d like you to address me as Captain Lee from now on.” His serious, menacing tone was meant to impress you, but you were far from it.

“Fine, Captain Lee,” you stressed the word “Captain”, earning a bitter smile from the high-ranked policeman. “Since you oh so nicely towed my car to the pound on the other side of town, how do you expect me to go home in reasonable hours, when I live in the village downtown, two hours and a half away from here ?”

“There’s a bus leaving in… now actually, to go there,” Captain Lee smirked while checking his watch, and your eyes bore into his, your pupils sending him daggers that he ignored.

He found it quite amusing the way you were looking at him. Almost…cute.

“Or you could call an Uber and then go home,” he suggested, making you scoff again.

“An Uber? To this side of town? I can’t believe you are being serious right now,” you mumbled the last sentence, shaking your head at his dumb remark. “I won’t be your next murder case to investigate just to keep you busy, since you’re so bored that you like to bother people for two tyres,” you took a step and stared at him, the Captain not budging.

“Then there’s nothing else I can do for you, ma’am,” he stated, walking around you to get to his desk, soon followed by two officers.

You huffed, exiting the station to get some fresh air. Officer Sohn was right, he really was something else. He was not as patient as him.

On the other hand, you were the one to blame, you provoked it. By wanting to see how far you could go without getting a fine, you played and got burned. Now you pay the price of being stuck in the city and not having a car to go home.

“I’m fucking dumb,” you mumbled to yourself, typing on your phone as you tried to think of a solution, a hand flying to your hair to tug on some strands.

Your manager lived down the street. Hell no, with what happened this morning, you’d rather set yourself on fire than knock at her door for help. The CEO? Super weird. The intern? Even worse.

A few droplets of water landing on your head got you out of your deep thoughts. You stepped back when the droplets intensified, and you defeatedly watched the rain abruptly pour on the streets, people running in front of you to seek shelter.

Great. Today was officially the worst day of your life.

You sighed, stuffing your phone in your bag as you mentally prepared yourself to go to the nearest coffee to quench your thirst and think of a way to go home. Your heels clicked on the pavement, your hand rising to your face to shield your eyes and brows from the rain, ready to trot to a bar or whatever building could offer you something to drink.

As you were about to step away from the police station into the rain, a strong hand seized your biceps, dragging you in the other direction. You shrieked and tried to set your arm free, but the grip was stronger than you thought. Looking up, you growled in annoyance as you recognised the same jet-black hair and bulletproof vest from a few moments earlier.

“What did I do now? Did I breathe incorrectly? Were my heels too loud on the tarmac for the neighbourhood? Did I huff too loudly?” Captain Lee shook his head from side to side with an amused smile on his face at your words, his eyes rolling as you tried to set yourself free again. This time, he didn’t fight and let go of your arm. He unlocked his police car in a swift motion and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he ordered.

“What for?” you questioned, and he sighed, wordlessly gesturing you to sit down. You growled but obliged, startled at the force he used to slam the door shut.

A few seconds later, he’s next to you, turning the engine on.

“You’re lucky Sohn is a nice guy. Seatbelt,” he ordered.

“What do you mean?” you side-eyed the police officer, his words making you look at him.

“You’re lucky he can read people well and has good arguments,” you stared at his hand on the steering wheel, effortlessly shifting gears as you slowly exited the city.

You remained silent for an instant. That’s when you realised where you were heading—the car pound.

“Thank you,” you mumbled and crossed your arms against your torso, shifting to the right side to slightly turn your back to him, your body suddenly seized by comfort and exhaustion as you could begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t know if it was his cologne, his way of driving or the warmth oozing from the seat heater that got you so relaxed, but you weren’t going to complain. It was nice, almost making you forget about your terrible day.

“I’m not the one you should thank for this, I’m doing this so Sohn doesn’t throw a tantrum in the middle of the police station. You have a lot in common you two, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up together,” his last sentence sounded like a backhanded compliment, but you took it, nonetheless.

“It’s still better than being rude and arrogant,” you mumbled, and the Captain’s brows rose to the sky, slamming on the brakes as you arrived at a stop sign. You were startled, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t make me regret listening to my colleague,” he mumbled through his gritted teeth, turning on his indicator before making a right turn.

The rest of the journey to the car pound was quiet, only the sound of the car engine filling in the silence. Despite his shitty attitude, the Captain next to you was quite handsome. Long neck, high cheekbones, slender fingers, flawless skin, and a muscular body, he was well-proportioned. The uniform added a little something to his charm. Or it was maybe just your uniform kink speaking up.

When you arrived at the car pound, the rain had stopped but it was stuffy. A storm was not far from breaching the sky, the clouds were so dark that you were expecting thunder at any moment. Not something you were looking forward to going home with.

“I hope they took good care of my car,” you mumbled as you walked next to the Captain. His boots hit the ground in a soft thud, matching your pace as you were still in your office clothes.

“Come on, it’s just a heap of metal pieces,” Captain Lee stated, and you stifled a growl of annoyance by deeply sighing.

“To you, maybe. I cherish it a lot, I worked so hard to afford it,” you retorted.

“If you say so,” he shrugged, and you huffed.

“Yes, I say so.”

You didn’t have time to argue further that the guy responsible for the car pound greeted you with a professional smile.

“Captain! You are back already?”

“Yes I am, joined by the culprit in person,” the guy laughed, and you scowled at the police officer, who briefly looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

That fucker was enjoying playing with your nerves.

“I was not expecting such a pretty lady to own a car like this one,” he said, and you offered him a fake smile.

“Yet here I am,” you said, voice emotionless, the guy not taking the hint that you didn’t find him funny.

“Follow me, please,” the grey-haired man led the way, Captain Lee’s hand hovering in your lower back made you shiver.

The walk to your car was muddy and perilous in heels, Captain Lee had to catch your arm once to prevent you from falling face-first in a puddle of mud.

“What a good idea to come here in heels,” he sarcastically said, making you roll your eyes.

“Your fault,” you mumbled, readjusting your bag strap on your shoulder.

“My fault?”

“Yes, your fault! If you took care of burglars and thieves rather than bothering a woman that just tries to do her job, we wouldn’t be there,” you pettily retorted and the guy laughed, enjoying your bickering with the police officer, who simply scoffed.

“You remind me of my wife and me when we were younger,” your face turned into a frown that thankfully no one saw. You didn’t say anything and kept walking.

Your heart lightened a bit when you saw your car, but your face immediately fell when you saw how muddy it was.

“What the fuck happened to my car? It was clean when I arrived at work this morning!” you exclaimed, walking around it to check if there were any shocks or dents in the body of the car.

“Ahh, this,” the guy embarrassingly scratched the back of his head, looking down as he felt the Captain’s questioning eyes on him, “it’s probably my employees. They can’t resist testing them when they see cars like this.”

You were going to murder someone.

“And you’re going to let that slide, Captain?” you spat, drawing the officer’s attention on you, as he seemed quite interested in your car, despite what he had told you earlier.

“Do you have proof that they did it?” he argued back, and you resisted the urge to strangle him by breathing deeply.

“He just confessed!” you yelled, and the Captain shrugged.

“I would need stronger proof to incriminate them,” you closed your eyes, focused on your breathing pattern, and nodded. Reopening them, they were glossy with tears, the car emitting a low “click” as you unlocked it with your keys.

“Do I need to pay for something?” you asked no one in particular, the two male figures blurry because of your tears. You noticed that the car guy was slightly embarrassed by the situation, Captain Lee remaining the same stoic man as before.

“225 000,00 Won for the journey and parking here,” the car guy mumbled, and you got your wallet and got the bank notes that he requested.

“Here you go. Captain, feel free to send me a fine for my parking by post, I’ll pay it as soon as I receive it. Have a good evening,” you mumbled as you entered your car, carefully driving on the road, the police car soon a memory.

“Fucking assholes,” you mumbled through gritted teeth as you reached the main road, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

Maybe your reaction was a bit too much, but it left the two men too stunned to speak. The car guy was embarrassed by his employees’ behaviour, and Captain Lee was silent.

He had pushed your buttons for hours when you were already on the edge and eventually, you broke down. He had done that in the past with witnesses to check if they were telling the truth or not. Normally, he enjoyed watching the culprit break down in tears and confess their crime, yet here he wasn’t as satisfied as usual.

He felt bad. Guilty, per se.

He bid farewell to the car guy and paced back to his car, starting the engine as he followed your path. The thunder was raging in the middle of the town, he could see the lightning bolts illuminating the sky as he drove back to the civilisation.

Captain Lee paused at the same stop sign, yet not abruptly this time. He took a quick second to think logically. He had two chances: either you drove straight back home, or you went to the closest car wash station from here.

Turning on his blue and red lights, he floored the gas pedal and drove to the nearest car wash station he knew.

The distant sound of a siren drew your attention as you finished inspecting your car, relieved that, after a good wash, your vehicle was intact as before. You got back into your car as the siren got closer. Soon blue, and red lights were illuminating your face as you watched in your rearview mirror. With a sigh, you noticed Captain Lee approaching your window. Anger washed over you and you got out of your car, startling the Captain. You noticed that his hand was quick to go to his holster – probably a force of habit – before going back to his pocket.

You wordlessly side-eyed him as you tore the dark tint on each of your windows, crumpling up the pieces in a big, black plastic ball before handing it to him.

“Here you go, Captain. My car is now 100% in compliance with your current requirements. Happy?” you questioned and forced the ball of waste to his chest for him to take.

His hand seized your wrist, much gentler this time. His softness startled you, making you look at him with furious eyes to make your confusion.

“Things went too far, ma’am. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I’m sorry,” his baritone voice was calm and low, sending vibrations in your heart.

You sighed, swallowing the lump in the throat that was threatening to rise, again. Captain Lee had to resist the urge to wipe the streaks of dry mascara under your eyes, forcing his hands back in his pockets as he let go of your forearm.

“It’s not entirely your fault. I had a really shitty day, all of this just made me exhausted and– .”

“I didn’t help to ease the situation. I wanted to apologise, it went too far,” he cut you.

“I appreciate your apology, Captain,” your mouth stretched in a small, tired smile, which the officer replicated almost immediately.

A few seconds passed as you kept staring at each other, Captain Lee carefully stepping closer to you as he saw you didn’t budge the first time.

The wind softly blew a few pieces of hair in your face. Juyeon’s fingers were quick to place them back behind your ear, much to your surprise. His body worked quicker than his brain, realising way too late what he had done.

“You do this to every woman that cries out of frustration in front of you?” you teased.

The police officer smirked, studying your facial features.

You were beautiful.

“Only to the pretty ones that throw tantrums like a child and drive a black Audi RS3,” he mumbled. You rolled your eyes, Juyeon’s hand quick to seize your jaw to make you look at him, his actions surprising you.

“You drive me nuts with those eye rolls,” he mumbled, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Yet you’re the one causing them,” you retorted in a mumble, now stuck between the side of your car and the bulletproof vest Juyeon was wearing, his knee slotting itself between your legs.

“But not for the good reasons,” your eyes studied his and you thickly swallowed when you saw his eyes briefly drop to your lips.

His free hand joined the other that was holding your jaw to cradle your face between them. Another pang of guilt hit his heart as his thumbs were stroking the salted, dry skin under your eyes because of the tears he caused.

“May I?” he whispered in a hushed voice. Immediately knowing what he wanted, you nodded, and his lips were on yours the following second.

The kiss was passionate and vivid. It held so many emotions that your head spun. You felt how sorry he was but soon after, how much he needed that. Your lips moved in sync, his tongue begging for entrance. When you granted him his wish, he was quick to fight for dominance and you gave in, a hand fisting his hair while your other arm was around his neck, trying to keep yourself grounded and steady in this kiss.

When you pulled away from his lips, you were breathless, heart rummaging in your chest. You had never been kissed like that by anyone, yet you adored it. You wanted more. Juyeon wasted no time and peppered your jaw and neck with hungry kisses, nipping and licking at the skin to rile you up.

“Officer,” you said in a moan, choking on a squeal when Juyeon’s hand harshly collided with your ass.

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” he grunted, pulling away from you. You whined from the lack of warmth his body provided you.

“Captain,” you corrected yourself, and he smirked, his hand spanking you again, softer this time, before whispering you to jump.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and linking your legs at the small of his back, Juyeon effortlessly walked you back to his cruiser, opening the passenger door and gently settling you down on. Finding the handle underneath the seat, he rolled it away from the dashboard and inclined it down. You were in such a comfortable position that you could almost take a nap, yet Juyeon had other plans for you that sounded more exciting.

