#and she hates adjusting to new things

[korkorali]

I have Feelings™️ about Beakley

She’s a grandmother she’s a spy she’s an agent she’s a director she loves Webby she’s the worst guardian in the manor she judges everyone she’s extremely good at taking care of kids she’s terrible with children she lies like its second nature she’s barely remorseful for her actions she feels terrible about everything she’s done she’s traumatized she’s the most well-adjusted person in the room she’s one wrong move away from blowing up she’s calm and collected but most importantly she’s a hypocrite.

She’s the biggest hypocrite in the mansion and I absolutely love her for it.

She judges everyone. If you exist in her line of sight, chances are she’s going to look at you and think ‘I could probably do X better than you’ to herself. Especially when it comes to parenting.

And here’s the kicker- she’s wrong. She’s so wrong about that. Without a doubt, she wins the ‘worst of the mansion’s parental figures’ trophy by a landslide. She did terribly by Webby.

She kept her in the manor, alone, and trained her to defend herself from much too early an age. She told her not to bother Scrooge, the only other person in their home, which means that the only person Webby every really had was her.

I mean this woman was ready to straight up kick her ass on the roof of the manor for saying ‘hey maybe traumatizing Huey and Dewey isn’t the best form of training’

This woman, on multiple occasions, looked Webby right in the eyes and lied to her without even thinking- twice! And that’s after knowing that Webby hates being lied to!

She’s had quite her fair share of fuckups when it comes to parenting, and yet she still freely judges Scrooge, Donald, and Della whenever they try to parent.

She’s one of the biggest hypocrites in the show.

And the thing is, it makes sense.

All of her actions so much sense, even the judgement.

She’s a thoroughly traumatized secret agent who’s probably never opened up about herself to anyone (well, maybe Scrooge, but that’s another post for another day), found a child kept in one of their secret bases, and made the impossible choice to abandon her mission (her entire life) to go into hiding and keep the child safe.

She used to be a secret agent, so of course her modus operandi is to lie. Of course she keeps her cards close to her chest (even when nobody else is playing), of course she waits to reveal anything until she’s deemed it absolutely necessary to do so.

She essentially kidnapped Webby, the top-secret project of an evil organization. Of course she never let her leave the mansion (or at least, go anywhere besides the mansion and the Money Bin, because she’s been there before), she had every reason to believe that their agents may one day show up to find and take her away.

Of course she trained Webby relentlessly, of course she reacted so harshly to the idea of not training the boys in the same way. In order to survive, she was treated as a soldier instead of a person, after all. So in order for them to survive, she’s got to treat them like soldiers too.

Of course she judges everyone around her and refuses to admit when she’s wrong, she’s been through hellish experience after hellish experience, took over as director for SHUSH after the previous director was kidnapped by FOWL. She’s learned to hide her weaknesses, bury them so deep that even she wouldn’t be able to find them if she tried. She’s had to lead others, monitor agents, make absolutely sure that no information leaked which meant running the tightest shop possible. After doing that for so long, seeing others not do that is grating (what do you mean, other people got to be safe? What do you mean, nobody else has dealt with the things she has? What do you mean, she doesn’t have to treat everything like a secret war is brewing just under the surface? Preposterous).

She’s been through more than anyone else will ever know, more than she’ll ever say, and she refuses to admit that it’s caused her harm. She refuses to believe that what happened to her may have been wrong. That it shouldn’t have happened at all (It ended up giving her Webby. How could anything that gave her Webby be wrong?)

She’s a bitch and an asshole and a jerk and a hypocrite and a badass super spy and a housekeeper and a grandmother and anything she needs to be to survive and is maybe just starting to allow herself to live.

But there is one thing she most certainly is not:

A secretary

[jrueships]

zesty lowkey just another way for str8 ppl to say faggot / faggy and get away with it

[rufflet]

I love talking to my one aunt because it always turns into a 20-60 minute vent about her older sister we both hate lol.

[drdemonprince]

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway.  Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free.  Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity.  You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find.  Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.”  As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries. 

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

[marvelstoriesepic]

Steam and Silhouettes

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: While trying to take a shower, Bucky comes barging into your shared bathroom, claiming Alpine misses her new mama.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: mild nudity (non-sexual); mutual pining; suggestive humor; domestic fluff; Alpine being Alpine; Bucky being a ridiculous dork

Author’s Note: This is a part of a series with a loose timeline, but you can also read this as a standalone. Hope you enjoy ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Oh my god, Bucky, get out!”

Your voice resounds off the steamed-up tiles, somewhere between scandalized and entirely unconvincing. A squeak of the shower curtain rings as it trembles slightly, your poor attempt at pretending this isn’t the weirdest and most you moment of your life as Bucky Barnes’ roommate.

“Relax, doll. She missed you.”

You peek through the waterfall of hot water stinging your eyes, blinking furiously, heart lurching somewhere high into your throat.

A shadow casts on the shower curtain. A tall figure with broad shoulders and the boldest audacity, backlit by the bathroom light.

And perched high on his forearm, just barely bobbing into view over the shower curtain, is a tiny white paw. Then another. Then two crystalline blue eyes.

You sputter a wet laugh, nearly choking on a mouthful of water. “Buck! Did you seriously bring Alpine in here?”

The kitten meows. Sweet, high-pitched, held up by Bucky’s arms, peering over your goddamn shower curtain as though she’s Simba in The Lion King.

Your heart is hammering.

Not because of Alpine.

But because Bucky Barnes is standing just on the other side of the plastic barrier, mere inches away, and you’re stark naked, and your feelings are very much not platonic, and your brain is officially trying to outrun you.

Bucky sounds way too casual about the whole thing. “She was cryin’ outside the door. Thought maybe she just needed to see her mama.”

Huffing, you push your wet hair out of your face, the weight of it slick and heavy down your back. “She’s a baby, Bucky. Babies cry. Doesn’t mean you come walking into the bathroom while someone’s taking a shower.”

Bucky holds her up with both arms, the way someone might offer a sacred relic or a bottle of wine. His bare forearms flex slightly, and you hate that, even though he’s holding an adorably sweet and fluffy white kitten, Bucky is still somehow distracting.

“But she was cryin’, doll,” he says, now softer. “Wouldn’t let up. Climbed up my pants. Clawed her way up like I was a tree.”

“Seriously?”

“Swear on Steve’s good name. Wouldn’t stop till I picked her up. That’s how I figured she missed her mama.”

Your heart stutters. That stupid word again. Mama.

“Bucky, get out,” you only repeat exaggerated.

“You left the door unlocked,” he shoots back through the veil of hot air, all indignant as though he’s the one being violated.

You make a strangled noise, rubbing your temples, breathing through your nose, trying to remember that you do like him most days. You chose to live with this idiot. You’ve lived with him for a while now. You’ve survived him accidentally setting a potholder on fire, singing 90s power ballads at 2 am, and alphabetizing your spices just to mess with you.

“That’s not an invitation to come in here like a psycho and lift our kitten over the curtain to watch me shower.”

There’s a rustle on the other side. The shuffle of his feet on the tile. “But she was sad, doll. Missed you. Thought maybe you abandoned her for good.”

“She saw me ten minutes ago,” you state with a sigh in your voice, turning to rinse shampoo out of your hair.

“Well.” You see his shadow shrug behind the curtain, adjusting Alpine’s wiggly butt in his hands. “Ten minutes is like a week to a baby. You ever gone a week without your favorite person? It’s tragic.”

The words trip something in your chest. You hear the slight quirk of his mouth in his voice, as though maybe he knows what he is doing. As though this isn’t entirely about Alpine.

Alpine mews again, that high-pitched kitten sound like a squeak toy dipped in sugar, and Bucky chuckles, soft and low and affectionate in a way that makes your knees threaten to buckle.

Her tiny nose twitches, eyes wide, paws scrabbling at the edge of the curtain as Bucky still keeps holding her aloft like a proud, ridiculous cat dad.

You sigh, one hand on your face, the other holding the curtain in a defensive scrunch. “I’m still naked, Barnes.”

There’s a pause. Like a thoughtful, huh kind of pause. You hear him shuffle on the tile. As though he only just caught up with that part. As though he hadn’t really thought this through beyond the cat misses you and you probably miss the cat and maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see you too.

“I mean, technically she’s naked too,” he deadpans after a beat.

You let your forehead thunk gently against the tile wall, groaning into the rising steam.

“And she’s a girl, y’know. So… girl to girl. Girl solidarity. Ain’t weird,” he adds helpfully, as though this might somehow serve as a legal defense in court.

“She’s also two pounds and can’t even use a litter box without falling in,” you hiss back.

“Details.”

You sigh, slumping back under the spray and dragging your hands down your face. Soap hangs off your eyelashes. Alpine meows, a chirpy sound, as if she’s telling you to be nice to your ridiculous roommate.

“She says she didn’t get a real goodbye,” he says, voice low and a little sing-songy as though he knows he is pushing your buttons and is committing to the bit anyway. “Her little heart’s broken now. Might never recover.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the snort that leaves your lips. God, you’re so in love with him it’s embarrassing. Your heart feels like a paper lantern too close to the flame.

Alpine meows again, tiny paws curling over the curtain as she cranes her neck to spot you better, big blue eyes wide with wonder, as though you are the best thing she’s ever seen.

And Bucky is holding her so gently he might have spent the last ten minutes convincing her that yes, mama still exists and no, she didn’t disappear, and yes, you can go look at her now.

Reaching out, you poke your hand over the curtain, water dripping from your fingers as you scratch softly at Alpine’s chin.

“There you are, baby,” you utter amused but soft. “You’re such a drama queen.”

Bucky chuckles, deep and low, but there is something fragile under it. His hand - still holding the kitten - brushes yours for a second and he stays still.

You can see the shadow of his boots from under the curtain, the soft shuffle of his weight shifting, but not moving toward the door like a normal person would do after realizing they’ve invaded your steamy sanctuary of suds and sanity.

Then, you lean out. Just your head. Damp hair dripping, chin tucked, eyes narrowed as you peek past the edge of the curtain like a very cautious ghost.

And there he is.

Standing. Holding Alpine as though she’s the goddamn crown jewel. But his hands have stilled on her fur, mid-stroke, and his face is softened, startled. As though he just remembered something he wasn’t supposed to forget.

Then his gaze flicks - unintentionally, just a tick - toward the vague silhouette of your body behind the curtain. His breath hitches. Just slightly. And then his ears go red.

His eyes do an awkward flutter toward the ceiling, toward the tiles, toward Alpine, anywhere but toward the slice of your face. He looks like a man trying not to glance at a solar eclipse without sunglasses.

“You good?” you ask, dry as bone, drops of water landing on the edge of the shower.

He clears his throat. “Uh. Yeah. Just gonna let you finish up. I, uh- think Alpine’s satisfied now,” he says, one hand coming up to scratch behind the kitten's ear. She purrs lazily, utterly unaware that she has single-handedly plunged her two favorite humans into an emotional fever dream.

You bite back a smirk. “Sure she is.”

“I didn’t see anything, obviously,” he goes on, still looking at literally anything other than you. “Not that I was tryin’ to. Not that there was anything to see- I mean- that’s not how I- I meant, that you- Fuck, now I’m makin’ it weird. Which is not what I meant. I mean- it’s not bad, just- Jesus Christ.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Not because it’s funny - though it is funny - but because there is something in your chest threatening to melt. Something painfully weak. The kind of thing you don’t want to touch too hard in case it turns real and runs away.

“Right. Great,” he mutters. A pause. “I’m gonna take her out,” he adds, finally lowering Alpine down to the little mat beside the door. She immediately tries to climb his pant leg again.

You tilt your head.

“You sure? She might still want to see her mama.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, well, her mama deserves a shower in peace without bein’ ogled. Just thought she’d calm down if she saw ya. You can resume whatever mysterious shower rituals you do in there.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, it’s called cleaning myself, Barnes.”

He huffs a laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’. Don’t yell at me in front of the kid.”

“She’s a cat.”

“She’s sensitive.”

You shouldn’t be this warm. It’s not the water anymore. It’s something else creeping under your skin, behind your ribs. You want to say something. Want to reach out and grab his shirt and pull him in - not into the shower, not like that, not yet. Just into your space. Into the same space you’ve been for a while now. Waiting.

But you’re also very wet. And very naked. And this isn’t exactly the moment you want him to remember for the rest of his life when he thinks of your first real step forward. If he even believes you could take such a step.

So instead, you smile, shake your head. “Get outta here, Barnes. I’ll be out in five.”

He lifts his eyes at you, long enough to catch your expression. And even though you’re barely there - just your head, framed in fog and water and shampoo suds - he smiles. Something tender glimmers in his eyes. Maybe he’s already counting down those five minutes.

He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Take your time,” he says, voice gone quiet now.

And it’s soft. Not teasing. As though maybe this wasn’t as embarrassing as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s not entirely sorry.

Your face does something treasonous. Your heart does something worse.

With a clear of his throat, his hand takes hold of the doorknob, opening it a crack. Alpine trots out of the bathroom, tail swishing, entirely pleased with herself. He watches her for a beat. Then stares at a tile. Lingers. Then looks back at you. His eyes snap quickly to your body shielded by the curtain, and fly away instantly, as though he caught himself in the last moment. “Alright, I’ll give you some privacy,” he utters, voice a little raspy. “Gotta go now. Gotta go learn about boundaries or somethin’.”

And then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him.

You’re standing there dripping, heart pounding for reasons that have less to do with steam and everything to do with him.

He’s got that effect on you. Even when he’s being a ridiculous dork. Especially when he’s being a ridiculous dork.

The door cracks open again.

“Oh my god, Buck-” you begin to protest, but he interrupts you quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just-” Bucky calls out, soft, voice low as though he’s trying not to scare a bird. “Uh, I was thinkin’. You want takeout?”

One hand freezes mid-reach for your body lotion, the other still braced against the curtain. You didn’t expect him to ask that.

“Thought maybe you’d be hungry,” he explains, as though it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to have a food conference while you’re still literally naked and trying to have some privacy. “I’ll order. You take your time in there. By the time you’re all… y’know-” You see his shadow gesture at you behind the curtain, “human again, it’ll be here.”

You laugh. It kind of bursts out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Human again?”

“Well, you’re half-shampoo, half-grump right now,” he says with a smirk you can hear. “Didn’t wanna assume you were ready to talk logistics until you de-soaped.”

You don’t know what to say. So you sigh and wait for him to leave.

But he lingers.

You peek your head around the curtain again, water droplets trailing down your temple like punctuation marks to your raised eyebrows. “Barnes.”

His eyes flick up. Instantly. And then down. Instantly-er.

“Oh,” he blurts, practically recoiling, sheepishly running his hand down his face. “Still- uh- yep. Still naked. Right. Shit.”

“You literally knew that going in the first time. And now you did it again,” you deadpan, grinning at how fast he suddenly backs away again.

“I wasn’t- I mean, I still didn’t see anything, not that I was looking. Or trying to look. I just thought- well, Alpine was done sniffin’ the rug and I figured maybe food- ya know what? Never mind.”

The door squeaks.

“Bucky,” you call just before it closes again.

He pauses. Leans back with only half his face showing - one hand gripping the edge of the frame as though it might keep him tethered.

You soften. You can’t help it. “Takeout sounds good.”

He smiles, small and crooked and pleased, and god help you, it tugs at something in your chest that makes you want to sit down and cry for no reason at all.

“Got it, sweetheart.” His voice is warm again. Familiar. “I’ll get the usual. You just… take your time. Wash the world off.”

You nod. And he’s gone again.

You hear his footsteps pad down the hallway.

With a sigh that’s 60% fondness, 30% embarrassment, and 10% utter, unrelenting this man, you lean back into the steam, your heart performing some frantic dance in your chest.

Outside, Alpine lets out a mewl that sounds suspiciously like laughter.

“You don’t accidentally end up sharing a life.”

- Erin Hahn

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 26: July 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The conference room was sleek and quiet — all minimalist design, smooth wood, and muted light. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Monaco’s marina, but Belle barely registered the view. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, one leg crossed over the other, Max’s knee brushing hers beneath the table like a silent anchor.

Belle sat beside Max at a long table in a private meeting room, her hands folded carefully in her lap. The lawyer — a tall, gentle-voiced woman named Monique with sharp eyes and an expensive watch — smiled politely as she turned the final page of a stack of documents.

She had known about the pregnancy since Max had called last week and said, “We need to make sure she’s protected. Properly.”

It hadn’t been dramatic. There were no tears. No whispered breakdowns.

Just Max, calm and steady, saying "my wife is having our child, and I want everything in place if I don’t come home."

And Belle had agreed. Because love like theirs wasn’t made of denial.

It was made of preparation.

 Monique spoke first.

“I’ve drafted the new will, updated with the marriage registration and the preliminary trust structure for the baby.” She slid a folder across the table to Max. “It’s standard language, but I can walk you through it.”

Max nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Belle glanced at the page — her name in clean legal font at the top. It still startled her sometimes. Isabelle Verstappen. A name that felt more like a promise than a title.

Monique continued, calm and clear. “Everything’s been updated as requested. The property title adjustment will be processed this week, and the new will reflects both your marriage and the pending addition to your family. In the event of Max’s death, Belle inherits all real estate assets, including the Monaco apartment, She also has controlling interest in the holding companies and exclusive guardianship of the child. There is a clause allowing her to appoint a secondary guardian if needed, and a separate financial trust to be accessed at her discretion for the child’s care.”

Belle’s fingers tensed slightly on her notebook.

Max reached under the table, slid his hand into hers.

Monique continued. “You both now hold medical power of attorney for one another. In the event of a serious injury or incapacitation, decisions will legally fall to the surviving spouse. The trust for the child will be activated upon birth and can be revised at any time.”

Belle blinked. “You’ve already set up a trust?”

Max nodded beside her. “I wanted it in place before they got here.”

Monique smiled. “It’s not uncommon for high-risk professions.”

High-risk. Belle hated that word.

Monique glanced at Max. “There’s a healthcare proxy included as well. You’ve named your wife as the sole decision-maker if you’re incapacitated.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Belle didn’t speak for a moment. Just breathed. Absorbed.

Because here it was. In print. In contracts and clauses and notarized certainty.

This man — who drove faster than anyone else on earth — was handing her the most fragile parts of his life and saying I trust you.

Not out of fear.

But out of love.

Monique gave them a moment before gently flipping to the next document. “There’s just one more point of discussion — guardianship, in the event that… well, neither of you are able to care for your child.”

Belle straightened.

“Obviously we don’t need an answer right this second,” Monique added, professional but kind. “But it’s something we do recommend including in advance. Just in case.”

Belle didn’t hesitate.

“Victoria and Tom.”

Max glanced at her, surprised.

“They already have three kids,” she said softly. “Their home is overflowing with love. Lio and Luka would be like big brothers. Hailey a big sister. ”

Max looked at her for a long moment — not surprised, just… moved.

“Okay,” he said, quietly, final. “Victoria and Tom.”

Monique made a quiet note, then gathered the papers. “That’s all for today. You’re welcome to take copies home, review anything again, but legally — everything’s in place.”

Belle signed.

Her name — Isabelle Verstappen — in clean, looping ink at the bottom of the page. Not to take something away. But to build something forward.

Belle hesitated. “Is there… anything else?”

Monique raised an eyebrow gently. “Such as?”

Belle glanced down at her lap. “I thought Max might… want me to sign something else.”

Silence.

Then, Max’s hand slid over hers beneath the table. “You mean a prenup?”

Belle nodded once.

Monique blinked, surprised. “There’s nothing of the sort, Belle. That was never discussed.”

Belle looked at Max, who met her eyes steadily.

“I didn’t marry you with conditions,” he said simply. “What’s mine is yours. What’s ours is already half your idea anyway.”

Belle stared at him for a second — stunned, soft, wrecked.

Then she cleared her throat. “Okay. That’s… not what I expected. But okay.”

When it was done, Monique gathered the documents, promising scans and copies by end of day.

The room emptied, polite and efficient.

Belle stayed seated.

Max didn’t move either.

She finally turned to him. “That felt…”

“Big?” he offered.

She nodded.

“But good,” she added, quieter now. “Because this is ours. Our life. Our family. Even the scary parts.”

