#OR!!!!!!!!!HER CALLING ME AND WHEN I ANSWER SHE JUST BREATHES HEAVILY FOR A WHILE AND SHE FINALLY SAYS ''IM COMING FOR YOU~♡'' IN THIS CREE

[synity]

Will you please do svt-member S.Coups with a s/o who broke her wrist/arm trying to save a puppy from being hit by a car or bike(?) and was afraid to tell him so s/o only called him at practice when she was done getting casted or something saying she got a “minor” injury and Coups wanted to come to her at the hospital but she insisted that she’s fine and can go to him instead (trying to prepare herself for what’s to come). She then went to their practice room and tried to hide her casted wrist but he literally snatched her arm out and went crazy or something?

I know, it’s oddly specific but my brain just made that scenario up while I was eating lunch lol

Please feel free to do whatever you want with it

Thank you!❤️

HOLD ON TIGHT

(Choi Seungcheol x FemReader)

*Romantic, Hurt Comfort Slice of life*

The day had started like any other, the sun high and warm overhead as you strolled down the familiar streets on your way home from the café. Your mind wandered over the errands you still had to run, the dinner you wanted to make, and the texts you hadn’t replied to yet.

Then you heard it a sudden, terrified yelp that cut through the city noise.

You glanced up just in time to see a tiny puppy darting across the street right in front of a bike that was hurtling down the lane much too fast.

Without thinking, you bolted after the puppy, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Your body moved on pure instinct, fueled by a desperate need to protect the little life.

You managed to grab the puppy just before the bike screeched past, but in your hurry and the uneven pavement, your foot caught a crack in the sidewalk. You stumbled, falling hard, your wrist slamming against the rough asphalt.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in your arm, white-hot and merciless.

But the puppy was safe. Wrapped in your arms, it whimpered softly, oblivious to the chaos it had caused.

You stayed on the ground for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the throbbing pulse in your wrist, and telling yourself you were fine.

You weren’t.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Someone nearby had called an ambulance, and after some X-rays and a painful wrap, you were sent home with a thick cast encasing your wrist and strict instructions to rest.

The doctors called it a “minor fracture” and said you’d heal well, but the truth was, your wrist felt heavy and fragile like glass.

You wanted to tell Seungcheol right away, but every time you reached for your phone, anxiety knotted in your stomach. You didn’t want to worry him. He had a grueling practice schedule, and you hated feeling like a burden.

So you waited.

By the time practice was over, exhaustion had sunk deep into your bones. You sat quietly in your room, your cast propped on pillows.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you finally dialed Seungcheol’s number.

“Hey, Coups,” you said softly when he answered, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Y/N? Everything okay?” His tone was instantly concerned, eyes narrowing even though you weren’t there to see it.

“Yeah, yeah. I just… got a minor injury. Nothing serious.” You could feel your voice cracking but forced a smile. “Wrist’s in a cast, but I’m fine.”

There was silence. Then a quiet, disbelieving, “Minor?”

You tried to laugh it off. “Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about me. You have practice. I can come by tomorrow or something.”

“You don’t have to tough it out, you know.” His voice was soft but firm. “I want to come see you.”

“I’m okay. I can come to the studio instead. I want to prepare myself before you see it.”

Seungcheol sighed heavily, but didn’t argue.

“Okay. Just text me when you get here.”

You pushed open the door to the practice room, your cast hidden beneath a long sleeve.

Seungcheol looked up from the group, surprised but smiling.

“Y/N! You came,” he said, relief washing over his face.

You smiled back, trying to hide the ache in your wrist. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

But when his eyes caught the edge of your cast peeking from under your sleeve, his smile faltered. His gaze sharpened as he slowly stood.

“Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he reached out, gently but firmly pulling back your sleeve and then he practically snatched your arm to look at it properly.

His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“This looks serious. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you whispered

His voice was low and fierce. “You should never have to carry that alone.”

You bit your lip, trying not to cry. “I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened instantly. He pulled you into a hug, cradling you as if he’d never let go.

“Next time, you tell me right away. Promise?”

You nodded, finally letting yourself lean on him.

The next week was a mix of gentle chaos.

Seungcheol became your unofficial nurse checking your ice packs, helping you with meals, and making sure you didn’t overdo it.

Practice wasn’t easy with his busy schedule, but he always found time to call or send voice messages full of teasing encouragement.

“Hey, slowpoke. How’s my favorite superhero doing? Did you save any more puppies today?”

You laughed through your pain, missing the way he could turn your worst days into something bearable.

One afternoon, he showed up at your place unannounced with stickers and markers.

“Time to decorate this cast of yours. We can’t have you walking around with a boring, plain thing,” he said, grinning like a kid.

You let him draw little stars and hearts, even a tiny puppy doodle.

It wasn’t just about the cast or the injury anymore.

It was the way he stayed up late to help you practice simple tasks, the way he listened to you vent about the frustration of being limited, the way his hand never left yours.

You realized healing wasn’t just about the body.

It was about being seen. Being loved even at your most vulnerable.

Seungcheol was teaching you that, one day at a time.

And you were grateful.

[thestarsaboveme]

Reader thinks the Lads men are cheating with MC

masterlist

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: angst with comfort, reader and lads men having a misunderstanding because reader is overthinking that they’re cheating on her with the mc since they always spend time with the mc and spending less time with the reader.

xavier ver. | rafayel ver. | zayne ver. | caleb ver.

sylus x reader | angst/comfort

You were used to Sylus being quiet.

Not cold. Just…quiet.

So when his messages started getting shorter, when his gaze didn't linger as long on yours, when his kissed turned into brushes of habit more than affection, you didn't notice right away.

Until it started to hurt.

-

You saw them again.

Sylus and MC in the lab.

Her laughter reached you before their voices did. Sylus stood beside her, arms crossed, watching her monitor as she demonstrated something. He wasn't smiling. But he also wasn't pulling away like he did with most people. He was listening. Engaged.

You waited for him to notice you.

He didn't.

After ten minutes of watching from the hallway, you left.

-

Are you free tonight?

You messaged him later.

We haven't spent time together in a while.

He didn't reply for two hours.

Can't. Late testing with MC. Tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow.

-

You told yourself you were being irrational. That he'd always been closer to MC, given their compatibility, their shared background, their synced missions. This his loyalty ran deeper than words, and if he was cheating, you'd know, right?

But your gut twisted every time you saw them together. Every time he mentioned her like she was another heartbeat.

And tonight, as you sat alone in your room again, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You called him.

He answered on the second ring, voice calm. ''Hey. Everything okay?''

''No,'' you said, and your voice cracked more than you meant it to. ''Can you come over?''

A pause. ''Now?''

''I need to talk to you, Sylus. Please.''

A longer pause. Then: ''I'm on my way.''

-

When he arrived twenty minutes later, he looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. His hair slightly disheveled from running his fingers through it too many times. He took one look at your expression and stepped in without a word.

You stood by the couch, arms folded across your chest.

He said nothing at first, just watched you. Waiting. Patient.

That made it harder.

''Are you cheating on me with MC?''

The words came out like broken glass.

Sylus blinked. No dramatic reaction. No flinch. Just stilness.

Then a slow, quiet, ''No.''

You let out a shaky breath. ''Then why does it feel like you're never here anymore? Why does it feel like you replaced me with her?''

Still calm, he asked, ''Is that what you think I've done?''

''I don't know what to think, Sylus!'' you snapped, voice rising. ''You've been with her constantly. You talk about her like she's in your head all the time.'' You make time for her, not me. And I sit here, waiting like I'm some background character you forgot about.''

He stepped forward slowly. ''You're not.''

''Then explain it to me,'' you whispered. ''Because I'm tired of guessing where I stand with you.''

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Quietly, heavily.

''There's nothing going on between me and MC,'' he said. ''But I haven't made that clear. That's on me.''

You swallowed hard. ''Then why have you been so distant?''

He hesitated, then moved to sit on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. Not his usual posture. He looked vulnerable. Smaller, somehow.

''I've been working with MC on some dangerous tech,'' he said slowly. ''There were…anomalies in her readings. We thought they were unstable. I needed to make sure she was okay.''

You frowned. ''So you were protecting her?''

''I was doing my job. I was trying to prevent another incident. Something like what happened to me.'' He looked up then, eyes locking onto yours. ''And I didn't want you anywhere near it.''

You hesitated. ''Why not tell me that?''

He looked away again. ''Because if you knew, you'd want to help. You'd want to be involved. And I couldn't handle the thought of something happening to you.''

Silence fell between you.

You sat beside him on the couch, not touching.

''You think keeping me in the dark is protecting me?''

''I thought I could carry it all without hurting you,'' he said. ''But I was wrong.''

You exhaled. ''You made me feel like you were slipping away. Like I was being replaced by someone who understands you better.''

His jaw tightened. ''No one understands me like you do.''

You met his eyes again. ''Then why couldn't you just say that?''

He stared at you for a long time.

And finally, he said, ''Because you're the only person who makes me feel like I'm still human. Like I'm more than what I was built to do. And that scares me more than anything.''

Your heart clenched.

''Sylus…''

''I'm not used to needing someone,'' he admitted. ''But I need you. And I didn't know how to say that without feeling like I was putting you in danger.''

''You're not,'' you whispered. ''You're just hurting both of us instead.''

He nodded, slowly. ''I know. I'm sorry.''

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his hand. He didn't move away.

''I don't want to be protected from your truth, Sylus,'' you said. '' I want to stand beside you, not behind you.''

he finally turned his hand over, letting your fingers intertwine.

''I can try,'' he said softly. ''If you'll let me fix this.''

You leaned into his shoulder, the silence between you no longer cold. But healing.

''I want to,'' you said. ''But next time…talk to me.''

''I will,'' he promised.

And somehow, in that quiet, broken space between heartache and hope, you began to believe him.

[pucksandpower]

Unremembered

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: imagine looking the love of your life in their eyes and seeing a stranger stare back — but Max doesn’t have to imagine, not when this is his reality

Warnings: serious injury and memory loss

The roar of the V6 engine fills Max’s ears as he navigates the twists and turns of the Zandvoort circuit. It’s the first practice session of the Dutch Grand Prix weekend, and Max is in his element, pushing his Red Bull to its limits.

Suddenly, his race engineer’s voice crackles through the radio. “Max, box this lap. Come back to the garage.”

Max furrows his brow, confused. “What? Why? The car feels fine.”

“Max, just box now. It’s important,” GP insists, his tone unusually stern.

Reluctantly, Max steers his car into the pit lane, frustration building. As he pulls into the garage, he notices an unusual flurry of activity. His performance coach, Rupert, is waiting with a grim expression.

“Max, out of the car. Now,” Rupert says urgently.

Max climbs out, yanking off his helmet. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me in?”

Rupert takes a deep breath. “Max, I answered a call on your phone while you were out there. It was the hospital.”

Max’s heart skips a beat. “The hospital? What”

“It’s about Y/N,” Rupert says softly. “She was in a car accident on her way here. It’s ... it’s serious, Max. They’ve taken her to the trauma center.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis. Max grabs Rupert’s arm to steady himself. “What? No, that can’t ... is she okay?”

Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me details. But they said you should come right away.”

Without another word, Max bolts towards the exit. Rupert calls after him, “I’ll drive you!”

The car ride to the hospital is a blur. Max stares out the window, his mind racing. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters. “We were just talking this morning. She was excited to watch practice ...”

Rupert glances at him sympathetically. “Try not to assume the worst. Y/N’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”

Max nods numbly, willing himself to believe it. They screech to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and Max is out of the car before Rupert can even put it in park.

At the reception desk, Max’s words tumble out in a panicked rush. “My girlfriend was brought in. Car accident. Y/N Y/L/N. Where is she?”

The nurse types rapidly. “She’s in surgery right now. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting area, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.”

Max paces the waiting room like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair. Rupert tries to calm him, but Max barely hears him. After what feels like an eternity, a doctor approaches.

“Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?”

Max nods frantically. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend. Is she okay?”

The doctor’s expression is grave. “She’s out of surgery now. The accident was very serious. She has multiple broken bones and internal injuries. We’ve stabilized her, but ...”

“But what?” Max demands, his voice cracking.

“She suffered a significant head injury. There’s swelling in her brain. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until she wakes up.”

Max sways on his feet. Rupert steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Can I see her?” Max asks weakly.

The doctor nods. “She’s in the ICU. I must warn you, she’s heavily sedated and on a ventilator. It may be distressing to see her like this.”

Max follows the doctor down sterile hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach Y/N’s room, he freezes in the doorway. The sight of her lying there, battered and bruised, hooked up to machines, is like a physical blow.

He approaches the bed slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “Y/N,” he whispers, gently taking her hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Hours pass. Max refuses to leave her side, holding her hand and talking to her softly. Nurses come and go. Rupert brings him coffee that goes cold, untouched.

As evening falls, Max notices her fingers twitch. He leans forward eagerly. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids flutter, then slowly open. Max’s heart soars. “Y/N! Oh, thank God. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

But something’s wrong. Her eyes are unfocused, confused. She looks at Max blankly, then around the room in bewilderment.

“Where ... where am I?” She croaks, her voice hoarse from the ventilator tube that was recently removed.

“You’re in the hospital,” Max explains gently. “You were in an accident, but you’re going to be okay now.”

She frowns, struggling to process. “An accident? I don’t ... I don’t remember ...”

Max squeezes her hand reassuringly. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. I’m just so glad you’re awake.”

But she pulls her hand away, shrinking back slightly. Her eyes narrow as she studies his face. “I’m sorry, but ... who are you?”

***

Max’s world comes crashing down with those three simple words. He stares at you, his mouth agape, unable to process what he’s just heard. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too bright.

“Who ... who am I?” Max repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Max. Your boyfriend.”

You shake your head slowly, wincing at the movement. “I’m sorry, I don’t ... I don’t know you. I don’t remember having a boyfriend.”

Max’s heart shatters into a million pieces. He takes a step back, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Okay, okay,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “The doctor said there might be ... complications. This is just temporary. It has to be.”

You watch him warily, confusion and fear evident in your eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why can’t I remember anything?”

Max takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needs to be strong for you, even if you don’t know who he is. “You were in a car accident,” he explains gently. “You hit your head pretty badly. The doctors said there might be some memory loss, but ... I didn’t think ...”

His voice trails off as he sees tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m scared,” you whisper. “I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember coming here. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Max instinctively reaches out to comfort you, but stops himself, realizing his touch might not be welcome. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, even if you don’t remember me right now.”

A nurse enters the room, breaking the tension. She smiles warmly at you. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You turn to her, relief evident in your voice. “Everything hurts and I’m so confused. I can’t remember anything.”

The nurse nods sympathetically. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries. Try not to worry too much. Your memories may come back gradually as the swelling in your brain goes down.”

Max interjects, his voice tight with worry. “But she will remember, right? This isn’t ... permanent?”

The nurse’s expression turns cautious. “Every case is different. We’ll need to run some more tests now that she’s awake. The neurologist will be by soon to evaluate her.”

Max nods numbly, feeling like he’s trapped in a nightmare he can’t wake up from. The nurse checks your vitals and adjusts your medication before leaving the room.

An uncomfortable silence falls. You fidget with the edge of your blanket, avoiding Max’s gaze. “So ... we’re together?” You ask hesitantly.

Max nods, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, for almost two years now. We live together in Monaco.”

Your eyes widen. “Monaco? But I’m ... I’m not rich. At least, I don’t think I am.”

Despite everything, Max can’t help but chuckle. “No, but I am. I’m a Formula 1 driver. That’s why we were here in the Netherlands. It’s race weekend, and you were coming to watch me practice.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is so strange. It’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life. I can’t imagine dating a famous race car driver.”

Max’s heart clenches at your words. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “Maybe these will help jog your memory.”

You take the phone hesitantly, swiping through picture after picture of the two of you together. At the beach, at fancy galas, cuddled up on the couch. In every photo, you both look blissfully happy.

“We look ... so in love,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“We are,” Max says softly. “Or at least, we were. I still am.”

You hand the phone back, your expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem like a really nice guy, and clearly we had something special, but ... it’s all blank.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Just then, a doctor enters the room. “Ah, good to see you awake,” he says briskly. “I’m Dr. Smeets, the neurologist on your case. How are you feeling?”

You explain your symptoms and memory loss while the doctor makes notes. Max hovers anxiously in the background, hanging on every word.

“Well,” Dr. Smeets says finally, “the good news is that your physical injuries are progressing nicely. The memory loss is concerning, but not entirely unexpected given the trauma to your brain.”

“Will she get her memories back?” Max asks, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

The doctor’s expression is guarded. “It’s impossible to say for certain. Retrograde amnesia can be unpredictable. Sometimes memories return quickly, sometimes it takes months or even years. And in some cases ...”

“Some cases what?” Max presses.

Dr. Smeets sighs. “In some cases, the memories never fully return. But,” he adds quickly, seeing the stricken look on Max’s face, “that’s relatively rare. The best thing you can do is be patient. Surround her with familiar people and places. Sometimes sensory triggers can help unlock memories.”

Max nods, clinging to that small hope. “Thank you, doctor. What’s the next step?”

“We’ll keep her here for observation for a few more days, run some more tests. After that, assuming there are no complications, she can be discharged to recover at home.”

After the doctor leaves, Max turns to you with forced cheerfulness. “See? That’s good news. You’ll be out of here soon, and then we can go home and work on getting your memories back.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Going ... home with you. I mean, you seem great, but you’re still a stranger to me.”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he forces himself to nod. “Of course. I understand. We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can stay with your parents for a while?”

You nod, looking relieved. “That sounds better. I remember my parents, at least.”

An awkward silence falls. Max clears his throat. “Do you want me to call them?”

“Would you mind? I don’t even know where my phone is.”

Max steps out into the hallway to make the call, grateful for a moment to collect himself. When he returns, you’re looking out the window, lost in thought.

“They’re on their way,” Max says softly. “They’ll be here in a few hours.”

You turn to him, your expression softening slightly. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Max shrugs. “Of course I did. I care about you, even if you don’t remember that right now.”

You study him for a long moment. “Can you ... can you tell me about us? How we met, what our life is like? Maybe it’ll help bring something back.”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. He pulls a chair closer to your bed and begins to talk, recounting the story of your relationship. How you met at a charity event, how nervous he was to ask you out, your first date at a little Italian restaurant in Monaco.

As he speaks, you listen intently, searching your mind for any flicker of recognition. But the memories remain frustratingly out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, interrupting his story about your first vacation together. “None of this is ringing any bells. It all sounds wonderful, but ... it’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. The doctor said it might take time. We just have to be patient.”

You nod, but your expression is troubled. “What if ... what if I never remember? What if these memories are just gone forever?”

Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Then we’ll make new ones,” he says firmly. “I love you, Y/N. That hasn’t changed. If I have to make you fall in love with me all over again, I will.”

You look at him, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet. But what if I’m not the same person anymore? What if the me you fell in love with is gone?”

Max shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not possible. You’re still you, even if you can’t remember everything right now. The core of who you are, that hasn’t changed. I know it.”

You don’t look convinced, but you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Just then, a commotion in the hallway catches their attention. Your parents burst into the room, faces etched with worry.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Your mother cries, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried!”

Your face lights up with recognition. “Mom! Dad!” You exclaim, reaching out to hug them.

Max steps back, giving your family space for their reunion. He watches with a mixture of relief and jealousy as you interact easily with your parents, the rapport between you unchanged by your memory loss.

After a few minutes, your father turns to Max. “Thank you for calling us, and for being here with her.”

Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Your mother looks between Max and you, sensing the tension. “Is everything okay?”

You bite your lip, looking uncomfortable. “Mom, I-I can’t remember Max. Or anything about our relationship. The doctor says I have amnesia from the accident.”

Your parents exchange worried glances. Your father puts a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son. This must be incredibly difficult for you both.”

Max nods, not trusting himself to speak. Your mother turns to you. “But surely you remember something? You and Max have been so happy together.”

You shake your head sadly. “I’m trying, but it’s all blank. I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence falls over the room. Finally, your father clears his throat. “Well, the important thing is that you’re going to be okay. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

Max nods in agreement, but inside, he’s screaming. How can he just stand by and watch as the love of his life slips away? But he knows he has to be patient, to give you space to heal and hopefully remember.

“I should probably go,” he says reluctantly. “Let you have some time with your family.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you for staying with me. And for ... for everything.”

Max forces a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe ... maybe you can bring some more photos? Or videos? Something that might help trigger my memory?”

Max’s heart swells with hope. “Absolutely. I’ll bring everything I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

You give him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m glad I have someone like you in my life. Even if I can’t remember it right now.”

Max blinks back tears as he nods. “Always,” he whispers. “I’m always here for you.”

***

Max trudges into his hotel suite, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical force. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The room is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside him.

He fumbles for the light switch, wincing as the bright overhead lights flicker on. The suite feels cavernous and empty without you here. Your suitcase sits untouched in the corner, a painful reminder of the plans you’d made for this weekend.

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing a flood of missed calls and messages. His team, his family, the media — all clamoring for information, for his attention. He can’t deal with any of it right now.

With trembling hands, he switches off his phone and tosses it onto the bed. He paces the room, energy thrumming through his body with nowhere to go. He should shower, should eat something, should call his manager and figure out what to do about the race weekend. But he can’t bring himself to do any of it.

Instead, he finds himself drawn to your suitcase. He kneels beside it, running his hand over the familiar fabric. Slowly, almost reverently, he unzips it. Your neatly folded clothes, your favorite perfume, the book you’d been reading on the plane — all these little pieces of you, reminders of the life you shared.

Max pulls out one of your sweaters, burying his face in the soft material. It still smells like you. And suddenly, the dam breaks.

A sob tears from his throat, raw and primal. Tears he’s held back for years, through every hardship and setback, finally break free. Max crumples to the floor, clutching your sweater to his chest as he weeps.

“Why?” He chokes out between sobs. “Why her? Why us?”

The tears keep coming, relentless. Max cries for the pain you’re in, for the memories you’ve lost, for the future that suddenly seems so uncertain. He cries for the little boy who was left alone at a gas station, for the young man who walked away from a horrific crash. He cries for every emotion he’s ever pushed down, every vulnerability he’s hidden behind a mask of determination and focus.

Through his tears, he hears a knock at the door. He ignores it, unable to face anyone right now. But the knocking persists, followed by a familiar voice.

“Max? It’s me. Open up, mate.”

Max considers pretending he’s not here, but he knows Daniel won’t give up easily.bWiping his face on his sleeve, Max staggers to his feet and opens the door. Daniel takes one look at his tear-stained face and immediately pulls him into a tight hug.

“Oh, mate,” Daniel says softly. “I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

Max breaks down again, sobbing into Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just holds him tightly, letting him cry it out.

Finally, Max pulls away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daniel steers him towards the couch, closing the door behind them. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Max. You’re hurting. It’s okay to let it out.”

Max collapses onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. Daniel sits beside him, his usual joking demeanor replaced by genuine concern.

“Talk to me,” Daniel urges gently. “What happened?”

Max takes a shuddering breath. “She doesn’t remember me. She looked right at me and had no idea who I was. It’s like ... it’s like the last two years never happened for her.”

Daniel winces in sympathy. “That’s rough, mate. But the doctors think it’s temporary, right?”

Max shrugs helplessly. “They don’t know. It might come back, it might not. And even if it does, how long will it take? Weeks? Months? Years?”

“And you’re worried she won’t fall for you again,” Daniel says softly, understanding dawning on his face.

Max nods miserably. “What if she doesn’t? What if the girl I fell in love with is just ... gone? I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be around her when she doesn’t even know me.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment, considering. “You know,” he says finally, “when I first met Y/N, I thought you were crazy.”

Max looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Daniel grins. “Come on, mate. Mad Max settling down with a normal girl? I thought for sure it was just a phase, that you’d get bored and move on to the next model or whatever.”

Max bristles slightly. “Y/N’s not just some normal girl. She’s-”

“I know, I know,” Daniel interrupts, holding up his hands. “That’s my point. It didn’t take long for me to see how special she is, and how perfect you two are together. You bring out the best in each other. That connection, that spark — it’s still there, Max. Even if she can’t remember it right now.”

Max shakes his head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see her in that hospital bed, looking at me like I was a total stranger. It was like ... like everything we had just disappeared in an instant.”

Daniel leans forward, his expression serious. “Listen to me. The memories might be gone for now, but the feelings? The connection you two have? That doesn’t just disappear. It’s still there, buried deep inside her. You just have to be patient and give her time to find it again.”

Max wants to believe him, but doubt gnaws at his heart. “What if she doesn’t want to? What if she decides she’s better off without me?”

Daniel scoffs. “Not a chance, mate. You’re Max fucking Verstappen. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

The joke falls flat. Max just stares at the floor, shoulders slumped. Daniel sighs, realizing humor isn’t the answer right now.

“Look,” he says softly, “I know you’re scared. But think about it this way — you’ve been given a chance to fall in love all over again. To experience all those firsts one more time. It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not the end of the world either.”

Max looks up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really think she could fall for me again?”

Daniel grins. “Are you kidding? She fell for you once when you were an arrogant little shit. Now that you’re slightly less of an arrogant little shit, it should be a piece of cake.”

Despite everything, Max finds himself chuckling. “Thanks, asshole.”

Daniel’s expression turns serious again. “I mean it, though. You can’t give up. Y/N needs you now more than ever, even if she doesn’t realize it. You have to be strong for her.”

Max nods slowly. “I know. I just ... I don’t know how to do this. How to be around her when she doesn’t know me. When she looks at me like I’m a stranger.”