“You okay, darling?” he asked, and you nodded, smiling as he removed his bulletproof vest from his chest to take off his shirt. The sight almost made you drool, his muscular body begging to be touched. You couldn’t resist and felt his abs with your hand, the gesture making him smirk.

“Like what you see?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you shamelessly answered, and he smirked, diving back to your mouth to kiss you before settling on his knees in the small space between your seat and the dashboard.

“Pretty girl got her heels so dirty,” he said as he seized your calf and removed your shoes one after the other, carelessly tossing them in the backseat.

Goosebumps rose in your body as his mouth started to kiss your skin from your calf up to your knees, his hands bunching up your pencil skirt in the process to get access to the skin of your thighs. His mouth was hot against your shivering skin, your breath catching in your throat as he was at eye-level with your core. Looking up, he kissed the inner parts of your thigh, earning a low moan from you as he progressively got closer to your core.

“More, Captain. I need more,” you whined, and he smirked, his hands caressing your calves up and down.

“More of what?” he teased, and you wiggled like a maggot, attempting to get your core closer to his mouth.

“Of you,” you breathily mumbled, “I need your mouth on me.”

A high-pitched groan escaped your lips when he pressed his lips against your clothed core, his tongue poking your entrance in a teasing manner. You were already withering under his touch, and he had barely done anything. He could feel how wet you were through the fabric, his ego flying through the roof that he was the one leaving you in such a putty state.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you seemed to have found the right words to get under his skin, your begging awakening something inside him that blood rushed straight to his cock.

“Yeah? You promise you’ll park well tomorrow?”

“I promise, Captain.”

“Good girl,” he kissed your hip bone, and you whined, your core clenching around nothing when he pulled your panties down in a swift motion, the air welcoming your folds in a fresh embrace that made you audibly gasp.

“Such a pretty cunt, so wet, just for me,” he stated as he trailed his fingers down to your glistening slit, earning a back arch from you.

Your hand fisted his hair when he dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit, giving it special attention as your lustful moans spurred him on. His tongue rolled and licked around your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance as your legs wrapped themselves around his head.

“Oh my god, fuck!” you moaned as Juyeon inserted two fingers inside your warmth, humming at how wet you were thanks to him. Turning his palm to the sky and hooking up his fingers, he started licking your clit harder and pounding his fingers inside you at such a rapid pace that you were barely controlling your moans.

“You sound so pretty for me, darling,” he praised you, smirking as his words made you clench around his fingers, making a mental note of it, “do you like how I make you feel?” he asked, his free hand playing with one of your breasts over your shirt.

You hummed in agreement as your shaky hands tried to undo the first few buttons of your shirt, passing it over your head to reveal your bra. Juyeon hummed as he saw the black lingerie decorating your chest and caressed it, feeling the warm, bouncy flesh against his palm while his other hand was still buried inside your pussy.

“Put your feet on the dashboard for me, love,” he ordered in a whisper, and you immediately obliged, allowing his fingers to reach deeper inside you, making you groan in pleasure.

“Oh my god, Captain, please keep going, that feels so good,” your voice was getting weaker as your orgasm was approaching thanks to his fingers and tongue skills, the public situation of your dirty little business only increasing your sensitivity and pleasure.

“Does it?” he questioned, and you moaned as an answer, urging Juyeon to pick up the pace by seizing his forearm and pushing his fingers harder and quicker inside you.

The message was loud and clear for Juyeon, who immediately removed your hand and latched his mouth around your clit, loudly suckling on it. His moans against your sensitive skin sent jolts of electricity in your body, the knot in your stomach close to snapping. You wanted to last a bit more, but the feeling was becoming overwhelming when Juyeon added a third finger, stretching you out like no one had done before.

You cried in pleasure, Juyeon smirking against your pussy as your moans were making him as hard as a branch.

“C-Can I cum?” you begged between staggered breaths, your fingers playing with your breasts.

You were being a good girl to him, asking in such a pretty, begging voice if you could finish. He really had to resist the urge to just remove his fingers and instead stick his cock deep into your core.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, you deserve it. You had a long day today,” he mumbled, his fingers still entering you at a rapid pace as his other hand left your breast to play with your clit.

His attentive words pushed you over the edge. Juyeon felt the force of your orgasm by how strong your core was clenching around his fingers, almost preventing him from moving. Your voice was strained as you loudly moaned, a mix of “Captain” and “Juyeon”, as well as profanities shamelessly leaving your pretty, bruised lips from biting them too much.

What a pretty sight that was for Juyeon. He had made his ex-girlfriends cum before, but not this hard and not with just his fingers and tongue. His dick was rock hard as you slowly came back to your senses, chest heavily heaving up and down, eyes glazed with lust and tiredness. You whimpered when Juyeon removed his fingers glistening with your release, sucking them clean. A lazy smile decorated your mouth at his action, grabbing Juyeon by the back of the neck to taste yourself on his lips.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered against your mouth, your shaky hands caressing his warm torso. You wanted more of him, your hand unbuckling his belt as you pressed your mouth against his.

Your curious fingers eventually found the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down to reveal his hard cock. It was girthy but mostly long, leaking with precum, his balls feeling heavy in your hand. It jolted when you wrapped your digits around it, giving a few sharp strokes, earning a deep groan from the police officer on top of you.

“Easy, pretty girl, I wanna last,” you giggled at his words and kissed his lips, Juyeon blindly searching for something in the compartment of the centre console armrest.

“What are you doing?” you asked while kissing his neck, your hand still lustfully stroking him.

“I’m looking for a condom,” he grunted and softly moaned in your ear when you teased his slit.

“Awn…. Scared your pull-out game isn’t strong enough?” you teased, and he grabbed your throat, pinching your nipple as he planted his gaze in yours.

“Would you prefer getting knocked up by a total stranger?” he retorted.

“If it’s a hot, dark-haired Captain named Juyeon Lee, I wouldn’t mind,” you joked with a bright smile, the man in front of you capturing your lips in a swift kiss to shush you.

You giggled when he flipped you around and spanked your cheeks with a grunt, your laugh turning into a moan as the pain increased the wetness pooling down your leg.

“I take what I said earlier back, you’re such a dirty, bad girl,” he punctuated the downgrading nickname with a harsh spank, making you moan.

“See, your moaning confirms that I’m right,” he snorted, and you pushed your bum backwards to get him to keep going.

“Fuck me please, Captain?” you looked behind and feigned innocence, offering big doe eyes to Juyeon.

After eventually finding a condom and rolling it on his hard shaft, Juyeon neared his tip to your entrance, easily sliding it in thanks to your wet cunt. You loudly moaned his name and earned a spank from the police officer, his hands holding your hips as he pushed himself further inside you. He was so long, you felt like his tip was poking your stomach when he bottomed out.

“You feel so tight,” he grunted through gritted teeth as you clenched around him.

“You’re so long, gosh. You fill me up so well,” you closed your eyes as you laid the side of your head against the headrest, enjoying how good his dick was filling you, Juyeon’s chest resting against your back as he was moaning in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit just to rile you up and get you even wetter.

“As if we were meant to be, mh?” he mumbled in the shell of your ear and you nodded, his hips rolling against yours in slow thrusts, letting you adjust to his length. He didn’t want to go all in at the beginning because he knew that he wouldn’t last two minutes, especially with the way you were moaning his ranking.

Plus, backshots were always one of his favourite positions to use during sex. With you, it was even better than the times with other girls. He loved to see his cock going in and out of your cunt, how your wetness was coating his shaft, the excess pooling at the rim of it and slowly drooling down to his balls. Your back was arching like a cat stretching, allowing him to caress the soft skin and decorate it with kisses or bites. Your ass colliding with his hips was also a sight to see, the red imprints of his hands slowly forming on the soft flesh from all the spanking.

Juyeon’s hand came to grab your neck and push you deeper into the seat, granting his cock better access to the depth of your core. He reached further inside you, triggering your g-spot and making you scream in pleasure, your thighs slowly starting to shake. You had to fight the urge to let your eyes roll at the back of your head at how good Juyeon’s cock was making you feel. It reached places you never thought existed, that was at least never found by your exes.

“The beautiful sight that you are,” the officer mumbled, his hands caressing your back down to your ass, down your hips to your pussy. His mouth rested against the shell of your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe, whispering soft words of praise at how well you were taking his cock.

He smirked at how you clenched around him, the hand that was still between your legs coming up to your mouth, forcing it open. You welcomed his fingers with a hum, your tongue rolling around them to taste yourself.

“You’re such a pretty, obedient slut, you know that?” he kissed your cheek as he picked up the pace, your moans muffled by his slender fingers still pressing down your tongue. You looked over your shoulder with pleading eyes, the slight gloss over them warning the officer that you were close, again.

“Don’t worry, darling,” the officer whispered, his hips colliding with your ass at a steady pace, “I’m going to make you cum again soon, just be patient, okay? I’m almost there,” his breath was heavy, his thumb caressing your cheek as you docilely nodded at his words.

Eventually removing his fingers from your mouth, you yelped in pleasure as his wet fingers pinched your nipples, sending jolts of electricity down your body to your core.

“Please, Captain, I’m so close, I need it. So badly,” you begged, getting tired and so sensitive that one sharp movement could make you topple over the edge.

Juyeon stilled inside you, taking the time to gather your hair in one of his hands and kiss you on the lips. Your head dropped and you moaned as you felt him push himself desperately deeper inside you, your ass and his hip bone forming one, his cock thickening with lust.

Without a warning, the hand in your hair tightened, making your head tilt back up and groan, his hips colliding hard and fast with your ass, the flesh giggling at every movement.

Drunk in pleasure, Juyeon’s chest was pressed against your back, primal movements not faltering a second. His moans were erratic, grunts all over the place as the sound of skin slapping filled the police car.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna- Oh fuck!” that’s all you managed to say before your body went totally limp, legs shaking as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, a hand wrapped around his wrist as your core was almost pushing him out of you.

“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it. Come around my cock,” he helped you ride your orgasm by toying with your clit, mouth praising you between covering your shoulder blades with hot kisses.

Your pussy tightening made Juyeon’s cock super sensitive, precum slowly filling the condom. He was not going to last long, he just needed a bit more of you to get there.

“Can you handle a bit more, baby? I’m almost there,” he whispered, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in ages. Turning around to face him, you spread your trembling legs wide open for him, taking his cock in your hand to stuff it back inside you.

“I take that as a yes,” Juyeon smirked and you hummed, barely catching your breath as his hips were already ramming back inside you.

Resting his forehead against yours, Juyeon’s movements started to falter, his brown eyes blown out with lust. The way your face contorted in pleasure and your legs shaking in sensitivity were helping him get closer to his peak, loving that you were drowning in lust thanks to him.

Your hand flew to his hair and started tugging on some strands as he picked up the pace. Legs crossing in his lower back, caging him in an embrace, a low grunt of your name erupted from the police officer’s mouth, his hips stilling a second later.

“Oh my god, Y/N, fuck!” You gasped as his cum filled the condom, Juyeon rutting his hips against yours as he rode his orgasm, low groans escaping from his lips.

Your moans and your nails digging into his shoulders made him groan in lust and ride his high, soon resting his weight on you, your sweaty bodies heaving up and down in sync.

Slowly coming back to your senses, Juyeon partially removed himself from you, pulling away from your core. He smiled at you, softly kissing your lips before quickly sucking on your breast. You shivered, almost getting turned on again at the sight of the filled-up condom.

Helping each other to get dressed, it was hard for you to stand on your heels. Juyeon had turned your legs into jelly, and you could barely walk the distance that separated your car from the police cruiser.

“Are you going to be okay to get home safely?” Juyeon looked at you with a veil of worry in his eyes. You smiled, carefully walking up to him to press your lips against his.

“I will,” you smirked, your hand removing non-existent dust on his uniform just for the physical contact to linger one more second. You were already exhausted because of your day at work, those moments with him didn’t help you feel energized at all.

“Be careful on the road. I wouldn’t want the next time I see you be at the hospital,” you smiled as his hands were gently stroking your sore hips.

“That wouldn’t be a great idea, indeed,” you teased, your mouth kissing his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, getting lost again in the sensation of your mouth on him.

“What about a date, instead?” he suggested, changing the subject as he was close to ripping your clothes from your body, just to feel your core squeeze around his cock one more time.

You smirked at his words, making you take a step back at him.

“I’d love that, Captain.” you teased as you stuffed something inside the back pocket of his pants before carefully walking to your car.

Frowning, he reached for his pants and scoffed at the lacey lingerie between his fingers, his boxers feeling restrictive, again.

As you drove off back home, Juyeon did the same, your panties in his hand. He smirked as he noticed the dry stains of your wetness he caused by kissing you.

He couldn’t wait to make you scream his name again. For now, he’d have to use his imagination.