Max kissed her temple. “That’s why we’re here.”

Her hand found his on the table, fingers lacing together.

“I hope none of it ever matters,” she whispered.

He looked down at their names on the signed pages.

“It already does,” he said.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey You got a minute?

Victoria: For you? Always What’s up?

Max: Belle and I had a meeting with the lawyers today We’re setting everything up properly Just in case something ever happens

Victoria: Okay… Everything alright?

Max: Yeah. Everything’s good. More than good We just want to be smart about things

Victoria: Of course So… what do you need from me?

Max: We listed you and Tom as guardians For the baby If anything ever happens to us

Max: I wanted to ask you first Properly Not just throw your name on a form

Victoria: Max. Yes. Obviously. Always. You didn’t even have to ask. But I’m really, really glad you did.

Max: Belle said it without blinking She trusts you too

Victoria: Now I’m crying in the supermarket, thanks 🙄

Max: Sorry (But not really)

Victoria: We’ll take care of them. No matter what. But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?

Max: Yeah I know Still I sleep better knowing it’s you

Victoria: We love you. And we love her. And we already love this baby. 

Max: Thanks, Vic. Really.

***

The therapy room was quiet in the way only tension could make it — not peaceful, but primed. A silence that hummed with everything unsaid, everything tiptoed around for years.

Belle sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her pulse thrumming just beneath her skin like a warning. Every muscle in her body was taut — trying to hold everything in place. Her blouse, loose by design, felt suddenly too tight across her chest. She hadn’t been sleeping. She hadn’t eaten lunch. There was a dull ache in her temples, a sharper one behind her ribs.

Max was beside her.

He hadn’t spoken.

He hadn’t even moved, aside from the occasional brush of his thumb against hers.

But his presence was solid. Anchoring. The one thing in this room that didn’t make her feel like she had to prove she belonged.

Across from her, her family sat arranged like a tableau of old fractures: Pascale, elegant but weary, lips pressed tightly together; Arthur, fidgeting in his chair, worry written into the curve of his brow; Lorenzo, arms folded like a gate; and Charles — the one who hadn’t looked at her properly once since she’d walked in.

Camille, the therapist, smiled gently. “Thank you all for being here. We’re here to listen first. Belle, since you asked for this session, would you like to begin?”

Belle nodded, throat tight. “I don’t expect this to fix everything. But I wanted to give you a chance to hear me. I’ve felt invisible for a long time. And I know that might not have been your intention, but it doesn’t make it less real.”

She paused.

No one spoke.

She added, voice quiet but edged in iron: “And I’m not here to be blamed for how I coped with that.”

That was when Charles finally looked up. “Then maybe he shouldn’t be here.”

Max didn’t move.

Belle’s grip on his hand tightened.

Camille interjected gently. “Charles, we agreed to keep this space respectful—”

“Respectful?” Charles cut in, eyes flashing. “You brought him to a family session. The man who didn’t even tell me he married my sister. The one person guaranteed to turn this into a war.”

Belle’s voice cracked, quiet but firm. “Max is here because I want him here. He’s my family now. He supports me. He doesn’t speak over me or forget I exist unless it’s convenient.”

“You bring him here, like he has any right to sit in a family session—”

“Charles—” Camille began.

But he was already unraveling.

“—Like he didn’t make it worse. Like he didn’t encourage all of this—”

Belle flinched.

“Charles,” Max said, voice low but firm.

“You don’t get to talk—”

“Stop it!” Belle snapped, her voice breaking.

The sound echoed louder than shouting.

Everyone went still.

She stood — too quickly — and emotion spilled over before she could stop it. Her hands shook. Her breath hitched. Tears began streaming down her cheeks before she could blink them back.

“I invited him,” she said, trembling. “Because he’s the only one in this room who never made me feel like I had to earn his love. He didn’t ask me to shrink or wait or perform. He didn’t disappear until it was convenient to care again. He showed up.”

Arthur’s expression twisted with guilt. Pascale’s eyes filled with tears. Lorenzo exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I tried for years to matter to you,” Belle whispered. “And when I finally stopped waiting, when I found something good, you acted like it was betrayal. It wasn’t. It was survival.” 

But when Belle cried harder, silent and shaking, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach — a reflex now, a habit more than a choice — Max’s restraint cracked.

“Enough,” he said, voice sharp and fierce and final.

The entire room froze.

“This isn’t good for the baby.”

Everything. Stopped.

The silence that followed was different. Not tense — stunned. Heavy. Real.

Charles froze.

Pascale’s hand flew to her mouth.

Arthur blinked, mouth slightly open.

Lorenzo — unreadable, contained Lorenzo — lost every ounce of composure.

Belle sat, still breathing too fast, still cradling her abdomen like she didn’t even realize her hand was there.

“She’s crying in a therapist’s office because her own family forgot her,” Max said, his voice flat, controlled. “And she still came here hoping you’d be different. And you’re yelling at her like it’s her fault she stopped begging you to see her.”

“You—” Charles started.

Max’s eyes burned. “She’s pregnant. And this stress? This shouting? This guilt-tripping? It’s not just hurting her anymore. It’s hurting both of them.”

Real, stunned silence.

Belle covered her face with both hands, chest heaving.

Max moved instantly, kneeling beside her. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. “You gave them a chance. That’s more than they deserved.”

Camille cleared her throat gently, measured but soft. “Belle… thank you for being honest. Max, thank you for saying what needed to be said.”

Belle shook her head, still too overwhelmed to speak. Her body ached with tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

Max didn’t let go of her.

He stood and turned to face them — not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

“She’s pregnant,” he repeated. “And she came here because she still believed you deserved the chance to be part of that. But if what you bring is more of this — more silence, more anger, more entitlement — then maybe she needs to stop giving chances to people who don’t know what to do with them.”

He sat beside Belle again, taking her hand in both of his.

She didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her hand stayed curled over her belly, protective. Heartbroken.

Then, after a long, still moment—

“I didn’t know,” Charles said. Quiet. Shaken. “Isabelle, I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” she whispered.“That’s the problem.”

More silence.

Then Pascale wiped at her eyes, voice shaking. “I want to be part of this. Not just the baby. You. I want to do better.”

Arthur nodded. “I will. I already started. But I’ll do more. Whatever you need.”

Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. “You shouldn’t have had to say any of that alone.”

Camille waited. Then softly, “This is where it begins. Not with fixing. But with listening. With staying.”

Belle finally looked up.

Still hurt. Still guarded.

But in her eyes — something softened.

She didn’t say I forgive you.

She said something truer.

“You have a long way to go,” Belle said, voice rough.“But you’re here. That’s a start.”

***

By the time they got home, Belle hadn’t said a word.

Max didn’t push. He unlocked the door, opened it for her, let her walk through the apartment at her own pace. She moved like someone underwater — slow, dazed, like her body had been hollowed out.

She didn’t even take off her shoes.

She just stood in the middle of their living room, arms limp at her sides, until Max gently touched her elbow.

“Sit,” he said softly. “I’ll get you water.”

But she didn’t sit.

She crumpled.

It wasn’t a fall — not all at once — but something slower, sadder. She sank down onto the rug like her bones had given out, hands covering her face, breath catching in her throat.

Then the sobs came.

Max was beside her in an instant, sinking to his knees, gathering her into his arms without a second’s hesitation.

She curled into him like she’d been waiting all day for it. Like she’d finally let herself feel everything she hadn’t let show in front of them.

And Max—Max held her like he never intended to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling her head as she buried her face into his chest. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head against him, but he kept going.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Max said, voice rough. “Not like that. I should’ve asked. I should’ve let you decide.”

Belle didn’t answer — not in words — but she held him tighter, and that was enough.

She cried for a long time.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just steady.

Heartbroken.

Max held her through all of it. Through the shaking, the ragged breathing, the muffled apologies she tried to whisper into his shoulder. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t argue. He just rubbed circles into her back and reminded her, again and again, in the softest voice he had:

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

At some point, he coaxed her into bed. She resisted, groggy and stubborn through the haze of exhaustion, but eventually let him pull back the covers and tuck her in. She wore his hoodie — one of the big, soft ones — and it swallowed her. Her hand still rested over her stomach as she lay on her side, eyes red and barely open.

Max kissed her temple, her forehead, her hand. He didn’t leave her side until her breathing evened out and she finally slipped into sleep.

Then — and only then — did he let himself move.

Quietly, he crossed the room to where his phone sat on the kitchen counter.

He didn’t text. Didn’t scroll.

He found the number for Belle’s doctor and sent a message requesting an appointment.

Tomorrow. Urgent if possible.

She hadn’t eaten all day.

She hadn’t slept properly in nearly a week.

And her crying tonight… it had shaken something in him.

She always carried things so quietly. Until she couldn’t anymore.

Max stood at the kitchen counter, staring down at his phone, still in his jeans and hoodie from earlier, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He couldn’t make her family change.

But he could protect this.

Her.

Their baby.

He would make sure she was seen, cared for, and safe — even if it meant dragging the world into a quiet, burning rage to make it happen.

The phone buzzed with a confirmation.

Appointment: Tomorrow. 9:30 AM.

Max looked back toward the bedroom.

Belle was asleep, one arm curled under her pillow, still holding her stomach like a shield.

And Max made himself a promise.

They would never make her cry like that again.

Not while he was breathing.

***

The four of them sat in stunned silence.

The therapy room door had closed behind Belle and Max ten minutes ago, but no one had moved since. Camille had offered them space to process, and they’d taken it — not because they needed it, but because they didn’t know what else to do.

Charles sat with his hands clenched in his lap, staring at the floor like it had betrayed him. Pascale held a tissue tightly in one hand, face pale, mascara faintly smudged beneath her eyes. Lorenzo’s arms were crossed — his usual stoicism barely holding under the tension in his jaw.

And Arthur — the youngest— was pacing.

Charles finally broke the silence. “She’s pregnant.”

“Yes,” Arthur said flatly, not looking at him.

Charles blinked, still stunned. “She’s actually—she didn’t even tell us.”

“She didn’t owe us that,” Arthur snapped, turning to face them. “Not after everything.”

Pascale looked up. “Arthur—”

“No,” he said, sharper than they’d ever heard him. “No. I’m not doing this. We’re not going to sit here and act like we’re the wounded ones.”

“She should’ve told us,” Charles muttered. “We’re her family—”

Arthur rounded on him. “Then maybe we should’ve acted like it.”

That landed.

Charles looked up, startled.

Arthur laughed — a short, bitter sound. “You really don’t get it, do you? Belle spent years trying to be seen. Trying to be heard. Every time she did something good, we clapped for a second and then went back to talking about karting or my race result or whatever Charles was doing that week.”

“That’s not fair,” Charles said stiffly.

“No?” Arthur said, eyes narrowing. “Name where she was when she graduated top of her class. You remember what we sent her?”

Charles didn’t answer.

“Exactly,” Arthur snapped. “Nothing. We forgot. We forgot her birthday, Charles. And even then, she didn’t scream at us. She just stopped trying.”

“I didn’t mean to forget—”

“You didn’t mean to notice her, either,” Arthur said, quieter now. “But Max did.”

That silenced the room.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. “You know what gets me the most? She still gave us a chance. She walked in there, pregnant, vulnerable, and hoping maybe we’d finally show up. And what did we do?”

He looked at Charles.

“You shouted at her husband.”

He looked at Lorenzo.

“You stayed quiet until she was crying.”

Then he looked at Pascale.

“And you only spoke when Max said the word baby.”

Pascale’s lip trembled. “I didn’t know.”

“She didn’t trust us with it,” Arthur said, softer now. “And that’s the part that should scare you. Not Max. Not the secret wedding. Not the baby. The fact that she didn’t feel safe enough to tell us.”

Lorenzo exhaled slowly, some of the anger draining from his posture.

Charles looked like he’d been hollowed out.

“She was holding her stomach,” Pascale whispered. “Even when she cried, she��she protected the baby. From us.”

Arthur nodded. “Exactly.”

Silence again.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Arthur looked at them all — older brother, older brother, mother — and stood taller than he ever had.

“No one is making her cry like that again,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”

Charles swallowed hard. “So what do we do?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “You start by earning a place back in her life. Slowly. Without demands. Without entitlement. You show her you’ve changed. And if you haven’t? You step aside.”

No one argued.

No one could.

Because they’d all seen what Arthur had — a sister at the end of her rope, still trying to offer them grace.

And they’d nearly broken her again.

But maybe not completely.

Maybe, if they were lucky, there was still time to do better.

To be better.

To finally be family in the way Belle had deserved all along.

***

Belle woke to sunlight and silence.

Her eyes burned. Her head ached. Her throat felt tight from the hours she’d spent crying into Max’s chest the night before. For a long time, she just lay there — curled on her side, one hand resting against the soft curve of her stomach, the weight of the last twenty-four hours pressing against her skin like bruises she hadn’t earned.

Max wasn’t in bed.

That was the first thing she noticed.

But when she pushed back the covers and sat up, she could hear him. Low voices. The sound of him in the kitchen. Coffee brewing. Something being cut on a chopping board.

When she padded out into the hallway, Max looked up instantly.

“You’re awake,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked at him. He was already dressed — hoodie, jeans, hair still damp from a quick shower. He looked like he hadn’t slept, though she had no idea when he’d crawled into bed beside her. All she remembered was him holding her until her tears stopped.

“Tired,” she said honestly. “Drained. Like I fought a war in a hotel lobby.”

Max’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not really. He poured her a glass of water and walked it over.

“You need to get dressed,” he said softly. “We’ve got an appointment at 9:30.”

Belle blinked. “Appointment?”

“With your OB.”

She stared at him. “You made a doctor’s appointment?”

Max looked… sheepish. In that way only Max Verstappen ever could — a little bit guilty, but completely unapologetic. “You were crying for over an hour. You didn’t eat. You didn’t sleep until after midnight. You kept holding your stomach like it hurt and I just—” He broke off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to be sure everything is okay. With you. With the baby.”

Something inside her cracked — not with annoyance, not even embarrassment, but with a kind of vulnerable affection that made her chest ache.

“I’m fine,” she said, quietly.

Max didn’t argue.

But he looked at her like fine would never be good enough again.

They left ten minutes later.

She wore leggings and one of Max’s hoodies, too tired to care. Her hair was in a bun, her face bare. Max had packed snacks and a water bottle in her bag like he was preparing for a cross-country drive. He opened the car door for her without a word. Held her hand at every red light.

The clinic was quiet when they arrived — not many patients that early. A nurse smiled at them, already familiar with Belle, and waved them through. Max never let go of her hand.

The doctor — kind, warm, sharp-eyed — asked gentle questions. Belle answered them all in a quiet voice.

“Any unusual cramping? Headaches? Nausea? Emotional stress?”

Belle glanced at Max, then gave a small, exhausted laugh. “Define unusual.”

The doctor smiled, then softened. “What you went through yesterday? It matters. Stress does affect the body, but you’re here now. We’ll check everything.”

And they did.

A blood pressure cuff. A blood draw. The gentle press of a fetal doppler wand against her stomach.

Then— The soft, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat.

Max’s fingers tightened around hers. He didn’t say anything. But when Belle looked at him — really looked — she saw it in his face: that fierce, wordless love that had carried her out of that therapy room and straight into this one.

The doctor smiled. “Heartbeat sounds perfect. Baby’s strong. And you’re doing better than you think.”

Belle let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Max pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he whispered. “I couldn’t watch you cry like that and not do something.”

Belle closed her eyes.

Then, without even thinking about it, she rested her head against his shoulder and whispered:

“Thank you.”

Because it was more than an appointment.

It was a promise.

***

Text Messages:   Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: how’d it go yesterday?

i waited until morning because i didn’t want to be that friend but also i’ve been lying awake since 6 trying to imagine how many things charles said wrong in under an hour

Belle: you waited like a saint you get a medal

Emilie: oh good you’re alive that’s step one

Emilie: how bad was it scale of 1 to “i considered throwing my shoe at someone”?

Belle: i cried max snapped everyone went quiet and then Max accidentally revealed i’m pregnant because he couldn’t watch me sob anymore

so ...somewhere between “shoe-throwing” and “emotional napalm”

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: MAX DROPPED THE BABY BOMB IN THERAPY??? WITH CHARLES THERE??

Belle: yep :)

Emilie: oh my GOD how is max still alive how are YOU

Belle: tired kind of hollow but also maybe... a tiny bit relieved?

it was a mess but they listened eventually i think

Emilie: do i need to bring cake or a shovel or both

Belle: both but i’m okay now doctor said everything’s good with the baby max scheduled the appointment himself

Emilie: of course he did husband of the year defender of the bump destroyer of sibling egos

Belle: he really did go full “don’t make her cry it’s bad for the baby” in front of everyone it was... a moment

Emilie: i would’ve PAID to see that wait no someone in that therapy room owes you money for that performance

Belle: arthur tried maman cried lorenzo looked like someone slapped him charles sat down and didn’t speak again

Emilie: is it terrible that i find this deeply satisfying

Belle: no it’s why i love you

Emilie: seriously though i’m proud of you i know how much this cost you and you still showed up

Belle: i’m trying for the baby for me

Emilie: and when you’re ready for step two i’ll be there with tea and probably more sarcasm than is healthy

Belle: perfect i love you

Emilie: i love you too, belle you’ve got this

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

 Luke Crane: Max. My guy. My married guy.

Gianni Vechio: Is it Verstappen or Mr. Leclerc now? Just checking.

Max (deadpan): I’m already regretting logging on.

Luke Bennett: You regret logging on? Imagine our shock when the paddock exploded because someone casually dropped a kiss in Parc Fermé like it was no big deal.

Max:  (muted chuckle) It was a race. I won. Belle was there. That’s all.

Chris Lulham:: “That’s all.” HE SAYS. Like he didn’t casually change the internet’s collective brain chemistry.

Luke Crane: Bro, you were standing there looking like you'd just won the title and found true love.

Gianni: THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HER.

Chris: THE HAND ON HER WAIST.

Gianni: THE KISS, MAX.

Max:  (muttering) You guys are insufferable.

Luke Bennett: I’m sorry — did we not deserve to know that your secret wife is Isabelle Leclerc?!?

Max: She wasn’t secret.

All at once: YES SHE WAS.

 Luke: Where is she anyway? We’ve earned this. Bring her on stream.

Max: She’s not going to—

Gianni: MAX. YOU OWE US.

Chris: SHOW US YOUR WIFE. SHOW US THE MYSTICAL INTERIOR ARCHITECT GODDESS WHO FIXED YOUR PENTHOUSE.

Max: You people are insane.

Luke (chanting): BELLE. BELLE. BELLE. BELLE.

Chat:

BELLE! BELLE! BELLE!

WHERE IS SHE MAX

DROP THE WIFE

MRS VERSTAPPEN SUPREMACY

WE SAW THE RING SIR

MAX BLINK TWICE IF YOU MARRIED UP (we know you did)

 Max:  (sighing, amused) Belle?

[muffled in the background] Belle: Yes?

Max: They want to say hi.

Belle:  (closer) They want to do what?

Max: Just come here for a second, Schatje. They’re not going to shut up otherwise.

 [Belle leans into frame wearing one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies, hair up, tea mug in hand.]

Belle: Hi.

Chat: OMG IT’S HERMRS MAX IS REALSHE’S SO PRETTY WHAT THE HELLTHE HOODIE IS KILLING MEMAX MARRIED A QUEENINTERIOR DESIGN SLAYI CANNOT BREATHEMAX YOU ARE OUTKICKING YOUR COVERAGECHARLES CURRENTLY DEAD BECAUSE HIS SISTER IS WEARING RED BULL MERCH

Luke Crane: Okay. So first of all, Belle. Thank you for putting up with this idiot.

Belle: (drily.) He’s nothing to put up with. He’s something to treasure. 

Gianni: We just wanted to say congratulations. And also... how did you keep it secret for this long?

Belle:  (shrugging): People only see what they want to see. We never hid it. We just didn’t make it obvious. 

Chris: Oh my god she’s articulate. You really married up.

Max:  (soft, proud) Yeah. I did.

