#CA contracts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

w1w2 · 5 months ago

Text

A Contract of Silence

Part 1 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 6k

Synopsis: A young mute woman is drawn into the world of a powerful CEO through an unexpected proposition that could change her life and her family’s future forever.

Notes: I've been obsessed with When the Phone Rings lately, and it has been inspiring a little.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Y/N’s heart pounded as the elevator doors glided open to the executive floor of Uchinaga Couture. A soft chime signaled her arrival, and she stepped out hesitantly, her worn flats making barely a sound against the pristine marble floors. The space around her was intimidatingly sleek, high ceilings, gold-accented furniture, and white walls so spotless they practically glowed under the recessed lighting. Every inch of the space radiated power and exclusivity.

The air was cool and quiet, the only sounds were the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant clicking of keyboards from the rows of assistants stationed in glass-walled offices. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, like it demanded perfection from anyone who dared to linger too long.

Y/N clutched her bag tightly against her chest, trying to steady her breathing. Her mind raced, replaying the cryptic message she’d received from Giselle Uchinaga’s assistant earlier that morning.

“Miss Uchinaga would like to see you in her office. Immediately.”

Why would Giselle Uchinaga, the CEO of one of the world’s most renowned fashion houses, a woman so influential she rarely made public appearances, want to meet with her? Y/N wasn’t even an intern yet.

Her fingers instinctively reached for her phone in her bag. She’d been rehearsing a polite introduction during the entire elevator ride, but now, standing here surrounded by the grandeur of Uchinaga Couture’s upper echelon, her words felt hollow. Would she even be able to speak at all in the presence of someone like Giselle?

The receptionist sitting behind a minimalist gold and glass desk barely glanced up from her screen. “Miss Uchinaga is waiting for you,” she said, her tone clipped and professional, as though this sort of summoning happened every day.

Y/N nodded. She smoothed the front of her blouse, realizing with dismay that it was slightly wrinkled from her hurried commute.

The receptionist gestured toward a pair of imposing glass doors at the far end of the hallway. They stood like gates to another world, one Y/N wasn’t sure she was ready to enter.

She hesitated, but the receptionist’s pointed look left no room for second guessing. Forcing her feet to move, Y/N approached the doors, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The office beyond the doors was even more magnificent than the hallway. Vast and bathed in natural light, it was dominated by floor to ceiling windows that offered an uninterrupted view of the city skyline. The desk at the center of the room was a masterpiece of sleek mahogany, polished to a mirror finish. Behind it sat Giselle Uchinaga herself.

Y/N had seen Giselle in magazines and online, always poised, with an untouchable elegance that made her seem more like a mythical figure than a real person. In person, that aura of control was even more pronounced.

Giselle didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence. She sat with her back straight, her silky black hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder as she studied the glowing screen of her tablet. A fountain pen rested delicately between her fingers, tapping soundlessly against the desk. Her tailored navy suit accentuated her sharp features, and even seated, her posture exuded authority.

“Miss Y/N,” Giselle said finally, without looking up. Her voice was smooth and controlled, with a faint edge of disinterest. “Have a seat.”

Y/N obeyed quickly, lowering herself onto the leather chair in front of the desk. It was so soft and luxurious she worried for a moment that she might sink into it entirely. She folded her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget as she waited.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Giselle remained focused on her tablet, her fingers scrolling through unseen files with practiced precision.

Y/N used the opportunity to glance around the room. The walls were lined with black shelves holding a curated collection of awards, framed magazine covers, and bound portfolios. Every object seemed to scream success, as if Giselle’s achievements had been distilled into physical form.

When Giselle finally looked up, Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The CEO’s almond-shaped eyes were sharp and assessing, like she was dissecting Y/N with a single glance.

For a moment, Y/N felt like an open book under that gaze, every secret and insecurity laid bare. The weight of it was suffocating, but she forced herself to meet Giselle’s eyes, refusing to shrink under the scrutiny.

“I assume you’re wondering why I called you here,” Giselle said, leaning back in her chair. Her tone was calm but carried the faintest hint of impatience.

Y/N nodded quickly.

Giselle’s perfectly manicured hand gestured toward a sleek black folder resting on the desk, though she didn’t open it yet. “I’ve reviewed your file, Miss Y/N. You have an impressive work ethic. Resourceful. Determined. Someone who doesn’t back down when faced with challenges.”

Y/N blinked, unsure whether Giselle was complimenting her or simply stating facts. Her file? She’d almost forgotten she’d even applied for a position as an assistant in the accounting department months ago, an opportunity that had seemed impossible even then.

