#‘we don’t offer exchanges’

[laneboyheathens]

depression really does just make every tiny thing feel so much worse why tf am I crying about shoes

[t4t4ever]

I went to bass pro shops to buy fishing lures and there was a really cool and cute trans girl working the register when I checked out- and I JUST REALIZED SIX HOURS LATER that she was hitting on me and I TOTALLY missed it. Oh god she made it so clear too. This hasn’t happened to me in a while! I thought I’d gotten better! I’m gonna have to drive back out to that bass pro shops! It was like 45 minutes away!

[hazemsuhail]

Our goal was survival, but now survival defines our existence! 🇵🇸🍉

Please don’t rush through this text, read it carefully:

We are living in extremely harsh conditions, where our tent has been severely damaged and no longer provides the necessary protection.

The cost of building a new tent right now is about 1000 euros, and it is an essential shelter for our family, which is suffering from difficult living conditions.

We also face a severe shortage of food, especially basic items like flour, which has now reached 100 euros. Securing daily food would help improve these conditions.

My brother Samer is suffering from the absence of essential medications for stabilizing his health, and their cost is extremely high.

I would like to express my sincere thanks to everyone who has supported my campaign and contributed to alleviating my family’s suffering during these tough times.

The art you see is by the talented artist @ardentblooms , who offers custom commissions in exchange for donations to support my family. Your support means so much to us and shows that art can be a true way to make a difference.

Campaign Link

My campaign is verified by:

@dlxxv-vetted-donations & @a-shade-of-blue vetted

@gazavetters , my number on the list is (#75)

paliliberation, my number on the list is (#171)

Our important links are here

Your support could be a lifeline for our family in these difficult circumstances. 🙏💜

[luna-azzurra]

Fictional kiss prompts

Forbidden Kiss Prompts (“We’re not supposed to do this” but oops, we are)

a kiss in the shadows, hands clenched in fabric, trying to stay quiet because someone might hear.

“We can’t—if someone sees us…” — and then they kiss anyway, consequences be damned.

a stolen kiss through the bars of a prison cell, whispered promises of escape in between.

a “we’re on opposite sides” kiss during a truce, lips barely touching because if they kiss fully, they’ll never walk away.

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Angsty Reunion Kiss Prompts (“I thought I lost you” edition)

a kiss the second they see each other again—rough, breathless, and on the verge of falling apart.

a kiss interrupted by tears, hands holding like they’re afraid to let go.

“Why didn’t you come back?” whispered into their mouth between kisses.

a kiss where they pause halfway through just to look at each other, both a little older, a little more broken.

a kiss that tastes like salt and rain and survival.

Soft Domestic Kiss Prompts (Wholesome fluff to rest your soul)

a sleepy morning kiss, lazy and warm, exchanged without even opening their eyes.

a kiss planted absentmindedly on the top of the other’s head while making tea.

a kiss stolen while brushing their teeth together—foam and giggles included.

a soft kiss over a grocery list, mid-aisle, because “you looked too cute to ignore.”

the kind of kiss shared in bed while reading—just because one of them couldn’t help it anymore.

Post-Confession Kiss Prompts ( “Oh my god this is real” edition)

a kiss that stumbles right after the words “I love you,” like neither of them know what to do with their hands.

“You mean it?” — “Yeah.” — cue the most careful, reverent kiss of their lives.

a kiss that starts with laughter and ends in a dazed, overwhelmed silence.

one of them whispering, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” right before kissing them senseless.

a kiss that comes too fast after the confession, clumsy and colliding—because they’ve waited too long.

First Kiss Prompts (that change everything)

a kiss that starts mid-sentence, because one of them couldn’t wait one more second.

the trembling, breath-held pause right before their lips finally touch—eyes wide, hearts racing.

“If I kiss you right now, will you hate me?” – they kiss them anyway.

the kiss that’s followed by shocked silence, and then one of them blurts, “Okay… wow.”

the hesitant brush of lips—barely there—until one of them pulls the other closer like they’ve made up their mind.

Comfort Kiss Prompts (Love as a safety net)

a kiss placed gently on a trembling hand.

a kiss offered like a promise—“I’m here. I’m staying.”

a forehead kiss given after a nightmare, while whispering soft reassurances.

“You don’t have to be okay right now.” – kissed on the temple like a prayer.

the quiet, slow kiss after a panic attack, grounded in breathing and touch.

Jealousy Kiss Prompts (when emotions boil over)

a sudden, possessive kiss that shocks both of them—especially because they weren’t “together.”

a kiss to shut someone up mid-flirt—“They’re with me.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” – “Because I saw you flirting with them.” – followed by a sharp, angry, perfect kiss.

the kind of kiss that starts in fury but ends in breathless “I need you.”

a kiss that screams “You’re mine. Even if you don’t know it yet.”

Accidental / Surprise Kiss Prompts

tripping and falling directly into a kiss—then freezing in shock as realization sets in.

a practice kiss to “make it look real” that very much does not stay platonic.

a drunken kiss that was supposed to be a dare, but lingers just a second too long.

mistaking the other person for someone else in the dark—“oh… wait—” – “don’t stop.”

an “oops-I-thought-you-were-joking” kiss that they immediately want to do again on purpose.

[agreeewrites]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[mggslover]

Angel

In which Spencer sees his girlfriend fresh out of the shower for the first time, you looked angelic, and he was about to ruin you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: spencer being horny, reader wears glasses, teasing, fingering, some spanking, p in v sex, facial, soft!dom spencer Word count: 3,8k A/n: this was supposed to be a short, smut no plot fic, but I got a little carried away...

The familiar goodbyes and sorrys were exchanged as you hung up the phone.

What was meant to be a romantic date out of town with your boyfriend had quickly turned into another one of those last-minute cancellations. It wasn’t surprising—Spencer’s work as a profiler came with its own set of unpredictable demands, and you were used to him being pulled away at a moment’s notice. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You’d been looking forward to spending some time together.

You’d been dating Spencer for about three months, and things had progressed naturally from casual coffee dates to longer dinners and, eventually, a few trips to his place afterwards. As much as you enjoyed those nights, you wished they would last longer. You and Spencer made a habit out of quickies, knowing that at any moment his phone would inevitably buzz with a message or call from his colleague, Garcia. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, serial killers unfortunately didn’t work a nine to five. Spencer hated leaving you as well, making sure he offered you enough apologetic kisses and promises that he’d be back as soon as he could.

He always insisted that you could stay over at his place until he’d be back, but you never felt comfortable enough to do so. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being at his place—you could already picture yourself curled up on the couch with one of his books, or take advantage of his bed, which was a lot bigger and more comfortable than yours. But it wasn’t quite home yet, at least not without him there.

With a resigned sigh, you decided to make the best out of the situation. It had been a long week, and you could use a night of self-care. As you set your phone down on the bathroom counter, you hit play on a playlist you’d made for such occasions—soft, calming melodies that would help you unwind. You pulled your hair back with a headband, took out your contacts, and started removing the makeup that took you half an hour to do earlier.

The bathroom mirror fogged slightly as the warmth of the shower filled the room. You hummed along with the song in the background, while you moved the cotton pads over your skin in a familiar motion.

As you finished, you carefully stepped out of your dress and turned toward the shower. The steam hit your skin as you slid into the stall, closing your eyes for a moment as the water hit your shoulders.

Without realizing, you spent a good hour in the shower. Once comfortably dressed, you let yourself sink into the plush cushions of your couch. A fuzzy blanket was draped across your just shaved legs, and the TV remote was within arm’s reach. You let out a content sigh, almost feeling as satisfied as you would be when being with Spencer.

—

Spencer’s signature melody of knocks broke your focus on the documentary you were watching. You swiftly moved up from the couch and checked the peephole on your door, just to be sure. A smile spread across your face as you saw Spencer rocking back and forth on his feet, plucking at the bouquet in his hands, straightening out each flower to perfection.

You opened the door with a big smile. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought we cancelled tonight.”

He hesitates, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. “You’re right. I finished the case early, and I’ve been thinking about you all day. I just… wanted to see you.” His words came out more nervously than he intended. “I saw the lights were on, so I assumed you were awake.”

“I wasn’t asleep. Don’t worry,” you answered warmly. You glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. “Are these for me?”

“They are,” he replies, his voice softened as he handed them to you. “You said you liked lilies.”

“I do, thank you. They’re beautiful.” You accept the bouquet, moving to your tiptoes to give him a kiss. Having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory really is perfect.

“I’ll put them in water, come in.”

You moved to the open kitchen, so in awe of his sweet gesture that you were completely unaware of the way Spencer’s breath caught the moment you opened the door, how his pupils darkened when he inhaled your sweet scent and noticed the state you were in. Hair still damp from the shower you must’ve taken, wearing only a shirt, and your face bare besides the glasses you were wearing. Fuck… he didn’t even know you wore glasses.

He couldn’t deny how incredibly cute you looked. Spencer has only seen you during or after dates, and he loved how he could tell that you took the time to get yourself ready. Always wearing an outfit that fits you perfectly and having your makeup done in a way that enhances the features of your face. But it felt so intimate seeing how effortlessly beautiful you looked moving around in the comfort of your own home. You were beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the most captivating version of you he'd ever seen.

Spencer wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you as you walked to the kitchen, your breasts swaying with every step you took. The outline of your nipples were visible, because of the cold that escaped when you opened the door for him. Your bare legs reflected the warm kitchen light. He felt like he was about to lose his mind as you reached up to grab a vase from the top cabinet, the curve of your ass peeking out from underneath the shirt that you're wearing.

He felt guilty for the warmth that was spreading through him. He shook his head slightly, trying to reset his thoughts, but the temptation was there. Your easy grace, the way your bare feet padded across the floor, the gentle hum of the air between you—it all combined into something too alluring for him to ignore.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved behind you, placing a careful hand on your hip as he reached out to grab the vase. You turned around with a smile as he placed the vase on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” you beamed, and he mumbled a ‘You’re welcome’, though his response came out as more of a soft hum.

Before he could think better of it, he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was slow, deliberate—his lips meeting yours with a tenderness that made his pulse race. His fingers tingle with the desire to pull you closer, but just before his hands slid around you, you pulled away, making him swallow back a groan.

“Ooh! I was watching this documentary that I think you’ll be really into,” you said, quickly putting the flowers in the vase and tugging him by the hand toward the couch. He followed like a stray pup, too caught up in the way you moved to protest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s it about?” He asked, hoping the conversation would steer him away from the other thoughts tugging at him. You settled on the couch beside him, and he instinctively pulled your legs onto his lap, cupping your feet in his hands to warm them.

“It’s about space. The universe, really. It’s fascinating, but honestly terrifying if you think about it for too long.”

Spencer nodded, though his mind was far away. He was more focused on the way that his fingers traced the soft lines of your calves. He gently started kneading the muscles, placing just the right amount of pressure.

“Would you go to space, if NASA invited you?” You asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Only if you’d come with me.”

His response made you turn around to look at him. The sincere and loving expression he gave you warmed your face. He squeezed your legs gently, and, just like that, you noticed the hint of desire hidden in his eyes.

“Come here,” he said in a whisper, patting his thigh. In a second you managed to crawl yourself onto his lap, and he held you steady by your hips.

You reached up to remove your glasses, but before your fingers could touch the frames, his hand found yours, halting the movement.

You noticed the slight squint in his eyes. “I can’t properly kiss you with my glasses on,” you explain.

"Then let me handle the kissing," he murmured, voice dropped low.

Before you could register his words, his lips had found your neck. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing along the line of your jaw, holding you close as his tongue licked a firm stripe up your sensitive skin.

“Oh, god,” you shuddered in a breath.

“Shaking already?” he teased, voice laced with amusement as he grinned against your skin.

“No,” you lied.

“Are you sure about that? Then why are you doing it again?” He comments before squeezing your breast, your nipple caught in between his long fingers.

You jumped at his touch, a moan escaping your lips. You shook your head as you saw his satisfied expression. “You’re such a dirty tease.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints so far,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes.

His breath was warm against your skin as his lips found their way back to the soft curve of your neck. Tenderly, he placed more kisses to your skin, sending shivers through your entire body. Once pleased, he bends his head down to capture your clothed nipple in his mouth, his hand still kneading your other breast.

“Fuck, Spence,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. He took his time, his mouth sucking slowly on your nub, savoring the feel of you beneath him. Tonight, he was in no rush—he wanted to taste every inch of you, show you just how much he loves every detail of your body.

You were writhing in his lap as he flicked his tongue against your nipple. Heat forming between your thighs with every stroke of his tongue. He removed his lips from your breast with a pop, and sat back against the couch. His gaze was locked on the now wet, see-through patch on your shirt. He licked his lips, watching you like you were a piece of art he just created himself.

“Beautiful,” he stated.

The compliment sent a rush of warmth straight to your core, your body responding with a soft shiver. Without thinking, you began to grind yourself against his lap, a surge of excitement rushing through you as you felt the firm bulge beneath his pants. Spencer exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh as his warm hands slipped beneath your shirt. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them gently.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

You playfully raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Oh, so that’s what this is all about, huh?”

“Actually, it’s about all of you.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, turning you almost shy.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. You nodded wordlessly and raised your arms. Spencer pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes tracing the curve of your bare chest. He cursed under his breath, his hands immediately finding you—fingers digging into your skin as he leaned in, nuzzling his face between your tits with a satisfied moan.

A string of giggles and moans spilled from your lips as his curls tickled your skin. His pink lips grazed you gently, pausing to leave sloppy, lingering marks—each one a reminder that you’d carry with you for the following days.

You moved against him, rolling your hips, finding release in the way that your barely covered heat rubbed against the rough material of his pants. Spencer noticed the change in your rhythm, the need in your movements. He guided you with steady hands, his fingers moving to your hips and then sliding lower, finding the curve of your ass, tightening his grip to help you find the pace you craved.

“Can you handle more?” His voice husked in desire. You nodded, your body already screaming for more. Goosebumps decorated your skin as his long fingers traced your inner thighs. You squirmed helplessly when his thumb pressed against your covered clit. A moan fell from your lips as you arched against him.

“You’re always so wet for me, angel.” The word slipped from Spencer's lips. It was the first time he’d called you anything other than your name or a shortened version of it, and somehow, angel felt more fitting than any word he'd ever used. You looked like heaven to him—your soft skin glowing in the light, your eyes sparkling behind the frames of your glasses, and the way you responded to his touch, every small brush of his fingers making your expressions change so delicately.

He slowly tugged the damp fabric of your underwear to the side, savoring the reveal of your glistening pussy. You lifted your hips, giving Spencer the access to slide a finger through your folds, spreading your wetness.

“Feels good,” you breathed out, your voice shaky as his fingers ran back and forth between your lips, each pass teasingly close to your entrance, but never quite slipping inside. The sensation made your hips buck against him. You weren’t used to being teased for this long—Spencer had a way of getting you dripping without even fully touching you. Usually that led straight to sex, which makes his slow touches feel almost torturous.

“Please, Spence,” you moaned.

“Please, what?” he mused, his eyes dark with desire as he watched how your arousal coated his fingers, his gaze never leaving your glistenings folds.

“I need more,” you begged, your voice a whimper.

“You can have more, angel. My fingers are right here,” he hummed.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you shifted, positioning yourself so his fingers were just below your entrance. Spencer’s breath hitched, and his mouth fell open as you sank down onto his fingers, inch by inch, taking him in. Your hand gripped his shoulder tightly for support as you moved, the sensation of fullness making your body tremble.

Spencer was the first to make a sound, his head falling back slightly as you adjusted to him. His moans only spurred you on. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths shaky as he pumped his fingers in a steady, insistent rhythm.

His other hand moved to your ass, fingers spreading across your cheek as he squeezed, pulling you closer to him. You were grateful he was doing most of the work—your legs were already shaking, straining to keep up with the building pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers curled inside you, pressing deeper, and the angle was perfect—hitting spots you never managed to reach on your own. Spencer groaned at the sight. Your body was tightening around him, your slickness coating his fingers, and he couldn’t help but imagine it being his cock filling you up.

The sounds he made drove you crazy. Each deep groan, every stuttered breath, showed you how much he enjoyed making you feel good. His enjoyment only intensified your own pleasure.

You were so close, your nipples hard against his chest, your breath mixing with his as your hair tumbled over his face, the scent of it intoxicating to him.

Your breathing turned sharp and shallow, as the pressure built low in your belly. Your vision blurred, the edges of reality dissolving as you neared your climax.

“Baby…” you breathed, your voice a desperate plea. You locked your eyes with Spencer, hoping—praying—he could see the need in yours.

And then, with a confirming nod and a final twist of his fingers, you broke.

A flood of pleasure crashed through you. You gasped, your whole body seizing as your orgasm hit. You were unable to hold back the cries of your release, your hips bucking against his touch, your hands gripping his wrist to anchor you as the world spun in a blur.

He withdrew his fingers from your heat, and the sudden absence left you breathless, a soft sound escaping your lips at the loss. When you blinked your eyes open, Spencer’s warm gaze met yours, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You smiled back at him, a little dazed, as he brushed your cheek with his untouched hand.

He carefully took your glasses off, placing them on the armrest of the couch. His thumb tenderly wiped away the tears that had escaped your eyes. He then cupped your chin, pulling you toward him, and kissed you deeply, his lips soft and lingering.

“Thank you,” he murmured, as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you softly laughed.

He shook his head, smiling. “No need for that,” he replied, his voice reassuring.

“But I want to,” you insisted. “Though… I think you’ll find I’m better at showing than telling.” You playfully whispered, as your nails grazed the outline of his dick.

You turned yourself around on his lap, your knees still planted on either side of him, but now with your back facing him. Leaning forward, you braced yourself on the coffee table, your elbows digging into the surface. You arched your back, making Spencer hiss sharply at the sight of your ass displayed before him, your arousal trickling down your thighs. The inviting shake of your hips made him lose his patience, and his fingers fumbled hastily with his belt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hurriedly pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and eager, the flushed head brushing against the faint line of hair trailing up his abdomen.

He gripped his length firmly, pumping himself a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. The weight of his hand settled on your hip as he pressed the tip of his cock against your warmth. He teased you for the briefest moment before you slowly sank down on him.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as he filled you, the new angle making him hit depths you’d never felt before. The stretch was deliciously overwhelming, stealing your breath as your fingers clawed at the table. You shakily tried to lift your hips, but your legs quivered under the strain.

Spencer noticed immediately, his hands finding their place—one on your waist, steadying you, and the other trailing down to your calf. He began guiding you, his strength effortlessly lifting and lowering you along his cock. The room filled with the symphony of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of meeting skin.

“God, look at you,” he rasped, mesmerized by the way your body took him in. His gaze focused on the bounce of your ass, hypnotized by the way it moved with each thrust. On instinct, he brought his hand down in a firm smack against your cheek.

The sudden impact made you jolt, as you let out a sweet, startled cry. The sound sent a surge of need through him, and he swore he felt himself harden further.

“You liked that, huh?” he mused in curiosity. Without waiting for an answer, he did it again, revelling in your shivering response.

Spencer pulled you against him, adjusting your position until you were seated in his lap, your back pressed flush to his chest. He wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you close, while his other hand rose to cup your breast. His hips snapped into you roughly, each thrust pulling an uncontrollable whimper from your throat.

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praised, his voice hoarse as his fingers pinched and rolled your nipple. The combination made your head loll back against his shoulder, surrendering to his touch. He seized the opportunity to claim your lips in a needy, devouring kiss. Tongues tangled messily, swallowing your shared moans.

As your pleasure mounted, your walls began to flutter around him, drawing a strained groan from his throat.

“Are you close again, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word. “Spencer… fuck, I’m so close.”

“Then cum around me,” he encouraged. “I know you want it.”

“Will you cum inside of me?”

For a heartbeat, he stilled. “I…” He swallowed. His cheeks flushed as he hesitated on his next words. “I want to cum on your face.”

Your pupils blew wide. His confession causing a smirk to tug at the corner of your lips.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers dipped between your thighs, circling your clit in rapid, precise motions. The pressure tipped you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you let go.

Barely able to recover, you slid from his lap onto your knees, settling in front of him. Spencer’s breath hitched at the sight of you—flushed and disheveled, your sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light. Your lips, swollen from his kisses, parted expectantly.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked angelic… and he was about to ruin you.

It didn’t take long. His cock twitched, thick ropes of cum spilling over your face and dripping down to your chest. His jaw went slack, his chest heaving as he watched you collect some of his release with your thumb and slip it into your mouth. The sight of you sucking on your finger was almost enough to unravel him all over again.

Spencer was unable to leave your side, grabbing his sleeve to gently clean you up. Once satisfied, you leaned forward, resting your head on his thigh as you savored the comfortable silence that followed.

His phone buzzed suddenly on the couch, shattering the moment. Spencer groaned, grabbing the device and quickly silencing it with a flick of his finger.

You laughed softly, your voice tinged with amazement. “What was that about?”

Spencer shrugged, tossing the phone aside without a second glance. “I can be late for one day.”

[bananastarlo]

I see you

childhood friend yandere x shy reader

You two are in the same daycare. He is the complete opposite of you — a loud, confident boy who charms both the adults and the other kids with the big grin he always enters the room with.

You, on the other hand, didn’t stick out too much. Always a bit more hesitant and shy around new people.

One of the things on the agenda today was a field trip.

Having arrived at the destination, the caretakers gave you instructions:

“Okay, little stars. Today is a wonderful day to play a game, don’t you agree?“

The others cheered in agreement.

“We hid clues that you’ll be able to find in this area! So get in pairs, if possible with someone new!“

As the childcare worker claps in her hands, the children scatter around, most of them sticking with their usual friend groups.

However, you stayed back. Nobody came up to you, and you were too anxious to approach the others, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt while focusing on the ground with your head low.

The caretaker took notice of your little form and exchanged worried glances with the other adults, slowly drawing near and crouching down to your level.

“Hey, have you found a partner yet?“

You shook your head no.

Reaching out her hand, she kindly offered to find a partner for you.

Yet, before you could take her hand, he appears in front of you — scraped knees, a backwards cap and messy hair — flashing you a boyish grin.

“Come on, let’s go together!“ he chirped, eyes glistening with fondness while yours lit up with happiness.

He took your hand and led you to where his friends were. They couldn’t understand why he refused their offer to pair up, until you showed up, shielded by his body.

As you both were hunting for clues, you felt yourself growing more and more relaxed in his presence.

He always protected you from slimy bugs and held your hand so that you wouldn’t get lost without him.

“You’re now my best friend.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, because he wouldn’t accept you saying no.

And you smiled.

“I like that.”

And the smile you gave him was so genuine, he felt his own heart beating a little more than usual.

You spent the rest of your childhood years sticking to him like glue. You admired him and his presence.

One day, when you were older, you spent time at his house. It was basically yours as well, with how much time you spent there.

Lying next to each other, you faced away from him while he stared at your back, too scared to move.

At times, he could be quiet. He could be soft. But only you were allowed to see this side of him. Only you deserved it.

As he listened to your slow, rhythmic breathing, you turned around.

You weren’t expecting him to be so close — your noses almost touched.

And your stomach flipped at the sight of his half-opened eyes that now widened as much as your own.

He saw it — your pupils, dilated.

His heart began hammering against his ribcage, and he pressed his face into the mattress.

“What?“ you murmured softly.

“N-nothing! You just threw me off guard.”

His response made you chuckle. It was cute to see him without his usual confident tone.

As older teenagers, you both started to see each other differently.

Behind his golden-boy personality and sheepishly handsome face, there was something deeper, a protectiveness directed at you.

He saw you as a woman now. And you, well—

You planned a movie night. Just the two of you.

You’d both been so busy lately, you started to miss his annoying voice and the way he always made you feel right.

As the movie played, you became bored and decided to mess with him a little, just enough to get a reaction.

“Heeey,” you utter, laying your leg on his.

He grinned, showing the dimples you adored so much on him.

But as you started to snuggle up even more and chose to playfully ruffle his messy hair, he became serious.

His hand gently gripped your wrist halfway, and your smile dropped.

“Do you not realize what you’re doing to me? That’s not fair,” his voice croaked — low, with a dangerous hint.

You became nervous and replied, laughing the awkwardness off.

“What do you mean? I’m just playing with you.”

He sighed, propping himself up on top of you, which knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“I’m not the little boy anymore who took these things as innocent gestures. Please acknowledge me as a man. And if you were to do that with every man while being so oblivious… I would rather keep you locked up. Do you understand?”

You couldn’t deny the way that made you feel — more than it should.

[inkandapex]

hot lap

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary: Somehow, Lando Norris managed to convince his girlfriend to join him for a hot lap.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content

"Please, Y/N, I swear it’s totally safe. I’ve done this a million times before!" Lando pleads, his eyes wide with exaggerated sincerity.

"No," Y/N responds flatly, her eyes never leaving her phone as she continues to scroll, completely unbothered by Lando’s pleas.

Lando exhales sharply, defeated, and glances over at his teammate, Oscar, who’s lounging on the couch, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. He shrugs nonchalantly, clearly not wanting to get involved in the couple’s dilemma.

"Don’t look at me, mate. This one’s all on you," Oscar says with a laugh, clearly enjoying the tension.

Lando's eyes widen with desperation. "But baby, look! Even Lily's doing it—right, Osc?" He turns to Oscar again, silently pleading for him to back him up.

Y/N shifts her gaze to Oscar, who merely shakes his head with an apologetic smile. She then turns back to Lando, an unimpressed expression painted across her face.

"Nice try," Y/N mutters, clearly not convinced.

"My love, I literally do this professionally. You’ll be in safe hands," Lando tries once more, taking her hands gently in his and pressing light kisses to her knuckles.

Y/N sighs, finally looking up at him. She watches her boyfriend, who is now on one knee in front of her, hovering with a hopeful grin. "When?"

Lando’s eyes light up instantly, a spark of excitement flickering in his gaze. "Miami... that’s in May"

A heavy silence fills the room, and Lando holds his breath, almost too eager to exhale. Oscar, who’s been silently shaking his leg in anticipation, shifts in his seat, clearly just as invested in the outcome.

Y/N takes a moment, her gaze unwavering, before finally letting out a small, resigned sigh. "Alright."

Lando erupts with joy, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Fuck yeah! We're gonna have so much fun!"

Oscar chuckles from across the room, shaking his head at the chaotic excitement. "You two are ridiculous, but hey, enjoy!"

------------------------------------------------------

It was a nearly perfect day in Miami. The skies were clear, the track buzzed with energy as teams prepped for the weekend, but Y/N barely noticed any of it. She stood by the pit lane, palms sweaty, fingers fidgeting anxiously.

A small group from McLaren—mostly Lando’s crew, who had grown quite fond of her—gathered outside, eager to witness what was about to unfold. They exchanged knowing smiles and hushed chuckles, watching as Lando finally approached, two helmets in hand.

"Got something for you, baby," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Y/N glanced over, offering him a soft, almost nervous smile. "Is it too late to back out?"

Lando chuckled, lifting one of the helmets to show her. "You sure? Had this specially made for you...look." He gently placed it in her hands.

She turned it over, eyes widening in awe. It was beautiful—her favourite color, perfectly incorporated into the sleek design. The intricate details stood out, tiny nods to things she loved the most, small symbols of their shared interests, woven together so effortlessly that it looked both classy and personal.

Her fingers traced over the design, heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind it. "This is beautiful, Lan… Thank you."

Lando grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "Only the best for my girl."

The crew was eagerly capturing every second—some for McLaren’s media team, others snapping away on their personal phones, already anticipating the adorable moments they’d share with the couple later on.

But as the car they were about to use rolled into the pit lane, Y/N felt her nerves creep back in. The sleek machine, now being fitted with cameras, suddenly looked a lot more intimidating up close.

"Hey..." Lando's voice was soft as he reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll start slow, and if at any point you want to stop, we stop. I promise."

Y/N nodded, eyes flickering between his and the car.

Lando tilted his head. "Gotta use your words, baby. You sure you're ready?"

"Yes," she said, then let out a small, nervous laugh. "Just really nervous."

Lando smiled, taking the helmet from her hands and gently placing it over her head. His fingers worked carefully to tuck away any loose strands of hair before securing it properly.

"Perfect," he murmured, his smirk growing as he admired her. "Gorgeous."

Then, with zero hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to her lips.

Y/N felt her nerves settle—just a little.

"Gotta film a quick intro, then we’re heading out, alright?" Lando guided her toward the car, helping her into the seat. His hands moved with ease as he fastened her seatbelt, making sure everything was secure before stepping back and shutting the door.

As he walked around to his side, Y/N took a deep breath. This was happening.

Lando did his usual intro, flashing a grin at the camera as he introduced his guest—Y/N—and explained what they were about to do. As they pulled out of the pit lane and onto the track, he kept stealing glances at her every few seconds.

“I’m begging you to keep your eyes on the road, Norris, I swear—” Y/N clung onto her seatbelt like her life depended on it.

“I am, baby! Don’t worry!” Lando laughed, nudging the cue cards toward her. “Alright, come on, you gotta ask me the questions.”

“Lando. Both hands on the wheel!”

Lando couldn’t help but chuckle at her panic. “I got it, baby, we’re alright. The faster we get through the questions, the quicker we’re done.”

Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath before focusing on the cards in front of her. “Alright… Who would you consider your closest friends on the grid?”

Lando thought for a moment, nodding as he kept his eyes on the track. “A few people… I wanna say Oscar, ‘cause I’m with him a lot, Max too, since we both live in Monaco. And Carlos.”

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment before moving on. “Other than your first win in Miami, which other win would you consider your favorite?”

Lando’s smile softened. “Oh, easy. Singapore.”

Y/N turned to him, intrigued. “Why Singapore?”

“The win itself felt amazing, but the fact that I had you there to celebrate with me after… that was the highlight of my night. Just us walking around the city at night… I loved that.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “You’re cute.”

“See, baby? You’re doing great. This isn’t so bad, huh?” Lando shot her a grin as he picked up the pace.

Y/N immediately sensed it. “I can feel you going even faster, so I’m gonna speed-run these now—” She quickly glanced at the next card, eyes widening as she let out a loud laugh. “Wait, what are these questions?! Lights on or lights off?!”

Lando let out his signature cackle, barely containing his amusement. “Lights on,” he answered smoothly, smirking.

“You shouldn’t have answered that!”

“Gotta give the people what they want, baby.”

“Alright, wet or dry?”

“Wet—” Lando answers immediately. “—Wait, you mean like a race or—”

“Oh my gosh, Lan! Of course, race conditions!” Y/N looks at him, jaw agape.

Lando only laughs, his eyes twinkling. “Right, dry then.”

After a few more laughs and playful back-and-forth, Lando finally pulls over by the pit lane and parks the car. He gets out, moving to the passenger seat and helping Y/N out of the driver’s seat.

What caught her off guard however, was when Lando got in the passenger seat.