Belle:  (grinning, pressing a kiss to Max’s cheek, making him blush) Anyway. That’s enough fame for one evening. Bye boys.

[Belle exits frame. Max looks extremely smug.]

Max: You happy now?

Luke Crane: Beyond.

Chris: I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/GridGossip:  MAX VERSTAPPEN’S WIFE JUST SHOWED UP ON TEAM REDLINE STREAM IN HIS HOODIE WITH A MUG OF TEA AND SAID “HE’S NOTHING TO PUT UP WITH: HE’S SOMETHING TO TREASURE.” I AM NOT OKAY.

@/TifosiTears:  CHARLES LECLERC IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE AND HIS SISTER IS OUT HERE IN RED BULL MERCH KISSING MAX ON STREAM. I’M SCREAMING.

@/F1TeaSpiller So to recap: → Belle Leclerc kissed Max in Parc Fermé → Changed her name on IG → Is apparently married?? → Wore his hoodie on stream → And the grid is collectively feral. 10/10. No notes.

@/SoftLaunchSociety The Red Bull hoodie. The tea mug. The unbothered queen energy. Belle Verstappen didn’t soft launch — she hard dropped and said “you’ll catch up.”

@/RedBullUpdates: BELLE VERSTAPPEN WALKED INTO FRAME LOOKING COZY, SMUG, AND MARRIED. WE HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE.

@/FerrariPain:  charles leclerc when he realizes his sister wore red bull merch in 4k: 🧍‍♂️😐💔

@/WifeGuyMax: max verstappen grinning like a man who knows he married out of his league and then blushed when she kissed his cheek this is romcom content i never expected from sim racing

@/F1MemeLord: Team Redline: Show us your wife Max: She’s not gonna— Belle Verstappen, already wearing his hoodie and holding tea like a queen: Hi Me: this is better than Netflix

@/MonacoRoyalty: i want belle’s PR team forgotten by her family? married in monaco? red bull hoodie and soft lighting? KNEW exactly when to show up. this girl is PLAYING CHESS.

@/MaxEmotionsFan Max: (quietly, proudly) “Yeah. I did.” Me, in tears: and you DID, Max. he married his girl.

@/F1ChaosClub: charles leclerc forgot his sister’s birthday and now she’s on twitch in a red bull hoodie being called “queen” by 600,000 viewers. you literally could not write this better.

@/GridPsychics: prediction: Charles is currently pacing his Monaco apartment wondering if it's too late to be a supportive brother spoiler: it might be

@/F1FanFictionCentral plot twist: Max Verstappen wasn’t the emotionally unavailable villain. He was the surprise wife guy all along.

@/TifosiMeltdown:  Everyone’s like “awww Max and Belle are so cute 🥺” Meanwhile Charles Leclerc is living in the eighth circle of PR hell because his baby sister is in Red Bull merch on Twitch with his literal racing rival

@/SoftLaunchScholar: The Max & Belle reveal timeline is a case study:

Ignored birthday

Secret wedding

Parc Fermé kiss

Instagram name change

Twitch hoodie wife drop This is art.

@/F1Lorekeeper: The fact that Charles forgot Belle’s birthday and then found out she married Max Verstappen two weeks later

And now she’s drinking tea in Max’s stream wearing Red Bull gear

I genuinely think we’re watching a live sibling rivalry rewrite Greek tragedy @/MonacoRoyalty: Belle said “we didn’t hide it, you just weren’t looking” and the Leclerc family should NEVER recover from that

@/CharlesIsCrying: no because BELLE VERSTAPPEN appearing on stream in Red Bull merch while the internet still hasn’t healed from the forgotten birthday incident??

Charles is somewhere short-circuiting in real time

***

It was raining softly against the windows when Belle brought it up.

They were curled up on the sofa — Max in joggers and a hoodie, Belle tucked against his side with a blanket draped over her legs, her cheek resting on his chest. The television hummed quietly with some old documentary neither of them were watching. Max’s hand traced slow, absentminded circles against the bump that had started to become undeniable beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“We should probably tell the rest soon,” Belle murmured.

Max didn’t answer right away. His fingers stilled, then resumed their gentle pattern.

“I know,” he said. “I just… don’t want it to turn into a thing.”

Belle lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Like… a press release thing? Photoshoot? Magazines? Perfect lighting and fake candids of us in a meadow somewhere?”

He let out a soft snort. “Can you picture me in a meadow?”

Belle smiled. “Only if you were holding a kitten and a baby goat.”

“Belle.”

“Okay, fine, just the baby goat.”

Max laughed into her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “No photoshoots. No flower crowns.” He made a face. “No soft-focus, perfectly lit, black-and-white Instagram announcement with matching white outfits and hands shaped like a heart.”

She laughed softly, burying her nose in his shirt. “The horror.”

“I mean, unless you want that,” Max added quickly. “If you want that, I’ll do it. I’ll even wear linen.”

Belle looked up at him again, mock-serious. “Max, you’d rather crash into a gravel trap at Monaco than wear linen on purpose.”

“Correct.”

She smiled against his hoodie. “I just… I don’t want it to feel like I’m trying to prove something.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Max said, his voice low. Sure. “You’re pregnant. You’re my wife. That’s it.”

Belle glanced up at him. “You say that like it's simple.”

“It is.” He tilted his head a little, thoughtful. “So how do you want to do it?”

She shrugged. “Something honest. Quiet, but… real.”

Max was quiet for a beat. “You mean, like the wedding.”

Belle smiled. “Exactly like the wedding.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her head. “We can do quiet. That’s our specialty.”

She chuckled, then bit her lip. “I was thinking… what if we just posted a photo? Not even of us. Just a pair of tiny shoes on the coffee table and a caption like, ‘Coming soon.’”

Max grinned. “You want to break the internet again.”

“I want to give it to us first,” she said. “And let everyone else catch up later.”

Max looked at her like she hung the stars. “Deal.”

They sat in silence again, the kind that meant safety.

“I don’t need the whole world to know at once,” Belle murmured, her voice softening. “I just want to share it in a way that feels like us. Not a brand.”

Max pulled her closer, his hand still resting protectively over the bump neither of them could stop reaching for.

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

***

Text Messages:  Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Thinking of announcing the pregnancy before Silverstone.

Emilie: oh?? as in… telling the entire planet??

Belle: Yep. Before I start showing enough that people start whispering.

Emilie: You mean before more people start whispering You okay with going public?

Belle: I think so. We’ve been quiet long enough. Besides… Silverstone’s always a circus. May as well drop the baby news before the clowns arrive.

Emilie: Iconic behavior tbh Do I get a heads up before the post goes up so I can prepare emotionally

Belle: Of course. Also— You should come.

Emilie: To Silverstone??

Belle: Yes.

Emilie: Belle. That’s Lando’s home race.

Belle: And you like Lando.

Emilie: I do not like what this insinuation implies.

Belle: You like him. He adores you. Your flirting during dinner could’ve powered the entire paddock.

Emilie: Okay first of all That’s rude And accurate

Belle: Come anyway. Come as my friend. Not as Lando’s girlfriend.

Emilie: …you are dangerously persuasive.

Belle: Lily’s coming too. It’ll be fun. You, me, Lily, a very grumpy Max pretending not to be nervous about the baby stealing his press conference thunder.

Emilie: You really think the baby will upstage Max?

Belle: If she has my hair and his eyes, absolutely.

Emilie: oh my god if it’s a girl with his grumpy face and your attitude the world is not ready

Belle: Exactly. Which is why you need to be there. Help me judge the chaos.

Emilie: Okay okay Fine But if Lando tries to make things serious while I’m there I am blaming you

Belle: Deal. You’ll be the secret girlfriend, I’ll be the public wife. We’ll keep balance in the universe.

Emilie: Verstappen-Leclerc diplomatic summit in Silverstone Can’t wait.

Belle: You bring the wine. I’ll bring the reveal.

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/maxverstappen1: 🍼❤️ 

@/danielricciardo: I’M GOING TO BE THE FUN UNCLE CALLING IT NOW

@/landonorris: AAAAAHHHHHHHHH 🍼😭❤️

@/alex_albon:The baby already has better fashion sense than me and it’s not even born yet.

@/oscarpiastri: Congratulations!! So happy for you both 🤍

@/charles_leclerc: Congratulations. Truly.

@/georgerussell63: Huge congrats!

@/arthur_leclerc: 🥹❤️ You’re going to be the best mum, Belle. 

@/yukitsunoda0511: baby Verstappen with Leclerc sass?? terrifying. adorable. congratulations!!!

@/sebastianvettel: Welcome to the next adventure. You’ll both be amazing parents. 💛

@/carlossainz55: The paddock is already preparing the next generation of chaos.

@/f1girlie44: BELLE IS GONNA BE A MUM I’M SOBBING

@/leclercsrevengearc: Max winning races, hearts, and fatherhood. Charles losing sleep. Balance.

@/gridgossip: Between the birthday drama, the Red Bull hoodie, the Parc Fermé kiss and now THIS — Belle Verstappen has had a better character arc than half the grid.

@/victoriaverstappen: Best news of the year 🍼 Can’t wait to meet this little one!! 

@/f1: We love a future champion in the making 👶🏽🏁

@/verstappensupremacy:

I KNEW THE RED BULL HOODIE WAS FORESHADOWING

MAX IS GOING TO BE A DAD I’M CRYING

@/f1babygossip:

Baby Verstappen is going to have the softest mama and the most aggressively protective papa and I LOVE THAT FOR THEM

@/charlespls:

someone go check on charles

she posted this BEFORE A RACE WEEKEND

we need an ambulance at Ferrari

[heeluvv]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY.ᐟ

pairingᝰ.ᐟ yang jungwon x 8th member! reader

warningsᝰ.ᐟ sub! jungwon, overstimulation, inexperienced! jungwon but has an idea, experienced! reader, oral (m n f), unprotected sex, etc. (wc 7.444k)

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

jungwon didn’t think that adding a girl to the group would make things difficult. not logistically, not professionally, not even socially. he thought maybe it’d take some adjusting—new dynamics, different energies—but nothing he couldn’t handle. and at first, he was right.

what he didn’t account for was the shift that started inside him.

he didn’t expect the strange, fluttery sensations that settled in his chest whenever you stood too close. didn’t expect the way his skin would tingle beneath your fingertips when you casually reached out to brush lint from his sleeve, or ruffle his hair like it was nothing, or—god—for some reason always let your hand linger just a second too long on his thigh when you sat beside him. it was innocent. it had to be. at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

years passed. the group grew closer, tighter, more like a family than a band. but if anything, the feelings only got worse. harder to ignore. he used to brush them off as fleeting, just part of getting used to someone new. but now? now he couldn’t hide it. not from himself.

his heart would beat faster the moment you walked into the room, thumping against his ribs like it was trying to escape. your laugh sent warmth down his spine, curling low in his belly. and when you touched him—so casually, so sweetly, never once noticing the way he stiffened under your fingers—it was like his body betrayed him completely. every soft graze, every playful shove, every gentle lean against his side during long car rides made him ache with a craving he didn’t know how to satisfy.

he should feel guilty for thinking about you like this.

you were his friend. his member. someone he saw nearly every day—hair a mess after practice, yawning over cereal in the morning, soft and sleepy in oversized hoodies during late-night movie marathons. he knew you. really knew you. so it felt wrong, so wrong, to look at you and want more.

he shouldn't be staring at your lips every time you talked to him, eyes flicking down without meaning to, locked on the way they moved—glossy, soft, always tinted some shade that made his throat go dry. he shouldn't be wondering what it tasted like, if it was sweet, if it would stick to his mouth if he kissed you long enough. he shouldn't be imagining the feeling of your lips brushing against his, slow and tentative, or maybe firm and needy—he couldn't decide which fantasy ruined him more.

he shouldn't crave your touch either. not the casual kind you always gave him so freely. not the way your hand would rest on his thigh during group photos, or the way your fingers would toy with his bangs when he was lying on the couch. you probably didn’t even realize you did it. but he noticed. he felt every brush like a spark under his skin, and he hated how badly he wanted more.

so he decided to do something about it.

he waited until the dorm was quiet—just the hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of the walls settling—and sat at his desk, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. he wasn’t even sure what to search. he hesitated. hovered over the keys, heart racing faster than it should’ve. but then he forced himself to type, vague, simple words. girl rides guy.

he clicked on one of the top results. something basic. nothing too aggressive. just… a start.

the screen lit up with movement—moaning, panting, skin slapping against skin. the woman was on top, knees spread on either side of the man’s hips, bouncing rhythmically. her hands roamed over his chest, his arms, tangling into his hair before dragging down his torso. the man’s hands clung to her ass, squeezing tight, fingers sinking into soft flesh as she rode him faster. her tits bounced with every movement, her expression one of pure pleasure.

jungwon blinked.

he felt the rush, sure. a faint ache stirring low in his stomach, a little throb in his pants that made him squirm in his chair. but it didn’t hit the way he thought it would. it wasn’t you.

his gaze drifted from their faces to their position—bodies tangled, rocking together. he tilted his head, brow furrowed slightly, lips parted in a quiet kind of confusion. it didn’t look natural. it didn’t feel real. something about the way they moved made him question if it was actually supposed to feel good.

he tried. he really tried.

even if it felt awkward, even if it wasn’t quite right, he thought maybe the video would help—maybe seeing it would be enough to guide him. to quiet the ache that had been building for weeks. months, even. anything to dull the heat pooling low in his stomach every time your skin brushed against his. anything to make his thoughts stop circling around you and your soft voice and your wandering hands and your smile that made his chest feel too tight.

his fingers moved clumsily to the waistband of his sweatpants, hesitating for just a second before pushing them down to his thighs. the cotton of his boxers followed next, peeled down slowly, the cool air hitting his half-hardened cock and making him suck in a shaky breath. it twitched a little against his abdomen, needy and unsure, like the rest of him. he wasn’t fully hard yet—just enough to feel the tension, the need for something more.

he clicked through a few more videos, heart racing, mouth dry. eventually, he settled on one. the woman on screen was confident, sensual, her hands wrapping around the man’s cock with practiced ease. she stroked him slowly at first, fingers curling tightly, her thumb pressing against the head, teasing his slit with wet circles. the man moaned. loudly. desperately.

jungwon swallowed hard and tried to mimic her.

his fingers wrapped around himself, cautious, testing. he gave a few slow pumps, thumb brushing over the tip like she had done. a groan slipped from his lips, soft and shaky—but the pleasure didn’t come. not really. it felt dull. disconnected. nothing like what the man in the video was experiencing. nothing like what he imagined you would feel like.

he paused, furrowing his brows. replayed the motion. watched her hand again, studied the grip, the speed, the way her wrist moved. he tried again.

still nothing.

frustration bloomed low in his chest. he shifted in the chair, readjusted his grip, sped up a little—but the tension only tightened in the worst way. like his body was bracing for something that wouldn’t come. like the spark had never caught. his jaw clenched as he scrolled to the comments out of desperation, hoping for something useful, anything that could explain why it wasn’t working. half the terminology made no sense, and the rest was filled with half-baked advice that only made him feel more lost.

he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard through his nose. what the hell was wrong with him? was he broken? was he doing it wrong? why couldn’t he just—

the soft creak of his bedroom door stopped everything.

his whole body jolted, eyes snapping to the doorway as his hand scrambled to cover himself. panic shot through his veins, hot and sharp. and then he saw you.

standing there. eyes wide. lips parted. staring straight at him.

"fuck—i'm sorry, y/n—it's not wh—i didn't mean—" the words tumbled out of him in a breathless rush as he fumbled to tug his boxers back up, one hand diving for the laptop to slam it shut. the screen went dark. his cock, still half-hard and sticky at the tip, disappeared beneath fabric that did nothing to hide the fact that he’d been caught. fully.

you didn’t say anything.

not right away.

you just stared for a moment longer—so quiet, so unreadable—and then, to his utter horror, you let out a soft, amused little giggle.

"you should maybe wear headphones next time," you said, voice smooth as you stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. "also, always lock your door. rookie mistake."

you moved to sit at the edge of his bed like it was nothing. like you hadn't just walked in on him trying to jerk off to porn he didn’t even understand.

jungwon coughed, voice caught in his throat, still too flustered to think straight.

“i-it’s okay…” he muttered, eyes darting anywhere but at you. “it won’t be happening again…”

but you just smiled.

like you knew something he didn’t.

your gaze roamed slowly, deliberately, up and down his body.

he looked like a mess. his chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths, puffed out in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. the low light of the room cast shadows over his skin, highlighting the soft sheen of sweat forming at his temples. his sweatpants were rumpled, the waistband haphazardly tugged back into place, doing little to hide the obvious outline of his half-hardened cock pressing against the thin fabric. his thighs shifted, restless, as if trying to hide the very thing giving him away.

but it wasn’t just his body—it was the way he looked at you.

like he was trying not to. like it took everything in him not to stare at your mouth, your hands, your eyes. the need in his expression was barely masked, lingering there behind his lashes every time he blinked. and you’d seen it before. you weren’t stupid.

you'd caught on months ago.

the way his breath would hitch when you got too close. the way he’d squeeze his thighs together subtly—so subtly it might’ve fooled anyone else—every time your hand casually settled on them during car rides or movie nights. how his face would flush when your fingers brushed his neck, or the shaky little gasps he'd let out when you leaned in too far, your lips near his ear. it was all so obvious. he just never thought you noticed.

he tried so hard to be composed, to be innocent, but his body gave him away every single time.

and tonight? tonight only confirmed it.

you’d walked past his room with no real intention of stopping—but the sound that spilled from the slightly ajar door made you freeze. a woman’s voice, high and breathy, fake and repetitive. porn. loud and clear. the moans were drawn out, forced, looping over themselves like a broken record. it was awful. but what really caught your attention was the soft, frustrated groan that followed. his voice.

so you peeked inside. just enough to see him fumbling beneath his desk, flushed and flustered and trying so hard to make something happen that clearly wasn’t working.

now, moments later, you sat at the edge of his bed, eyes locked on him as he tried to pull himself together in front of you. he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his lips were parted, breath unsteady, hands fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie like he didn’t know what to do with them.

you let the silence stretch for a second longer, before tilting your head and offering a soft, amused smile.

“you could’ve just asked, wonnie,” you said gently, your voice dipped in teasing warmth.

his entire body tensed. you didn’t miss the way a visible shiver ran down his spine at the nickname—wonnie—the one you only ever used when you wanted to see him squirm.

his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, wide and unsure. “w-what are you talking about?” he asked, though his voice cracked halfway through the sentence, the words weak and unconvincing.

you didn’t answer right away.

instead, you stood slowly, walking toward him with deliberate steps. he backed up instinctively, and you guided him gently back into the chair behind him. he sat down with a gasp, shoulders tense, legs stiff.

your fingers trailed lightly along the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up to yours. “i could help you with your little problem,” you whispered, leaning in close enough for him to feel your breath against his lips.

his eyes fluttered shut for a second, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. he didn’t move. didn’t answer. just sat there, frozen under your touch, his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats, aching for something—anything—you’d give him.

and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

you leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear—not kissing, not whispering, just letting your breath hit the sensitive skin there, warm and soft. he froze beneath you, every muscle in his body pulled taut like a bowstring, waiting. anticipating. but you didn’t say a word. instead, you let your hands speak for you.

your fingers began at his arms, slow and deliberate as they dragged from the bend of his elbow up to the curve of his biceps. you took your time, feeling the quiet strength beneath your palms—the way his muscles twitched under your touch, already so reactive. he wasn’t overly built, not bulky, but toned in a way that was subtle and honest. real. you squeezed gently, just to see what kind of noise you could pull from him, and sure enough, he gasped—quiet, but shaky, his lips parting as his chest began to rise faster.

your hands continued their path, now sliding over his shoulders, across his chest, under the loose hem of his hoodie. you tugged it upward, slow and teasing, revealing more of his skin inch by inch. he helped you without a word, arms lifting just enough for you to pull it off completely, the fabric falling somewhere behind you. he was shirtless now, vulnerable in a way that made his breath stutter again, his eyes locked on yours like he didn’t know what to expect next—but needed all of it.

you took a step forward, guiding his legs apart with the gentlest pressure of your knees against his. he opened up for you instinctively, thighs parting just enough for you to slip between them. his cock strained visibly against the fabric of his sweats, twitching helplessly with every shift of his hips, the fabric doing little to hide the swollen shape of him now. his arousal was pulsing through him like a current, alive in his veins, making his skin flush and tingle.

you pressed your hands to his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. he was so warm—too warm. and when your fingers flicked gently over his nipples, the reaction was immediate. his hips jerked up slightly from the chair, a startled little moan catching in his throat as his back arched just barely into your touch.

he’d never felt that before. not like this. not so raw, so exposed, so real.

his cock throbbed, painfully hard now, pressed up against the inside of his sweatpants in a way that made him bite his lip and squirm. the ache was unfamiliar. overwhelming. and somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

his hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white as he tried to hold himself still. to be good. to let you do whatever you wanted with him. and then—your lips.

your mouth met his skin without warning, and the moan that fell from his lips was soft and unguarded, full of shock and something like desperation. your kisses were light at first, just the ghost of your mouth trailing down his chest. his skin was hot beneath your lips, his breathing stuttering with every press.

you took your time, letting your lips move lower, kissing across his sternum, over the curve of his ribs. his stomach tightened beneath the attention, his body trembling as you slowly made your way back up—this time heading for his neck.

and that’s when your kisses changed.

open-mouthed. wetter. slower. your tongue flicked out, just slightly, tracing the edge of his pulse point before your lips closed over it. you sucked gently, and the sound he made was broken—something between a gasp and a whimper, his thighs tensing on either side of you.