Daniel considers this for a moment. “Maybe that’s your advantage. You get to introduce yourself to her all over again. Show her the Max that she fell in love with in the first place.”

Max mulls this over. “I guess ... I guess that could work. But what if I screw it up? What if I say or do the wrong thing and push her away?”

Daniel claps him on the shoulder. “That’s where your friends come in. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Both of you.”

For the first time since the accident, Max feels a spark of genuine hope. “Thanks. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Daniel grins. “Probably crash and burn spectacularly. But that’s why we keep you around — you’re entertaining.”

Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now. “Seriously, though. How do I do this? How do I help her remember without overwhelming her?”

Daniel thinks for a moment. “Start small. Don’t dump your whole history on her at once. Share little stories, show her pictures. Let her get to know you again naturally. And most importantly, be patient. This isn’t a race you can win by pushing harder. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Max nods, feeling a sense of determination replacing his earlier despair. “You’re right. I can do this. I have to do this. For her.”

Daniel smiles, seeing the familiar fire returning to his friend’s eyes. “That’s the Max I know. Now, have you eaten anything? Because I’m starving, and room service is calling my name.”

Max realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Food sounds good,” he admits.

As Daniel picks up the phone to order, Max’s thoughts turn to you. He imagines you in that hospital bed, scared and confused. He makes a silent promise to himself, and to you, that he’ll do whatever it takes to help you remember. And if you can’t remember, he’ll make new memories with you, ones just as beautiful as the ones you’ve lost.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of food, conversation, and planning. Daniel helps Max sort through the flood of messages on his phone, crafting responses to his team and family. They decide that Max will skip the rest of the race weekend — his mind isn’t in the right place to drive safely, and you need him more than the team does right now.

As the night wears on, Daniel eventually leaves, extracting a promise from Max to call if he needs anything. Left alone, Max finds himself drawn once again to your suitcase. This time, instead of breaking down, he begins to pack a bag.

Photos, mementos, little things that might spark a memory — he carefully selects items to bring to the hospital tomorrow. As he works, he talks to you in his mind, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, folding one of your favorite hoodies. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to get through this together. I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

As he zips up the bag, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead won’t be easy, but he’s ready to face it. Because at the end of that road is you, and a love worth fighting for.

Max crawls into bed, exhausted but no longer despairing. As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is of you. Of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you look at him. He holds onto these memories, these precious fragments of your life together, knowing that somehow, someway, he’ll find a way to share them with you again.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance to help you remember. And Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.

***

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as Max makes his way through the quiet hospital corridors. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, the bag slung over his shoulder feeling heavier with each step. Inside are the stuffed versions of Jimmy and Sassy, and your favorite hoodie —his hoodie, really, but you’ve claimed it as your own.

As he approaches your room, Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He knocks softly before entering, not wanting to startle you if you’re asleep.

You’re awake, sitting up in bed and staring out the window. When you turn to look at him, there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes, but it’s followed quickly by confusion.

“Max, right?” You say hesitantly.

Max forces a smile, trying to hide the pain those words cause. “That’s right. How are you feeling this morning?”

You shrug, wincing slightly at the movement. “Sore. Confused. But the doctors say I’m healing well, physically at least.”

Max nods, moving closer to the bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I brought some things for you. I thought they might help make you more comfortable.”

You eye the bag curiously. “Oh? That’s ... that’s very kind of you.”

Max sets the bag on the bed and starts unpacking. First, he pulls out the stuffed cats. “These are Jimmy and Sassy,” he explains. “Well, stuffed versions of them. They’re our cats. You can’t travel without these because you miss the real ones so much.”

Your eyes light up as you reach for the stuffed animals. “We have cats? I love cats!”

Max chuckles, a warmth spreading through his chest at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, two Bengal cats. They’re like little troublemakers, always getting into mischief. You adore them.”

You hug the stuffed cats close, a small smile playing on your lips. “Tell me about them?”

Max sits in the chair beside your bed, grateful for the opening. “Well, Jimmy is the older one. He’s very dignified, or at least he tries to be. But he has a weakness for cardboard boxes. No matter how expensive a cat bed we buy him, he always prefers a random Amazon box.”

You giggle at that, and the sound is like music to Max’s ears. He continues, “Sassy is younger and true to her name. She’s always chattering away, meowing at us like she’s telling us about her day. And she has this thing for water —she’ll sit by the sink for hours, just watching the faucet drip.”

“They sound wonderful,” you say softly, stroking the stuffed cats’ fur. “I wish I could remember them.”

Max reaches into the bag again. “Maybe this will help,” he says, pulling out the hoodie. “This is your favorite thing to wear around the house. Well, my hoodie that you’ve completely taken over.”

You take the hoodie, running your hands over the soft fabric. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, Max’s heart soars with hope. But then you shake your head.

“It smells ... familiar,” you say slowly. “But I can’t place it. I’m sorry.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself. The doctors said it might take time.”

You nod, but he can see the frustration in your eyes. “It’s just so strange,” you murmur. “I know things, like I know I love cats, but I can’t remember our cats. I know this hoodie is important, but I can’t remember why.”

Max leans forward, his voice gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time to heal.”

You look at him, really look at him, for the first time since he entered the room. “You’re being so patient with me. It must be hard for you, seeing me like this.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s not easy,” he admits. “But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. You pull on the hoodie, snuggling into its warmth. “So,” you say after a while, “tell me more about us. How did we meet?”

Max’s face lights up at the question. “It was at a charity gala in Monaco,” he begins. “I was there representing the team and you were there with some friends. I saw you across the room and ... I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on your lips. “Oh really? Was it love at first sight?”

Max chuckles. “More like anxiety at first sight for me. I was so nervous to talk to you. I must have circled the room three times before I worked up the courage to approach you.”

“You? Nervous?” You say, sounding surprised. “But you’re a famous racing driver. Surely you’re used to talking to people.”

Max shrugs. “On the track, sure. But off it? Especially with beautiful women? I’m a disaster. But something about you ... I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to talk to you.”

You lean back against your pillows, looking intrigued. “So what happened? Did you sweep me off my feet with your charm?”

Max bursts out laughing. “God, no. I was a complete mess. I walked up to you, tried to say something smooth, and ended up knocking over a tray of champagne glasses. Drenched myself and nearly you too.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh no! That sounds mortifying.”

“It was,” Max agrees. “I was ready to run away and hide forever. But then you did something amazing. Instead of being upset or embarrassed, you started laughing. Not at me, but with me. You helped me clean up, made a joke about how I was smoother on the track than off it, and then ... you asked me to dance.”

You smile at that. “I did? That was brave of me.”

Max nods, his eyes soft with the memory. “It was. You later told me you thought I was cute when I was flustered. We danced for hours that night, talking about everything and nothing. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see you again.”

“And the rest is history?” You ask.

“Not quite,” Max says with a grin. “I still had to convince you to go on a proper date with me. And let me tell you, dating a Formula 1 driver isn’t always easy. But we made it work. We’ve been together for two years now, living in Monaco.”

You absorb this information, your brow furrowed in concentration. “It sounds like a fairytale,” you say softly. “I wish I could remember it.”

Max reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “You will,” he says firmly. “And if you don’t, we’ll make new memories. Even better ones.”

You squeeze his hand, offering a small smile. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Max says without hesitation. “Because I know you, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember right now, I know the person you are. Your kindness, your strength, your incredible spirit. That hasn’t changed. It’s still there, inside you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “I want to believe you,” you whisper. “But it’s so hard. Everything feels so ... disconnected. Like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Max moves to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand. “I know it’s scary,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, your family’s here. We’ll help you through it, step by step.”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “Thank you. For being here, for bringing these things. It means a lot.”

Max smiles, his heart swelling with love for you. “Always. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are we feeling today?”

You turn to her, still clutching the stuffed cats. “A bit better, I think. Max brought me some things from home.”

The nurse smiles approvingly. “That’s wonderful. Familiar objects can often help in recovery. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to step out for a bit,” she says to Max. “We need to run some tests and change some dressings.”

Max nods, standing up reluctantly. “Of course. I’ll be back later, if that’s okay?” he asks, looking at you.

You nod, offering a small smile. “I’d like that. Maybe ... maybe you could bring some more things next time? Anything that might help jog my memory?”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. “Absolutely. I’ll bring whatever I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you say simply. “For not giving up on me.”

Max feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Never,” he says firmly. “I’ll never give up on you, Y/N. On us.”

As he walks out of the hospital into the bright morning sunshine, Max feels a renewed sense of hope. It won’t be easy, and the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But you’re still you, still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you find your way back to him.

He pulls out his phone, sending a quick message to his team. He won’t be racing this weekend, or perhaps for a while. Some things are more important than Formula 1. Right now, his place is here, by your side, helping you piece together the memories of your life together.

***

The press room is buzzing with anticipation as Max takes his seat at the table. Cameras flash incessantly and the murmur of journalists speculating grows louder. Max’s face is a mask of calm, but inside, he’s a storm of emotions.

His manager, Raymond, leans in close before stepping away. “Remember, keep it brief. No details about Y/N unless absolutely necessary.”

Max nods curtly, his jaw clenched. The past few days have been a whirlwind of hospital visits, tense conversations with the team, and now this — facing the media to explain his decision to step away from racing.

The room falls silent as the press conference begins. A Red Bull spokesperson steps up to the microphone.

“Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, Max Verstappen has announced his decision to take a leave of absence from Formula 1 for an undetermined period. Max will now take your questions.”

The room erupts with raised hands and shouted questions. Max points to a familiar face in the front row.

“Max, can you explain the reasoning behind this sudden decision? You’re in the midst of a tight championship battle. Why step away now?”

Max takes a deep breath. “I understand this comes as a surprise to many. There are personal matters that require my full attention right now. I can’t go into details, but I assure you, this decision wasn’t made lightly.”

Another journalist jumps in before he can choose the next question. “But surely these personal matters could be handled while continuing to race? Many drivers balance personal issues with their careers.”

Max feels a flicker of irritation. “Every situation is unique. In this case, I need to step away completely. My focus can’t be divided right now.”

The questions keep coming, each one chipping away at Max’s patience.

“Is this related to your recent performance dip?”

“Are there issues within the team we don’t know about?”

“Some fans are accusing you of abandoning the sport. What do you say to them?”

Max answers each as calmly as he can, but he can feel his control slipping. Then, a question from the back of the room ignites the powder keg.

“Max, there are rumors that this is about a woman. Have you let a relationship interfere with your career?”

The room falls silent, all eyes on Max. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. For a moment, he considers sticking to the script, giving another vague non-answer. But something inside him snaps.

“You want to know the truth?” He says, his voice low and intense. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Raymond steps forward, a warning in his eyes, but Max waves him off.

“My girlfriend was in a serious car accident,” Max continues, his voice growing louder. “She’s in the hospital with severe injuries and memory loss. She doesn’t even remember who I am.”

The room erupts in gasps and furious scribbling. Max stands, leaning forward on the table.

“So yes, I’m stepping away from racing. Because the woman I love needs me. Because some things are more important than trophies or championship points.”

He’s shouting now, years of pent-up frustration with the media pouring out.

“You all sit here and judge me, speculate about my personal life, accuse me of abandoning the sport. But where were you when I was a kid, pushed to the limit by a demanding father? Where were you when I was struggling with the pressure of being the youngest driver in F1 history?”

The room is dead silent now, every journalist hanging on his words.

“I’ve given everything to this sport. I’ve sacrificed friendships, relationships, a normal life. And now, the one time I need to put something else first, you question my commitment?”

Max’s voice breaks slightly, but he pushes on.

“Y/N is fighting for her life, fighting to remember who she is. Who we are together. And you want me to, what? Leave her alone in a hospital room while I zip around a track?”

He looks around the room, meeting the shocked gazes of the journalists.

“So go ahead. Write your stories. Question my decisions. But know this — I don’t regret my choice. Not for a second. Because at the end of the day, the chequered flag won’t keep me warm at night. It won’t laugh at my jokes or hold my hand when I’m stressed.”

Max takes a deep breath, his anger giving way to a deep sadness.

“I love racing. It’s been my whole life. But I love Y/N more. And right now, she needs me. So I’m going to be there for her, every step of the way, until she’s better. Until she remembers us.”

He sits back down, suddenly drained. The room is still silent, the journalists too stunned to even raise their hands for questions.

Finally, a older journalist in the front row clears his throat. “Max, I ... we had no idea. I’m so sorry about Y/N. Can you tell us more about her condition?”

Max shakes his head, his voice softer now. “I’ve already said more than I planned to. Y/N’s privacy is important to me. All I’ll say is that she’s fighting hard, and I’m going to be right there with her.”

Another journalist speaks up. “You mentioned Y/N doesn’t remember you. How are you coping with that?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, considering his words carefully. “It’s ... it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Harder than any race, any championship battle. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and see no recognition ... it’s gut-wrenching.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I’m not giving up. I’m fighting for us, for our memories, for our future. Even if I have to make her fall in love with me all over again.”

The mood in the room has shifted completely. Gone is the adversarial tension, replaced by a somber understanding.

“What can fans do to support you during this time?” Another journalist asks.

Max manages a small smile. “Just ... be patient. Understand that there are things more important than racing. And maybe, if you’re the praying type, keep Y/N in your thoughts.”

The Red Bull spokesperson steps forward, signaling the end of the conference. But Max holds up a hand, not quite finished.

“I want to say one more thing,” he says, his voice steady. “To any of you out there who might be going through something similar — don’t be afraid to step back. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for putting your loved ones first. At the end of the day, that’s what really matters.”

With that, Max stands and walks out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. As soon as he’s out of sight of the cameras, he leans against a wall, emotions overwhelming him.

Raymond approaches cautiously. “That ... didn’t go quite as planned.”

Max lets out a humorless laugh. “No, I suppose it didn’t.”

“You okay?” Raymond asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Max nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. It feels ... good to have it out there. No more hiding, no more vague excuses.”

Raymond squeezes his shoulder. “You did good, kid. It won’t be easy, but people will understand now.”

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a flood of messages — from his team, his family, even other drivers. But one catches his eye — a text from your mom.

“Just saw the press conference. Y/N would be so proud of you. We all are. Come by the hospital when you can. She’s asking for you.”

Despite everything, Max feels a smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Raymond. “I’ve got to go. Y/N’s waiting.”

Raymond nods understandingly. “Go. We’ll handle things here. Give her our best.”

As Max walks out of the building, he’s greeted by a small crowd of fans. But instead of the anger or disappointment he expected, he sees understanding and support in their faces. Many are holding haphazardly thrown together signs with messages of encouragement for both him and you.

One young girl breaks away from her parents, running up to Max with a hand-drawn card. “This is for Y/N,” she says shyly. “I hope she gets better soon.”

Max kneels down, taking the card with a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

As he stands, the crowd starts to applaud. It’s not the roar of a race victory, but a softer, more meaningful sound. The sound of people recognizing a different kind of strength, a different kind of victory.

Max raises a hand in acknowledgment before getting into his waiting car. As the driver pulls away, he looks at the card in his hands. It’s a simple drawing of two stick figures holding hands, with the words “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you ❤️” written in childish scrawl.

For the first time in days, Max feels a weight lift from his shoulders. The road ahead is still long and uncertain, but he’s not alone. He has the support of his team, his fans, and most importantly, he has you — even if you can’t remember him yet.

As the car speeds towards the hospital, Max makes a silent promise. To you, to himself, to everyone who’s supporting them. He’ll face this challenge with the same determination and focus he brings to the track. Because this is the most important race of his life — the race to help you remember, to rebuild your life together.

And Max Verstappen doesn’t lose races that matter.

***

Max stands outside your hospital room, the handmade card clutched in his hand. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly and entering.

You’re sitting up in bed, looking more alert than he’s seen you since the accident. Your parents are there too, gathering your things in preparation for your discharge tomorrow.

“Max,” you say, a small smile gracing your lips. It’s not the warm, loving smile he’s used to, but it’s a start. “We saw your press conference.”

Max feels a flush creep up his neck. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Your mother steps forward, enveloping him in a hug. “You were wonderful, dear. So brave and honest.”

“Thanks,” Max mumbles, still not entirely comfortable with praise outside of racing. He turns his attention back to you. “How are you feeling today?”

You shrug slightly. “Better, I think. Still ... confused about a lot of things. But the pain is less.”

Max nods, moving closer to your bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I have something for you.” He holds out the card. “A young fan made this for you after the press conference.”

You take the card, examining the childish drawing with a soft expression. “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you!” You read aloud. Your eyes flick up to meet his. “That’s ... very sweet.”

Max shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Your father, sensing the tension, clears his throat. “We’re going to go get some coffee. Give you two some time to talk.”

As your parents leave the room, an awkward silence falls. Max takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, fidgeting with his hands.

“So,” you say finally, “you’re taking time off from racing. For me.”

Max nods. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay. I know you don’t ... remember us. But I want to be here for you, however you need me to be.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit softly. “Knowing someone’s put their whole life on hold for me.”

Max leans forward, his eyes intense. “Hey, no. Don’t think of it like that. This isn’t a sacrifice or an obligation. It’s a choice. My choice.”

You nod slowly, but he can see the doubt in your eyes. “Tell me something,” you say suddenly. “Something about us. Something ... happy.”

Max feels a smile tugging at his lips as he casts his mind back. “Okay, how about this? Last year, after I won the championship, we took a vacation. Just the two of us, no teams, no press, no obligations.”

“Where did we go?” You ask, curiosity piqued.

“Bali,” Max says, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “We rented this amazing villa right on the beach. You were determined to teach me how to surf.”

A small giggle escapes you. “Did I succeed?”

Max chuckles. “Not even close. I spent more time eating sand than standing on the board. But you were so patient, so encouraging. Even when I was frustrated and ready to give up, you just ... you made it fun.”

“Sounds nice,” you say softly.

“It was more than nice,” Max continues, warming to the subject. “One evening, we were sitting on the beach watching the sunset.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I realized all the trophies, all the victories ... they didn’t compare to just being there with you, watching the sun sink into the ocean.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, absorbing his words. “We sound ... very happy together,” you say finally.

Max nods, blinking back tears. “We are. We were. We will be again.”

You reach out hesitantly, taking his hand. It’s the first time you’ve initiated contact since the accident, and Max feels his heart soar.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m being discharged tomorrow, and I don’t ... I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

Max squeezes your hand gently. “You belong wherever you feel comfortable. If that’s with your parents for now, that’s okay. If you want to try coming home with me, that’s okay too. There’s no pressure, no expectations. We’ll figure this out together, at your pace.”

You nod, looking grateful. “Thank you. For being so understanding. I know this can’t be easy for you either.”

Max shrugs. “It’s not. But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. Max is content to just sit there, holding your hand, savoring this small connection.

After a while, you speak again. “Can you tell me more? About our life together?”

Max’s face lights up. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You consider for a moment. “What’s a typical day like for us? When you’re not racing, I mean.”

Max leans back in his chair, a fond smile on his face. “Well, you’re definitely the early riser between us. You usually get up first, make coffee. Sometimes you go for a run or do yoga on the balcony.”

“I do yoga?” You ask, sounding surprised.

Max chuckles. “Yeah, you got into it as a way to help me relax between races. Said if it could calm me down, it could work miracles for anyone.”

You laugh at that, a genuine, full laugh that makes Max’s heart skip a beat. It’s the first time he’s heard that sound since the accident.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I usually drag myself out of bed when I smell the coffee. We have breakfast together, usually something healthy that you insist I need.”

“Sounds like I take good care of you,” you observe.

Max nods, his expression softening. “You do. Better than anyone ever has.”

“What else?” You prompt, clearly engrossed in the story of your shared life.

“Well, if I’m training, you often come to the gym with me. You say it’s to support me, but I think you just like ogling me when I lift weights.”

You swat his arm playfully, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “I do not!”

Max grins, delighted by this glimpse of your old dynamic. “Oh, you absolutely do. Not that I mind. I return the favor when you’re doing your yoga.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “What else do we do?”

“We cook together a lot,” Max says. “Or rather, you cook and I try not to burn the kitchen down. You’re teaching me, slowly but surely. We have this tradition of trying to recreate dishes from all the countries I race in.”

“That sounds fun,” you say, a wistful note in your voice. “Do we have a favorite?”

Max thinks for a moment. “There’s this amazing pasta dish we perfected after the Italian Grand Prix. You said it was better than sex.”

Your eyes widen. “I did not!”

Max laughs. “You absolutely did. Then you made me prove you wrong.”

You blush furiously, but you’re laughing too. “I can’t believe I said that!”

“Believe it,” Max says, grinning. “You’re full of surprises, schatje. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The word ’love’ hangs in the air between you. You grow quiet, your expression thoughtful.

“Max,” you say finally, “I want you to know ... I’m trying. To remember. To ... to feel what you feel.”

Max squeezes your hand. “I know you are. And it’s okay if it takes time. Or if ... if you never feel exactly the same way. We can build something new, if we need to.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you. For understanding. For being patient.”

“Always,” Max says softly.

Just then, your parents return, breaking the intimate moment. Your mother smiles warmly at the sight of your joined hands.

“Everything okay in here?” She asks.

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Max was just telling me about our life together.”

Your father clears his throat. “Speaking of which, we should probably discuss arrangements for after your discharge tomorrow.”

You tense slightly, and Max can feel your grip on his hand tighten. “Right,” you say, your voice uncertain.

Max jumps in. “Y/N, remember what I said. Whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s no pressure.”

You nod gratefully. “I think ... I think I’d like to stay with my parents for a bit. If that’s okay?” You look at Max, worry in your eyes.

Max forces a smile, ignoring the pang in his heart. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Your mother steps forward. “Max, you’re welcome to visit anytime. We know how important you are to Y/N, even if she can’t remember everything right now.”

Max nods, grateful for their understanding. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

As the conversation turns to logistics of your discharge, Max finds his mind wandering. It’s not the outcome he’d hoped for, but he understands. You need time, space to heal and rediscover yourself. And he’ll be there, every step of the way, however you need him.

As visiting hours come to an end and Max prepares to leave, you call out to him.

“Max?”

He turns back. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for a moment, then say, “Thank you. For everything. And ... I’d like to hear more stories. About us. If that’s okay.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. It’s not a declaration of love, not a magical recovery of memories. But it’s a start. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

“Anytime,” he says softly. “I’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”

***

The Monaco apartment feels cavernous and empty as Max pushes open the door. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the soft padding of paws as Jimmy and Sassy come to greet him. They meow insistently, weaving between his legs, clearly searching for someone who isn’t there.

“I know,” Max murmurs, kneeling to scratch behind their ears. “I miss her too.”

He moves through the space, every corner filled with memories. Your favorite mug sits on the kitchen counter, lipstick stain still visible on the rim. A half-read book lies on the coffee table, your bookmark peeking out from the pages. Your scent lingers on the throw pillows on the couch.

Max sinks onto the sofa, and immediately, Jimmy jumps up beside him, headbutting his hand for attention. Sassy follows suit, curling up in his lap.

“At least I’ve got you two,” Max says softly, stroking their fur. “But it’s not the same, is it?”

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos of happier times. You and him on vacation, at race weekends, lazy Sundays at home. Your smile, so bright and full of love, now feels like a distant memory.

“Come on, Max,” he mutters to himself. “You can’t fall apart now. Y/N needs you to be strong.”

But in the quiet of the apartment, with only the cats for company, it’s hard to maintain that strength. For the first time since the accident, since the press conference, since leaving you at your parents’ house, Max allows himself to truly feel the weight of everything that’s happened.

A sob escapes him, then another. Soon, he’s crying in earnest, all the pent-up fear and frustration and loneliness pouring out. Jimmy and Sassy press closer, as if trying to comfort him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Max confesses to the empty room. “How do I help her remember? How do I make her fall in love with me again? What if ... what if she never does?”

The cats, of course, don’t answer. But their presence is comforting, a reminder that he’s not entirely alone.

As his tears subside, Max takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needs to focus, to come up with a plan. You might not remember your life together, but he does. And he’s determined to help you rediscover it, piece by piece if necessary.

He stands, moving to the bookshelf where you keep photo albums. Maybe he could put together a scrapbook of your relationship, something tangible for you to look through. As he reaches for an album, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

His heart leaps when he sees your name on the screen. He answers immediately, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

���Hi,” you say, and he can hear a note of confusion in your voice. “Everything’s fine, I just ... this is going to sound weird, but I needed to ask you something.”

Max sits back down on the couch, curious. “Of course. What is it?”

You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I’ve been having these ... cravings. For food I don’t remember ever eating before, much less liking. And I thought maybe ... maybe they mean something?”

Max’s pulse quickens. Could this be a sign of your memories returning? “What kind of food?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Tomato soup,” you say. “And beef carpaccio. I know it sounds strange, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Do they ... do they mean anything to you?”

Max feels like his heart might burst out of his chest. “Y/N,” he says softly, “those are my favorite foods.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “I ... I didn’t know that.”

“The tomato soup is something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid,” Max explains, his voice thick with emotion. “And the carpaccio ... that was what we had on our first real date in Monaco.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t remember that,” you say finally, a note of frustration in your voice. “But I can almost ... almost taste it, you know? Like my body remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”

Max nods, even though you can’t see him. “That’s good, Y/N. That’s really good. It means the memories are still in there somewhere.”

“Maybe,” you say, sounding uncertain. “I just wish I could remember more. It’s so frustrating, having all these ... these echoes of a life I can’t quite grasp.”

“I know,” Max says soothingly. “But this is progress. We just have to be patient.”

You sigh. “You’re right. I just ... I feel bad, you know? You’re being so patient and understanding, and I can’t even remember our first date.”