And your panties.

[cowboylikeyouu]

🦾 WINTERHAWK RECS 🏹

@bl0ssomized asked for some winterhawk fic recs & i took that as my sign to finally sit down, go through my 500+ bookmarks and provide y'all with my fav fics <3 if you end up reading/enjoying any of these, PLEASE make sure to leave a comment on ao3, the authors deserve all the nice words in the world!!

about this list:

most of these fics are pretty popular in the fandom, so this list is more directed at new fans just joining the winterhawk paradise!! (there's a lot on here tho, so maybe you find one you haven't read yet)

bee asked for little to no smut, so i'm not gonna rec any pwp works here (with a few exceptions).

there's obviously still smut in many of these fics, but i tried to tell you if it's important/skippable or not. if you don't mind smut i obviously recommend reading it bc GOD these authors just know their shit, but i think nobody should miss out on the amazing long fics just bc they don't like smut :)

i put a "notes" section for every fic where i just yap about it and/or my feelings towards it for a bit bc i literally can't shut up about these two guys.

alright, i think that's all, let's go!! pls tell me if i messed up the links somwhere :)

50k+ words 

Lucky In Love by dr_girlfriend 

words: ~60k 

important tags: no powers AU, oh my god they were roommates!, friends to lovers, mutual pining 

notes: every time i give winterhawk recs to a new fan i start with lucky in love, bc even tho it’s an AU, it has soo many of the typical winterhawk tropes i love so much. PLUS: roomates. and lucky. and every chapter is titled “aw, [something], no” and i find that way too funny to not mention. idk it’s just one of that fics that gives me the warmest & fuzziest of warm fuzzy feelings and i think everyone should read it. 

smut: even tho it has the wonderful, wonderful tag “not gonna tag every sex act just trust me there’s plenty”, there’s actually not that many. in my opinion, the perfect amount for a 60k, 21 chapters winterhawk fic. it’s quite a slow-burn, so they’re only in the later chapters anyway, and the build up to it is soOoo good. this is one of the fics where i know exactly where to find the smut scenes so feel free to hmu. 

Like Real People Do by Kangofu_CB

words: ~67k 

important tags: “i actually just wanted to watch these two idiots fall in love in a secluded cabin ok”; civil war fix it 

notes: no one, NO ONE  gets me like this fic, it checks like every single one of my boxes. perfection. not lying when i say it’s my favorite fic of all time. it doesn’t have a special premise or anything, but that’s the good thing about it. it’s just so… cozy. comfy. feels like home. i can’t even remember if like real people do is my favorite hozier song because of this fic or if it’s my fav fic bc like real people do is my fav hozier song, but i know that i never cried as hard as i did when i heard lrpd live and could only think about this fic. nothing makes me feel as good as re-reading this story, i want to eat it.

smut: yes, but only like 2,5 scenes. hmu and i tell you the exact fucking paragraph number or smth, this fic is literally engraved in my soul. thank you CB. some day i’ll leave a 2k words comment on every single chapter. 

The Other Man out of Time by sara_holmes 

words: ~97k 

important tags: time travel, falling in love, clint barton centric 

notes: okay so this is kinda the best winterhawk fic in existence?? not my absolute favorite bc it makes me cry too much, but definitely top 3. no other winterhawk fic made me sob this hard, no other winterhawk fic makes me wanna curl up on the floor and cry for an hour every time i think about it. that being said: IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!! and a lot of stuff in between is SO sweet as well. premise is basically: clint travels back in time and fights in wwii alongside bucky and they fall in love. and then bucky!canon happens. you get it? you get it. it’s- UGH it’s so good. jesus. i’m crying. 

smut: a few short sexy scenes i think, but no SMUT smut, and it’s definitely definitely DEFINITELY not the focus of the story. can’t emphasise enough how much everyone should read this 

Hipsters get Remembered, Legend’s Never Die by sara_holmes

words: ~90k 

important tags: millennial bucky barnes, awesome clint barton, recovery 

notes: millennial bucky is one of the most entertaining things fandom came up with, and this fic is the epitome of that trope. love love LOVE. plus, clint’s really fucking awesome in this. 

smut: yes, but only like two or three times in 11 chapters, easily skippable

Puzzle Pieces (series) by sara_holmes 

words: ~446k 

important tags: steve/tony, kid fic, emotional hurt

notes: if you don’t like stony this one isn’t for you, just skip to next one :) if you like stony: GOD pls read puzzle pieces!! the first 200k words fic is stony focused and has only pre-slash winterhawk, but even tho they don’t get together in this one yet it’s literally one of my favorite clint/bucky portrayals of all time, no one gets them like sara, it’s perfect. the stony/kid fic storyline is SO amazing as well, so if that’s your cup of tea, check. it. out. after that they’re a few longer winterhawk instalments, and while some of them are really angsty and painful, there’s always a happy ending. god i need to re-read this entire thing. it makes me wanna cry and throw up in all the good ways. 

smut: some, but you can definitely skip it.

I’ll keep you safe here with me by sara_holmes 

words: ~110k 

important tags: kidnapping, PTSD, mind control aftermath & recovery 

notes: ngl i haven’t read this one in a long time, but everything by sara is perfect and this one’s one of the most kudo’d winterhawk fics, so it’s basically a must read. everyone needs to read a good clint & the winter soldier fic at least once

smut: it’s rated mature, so no really explicit smut. can’t remember if they don’t get a bit horny tho.

A Heart Worth Loving by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~82k 

important tages: soulmate AU, no powers AU, modern bucky barnes, forced cohabitation 

notes: GOOD FUCKING SOUP. soulmate au AND they were roommates????? beat that. it takes them ages to figure out they’re soulmates, which makes this equally amazing and frustrating, but it’s all so so worth it 

smut: yes, at the end of it. you CAN skip it, although i recommend skimming through it and read the dialogue parts and stuff. 

if you were a mythical thing by Kangofu_CB

words: ~75k 

important tags: teachers au, kid fic, werewolves 

notes: quick story time for this one bc i remember it so so well lmao: winterhawk olympic bang 2022, most authors had started to post their fics except for CB and i KNEW she had written one, and i was literally checking my emails every hour for days. and then she finally posted it and i already started screaming when i saw the taylor lyrics as a title, and then i read those three tags and literally had to sit on my floor for 20 minutes to calm down bc i was so excited. i remember posting like 20 stories on my private insta that were just me keysmashing lmaoo. idk but teachers + kid fic + werewolves is just such a BONKERS combination, and i can promise you’re in for a treat, it’s so so fun. 15/10. 

smut: yes, but it takes some time to get there and it’s skippable

Adventures in dogsitting by Call_Me_Kayyyyy 

words: ~53k

important tags: friends to lovers, dogsitting, pining 

notes: another olympic bang fic, thank you. cute, fun, lots of lucky content :) good soup 

smut: NO SMUT

Under My skin (series) by finely honed 

words: ~360k

important tags: Steve/Tony (the “main” instalment is stony focused), PTSD, Life after the army, AU - Tattoo Parlour 

notes: the “first” instalment is a stony fic (one of my all time favs honestly) but with a lot of amazing side-winterhawk, and there’s a winterhawk spin-off, that’s a prequel to the stony arc, so you can just read that first if you want. it was one of the first english winterhawk fics i’ve ever read and it always makes me wanna cry when i think about it (in a good way).

smut: they’re quite horny in both big instalments, but i would say the smut is skippable. it’s not un-important for both the winterhawk and the stony dynamic tho, so i wouldn’t recommend doing that

This is Not a Date, it’s a Kidnapping by sara_holmes 

words: ~50k 

important tags: Fake Kidnapping, also real kidnapping, Bucky Barnes recovering, fake relationship 

notes: all sara_holmes is good sara_holmes, but this one’s one of my favs, it’s just so fun. GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 2021, this was such a blast to read when it first came out!! 

smut: NO SMUT

Freedom’s Reach by dr_girlfriend 

words: ~68k 

important tags: arranged marriage, western/historical AU, slow burn 

notes: aaaand another  winterhawk olympic bang 2021 fic! pretty sure this one was my fav during the bang, like i remember hitting up a friend of mine and screaming at each other for like an hour every time a new chapter dropped, we were SO invested. very good soup. 

smut: yes, but it’s a sloooow build, so it’s only in the later chapters. pretty sure it’s easily skippable 

ghost in the machine by squadrickchestopher

words: ~75k 

important tags: fake character death, heavy angst, ghosts, loneliness 

notes: UGHHHH clint “dies”, becomes a ghost and only bucky can see him. touch starved clint final boss basically. amazing shit. painful shit. (happy ending tho) 

smut: it’s rated explicit and it’s by squaddy, so i’m like 99% sure there’s smut, i actually can’t remember tho lmao 

Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins (series) by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~90k 

important tags: the slowest burn, the mcu reimagined completely, accidental baby acquisition, found family, kid fic

notes: this one’s an ongoing series, and it’s such an amazing one, you can feel all the love that’s been put into this. you have to go through like 60k of slow burn before winterhawk actually happens, but it’s soooo worth it. plus: kid fic. kid fic’s always good. 

smut: yes, but only in the 3rd part and the short pwp oneshot. easily skippable

something magic, something tragic by squadrickchestopher 

words: ~55k

important tags: supernatural elements, vampire bucky, enemies to lovers 

notes: VAMPIRES!!! that should be enough to convince you to read this fic!! and it’s by squaddy, it literally can’t be bad if it’s by squaddy.

smut: ughhh not entirely sure, pretty sure the mature rating is mostly for violence, but, again, it’s squaddy, so it’s very possible there’s some sexy stuff hiding in there.

Sweet Home Was Home by there_must_be_a_lock 

words: ~110k 

important tags: “i sorta made my own franken-canon”, christmas fluff, soft feelings

notes: i found this one on accident once when i wasn’t really expecting to find another PERFECT long ass winterhawk fic i haven’t read yet, and then i binge-read it in one night, and it’s honestly one of the best i’ve ever read, it’s so so soft and… healing. for both bucky and clint and myself. it’s really not as popular as it should be imo, definitely worthy of a place on the first page of the ship tag!! highly HIGHLY recommend checking it out!! 

smut: yes, but skippable 

10k - 50k words 

Starving for the Light by thepartyresponsible 

words: ~45k 

important tags: magic AU, soul bond 

notes: jesus christ i wanna eat this fic so bad. definitely my favorite 2021 winterhawk olympic bang fic, it’s just THAT good. need to re-read it entirely to make sure, but i think it’s in my top 10 if not top 5 fav winterhawk fics of all time. clint’s just so… beautiful in this, idk how else to describe it. and idk, it has a such a unique premise and setting, i love everything about it. 

smut: yes, but skippable. 

Historic Features by flawedamythyst

words: ~19k

important tags: ghosts AU, homophobic violence 

notes: oooohhh my god, don’t make me think about this fic i’m gonna cry. it’s actually pretty fun and cute and fucking awesome, but clint & bucky’s backstory in this?? i’m ugly crying, leave me alone. premise is basically: they’re ghosts and haunting the apartment they died in years ago, scaring everyone who tries to live there out of it. then steve and tony wanna move in. it’s fucking great. 

smut: NO SMUT 

Call It What You Want To by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~48k 

important tags: modern bucky barnes, sugar daddy

notes: clint becomes bucky’s sugar daddy on accident without realising and it’s the funniest fucking shit i’ve ever seen, god i love him so much. plus, again,,, millennial bucky barnes. gimme all the millennial bucky barnes.

smut: 3 or 4 scenes i think, starting as early as chapter… 2??? i think??? pretty skippable tho, as long as you read like the foreplay and everything.