“Wait... wait, what are you doing?” Y/N stands outside the car, completely confused, still processing what’s happening.

Lando smirks, already buckling his seatbelt “Your turn to drive now, my love.”

“Oh no. No no no no,” Y/N laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. But that laugh slowly fades as she looks around and notices the staff nodding at her, confirming that yes—it was indeed her turn to do a lap.

“Wait, you’re kidding?”

-----------------------------------------------

It was almost comedic—Y/N sat up straight, her hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, as she drove at a cautious city-limit speed around the track.

Lando, watching her with an amused expression, couldn’t help himself. “Baby, we can go a bit faster, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware, Lando, yes. Thank you,” Y/N replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lando laughed, glancing out the window. “I swear I just saw Carlos pass us on his bike.”

Y/N let out a genuine laugh, finally speeding up a little. “The trust the team has with me to let me drive you around on a race weekend is insane.”

Lando pulled out a set of cards, trying to get back on track with their Q&A. “Alright, ready? What’s your favourite part of race weekends?”

Y/N smiled softly. “I love seeing you do what you love doing. I can see how passionate you are about racing—it’s nice seeing you do what you do best.”

Lando pouted and nodded. “That’s sweet, baby.”

Y/N quickly added with a laugh, “And the coffee at Ferrari is top-notch, so maybe that too.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, holding up his hand in a mock salute. “Shoutout to our friends at Ferrari.” Then he grinned mischievously, turning to face Y/N. “Other than Oscar and I, who do you root for during a race?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Oh, easy. Alex.”

Lando smirked, as if he had known that was coming. “Thought so.” He turned to the camera. “If Y/N is not at McLaren, she’s either having coffee at Ferrari with Charles and his girlfriend or at Williams with Alex.”

“Albono is my paddock bestie" Y/N laughed, "Well, Lily is, but she’s not always here, so I gotta settle for Alex every now and then.” She added teasingly

Lando chuckled and added, “Carlos being at Williams now also means she spends more time there too. McLaren’s getting kinda jealous, not gonna lie.”

Y/N shot him a playful glance. ��You mean you're getting jealous?”

Lando gave her an exaggerated side-eye. “Tomato, tomato.”

The two breezed through the deck of cards as Y/N expertly navigated the track. Finally, she pulled into the pitlane, where the crew was waiting. They cheered and applauded as she slowed to a stop.

Y/N stepped out of the car with a grin, taking a bow in front of the crew, her cheeks flushed with a shy smile. “Thank you guys for trusting me with your driver.”

Lando walked over to her, helping remove her helmet while still filming the outro for the video.

Once they wrapped up the filming, the two of them strolled back toward his driver room, hands intertwined. Lando shot her a beaming smile, clearly happy with how everything turned out.

“That was fun, right?” he asked, his eyes gleaming.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “It was… thank you for today.”

Lando grinned, pulling her closer. “Thank you, baby. Gotta make you drive more often now. My turn to be the passenger princess.”

[littlegrapejuice]

Grid Mum 6 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The European triple header - or: a poor attempt at flirting, a jealous boyfriend, mother's day, a Cars screening at home, and some cuddles.

Author's Note: obvious enough from the summary, but here is the imola/monaco/barcelona chap! I really enjoyed writing this one so i hope you'll enjoy reading it🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

Franco had been given one rule when he had hung out with the other rookies ahead of the Imola Grand Prix.

“Please, don’t flirt with Max’s girlfriend.” Ollie’s tone was stern, indicating that it was a serious matter.

“Why?” Franco hadn’t met you when he had replaced Logan last year, and he wasn’t even sure of what you looked like. So why were you important now?

“Because she’s nice to us,” Kimi explained.

“Literally the nicest”, Liam added with a nod.

“Yeah, and she takes care of us during race weekends. Even Max hangs out with us, and it’s so fun to spend time with them. So if you flirt with her, then Max will be mad. And we don’t want to be blamed for your fuck-up because we’re all part of the same group,” Gabriel concluded.

“Wow… okay, mate. I won’t do anything so we’re good, don’t worry. I’ll behave”, Franco assured.

After this conversation, the rest of the rookies really thought that Franco had gotten the message.

One rule. Just one tiny little rule.

And Franco broke it on Friday, barely a day later.

In his defence, it wasn’t his fault. Why? Because no one had actually shown him a picture of you, and Franco hadn’t thought of looking you up. So he still didn’t know that it was you he was talking to when he walked up to you with a charming smile on his face.

“Hey,” he simply said. “Red Bull fan?” He pointed to his head in reference to the cap you were wearing.

This was courtesy of Max, who hadn’t wanted you to wear a Mercedes one. Kimi had offered you one of the signed caps that had been amongst those he had given to his classmates, hoping that you would support him at his home race. With a scoff, Max had quickly removed the cap from your head when you had come back to his garage and he had then exchanged it for the one he had been wearing.

“Yeah”, you confirmed with a nod as you readjusted your cap. You were about to introduce yourself to Franco due you two having never met, but you didn’t have time.

“Any chance I could turn you into an Alpine fan?” Franco raised an eyebrow at you, his tone teasing. “I could even give you a tour of my garage if you want.”

It took you a few seconds to process Franco’s words, as well as his attitude, before you realised that he was trying to flirt with you. You kind of wanted to laugh, finding the situation quite funny. You hadn’t imagined that Franco out of all people would try and flirt with you, but then you realised he might actually be completely clueless about who you were.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you but I already know what an F1 garage looks like.” You gave him your best friendly-but-rejecting smile, and hoped he would get the message. “I practically live in them at this point.”

“Even if I’d be your personal tour guide?”

“This isn’t a really convincing argument”, you told him. “Jack put the bar high enough, if I’m being honest.”

“Shit, you’re friends with Jack?” Franco was now unsure on how to keep the conversation going, thinking that you would be one of those blaming him for what happened to the Aussie driver.

“I’d say more than friends, but yeah that tracks.” Sensing Franco’s nervousness, you tried to reassure him. “I’m not mad at you by the way. If anything, it’s Alpine that I want to burn to the ground.”

“Cool… yeah, that’s cool… So he wouldn’t be mad if I tried to ask his friend out?”

“Jack probably won’t be, but my boyfriend might not like that.” The innocent smile on your face felt more like a warning than anything else, due to the sharper tone in your voice.

“My bad, I didn’t know. Sorry about that, then.” Franco was being genuine. He was a charmer through and through, but he wasn’t about to keep trying to pursue you now that he knew you were taken. “He’s a lucky guy, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s a lucky guy?”

Turning to where the voice had come, Franco and you saw that Max had come to stand beside you.

“Her boyfriend”, Franco honestly explained. “It seems like I was unfortunately–” His voice kind of died down when he noticed that Max’s arm had made its way around your waist. Clearing his throat, Franco was now more nervous than ever. “I was unfortunately flirting with a woman who’s got a boyfriend, which is you I guess…”

“You’re guessing well”, Max confirmed as his grip on your waist slightly tightened. “No need to introduce you to my girlfriend anymore, then?”

“Nope, all good. I– I need to go to my garage so… see you later, yeah.” And with that, Franco awkwardly left the conversation. He knew he had fucked up the only thing that his fellow rookies had asked of him, and he really hoped they wouldn’t hear about it.

“More like ‘see you never’”, Max mumbled under his breath once Franco was out of earshot.

“You scared the poor guy, Max.”

“Shouldn’t have flirted with my girl,” Max replied as if it was obvious.

“He didn’t even know who I was!” You tried to advocate for Franco, but in vain.

“Well, now he knows!” Max argued.

You let out a sigh at Max’s jealous attitude, although there was a smile on your face showing that you had a hard time actually being annoyed by your boyfriend.

“Go drive your little car and stop terrorising kids, Max.”

“He will not become our kid, by the way. He’ll stay a regular kid, we already have enough.”

“Just because of him flirting?”

“Trying to flirt,” Max clarified. “Clearly, he was never succeeding.”

“You’re being so mean, he was actually sweet and respectful.”

“He can be sweet and respectful, but far from you. Like… the opposite side of the paddock from where you are.”

“You’re pushing it.” But despite your complaints, you had to admit that jealous and possessive Max was cute. He was never this dramatic when you interacted with other men, so this was actually kind of funny to witness. “I’ll stay very very far away from him if you want, is that alright?” You wouldn’t actually go out of your way to avoid Franco, but what Max didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Yeah, perfect.” Max had a proud grin on his face. “I’ll see you after FP1?”

“Might have lunch with the rookies while we watch the F3 and F2 qualis”, you notified Max. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“No problem, sounds good.” He then kissed you goodbye, before making his way to his garage while you made yours to hospitality.

…..

Following FP1, you met with Gabriel. He had crashed at the end of the session, bringing out a red flag, but was thankfully alright.

“You were doing great out there”, you told the rookie. “P9 in FP1 is promising.”

“It’s practice,” Gabriel pointed out. “Only the first of the weekend so…”

“But that means you’re starting the weekend well!” You wanted to encourage him, genuinely believing that he was improving with every grand prix. “I’m sure you’ll keep this up.”

“Thanks for the support. But now I’m starving, so please let’s get something to eat.”

“Lead the way.”

While you and Gabriel were eating, you watched the F3 qualifying session and discussed upcoming talents. Gabriel teased you about soon becoming the grid mum of every young driver, due to you already noticing them from the lower categories.

When the session was over, there was a small break before the F2 qualifying would start so you and Gabriel just stayed together. It was only the two of you for another half hour, until Gabriel noticed a fellow rookie walking by and called out for him.

“Franco, mate!” Gabriel waved at the Argentinian, hoping to introduce the two of you.

“Hey.” Franco hesitantly approached, giving you a small nod as a sign of greeting.

“This is Max’s girlfriend,” Gabriel said. He held Franco’s gaze for a bit, as a warning for him to remember what the rookies had told him the day before.

“Oh, we actually met earlier!” Unaware of what you would be causing, you thought it would be fine to share the information. “I got offered a private tour of Alpine, can you believe how lucky I am?” Chuckling at the memory, you had no idea that Franco was now wanting to escape the conversation due to Gabriel threateningly looking at him.

“That’s so nice of Franco, yeah”. Gabriel’s tone was far from nice, his eyes now throwing daggers at his fellow rookie. “I hope he didn’t bother you, did he?” Gabriel needed to make sure that what he was thinking – Franco having broken the only rule he had been given – was unfortunately true.

“No worries about him,” you reassured him. “Max actually used the ‘scary boyfriend’ persona on him – sorry about that, Franco.”

“Oh… hmm, it’s fine. No worries,” he told you with a nervous smile. “I think I’ll let you two enjoy your time together. I gotta meet with my team to discuss… stuff, yeah… just stuff.”

“Sure, okay! We’ll probably see each other later in the triple header anyways.”

“Yeah, the triple header. That’s great, super great.” Franco waved as he slowly began to walk away from you and Gabriel, now knowing that he wouldn’t hear the end of it once all the rookies would be aware of the situation from earlier.

“See you later, Franco. Enjoy the weekend, while you can.” Gabriel had an innocent smile on his face, but his eyes were definitely not matching it. He was ready to share the story to his friends as soon as he would have the opportunity, ready to gang up on Franco for his mistake.

Completely oblivious to the tension between the two drivers, you then brought back the topic that you and Gabriel were talking about before Franco had been there. Until it was time for FP2, you stayed with Gabriel as you watched the F2 qualifying session together. You wished the rookie luck, hoping that Italy would be good to him.

And despite only getting P16 in the other two practice sessions, it seems like you had been right to encourage Gabriel as he managed to reach his first Q2 of the season on Saturday – which was unfortunately at the expense of Ollie not getting further than P19, due to a red flag caused as the Brit was crossing the line.

Thankfully, there was no bad blood between the two of them and they honestly both knew that neither of them would be fighting for points on the next day.

You would still be rooting for them to have a nice and safe race, but your focus would mainly be on Max. He would start P2, next to Oscar’s McLaren on the front row, and you were certain that he was ready to do anything in order to secure a fourth win in a row here.

…..

You could only stop breathing as you watched the drivers reaching the first corner. Oscar was forced to brake early in order to keep George behind him, which gave Max the opportunity to overtake him. It was a clean and precise move, which made you sigh of relief when your boyfriend had successfully taken the lead of the race.

And that was all he had needed to do in order to claim a win here in Imola, for Red Bull’s four hundredth grand prix.

Max found you as soon as he got out of the car and removed his helmet, running to where you were standing with his team in parc fermé. As usual, he hugged you first. You couldn’t quite catch what he was saying due to the cheers around you, but you managed to understand a few words:

“This one’s for my girlfriend”, he bragged before hugging you tighter.

You could literally hear his smirk, which you then felt when he kissed you.

“Congrats, champ. That was beautiful”, you told him before he removed his arms from around you to go interact with his team.

You watch him hug his team principal, his engineers, his mechanics. They were responsible for most of it, but Max was the real star today. A star that you could only admire as your eyes never left him, even when he gave his interview as one of the top three finishers.

Max then disappeared for the cooldown room, before your eyes found him again when he went to stand on the podium. Victory always looked good on him, especially when he was so deserving of it.

It was in those moments that the world had to remember that Max Verstappen was a four-times world champion. Maybe the two McLaren drivers next to him on the podium were leading both drivers’ and constructors' championships, but Max wasn’t far behind and he was definitely not going out without a fight for a fifth consecutive title.

_________________________________________________

Although Monaco wasn’t your favourite race of the year, you loved being able to spend a week at home. And you knew Max was glad for that too. You didn’t have to come back to a hotel room every night, and you could wake up with the familiarity of your routine.

Except that there was a new variable in your routine this year, thanks to some rookies whom you had adopted along the way.

When you arrived at the paddock on race day, you hadn’t been surprised to see your six grid kids waiting near the entrance. They seemed to be discussing something important, hushed voices overlapping each other.

Ollie was the first one to notice you, and he nudged the other rookies to notify them of your approaching. And that was when you thought things were a bit weird.

“Hi boys, everything alright?”

They all seemed to suddenly be nervous at your presence, straightening up and looking at each other with unsure glances. You noticed that a couple of them were hiding something, which you would very soon discover what it was.

“It’s… hmm, not much… but…” Kimi had decided to be the spokesperson of the group, but he had somehow forgotten his lines. He thought about winging it, and went straight to the point. “Happy Mother's day!”

And that was the cue for Isack to reveal a beautiful bouquet filled with your favourite flowers – they had to thank Max for the information – while Jack was holding a box of chocolates with a card on top of it in your direction.

“Oh!” Was the only word you could manage to get out before you choked up. You wanted to cry. You wanted to sob here and there – not caring about the people that might be watching. The gesture was so pure and kind, you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And with the way that their smiles brightened in anticipation of your reaction, showing how proud they were of themselves for doing that? Yeah, you were done for. “I– sorry, I’m just emotional…”

Noticing that some tears were rolling down your cheeks, the rookies were suddenly panicking and they thought you didn’t like their surprise.

“Sorry, was it wrong to do that?” Liam asked, worry evident in his voice.

“It was supposed to make you happy,” Gabriel stated.

“Yeah! Not sad,” Ollie added.

“We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, Kimi said.

Seeing how their mood shifted was enough to make you now properly react to their change in attitude, especially when you saw that their smiles were starting to drop.

“Oh my God, no! Please don’t apologise!” You got closer to them, hoping to be able to show them your gratitude by taking their gifts into your hands. “This is just… like super really nice of you. And I wasn’t expecting that at all, so it took me by surprise. But that is truly so sweet of you. Thank you all so much for this, I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do!” Isack claimed.

“Yeah!” The other rookies agreed with a nod.

Chuckling at their enthusiasm, you now wanted to hug them to thank them for the gifts. You barely had time to put down the bouquet and chocolates before the rookies were the ones engulfing you in a hug first. It was certainly not practical to hug six people at the same time, but you tried to make it work until you decided to hug them all individually.

“Are you still crying? Jack wondered, when he heard you sniff in his arms.

“It’s happy tears, shut up. I’m blaming you for that,” you told him before tightening your grip around him.

It meant a lot to you that Jack had been involved with this. Despite him not really being part of the current rookies on the grid, he was still one when Max and you had adopted the group. So it had made sense for the other drivers to include him – they didn’t even think about not including him, it was just obvious to do so.

One by one, you hugged the six of them with a smile so wide that your cheeks were starting to hurt. You thanked them once again, telling them how grateful you were to have them.

“We’re the lucky ones there”, Ollie said. “We don’t care that you’re not like our real mum or shit like that.”

“We did honour our mums, by the way. We’re not bad sons”, Liam assured.

“True. But yeah, we needed to thank you for being there for us during race weekends. Because even if our parents are also there most of the time, it’s super cool to hang out with you because you’re real fun to be around. You’re more than a grid mum,” Isack affirmed. “You’ve become a friend as well.”

“Okay, shit. You’re gonna make me cry again and I don’t have any spare makeup with me”, you joked as you tried to keep your tears in.

They laughed with you as you kept thanking them – it seemed like the only thing you could do. In this moment, you really felt loved and cherished. You wouldn’t trade those kids for anything else in the world; and if someone were to ask them, they would definitely say the same.

…..

You hadn’t expected a journalist to approach you after the race, given that you were usually invisible in the paddock. Not that you were fully transparent either, but you were never the WAG that people focused on.

“Isn’t it weird that you’re getting so much attention from the rookies? Especially on a day like today.”

You had certainly not expected that question, and were definitely confused regarding the point the journalist was trying to make. The man had not even said ‘hello’ nor introduced himself, and that was probably all you needed to know about him to assess his personality.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch the full question. Could you repeat it, please?” You did your best to stay polite, even though you could already feel like the man was about to deal with something that you wouldn’t like.

“Well, we’ve seen you interact a lot with the rookies in the past few weeks – which most people could overlook. However, today is Mother’s Day and it seems like they have been acting as if you were deserving of as much attention as their real mothers earlier today. Anything to say about wanting to replace them?”

To say you were surprised by the man’s claim would be an understatement. Was he accusing you of stealing the rookies from their mothers? When have you ever tried to do that?

“I’m not sure where you found that information.” You tried to be diplomatic, not wanting to cause a scene, and plastered your face with your best fake smile. “I can assure you that I have done nothing to ever make it seem like I wanted to replace – as you’ve said – the kids’ mothers. And–”

“But you have been strangely close to them, right?” He interrupted you. He then did not even leave you time to answer before he kept going with his more-than-false ‘facts’. “Some people even claim that you have invited them to your home, can you confirm or deny? Are you doing all of this because Max does not want to have an actual family with you? Is there any trouble between the two of you?”

Now overwhelmed, you were having a really hard time listening to everything the journalist was saying. People hadn’t seemed to care about the exchange – probably due to the fact that the man wasn’t a well-known reporter and you were just a WAG. Still, the pressure you were currently feeling from his accusations was making you more nervous than ever and you were afraid that you would soon need to excuse yourself – which might make things worse if the man thought you were escaping because his assumptions were right.

Thankfully, someone decided to come save you.

“Is everything okay here?” Liam asked, his tone suspicious, as he came to stand beside you. He had heard the last couple of questions that the man asked you, and he immediately knew to intervene.

“Yeah, we’re fine. She’s just refusing to answer my questions,” the journalist explained. “Is she always this rude?”

“Well, maybe she’s not answering because you’re just spitting bullshit and assuming wrong stuff about her.” Liam shifted closer to you and glared at the man in front of him. “I don’t know who made up all this, but they’re dumb as hell. And if it’s you, then it’s no surprise I’ve never seen you before because your work is probably too mediocre to be read by actual drivers.”

“I will not allow you to speak to me like that!” The journalist was now fuming, overlooking the fact that he was talking to F1 driver Liam Lawson and focusing on how a ‘kid’ was insulting his work.

“Or what?” Liam snickered at the man’s anger.

“I’ll write about you, and I’ll have lots of things to say about how rude you both are to journalists who just wanna do their job. It’s no wonder Red Bull sacked you with an attitude like that,” he said with venom in his voice.

“How the hell are you talking to them?” Ollie, having heard the journalist’ voice get louder from afar, had come to see what the commotion was about. He hadn’t expected to see you and Liam, now wondering what was happening. The only thing he was sure of for now, was that the journalist had no right to yell at you nor Liam.

Now that two drivers were around you, people were starting to notice the little gathering and some of them stopped for a second to see what was going on.

“I talk to them however I want. I am appalled at how rude the youth is nowadays! I am simply trying to write my article, but everyone is really disrespectful around here.”

“If you weren’t the one asking dumb shit to her, then I would be way nicer to you.” Liam crossed his arms, fed up with the man’s attitude.

“My questions are far from dumb! You cannot tell me that it’s not bizarre and creepy from her to spend so much time around the younger drivers. I’m just wanting to know the truth here”, the man claimed.

“Listen, man.” Gabriel was the third driver to join the conversation, and he was definitely not glad with what he had heard so far. The noise had caught his attention, and he hadn’t hesitated in getting closer as the journalist kept getting angrier. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are – and I probably don’t care – but you’re gonna have to tone it down, please. This is a public space, and your very loud irritating voice is bothering the people who actually work here.”

“And if you wanna talk about us hanging out with her, then I’ll give you something to write about.” Ollie, without a care in the world, took the journalist’s notebook and pen before he scribbled down some words. “Reason number one: she’s genuine, kind, and polite – definitely the opposite from you. Reason number two: we share the same passion that’s racing – and maybe you would be a better person if you had it too. Reason number three–”

“That’s enough!” The journalist interrupted as he violently grabbed his notebook back from Ollie’s hands. “I will not let myself be ridiculed by arrogant drivers like you for one more second.” And with that, he angrily stormed away from the conversation.

What you felt was an awkward silence settled between the drivers and you, as you were now embarrassed to have indirectly dragged them in this situation. However, it seemed like they didn’t care about it and were more worried about your well-being.

“Are you alright?” Ollie eventually asked, a soothing hand rubbing your shoulder.

“Did he do anything else to you before I arrived?” Liam wondered, not having been there from the beginning.

“I’m fine, guys. Don’t worry about me,” you reassured them. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, he was…”

“Being a bitch?” Gabriel suggested.

“An absolute arsehole?” Ollie added.

“Fucking pathetic that’s for sure,” Liam stated.

“I wanted to say a bit rude, but yeah those work as well.” You chuckled a bit at your own downplay of the situation. “He was kinda right, though… I don’t know, am I spending too much time with my boyfriend’s colleagues?”

“Please don’t think that man was right.”

“Yeah, Gabi’s right. And we’re not just your boyfriend’s colleagues,” Ollie claimed. “We’re literally your kids, thought we established that this morning”

“Grid mum? Grid kids?” Liam reminded you with a smile. “Ringing a bell?”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance the rookies were providing you. You thought that you truly didn’t deserve them, and that maybe they were the ones actually taking more care of you than you did of them. But it felt normal to them: you were usually the one mothering. And if for once they could help you by being your knights in shining armour, then they were glad to do so.

Still, it would later seem that they wouldn’t stop needing to count on you when it mattered. And you knew as much as they did that you wouldn’t say no to them, no matter the situation.

…..

Are you asleep?

The text had come from Isack. Looking at the time, you noticed that it was quite late and you wondered if he needed anything. You told him that no, you were still awake and asked him there was something wrong. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was definitely not this reply:

I’m in front of your building, can i come up?

I understand if you’ll say no

Now kind of worried, you wasted no time ringing Isack in. It only took a couple minutes before he was at the door, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Sorry to bother you”, he shyly apologised.

“You’re not bothering me at all,” you reassured him. “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am. I just– I was out with some friends et… j’sais pas… kinda tried to go clubbing but it wasn’t really my scene anymore at one point and I left.” Isack ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration obvious. “Next thing I know, I’m walking to yours et me voilà.” He nervously chuckled, still unsure of how you’d react.

“Okay,” you simply replied with a nod. “Well, for starters I’m glad you’re alright. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”

“Hmm, yes please.” Isack finally entered your home before you closed the door behind him. “Just some water is fine, thanks.”

“No problem. Just go sit and I’ll be back.” You walked to the kitchen, getting a glass for Isack, before going to the living-room where Isack had made his way already. “There you go,” you said as you handed him the glass.

A silence then settled between the two of you, as Isack almost gulped down the drink while you debated asking him more questions about his evening.

“Can I spend some time here? Just for a bit, I won’t stay long and bother you much.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Isack.” You offered him a gentle smile, reassuring him. “Wanna do anything? We got video games, lots of films…” You thought of other ideas as you kept listing things. “We can just chill in silence if you want some peace and quiet. Hmm, we can bake? I have some paint somewhere, or I can teach you how to knit. Choices are endless here.”

“A film sounds nice,” Isack decided.

“Something in mind?”

“Maybe one we might have both watched,” Isack suggested.

“Wait a second”, you told Isack before standing up and going to look at your DVD shelf. Your eyes caught a familiar box, and you smiled knowing that the driver wouldn’t refuse to watch it. “Cars?”

As you had guessed, Isack’s face lit up at the offer and he immediately nodded with a grin.

“Knew you would like that”, you teased as you turned the TV on and put the DVD in the player. You then went back to sit next to Isack on the couch, ready to start watching his favourite film.

You hadn’t thought about how fun it would be to watch Cars with a big fan like Isack, but it was probably the most you had ever laughed while watching a film with someone other than Max. Isack knew every line. He gave you some fun facts about characters, and told you all his favourite things about them.

It was definitely a moment you would cherish forever.

Isack didn’t even notice when Max joined the two of you for the second half of the film, too focused on continuing to show you his knowledge. Meanwhile, Max was softly smiling at the scene. Your eyes met his after a bit, and he raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask if you were having fun. Quickly glancing at Isack, you then looked back at Max and gave him a nod along with a bright smile before going back to listen to the rookie next to you.

Safe to say, you definitely wouldn’t mind watching the rest of the trilogy with Isack one day if it meant that you could relive a similar moment as tonight.

_________________________________________________

By Barcelona, Max was over it. From his team putting him on hard tyres for the last laps of the race to the incident with George, Max was just done and he didn’t hesitate showing it to everyone watching.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that everyone would be looking for him, whether it was his team or interviewers. He just wanted some peace and quiet. So as soon as he came back to his garage, his only goal was to find you. And when he did, he simply took your hand to drag you to his driver’s room.

When he locked the door, you almost thought that he wanted to let out his frustration with some less-than-family-friendly actions and you were ready to indulge him. But he actually just sat on the couch with a sigh, before he motioned for you to come closer. And you realised that Max just needed emotional rather than physical intimacy.

Max waited for you to sit down next to him before he laid back on the couch, his arms going around your waist to pull you closer until you were both lying on your side. Your hand went to take one of Max’s, acting as a sign of comfort. His grip tightened around you, while he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

No words were needed between you. It was easy to understand what Max was going through. You obviously couldn’t fully relate to it, but you understood.

Throughout the years, you had witnessed Max’s highs and lows. You could read him like no one else, and you knew right now how he was feeling. It wasn’t the same kind of disappointment that Max felt after a DNF. This one didn’t hit as hard; it was just an accumulation of small mistakes that had piled up until now before eventually being too much.

And right now, you knew that the only thing you could do for Max was this: just being there for him. Your presence was more than enough for him, and simply holding you close to him was enough for Max to stay grounded.

Slowly lifting his head from where it has been resting on your shoulder, Max gave you a loving kiss on your forehead. A silent ‘thank you for being there for me’. An acknowledgement of your limitless and eternal support, which he wouldn’t trade for anything else.

Max had you, and you had him. The two of you having each other in this world was the only thing that you would both ever need.

…..

Max eventually apologised the next day, on his Instagram account, and you also knew that he had sent a text to George as well.

If someone were to ask you, it was almost like those two brought the worst in each other. But at the end of the day, it was a racing incident that did not deserve to impact whatever relation they had off track – were they even friends? Colleagues harbouring some weird unresolved tension? Sometimes even you didn’t know the exact way Max considered some of his fellow drivers, but there was for sure no pure hatred for any of them and it wouldn’t change.

Everything that had happened on track was fortunately not affecting them off track. You got proof of that when you and Max randomly met George at the Nice airport. The Brit was on his way to Paris to watch the Roland-Garros final – which you were extremely jealous of – and it was like nothing had ever happened between the two drivers as the atmosphere between them was nothing but respectful.

“So, you’re back to being besties again now?” You teased Max once George had left.

“Let’s not push it”, Max replied with a sigh. “You’re just saying that because you want us to join him in Paris.”

“What?” You tried to act innocent as you dragged out the syllable. “Me, wanting to go see what will probably be the most iconic final of this generation? No way,” you tried to deny in vain.

“Sorry, I’ll take you next year.”

“Yeah you better, Verstappen.” You nudged him with your shoulder, showing that you weren’t mad.

“You know, one day you won’t be able to call me by my last name if we both have it.”

“What?”

“What?” He repeated with a smirk. “Didn’t say anything.”

“I–” You were dumbfounded. You watched as Max began walking again, leaving you to stand in the middle of the airport by yourself. Were you crazy? Did you mishear him? No way, you thought. But still, you had to eventually accept that maybe you had misunderstood him because it would be impossible to make Max repeat himself if you had indeed heard him right.

While you were internally debating the conversation that had happened, Max was smiling at himself. His little plan was far from perfect for now, but it was nicely taking shape. He would eventually need some help – perhaps from some rookies that would do anything for their grid mum’s happiness, but right now it was just fun for him to make you go a bit crazy with his cryptic comments. After all, he had to make sure you wouldn’t say no once the moment would happen

..........

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita @urmomsgirlfriend1 @guacala

Ok so i fr thought i would never be done w this chap lol😭 i loved the ideas i had for it but idk it took me so long to acc write them

Hope y'all are still enjoying the fic!! I'm always looking forward to knowing your thoughts🫶🏻

I've begun writing the canada chap but I'll probs wait till next week to post it bc i wanna see what happens during the lil break in case there's anything worth mentioning (and if not, I'll let my brain imagine smth)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

[ghouljams]

Date Needed For Easter Reunion. Desperate.

Rating: E Words: 23.6k Tags: Soap x f!reader, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, unreliable narrator, unstable!reader, self-inflicted brainwashing, gaslighting, manipulation, strangers -> ???, non/dub con, cnc, wrestling, Erectile Dysfunction, Catholicism, biting, marking, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual marriage, religious delusion, oral sex (f and m receiving), piv sex, craigslist meet-cute, dirty talk, implied stalking, mild kidnapping, implied past abuse, on the run!reader, Johnny has a traumatic brain injury, breeding kink, unsafe bdsm dynamics, non-consensual sub training, fingering, cockwarming, hand jobs

Summary: You need an escape plan and respond to an ad online looking for a date. John Mactavish doesn't exactly offer you freedom in exchange.

<-Date needed for Easter reunion. Desperate.