Max’s heart aches at the sadness in your voice. “Hey, no. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together, remember?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Together.”

There’s another pause, and Max can almost picture you biting your lip, the way you do when you’re thinking hard about something.

“Max?” You say finally. “Can you ... can you tell me about our first date? The one with the carpaccio?”

A smile spreads across Max’s face. “Of course. It was about a week after we met at that charity gala. I was so nervous, I must have changed my shirt five times before picking you up.”

You laugh softly. “You, nervous? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” Max chuckles. “You had me completely flustered. Still do, if I’m honest.”

He launches into the story, describing how he’d taken you to a small, intimate restaurant overlooking the harbor. How you’d laughed at his attempts to pronounce the French dishes, how your eyes had lit up when you tasted the carpaccio.

“You said it was the best thing you’d ever eaten,” Max recalls. “But I barely tasted the food. I just couldn’t believe someone as amazing as you was interested in me.”

“Max ...” you start, your voice soft and a bit uncertain.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t mean to push. I know this is all still ... complicated.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “I like hearing these stories. They help, even if I can’t remember them myself yet.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m glad. I’ve got plenty more where that came from, whenever you want to hear them.”

“I’d like that,” you say. “Maybe ... maybe next time we could do it in person? If you’re not too busy, I mean.”

“Y/N,” Max says seriously, “I’m never too busy for you. Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

You laugh softly. “Careful, I might hold you to that.”

“Please do,” Max says, meaning every word.

As you say your goodbyes, Max feels lighter than he has in days. It’s not a magical fix, not a sudden return of all your memories. But it’s progress. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

An idea strikes him as he ends the call. He quickly pulls up a food delivery app on his phone, searching for restaurants near your parents’ house. Finding one that offers both tomato soup and beef carpaccio, he places an order, adding a note.

A taste of our memories. Hope this helps satisfy those cravings - Max

As he completes the order, Max feels a surge of hope. It’s a small gesture, but maybe it will help trigger more memories. Or at the very least, it will show you that he’s thinking of you, that he’s here for you in whatever way you need.

He looks around the apartment, seeing it with new eyes. Yes, it’s empty without you here. But it’s not a sad emptiness anymore. It’s a space waiting to be filled again, with new memories alongside the old.

Max scratches Jimmy and Sassy behind the ears. “What do you think, guys? Should we start planning how to win your mom’s heart all over again?”

The cats purr in response, and Max chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Even if you can’t remember everything yet, your body remembers. Your heart remembers.

And Max is determined to help you rediscover every beautiful moment of your life together, one memory at a time. Starting with a bowl of tomato soup and a plate of beef carpaccio.

***

The shrill ring of his phone jolts Max awake. He fumbles for it in the darkness, heart racing as he sees the caller ID: your mother.

“Hello?” He answers, voice thick with sleep but mind rapidly clearing.

“Max, I’m so sorry to wake you,” your mother’s voice comes through, tense and worried. “It’s Y/N. She woke up about an hour ago and she’s ... she’s not okay.”

Max is already out of bed, fumbling for clothes. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” your mother assures him quickly. “She’s just ... she’s crying and she keeps saying she needs you. We can’t calm her down. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” Max says, pulling on a shirt haphazardly. “I’m on my way. Can you put her on the phone?”

There’s a rustling sound, then your voice comes through, small and broken. “Max?”

His heart clenches at the pain in your voice. “Y/N, I’m here. What’s wrong, liefje?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. “I had this dream and now everything hurts and I can’t ... I can’t remember but I know I need you. Please, Max. I need you here.”

“I’m coming,” Max promises, already dialing his pilot with his other phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Please hurry.”

As the call ends, Max is already rushing out the door, barely remembering to grab his wallet and keys. He calls his pilot as he takes the stairs two at a time, not willing to wait for the elevator.

“Frank, I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We’re flying to-” he rattles off the name of your parents’ hometown. “How fast can we be in the air?”

“Mr. Verstappen, it’s the middle of the night,” Frank starts, but Max cuts him off.

“I know what time it is. This is an emergency. How soon?”

There’s a pause, then Frank sighs. “Give me 30 minutes. I’ll call the crew.”

“Make it 20,” Max insists. “I’ll double your rate.”

“We’ll be ready,” Frank assures him.

Max ends the call as he reaches his car, peeling out of the parking garage with a screech of tires. His mind races as fast as the car, worry for you overwhelming everything else.

What could have triggered this? You’d been doing better, or so he thought. The memory of food had seemed like progress. But now ...

He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the road. Getting to you safely is what matters now. Everything else can wait.

Max makes it to the airport in record time, barely bothering to park properly before he’s sprinting towards his private jet. Frank meets him at the stairs.

“We’re fueled and ready,” he says. “Weather looks clear, we should have a smooth flight.”

“Good,” Max nods, already climbing the stairs. “Let’s go.”

As the jet takes off, Max finds himself unable to sit still. He paces the cabin, checking his phone every few seconds even though he knows there’s no signal at this altitude.

The flight attendant approaches cautiously. “Mr. Verstappen? Can I get you anything?”

Max shakes his head, then reconsiders. “Actually, yes. Coffee. Strongest you’ve got.”

She nods, retreating to the galley. Max resumes his pacing, his mind a whirlwind of worry and speculation.

What if you’d remembered something traumatic? What if this setback undid all the progress you’d made? What if ...

He forces himself to stop that line of thinking. Catastrophizing won’t help anyone, least of all you.

The flight seems to take an eternity. As soon as they land, he’s out of his seat, barely waiting for the stairs to fully deploy before he’s racing down them.

A car is waiting, arranged by his ever-efficient team. Max barely registers the driver’s greeting as he slides into the backseat.

He recites the address tersely. “As fast as you can.”

The drive is a blur of streetlights and quiet suburban roads. Max’s leg bounces nervously, his hands clenched into fists.

Finally, mercifully, they pull up to the familiar house. Max is out of the car before it fully stops, racing up the front steps.

Your father opens the door before he can knock. “Thank God you’re here,” he says, ushering Max inside. “She’s upstairs.”

Max takes the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. He can hear muffled sobs coming from your old bedroom.

He pauses at the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then he knocks softly. “Y/N? It’s me. It’s Max.”

The sobs quieten slightly. “Max?” Your voice comes through, small and uncertain.

“Can I come in?”

There’s a pause, then: “Please.”

Max opens the door slowly. The room is dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting long shadows. You’re huddled on the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, eyes red and puffy from crying.

The sight of you so distressed nearly breaks him. In two long strides, he’s at your side.

“I’m here,” he says softly. “I’m right here.”

You look up at him, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Max,” you whisper, and then you’re launching yourself into his arms.

Max catches you, holding you close as you sob into his chest. He strokes your hair, murmuring soothing words.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Gradually, your sobs subside, replaced by hiccuping breaths. Max continues to hold you, rocking slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently.

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I had this dream,” you start, your voice hoarse. “It was so vivid. We were ... we were in a car, I think. And there was a crash and I couldn’t ... I couldn’t reach you.”

Max’s heart clenches. Is this a memory of your accident trying to surface?

“It felt so real,” you continue. “And when I woke up, I was so scared and confused. I couldn’t remember where I was or why you weren’t there. I just knew I needed you.”

“I’m here now,” Max says, cupping your face gently. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry for making you fly out in the middle of the night.”

Max shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. There’s something different there, something Max can’t quite identify.

“Max,” you say slowly, “I think ... I think I remembered something.”

His breath catches. “What did you remember?”

You furrow your brow, concentrating. “It’s not clear. Just ... feelings, mostly. But when you walked in, when you held me ... it felt familiar. Safe. Like ... like coming home.”

Max feels hope bloom in his chest. “That’s good, schatje. That’s really good. It means the memories are still there, even if they’re hard to reach right now.”

You nod, then yawn widely. The emotional toll of the night is clearly catching up with you.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Max says, moving to stand up.

But you grab his hand, holding him in place. “Will you ... will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

Max’s heart swells. “Of course. As long as you need.”

You scoot over, making room for him on the bed. Max kicks off his shoes and lies down next to you, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

But you close that distance, curling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like the accident never happened.

“Tell me a story,” you mumble, already half-asleep. “About us.”

Max smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Okay. How about the time we tried to teach Jimmy and Sassy to swim?”

You make a soft sound of agreement, nuzzling closer.

As Max recounts the tale of your misadventures with the cats and a kiddie pool, he feels you relax against him, your breathing evening out.

He continues the story even after he’s sure you’re asleep, partly out of habit, partly because he’s not ready for this moment to end.

Eventually, he falls silent, just listening to your steady breathing. He knows he should leave, go sleep in the guest room or on the couch. But he can’t bring himself to move, to break this fragile peace.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself. Just a little longer.

Before he knows it, sunlight is streaming through the windows. Max blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. Then he feels you stir against him, and everything comes rushing back.

You lift your head, looking up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. For a moment, just a moment, Max sees recognition there. The look you used to give him every morning.

But then you blink, and it’s gone, replaced by confusion, then embarrassment.

“Oh God,” you mutter, sitting up quickly. “Max, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”

Max sits up too, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the loss of contact. “It’s okay. I wanted to be here.”

You run a hand through your hair, not meeting his eyes. “Last night ... it’s all a bit fuzzy. Did I ... did I say anything? About remembering?”

Max nods slowly. “You said being with me felt familiar. Like coming home.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your hands. “I wish I could remember more,” you say finally, your voice small. “It’s all still so ... jumbled.”

Max reaches out, then stops himself, unsure if the touch would be welcome. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

You look up at him then, a small smile on your face. “Together,” you repeat. “I like the sound of that.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and your mother pokes her head in. “Oh good, you’re both awake. Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

As you both stand to head downstairs, Max feels a mix of emotions. Disappointment that the night didn’t lead to a magical recovery of your memories. Hope at the small signs of progress. And an overwhelming sense of love for you, memory or no memory.

He knows the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But as he watches you smile at something your mother says, he feels more certain than ever that it’s a road worth traveling.

Because even if you can’t remember all of your history together, you’re still you. Still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll spend every day helping you rediscover that love, one memory at a time.

***

The rhythmic clanging of weights fills the air as Max pushes through another set of bench presses. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles straining with each repetition. Rupert stands nearby, counting softly and offering encouragement.

“Nine ... ten ... good, Max. One more set and we’ll move on.”

The sharp ring of Max’s phone cuts through the gym’s atmosphere. Max grunts, arms shaking as he finishes his reps.

“Can you grab that, Rupert? Might be important.”

Rupert nods, retrieving the phone from Max’s gym bag. “It’s Y/N’s parents,” he says, eyebrows raised.

Max’s heart skips a beat. “Put it on speaker,” he says quickly, sitting up on the bench.

Rupert answers the call, holding the phone out between them. “Hello? This is Rupert, Max’s trainer. You’re on speaker.”

“Oh, hello Rupert,” comes the familiar voice of your mother. “Is Max there? We have some news.”

“I’m here,” Max says, leaning closer to the phone. “What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?”

There’s a pause, and Max feels his anxiety spike. Then, your father’s voice comes through, barely containing his excitement.

“Max, it’s ... it’s incredible. Y/N says she can remember. Not everything, but ... a lot. She woke up this morning and it was like a flood of memories just came back to her.”

The words hit Max like a physical force. He stands abruptly, forgetting the weight still balanced precariously on his legs. It crashes to the floor with a deafening clang, missing Rupert’s foot by mere inches.

“Whoa!” Rupert yelps, jumping back. “Easy there, Max!”

But Max barely notices. His entire world has narrowed to the voice coming from the phone. “She ... she remembers? Are you sure? How much does she remember?”

Your mother’s voice comes back on. “It’s still patchy, but she remembers you, Max. She remembers your life together, your home in Monaco. She’s been talking about the cats all morning.”

Max feels his knees go weak. He sits back down heavily on the bench, his head spinning. “Can I ... can I talk to her?”

“I’m afraid she’s with the doctors right now,” your father explains. “They want to run some tests, make sure everything’s okay. But she’s been asking for you. We thought you’d want to know right away.”

Max nods, then remembers they can’t see him. “Yes, of course. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll take the jet, I can be there in”

“Actually,” your mother interrupts, “Y/N has been asking to come home. To Monaco. She says she misses you, and the cats, and ... well, her life with you.”

Max feels a lump form in his throat. “She wants to come home?” He repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

“If that’s alright with you,” your father adds quickly. “We understand if you need time to prepare, or if you think it’s too soon”

“No!” Max exclaims, perhaps a bit too loudly. He clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s not too soon. It’s perfect. I can send the jet for her right away. If ... if that’s what she wants.”

He can hear the smile in your mother’s voice as she responds. “It is. She’s quite insistent, actually. Says she wants to sleep in her own bed.”

Max feels a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make the arrangements right away. Can you have her ready to go in ... let’s say five hours?”

“We can do that,” your father confirms. “And Max? She’s ... she’s really excited to see you.”

Max swallows hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t wait to see her too. Thank you both, for everything.”

As the call ends, Max looks up to see Rupert grinning at him. “So,” his trainer says, “I’m guessing our workout is over for the day?”

Max laughs, a sound of pure joy and relief. “Yeah, I’d say so. Sorry about almost crushing your foot.”

Rupert waves it off. “Small price to pay for good news like that. Go on, get out of here. Go prepare for Y/N’s homecoming.”

Max doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already dialing his pilot as he rushes towards the locker room. “Frank? I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We need to pick someone up ...”

That evening, Max is pacing the length of his — your — living room, unable to keep still. He’s tidied the already immaculate apartment three times, checked on the cats twice, and changed his shirt four times.

Max takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He sinks onto the couch, and immediately Jimmy jumps into his lap.

“Hey, buddy,” Max murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Mama’s coming home. You excited?”

Jimmy purrs in response, kneading Max’s leg. Sassy, not to be left out, appears from nowhere and curls up next to them.

“Yeah, me too,” Max says softly. He looks around the apartment, memories flooding back. Your first night here together, nervous and excited about taking this step. Lazy Sunday mornings cuddled on this very couch. The time you tried to teach him to dance in the living room, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand.

The next hour crawls by at an agonizing pace. Max alternates between sitting rigidly on the couch and pacing the floor. He checks his phone obsessively, waiting for updates.

Finally, blessedly, his phone rings. It’s his pilot. “We’ve landed, boss. Y/N’s parents are helping her into the car now. Should be at your place in about 20 minutes.”

Max feels his heart rate double. “Thanks, Frank. Until next time.”

The next 20 minutes are the longest of Max’s life. He stands by the window, watching the street below, waiting for the familiar black SUV to appear.

When it finally does, Max feels like he might pass out. He watches as the car pulls up, as the driver gets out to open the back door. And then ... there you are.

You look tired, a bit pale, but to Max, you’ve never been more beautiful. You look up at the building, a soft smile playing on your lips. And then your eyes meet his through the window.

Max feels his breath catch in his throat. Because in that moment, he sees it. Recognition. Love. You’re really back.

He’s at the door in an instant, yanking it open just as you step off the elevator. For a moment, you both freeze, taking each other in.

“Max,” you whisper, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“Y/N,” he breathes, and then you’re in his arms.

He holds you tightly, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. You cling to him just as fiercely, and he can feel your tears soaking through his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”

Max pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face. “Hey, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now. You’re home.”

You nod, a watery smile on your face. “I am. I remember, Max. Not everything, not yet. But I remember us. I remember loving you.”

Max feels tears spill down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you so much, liefje. God, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

You shake your head, your hands coming up to wipe away his tears. “Never. You could never lose me, Max Verstappen. Not really.”

And then you’re kissing, and it’s like coming home after a long, difficult journey. It’s familiar and new all at once, and Max never wants it to end.

A loud meow interrupts the moment. You break apart, laughing, to see Jimmy and Sassy winding around your feet, demanding attention.

“Oh, my babies!” You exclaim, kneeling down to scoop them up. “I missed you too!”

Max watches, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. This is what he’s been missing, what he’s been fighting for. You, here, in your home, with your little family.

As you straighten up, cats in arms, Max wraps an arm around your waist. “Welcome home,” he says softly.

You lean into him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “It’s good to be home.”

Max knows there’s still a long road ahead. Your memory isn’t fully restored, and there will be challenges to face. But right now, in this moment, with you in his arms, he knows everything will be okay.

Because you remembered. You came home. And together, you can face anything.

***

The neon lights of Las Vegas blur into streaks of color as Max races through the city streets, his Red Bull car a blur of blue and red and yellow. The roar of the engine fills his ears, but it can’t drown out the beating of his own heart. This race feels different, more important than any he’s ever driven before.

As he navigates a tight corner, Max’s mind flashes back to the conversation that led him here...

“Max, you need to go back,” you had said, your voice gentle but firm. “Racing is part of who you are. I’m better now, and I want to see you out there doing what you love.”

Max had shaken his head, pulling you closer on the couch. “But what if something happens? What if you need me?”

You had laughed, a sound that still made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll always need you, silly. But I don’t need you hovering over me 24/7. Plus,” you added with a mischievous grin, “I miss seeing you in that race suit.”

Now, as he pushes the car to its limits, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. He’s not just racing for himself anymore, or for the team. He’s racing for you, to make you proud, to show you that your faith in him wasn’t misplaced.

“Max, you’re pulling away,” GP’s voice crackles through the radio. “Gap to P2 is now 3.5 seconds. Keep this up, mate.”

Max grunts in acknowledgment, too focused to form words. He knows you’re watching from the garage, probably biting your nails like you always do during his races. The thought makes him smile behind his helmet.

Lap after lap, Max maintains his lead. The famous Las Vegas Strip becomes a blur of light and shadow as he speeds past the iconic hotels and casinos. In the back of his mind, he remembers your excitement when you found out about this race.

“Vegas, Max! It’s going to be incredible. Promise me we’ll stay a few extra days after the race?”

He had promised, of course. He’d promise you the moon if you asked for it.

As the final laps approach, Max’s concentration intensifies. He’s been in this position before, leading a race, victory within grasp. But it’s never felt quite like this.

“Two laps to go,” GP informs him. “You’ve got this. Just bring it home.”

Max takes a deep breath, visualizing the remaining track in his mind. He can almost hear your voice, the way you’d whisper “You’ve got this” before every race, a private moment just for the two of you amidst the pre-race chaos.

The last lap arrives, and Max is in the zone. Every turn, every straight, every gear change is perfect. As he rounds the final corner, the chequered flag comes into view.

“Yes!” Max shouts as he crosses the finish line, pumping his fist in the air. The team erupts in cheers over the radio, but Max is waiting for one particular voice.

“Brilliant drive, Max!” GP exclaims. “Absolute masterclass. How does it feel to be back on the top step?”

Max takes a moment to catch his breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice is thick with feeling.

“It feels ... it feels incredible,” he says. “But this win, it’s not for me. It’s for Y/N.”

He can hear the surprise and emotion in GP’s voice as he responds. “That’s beautiful. I’m sure she’s over the moon right now.”

As Max begins his cool-down lap, he continues, knowing his words are being broadcast to millions around the world, but speaking only to you.

“Y/N, liefje, this one’s for you. For your strength, your courage, your unwavering support. You pushed me to come back even when I wanted to stay home with you. You believed in me when I doubted myself. This victory is yours as much as it’s mine.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “I love you, Y/N. More than any trophy, any championship. You’re my biggest win.”

As he pulls into parc fermé, Max can see the team gathered, ready to celebrate. But his eyes scan the crowd, looking for only one person.

And there you are, pushing through the throng of mechanics and officials. Your eyes are shining with tears, but your smile is radiant.

Max practically leaps out of the car, not even bothering with his helmet. He meets you halfway, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“You did it!” You exclaim, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh Max, I’m so proud of you!”

Max sets you down but doesn’t let go, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, we did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “This was all you, Max. I just watched from the sidelines.”

“You’ve never been on the sidelines,” Max says firmly. “You’re the reason I’m here. The reason I push myself to be better, on and off the track.”

Before you can respond, the team descends upon them, whooping and cheering. Max is pulled away for the podium ceremony, but his eyes never leave you.

The champagne flows, the anthems play, but it all feels like a blur to Max. All he can think about is getting back to you, celebrating properly.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of photos and interviews, Max is able to escape back to the team’s hospitality area. You’re waiting for him, a glass of champagne in hand and a proud smile on your face.

“There’s my champion,” you say softly as he approaches.

Max pulls you close, not caring who might be watching. “I meant what I said on the radio,” he murmurs. “This win is yours.”

You laugh, a sound that still makes his heart soar. “Well, in that case, I guess I should start preparing my acceptance speech for the Prize Giving Ceremony.”

Max grins, playing along. “Oh yeah? And what would this speech entail?”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Let’s see … I’d like to thank the academy, and of course, my incredibly handsome and talented boyfriend, without whom none of this would be possible ...”

Max laughs, feeling lighter than he has in months. “Handsome and talented, huh? I like the sound of that.”

You smack his arm playfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, Verstappen. I’ve seen you first thing in the morning, remember?”

“Hey, I thought you said I was cute when I’m all sleepy and rumpled,” Max protests.

“Cute, yes. Handsome is a stretch,” you tease.

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. And after I just dedicated my win to you and everything.”

You soften, reaching up to cup his face. “It was beautiful, Max. Really. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Max turns serious, covering your hand with his own. “You existed. That’s more than enough.”

You stand there for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, the celebration continuing around you unnoticed.

Finally, Max breaks the silence. “So, about that promise to stay a few extra days in Vegas ...”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you remembered! I was hoping you would.”

Max grins. “Of course I remembered. I was thinking... maybe we could make it a bit more special than just a few extra days?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

Max takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, but standing here with you, flush with victory and love, it feels right.

“Well,” he says slowly, reaching into his pocket, “I was thinking maybe we could celebrate our engagement.”

Your eyes widen as Max drops to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box. The noise of the celebration fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“Y/N,” Max begins, his voice shaky but determined, “these past few months have been the hardest of my life. But they’ve also shown me, without a doubt, that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through good times and bad, wins and losses, I want you by my side.”

He opens the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

You gasp, tears filling your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Max fears he’s misjudged, moved too fast. But then you’re nodding, a radiant smile breaking through the tears.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, Max. A thousand times yes.”

Max slips the ring onto your finger with trembling hands, then stands to pull you into a passionate kiss. The team, finally noticing what’s happening, erupts into cheers and applause.

As you break apart, breathless and giddy, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. More than I ever thought possible.”

You beam up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. “I love you too. Always and forever.”

As the team swarms around them, offering congratulations and calling for more champagne, Max holds you close. This, he realizes, is his true victory. Not the race win, not the trophies or the championships. But this moment, with you in his arms, promising a future together.

***

Emma settles into her favorite armchair, a steaming mug of tea on the side table and Max Verstappen’s newly released autobiography in her hands. As a long-time fan of Formula 1 and Max in particular, she’s been eagerly anticipating this book.

She flips through the early chapters, smiling at familiar stories of Max’s rise through the ranks of motorsport. But it’s the chapter titled “The Race of My Life” that catches her attention. This, she knows, is where Max will finally open up about the period when he stepped away from racing — a time that had puzzled and worried fans.

As Emma begins reading, she’s immediately struck by the raw emotion in Max’s words.

I thought I knew what pressure was. The weight of expectations, the split-second decisions that could mean victory or defeat. But nothing in my racing career could have prepared me for the day I walked into that hospital room and saw the love of my life look at me without a hint of recognition.

Emma feels a lump form in her throat. She remembers the press conference where Max had revealed the reason for his absence, but this ... this is different. This is Max laying bare his soul in a way she’s never seen before.

In that moment, I realized that all the trophies, all the victories, all the adoration from fans — none of it mattered. The true test of my life wasn’t on any track. It was right there, in that sterile hospital room, facing the possibility of losing the one person who saw me not as Max Verstappen the driver, but just as Max.

Emma finds herself blinking back tears. She’s always admired Max for his skill on the track, his determination, his fierce competitiveness. But this vulnerability, this raw honesty, shows a side of him she never knew existed.

The chapter continues, detailing the days and weeks following the accident. Max describes the pain of seeing you struggle to remember, the hope that would flare with each small recognition, and the crushing disappointment when progress stalled.

I’ve faced some of the best drivers in the world, pushed myself to the absolute limit of human capability. But nothing — nothing — has ever been as challenging as sitting by her bedside, day after day, telling her stories of our life together and seeing no spark of remembrance in her eyes. It was like watching the person I loved most in the world slip away, inch by inch, and being powerless to stop it.

Emma has to pause her reading, overwhelmed by the emotion. She tries to imagine what it must have been like for Max, known for his control and precision on the track, to face a situation where he had no control at all.

As she continues reading, she’s struck by Max’s honesty about his own struggles during this time:

There were moments — dark, terrible moments — when I wondered if it would be easier to walk away. To accept that the woman I loved was gone, replaced by this stranger who wore her face but didn’t know my heart. The guilt I felt for even thinking such thoughts nearly crushed me. But I realized that true love, real love, isn’t just about the easy times. It’s about choosing to stay, to fight, even when every instinct is screaming at you to run.

Emma finds herself nodding, moved by Max’s profound realization. She remembers following his career, cheering his victories, sympathizing with his defeats. But this … this feels like she’s truly seeing the man behind the racer for the first time.

The chapter takes a turn as Max describes the day you started to remember:

When she looked at me that day, really looked at me, and I saw recognition in her eyes — it was like winning every championship, every race, all at once. No podium celebration could ever compare to the joy of hearing her say my name, of feeling her arms around me, knowing that she remembered us, our love, our life together.