“hmm—y/n…” he breathed out, the name barely forming as it slipped from his mouth. his eyes were squeezed shut, brows drawn together, and you could see the tremble in his chest, the way his whole body was fighting to hold itself together.

he was falling apart for you.

and you hadn’t even taken his pants off yet.

his breathing was ragged now, soft pants falling from his parted lips as you dragged your mouth up the column of his neck, your lips still warm and wet from the trail of kisses you left across his chest. he tilted his head instinctively to the side, giving you more room to work with, exposing the delicate skin along his throat like he wanted to offer himself up completely. his hands were still gripping the armrests of his chair like a lifeline, like if he let go, he’d melt into nothing right there beneath you.

you moved slowly, deliberately, letting yourself sink into his lap, the tension in his body instantly spiking as your thighs settled on either side of his hips. he froze beneath you, like he didn’t know where to look, what to do, how to breathe now that you were pressed so close. his hands hovered uselessly at his sides, like he didn’t trust himself to touch you. his eyes were wide, trained on your face like he was still trying to process the fact that this was real—you were real, and you were here, in his lap, looking at him like you already knew every single thought racing through his head.

you leaned in, arms sliding slowly around his neck as you brought his face closer to yours, your breath warm against his lips as you spoke.

“kiss me, wonnie…”

your voice was soft, coaxing, and the second it touched his ears, something in him gave out. his hands gripped the edge of the chair, and he surged forward—clumsy, eager, desperate—his lips pressing against yours with more need than experience. he didn’t know how to move, not really, but he kissed you like he meant it. like he’d dreamed about this a hundred times and never thought it’d actually happen.

he gasped when your hands threaded into his hair, your fingers curling gently as you tilted his head, guiding the kiss deeper. your mouth moved against his slowly at first, letting him feel it—your lips warm, soft, molding to his in a way that made him tremble. you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he was trying to hold back, to stay composed, even as his body betrayed him completely.

your tongue flicked across his bottom lip, teasing, tasting. he moaned quietly, lips parting just enough to let you in, and you didn’t waste the chance—you licked into his mouth, slow and confident, letting him feel every inch of it. your tongue brushed against his and he whimpered, the sound caught between surprise and pleasure, his thighs twitching beneath you as his hips shifted upward in a subtle, instinctive movement.

his cock strained against the fabric of his sweatpants, already hard and aching—so much more than he expected. he didn’t even know it could feel like this, didn’t know that a kiss could shoot heat straight to his core, that your mouth on his could make his stomach clench and his skin burn and his thoughts disappear all at once.

he let out another shaky moan, this one higher, softer, and you could feel his body tremble under yours. his hands finally lifted, unsure, then settled on your hips like he needed something to hold onto. he gripped you like you were his anchor, like he might float away if he didn’t keep his fingers pressed into your skin.

you shifted in his lap slightly—just a small grind of your hips, nothing intentional—but the pressure was too much for him. too new. too much heat. too much you.

he tore his mouth from yours with a gasp, his head falling back against the chair as a sharp, broken moan spilled out of him.

“ah—fuck, y/n—”

you froze, your breath catching as you pulled back just enough to look down at him.

his entire body was shaking.

his chest heaved with every breath, his brows pulled tight in shock as his cock throbbed beneath you—once, twice—before he came with a strangled sound, hips jerking weakly up into the air. there was no warning. no buildup. just raw, overwhelming pleasure that ripped through him like a wave, soaking straight through the front of his sweats.

his hands clutched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to hold on or push you away. his mouth was open, lips wet and red from kissing you, his cheeks flushed so dark it nearly reached his ears. he blinked up at you like he didn’t know what had just happened—like he’d just drowned and come back gasping for air.

you stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way his chest rose and fell, the way his eyes blinked slowly, still trying to recover. your gaze flicked down—his sweats were soaked at the front, the outline of his cock still twitching beneath the mess he’d made. all from kissing you.

you pulled back slowly, breath still warm against his flushed skin, before climbing off his lap with a smooth, fluid movement. jungwon let out a soft sound at the loss of contact—half whine, half exhale—as his trembling body sank deeper into the chair, still trying to recover from the kiss that shattered him.

but you weren’t finished with him. not even close.

your hands moved to the waistband of his sweatpants, and this time, he didn’t try to stop you. he watched, wide-eyed and dazed, as you tugged them down with practiced ease. his boxers followed in the same motion, peeled away in one fluid drag that left him completely bare in front of you for the first time.

his cock—still hard, coated in a messy mix of slick precum and the lingering aftermath of his first orgasm—twitched against the cool air, the head flushed a deep, aching red. he gasped softly, hips flinching at the sudden temperature shift, his thighs instinctively pressing together before relaxing again as you settled on your knees in front of him.

you should’ve taken your time. you could’ve teased him more—watched him squirm, dragged it out.

but the moment you got your first full look at him like this, flushed and breathless and so fucking beautiful, you knew you couldn’t wait.

you wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, the warmth of your hand pulling a ragged moan from his throat. your touch was firmer this time, surer, and he reacted instantly—hips jerking slightly, lips parting in another gasp. you didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath before you leaned in, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth in one slow, purposeful movement.

he cried out.

the sound was loud, broken, echoing in the room like he didn’t even realize it was coming from him. his fingers flew to the edge of the chair again, gripping the armrests so tight his knuckles turned white.

his cock pulsed against your tongue, and fuck, he tasted so good—salty, a little sweet, the mix of his arousal and cum coating your mouth as you let him slide deeper between your lips. you moaned softly around him, letting the vibration hum through his length, and his entire body shuddered from the feeling.

your hand stayed at the base, keeping him steady, while your other hand moved lower—gently cupping his balls, rolling them in your palm as your mouth worked his cock with wet, eager strokes. the mess didn’t bother you. your saliva was already sliding down his shaft, mixing with the cum still clinging to his skin, dripping down onto your fingers and smearing across your lips.

you didn’t care.

you only cared about him—about the way his breath hitched with every glide of your tongue, about the way he whispered your name like a prayer, about the way his thighs trembled as he tried to hold back and couldn’t.

his voice was a mess—gasps and whimpers and soft little please, please sounds that made your core tighten. he was falling apart so quickly, too quickly, but you didn’t slow down. you wanted to ruin him. you wanted to hear what he sounded like when he broke for you.

his face twisted in the most beautiful way, brows furrowed, jaw slack, lips parted around cries he couldn’t hold in. his fingers twitched like he didn’t know where to put them, like he needed to grab something—you, your hair, your shoulders—but was too overwhelmed to move.

he looked so fucked out already, even though this was only the beginning.

“oh—god—y/n, i—I can’t—i think i’m gonna—” he gasped, voice cracking.

and you pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at him through your lashes, your lips still wrapped around the head of his cock as you gave him one more slow, teasing suck before letting him fall from your mouth with a pop.

“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby?” you whispered, your voice wrecked and low, breath brushing his sensitive skin. “already?”

his head dropped back with a shudder, and you didn’t wait—you took him back into your mouth, deeper this time, sucking harder, faster, as your hands worked his length and touched his balls in tandem.

he felt like he was in heaven.

no—beyond that.

like his body wasn’t his anymore. like he was floating, burning, unraveling all at once. every nerve lit up, every breath stolen from his lungs, his thoughts reduced to nothing but you—you and your mouth and your hands and your eyes, locked on his face like you never wanted to look away.

his vision blurred, a thin sheen of tears clinging to his lashes from how overwhelmed he felt, how good you made him feel. it was too much, and not enough. his entire body was trembling, overstimulated from his first orgasm, but still so desperate for more. because this? you? this was unlike anything he had ever known.

the videos had never helped. cold, flat, impersonal. watching strangers move with mechanical rhythm, forced moans and dead eyes. he never understood the hype. never understood the pleasure. his own hand barely brought him relief—awkward, uncertain touches that left him aching rather than satisfied.

but this?

having you take him into your mouth with that hunger, that confidence… it wrecked him. completely.

you were a mess—hair tousled, lips swollen, chin glistening with his release. the taste of him was still heavy on your tongue, the heat of his cum still coating your mouth from the first time. and even with your face marked by it, even with saliva and arousal smeared across your cheeks, your eyes never left his. not once. you looked at him like he was precious. like he was yours.

and it broke something in him.

his hips jerked suddenly, uncontrollably, as the pressure built too fast, too intense. you didn’t stop—you couldn’t. your hands tightened around him, mouth sucking hard around the flushed head of his cock, and that was all it took.

“y/n!” he cried out, louder this time, voice cracking on the syllable as his body convulsed under your touch.

his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave.

this one was so much more intense—stronger, messier, desperate. his entire body bucked into your mouth, his thighs shaking violently beneath your hands as thick, hot ropes of cum filled your mouth in fast, heavy pulses. you tried to swallow—god, you tried—but there was so much, and he wouldn’t stop cumming, and you couldn’t breathe fast enough.

it spilled out, leaking from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your hand, warm and sticky and so incredibly filthy. he was still gasping, body twitching with aftershocks as tears slipped down the corners of his eyes—his expression one of pure disbelief, lips parted, brows drawn together in an overwhelmed mix of pleasure and shame and awe.

you pulled off him slowly, letting his softening cock fall from your lips with a soft, wet sound. his cum coated your mouth and your skin, warm and slick as you wiped it from your chin with the back of your hand, licking your lips without a second thought.

you looked up at him.

and he looked wrecked.

his chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth still trembling from the sounds he couldn’t quite stop making. his arms had gone limp at his sides. and the second your eyes met his again, he whimpered—small and broken and so, so in love with the way you ruined him.

you wanted more.

god, you needed more.

seeing him like this—so soft, so fragile, completely wrecked and trembling in the aftermath of his second orgasm—only made your hunger spike. his skin was flushed, sweat-damp and glowing under the low light, and his cheeks were streaked with tears he hadn’t even realized he’d shed. his chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow breaths, lips parted, eyes wide and glassy as he looked up at you like you were some kind of dream.

and you were going to ruin him.

“you look pretty when you cry, wonnie,” you murmured, voice warm and unshaken as your fingers trailed up his jaw to brush away the wetness on his cheek. he shuddered under your touch, blinking up at you with a sound caught in his throat—like he didn’t know how to respond. like no one had ever said anything like that to him before.

you stood, hands reaching for the hem of your shirt, and peeled it off slowly. his breath hitched the moment the fabric cleared your chest, exposing the soft swell of your breasts, full and flushed and so fucking real. his eyes dropped immediately, devouring every inch of skin now on display. his lashes fluttered, lips trembling again as his gaze trailed lower—past the slope of your stomach, to the curve of your hips, and finally, between your thighs.

when he saw your bare pussy, slick with need, glistening in the soft light—he whimpered.

actually whimpered.

a broken, high-pitched sound that spilled from his lips before he could stop it, like his brain short-circuited just from the sight of you.

you smirked softly, stepping closer, watching the way his eyes never left your body. you climbed back into his lap, slowly this time, knees bracketing his hips, your hand wrapping gently around the base of his still-hard cock. he gasped at the contact—so sensitive, so spent, and yet still so desperate for you. your other hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his lower lip as you guided him to look at you.

“you want me to take you, baby?” you asked, voice soft, low. “want to feel me for real?”

he nodded frantically, chest rising faster now, lips parting in a breathless plea. “please… i wanna feel you… need to feel all of you…”

you lined him up, dragging his tip through your folds slowly—once, twice—coating him in your arousal before you sank down onto him in one long, slow motion.

his head dropped back.

his mouth fell open.

a sob of a moan escaped him.

“f-fuck… y/n—oh my god—”

he was crying again. tears spilling fresh from his lashes as you took him in fully, the tight, wet heat of your pussy wrapping around him for the first time. he trembled under you, both hands flying to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough. his fingers dug into your skin, not harshly, but with a kind of quiet desperation—needing to feel you, all of you, chest to chest, skin to skin.

you moaned softly as you settled into his lap, your walls pulsing around him from the stretch, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. his cock filled you perfectly, thick and flushed and twitching deep inside of you as his hips jerked slightly, instinctively.

he looked up at you through wet lashes, eyes wide with awe, with disbelief, with a trembling kind of gratitude that made your heart ache. his lip trembled as he whispered your name, like it was the only word he could remember.

you leaned in, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting your chest press against his as you cradled his face gently between your hands. his arms came around you instantly, pulling you in tighter, like he wanted to feel every inch of your bare body against his own. like he wanted to memorize how it felt to be this close.

you didn’t move at first.

you just let him sit there—your pussy wrapped around his cock, his arms locked around your waist, both of you pressed chest to chest. you could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips, could feel the way his cock twitched deep inside you, overstimulated and desperate but craving more. his breath came in soft, stuttering pants, lips parted, eyes fluttering like he was trying to keep them open but couldn’t stay focused on anything except the way your warmth squeezed around him.

you leaned in, your nose brushing his, your lips ghosting over his mouth.

“look at me, wonnie,” you whispered, your voice sweet and gentle as you cupped his face. “don’t look away.”

his eyes opened, glazed with tears and pleasure, and locked onto yours. you kissed him softly—slow, with purpose—pressing your mouth to his like you had all the time in the world. he gasped into the kiss, and you swallowed the sound, deepening it with a roll of your hips that made both of you moan.

it wasn’t fast. it wasn’t rough.

you rocked into him slowly, deliberately, letting him feel every single inch of you as you moved your hips in smooth, grinding circles. he felt everything—the way your walls hugged him tight, the slick drag of your heat around his cock, the soft press of your tits against his chest, your lips moving against his like you wanted to breathe him in.

his mouth was messy on yours now—wet, open, sloppy kisses that had no rhythm, only hunger. your tongues tangled, your teeth scraped, your breath mingled in shaky exhales as you kept grinding down on him in that perfect, slow rhythm that made him sob into your mouth.

you pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, your eyes still locked on his.

“you feel so good inside me, baby,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through the sweat at the back of his neck. “so full. so deep. you’re perfect.”

he let out a broken moan at that, his head falling forward onto your shoulder. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer, like he needed to be as close to you as humanly possible.

“you’re doing so well for me, wonnie,” you whispered into his ear, your lips brushing against his skin. “taking me so well. look at you… crying again, just from the way i’m riding you.”

he whimpered—literally whimpered—against your shoulder, his hands roaming your back now, touching every inch of skin he could reach. he was trembling, his body trying to stay still while you moved so slowly, so carefully on top of him. each roll of your hips dragged another soft moan from his throat, his cock pulsing inside of you, so close to the edge but too scared to fall over it again.

you pulled back again, grabbing his chin gently to force him to look at you.

“keep your eyes on me, baby,” you said. “you’re not cumming without watching me fall apart with you.”

his lips parted like he wanted to say something—maybe a please, maybe your name—but you kissed him again before he could speak. this time deeper, wetter. your tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming him, making him shiver beneath you.

and as you rode him slowly, your lips never left his.

the kiss turned filthy fast—his moans muffled by your mouth, your spit mixing with his as you sucked on his tongue, dragging your nails softly down his back. his hips bucked up helplessly, chasing your movements even as he cried from how overwhelmed he was.

“so good for me,” you whispered when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, your lips swollen and wet. “you’re being so good, wonnie. i’ve never felt anything like this. you’re making me feel so fucking good.”

he whined—loudly—and you knew he was close.

you picked up the pace just a little, grinding down harder, bouncing softly in his lap, your pussy fluttering around him as his cock throbbed with every movement.

“cum for me again, baby,” you whispered. “give it to me. give me everything.”

and the second your walls clenched around him, the second you moaned his name into his mouth—he shattered.

his mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back as his entire body locked up beneath you, another orgasm ripping through him with a strangled cry. hot cum spilled into you, thick and endless, his hips jerking erratically as you milked every last drop from him with slow, delicious rolls of your hips. he held onto you like he was drowning, sobbing into your shoulder as his cock twitched inside of you, so full, so sensitive, so wrecked.

he was still trembling in your arms, both of you bathed in the afterglow of his release. his body was a little limp beneath you, his chest rising and falling with soft, uneven breaths, but his eyes? they were still wide, still locked on you—still holding that quiet, desperate need that hadn’t yet been satisfied.

he kissed you again, gently, his lips brushing against yours with that same tender urgency as before. but this time, when he pulled away, there was something different in his gaze.

something new.

you saw the shift in his expression, the hesitation mixed with desire, as he glanced down at your body, at the way you were still so open, so warm, so inviting. his eyes flickered to your hips, to your thighs, then back to your face, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice thick with a mix of uncertainty and something else—something deeper. “can I… can I…?”

he didn’t finish the sentence, but you saw what he was asking. he wanted to return the favor. he wanted to make you feel the same way you’d made him feel—completely undone, but this time, with his mouth.

a soft smile curled at the corner of your lips. “of course, wonnie,” you murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “but if you’re nervous, we can take it slow.”

he shook his head, determination flickering in his eyes. “no, i want to… i need to.”

you let him guide you gently, your body moving as he shifted you into his arms, his hands running over your sides as he helped you onto the bed. you settled against the sheets, propped up on your elbows, watching as he climbed between your legs.

his gaze was hungry, but there was still that same uncertainty behind it, as if he wasn’t sure how to start, but was too eager to stop. you saw the way his breath hitched as he hovered over you, his eyes moving from your face to your core, and you couldn’t help but smile softly.

“just take your time, wonnie,” you whispered, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “you don’t have to rush.”

he stood with you in his arms and carried you the short distance to his bed.

he laid you down softly, his hands lingering on your waist, eyes scanning your body like he still couldn’t believe this was real. his lips brushed your inner thigh as he knelt between your legs, and you gasped softly at the warmth of his breath, the look of pure focus on his face as he stared at your pussy—wet, swollen, messy with his cum and your slick.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispered, mostly to himself, and you saw his tongue flick across his lips before he looked up at you again. “just… tell me if i’m doing anything wrong, okay?”

you gave him a small nod, encouraging him without a word, and that was all it took.

he kissed the sensitive skin of your thigh first, just a soft brush of his lips against you, before he moved closer, more eager now. his hands gripped your hips gently, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pressed his face between your legs. when he finally made contact with your pussy, his tongue was a tentative, unsure swipe, not quite sure how to navigate the new territory but too lost in the taste of you to stop.

he moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body, and it made you shiver in his grasp. he was messy, unsure at first—his tongue moving awkwardly, pressing against you too hard, then too soft, but you could feel his desperation. his eagerness to please you, to make you feel as good as you’d made him feel.