[casual encounters]

“I'm a recently discharged, disabled veteran(medical: TBI) who never had time to date but has a very nosey (very catholic) family that asks a lot of questions. My mam just wants to know someone is taking care of me (can take care of myself) so I may have lied to her and told her I was dating someone. Which is where you come in.

You are:

-single

-willing to lie

-looking for a holiday in Scotland

-able to sit through mass

I will pay you in:

-my mam's cooking (it's good)

-free trip to the highlands

-whatever you want to steal from my sister's closet

Date is needed for my family reunion on Holy Saturday so I can reassure people I’m not going to accidentally die alone in my flat.

*

You stare at the man across the table from you and try to catalogue his features. If you don’t break him down piecemeal then the weight of his good looks might cause you to buckle. Two eyes, electric blue. Staring at them too long forces your gaze to wander away from them to other parts of his face. Two lips, pink and quirked into a crooked smile, showing off slightly discolored teeth. Coffee, you think, glancing down at his steaming cup. Your eyes drift up to his again, and again you find them drifting away. One bold pink scar at his temple, star shaped and cutting through his closely shaved hair in a single jagged slice. Your eyes linger on it until he reaches, almost sheepishly, to touch the thing.

“Aye, let’s get that out of the way first.” John agrees with your silent staring. You shake your head and focus on his eyes again, on the slight crease between his brow that speaks of unease.

“Oh, no it’s-” you hesitate on the words, “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to, we can just ignore it.” He stares at you and you tack on, “I’m sorry for staring.”

“Nae the first person to stare, willnae be the last.” He hums. It feels like a reminder of sorts. For him you’re sure, but the familiarity of his tone makes you feel oddly… included. 

“Does your-” You stop yourself from asking if his family stares, that feels a little too personal in a way that you can’t be with a stranger, “-Does your family already think you have a girlfriend?” You ask instead. John laughs and it’s so deep and throaty that it catches your breath in your chest. 

“Aye, been tellin’ them I had you for a while now.” He nods, “Been dyin’ tae meet ya, but I kept putting it off.”

It’s your turn to nod. You understand that. It’s easier to keep a lie going than have a new one to tie together.

“Y’are a bonnie thing,” John mumbles, his lips catching against each other, his tongue weighted and his brows drawn low, he swallows before enunciating, “so sweet Ah cannae believe someone else hasnae sunk their teeth intae ya.” 

You’ve held his gaze too long, the violent blue shivers and shakes, with the strain of staring back at you. You feel your left eye twitch and jerkingly look down at your folded hands on the table. The color of your knuckles looks thinner, strained by the clench of your fingers against the wood. Anything to keep the anxious shaking at bay. Impatient to get away from the public eye, but grateful for the chance to meet a stranger with so many witnesses.

Your brain tries to latch onto John’s… compliment, and you brush it off. The doctor had said traumatic brain injuries make people impulsive, make it harder for them to police what they’re saying and doing. You can’t hold it against him if his inside thoughts roll off his tongue into the outside.

Actually, you feel sort of bad for taking advantage of the guy. You need him more than he needs you. The quick escape he offers isn’t one you take lightly, and this ruse is more reliable than anything else. It’s just… he seems nice. The way he fusses with his jumper reminds you of a puppy trying to walk with shoes on for the first time. He’s big and uncoordinated in a way that you should find endearing. His hands shake, his fingers plucking at the hem of one of his sleeves as a way to divert the energy. He squeezes his fingers into a tight fist when he notices you staring.

“Another gift from the bullet that had me discharged.” He huffs, “Makes mah mam worry seein’ me shake, made mah captain worry too.” The words are bitter in his mouth and you meet his gaze against your better judgement. “S’why they tossed me, cannae have a trigger finger this itchy.”

“Your mum must love you a lot.” You offer, the words feel hollow in your mouth. What’s that like, you wonder, having a parent that cares enough about you to worry over something like the tremor in your hands? 

John smiles, turns his gaze down to his fist and spreads his fingers out onto the table. It’s warm. The sort of expression that people with normal families have.

“Ah ken,” He shakes his head, “but she’s getting older, cannae have her running down to London for every doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh,” you frown, “that would be annoying.” Though you can’t say you aren’t envious. Had your family ever done the same for you? It was always a fight just to stay home from school, you know wouldn’t drop a thing for a doctor’s appointment much less driven across the country. 

“Ahm a grown man, dinnae need mah mam fer mah PT.” John insists. “Mah sisters are bad enough with all their badgerin’ me.” He sighs. “They mean well, Ah s’ppose, shouldnae fault them tha’.”

“Well,” you falter. It’s more than just taking advantage of one guy, you’re conning an entire family just to get yourself out of a situation of your own making. He should find someone else, someone better suited for dealing with a family that so clearly cares about him. But he’s not going to, you need this. You plaster on a smile and tell him, “It’s good you’ve got me, we’ll convince them you’re doing better than ever.”

John’s eyes flick to yours and you get the distinct impression of someone looking through rather than at you. It sends a shiver down your spine and you scramble to explain yourself before John can call your bluff. “I’ll make sure to tell her how capable you are, I mean.” You supply. John nods, his smile cut by his teeth in a way that feigns sincerity better than your mother ever could. 

“Gonna have to convince more than just mah mam and sisters,” he reminds you, “Plenty of kin for ya tae meet.” You must make a face because his smile grows to a size you’re sure must hurt his cheeks. “Got more than 50 people comin’ tae the reunion, more than that cannae take the time off for travel.”

You sit back in your chair with a rush of breath. Fifty? Fifty people. Fifty strangers you have to lie to for a whole day. Fifty names you’ll have to pretend to remember. Jesus.

“Jesus.” You mumble.

“Aye,” John hums, “it’s His doin’ that Mactavishes are a fertile brood.” The way he purrs it makes your stomach clench. You’re missing the context that haunts his voice, and you shake off the feeling in favor of changing the topic.

“So how long is the reunion?” It’s inelegant but it gets the job done. If John notices he doesn’t show it, immediately humming and bobbing his head like he’s trying to think. He crosses his arms over his chest and you’re struck by how big this guy is. Not uncoordinated then. John’s biceps strain against the bulk of his jumper, his broad chest squeezed between the trunks of his arms in a way that makes him look bulky. His shoulders roll back to a broad, square set that makes his neck seem thicker. You should get the impression that he’s putting on a show for you, but there’s no flex to his musculature, just the unquestionable presence of strength.

Strength that always seemed to haunt the silent wishes of every other man in your life, now personified and stripped of the authority to use it.

You swallow down the interest that slides to settle warm between your legs. 

“I can drive up Friday night, then the reunion is Saturday, and Mass on Sunday.” He counts off eyes roaming around the shop. He- 

Well, you don’t know how to describe it. John’s mood seems to change as quickly as the wind, his bright bubbling air turning teasing then wistful or purring and now this serious tone. Business-like where you would have sworn he was flirting with you. You glance at the scar on his temple, the pink seam of it seeming more obvious with each symptom that adds itself to the list. You wonder if he’s also forgetful, impulsive, if he’s prone to short tempers. You wonder how his vision is, and the thought of him driving suddenly makes you very nervous.

“I can drive.” You tell him quickly. He blinks at you and you find the air changed again, his expressions more open than you’ve seen even in children --perhaps that’s it, perhaps it’s not his mood changing so much as it is an openness that you’re not used to, you tell yourself he wears his heart on his sleeve, and find the thought somewhat relaxes you-- a gentle parting of his lips and soft raise of his brow that says you’ve caught him off guard.

“Ya wouldnae prefer flyin’?” He asks, and you cringe. You had mentioned in your emails that you were looking at flights, and he’d generously offered to compensate you. At the time you’d been eager to snatch up the opportunity, but now? Now the thought of leaving this man alone, with his shaking hands and poor vision, to drive for hours up to Glasgow felt wrong. You were already taking advantage of his need for a body to get yourself out of trouble, you couldn’t let him die in a road accident too. 

“No, I-” You search for an inoffensive answer, something that doesn’t make you sound like the terrible person you are, “I think it would be better if we arrived together, right? Happy and in love?”

John studies you for a moment before pouting his lips briefly and nodding, he hadn’t considered that you suppose.

“Aye,” He says slowly before he tips his head ever so slightly, “an’ we are happy an’ in love people, aren’t we, hen?”

“Oh definitely,” You agree. There’s something nervous and fluttery in your chest at his tone. Something that squeezes tight and fawns before you can chase the feeling down. It makes him smile, and the wide toothy grin he fixes you with crooks your stomach as quickly as it crooks his lips.

“Then we’ll drive up together.” He agrees. 

*

Despite the short notice you manage to get a hotel booked for Easter. It makes you feel a little slimy, squirms in your stomach oddly, but you plan on dipping out right after mass and leaving John with his family. If they’re as doting as he makes them out to be then he’ll have no trouble finding his way home. Besides, he already offered his car for the drive, so it’s not like he’s totally stranded. You made your peace with the sort of person you are long ago, you shouldn’t feel so bad leaving some disabled veteran in better hands. 

It’ll be a nice little vacation in a beautiful place, you’ll do something touristy, and then start figuring out your new life. You don’t deserve the vacation, but you don’t deserve a lot of things. John does though, for all you’re sure he’s been through, so you make yourself happy to play house with him. At least he’s not bad to look at. You could do worse, and you have.

You’re almost surprised by how short the bus ride to his flat is. He’s so close-by but you’ve never run into him. You recognize one of the patisseries you pass and hesitate to continue the rest of your walk at the prospect of getting a slice of cake. You check your time and decide to stop in for a road trip snack. You can give John this kindness at least. You hope he likes sweets.

Of course your detour leaves knocking on John’s door feeling like a herculean task. You raise your fist and hold it there for what feels like ages, your mind running a million miles a minute trying to spin out all the worst case scenarios.

This is insane. Actually insane. You’re running off to Scotland with a man you don’t know to meet a family that might not even exist --though you did spend a good few hours googling the Mactavish clan and what do you know John’s face is front and center, along with his discharge notice (ouch)-- just to get away from- well, you know what you’re running from. No sense dwelling on it when you’re so close to your new life. You learned your lesson with the Austrian, you’ll get away from John as soon as you’re able to and disappear into the highlands. Maybe you’ll herd sheep.

You knock on the door with your confidence renewed and John pulls it open immediately, his eyes wild, his hair disheveled and his shirt on inside out. His breathing is haggard and you watch him quickly end a call with someone marked only by a skull emoji, the tinny voice on the other end sounds rough and unhappy before it’s cut off. John offers you an apologetic smile and scratches the back of his neck.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” He says by way of explanation.

“I, um-” you hold up the bag of biscuits, “I stopped for a snack, for the road.” You check your phone. “I’m only a few minutes late.”

“Right.” John shakes his head, blinking his eyes as his brows draw down, like he’s trying to clear it, “Sorry, that- of course you’re not late, why would you be late?” He trails off, muttering to himself as he turns and stalks back into his flat. He seems to remember you and turns back to the door. “Come in, Ahm just finishin’ packin’ up.”

“It’s just the weekend.” You tell him, shuffling into his flat. You keep close to the wall and try not to look like you’re looking around. It’s sparsely decorated. Honestly it reminds you of those “male living space” memes that float around occasionally. The guy has a folding chair set up at a card table and not much else. You try to tip your head to get a glance at the bedroom and catch the corner of a mattress set on the floor. You grimace at the thought. 

You hear him muttering to himself and do your best not to eavesdrop too much. You’re sure he’s stressed about going to see his family, and you’re even more sure that living like this isn’t helping. Maybe his mum is right and he really does need the help. You feel that ever present pang of guilt start to gnaw at you at the thought. Fuck.

You’d read up a bit more on traumatic brain injuries --always eager to go the extra mile for someone else where you couldn’t for yourself-- and the idea that John had been living with virtually no support, his family a hundred miles away and his house barely fit for habitation, makes you really fucking sad. This guy probably lost everything he’d been working towards in the army, and now he’s living in this shitty flat with nobody around to care about him. And you’re taking advantage of his desperation to prove he isn’t the incapable man his mum is worried about in order to get a free trip and a new life. You’re really despicable.

Looking around though it’s pretty clear he isn’t taking care of himself. You don’t see any PT equipment or pictures, there’s not even a second chair or dishes in the sink. It’s like no one lives here. Even you had keepsakes tucked away in your “weekend” bag. John’s got a whole lot of nothing. 

“Sorry,” John sighs, hefting a packed duffle bag over his shoulder, his entrance jolts you out of your thoughts and you nearly crush your biscuits in surprise, “movin’ y’ken?”

“Sorry?” you blink, “Moving?”

“Aye.” John nods, dropping his bag to rifle through it, he tugs a pillbox free and opens the Friday morning tab, shaking the couple tablets into his waiting palm. He takes the pills dry before zipping the bag. “Back up tae Glasgow, be closer to mah mam an’ all that.”

“Oh.” You feel heat burn your cheeks, that explains the empty apartment. Guilt pokes at you again, you’d put him in the same category as his mum, incapable of taking care of himself. God. Are you a bad person? You are. You know you are, but are you this sort of bad? The “tbi automatically means this guy is dysfunctional” kind of bad?

You didn’t think you were before all of this.

“That’s nice.” You cover. John hums as he stands. 

“Isnae nice, means Ah’ll ‘ave ‘er breathin’ doon mah neck, taggin’ along tae the doctor like she’s ne’er seen mah heid on straight.” There’s no anger in his voice, just a gentle exasperation that reminds you of a pouting puppy. You cover your mouth to hide the smile it inspires. John flashes you a grin and you know you’ve been caught.

“Dunna be blate, laugh if ya want tae.” You let out a short giggle and cover it with a cough.

“Are you going to get less intelligible the closer we get to scotland?” You tease. Another smile, and a roll of John’s eyes.

“Aye ya ken mah mam’s gonna love ya, now yer actin’ out.” John grabs you and pulls you against his chest. The action is so familiar and affectionate that it makes you stiffen. Your stomach drops and you go rigid. Something shifts behind John’s eyes and you have to tighten more to keep tremors from running through you. Those bright blues feel electric, a flash of lightning before thunder, an unstoppable natural force that bears down on you with no warning but that quick burst of light. He doesn’t release you, and you can feel the pop of his shoulders as he rolls them, tipping his head to the side just enough to properly look down on you. He clicks his tongue and a shiver rushes down your spine.

“Relax hen,” it’s an unkind suggestion coated in false charm, “it’ll never fit if you’re wound this tight.”

“What- what?” You stutter, fingers shaking to find the right place to push to get him to let you go.

“Ah thought we were a happy loving couple,” John reminds you, “Cannae flinch like this.”

“Right.” You settle your hands against his chest and push. It’s like trying to move a brick wall. He barely budges, in fact you think his arms might tighten their hold on your waist.

“Got plenty of time tae get ya used tae me, yeah?” He hums, and leans closer. You duck your head to avoid meeting his gaze, or anything else, and feel his nose against your hair. He takes a long inhale and you squeeze your fingers into fists.

Impulsive, you remind yourself, he has a brain injury that makes him unable to control his impulses. That’s all it is. That’s all it can be.

“Do ah scare ya hen?” John’s voice rumbles so low in his chest that you feel it under your fingers. The question startles you enough to jolt you back to his gaze. 

You’re free of his grasp as soon as you look up. John’s bent to grab his duffle off the floor and you have just enough room to catch your breath.

“Of course not.” You lie. You’ve dealt with far worse than an overly touchy man with a brain injury. Overly touchy men giving out brain injuries, for one.

“Good,” John nods, tugging his bag up over his shoulder, “We’ve got a long drive ahead, no sense gettin’ scared now.”

Right, the drive. You’d almost forgotten about it. At least you can rest easier knowing John’s probably not stupid enough to let his impulses take over if you’re driving.

*

John’s hand is on your thigh as soon as you get out of his garage. He barely moves it when you complain about not having room to shift gears. It’s big and warm and entirely too high on your leg to not be distracting. Your traitorous body reacts to it immediately, your pulse quickening as your cunt throbs. It’s been a while, but you still remember what it feels like to have a man touch you, and it feels an awful lot like the wide spread of John’s fingers across your thigh. 

“So um,” You try to think of anything to talk about while John’s thumb rubs hot against your thigh, “we should probably get our story straight.”

“Told everyone the story already.” John says, and you struggle to find what that might mean. Is his hand moving higher on your thigh? You can’t keep your thoughts straight when he’s touching you like this. “Dating for six months, met in a coffee shop, you’ve been wanting to meet mah folks but time’s never been right.”

“Right.” You mumble, “John, um-”

“Johnny.” He cuts you off, “You call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” You restart, “could you, uh, could you move your hand?” He gives your thigh a squeeze so tight it almost hurts, and slides his fingers up your thigh to rest just at the junction of your hip.

“Already know your lines,” he jokes, you think it’s a joke, God you hope it’s a joke, “Just gotta ask me if ya want somethin’, hen. Ahm a doting boyfriend after all.”

“Right.” You repeat, your knuckles creak with how tightly you grip the steering wheel.

His hand leaves you and your body reacts to the loss almost as violently as it had the initial touch. A chill crowds the space Johnny’s hand used to be, and threatens to wrack through your spine. You squeeze your thighs together quietly. It’s fine, you’re fine. He said he’d start getting you used to being touched, that’s all it is.

“So what are you into?” You change the topic. 

Johnny is silent for a while, so long that you chance a glance over at him. It makes you nervous taking your eyes off the road, but you lose a moment tracing the strong line of his nose as you watch his profile. He glances at you and you lock your eyes on the road again.

“Art.” He says finally. You nod. Art is good, you like art.

“What sort of art?” You prompt. You can’t fault him a stilted conversation you suppose, you did change the subject rather abruptly.

“Sketching,” he tells you, before thinking better of it, “pencils and charcoals. Never got into painting, too hard to take into the field.”

That must be it, it’s a reminder of his time in the military. You’re bringing up bad memories with such a simple question. You must have a talent for sticking your foot in your mouth if it’s this easy for you to stumble upon touchy subjects.

“That makes sense.” You nod and attempt to end the conversation, “You’ll have to show me some of your sketches sometime.”

The shift in the air is immediate. Even in your periphery you can tell Johnny’s perked up at the idea.

“Really? You’d want tae see ‘em?”

“Of course,” You shrug, keeping your eyes forward, “I like art.”

“Maybe ya could pose fer me sometime,” Johnny grins. “Ah’d make sure ya looked as bonnie as ya dae now.”

You laugh at the compliment, a weak attempt at covering your discomfort. You don’t need any buttering up, the false affection of it rings so hollow in your ears that it’s almost painful. It’s an unwanted politeness, an engagement in the conversation that makes you sick at the thought of engaging with. You don’t need to see yourself in graphite, it’s bad enough seeing yourself in the mirror. 

“Or maybe ah’d draw ya nude,” Johnny muses and you shut your mouth hard enough to hear your teeth click. “That’d be braw.” He hums, looking out the window, “Could have ya spread those bonnie legs and show me yer cunt. Ah’d make sure tae get real close and get a good look, talk tae ‘er real nice ‘til she’s drippin fer me, no fun drawing’ ‘er dry.”

Your eyes flick to him, your chest tight. He’s looking out the window, his chin cradled in his hand, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You could almost believe you imagined it, but there were too many words, too detailed, to delude yourself into thinking you’d misheard the rumble of the engine.

You press your thighs together, fix your eyes on the road, try to ignore the man in the seat beside you. What are you supposed to say? Do you say anything? Is he hoping you’ll pull over and open your legs, pull his head between them and let him make good on his desire to talk to your pussy? 

The thought sends a shiver through you. You can’t say if it’s good or bad but it certainly catches Johnny’s attention to see you shudder. His teeth flash in the sun, and you know you’ve been caught.

“Aw hen, ya like when Ah talk like that?” His hand finds your thigh again, too high for you to mistake it as anything but what it is, a promise, “Ya want me tae tell ya how good ah am with mah tongue? Or are ya wet just thinkin’ about it?” He’s leaned closer, his hand squeezing your thigh so tightly it hurts, his shadow taking up too much of your periphery. “Fuck ah can smell it on ya-” His hand jumps to cup your cunt, and you freeze, “-warm, wet, little cunt. Stupid little girl. Should’ve worn a skirt so Ah could stick mah fingers in that pussy of yers and have a taste.” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest, your face burning as hot as the rest of your skin. He’s right, fuck he’s right. You’re aching, barely holding back from shifting in your seat and rocking against his searching fingers, all from a little dirty talk. You can’t open your mouth, can’t turn, can’t even move from the rigid position you’ve found yourself in, too scared that the barest twitch will make Johnny pounce,

And make the car crash.

You can’t be responsible for another death.

Johnny’s mouth opens, his body leaned far over the center console of the car (too far to survive a crash) and you feel his teeth scrape your neck.

Your body moves on its own, your shoulder jerks and you loosen your hand from the steering wheel to push him away. He goes willingly, laughing as he falls back into his seat and his hands leave you.

“Are you trying to kill us?” You demand, you can barely catch your breath, barely hold onto the boiling heat in the pit of your stomach.

“Ach, just havin’ some fun with ya hen,” He placates, “won’t it be easier holdin’ mah hand now that we’ve got that over with?”

You glare at the road and tamp down the heated humiliation that threatens to rise over you. No, you don’t think it will be. Especially not when you catch Johnny palming himself, and just know that’s the hand he’ll grab you with.

You can read the full fic here

[jakedustry]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌

IN WHICH Jake Sim loves hockey, he loves it so much he is willing to spend his every free minute on the ice skating, but he also finds himself falling in love with you—the only girl his coach doesn't want him to date. But with the way you look at him, can he stay far enough to keep his position as the captain?

pairing– hockey captain!Jake x fem!reader

featuring– Enhypen members, Dani and Manon of katseye, Taehyun and Huening of txt, Keeho and Intak of piwon

genre– Fluff, Smut, slightly angst

warnings/contains– SMUT, simp!jake, kinda love at first sight, protective father, good relationships with parents, food mentions, Jake is very much a dream boyfriend, jake has a license, lots of teasing and flirting, secrete relationship, reader is told to be slightly shorter than Jake, nicknames/pet names used, parents get in the way of their relationship, masturbation (m & f), sexting, nudes exchange, oral (m & f), unprotected and protected sex, not proofread

word count– 25.5k

playlist »» ❝ It took five seconds to fall in love and two more to make you mine ❞ — Elijah Woods

↪ izzy adds... I've spend a good amount of time just looking at this picture of Jake instead of writing but honestly...can you blame me? It's the way he looks at me, I just can't adalhdlad Anyways, i'm glad to finally show you my baby because I've been meaning to write a hockey romance for sooo long. And what better present could I give myself than finally publishing it AND with Jake as the star character haha

m.list

Ice. Water. They were the same thing, right? And if water was a necessity, ice was as well, wasn’t it? Because truly, it was. 

There is no difference. Ice is simply frozen water, something we need to survive. 

And you needed ice to survive. The feeling of freedom when you moved around, the way your skates clung to your feet perfectly, and especially the memories the ice held. You couldn’t just give up on them, no matter how much you tried to. 

It wasn’t because you wouldn’t want to, in fact, you’d do anything to be able to step on the ice rink again, but it wasn’t within your capabilities to argue about the matter. It was overnight, without any previous warnings or discussions, and as you were picking up your things to leave for the ice rink before school, your dad stopped you, and your whole world had crumbled down. I don’t want you on my ice anymore. His words ring in your ears to this day, making you feel worse each time.

When you were younger, it was part of your daily routine to spend the afternoon there, hanging around with the players until late nights. One of the perks of being the NHL player’s daughter, you suppose. But then, in the blink of an eye, the father-daughter moments you loved so much, suddenly stopped. 

At first, he tried to excuse it by telling you you needed to focus on your studies, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became that he simply didn’t want you around. Whenever you asked him if you could join him when he had training, he brushed you off without any good reason. It didn’t matter who was on the ice, if he had a lesson with the kids or people your age—you just couldn’t go. 

It’s been four months since you last got to skate, and it felt like a part of you was missing. 

“Why don’t you just go when he isn’t around then?” Your roommate, Daniela, asks, her eyes softening when she notices your tired expression as you stare at your phone, looking through old pictures. “I don’t want to go behind his back,” you mumble without glancing up at her. 

“But you want to skate,” your other roommate, Manon, reminds you. You nod, putting down your phone and sighing as you notice the worried looks on their faces. “Well, then, how about we all go together? I might be able to get us in after closing hours,” you offer.

“I’m sorry, angel, I need to finish this project by midnight, so I can’t,” Manon excuses herself, and Dani follows soon after, saying she has two exams in the morning. “But you should still go,” she encourages you. “Go and have fun. We know how much it means to you,” Manon agrees with her, and you know you can’t back away now. You’ll definitely go tonight. 

As soon as your feet stepped on the ice rink, it felt as if everything was back to how it was supposed to be. The cold air hit your face and all your worries, all the stress you were feeling in the past few days, have washed off. You moved quickly, the blades of your skates cutting through the ice with ease. 

In that moment, you knew there was nothing else you needed. As long as you had the ability to skate, nothing else mattered. 

So, just like that, it became a routine. Every day, shortly after ten, you’ve gone to the ice rink, borrowing the keys from the manager and staying there for an hour at least. Daniela went with you from time to time, keeping you company as much as she could but at the end, you realized it was more convenient to just go alone, without having to worry about the time you’d leave or come back. 

You didn’t mind. You were skating again and that was enough. 

“Hello, Mr. Park,” you greet him with a smile, just like you had many times before. “You’re earlier than usual,” he comments, putting on his jacket and taking out a bunch of keys from his pocket. You smile, grabbing the keys from him. “I needed to get out,” you shrug. 

“You kids seem to do that a lot,” he shakes his head slightly. “School is a lot on you, huh?” You don’t answer, knowing just one look is enough as a response. When was it not a lot? “I see,” he nods, understanding. “In that case, I hope it helps you clear your head. Both of you.” 

“Both of us?” You frown as you tug the keys into your pocket. “Dani isn’t with me today, I’m alone.” 

You catch a change in his expression, a small yet visible flicker in his eyes, and it almost feels like he is planning something, as if there was something meaningful behind his actions. “Mr. Park,” you narrow your eyes at him, trying to see through him. He chuckles, sending you a warm smile before patting your shoulder and walking away. 

You watch him confusedly until his figure disappears and you turn around again. That was…weird, to say the least. Still, you decide not to pay it much attention and do what you always do—go on the ice. 

You smile, letting the feeling sink in before you furrow your eyebrows, the loud movement of the puck ringing in your ears. You look around, your eyes following the hockey player on the other side. You stare at the number 4 on his back, frowning when you realize you don’t recognize him. You always knew the names of every player on the team, their practice schedules, positions, and even the rankings your dad had for them. But now…you had no idea who this one was. 

A part of you hated your dad for it. 

You hated him for taking it from you. For taking the excitement you felt when you watched hockey players or figure skaters. Now, you felt like there was nothing connecting you to those sports. 

You take a seat on the closest bench, switching your shoes to your skates. You’re tying the laces when a loud pank interrupts you, the sound of the puck hitting the plexiglass making you flinch. You raise your head, watching as the boy stops in front of you when he sees you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, pulling his helmet off with his empty hand, his hair sweaty. “That wasn’t meant to attack you or anything.” 

“I’m fine,” you brush it off, standing up with a casual shrug. “It’s not me you should be worried about, though. But rather your aim,” you point out. “And that stop didn’t look exactly stable, either.” You see him scoff, and slowly make your way toward the nearest entrance to the ice, your skates cutting through the surface with ease. 

“And who are you to judge? What exactly makes you think you know better than me?” he challenges you, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans on his hockey stick. 

You chuckle, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. You smirk. “Should I show you?” you tease, not bothered to wait for his answer as you swiftly push, gliding towards him, picking up your speed. 

His dark eyes widen in surprise and he drops his stick, his helmet following right after, expecting you to bump into him. However, you’re ready for that. With a swift movement, you take a sharp turn around him, coming to a perfect stop just behind him. “How’s that?” you ask, your voice filled with playful confidence. 

“Pretty good,” he breaths out, laughing in awe as he turns around to face you. “What’s your name, figure skater?” He asks, the mockery at the words ‘figure skater’ painfully obvious. “I’m not a figure skater,” you clarify, your movements precise as you pick up his dropped hockey stick. “I can handle the puck just as well,” you grin, imitating his moves from before and quickly scoring into the net. You strike a mockingly exaggerated bow, your name slipping past your lips, almost like a laugh in his face. 

What an introduction. 

“I’m Jake,” he says before picking up his helmet from the ground. You smile, skating backward away from him with his hockey stick still in your hands. He follows right away, and it’d be impossible not to notice the grin on his face. 

You take a few rounds around the rink, joking around with him as you skate backwards so you can see him. He has a cocky grin on his face, and for the first time, you don’t mind. You always hated seeing that look on men’s faces, when they thought they were above you, above everyone. But for some reason, his smirk didn’t look the same. 

At that moment, you think it might have hit both of you. The spark, the flame burning deep down in your stomach as you laugh together over nothing. 

You slow down so he can catch up to you. “Are you on the hockey team?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Of course, he is. The jersey made you figure out as much. “Yeah,” he nods. “The captain himself,” Jake laughs, speeding up to get in front of you and get the roles switched. “But I guess the coach made a mistake if there is so much I still need to develop.” 

“I mean, you’re decent,” you smile. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate that, figure skater,” he teases you again, but this time, you don’t hear any annoying mockery in his voice. “And anyway, the coach doesn’t make mistakes. He must have had something in mind when he made you the captain, number four.” 

“You seem to know a thing or two about him, huh?” You shrug. For a moment, your focus fades away as you think about your dad. You could have known the team sooner. You could have hung out with them just like with any of the other guys your dad trained. Sure, back then, you were a kid, so it was mostly just them looking after you, but you loved it nonetheless. You would give anything to feel that again. 

Jake uses the lack of your attention, grabbing the bottom part of his hockey stick and pulling you with him. You snap out of your thoughts, holding on tighter so you wouldn’t fall, letting him drag you around the ice rink. 

You stumble forward when he pulls with his full strength and you let go of the stick to be ready for the fall but before you hit the ground, his arms catch you, spinning you around as if it was a part of a performance. You end up laughing again. Honestly, you lost count of the amount of times he had made you laugh. 

“Thank you,” you mumble when he stops again, sending him a grateful smile. “For everything.” Jake shakes his head, “I didn’t do anything.” — “You did everything,” you correct him. “I needed this. So, thank you for reminding me why I love skating again.” 

Jake’s bag swings over his shoulder as he walks out of the ice rink with you, your bag in his other hand, despite all your protests. He insisted on carrying it for you, saying something along the lines of wanting to be gentleman-like. So you let him. 

“What exactly are you actually, figure skater? If you don’t play ice hockey or figure skate either, then what do you do?” He wonders as you lock the door behind you. “Nothing and everything,” you proclaim. “I grew up on this ice. I watched every game the Tigers played for the past thirteen years,” you shrug as if it was completely normal. It was normal, though. For you, at least. 