Emma feels tears rolling down her cheeks now, unashamed. She’s always been moved by stories of love and perseverance, but knowing this is real, that it happened to someone she’s admired for so long, makes it all the more powerful.

As the chapter nears its end, Max reflects on how this experience changed him:

I returned to racing eventually, but I was never the same driver … or the same man. I had faced my greatest fear and come out the other side. I had learned that there are things more precious than any trophy, more thrilling than any race. I learned the true meaning of love, of commitment, of fighting for what really matters in life.

Emma closes the book, needing a moment to process everything she’s read. She feels like she’s seen a completely new side of Max Verstappen, one that goes far beyond the confident, sometimes brash young driver she remembers.

Picking up her phone, she opens Twitter, scrolling through reactions to the book. It seems she’s not alone in her emotional response. Fans and fellow drivers alike are sharing their thoughts.

Just finished @Max33Verstappen’s book. I’m in tears. What an incredible story of love and perseverance ❤️

Always respected Max as a driver, but this book shows what a truly remarkable person he is.

Emma adds her own tweet to the mix.

Thank you, @Max33Verstappen, for sharing your story. You’ve shown us that the greatest victories in life often happen off the track 🥺

She picks up the book again, turning to the final pages of the chapter. Max’s closing words resonate deeply.

In the end, life isn’t about the races you win or the records you break. It’s about the people you love, the bonds you forge, the differences you make. My greatest achievement isn’t any trophy or title. It’s the life I’ve built with her, the love we’ve nurtured through good times and bad. That’s my true legacy, and it’s one that will last far beyond when the chequered flag last waves for me.

[kiyawritesforf1]

Love in the Blind Spot

Pairing : Lando Norris x Sainz!Reader

Summary : Y/N spent a year hiding her identity as Carlos Sainz’s sister while dating Lando Norris, but when the truth finally comes out, chaos—and a very protective older brother—ensues.

Y/N had spent years keeping her life separate from Formula 1.

She loved her brother, but she hated the attention that came with being Carlos Sainz’s sister. The cameras, the headlines, the way people treated her differently once they knew her last name—she wanted none of it.

So when she met Lando Norris outside of the F1 world, she saw an opportunity.

He didn’t know who she was.

And she didn’t tell him.

For a year, she let herself be just Y/N. No paddock, no press, no constant questions about Carlos. Just her and Lando, existing in their own little world.

But secrets don’t stay hidden forever.

And this one was about to come crashing down.

Carlos Realizes

Carlos Sainz was a patient man. But something wasn’t adding up.

Over the past year, he had noticed the changes in Lando. The hushed phone calls, the unexplained grins after texting someone, the way he sometimes disappeared on off-weekends without telling anyone where he was going.

Carlos wasn’t stupid. Lando was obviously dating someone.

But when he caught Lando FaceTiming someone late at night, smiling in that dopey, affectionate way Carlos had never seen before, a strange feeling settled in his stomach.

Then, one day, while scrolling through Instagram, a picture caught his attention.

A group shot from a café in Monaco. A familiar café.

And right there, barely noticeable in the background, was his sister.

Carlos frowned. She had never mentioned going there. She never mentioned anything about her personal life these days.

But what made his heart stop was the way Lando’s hand was resting on hers under the table—small, subtle, but undeniably intimate.

Carlos stared at the photo. His brain refused to accept it.

No. No way.

But once the thought was in his head, he couldn’t ignore it.

The little things started making sense. The secretive smiles. The way Lando had accidentally called him “bro” one too many times recently. The way Y/N had been avoiding family gatherings, always with a vague excuse.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

His teammate.

His friend.

Had been dating his little sister.

And never told him.

Carlos was already dialing Y/N’s number before he could think twice.

The Confrontation

“You have two seconds to explain,” Carlos said the moment Y/N picked up.

Y/N froze. “…Explain what?”

Carlos let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Don’t play dumb, hermana. You and Lando.”

Silence.

Then, a quiet sigh. “…How did you find out?”

Carlos clenched his jaw. “So it’s true?”

Y/N hesitated before whispering, “Yes.”

Carlos closed his eyes. He didn’t even know what to feel. Anger? Betrayal? Confusion?

“How long?” he asked, voice tight.

“…A year.”

Carlos nearly dropped his phone.

“A YEAR?!”

Y/N winced. “Carlos, please—”

“A whole damn YEAR, Y/N?” Carlos’s voice was rising now. “And neither of you thought to tell me?!”

“I wanted to,” she admitted. “But I knew how you’d react.”

Carlos scoffed. “Oh, you knew? So you just decided to keep me in the dark?”

“I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “Of course it’s a big deal! You’re my sister!”

“I know,” Y/N said softly. “But that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to be just me, not ‘Carlos Sainz’s little sister.’”

Carlos sighed heavily. He understood, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Does he—” Carlos swallowed. “Does he treat you right?”

Y/N smiled a little. “He makes me happy, Carlos.”

Carlos groaned. “That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, he treats me right. He loves me.”

Carlos let out a long breath. He still wanted to strangle Lando. But more than that, he wanted to hear it from him directly.

Because if Lando Norris had been secretly dating his sister for a year?

Then the next conversation was going to be a lot worse.

Lando’s Worst Nightmare

Lando had faced high-pressure situations before. Last-lap battles, tricky tire strategies, press conferences filled with impossible questions.

None of them compared to this.

Carlos had asked to “have a chat” after the team meeting, and Lando had never felt his stomach drop so fast in his life.

Now, here he was, standing in the McLaren motorhome, watching as Carlos crossed his arms, his expression unreadable.

Lando swallowed hard. “Hey, mate.”

Carlos didn’t return the greeting. He just tilted his head slightly. “You’re dating my sister.”

Lando forced a nervous chuckle. “So, you’ve heard.”

Carlos blinked slowly. “I heard it directly from her. You, on the other hand, never thought to mention it?”

Lando scratched the back of his neck. “In my defense… I didn’t know.”

Carlos arched a brow. “For a year?”

Lando sighed. “I swear, if I had known, I wouldn’t have kept it from you.”

Carlos exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Lando, do you have any idea how weird this is for me?”

Lando grimaced. “I can imagine.”

Carlos took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Tell me something, Lando.”

Lando tensed. “Yeah?”

Carlos held his gaze. “Are you serious about her?”

Lando’s breath caught slightly at the directness of the question.

This wasn’t just a teammate talking. This was an older brother who loved his sister more than anything.

And Lando had only one answer.

“Yes,” he said, no hesitation. “I love her.”

Carlos stared at him for a long moment, reading him, weighing his words.

Then, finally, he sighed. “Good.”

Lando blinked. “Good?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You think I’d let you off that easy?”

Lando gulped. “Uh—”

Carlos smirked, but it wasn’t comforting. “Just know, if you ever hurt her…”

Lando nodded quickly. “Yeah. Got it. Loud and clear.”

Carlos clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just a little too hard. “Welcome to the family, Norris.”

Lando wasn’t sure if he had just won or signed his own death sentence.

The Paddock Chaos

Y/N had successfully avoided the F1 paddock for years.

But now, she was walking through it hand-in-hand with Lando Norris.

And everyone was staring.

Charles smirked. “So, you’re real.”

Daniel slung an arm around Lando. “When’s the wedding?”

Y/N and Lando nearly choked.

Carlos’s eyes darkened. “Absolutely not.”

Lando held up his hands. “Let’s get through today first, yeah?”

The teasing continued all day, and Y/N quickly realized that dating an F1 driver—while also being related to another—meant there was no escape.

But that night, curled up with Lando, she knew one thing for sure.

She wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck together

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

Summary: Canon divergence after Wandavision... what if Tommy and Billy are alive and stay with their mom?

Only a handful of people have this number.

So, when the phone rings, you know it’s trouble.

“We need a favor” Hill says. That we means Fury and her, as they constantly operate outside of the government’s rules.

The world has been too messy since everyone came back from the dead, making it easy to slip through the cracks.

You only say yes because Natasha was her friend.

The ride to the rendezvous point is quiet, only interrupted by the engine of your motorcycle. Throughout the road, you cross paths with one other driver who couldn’t care less about you.

“Sorry for the short notice” Maria says when you park outside the warehouse, walking up to you. “We didn’t know who else to call. There’s a safe house ready, food for a couple of days… that’s all we can offer for now”

You nod, walking up to the car.

The last thing you’re expecting is Wanda Maximoff, fast asleep in the back seat, a kid on each side of her.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Keep an eye out” is all Maria says and you sigh.

For a moment, you wish you had ignored her call. Leave someone else to deal with whatever this is.

“It won’t be long, right?”

“Couple of weeks, tops”

Again, it gives you the impression she’s either lying or leaving out a big chunk of information.

But you’re here, and you won’t back out. She hands over the car keys and a burner phone, which you accept with a nod. Neither Wanda nor the kids notice the car moving, and you drive in silence for a couple of hours.

You’re still two hours away from the safe house when there’s a shift in the environment. The first thing you notice is how the radio malfunctions, changing stations randomly. Out of instinct, you look out the rearview mirror, eyes meeting bright red orbs.

It’s as if something stabbing your brain, pain blinding as you feel your mind unravel. It stops abruptly, but you’re too stunned, shaking your head and almost crashing against a tree.

Some outside force keeps the wheel steady, parking the car on the side of the road. The minute it stops, you open the door, breathing heavily. The throbbing pain begins to subside, and you can hear and see again.

“I’m sorry, I woke up and didn’t... didn’t know if we were safe” Wanda says, her voice small. You didn’t even hear her get out of the car.

“Ask next time, instead of trying to kill me” you turn to look away, to hide your confusion.

Even if you knew her for a small time, you don’t remember the Maximoff girl having this kind of power.

“I was just reading your mind” she defends herself. You’re about to argue again when she turns to the car, looking at the kids who are wide awake.

“Boys…” she begins, but looks your way and stays quiet. “Is there a restaurant nearby? We could have some food and a bathroom break”

“The safe house isn’t that far away” you say. You really don’t want to stop, considering Maria didn’t tell you anything specific.

“Please” Wanda says when you clear your throat. With a sigh, you nod. But before she can open the car door, you put your hand over it, looking straight into her green eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, Maximoff”

It annoys you that she doesn’t answer, only glaring at you until your hand drops and she gets in the car, smiling at the kids.

Luckily for them, there’s a small diner by the side of the road, along a gas station and a couple of old restrooms. Open 24 hours, probably to cater to truck drivers and other people who have to go miles without seeing another soul, never mind a place to eat.

Food probably sucks.

“Stay in the booth over there” you point to the back of the restaurant, sitting at the counter where you can see anyone walking in or driving by.

Within minutes of entering, you have already found any weapons you could use, emergency exits and potential obstacles.

But there’s nothing, no one seems to care about your presence.

The kids eat pancakes while Wanda watches them, making small talk. You wonder who are they.

Then again, the bleep brought a shit load of troubles with it. Maybe they disappeared five years ago and their parents are nowhere to be found.

So many people disappeared, aside from the ones that turned to dust.

“They just have to use the bathroom and we’re ready to go” Wanda says, frowning when she notices your empty cup of coffee. “Did you eat anything?”

“I’m fine. Don’t take too long” you leave a couple of bills on the counter, more than enough to cover for the food and your cup of crappy coffee.

The sun is starting to rise and you really wish you could get moving. It’s always better to go when it’s dark, even if enemies can hide in the shadows.

What’s taking so fucking long?

Walking away from the car, you find Wanda trying to stop a man from approaching her any further. He must have come from the other side of the road, as you didn’t see him until now.

“Just wondering what a cute girl like you is doing all alone down this dirty old road” he says.

“None of your fucking business” you say, making the man jump out, scared. “Leave her alone”

“You her guard dog? Be a nice mutt and go dig up some bones” he says, pulling out a knife.

With a roll of your eyes, you reach for it, twisting his hand and punching him in the face. It takes you five seconds to knock him out. Just for fun, you spit next to his motionless body.

“Told you to make it quick” you say to Wanda, pretending to be annoyed.

“We’re done” she says, walking back to the car. The kids share a look as they walk past the unconscious man, giggling when they pretend to be fighting each other.

Wanda smiles when you open the back door for her, while you pretend not to notice her eyes on you.

“Thank you”

Luckily, the rest of the ride to the safe house goes smoothly.

—

Maria didn’t lie about one thing.

This place is a shithole.

Wood pannels are broken, there’s dust everywhere and you’re gonna have to cook and get heat the old fashioned way.

“Yikes” one of the kids says as you walk through the door. You have to agree.

“It’s going to be fine. We’ll make it work” Wanda promises, feigning excitement.

“Can’t you just…?” you make a movement with your hands, and she frowns at you. “Abracadabra the place?”

“I’d rather not use my powers unless it is strictly necessary” she says, closing the front door. That falls off its hinges.

“Home security doesn’t strike you as a necessity, Maximoff?”

The tilt of her head is all the answer you get. With a sigh, you walk up to the shed, hoping there are some tools you can use to fix the door.

Well, at least there are weapons, cash, and all the essentials to make sure the door doesn’t fall again.

Home chores are not your favorite thing in the world, but at least it’s distracting you. Wanda is inside, cleaning the second floor while the two kids come up and down, carrying things and laughing.

“Do you need any help?” one of them approaches you.

“It’s fine. Sorry, I don’t know your name”

“I’m Billy, and my brother’s name is Tommy” the boy says, smiling. Though his brother seems reluctant to give out that information so freely.

“Well, Billy, like I said. I’m almost done. Thanks anyway”

“Oh. Ok”

The disappointment in his voice annoys you.

Kids.

“Fine. Nail that for me”

You hand over the hammer, holding the nail between two of your fingers. The first time he hits your hand, and you barely flinch. You encourage him with a nod, and he crashes the hammer against the rotten wood, adding another task to your workload.

“Sorry”

“That’s on me” you say, inspecting your hand. No damage.

“Are you bullet proof?”

“Not quite. Just harder to kill, that’s all”

Wanda clears her throat and you turn to look at her, frowning.

“Boys, come help in the kitchen” she asks and they both nod, walking past you. Before you can go back to work, Wanda approaches you, hissing. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention things like killing in front of two kids, Y/L/N”

With a glare, you stand up, and Wanda doesn’t back down when you tower over her.

“And I would appreciate it if you could make jazz hands and save me the trouble of fixing this shithole. But alas, we’re both stuck, aren’t we?”

“Brute” she spits out. You give her one last glare, and kneel back next to the door, fixing the wood.

Spoiled brat.

You hear a gasp and a small ball of red magic hits your side. It barely hurts, and it feels more like a warning.

You’re pretty sure you didn’t say that out loud.

“You thought it very loudly” Wanda says.

“Oh, for that you don’t mind using magic” you mutter. Wanda turns to glare at you, and you decide to shut your mouth.

You don't want to push your luck.

—

The better part of your day is spent securing the house. You’re a soldier and an agent, not a handywoman. Still, you hope this won’t take long and pretty soon you and Wanda can be on your separate ways.

After showering, you go out into the porch and open up a beer, taking a large gulp.

“Where’d you get that?” Wanda appears out of nowhere and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Someone left a secret stash”

And thank God, because you’re gonna need it if Maximoff will be breathing down your neck for who knows how long.

“Beer on an empty stomach? There’s food inside. Not my best, but with the groceries we have is what I could do”

“No offense but if I don’t make it, I don’t taste it” you mutter, taking another sip of your beer.

“Yeah, well, you’re no use if you’re drunk” she complains, crossing her arms.

“Do you really think this gets me drunk? I’m a super soldier, remember?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are” she says before going back inside.

Well, she’s not wrong.

The sounds coming from inside the house tell you the kids are getting ready for bed. Once you notice the lights upstairs are off, you decide to go to the kitchen.

Wanda’s right, whoever got the provisions is an idiot. There’s canned food, some cereal, but nothing that can actually work if you put it together.

Unless…

Could there be another hidden stash?

You examine every inch of the kitchen thoroughly, knuckles testing the wood to find an empty panel. After a few minutes, you stumble upon one and smile.

“Bingo” you say, lifting the pannel and finding a cabinet full of cookies, chips and candy.

You pick a bag of chips, and go back outside, drinking another beer. As you look at the woods surrounding the safe house, your mind can’t help but go back to what little you know about Wanda Maximoff.

Natasha had told you she was just a terrified kid, that HYDRA had taken advantage of her and her brother to conduct experiments and turn them into weapons.

You could definitely relate to that.

You barely spent time with her, as shortly after the entire Avenger initiative went to shit and well…

Best not to think about what happened after that. The nightmares are enough reminder.

The night goes by slowly, but you refuse to sleep. One, you are supposed to be looking after them, no matter how much Wanda annoys you. Second, if it were up to you, you’d never sleep. So, you struggle to stay awake, even if it’s freezing outside.

Around five in the morning, you begin to doze off, and decide to take a walk around the house to make sure everything’s in order.

By eight, the lulling sound of birds chirping relaxes you enough, the way it always does when you’re back home, so you begin to drift off…

Until you feel a little flick hitting your cheek. It’s annoying, like a bug, but you think nothing of it as you settle in the chair.

But then it happens two more times. You huff, smacking your own cheek hoping to catch the bug. You look at your empty palm, skin stinging with the force of your own hit.

For a few minutes, you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Alert to any change around you, you finally manage to reach and catch the little culprit.

“You little shit” you mutter, but are surprised to see Tommy right next to you, struggling with the hand that is holding to his shirt.

“Mom!” he begins to yell, scared out of his mind.

What the fuck do you mean mom?

You don’t have time to ask out loud, as a burst of red magic throws you out of the porch and into the front lawn.

The sight of Wanda levitating, eyes glowing red makes you crawl back, terrified. It’s been a while since you’ve been scared shitless by something, that’s for sure.

“I will kill you” she states, her accent heavy as a hand reaches forward, red magic curling around your throat and lifting you up in the air.

Oh, well. You had a nice run. It’s very clear that nothing you do will overpower her. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, Wanda’s magic can hold you down, throw you around, choke the life out of you like she’s doing right now.

There are worse ways to go.

“Mom, stop, please!”

The lack of air is probably making you hallucinate, but a second later you’re dropped to the ground, coughing violently and rubbing your neck.

“Tommy, don’t” Wanda pulls him to her side when he tries to reach you and you see fear in her eyes.

She thinks you’ll hurt the boy.

Now, that stings more than the murder attempt she just pulled off.

When you feel like you finally caught your breath, you stand up on shaky legs, and walk away from the house and into the woods.

You don’t stop until you find a small clear and drop against a log, panting.

Maria picks up immediately.

“You’re gonna tell me the fucking truth”

“What…”

“She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Why the fuck did you call me, then?”

There’s a pause that extends for longer than you’d like and you’re about to tell her how Wanda almost killed you when Maria sighs, giving up.

“Her powers are… unstable. Or rather, she is. I don’t have clearance to tell you everything. But we want to know if she can be a threat”

“To whom?”

“To the world”

You feel like throwing up. You should have never answered the call, you’re way over your head.

“I’m not someone who should be making those decisions. Find anyone else”

“We don’t trust anyone else enough to…”

“Call Barton”

“He’s retired”

“Well, unretire his ass. He knows her better than I do, Hill”

You have a feeling this is is an argument you’re not gonna win, unless you just pick up your shit and leave. Which you could very well do considering what just happened.

A scream that tears throw the quiet of the forest makes you look up.

“I have to go” you say, discarding the burner phone and running back to the house.

Billy’s the one screaming, but you can’t tell why until you reach the edge of the property, looking between Wanda and a strange woman, piercing blue eyes and wild brown hair making her look deranged.

“What…?”

Then, you notice the dagger she’s holding against Billy’s throat.

“Don’t pull any tricks, Wanda. I’m done playing nice”

[ladysharmaa]

My love, my life

Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: As Spencer and the rest of the team headed back to Quantico after a case, his girlfriend waited for him while talking to Garcia. However, a man with a gun could delay the couple's reunion. Will Spencer arrive on time?

The sleek black SUV curved around the corner, Quantico’s familiar skyline coming into view. Spencer Reid sat in the passenger seat, legs jittering, phone pressed to his ear. The sun was dipping behind the clouds, casting the FBI building in a calm before the storm.

“Okay, okay, so Thai or Indian?” came the voice on the other end. Y/n, Spencer's girlfriend, was lounging at Garcia’s neon-lit desk, legs kicked up, the glow of computer monitors illuminating her smile.

She had been away from Spencer for about a week and was already going crazy. So, she decided that instead of waiting for him at home, completely bored, she would wait at his work, since she also missed Garcia.

They all had a complicated case, which kept Spencer away from her birthday dinner. Despite apologizing a thousand times since then — not that it was necessary, Y/n understood the demands of a bau agent's job — the genius promised that as soon as he returned he would make it up to her. And so, they were planning which restaurant they would go to.

“I vote Thai!” Garcia chimed in, half-distracted as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Extra spicy. Like the way you two look at each other, my little doves.”

Derek Morgan’s laugh echoed from somewhere near Spencer. “Is the genius blushing again?”

Spencer adjusted his scarf and ducked his head, trying and failing to fight off the flush rising to his cheeks. “I'm not. But it’s actually a fascinating physiological response. Blushing is controlled by the sympathetic nervous system. When you're embarrassed or emotionally overwhelmed your body releases adrenaline, which increases your heart rate and dilates your blood vessels. That’s why the face turns red. But here’s the really interesting part — the face and neck have more capillaries than most other parts of the body, which is why it’s so visible."

"We get it, Spencer." JJ laughed in amusement. She was glad that Spencer found Y/n as he has been happier, and it was so cute to hear him talk about her all the time. He had heart eyes whenever he thought about his perfect girlfriend.

Spencer shrugged, but the little smile that formed on his lips gave him away. “I’m five minutes out.”

“Five minutes is too long.” Y/N teased. “I’m starving. Might chew on Garcia’s keyboard.”

“Do not touch my baby!” Garcia warned her dramatically.

“I’ll be there soon. Can’t wait to see you.” Spencer laughed softly, fingers tightening around the phone.

But just then, they all heard a thunderous bang. Even through the call the team managed to hear it clearly. A gunshot. Followed by screaming.

Spencer shot upright in his seat, his heart plummeting like a stone. They all stopped breathing, their attention glued to the cell phone that was heavy in Spencer's hand, which was shaking heavily. The line was chaos. Garcia was yelling something, Y/N gasped.

Fear ran through Spencer's veins, he didn't want to think about Y/n, his Y/N, in a dangerous situation. He faced the worst of the world every day, and the last thing he wanted was for his girlfriend to come into contact with the monsters that lurked in the shadows. He had to be with her.

And then there was silence. The call disconnected.

“No. No, no, no,” Spencer muttered, frantically tapping redial. “Pick up. Please pick up.”

Hotch, driving, had already stiffened and pressed harder on the pedal. “What happened? Someone try to contact Quantico.”

“They were shot at. Someone fired a gun. I lost the connection.”

"Nobody answers me, Hotch." JJ informed, also quickly calling members of Quantico. "There's a conference with the President of the United States, so a lot of agents aren't there. And now they'll have to stay with the President.”

"This is planned, Hotch." Emily added.

Hotch’s face hardened, eyes laser-focused on the road. He hit the sirens and floored even more the gas.

Spencer clutched the dashboard, unable to sit still. “We have to get there faster. She was just talking to me, everything was fine. The BAU is supposed to be a safe place—”

"They are going to be fine, pretty boy." Derek tried to reassure him, despite also being filled with panic. This has never happened before, as it was extremely dangerous to threaten a place full of FBI agents.

“We’ll get them”. Hotch promised. “Hold on.”

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Inside the BAU headquarters, panic surged through the bullpen.

Garcia and Y/N had barely made it from her office to the hallway when a group of armed men burst in through the rear access doors. They fired shots into the air in warning, pushing civilians and agents into the main atrium. One agent tried to draw their weapon and was immediately shot in the leg, collapsing with a yell. The others immediately dropped their guns as it was too risky, as a civilian could easily be hurt.

Y/N had grabbed Garcia’s hand, whispering, “Stay close to me, okay?” Her own body trembled, but they had to be brave until the team could save them.

The ringleader —a man with cold eyes and military posture — paced in front of the growing crowd of FBI employees. “You know what we want,” he snarled. “Files. Not on paper. Not redacted. Everything.”

He turned and raised his weapon — pointing it directly at Y/N, who was still holding Garcia's hand, all of them kneeling on the ground. When the girl realised the attention was on her, she tried to let go of the blonde's hand to not also put her in danger. But to no avail, they knew who Garcia was. They studied them. They prepared the attack.

“You!” he barked at Garcia. “You’re the tech, right? Show me the system. Get me what I want. Or she dies.”

Y/N flinched, but lifted her chin. Garcia clutched her friend’s arm tighter.

“Please...” Garcia stammered, inching toward her desk. “Just give me a second. It’s not that simple. We have encryption layers.”

"Don't lie to me!" he shouted furiously. In a moment of rage, he pointed the gun at an officer, who was calming an elderly couple, and shot him in the chest. He immediately fell to the ground, clutching his chest in pain. Y/n stared in horror at the sight of the bleeding man, her scream of surprise and horror mixing with those of the rest of the hostages. "As you can see, I'm not bluffing. Give us what we need, or your friend dies."

"You’ll get what you want, just... Just don’t hurt her.”

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Meanwhile, the SUV skidded into the FBI lot. Before the car had fully stopped, Spencer jumped out and bolted for the door, badge in hand. His chest ached, lungs burning, every part of him screaming to find her, to make sure she was okay.

“Security breach confirmed." an agent informed, walking besides the team quickly. The agents were already forming a perimeter, thinking of the best way to enter the building. “Multiple hostiles. Civilians inside.”