“it’s okay, baby,” you whispered, your hand running through his hair again. “just… relax. i’ll guide you.”

he nodded against you, his lips trembling as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. his eyes were wide, full of innocence and something else—need, desire. he wanted to learn, wanted to make you feel everything, even if he wasn’t perfect at it yet.

so you guided him. you showed him how to move, how to swipe your folds with his tongue, how to apply pressure just right, how to circle his tongue around your clit with slow, patient strokes. you could feel him getting more comfortable with each passing second, his movements becoming more confident, more certain. the moment his tongue flicked over your clit, soft and gentle, you couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, your head falling back against the pillow.

he heard it, and it made him hum in satisfaction, the sound of his pleasure in the way he ate you out sending waves of heat through your body. he was still messy, his tongue dragging over you in uneven strokes, but it felt so good—so good. the warmth of his mouth on you, the way he moaned and gasped as he tasted you, filled you with a new kind of desire, one that had you writhing beneath him.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you gasped, hips bucking against his mouth. “fuck—just like that. you’re making me feel so good…”

he made a sound against you, a muffled whimper, and you looked down to see him watching you through hooded eyes, completely lost in the way you responded to his touch. you smiled down at him, your chest heaving as your hand tangled in his hair again, guiding him with soft tugs as you moaned his name.

“that’s it, baby… just like that. you’re doing so good, wonnie…”

the praise sent a rush of heat through his body, and you could feel him pushing deeper, his tongue flicking faster, more sure of himself now, his movements eager and desperate. you could tell he was loving every sound you made, every tremor of your body beneath him, and it only made him work harder.

you could feel the pressure building in your stomach, the heat intensifying as your orgasm crept closer, but you didn’t want to rush it. you wanted him to feel every moment, every inch of you, just like you had for him.

“keep going, baby,” you gasped, your back arching slightly as you rode his mouth. “don’t stop.”

he didn’t. he kept going, and the way he made you feel—messy, overwhelmed, taken—was enough to send you spiraling. your orgasm hit you suddenly, crashing over you like a wave, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips as you came on his tongue, your body trembling beneath him as he worked you through it, his hands still gripping your hips to hold you against his mouth.

you panted heavily, chest rising and falling as he looked up at you, his face flushed, eyes wide and full of pride. he’d done it. he’d made you feel like that.

and even though he was still learning, still new, you knew he was the one who had given you the most real, unfiltered pleasure you’d felt in a long time.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ hoped y'all liked it !!

[hoonieyun]

loving you is forever ⋆˚ʚɞ

pairing: lee heeseung x reader 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ♡

synopsis: after a one night stand leaves you with a lasting memory of the boy you left behind in the name of your daughter, heejin. you finally decide that it was time to move back home to south korea after living abroad for the last 5 years. reuniting with your old friends was everything you could've wished for as they welcomed you and your daughter; but you don't think you could ever prepare yourself to face the father of your child.

warnings: profanity, kissing, suggestive, mentions of hooking up/one night stands, drinking, characters are in their late 20s, absent father!heeseung (but its not his fault) implying that they didn't use a condom (wrap it up!!), overall 18+

genre: single mom!reader x heeseung, old friends to lovers, kind of exes to lovers, one night stand, angst, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, slow burn-ish

wc: 16558 (idk what happened i swear i blanked out writing this)

hoonieyun notes: she's finally here djfkd it took so long to finish this because i didn't want to rush it and feel like i just had to get it done to get it done. i really hope you all enjoyed this piece of work, i loved writing it and i just want to say: happy valentine's day!! you are all so deserving to be loved and surrounded by those who love you <3

the days of being in seoul, south korea felt just like yesterday when you were a college student awake at 3am eating a hot bowl of ramen after a long night of studying. ramen was your favorite thing back then but as you’ve gotten older, the days of being a broke college student turned into meticulous routine based days where all your focus went to raising your daughter, heejin. 

ramen was your favorite, past tense. 

you cut the habit of eating ramen so often because you needed to choose healthier options for yourself, setting an example for your daughter that although convenient and inexpensive, eating instant ramen so often wasn’t the healthiest for you. 

even though you were her mom, your daughter taught you a lot and you were constantly learning as you grew together. she taught you new habits that made living better like learning to take it easy and lounging around the house with your favorite snacks while watching your favorite show was the best way to clear your head and relax. 

you also learned that your previous lifestyle of putting others over yourself was something that would stay with you as you’d do anything for your daughter even if it meant that you sacrifice things that are meant for you if it means that your daughter would have what she wanted. 

the air when stepping outside of the airport is crisp, the snow has melted into a thin layer of water coating the ground and it’s slightly cold but nothing a puffer coat couldn’t fix. you looked over to your daughter who was fiddling with the zipper on her own puffer coat, “bambi, you have to keep your jacket on or you’ll get sick.” you softly tell your daughter as you crouch down to her level, zipping her coat back up and adjusting the hood of her hoodie that she had layered under. she pouts to herself but ultimately knows better than to argue because she knows mom is right and because she hates being sick. 

when heejin was 4 years old, she had gotten a cold for the first time and although she enjoyed being at home cuddled up under a fuzzy blanket with her favorite plush toy; she hated having a runny nose and being forced to take the yucky medicine, her words not yours– although you agree. 

your phone rings and karina’s contact photo lights up on the screen, “hi, yn! i’m here, what pick-up area are you at?” she asks on the other end of the phone, slightly louder than usual so you assume she’s yelling into her car’s built in phone call feature to avoid having to drive with her phone in her hand. you tell her that you’re at arrivals 12 and soon enough you can see karina driving up to you and heejin in her silver suv. karina is your best friend, sister even, you have known each other since you were little, even though she was only a few months older than you she was often that older sister you never had, guiding you through new experiences together and you just wished that when you grew up together, you realized sooner that she was also navigating those new experiences alongside you. 

“yn!! it’s been so long!!!” karina cheers as she steps out of her car, rounding the vehicle to give you a warm hug, rocking the two of you side to side as you wrap your own arms around her. “been too long.” she says, emphasizing the words like you were away for a long time. in a lot of ways you were. 5 years is a lot of time away from someone but to you those 5 years went by so much faster.

“is this heejin?” she asks, crouching down to your daughter so she can greet the child. “hi heejin, im aunt karina but you can call me rina, ok?” she says, softly shaking heejin’s small hand with two fingers. “hi auntie rina!” heejin says happily, throwing her hands into the air with a smile. 

your daughter was probably the most cheerful and joyful child you’ve ever met. she never threw fits, rarely cried after the age of 2, and was very social with strangers. flashing her cute smile that would instantly melt stranger’s hearts garnering you a, “such a cute baby!” every time they’d see her. 

karina stands back up straight and helps you pack your luggage into her trunk, “is this all you brought?” she asks and you explain that you didn’t want to pack too many things because moving with a lot of belongings would make it difficult. you had only flown with 4 suitcases and had 2 boxes shipped over from your old home. opting to only take what truly was important and other material things could simply just be repurchased. 

you and karina share another hug before strapping your daughter into her carseat and taking a seat into the passenger side of the car. you and karina catch up like no time has passed, acting like you two were only separated for a few days when in reality it was 5 years. of course the two of you spoke on the phone every now and then while you were abroad but the time difference interfered. 

“how was seattle? do you miss it already?” she asks and you have to think about the question. do you miss seattle? or were you happy to be back. 

“i'm not sure to be honest. i don’t think ive been away long enough to miss it yet.” you simply say and she nods, “well i know you must’ve seoul. i know we missed you.” she says, glancing over to you 

you smile at her remark and tell her that you’ve missed korea and her a lot. those 5 years in seattle went by fast because of your daughter but being away from all of your friends and even your parents was tough. you stayed with your aunt and uncle who lived in seattle who so kindly opened their home for you and 2 years after giving birth to heejin, you had enough saved up to get the two of you a small but perfect 1 bedroom apartment. it was enough for the two of you but to your daughter it was like she was living in a castle; and that’s all that mattered– knowing your daughter was happy. 

“you ok?” karina asks and you’re brought back to reality. “yeah, just reminiscing i guess.” you respond and karina chuckles. 

“don’t tell me you’re already thinking about going back? you can’t leave just yet, i’m not letting you go.” karina retorts and the two of you burst out into laughter. you reassure her that you weren’t going to leave korea any time soon and that you’d have ample amount of time together to catch up and make so many more memories. 

“plus, i’ve got 5 years to catch up with my favorite niece. right, heejin?” she asks, looking over to your daughter in the rearview mirror. “yes aunty rina!” heejin says cheerfully. you laugh at them both and give karina a funny look, “she’s your only niece dude.” you say and karina shrugs, “and? she’s still my favorite!”. 

the rest of the car ride is filled with more chit chatting and laughing, happy that the two of you are finally reunited and that you weren’t separated by thousands of miles. soon enough karina is pulling up to your home and she’s quite impressed. while living in the states you had saved enough money to purchase a beautiful home here in seoul. 

it’s not the biggest but it has everything you need for you and your daughter. it has 2 rooms and 2 bathrooms, an office space for your work, a big living room with enough space for your daughter to run around in and a backyard for the same reasons. you were happy to have gotten to this point in your life and you were so happy to have a life like this with your daughter. 

karina doesn’t stay long after dropping you off, only staying to help you bring in your things, and do a small tour of your home. “i promise i’ll come back tomorrow! i’ve just got some things i need to finish for work.” she explains and you let her know that it’s fine and thank her endlessly for picking up you and your daughter from the airport. you and heejin wave her goodbye as she drives away. 

you walk back inside still carrying heejin on your hip. “alright, bambi. it’s just you and me, and our new home.” you say softly and heejin smiles at you. 

“just you and me mama!” she says and it makes you smile as you nuzzle your nose with hers. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next few days are filled with unpacking boxes, waiting for deliveries of furniture and food, and exploring the neighborhood and town. your car was delivered on your 2nd day back in seoul so thankfully you didn’t have to wait around at home or feel guilty of asking karina to drive you around places since she had her own fair share of responsibilities. 

your other friends have asked you when they could come visit, especially your cousin; jay– who said, “i can’t believe you let karina see my niece and she’s not even blood!” when he found out karina met your daughter before your cousin. 

karina was like your sister but jay was actually blood. jay is your cousin on your mom’s side and you had stayed with his parents while living in seattle until you were able to get a place of your own. he’s a few years younger than you but he was always the wiser of the two of you; he was like the angel on the shoulder of life while you were the devil– however you weren’t evil… just chaotic. 

you, jay, and karina all grew up together so you all had a bond that's unbreakable. people often made comments about how jay was the gentleman he is because of all the women he grew up around and you’d agree. he was the kindest and most mature boy you know and even when he loosened up a bit and got chaotic like you, he was always the level-headed and mature jongseong at the end of the day. 

when you would sneak out with boys in high school, jay would cover for you. 

when you got in trouble for getting a C- on your chemistry exam, jay vouched for you and said that the chemistry teacher at your high school was sexist and punished all the girls in the class. 

when you found out you were pregnant, jay was the first person you called and was right by your side every step of the way up until you were boarding the plane to seattle. 

jay was your rock and you wished he was your brother but a cousin would suffice just as long as he was always there for you. 

you’re about 90% moving into your new home, the last thing that needs to be completed was just tossing out all of the trash and recycling that has accumulated from all of the items you bought or takeout that you’ve been getting so you didn’t have to worry about cooking for the first week of moving back. 

you’ve invited jay over for dinner after he’s insisted on cooking dinner for you and your daughter, claiming that he wants to make a good impression on his niece so he wasn’t necessarily going to take no as an answer, and honestly– a home cooked meal by jay sounded nice. he was a great cook, excellent even, you? not so much. 

you knew how to cook a variety of things but most of it was out of convenience so that you weren’t always eating takeout. your daughter was simple when it came to her taste buds and favorite foods, 80% of the time she just wants to eat chicken and thankfully she doesn’t complain much about having to eat vegetables. however, never brussel sprouts. she hates brussel sprouts. 

it’s around 5PM when you’ve finished putting all of your trash bags outside, giving you just a half hour to freshen up your daughter and you before jay would be arriving. he felt apologetic for not being able to help you move in but you told him that he had nothing to feel sorry for and that you knew he had a busy schedule ever since he took over his dad’s company at the beginning of the year. jay’s dad owned a construction company in seoul and although jay had different passions like music and fashion, he was the type of child to never refuse his parent’s wishes and eventually accepted that he would become the owner when he grew up so there was no point in arguing with his dad. 

he was an only child so it was hard not to feel bad for him and see that he had so many things he wanted to do for his life but was often shortsighted and left responsible for whatever his parents wanted because he was their only child. 

that was probably why you often felt like you needed to bring jay out of shell and loosen up a bit. being so caught up with the responsibilities he had at home, you wanted to make sure that he still had fun as a teenager because his life as an adult was already planned out for him. 

when jay turned 16 you spent all of your christmas money on a guitar he had been talking about for months. jay rarely cried but you remember the pure joy and gratitude in his eyes when he unwrapped the box and saw the familiar leather case he had seen so many times at the guitar shop. you swore you could see his eyes glow from excitement when he unclasped the guitar case and finally saw the instrument on the inside. the fender eric clapton stratocaster electric guitar shined onto his face and you’d never forget the smile on his face as he set aside the guitar next to him so he could get up and give you a hug. telling you how grateful he was and that no one would know how much that gift meant to him besides you. 

after changing yourself and your daughter into a fresh pair of clothes, jay was ringing your doorbell. he barely greets you when you answer the door, placing the bags of ingredients into your arms when you open them for a hug and instead he runs into your home to scoop up his niece into his arms. 

“jinjin!” jay says as he carries her above his head. a nickname they both came up with whenever they’d facetime. 

“uncle jayjay!” she says, giggling at him as he gently tossed her into the air and hugged each other. “yeah i’m here too y’know!” you say, narrowing your eyes at your cousin as you put the bag of groceries down onto your kitchen counter. 

“yn-ieee!!” jay says, setting your daughter down onto the counter next to the groceries and giving you a hug of your own. “been so long cousin!” he says and you hum in agreement. 

“well it’s not like you couldn’t come visit me in seattle!” you say teasingly and jay rolls his eyes, “oh, please! you wouldn’t even let me no matter how hard i tried– plus you know how busy i got after dad passed over the company.” he says and although he didn’t mean it in that way, you felt a slight tinge of guilt. 

“i know, i know jong, just teasing. i missed you.” you say, hugging him again but this time ruffling his hair like you used to do when you were younger. 

“so what’s on the menu today, chef?” you ask as you help him unpack the groceries. 

“yeah, uncle. jinjin hungry!” your daughter says and you and your cousin laugh at your daughter’s remark. as she’s gotten older and has begun watching toddler shows, she’s picked up on their habits of speaking in 3rd person. 

“well, jinjin. uncle jayjay is going to make you ravioli and meatballs. sound good?” he asks, staring at your daughter with a box of ravioli pasta in his hand. 

“ravioli?” she asks and jay nods.

“right, you’re 5; you don’t know what that is.” he mutters and you just chuckle. 

“come on, heejin. why don’t we set up the table while uncle cooks, hmm?” you ask and she nods eagerly– always excited to be a part of the activity in some way or another just as long as she’s included. 

“i want the pink plate!” heejin says as she raises her arms so you could pick her up off the counter and set her on the ground. while you and heejin were at ikea shopping for home supplies, she saw a pink plate with the face of a pig on the top and the tail on the bottom and just had to have it. and honestly, your daughter looked so cute looking at it that you couldn’t say no. as a matter of fact, the plate wasn’t even very expensive and it was cute so it wasn’t a hard decision to say yes. 

jay doesn’t take long to finish cooking dinner; knowing to choose something quick and easy to make so that he could feed the two of you and so he could have ample time to hang out with his niece. 

needless to say, heejin loved the ravioli and was completely baffled at how they got the cheese inside of the pasta– constantly asking jay how they did it as if it was some sort of magical spell to create a ravioli. 

after dinner is over and your daughter insists on dessert, the three of you enjoy some ice cream even though it’s still winter and with jay’s help in convincing you because “ice cream tastes good in every season”. you offered to wash the dishes since jay cooked you dinner and although he insisted on washing the dishes, you told him that it was okay since he could spend more time with his niece instead– to which he didn’t argue. 

the rest of the night was filled with giggles as jay got to hang out with his niece outside of a phone screen. learning so much about her and how similar he was to you. he even got the opportunity to put her to bed when she got sleepy after watching bambi, her favorite movie. 

“bambi, huh?” he asks after the two of you quietly slip out of her bedroom.

“yes… bambi. it’s her favorite movie so i nicknamed her bambi…” you respond, trying to avoid his stare. 

“no other reason?” he asks and you shoot him a glare. “alright alright. i’ll drop it. it’s a cute nickname anyway.” he confesses and you mutter a small thank you, thankful that he’s not prying any longer. 

“i know, she’s cute like a baby deer, what can i say?” 

you and jay find your way into the kitchen, putting away the dishes from the dishwasher and beginning a new topic of conversation. 

“does everyone know you’re back?” jay asks genuinely, not intending to allude to a certain person from your past. 

“yeah, karina and ningning know. i spoke to jake and hoon yesterday and i told them i’d come up with a day they could all come over for dinner.” you explain. 

you had a close friend group going into college. you, karina, and jay all grew up together and early during college you had met ningning, jake, sunghoon, and another… friend. 

the seven of you were inseparable and were always together despite having completely different college majors. you, ningning, and karina all moved in together for the last half of your college career while the guys did the same. you’re all older now and have all of your own lives but most of them kept in touch with you after you decided to move away all of a sudden. 

opting to not ask questions out of respect but always making sure to check up on you every once in a while. 

“should i reopen the groupchat? haven’t seen the silly seven back together in a while.” and just as fast as the words leave his mouth, jay regrets it just as fast. he notices you tense up a bit as you’re putting some dishes away into the cupboard and he realizes he’s made a mistake bringing up your original seven friend group. a certain member becomes a tainted memory inside of your heart that you wished to not remember but are forced to remember in the most endearing and loving way. 

someone you wished you could leave in the past but you’re glad you chose not to as the memory continues to live through your daughter. 

“um, i’ll let you know. i’ve got some things i need to finish up before i start reuniting fully with everyone– plus i still need to get heejin caught up on all of her medical stuff for school so…” you begin to say and jay catches on. 

“ahh, don’t worry about it! just got a bit excited to see everyone back together again. i’ll look forward to it when it comes.” jay says, softly rubbing your back and offering you a smile that you return. 

“thanks jay…” you mutter quietly as you try to avoid his gaze. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

after three weeks of being back home in korea, you’ve finally gotten somewhat of a routine down as you’ve settled into your new home and neighborhood. you’ve got pretty accustomed to being back in korea and although it’s only been five years since the last time you were here; a lot has changed within those five years. 

you’d wake up on weekdays around 6am to get your day started, making breakfast and your daughter's school lunch before you woke her up at 7am to get her ready for school. she hadn’t started school yet back in the states so you wanted to ensure that you enrolled her into school once you had settled into your home. 

she was surprisingly excited to start school and make new friends. her favorite part of kindergarten so far was break time when she and her classmates would spend 30 minutes a day at the playground. she’d come home with unruly hair opposite of the sleek bun or pigtails she had previously had when you dropped her off. 

when your daughter was at school you’d spend the day cleaning around the home, finishing up the last parts of your move that had to do with papers and legal stuff, and would spend the rest of the time before your daughter got off school to run errands like going to the market or getting used to driving around your neighborhood. 

it's about an hour before your daughter is off of school so you decide to quickly freshen up before heading over to pick her up. 

today, you had plans to have an early dinner with karina as you hadn’t seen her since you had gotten there so it was due time to catch up now that you’ve settled in for the most part. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“where are we going, mama?” heejin asks as you help her into her car seat. “getting dinner with auntie rina, remember?” you remind your daughter and she cheers, excited that she gets to see her auntie rina again. 

“why are we eating early? i want chicken!” she says and you just chuckle at her. “ok, i’ll get you chicken, ok?” you say, kissing your thumb and putting it towards her and your daughter does the same, connecting your thumbs, at the same time the two of you turn your hands 180 degrees with your thumbs pointing downwards so that your hands make the shape of a heart.

it was a small gesture the two of you did, a small way to be connected with your daughter through a special handshake between mother and daughter. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

dinner was filled with laughter as you watched your daughter and karina bond over chicken, your daughter having the time of her life with all of the different flavors of chicken; her favorite being the cheese flavored one. 