“So, are you some sort of Mowgli of the ice?” Jake laughs, causing you to do the same. “I guess you could say that. Even though it were still people who raised me, sometimes I feel like the ice rink had a big part in it too.” He nods, humming in response.

Jake ends up walking you to your dorm that night. You never mention who your dad is, nor what your last name is, because you don’t think it’s important. You talk about everything else with him—from your major, through your childhood hobbies, to your friends. You tell him all about it, and he tells you all about everything that he can think of at the moment as well. 

“Then, I’ll see you around, figure skater?” He wonders as he hands you back your bag, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe,” you smile. “I hope you learn to stop more smoothly until we meet again, number four.” He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, awkwardly snapping his fingers as he points at you and swallows what he wants to say next. You raise your eyebrows, questioning what it is, but he shakes his head, not saying anything else. He sends you one last smile before turning around on his heel. “Good night, figure skater.” 

“Night,” you mumble softly, smiling when you open your dorm door. 

“You’re acting weird,” Manon comments, eyeing you from across the room. You look up from your notes in your lap, raising an eyebrow at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Your book is upside down,” Dani points out and your eyes immediately fall down again. You quickly turn the book around, embarrassed. “For the last few days, you’ve been completely out of it. Why?” 

“I just can’t focus,” you sigh, resting your head against the headboard of your bed tiredly. “Tests?” Manon asks, but you’re not sure, honestly. Ever since that night, since you’ve met Jake, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the hockey team was doing this season, who was on the team, and if your dad was still just as strict with them as before. 

You just wanted to be a part of the life again. 

“Boys?” Daniela chimes in. You give her a look��almost a warning one, but it only creates a smirk on her face. “Bingo.” 

“What boys? What do I not know about?” Manon’s eyes widen, searching for answers in your eyes. “Nothing,” you shoot back. “There’s no one. I’m thinking about the Tigers.” 

“Those, Angel, are men as well,” she reminds you with a teasing grin. “Some fine ones, may I add.” You roll your eyes at her, but you don’t argue. You might have only met one of them so far but if his teammates looked anything like him, it was only another reason to meet the team. 

You needed to convince your dad soon, no matter what. 

“So, what about the Tigers?” Dani asks, the study notes on her desk long forgotten as she turns all her attention to you. “I’ve heard they are doing pretty well this season. Apparently some good first years joined this year.” You hum in response, thinking about it for a second. 

“I met their captain a few days ago, he was training when I got to the ice rink so we skated together,” you admit, watching their eyes widen in excitement. “It was nothing like that,” you roll your eyes at them even though a part of you knows it was like that. You can’t forget about the way he made you feel that day. “It just got me to miss them even more. You know, watching their trainings and stuff.” 

Their eyes soften and you shake your head when you notice the pity in their expressions. “Good thing Uni is keeping me busy anyway,” you joke, but the sadness in your voice is painfully obvious. Still, they don’t press you any more, understanding when it’s the time to just stay quiet.

It’d be silly to say Jake found his love at first sight. 

Still, he can’t seem to get you out of his head, and it’s getting to the point it disturbs his everyday life. 

“How about you stop thinking about getting your dick wet and focus, captain?” Jake’s roommate asks, dropping his notes in front of him. The black-haired boy snaps out of his thoughts, picking up the small notebook. “What’s this?” He frowns, opening the first page. “Ideas for our next game’s tactics. Discuss it with the coach if you like any of it.”

“And really, start paying attention. If you fail your exam just because of some stupid girl and we lose our captain, I’m going to beat you up.” Jake laughs, nodding. “I’ll pass, Jay. I’ve been studying,” he assures him, but the snort that leaves Sunghoon’s lips on the other side of the room makes Jay worry again. “What?” He raises his hands in the air in defence when he sees Jake glare at him. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t need to,” Jake rolls his eyes. 

“Look, guys, you don’t get it. You should have seen her! She was so cocky! She thought she could skate better than me!” He exclaims, a smile appearing on his lips as he thinks about the girl he met two weeks ago. “Honestly, she might have been better,” he chuckles. “I just know I was supposed to meet her there.” 

“And here he goes again with the fate thing,” Sunghoon scoffs, turning around on his chair to focus on his new skating choreography instead. “If you two are fated as you say, why haven’t you met again, huh?” Jay shakes his head at him, sighing. “Just look over the game plans. I’m going to the library,” he waves his two roommates a quick bye, grabbing his bag from the floor and leaving the dorm. 

The room falls silent for a moment before Jake speaks up again. “What if I went to see her?” 

“Oh God,” Sunghoon groans. There was nothing good that could come out of this. No matter how he looks at it, Jake’s sudden obsession could only go left. Still, it didn’t stop him. Before Sunghoon could say anything else, try to explain why it wasn’t the best idea, Jake was already up on his toes, packing up his laptop and some books for his afternoon lesson. 

“It’ll be fine,” he proclaims when he sees his roommate’s face, chuckling at his worries. “I’ll just say a quick hi to her, maybe get her number, and then I’ll go. I have math anyway, remember?” Sunghoon sighs, shaking his head. He lets him go, though, deciding to leave it up to him to deal with whatever he is planning to start. 

Jake hesitates as he stands in front of the same door he last saw you at, debating what he wants to say. Just as he reaches his hand up to knock on the door, the wooden furniture flies open and he almost bumps into a blond that tries to leave the dorm. He quickly blinks a few times, asking her if she’s okay. 

“Yeah, no worries,” she brushes it off, her eyes wandering all over his face curiously. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” 

“Ah,” he offers his hand for a handshake with a smile. “Jake Sim. I, uhm, am the captain of the hockey team.” She chuckles as she shakes his hand, connecting the dots. “Daniella Avanzini.” 

Jake awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he looks at her, realizing that he really had no plan at all when he came here. She, however, just smiles at him, and as if she knew what was going on through his head, she informs him you’re not home at the moment. He nods, quickly apologizing as he turns on his heel to leave. 

“Wait,” she stops him, her grin somehow mischievous. “She mentioned you before, just so you know. If you want, she plans to go skate at ten tonight again. I need to study so I can’t go with her, maybe you could keep her company.” 

Without realizing what he is doing, Jake’s lips turn into a smile and he nods, saying his goodbye quickly and running to his lesson. 

It’s six when Jake arrives at the ice rink, cursing himself out for being late. Coach was going to kill him sooner or later. He does his best to change as fast as possible but when he steps on the ice, it’s already 6:12. 

“Sim, you’re late!” Coach yells at him from across the rink, only sparing him a mare look before turning his attention back to the boys in front of him, watching them closely. “Practice speed drills,” he proclaims, quickly entrusting for Jay to lead it as he walks towards the team captain. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jake apologizes without hesitation. “I got caught up in school work but I’ll make sure I’m on time from now on.” Coach scoffs, shaking his head slightly and patting his shoulder. “I get it kid, don’t worry about it.” Jake confusedly glances Jay’s way but he is too busy with his own thing to notice. Something feels wrong. He shouldn’t be this understanding. 

“You–You do?” 

Coach chuckles, nodding. “I have a kid myself, I know how hard it can be for you youngsters.” 

Jake’s brows furrow but he nods anyway. He isn’t sure why he is so calm about it but if Coach is in a happy mood, he doesn’t need to piss him off. “Right, thank you,” he mumbles, offering a small smile before putting on his helmet and joining the others. 

“Dude, how are you this late and still alive and breathing?” One of the guys, Huening, asks as he comes to a stop right before the captain. Jake simply shrugs, glancing back at the coach again. “Not sure, but not complaining either,” he says, patting Kai’s shoulder slightly as he looks around to see how everyone’s doing. 

“Okay, I need to warm up. Jay, you got it for a bit?” He calls at the older man, receiving a simple nod in return. “Okay! No more lazing around, let’s go!” Coach yells at the same time as Jake starts moving again, tilting his head slightly. This seemed more like the coach he knew so well. 

The training goes on; from passing, through rebound drills to a full practice game where Jake almost curses out one of his closest friends, Heeseung, after they collide together and both bump into the plexiglass, causing Jake’s vision to blur for a few seconds. And when they finish, they all skate to one side where Coach is already waiting for them, a pen and notebook in his hands. 

Jake groans, tiredly plopping down onto the ice and taking down his helmet, brushing his sweaty hair back so they won’t get in front of his eyes. The rest of the team follows shortly after, until it’s only the coach standing. 

“Okay, first off, you all did well today, and I’m sure you know what you each need to work on so I’m going to make it short,” he says before handing his notes of the practice to the captain so he can go through them with his teammates later. “I won’t be able to be here on Friday so please, practice just as if I was and focus on the things I pointed out,” he continues, signaling to the notebook Jake is holding. “And after you’re done, you’ll find videos from some games in my office, take it as your homework and study them before our next game.” 

They all chant in unison, assuring him they will. “Alright, any questions or suggestions from anyone?” Jake looks around. “Well, actually,” Huening clears his throat nervously. “I’ve been thinking– I mean, we’ve been thinking,” he directs to a few guys around him. “A lot of teams gain their popularity online and you know, we only have our instagram account that no one really visits anyway. Maybe…we could get a media girl or something?” 

“A media girl?” Coach questions. 

“Someone who would film videos for us, take pictures and take care of our media for us,” Taehyun explains simply. 

“More people would know about us that way which also means more people to cheer for us at games,” Heeseung joins in. “More pretty girls thirsting over us,” he adds with a laugh, high-fiving with Keeho beside him. 

The coach tilts his head, watching the boys in front of him as he thinks about it, eventually nodding. “Sure, if you can find someone who’s willing to, then why not,” he approves and the guys cheer quietly. 

Jake’s eyes widen as it hits him, immediately raising his head to join the conversation. “I think I know of someone.” Jay catches the small spark in his eyes and shakes his head, knowing damn well what he was thinking about. He wasn’t even surprised. 

“So, who are you thinking about?” Keeho asks as he takes off his gear in the locker room. Jake’s lips turn up into a smile just at the thought of you, and that’s enough for all the guys to corner him, questioning him about this someone on his mind. “What? Are you too scared one of them is going to flirt with her before you can?” Jay teases, shaking his head as he walks into the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh? So your girl?” Heeseung wraps his hand around Jake’s shoulder but he escapes right after, grabbing his towel quickly to run to the shower instead. “Not my girl. Yet, at least,” he finally speaks up, disappearing before anyone can say anything else. 

Jake might not be the most responsible person on Earth or the most punctual, but when he knows a girl he can’t stop thinking about will be somewhere at ten, you can be sure he will be on time. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him sitting at one of the benches, a phone in his hands and his skates ready on his feet. Unlike the other day, this time he isn’t wearing his gear. He has a simple dark grey hoodie on with black pants, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You got lost, number four?” You ask as you slowly approach him. He looks up from his phone, grinning as he puts it aside. “My name is Jake, figure skater,” he reminds you while still keeping up. He watches you as you sit down next to him, putting on your skates. “And I am not a figure skater, Jake,” you say, unable to contract your smile as you glance at him again. 

“Guess I’ll have to think of a new nickname for you then.” 

“I guess you will,” you nod, standing up when you finish lacing your skates. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here but…first to be on the other side wins?” you suggest playfully, already stepping on the ice before he can even register your words. As soon as he does, he quickly tries to catch up to you, putting all his skills to use just to be faster than you. 

And he manages, even though it’s not the way he’d want. 

Just as he catches up to you, you step badly and the next thing he knows, you’re on the ice and he is turning around to get to you again as fast as he can. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice painfully obvious. You take his hand when he offers, standing back up awkwardly. “I’m good.” 

He sighs in relief, shaking his head at you slightly. He ruffles your hair and you yell immediately, making him laugh. “Alright, bambi, I think I won. What’s my reward?” He teases, the nickname making you frown. “Bambi?” He only smirks, slowly skating away from you, not taking his eyes off you in the process. “Fine, what do you want?” You ask, your skates cutting through the ice once again as you follow him. 

“We need a media girl,” he admits without a second thought. “I said I would find one. And I want you.” His words send shivers down your spine. You bite your bottom lip, watching him nervously while thinking about it. But really, if Jake tells you he wants you, can you refuse? 

“The coach agreed to this?” You ask before giving him an answer. As much as you’d love to hold onto this excuse to be on the rink, you still don’t want to just go behind your dad’s back like this. “Yeah, he said I can handle it. He has a big thrust in me, you know,” he says proudly, making you chuckle. “I’m sure he does.” 

“We have practice on Friday. Come by, I’ll introduce you to the team and you can decide then. I’ll understand if they piss you so much you won’t want to work with them,” he jokes. 

“And what if you’ll be the one annoying me so much that I decide not to?” You grin and he rolls his eyes. You manage to do a full lap by then, still following him around the ice rink. 

“Also, I want two rewards,” he proclaims all of a sudden before stopping. You mimic his movement with a raised eyebrow. “And why exactly should you get two?” 

“Because I’m amazing?” Despite his lame act, a chuckle escapes your lips and he knows he’s already winning. “Egoist maybe, yeah,” you smirk, scanning his face with your eyes. “Okay, what is it? I warn you though, if it’s stupid, I’ll kick you to the balls.” 

“Not my kids!” He fake-gasps dramatically, putting his hands in front of his crotch to prove his point. You laugh again, shaking your head. He smiles when he sees you, and the moment you notice it, you feel like something shifts between you. You swallow a lump in your throat, prompting him to finally tell you what he wants. You know you will definitely think about that smile of his later, though. 

“Okay, jokes aside, I want your number,” he admits, your eyes widening. “Why?” He chuckles. “What do you mean ‘why’? I want to be able to talk to you. I mean, what if I decide to stay late for training and need a goalie?” 

“So that’s what I’m good for, huh?” 

“That and maybe…just in case I feel a bit lonely here all alone,” he whispers, skating away again before you can say anything. You take a deep breath, sorting out your thoughts before you follow him, taking a turn towards the exit while he takes another lap around. 

You grab his phone from the bench, showing it to him. “Come here and unlock it if you want it!” You don’t have to say more. Jake doesn’t show any signs of hesitation before rushing to you, barely stepping off the ice as he takes the phone away from you. You chuckle at how determined he is, writing down your number when he hands you the phone again. 

“Why exactly am I a bambi now?” You frown as you watch him add a contact name. “Smile,” he says instead of answering, positioning the phone right in front of his eyes to get a picture of you from his perspective. He isn’t much taller than you but you still look up, forming an awkward smile. You’re not sure why, but there is a smile on his lips when he lowers his phone again. A smile so adorable you want to savor it. 

“Bambi is a cute animal,” he proclaims suddenly, making you blink a few times. “And even though you scared the shit out of me for a moment when you fell down, you were kind of like a bambi.” 

“I’m not sure what that means or if I like it.” 

“I’m telling you you’re cute,” he clarifies and a blush creeps up your cheeks. “See?” He shows you the picture of you he just took and your cheeks just redden. You do look pretty cute in that. “Thanks,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact with him and trying to get past him on the ice again. He laughs quietly at that but still steps aside to let you go, putting his phone back down. As he turns around to join you again he stops for a second, simply admiring you as you spin around, doing a few tricks as you have the space now. 

A part of him wishes to watch you like this forever. 

“Did you know I’d be here?” You ask as you walk side by side with him outside, your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them warm. “I did,” he admits. “I met Daniela earlier today when I stopped by your dorm and she told me you’d be here at ten.” Dani, I need to thank you for the rest of my life, you think, chuckling softly. “I see.” 

“She seems nice.” 

“She is,” you agree. “And so is Manon.” Jake smiles, fixing the strap of your bag as it falls off his shoulder. “Wait, shit, that means they’ll ask me about you,” you groan at the realization. Maybe you weren’t going to thank Dani for so long after all. Yes, you did enjoy your time with him but that didn’t mean you were ready for their questions when you got back. Honestly, a part of you wanted to keep it just between the two of you. A secret only you two knew about. 

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to tell them?” He teases, leaning slightly down to reach your ear. You roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds, pushing him off again. “That you’re childish.” 

He chuckles. “And? What else?” 

“That you still can’t skate.” He fake-gasps. You bite your bottom lip, rethinking your words as you remember the moments you spent with him on the ice. “And, maybe, that I enjoyed tonight,” you mumble, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you. 

“So you do like me!” He grins, clenching his fist in excitement as if he had just won a match against the strongest team in the league. You scoff, shaking your head at him. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Idiot you might consider going out with?” Jake asks, turning his head to face you, the hope in his eyes obvious. Your breath catches in your throat, the question loud and clear. Your eyes widen and you quickly glance at him to see if he’s being serious or just joking around. When you gaze into his eyes, you get your answer. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, averting your gaze again. “If you try hard enough.” 

And he does. He tries as hard as he can. Not only does he walk you to your door again, almost being dragged in by Manon when she sees him, but when he gets to his own dorm, he’s already texting you. It’s a stupid question, one that makes you raise your eyebrow, but it gets the job done, and you end up texting him for the rest of the night. 

You don’t think you’d be able to hide the smile he creates on your face even if you wanted to. 

Especially when he keeps sending you random pictures. Of his face, his roommates, of the notes he is studying at the moment, anything and everything. He’s cute, you have to give him that. 

Your Thursday lessons pass by in the blink of an eye and Friday rolls in faster than you’d expect. Jake provided you with the team practice schedule the day before and you were never this happy to know most of your lessons were in the morning and didn’t collide with any of their practice hours. 

You weren’t sure how you’d face your dad just yet, but that was a fight for your future self. Right now, the first thing on your list was to get out of your room as fast as possible so you can still make it to class on time. 

“You know, just saying like, you don’t need any makeup. So maybe, if you just ditched that, you won’t have to rush so much now,” Jake comments, watching you as you sit at your table, finishing up your hair. You glare at him. “I’m not letting you here again,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. “I got you coffee, come on!” You avert your gaze again so he wouldn’t see your smile. Because he did, and god damn. Who would have thought a man showing up at your door in the morning with a cup of coffee could be so fucking attractive? 

Manon and Dani left shortly after he came but they didn’t forget to mimic kissing together before they walked out of the door. You had to roll your eyes at them because even though Jake’s lips looked attractive, you weren’t just going to make out with him in your room when you were already running behind so much. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you proclaim, quickly collecting your books into a bag as you glance at him. He’s smiling when his eyes lock with yours, and it makes you melt just a bit more. “What?” you question, feeling slightly embarrassed with his eyes on you. “You’re pretty,” he says, standing up from your bed and handing you your cup of coffee. You blink a few times but before you can say anything, he is already out of the door. 

“Jake, you’re impossible,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

You catch up to him quickly, sipping on your drink as you walk side by side with him, sneaking glances at him until he calls you out on it. “You can just say you like my face and I’ll let you look at it all day but don’t be this secretive about it. You’re not good at it anyway,” he chuckles and you close your eyes in regret. You weren’t sure if letting Jake into your life was such a good idea after all. 

What even were you doing, honestly? Skating together at night, texting all day and at night where you should be long asleep, and now this. Why exactly did he just turn up at your door unannounced with your favorite coffee order as if it was normal? As if he’s been doing it for ages. 

But no matter how weird or rushed it might seem, it felt somehow right. You didn’t mind the attention he was giving you, and you definitely didn’t want him to stop. If anything, a part of you was just waiting for him to take a step forward. 

“I’m not looking at you,” you argue, averting your eyes. 

“Right, and I’m absolutely terrible at hockey,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine, you can steal glances all you want. But just because it’s you.” 

You feel your heart skipping a beat at his words. He had his way of gently flirting with you and it was making you crazy. You knew he was interested in you, you’d be blind not to notice that, but you still didn’t know what to do with his compliments and flirting, how to react to them. 

When you got to class, you thought that was your moment, a free minute to think about everything and figure it out, figure Jake out, but you’ve barely settled down in the class when your phone buzzed, announcing a message from no one else but the lost puppy himself. 

Jake: one attachment You: what exactly am I looking at?  Jake: flowers You: yes, I see that You: but why? You: also don’t you have a lesson?  Jake: oh, no, I’m free for another hour so I’m just walking around campus Jake: saw these and thought of you

You stared at the messages, a blush spreading across your face. He couldn’t get any better. Everything he did, every little comment or action, made you feel important, seen. And honestly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep talking to him without pulling him into a kiss and claiming him yours. 

Because right now, there was nothing you wanted to do more. 

At five, you arrived at the ice rink, the loud chatter of the boys from the locker room reaching you right after you stepped inside. You chuckle at it, the familiar feeling making you at ease. You sit down at one of the benches, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your messages—a few emails from the school, a message from your girls, wishing you good luck, and also a text from your mom. You quickly open the text, smiling softly as your eyes land on a picture of your mom in a red dress, asking you if she looks good. You immediately tell her that she’s beautiful and ask her what she’s getting ready for. 

Just as you do, the guys’ voices grow louder and you look up, watching them step on the ice one after another. You immediately find Jake with your eyes, your smile widening as he waves at you, skating to the plexiglass in front of you. “Come here, I’ll introduce you.” 

You step on the ice in your sneakers, awkwardly smiling at the few boys staring at you. “Coach is out today, said he’s got something with his wife. He might seem a bit scary at first but he is nice, the biggest Tiger of us all,” he explains with a smile, his hair falling in front of his eyes. So that’s what mom is getting ready for, you realize. 

“Oh, wait, you probably know him already, right? Would be weird if you haven’t after, what, thirteen years, huh?” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, quietly cursing at himself to just shut up. You chuckle, sending him a reassuring smile, your heart making a little flip at the way he remembers your words. 

“Okay, well, these are the tigers. Boys, our new media girl,” your name sounds fancy on his lips, little too good, honestly. You scan the faces in front of you, a few familiar ones you remember from the hallways or parties. “If you need any help, feel free to text me,” a taller guy skates towards you, reaching his hand out. You grab it hesitantly, your eyes narrowing at the smug smirk on his face. 

“Back it off, Hee,” Jake warns him, almost pushing him out of the way, which only gets the older man to laugh. “No need to worry. I’m not stealing your girl,” Heeseung chuckles, turning his head towards Jay with a knowing grin. They exchange a few words but you don’t catch them anymore, not when Jake starts talking to you, mumbling a quiet sorry. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head. “But…” a smile spreads across your lips as you gaze into his eyes, tilting your head slightly. “Your girl? How come I don’t know about that?” The worry in his eyes disappears, a hint of mischief replacing it. “They can probably just see the look in your eyes,” he proclaims, leaning in closer to reach your ear. “You’re basically undressing me with your gaze, Bambi.” 

You scoff, but before you can say anything, Jake is already skating away, leading their training and you have no other choice but to go back to the bench and think about it, about him. Were you doing that? Surely not… right? 

You watch Jake lead the practice and something in your shifts. As if he wasn’t already attractive enough, seeing him like this, helping everyone out and yelling at them what to do, he felt somehow hotter. 

Maybe you were actually undressing him with your eyes when you thought about it. 

And as if that wasn’t already enough on its own, every chance he got, he found a way over to you, asking you what you thought about them, if you were enjoying yourself, and also occasionally just saying a stupid joke that just came to mind. You laughed each time. Because no matter how stupid the joke might be, you weren’t thinking straight at the moment. 

“So, what do you think? Am I good?” He leans against the plexiglass, a smug smile on his lips. You shake your head with a chuckle, stepping closer to him. For a moment, you completely forgot about the other guys on the other side of the rink, only focusing on the golden retriever in front of you. “You’re not too bad.” 

“In that case,” he starts, quickly glancing around to make sure none of his teammates are standing behind him, ready to tease him to death the moment they hear him say the words out loud. “Can I finally take you out? Who wouldn’t want to date the greatest player on the hockey team?” 

You roll your eyes at his confidence but don’t refuse. Instead, you think. “Alright, Manon and Dani will be gone for the weekend but I said I’d stay at the dorm. If you want, you can come over and we can watch something.” 

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “No.” 

“No?” 

“I want a proper date with you. Not fuck you on the couch with a movie in the background just because you have an empty place,” he states, gazing into your eyes. Even though, if he was honest, he could still fuck you on the couch after the date if you wanted. 

Your breath hitches just so slightly as you look at him, averting your eyes. God damn it, Jake. He was better and better each second, and if he was in for the long game, so were you. “Fine, then pick me up,” you mumble, refusing to look at him again. But Jake doesn’t mind because he heard what he wanted, and he couldn’t be happier at the moment. 

You groan and close your eyes as you hear Jake turn around and yell “She said yes!” at his teammates, regretting your choice of date for a second. But when he glances at you again with his little boyish grin, you completely forget about it, telling him to get back to practice with a smile on your face. 

When the practice wraps up, your phone is full of pictures you took of the boys as they practice (most of them of Jake because every time he saw you pulling out your phone, he got into the shot), and it makes you smile again. Just being here with them makes you happy. Watching them bicker and tease each other, it was exactly what you were missing before. 

A few of the guys pat your shoulder as they leave, something about wishing you good luck but honestly, Jake is the only one you can focus on again. “Undressing me again, aren’t we?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “You’re on thin ice, boy. Might have to reconsider our date,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. 

“Okay, my mouth is shut,” he says, getting off the ice as well. He takes off his helmet, his lips turning up in a smile again as he watches you. “Wait for me? I’ll be quick.” You nod without a second thought, agreeing. 

It’s the third time he walks you back to your dorm from the ice rink. It might seem like a simple gesture, and really it is, but you still feel the warmth in your chest. You find yourself opening up to him more than night, sharing a few of your dreams and places you want to visit with him and he doesn’t miss out on the opportunity to offer you to go there with you. You brush him off but honestly, when you think about it, it doesn’t sound bad at all. 

“Darling, we haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you.” You smile gently as you listen to your mother’s voice, sipping on your morning coffee. At eleven. “I know, I’m sorry. But I have a break in a month, I’ll definitely come home then, I promise,” you say, a part of you feeling sorry that you haven’t been around for so long. Your mom sighs, putting her hand over the phone microphone as she shares the information with your dad. You catch a glimpse of his voice in the background but it’s not loud enough so you could make out words out of it. 

“And why not this weekend, Angel? I’ll make your favorite food.” You hesitate for a second, debating on if you should tell her or not. But in the end, honesty wins. After all, it’s your mother who you’re talking about. The same woman who held you in a tight hug after your first breakup, who told you stories about princes, saying she wishes you nothing less than a charming prince who would love you dearly. You knew she’d be happy to hear about it. Even if it means you won’t come home this weekend. 

“I’ve actually got a date later tonight,” you mumble and the soft gasp that leaves her lips makes you chuckle. “Oh my! Who is the lucky boy?” 

“He’s…” a smile spreads on your lips as you think back to the puppy-like-boy who’s been flirting with you since you first met him on the ice rink. “An engineering student. He…He’s nice to me, mom. And makes me smile a lot. I like him.” 

“That’s great,” she nods, approving quietly. “In that case, I hope you’ll have fun tonight. And, darling.” You narrow your eyes, catching the suspicious tone in her voice. She has something planned and whatever it is, it can’t be good. “If it works out, bring him with you next time. I’d like to see him.” And you were right. Even though you knew your mom would love Jake if she met him and that Jake would love your mom, thinking about bringing him to meet your parents when you haven’t even had one date yet wasn’t something you wanted to do. 

Still, you force a smile, almost as if she could see you through the phone. “Of course. I’ll see how it goes.” 

The conversation changes shortly after as she asks about Manon and Dani. You tell her about how they are doing in school, how you are holding up, and the conversation just flows naturally after that. 

At one point, she hands the phone to your dad and you repeat everything you just said, well, except for the fact you were going on a date. While your mom was always excited when you told her about boys you were interested in, you saw the way your dad’s jaw clenched just at a mention of a boy’s name. And while you loved being his little princess while you were little, you thought his overprotectiveness now was unnecessary. 

It’s around five when you hear the knock on the door. You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in and open the door, your eyes falling on Jake immediately. He is wearing jeans and a simple white shirt with his denim jacket over it but god, he looks fine. 

“Why didn’t you call or text? I would have gotten ready first,” you mumble, stepping aside so he can walk inside. He just shakes his head, saying something about being able to be with you for longer like this. You sigh, closing the door behind him. “Alright then, how fancy do you want me?” He smiles, glancing back at you. “I want you comfortable,” he proclaims and this time it’s you shaking your head. Alright, fancy it is. 

Jake settles down on your bed, his eyes following you as you scan the clothes in your closet. Then, finally, your eyes land on a brown dress, one you know hugs your body well. You glance at him with a teasing smile before grabbing the piece and disappearing into the bathroom to get dressed. 

When you walk out again, Jake’s jaw is practically on the floor and he has to hold himself back as he leans against the wall, watching you from the comfort of your bed. “God,” he breathes out and you chuckle, whispering a quiet thank you as you sit down at the table beside him so you could do your makeup. “You’re beautiful, gorgeous.” 

A smile spreads across your lips without you being able to control it, looking at him through your mirror. “You already convinced me to go on a date with you, no need to try so much anymore.” He only shakes his head at your words, “I’m not trying for anything. I mean it. You look amazing, love.” The nickname sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t let it show, applying your makeup and trying to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you say, turning to face him. He smiles when you do, averting his eyes from you for the first time since you sat down as he gets up, offering you his hand immediately. You roll your eyes at how cheesy he is but hold his hand nonetheless, letting him lead you out of your dorm. 

“Where are we going?” You wonder, following him to his car. You walk slightly ahead of him, trying to open the car door but it’s locked. He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches you, unlocking the car with a simple click of a button and then opening the door for you. “You think I’d let you open that on your own?” You blink a few times, sliding into the passenger seat without another word. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive the night if he had your heart racing so much already. 

The drive is calm, quiet, with jvke playing on the radio, only setting the mood for what’s to come. You softly hum to the songs as you look out the window, smiling. You weren’t even doing anything yet and it already felt nice. Just being with him, spending time together, was enough. 

When the car stops again and you try to open the door to step out, Jake sends you a warning glare, making you chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side while he walks around the car, opening the door for you and offering you his hand to help you step out. You shake your head at him, squeezing his hand tighter as he locks his car. “You really don’t have to do all that.” 

“Opening the door for you is the least I can do,” he assures you, the puppy eyes he gives you making your heart skip a beat. “Let’s go, everything is prepared already,” he says, taking you towards one of the buildings beside you. 

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step on the empty rooftop, your eyes landing on the blanket set in the middle with two baskets full of—how you assumed—food. You glance at him immediately, your eyes wide as you search for anything that might prove this isn’t real. Because honestly, how could it be? How lucky did you have to be to meet this man? 