Reid’s feet didn’t stop moving, going straight to the operating table where the design of the building was. Hotch assumed the position of leader with SWAT units, immediately barking out orders. From the corner of his eye, he looked at Spencer, who was anxiously looking ahead.

"We'll get her and Garcia, Reid. Focus, I need you to find me an entry."

The genius was already ahead, his brain working through multiple options at an extreme speed. Every second was a second Y/n might be hurt. Or worse. He couldn't think about it, or he would go insane.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

"What's taking so long?" one of the men in the group asked impatiently. "We're surrounded. Man, what are we doing? What were we thinking?"

"Calm!" the leader ordered. "Everything is fine. Work faster, blondie." he continued to Garcia, who was discreetly doing it on purpose to delay the process.

"I'm sorry… They-they are blocking me. It takes longer."

"While she's doing that, let me help him." Y/n begged, unable to hear the injured agent's painful and increasingly shallow breathing any longer. "He's loosing a lot of blood. If he dies, it'll be worse for you."

"Shut up." the man holding the gun muttered, hitting himself lightly on the head. It was like he couldn't think, nothing was going according to his plan.

"He's going to die if we don't do something! Please!" the girl cried desperately. " At least let someone put pressure on the wound."

"I said shut up, bitch!"

Then, he fired. Y/N didn’t even have time to scream.

Just a sudden, hot burst of pain across her shoulder. She stumbled backward, hand clutching instinctively at the blood already soaking through her jacket. She collapsed on the ground, the breath knocked clean from her lungs.

Garcia screamed, her hands instinctively covered her ears, her mouth open as she looked at her friend's fallen body.

The world seemed to explode around them as the BAU team breached the entrance with a deafening shout. The SWAT team poured into the atrium, with Hotch, Emily, Derek and Spencer right behind them.

There were voices shouting orders, leading the hostages to safety. But Spencer Reid didn't hear any of it. Something inside him snapped when he saw Y/n, his love, his life, on the ground surrounded by a pool of her own blood.

He appeared forward, his gun drawn, eyes already locked on the shooter. He didn't think. He just knew. With a clean pull of the trigger, Spencer fired. The gunman dropped instantly, a clean shot to the chest. Another fell in the ensuing gunfire, and the rest surrendered as SWAT flooded the hall. All of it was a blur.

Spencer, before he even realized what he was doing or what was happening, was already running towards her. He had to get to her.

“Y/N… No, no, no—”

He dropped to his knees beside her, blood already staining the scarf around his neck as he pressed it hard to her shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. She was conscious, but her face was pale, eyes glassy. It was a strange appearance on Y/n, she always looked healthy, happy. Spencer loved that she blushed as much as he did, or even more, that she looked at the world with a sparkle in her eyes that he no longer had. But hers was enough for both of them. She made his world colorful.

“I got you, I got you, just stay with me, baby.” he whispered with a small smile, trying to reassure his girlfriend instead of showing all the fear he was feeling. His hands were shaking. He was shaking. He couldn't breathe. "I need medics over here!"

A shaking hand held Spencer's wrist, who was carefully caressing Y/n's cheek, at the same time wiping away the blood that had splattered on her skin. Just that small movement took immense effort on the girl's part, who licked her lips before speaking, "I'm okay, baby. That agent… He was shot. Is he alive?"

"What?" Spencer asked disoriented. Were there at least other people in the room? All his attention was on her. Hesitantly, he quickly raised his head to look at the person in question and returned his focus to Y/n's beautiful eyes. "He's fine. I'm worried about you. You need to go to the hospital."

“I tried to help him…”

“Just don’t close your eyes, please.” His voice broke. “I can’t do this without you. I can’t breathe without you. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so much.”

“I’m here,” she whispered, barely audible. “Don’t cry…”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, voice raw and trembling. “You are everything to me. I love you so much.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Spencer. At least I can now understand the pain you also went through. It truly hurts like a bitch.”

“I never wanted you to be in this kind of pain.”

“I’m okay.” she breathed.

When paramedics finally reached them, Spencer refused to move. They asked him to give them space. He didn't. He would never leave her side again.

They told him she needed clean bandages and oxygen. He nodded, but stayed glued to her side, holding her free hand like a lifeline, watching every single move they made. His mind was cataloging everything — angle of the shot, blood loss rate, respiratory rate, risk of nerve damage, but his mind was screaming one thing: don't let them take her away from me.

She was the light that pulled him back from his darkness. The calm in his storm. The one thing that made the nightmares quieter, the cases bearable, the only reason worth living for. Without her, being alive meant nothing.

Spencer refused to let go of her hand, watching like a hawk every movement the paramedics made. “Don’t touch her like that! She’s hurt. Just tell me what you’re doing!"

Y/n, not enjoying seeing Spencer so stressed, especially because of her, tried to speak, but it was proving to be a hard task. "Spencer..."

"Leave the mask on, my love, you need the oxygen. Relax, I'm right here.”

“We need to stop the bleeding and prepare her for transport.” one EMT said calmly. “Sir, you are in the way.”

“I’m not leaving her!” Spencer shouted, more frantic than he had ever been. But his tone left no arguments. “I'm going in the ambulance."

Hotch appeared at his side, giving him a nod of understanding. “We’ll meet you there.”

As they loaded her onto the gurney, Spencer walked beside it, never releasing her hand, eyes flickering with fear, desperation, and something deeper than both. Love. A kind of love he never felt before. It was so strong, so powerful.

He sat beside Y/n while the paramedic checked her vitals.

“I’ve faced killers, bombs, cult leaders… things that should keep me up at night,” he said quietly. “But nothing has ever scared me like seeing you fall. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my heart stopped. Because the thought of losing you… it’s not something I can survive.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“You’re my person, Y/N. You’re the one I dream about when I can't sleep and the one I search for in every crowded room. I can solve a thousand puzzles a day, but none of it matters if I can’t come home to you.” He brushed his thumb across her knuckles, voice breaking.

“You did come. You saved me.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to hers. Spencer pressed sweet kissed around her face. Her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips.

“No.” he whispered, eyes closing, savoring every moment with her. “You saved me. You have, every day since I met you.”

Silence settled around them like a soft blanket. Spencer could finally relax while hearing the quiet rhythm of her breathing and the steady hum of machines. It was peaceful. She was alive.

And in that quiet, Spencer made a silent vow. He would never take a single second with her for granted again.

Because now he knew, without her, there was no him.

[oofmybad]

GOAT talk

synopsis: based on billie and quen’s complex interview, but i switched out quen for the reader if ygm?

warnings: fluff, quick mention of weight loss towards the end

a/n: this whole interview i just felt like i was interrupting during an inside joke. so i decided to be nosy and write from their perspective lolol. not properly proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is the first interview you two have done as a couple - everyone has been begging you to do something together for weeks and weeks. so here you are! sat in front of a purple v-flat, you and billie facing each other both perched on a director’s chair.

the atmosphere is light hearted, but you still feel heavily surveilled because of the 10 cameras all set up from every angle. “you ready, baby?” billie asks you before the cameras are rolling.

“ready as i’ll ever be” you respond, an anticipatory wince on your mouth.

“you look gorgeous, you got it mama” billie reassures you. she always loves when you dress femme. you’re adorned in a faux fur chocolate brown coat thats draped across your elbows with a staple graphic tee underneath. a simple black mini skirt is doing very little to cover the bottom half of your body, but billie loves the view so she’s not complaining. the glam team decided on an effortless, blushy makeup look for you which you were grateful for - the faux blush will cover any real blushing that will inevitably take place.

you simply smile in return to billie’s flirty reassurance, but your eyes betray you, raking up and down billie’s body to check her out. billie’s wearing a grey sweater vest over a stripey oxford shirt. a bair of baggy grey-blue jeans covering her legs. you internally giggle at the two of you’s matching yet opposite vibe - always going together like yin and yang.

the director calls out to you two, notifying you that the cameras are now rollling. a teleprompter lights up with the words “and this is GOAT Talk with complex”.

“should we say it together” you ask billie, already laughing from embarassment.

“okay, ready?’ billie checks. the two of you begin to say the tagline line but all of the words are jumbled and incoherent making you giggle in a squeaky tone.

“come on, ready?” you calm the two of you down “one, two, three…”

“and this is GOAT Talk with complex” you say in unison, billie leaning forward on her knees as she says her part.

you comment, “that gagged!”

“really? good, okay” billie responds. now you turn your head to look at billie, noticing the way she’s sat. you internally sigh, realizing that this is gonna be a long hour if she keeps looking so yummy.

to distract yourself, you reach your right arm out and go to grab a cue card. you pull it up to you and flip it before reading what it says.

“GOAT hear me outs?” you exaggerate the ‘goat’ with a mocking tone. billie pops her gum, chewing loudly as she thinks of her answer.

“i literally have a list” you say under your breath making eye contact with the camera as you tuck your hair behind your ear. any shyness you had a moment ago has now gone. it’s like a flip switches any time a camera hits record.

“yeah? go!” billie coaxes you.

“ummmm” you line up your answers in your mind, “donkey’s wife dragon from shrek” you say, putting out your pointer finger in a counting motion.

“she loveeees shrek” billie laughs at you.

“it’s in my blood” you point to your dragon tattoo on your arm, lifting up your sleeve while you do it.

“ummm, ursula” you say as billie gives you a questioning look as she scratches her head, her lips pursed.

“have you seen them tiddies?!” you defend yourself in an exaserbated tone.

you continue on, “eve from wall-e. and…. i’m a lesbian, but even so, jack skellington”

“oh yeah!” billie groans, “thats a goo- that’s on my list too”

“ok and last one, not a crush but a queen out moment: anna wintour’s bob”

“wait… what?” billie looks to the sky searching forr an explanation, “um, ok.”

“‘cause i dont think anna wintour’s bob would want me…”

“why wouldn’t it want you” billie asks, feeding into your delusions now.

“i think it’s asexual. it came out in a twitter post” you both laugh at the fact that you’re now having a serious conversation about this. you encourage billie to give her answers now.

“my list: jack skellington, duh. i know this is VFX but venom - thats a fantasy for sure” billie says pursing her lips and tilting her head to the side with her hands clasped out in front of her doing the emote she always does.

“you need help” is all you can say back. billie shimmies her shoulders at your comment.

she continues on, “bojack horseman”

now you’re really questioning your girlfriend’s sanity, “that’s a crash out for sure”

“yeah, it’s unfortunate” billie agrees with you but presses on, “obviously jessica rabbit”.

“oh HELL yeah!” you finally agree with her.

“and scar” she finishes up.

“i can get behind that” you nod in agreement.

you go on to read out the next cue card that’s asking after your GOAT anthems. billie explains how she’s been obsessed with gaga recently and you gasp in total agreement; music has always been a meeting point for the two of you.

now, it’s your turn to answer the question.

“can i dick ride?” you ask, your eyes looking over to billie.

“you always do, baby” she flirts at you. this makes you blush and cover your face bashfully. why does billie always have to say such things when people are watching?

ignoring her comment, you gush over hit me hard and soft, but not without making fun of the titles of a few songs. “i think it’s called cheerio” billie quotes you in a mocking voice.

somehow you both get off topic and start talking about your worst night together, but nothing heavy, moreso funny. billie calls it your “WOAT do it for the plot moment.”

as billie picks up the next cue card, she reads it and begins to trip out - her mouth hanging agape in an O shape. the card asks you two to talk about what you just had been - this shocks you, too.

“i feel like i’m on the truman show” you joke.

billie answers the question vaguely but teases the cameras adding that most of your two ‘GOAT experiences together’ are not appropriate to share. “that one night we had, though, that was good” billie’s gaze lands on you as she says this, clearly doing her best at making you shy but this time it doesn’t work.

“we can’t gag them like that” you say making eye contact with the lens, “but just know you could never mess with mommy” you kid, the both of you laughing at the inside joke.

“GOAT gift you’ve recieved” you say.

“my label got me my first car, a matte black dodge challenger” billie says satisfied, “i loved that car.”

“your label loves you, they treat you nice” you comment. “the best gift i’ve recieved is from you. it was that mixtape you made me for valentine’s day. the one with songs from throughout our relationship. and i love that you walked me through it as you played it.” billie nods listening to you with a smile on her face, clearly proud of herself. your heart swells seeing the look on billie’s face, feeling so lucky to be so loved by her.

“yeah, that one was really nice” you finish up your thought.

the interview continues to progress, you both discussing the best music to cry to - describing sufjan stevens as “war music”.

when you move on to discuss GOAT actors, you start to swoon over mikey madison and zendaya, saying, “i didn’t know people could look like that… princess vibes.”

billie talks alongside you in complete agreement, “i love princess looking girls… like you.” you roll your eyes at her and continue to the next question, completely ignoring that billie is taking every chance she can to make you shy. she’s always like this when people are around.

billie goes on to ask your opinion on the best y2k look.

“easy! whale tale. thong showing with the low waisted pants” you nod triumphantly.

“yeah, you wear that one a lot” she says. billie then answers for herself, “i love a tramp stamp. fire.”

“i like how we’re just describing you” billie rambles on as she moves her hand up and down in your body’s direction. “you’re the prototype, baby” billie smirks.

you click your tongue against your teeth and wink at her with a smile, “what can i say?” you half-heartedly bow in your seat.

“GOAT female rapper” you call out after picking up a new card.

“surely it has to be nicki minaj” billie responds to you.

“nuh uh! megan thee stallion. unequivocally.” you fight for your queen.

“oop- lets not” billie says as her eyes widen.

“no, lets! meg is the GOAT. kendrick vs drake? all because of hiss. those rock-stlye guitars that are suddenly appearing in rap music? that’s cobra’s effect. i will kill for my queen” you ramble on.

“oh no, we’ve got her going” billie giggles talking to the camera, “i’ve never seen her fight for anyone harder than megan thee stallion, not even for me, y’all.”

“period. as i should” you defend yourelf, “she’s a triple threat: insanely hot, insanely talented, insanely smart. and her knees?!”

billie cackles at your last comment knowing she’s caught you watching slo-mo videos of megan shaking ass many times before.

you laugh with her, knowingly, before waiting for billie to read out the next card.

“WOAT purchase you’ve made?”

billie answers her own question, telling the story about one time where she hired people to decorate her house for halloween.

“girl, i swear you’ll do anything for halloween. it’s a little dramatic” you comment.

“go on then, let’s hear yours if i’m so dramatic” billie quips back.

“ok well i didn’t have a business manager at the time, i had no idea what i was doing” you defend yourself before telling the story. “there was this one time i bid on a couch that was like hundreds of thousands of dollars” you say with an ‘eek’ face, your teeth showing and eyebrows furrowed.

billie does her signature cackle at you before cooing after you, “oh, gurl” with a sympathetic pout.

“i don’t even have the couch anymore. that shit was trash! but i did get a funny video out of it, so…”

“i felt so bad laughing at you, though, in the video” billie says kindly.

“yeah, you and millions of other people” you roll your eyes.

“WOAT pick up line you’ve heard” you read out to billie.

“any pick up line is a bad one” billie simply states popping a bubble with the gum in her mouth.

“yeah! like, what are we performing for?!” you get riled up but continue on, “i feel like for me, any pick up line from a man is a bad one, it’s just so ew. from a girl, a bad one might be endearing or funny maybe.”

“i totally agree” billie nods along.

“last carddDDd on the dockett” you sing out as billie reaches out her hand to grab the final cue card, her glasses sat on the table next to them.

“ok, WOAT advice you’ve recieved” billie reads out, her head dipped low looking at the piece of card in front of her.

“put money before anything else” you easily reply, tutting at the memory.

“who gave you that advice?!” billie says, shock on her face, her tongue playing with her gum.

“somebody who aint had a morsel of bread in a LONG time” you joke.

billie pushes out a heavy breath of air through her pursed lips - telling you ‘that’s tough’ without using her words.

billie goes on to croak out a long ‘mmmmm’ thinking of her answer. eventually, after a pregnant pause, she says through a fit of giggles, “any mansplaining advice is just- i can’t do it.”

“ugh!” you huff in agreement.

“one of my biggest pet peeves in the world is someone explaining something to me that i know a ton about, and they’re explaining it to me like i dont” billie rolls her eyes. you heavily nod your head at her words.

“mhm” you agree, “you’re looking at me like i know less than i do and i’m disrespected by it.”

billie thinks on it and gives another answer, “i dont know, someobody was like ‘if you lost weight you could be a really great model’ when i was like twelve.” she’s fidgeting with her bottom lip as she recounts the memory, clearly remorseful for her younger self.

you make the most disgusted, apalled face at that, surprised you’ve never heard the story before. you can’t help but mutter under your breath, “you’ve always been perfect.”

“they called my mom and said that.”

“almond moms, you are the demise of your own children” you fiestily comment making eye contact with a camera.

“love my mom, though!” billie says, shimmying her shoulders in a shrug and pursing her lips, eyes facing the camera - there goes that cute emote, again!

“love your mom, too!” you say back. the two of you lean in for a high-five, the connection leaves a loud ‘slap’ that echoes through the studio.

“and, cut!” the video director calls out from behind the cameras.

billie jumps down from her seat, walking over to stand in between your legs.

“hi, baby” she says, her right hand cupping your cheek.

“hi, bil” you reply, nuzzling your face into her hand with a smile. billie moves her hand to tug your shoulder forward - coaxing you into a hug. “i was here the whole time baby, what’s up?” you ask with your head tucked in her neck.

“you were so far awayyy!” billie yells out in a groan and throws her head back. you just giggle and scoot your hips forward closer to billie.

billie scoops her hands under your arms and lifts you off the chair so you’re now standing and hugging.

“i’m sorry someone said that to you, my love. that’s fucked” you tell her now looking into her eyes. billie remains silent but sends you a confused face at your random apology. “the thing about your weight” you clarify.

“you’re a sweetheart” billie nuzzles her nose against yours. “fuck ‘em” you whisper. “fuck me” she teasingly whispers back.

“billie!” you slap her shoulder, roll your eyes, and pull away from the hug; “god forbid we ever have a sincere moment.”

[perries-things]

Pairings: Park Hu-min (Baku) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: As kids, you shared everything—your bond making you both inseparable. Now, years later, you told him that you would be leaving for a study opportunity abroad. You didn't know how much it would affect Baku. ⋆˙⟡

Genre: Mutual pining, childhood bestfriends, slowburn and a bit of Angst.⋆˙⟡

Warning: Language

W/C: 3,868

Authors Note: ⋆˚࿔ heavily inspired from the song 'habits' by Genevieve Stokes. Also, this one is long so bear with me. I love him so much.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

The sun is bright, air is warm, and the playground filled with cheerful laughter. You're eight years old, alone, and you are sitting on one of the swings—and the only thing accompanying you is the stuffed lion you're gripping tightly onto your chest. Just you and your stuffed lion, happy in your quiet, little bubble.

But your bubble popped when a group of loud and rude kids, snatched your stuffed lion right out of your hands away—laughing as they teased you.

You stood up quickly, trying to snatch your stuffed lion back. "Hey, give—it–back!" You shouted, struggling on taking it from their mud -covered hands as they toss your stuffed lion back and forth like it's a game, like it's funny.

They ignored your shouts, tears now swelling up your eyes, helpless and desperate. Another one catches it mid-air when it's tossed again. "Aw, aren't you a little old for stuffed animals? effing loser." The boy says, poking the stuffed lion. He then holds it by it's tail, while the others snicker.

Your lip trembles and you could barely see through the tears that blurred your vision. "Look at her face!" Another says, grinning. "She's crying!" Your throat tightens as you bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears from spilling more.

Until someone speaks behind them,

Low. Flat. serious.

"Give it back. Now." Your breath hitched, startled. He's standing behind them with clutched fists—with scrapes on his knees. They pause, turning to him as they stiffle their laughs. At first, the kids didn't take him seriously, but he didn't back down.

════════

The boy bent down and grabbed your stuffed lion from the ground, then walked back to you, without saying anything—he handed you your lion. "There." He muttered, handing you the stuffed toy.

You take it gently, eyes wide and strained from crying. "...thank you." He shrugs, smiling at you. "They thought they were being funny." You glance down at your stuffed lion, then back up at him. "I'm Y/N.." He nods. "Humin. You–you can call me Baku." Then there's a long awkward pause that stretched between you.

You sat on one of the swings again, then—the swing next to you creaks. He doesn't say anything. Just sits. Looking at the ground and his feet dragging through the dirt.

You both swing in silence. But this time, it's peaceful. Comfortable.

...You're not alone anymore.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You're both grown now. You both go to different schools but still very much inseparable. Your schedules rarely align but you both make sure that your weekends still included each other. Some things never changed

Like how Baku still walked you home.

You and Baku are walking side by side, just having gotten out of your school. It was a quiet Tuesday, and the streets were almost empty—but something...felt..off. His usual energy is missing and you knew whenever he's thinking deeply about something.

You glanced up at him and playfully nudged his shoulder. "You're awfully quiet today, what's up?" Baku didn't answer immediately. His hands were shoved into his pockets—jaw clenched.

He glanced at you for a second and quickly looked away, shrugging. "It's nothing." He mumbled. You huffed at him. "No, you're not and it's obvious. What happened?" He hesitated on answering your question, but he knew you wouldn't stop asking. "Just..–i got into a fight. Nothing big." Your eyes widened. "You got into a fight? Again?" Baku only scoffed lightly.

"You sure you're okay?" You asked again, softly, gaze still fixed on him. "I'm fine." he muttered, barely meeting your eyes. You could tell that something was on his mind, but instead of pushing it even further, you only let the silence hang over.

For a fleeting second, you reached up and ruffled his hair. “You're still dumb for getting into fights.” you murmured. Baku side-eyed you, finally smirking a little. “Shut up.” “That's more like it." you said, nudging him playfully again. You both kept walking down the empty street, wind soft against your skin.

He let out a quiet sigh—pulling his hands out of his pockets. One dropped to his side. The other brushed lightly against yours. You only glanced at his bruised knuckles.

Then..

Without a word, he took your hand. His rough fingers curled around yours. Warm. Firm.

And you didn't pull away.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Baku is walking you home again, as usual. This time—with his friends. Well, additional two.

Baku, as loud as ever, walked by your side while his friends trailed behind. Baku teases his friends and laughs at their jokes. Meanwhile, you noticed that one of them didn't really engage with the banter much. Sieun. But he was still very much a part of the group.

He was walking slightly ahead, hands tucked into his jackets pockets, quietly observing everything around him. Maybe he's just like that, you thought. Baku threw an arm around Sieun's shoulders in a brotherly way, making Sieuns lips twitch slightly. One of them teased, Gotak. Like always.

"didn't know you turned into a chauffeur, Baku." He pointed out, shooting a wink at you, teasingly—as if daring Baku to react. Baku instantly stiffened, his arm around Sieun's shoulders dropping—his usual confident demeanor seemed to falter. "Shut up, Gotak." Jun tae let's out a small laugh.

Baku muttered something under his breath, his cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Sieun only smiled a little, looking at Baku like he knows something. You watched all this unfold, a small smile tugging at your lips. Gotak only laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten under Baku's skin.

"Gotak, you better stop." You warned, having had enough of Gotak's teasing. Gotak only grinned at Sieun, before turning back to Baku. "We all see it, man." Sieun who had been silent, finally spoke up. "I think you've made your point, Gotak."

You and Baku shared looks—he, embarassed, and you, trying to stop yourself from smiling.

════°•..

As you reached the turnoff to your street, you stopped to say goodbye.

Sieun and juntae, turned to you with a small nod. "Take care." They both say at the same time. "See you tommorow." Gotak chimed in, giving you a teasing wink, as he playfully jabs Baku.

You smiled at them, waving them bye. "Thanks for walking me home."

.....

"So, Baku." Gotak began, nudging him again. "Don't act like you aren't in love with her. C'mon, admit it." Baku shot Gotak an annoyed look, irritation evident on his face. "Cut it out, man." He grumbled. Gotak leaned even closer to Baku, giving him a teasing whisper. "Admit it, you're in love." Baku's frown deepened. "Whatever, Gotak. You're an idiot."

What a dumb thing to say. He thought.

But then—

When you looked back at him before you turned the corner of your street , the way your smile lingered—soft and beautiful

it stuck with him.

.......Was it that obvious?

As you walk down the street, you couldn't help but think of Gotak's teasing. Sure, Gotak had always been like that—loud, a tease, and never missing a beat when it came to shit like that. And usually, you'd laugh it off. But for some reason, today felt different. And that's when it sank in.

It lingered. It echoed. Your cheeks burned, and you find yourself walking a little faster. You tried to shrug it off, but the truth was—Gotak's teasing didn't feel like a joke to you. And that alone scares you.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You both still spent your spare time strolling aimlessly through the neighborhood, both of your fingers brushing occasionally and neither of you would move away.

He still carried your bag when you whined how heavy and lazy you were to carry it, and him grumbling under his breath, acting like he's annoyed, like it was a hassle. Even though he didn't really care.

Or how he stood a little too close to you, whenever you talked, or just wanting to be near you. And how he still looked at you like you were just you.

You started catching yourself wondering things—things you never thought of before. Nothing had changed—except everything had.

Because the truth was, he still felt familliar. But now, that familliarity made your chest tighten. You still felt comforted—with him.

But you also felt like—that maybe, just maybe....you were starting to fall, for him, slowly.

You weren't sure if he'd ever feel the same.

Maybe he was just being Baku—your best friend. But there's that quiet ache of wanting something more.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Your laughter was loud and rang out as Baku challenged you on the jungle gym, the both of you breathless, sweaty, and beaming.

You were both barefoot in the sand, giggling as baku chased you around the slide.