“I have an opportunity for you,” Giselle said, her voice deliberate, as though testing Y/N’s reaction. “But before I explain further, I need to know one thing. How far are you willing to go to help your family?”

The question hit like a thunderclap. Y/N’s lips parted instinctively, but no sound followed. Her breath caught in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears as her thoughts spiraled.

Why was Giselle asking something so personal? How much did she know about Y/N’s situation?

Giselle’s gaze didn’t waver, her expression unrelenting. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as they curled into her lap. She wanted to ask what Giselle meant, to demand clarification, but the words never came. They never could. Instead, she lifted her head, her eyes locking onto Giselle’s with a quiet intensity.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she inhaled slowly, trying to project steadiness. Her gaze was resolute, though her chest tightened with fear, she refused to look away. If Giselle wanted to test her resolve, she would show it, even if only through the unwavering determination in her expression.

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Giselle’s eyes, curiosity, perhaps, or the faintest glimmer of approval, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Giselle didn’t wait for a response. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the edges of the black folder on her desk.

“Your father left you and your family in an unfortunate position,” she said, her tone clinical, devoid of any trace of empathy. “The debts he accrued are substantial, and your current situation offers little opportunity to escape them. Correct?”

Y/N flinched at the bluntness, her chest tightening as though someone had reached in and exposed every hidden part of her life. She hesitated, her fingers twitching toward the phone in her lap. Finally, she picked it up, her movements deliberate, and began typing.

“Yes.”

She held up the screen for Giselle to see. The stark simplicity of the word felt both shameful and raw.

Giselle’s gaze flicked to the phone, her expression remaining unreadable. She gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment before continuing.

“I’m offering you a way out,” Giselle said, folding her hands neatly on the desk. “But it requires your cooperation and your discretion.”

Y/N blinked, her curiosity piqued despite the knot of unease tightening in her stomach. She typed quickly, her fingers trembling slightly.

“What kind of cooperation?”

The corner of Giselle’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “I need a fiancée.”

Y/N froze, her eyes widening. For a moment, she was sure she’d misread the words that had just left Giselle’s mouth. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, uncertain what to say. Finally, she typed.

“A fiancée?”

“Yes,” Giselle said, her tone as even and detached as if she were discussing a routine business transaction. She leaned back in her chair, exuding an air of unshakable confidence. “My reputation has... complications. Certain people perceive me as cold, unapproachable. The board at Lueur, with whom I am negotiating a highly lucrative partnership, values the appearance of stability and warmth in their collaborators. I need to project that image.”

Y/N stared at her, stunned. Her fingers moved instinctively, typing out the only question that made sense.

“Why me?”

“You,” Giselle said, her sharp gaze locking onto Y/N’s, “are the perfect candidate. Young, vibrant, and unknown to the media.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted as she read Giselle’s words. Her mind raced, struggling to process the sheer absurdity of the situation. She typed slowly this time, her hands shaking.

“I don’t understand. I’m just an applicant. Why would you choose me?”

Giselle’s lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, she appeared to weigh her response, then answered with calm certainty. “I’ve done my research. Your background is compelling, your work history suggests you��re resourceful and adaptable and most importantly, you’re desperate.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her chest tightening at the final word. She lowered her phone slightly, breaking eye contact for the first time.

“You have no other options, Miss Y/N,” Giselle said, her voice firm but not unkind. “This arrangement would benefit both of us. You’ll help me secure the partnership with Lueur, and in return, I will pay you enough to clear your family’s debts entirely and provide a stable future for yourself and your family.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Humiliation, anger, and a flicker of reluctant hope. She stared at her phone, her vision blurring slightly. With trembling fingers, she typed.

“And if I say no?”

Giselle’s expression didn’t waver. “Then you walk out of this office, and we go our separate ways. But consider this carefully, opportunities like this are rare, and for someone in your position, it could mean the difference between struggling for decades or starting over.”

Y/N stared at the words on her screen, her heart pounding. Giselle’s words weren’t a threat, they were a calculated statement of fact.

This wasn’t a choice. Not really.

Giselle leaned back in her chair, her sharp gaze never leaving Y/N, and slid the black folder across the desk with a single, precise motion. The faint sound of the leather cover gliding against the polished wood echoed in the otherwise silent room.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers hovering over the edge of the folder. Slowly, she reached out and pulled it closer, her heart pounding as she flipped it open.