“How did you–” 

“I have connections,” he shrugs, smirking when he sees your face. The innocent smile, with those wide eyes of yours was something he could look at forever. “I wasn’t sure what you would like but I thought dinner couldn’t go wrong, right?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You don’t answer him immediately. Instead, you move your hand to his forearm, squeezing it tightly as you stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Jake has to blink a few times to process what’s happening and before he can do anything, grab your waist, kiss you on the lips, smile, respond, anything, you’re already walking away, sitting down on the blanket he prepared earlier. 

He chuckles, shaking his head in awe as he comes to sit down beside you. You smile as you watch him, genuinely happy. “This is amazing, Jake. You couldn’t have made the first date better.” He smiles as well, opening the basket and taking out a bottle of wine. “I assure you it will be even better with this wine.” You laugh, taking out two glasses out of the basket and moving them towards him so he could pour the wine. 

The night went on with Jake feeding you all sorts of fruits he brought after you ate a dinner he ordered, drinking wine under the moonlight and watching the stars appear in the sky as you talked about all sorts of things. You’ve found a comfort rhythm together, making it feel easy to talk to him. And honestly, it felt almost like you were an old couple already, on your tenth date as least. It was a comfortable feeling. 

“Do you have any plans for the upcoming break?” You ask, taking a bite of a strawberry. “I was planning to go home, be with my parents and hang out with the guys. Riki has been bothering me about wanting to go out play basketball lately,” he laughs quietly at the thought, his smile turning into a teasing grin when his eyes land on yours again. “Why? Want to do something together?” 

You hesitate, rethinking if it was an appropriate topic of conversation when it was only your first date but the look in his eyes reassured you that whatever you want to say, he isn’t going to run away. “I might have mentioned you to my mom earlier today,” you admit and his eyes immediately light up. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Said that you’re an annoying little puppy that has been following me around for weeks,” you stick out your tongue, making him laugh. “Yeah, and what else?” He teases, leaning back on his elbows. Your eyes shift to something more serious but the smile on your lips never leaves. “That I like you, and hope this works out.” 

“I like you too,” he says without a second of hesitation and you can feel your cheeks heating up. He said it as if it was easy, no big deal. “She told me to bring you with me,” you add, searching for any sign of discomfort in his eyes. He doesn’t budge a bit though, his smile only growing wider as he nods. “I’d like that, for sure. Riki and his basketball can wait.” 

“Are you sure? You should probably be with your family. And if Riki has been asking you for so long–” 

Your name leaves his lips, interrupting you. Your cheeks flush pink and you gaze into his eyes again, swallowing a lump in your throat. God, why does your name sound so good coming from his mouth? “I’d let Riki wait for the rest of my life if it means being able to spend more time with you.” 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that,” you say, trying to mask the fact your heart is practically about to jump out of your chest. Because Jake? He had a way with words. But not only that. In the end, it came down to him as a whole. The way his eyes wandered over your body, the way he always knew what to say and do, the way he put so much effort into your first date—yeah, you did want to bring him to meet your mom. Who cared that this was only your first date? You knew it wasn’t the last. 

“That’s fine. I only care about what you like hearing.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, finishing the rest of the wine you had in your glass before standing up, walking to the rooftop edge. You lean forward, looking down at the street beneath you, watching the cars drive through and people walk to their homes. 

Jake admires you for a second before getting up as well, walking over to you. He hesitates for a second but then hooks his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smile. You freeze for a moment, slowly turning your head towards him. “Jake,” you whisper, your breath landing right on his lips. “Yeah?” Your breath hitches as you gaze into his eyes, his close presence sending shivers down your spine. Not in a bad way, though. A far from it, actually. 

Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and that’s all Jake needs before quickly spinning you around so your body would face him. He doesn’t wait for anything anymore and crashes his lips with yours, his hands coming to hold your head. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he pulls you closer to himself, kissing you as if you were the air he breathes. As if you were the only person in the world. 

And you kiss him back with just as much passion, one of your hands resting on his chest while the other holds onto his shirt, keeping him as close as possible. His right hand slowly moves down to explore the curves of your body, fingers digging into the skin on your waist in an almost possessive way. You moan under his touch, never pulling away, not even as his hand slides lower, wandering over your thigh before holding onto it, making you raise your leg and wrap it around him. 

“Fuck, wait,” Jake is the first to pull away, breathles as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, still holding your leg around his waist. “Wait,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, a soft groan leaving his lips. Your eyes widen, and even though he told you to wait, you kiss him again, the little sound he left out driving you crazy. 

Your body fits perfectly with his and you melt into him, the movements so natural you forget this is the first time your lips met him for a moment. Jake pulls away again, stopping you before things can turn in the wrong direction. Because fuck. He felt that kiss in every part of his body. 

“What’s wrong?” You frown, slowly standing on both of your feet again. “Nothing!” He panics immediately, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “No, this was– This was perfect, like I can’t even–” You chuckle as he stutters, trying to find the right words. His cheeks have turned pink, making him cuter than you’d admit. “I just,” he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t want our first date to go like that.” 

You raise an eyebrow at that before it finally clicks and you realize what he’s referring to. Your eyes soften, your lips turning into a smile. You can see it all in his eyes, the way he holds himself back, the way he eats your whole body with his eyes and yet, still only thinks about how to make your date perfect. 

“Alright, but what if I want to kiss you again?” 

“Then I’ll try really hard not to get hard.” 

You chuckle, the smile staying on your lips as you watch him. “Come here,” you say and he closes the space between you again. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Thank you. For trying so hard and making this the best first date I’ve been on.” You pull back again, scanning his features for a second. He looks proud of himself but also genuinely happy, his cheeks still slightly pink. You walk past him, getting back to the blanket while he stands still, thinking about everything that just happened. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling. “Let’s go?” He nods, catching up to you and casually throwing his jacket over your shoulders as you crouch down to clean up. “Come on, I got it,” he says, squatting beside you and filling the baskets again with the food you haven’t finished. 

“You’re going to be cold,” you mumble as you stand up again and let him pick it all up. He only throws you a glance and you squeeze the jacket around your shoulder tighter, ignoring the way your heart tries to get out of your chest. 

Jake leaves everything in his car and walks you up to your dorm, lingering in the doorway. “If you want to come inside, I wouldn’t mind,” you offer, opening your door. He smiles as he looks you up and down, taking the sight of you into his head once more. “I’ll come inside another time. If we win our next game. I can promise you that,” he answers, and you roll your eyes at him, masking the fact that maybe you wouldn’t mind that. 

“You’ll have to dream about that.” 

“Oh, trust me, I will.” 

You smile, “Good night, Jake.” 

Jake smiles as well, a soft genuine smile you could find yourself falling for. “Good night, love.” 

On Monday afternoon, you spend a little too long in the bathroom and your roommates notice, watching you from the doorway with curious expressions. You sigh, turning to them. “I’m overthinking it,” you breathe out and Manon nods immediately. “What’s going on?” 

“This is the first time I’m going to see Jake since our date. I don’t know, I’m nervous!” You explain, groaning. Daniella only laughs at you, shaking her head. “So? You’ll watch him be all hot on the ice, take a few funny videos and then you can make out with him against the plexiglass. What’s the big deal?” 

You roll your eyes at her, pushing past them and stepping out of the bathroom. “How am I supposed to just be there and act all normal around him? What if his teammates know?” You quickly shoot them a glance, making the two girls laugh. “Oh they definitely know,” Manon assures you. “You think he wouldn’t brag about absolutely winning you over with that date?” 

“And even if he didn’t tell them, one look at you and they’ll all see you’re absolutely head over heels for him,” Dani adds, plopping down onto her bed. 

“Just kill me,” you whine, jumping onto your bed as well. 

But honestly, Jake should be the one you worry about the least. Because it wasn’t him who was going to be surprised to see you on the ice. 

Shortly after, a loud knock on the door echoes through the dorm and Manon goes to open it, stepping aside immediately when her eyes land on the hockey captain. You hear his chuckle when he comes closer to you and when you open your eyes to look at him, his hand is reached out towards you, helping you get up. “Let’s go. I can’t be late,” his voice is soft, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks as you gently hold onto his hand. He laces your fingers together, offering your roommates a quick hello with a smile before walking off with you by his side. 

You’re laughing when you enter the ice rink. Jake quickly disappears into the changing rooms but doesn’t forget to kiss you before he does, making you freeze in your place for a second as you watch him. Suddenly, you don’t feel so scared about how things were going to look like. Because with Jake, it felt easy. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Because as you enter the playground, your eyes fall to a person you completely forgot would be here today—your dad. Oh god. Okay. You take a deep breath as you walk towards him, preparing what you were going to say. He doesn’t notice you approaching as he focuses on his conversation with the goalie, Intak if you remember correctly. You clear your throat nervously, getting their attention. “Sorry to interrupt,” you start, watching as your dad’s eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. “I just wanted to say that I’m here.” 

Intak smiles at you immediately, greeting you warmly before skating off to warm up, assuring you their conversation already ended. You finally look your dad in the eyes, catching the mixture of emotions in them. Is he mad, glad to see you, or even disappointed? You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words to say. Then, his lips curl into a smile and he pulls you into a hug, making all your worries vanish. 

“What are you doing here, darling?” He asks as he takes a step back again. “Well, I know you said– I know you don’t want me here, for whatever reasons but…the guys asked me to be their media girl and I thought– it was a way to get back again,” you start blurting out words, unsure if they even make sense, avoiding eye contact as you wonder what he’s going to do. Kick you out, remind you you’re not supposed to be here? Whatever it is, you don’t want to hear it. 

But then he says what you least expected. “Angel, it’s fine,” he chuckles. “I know I…told you not to come here anymore but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“You are?” Your eyes lit up with a spark of hope. “How could I not be? You’re my daughter, I’m not going to say no to hanging out with you. And also, your mom has been all over me lately, telling me I’ve gone too far and should let you come here when the ice is free,” he sighs. 

“Why didn’t you want me here in the first place?” You wonder hesitantly, watching his smile fall, catching a spark of regret in his expression. “It was stupid,” he admits. “I’ve realized that right after I’ve done it. I just thought that now you’re all grown up you…” 

Before he can finish, another voice interrupts him and you feel a familiar arm hook around your waist. “Coach! I see you’re already getting to know our new addition to the team, this is–” 

“Hands off my daughter, Sim. Immediately,” your dad commands, his eyes darkening as he watches his captain pull you close so naturally. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he obeys right away, blinking a few times as he places the pieces together. “Your daughter?” He asks, trying to remain calm. But honestly, he was far from that. “You didn’t know?” He frowns, scanning the boy with his dark eyes. “Uhm, no, sir,” Jake answers, quickly glancing at you for some sort of explanation. You just swallow a lump in your throat, trying to figure out what even is the right thing to say at the moment. 

“Dad, stop. He did nothing wrong.” 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you on my ice.” 

You frown, a part of you mad at your dad again. Because what did that even mean? That his reason behind forbidding you to skate was even stupider than he made it seem seconds ago? “What, Jake? The guys? You can’t be serious, right?” 

“I am serious. These guys are exactly what I’ve tried to keep you away. I know them, know what they are like. These players scream trouble.” 

You scoff, “ironic coming from a NHL player, don’t you think?” Unbelievable. You turn to face Jake, ready to assure him, tell him to ignore your dad, but before you can even as much reach for his hand, he steps away, his gaze fixated on his coach. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna…start the practice,” he excuses himself quickly, disappearing without a single glance in your direction. 

If you were mad before? You’re furious now. “Great. Really great, dad. Thanks for ruining all the good things in my life. As if taking skating from me for months wasn’t already enough.” Before he can say anything, argue or apologize, you’re already on your way out of the complex, ignoring his calls after you. 

You manage to bump into Heeseung on your way out, mumbling a quiet sorry as you try to move past him. He frowns, stopping you. “You okay?” He asks but you just brush him off, sparing him just one simple glance before he moves aside, letting you leave. When you step out, you realize it was so easy because there are tears in your eyes. 

You wipe them off with the back of your hand, cursing yourself out. You’re not sure why you’re crying, if it’s all the frustration building up in you, your hormones making fun of you, or because Jake, the boy who made you feel so good in the past few weeks, has just acted like he barely knew you. 

You hated the feeling. 

Heeseung quickly blurts out an apology as he steps on the ice, frowning when he sees no one is paying him any attention. He skates towards the others, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the way the coach’s eyes stay glued to Jake, following his every movement. “Jake!” He calls after him, bringing him back to reality. “What?” Jake blinks a few times, subconsciously glancing at the coach nervously before focusing on his friend. 

“What did you do? Why did I just see your girlfriend run out of here crying?” He questions and Jake’s eyes widen immediately. He doesn’t even care to correct Heeseung that you’re not his girlfriend as he asks a different question, “she was crying?” 

“Yeah, man. I don’t know what happened but she looked…sad, broken I’d say even.” Jake’s hand clenches into a fist, partly mad at himself for disappearing like that before and partly just…worried. Whatever it is that got you feeling like this, he hates it. And he hates himself even more, knowing he might be the reason. 

Jake is out of focus for the rest of the training, too lost to even notice the coach yelling at him for being on a completely different side than he should be. It’s all in a blur, the whole training, the way he crashes with Taehyun as they do speed drills (Jake’s fault, no doubt), and even the way some of the guys ask him why you’re not here and if you’ve already decided you don’t want to be their media girl. 

His head is fully occupied with the thought of you, the way you tried to reach for his hand before but he just stepped back, the way you looked at him when the coach said something about Jake not being good enough (he didn’t but that was how Jake interpreted it), and the way you had kissed him just a few days ago. 

So, naturally, when practice came to an end, he tried to get off the ice as soon as possible, needing to see you, talk to you, apologize, and kiss you again. 

But he had to freeze mid movement as the coach’s voice rang in his ears, calling after him. Jake made a spin, a soft sigh escaping his lips when he saw the look on his face. “Get changed and come see me in my office, Sim.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jake mumbles back, no questions needed. It was way too obvious what he wanted to talk about. 

“What did you do?” Keeho asks curiously, glancing at the captain as he takes his gear off. “Don’t even ask,” Jake groans, sitting down in his place. “Did you guys know she is his daughter?” He shoots them all a look, the hidden desperation to find out he wasn’t the only one out of the picture passing by unnoticed. “Who?” Kai frowns confusedly. 

“Guess. Maybe the only girl Jake ever flirted with?” Taehyun chuckles, making Jake roll his eyes. “She isn’t the only girl I ever flirted with,” he argues but Taehyun doesn’t care enough to argue back. He just shakes his head, gently patting his shoulder as he moves to the showers. 

“She’s the coach’s daughter?” Jay speaks up, getting Jake’s attention immediately as he nods fiercely. “Apparently! He almost killed me when I put my hand around her waist earlier!” 

“And what did you do?” Intak eyed him from across the room. “Left,” he answers, so quietly the guys around him almost don’t hear him. Heeseung, however, catches it, his eyes widening. “You what?! Is that why she was crying?” 

“I don’t know!” Jake groans, hiding his face in his hands. “And now coach wants to speak with me as well. I don’t want to speak to him! What if he kills me?” 

“Should have thought about that before you made moves,” Intak snickers, disappearing into the showers as well. 

Slowly, everyone gets into the showers so they can be back at their dorms sooner but Jake takes his sweet time, delaying the meeting for as long as possible. However, when Huening peeks back into the dressing room a few minutes after he’s left to inform Jake about the fact the coach looks impatient, he collects his things and finally makes his way out of the dressing room. 

“You wanted to see me?” Jake says awkwardly as he steps into the office, placing his bag on the floor near the door but not sitting in the empty chair in front of him. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel the same as when he came into the office after practice to discuss game tactics. “You can sit down, Jake,” he says, more calm this time. 

The hockey player nods hesitantly, taking a few steps forward and then sliding into the chair. He stares down at the table, thinking about what he was supposed to say, how he would explain himself. “So,” the man clears his throat and Jake finally looks up. “You’ve been…seeing my daughter?” 

“Uhm,” Jake hesitates but when he sees the look on his face, he realizes lying isn’t going to get him anywhere. “Yes, I’ve– We met here a few weeks ago when I stayed late after practice to train some more.” 

He hums in response, eyeing him up and down. Jake swallows a lump in his throat. “And I’d like to keep getting to know her if that’s okay with you.” The coach stays quiet for a while, his brows furrowed into the same thoughtful look he always had while watching a team’s gameplay and figuring out what they could do to stop them. It makes Jake nervous. 

“And you’re the guy my wife told me about before? The one she had a date with this weekend?” 

“That would be me,” he nods. 

“What did you do?” 

“We had dinner together, sir.” 

“And then?” 

“I…took her back to her dorm. Walk her to the door and then we parted ways.” 

“You didn’t come in?” 

“No, sir,” Jake answers, frowning slightly. “I was respectful the whole time,” he adds, leaving out the fact he almost got a boner after kissing you. That definitely wasn’t something he’d want to discuss with your father. 

He hums again, not saying anything else. 

“I want you to keep your distance,” he proclaims suddenly, making Jake’s eyes widen. “What?” 

“You heard me, didn’t you? You have games to focus on, tactics to go through and teammates that rely on you. You need to have a clear head with no distractions if you want to take it somewhere.” 

Jake wants to argue, say that you’re not a distraction, that he can easily play as well as he did until now and still be a good boyfriend to you, but when he sees the firm look on his coach’s face, one telling him that it’s already decided and he can’t do anything about it, he only squeezes his hand into a fist, gripping tightly onto his pants as if that could possibly ground him. 

“You can go now,” he says but it’s more like a command, telling him to get out of his sight. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, rest well.” 

“Right,” Jake mumbles, the sound coming out more grumpy than he’d intended for it to. He doesn’t care to apologize though, pushing the chair back and getting out of the office as soon as he can, almost forgetting to grab his bag on his way out.

Jake [19:52]: I’m sorry Jake [19:52]: for brushing you off like that before

You stare at his messages for a few seconds, squeezing the phone tight in your hands as if that could make them go away. Well, maybe if you squeeze hard enough they will. You sigh, turning it off. You’re not even sure what or who you’re mad at but the feeling sits on your shoulders, reading the messages with you and it makes you feel even worse. 

Manon looks at you from across the room, glancing at Daniella before they both walk over to you, sitting on your side each and pulling you into a hug. You chuckle softly but in reality, it comes out broken. “Men are idiots.” 

“Absolutely,” Manon agrees, her grip tightening just a little. You smile, allowing yourself to melt in their warm embrace. “Yeah but one of them is my dad and the other a boy I really want to keep in my life.” 

“And that’s fine, just–” before Dani can finish her sentence, probably say something about how there will be more men interested in you and that Jake doesn’t have to be the one you settle for, your phone lights up again with another message from him. 

Jake [19:55]: Your dad held me after practice, wanted to talk to me

You blink, ignoring Daniella’s frown and unlocking your phone immediately. 

you [19:55]: About?  Jake [19:55]: Us Jake [19:55]: He asked me about our date Jake [19:55]: What we did and then basically if we slept together you [19:56]: what did you tell him? Jake [19:56]: The truth Jake [19:56]: That I took you back home and left immediately after you [19:57]: hm  Jake [19:57]: I’m sorry, Bambi Jake [19:57]: I planned on running to you right after practice  you [19:59]: But you didn’t Jake [19:59]: your dad told me to stop seeing you 

Your heart drops when you read the last text, part of you mad at your father, the other just disappointed. Because if your dad telling him to stop was enough for him to actually do so, then maybe you were wrong about him all along. 

Jake [20:00]: he practically told me that if I want to play I have to 

“My dad is officially not an actual person,” you groan dramatically, showing the text messages to your two friends. Dani reads through them with a frown, judging every word silently. 

you [20:01]: Are you going to listen to him? Jake [20:01]: I don’t know 

You want to tell him that if he’s even thinking about it then you should put an end to whatever it is that’s between you two, you should tell him that but as you watch the three dots appear and disappear all over again, you decide you can’t. 

So instead, you change the topic of your discussion, acting as if nothing happened. You can sense that Jake is somewhat relieved when you do but it lingers in the air for the rest of the conversation. How could it not? 

You know Dani judges you when she sits at her bed again and focuses back on her work but you try to ignore it, focusing on Manon’s support as she encourages you to text him, and then eventually, when the clock hits eleven, forcing you to talk about the elephant in the room as well. 

You sigh but listen anyway, your fingers hesitantly moving across your phone keyboard. And so, you talk about it. About what your father said, how you feel about it, and how Jake wants to do the complete opposite of what his coach told him to. It makes you smile. 

you [23:26]: How about this you [23:26]: We can pretend to listen to him Jake [23:26]: I’m listening Jake [23:26]: Enlighten me princess you [23:27]: Shut up you [23:27]: Around him, I can pretend I’m mad at you you [23:27]: And we won’t talk you [23:27]: You’ll simply act like he asked you to you [23:28]: while in private… Jake [23:28]: We continue seeing each other you [23:28]: exactly Jake [23:28]: I can definitely work with that Jake [23:29]: it’s not like I want him around on our dates anyway Jake [23:29]: Even less if I’m coming in you like I promised 

You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the smile that spreads across your lips as you read his messages. Who cares what your father thinks. If Jake is supposed to scream trouble, you’ll gladly listen to it all. 

The following days pass by exactly how you planned. You stay as the team’s media girl, talking to your dad as if nothing ever happened and acting as if Jake didn’t exist. And then, in private, you make use of all the time you can get together. 

“Missed you,” Jake mumbles as his lips crash with yours, guiding you towards his bed. You smile into the kiss, your hand finding a few hair strands and tugging at them slightly. He groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “You were with me the whole evening,” you remind him, holding onto his collar as you sit down on his bed, bringing him down with you. “That’s different,” he argues, stealing another kiss from you. 

His hand grips onto your waist, keeping you as close as possible, his lips never leaving yours. “Well, if you want to be with me more, feel free to tell my dad,” you smirk, pushing him off slightly. He frowns, “don’t talk about my coach while being in my bed.” You giggle, a soft sound that makes Jake’s heart skip a beat. 

“Then talk about what you want to talk about,” you tease, moving back until your back hits the wall. He immediately moves to sit in front of you, his hands gently parting your legs so he can move between them, coming closer as he kisses you again with so much need it causes a moan to escape your lips. 

“Be my girlfriend,” he says between kisses, squeezing your tights firmly. Your eyes widen immediately but the surprise vanishes when you see his sincere eyes, waiting for your answer, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “That’s how you ask a girl you like?” You tease him, trying to ignore the butterflies forming in your stomach. 

“Please,” your name on his lips makes you weak every time but now that he has that look in his eyes—the one that makes you want to kiss him until neither of you is able to breathe—it makes it even harder for you not to jump him immediately. “Let me take care of you, cherish you, and make you smile every day as your boyfriend. Because as much as I love this, I want to be yours completely.” 

By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already pulling him in for another kiss, your cheeks completely red and your heart beating faster than before. Because, god, Jake Sim was going to be the end of you. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you say and he immediately cups your face, pulling you even closer than before, his body fully on yours now. 

His hand moves down again, his fingers gently wandering under your shirt when the door swings open and you quickly push him off, turning your head to see who came in. “God, get your own room for this,” Jay groans, closing the door behind himself. Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair before glancing at you, giving you one of his boyish grins. Your breath hitches for just a second before you clear your throat, recollecting yourself. 

“I thought you would be out,” Jake shrugs, moving to sit beside you, casually hooking his arm around your shoulders. You smile at him and shake your head slightly. “It’s fine, I should go anyway. I still have stuff to learn.” He turns his head to you to argue but when he sees your soft, reassuring smile, he just nods. “Text me later?” 

“Of course,” you nod, leaning closer to place one last kiss on his lips before standing up. “Don’t kill Jay while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll try,” Jake promises with a laugh, watching you leave the dorm with a smile. 

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know you two would be here. Put a sock on the knob next time or something,” Jay sighs, throwing his bag onto his bed. Jake just shakes his head, brushing him off by saying it’s fine. “Sunghoon has practice later and I have a date so if you want, the room will be free then.” 

“You’ve heard the lady, she has work to do,” Jake chuckles. “But thanks, I’ll figure something out.” 

Jake must have been the luckiest person to ever live because what were the chances of having an empty dorm and a girlfriend who loves to make him go crazy? 

Jake [21:05]: Still studying? 

He waits for an answer for a few minutes, trying to focus on his own work but honestly, it’s impossible. He reaches for his phone to check his messages when it suddenly lights up, announcing that you answered. He doesn’t hesitate at all as he opens your conversation, his eyes widening when he sees the picture you’ve sent him. 

It’s simple; you lying in your bed, your hair a mess on your pillow with your lips slightly parted, your eyes piercing at him through the screen. He groans as he watches you, his eyes falling to your bare shoulders. You’re in a white tank top, the straps falling off your shoulders enough for him to picture how you’d look with nothing to cover your body. 

Before he can do anything about it, he remembers how you laid in his bed just mere hours ago, thinking about how it’d feel to have you here again. You, bend over this very desk he’s been sitting at for the past hours, when he finally gets to touch you in a way he dreamed of from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you. He can hear you moaning his name and groans, sliding his hand between his legs. 

 He palms himself at the thought of you, your pretty eyes looking at him as he slides his tongue between your folds, knowing you taste incredible. He closes his eyes shut, his brows furrowing as he thinks about you in his bed, screaming for him to slow down to loudly all the kids on this floor would know just how good he makes you feel. 

He thinks about you in every part of his dorm, the shower, where he helps you wash up just for his cock to find your hole again, at the entrance where you’re so impatient you can’t even wait to get to his bed before you wrap yourself around him, even on the floor, sucking him off under the table while he tries to focus on the new hockey tactics you helped him come up with before. 

He chases his high as he thinks about what kind of face you make when you come, his hand moving faster, with more force. Soft moans leave his lips as he reaches the edge, his cock twitching in his hand and your name falling off his tongue before he releases, imagining it’s your mouth wrapped around him, your lips that swallow his sperm. 

“Fuck,” he curses, his head falling back as he catches his breath, pushing all the dirty thoughts that still hang in his head aside as he looks at your photo again, typing his answer. 

Jake [21:17]: That’s my pretty girl you [21:17]: Took you a while to answer for someone whose I’m supposed to be Jake [21:17: had a problem I needed to take care of, sorry baby

Your cheeks flush red immediately when you read his message, your mind going blank. Daniella notices the shift in your behaviour but before she can say anything, you run away to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you slide to the floor against the door, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

you [21:18]: Show? 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, the room getting hotter when you see a picture he sent you. You swallow hard, feeling your pussy clench around nothing but thin air as you stare at the picture of his hard cock in his hand, catching a glimpse of his cum. God. 

He’s big, bigger than you expected. You slide your pants down with ease, your fingers finding your clit immediately. You bite onto your bottom lip so you wouldn’t let out any sounds, keeping your eyes on his picture. 

Jake [21:20]: Feels good?

He sends the questions as he palms himself again, watching the three dots appear and disappear again. He smirks, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you. 

you [21:20]: yeah

You send him a quick picture of you sitting on the floor, two fingers deep in your hole while your thumb presses against your clit. Your face is out of the picture but you know he won’t mind that, not when he now has a better material to jerk off to. 

You keep your eyes on your phone, reading through his new messages as he praises you while also trying to guide you through it. It works. Too damn much, if you’re honest. You close your eyes as you feel your orgasm building up, the thought of his long fingers (that you fantasized so much about before) replacing yours sending you over the edge. 

You sigh, your breathing heavy as you text him again, trying to calm down. If you don’t find a time when no one will be at the dorm quickly, you’re sure to go crazy soon. 

The following Saturday you find yourself standing in the coaching box alongside your dad, watching your boyfriend and his team skate around the rink. It’s the second period already and Tigers are winning by three points but you can’t help but feel nervous every time they lose the puck. Maybe because it’s the first game you’re watching as a girlfriend of one of the players, or maybe because you know there are scouts watching the game and this could be a great opportunity for Jake (or any of his teammates). 

You yell excitedly, cheering them on as you see the number four pass by two defenders all alone, the nervousness building up in you as you watch Jake make it to the goal. “Come on, come on,” you mumble as he shoots, praying for the puck to make it in. “Yes!” The whole team yells at the same time as Jake scores another point for them. 

The buzzer announcing the period end rings in your ear and you watch Jake skate towards the bench as quickly as he can, wishing to do nothing more than to pull you into the warmest hug he can. However, before he can do anything stupid, his coach pulls him into a hug instead, patting Jake’s back while praising him about the goal he just made. 

Still, his eyes stay glued to you, his coach’s words passing unnoticed by him. You smile at him, jokingly rolling your eyes when you see your dad. Jake chuckles, taking a step back and finally looking at the coach. 

“Thanks, coach,” he laughs before his teammates pull him into another hug. Your dad walks back to you, smiling proudly. “He’s going to take it far. If he’s lucky the scouts are all already writing his name down.” You smile as well, glancing at Jake for a brief second before you mask your excitement again. “Yeah, he isn’t all bad,” you mumble, making sure not to pay him more attention than absolutely necessary. Because if Jake’s truly lucky, your dad won’t notice the way his eyes linger on you throughout the whole fifteen minute break. 

The third period passes in a blur, ending with the Tigers’ win eventually. You watch as Jake and Heeseung find each other when the game ends, laughing as they pull each other into a hug. Huening and Jay skate to them immediately after, the rest of the guys following as soon as they can, jumping from the bench and skating to them to celebrate. You smile, a proud genuine smile your dad hasn’t seen on your face in what feels like ages. At that moment, it was completely clear to him that forbidding you from stepping on the ice was a bad idea all along. Because this was where you belonged, in the stands, watching his team take home another win just like you always had. 

“God, you were so pretty standing there and cheering me on,” Jake mumbles against your lips as he kisses you again, his hands wandering under your shirt. Your back hits the wall as he cups your breast in his hand, moving to kiss your jaw. “Are you sure no one’s here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to give him more space as he moves lower, placing wet kisses on your neck. 

“The guys are all long gone. I told them not to wait for me,” he says and you gasp as you feel his teeth on your skin. The game ended almost an hour ago, no one should be at the rink anymore. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you could get caught any minute. Even though the changing rooms were more private than the game area, it still felt too exposed. You just want to take him back home with you but you know that isn’t possible, not when both of your roommates are there. 

With the way he sucks onto your neck he’ll definitely leave hickeys but you’re not in the right mind to care enough, so, instead of telling him to be careful not to leave any visible marks, your hand finds his hair and you keep him in place, a soft moan escaping your lips at the feeling. He smirks, rolling up your shirt to get a better view. “Remember my promise?” 

“That you’d come inside of me if you win the game? Very clearly,” you assure him, your breath hitching when his cold fingers wander over your bare skin. He smirks as he watches you, his hand moving to your back, holding onto your bra clips. “Can I take this off?” You nod, your eyes following his every movement. He’s hot with his hair still wet from his previous shower, standing in front of you in that annoyingly handsome tank top of his. 