"You're too slow!" You called, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh yeah?" He grinned, speeding up.

You shrieked, trying to scramble and climb up the slide the wrong way, but he caught your leg and tugged you back down with a huff. You both fell, giggling.

"Baku, not fair!" You pouted, crossing your arms. "Fair enough for me." He said, smugly—sand clinging onto him. Every now and then, his gaze would drift your way—like he couldn't help it.

Even as kids, Baku seemed to l(ove)ike you in a way he didn't fully know how to say.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

"Ya sure that's coffee?" He asked, jokingly, watching you stir whipped cream into your cup. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Let me enjoy things. Please." He leaned back, gaze still on you. "I am." He muttered.

It was a normal day. No occasion, no special reason. You only messaged him that morning, asking if he was free. And like always, he was.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, sipping. He shrugged, and responds after a second too long. "Didn't say i was." Eyes flicking to the window.

You smiled, more to yourself than to him.

And he was doing the same too.

After lingering over your drinks, neither of you wanted to part ways yet. So you both aimlessly walked the streets, side by side, talking about everything and nothing—until the clouds above cracked without warning. Instead of running for cover like sane people, you both just stood there as rain poured down.

Baku just looked up, then at you. You were already laughing softly to yourself, your hair already clinging onto your skin. You just ran ahead, letting the rain soak your clothes. He only watched you for a while—and then he followed, laughing. His shoes slipping slightly on the slick concrete.

Suddenly you both were chasing each other like kids again while being soaked to the bone.

He only watched you. Watched your face glowing under the gray sky, and how the rain made your skin glisten. Your eyes caught his for a brief moment, but you quickly looked away, heart pounding like a wild drum. When you looked back, his eyes had already flicked away.

Both of you silently admired each other in the rain, just missing the moment when your eyes would meet.

Your laughter and his mixed with the rain's rhythm, and for a moment the world felt light, like the way it did when you both were still kids. And the two of you only played like idiots in love.

Idiots

In love.

Quiet about it.

That's what it looked like.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

the usual comfort of the season—its warmth, its freedom—felt muted. Your parents sat across from you at the dining table. You only played with your food, having losing your appetite already.

"We'll be staying there, permanently." You father said, his tone firm, even, and decisive. "We've already finalized the enrollment. Everythings set, Y/N."

Permanently?

Permanently.

"But...i—you mean i—we.. won't be coming back?" You asked, voice small and weak. Your mother reached for your hand across the table. "I know it's sudden. But it's a big change, sweetheart. We—we really think this is the best path for you. More opportunities."

They spoke with certainty. You're leaving. For good.

What about my life here?

What about him?

Your mother squeezed your hand. "Don't worry, we'll make the most of the summer here before we go." But before was only a few weeks away, and after would stretch out like forever.

Everything. Everyone here—would keep moving without you.

"That's why we're telling you now. So that you can have time—to say goodbye."

"We want you to continue your studies in America. You'd finish high school there—get into a better college, something more prestigious."

"Do you even care about what i want? Or is this all about you think what's best for me?" Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. "I've lived here my whole life. I have friends here—Baku is here. How could you just decide for me like this?"

"I—i can't." You say, voice trembling. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to go to America."

You stood up from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm not ready. I haven't even had time to think about this." Your mother only frowned.

"Y/N, we understand that this isn't easy, but we're only doing this—"

"I need some space." You muttered, turning to leave—your thoughts running wild.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Baku sat next to you, one arm slung over the backrest. He looked relaxed, eyes half-lidden as he watched a group of kids chasing each other. You just looked at him. Quietly. Your hands rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with each other. He didn't notice, or maybe he did, and chose not to say anything.

You wanted to tell him, you had to. But how?

How do i tell him that this is our last summer together?

He turned towards you, just a little. "What?" He asked, catching you staring. You blinked. Feeling your heart jump. "What?" You respond back, looking away too quickly. "Just..thinking..nm."

Your fingers were now fidgeting the hem of your blouse, eyes trailing over to him again. The words only clung on your throat. They never made it past your lips. He didn't looked convinced at all. "You're being weird again." He said, voice light, teasing. "Finally realizing that i'm much cooler than you?"

You managed to smile, but it barely lasted. "I've always been more cooler than you." You muttered, nudging him with your elbow. Baku leaned in closer, grinning. "Liar. You've been zoning out since we got here. What's inside that pretty little head of yours, mhm?" You rolled your eyes at him. "It's nothing—i'm serious." But he still didn't buy it. Still, he didn't push it. Not wanting to rile you up.

"Fine." He said after a beat. You tried to laugh—quietly. But your heart stayed heavy, and you're only thinking about how'd you'd be gone so soon.

And he had no idea.

Your eyes only lingered on him—on the little things.

══

The skies color had deepened by the time you both decided to head home and the air smelled faintly of warm pavement. You walked beside him, hands holding together, shoulders brushing every now and then—the silence between you heavy.

Your steps slowed as the turn to your street approached—the one you always took, the one he always stopped at. Your heart was racing now, pulsing in your throat. How the fuck do i tell him.

"Hey, what is it?" His voice was softer this time. You opened your mouth. Then closed it. He nudged your shoulder. "Y/N. Seriously. You're scaring me a little."

You looked at him. Really looked this time. And then softly—you finally said it.

"I'm leaving."

Baku blinked, mild surprise evident on his features. "What?" Your voice was shaking, your gaze faltering. "M-my parents want me to continue high school abroad. And—i'll be gone..for good." For a moment, neither of you moved.

His fingers curled in his pockets as he stood there—jaw tight and stared at the ground for who knows how long. And finally, his voice—hoarse, low. "When?" You couldn't look at him. "..the third week, wednesday." And then, so quietly. "That sucks." Slipped past his lips.

it was the only thing he could manage to say. You laughed nervously—talking just to fill the silence. "Baku." You paused. "I—i mean, it's not like i want to! But my parents think it's for the best—a-and i get it, really, y'know–great opportunities and all and i just—" You stopped, but the panic made your mouth keep moving.

"Earlier, i-i was scared to tell you, to be honest. Scare'd you'd be mad—"

"Y/N." Baku muttered, stopping you from talking more—his voice tight. You froze. "Alright."

And just like that—he turned. Alright. Alright!? No glance back, no words left behind.

"What?"

"Baku—baku wait!"

You instinctively reached out—fingers just barely brushing—but you froze. You stood there, frozen. The weight of everything you didn't get to say pressing hard on your chest. Your hands hung limp by your sides, trembling. Your throat already aching from holding it all in.

The tears then came quietly, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, hoping that it might muffle it. A bitter laugh then escaped from your lips, quiet and shaky. You found it ridiculous—that he just left.

It didn't make any sense.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You looked back out of the empty park, swaying your legs as you chewed the last bit of your candy. "We're gonna stay as bestfriends forever, right?"

He looked at you, not expecting the question you had asked. But he had always known the answer. "...Yeah. Forever." And for a moment, the world felt small—just you and him, and that promise hanging in the air.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Your legs gave out just beside your bed, knees hitting the floor as the tears came even more faster—uglier and messier. He didn't even looked back, and you even hated how the silence in your room was suffocating.

Days passed

And then more.

You hadn't seen him—and it felt strange. Unsettling. Like something had shifted and you weren't sure how to fix it. You'd look at the old photos and videos of you both and scroll past your chats—thumb hovering over the send button, typing something out just to delete it again.

The passing days felt like torture.

You sat on the corner of your bed, hands clenched tighter around your phone than you cared to admit. No message, no call. Not even a stupid meme like he sometimes sent when didn't know what to say.

Nothing.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on them, your brows burrowed deep in thought. You let out a sharp breath, laughing under it. "He really just walked off like that." And it pissed you off the most. Pissed off at him. But damn it, if you didn't still check your phone every five minutes like some lovesick idiot. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck hi—

PING

Your eyes widened.

You sat up straighter.

No way. Right?

And the second his name lit up your screen, you opened the chat without thinking.

박후민

[Baku] : i didn't mean to walk of like that.

[Baku]: can we talk?

You stared at the message for a long while, your hands trembling slightly as you typed back, unsure if you were ready to face him without breaking.

══

You sat on the swing, the same swing you'd always claim was yours back then. The metal creaked faintly, from your feet dragging patterns in the dirt. Baku sat on the swing beside you—quiet. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy.

Finally, he said. "I kept coming here." You glanced at him, surprised. "I just sat here." He continued, voice quiet. Baku exhaled shakily, then turned his head towards you. "That day i walked off— i didn't know what to say..i—" he paused. "I didn't know what i was feeling. And i'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your hands tightened on the swings chains, his voice now trembling slightly. "I didn't think i'd care this much." He said. "But i do. I have. For a long—long time." A silence stretched between you, and he let out a shaky laugh. “But it’s not.. It’s not going away. And now you’re… leaving for good.”

You opened your mouth, but he held up a hand. "Let me finish. Please."

"Fightings easier." He joked. "Punches make sense. But this—you—never did. You became the only thing that made this shitty world bearable. I know it's selfish. I know i should be happy for you. But it feels like i'm being ripped in half."

"You're my bestfriend. You've always been. Since the first time i saw you cry over that stupid fucking fluffed toy in the park—i've been by your side. Always." You shook your head, and your throat was tight.

"I don't know how to say this–i've never been good with words. But i need you to know that it hurts." He says, voice cracking. "It hurts so fucking bad."

He looks at you again, eyes glassy. "I didn't want to mess things up. I—i didn't think i deserved to say anything. I'm—not ready to not see you around anymore." You stay silent, watching him wrestle with words he's never said out loud.

"I thought—maybe one day, i'd tell you. When i had the guts. When i figured it out." He turns to face you, again. His eyes are a little red—not crying but close. "But i don't want you to go without knowing. And then, out of nowhere, you—drop this on me. That you're leaving. And i don't even know if i'm allowed to be upset." Baku ran a hand through his hair, his frustration now palpable.

"I'm not okay—i'm not okay with this. So here it is, in case you haven't realized it out yet—"

He hesitates.

Then, softer than you've ever heard from him..

"I love you so goddamn much. I just never knew how to say it without losing you." Your heart lurches. And just like that, the moment shifts. You stood up slowly, the swing creaking behind you as it drifted back without your weight. He looked up at you—confused. He stood up too, like his body couldn't help but respond to yours.

"Y/N."

You took one step. Then another. And you reached out.

Your trembling hands rose gently to his warm cheeks, and his breath hitched the moment your palms met his skin.

And then, without a word—you kissed him.

Soft and still.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes opened slowly—wide and stunned.

"Okay." He whispered, his hands hovering at your sides, unsure wether to move or stay frozen.

You smiled, thumb brushing his cheek. "Okay."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

There was something about her quietness that made his chest tighten. He noticed the stuffed lion tucked under her arm, the one she fought so hard to get back. It was a bit worn out but it seemed like the most important thing in her world. For a moment, Baku found himself just staring at her.

She's different, he thought.

He turned his gaze away quickly, suddenly aware of how his heart was pounding. What the hell was this? Something about her was different. How he felt different.

And he had no idea why.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

End ⋆˚

- sshshshsksks i love him. Also, you continued going abroad😔 leaving baku behind. (Dw tho!)

Masterlist + Taglist

[valeisaslut]

OKAY SO HI YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO I AM BUT I HAVE TO DO ANON SO I DONT GET LIKE MAULED BY MY COUSIN WHO FOLLOWS ME. Okay so imagine Ellie masturbating while you’re away on like a trip or wtv, my girlfriend would be GOING AT IT

⭒࿐ Midnight call - drabble

word count: 1.3k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

content warnings: smut w no plot, phone sex, masturbation, needy!ellie, cursing, pet names, afab! reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

────────────

It’s late when your phone buzzes against the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dark hotel room. You blink against the dim light, groggy, barely processing the name flashing across the screen.

Ells <3

You sigh, turn on the lamp, and rub your eyes before answering her facetime.

“Hey, babe..” Ellie breathes, and even through the shitty wifi, her voice is unmistakably rough, laced with something dark and lazy.

“Heyy” you murmur softly, voice thick with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you up”

Your brows furrow, pushing yourself up against the pillows. “It’s, like… stupid late. You good?”

Ellie hums, shifting. The image on the screen is grainy, but you can still make out the way she’s lying back, head tilted against her pillow, hair tousled like she’s been running her hands through it.

“I just… miss you” she mutters, voice quieter now, almost sheepish.

Your heart clenches. “Ellie—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she adds, cutting you off, her smirk lazy but her eyes dark, hooded. The camera shifts slightly as she moves, and that’s when you notice—her tank top hangs loose off her shoulder, her lips part just slightly, her breath is uneven.

Oh.

It clicks all at once. The late-night facetime, the way her voice sounds, the way her fingers twitch against the sheets. She’s not just thinking about you. She’s been touching herself thinking about you.

“You’re unbelievable...” you murmur, leaning back against the headboard, biting your lip. But even as you say it, you can feel it—heat curling low in your stomach.

And God, if you’re being honest, you need her just as bad.

Ellie chuckles, dragging a hand through her hair, looking at you through the screen like she can feel the way your breath hitches. Her free hand disappears off-screen for a moment, and when she moves again, you hear the faintest rustle of sheets.

“Couldn't do it without seeing your pretty face and listening to your voice” she whispers "Need you so bad..."

You swallow, hard “Mhm? How bad?” you whisper and it comes out more breathless than you intend.

Ellie exhales sharply and shifts, the movement making the camera shake slightly. You catch the way her fingers flex against her thigh, the way she drags her teeth over her bottom lip like she’s physically holding herself back.

“Bad enough that I called you at 4 am” she breathes, watching your reaction closely. “So… you gonna help me with that, babe?”

Your breath catches.

"Ellie..." you murmur, shifting against the sheets, suddenly too aware of the way your skin feels against them, the way your body reacts and how the room feels warmer now.

“What?” she teases, voice dripping with amusement before a little gasp slips from her lips.

"You touching yourself?" you murmur, voice even more breathless now.

Ellie shifts, angling the camera just enough for you to see the way her hand is moving beneath the sheets, how her legs open, how her thighs tense. “Mhm,” she hums, lashes fluttering. “Been thinking about you all night. Couldn’t help it.”

The heat between your legs pulses even harder.

Your own fingers trail unconsciously along your body, teasing, mirroring the way Ellie moves. "Yeah?"

Ellie bites her lip, nodding, eyes locked onto you through the screen. She breathes heavily, tilting her head against the pillow. "Wish it was your hands on me instead. Wish you were here.”

The way she says it—soft, breathy, drenched in need—makes your core ache even more. Your breath stutters, fingers finally pressing against your clit in slow, teasing circles. The slick glide makes you whimper, and it's embarrassing how wet you are just from the sound of her voice.

“What would you do if I was?” you ask, voice dripping with something you’re too far gone to name.

Ellie groans, eyes fluttering shut for just a second before she looks at you again. "Wouldn’t let you sleep, that’s for sure..." she murmurs, her smirk turning wicked.

The sight of her flushed, needy and desperate for you is almost too much.

"Fuck, Ellie...I need you..." you gasp, fingers going faster.

Ellie breathes, watching your expressions closely. "Yeah? Show me how much."

Your breath catches, fingers tightening around your phone. The weight of her words, the heat in her eyes—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Ellie tilts her phone again, and you to catch the way her chest rises and falls, the outline of her hand moving slow, teasing herself—teasing you.

“C’mon, babe...please” she murmurs, voice rough, coaxing. “Let me see you.”

You don't even hesitate before propping your phone against the pillows, angling it just right to give her a perfect view. The cool air of the room raises goosebumps on your skin as you push your sleep shorts down.

The screen captures everything—your glistening pussy, the way your thighs tremble, the lust in your gaze as you meet Ellie’s eyes through the camera.

Ellie gasps sharply, her hand stilling for a moment. “Fuckkk” she breathes. “That’s it.”

Your fingers ghost over yourself, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as you watch her, the way her brows pinch together, pupils dark and heavy with need.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous...” Ellie mutters, her own movements resuming, her voice shaky. “God, I miss touching you.”

Your body reacts instantly, like it always does with her. The way she’s watching you, like she’d devour you through the screen if she could, makes your stomach tighten. A slow, shaky breath leaves your lips as your fingers trail lower, dipping into the slick heat between your thighs.

Ellie watches, completely transfixed. Her own hand moving faster, her breath stuttering.

When you finally push two fingers inside yourself, the stretch is delicious, your walls clenching as a soft sound spills from your lips—half a gasp, half Ellie’s name. Her screen flickers as she shakes, faint, sticky sounds filtering through the speaker.

Ellie groans, her head tilting back against her pillows. “Jesus Christ” she whispers, voice thick, wrecked. “You’re so fucking wet f'me.”

A soft whimper escapes you at that, and Ellie notices. Of course she does.

“Yeah?” she rasps, eyes locked onto yours. “That feels good, baby?”

"Mhmm" You hum, unable to form words, your head lolling to the side. Your breath stutters as your fingers move in and out faster, and you catch the way Ellie's hand moves in sync with yours.

“I need to hear you, love”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you let out a loud, breathy moan. Ellie groans at that, her whole body tensing.

“Shit—” Her voice is strained, her pace picking up, her movements more desperate now. “Good girl, just like that.”

You keep going. You let the pleasure build, let your movements get faster, matching her pace. The sound of her breathy gasps, the quiet curses slipping from her lips—it’s enough to send you teetering right on the edge.

Ellie’s eyes lock onto you, her voice rough and urgent. “Come for me.”

It’s not a request.

And fuck—your body listens.

Pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, a cry of her name slipping from your lips as you ride it out, fingers faltering as you soak the sheets. Through the haze, you hear Ellie groan, her own release chasing yours, her body shuddering as she lets go.

Silence settles between you as you both come down from the high, save for the sound of heavy breathing.

Ellie’s eyes are still on you, but now they are softer. A lazy, satisfied smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Next time” she murmurs, voice hoarse “I’m making you fall apart on my tongue.”

You exhale a shaky laugh, chest still rising and falling. “Next time” you agree, your voice just as wrecked.

And with the way Ellie’s looking at you, like she’s already counting down the minutes until she has you in her hands again

You know she means every word.

────────────

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ LMAOO i love this anon so much yall don't have an ideaa, they are wonderful <3. Ik it was only Ellie masturbating, but i tought that phone sex would be even HOTTER. Reqs are ALWAYS open, so if anyone wants me to write sm, i will be happy to receive more! Can’t wait to see what else yall throw my way. <333

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on my perm taglist!

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI WANNA GET MARRIED * SPENCER REID

SUMMARY　::　Where after JJ's wedding, a new certainty is born in Spencer regarding his relationship with Y/N.

FEATURING　Spencer Reid x reader　　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　fluffy fluff.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The hum of the television filled the dimly lit apartment, casting soft, flickering shadows against the walls. Y/N curled closer against Spencer, her body nearly molding into his as they lay sprawled across the green couch, tangled together like they had been built that way.

The warmth of his chest radiated through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, soothing, steady, safe. Her leg was crooked up, knee brushing against his hip, while her hand slipped beneath his shirt, fingers splayed across his ribs, tracing lazy patterns over the soft skin there.

Spencer’s arm rested heavily around her, one hand tangled in her hair, his fingertips running slow, absentminded strokes against her scalp. It was a ritual by now - this, them, the comfort of each other's touch as they watched Solaris (1972) for what had to be the tenth time. The dialogue was familiar, predictable, and yet, tonight, something felt off.

Spencer wasn’t making his usual comments. He wasn’t explaining the philosophical subtext of the film or discussing Tarkovsky’s use of long takes. He was just... quiet.

Her gaze flickered up briefly, but his was still fixed on the screen, his expression unreadable, lost in thoughts she couldn’t reach. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t move, didn’t break the quiet just yet. She let a few more seconds tick by, let another scene play out on the screen, before finally murmuring, almost absentmindedly.

"You’ve been off... Since the wedding."

Spencer’s fingers stilled against her hair for just a beat - barely a second - before they resumed their slow, rhythmic movement. His chest expanded beneath her palm as he inhaled deeply, his other hand shifting, sliding down her back, fingertips catching the fabric of her - his - oversized CalTech t-shirt and rucking it up slightly to trace against the warm skin below.

"Yeah." He exhaled, his voice quiet, weighty

Y/N let her eyes flutter shut at the feeling, but she wasn’t letting this go. Not with him. Not now.

"Talk to me, Spence."

Spencer’s jaw tensed slightly, his gaze remaining forward, as if watching the film would make it easier. As if keeping his eyes on something else would make it less real.

He sighed again, deep, before finally answering.

"Just... realized some things, I guess." His tone was too casual. Forced.

Y/N didn’t buy it for a second. She knew him, knew every little shift in his voice, every deflection. And she wasn’t going to let him retreat into himself. Not when she'd come this far in making him feel safe enough in her presence to open up about anything.

"What things?" She asked, still in a whisper, still soft, but unwavering.

She felt the breath he took before he spoke. It was a slow inhale, like he was gathering himself.

Then, out of nowhere-

"I want to get married."

The words sat between them, heavy and unfiltered. And for the first time in days, Spencer didn’t feel the weight of them pressing against his chest. Instead, he felt relief. Like finally speaking it into existence had made the storm in his mind settle, if only just.

Y/N made a small sound, something soft and curious, shifting against him slightly.

This was new. Definitely new.

"In general?"

Spencer shook his head immediately.

"To you."

A puff of air fanned against his collar, and for the first time since the conversation started, he finally tore his eyes away from the screen, tilting his head to look down at her. His eyebrows creased, trying to read the expression on her face, trying to gauge what she was thinking. But for once, he couldn’t.

And that terrified him.

"Honey?" He called, voice quieter now, unsure.

Y/N blinked up at him, her grip tightening slightly where her fingers rested against his ribs before she finally spoke, voice just as quiet, just as steady.

"You know... we kind of already are."

Spencer let out a confused hum, tilting his head slightly, and Y/N smiled, small and knowing.

"Married."

Spencer rolled his eyes, immediately trying to pull back - like a child -, but her hands didn’t let him.

"I’m serious, Y/N."

"I am, too!"

She was quick to defend herself, shifting so her head was level with his, her nose nearly brushing his as her free hand rose, fingers soft as they brushed through the strands of his hair, pushing them away from his eyes before trailing down, featherlight against his cheekbone, then resting just above his jaw.

His lips parted slightly when her thumb tugged gently at the corner of his mouth, his breath hitching just the slightest before she murmured.

"I would."

Spencer’s brows furrowed, his usually more than fast brain catching up a second too late.

"What?"

Y/N’s lips twitched, the corners of her mouth tilting into the softest, sweetest smile as she clarified.

"Marry you."

Something warm and blinding spread through Spencer’s chest so fast it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. Hope surged up like a tide, crashing over him before he could even think to brace himself.

"Yeah?" He breathed, voice quiet, almost like he didn’t believe it.

Y/N nodded easily, fingers tapping gently against his skin before they slid down, cradling the base of his skull, her blunt nails raking against his scalp in a way that made him shiver.

"Yeah." She confirmed, soft but certain.

Spencer purred at the attention, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, just soaking it in. Y/N huffed a small, amused sound, shifting again, pressing closer.

"Marry you a thousand times over if I could." She murmured. "Keep you with me forever."

Spencer huffed out a soft laugh, his lips twitching as he scoffed.

"Never getting rid of me anyway."

His lips hovered just above the warmth of her skin before he finally gave in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her exposed shoulder from the loose collar, feeling the way her muscles relaxed beneath his touch. He slid his mouth higher, teeth grazing the delicate skin of her collarbone before he latched on, sucking just lightly, just enough to feel her shudder.

Y/N sighed, completely and utterly at ease, her body melting like butter against his.

"Good." She breathed, voice barely above a whisper, and Spencer felt his lips curve against her skin.

Forever. In every sense of the word.

© vanteguccir

[ellesreids]

warm reception — s. reid

you finally meet some of spencer's colleagues in an unconventional way. very heavily implied towards earlier seasons reid.

──── ୨୧ ────

It's been an exhaustingly busy day; the team was working a local case, meaning no long-distance traveling was required, but that didn't make the case itself any easier. They weren't very close to a solid profile, and it felt like the unsub's MO changed with every attack.

The most recent has been at a university not far from headquarters, a young woman found dead inside the main quad. It was also the same university you went to, and if that wasn't already enough to unnerve Spencer, you not answering his calls were close to pushing him over the edge.

Spencer feels like he's been on his feet the whole day, and he feels like he hasn't been much help to anyone with his mind wholly preoccupied by his concern for you. He wondered if you were safe, if you were the one that discovered the body, if you were maybe close to the victim.

The team had some of the victim's friends and other witnesses brought in for questioning, and while they were busy with that, Spencer had been quietly working on the geographical profile to try and pinpoint where the unsub might strike next. His attention is drawn from the map in front of him when he hears his name called, only to find you standing next to Morgan, seemingly making your way from one of the interrogation rooms.

He drops everything curtly before making his way to you, quickly giving you a once over, and once he sees no visible damage, he calms down a bit. It doesn't completely eliminate the nerve wrecking anxiety, but it gives him some peace of mind that you atleast hadn't been hurt.

"Hey, are you okay? What are you doing here?" he rushes out, not really giving you time to process his questions. "I'm okay," you breathe, sparing him a small smile you hoped looked somewhat reassuring, "I wasn't at the crime scene, I was only brought in for questioning because I was one of Kathy's long term lab partners. Nothing serious I suppose," you add, sparing Morgan a look, who was still standing next to you and silently observing the scene unfolding infront of him.