A Thistle Cannot Grow by ccbytheseashore

words: ~12k 

important tags: kid fic, developing relationship 

notes: AHHHSDJGHSKJDHG. enough right?? i’m always a sucker for some good dad!clint & soft!bucky content. this one’s so so sweet it’s one of my main comfort fics, can’t recommend it enough if you love kid fics! 

smut: yes, but it’s literally only like 500 words of frotting, you know when it’s coming and you know when it’s over :) (it’s amazing tho) 

Attachments by Lissadiane 

words: ~22k 

important tags: high school au, mother hen bucky barnes, clint barton needs a hug 

notes: i KNOW many people don’t like high school AUs and i don’t fucking care. teenage winterhawk has so much potential, i love them to death. which is exactly why you should read this ;) 

smut: NO SMUT

Outnumbered by sara_holmes 

words: ~18k 

important tags: kid fic, triplets, no powers AU, bucky comes home to new york 

notes: another single dad clint fic, but give him 3 boys this time!! —> chaos. amazing chaos. + amazing bucky. good soup. 

smut: NO SMUT 

Once Lost (now found) by Teeelsie 

words: 40k 

important tags: hurt clint barton, on the run, self sacrifice 

notes: hurt clint barton final boss. this was written for whumptober, so you can imagine how bad it gets. SO worth it tho, even if you don’t really love that kind of stuff! 

smut: NO SMUT (pretty sure clint’s too hurt to have any kind of sexual thoughts <3 stupid stupid stubborn man. i love him so much)

The Best Worst Thing (that hasn’t happened to you yet) by sara_holmes

words: ~48k 

important tags: enemies to friends to lovers, rescue missions 

notes: if you’re into comic winterhawk and read their tales of suspense run, you should definitely read this fic. if you haven’t read tales of suspense, go do that now and then come back to the fic, bc it’s basically a rewrite that gives us the bucky/clint & nat dynamic we fucking deserve

smut: don’t think so?

skylines and tan lines by flawedamythyst

words: ~33k 

important tags: no powers AU, coronovirus lockdown, long distance flirting 

notes: this was literally my fav fic during lockdown, i’m not lying when i say i read this at least 20 times in 2020/21 lmaoo. it’s just such a fun concept; bucky’s living with peggy/steve, and their dynamic is so enjoyable. 

smut: there’s quite a bit of sexting & phone sex, plus a smut scene at the end. doesn’t take up the entire fic tho, and the rest is worth it as well. 

Behind Bars by sara_holmes and Behind Bares (On The Other Side Remix) by flawedamythyst 

words: ~32k (sara), ~25k (amy)

important tags: prison AU 

notes: sara’s fic is the original, amy remixed it and wrote if from clint’s pov (with quite some changes). i love both fics, but i definitely read the remix more often and prefer it, but i highly recommend reading both, they’re amazing!! clint & bucky are cell mates!!! and it’s angsty!! a little bit!! 

smut: can’t remember what it’s like in sara’s version, but it’s only rated mature soo... there’s definitely one or two smut scenes in amy’s fic, but easilyyy skippable, only like a few handjobs or smth i think.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes 

words: ~25k 

important tags: outer space, falling in love, clint feels 

notes: a classic. falling in love long-distance is soo fun, and i love it when author’s touch-starve clint, so there’s that <3

smut: NO SMUT

A Christmas Miracle: Getting Lucky by Lissadiane

words: ~11k 

important tags: christams, hallmark fic 

notes: LUCKY!!!! i read this every single christmas. you should too. you’re welcome. 

smut: NO SMUT 

Dear Super-Secret Diary by flawedamythyst 

words: ~16k 

important tags: christmas fluff 

notes: clint is bored and gets a diary (and the guy). a christmas must-read, it’s fun and cute and fluffy!!! one of the few times i will accept first person narration bc, well, it’s a goddamn diary 

smut: NO SMUT 

winterhawk punks in love (series) by 1000_directions 

words: ~19k words 

important tags: punk au, amputee bucky, deaf clint, ptsd, emotional hurt/comfort, recovery 

notes: punk!winterhawk is so important to me I NEED MORE OF IT!!! this one’s such a perfect mix of happiness and angst and comfort UGH it just hits that spot. 

smut: yes, but the fic’s still amazing if u skip it 

Apple Of My Eye by flawedamythyst

words: ~40k 

important tags: clint barton’s farm, found family, domestic 

notes: FARM FIC FARM FIC FARM FIC!!! bucky, clint and wanda basically start an apple business on his farm, and it’s just soo comfy and awesome.

smut: NO SMUT

Alone in the Bitterness by Lissadiane

words: ~16k

important tags: no pwers au, nurse bucky, disaster clint 

notes: nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky!!! do i have to say more?? 

smut: NO SMUT

Team Spirit by Noxnthea 

words: 17k 

important tags: case fic, enemies to lovers lite 

notes: noxnthea is such an underrated author it’s a literal crime. i normally don’t love case fics that much, but this is a ghost hunters case fic AND their banter is so fun that it really doesn’t matter for me this time 

smut: NO SMUT

Reach Out by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k 

important tags: 5+1, a lot of sex tags, porn with feelings, feelings realisation 

notes: CB’s smut always hits different, and idk, the +1 of this is just sooo funny and adorable, i love it to death. read this more times than i’ll admit. 

smut: basically pwp, big no no if you don’t like smut. 

Storms Within (Bridges Rebuilt) by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~11k 

important tags: star wars setting, force sensitive bucky & clint, crack treated seriously 

notes: guys you can’t imagine my excitement when the notif for this fic popped up in my emails. luke skywalker is one of my top 10 all time fav fictional characters AND HERE HE IS INTERACTING W MY FAV BOYS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!! it’s so so good, if you’re into star wars you’re gonna love it!! (even if not, it’s by CB, impossible to not enjoy)

smut: NO SMUT

Draw, Breathe, Fire by FestiveFerret

words: ~15k 

important tags: falling in love, flirting, banter 

notes: haven’t read this in a long time, but i’m pretty sure it was like a perfect little bucky-recovering-and-falling-in-love-with-clint-while-living-in-the-tower-fic. he learns archery!! pretty sure they also adopt a ferret or something???? good shit

smut: NO SMUT

Hoist a Black Flag by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~11k 

important tags: pirate au 

notes: ITS BASICALLY AN OFMD AU OKAY HOW CAN U NOT LOVE IT???

smut: yes, but skippable

Cupid’s Arrows by flawedamythyst 

words: ~14k 

important tags: office AU, valentine’s day 

notes: clint dressed up as cupid, bad pick up lines, shenanigans. haven’t read this in quite a while, but i remember i enjoyed it A LOT a few years ago and re-read it multiple times!! 

smut: NO SMUT

The Best Thing since a Double-Shot Expresso by sara_holmes 

words: ~11k 

important tags: coffee shop AU, misunderstandings, getting together 

notes: friends to lovers final boss. they’ve been best friends (husbands) for years and literally live together, and it takes them an insane amount of jealousy and steve’s ass to finally get together. such a fun read, highly HIGHLY recommend 

smut: NO SMUT

Habits of My Heart by Kangofu_CB

words: ~18k 

important tags: Fuckbuddies to Lovers, no powers AU, grindr 

notes: fuckbuddies to lovers with loads of pining will always be THE most realistic winterhawk depiction for me, sorry not sorry. this one’s extra fun bc steve and nat have been trying to set them up for months, but they’ve been already hooking up for months. it’s great. 

smut: yes, but easily skippable.

In Which Peter Is Everyone’s Favourite Avenger by DestroyedConscience 

words: ~25k 

important tags: Twitter, everyone is gay, gen z humor 

notes: look, this is an unfinished, non-winterhawk-centric twitter fic, but as a fellow winterhawk twitter fic author i just HAVE to recommend it. if u like this kind of thing, go check it out, it’s so fun :) 

smut: NO SMUT

Look What The Cat Dragged In by flawedamythyst

words: 22k 

important tags: Bucky Barnes is a cat lover, domestic fluff 

notes: i haven’t read this in years, but i KNOW it was great. at this point just go check out amy’s account and read all of her winterhawk fics, she has over a hundred and they’re all great!! but this one has them co-parenting alpine, so it’s extra great!!

smut: NO SMUT

My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend 

words: ~49k 

important tags: soulmates au, single parent clint barton

notes: soulmate au plus kid fic guys, i repeat, SOULMATE AU PLUS KID FIC GUYS!!! BY DR GIRLFRIEND!!!! GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 21/22 this one was such a blast to read when it first came out. 

smut: yes, but skippable 

Chrome Plated Heart by dr_girlfriend 

words: ~20k 

important tags: pacific rim fusion

notes: i’ve never seen pacific rim and i still had a blast reading this one!! (she put a basic explanation for it somewhere in the story notes, so dw about it!!). it was SO nice to read a fic where they’re not heavily traumatised and just have a chill, easy getting together. really sweet stuff

smut: NO SMUT!!

Know When To Hold ‘Em by flawedamythyst

words: ~11k 

important tags: exes to lovers, no powers au, cambling 

notes: UGHHH i need more fics like this one, it’s so so SO good!! flashes back and forth to the time when they were first together and when they meet again and skjdghlksdhg my heart just hurts so much for both of them. (happy ending tho dw, clint’s just so sad in the present and it hurts my soul)

smut: yeah, the part in the present is basically just one big smut scene but it’s soOoOoO emotional and i always love me some emotional smut

Christmas in Colour by mariana_oconnor 

words: ~12k 

important tags: soulmates see in colour, christmas fluff 

notes: SOULMATES SEE IN COLOUR !!!!! *swoons so hard she falls to the floor* top 3 best soulmates tropes i dont make the rules i love it so much. ESPECIALLY when it’s with a character like clint who usually has a colour he loves SO SO much. a christmas must read :) 

smut: NO SMUT

Chaos By Another Name by shatteredhourglass 

words: ~13k 

important tags: dimension travel, time travel, friends to lovers 

notes: DIMENSION-HOPPING TIME-TRAVEL ADVENTURE GUYS!!! why wouldn’t you wanna read it??? 

smut: yes

I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix) by mariana_oconnor 

words: ~14k 

important tags: soulmates at first kiss, fake/pretend relationship 

notes: have a fic with two of the best tropes ever, you’re so very welcome. plus plus PLUS: demisexual bucky. as a demisexual/asexual/still trying to figure it out lesbian, i’m always ALWAYS here for any kind of ace spectrum winterhawk, so yeah. 

smut: NO SMUT

the road rising up to meet me by veryrach

words: ~24k 

important tags: pining, sexual reawakening, chaotic slutty clint barton 

notes: MORE DEMISEXUAL BUCKY!!! AND HOT CLINT!!! no other words needed. read it. 

smut: i’m so sorry but i can’t remember if it gets SMUTTY smutty. but there’s definitely a lot of sexual themes i mean look at the tags lmao

Showdown by shatteredhourglass 

words: ~14k 

important tags: fake/pretend relationship; fluff 

notes: breaking my silence: fake dating might me my fav trope of all time. in this one they’re pretending to date for the sole purpose of annoying steve and tony and i think that’s the best thing ever. 

smut: NO SMUT

Light the Spark by dr_girlfriend

words: ~26k 

important tags: fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers

notes: aaaand the next fake dating fic >:) the enemies arc is like 0.2 seconds, blink and you miss it, but whoooo cares, we’re here for the fake dating & pining guys!!!

smut: yes, but you can skip it!

-10k words 

Wine and Pine by feathers_and_cigarettes 

words: 6k

Important tags: Touch-Starved, Fake Marriage, pining!clint 

Notes: this is one of those fics i always come back to without realising and it always hits that spot. like i said, fake dating is my favorite trope, and MISSION fake dating???? i'm in heaven

smut: there’s quite a bit of smut, but it’s at the end and even if you stop reading after they kiss it’s really worth it. 