“so, when are we getting the gang back together?” karina asks as she places another piece of chicken on heejin’s plate, the both of you watching your daughter pick up the piece of chicken and munch on it like her life depended on it. you tried to tiptoe around her question, afraid that it would only lead to the inevitable that you were constantly postponing. 

karina waves her hand in front of your face as she realizes you’ve somewhat spaced out and reiterates her question, “um.. i’m not sure. i really want to see everyone but you know..” your voice getting quiet at the end of your sentence as you realize only jay, your cousin, knew who heejin’s father was. 

your friends knew of your longtime crush on heeseung when you were all in college and all somewhat knew that you’ve avoided him because of some reason that you haven’t told them. there were theories amongst the friends of why you no longer spoke to heeseung but only jay knew the reason. your friends didn’t want to pry but curiosity always filled their minds whenever they would think about you or see the photos you posted online of you and your daughter. with all of the theories they came up with, no one seemed to put together the most obvious reason and you’d rather keep that way. 

it wasn’t that you didn’t want any of them to know, you just weren’t ready for them to know and aren’t entirely sure when you’d be ready. karina noticed your shift in behavior with her question and chose to ask any more questions. the rest of the dinner was karina giving you suggestions on things you and your daughter could do like activities, sports and extracurriculars, and whatnot. 

“i’ll see you soon, ok?” karina says while giving your daughter a warm hug. the two of you bid each other goodbye and go your separate ways. karina’s question weighs on your mind heavily as you drive home, thinking about how long you could keep this a secret from your friends and also hide the fact that you were back in town from heeseung who just seemed to constantly be on your mind since you’ve arrived back in korea. 

a part of you wanted to see him, you missed him so much, the way he made you laugh, the way he knew you so well that he used to always bring you breakfast during your 8am lectures because you loved to sleep in until the last minute so you never ate breakfast, the way he knew when you were sad, the way he knew you were uncomfortable, everything. 

he knew you so well but that night, that unfortunate night, it seemed that he was the person that knew you the least in the world. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

a few days after your dinner with karina and some encouragement from jay, you finally decided to send out invites to all of your friends to come over for dinner. your place was getting to a point where it was feeling like home and you wanted your daughter to meet some of the most important people in your life. you obviously weren’t going to invite heeseung but you thought about it and you quickly found yourself shutting down that idea. 

“hi guys! please let me know if you’re free this saturday around 6pm! i’d love for all of you to come over for dinner and meet heejin! if it’s okay could you all bring a small dish? heejin isn’t picky but she is allergic to fish so keep that in mind. she’s very excited to meet her uncles and aunties!”

karina: i’m always free for you! minjeong: i’ll bring the chicken hehe jake: lets goo!! can’t wait to meet little yn! sunghoon: i already know i’m gonna be her favorite uncle jay: yeah right i’m her favorite already, nice try bro

all of their responses made you smile and for once you weren’t stricken with the anxiety of the past and how all of this could crumble down onto you– but you were dedicated to not letting that happen. you missed your friends dearly and being surrounded by your loved ones you haven’t seen in years was long overdue. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

friday rolls around a lot sooner than you expected, which you didn’t mind because it was all you were looking forward to after spending the weekdays trying your best not to spiral. you were constantly thinking about what would happen if they brought up heeseung or if he miraculously showed up unannounced and uninvited. you made several dishes as the main course and set up your kitchen so that everyone could eat buffet style. 

there were rolls of kimbap that your daughter helped you prepare, tofu stew simmering low on the stove to keep it warm, and other food that you knew your friends and your daughter loved. 

as the day went by and the time that your friends would all slowly start arriving would come, you noticed that heejin seemed to be antsy. like something was bothering her, she was constantly squirming around unable to find a comfortable seat at the dinner table, the couch, or even her favorite bean bag chair designed to look like a peach. she was fidgeting with the hem of her dress so much to the point that she had pulled a loose thread, causing the dress to tear. you were more worried than upset, it was just a piece of fabric it didn’t matter if it broke, although you did keep a mental note not to buy from that store again; so you sat her down to talk about it. 

“bambi.. what’s wrong?” you asked her as you helped her change into new clothes, something she had chosen and although it was more casual than the previous attire she had on; she was way more comfortable in it. she shook her head with a pout, indicating she either didn’t want to talk about it or that there wasn’t anything wrong– and considering her actions moments ago, it was the latter. 

“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but just know mommy is here for you ok? i don’t want my little bambi to be sad or upset and feel like she can’t talk to mom about her problems..” you told her softly, fixing her hair as it had gotten slightly messed up while you dressed your daughter. heejin was everything to you, she was your life and blood, she was your light and you’d be damned if you ever made your daughter feel like she couldn’t fully be herself or come to her own mother to help her fix her problems. 

even though heejin was still young, you made sure to make an emphasis on communication with your daughter, teaching her to articulate her feelings and emotions in a way that was healthy to her and those around her– and for the most part, she did that. she often told you if she was uncomfortable or if she was feeling upset about something as small as her socks making her feel itchy– but right now; she wasn’t communicating to you why she was acting the way she was and it left you stumped. 

you weren’t necessarily sure how to go about it. you didn’t want to pressure your daughter to tell you what was wrong but the mother inside of you couldn’t continue without knowing what was bothering your daughter and how you could alleviate her troubles. “are you ok, heejin?” you ask and she once again shakes her head. 

“can you tell mom what’s bothering you?” you asked, lightly patting your daughter's head as you finished doing her hair. 

she looks up at you with her big doe eyes and for a second you see the uncanny resemblance of her and her father. “mama, who is my dad?” the question comes as a shock to you because although she had asked before, she’s never let the absence of her father trouble her the way it has now. your mouth slightly opens at her question but you quickly recollect yourself so she doesn’t notice your demeanor falter, afraid that your expression could cause her more worry if she was to realize how you reacted to her question. 

you so desperately wanted to comfort your daughter, tell her everything you knew about her father and how he lived only miles away; but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. it may seem selfish, and it was, but you simply weren’t ready to have that conversation with your daughter. even if it broke your heart to see her pleading eyes begging you for a single crumb of information on her dad, you couldn’t do it. it caused you an immense amount of pain to deny your daughter something she seemed to want so badly. 

“bambi, why the sudden interest?” you ask and she goes on to explain that when she was waiting to get picked up from school that day, she saw all of her classmates getting picked up by their dads and it got her thinking of her own, more specifically, the absence of her own father. 

your heart broke even more at her words but you chose to give her the answer that you’ve given her several other times she asked in the past. 

“bambi, your papa may not be here but he’s always in your heart, ok?” and you were glad that it provided her some form of comfort because it seemed like she knew you were going to say that so she closed her eyes and gently placed her small hand over her heart. it was moments like this that made you question yourself as a mother. denying your daughter from someone who was half of her all because of your own selfish intention and pain that you aren’t able to heal from. 

the two of you share another tender moment as you engulf your daughter into your arms for a warm embrace and try your best to get her to smile, which was fairly easy as your daughter was very ticklish. 

just in time, your doorbell rings indicating that some of your friends have arrived so you decide to carry your daughter to your front door to greet everyone. you gently rub her back to further soothe her worries, hoping that the emotional and vulnerable moment the two of you just shared didn’t cause her anymore worries despite the fact that she still had that longing look in her eyes. waiting for the day she could get the answer she was looking for and the day she’d get to meet her dad. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re carrying your daughter in your arms as you open the door to welcome your friends and all of their eyes light up at the sight of you and your daughter. one by one they file inside of your home with a dish in their hands, greeting you and heejin with bright warm smiles. you return with a smile of your own as heejin waves at the strangers entering your home who she will grow to learn are the aunts and uncles that would love her and support her as she grows older. 

once everyone has gotten inside, you point to where they could all settle the dishes they brought and soon enough you’re setting heejin down to introduce her to everyone. 

“heejin, you know auntie karina and uncle jay, right?” you ask her while you crouch down to her, she nods her head in agreement, slightly shy as she still doesn’t know the several other people in the room. 

“this is uncle jake, he has a really big puppy, you like puppies right?” and once again she’s nodding but this time with a smile as she gets excited at the mention of  a dog. when heejin started to learn how to speak, one of the first words she spoke was “dog” and would later on constantly ask you to get her dog when she learned how to form full sentences. 

“heejin, i’ll introduce you to my dog, ok?” jake says with a smile and she cheers, happy that she finally gets to play with a dog since you wouldn’t let her get one of her own. 

“this one is auntie minjeong, can you say hi to her?” you ask and heejin shyly waves her hand and when minjeong waves back and asks if she can have a high five, heejin gives her one excitedly as you’ve taught her that high fives were a gesture of encouragement and sharing a high five with a friend was a good thing so she instantly felt happy when minjeong asked for one, already identifying her auntie minjeong as a friend. 

lastly, you point to sunghoon, “that’s uncle sunghoon, you like the snow right? uncle sunghoon is really good at ice skating.” you explain and her eyes and mouth widen at the thought of ice skating. “ice skating? do you make snow angels?” she asks and it causes the lot of you to laugh; to which sunghoon nods and tells her that he’ll teach her how to make some of her own. 

introductions go very well and heejin is calling everyone auntie and uncle in no time, opening up and breaking out of her shyness once she chats with your best friends some more as she tries all of the food they’ve brought. 

“yn, all this food is amazing by the way but you should’ve let us help more or at least bring more food so you didn’t have to cook so much!” minjeong says as she’s putting away her dish into your sink. 

“yeah, yn. this is delicious but next time let us take care of all of it okay? we’ll be sure to bring all the food that heejin likes. heejin, what’s your favorite food?” jake asks her and she cutely raises the chicken wing in her hand and shouts chicken and once again the room is filled with laughter because of your daughter’s cuteness. you were so happy to see your daughter being accepted by everyone, not necessarily because you thought they wouldn’t but because for the time that you’ve been gone; you were afraid that this drastic change in your life would affect the dynamic between you and your friends. 

but it didn’t. 

at least not completely. 

jake is slurping on his noodles when he suddenly says, “yo, heeseung brought me these noodles one time; it was so good we should all go some time.” and at the mention of heeseung’s name you’re almost frozen in your spot at the table. 

the room is instantly silent when they notice your attitude shift after hearing heeseung’s name. no one besides jay really knows what happened between the two of you and even then you’ve left out certain details from the story because you couldn’t bear to relive the pain from that night just so that someone could fully understand why you did what you did. 

sunghoon shoves jake lightly at his careless action and he soon realizes why the room had fallen silent, he glances over at you with an apologetic look followed by a string of apologies, “i’m so sorry, yn. i shouldn’t have brought him up- i wasn’t thinking.” jake says and you shake your head explaining that it was okay and that he had nothing to apologize for. 

“it’s fine, jake. he and i just don’t talk anymore.” you leave it at that and everyone chooses not to pry because it was truly none of their business. 

before the night ends you all take a group photo with heejin in the middle, you decided to have her sit on your shoulders as your friends crowd around her with warm smiles that could be felt through the photo. you were so happy to see the happiness radiate through the image that you didn’t necessarily care that all of your friends were quick to post that photo, the possibility of heeseung seeing it nowhere in your mind because you were more focused on the love that your friends were giving you and your daughter. 

you bid goodbye to your friends but not before you pack them their own little containers with leftovers because it was way more than what you and your daughter could finish alone. heejin happily waved goodbye to her aunties and uncles and had long forgotten about the sad moment the two of you shared before this dinner. 

she was so happy to meet them and to her they were all just her friends. your friends are equally as happy to meet your daughter and be a part of her life and yours again. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

on the other side of the city, heeseung is scrolling through his social media alone in his bed when he scrolls past the group photo you all took on several accounts. a pang of jealousy budding in his chest as he sees you in the center, happily carrying your daughter on your shoulders. 

heeseung couldn’t help but feel left out but all he could think about was why you hadn’t let him know you were back in town after disappearing for the last five years? 

so, he does what he thinks is right and opens the groupchat he has with the boys. 

“yo, you guys free tomorrow? wanna grab lunch?” heeseung taps into his phone and presses send and in a few minutes, sunghoon, jay, and jake are all responding to heeseung’s text. 

they all coordinate a plan to have lunch the next day. heeseung plans to let it come naturally, bring you up as smoothly as he can without coming off like he wanted to hang out with the guys just to find out information about you. 

but he knew deep down that he was going to get the information he needed one way or the other. 

even if it made him feel crazy because love makes you do crazy things. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

when the next day rolls around and heeseung is making his way to lunch, he realizes that his dreams that night were filled with one thing: you. 

he dreamt about all the ways he wanted to make up for lost time, he dreamt of past memories, he dreamt of you and he slept soundly knowing that you were so happy in his dreams. only hoping that he could make you as happy in real life like how you were in his dreams. 

you were truly the girl of his dreams and now that you were back; he wasn’t going to let you go so easily like last time. 

“whats up guys!” heeseung says as he walks over to the guys who had gotten a table for the four of them. they were all browsing the menu when heeseung arrived and they all did their usual greetings, asking how one another was and all of the normal things. 

they soon order food and jay could tell that heeseung was a bit antsy, sending glances over to jake and sunghoon with a gesture to look at heeseung and they do; realizing his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and he was chewing on his nails– something that he’s never done in the past. 

heeseung could no longer wait, he just had to ask about you even if it made the air between all of them awkward. “so..” he begins and jay cuts him off before he could finish. 

“heeseung, i know you’re going to ask about yn.” jay says and heeseung stops in the middle of his sentence, his mouth slightly ajar as those words leave jay’s mouth. he’s shocked that they knew, was he being less subtle than he thought? or was he just that predictable. 

heeseung and you were inseparable when you were younger, you couldn’t take one without the other coming along, the true meaning of  a package deal. but when you left, heeseung was left with so many questions, none of which could be answered by you as you cut off communication with him completely. 

the rest of lunch consists of the guys informing heeseung about you, small details that they thought you’d be comfortable with sharing with heeseung, and although heeseung wanted to learn more; he was happy to learn anything new about you since you’ve been gone for the last five years. 

they could tell that heeseung’s love for you never died or diminished in any way possible. when you first left, heeseung was a wreck and if they didn’t think he loved you then; his reaction to you leaving solidified that. he didn’t sleep, he cried almost everyday and he would try to write you letters even when he didn’t have an address to send them to. 

it wasn’t until about a year after you had left that heeseung started to somewhat go back to normal. he stopped moping around and he returned to the heeseung all of your friends once knew. but deep down, he and all your friends knew that he would never be the same without you in his life. he threw himself into his work and other priorities to distract himself so he didn’t have to think about you but in the end, it always came back to you. 

he’d be walking on the street and would pass by your favorite restaurant and he’d think about you. 

a song would play and he’d be reminded about all of the times you two would dance and sing along to it. 

he’d see a cloud shaped like an animal in the sky and would remember all of the times you two would spend hours laying on the grass and spotting clouds shaped like whatever your mind could identify it as. 

everything he saw reminded him of you and although it hurt him to think about you, thinking about you was the only thing keeping you close to him when you were unknowingly so far away. 

when the four of them part ways from lunch, jay pulls heeseung aside for a quick chat before he leaves, “hey, i shouldn’t tell you this but…” jay says, whispering something to heeseung and sending him a text. heeseung’s eyes widen at the text and he’s instantly bringing jay into a hug, thanking him for whatever it was jay had told him. 

“yeah, yeah.. don’t make me regret this, she is my cousin; i’ll beat your ass if you fuck this up.” he warns and although he was slightly joking; jay was speaking with some truth because he knew how much all of this affected two people that were so important in his life. 

heeseung slept with a smile on his face later that night, not only because he was excited to be able to see you in his dreams again, but also because of what he had planned for tomorrow morning. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heejin! let’s go, bambi!” you call for your daughter as you slide your shoes on. heejin appears with her backpack dragging behind her, taking a seat next to you so she can put her shoes on to which you help her. you’re about to bring her to school, glancing at the clock near your front door when you realize you’ve only got 20 minutes to get her there. 

when you open the door, however, you’re met with a face that you hadn’t prepared yourself to see, at least not for a long time from now. 

“heeseung?” you ask as you look at him, standing at your front door with a smile on his face, flowers in his hand, and eyes as bright as they were when the two of you first met. 

“hi, yn.. long time no see.” heeseung responds, a sheepish grin on his face as he’s finally able to see you for the first time in five years. “sorry, i need to take heejin to school.” you explain, slightly moving him out of the way to lock the door and make your way to your car. 

“let me take you?” he offers and although a part of you wants to deny, you know that heeseung has always been stubborn and that if you were to try to decline; the two of you would just be going back and forth and before you know it, heejin would be late to school. 

so, you reluctantly accept his offer; quickly grabbing her carseat from your car and setting her up in the back of heeseung’s car. “mama, who is he?” heejin asks and you explain that he’s just a friend. “how come he didn’t come to dinner?” heejin continues with another question and you answer with something dismissive and tell her he was just busy. 

“ready to go? don’t want her to be late.” heeseung says and you look over at him and he’s still got that smile on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing and was happy that you were going along with it. you give him a tight lipped smile as you place a kiss onto heejin’s forehead before taking your seat at the front passenger seat next to heeseung. 

in the past whenever you two were in a car it would always be you in the front next to him because he trusted you the most with directions and music but mostly because he loved being able to see you next to him.  it was such a simple and innocent thing to be so close to you even if you were just sitting next to him but it never failed to make his heart race whenever you would look over at him, catching him staring at you when he needed to be focusing on the road. 

you’d tease him by saying, “eyes on the road” and talk about how you’ll crash if he keeps staring at you and he’d just respond by saying he would never hurt you or do anything that would put you in pain. 

heeseung tried to keep that promise and broke it without even knowing that he did. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“bye heejin, have a good day ok?” you send your daughter off to school, watching her small figure skip away as she waves and greets the friends she sees as she walks into school. “she’s adorable.” heeseung says as you turn towards him. a part of you slightly forgetting that he was there because all of your focus was set on your daughter. 

“thanks.” you mutter, barely above a whisper. 

“wanna grab breakfast? my treat.” heeseung asks, a cheesy grin on his face as if he’s using his smile as a way to convince you to say yes; it worked… just a little bit. 

“fine.” you say while rolling your eyes, a part of you only saying yes because you had nothing better to do and he was the one that drove. the car ride was silent, filled with awkward tension as you couldn’t get comfortable in your seat knowing that you haven’t seen heeseung in five years and had no idea where this was going to go. would everything be the way it was before you left? or would it be filled with boiling tension that would eventually blow up. 

heeseung was fiddling with the steering wheel, tapping on the leather of the wheel, messing around with the car compartments, and constantly clearing his throat to drown out the silence that was so loud. 

“so… how’ve you been?” heeseung asks, slightly looking over at you as if he was suddenly nervous to make eye contact, fearing for how you’d react. 

“okay.. yeah i’ve been ok.” keeping your answer short so that you didn’t end up saying more than you wanted. you weren’t sure how comfortable you’d become with heeseung, someone who you once would’ve associated with the word “comfort” now was more closely aligned with “unknown”. 

“thats- thats good..” heeseung stutters. 

he doesn’t ask any further questions after he’s taken notice that you weren’t inclined for small talk or maybe just talking to him in general. which he couldn’t blame you for, you haven’t seen each other in five years and he understood that things were a lot different than before. 

you and heeseung used to be able to talk about anything and everything, whenever one of you or both would be stressed; you’d just talk for hours about anything to distract yourselves from whatever was troubling your minds. one time the two of you had even spent 63 hours on facetime, uninterrupted because you were both away from each other for the first time and couldn’t stand being that far away. 

the two of you were only separated for a weekend but it was too long for either of you. 

“order anything you want, ok?” heeseung says as he looks at the menu, browsing for what he wants to eat. you mirror his actions but you lift the menu a bit higher to cover your face because you were a bit shy. you didn’t know how to act around heeseung anymore and felt like shielding yourself away from. 