He unclips your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He groans at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. But just as he leans down, cupping one of your breasts with his hand and kissing the other one, the door swings open and he is quick to fix your shirt so that whoever just walked in won’t see what’s meant for his eyes only. Probably a cleaning lady, he forgot about the possibility of one of them coming in. Still though, how unlucky did he have to be to be interrupted both times he was about to be intimate with you? 

He opens his eyes, ready to apologize to the lady for still being here but he stops when his eyes land on a male figure instead, the words catching in his throat. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice rings in your ears and you quickly stumble forward to collect your bra from the floor, hiding behind your boyfriend to put it back on. Jake clears his throat in the meantime, opening his mouth and closing it again because truly, he had no idea what the appropriate answer to that question was. 

“Sim?” His voice is stronger now, sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “We uhm– this isn’t–” he tries to figure something out but when he comes to the conclusion there’s no possible way out of this, he closes his mouth again. 

He calls out your name next and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a step forward again, standing by Jake’s side. “We are going home. Now. And you, Sim,” he turns to him again, staring a hole in the middle of his eyes. “We will talk about this later. I thought you had a good shot at making it somewhere but you– don’t expect to play on my team again.” 

“What?!” You and Jake shout at the same time. You immediately look at him, your eyes full of regret while his just show…fear, vulnerability. You hate seeing that. “You can’t be serious!” you yell, looking at your father again. “You can’t– He is your best player! You’ve seen him play today! You hugged him and called him son!” you remind him but your dad just scoffs. “I’m not talking to you about this. Take your things and get to the car. End of discussion.” 

“No, you–” you try to argue again but Jake stops you, holding your hand in his and making you look at him. “It’s fine, darling,” he assures you, giving you one of his smiles, except this time it not only feels but also looks forced. You open your mouth again but he leans down and presses his lips on yours, squeezing your hand tightly so you’d know he is there. “I don’t regret you in the tiniest bit,” he says gently, slowly letting you go. The pain in his eyes makes it feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and there is nothing you can do about it. You hate the feeling. 

“Go,” he nods, mouthing the words “text you” as he places his hand on your lower back and guides you forward until you finally move on your own, stopping only once you reach your dad. “Fuck you,” you look him straight in the eyes with not a single care in the world before walking past him to get outside. 

Jake exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I love her,” he proclaims confidently, catching his coach off guard. Your dad stands at the door, still trying to make sense of what just happened and if you really cussed him out. He focuses on Jake again, his glare never falling. “And honestly, I don’t care if you won’t let me play because of it. But we both know Heeseung won’t perform that well without his duo and it’ll only be a matter of time before the team falls.” 

“Are you threatening me?” He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“No. That’s your hobby lately, don’t you think?” Jake doesn’t say anything else, taking all his things along with your jacket that you left just lying on one of the benches and making his way past the coach. He stops again in the doorway, hesitating for a second. “I won’t stop seeing her.” 

“Right,” the coach mumbles but all the confidence he had while yelling at the two before is gone, replaced with uncertainty and fear. “Good luck with the rest of the season,” Jake adds, the genuinity in his voice only pissing off the coach more. 

The door closes again and just like that, he’s standing there alone. He needs to blink a few times to gain control again because everything about this conversation was only proving him of the fact he had no control anymore. His little girl was growing up faster than he could comprehend, and his team was slipping through his fingers just as fast. He knew what Jake was like and that he had a great potential to continue with hockey and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting his daughter’s future on Jake’s. 

“Darling,” he breathes out as he slides into the driver’s seat. You don’t turn to look at your dad though, focusing solely on the game on your phone. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before fastening his seatbelt. “I’m just looking out for you. You have the whole life ahead of you, so many opportunities and goals to still achieve.” 

You scoff, ending the game and switching to instagram to scroll through new posts, not paying him the slightest bit of attention. Your childhood nickname falls from his lips and you squeeze your phone tighter, holding onto the last bit of strength you had. He sighs again, starting the car and driving off the parking lot. 

You sit in silence, still on your phone and texting Jake to even notice the road you’re taking, ignoring the way you catch your dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror every now and then. 

you [14:26]: The worst card ride ever Jake [14:26]: it’ll be fine love  Jake [14:26]: you just need to make it back to the dorm and then we can go out Jake [14:26]: I’ll take you out on dinner, hm? Jake [14:26]: what do you say? you [14:27]: I say that I’d absolutely love that Jake [14:27]: okay good <3  Jake [14:27]: I need to give you back your jacket anyway

It’s only then that you notice the missing piece of clothes, smiling as you read his messages. No matter how mad you were seconds ago, he managed to calm you down in the single minute you talked with him. And that was something you weren’t giving up on, no matter how much your dad wanted you to. 

you [14:28]: Shouldn’t it be me stealing your clothes sir? Jake [14:28]: Just say a word and all my hoodies are yours Jake [14:28]: I’d actually kill to see you in my clothes Jake [14:28]: Please

You giggle, stretching your legs slightly. Your dad looks at you immediately, the grip he has on the steering wheel tightening as he notices Jake’s name on your screen, a mix of emotions rushing through him. He wants to be happy for you, cheer you on in your relationship if he had you smiling like this, but he just can’t push aside the thoughts of what the future holds. You being with Jake could make him give up his career for you or it could make you give up on your dreams in order to support him just like your mom did, and he would hate for that to happen. 

you [14:29]: That could be arranged  you [14:29]: If we happen to go back to your dorm after dinner and casually decide to sleep over I’ll need to wear something Jake [14:29]: I’m telling the guys to find a different place to sleep at tonight Jake [14:29]: Can’t let them see that

The smile on your lips never leaves, not even when you finally look up from your phone and see the unfamiliar road, frowning. “Where are you taking me?” 

“Home,” he answers simply and it takes you a second he isn’t talking about your dorm. “What? I have plans, I don’t have time to drive home and back.” 

“You should have thought about that before I saw you half naked with my player,” he says through gritted teeth, more judging than he intended. He’s not sure why he says it in the first place. He really wants to reconcile with you, forget about the whole thing and act like nothing happened but for some reason, every time he opens his mouth, the wrong words come out. 

“I’m an adult!” you remind him, looking at the time on your phone. “You can’t be fucking serious.” 

“Language!” You huff, taking a deep breath as you finally turn your head to face him fully. “The fact you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you’ll be speaking to me like that.” 

You don’t say anything back, writing Jake a quick text explaining the situation before turning your phone off and placing it down in your lap, crossing your arms as you watch the road ahead. If he wanted to kidnap you then so be it. It’s not like you would sit around saying nothing forever. 

“Honey, how come you’re so late?” Your mother’s voice makes you look up as you step out of the car, her eyes lighting up immediately the moment she sees you. You smile, greeting her warmly and walking over to her. “What are you doing here? I need to cook something for dinner! You’re staying, right?” She asks, hopeful and excited. You chuckle, nodding. “I didn’t plan on visiting this weekend but dad kidnapped me so I had no choice,” you shoot him a look but he ignores it, taking his things from the car and coming to greet his wife with a kiss. 

“Kidnapped her?” She asks confusedly but he just brushes it off, saying that you’re talking nonsense. You scoff, moving past both of your parents inside the house. It’s been around a month since you last came by, with school and Jake keeping you busy, there wasn’t a chance for it before. And even though you didn’t want to be here, you would be lying if you said you don’t like being home. 

You pull out your phone again, glancing back to make sure your parents are still outside before you start a video call. You don’t even have a chance to fix your hair or make sure you look good when the call goes through, Jake’s face lighting up your screen immediately. You smile, a soft “hi” leaving your lips. “You ran away or something?” He asks after a greeting. 

Rolling your eyes, you glance behind yourself again before walking towards your room. “No, I successfully made it home. Want to see my room?” You ask but before he can even answer you enter the room, giving him a quick tour when he says he needs to see every corner, mentioning something about how a childhood bedroom creates a character and he needs to see everything. He’s a bit weird but honestly, you couldn’t find him more attractive. 

You sit down on your bed, resting your head against the headboard, watching him talk about how the guys jumped at him the moment he stepped into his room, congratulating him on his play. The excitement in his eyes as he talks about hockey makes your heart melt, until you remember your dad’s words. Don’t expect to play on my team again. 

Hockey was his whole life, the thing he was the most excited about, something he spent every free minute thinking about, you couldn’t be the reason why it was taken from him. You’d rather never step on the ice again yourself if it meant he could still play. 

“Heeseung said that he spoke to one of the scouts after the game, apparently they are thinking about me!” He grins and you can’t help but smile. “That’s amazing, Jake. I knew you could do it from the moment I first saw you.” He gives you a look but the smile never leaves his lips. “You told me I’m terrible and need to fix everything.” 

You shrug, laughing. “Yeah, that was me telling you I think you’re amazing.” 

“So you were in love with me back then,” he teases, making you roll your eyes again. You open your mouth to answer but a soft knock on the door interrupts you. You give Jake a quick look so he stays quiet and watch the door open, your mom walking in with her usual gentle smile. 

“Is that the boyfriend of yours?” She asks, immediately noticing the cause of your smile. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Can I?” You don’t hesitate before moving closer to her, holding the phone so Jake could see both of you. He immediately greets her, the boyish grin on his face making you roll your eyes. “Jake, was it?” she questions and he introduces himself fully, saying that he’d offer her a hand as well had it been a different situation. It’s lame but she laughs nonetheless. “Well, we can shake hands when you come to visit next week. My daughter told you about it, right?” 

“She did,” he nods. “And I’d love to come, if I’m welcome to, I mean.” 

“Dear, of course! I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t.” 

“Dad isn’t a big fan,” you mumble, causing Jake to chuckle and your mom turn to you. “He met him before I could?” There’s a hint of betrayal in her voice but you already know that once she knows the full story it will be replaced with something else—disappointment. Not towards you, but your father. 

“Jake is on his team, the captain.” 

“Was,” Jake corrects and you roll your eyes again. “I was on the team, but Coach kicked me out today.” 

Your mother’s brows furrow, already sensing something iffy about it. “Why would he do that?” 

“Ask him, I’d love to know the reason as well,” you say, getting more and more annoyed as you speak. You sigh, running a hand through your hair to calm yourself. “Let’s not talk about it now, though. And for your information,” you turn towards Jake again, a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d love to have you here.” 

“Then I’ll definitely come,” he assures both of you, watching as your mom’s smile grows wider. She sits there with you for a bit longer, asking Jake about all sorts of things and watching you interact together, somehow feeling proud. She always wished you the best in life, and from what she saw in the short moments, Jake was exactly that. 

She goes to leave the room but stops again as her hand grabs the doorknob, glancing back at you one last time. “I’m not sure what you and your dad did to each other but I don’t want to stir the pot even more so, honey, try to cover that hickey of yours so he doesn’t have a reason to freak out,” she winks at you before disappearing from the room. 

Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you lean closer to your phone, looking at the hickey Jake has left on your neck in your front camera. He laughs on the other side of the phone, saying that it looks great but you only send him a pointed look. You groan, “I’m going to strangle you, Jake Sim.” It’s a threat, but he smiles. “With your thighs I hope.” 

You close your eyes, exhaling tiredly but Jake notices your lips twitch as you try to hold back your smile. He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants. 

You spend another thirty minutes on the call with him before finally stumbling out of your room as the smell of chicken hits your nose. Your dad tells you to sit that as he plates everything so you do, playing with your sleeve awkwardly. 

The food is set on the table soon after and your parents both sit opposite you, your mom asking you about exams and friends casually while your dad eats in silence, humming sometimes as a form of response. 

You stare at your plate for a few seconds before deciding to look up, catching your dad’s eyes at the same time. He sighs, visibly exhausted. You’re not sure if it’s because of the continuous arguing with you or just today’s game, though. “You didn’t mean it, did you? That you’re not going to let him play anymore.” 

Something flickers in his eyes, a moment of hesitance, regret maybe, you don’t know. He doesn’t answer, just putting another piece of meat into his mouth. You don’t just let it go like he seems to want, though. “He is your best player and you know it. You can’t kick him out just because he is dating your daughter instead of being fucking happy for me.” 

That seems to work because he winces, finally looking at you, really looking at you. “Darling,” your mom coos softly, tilting her head slightly, almost as if to tell you to calm down. You shake your head, refusing to drop the conversation. “I’ll…I won’t go on the ice ever again like you wanted, I won’t be near when you have practices and I’ll stop coming to games just please.” The plea sends a shiver down his spine, making him drop his fork on the table. 

“I don’t want you to give up on skating for him.” 

“So you’d rather make him give up on his whole future for me? Because we both know he doesn’t plan on leaving. If he did, he wouldn’t have talked to me again after you told him to stop seeing me the first time. And honestly, I don’t want to leave either.” 

“You did what?” Your mother turns her attention to your dad immediately, slapping him across his shoulder. “That poor boy does nothing but make our daughter happy and you told him to stop seeing her?” You knew that if someone was going to have your back it’d be your mom but you didn’t expect her to be so into it. She didn’t know Jake. There was no reason for her to get all worked up and start a whole argument with him. 

But, you weren’t going to stop her. 

You watch your parents argue for a while, your mom telling your dad he’s unreasonable and should finally realize you’re an adult while he tells her something about thinking about the future of the both of you, which only makes things worse. They start arguing about how their situation used to be similar and he doesn’t want you to go through the same thing your mom did but you disappear then, figuring that’s not a conversation you should be a part of. 

Later that night, a knock on the door makes you look up from your phone. You expect it to be your mom, after all, it’s always been her who talked to you after they had arguments when you were little, wanting you to know it was all okay and you didn’t need to worry about anything, but when the door opens, it’s your dad you see standing there. You sit up, nodding for him to come in. He sighs, closing the door behind himself as he pulls out a chair from your table, placing it right in front of your bed and taking a seat. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. You frown, not saying anything as you watch him, waiting for him to say more, explain himself. “I know it’s stupid and unreasonable,” he repeats your mother’s words, his brows furrowing in a way that tells you he doesn’t completely agree with it. “You know I love you, right?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and you nod, a part of you feeling bad when you see the look on his face. The regret you thought you saw before is now way more visible, accompanied with a sign of simple care. “And I love the boys on my team, all of them. I think…Jake is a great kid, darling.” 

His words catch you off guard but you still stay quiet, knowing that’s not all he wants to say. “When me and your mom met we were around the same age as you, did you know that?” He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he continues. “She wanted to be a doctor, she had her whole life figured out while the only thing I knew was that all I wanted to do was skate and be with her.” You smile, the thought of your parents at your age warming your heart. You can see yourself and Jake in their place. You can see Jake loving you all the years later just like your father loves your mom. 

“Then I got an offer, a contract with a team I really wanted to join. It was on the other side of the country and your mom…she dropped everything without thinking about it so she could go with me. I know she doesn’t regret it now, and neither do I, but knowing she gave up her future plan for me ate me alive for years.” 

“I never wanted to see you go through the same, so I did what I thought was the best at the time; told you not to skate so you couldn’t meet any hockey players that could mess with your future. I know it’s stupid, that it’s up to you what you do with your life I just…I simply didn’t want hockey to be the reason for another girl I love to lose something she’s passionate about.” 

You stand up from your bed, regretting all the bad words you said about your dad in the past few days. He watches you walk over to him, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you just pull him into a hug. “I love you too, dad,” you mumble. “And I’m sorry for cussing you out before.” He chuckles softly as he pulls back, shaking his head. “I deserved it.” 

“I’m not going to force Jake to leave my team, by the way. I’d be incredibly stupid to let that sort of talent escape.” You grin proudly, thanking him. “And…if it’s something you both want then,” he clears his throat, visibly stalling as he thinks it over. “Then I’d like to see him come with you next time,” he nods slightly, almost as if he was approving of his own words. “But just, please, promise me you won’t make your whole life about hockey, his games and plans. Promise me that if you stay together, you’ll figure something out while you both do what you love, even if it means being away from each other for a while.” 

You nod, it’s the least you can do. “We will,” you agree. 

Not having to hide a whole hockey player from your dad feels great. You still have to stay professional while filming the guys and limit Jake’s neediness while being around your dad but that’s understandable. And Jake knows that as well, still, he loves pushing the limits. 

“So, you’re going to be at our game tomorrow, right?” Jake asks, his hands resting on each side of you on the bench, trapping you in. He hovers over you, and even though you want nothing more than to pull him into a make out session when he gives you that boyish grin of his again, the presence of your father next to you reminds you to think straight. 

“Yeah,” you nod slightly, unable to take your eyes off him. He smirks, quickly glancing at his coach before leaning closer to you, stopping just below your ear. “And then you’ll let me go for as many rounds as I score.” He says it like it’s a deal you agreed to before but when he backs up again, there’s a question in his eyes, mixing with a sign of hope and mischief. “You better score a lot then,” you smirk, pressing your hand on his chest and pushing him off gently. “Go practice.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he does a little prince bow, winking at you once more before putting on his helmet and skating away, joining the others. 

“Is Jake going to drive you afterwards or should I wait and take both of you?” Your dad asks, keeping his eyes on the boys while sitting down beside you now that Jake’s gone. “Jake will drive. I agreed to go grab some food with the team after the game so we’ll drive on our own.” He nods, glancing at you again. “And he’ll be staying the whole week?” 

“The whole week,” you agree, causing a sigh to leave your dad’s lips. “In your room?” You roll your eyes, “yes, in my room. And in my bed, you’re not expecting me to make him sleep on the floor or something, are you?” 

“No,” he answers through gritted teeth, making sure you know he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangements. “Just don’t…no, nevermind, I’m not talking about this,” he shakes his head aggressively. “I’ll talk to Jake instead.” Your eyes widen, realization hitting you. “Don’t talk about sex with my boyfriend!” you smack his arm. 

“I need to talk to him as a worried coach to make sure my player doesn’t get a girl pregnant in his prime year,” he shoots you a pointed look and you sigh. The following week was going to test your strength and love for your father a lot. 

8:00 am lights up your phone before you knock on Jake’s door, watching as it swings open immediately. Jake doesn’t hesitate before grabbing your hand and pulling you against him, your bodies colliding together. “What’s going on?” you ask, blinking a few times. “Why was I supposed to come?” 

“The guys are out, they went for breakfast as Jay’s pregame ritual,” he explains, still holding your hand as he takes you towards his bed. “I’d like to start a pregame tradition with you as well,” he explains, his eyes glinting with need. “Oh?” Your lips curl into a smirk as you sit on the bed. “And what might that be?” 

Jake kneels down in front of you on the floor, gently pushing your legs open, keeping his hands on your inner thighs as he looks up at you. And god damn is he the hottest person you’ve ever seen. “Can I eat you out?” You blink, feeling hotter just at the thought of that. You bite your bottom lip, slowly nodding. His smile grows wider, his eyes lighting up as if he was a little kid whose parents allowed him to eat ice cream before dinner. 

He stays on the floor, sliding off your jeans, groaning quietly as his eyes land on your panties. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he sounds desperate and your body responds immediately. He runs his fingers over your clothed cunt and the whine that leaves his lips makes a shiver run down your spine. If this was his reaction to barely seeing you, how loud on earth was he going to be during the whole deal? 

It takes no time for him to slide your panties down to your ankles, moving his head closer to you immediately, keeping his eyes on yours as he licks a long strap from your hole to your clit. “Fuck,” you moan quietly, grinding your hips against his face. He smirks, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, firm enough so you can’t move on your own. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take my sweet time with your little pussy.” 

And he does. He absolutely fucking does, to the point it drives you crazy. Your legs shake and you squirm under him as he lazily sucks on your clit. It’s torture but god, he’s also the greatest pussy eater you’ve met, definitely the most eager one from everyone you’ve been with. His whines and groans fill your ear and the only thing you can focus on is how he sounds against your wet cunt. “I’m gonna–” your breath hitches and he sucks harder. “Wait just a bit longer, baby.” 

Jake’s hand slides to his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock and slowly palming himself while he brings you closer to your orgasm, his free hand still digging into the flesh of your thigh. “Need you to hold it in, love. Want to cum together,” he groans, his tongue flicking between your folds. “God, your pussy is so good.” 

You whine, your eyes closed as your hand finds his head, pushing him closer against your clit, needing the release. You feel him smirk, letting his cock free for a minute as he holds you with both hands again, opening your legs wider. “Jake!” 

“Fuck,” he whines again, pulling away from you completely which only causes you to whimper. “Say it again.” 

“What?” You shoot your eyes to him again, shaking your head as you try to bring him closer again. You fail. “Say my name again, say it over and over again and I’ll let you cum, okay?” You nod, his name leaving your lips in a broken whine. “That’s my girl,” he smirks before dipping in again. You gasp at his harsh suck but you definitely don’t complain. “Jake, Jak–Jake–mhm.” 

“Yes, baby, it’s me. I’m making you feel all good, aren’t I?” You nod fiercely, throwing your head back as you tug on his hair lightly. He whines again, finally bringing you to your climax with one last lick. Your legs tremble around his head but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, giving you a few more licks so you can ride it out before coming up to you, stealing a kiss from you immediately. “You taste fucking amazing, you feel that?” 

The taste of your own cum on his lips feels weird but you never pull away from him, only deepening the kiss. You glance down quickly, finding his hand palming over his length again as he kisses you, trying to reach his own climax. You wrap your hand around his and he smirks against your lips. “Want to help with that?” 

Your mouth is wrapped around his tip quickly, looking up at him as you move your head for some sort of reassurance. Which is exactly what you get as he cups your face, moaning loudly at the sight of you. He could watch you forever, especially when you’re stuffed with his cock. 

“God, baby, have I told you you’re absolutely gorgeous?” He groans again and you only suck harder instead of responding. He starts blabbing things after that, soft praises leaving his lips as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. You stop paying attention to them in the middle of it but your body still responds, your pussy getting wet again. 

You pull back slightly just to tease him but Jake doesn’t seem to like it much as he thrusts back into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag but don’t pull back again, relaxing your mouth completely and letting him gently thrust into you on his own. He doesn’t care, closing his eyes and gently brushing his thumb on your cheek just to feel himself. 

He comes down your throat slowly after and you gag again, pulling back completely before swallowing. He praises you again and again, kissing you as if you are the air he breathes. Because to him, you are. Your bodies wrap together as your kisses turn gentler, more loving. 

You just lay in the bed for a while, leaving wet kisses all over each other’s bodies, leaving marks behind before Jake’s alarm rings and he takes you to the bathroom, helping you clean up in the shower. When both of you are done washing he throws a jersey over your head, making you glance down confusedly. You had your own team clothes to wear with the team logo and everything but before you could protest your eyes land on the number on the jersey, realizing it’s his. 

“You want me to wear this?” 

“I want everyone at the rink to know my gorgeous, talented, lovely and smart girlfriend already belongs to someone,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another kiss. You smile, nodding slightly. In that case, you were going to wear his jersey for the rest of your life.

As soon as the game ends Jake runs into your arms, picking you up and spinning around before pushing his lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. 

Tigers won 5-2, three of those points scored by Jake because as you later found out, he told Heeseung about your little deal and so he helped him get as many goals as possible. You don’t even care, for all you care he could have scored zero and you’d still let him have whatever he wants. 

Your dad clears his throat behind you and Jake gently places you back to the ground, grinning happily. “How was that?” 

“Amazing,” Taehyun pats his back from behind, the other guys slowly joining in. “As the MVP today you’re buying, right?” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows as he wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulder, making him scoff. “I only buy food for my lover and myself, I don’t think you fit in either of those categories,” Jake shakes him off quickly. You shake your head at the interaction, the smile on your face never leaving as you congratulate them all. 

Jake wraps his hand around your waist, keeping you close as he talks to his team about the game. You don’t mind at all. You wrap your arm around him as well, smiling back at his friends when they give you a teasing, knowing look. This time, your dad seems to have the same smile on his face, looking at Jake more proudly than as if it was a warning. 

“Okay, go change quickly so we can go,” you say, placing a quick peck on his cheek to which Heeseung laughs with a whistle, taking your boyfriend from you. Jake mumbles something under his breath but you don’t pay it any attention, watching him leave with a smile. 

“The jersey suits you,” your dad speaks all of a sudden, making you turn to him. “Yeah?” You bite your lip nervously, looking down. “Thank you. For accepting him,” you smile, looking at him again. He rolls his eyes, almost as if that wasn’t exactly true, yet. “He still needs to work for it. I’ll have my eye on him during the whole week.” You chuckle, nodding. “Have fun with that.” 

It’s four pm when you finally part ways with the rest of the guys, your fingers laced with Jake’s as you walk towards his car, sliding into the passenger seat after he opens the door for you. He settles in the driver’s position, looking around. “Did you have fun?” He wonders, his voice soft, soothing. You smile, reaching for his hand again as you assure him it was great. 

“But next time, let’s eat alone, just the two of us, yeah?” 

You agree, squeezing his hand in his. “I’d love that.” 

“Good,” Jake smiles, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. “How about dinner tomorrow?” He asks between kisses, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You hum against his lips, agreeing. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him close as you deepen the kiss, enjoying the alone time with him. You were definitely going to make use of all the time you have during this break, with no roommates standing in your way and no exams watching over your back. 

You stay in the parking lot for a few more minutes, sharing kisses and light touches with soft giggles that make you fall for him just a bit more. “I like you so much,” you mumble and Jake’s grip on your waist tightens. “Yeah?” He teases, a smirk forming on his lips. You roll your eyes at his reaction, kissing him again. “I like you a lot too,” he says and even though you’ve heard him say it many times before, it warms your heart in a way that makes you feel like he just said the other L-word for the first time. 

“Let’s go,” Jake leans back in his seat, finally starting the car and driving off. His right hand rests on your thigh soon after, his eyes focused on the road. You smile, stealing glances at your boyfriend as he drives you home. You could definitely get used to this. 

Jake grabs your bags from the truck of his car while you open the front door of your house, greeting your parents before running out again to help him. However, when you reach him, asking him to give you one of the bags so he doesn’t carry it all on his own, he just brushes you off, saying he’s got it. You know he does, that he could easily pick you up as well but you still want to help. 

“Love, just go inside and watch me with your pretty eyes, yeah? I’m not gonna have you carry some bags when there’s no reason for you to.” 

You roll your eyes but still listen, walking in empty-handed with your boyfriend right behind you. “Dear, go help the poor boy,” your mum nudges your father immediately when her eyes land on Jake. He however shakes his head, still refusing any help. Your dad scoffs but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Which room is yours?” You point towards a door and he nods, leaving you in the hallway alone. 

“He’s more handsome in person,” your mom teases immediately, making you roll your eyes with a smile and your dad grumble something. “Please, just let him breathe. Both of you.” You mom giggles, taking your dad with herself back to the kitchen so they can resume cooking and you quickly run to your room. 

Jake is sitting on your bed and looking around the room when you come inside. His eyes immediately flicker to you and he opens his arms with a smile, telling you to come closer. You step between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your stomach. 

The two of you settle in your bed, laptop opened on Jake’s lap as you watch a movie, cuddling together. The moment is sweet, relaxing, something he’s been craving after the intense game earlier. When your mom comes into the room to tell you dinner is almost ready, Jake immediately jumps out, offering his help. 

You watch him joke around with your mom as he moves around the kitchen, helping her finish up. He starts a conversation about today’s game with your dad as well, listening to all his feedback. It makes your heart ache. It’s like he belongs there, in the small space of the kitchen, in your family, in your life. You experienced relationships and grew to realize they weren’t easy, they were hard, with obstacles on every corner but with Jake, it was the opposite. You thought it would be hard, and it was for a while at first but now, it just seemed like this was how things were supposed to be. 

“How many points did you score today?” Your mom asks curiously, setting down a plate in front of Jake. He smirks, glancing at you for a brief moment before answering. “Three. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t score anything if it wasn’t for your daughter cheering me on the whole time.” Your mom smiles proudly and you blush, kicking his feet under the table. He chuckles, his hand finding a way to your thigh and giving it a tight squeeze. You stay quiet after that. 

The conversation flows naturally as you continue eating. Your mom talks about memories from your childhood, family vacations, how you first started skating, and even some of your more embarrassing stories you’d rather forget. Your cheeks flush red and it takes everything in you not to shut down the conversation immediately. However, when the familiar sounds of Jake’s quiet laugh rings in your ears and you notice the happiness on his face, you stop yourself. The embarrassment you felt slowly turns into something softer, more gentle. 

Jake eases into the rhythm of your family quickly, assuring your father of his good intentions every time he feels the warry in his eyes, joking around with your mother as she sets the picture of little you into his head. He bets you were the cutest kid. 

He offers to help with cleaning the dishes but your mom refuses, telling him to go spend more time with you, which he happily agrees to. You roll your eyes when you hear their conversation but lead Jake back to your room nonetheless. 

“Your mom loves me,” Jake grins proudly, closing the door shut behind you. You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t let it get into your pretty head, captain. That doesn’t mean you’re not being watched by my father all the time,” you close the space between you, your voice teasing. When you look up at him, he’s smirking. “Call me that again,” something flickers in his eyes as his hands find your hips, pressing your body against his. 

“Captain?” you raise an eyebrow at his request but the tease in your voice never falls. “Is that what turns you on?” you whisper, pressing onto him more until his back reaches the door. “Maybe,” he leans closer, claiming your lips with his as his hands wander to your lower back, taking in every inch of your body as he moves lower, giving your ass a tight squeeze before lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping your lips. “God, you’re absolutely beautiful.” A shiver runs down your spine as he says your name. “Tell me what you want, baby. What you want me to do.” No words leave your mouth as you press your lips on his again, pressing your hips on his harder as a form of answer. He smirks again, walking over to your bed where he drops you. You gasp but can’t help and laugh as he comes closer, spreading your legs and settling between them. 

“Words, love. I want words from you.” You moan again as he presses himself against you, feeling his bulge through the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Anything, everything–” you gasp when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, teasing motion. “You promised three rounds, Captain.” 

Jake grins, watching your lips part as his hands wander over your body again. Gentle touch on your shoulder, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms, his hands coming under your shoulder to trace over your stomach and breast. Your breath shakes as you watch him, your eyes following his every movement. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mumbles, kissing you hungrily, the kiss able to convey all his feelings. “Dreamed of you like this.” His right hand moves lower, stopping between your legs and pressing it over your core. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his lips move lower, leaving wet kisses and marks over your jaw and neck. He hums against your skin, pulling off your pants with ease. “Yes, baby?” He asks as he slides your panties to the side, his fingers flicking between your folds. “What do you need, tell me.” 

You grind your hips against him on an instinct, a soft whimper of his name leaving your lips. “Need you, need– fuck,” you whine, looking up at him. “Come here, closer. Need you closer.” He smirks, leaning down and holding your chin with his left hand, making you look at him. “That’s it, baby. Use your words,” he kisses you again, his tongue fighting with yours as he rips your panties away, making you yelp. 

You barely register him pulling his pants off as he cups your breast in his hands, massaging them as he waits for your every reaction. His mind is clouded with thoughts of you, what he’s going to do, what kind of pleasure he would bring you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to hold himself back not to cum untouched just from the way you look at him. 