Over Easy by Lissadiane

words: ~9k

important tags: hook up gone awry, awkwardly crashing the birth of a baby 

notes: need y’all to know that this has one of my all time fav smut scenes, i kinda know it by heart. don’t quote me on that, this is our secret. this one’s just so so SO much fun, i’m having the time of my life every time i read it (which is at least like once a month) 

smut: yes, and it’s kinda the best part, but everything else is so fun as well that i really wouldn’t wanna miss out on it

The Love You Deserve by flawedamythyst 

words: ~8k 

important tags: unhappy family holidays, homophobia, family issues, jewish bucky barnes 

notes: another must-read christmas fic for me; clint goes home for christmas to an uncle of his or something but they all turn out to be homophobic assholes or something and then bucky shows up to save the day <3

smut: NO SMUT 

what you really, really want by Noxnthea 

words: ~8k 

important tags: pining, misunderstandings 

notes: *blurts out* THEYVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR AGES AND THEN WANDA HEXES THEM SO THEY THINK THEVE BEEN DATING FOR YEARS!!! this is SUCH an underrated fic, it doesn’t even have 200 kudos like wtf??? SHOW IT SOME LOVE!!!

smut: NO SMUT

The 300 Club by Noxnthea 

words: ~10k 

important tags: no powers au, scientist clint & bucky 

notes: there aren’t enough scientist winterhawk AUs so HUGE THANKS noxnthea for feeding us. i will literally haunt you if you don’t read this one, ITS SO UNDERRATED!!! AND SO FUN!!

smut: NO SMUT

For Everything There is A Season by dr_girlfriend

words: ~9.7k 

important tags: crack fic, secret service agent!bucky, small business owner!clint barton 

notes: crack fics are always gold and this one especially, it’s such a ridiculous idea, how could you not love it? always a very fun read! 

smut: NO SMUT

Background Noise by Reremouse 

words: ~8k 

important tags: modern au, deaf clint barton 

notes: MILLENIAL BUCKY!!! clint is bucky’s upstairs neighbour and extremely loud bc he’s well… deaf. lol. and bucky’s a night shift worker which really isn’t a good combo on first thought. but on second thought, these are clint and bucky, so OBVIOUSLY they’re gonna make a great combo out of it. it’s fuckign amazing. plus bucky & sam friendship!! good shit guys, good shit.

smut: NO SMUT

you didn’t hear that by jedusaur 

words: ~2.6k 

important tags: roomates, eavesdropping 

notes: super self-indulgent rec, i always read this one when i need some cheering up lmao it’s just so fun and they’re kinda nasty and UGH. love. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing. do with that what you want. 

smut: yes. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing in every way ;)

one more time by squadrickchestopher 

words: ~4k 

important tags: touch starved, hurt clint barton 

notes: i don’t even know why i love this one so much, but it holds SUCH a special place in my heart. it might be my undying love for touch starved!clint who finally gets his well-needed hugs by bucky. there’s also an amazing podfic by flowerparrish for it, make sure to give kudso to them both!!! 

smut: NO SMUT

the salt on your lips by veryrach 

words: ~9k 

important tags: kissing, an absolutely ridiculous lack of communication 

notes: exactly what the tags say. it’s a 5+1 as well, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED IN LIFE???? 10/10. i remember waiting for months for the last few chapters and it was SO worth it!!

smut: NO SMUT

Love Potion No. 10 by Kangofu_CB 

words: ~8k 

important tags: love potion/spell, not actually unrequited love

notes: i won’t say anything about the story bc i don’t wanna spoiler it, but i’ll say that i re-read the second half of it at least once a month, it’s just THAT sweet. 

smut: NO SMUT

There’s No ‘I’ In Denial by flawedamythyst 

words: ~5k 

important tags: truth spells 

notes: clint gets hit by a magic truth gun and can’t lie anymore. such a fun & cute read every single time.

smut: NO SMUT

The Name of the Game by squadrickchestopher 

words: ~6k 

important tags: competition, trash talking, feelings realization 

notes: this one’s just so so fun, it has allllllll the winterhawk banter anyone could ask for. and i always love me some competitive idiots in love

smut: NO SMUT 

Full Barton by aw_writing_no 

words: ~6k 

important tags: no powers au, cop!bucky, human disaster clint 

notes: what the tags say. clint embarrassing himself in front of bucky who enjoys it a bit too much gotta be one of my fav tropes. 

smut: NO SMUT

one more little mistake by shatteredhourglass 

words: ~3k 

important tags: clint barton wears glasses, bucky barnes is horny for clint barton 

notes: these tags are basically the entire fic lmaooo. it’s great, i love nothing more than HOT HOT HOT clint barton and bucky realising how hot he is 

smut: almost lmao (they get interrupted while making out) 

my hands no longer an afterthought by shatteredhourglass 

words: ~3k 

important tags: getting back together 

notes: i have a sweet sweet SWEET spot for winterhawk getting back togethers if handled well, and this one handles it soo well. 

smut: NO SMUT

Five Lies People Believe About Clint and Bucky by EVVS 

words: ~1.5k 

important tags: established relationship 

notes: this is one of those fics i always go back to if i have a few minutes and need some (bitter)sweet fluff. it’s exactly what the title says, some lies are fun, some are painful, and all of them just hit that spot 

smut: NO SMUT

My Sausage Brings Alll the Boys To The Yard by flawedamythyst 

words: ~1.7k 

important tags: bad flirting 

notes: this one’s so stupid it probably shouldn’t be on here but i remember how i was reading this in class for the first time when i was still in school and i was almost pissing myself bc it made me laugh so hard. very fun, go read it >:(

smut: NO SMUT

bonus for the freaks:

Filthy Porn Fridays by squadrickchestopher 

there’s 18 works so far, it’s smut smut smut aaaand - you guessed it - smut. if you wanna see the boys fuck nastily, this is your place to be. 

(delicate tension is the best fic of the series, it’s actually a roadtrip AU and not just smut, highly highly recommend) 

alrightyyy, i think that's it for now :) this took me quite some time so i'd appreciate some reblogs or whatever!! we need to spread some winterhawk love guys!!

all my love goes out to every author i mentioned here, and every other author who's ever written winterhawk. you guys are my heroes, idk what i'd do without you. literally ripping my heart into a thousand pieces and giving every single one of you a tiny part 💜

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He Sees You

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go away for the holidays but you can't escape all the worries you tried to leave at home..

Character: Walter Marshall

Day Seventeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - let's go somewhere warm for the winter.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Let's go somewhere warm for the winter 

The sun beams amber over the dulcet ripples. Your room looks down onto the hotel pool in the setting evening, a calming hue soothing your nerves. You haven't felt this close to peaceful in month. No... has it already been a year? 

"So, honey, what do you think about trying the restaurant? I was just looking over the menu. I've never tried mussels," your mother's voice cuts through the din. Another comfort you've longed for. 

"Sure, whatever you want," you face her and sigh.  

It's more than getting away from work and your tiny apartment and the city. It's that foreign feeling. Something you almost forgot. You feel safe. 

"You alright?" She asks with concern. 

"I'm great, mom," you assure her. "Thanks for bringing me." 

"Didn't know what else to do with all that money. You wouldn't believe it, Sheila was so jealous that I won the jackpot at bingo. I would've asked her if she hadn't been such a crabby ass about it." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Ah, she always was a pain," she shrugs. "Besides, I miss my baby girl. You're always so busy with work." 

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." 

You look down guiltily. You can't tell her that it's more an excuse these days than the truth. You are busy but not with your job. You're hiding. You don't have to here. It's nice and distant and warm. You can't remember a winter without snow. It's so strange to be hot in December. 

"I'll just change into something... not this," you look down at the sweats you wore on the plane. 

"Wonderful," you mom gives a small clap but concern lingers in the lines of her forehead, "we can wait until tomorrow if you're jetlagged." 

"I'm not. Promise. I want to," you assure her. 

You grab your bag and flip the lid open. You take out some capris and a flora shirt. You go into the bathroom as she searches her purse. You want to make the best of it. It's not often you have this luxury; not only the time off, but the all-inclusive resort. It's amazing.  

And it might be the only escape you get for a while. Or ever. 

You come out as your mom spritzes herself with body spray. She smiles and grabs her wallet, "dinner's on me." 

"Mom," you chide. 

"No, you don't even try. This is my present to you, honey. I want you to enjoy," she goes to the door and looks back at you. "What happened to my little girl and her smiles?" 

Her question pierces your heart. You know but it would break her heart to say it. You force a smile. 

"I'm just grown up and tired," you chuckle dryly. "Come on. I saw something about pineapple sangria." 

"That's my girl," she trills and holds the door for you. 

The restaurant is just as you expect. Tropical in the tourist sort of way. Fake palm trees, colourful glasses, twisty straws with fruit slid onto them. You order a sangria as your mother puts her glasses on and squints at the menu. 

The server brings your drinks and gives you time to peruse the selection. You settle on the carribean prawn cocktail as your mother stirs her spicy margarita. She sits back and looks around. It's good to see her happy too. 

"This is so nice," she preens. "You should come to bingo with me when we get back. If we both win, we could stay twice as long next time." 

She cackles and you laugh too. Genuinely, this time. That weight on your shoulder lessens bit by bit. You slurp down some sangria and let the alcohol sink in. You need this. You need to just forget. To let go. 

You're far from home. No one even knows you're here. Even work thinks you're just puttering around at your apartment, and your friends, the few who still talk to you, are too absorbed in their own holidays. 

You put in your orders and get another round. Your refills come with the food as your mother tells you about Maureen who steals her fliers. You laugh as you remember the rivalry she used to have with the other soccer moms. You were never very good at the sport though. 

"How's your food?" She asks as you pick away at the prawns. 

"Very good. I could eat a whole other platter but I won't." 

"It's a holiday, go on," she chirps. 

"No, no, really. My mind says yes but my stomach would say no way," you shake your head. 

"Hm, we'll need to get a dessert menu then," she grins and looks around for the server. 

He comes and clears your plates. Your mother requests the dessert list and he flits off to his task. He returns with more than the menu. He has another round of drinks in hand. 

"Oh, we didn't--" your mother begins. 

"The gentleman at the bar sent them over." The server puts down the drinks. 

You stiffen as you stare at the pineapple ring hooked over the brim. Your mother cranes to see whoever it is and you shrink down. You're paranoid. Not here. He couldn't be. 

"And the desserts," the server taps the menu before he hands it over. "I recommend the key lime cheesecake or the coconut cream trifle." 

"Oh, thank you." Your mother fawns, "honey, cheers." 

Your mother raises her glass in a gesture towards the bar. You hold your breath and lift your glass, mirroring her. You glance at the bar and nearly drop the drink. You quickly lower your hand and turn to her. She doesn't see your panic. 

"Um, you know what," you set the glass down gingerly as the waiter retreats. "I'm going to find the bathroom." 

You get up and keep your eyes ahead of you. You resist the urge to peek at the bar again. You don’t need another look. You know it’s him, you just can’t fathom how he found you. 

You enter the bathroom and quicky hide in a stall. You sit without intent. You need to think. What do you do? What can you do? You didn’t tell a soul. You wouldn’t even text your mom the details, just in case. Your stomach clenches until you think you might vomit. 

Then another thought brings you to your feet. Your mom. Shit. 

You get up and hurry back out. As you come into the dining room, your eyes move instinctively to the bar. He’s not there. With dread, you look to the table. Your mom’s alone. Thank god. Yet, you know better than to believe he’s gone. 

You join her and reach for the sangria without a thought. You nearly choke on the mouthful as you recall where it came from. You force it down and place the drink on the table. 

“That stranger sure was kind, treating us to a round,” she smiles. “Been a long time since a handsome man bought me a drink.” 

You try to smile but you’re so tense, you can hardly breathe. “So, uh,” you swallow to restrain the tremble in your voice. “What do you want for dessert? The banana pudding sounds good.” 

You look down at the menu, hoping she can’t see the truth. She’s always been smart. She always catches you out. Maybe the drinks are enough to save you. At least, enough to protect her. Ignorance is bliss and you don’t want to ruin the first vacation she’s had in years. 

🌴

Your mother snores in the other bed. You lay awake. Your phone rests on your stomach. You wait for the inevitable buzz. 

You feel weak, so fraught that your bones are heavy. Weary. That’s the word. You’re so tired of running, especially when it only feels like you’re standing still. 

Brrrrr. 

The vibration makes you jolt. You grab at the phone clumsily and raise it to read the message. It’s him. It’s not a surprise. No one hs your number but the woman in the room with you. Or so you thought. 

‘You looked really nice tonight.’ 

You stare. You can’t answer that. You doubt he expects one. No, he’s taunting you. 

‘How’s your mom?’ 

You sit up and hiss. No. No. That’s off-limits. 

‘Leave her alone,’ your thumbs skitter over the keys quickly. 

Three dots appear. Then disappear. Then pop up again. 

‘I don’t like talking like this.’ 

You grit your teeth. Fuck off. You want so badly to type it in. Your mother snorts and rolls over. The next message shakes your hands. 

‘Room 3054.’ 

‘Where?’ You text back as seeing your suite number makes you ill. 

‘Bar. Got a cocktail waiting for you.’ 

Checkmate. You’re no good at his game and you’re terrified of him flipping the board. You slide out of bed quietly and wade through the dark. You pull a hoodie on over your camisole, careless of the flowy fabric of your shorts. You step into your sneakers, bending the backs, and shove the room key into your sweater pocket. 

He’s waiting, just like he said. With a beer for himself and another bright yellow drink for you. You near as he tugs at one of his dark curls, combing his fingers through the knot at the base of his skull. He grunts as he looses it and brings his hand back to the bottle. 

You climb up next to him. You ignore the drink. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“I should ask you the same.” 

“It’s none--” you begin and think better of it. “I’m spending time with my mother. Shouldn’t you be with your family?” 

He grits his teeth and swallows. Walter is a big man. Burly is an understatement. Before, when he was just customer, you compared him to a teddy bear. Now he’s grizzly stalking you through the trees. 

“We were supposed to be together. It’s the holiday. You couldn’t even let me know?” He turns to stare you down with his icy blue eyes. 

Your cheek ticks and your eyes flick to the wall. He scares you. More than anything. 

“I’ve been asking to meet your mom, haven’t I?” 

“Please, why... why do you have to do this?” 

“Why do you have to do this?” He shoots back. “I’m the only reason you’re safe.” 

You shudder and rub your arm. No, he’s the reason you’re scared. He's the reason you can’t sleep. You never asked for any of this. 