Inside, the contract was laid out in meticulous detail. The dense paragraphs of legal jargon were daunting, and Y/N’s eyes flitted over the page, struggling to focus. Certain phrases stood out like beacons, each one hitting her like a punch to the chest.

“Exclusive agreement.”“Media appearances required.”“Strict confidentiality.”

Her throat tightened as the magnitude of the arrangement settled over her like a heavy fog. This wasn’t just a deal, it was a meticulously crafted performance, with no room for mistakes.

“This isn’t a charity, Miss Y/N,” Giselle’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. Her tone was firm, but there was a hint of expectation, as if she were testing how Y/N would respond.

Y/N glanced up, her fingers still clutching the edges of the folder. Her mind swirled with questions, fears, and doubts, but she forced herself to focus. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone and typed quickly before turning the screen toward Giselle.

“What exactly do you expect from me?”

Giselle’s gaze flicked to the screen, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved her lips. “Professionalism,” she said. “You will follow my instructions, attend events as required, and present yourself as a devoted partner. In public, we will be inseparable. In private, however, we will remain strictly separate.”

Y/N’s fingers flew across the screen again, her anxiety spilling into her typed words.

“And if I mess up?”

The question hung in the air, and Y/N watched as Giselle’s expression hardened slightly. The CEO leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her fingers steepled in front of her.

“Then the deal is off,” Giselle said, her voice cold and unwavering. “And you’re on your own.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the bluntness of the ultimatum. She tightened her grip on her phone, her chest tightening as the enormity of the situation loomed over her. She quickly typed another message, her hands trembling slightly as she showed the screen to Giselle.

“You mean... everything ends? No payment?”

Giselle nodded once, her expression unchanging. “Exactly. This is a transaction, Miss Y/N, not a handout. If you fail to meet the expectations outlined in that contract, there will be no second chances.”

The weight of those words settled over Y/N like a lead blanket, heavy and suffocating. Her eyes dropped to the folder again, scanning the tightly packed lines of text that seemed to stretch endlessly.

She hesitated before typing another question, her fingers pressing against the screen more forcefully now.

“What happens if someone finds out this is fake?”

Giselle’s gaze sharpened, and for the first time, her calm exterior seemed to harden further. “They won’t,” she said simply, the steel in her voice leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, no one will suspect a thing. I’ve accounted for every possible variable. Any leaks or suspicions will only arise from carelessness, yours, specifically.”

The words sent a chill through Y/N, but she refused to look away. Her fingers hovered over her phone as she considered her next move. Every logical part of her told her to walk away, that this was far too risky, far too overwhelming. But the memory of her family’s desperate situation, the crushing weight of her father’s debts, made her stay rooted in place.

She swallowed hard, then typed a final message.

“What happens if I succeed?”

Giselle’s expression softened, just slightly. “If you succeed, your debts are gone. You’ll have enough money to start over, far away from whatever struggles brought you here. And,” she added, her tone shifting to something almost imperceptibly lighter, “you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you helped secure one of the most important deals in this company’s history.”

Y/N read and reread the words on her screen, her chest tightening. The stakes were high, terrifyingly so, but so was the reward. She could picture her family, free from the weight of her father’s mistakes, finally able to move forward.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N stared down at the open folder before her. The dense, unyielding text seemed to blur as the enormity of what she was about to do settled over her. Her hand hovered over the pen resting neatly beside the folder, trembling with hesitation.

Her thoughts raced. Signing this contract would bind her to a life she couldn’t fully comprehend, a world she wasn’t prepared for. But walking away wasn’t an option, not with her family depending on her.

Y/N picked up her phone and typed a message, her fingers moving slower than usual as doubt gnawed at her resolve. She turned the screen toward Giselle, who watched her with patient intensity.

“What if I change my mind later?”

Giselle’s sharp eyes flicked to the screen. For a moment, her expression softened, not with kindness, but with something close to understanding. “Then I suggest you don’t sign,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “Once you commit, there’s no room for second guessing.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the answer hitting her like a stone. Giselle’s unyielding certainty was both intimidating and strangely reassuring. This was a woman who never faltered, who didn’t allow for failure.

Her hand tightened around the pen. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she steadied herself. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered the pen to the page and began to sign her name.

Each stroke of ink felt heavier than the last, like an invisible weight pressing against her hand. Her name, once complete, seemed foreign and final. This was it, the moment that changed everything.