“In, Jake, please,” you beg and something in him flickers. He moans, the sound sending a shiver through your whole body, and pushes your legs up, making you hold them. His eyes focus on your cunt, aligning his cock with your entrance. “God, you’re so fucking wet, darling. I can just slide into you–” he pushes his tip in, making you gasp, “with ease.”  

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your mouth wide open, the only sounds leaving your lips being a few broken gasps, barely audible once. Yet, they are loud enough for Jake. He leans closer, placing a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. “So good,” he moans against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s like you were made for me entirely,” he praises, his kisses lowering to your breast. He lets out a silent grunt as your nails dig deeper but he never backs away. 

“I–” I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. The words are loud and clear in his head, the urge to say them out loud for the whole world to hear so strong he has to bite down his tongue not to do so. But, god, does he want nothing more. “I need you so bad,” he says in the end instead, listening to your quiet moans as he thrusts into you, quickening his pace. 

Your eyes roll back, one of your hands squeezing the sheets beneath you while the other finds Jake’s, lacing your fingers together. Your bodies move against each other, the room getting hotter each second as you get closer to your climax. “So good,” he praises you again, his teeth digging into the soft skin of your shoulder. “Jake, I’m gonna–” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as he thrusts harder into you, making you gasp. It only takes a few more quick hip movements before your breath shakes and you reach your orgasm. 

Jake pulls out right after, cursing under his breath as he palms himself over your stomach, finding his release as well. “Mhm–more,” you beg, holding onto his wrist. He goes crazy over your words, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. “You want more?” he asks with a smirk, pressing his body against your back as he leans to your ear. “You better have a condom on hand then because I do not want to be pulling out again.” 

Your whole body trembles as you point towards a drawer beside your bed, watching his hand reach for it. It takes a few seconds but the same hand rests on your back soon, tracing his fingers across your spine, making you arch your back. He chuckles when you raise your ass, your breast pressing against your mattress. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, giving your ass a tight squeeze once again before he feel him enter you from behind again. 

You lose track of time, how long it takes for Jake to bring you to your climax again, how much time passes before he goes down on you, encouraging you on your third release of that night, you don’t remember how many times you truly come on his tongue either, everything getting blurry in your head, the only thing you can focus on being Jake’s moans and whines. It’s music to your ears, just as much as your moans are to his based on what he tells you. 

I love you. Jake fights the words back again as he rests on top of you, gazing into your eyes as if you were the only thing he could see. Because to him, you were. “You did so well,” he says, cupping your cheek and brushing a few sweaty strands of your hair off your face. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Captain,” you smile back, pressing your lips on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. 

“Let me help you wash up?” You nod and he immediately stands up, ready to get to work. 

The rest of the week goes on like a dream. Jake takes you out every day, on dates, night strolls, buying you flowers or sweets the moment he sets his eyes on a shop for even a mere second. You certainly can’t say you’d mind. And somehow, in the mix of the days you spend with him, you notice a shift in your parents behaviour, mostly your dad’s. His intense stares, the ones supposed to dig a hole in the middle of Jake’s forehead, slowly turn softer, watching him with much more appreciation you’d dare to say. 

“You need to come back soon, dear,” your mother says, making you roll your eyes as she eagerly holds Jake’s hands. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to your own daughter?” You question, watching as your boyfriend leaves out a soft laugh. “I’d love to visit soon again, I’m sure we can arrange something,” he agrees and she finally lets go of his hands. You replace his spot, hugging her goodbye with a promise of finding time to visit. 

“Sir,” Jake smiles as he steps in front of your father. They stay silent for a moment, watching each other before they both laugh, your dad pulling him into a hug, as if he was the son he called him before he became your boyfriend again. “I’d like to say you surprised me but I always knew you would be good to her.” 

“Did not seem like it before,” you comment, watching their exchange. Your dad sends you a look but doesn’t say anything. “Just…continue treating her right,” your dad turns his attention back to Jake, “otherwise, your death can still be arranged.” Your mom slaps his shoulder but Jake only laughs, nodding. “I promise to treat her like a princess,” he assures him, mocking a prince’s bow to prove his point. You shake your head at him, locking his arm with yours. “Let’s go.” 

He listens well, that’s something you’ve learnt over the past few days. Your bag swings over his shoulder as he laces his fingers with you, saying one last goodbye to your mom before leaving the house, taking you to his car. 

And as if the dream was to never end, the attention he pays to you, the care he holds for you, never disappears, only growing each day. He keeps to his promise and with every longing look from across the rink, every touch of his when you find yourselves back in your room, and every word he says to you, you find yourself falling for him more and more. 

“Oh but that’s not all,” he laughs, forming a grimace similar to disgust. “As if the whole conversation with Jay wasn’t weird enough on its own, I walk into the bathroom and boom, a lady hiding in there,” he says, skating ahead. You chuckle, following him with ease and listening to his stories. “I ran off immediately and called Sunghoon not to come back to the dorm anytime soon. Something Jay should have done for sure.” 

“But there’s a good thing that comes from it,” he turns around to face you, one of his boyish grins on again. “It gave me a reason not to be in my dorm studying, and also an excuse to see you.” You shake your head slightly, quickening your movements slightly to reach him. He offers you his hand immediately and you hold it without hesitation, letting him pull you closer. “I missed you.” 

“We’ve seen each other earlier today,” you remind him. 

“Not the same. Far from it.” 

You smile, not saying anything for a while as you simply let him guide you around the rink, your eyes locked with his. It’s quiet and yet, it feels like everything about the moment is loud and clear, letting the emotions you’ve been feeling for a while come out. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, making you bump into him. “Say it again,” he begs, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. “Please.” 

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I love you, Jake.” 

“God,” he breaths out, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you off the ground and spins around. “You just made me the happiest man on earth, you know that?” You laugh, telling him to put you back down. The moment he does, his lips find yours in a tender kiss, telling you everything you need to know. He pulls back and smiles, pressing his forehead on yours, “I love you.” 

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[ari-ana-bel-la]

Can you please do a George having a daughter the same age as Kimi, and he finds out there dating, and freaking out?

The boyfriend/teammate

"I can't believe he thinks he's faster than me through Sector 2," Kimi scoffed, tossing a protein bar toward Yn, who caught it effortlessly.

They were sitting on a low wall just behind the hospitality area, the warm hum of the paddock swirling around them. Mechanics rushed by, PR people clicked down the walkways in sharp heels, and the ever-present sound of tires being rolled echoed nearby.

"You are faster," Yn said with a smirk, unwrapping the bar. "But he's not wrong about your starts. Those are a disaster."

"Okay, rude," Kimi mock-pouted. "I'm trying my best."

"Your best almost ended up in the pit wall in Bahrain."

Kimi blinked at her. "That was one time."

Yn arched an eyebrow. "Two."

"Okay, fine. Twice. But we’re not talking about that anymore. We’re talking about how awesome I am in Sector 2."

"Your ego needs its own garage space."

Kimi grinned, leaning back on his hands. "You love it."

Yn flushed, just barely, the warmth rising in her cheeks not from the sun.

She did. God help her, she really did.

Yn had grown up in the paddock. Her earliest memories included race day adrenaline, the scent of burning rubber, and her dad’s voice on the radio. By the time she was twelve, she could tell the difference between tire compounds just by looking. By fourteen, she was helping her dad review telemetry.

And now at eighteen, she had the run of the paddock like it was her second home.

Which was great.

Except for the part where her dad’s new teammate was annoyingly charming and exactly her type.

Kimi was just a few months older. He was confident, a little too pretty for his own good, and had a laugh that made her stomach flutter.

It had started slow. A shared joke here. A walk back from the media pen. Watching data together. And then... more.

Now, they snuck hand squeezes behind hospitality tents, exchanged texts all through the night, and once, memorably, made out in the motorhome when the team was at a strategy meeting.

But they'd kept it quiet.

Until now.

"You what?!"

George stood in the team’s motorhome, eyes wide, voice somewhere between a shout and a squeak.

Yn winced. "Dad, calm down."

"I am calm!" George said, clearly not calm. "You’re dating him?"

Kimi, ever unbothered, lifted his hand in a little wave. "Hi."

"Don’t 'hi' me! I trusted you! I mentored you! I— I— I taught you how to heel-and-toe!"

"That was very helpful, thank you," Kimi said earnestly.

George flailed. "Kimi!"

"Dad," Yn said, stepping between them, voice steady. "It’s not like we planned it. We just... started spending time together. You know how often I'm around."

"Yes, and I trusted him!"

"I’m still me," Kimi offered. "Just with your daughter’s number now."

"Not helping!"

"Sorry."

George paced a few steps, hands on his hips, then turned to his daughter.

"Yn. You’re my little girl."

"I’m eighteen."

"My baby girl."

Yn groaned. "You let me drive a car at Silverstone at fifteen."

"Exactly! Because I trust you! But this—this is different."

"Why? Because it’s Kimi?"

"Yes! No! I mean—he’s my teammate!"

Kimi raised a finger. "I’ll never crash into him on purpose."

George stopped pacing. "On purpose?"

"I mean—I wouldn’t crash at all. Sorry. That came out wrong."

George sighed dramatically and sank onto the couch.

"This is going to be a disaster."

"Or not," Yn said softly. "Dad... we care about each other. A lot."

George looked up at her, then over at Kimi, who looked surprisingly earnest. He’d taken his cap off, ruffling his hair like he always did when nervous.

"I’ll take care of her," Kimi said. "Promise."

There was a long pause.

George sighed again. "I need coffee."

The next day, the entire paddock knew.

Not because they told anyone.

Because George told everyone.

"Did you know my daughter is dating Kimi?" he said to a stunned Toto at the morning briefing.

Toto blinked. "...Congratulations?"

"Thanks. I think. Maybe. I don’t know!"

When Max wandered into the lounge later, George cornered him.

"She’s seeing Kimi."

"...And you’re telling me this why?"

"Because you’ve known him for years! Should I be worried?"

Max blinked. "About what? That he’s gonna crash her into a wall of roses? He’s the most boringly respectful guy I’ve ever met."

George frowned. "That's what worries me. No one is that respectful."

Later that afternoon, Kimi was cornered by a swarm of drivers in the cool down room.

"You’re dating George’s daughter?" Lando asked, grinning wide.

"Please tell me you told George in the car."

"No, it was in the motorhome," Kimi muttered.

"Coward," Pierre said, flopping onto a beanbag. "I would’ve done it in the garage. With the radio on."

Oscar leaned over. "Are you scared of him?"

"Terrified," Kimi admitted. "He keeps looking at me like he’s imagining pit stop sabotage."

George, for his part, was trying to be supportive.

He just... had moments.

Like when he stood outside the motorhome while Kimi and Yn were inside, dramatically clearing his throat every five minutes.

Or when he "accidentally" sat between them at dinner.

Or when he started casually asking Kimi about his intentions. Every day. In public.

"So, Kimi," George said, strolling up with a totally fake smile, "where do you see yourself in five years?"

Kimi blinked. "...Still racing, maybe. Traveling. With Yn, hopefully."

George narrowed his eyes. "Mm-hm."

"You asked," Kimi said defensively.

"Just making sure we’re on the same page."

Yn rolled her eyes so hard she almost tipped over.

But slowly, things softened.

George saw how Kimi waited for Yn outside of interviews. How he held her hand protectively in crowded media zones. How he watched her with the same tenderness George remembered in Carmen’s eyes when Yn was born.

One evening, George found them sitting under a canopy of stars behind the paddock, Kimi’s jacket wrapped around Yn’s shoulders, her head on his shoulder.

George didn’t interrupt.

Just watched for a moment.

Then smiled.

The race that weekend was a blur of chaos—rain, safety cars, unexpected pit stops. Kimi managed a podium. George finished just behind.

As they stepped off the podium, champagne-soaked and exhausted, George nudged Kimi.

"Nice drive."

Kimi turned, blinking. "Thanks. You too."

George gave him a long look.

Then smirked.

"Hurt her and I’ll replace your steering wheel with a baguette."

Kimi grinned. "Noted."

"Good. Now go kiss your girlfriend before the photographers find her."

And with that, George walked off, already planning to call Carmen and tell her everything.

Kimi ran straight to Yn, swept her up in a hug, spinning her slightly before pressing a kiss to her lips. She laughed into it, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"He smiled," Kimi whispered.

"My dad?"

"He didn’t even flinch."

"Wow. Progress."

"Do you think he likes me now?"

Yn grinned. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

Back in the motorhome that night, George flopped onto the couch beside Carmen.

"She’s in love."

Carmen looked up from her book. "We knew that."

"With Kimi."

She smiled. "I know."

George groaned. "I’m not ready."

Carmen kissed his cheek. "You don’t have to be. You just have to be there."

He sighed. "Do you think I can still scare him a little? Just to keep him on his toes?"

Carmen smirked. "Oh, absolutely. That’s a father’s job."

George nodded. "Good. Tomorrow I’m sending him a list of dating rules."

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Color-coded?"

"Laminated."

She laughed, leaning into him.

And in the next room, Yn and Kimi lay curled on the couch, watching old race replays, fingers entwined, hearts full.

Love, it seemed, had found its place on the grid.

Even if it had to dodge a few protective elbows along the way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

Also, please ignore that the ages of the people don't really make sense. Thank you!

Another also, thank you to 🐴Anon for your kind words (OMG, I have an anon (can I even say that?)).

To answer some questions, yes I can speak German because I'm from Austria. About writing Part 2's for some stories, I'll have to think about that.

Thank you for all your kind words and support!

Special shoutout to @heyitspapayaontop for defending me with their life. Now that's what I call a real girls girl

-🤍🦢

[delinquentkru]

the narrative/visual cues in this scene from 1x01 are so important to how the show views mel and langdon’s dynamic and i need to talk about it lol

robby doesn’t really have any friends, nor does he want any. while he is obviously willing to mentor those junior to him at the pitt, he is also very clearly uninterested in their personal lives (with the exception of collins). he’s able to support them when it comes to difficulties on the job but it doesn’t go much further than that.

the issue there is that most of the characters are not leaving their work at work (including robby himself lmao). it is seemingly going home with them and impacting the other parts of their lives. ultimately, they all need to connect with others who understand that feeling and can help them navigate it. mel isn’t as guarded as the rest of them so she makes it pretty apparent that she’s looking for this kind of connection (speaking of, can everyone pls just be friends with her already??? jfc). langdon is more subtle about it, but he's also looking for the exact same thing.

his exchange with robby in this scene is so telling because he clearly sees robby as one of his best friends and robby can barely admit that they're friends at all (which....brutal). langdon is asking for emotional connection/reassurance in that moment and, essentially, being rejected.

and right as this rejection is occurring, mel enters the scene (both literally and figuratively lol). mel, who wants emotional connection and is very willing to give it in return. it feels like a little wink from the show letting you know that these two are going to be actual friends. it’s also a perfectly written starting point for the parallel between robby and langdon’s mentor-mentee relationship and the one that comes to exist between langdon and mel. whereas robby is not attuned enough to langdon to notice his struggles, langdon is constantly checking in with mel to make sure she’s doing okay and then offering up support when she needs it. langdon's not perfect at it and he missteps a few times when it comes to her, but it feels a lot like he is treating mel the way he wishes robby would treat him </3

you then have the added intrigue of robby watching langdon and mel interact for the first time and looking for collins immediately after. as if something about those two possibly reminded robby of himself and collins. i just find the choice to visually parallel langdon/mel and robby/collins in 1x01 to be very curious now that we know robby and collins were romantically involved. and i don’t have much more to say regarding that other than 👀👀👀

tl;dr the framing of mel and langdon’s first real interaction on the show really highlights how important they are/will be to one another.

[rizzanon]

07-2 | TO CARE OR NOT TO CARE

m.list | prev | next

It was time to leave, the evening air starting to cool as you said your goodbyes to the kids. Elliot, as usual, was especially clingy, wrapping his arms around you tightly as if he couldn’t bear to let go. You chuckled softly, ruffling his hair in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hey, hey, Elliot. What’s all this? I’ll be back tomorrow, just like always.”

His eyes, wide and full of sincerity, didn’t quite lose their worry. “I know you will… I know you’ll always come back, but I just—what if one day, you don’t come back?” He bit his lip, a deep uncertainty coloring his voice.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart ache just a little at how serious he was about it. Kneeling down to his height, you placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a smile as genuine as you could manage.

“Aww, Elliot. Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll always come back for you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Your voice was soft, but firm, trying to reassure him as best as you could.

The tiny boy’s brow furrowed in doubt, but his hands loosened from your arm. Then, with a sudden seriousness, he extended his pinky toward you, his small fingers trembling just slightly.

“Pinky promise?” Elliot asked, his eyes never leaving yours.

You laughed softly, touched by how serious he was. Without hesitation, you linked your pinky with his, sealing the promise with a nod. “Pinky promise. I’ll always be here for you, I swear.”

Elliot’s face lit up, and for a moment, all his worry seemed to melt away. He grinned widely, “Pinky promise!”

You stood back up, brushing off your pants, feeling a lightness in your chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Elliot. Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?”

“I won’t! I promise!” he called as you turned to join the others, his voice filled with a childlike sincerity that almost made you want to stay longer. But you couldn’t.

You walked over to Caitlyn and Adrien, who were standing nearby, clearly enjoying the sight of the exchange.

“Well, well,” Adrien teased with a raised brow, smirking. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little sidekick now.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing it off. “Please, he’s just clingy. He’ll be fine tomorrow, just like always.”

“You know,” Caitlyn spoke, her voice light but full of amusement, “I think I’m starting to get jealous. Elliot’s got a special bond with you.”

“He’s just a good kid.”

Adrien snickered, poking fun at you. “Good kid? He’s like your shadow. He’s probably got you wrapped around his finger.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you glanced back at Elliot, who was still watching you with a hopeful look. “Please, you two. I’m just doing my part to make sure he’s doing alright,” you said, playing along with their banter. “And anyways, it’s not like you two are much better. Who’s the one with all the girls looking up to her like she’s a disney princess that came to life? And who’s the one who has most of the boys treating him like the older brother they never had?”

“Oh, stop it, you’re going to make me blush (Name)…!” Caitlyn squeals, and you just rolled your eyes at that.

Adrien scoffed, nudging Caitlyn. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re Gotham’s sweetheart. Meanwhile, I’m just out here doing my best.”

“Doing your best? Please. Half the time, you’re just running damage control from whatever chaos you start with the boys.”

Adrien gasped dramatically. “I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent role model.”

You snorted. “For what? How to almost get into trouble but charm your way out of it?”

“Exactly.” Adrien winked. “It’s an art, really.”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing again. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, it’s all fun and games now. But don’t let this get in over your head.”

Adrien just grinned and shrugged. But then, with a knowing smirk, he glanced over at Damian, who was standing off to the side, observing you all with his usual quiet intensity.

“Fine, fine, you should get going,” Adrien said, voice filled with tease. “Wouldn’t want to keep your little brother waiting, would you?”

Your gaze flickered to Damian. There he was, standing stiff and awkward, his eyes narrowed but unreadable. The change in his posture, the silence, made you feel an odd tension settle in your chest. You couldn’t help but sigh, the weight of his stare pressing on you.

“Right, I should go,” you murmured, offering one last wave to your friends before walking toward Damian.

When you stood in front of him, there was a long pause, neither of you speaking right away. Damian shifted slightly, his expression still unreadable, before he broke the silence.

“So, when is Pennyworth coming?”

You didn’t even look up as you started walking, already preparing for his usual directness. “Alfred’s not coming.”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, the confusion crossing his features despite his best attempt to mask it. “He doesn’t know you’re here?”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes ahead. “I didn’t exactly tell him I’ve been volunteering at an orphanage the past few days,” you said, keeping your voice light, dismissive, like it was nothing. “But knowing him, he probably already knows.”

Damian scoffed under his breath, clearly not convinced by your attempt at nonchalance.

“So, father doesn’t know about your… charity work?” His tone was matter-of-fact, and you froze for a split second, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

You froze in your tracks, your thoughts stalling for a split second. “Yes.” The words came out quiet, but firm. You couldn’t afford to let him see how much it bothered you. “And I’d appreciate it if it remains that way.”

Damian’s eyes flickered to yours, suspicion there for a moment.

“Why?”

You had to stop yourself from grimacing. It was a simple question, but the answer was anything but. You couldn’t just blurt out that you were volunteering because of a strange vision, because of Elliot, because you didn’t trust the orphanage’s warden. That would make you sound like a paranoid mess. Completely irrational. So instead, you let out a breath and gave him the simplest answer you could muster.

“Because I don’t want to.”

The words felt hollow the moment they left your mouth. You wanted to add more, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t explain any further, not to him. Not to anyone.

And then, silence followed. You both continued walking, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet evening. Gotham was calm for now, the sky still holding on to the last of the fading daylight, with streaks of pink and orange bleeding into the dark blue horizon. The air was still warm, but a crisp breeze was beginning to cut through, making the walk feel colder than it should. Streetlights flickered to life, their glow casting long shadows across the sidewalks as the city slowly came to life.

You looked around, distracted by the mundane beauty of the city you thought you knew so well. Yet, it all felt somehow distant tonight.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Damian spoke again, his voice cutting through the silence.

“And what about the warden?”

You stopped in your tracks, a chill creeping up your spine at the question. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so bluntly. You tried to mask your surprise, forcing a calm tone as you turned to face him. “What about her?”

Damian didn’t even flinch at your tone. “Don’t be stupid. The warden. I saw you freeze up the moment she walked in. So, what of her?”

You cursed under your breath. Had you really been that obvious? Then again, Damian was nothing but perceptive. You ran a hand through your hair, looking away for a moment, trying to hide the unease that had risen in you.

“I just don’t like her that much.” It wasn’t a full explanation, but it was all you could muster without sounding crazy. You hoped it would be enough.

But the excuse felt weak even as you said it.

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the matter further. He just tsked and turned away, falling back into his usual aloof silence.

You walked beside him, feeling an odd sense of relief that he didn’t push it, though it left you with more questions than answers.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the distant sounds of Gotham settling into the night. It was comfortable in its own way.

You were grateful, though—grateful that he didn’t push you any further. You didn’t want to drag him into something you couldn’t even explain to yourself.

And after a long pause, you spoke up, your voice quieter this time. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about today? About me volunteering with my friends?”

Damian glanced at you, not answering immediately. The corner of his mouth twisted, as though he was considering how much he wanted to humor you. “Hmph, whatever. But I’m coming with you from now on.”

Your head snapped toward him, baffled. “What?”

Damian glanced over at you, unfazed by your surprise. “Who knows what kind of nonsense you’re getting yourself into. I’ll see how much more foolery you can get away with. I’m coming with you next time.”

You stared at him for a moment, speechless, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re just gonna follow me now?”

Damian just shrugged, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in his gaze, though his expression remained guarded. “Seems like it.”

You shook your head, still processing his words. “You’re serious about this?”

Damian gave you a flat look. “Do I seem like the type to joke?”

Fair point.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You do realize this is just volunteering, right? It’s not some covert mission. We play with kids, help out whenever we can, and make sure they don’t cause too much chaos.”

Damian crossed his arms. “And yet, you still managed to get into an argument about heroes.”

You groaned. “That wasn’t my fault! Caitlyn started it, Adrien made it worse, and you—” You jabbed a finger at him, narrowing your eyes. “You absolutely made it worse.”

Damian smirked slightly. “Tt. If you were capable of defending yourself properly, I wouldn’t have had to step in.”

You scoffed. “Oh, please. You didn’t have to say anything. You just wanted to start something.”

He didn’t deny it, which only confirmed your suspicions.

After a beat of silence, Damian glanced at you again, his expression more neutral. “Regardless, I’m coming with you from now on.”

You sighed, watching him for a moment before shaking your head. “Fine. But no scaring the kids.”

“I don’t scare them.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “You glared at Elliot earlier just because he hugged me.”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “…He was being excessive.”

You stared at him, then just snorted, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m being real,” he corrected. Then, after a pause, he added, “Besides… it’s not terrible.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What’s not terrible?”

Damian averted his gaze slightly, as if the words were difficult to say. “This. What you’re doing. It’s… a respectable use of your time.”

For a moment, you just stared at him.

He wasn’t mocking you.

He wasn’t teasing.

He was being genuine, in his own roundabout way.

A small, warm feeling settled in your chest.

You bumped your shoulder against his. “Careful, Damian. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

He rolled his eyes, stepping away from you. “Tt. Don’t get used to it.”

And with that, you both walked in silence, the city stretching out around you, quieter now as night finally began to take hold of Gotham.

The morning sun crept over Central City, casting a pale golden light that contrasted sharply with the dark chaos at the crime scene. Barry Allen stepped out of his car, his CSI kit slung over his shoulder. The air was thick with tension, and despite the morning’s warmth, there was a chill in the atmosphere. Crime scenes always had this weight about them, but this one felt different.

The area was in an industrial sector, and the destruction was vast—an entire block had been decimated. Asphalt was cracked, streetlights bent and twisted like they’d been melted, and a few cars were overturned, their alarms still blaring in the distance. Barry squinted as he took in the sight. No eyewitnesses, no solid leads, just chaos and a series of barely discernible clues scattered throughout the scene.

Captain Singh stood with a few officers near the perimeter, his face set in grim determination as he watched the forensics team work. When Barry approached, the captain didn’t waste time.

“Allen. Thanks for coming,” Singh said, nodding at him.

“Of course,” Barry replied. “What do we have?”

Singh glanced over at the wreckage, his hands pressed against his hips. “We’ve got a mess on our hands. No eyewitnesses. Whoever did this didn’t leave any obvious traces of themselves—no sign of forced entry, no clear motive, nothing. Just destruction.” He gestured to the carnage around them. “Looks like a metahuman attack. Something… explosive, but we can’t find anything that matches the signature of any known metas.”

Barry took a step forward, scanning the scene. He could feel the familiar hum of his mind working faster, processing details with his trained CSI eye. The destruction was too precise, too… theatrical for a random meta attack. Barry narrowed his eyes as he walked toward the center of the blast radius, crouching down to inspect a scorch mark on the pavement. His fingers hovered just above the edges, careful not to disturb any potential evidence.

“This wasn’t a metahuman attack,” Barry said, more to himself than to Singh, but loud enough for the captain to hear.

Singh looked at him, brows furrowing. “What do you mean? This definitely feels like one.”

Barry stood, wiping his gloves on his pants, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not the kind of destruction we usually see from metas. Look at the placement of the damage—it’s deliberate, almost… artistic in a way.” He pointed to a section of the street where the cracks in the pavement were symmetrical, almost as if they’d been formed by a series of timed explosions, not some random burst of power.

Singh followed his line of sight. “So you’re saying this was someone else? Someone who isn’t a meta?”

Barry nodded slowly, stepping further into the scene, his eyes scanning every detail. “Exactly. And I think I know who.” He crouched next to a nearby overturned dumpster, carefully lifting the edge to reveal some scattered debris. “This looks familiar.”

Singh crossed his arms. “You’ve seen something like this before?”

Barry straightened, turning to Singh. “Yeah. We’ve seen this before. Trickster.” He didn’t need to elaborate much further—the name was enough.

Singh’s expression dropped slightly, his brows furrowed. “Trickster? I thought we had that guy locked up in Iron Heights?”

Before Barry could reply, another officer jogged up, his face tense. “I’m afraid not, Captain. Word just got out—Trickster was broken out of Iron Heights a few hours ago.”

Singh let out a groan, rubbing his temples. “Great. Literally what we need. Who knows where the hell he is now?”

Barry exchanged a glance with Singh before turning back to the scene. The Trickster’s style was all over this—chaotic but calculated, destruction meant to entertain him just as much as it terrorized the city. But something wasn’t sitting right.

“If he was broken out just a few hours ago,” Barry mused, “this means he didn’t have much time to plan. Which means either he had help, or this was meant to be a distraction.”

Singh exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me this might not even be his endgame?”

Barry stood up, glancing around once more. “Trickster never does anything small. If he’s free, he’s got something bigger in mind.” He turned to the officer. “Do we have any leads on how he got out?”

The officer shook his head. “Not yet. Prison security’s still trying to figure that out, but from what little info we’ve got, it wasn’t your usual smash-and-grab breakout. No external breaches, no power failures—nothing. It’s like he just walked out.”

Barry frowned. That only raised more questions. Trickster was smart, but he wasn’t exactly the subtle type. If someone had broken him out without setting off alarms, then it meant one of two things—someone with serious inside knowledge helped him, or Trickster had a new trick up his sleeve.

Singh sighed. “Alright, Allen. If this is Trickster, where does that leave us? What’s his next move?”

Barry scanned the destruction again, his mind racing. Trickster didn’t just cause chaos—he thrived on attention. If he was back in play, it wouldn’t be long before he made his presence known in a much bigger way.

“He’s not going to stay quiet,” Barry said, his voice firm. “This? This was just the opening act.” He turned back to Singh. “We need to find him before he takes things to the next level.”

Singh nodded. “Then let’s get to work.”

Barry crouched near a stack of toppled crates, his gloved hands brushing against the splintered wood. Most of the cargo had been destroyed in the blast, reduced to charred scraps and twisted metal, but something was missing. Trickster didn’t just cause chaos—he always had a purpose buried beneath the spectacle. Barry’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a shattered shipping label barely clinging to one of the crates. The faded logo still stood out.

Wayne Industries.

His brow furrowed as he shifted through the wreckage, inspecting the damage to the crates. Some had been completely obliterated, but a select few had been broken open with precision—not by the explosion, but manually. Someone had pried them open, targeting their contents specifically. Trickster wasn’t usually one for high-tech heists, which meant either he was working with someone smarter or he had a bigger plan in mind.

Barry turned to Singh, who was still surveying the scene with arms crossed. “Do we know what was stolen?”

Singh exhaled, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Just some high-tech stuff. We’re waiting on Wayne Industries to send over an inventory list.”

Barry frowned, stepping closer to the remains of the crate. He traced the edge of a deep gouge in the wood—clean, deliberate. Not random destruction. Trickster wasn’t just playing around this time.

“His MO might be leading him to Gotham,” Barry muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Singh shot him a glance. “Gotham, huh? Makes sense. If he stole something from Wayne Industries, he’ll probably need more from them. I’ll contact the GCPD, let the precinct know to keep an eye out for Jesse.”

Barry nodded, straightening as he surveyed the rest of the wreckage. There was still evidence to gather, but his mind was already piecing together the next step. If Trickster was taking his act to Gotham, then Barry needed to move fast.

He turned, already making his way toward his car, his jaw set with determination.

Looks like he’ll have to pay a friend a visit.

“So… You’re telling me,” Kon said, leaning forward, ��you’re avoiding talking to her, but you can’t stop thinking about her?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering toward the window as he glanced at Kon. “It’s not that simple, Kon,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s… complicated.”