You gnaw on your cheeks and shake your head. Your mouth is dry and your chest is empty. The futility keeps you quiet. 

“Your mom seems nice--” 

“No,” you look at him again. “No. She’s my mom. She’s all I have so you don’t-- don’t.” You beg. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but you don’t get near her. You--” 

“You act like I want to hurt her. Why would I do that? She gave me you?” He arches a brow. 

You inhale and lean your elbow on the bar, “Walter.” 

His lashes flick up and his tongue pokes out to trace his lips, “have your drink. We’ll have enough time to go back to my room before she’s up.” 

You stare at him. He turns to the bar and lifts the beer bottle. He drinks casually as you watch. You lower your head as your hands shake over your lap. You reach to turn yourself on the tall stool.  

The mirror behind the bar reflects your fear. His eyes meet yours and you wince. You knew this was too good to be true. You knew that even here wasn’t far enough. 

[auren-zagarra]

Mercurii Sepultus

Chapter two: Mortuus Columba

Author’s Note: Hello, author here! Before we jump in, I just want to give a huge thanks to my amazing beta reader Tammie (@tammiesheep). They're incredibly patient with me and helped a lot with this chapter.

While this fanfic is tagged as Malleus x Reader, it leans much more heavily into the psychological horror genre. All relevant trigger warnings are listed, so if you feel this might not be the kind of content you’re comfortable with, please feel free to explore something lighter on my blog.

Also, this fic draws a lot of inspiration from gothic literature - so expect metaphors, symbolism, and things that aren’t meant to be taken 100% literally. It's more about mood and meaning, so take your time, and let the story sink in.

Thanks so much for reading and supporting my work. I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

Trigger Warnings: death, angst, grief, mentally unstable Malleus, implications of depression, implied suicide, sex with a ghost (symbolic), obcession, sexual content, gaslighting (implied), unreliable narrator, canon-divergent characterization, darkfic, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!

MDNI

Characters Count: 12015

In his dreams, he saw you.

You moved through endless fields, bathed in dying sunlight, your silhouette veiled in golden haze. The fabric of your garments danced with the wind - soft, weightless, almost otherworldly - as if nature itself was afraid to touch you too roughly. Your laughter rang out, distant and crystalline, echoing like wind chimes forgotten in a long-abandoned garden, a sound too delicate to belong to this world. And there you stood - or seemed to - framed in wildflowers. But whenever Malleus reached for you, fingers trembling with a desperate wish to touch your body once more, you dissolved like mist between his hands. Then, you fell. Every time. Just as you had the night you plummeted from the tower, limbs collapsing like broken wings, eyes empty before they even met the ground, just like a dead dove, shot by someone too cruel to be called a person.

He always woke the same: drenched in cold sweat, lungs seizing, breath dragging ragged through his chest as if he’d been underwater. His heart slammed against his ribs like a prisoner demanding release. And there - waiting in the silence like a curse - was your ghost. Not quite you, but a cruel imitation: a mask of your face stretched over emptiness, attempting (and failing) to mimic the softness that once lived in your eyes. Malleus would rise without a word, drawing in a breath as heavy and hollow as a funeral bell - and begin pacing the endless corridors of his castle.

You followed, of course. You always did.

Your presence trailed him with persistence, like a bad memory who refused to let him go. Malleus no longer pretended to guide his steps, nor to command the weight of the ghost that haunted them. Since the first moment your specter returned to the castle - wreathed in silence and actions colder than death - he had lived beneath your gaze. Not loving. Not cruel. Just watching. A judgment draped in the shape of you, delicate and dreadful. You were grief made flesh, a memory that walked, and, everywhere he turned, you were there - hovering behind with the stillness of something divine, eyes fixed not on his face, but deeper - into his soul. As though you were cataloging every moment of his failure, every sin he'd tried to bury beneath titles and time.

At first, Malleus welcomed it. To be haunted by the one he loved most felt like a mercy compared to forgetting. He whispered to you beneath the moon, confessions unspooling like prayers: how he missed you, how desperately he longed for the warmth of your touch, how sorry he was - for everything. Every wrong, every silence, every night he wasn't enough… for being such a cruel lover. But you never spoke back, you only smiled. That damned smile. The kind only the dead can wear - knowing, unblinking, stitched with the knowledge of every secret the living still try to hide. It wasn't warm. It wasn't forgiveness. It was the smile of a corpse that had seen beyond the veil… and returned only to remind him of what he lost.

You were always there.

Every day, without fail, you lingered just beside him - whether he sat upon his throne, strolled through the castle gardens, or stood before the great stained glass of the chapel, lit by fractured sunlight. No matter the hour, no matter the company. You hovered like a breath at the edge of awareness - silent and constant, unbearable. Yet no one else ever saw you. To the courtiers, there was no miracle. No resurrection. Only a king slowly going insane beneath the weight of loss. Whenever Malleus let his gaze linger too long upon the empty air beside him - when he murmured soft, broken words meant only for your ears - the court exchanged glances, whispering of grief’s toll and the slow erosion of sanity. Pity dripped from their voices like honey hiding rot. But it didn’t matter. None of them could ever comprehend the depth of his devotion - the searing ache of love twisted by death. They didn’t know what it meant to yearn for someone with such ferocity that even their ghost was a treasure… and a torment. You were both: A blessing, a curse, a constant reminder of everything he had and everything he lost. 

But it was at night that his restraint unraveled - when grief and lust blurred into each other, becoming a mix of his urges. Under the cover of darkness, with only the gods as witnesses, Malleus would press himself against your figure, lips brushing the hollow of your neck like a man praying at the altar of a long-dead deity. His kisses traced the slope of your collarbones, then your lips - searching for something lost, some flicker of warmth, a single spark of the soul he had loved beyond reason. But you never properly responded to him.

Your gaze remained fixed and empty, as though staring through him. Undeterred, he continued, hands trembling as they trailed down your sides, mouth worshipping the skin he once knew so well. He settled between your thighs, lips parting against the memory of your intimacy, tongue tasting what remained, fingers clutching at your legs like a drowning man clings to driftwood. Then, he looked up, eyes wide - not with lust, but with hope and desperation. As if, this time, you might sigh, whisper or beg. Gently guide his head with a breathless moan and remind him that he was still wanted and deeply loved.

But there was no gasp. No plea. Not even a shiver. Just that mocking smile of someone who thought his pain was amusing. For this poor, broken dragon, the act felt like sacrilege because the flesh beneath his hands - though shaped like yours, though clothed in the memory of your scent and smile - was not you. It wore your face like a mask, your body like a borrowed dress. But it wasn’t you. And oh, how cruel that realization was.

With every thrust, every whispered whimper was like making love to a painting. To a statue. And in that terrible, shuddering clarity, it felt - for just a moment - like he was inside someone else's body. Yet he didn’t stop. Because the illusion, however faint, however sickening… was all he had left. And to let go of it would be the same to admit you were never coming back.

And so, each night, he buried himself inside you. Your flesh wrapped around him like the grave itself, tight but lacking any love. His hips moved with aching slowness, driven not by pleasure, but by desperation. He panted against your throat, breath fogging against skin that no longer warmed beneath his touch. It was nothing like the nights you once shared - when your body radiated heat and love, when your moans stitched themselves into his soul like lullabies, when he whispered between kisses how fragile you were, how divine, how he sometimes wished to lock you away just to protect your life.

His hips moved with frantic rhythm, desperate and uneven, chasing the phantom of a hunger that once felt real. It was a poor imitation of the way you had once welcomed him in life: warm and alive, smiling beneath him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, offering yourself as if he were a starving god and your body, the altar. He remembered it too well - how you used to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer, whispering his name like a lover would. But now, your body was as unfeeling as carved marble.

Still, he thrust into you with the same frenzied devotion, as if his desperation alone might summon your soul back into your bones. One hand gripped your hip, guiding you against him with futility. The other braced against the mattress, slick with sweat, as his head fell back and a groan tore from his throat - raw, choked, caught somewhere between agony and ecstasy. His jaw slackened, lips parted in a breathless gasp as the name he’d tried not to say rose unbidden to the tip of his tongue.

You, however, would not follow him: Your smile was too cruel to belong to the living. It curved across your lips with the malice of a curse - neither loving nor mocking, but something worse: indulgent. The kind of smile worn by ghosts who remember everything. The kind that didn’t symbolize forgiveness, but of the power that comes with being remembered. Your limbs moved slowly, unnaturally - like a marionette pulled by unseen strings - as you reached for him. Cold fingers brushed against his fevered skin as an invitation. You guided him, gently, wordlessly, deeper into the spiral. Deeper into hunger. Deeper into the madness.

And he followed. Of course he did. He always followed.

Your eyes, glazed and fixed on some distant point past him, never once met him. Blank, as though your soul had left long ago, and only the vessel remained to perform this ritual of flesh and grief. And still, it was enough. Because somewhere in the thick, heavy silence that clung to the chamber like a shroud, your voice still lingered. Not spoken, not sung - just present. A breath on the nape of his neck. A whisper in the walls. A perfume long faded from your skin, but never from his memory.

What you did now wasn’t born of the intimacy of the living. It was not the sacred unity he once believed in. It was mechanical and mournful, a ghost of desire clinging to a corpse of love. More an act of grief than of passion, more like masturbation with a memory than the merging of two souls. And sometimes, in the cruel quiet after release, that thought would strike him - sharp, shameful. Was it really your ghost he fucked each night or had his loneliness become so loud that his mind conjured you as a balm, while his own hand did the work beneath the illusion? He never sought the answer, some truths are too cruel to name aloud.

The fae stared at you, as though lost inside some forgotten corridor of his own mind. There was a softness in his eyes for the briefest of moments, a glint of sorrow that flickered like candlelight before a storm. Perhaps he would cry. Perhaps he would fall to his knees and shatter beneath the weight of it all. But instead, he smiled. It was not a smile of love, nor remorse - it was something broken. Night after night, without fail, he surrendered to the ritual. He touched you, worshipped your body like a saint defiling a relic. His lips traced your throat in supplication, his teeth sinking into the hollow of your neck, just where pulse once danced beneath skin now long gone cold. He whispered into your flesh - not poems, not praise, but pleas: Don't leave me. Stay. Stay. Stay.

And you obeyed, as he so desperately wished. How could you not? He had long mistaken love for possession, so certain that even in death, you would bend for him. And in a way, you did. You let him touch you, let him tremble against your cold skin, let him believe you were still his. You gave him what he wanted. Or rather, what he thought he deserved. After all, what better punishment for a man so enamored with control… than to let him have everything he asked for? You watched him reduced to something pathetic. Crawling over your corpse like a sinner over a shrine, eyes wild with need, with longing, with a child's confusion that the world dared to take something away from him. Smiling, crying and pleading like a boy who had never been told no.

And still he didn’t understand. Didn’t understand that when you cage a bird - clip its wings, steal its sky, strip it of freedom and call it love - the song eventually fades. The light behind the eyes dulls and the joy dies. And when that bird, desperate for the wind, finally sees a window crack open - even just a thin crack - it will leap. It will fall. Better to crash against the ground, bones shattered by freedom, than to rot in velvet-lined captivity. But he never saw the difference between falling and fleeing. He only saw betrayal. Abandonment. So he bound you tighter - even in death.

And with every night he desecrates the memory of who you were - panting over flesh he hollowed with his love - you do not scream. You do not strike. You only stare. Because now he is the caged thing, so lost in his own grief to wonder if you are real or just a part of his brain rotting over the need to love something once again.

And you…?

You are his fall.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 11

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Summary: The Deciever has a question for his Sweet One.

Tags: fluff. Like FLUFF. He may be deranged but he's got a soft spot. Also, told you I was gonna make the Annatar bow angsty.

Notes: the fic is out of order now because I have a lot going on and ITS MY FIC OK OK. Not having to have everything in order has given me so much inspo that within the next 24 hours there could be 2 more parts and 2 other things too soo. I love you all. Thank you for your support. My dms and inbox are always open, also if you wanna give me like a lil tip it would be appreciated.

Halbrand leaned against the archway to the library and watched you as you read through the scrolls and histories. It's how you'd spent your days since coming to Eregion. He worked on the elven rings, and you were here, reading. It was endearing to him that you sought knowledge in such a way. Proof that he had made the right choice in you.

There had to be three. Just as there had to be three rings.

Him with his power and darkness.

Galadriel with her wisdom and light.

You with your goodness and warmth to balance them out.

Three.

Though, he only desired you. Only loved you. You were what he was doing all this for. He had to create a lasting peace. He had to make Middle Earth safe and perfect. He had to overcome this pesky issue of your mortality. He could not allow you to live in a broken world. He would not allow you to come to harm, and, selfishly, perhaps, he could not let you die. The rings were for you. His ambitions and goals revolved around you.