"I'm sorry, you two know each other?" he asks, looking at you and then Spencer with a raise of his eyebrows. You nodded once his eyes were on you again, suddenly shy under his questioning gaze. "We're dating," you said with a small smile, watching as the shock took over Morgan's whole face, from his eyebrows shooting up into the sky to his mouth hanging slightly agape at your words.

"Dating, huh?" he asked, watching as you nodded again. "Well, how come you never told us you had a pretty girl waiting for you at home, Reid?" he asked, attention back on the now furiously blushing young man. "It's— it's fairly new," he stuttered, trying his best to look collected, and failing miserably. "I was going to tell you, eventually."

Spencer was right, the two of you had only been dating for a little less than two months, and as selfish as it may sound, he was planning on keeping you to himself for a little longer. Morgan shook his head in understanding and slight disbelief, a gentle hand coming up to pat your back. "Well, it's nice to finally meet pretty boy here's girlfriend, even under the circumstances," he said, and you hummed in agreement, giving him a warm smile.

"Are my ears deceiving me or did I just hear you refer to this young lady as Reid's girlfriend?" a bubbly voice came seemingly out of nowhere as Penelope appeared next to Spencer, curious eyes drifting over to you and Morgan. "You heard right," he smiled, "this is—"

"Penelope Garcia," she interjects, shaking your hand, and you notice how everything about her is so vibrant. From her prettily painted nails, to the colorful frames of her glasses and the many statement pieces that adorned her, like the bows and the chunky jewelry. She was like the embodiment of sunshine.

"Gosh, you're gorgeous! It is so nice to meet you, even if I'm just now finding out about you," she said, side eyeing Spencer, who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. "We should totally go out for drinks some time though, a formal introduction is way overdue," she added very matter-of-factly.

"I agree," you smiled, already taking a liking to her sweet and bubbly personality. "I'd love to hang out and get to know Spencer's colleagues."

"I'm already excited!" she said, bracelets chiming as she clapped her hands together. "Oh! We should have a girls night! You'll love Elle and JJ, we could—"

"Okay, I think we should give these lovebirds some space, babygirl. You can plan your girl's night some other time," Morgan chirped in, already throwing his arm around Garcia and leading her away. "You'll be okay seeing her out, right Reid?" he asked and Spencer nodded, already leading you to the door with a hand to the small of your back.

"They seem nice," you said, once you were out of earshot, hovering around the exit not yet ready to leave yet. "They are nice," Spencer smiled before his face morphed into an unreadable expression. "I hope you don't think I was trying to hide you from them," he spoke softly, "I really was going to tell them about you when the time was right."

"I understand," you smiled, squeezing his upper arm affectionately, "I am glad I finally got to meet them though. Some of them at least." He smiled at that, nodding as if deep in thought. The flurry of movement behind him caught your attention, making you giggle to yourself at the sight. "I think you're needed back at your desk," you said, prompting Spencer to turn around swiftly, scared that it might be Gideon or Hotch waiting for him. It wasn't, but it was a group of very curious agents gathering around his desk in hopes of catching another glimpse of the mystery girl.

You recognized Penelope, who seemed to be in the middle of telling a very interesting story to the blonde and brunette ladies that stood either side of her. The brunette's eyes caught yours, her sparing you a shy smile at being caught before she was swiftly dispersing everyone away from Spencer's desk and back to their respective stations.

"I'll see you tonight," you said, bringing Spencer's attention back to you. When you saw the coast was clear, non of his colleagues in close range anymore, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching the way his ears tinged pink almost immediately, making you smile. He only nodded in reply, giving you a tight lipped smile and seeing you off with a small wave which you returned eagerly.

[kawoala]

Your requests are opennn and I just saw the tsukishima fic and i luv ittt! May i request a prompt wherein kei and managerf!reader have been dating in the middle of the school year for a while and the team finds out? Thankss

𝐊𝐄𝐈 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 what is going on word count ; (1,225) content warning ; (sorry it took me so long to answer - i want to say i was perfecting it but really i was procrastinating, secret relationship unveiled, talkative mom, second year! tsukishima)

The gym is hot. It’s usually hot, what with all the players running up and down the court, breaking a sweat, breathing heavily, but today feels different. Maybe the twenty year old AC system has finally kicked the bucket.

The bleachers on either side of the gym are packed with people from both Karasuno and Ichibayashi. You’re not sure why so many people showed up, but you don’t really care. You sit next to Yachi on the bench where the team sits during time-outs, fanning yourself with your clipboard.

“This sucks,” you say to nobody in particular. Yachi is on one side, but there is a first year on the other side. You turn to the blonde girl, who’s staring intently at the court, and exhale dramatically. “Yachi, I said this sucks.”

“No, I heard you the first time,” she says nonchalantly, though you can see her trying to fight the smile threatening to break out on her face. She turns to look at you, letting her head lull to the side. “How can this suck, Y/n? We’re winning!”

You blink at her a couple times. “We haven’t lost a single set to Ichibayashi since before Suga-san’s first year. If we lose, I’m quitting as a manager.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the game. You scrunch up your face, but do the same, eyes dead set on finding Kei. 

He always looks so handsome on the court. You often tell him that he goes into The Zone when he plays volleyball, but he just rolls his eyes and calls you weird. It would make you sad if you didn’t realize pretty early that his love language is shit-talking.

You watch him leap off the ground, effectively blocking Ichibayashi’s ball and scoring a point for Karasuno. You don’t realize until the crowd behind you erupts in cheers that the point he scored was the winning point.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and you stand quickly, clapping your hands together in excitement. Yachi does the same beside you, and so do the rest of the benched players.

You watch Karasuno shake hands with the other team, thanking them for a good game, and then it’s done. You’re packing up your stuff, the team, including Kei, is headed to the locker room, but the call of his name startles you both.

“Oh, Kei!” You could hear that voice even if you were deaf. You turn slowly, watching your mother flag the tall boy down, calling his name like it means stop. “Kei! You played so well! I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner after this? You’re always welcome, but I’d like to invite you myself. Heaven knows Y/n will forget. How does that sound? I can call your mother if—”

“Mom!” Your voice echoes off the gym first, your sneakers against the waxy floor is next. You skid to a stop in between the two of them, eyes wide. “What are you doing?” You exclaim incredulously at her.

She raises her brows, obviously offended. “Excuse me, little girl. I’m inviting Kei to dinner tonight.” She clicks her tongue, putting her hand on her hip. You hate to say it, but this is where your attitude comes from and there’s no denying it. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with that.”

“I don’t, I just—” you cut yourself off, glancing around as you realize the whole team is staring at you. “I, um, was going to do that. I remembered, so you didn’t have to.”

She purses her lips, lifting her eyes to where Kei’s eyes presumably are. “Can you believe this? Angry with her mother because I invited someone she was already going to invite.”

“That’s not why I’m—”

“I know,” Kei cuts you off, patting you on the head a couple times. “Terrible, isn’t she?”

Your mother laughs, placing a hand on her chest like Kei is the funniest person she’s ever met. Spoiler alert; he’s not. She does have you in her life, after all.

“Okay.” You place your hands on her shoulders, turning her around towards the exit. “Time for you to go home and start working on dinner, yeah? We’ll be there in, like, thirty minutes.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she calls back with a wave of her hand. She glances back once more, giving Kei a tiny wave and big smile. Unbeknownst to you, he waves back.

When you turn around, you find the whole team still staring at you.

“What was that?” Ennoshita asks, narrowing his eyes.

You furrow your brows, tilting your head. “What was what? My mom’s crazy, don’t mind her.”

He hums, but Narita is nudging him into the locker room, mumbling something about post-game dinner ritual. Nishinoya and Tanaka are narrowing their eyes at you too.

“Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima to dinner at your house?”

“Yeah, why him, of all people. Why not me? I’m funnier and way handsome-r.”

You roll your eyes, but turn your attention to Kei and glare at him. “‘She’s terrible, isn’t she?’” You repeat in a mocking tone, scrunching your face up. “Do you hate me?”

”Wait, I’m confused.”

You look at Hinata and press your lips together. “When are you not?”

He. gives you a faux laugh and narrows his eyes— too many people have done that already, you’re starting to get a little annoyed. “Why is your mom inviting Tsukishima over to dinner and not one of us? Why does your mom like the meanest person in our year.”

Now, you hesitate. At the beginning of the year, you realized just how good Kei was at keeping secrets. You realized he didn't want all the drama that came with a public relationship, and neither did you, so you kept it a more private thing. That’s what was most comfortable for the two of you. However, it quickly became a nuisance. There were rumors of you two dating anyway, when Kei started being just the smallest bit nicer to you. It was harder to be around him and keep your feelings in check because, if you didn't, other people would find out and that would be a tragedy for the both of you.

”She’s my girlfriend, idiot.” The words coming from Kei shock you. Your head whips around to look at him so fast, you fear there might be a touch of whiplash involved. Your eyes are wide, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

”What are you doing?” You ask through gritted teeth, tone walking the line of sing-songy and mad.

He turns to you now, smiling softly. “It’s getting tiresome having to hide our relationship, isn’t it? Plus, people already thought we were dating.” He shrugs. “Give the people what they want, right?”

You smile back at him. You think Kei has changed a lot since first year— in a good way, of course. He’s kinder, softer, stronger. All of the hinges that have changed about him, also changed with you. You don’t know it yet, but you two have made each other better people in the time frame of your relationship at this moment.

”What?” Hinata exclaims, putting his hands on his head. “What do you mean you’re dating? How could you date him? He’s so— and you’re so— what is going on!”

[h3catee]

Introductions Are in Order

Paring: Robert Reynoldsx Fem!Witch Reader! Past Avenger!  

Summary: Bucky asks a favor of you and ends up getting you entangled with one of Valentinas ploys. 

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*,  talks of mental health, depression, anxiety. Some violence (bc its marvel), some language. Trauma. Angst. Decent amount of Hurt/ With some comfort! 

Word count: 2.7k

AN: Hi! Welcome to my fic! this is probably multi part idk my plans yet. I'm leaning more towards multi-part bc I'm usually a chapter by chapter writer so there isn’t a lot of Bob in this one but I hope its a good intro to maybe a 2-3 parts. I literally fell in love with Bob's character during Thunderbolts and this man gave me motivation to write again. I didn't have a Beta reader for this one so pls forgive any grammer or silly mistakes. Forewarning (y/n)’s powers based off of the Marvel character Morgan le Fay just to throw that out there, she’s definitely not Wanda but definitely not Morgan. Think morally gray/ hates everyone except like 3 people/ witch trained by the past avengers. Next part will have more Bob I promise, just wanted to introduce the story here >:3

Song for the chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/09fDemXgXzRReTfb7UWxjD?si=7e0b5d606b824813 

xoxox

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

“I need your help with something.” 

You sighed heavily before responding, “Hello to you too Senator Barnes!” You heard the man grumble from the other phone line. 

“You know I hate when you call me that,” Bucky said. 

“Well…what do you want, Buck?” You said, rolling your eyes. You look around your empty apartment for something to fidget with while Bucky chews your ear off about calling him another stupid nickname. 

“Y/N, Valentina’s got this guy apparently named Bob-” 

“Bob?” You ask, cutting him off. Who names their kid Bob in this day and age? 

“Yes, Bob! I’m with Nat’s sister and she said we have to go get him because he’s part of some Sentry project,” He explained, voices yelling at him in the background of the phone call. “Can you just meet us at the tower?” 

A wave of nausea rolled over you, “The tower? Bucky, I don't go around there anymore.” 

“I know, but I wouldn’t be calling you if I had anyone else to call.” 

“How nice,” you taunt. You were never any of the Avengers first calls. To be fair you weren’t sure if it is because they were scared of you or your lack of social skills. “Also Nat’s sister?” 

“Later,” Which means he says he’ll tell you later but in reality he’s never going to bring it up again unless you find the answer yourself. 

You sigh, walking over to the bookshelf in your apartment that’s filled with books, both regular and magical, and pictures. Your hand brushes across a photo of yourself, Steven Strange, and Wanda, “I don’t fight anymore Bucky. You couldn’t just ask Sam?” 

“He’s uhmm..busy,” He answered, “I know how you’re feeling y/n.” 

“You don’t,” You interrupt. How could he possibly understand how you’re feeling when he barely reaches out to you unless he needs something. Him and the rest of the remaining team abandoned you, after Wanda, you had no one to turn to. You felt the all too familiar dull ache in your chest. You chewed on the skin around your nails waiting for Bucky to respond. 

“ I think we need you for this one.” Which means in Bucky terms that whoever they are fighting is a mutant and something he can’t fight. 

“Fuck,” You mutter to yourself. 

Ever since Wanda vanished you refused to step back out on the field.She was the only one that truly knew what you were capable of considering she was the one that found you all those years ago. Not even Thor, a god, could hold you back during training sessions and the only avenger to understand your pain was Wanda. And now she’s- 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to ground yourself. You haven’t been able to sense her magic anywhere. No matter what realm you went to, you couldn’t find her. 

Fuck you Bucky Barnes. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

“She already knows we’re here,” You try to explain to the group in front of you. Bucky gave you and the rest of the team a run down of Sentry and what Mel, Valentinas assistant, told him about Bob. That doesn’t stop them from driving a truck through the lobby destroying the front of the building in the process, “Awesome,” You have no choice but to join the fight to defend the group. Defense only, you tell yourself 

While Walker has his back turned, a soldier on the ground fires a few stray bullets, you toss your hand up and redirect the shots to the wall behind him, “Watch yourself walker,” You growled. Before he could reply you went back to the fight. Using your magic to cast illusions into the minds of the soldiers fighting to give the group an advantage when attacking.

“I just had that drywall put in. You can just come up, you know that right.” Valentina’s voice rang out over the intercoms, “But I know you knew that already y/n. Come on up!” 

Yelena and Ava looked at you, knowing you had previously stated that and they had just refused to listen. You just rolled your eyes at them before motioning them to go in the elevator. 

“You are not coming,” Yelena asked as the group of 5 squeezed into the elevator. 

You shake your head before pointing up. You close your eyes and feel the familiar stomach reeling feeling of teleporting to where the penthouse once was. Where you shared few but long lasting memories. Your eyes wander across the empty walls and fairly empty room before you look at Val. 

“Ah! Y/N, so lovely to see you darling. You see I’ve always wanted to work with you,” The woman said. 

“Can’t say the same,” You said in a sarcastic tone. 

“Hmm, well maybe he’ll change your mind.” You just raise an eyebrow.

You don’t have the chase to question her because Bucky and the team come through the elevator doors ready to arrest her for crimes. You look between each person and back to Valentina, honestly not sure what is going on. 

That's when you feel it. A humming. Power. You look around only to notice no one else in the “Thunderbolts”, as Alexie is calling them, notices it. You try to pinpoint a mind to tap into to find where this power is from but you can’t, a black shadow blocking you out. Shit. 

“Meet Sentry.” 

You look up to where a man is clothed in a…ugly suit, with unnaturally yellow blonde hair. 

“Hey guys,” He greats. You study him for a second, the power dripping off of him but there's something else there, something all too familiar. You try to invade his mind but there's something keeping you out. You pull and claw at the black void keeping you out. 

“Y/n.” You vacate the attempt on his mind and meet his eyes. You cock your head to the side, he knows what you were doing, “That won’t work,” his voice coming out cautious. 

“Take care of them Robert,” Valentina orders. 

“I don’t want to hurt you guys,” Bob says, looking around at all of them in front of him, “Please just give yourselves in.” 

“Wait-” Yelena tries to interrupt. 

Alexie yells before running towards the man. Instead of following the rest of the team you stand back and observe. Everything they throw at him gets blocked or countered. Teleportation. Flight. Strength.

Bucky shoots at Bob only for the bullets to be sprayed back at him and Walker. You hold your hand up blocking the bullets and directing them towards the already broken window. Thats when Sentry notices you. 

“I knew I liked her,” Walker says to Bucky, getting ready to fight again. 

“Wanda’s not here to save you this time.” 

You barely move after hearing the voice in your head when the rest of the Thunderbolts move to attack Bob. You shake your head as if to clear your thoughts but you feel his eyes on you. Instead of the blue you saw earlier, Bob’s eyes have a golden hue. 

“She left you, just like you told her to.” 

“Stop,” You whisper to yourself, rage boiling beneath your skin. 

The fight breaks out and you watch as Bob grabs Bucky's Arm. 

“God damnit,” You whisper, before running towards the two to save Bucky. Bob tosses Bucky to the side, his arm now torn off. You shot a blast of energy towards him only for him to teleport out of the way. I don’t want to hurt you, You try to telepathically tell him. 

“You can’t hurt me,” He says aloud. 

“Says who,” You taunt. Your feet leave the floor before you can’t register your rage taking over. Blast after blast and nothing is hitting him. 

He teleports in front of you and grabs your neck. What he doesn’t expect is to look behind you and see a beach. A sunset. He furrows his brows as he looks around in confusion. 

That gives you enough time to grab his wrist and teleport out of his grasp. 

The illusion collapses around the two of you as you lose contact. With every fight you’ve been in, usually your opponent will be thrown off once coming out of the illusion but Bob…He raises a hand before you can counter and you slam into the concrete wall of Avengers Tower, the wall cracking behind you. 

 You feel an arm hook under your shoulders and begin to drag you to the elevator which you see is already occupied with the rest of the team besides you and Yelena. “Get off of me,” You grumble. You teleport out of her grasp and out of the tower completely. Your knees are wobbly beneath you and you assess your surroundings. Guard still up. 

“Are you hurt?” You turn and see Bucky running towards you, the rest of the Thunderbolts following in suit. 

“You know I’m not,” You used your magic to heal yourself immediately after the hit, “I tried to help Buck but I’m not strong enough anymore. I’m leaving.” 

“No, let us regroup and we can go back in,” Alexie tries to argue. 

“All of you just got your asses beat, you especially-” 

“Well I am just rusty but now I am ready to go,” The older super soldier bellows. 

You see Yelena put a hand over her eyes. You just laugh out of disbelief and begin to walk down the street. 

“Wait y/n,” Bucky follows after you, “Just wait-” 

You turn, he can feel the rage dripping off of you, “What!” You shout, “What do you want from me?” 

He just stares at you, “I was going to ask if you were okay.” 

You laugh, “Am I okay? God, you should've asked me that when Tony died. Or when I lost Vision and then lost Wanda. Or Nat. Or Steve.” 

“You acted like you didn’t even care about half of the team, what did you expect me to do?” He argues. 

“I didn’t want to hurt any of you!” You exclaim, letting your emotions run wild on the streets of New York, “If you think that up there I used all my power, you're wrong. I didn’t want to hurt any of you so I stayed away.” 

“But Wanda-” 

“But Wanda understood me, more than you or Tony or any of them. You don’t understand what I went through, what I’ve done. Bucky, you don’t know who I really am.” 

There was commotion behind you, taking your concentration away from the conversation. Citizens were pointing up towards the sky. You and Bucky exchange glances before running to where you could have a clear view of what they were looking at. 

A shadow of man floated above Avengers Tower. You watched as he raised a hand and all of a sudden a helicopter came crashing into a crane. Concrete and rubble began to fall from the buildings that were hit. People were screaming. 

Typical avenger in New York occurrence. 

You and Bucky split off to protect the people from being crushed. You used your magic to stop concrete from crushing a family and urged them to get into a building. 

“You’re alone,” You turned to see the man closer to you now. You recognized the voice from just minutes ago, Bob, “You’ve always been alone.” You just stare at him, “It eats you alive doesn’t it, y/n.” 

People are screaming, you turn to look behind you and see shadows of people spread across the floor in dark black smoke. You heart drops, what the fuck is this guy. 

“The pain goes away. Just come with me,” Bob captures your attention once again, “I can make it go away.” 

“How?” You whisper. He reaches a hand out to you. 

“Y/n! Stop!” Bucky shouts behind you but something in your mind is telling you to go. Telling you that everything will stop if you accept his hand. Everything will be quiet. Will the pain finally go away? 

“Y/n,” The distorted voice urges. 

That’s when you close your eyes and walk into the void. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

You open your eyes and find yourself in an all too familiar room. One lined with archaic symbols preventing you from escaping. Your heart drops because you see yourself, younger, wounded, broken standing on the other side of the room. 

You know this day, you recognize it by the energy alone. This was the first time you killed someone. The first time you disintegrated someone's body and brain. 

“Y/N, Before you is a man who is being convicted of crimes against countless women, including your own mother,” You watched as your younger self balled her hands into fists, “Your task is to eliminate him.” 

Younger you nodded. 

“N-no,” You ran over to where you stood and wrapped your arms around your younger self, “you don’t have to do this,” 

“Get off of me,” Your body is thrown a few feet away from your younger self. That's when you feel it, the pain of a curse of 1000 sharp white-hot knives digging into you, you scream and writhe on the floor. That was your punishment when you were captured, if you ever disobeyed or failed, they cursed you over and over. 

“Stop,” You sob, the curse diminishing, “Stop,” You whisper, tears falling onto the floor beneath you. Your mind whirls and your limbs ache, like you’re gripped by a fever that burns through you like wildfire. 

“Y/n?” A male voice. 

You look towards a doorway where Bob stands, not Sentry, not Void but Bob. You squeeze your eyes shut to stop crying. 

“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry,” He runs over to you, “I-I can’t stop it,” He apologized. 

“I don’t understand,” Your voice comes out as a whisper, “What is this?” You finally sit up and watch the rest of the scene play out in front of you. 

You watch as younger you raises her hand towards the man and he begins to scream in agony. You watch as his skin flairs and melts. 

“Don’t look,” Bob urges, grabbing your arm and pulling your attention from the memory. There are tears in his blue eyes. He has brown hair now instead of the fake gold that Val gave him. He’s clothed in a sweater and tan pants. He honestly looks like he’s going to pass out. “I can’t do anything right, I’m so sorry,” He mumbles, “I-I don’t even know you and you’re stuck here with me. It’s this…void.” 

“How do we get out?” You ask, looking down to study your shaking hands. 

“I-I don’t know. There’s different rooms and each one just gets worse. I’m so sorry Y/n,” He begins to cry. Your heart shatters for a moment thinking about what he must go through if he deals with this constantly, now with the serum it must have fully taken over him. 

“Let’s just get out okay,” You place your hand on his thigh and he tenses beneath you. You squeeze his leg in reassurance before standing up, “P-please don’t tell anyone what you saw, I-I can’t. No one knows.” 

“I won’t, Why would I tell them?” He asks sincerely. All you can do is nod, “Y-you can trust me.” Once again, you just nod. 

“Do you think everyone else is in here?” You ask, trying to change the topic. 

“M-maybe,” He saying, shrinking in on himself. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m fine. We’ll all be fine,” You soothe, “Let’s just find them.” 

Thats how you ended up finding the team, fighting Bob in a chicken outfit, and getting out of the void. Only to have Valentina throw a new title on the group right after. 

The New Avengers. Including you. Awesome. 

And that’s how you ended up here, living in the tower after some much needed renovations. Bob didn’t remember anything after the Void incident but something told you to tell him. So you showed him through your magic. He apologized profusely to the team and kept his distance since then. Honestly, he reminds you a lot of yourself when you first joined the Avengers with Wanda. But you refuse to let him fall into that dark of a hole like you did. 

You want to save someone for yourself, for once. You want to save him. 

part two!

[xxmcr05xx]

Down In A Hole | re4!Leon Kenney x f!Reader

Summary: Leon can't get enough of F/N after a life-threatening mission.

Warnings/Contains: Smut, breeding, needy Leon, trauma after RE4, lingerie, rutting, no foreplay, dacryphilia

WC: 2,485

Originally Posted: 01/04/25 on AO3!

Title Song: Down In A Hole - Alice In Chains

18+ MDNI!!!

Divider by @v6que

Leon bounced his leg nervously.

He was on a private plane home from Brazil after a month long mission - barely able to get in contact with his fiancée F/N. The blond sighed in relief finally as he noticed that the plane was almost at the airport, "Not much longer now..." Leon sighed, anxiously checking his watch after being told he would be picked up by F/N. Luckily for Leon the plane landed smoothly at exactly eighteen thirty - just what time he told F/N he'd be on the ground by. He wasted no time, Leon grabbed his duffle bag and almost ran down the plane's stairs and towards the front exit of the airport, ignoring any comments given to him.

Leon scanned the exit, desperate to spot the H/C hair of his fiancée. After what seemed like an eternity, he heard F/N's calming voice call out his name - she was sporting one of Leon's leather jacket, a plain white t-shirt, and denim jeans. "Oh my love..." Leon felt like his breath was taken away by her as he practically ran straight into his arms.

"L-Leon! I'm so happy you're back!" F/N squealed.

The woman smiled and held Leon back, rubbing his back gently with her free hands. "How was the mission, Lee? I haven't spoken to you in ages," The woman exclaimed as Leon finally let go of the hug.

"Oh uhm," Leon stood up properly, a bit embarrassed at the people staring at him, "it was okay... I'll explain it to you once I get home, and I know we haven't spoken I'm sorry. I missed you however," Leon answered.

F/N knew what Leon would be like after these missions and it was torturous for both of them.

The woman nodded and held Leon's hand, "Let's just get home, 'kay? I've got your favourite, chicken alfredo, cooked up at home," F/N told Leon, which really perked his interest up. The two left the airport hand-in-hand, making their way towards F/N's car. Leon chucked his duffle bag in the back seat and made his way to the driver's seat, opening the door for his fiancée. "Aww, thanks babe," F/N thanked with a smile.

The car ride home was an excruciating thirty four minutes as the pair drove through extreme end-of-work traffic. "God... I can hear the bed calling my name already," Leon joked with a sigh, F/N snorted and nudged him gently.