The manor was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the wind against the old stone walls. The large, imposing structure loomed in the distance, casting long shadows in the late afternoon light. Tim sat in the library, his fingers absently tapping against the edge of a notebook that lay open in front of him.

Kon sat across from him, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the ceiling, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He had been trying, in his typical way, to pull Tim out of his spiraling thoughts. Not that Tim was particularly good at listening to advice. But Kon’s frustration was palpable as he watched his best friend overanalyze everything, as he usually did.

“How complicated can it be? Just talk to her, Tim. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to bite your head off.”

“She might as well.” Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t help it—Kon was so simplistic, so carefree. “You don’t get it,” Tim said, his voice sharp, the frustration rising in his chest. “It’s not that easy. It’s not just about talking, okay? You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know her.”

Kon frowned, clearly not understanding. He was the type of person who didn’t dwell on things, someone who made decisions on impulse. Talking to someone was easy for him. He couldn’t comprehend the way Tim’s brain worked—how each decision was weighed, every word analyzed, every gesture broken down into a thousand potential meanings.

“Yeah, maybe I don’t know her. But you’re definitely overthinking this, Tim. Just… just go talk to her. It’s not that difficult.”

Tim shot him a pointed look, not realizing how much tension had built in his chest. “It’s everything, Kon,” he said, voice barely controlled. “It’s the way we’ve never ever talked outside of missions or patrols. It’s the way we never have a simple conversation. It’s a thousand unsaid things, a thousand missteps. Every time we’ve been in the same room, I’ve been trying to find a way fix it, and it’s never as simple as just saying ‘hey, we need to talk.’ I don’t know how to fix it. Fix this.”

Kon’s expression softened, but his response was only more frustration. “But it’s (Name), Tim. You’ve known her for years now. She’s not someone you just ignore. I saw the way you looked at her that day at the cafe. It’s obvious you care. So why are you making it harder than it needs to be?”

Tim ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Because it’s not that simple. ” he muttered, voice tinged with frustration. “I just can’t mess this up—”

But before Tim could finish, the sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Both teens turned, the familiar silhouette of Damian Wayne emerging from the shadows of the hallway. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, a slight frown on his face as he made his way toward the door, clearly about to leave.

Kon’s curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned forward in his chair, the grin returning to his face. “Hey, Damian, where’re you off to?”

Damian shot Kon a sharp look, his eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t you like to know, fool?” he snapped, his voice dripping with annoyance. He made no effort to slow his pace as he reached the door.

“Don’t bother with him,” Tim said, waving it off. “He’s just an asshole.”

But just as Damian reached the door, his lips curled into a smirk, and he paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at them. “Well,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “if you’re so curious, Timothy, why don’t you go ask (Name) then? Maybe she’ll be willing to tell you where we’re going.” He emphasized we, letting it linger in the air like a challenge.

Tim froze.

His entire body went rigid, his mind stumbling over Damian’s words as they processed.

Wait… what?

Damian was going to where you were?

Tim’s heart skipped a beat as his mind raced.

You weren’t at the manor?

Where were you?

And why hadn’t Tim known about it?

He should have… He should have known where you were.

Before Tim can question the younger boy any further, Damian has already made his way out.

Kon immediately sensed the shift in Tim’s demeanor. The subtle change in posture, the slight tightening of his jaw, the way Tim’s eyes narrowed in thought. It was all too familiar—the way his mind was racing, overanalyzing every word Damian had just spoken. Tim was caught in that moment where the world could’ve just stopped for a second, and he could process it all, but instead, it was as if everything was happening too fast for him to catch up.

“Do I need to—” Kon started, but Tim cut him off with a sharp, urgent tone.

“I already sent them the message,” Tim said, his words almost automatic, his brain already halfway to the next step. His fingers twitched at his side. “Let’s go.”

Without waiting for another word, Tim pushed past Kon, already heading toward the door. His mind was in overdrive, a storm of questions swirling through his head. Damian knew where you were. And if he was going there now… what did that mean for them? What did that mean for him?

“Tim, wait up,” Kon called, trying to catch up, but Tim’s pace never slowed. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and he couldn’t let Damian get ahead of him—not now, not when it felt like everything was slipping out of his control. Tim had to get to you first. He had to understand what was really going on. With you. With this. With everything. He had to fix it.

Tim wasn’t sure how they got here—crouched in the bushes outside an orphanage, watching his younger siblings through the railings like some second-rate stalkers.

Well, no.

He knew exactly how they got here.

One offhand comment from Damian had sent his paranoia into overdrive. Tim hadn’t even thought before acting. His body had moved on autopilot, his brain running through a thousand possibilities at once. And before he knew it, he and his team were tailing him to figure out where you were. Now, his friends were watching him with varying levels of concern, amusement, and exasperation.

A normal person—any rational person—would probably question why he had felt the need to drag his team into this.

Luckily, Tim didn’t keep normal friends.

Unfortunately, he did keep nosy ones.

“You know,” Bart whispered, shifting beside him, “normal people just say ‘hi’ to their siblings instead of full-on stalking them.”

“I am saying hi,” Tim muttered, adjusting his binoculars.

“This is not saying hi, dude,” Kon chimed in, his arms crossed as he hovered slightly above them. “This is ‘weird obsessive surveillance.’ Big difference.”

Cassie arched a brow. “Yeah, Tim. Not that I’m judging your methods, but why are we spying on your siblings?”

Kon leaned back on his hands. “She looks fine to me. Volunteering, playing with kids—kind of the opposite of suspicious, dude.”

Tim’s brows furrowed as he watched you kneel next to a child, helping them with something on the floor. You looked so at ease—comfortable—in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. His grip tightened. “That’s the thing. She’s never done this before.”

Bart blinked. “What, helping kids?”

“No, volunteering,” Tim clarified. “She never mentioned it. Never showed interest in it before. No mention of it. No hints. No reason to be here.” His grip on the binoculars tightened. “And now, suddenly, she’s here? With him?” He gestured at Damian, who stood next to you, listening as you spoke. You were looking at him directly, face open and unguarded.

Kon scoffed. “Man, I know you have trust issues, but is her doing something like this without you knowing really that shocking?”

Tim exhaled sharply through his nose, trying not to bristle. They didn’t get it. It wasn’t just that you were here—it was why you were here, who you were here with. His mind raced through the possibilities, dissecting every expression, every shift in body language.

Since when did you do this sort of stuff with Damian of all people? Why was this the most relaxed he’d seen you in months? And why did the idea of Damian having an easier time talking to you than he did make something tighten in his chest?

“Maybe she just wants to do something good other than just being Batgirl, like Cissie.” Cassie suggested. “Not everything’s a mystery that needs solving, Tim.”

Bart hummed in agreement. “Yeah, man. Maybe you’re just looking for problems where there aren’t any.”

Tim shook his head. “No. You don’t understand. There’s something here.”

Tim hated that answer.

Because that would mean he was overreacting.

He knew how this looked. He knew he sounded paranoid.

But it meant something.

Everything meant something.

And maybe it wasn’t just about the volunteering or you doing this without telling anyone. Maybe it was about the fact that you were talking to Damian with an ease that he hadn’t gotten from you in months. Years.

Maybe it was the way you looked him in the eyes without coldness, without any hesitation.

Maybe it was because you were here with him instead of—

Tim inhaled sharply.

Was that what was bothering him? The fact that you were with Damian, talking to him, laughing with him, actually looking him in the eyes like it was the most natural thing in the world? ike he wasn’t just some impossible force you had to brace yourself against? Like he was just your little brother?

Because you didn’t look at Tim like that. Not anymore.

Maybe not ever.

“Oh, wow, he’s spiraling,” Bart whispered.

Kon smirked. “Yup. Called it.”

“Shut up,” Tim snapped.

Kon grinned. “C’mon, man, what’s actually bothering you? That she’s volunteering? Or that she’s with Damian?”

Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s not—”

Bart gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, is Tim jealous of Damian?”

“Excuse me?”

Kon’s grin widened. “Oh yeah, no, I see it now. You’re totally jealous.”

“I am not jealous,” Tim gritted out. “I’m just—concerned. This isn’t normal behavior for her. Something’s going on.”

Cassie hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And that ‘something’ is…?”

Tim didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know.

But he was going to find out.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much time to come up with a strategy, because before he could, he saw one of the kids tugging at your sleeve, whispering something to you.

“Uh, (Name)?” Elliot whispered, pointing toward the bushes. “There are four weird people staring at us.”

Tim barely had time to duck before your gaze snapped toward him.

He knew the exact moment you realized who was watching, because your entire face shifted into one of deep, exhausted frustration. You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose before muttering, “Ignore them. They’re just weirdos.”

“Hey, wait a damn minute,” Adrien said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Isn’t that Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?”

Damian barely spared a glance toward the bushes. “That imbecile and his friends have been watching us for the past twenty minutes now.”

You turned toward Damian so fast Tim swore he could feel the irritation radiating off you. “You noticed them and you didn’t say anything til now?”

Damian arched an unimpressed brow. “You didn’t notice them?” He tilted his head slightly. “How perceptive of you.”

Your eye twitched. “I hate you.”

Caitlyn, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat. “Sooo, are we just gonna sit here and let them keep spying on us, or…?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples, then marched straight toward the bushes.

Tim barely had time to react before you reached them, and stared down at the four teens barely hiding behind the bushes.

“Busted…” Kon muttered, before Cassie shoved him in the shoulder, shutting him up. “Ow!”

The sound of laughter filled the air. Children ran past, their small, eager feet kicking up loose gravel as they shrieked in delight. Conversations overlapped—voices blending together into an indistinct hum.

Somewhere in the distance, Bart, Adrien, and Kon were loudly arguing as they were playing football with some of the young boys there, whilst Cassie and Caitlyn were talking and effortlessly charming a group of girls. And even Damian—who had initially scowled at their presence—had begrudgingly been roped into Adrien’s antics, taking part in the scuffed football match.

And yet, despite all of it, amidst all of that, amidst the warmth and joy, there was you and Tim. Standing in a corner.

Silent.

You felt it acutely. Pressing down on you, sinking into your skin, threading through your veins. It had been there the moment your gaze landed on that familiar, yet distant, figure standing just a few inches away from you.

Tim.

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You hadn’t wanted him to be here.

And yet, here he was.

Standing in the periphery of it all, watching.

Watching the children play.

Watching his friends mingle with yours.

Watching you.

Your first instinct was to ignore it.

You had spent years learning how to ignore it.

Because this was Tim.

And Tim knew how to pick people apart.

Tim liked picking people apart.

His eyes had always been observant, always quick to catch the things no one else noticed. The slight shifts in body language, the tension in someone’s shoulders, the weight behind a hesitation—he saw it all.

And it took everything in you not to visibly tense under his gaze.

Tim had always been good at reading people. Too good.

His eyes had a way of seeing things no one else did, of picking apart truths you didn’t even realise you were giving away. And right now, you could feel his stare burrowing into you, scrutinizing, analyzing—

And you knew what that meant.

It meant that you had slipped. That somehow, in some way, you had left something exposed—some stray emotion, some unguarded expression—something that had caught his attention.

And that was a problem.

Because Tim Drake never lets things go.

It made your skin crawl.

The air between you two was suffocatingly tense, pressing against your skin like a thick, unshakable weight. Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved. Just standing there, existing, as if acknowledging the other would set off some kind of inevitable explosion.

You weren’t sure what you hated more—the fact that he was here at all, or the fact that you couldn’t even read a single thing off his face.

Tim had always been good at reading people, but he himself was hard to read.

But right now, right at this moment, it felt like there was something—something simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully controlled expression. And you hated that you couldn’t tell what it was.

What the hell was he thinking?

Then again—what did you even know about Tim anymore? What more could you possibly know about him?

Your fingers curled into fists, frustration swelling inside you like an unspoken scream, and you exhaled sharply through your nose, an exasperated sigh escaping before you could stop it.

You could walk away.

You should walk away.

But you knew Tim well enough.

Well enough to know that if you didn’t talk to him now, he would find another time, another place. It didn’t matter when. It didn’t matter where.

Eventually, he would corner you.

And you refused to let him have that power over you.

Not anymore.

Your sigh must have been loud enough to shake Tim from his own thoughts, because his head tilted slightly, his eyes shifting toward you. A flicker of something passed over his face—something you couldn’t quite place—but then it was gone, buried beneath that infuriatingly unreadable mask.

Because he was looking at you now, now, after everything, after all this time—

Like he suddenly cared.

Like he suddenly wanted to understand.

It made you want to laugh. To scoff. To spit something sharp and biting just to cut this tension in half.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, tilting your head to meet his gaze head-on.

“So. Why are you here?”

It came out flat. Cold. No anger, no warmth—just… nothing.

Tim blinked, almost as if he hadn’t expected you to address him first.

For a brief moment, you thought—hoped, even—that he wouldn’t answer. That he would realize this wasn’t something he could just waltz into. That he would turn around and leave, sparing you both from whatever this conversation was bound to become.

But of course, he didn’t.

“…Just wanted to know what you’ve been doing.”

That was all he said.

Like it was that simple. Like it made sense.

As if he could just say something like that and expect you to accept it.

You let out a breathy scoff, eyes narrowing slightly as your lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Wow.”

Tim didn’t react. He just stood there, waiting.

Waiting for you to say something else.

So you did.

“Why?”

Your voice carried a weight to it now. Heavier.

Tim’s brows knit together slightly, as if confused by your reaction. “Is it wrong for me to be curious?”

You let out a dry laugh. “No. But it is unlike you to want to know what I’ve been doing.”

And there it was.

The first visible crack in his carefully controlled expression.

It was subtle—the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled just slightly at his sides—but you saw it.

You saw all of it.

And it made something bitter rise in your throat.

“Why is it unlike me?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You stared at him.

You stared at him.

Was he serious?

Was he actually serious right now?

Your breath came out slow and measured as you crossed your arms. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Silence.

Tim didn’t say anything.

Didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it.

And that was answer enough.

Something in you cracked.

It shouldn’t have bothered you this much. It shouldn’t have.

But it did.

Because the way he was looking at you now—like you were some unsolved puzzle, like you were some missing piece he was only now realising wasn’t where it should be—

It pissed you off.

It pissed you off.

Because where the hell was this before?

Where the hell was this when it mattered?

Your fingers dug into your arms as you inhaled sharply, forcing down the words clawing their way up your throat.

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tim visibly flinched.

It was small—barely noticeable—but you saw it.

You felt it.

And for some reason, that only made the frustration burn hotter.

Tim’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something—like he needed to say something—but nothing came out.

Nothing.

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

Tim’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

His face was unreadable, but you could see the thoughts racing in his head. You could see the way his mind was whirring, processing, analyzing—

Like this was some equation he just had to solve.

Like there was some answer that could fix this.

Tim was very quickly starting to regret this.

He hadn’t even had time to process being dragged inside before his friends had immediately assimilated with the environment.

Leaving him alone with you.

You.

He should be happy—relieved, that he was finally given the opportunity to talk to you.

Alone.

Without anyone interrupting you both.

So why—

Why was this so awkward?

Why was this so painful?

Why were you being so… cold?

So unlike how he’d seen you just a few moments ago.

Sminling, laughing.

Every bit of that had been erased from your face the moment you were left alone with him.

And Tim hates that.

Hates how you’re talking to him like he’s a stranger.

He wasn’t.

He definitely wasn’t.

Was he?

Your words echoed in his head.

Over and over and over again.

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

He should say something.

He should say something.

But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because what was he supposed to say?

What could he say?

That he had cared? That he had noticed you?

But his throat felt tight, words stuck somewhere between his mind and his mouth, refusing to come out.

You were standing right there, your arms crossed, eyes sharp and defensive, the tension so thick it was suffocating. And Tim hated it.

Why the hell couldn’t he just say the things he needed to say to you?

He had never had a problem speaking his mind before. If something needed to be said, he said it. If something needed to be done, he did it.

So why was it that, when it came to you, he was just… stuck?

His mind scrambled for proof, for evidence, for something to counter your words—he had checked in on your patrols, he covered for your mistakes, he had told you when you were being reckless, he made sure to tell you what not to do again—

Because of the missions.

Because the missions had to go smoothly.

Because it was his job.

Because everything had to go right.

Tim felt his stomach twist.

That wasn’t—

That couldn’t be the only reason.

That wasn’t the only reason.

So why the hell was that the first thing he thought of?

That wasn’t the reason he had done those things, was it?

No. No, that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t it.

He had always cared about you. Not just as an asset. Not just as a partner in the field.

He had cared about you.

Hadn’t he?

He did care.

Didn’t he?

He still cares.

Doesn’t he?

His fingers clenched tighter.

Why couldn’t he find the answer?

Why couldn’t he prove it?

Why couldn’t he just—

“You didn’t seem to care before.”

The words still rang in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull, refusing to leave.

What did you think of him now?

What had you always thought of him?

Had you spent all this time believing he hadn’t cared? That you were—what?—nothing more than some afterthought to him? That you’re just some colleague to him?

Was that his fault?

Did he make you feel that way?

Did he do that?

The thought made him sick.

He needed to fix this.

He needs to fix this.

But how the hell was he supposed to do that when he didn’t even know where to start?

His breath was uneven now, his chest tightening—

“…I always cared.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

You froze.

Your entire body went rigid, eyes snapping up to Tim in disbelief.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. He just looked at you—his expression unreadable, his hands still clenched at his sides. But his gaze was steady, as if he believed the words he had just said.

But did he?

Did he really?

Because you sure as hell didn’t.

And then—

You saw it.

You saw the desperation in his eyes.

And for a moment, you almost believed him.

Almost.

“Bullshit.”

And there it was.

The first crack in his carefully composed mask.

It was small—subtle—but you saw it.

And it made something sharp twist in your chest.

Tim blinked, actually taken aback by that.

“What do you mean ‘bullshit’?” he said, frustration creeping into his tone, a slight undertone of… hurt?

You shook your head. “I mean that’s bullshit, Tim. You didn’t care.”

“I did, (Name). I still do—”

And you hated how much he sounded like he meant it.

Hated how much you wanted to believe him.

Because what did he expect?

What did he think was going to happen here?

Did he think you’d just—what?—drop everything, smile, and act like nothing had changed? Like the years hadn’t happened? Like the distance between you both hadn’t grown into something wide and impassable?

That wasn’t how this worked.

But you knew what would happen.

Because you had seen it before.

Because this was what Tim did.

Because for Tim, every problem was a puzzle, a mystery to solve.

And right now?

Right now, he was trying to figure you out.

Trying to find some angle, some logic, some answer that would make all of this make sense.

And the worst part?

The worst part was that he genuinely didn’t realize that this wasn’t something he could fix.

That there wasn’t some logical answer to find.

That this wasn’t about some mystery.

That this was about you.

About him.

About you both.

About what you did and didn’t do.

About what he did and didn’t do.

About what was there and what wasn’t.

And suddenly, you were tired.

So, so tired.

“No, Tim.” You inhaled sharply. “Don’t. I’m not here to listen to whatever this is. The least you can do after following me like this is help out with the kids with your friends.”

Tim’s lips parted slightly, his expression shifting.

But you weren’t going to let him get another word in.

“You don’t have to bother yourself with me anymore. I’ll make sure of that.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there.

Alone.

Tim’s breath hitched.

Because that—that felt final.

That felt like a goodbye.

Did you really think that was all you were to him?

A bother? A nuisance?

Did you really believe that?

And—fuck—had he shown anything otherwise?

He wanted to go after you. To make you hear him out.

But for the first time in his life, Tim didn’t know what to say.

And that realization was a punch to the gut.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

But it did.

Because this was Tim.

Tim, who had always been too smart for his own good.

Tim, who had always known how to read between the lines.

Tim, who had always been able to see the things no one else could.

And yet—

Yet, when it came to you—

He was blind.

Or maybe he had just never bothered to look.

But right now, his eyes were wide open, and he was seriously looking.

And he was starting to see things he’s never seen before.

lol second part of chapter 7 🫣 this is definitely way shorter than part 1 but part 3 will kind of make up for it (hopefully 🥲) and also guys tim is one of my favs pls don’t be too harsh on him in the comments (even though he kind of deserves it in this series, but hopefully yall can see that it’s kind of reader and tim’s fault for whatever nonexistent bond they have going on, prob will have more backstory/flashback scenes to them soon) part 3 soon but not kinda soon but eventually

taglist is closed‼️

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[rafedarling]

Hiii , can you write something jealous drew , maybe he is away to shoot a movie and reader takes rustyn to preschool or to events and during this time she makes friends with one of the single dads there and the guy is a bit of a flirt, when drew gets back from the shoot, rustyn mentions his mom's new friend and reader lets it go but drew is already jealous and the next day he goes to preschool with reader and intimidates the single dad a bit and reader finds his jealousy cute

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: while drew is away filming, you take rustyn to preschool and befriend kevin, a charming single dad who enjoys flirting a little too much. when drew returns home, rustyn innocently mentions mama’s new friend, which immediately sparks drew’s jealousy. the next day, he insists on going to preschool with you, just to say hi, of course.

warning(s): english is not my native language. slow-burn jealousy, playful intimidation, protective drew, and plenty of domestic fluff.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @issabellec7

It was another morning of getting Rustyn ready for preschool, and you were juggling everything alone again while Drew was away filming. Rustyn, as always, was a bundle of energy, making it nearly impossible for you to get his shoes on properly.

“Rustyn, hold still, baby,” you sighed, attempting to double-knot his laces.

“But Mama, I wanna go wake up Dada first!”

You smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Alright, go give him a kiss, then we have to leave, okay?”

Rustyn ran off into your bedroom, where Drew was still tangled up in the sheets, deep in sleep. But that didn’t stop your son from climbing onto the bed and poking his dad’s cheek.

“I love you, Dada. Bye-bye!”

Drew groaned, barely cracking one eye open.

“Mmm, love you too, buddy. Have fun at school today.”

“I will, Dada!”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the sleepy exchange with a soft smile before ushering Rustyn out to the car.

At preschool, Rustyn was practically bouncing in his seat as you pulled into the parking lot.

“Look, Mama! Daisy’s there!” he pointed eagerly, and you followed his gaze to see a little girl with pigtails standing next to her dad, waving.

Rustyn beamed. “Isn’t she pretty, Mama?”

“She’s very pretty, sweetheart,” you agreed, helping him out of his car seat.

As you walked up to the entrance, Daisy’s dad turned and gave you a friendly smile.

“Hey, you must be Rustyn’s mom,” he said, offering a handshake.

“I am,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Kevin,” he introduced himself.

“Daisy’s dad. She talks about Rustyn all the time.”

You laughed, glancing down at your son.

“Does she now? Well, Rustyn talks about her, too. I think you two might have a little duo forming.”

Kevin grinned.

“Yeah, seems like it. She says Rustyn shares his crayons with her, which is apparently a huge deal.”

You chuckled. “That’s adorable.”

As the kids ran ahead toward the classroom, Kevin lingered beside you, casually tucking his hands into his pockets.

“So, you’re usually the one doing drop-offs?” he asked.

“Most of the time,” you nodded.

“My husband’s away filming right now.”

Kevin’s brows lifted slightly.

“Oh, your husband’s in the industry?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “Drew Starkey.”

His expression flickered with recognition.

“Oh, that Drew Starkey? Damn. That’s cool.”

You laughed. “Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

Kevin gave you a teasing smile.

“Well, I don’t usually get starstruck, but I might have to get an autograph for Daisy. Or, you know, you could just sign something for me instead.”

You blinked, catching the flirtatious edge in his voice.

“Kevin…” you said, giving him a knowing look.

He held up his hands in surrender, laughing.

“Alright, alright. Just saying, it’s not every day I meet someone who looks like you at preschool drop-off.”

You shook your head with an amused smile, deciding to let it slide.

“Well, I should get going,” you said, shifting the conversation.

“Rustyn’s probably already settled in.”

Kevin nodded. “Yeah, me too. But hey, if you ever want to grab coffee after drop-off, let me know.”

You hesitated for half a second before offering a polite smile.

“That’s kind of you, but I’m good. See you later, Kevin.”

As you walked back to your car, you brushed off the encounter. It was nothing. Just friendly conversation.

That evening, Drew was finally home, setting the table while you finished heating up dinner.

Rustyn, however, was unusually quiet, barely touching his food.

Drew sat beside him, gently nudging his arm.

“What’s up, buddy?”

Rustyn poked at his mashed potatoes, frowning.

“Mama made a new friend today.”

Drew’s head snapped up, his eyes flickering to you.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice casual.

“Who’s this new friend?”

Rustyn fidgeted in his seat.

“Daisy’s dad. He talks to Mama a lot. And today, Daisy said her dad likes Mama.”

You nearly choked on your water. “Rustyn!”

Drew, on the other hand, just let out a dry chuckle.

“Oh, did she now?”

Rustyn nodded. “She said Mama might be her other mom. But I don’t want that.”

Drew placed a hand on Rustyn’s head, ruffling his hair.

“Buddy, no one’s taking Mama away from us. You don’t have to worry about that.”

You reached over, squeezing Drew’s wrist.

“It’s just kids being kids. Daisy was probably just playing pretend.”

Drew hummed, but the sharp set of his jaw told you he wasn’t letting it go.

The next morning, you were tying Rustyn’s shoes when Drew suddenly grabbed his keys.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Coming with you,” he said casually, slipping on his jacket.

“You sure? I thought you were sleeping in today.”

“Nah, I feel like stretching my legs.”

You squinted at him. “Drew…”

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Just wanna say hi to Rustyn’s teachers. And maybe meet your new friend.”

You sighed, but you didn’t argue.

At preschool, Drew held Rustyn’s other hand, his grip firm and possessive.

Kevin was already there, chatting with another parent, but when he saw you approaching, he smiled until his eyes landed on Drew.

Drew’s hold on your waist tightened slightly.

“Morning, Y/N,” Kevin greeted.

“Morning,” you said as Rustyn ran off to play.

Drew extended his hand, his grip firm and unrelenting.

“Drew Starkey. Her husband.”

Kevin hesitated before shaking it.

“Oh. Right, yeah. Nice to meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Drew smiled, but there was something sharp in it.

“Funny. I don’t think I’ve heard about you at all.”

Kevin let out a small laugh. “Well, Daisy and Rustyn get along great, so Y/N and I have talked a bit.”

“That so?” Drew said, still smiling.

“Appreciate you keeping my wife company while I was away.”

You elbowed him lightly, but he didn’t budge.

Kevin cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, good seeing you guys. I should get going.”

As he walked off, Drew exhaled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Drew smirked, leaning in close. “Just making sure he knows you’re very taken.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jealous much?”

Drew wrapped an arm around you, murmuring in your ear, “Always, baby.”

You let out a laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Come on, jealous husband, let’s get breakfast.”

Drew chuckled, kissing your temple before leading you back to the car, still holding you close.

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: I’m so tempted to make a load of these scenarios because I find this trope so cute 😭 and I was definitely not inspired by that photo I reblogged…

The moment Mattheo Riddle stepped into the Great Hall, the entire atmosphere shifted. Conversations hushed, eyes flickered away, and the once lively room felt as though it had lost all its warmth.

It wasn’t uncommon for Mattheo to be in a foul mood, but today, it was different. Today, he radiated pure fury.

His dark curls were even messier than usual, his sharp jaw locked tight, and his eyes—those usually mischievous brown eyes—were stormy and dangerous.

“Don’t even look at him,” Theo muttered under his breath, nudging Enzo as they both sat at the Slytherin table.

Enzo let out a low whistle. “What’s got him like this?”

“Dunno, but I’d rather not be on the receiving end of it.”

Sure enough, Mattheo strode past a few third years who were unfortunate enough to be in his path and they practically flew backwards as he barged past them. Even the Gryffindors who would normally offer an unsolicited snarky comment chose to keep their heads down.

The only one who seemed entirely unbothered by his wrath was you—for good reason.

As soon as Mattheo spotted you at the Slytherin table, his expression shifted so suddenly it was almost comical. The storm in his eyes calmed, his shoulders relaxed, and his lips curled into a soft, barely-there smile.

“Hey, love,” he murmured as he slid onto the bench beside you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

You turned to face him, brows raised. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Mattheo sighed dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “I might. Haven’t decided yet.”

Despite his words, his tone when speaking to you was so sweet, so warm, that it was almost laughable compared to how he’d just been glaring daggers at half the school.

Theo, who had been watching the entire exchange with amusement, turned to Enzo. “You see that?”

Enzo smirked. “Oh, I see it all right. Blatant favoritism!”

Theo grinned. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. He looks like he’s about to kill us all, and then the second he sees Y/N? Boom. Puppy.”

“I’m literally right here,” Mattheo muttered, pulling away from you just enough to glare at his friends. “And I will not hesitate to throw you both into the black lake.”

“Oh, we know,” Theo said, leaning back smugly. “But only if Y/N isn’t looking, yeah?”

Mattheo scowled. “Shut up.”

You giggled, reaching out to cup his cheek, drawing his attention back to you. “What’s got you so mad, anyway?”

He melted into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he exhaled heavily. “Idiot Ravenclaws in Dueling Club,” he grumbled. “One of them kept running their mouth, thinking they could beat me. Almost hexed the bastard into next week, but Snape showed up before I could.”

You hummed in response, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “So you’re mad because you didn’t get to hex someone?”

“Pretty much.”

Theo snorted. “Psychopath.”

“Dead man,” Mattheo shot back without even looking at him.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Alright, alright. No hexing your friends at breakfast.”

Mattheo groaned, resting his forehead against yours. “You always take their side.”

“I do not,” you argued, laughing softly. “I just think you need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” he said, voice softer than before. He nudged his nose against yours, and for a second, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just you and him, wrapped up in this little moment of warmth.

Enzo made a gagging noise. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Mattheo’s hand shot out to grab a piece of toast from Enzo’s plate and chucked it at his head. “Then leave.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Don’t let them bother you.”

His lips barely curved into a smirk. “They don’t. They’re just annoying.”

“You love us,” Theo chimed in.

“No, I tolerate you.”

Enzo grinned. “Right, but you love her.”

Mattheo didn’t even hesitate. “Obviously.”

The table went silent for a second.

Theo’s eyes widened. “Bloody hell, did he just—?”

“He did,” Enzo confirmed, looking equally stunned. “He admitted it. Just like that.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, looking at you like he couldn’t believe he had to deal with this level of stupidity. “Of course I love her.” He glanced at the other two. “What, did you think I was throwing myself at her feet just for fun?”

Theo blinked. “I mean… yeah, kind of.”

Mattheo groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “You absolute idiots.”

You just laughed, feeling warmth spread through your chest at how easily he had said it. You knew Mattheo loved you—he showed it in every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every time he softened his voice just for you—but hearing him say it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world? That was something else entirely.

He may have been terrifying to everyone else, but when it came to you, he was nothing but soft.

And honestly? You loved that.

Even if your friends never let you live it down.