“are you two ready to order?” the waitress asks and quickly jots down your order, coming back momentarily to drop off your drinks and returning about 20 minutes later with the food you had ordered. heeseung had ordered ramen for breakfast, it came on a small personal burner so that it remained hot as he ate. you slightly smile to yourself, trying your best to hide it because this habit of heeseung hasn't changed in that aspect. 

heeseung always loved ramen, it's his favorite. 

you had just gotten rice with some grilled meat and a fried egg, something simple but delicious. heeseung is busy slurping on his noodles when you decide to break the silence, “how did you find me, heeseung?” you ask, causing heeseung to choke a bit on his food at the random question. 

he quickly apologizes, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth before responding, “oh, yeah about that. don’t be mad but jay told me. it’s not his fault though, i practically begged him.” heeseung says, eye widening as if to prevent you from getting upset that jay had given heeseung your address without permission. 

you were a bit upset, especially because jay was the one that knew what happened with everything out of all of the people in your life. you made sure to bring this up to your cousin when you had the chance, keeping in mind that jay would get a piece of your mind about this. 

the rest of the breakfast was filled with the same awkward tension as you two ate your food in silence, every once in a while asking each other questions for some small talk but nothing that the two of you talked about did anything to cut through the awkwardness. when you and heeseung finished eating, he kept his word about taking care of the bill, and although you wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t, it was nice because it felt just like old times. 

back in college, when you and heeseung were little broke college kids; he always paid no matter what it was. a late night snack? heeseung paid. you were craving boba? heeseung paid. it was your birthday? heeseung paid. even when it wasn’t food, heeseung paid because he loved taking care of you even in small matters like paying for your things. 

a sign you should’ve seen sooner that heeseung saw you as more than just a friend. 

“thanks for breakfast and dropping off heejin at school. have a good day, heeseung.” you say while exiting his car. you’re startled by heeseung’s sudden action when he shouts when and runs out of the car and around to your side, you give him a confused look from inside of the car as you watch him. heeseung closes your door and reopens it for you, “madam.” he says, while gesturing with his hand and a slight bow. 

you couldn’t help but laugh but when heeseung raises his head to look at you, your expression instantly changes because you didn’t want to give heeseung the satisfaction that you found it amusing. you were still upset at heeseung for something of the past and although it’s been harbored inside of you for years on end, you couldn’t help but feel it slowly rising back to the top ever since you had returned to korea. 

heeseung walks slowly behind you as you make your way to the front door like a lost puppy and when you get to unlocking your door,  he clears his throat, gaining your attention. 

“look… i know we haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, but i’m not going to act like it wasn’t the hardest five years of my life. you kind of just disappeared without explanation and when i tried to reach out… i didn’t hear back. 

i had even asked our friends and they didn’t have anything to tell me, i mean- i knew jay would’ve known because he’s your cousin but he didn’t tell me anything. 

can we please just talk?” heeseung was rambling and you felt bad because you could tell he was a bit anxious and probably rehearsed this in his head. 

“yn.. i missed you so much and i tried to practice what i wanted to say to you when i saw you again but i’ve just thrown that all out the window. 

say something..? please?” and you could feel yourself slowly falling back into that old familiar place. the one where you could look into heeseung’s eyes and you could tell how he was really feeling even if he tried to mask it with his rambling. 

“heeseung, why don’t you come inside and then we can talk… not out here..” you said with a chuckle and heeseung eagerly nods, a smile on his lips at the invitation into your home, a stepping stone back into your life. 

you don’t know where this conversation was going earlier and now that it’s almost been two hours since you saw heeseung again, you still didn’t know what to expect. 

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask and he lets you know that water is fine so after a few minutes, you return to find heeseung standing in your living room, admiring the photos you framed of yourself and your daughter. 

“you guys look so happy.” heeseung comments as he joins you on the couch, setting the two cups of water in front of the two of you. “heeseung.. i don’t know what to say to be honest. there’s a lot i’ve wanted to say to you and over the last five years, i’ve only wanted to say more. 

i didn’t mean to disappear i just-”

“then why? why did you leave?” heeseung says, interrupting you and his eyes have transitioned into one that expressed that he was pleading, begging, and waiting for an answer from you. an answer that he had been waiting for since the day you left. 

on the other hand, you were too. you had so many questions for heeseung but you knew that you couldn’t get answers without having to answer any of heeseung’s questions. you weren’t sure how to answer heeseung. you wanted to be honest and tell him the full truth but you didn’t even know if you were ready to face that. 

it was five years ago but now, sitting in front of heeseung as he looked at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to relive those moments where you felt the most alone, unwanted, and misunderstood person in the world. 

you stuttered to answer and the longer you thought about the more complicated it became in your head. your breathing started to become heavy and your eyes were constantly blinking. you couldn’t look at heeseung any longer because it made you feel uneasy and nauseous, the anxiety of this moment having built up inside of you for so long that now that it was all happening, it was corroding the stability you had worked so hard to build in your head. 

“are you ok, yn?” heeseung asked and his voice sounded muffled to you and as he scooted closer, the image of heeseung in your vision blurred and doubled like he was a mirage. you were starting to get light headed and that was when you knew that you were going to faint, the anxiety had taken over your brain and before you knew it your eyes were fluttering closed and heeseung was catching you in his arms before your body could fall over onto the coffee table. 

heeseung catches you instantly when you notice your body start to go limp, rocking back and forth. he wasn’t sure what happened but something must’ve been bothering you so much that you had fainted in his arms. heeseung tries his best to gently position you onto your couch in a comfortable position, moving your legs into place and softly setting your head on the armrest with a pillow propped up under. 

he admired your sleeping figure and if it wasn’t for the fact that you had fainted, he probably would’ve found this moment cute. it reminded him of the first time heeseung had realized he liked you more than he thought he did. the two of you had gotten very drunk one night after failing your economics exam and you had a habit of getting sleepy when drinking. 

you were in the middle of talking when your head started to get wobbly and your eyelids had become heavy and before you knew it; you were falling asleep next to heeseung; your head softly landing on his shoulder like a makeshift pillow. he found it cute and he still does. 

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago

you had been texting with heeseung all night, he had been going through something and although you wanted to know what it was; you settled on just making him feel better. like a good friend would do. your crush on heeseung has something your friends had known about for a while and although you’ve wanted to confess your feelings to him for a while now, you were too afraid of ruining your friendship and it potentially affecting your whole friend group. 

heeseung was currently on his way to your dorm and it was like you were waiting for a blind date. you fidget with the tassel on your throw pillow as you wait for him on your bed, running through the different scenarios in your head of what’s been bothering him. 

he was fine the last few days but today something had shifted; heeseung felt like he was carrying something heavy on his mind and it was showing. he had sent you a string of messages that represented someone on the verge of a crash out and all you could do was worry for him, eventually inviting him over so you could talk and find a way to make him feel better. 

to which heeseung accepted instantly as if that was what he was waiting for. 

after a few minutes, a knock on your door softly echoes throughout your dorm as you’re just about to text heeseung if he was alright. “hee-” you say, getting cut off when heeseung storms into your room, breathing unsteady as if he had run over to you. 

“what’s wrong, are you ok?” you ask, worry settled onto your face as you shut the door behind you. 

heeseung is standing facing away as he tries to catch his breath, unsure of how to talk to you about what has been weighing on his mind heavily. a reality that he’s finally chosen to come to terms with despite thinking it was all his delusions until recently. 

“hee?” you ask again and he whips around to face you, your expression softening when you see that it looks like he hasn’t slept and looks absolutely exhausted. his eyes were red, cheeks a bit sunken, and the shadows around his eyes were more prominent. he looked like he’s so emotionally and physically drained you couldn’t help but rush over to him, cupping his face in worry– rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you could feel heeseung melt into your hand. 

his eyes flutter closed as he breathes a sigh of relief; like your touch alone was enough to soothe his mind even though the reason for his distress partially had something to do with you. you guide heeseung to your bed and you can’t help but frown at his appearance, you didn’t know how long this has been going on but it seems that it was enough to reflect on his face. 

“hee? are you ok?” you ask and he finally takes a deep breath before responding, “yn.. i just want you to know that i don’t want any of this to change us.. and i hope we’ll be okay after this but-” heeseung begins. 

“heeseung you’re scaring me..” you whisper, anxiety building inside of you as heeseung tries to avoid eye contact with you. 

“just- please listen.. i don’t want you to think of me any differently after i say this but…

i think i love you.” 

and when those five words leave heeseung’s lips, everything goes silent. 

you’ve been wanting to hear heeseung say those words for so long, wishing that he would reciprocate your feelings, confess his love to you the way you’ve been too afraid to confess to him, and now that he has; you didn’t know what to do or say. 

heeseung was finally able to look into your eyes, looking for an answer because the silence after his confession had him thinking that he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. 

“please, say something..” he whispers, voice trembling like he’d be in tears at any moment. 

“hee… i just-” when you try to respond even though you weren’t sure what to say, heeseung brings his hands to your face and brings it closer to his; “please tell me you feel the same way or else i might go insane.” he whispers, his lips just a few inches away from yours. 

heeseung’s gaze trails from your eyes down your face and lands to your lips, heeseung absentmindedly licks his own as if it were a physical reaction to seeing yours. “i do heeseung-” you begin but before you could finish your sentence; his lips are on yours. 

the dryness of his lips instantly disappears as your two lips dance with his. a kiss that both of you had been longing for since you two have first met, like there was tension between the two of you that could only be relieved with one another. everyone in the room could feel it but neither of you ever wanted to confront that no matter how badly you wanted to. 

heeseung pulls away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath; “i’m sorry, i should’ve asked but i just couldn’t wait any longer..” heeseung murmurs, his bedroom eyes glued onto yours as you try to gather your thoughts. you had been waiting to share this moment with heeseung for so long but for some reason it wasn’t like how you’d dreamt.

“heeseung, this is wrong.. what about your girl-” you’re about to bring up heeseung’s girlfriend but he just shakes his head. “you’re the one i want.. it’s always been you” he says, connecting your lips once again, the kiss being just as passionate and filled with hunger like you’re both deprived of the other. 

your dorm was soon filled with you and heeseung’s pleasure, a craving that was finally satisfied after so many years; finally having you in his arms. you never thought this day would come and although you thought that it would never come; you were going to cherish this moment with heeseung. 

the next few days felt like a dream. you and heeseung were inseparable and it’s everything you had hoped for when you used to think about how your life would be after confessing to heeseung about how you truly felt. 

only for him to confess first, leaving you shocked that he felt the same way. 

the conversation after that night in your dorm room was a bit awkward but the two of you quickly learned to laugh it off and move forward with your relationship. you had agreed that you’d keep this between yourselves for now because you were unsure of how it would affect the dynamic of your friend group. you even held off from telling jay, your cousin, who you told everything to. 

it was hard for the first few weeks to hide your relationship with heeseung because whenever all of you were together, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand or sit on his lap, the tension from before being converted to secret longing glances and smiles that you two would try to hide from your friends. 

the good lasted for only a few months, until the fateful day that would change your life forever. you had woken up feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of you while you were sleeping. you were fatigued, nauseous, and spent the morning hunched over your toilet as you threw up your dinner from the night before. 

you weren’t sure why your body was suddenly feeling unwell so you made a trip to the pharmacy to grab some medicine, browsing the aisles to see what would help with your symptoms, and that was when your eyes landed on the sleek white box towards the end of the shelf. 

“pregnancy test: accurate results in just under 10 minutes” it read on the box in bright blue font. there was no way that could be the cause of your distress, you didn’t have sex with anyone else besides.. heeseung… that night.. three months ago. 

your mind starts to spiral as you think about the possibility that you could be pregnant with heeseung’s child as that night replays in your head– now just remembering that the idea of a condom was absent from both of your minds as you were both in the heat of the moment, exploring one another’s bodies. 

frantically grabbing a few boxes, you make your way to the cash register but are stopped in your tracks when a voice calls out to you; “yn?” and when you turn around it’s heeseung’s ex-girlfriend. 

the conversation with her was short but awkward. she just wanted to clear the air, letting you know that she had no animosity towards you or heeseung and that she wished you two the best. which confused you because you certainly didn’t tell her and know that heeseung wouldn’t have told her without discussing with you first. when you asked her to clarify, her explanation only heightens the mental distress you were currently in. 

“heeseung and i broke up a few months ago and i just figured you two would be together by now..” was all she said before walking away. 

the night that heeseung confessed his love to you and where you had shared one of the most intimate moments two people could experience together; also happened to be the same night that heeseung broke up with his girlfriend. 

leading you to believe that it was the only reason he felt so inclined to be with you. like you were just some rebound that heeseung knew would be waiting for him like a lost puppy who had been left at home all day, knowing that if he called out to you– you’d come running to him. 

you were a rebound. 

did he even mean anything he had said to you or was it all just a way to get you to play along with his desires? did he even know you felt that way about him? and he used it as a way to get what he wanted? 

you felt disgusted knowing that the moment you shared with heeseung that you had been waiting for was merely just a way for him to get over his ex-girlfriend. a second option that he knew he could fall back on but not in the same way that he would’ve been supported by his friends who he could fall back on during a hard time, but more so like you were just a stepping stone and a temporary fix for the despair he was in that night. 

using you to forget his ex if it meant that he would feel better at your expense. 

it feels like the ten minutes that you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready was the longest ten minutes of your life. “less than ten minutes, my ass” you scoffed as the clock showed it’s been ten minutes and the results weren’t being shown through the small indicator window yet. 

your head falls back in annoyance and to your surprise, the next time you look at the test, a giant plus sign is clearer than day. you swallowed the dryness in your throat, throwing the test into the garbage and ripping open into the two other boxes you bought to test again. 

refusing to believe that the first one was accurate, like it was a fluke, a false positive, anything to convince yourself that this was not happening. 

but it was. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

when you wake up, about an hour later, you almost don’t recognize where you are until you realize you’re wrapped up in a blanket on your bed. you remember being on the couch but don’t recall how you ended up on your bed. you sluggishly roll out of your bed, eyes half open as you scratch your head and make your way to the living room; only to find heeseung sleeping soundly on your couch. 

shock shoots through you as the memories of what happened before you fainted return to your mind, remembering that you and heeseung had reunited after not seeing one another for the last five years when he showed up unannounced at your front door. 

you slowly walk over to him, momentarily admiring his peaceful face as he snoozed on your couch, clutching onto the small pillow with his arms. “i know you’re staring at me.” heeseung murmurs, opening one eye to look at you; a grin on his face when he sees the annoyed look on yours. 

“what are you still doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head to one side as you questioned him. “wow, already kicking me out? if we were in college you would’ve begged me to stay while you tried to convince your roommate to leave.” he says, sitting up straight with the same playful smile on his lips. 

“okay, if you’re gonna stay then i guess we need to have this talk don’t we?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to muster up the courage to have this conversation after it led you to faint just an hour prior. you take a seat next to heeseung, much like how the two of you were positioned earlier and the night when  he showed up at your dorm, both of you sitting on your bed; looking into each other’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed. 

holding one another so closely like at any given moment one of you would be torn away from the other. only if heeseung knew that you would be torn away from him months after, maybe he wouldn’t have made the decision he did that night. 

but that night was nothing that he’d ever regret. 

“so.. where do i begin.. you say trying to think of how you wanted to start– 

that night, when we hooked up in my dorm room; i know why you showed up. when you told me that you loved me it was everything that i could’ve hoped for. i feel like i started to fall for you the day we first met and every day since then i fell for you even more but i just thought that i wasn’t someone that you could ever love. 

so, even though it hurt me, i settled with being okay with just being friends; because it was better than not having you in my life at all. 

but when you told me you loved me that night, i was the happiest girl in the world. until i wasn’t. i felt like the few months that we were dating was the happiest moments of my life, obviously not compared to now because i have my daughter, but i’ll cherish those moments forever because it truly made me so happy to be with you–” 

“then why did you leave?” heeseung pleads, begging for an answer as you somewhat tiptoe around it. “a few months later, i ran into your ex while i was in the store and i found out that the two of you had broken up the same night we hooked up…” heeseung was now shaking his head in denial at what he was hearing. 

“heeseung, you used me as a rebound for your breakup– no, yn. that’s not true. i promise i would never do that to you.” heeseung whines, shaking his head in frustration that you’ve harbored this misunderstanding about him for the last five years which drove you away from him. 

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago, two days before moving away

“why have you been so distant?” heeseung asks, his doe eyes looking at you as he pleads for your attention, lights reflecting in his eyes that made it look like he was tearing up, and he was trying his best not to cry in front of the girl he’s loved for so long. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, this battle inside of you that you’ve been going through on whether or not you wanted to tell heeseung the life changing news, your oversized hoodie covering up the secret you have. 

“heeseung, i just don’t think we can do this anymore.” was the only thing you could say before having to do the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

walk away from the boy you’ve loved for so long. 

heeseung didn’t know what he had done that led you to breakup with him but he held onto this idea that you hated him ever since. he respected you enough to let you walk away from him even though it took every ounce of strength inside of him to not run after you and engulf you in his arms. he would’ve begged you to stay if he could, but he didn’t. 

not running after you and fighting for your love was his biggest regret. 

two days later, he’d find out from jay that you left the country and although he begged and begged jay to let him know where you moved to, how to reach you, and to help him get in contact with you; jay respected you too much after learning what led you to leave to just set you back by allowing heeseung to waltz right back into your life. 

jay tried his best to not let his judgement of heeseung be clouded by what you told him, but he couldn’t help but feel empathy towards you. his cousin who’s life was going to change drastically because of his best friend and all he could do was support you from afar even if it meant helping you move into his childhood home where jay’s parents would be there for you to help you throughout the whole thing. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

“heeseung, this is all too much for me right now. i want to have this conversation, i’ve thought about it every day for the last five years, but i don’t think i’d ever be ready for it. 

i think you should leave.” 

and as much as heeseung wanted to stay, beg for you to let him stay and talk it out, but he respected you too much to fight with you. 

so just like that night, he walked away even if he didn’t want to. 

you sighed as you closed the door behind heeseung, peeking into the small window beside your front door to watch him leave, shoulders low and head hunched over as he walked to his car. you close your eyes and exhale before swinging the door back open and calling for heeseung, “heeseung!” you shout and he’s instantly whipping around at the sound of your voice. 

“heejin’s birthday is in two weeks, you’re invited if you’d like to come.” and heeseung’s attitude changes, a bright smile spreading onto his face as your words ring like church bells in his ears. 

“i’ll be there.” he says before waving goodbye and driving off. 

a small smile tugging on your lips as you tried your best not to feel like that young girl you once were whenever you’d get shy around heeseung. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

the next two weeks is filled with heeseung’s endless attempts to make his way into your everyday routine whether it was showing up again unannounced to take heejin to school, to which she’d never deny because heeseung always brought her the juice box she really likes, or if it was him asking you if you needed help with anything for heejin’s birthday. 

heeseung was going to find his way back into your life even if he annoyed you– but all you had in your mind was her birthday despite heeseung’s attempts to occupy your every waking thought. 

the build up for heejin’s birthday was filled with excitement and anxiety as you tried to make her 6th birthday something special because it would be her first birthday in korea. in the past, her birthdays in seattle was mostly just you and her, sometimes your parents would fly in town to visit but not often. 

and now that you’re back in korea and surrounded by so many people that loved you; you were going to make sure this birthday was something that she remembers. her birthday was in just 24 hours and everything was set in place. 

it was somewhat difficult to keep everything hidden from her because she was one curious girl and was constantly rambling about what she wanted for her birthday, unicorns, rainbows, the color pink, a cake that was chocolate but also vanilla and had strawberries, the color pink, a pinata that was shaped like bunny or maybe a unicorn, and oh, did i mention.. pink? 

pink was her favorite color and it showed with every since thing she always picked out for herself was pink. 

at midnight when the clock indicated that it was finally her birthday, you snuck into her room as she slept soundly with a small cupcake and a number six candle in the center. you gently walked over to her and softly sang happy birthday, waking her up and her eyes instantly widened at the sight of you. 

She was smiling from ear to ear and clapping her hands together in joy. “happy birthday my sweet bambi.” you said after singing happy birthday, softly patting her head as she makes a wish and blows out the candle. 