When she finished, Y/N set the pen down carefully, the faint click of metal against wood echoing louder than it should have. She slid the folder back across the desk, taking one copy of the contract for herself and tucking it neatly into her bag, her eyes darting up to meet Giselle’s.

Giselle picked it up without a word, her fingers flipping through the pages with practiced efficiency. Her sharp gaze scanned the document, ensuring every detail was in place. Finally, she closed the folder and set it aside.

“Welcome to your new life, Miss Y/N,” Giselle said, extending her hand.

Y/N hesitated, staring at the outstretched hand. She’d expected this moment to feel more... transactional, but now that it was here, the reality of what she’d agreed to seemed overwhelming. Slowly, she reached out, her hand meeting Giselle’s.

Giselle’s grip was firm, her palm cool and steady. There was no warmth, no reassurance, just the unspoken promise of professionalism.

Releasing her hand, Giselle leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. As Y/N stood, clutching her phone tightly, Giselle’s voice stopped her just as she reached the door.

“Remember,” she said, her tone low but resolute, “this is business. Nothing more.”

Y/N froze for a heartbeat, then nodded.

The glass doors closed behind her with a soft click, sealing her into a world she wasn’t sure she could navigate. The quiet hum of the floor seemed louder now, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest.

As she stepped into the elevator, her reflection stared back at her in the polished steel walls, unsure, but resolute.

This was her choice. There was no turning back now.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and after the short walk Y/N stepped out into the bustling street. The late afternoon sunlight stretched across the buildings, painting the city in hues of amber and gold. Pedestrians moved around her in a blur, business people rushing to catch cabs, couples strolling hand in hand, and tourists snapping pictures of the skyline.

But Y/N barely noticed any of it. Her thoughts weighed her down, each step feeling heavier than the last as she weaved through the crowd.

The weight of the signed contract in her bag felt almost tangible, like an anchor tethered to her future. Her grip tightened around the leather strap of her bag, so firm that her knuckles turned white. She had done it. She had agreed to step into a world she barely understood, tethering herself to a woman who felt as untouchable as the city’s towering skyscrapers.

Giselle’s words echoed in her mind, cool and precise, as if they had been carved into stone.

"Welcome to your new life."

Her new life. Was it really hers?

She felt a pang of uncertainty, the same pang that had risen in her chest as she’d signed her name on the dotted line. It hadn’t felt like liberation, it had felt like a pact with something she couldn’t quite define.

Y/N slowed her pace as she passed the entrance to a quiet park, the bustling noise of the city receding like a distant hum. The shade of a row of oak trees stretched across the grass, offering a temporary reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

Her feet carried her to an empty bench near a fountain, its soft trickling water providing a soothing contrast to the relentless rhythm of her thoughts. She sank down slowly, her shoulders sagging under the invisible weight she carried. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, but it did nothing to lift the heaviness settling in her chest.

Y/N pulled her phone from her bag and stared at the blank screen. Her fingers hovered over the device, poised to type something into the notes app, but no words came. She didn’t know what to say, to herself, to the universe, to anyone.

The screen dimmed, and Y/N let the phone drop into her lap with a soft thud. She leaned back against the bench, her head tilting toward the sky. The golden light filtered through the leaves above, dappling her face with shadows and warmth, but it couldn’t reach the chill that gripped her heart.

Her breathing slowed, and with the stillness came the memories, unbidden and relentless, rising to the surface like ghosts she could no longer keep buried.

She was ten years old the last time she heard her father’s voice. It was a warm evening, much like this one, when she’d sat cross legged on the thick carpet of his study, her fingers trailing absently over the edges of a well worn storybook. The smell of his cologne, cedarwood and something faintly spicy, lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of the leather bound books that lined the shelves.

His desk, usually an organized chaos of papers and trinkets, was unusually cluttered that night. Contracts, ledgers, and letters spilled across the dark oak surface, the symbols of a crumbling empire he had worked so tirelessly to build.

Her father had always been her hero. His laughter had a way of filling every corner of the house, and his warmth made even the darkest days feel like they carried a glimmer of hope. But that night, something was different.

His usual smile was absent, replaced by a furrowed brow and a tightness in his jaw that Y/N didn’t fully understand but instinctively feared. His movements were hurried, his hands shaking slightly as he shuffled through the papers in front of him.

“Papa?” she had asked softly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

He stilled for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath before he turned to her. His eyes, so often kind and full of life were clouded with something she couldn’t name. He crossed the room in three quick strides and knelt in front of her, his large hands gently gripping her small shoulders.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “I need you to listen carefully, okay?”