"Hey! So I am.... didn't you heard me call your name out while you were in Brazil?" F/N joked back.

"My bad, baby. I promise I did."

F/N parked in the garage of their shared home, opening the door and heading towards the front with Leon. Behind her, Leon anxiously stared at F/N as she entered the house, not believing that he would be here right now, "Ah... Home sweet home," F/N sighed out, taking off her jacket and hooking it on the wall hook. Leon did the same; he also took his boots off and sighed heavily - just the smell of their home and the sight of it's slightly disheveled look put him at ease.

The pair then made their way to the kitchen where F/N promised dinner. "Oh wow... babe, this looks absolutely delicious," Leon huffed out, amazed at the pot in the middle of the table.

"T-Thank you, Lee. Um, it's a bit cold... but I'll reheat it on the stove. Please, wash up while I do that, 'kay?" F/N asked with a gentle smile.

The blond hummed in agreement and walked off to the bathroom to wash off. When Leon made his way to the bathroom, he started to feel a bit more anxious again as he was left on his own - being in that dangerous jungle part of Brazil had really had a hit on him, especially being there for about a month. He quickly shook off the oncoming anxiety and washed his hands thoroughly, doing the same to his face.

After five minutes he made his way back to the kitchen, "Leon! Just in time, I have the table set you should sit down there, okay?" F/N greeted with a cheer. She had a baby blue apron on with white frills on it, which made Leon's heart melt at the homeliness - he nodded and made his way to the dining table, in awe at the lovely display his fiancée set up for them.

When Leon sat down at the table, F/N made her way towards him with the pot, "I'll give you quite a bit, since I know that you like alfredo a lot," F/N told him with a grin. Using the tongs, she grabbed a fair amount of pasta and plopped it onto his plate - then doing the same for her own plate. Leon stared at the pasta with a teary eye as F/N walked away.

"You okay?" F/N asked with a snort when she got back, untying the apron and throwing it on a side table. The blond nodded and poked at his pasta with his fork.

"I just haven't had your cooking in ages... Missed it so much," Leon confessed.

The H/C haired woman simply chuckled at his confession, "Well, I hope it lives up to your expectations then, Lee," F/N confessed back, taking a bite of her pasta right after Leon did. As soon as the food had entered Leon's mouth, he let out a loud moan, swallowing it quite quickly.

"This..." Leon started as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, "... This is the best pasta I have ever tasted, my love..."

F/N looked over at Leon shyly with a small smile, whispering out a quiet thank you as the two continued to eat dinner.

Over the course of thirty minutes, the pair ate their dinner together along with a side of bread & olive oil, as well as a glass of chardonnay. Leon had given F/N an anecdote of what had happened on the month-long mission, which made F/N gasp quite a few times.

Soon, their dinner had come to an end, the couple finished their meal and stared at each other with loving eyes. "Oh, baby, that was the best meal ever," Leon exclaimed with a soft smile, rubbing the top of her hand with his thumb.

"Thank you, Lee. I'm glad you enjoyed it!"

The two stared at each other for a while before Leon stood up, "I'm going to shower now, alright?"

F/N giggled and nodded, waving softly at him as he made his way to the ensuite. She then cleaned up the table with a grin, happy that Leon was safe home.

When she finished cleaning, F/N made her way to their bedroom, planning before she left to wear a lingerie that she wore for the first and last time during their one year anniversary as boyfriend-girlfriend ten years ago. The outfit was a simple pink lacey lingerie with bows over it.

As F/N made her way to the bedroom, Leon was having a relaxed shower, taking in the sweet scent of F/N's shampoo and bodywash - he missed it that bad. While he was washing his body with the loofa, Leon's mind wandered off to dinner and how well her food had been tasting. Unfortunately for Leon in that moment, that wandering ended up shooting through his cock as he realised that he was hard. The scene of F/N in a tight apron that accentuated her curves had made him extremely horny.

"Fuck... Not now," Leon groaned out quietly to himself, he rubbed his face and tried to think of other stuff, not wanting to be hard at the moment.

After his shower - managing to let his cock go soft - Leon dried off with his towel, wrapping it around his waist before quickly opening the door to head to his wardrobe. As soon as he opened the door however, the scene in front of him made him extremely hard again: F/N was sitting on the bed, staring right into Leon's eyes as he wore the lingerie piece he recognised from their first date.

"F/N wha- fuck..." Leon huffed out and walked towards the nervous woman, "you look so fucking hot right now... did you wear this just for me, baby?" Leon asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them softly. F/N looked up at Leon with bedroom eyes and nodded, leaning ever-so slightly towards his left hand.

"Baby..." Leon whispered out.

He moved his hand to her face, rubbing her cheek softly, love and lust filling his mind. Leon finally pushed F/N back a little so that she was in the middle of the bed, giggling softly as Leon huffed. Making full eye contact with her, Leon dropped the towel that was around his waist to reveal the dark-red colour of his hardened cock. "See this, F/N? This is how you make me feel - I always fucking feel like this with you," Leon growled.

The blond moved onto the bed and right over F/N who had jumped slightly at Leon's roughed exterior. "You look so beautiful, baby..." Leon groaned out, his lips made their way to F/N's neck, kissing it quite roughly as his hands went to grope F/N's tits roughly. "Y'know... I thought I'd fuckin' die in Brazil," Leon muttered between kisses, "I never thought I'd get to fuck this tight pussy of yours again," Leon confessed with a growl, his hand making its way down to F/N's clothed cunt.

"Mhhg, well, I'm glad you're back, Lee," F/N whined out a little as Leon rubbed her over her panties.

"Oh I know baby."

Leon sucked on F/N's neck a little, leaving a few hickeys across her neck before moving up to her lips. He kissed her lips quite possessively, tongue and teeth clashing as he carefully made F/N arch her back so that he could take off her lingerie set from the top. His eyes wandered down when he moved away from the kiss, happy to see her tits once more. "Now this... this is a view that I will never be tired of looking at," Leon confessed, smirking a little as he kissed both her nipples gently, "is it wrong to say that I just wanna go straight to the fucking? Because I have been aching to be in this cunt for a month."

F/N snorted and rolled her eyes, "Okay okay, Leon, just make sure to be gentle at first..." F/N asked with a small smile, peeling off her lingerie bottom.

"Mmm, I'll try, princess, but I won't guarantee it."

The woman pouted as Leon grabbed one of their pillows, placing it underneath F/N's lower back to make her arched a little. "There we go... so fucking pretty for me, baby," Leon growled out, "I just need to feel you so bad," he cried out as he moved right over F/N. Leon didn't bother putting a condom on as he slowly sunk himself inside F/N.

"C-Condom Leon!" F/N cried out, "Are- Are you not using one?" she asked in a slightly panicked voice. Leon simply shook his head, kissing her lips gently to calm her down.

"I can't, F/N, I'm sorry. I need this raw so bad, I just need to feel you on me fuckin' raw," Leon told her as he rubbed her cheek, staring down at the point where the two were connected. After a couple of minutes of F/N whimpering through the pain, she looked over at Leon and gave him a quick nod to move now.

"Thank you sweetie," Leon sighed out.

He indulged in the soft feeling for a minute before starting to slowly jerk his hips in and out. The two let out quiet and shared moans as Leon's thrusts started to get harder, "Oh fuck, Leon, that's so good-"  F/N cried out, arms moving to his back and digging her nails into. Leon's eyes were squeezed shut as he indulged in the pain coming from his back and the pleasure in his cock.

"Oh... oh fuck F/N..." Leon said in between huffs, moaning quite loud into her neck which he started to kiss and suck harshly, "missed this so fucking much... I- oh my God- this is the wettest cunt I'll ever need again," he confessed, tears were threatening to fall onto his cheeks. "I love you, F/N, so so much," Leon told her, he moved his head away from her neck to stare into F/N's crying eyes, "gonna fucking marry you after this- I can't wait any longer I need my wife now."

This made F/N squeeze tightly against Leon's cock, the overwhelming feelings getting to both of them, "Auhh.. Leon- fuck fuck fuck, I love you so much, please just fuck into me and make me into a mommy- then we'll get married, I'll- I'll be your F/N Kennedy. I promise," F/N begged, her nails were seriously digging into Leon's back, scratching all the way down but he didn't care at all.

The blond man nodded and cried out, basically drooling onto F/N's collarbone as he felt himself nearing the end. "Mmhj, I'll cum I'll cum, shit- I'm gonna cum so deep inside you I promise I'll make you pregnant, baby, I really do," Leon blabbered, he held onto her so tightly as he felt himself cumming soon. "Please... please please fucking cum, F/N, I need to feel you cum on my cook it just feels so fucking good," Leon cried out, he moved his head so that it was above F/N's face now. He took in the image of her fucked out face and was going to save it for later.

F/N's legs wrapped around Leon's waist now, trapping him so that he was staying inside of her - not that Leon minded one bit. The two smashed their lips together, almost cumming together as Leon's hand moved down to rub F/N's clit with his rough-padded fingers. Ropes of warm white cum spread all through F/N's womb as Leon orgasmed inside of her; F/N came just after he did.

The few minutes afterwards were met with heavy panting and small whimpers as Leon grew softer inside of her. "I missed you so much if you couldn't tell, F/N."

F/N laughed a little as she moved Leon out and off of her, "Fuck, babe... that was really good; I missed you too by the way," F/N responded with a giggle. Leon gave her a small smile before picking her up bridal style.

"C'mon, babe, I'll go give you a bath. Just relax and I'll wash you off."

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 24 I Love you (Jihyo, Feat. Sana)

You check your phone and are ready to sleep, you found Sana has sent a picture of her clit to you.

I put my phone away and go knock on Jihyo’s door. Thinking about how Chae said she looked a little said about me being away tomorrow.

You make sure the sisters have slept, then you go to Jihyo's room and knocked on the door. 'Sorry Jihyo, Have you sleep yet?'

'Yes, I am sleeping, Y/N. What do you want?' Jihyo answers you immediately. When you still thinking what you should say, the door is opened by Jihyo.

Jihyo is only wearing her lingerie, her hair is a mess and her face is red, you can see the sweat on her forehead, her tits bouncing as she breathes heavily, and you see her panties is wet.

“Oh sorry for interrupting you. Chaeyoung said you looked a little sad when I mentioned working tomorrow and I thought I’d check on you.”

'No, nothing. I thought we are going out on Sunday, but seems you are now going out with your sisters. It's ok, Nevermind. No need to worry about me.' Jihyo smiles at you, you are not sure is she pretending to be ok.

'Oh, I guess you are having fun with your sisters, seems you don't need me tonight. Enjoy the night, Y/N. Goodnight.'

I push my way into Jihyo’s room and carry her to her bed. I lay on top of her as I put her down. “I’m sorry, Jihyo. Let me make it up to you, I’ll call in sick Monday, and we’ll spend the day together. Just you and me, no one else. We’ll go out to eat, maybe watch a movie, and have some fun to finish out the night.” I kiss her body, moving up until I meet her eyes. “I’m sorry for making you feel left out. Let me take care of you.” I move down her body until I reach her lower lips. I start to tease Jihyo with my fingers before licking her.

'Ah... No, Y/N. I am fine. You should get some sleep now, you still... need to work tomorrow. Ah...' Jihyo's body shivers as you start fingering her. 'And you shouldn't call sick on Monday, I don't want to disturb your work.'

You increase the speed and start to lick her clit at the same time, Jihyo's body now shaking in a higher frequency, 'Oh... Y/N... I'm gonna cum if you keep going.' Jihyo grabs your hair and pushes it towards her clits.

I slip my tongue inside Jihyo and rub her clit with my fingers until she cums. I drink her nectar before kissing Jihyo. “Don’t worry about that Jihyo, it’ll be fine. We’ll spend the day together.”

Jihyo pulls you closer and kiss you passionately, she looks at you seriously. 'Thank you, you are treating me too good, it's been a long time that someone treating me so well.'

Jihyo caresses your cheek, 'You should go now, look how tired you are.'

“Are you sure? You don’t want to go even one round?” I ask while I rub her folds. “I can always go at least one round with you.”

Jihyo smiles as she hears your proposal, she starts to jerk you off. 'Really? Is my body so tempting to you? You can still fuck me after the threesome with your sister? Well, you know your body better, but one round is definitely not enough for me.'

“I know but I’ll be helping you for at least one.” Quickly I align myself with Jihyo’s pussy and slam myself inside, thrusting quickly.

Jihyo hugs you tightly as you are thrusting, she press your head on her chest, 'You love my tits right, go suck it, imagine you are fighting with my children for my milk.' Jihyo moans loudly as she feels her pussy is finally filled.

Jihyo tenses her muscle to wrap your cock tighter, bringing you more pleasure. 'Uh... Ah... Tell me who is tighter Y/N. Who makes you feel better?'

‘You, Jihyo. You’re tighter, you make me feel better. I love you.” I say quickly, slurring my words enough to where it isn’t clear what I’m saying. I start sucking on her tit while slamming my cock into her, making sure she gets every inch.

Jihyo cums instantly after she heard you say 'I love you', her walls are tighter but you just keep go All in, reaching her deepest part.

'Ah! I love you too, Y/N. I love you!' Jihyo screams as her walls are milking you, her orgasm makes her body shiver, and she lets your head leave her tits, 'Say one more time, Y/N. I want to hear you say it one more time.'

Jihyo is getting weak, her legs leave your back and laying on the bed, but her fingers are firmly grasping the sheet while you are thrusting.

I continue pounding away at Jihyo, feeling my orgasm come closer. As I cum I say, “I love you Jihyo!” Before kissing her.

With one deep thrust, you cum your seed in Jihyo. Jihyo arcs her back when you are cumming, getting her body closer with you. Her hands go for your nipples, and your body jerks from the sensation.

Jihyo's tongue slips into your mouth, and you two exchange saliva while her walls keep milking you for more cum. When she feels you have finished your orgasm, she breaks the kiss, 'Damn, I really can't get over you.' While she guides your hands on her tits.

I squeeze her tits, and kiss her again, “Same here.” I pinch her nipples, “I guess I should get going now Jihyo.” I slowly start pulling out of Jihyo, enjoying the feeling of her pussy as I do.

'You haven't answered me yet, who's better? Who's tighter?' Jihyo moans as your pinch her nipples while she grabs your hips and pushes you inside again. Seems she did not hear you slurring words except the I love You.

Jihyo tenses her walls to milk you, your cock is still sensitive, you moan from the sensation and falls onto her body.

“Oh, so you only heard the last part? I said you.” I put my forehead to hers and look into her eyes. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

'Every woman wants to hear man love their body, same as I.' Jihyo smiles and looks into your, you can see your shadow in her eye. 'Of course, I love to hear you say I love you too.' She then presses your head to kiss again.

Jihyo's wall keeps milking you, you can feel it wraps your cock well, you know you will reach the next orgasm soon.

I play with Jihyo clit, “I know you do, you climaxed when I said it. Should i say it more?” I start to thrust slowly, making sure I go as deep as possible. “You love it that much when I say that? When I say I love you Jihyo?”

'Um...' Jihyo moans as you start thrusting again, 'Yes, Y/N, please keep saying it, ah!' Jihyo crosses her leg on your back, pushing you deeper, you can't resist her milking anymore, and your cock start to throb.

“I love you Jihyo. Let’s cum together.” I thrust quickly until we both orgasm, filling her up with more cum.“

Jihyo nods and grabs you to kiss when you two cum, you are exhausted from the amount of sex tonight, you rest your head on her chest as her walls milk you again, and you let her pussy drains you, not willing to leave this sensation.

You slightly moan when every time she tenses her pussy, there would be some remaining cum dripping from your tips. Jihyo seeing you licking her nipples when you rest on her chest, 'If you want some milk, then you should try harder.'

“Like this?” I start sucking on her nipple harshly for a minute. I kiss Jihyo, “You should get to sleep now, sweet dreams, Jihyo.” I slowly pull out of her and look at her for a second before beginning to make my way to my room.

'Goodnight, Y/N.' Jihyo smiles at you before she closes her eyes.

You get back to your room quietly, close your phone, and go to bed. You see Sana's message, it looks like a formal invitation for tomorrow.

'Student Kim Sana is ready for the home visit tomorrow, hope Mr. Y/N will not punish her too hard.' Attached with a photo in which Sana is wearing a school uniform.'

Sana looks so fuckable in the photo and you can't wait to fuck her tomorrow, but you have cummed more than 10 times today (Just checked 13 times in total, lol), and you are not sure can you fulfill Sana's need tomorrow.

'Don't fuck other girls tonight.' You recall what she said today, she knows you too well, you could not resist to fuck others.

I respond to Sana, “I might need to teach you a long and hard lesson tomorrow.” After sending the message I go to bed.

You wake up again the next morning, dressing like you are going to work. You look at the blood on your sheet, concerned about what Dahyun will think about the threesome last night. You just took her virginity casually.

You then go to the living room, the sisters are still sleeping, and you see Jihyo drinking coffee in the dining room. Jihyo sees you and she gets the breakfast from the kitchen for you. 'I guess Mina is not coming on Saturday, so I have prepared it for you.'

'How was last night?' Jihyo asks.

'It's always good to fuck with you, Jihyo.'

'I know. So I am not asking about me. Did someone say he won't do it to Dahyun, huh?'

“Things got crazy yesterday.” I come behind Jihyo and kiss her cheek. “I’ll just say that”

Jihyo puts your hand on her shoulder, 'Yes, I didn't know Chaeyoung would roar like a breast, haha.'

'I know is more fun to have a threesome every night, especially with sisters. I can hear your moan, you are so excited you know, then I can't stop to masturbate when I hear it.'

“Then you got to have your own fun afterwards.” I rub her shoulders, “We’re going to spend Monday together too.” I’ll eat my breakfast while talking to Jihyo before leaving.

'I wanna have fun every night tho, but I guess you now have more pussy need to fill, huh?' Jihyo bites the toast in your hand.

'Sorry for being offensive, but did anyone know your relationships with your sisters, such as your parents.'

“No one besides you” I wipe away some crumbs from the corner of Jihyo’s mouth. “I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

'Yes, I don't think it is appropriate to let other knows, but this story makes me horny.' Jihyo licks your finger when it reaches her lips.

'What if your sisters want to keep the relationship for life, they are not marrying man and just stay with you like this, 3 siblings fuck every night. What would your future partner think?'

I lean over and kiss Jihyo, “Well like I told you before, I want to be better than before. When I start dating again I’ll end it with them.”

Jihyo shakes her head and gives you a forced smile, 'Speak is always easier, sometime it's just not you want to end it, then you can end it. Plus, if you want to be a better person, you should not start with your sisters at the beginning. You could not resist their body when you are hardened. '

'It's meaningless to lie to me, I know you.' Jihyo kisses you one more time, 'What time you will back tonight, Should I prepare dinner for you?'

"No, I’ll probably be back late.” I pat Jihyo’s head as I gather my things and leave for Sana’s home.

[tobesolnelyx]

PLLLLLEEEEEEEASE I NEED MORE OF THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/tobesolnelyx/781903738248036352/i-can-fix-her-no-really-i-can-fratboy-and

just the thought of shauna jerking off to reader pictures makes me jfngucmrucnduxuelfjeksunsudjd i cant do this anymore

— 15 minutes || fratboy!shauna shipman x fem!reader 🐶

a/n: kay freaks! but really, reqs and asks are always nice to see <3 still really practicing writing smuts tbh

warnings: NSFW: smut. g!p shauna. oral!sex. shameless porn.— MDNI

summary: you catch her while she’s desperately jerking off to your pics. girlfriend!shauna

word count: around 1.2k

After a few months together, you and Shauna decided to rent a small apartment near campus.

You were already spending most of your time practically glued to each other anyway, and your roommates never stopped complaining about it.

So you decided to move in together.

It wasn't perfect. The place was tiny, and some of the furniture had clearly seen better days — but it was enough.

At least for now. Later, you could start dreaming about something bigger. Something better.

That day, you got home from class pretty late. Your lectures had finished hours after Shauna's, and by the time you finally closed the door behind you, breathing heavily from the cool night air, it was already dark outside.

Your bag hit the hallway floor with a soft thud, your shoes landed beside it, and your keys clattered onto the table.

"Shauna? Baby?" you called out into the apartment — but silence answered you.

You frowned slightly and stepped further inside.

Only to hear something — a broken gasp, a whimper — coming from the bedroom door. And a sound that you could have sworn was your name.

Without much hesitation, you pushed the door open.

It wasn't like shame had much place between you anymore. Maybe just a little.

But after all the time you'd spent fucking like rabbits, modesty didn't exactly stand a chance.

You froze in the doorway. Shauna didn't even notice you for the first few seconds.

Her cock was pulled out of her boxers, the fabric bunched around her thighs, a dark wet stain marking the front from her leaking pre-cum.

Head tipped back against the pillows, Shauna was desperately pumping herself with one hand, her breathing ragged, soft whimpers escaping her lips.

In her other hand, she clutched her phone — and you caught a glimpse of the screen.

It was one of the photos you had sent her once, back when she was away with her soccer team and she missed you like hell.

You'd bought that dark, lacy lingerie set just for that purpose.

"Fuck—!"

Shauna finally realized you were standing there. She scrambled, tossing the phone aside, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red. She grabbed for a pillow, as if to hide her throbbing erection.

She shifted awkwardly in her long-sleeve shirt.

"Christ, you could knock next time," she muttered.

You just raised an eyebrow and huffed a quiet laugh.

"Not apologizing for that," you said easily with a shrug and small smile.

"Yeah, no shit," Shauna grumbled under her breath, sulking.

She gave you a quick, assessing look — then glanced back down at her cock, twitching helplessly between her thighs.

"You were jerking off to my photos?" you asked sweetly and teasingly, stepping closer to the bed.

Your steps were silent, measured — like you were already plotting your next move.

Because what you loved most was seeing proud, cocky Shauna squirm under your gaze. Watching her crumble in the heat of your touch.

Shauna — though she'd never admit it aloud — always came twice as fast when you dominated her a little.

And you? You loved it. Especially on lazy mornings — having her whining to your ear while she was grinding helplessly against your ass, wrecked and desperate just from the sight of you in her clothes.

Shauna wrinkled her nose, like she wanted to deny it — but quickly gave up.

"Maybe," she said with a crooked grin — which vanished the moment you wrapped your hand around her shaft.

Shauna moaned, loud enough that you were sure your neighbors hated you by now.

They'd never had the guts to complain though. Probably for the best.

You settled between her legs, running your fingers teasingly along the head of her cock, smearing the leaking pre-cum down her length.

Shauna threw her head back, whining, her hips bucking off the bed — like she was trying to force herself into your mouth.

You placed a firm, grounding hand on her hip, pinning her down.

"I'll finish it for you," you murmured, smiling — and pulled the hair tie off your wrist, taking your time as you gathered your hair into a ponytail.

Shauna watched you with parted lips, squirming impatiently.

You loved pleasing her.

Loved this version of Shauna — the real one, stripped of all bravado, no longer acting like a lovable idiot to impress you.

You loved all her versions — but this one? This one was fucking hot.

You leaned in, keeping eye contact, and licked a slow, deliberate line from the base of her cock up to her tip.

Shauna gasped, bucking her hips again, trying to thrust her throbbing cock into your throat.

"Please..." she whimpered, her hand tangling in your hair, tugging you closer until her cock nudged the corner of your mouth.

It was hard to deny her when she begged like that.

You took the tip of her cock into your mouth, sucking lightly, tasting her salt, her heat.

Your lips wrapped around her, and when you glanced up, Shauna already looked half gone — flushed, wrecked, lost.

One of her hands clenched the sheets, the other stayed tangled in your hair, guiding you down, urging you to take her deeper.

You felt something hot and sticky drip between your thighs, soaking into your underwear.

You'd deal with that later. When Shauna will be hard again, ready to shove you into the mattress and fuck you senselessly.

Shauna arched her back, hips twitching restlessly.

"Just like that," she gasped. "God, your mouth — holy fuck, babe — your mouth feels so good."

It didn't take her long to spiral closer to the edge.

You sucked her deeper, letting the head of her cock bump the back of your throat. You nearly gagged, but Shauna was desperate, moaning your name.

Her pelvis pressed against your face as she rocked her hips, setting a faster, rougher rhythm.

At this point, she was practically fucking your mouth.

You slid one hand down between your legs.

Your panties were stuck to your skin, soaked through and your pussy pulsed with need, aching for her cock.

You whimpered, the sound muffled around her dick. Shauna arched again, crying out, fingers fisting tighter in your hair.

Not enough.

She grabbed your head, thrusting deeper. She fucked your mouth hard, desperate, losing any shred of restraint. You moaned again, the vibration making her shudder violently.

"Fuck—" she gasped, voice breaking.

You sucked harder, faster, swallowing around her cock.

When you took her to the hilt again, your nose pressed against her pelvis, Shauna choked out a cry — and came.

Warm, thick cum spilled into your mouth, flooding your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but a few drops slipped from the corner of your lips, smearing your chin, staining the sheets.

Not the first time.

When you finally let her cock slip from your lips with a wet pop, it was already starting to soften.

Shauna tugged you closer. Both of you were panting, faces flushed deep red.

There was still a drop of her cum glistening on your lips when she kissed you — groaning softly when she tasted herself on your tongue.

"Way better than just a photo," she whispered against your mouth, forehead resting against yours.

You laughed breathlessly, your voice still hoarse from sucking her off.

"Guess you'll have to return the favor," you rasped, grinning.

And just like that, Shauna flipped you onto your back, straddling your hips with a cocky grin.

Still panting, but already ready for round two.