All for you.

At least, that is what he made himself believe. If he was truly honest, he had different motives as well. Motives of power and control. Motives that would have driven him down this path if you'd never met. His deception was so great that he was able to hide that away. He was able to believe the ends justified the means. And if you were what was at the end, there was no depravity he could not justify.

Watching you now, you were breathtaking with your eyes focused and strands of hair falling in your face. You'd taken full advantage of the beautiful wardrobe and styles of the elves. Intricate, delicate strands of silver were braided through your hair. You wore a dress of light blue with more silver, and the delicate chains only served to accentuate your curves. He had thought you were beautiful in the Numenorian garb, but now you looked stunning. Breathtaking. He'd seen the most beautiful of the elves, the Silmarils, the light of creation. Yet you were greater than them all.

“I know you're there,” you spoke, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips, but your eyes never moved from the page.

“And yet you stare only at your books. My heart can not help but break.” He teased. “I will not be shamed for staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

He smirked at your blush, approaching you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He noticed that the back half of your hair was pulled up and tied into a bow. He chuckled softly and rested his chin on your shoulder. “What do you read now?”

“A tale of a human and elf falling in love,” you relaxed into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, up to your cheek before turning your head so he could capture your lips in a soft kiss. “Last week, it was the fall of elven cities. This week, it's romance. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You are easily amazed, then.”

“Do not doubt yourself, sweet one.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, turning you around in his arms and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. “I am in awe of you always, but recently, I'm in awe of these things you do with your hair. A bow?” He teased softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Do you not like it,” The way you looked up at him, seeking his approval, it mirrored the expression you wore when you were on your knees begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hips, restraining from taking you on the table.

“I do. It suits you.” He smiles softly, his eyes softening as he sees your bright smile.

“Perhaps you could grow your hair, and I can do it to you. I've seen elves of all kind wear it,” there was an excitement to your voice as you spoke.

He chuckled, “Perhaps one day, if we are parted, I will wear it as a reminder of you when my heart yearns for you.”

“You jest.”

“I do no such thing. You have plenty of things to remember me by,” his fingers traveled down to the intricate necklace of copper he'd made for you at the forge in Numenor. You always wore it. “I shall have the hair bow.”

You frowned, and his thumb traced the downward turn of your lips, his head tilted in a silent question. “Perhaps if I were to have more coin, I could get you something. Perhaps…”

Your words were muffled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hands held your face as he deepened it. It was only when he felt his body react that he pulled away. His nose brushed yours. “You have given me more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, face flushed and lips swollen. His thumb gently caressed your cheeks.

“I don't intend to ever be parted from you,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I mean it.”

He pulled away, searching his pockets for a moment before pulling out a ring. It had a silver band and a small blue gem at the center. He knew it was more than a simple band. He knew of the power he placed in it. The materials he snuck from the forge to add to it. It would need to be perfected in time to come, but for now, it would do what he needed it to. It would increase your lifespan, heal your wounds faster, and It created a connection with him, wherever you were.

It also served as a symbol. That you were his. That his feelings for you were real. His intentions were true.

He looked at it for a moment before looking at you. “ In elven culture, it's customary to give your betrothed a silver ring that you wear until marriage. At that time, they were traded for gold bands. I added a bit more. A gem as blue as the waters that brought us together.”

You gasped softly, looking at the ring and then to him.

“It's the custom of your people to ask the family but you have none. The family who warded you is gone as well. I have no one to ask for your hand but you. As such, I felt that I should give you the same proposal in which I would have given your father.”

He stood up straight, one hand on your chin directing you to look at him. “You fill me with a warmth I've never known. I no longer know who I am if not with you. I was lost and astray, without hope or purpose. It was as if the gods themselves put you on my path. You are a beacon of hope, your smile my purpose. There is nothing I would not do for you, no trial I would not face. I love you. I adore you. I have never thought of children until I met you, and now I know I want to make you a mother. I want to make you my wife.”

He brushed away a tear that had fallen from your eyes, “I give you the choice, I would never force anything upon you. Do you want that? Do you want me?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Fuck, I'm so nervous I can't talk. Just tell me, yes or no? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, nodding your head. He slid the ring onto your finger before lifting you and twirling you around. As he set you down, you looked at the ring on your finger.

“I never thought I'd be betrothed. I never thought I'd choose who I could marry.” You smiled up at him, and it filled him with joy unimaginable.

“I never thought I'd give a woman a romantic speech or truly want to settle down.” He rested his forehead against yours once more. “I'm a changed man thanks to you. Near unrecognizable to that drifter on the raft.”

“That is true. You will be a king soon.” You gasped suddenly as a realization dawned on you. “ I'm going to be a queen. Me? A queen” you laughed softly at the thought.

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That is true. As soon as my business here is done, we can return to the southlands and be wed, and you can meet all your subjects.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I'm not sure I like the thought of having subjects.”

“Of course you don't, “ he rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling. “Why don't we go back to our chambers, and I can show you how devoted of a subject I am?”

Your cheeks turned red, and you buried your face in his neck. He placed a kiss on your head, “I'll kneel and worship my queen.”

“Halbrand,” you spoke, pulling back and giving him a look.

“I'll fill you with my warmth.”

"Stop it!” You smacked his arm,causing him to laugh deeply and wrap his arms around you for a tight hug.

[jjjjeonww]

hong joshua - "Dear, Diary. Damn my academic rival."

genre - romance! ~~in which you've seen joshua as your academic rival for years, but lets see how he sees you in his perspective. (just wanted to switch it up a bit heh) a/n: this is a little thank you for 108 followers hehe<3!! also, this is a fic requested by the one and only, @hanniescookie! you keep coming up with amazing ideas and requests my angel, and im always happy and always honoured to complete them and be the person who receives them <3 ( @wonkierideul, here's your tag my lovie! you've had a tiring day, take a break and rest up. a junhui fic will be coming soon, just for you🤍)

(remember, this is all in joshua's pov!) 28th December 2024 Dear Diary, Today I felt so stupid. Why? I couldn't take my eyes off Y/n as she pored over the latest batch of data, her brows were furrowed in concentration. The flickering lamplight casted shadows across her face, it highlighted the curve of her cheekbones. Honestly, to me, Y/n was a vision of focus and intellect, a force to be reckoned with. And damn if she didn't look gorgeous in the process.

When she glanced up and caught me staring, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was a rare sight, that smile... but it was all the more devastating for its infrequency. I felt my heart stutter in my chest, my breath hitched slightly as I drank in the sight of her.

"You've got that look again," I said. I have no idea how, or why my voice came out more huskily than I intended. I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "Like when Tom thinks he can finally eat Jerry. What are you so smug about?"

I saw her smile widening, a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes. "I'm not smug," she said, and I know I heard the stupid note of false innocence in her tone. "I'm just...satisfied with my progress." Note by Joshua: (As if she could do any better than me. Well, she did do better than me this time. Won't let it happen the next!)

5th January 2025 Dear Diary, Today we got our test results. Obviously I looked around to find Y/n and to see her reaction to her grade, only to find her right next to me, holding up her test results, the paper rustled softly in her hand. I leaned forward to see, my glasses slipping down my nose as I squinted at the numbers. My jaw clenched as I took in the scores - hers were higher than mine, by a margin that made my gut twist with reluctant admiration.

"What?" I scoffed, pushing my glasses back up. "You've beaten me again?" I leaned back in my chair, and crossed my arms over my chest. "Damn you Y/n. Next time... don't get too comfortable. I'm not going to let you stay ahead for long." Her smile turned into a full-blown grin, those eyes... they sparkled with that familiar competitive fire. "I wouldn't expect anything less," she said, a note of challenge in her voice. "But don't worry, Joshua. I have no intention of making this easy for you. I want to see you push yourself, to reach for even greater heights."

I felt a surge of determination, a fierce need to prove myself and rise to her challenge. But beneath that, I felt something else, something softer and more intense. A longing to see that smile on her face again and to keep this fire alive. Note by Joshua: (I guess I got another longing; For her to stop calling me by my name and instead call me 'hers'. And I'm cringing at my own joke haha! until next time diary!) 13th January 2025 Dear Diary, The days have turned into weeks, and my isolation and forced collaboration with Y/n only seemed to intensify the charged atmosphere between us. We clashed over theories and methods, our voices raised in heated debate as we paced the confines of the cabin. The air grew thick with tension, but it was a different kind of tension than before. There was an undercurrent of something else, something that made my skin prickle and my heart race.

Note by Joshua: (Today's note of 'love' was a short one. Guess our isolation was bigger than our forced proximity.) 27th January 2025 Dear Diary, Something happened this evening. As I was reviewing our notes by the flickering fireplace, I glanced up to see Y/n staring at the flames, a distant look on her face. She looked gorgeous in the firefight, shadows dancing across her delicate features and highlighting the curve of her lips. I found myself wondering what she was thinking about, what dreams or fantasies played behind those captivating eyes.

"You know," I said softly, to me, my voice was barely audible over the crackling of the flames, "sometimes I wonder what goes on in that brilliant mind of yours."

And she turned to face me, a small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eye.

I felt a smirk tug at my own lips, a hint of playfulness entering my voice. "I think about it more than I should," I admitted, my gaze locked with hers. "Especially when you look at me like that."

Her smile widened, a soft blush coloured her cheeks. "Like what?" she asked, a note of innocence in her voice belied by the heat in her eyes.

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees, my eyes never leaving hers. "Like you're trying to figure me out," I murmured. "Like you're seeing right through me, past all the bravado and the competition, to the heart of who I am."

I watched how her breath hitched, and how she swallowed hard. "Maybe I am," she whispered, her voice was barely audible. "Maybe I want to know what makes you tick, Joshua. What drives you, what you dream about, what you...want."

I felt my heart pound in my chest, a fierce longing surging through me. I wanted to tell her everything, to lay bare the secrets of my soul and hope that she would do the same. But I held back, I didn't want to scare her off. Note by Joshua: (Maybe next time, we'll see what'll unfold for me and Y/n. But hey, at least today's 'love' note was a long one right?)

[littlexscarletxwitch]

hello I would like to request Flo X reader fic. Where reader is touring with Harry styles. She plays guitar and Flo comes to his concert (she is friends with Harry) and meets Y/n and they hook up later that night (soft smut, maybe some praise or light choking?) . And then like a timeskip to their wedding. Harry gives a funny speech about how they met.

Sorry if it's too much. But this is one of my daydreaming scenarios. I trust you with doing it justice ❤️

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, nsfw, r is harry's friend, flo's also harry's friend, harry is like r's big bro

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit smut, wlw sex, oral sex, slight praise kink, slight choking kink, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3.1k

note: It's been a long time coming but here I am lol. I FUCKING LOVED YOUR IDEA ANON. I just love Florence and love Harry so this was on fucking top. I hope you like it, sooo sorry it took me soo long to post it. Love you all, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

The screaming, the singing, the cheering, the whole whole scene just sent shivers up your spine. 

You knew that it wasn’t for you, not really. It was all for him and you couldn’t be prouder of all the things he had accomplished. Sure, he was kinda like your boss, or so the two of you would joke, but in reality Harry was a really good friend of yours. He was the older brother you had never had. 

A sad smile made its way over to your face as the show came to an end. It was always the worst part of the show, knowing that you would have to say goodbye to the unbelievably loud, fun, joyful atmosphere. But the thought of doing it all over again soon offered you some comfort. 

And so it came to an end, as everyone hit the last chord and note, and as Harry said goodbye to every person in the stadium. A second later, all lights went out, and everyone went offstage. 

“I could never get tired of this,” was the first thing you said as you all made their way into your dressing rooms. 

“Damn right!” Sarah agreed. You took a quick glance at her and smiled as you watched her holding Mitch’s hand. 

“They always are so incredible,” Harry said from next to you. “You guys are also incredible. I cannot thank you enough for being here.”

“Get out of here, you dork,” you playfully nudge your shoulder against him. 

“I mean it,” he said, chuckling. 

“I know you do,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Harry!” you heard someone screaming behind you, causing the aforementioned to turn around. 

“Flor?” he said as a blond woman came running closer. “Flor!” he said, this time sure, as he opened up his arms to hug the woman

She, pretty much, launched herself into his arms as he tightly hugged her. “You were amazing! she said. “You all were!” she finished as Harry let go of her. 

“Thank you, Flor. I didn’t know you were actually coming,” you noticed that Harry couldn't stop smiling. 

“I know, I didn’t either. But I just thought I couldn't miss this, you know,” she nudged Harry’s side as you had done a few seconds before. 