The seriousness in his tone made her heart race. She nodded, her gaze locked on his face.

“No matter what happens, no matter what you see, you have to stay quiet. Do you understand? Don’t make a sound.”

His words wrapped around her like a cage, cold and unyielding. She opened her mouth to ask why, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no time for questions, no room for explanations. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the far wall of the study, where a towering bookshelf stood filled with thick tomes and small mementos.

Before she could ask what he was doing, he pressed his hand against the side of the shelf, triggering a soft click. The bookshelf shifted slightly, revealing a narrow doorway. Beyond it was a small, dark room she had never known existed.

Her father knelt again, placing both hands on her shoulders this time. “Stay here, sweetheart,” he whispered. His voice wavered, just for a moment, before he steadied it. “Don’t come out until I tell you. And remember, no sound.”

The fear in his eyes mirrored the growing terror in her chest. She wanted to cling to him, to beg him to stay with her, but he gently pushed her into the hidden space before she could.

“Be brave, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he closed the door, sealing her in darkness.

Y/N pressed her hands against the cool walls of the hidden room, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would give her away. Through a thin crack in the door, she could see her father return to his desk, his movements quick and tense. He sat down, his back straight as if bracing himself for something.

Minutes later, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash.

Y/N flinched, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Harsh voices filled the air, angry and unfamiliar. Men in dark suits stormed into the study, their faces obscured by the dim light.

She watched as her father rose to meet them, his posture firm despite the chaos that followed. The men surrounded him, their movements calculated and menacing.

“You know why we’re here,” one of them said, his voice cold and cutting.

Her father’s voice was calm but resolute, though Y/N couldn’t make out every word. She caught fragments “not fair,” “family,” “too far” but the argument was heated, the tension in the room palpable.

One of the men slammed his hand against the desk, making Y/N jump. Her father stood his ground, his expression unreadable.

The man’s voice rose, sharp and angry. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”

There was a flash of movement, something metallic glinting in the dim light.

Then came the deafening crack of a gunshot.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat as her father’s body crumpled to the floor. Time seemed to stop. The dark pool spreading beneath him was all she could see, staining the polished wood of the study.

Her heart felt like it would burst as she clamped her hands over her mouth, her small frame trembling violently. Tears streamed down her face, hot and endless, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Her father’s warning echoed in her mind like a mantra. Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound.

The men stood over his lifeless body for a moment before one of them spat something cruel under his breath. Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone, their heavy footsteps retreating into silence.

When the house finally fell quiet, Y/N stayed frozen in the hidden room, too terrified to move. It felt like hours before she found the courage to push the door open.

The study was eerily still, the papers on her father’s desk fluttering softly in the breeze from an open window. She stumbled toward his body, her legs shaking so badly she nearly fell.

“Papa?” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her small hands reached out to him, shaking as they pressed against his arm. “Papa, wake up.”

But he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. The warmth she had always associated with him was gone, replaced by a cold, lifeless shell.

The weight of her grief was unbearable, suffocating her as she knelt beside him, sobbing silently. At that moment, something inside her broke.

From that day on, Y/N never spoke again.

The official story was that her father had taken his own life after his company went bankrupt. The newspapers were ruthless, painting him as a failure who had crumbled under the weight of his mistakes. The debts, they said, had been too much for him to bear.

The truth, however, was far darker. Y/N had tried to tell someone, anyone. In the days that followed the horrific night in the study, she had opened her mouth countless times, desperate to describe the men who had invaded their home, to explain how they had taken her father’s life.

But every time, the words got stuck.

Her throat would tighten painfully, and the memory of her father’s lifeless body would crash over her like a wave, pulling her under. The gunshot, the men’s cold voices, the dark pool of blood, it all came back too vividly, paralyzing her. No matter how much she wanted to scream the truth, her voice refused to cooperate.

At first, her mother didn’t seem to notice. She was too consumed by her own grief and the weight of what had been left behind. Lawyers had come and gone, each one bearing bad news. The company her father had built was gone, swallowed up by his debts, leaving nothing but bills they couldn’t pay and creditors demanding what was owed.

Y/N had tried to help, using the scraps of courage she had left to write down the truth in shaky handwriting. But when she’d handed the paper to her mother, her hands trembling, her mother had barely glanced at it.

“Not now, Y/N,” her mother had said softly, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She’d set the note aside and never brought it up again.

Y/N had crumpled the paper in her hands, the rejection stinging more than she expected.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N stopped trying to speak altogether. What was the point? Every attempt ended the same way, with her throat closing up, her heart pounding, and tears burning her eyes. The trauma sat in her chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

At school, teachers and classmates would ask her questions, their faces twisting with confusion when she wouldn’t respond.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” “Why won’t you talk?”

The questions only made it worse. She wanted to answer, wanted to explain, but her voice was gone. Instead, she would shake her head and look away, her cheeks burning with shame.

Her teachers contacted her mother, concerned about her silence. But her mother, overwhelmed with grief and the mounting debt, had little energy to address the issue. “She’s going through a lot right now,” her mother had said. “She’ll speak when she’s ready.”

But Y/N wasn’t sure she ever would.

Their once beautiful home, with its sprawling garden and cozy rooms, was sold within months of her father’s death. The furniture went next, piece by piece, until their lives were stripped down to the bare essentials.

They moved into a cramped apartment in a part of town Y/N had never visited before. The walls were thin, the pipes rattled when the water ran, and the single window in the living room overlooked an alleyway filled with dumpsters. It was a far cry from the life they’d known, but her mother said it was all they could afford.

Y/N had watched as the stress wore her mother down, the vibrant woman reduced to a shadow of herself. Lines of worry etched themselves into her face, and her shoulders seemed permanently hunched from the weight she carried.

Y/N hated seeing her mother like that. Hated the hopelessness that seemed to hang over their tiny apartment like a storm cloud.

It was then, at the age of ten, that Y/N made a promise to herself. She would do whatever it took to help her family.

For months, Y/N relied on gestures and written notes to communicate. She would scribble messages on scraps of paper or point to things when she needed something. It was clumsy and frustrating, and more often than not, people misunderstood her.

One day, during a particularly frustrating moment at school, her teacher handed her a flyer.

“Have you thought about learning sign language?” the teacher had asked gently, her voice free of judgment.

Y/N had stared at the flyer for a long moment before taking it. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was worth a try.

The next weekend, her mother took her to her first sign language class at a community center downtown. Y/N felt out of place at first, surrounded by people of all ages, each with their own reasons for learning. But as the instructor demonstrated simple signs and encouraged them to practice, something shifted.

First time in months, Y/N felt like she had a voice again.

She practiced obsessively, her fingers fumbling at first but growing more confident with time. She learned to sign her name, simple phrases, and eventually, full sentences. The fluid motions of her hands became second nature, and with every new sign she mastered, she felt a little piece of herself returning.

Sign language became her lifeline, a way to express herself without the fear that had stolen her voice. It wasn’t perfect, many people didn’t understand it, and she still relied on her phone or written notes in those cases, but it was hers.

As she grew older, Y/N poured herself into her studies. She took on part time jobs after school, working long hours at diners, grocery stores, and anywhere else that would hire her. Every penny she earned went toward the family’s expenses or into a savings jar she kept hidden under her bed.

But no matter how hard she worked, the debt loomed over them, a constant reminder of her father’s death and the men who had taken everything from them.

Y/N refused to let it break her. She had resolved, then and there, that she would claw her way out of the darkness, no matter what it took. For her mother, for her siblings, and for herself.

She just needed an opportunity.

Y/N stared down at her phone, the sleek black screen reflecting her tired eyes and the faint streaks of sunlight filtering through the trees. Her thumb brushed against the edge of the device, but she didn’t unlock it yet. For a moment, the world around her blurred, the muted chatter of children playing in the park, the distant hum of traffic, the rustling of leaves in the soft breeze. None of it registered.

Her thoughts were louder than any of it.

She had signed the contract.

The realization settled over her. She had sealed her fate, tethering herself to a woman whose world was as cold as the steel skyscrapers that loomed over the city. She had done it not for herself, but for them, for her family.

Her mother’s face floated to the forefront of her mind, etched with exhaustion from years of carrying a burden she was never meant to bear alone. Y/N remembered the way her mother used to smile, bright and unrestrained, a beacon of warmth in their home. But over the years, that smile had become rare, a faint shadow of what it once was. Y/N wanted to bring it back.

Then there were her younger siblings, still so full of life, so full of hope. She thought of her sister sketching dresses at the kitchen table with crayons, dreaming of becoming a designer. She thought of her brother, meticulously building castles out of old shoeboxes, telling anyone who would listen that one day he’d be an architect.

They deserved to dream.

Sliding her thumb across the screen, Y/N opened her notes app and stared at the blank space. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she began to type.

“I’ll make this work.”