You cleared your throat getting Harry’s attention. “Oh, right. Everyone, this is Florence, fellow actor,” he joked. “Flor, this is everyone: Mitch and Sarah,” he gestured to the couple. “Elin, Niji, Pauli, Ny,” the four of them nodded and waved at her. “And lastly, but definitely not least, Y/n.”

“Hello,” you smiled at her. “Nice to finally put a face to your name.”

“Likewise,” she smiled back, her eyes not leaving your frame and you swore you felt your stomach flipping. “It’s nice to meet all of you, really,” Florence gently shook her head, snapping out of her own thoughts. “I just wanted to say ‘hi’, I guess I’ll be on my way…”

“No, don’t leave,” Harry protested. “We finally get to hang out. Have dinner with me, please,” he said, grabbing her hands. “Y/n and I are going to this amazing restaurant and I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude…”

“Not at all,” you quickly cut her off. “It would be lovely to have someone helping me handle this one over here,” you motioned to Harry. 

“Rude,” he scoffed, as if he was actually hurt but there was a grin on his lips. 

She chuckled, “I’m not sure…”

“Please, I insist.”

“She insists,” Harry repeated your statement. 

“I, um…” Harry looked at her with puppy eyes. “Fine, fine,” she gave up with a smile on her face. “But dinner’s on me.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

[...]

“So, this Olivia girl is nuts,” you concluded. 

“Well, I wouldn’t use that word,” Harry said as he winced at your choice of word.

“Yeah, she’s mental,” Florence said otherwise, nodding at you. 

“Was the movie good at least?”

“You didn’t watch it?” Harry asked, but your whole attention was on Florence. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she answered you. “Fans like it, critics thought it was alright. But the whole cast… there was some weird energy going on…” she shrugged it off as she took a bite of her pasta. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t watch my movie,” you heard Harry keep on complaining.

“It must have sucked. Such great actors and good people were involved, all for her to ruin the whole thing…”

“I’m your best friend, why didn’t you watch it?” he said, turning his head to you so you couldn't ignore him anymore. 

“Jesus! I’m sorry, okay,” you said defensively, making Florence chuckled. “It just slipped out of my mind,” you said as a smile creeped on your lips, mirroring Florence’s.

“You are a bad friend.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are,” he dramatically sighed. “But that’s okay, I still love you,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stood up. “I’m going to the loo, I’ll be right back.”

“He’s such an ass,” you said, once he was gone, as you took a sip of water. 

Florence giggled at your words. “He is, isn’t he?” She cleared her throat. “So, I… I have to ask… Are you and Harry… you know like…,” she said, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

You quickly realised what she meant and almost choked on your water. 

“No! God, no,” you said, clearing your throat, causing Florence to both laugh and sigh in relief. “He’s like my big brother. From the moment we met I just… I knew he would be a big part of my life, and he is… as my brother,” she nodded as a smile found its way to her lips. “Plus, he’s definitely not my type. Like at all, if you know what I mean,” you said, hiding behind your glass again. 

“I think I do know what you mean,” Florence smiled at you in accompaniment. 

“So, you and him never…”

“No,” she chuckled. “I mean we did kiss but it was just acting so…” she trailed off, licking her lips which caused your eyes to quickly look at them. 

“Good to know,” you said as you gulped down the lump that had formed in your throat.

[...]

“I’m sorry I have to leave early,” Harry mumbled disappointed. 

“It’s okay. We had a lot of fun, right?” you winked at Florence to which she nodded. “Drive safe, H,” you mumbled as you hugged him goodbye. 

“Always,” he said as he let you go and went to hug Florence. “Don’t be a stranger, okay, Flor?”

“I won’t,” she hugged him tightly. “I promise.”

“You guys are sure you don’t want me to drop…”

“We’ll be fine,” you quickly cut him off. 

“M’okay, I’m leaving,” he said, making his way to his car. “Good night!”

“Night night!” you said back, watching his back as he left the two of you alone. 

“So, um…” Florence said once she was sure her friend was gone. “Would you like to get some coffee back at mine?” you smiled as her cheeks turned red once again. “Well, it’s not mine. I don’t live there, but I am staying there. So I guess it does count as mine—” she was rambling. 

“I would love to,” you cut her off. 

[...]

The moment the both of you stepped through the door, the coffee was long forgotten. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this the entire night,” she whispered on your lips.

You didn't know how it happened, but the glances on your way to Florence’s house became featherlight touches and next thing you knew she was pushing you inside her house and her lips soon found yours. You weren’t complaining though. 

“Oh, really?” you teased her as you bit her bottom lip. 

“Yes,” she said in between a soft moan, dragging you to the couch. 

“We are doing this here?” you said, as you kissed her neck. 

“The bedroom is too far away,” she said, already breathless, lying on the couch. 

“It’s literally just ten more—.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she said cupping your cheeks, forcing her lips onto yours. 

The kiss only became rougher as your tongue made its way past her lips, fighting against her own. You could still taste the wine she had earlier along with the ice cream she had for dessert. You moved your lips down, finding once again her sensitive skin and decided to leave your mark on her. Something for her to remember you afterwards. 

“That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” you said as you kissed right where your teeth had been. “I don’t want you to forget me so easily,” you chuckled, before sucking another part of her skin just to leave another bruise. 

“Trust me, I’m gonna remember this night.”

As best as you could, while still being on top of her, you stripped her out of her clothes. It wasn’t that hard since she was wearing a dress, and she wasn’t wearing a bra like she always would. The only thing keeping you from admiring the entirety of her body was the thin piece of cloth covering her centre. 

“God, you are breathtaking,” you said as your lips wrapped around her nipple.

“Fuck,” Florence muttered as her head fell back, arching her back against the couch. 

Slowly, you made your way down her body, your lips ghosting over where she needed you the most. You brushed your nose against her clothed clit, your hot breath on her making her squirm under you. 

“Y/n…” she whined. 

You licked up her slit, tasting her even through the thin fabric, making you moan into her at how wet she already was. 

“Just take it off already, please.”

“So eager, so wet for me… I like that,” you chuckled, before tugging down the piece of cloth with the help of your teeth. 

As your tongue explored her sensitive centre, your right hand found its way up to her neck and slightly squeezed once you pushed your tongue inside her. You could feel her fast heartbeat under your hand, and decided to keep up with that pace as your tongue thrusted in and out of her. 

You moved your tongue up, finding her clit and sucking hard on it while you used your free hand to push two fingers in her, making her moan out loud. You squeezed her neck a bit tighter, not tight enough to stop her from breathing, just to let her know she was being taken care of. 

“Shit, I won’t be able to hold back for longer,” she cried out, brows furrowed as you keep on working on her. 

“Then don’t hold back, baby,” your voice was muffled because of her cunt. “Just come for me, Flor.”

You thrusted even faster and harder, arching the tip of your finger just to hit her sweet spot, working your tongue rougher on her clit and a second later you felt her legs wrapping around your head as her whole body started to tremble and your name fell out of your lips. You helped her ride her orgasm as you squeezed her neck getting the best out of her as you swallowed every drop of her juices. 

“You did so good for me, babygirl,” you said as you went up to kiss her lips so she could have a taste of herself.

“Bloody hell, Y/n. That was amazing…” she struggled to speak the words out, she was completely breathless. 

“We are just getting started, sweetheart.” 

[...]

After that night, Florence and you exchanged numbers and found yourself reaching out for the other constantly. She would tell you about her job, and you would tell her about the tour. Some nights, when she had a free weekend, she would fly out to where you were and stay in the hotel with you. Those were the best nights ever, just the two of you cuddling and kissing and doing more than just kissing. 

She was one of the best things that had ever happened in a long time, you wanted to let the whole world know she was now yours and you were hers. But if the whole world knew, then Harry would too. And neither of you were sure how he would take the news. You were scared to lose your best friend —your brother— even if it sounded really silly, you were fucking his best friends after all.

There were so many times when you almost told him, after all when touring with your best friend he knew there was something going on with you, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He would watch as you giggled and smiled at your phone, or he would wonder why you started to stay at the hotels instead of going out with the whole group at night. He didn’t want to intrude, so he settled for waiting for you to open up with him. But curiosity was eating him inside out, luckily for Harry, he would find some answers really soon. 

First night in London was just around the corner, and Florence came along with it, since he decided to invite her to that show as well. You weren’t aware of the arrangement until you stumbled into Harry’s dressing room and she was just sitting there. 

“Hi,” you said, with a tint of uncertainty. 

“Hi,” she just smiled at you and you felt your tummy shrinking. 

“What are you–? How? When?” you felt your anxiety creeping in. 

“I’m seeing one of my best friends performing, and my girlfriend as a plus. How? Well, I guess Harry made it possible and when? I just got here, like twenty minutes ago,” she chuckled. “Do you not want me here?” she joked. 

“No!” you shook your head. “I mean, of course I want you here,” you said, getting closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your forehead on hers. “I just…,” you sighed. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out because of Harry.”

“I know, love,” she said, caressing your arms. “I think we should tell him, maybe after the show.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“It’ll go just fine, I promise,” she added, once she sensed your doubt. She cupped your cheeks searching for your eyes. “I promise, okay?” she reassured you.

“Okay,” you nodded, convincing yourself that Florence was right. 

She couldn’t help it and sealed the promise by softly kissing all your doubts and worries away. You didn’t realise how badly you needed that kiss until your breath was taken away. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a caress to your uneasy heart and you felt your entire self melting into her, completely forgetting where the two of you were standing. 

“So this was it,” you heard someone say behind you. 

A pair of stern green eyes met yours and you felt your heart drop to your stomach, but the cold green eyes quickly moved past you. 

“I cant believe you are fucking my guitarist,” Harry simply said to Florence.

You didn’t expect him to snap at Florence, but for some reason there he was doing exactly that.

“Harry!” you chimed in.

“What? It's true, isn’t it?” he shrugged it off, not moving his eyes from Florence.

“It’s complicated,” she attacked him back.

“It’s not complicated. Are you or are you two not fucking? Simple as that.”

“It’s not just fucking,” he winced at the use of the ‘f-word’ coming out of your lips. You were his best friend, almost like a sister and there he was finding out his ‘sister’ was fucking his best friend. “There’s more to it.”

“This is what you had been hiding from me, isn’t it? I knew there was something off with you. I just… I can’t believe neither of you would tell me.”

“We didn’t do it on purpose, Harry,” Flo said.

“It just happened,” his eyes softened once he found yours again. “We didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, Hazz.”

“So it’s not just, you know…” he didn’t want to say ‘fuck’ again, he had had enough with that word when it came to you. 

“No, it’s not—.”

“I love her,” Florence said. 

“What?” you asked in disbelief, that was the first time she would say that. 

“I do. I love you,” she said now to you. “You feel like home, Y/n. And I want nothing more than to come home every night to you.”

You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips. “I love you too,” you said chuckling. 

“Great! I can’t stay mad at you two if you keep on being this lovely…” Harry huffed. “You know what, I’m just gonna leave. We can talk about this later, or maybe not,” he said making his way to the door, but before he walked out he said: “Though, I want both of you to know that I’m glad you two found each other… and that it was because of me.”

[...]

Three years later. 

Harry cleared his throat before speaking. “I would like to start my best man speech by saying that these two lovebirds met because of me, so I am to thank that we are all gathered here, therefore you are all very welcome,” the room cheered for him, even though it was supposed to be yours and Florence’s night. “When I first found out about them, I just freaked out,” the whole room bursted into laughter both yours and Florence’s family and friends. “I did, I swear. I just couldn't believe it.”

“Harry!” you scolded him.

“Y/n is like my little sister, “ Harry completely ignored you. “And when I found out that my little sister was doing things… unthinkable, unspeakable, unpleasant things, with my so-called friend…”

“Harry!” this time Florence said with a warning tone, making the whole room chuckled.

“I freaked out,” he smiled to himself remembering the moment. “But now, standing here and celebrating their love on this glorious day, their wedding day, I just know it was meant to be. Y/n,” he said looking into your eyes. “You know you feel like a sister to me,” you felt tears burning your eyes. “And I couldn’t be happier knowing that you found the love of your life. And that it’s not just some random stranger you found online or something, “ the room chuckled again. “But it’s one of the best, kind, gentle souls I know,” you searched for Florence’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m glad you found her, Flor. I’m glad you found each other” his eyes were now locked on hers. “And I’m glad you love her just as much as I do, maybe even more,” he winked at her. “So,” he raised his glass of champagne, everyone following suit. “Cheers to the both of you, for your undecaying love,” he was going to take a sip from his glass but he quickly added: “And cheers to me for bringing you two together.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M