She stared at the sentence, her lips pressing into a thin line. The words weren’t just a promise, they were a lifeline, a tether to something stronger than her fear or doubt. They were a reminder of why she couldn’t fail.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath. Her fingers brushed across the screen again, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about typing something more. Something about the uncertainty she felt, or the weight of the decision she had made.

But no. This was enough.

Sliding the phone back into her bag, Y/N stood. Her legs felt unsteady at first, like a newborn fawn’s, but she squared her shoulders and steadied herself. She couldn’t afford to falter now.

She cast one last glance at the park around her. A couple laughed as they walked hand in hand, their carefree joy like a far off memory. A boy chased after a kite, his delighted shouts rising above the rustle of the breeze. For a moment, she let herself imagine a life where she didn’t have to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders.

But that wasn’t her reality.

Giselle’s world was cold and unyielding, a place where people were assets and trust was a rare commodity. Y/N knew that stepping into that world meant losing pieces of herself, her warmth, her softness, maybe even her hope.

But it was also her chance to escape the shadow of her past.

For her family, she would endure anything.

With that thought anchoring her, she turned on her heel and walked away, the echoes of her determination carrying her forward.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #aespa giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga x reader #giselle x fem reader #giselle x reader #a contract of silence

366 notes · View notes

changetyre · 9 months ago

Text

Big Sister Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Max and y/n navigate through telling Lea she'll be a big sister and meeting Ivy. Part of Verstappen Family verse

WARNINGS: None? Pregnancy, Birth.

A/N: *Requested

"Lea baby can you come here a second?" You sat down with your husband on the couch in the living room where your daughter happily played on the carpet.

"You start." Max quickly whispered.

You both had been discussing for a while how you were going to tell Lea she was a big sister, it seemed like the news couldn't come at a worse time since Lea was having a faze of being extremely possessive of her parents, and even watching Max play with other drivers kids made her sob in anger.

So the thought of telling Lea she would now have to permanently share her parents for the rest of her life didn't seem like the best news to tell her.

"Mommy come play?" Lea whined instead of listening.

"Lea please come here we can play in a second," Max repeated firmly.

Lea knew this meant it was a last warning for her to listen and reluctantly got up to go to her parents.

"Papa up." Lea tapped Max's lap.

Max picked his daughter up before setting her down on his lap facing the both of them.

"So Lea, Papa, and I have some news to share with you okay?" You watched as your daughter nodded fiddling with her dad's fingers obviously oblivious to what was to come.

"Lea you know how much we love you right?" Max asked his daughter.

"More than life!" Lea cheered happily used to hearing it from you both.

"Exactly and you know nothing will ever change how much we love you right? Because you'll always be my baby Lea." You added.

Lea nodded still keeping her gaze down to her fiddling hands.

"Okay, you can tell us how you feel about it Lea but there's no need for you to throw a tantrum okay?" Max asked his daughter who nodded once again.

"Okay Lea mommy is pregnant okay...which means you're gonna be a big sister soon." You laid it all out.

Both you and Max held your breaths expecting a big reaction from your daughter...she continued fiddling with her dad's fingers and Max was about to ask if she had even heard before Lea shrugged. "Okay." she simply said.

Both you and Max shared a look of uncertainty, she didn't look either angry or happy, she was just...indifferent.

"Lea, do you understand there will be some changes soon?" Max asked his daughter.

"Yeah, uhm but Papa I want to keep my cars...I can share dolls but not cars." Lea casually chatted with her dad.

"uh yeah okay." Max was unsure of how to reply. "That's okay I think baby won't be able to play until she's a little older but thank you for sharing your dolls." Max looked at you as if asking for some guidance to which you shrugged.

You both had prepared for any big reaction but had no idea what to do with this calmness.

"Okay...good job Mommy." Lea placed a kiss on your cheek before hopping down from her father's lap. "Can I go play now?" Lea asked to which you both nodded unsure of what else to say.

____________________

"Max" You shook Max awake after spending the last hour walking around in pain and timing your contractions, figuring out if it was finally time or not but once it got too painful to move you knew it was time to wake up your husband.

"y/n?" Max muttered sleepily.

"Max it's time." You voiced the seriousness of the situation.

"Mhm, it's time." Max readjusted his sleeping position before settling to sleep again. You looked at your husband confused before he jumped out of bed. "OMG IT'S TIME?!" He asked loudly now wide awake as he faced you and placed a hand on your stomach watching you groan in pain at another contraction.

"Shush you're gonna wake Lea, Let's go...I texted the boys, Lando should be here any minute." You told Max as he rushed to get some sweats and a hoodie on. You had made a plan that once it was time you'd let Daniel and Lando know so that they could stay with Lea while you and Max headed to the hospital.

Max ran to grab your hospital bags before rushing to grab the car keys and a other few things before helping you into some more comfortable clothes all while reminding you to do the breathing techniques you'd learnt.

As if on queue Lando rushed in with his emergency keys. "Lea is asleep we're headed out now." Max kept his voice down.

"Okay, good luck, text me." Lando hugged his friend and then placed a quick kiss on your cheek before you both headed out.

Once at the hospital thankfully everything was quick and straightforward, unlike your first pregnancy where the birth took a little longer than you would've liked. It only took a few hours before you and Max were holding your newborn baby girl in your arms.

"She's so perfect." you sniffled as you looked down at your baby girl who took hold of your finger with her tiny hand.

"She really is." Max wiped his own tears, it always amazed Max how he felt like he physically had no more love to give between his wife and daughter but looking at his newborn it was like his love expanded a thousandfold.

Max was distracted by the sound of his phone ringing looking down and seeing a FaceTime call from Lando.

"Hey is everything okay?" Max answered worried about how his now older daughter might be coping now that she should be waking up.

"Yeah, Lea wants to know her mommy is okay, I tried to distract her but she won't eat breakfast unless she knows her mom is fine," Lando explained as Max heard his daughter crying in the background.

Max looked at you asking for your permission, you quickly nodded and Max brought the phone towards you being careful not to show your bare chest. "Hey." Lando gasped in awe seeing the newborn in your arms.

He almost got too distracted before remembering he was meant to pass the phone to Lea. Walking towards her he pointed the screen to a crying Lea who quickly calmed at seeing her mom with her new baby sister.

"Lea baby meet Ivy." You spoke softly to your daughter.

Lea was entranced by the baby in your arms. "Hi Ivy...I'm Lea your big sister." Lea spoke softly matching your tone.

Ivy cooed making your heart swell at your two daughters communicating. "I think she wants to meet you, baby." You smiled. "Are you okay my darling? We'll be home soon okay." You reassured Lea.

"I'm okay mommy, Danny said he'd bring me doughnuts." Lea smiled brightly, Max couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's behavior knowing it was always a danger to leave Lea alone with her godfather.

"Of course, he will..." you laughed too. "Lando?"

"Yep." Lando popped back on the screen immediately smiling down at a now happy and calm Lea.

"Max wants to ask you something." You winked before gesturing for Max to turn the phone back around.

"Hey, man...uh." Max scratched the back of his neck nervously never really being good with sentiments. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to be Ivy's godfather?" Max asked his friend a decision that seemed obvious to you when you first realized the connection Lando had with Lea and how easily you would trust him with her life just like Daniel.

"Uh-" It was hard to gouge Lando's reaction without seeing his face. "Yeah, man...I'd love to." your heart swelled again at hearing Lando unable to hide his shaky voice as he began crying.

"Unco Wando!" You heard Lea's concerned voice calling for him.

"I'm okay baby, it's happy tears," Lando reassured her.

"Papa bring momma and baby sis home soon!" Lea called for her dad.

"I will Lea...I promise you I will." Max felt like his heart could burst surrounded by the people he loved the most.

______

"And this is Chals caw, and this is Danny's caw, OH OH this is Papa's caw!" You watched with pride as Lea showed her baby sister her toys despite the fact Ivy's eyes were shut and she was fast asleep in her baby rocking chair.

"I love you." Your husband whispered in your ear as he walked behind you wrapping his arms around you being careful not to squeeze.

"I love you more...and I love them like I never knew I could love before." You leaned your head back on his shoulder as you both just took in how gentle Lea was being with her sister.

"She's going to be such a good big sister." Max smiled.

"She already is." you acknowledged.

"What are we gonna do about him?" Max asked as you both turned to a snoring Lando on the couch.

"Give him a break my love he's barely slept a blink in 2 days worrying about us and looking after Lea." You felt bad for the young man.

"hmm...he really does love us doesn't he?" Despite struggling with verbally expressing love Max knew Lando was indispensable in his life.

"He's family." You watched as your husband laid a blanket over him.

"Yep...he's family." he laughed before joining his two daughters in whatever game Lea had made up for them.

#f1 x reader #changetyre #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #verstappen family #lea verstappen #ivy verstappen #max verstappen x reader #lando norris #daniel ricciardo

547 notes · View notes