“thank you mama.” her small voice coming out just above a whisper. “sleep now, okay? you have a big day tomorrow.” booping her nose as she enthusiastically goes back to bed, eager to fall back asleep and wake up the next morning to her big day. 

birthday preparations started earlier for you as you made sure to do some last minute cleaning and organizing for the party. setting out all of the stuff in your backyard with the help of jay and your parents. your mom busied your daughter so that she wasn’t running around and to stop her from looking through every single thing at her party. 

she was so happy, a type of happiness you wished would stay with her forever. 

soon after, the preparations were complete and heejin was dressed in a sparkly pink dress, one that she had picked up several weeks in advance when the two of you were shopping together on a mommy and daughter date. 

your friends, sunghoon, jay, jake, karina, and winter had shown up with gifts that made your daughter smile so bright. her classmates had shown up, excited to celebrate heejin on her big day– you watched from the side as you took in all of it. some of the people you loved most in one place to celebrate the person you loved most. 

seeing your daughter happy made you happy and that was all you could wish for. 

you took a gander at all of the people enjoying the party when a knock at your front door catches your attention. you jog over to the door and are met with heeseung, a cheesy grin on his face as he carries several boxes in his arms, peering from behind it to reveal himself. 

“i hope i’m not too late?” he says and you just chuckle, telling him that the party was just beginning. you invite him inside, instructing him to set her gifts onto the table in the far side of the kitchen as the two of you join everyone in the backyard. 

you can hear gasps coming from your friends as they see you and heeseung standing together, a sight that none of them thought they’d see so soon. “yo! heeseung, you made it man.” jake says, standing up to shake his friend’s hug as everyone follows to do the same. 

karina and winter send you a teasing glance, the two of them pointing to you and heeseung like you were all kids teasing their friend when their crush walks by, earning them an eye roll as you laugh it off. 

“where’s the birthday girl?” heeseung asks, still holding onto a small gift as he walks back to you. you pointed at heejin who was playing tag with her friends; unafraid to get rowdy with the little boys in her class. “heejin, bambi! come here, you’ve got a gift.” you shout and she comes running as she hears the word gift. 

heeseung crouches down to her size and hands her the gift, “happy birthday heejin.” he says with a soft smile, one that heejin returns. hugging him to thank him, “can i open it mama?” she asks and you gesture her to ask heeseung since it was his gift– earning an eager nod from heeseung who encouraged her to open it. 

heejin tears into the small box, a gasp escaping from her tiny mouth as she sees the box, the gift wrap revealing a soft brown deer plushie with a pink bow and blushing cheeks. she jumps up and down in excitement, her arms wrapping around heeseung’s neck to show her appreciation for the gift. seeing heeseung hug her back pulls at your heartstrings as you watch all of it unfold, an image in your head that you thought you’d never see. 

your daughter and her father sharing a tender moment with an embrace. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

the party dies down once the sun has set and most of the guests have gone. the only people left were your parents, winter and sunghoon, and heeseung. your friends had offered to stay back to help you clean and because your mother was your mother, she wasn’t going to let you clean up alone even if you had your friends to help. 

heejin was in the living room with bright eyes as she looked at all of the gifts she had received, several gifts of stuffed animals, toys, clothes, and other presents that a small child would appreciate. “okay, bambi let’s get ready for bed. you can play with all of your toys tomorrow, ok?” and heejin nods, grabbing the deer plushie that heeseung got her and taking it with her as you help her get ready for bed. 

heeseung notices you and heejin walking away and excuses himself from your mother to which she just nods and tells him it’s okay and she’ll take care of the rest of the chores in the kitchen. heeseung parted with a small bow as he makes his way to what he assumes is heejin’s room. 

winter and sunghoon on the other are glancing at each other, having confirmation with just their eyes as they watch heeseung run after you. 

“you know.. not to be a conspiracy theorist but doesn’t heejin look like.. heeseung?” winter asks, whispering to sunghoon as she walks a bit closer to him. “no, i see it too. also, the nickname? we used to say heeseung looks like a baby deer all the time when we were in college and yn nicknamed her daughter bambi?” sunghoon adds and winter looks at him like he’s just spilled the deepest secret one can hold. 

sunghoon and winter send each other knowing glances as they both arrive at a revelation. 

“hey, you guys alright?” heeseung asks while popping his head into heejins room with a soft knock. you tell him that you’re just her ready for bed when you wave him inside. “thank you for the gift, she loves it a lot. i’ve been looking for that thing for months and i can’t believe you were able to find it.” you tell him and heeseung chuckles.

“it’s no big deal” he responds and you ask him about how he knew to get that for her. “she talks about it whenever i drive her to school, she also mentioned that her mommy calls her bambi and i figured it would make the perfect gift.” he explains, making it a point to reference the bambi part as he knew that was also a nickname he had within your friend group, one that you started. 

you hoped that you weren’t too obvious with that but chose not to dwell much longer on the nickname as it could just be coincidence– although it wasn’t. 

“thank you for the bambi!” heejin says as she walks back into the room in her pajamas. heeseung pats her small head as she climbs into her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you ask her about her day– heejin rambling on about her favorite parts of the day which just turned out to be every single aspect of her party. 

you smiled at her as she went on and on, “but my favorite is the bambi.” she says while stretching her arms out with the plushie in her hands and then bringing it into her arms for a hug. “thank you dad.” heejin says and it catches you and heeseung off guard– heejin herself doesn’t even realize what she’s said as she gets cozy in bed. 

there was a sense of awkwardness between the two of you at the comment by your daughter and it causes heeseung to start questioning things and putting puzzle pieces together. the possibility that he could’ve been heejin’s dad hadn’t crossed his mind once and now that it’s been brought up; it’s all he was thinking about. 

“goodnight, baby.” you say before placing a kiss onto heejin’s forehead and as you’re about to leave; she calls out to you. “mama, can you sing me a lullaby?” she asks and even though you were exhausted, you weren’t going to say no to your daughter. 

“can i?” heeseung asks and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no when heejin looked so excited, so you nod and heeseung takes a seat on the bed next to heejin who was still hugging the deer plushie. 

heeseung then begins to sing a song to your daughter. you haven’t heard his voice in so long, the melodic trill of his vocals, a symphonic honey like sound that lulled your daughter to sleep in no time, her soft snores mixing with heeseung’s beautiful singing. 

when the two of you were certain that she was sound asleep, you carefully walked out of her room and shut the door as softly as you could. as you try to walk back to finish some cleaning, heeseung holds onto your hand and whips you back around to look at him, his gaze filled with love and the same type of longing that has lingered inside of him for years on end. 

“can we talk?” heeseung says and you nod, letting him know to continue. 

“i know that i hurt you when i made it feel like you were just a rebound, but that couldn’t have been more wrong. it was always you, i’ve always loved you and i would always choose you. my ex and i were constantly fighting throughout that week and the day i came running to you was when we broke up but i never told you why… 

we broke up because she realized how much i loved you in comparison to her and it wasn’t fair that whenever i was with her, all i could think about was you. 

i’ve loved you since the day i met you and i just never had the courage to say that, but i would write your name in the sand again and again after the waves have swept it away if it means that my love for you is shared across the seas.” 

tears streaming down your eyes as heeseung’s hands gently cup your face, his thumb wiping your face of your tears. heeseung brings you into his arms for an embrace and when he feels your arms wrap around him, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally able to get that off of his chest.

something that he’s had weighing on him for so long and was so happy to finally profess his love for you. the girl he loves and will always love. 

when you pull away from him with a sniffle, heeseung wipes your tears again as you lock eyes, “is she mine?” he asks in reference and you nod, finally telling heeseung the secret that you’ve held for the last five years. 

tears sting heeseung’s eyes at the information and he holds you even tighter in his arms when he hears the news. he couldn’t believe that the beautiful girl he just sang to sleep was his daughter. joy was an understatement to describe the emotion that he was feeling. the type of love only a family could share where they’d do everything to keep the family together and happy. 

you and heeseung spend the night sharing stories of what you’ve missed in each other’s lives in the time that you were gone. tears, laughter, and tender touches shared between the two of you as you do your best to rebuild your relationship from scratch. 

“thank you for giving me another chance.” heeseung whispers as you lay in his arms, the moonlight shining onto your faces, leaving a small white cast into the room. 

“thank you for not giving up on me.” you respond, heeseung placing a small kiss onto your temple before you both drift off to sleep. a type of joy and delight radiating from your bodies that neither of you have felt in so long. something you would have only gotten from one another. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

you’re awoken to the smell of grilled meat wafting throughout your home, your nose dragging you to the living room to find heejin and heeseung in the kitchen cooking together. “what do we have here?” you ask and they turn to look at you, “mama! he’s teaching me how to make pancakes and bacon.” she says, running over to you and hugging your legs. you pick her up and walk back to heeseung who was setting the last pancake onto the plate. 

“let’s eat.” he says and you all sit at the table together and enjoy breakfast like a family for the first time. a moment that you’ve always wanted to share as a whole family and now that you’ve finally been able to share the truth with heeseung, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“heejin, i have something to tell you, ok?” you tell her and she’s looking up at you with her big doe eyes, identical to heeseung’s who was shyly sitting to the side. “remember when you asked me where your papa is?” and heejin nods, a small pout on her lips. 

“bambi, heeseung is your papa.” and you’ve never seen heejin move so fast before as she’s jumping out of her chair and into heeseung’s arms to which he welcomes her, hugging his daughter with so much love that you could feel it coming off of them. heeseung extends one of his arms to invite you over and as tears fall from your eyes once again, you join in on your first ever family hug. 

you didn’t know when this day would come and you were elated that it came sooner after you had been running from it for the last five years. the happiest moment of your life with the family you’ve created could’ve never happened if you didn’t face heeseung and allowed for him to bare his soul and heart to you. something you should’ve never been afraid of. 

heeseung waited for you every single day, thinking about the day that you’d come back to him and when you’d finally be his. to his surprise, you gave him a beautiful daughter that, although he has a lot of time to make up for, was so happy that he wasn’t too late to watch her grow and be a part of her life. 

no matter how hard you tried to run from having to face this hardship, heeseung was thousands of miles away back in korea waiting for you with only love in his mind. wanting nothing more than to have you back in his life and to never let you go like he had done the first time. 

the image of your broken face replayed in his mind every night when he slept, thinking about the pain he must’ve put you through without knowing the full capacity of what you had to experience alone. he wished he was there by your side through every single step, holding your hand in the delivery room, taking photos of you as your stomach grew, witnessing his daughter’s first steps and first word, everything. 

but now that he was back, he was going to make sure that he didn’t miss anything else. 

you and your daughter instantly became the most important people in his life, knowing that he’d love the both of you endlessly, unconditionally, and forever. 

forever. 

something that he’d always associate with you because you are his forever and now, so is your daughter. 

love should be forever and you were forever going to be loved by him. it was like love and forever was synonymous with you because to heeseung, loving you is forever. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

@seonhoon @maliakealoha @melancholy-z @woniefull @clandestineself @xylatox @yjngwon04 @enhaverse713586 @lovingvoidgoatee @lizdevorak @arourababy @m3owzz @tvm-m-blog @hommyy-tommy @ikeulove @hhyvsstuff @theoskies @gyuternally @dksfml @luumiinaa @jungwonchocochipcookie @ikeuwoniee @river-demon-slayer @horijiro @byuniieo @serinebsblog @aonneh @sumzysworld @rikiiisoob @sxnmavi @fancypeacepersona @cloud-lyy @tya0

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[reyalvr]

SHE’S MINE | 00

CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series

word count ┊ 798

author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!

prev. | next

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.

He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 

It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 

“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”

Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…

…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 

“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 

Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 

“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 

“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 

The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 

“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”

Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 

He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”

reyalvr © 2024 … do not repost, alter, or steal my work.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

Toji Fushiguro

Summary: Megumi is insanely jealous of the new addition to the household.

Warnings: Fluff, Jealous!Megumi

*Didn't have anything bigger for Toji for father's day but I had to celebrate it one way or another sfjosjf. Enjoy my lovelies!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Papa, up!” Megumi yells, hoping to get his father’s attention when he sees Toji holding the new addition to the family. Megumi has reached the age where he claims to be independent, after all, four is such a big age. He’d cry if you or Toji held him, but he’s changed his mind.

“Your baby sister is crying, give me a minute.” Toji sounds annoyed, knowing that Megumi does it out of jealousy. Jealous of a baby that can’t even hold her own head, kids are so dumb. Megumi lets out a cry before yelling again,

“Papa, up!” He wants attention now. He doesn’t want to wait until Toji is done with some stinky baby. Toji lets out an exasperated sigh as tears begin to stream down Megumi’s face– Crocodile tears, but tears nonetheless. He extends his arms and opens and closes his tiny fists repeatedly, yelling, “Up!”

“Megumi, you don’t want to wake up mommy, do you?” Toji asks, trying his best to calm down the crying baby in his arms while also handling Megumi. Toji goes unheard as Megumi begins to cry his little heart out. 

Toji takes a deep breath, trying to remain collected in this situation. Megumi is only four and getting adjusted to the presence of his little sister. Toji decides that it’s best to walk away, going to the kitchen to get the baby’s bottle and deal with her first since Megumi’s issue isn’t easily resolved. 

“Papa!” Megumi yells, following around Toji as he gets a bottle in the baby’s mouth. 

“Megumi, wait for me in the living room.” Toji says, but Megumi isn’t listening. Daddy isn’t like mommy, whatever mommy says goes but when Toji speaks he goes ignored; Toji’s is far scarier and intimidating than you are, he doesn’t understand why Megumi doesn’t take him seriously. “Megumi, go away!”

“I’m running away!” Megumi stomps his little feet before finally leaving Toji to deal with the baby. Toji breathes in relief, his pesky little bug finally giving him a moment alone. He’s able to go to the living room and sit down comfortably as he finishes feeding his daughter. 

“He’ll come around, princess. He hasn’t witnessed just how cute you are.” Toji coos, as if the baby can understand or care. She finishes her bottle, and Toji burps her before setting her down in her crib. He usually chooses to hold her whenever he can, but right now he has bigger fish to fry.

Toji walks into Megumi’s room, watching how his son tries to fit his most valuable toys into a backpack. Toji is trying his best to not chuckle, knowing that Megumi is deeply hurt. Toji takes a seat on Megumi’s tiny bed, clearing his throat before asking, “Need help packing?”

“You hate me!” Megumi cries, and Toji rolls his eyes. Was he that dramatic when he was Megumi’s age? “Mommy and you don’t love me anymore.”

“Oh c’mon, why do you say that, urchin?” Toji tries to see the little guy’s point of view before attempting to comfort him. The last thing Toji needs is attempting to explain to you why Megumi is packing up all his toys– You leave him alone with the kids for a two hour nap and Megumi’s already moving out. 

“You only care for the new baby.” Megumi angrily muffles, and Toji could’ve guessed as much. 

“C’mere, baby. Let me carry you now.” Toji opens his arms for Megumi, and Megumi glares at his father. He wipes away his tears before deciding that he does want to be carried by his father, after all, the tantrum is simply because of this. Toji picks him up, setting him down on his lap before kissing his forehead. “Is this why you’ve been so sensitive? Because of the new baby?”

“Yeah…” Megumi pouts, and it takes everything in Toji to not laugh.

“I will tell you something but don’t tell mommy, okay?” Toji begins, almost whispering to Megumi. Megumi’s eyes perk up, and Toji is fighting back a smirk. “We… Don’t like the new baby that much. I mean, we just met her. But you, urchin? You’re our favorite.”

“Really?” Megumi’s voice is full of hope, and Toji prays that this means Megumi will stop being so jealous about his baby sister. Toji doesn’t hesitate before nodding. It reminds Megumi that he doesn’t like being held anymore, which makes him get off Toji’s lap.

“Will you behave around her, now?” Toji asks, and Megumi takes a moment to think about it.

“Can we sell her?” Megumi responds, which makes Toji’s jaw drop. Did his cute little urchin seriously just say that?

“Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed near her room.” Toji stands up from the tiny bed, his knees cracking. He leans down and kisses the top of Megumi’s head, “Now unpack all of your toys before mommy wakes up.”

[pha55ed]

PR Nightmare Two || F1/F2

type :: crack

tw/cw :: pee (carlos), sexual jokes (charles, oscar), watersports (lando), small smut (lando), mpreg (lando, oscar), bear fucking (ollie), necrophilia (ollie),

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, max, ollie, paul

summary :: driver!reader is the driver's teammate which is awesome! except the fact that you're a fucking pr disater who can't shut your mouth. platonic or romantic !

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

After moving to Williams, Carlos was terrified that you and him wouldn't click. But was quickly proven wrong as you were extremely open despite just meeting him. He knew everything about you... Too much...

Yet again, you were trapped in an interview that was seemingly never-ending. This interview was live on Sky Sports, meaning you both had to be extra careful and stay on for much longer than usual. Although Carlos was tired, you weren't. Yapping would have been your full time job if it wasn't for your skills in Formula.

"What is a secret you haven't told each other?" The interviewer asks, expecting something along the lines of 'I ate your ice-cream once' or 'I hate when you wear crocs'. Carlos was going to reply with something similar to that but you quickly jumped in.

"I wanna pee in the ice bath so bad" You said with a desperate tone, as if you were grieving the pain of not being able to bathe in your own piss. Carlos looked at you in shock.

"What?!" He asked, his shock turning to laughter to help cope. "But you never did right...?"

"Of course not holy shit." You say, disgusted he would think so lowly of you. "But I wanna see how my pee would react the muscle-relaxants and ice and shit. Like what if I become the Hulk but yellow-"

Quickly the camera were cut and the live stream ended before you could say more. You ruined an entire live stream with over 20,000 live viewers. From that moment, Carlos knew you two would be perfect together on this team.

Charles Leclerc | 16

Doing small interviews didn't bother Charles that much. He didn't mind talking and his fanbase was lovely. But once you became his new teammate at Ferrari, interviews were now 10 times more fun.

"Did you guys have any embarrassing childhood crushes?" The interviewer asked, finally giving you both non-racing related questions.

"Oh yes!" Charles said, excited to talk about himself. "Definitely Kristen Stewart haha! Not very embarrassing, but I did watch Twilight just for her."

"That's so valid" You said relaxed, "I think mine was probably 9."

Both Charles and the interviewer looked extremely confused. "From what show...?" The interviewer asked, assuming it was something like the Umbrella Academy or Stranger Things.

Now you were confused as well, "Huh? There's no show." You repeated yourself. "9, as in the number... Like the circle and line."

"Oh..." The interviewer said, trying their best to find a way to segway this into the next question but they were cut off by Charles.

"No way," Charles said, "Maybe! MAYBE I could understand the number 8 but 9???" Now the interviewer was completely lost. "At least 8 has curves and a body, what does 9 have?"

"I know he's packin" You said with a grin "That little curved tail, curved UPWARDS? And the-"

Cameras off. Interviewers cutting you off. And Charles was deeply interested... This clip launches your duo name: Eight Eat Nine

Lando Norris | 04

"How are you helping (Y/N) adjust to being a new Papaya!" The interviewer asked innocently. Little did she know how much Lando has been enduring with you. Thankfully he recored it all and there would be a video posted to Youtube soon.

"Awful." Lando says before chuckling, almost more like a nervous break down chuckle. "Every day is hell with em' here."

"What???" The interviewer asked, thinking she got first-hand access to the newest gossip on the grid. "Did something happen?"

"YEAH." Lando said, simply nodding, not having the guts to say what you did. Thankfully, but not very thankfully to Lando, you walked into the interview after overhearing it.

"Yeah, what DID I do?" You ask, almost sounding threatening. "Don't make me show you again."

After weeks passed and rumors were rampant online. Rumors about you blackmailing him, overthrowing his family's business, kicking him out of Mclaren, and so so many more extreme rumors that you both were laughing at. Lando finally edited and posted his newest Youtube video: "Reading Fanfiction with (Y/N)!?"

Despite the thumbnail seeming like you two would be reading fan-fiction shipping you both together, instead, you found the most vile, borderline dark content, gay fics of Lando with a variety of drivers.

Thus, explaining the odd dynamic between you two. In reality, you both were perfectly fine and closer than ever. But you just wanted to play up the drama in order to rack up some views and tweets. It was awful for the PR team, but to you guys: it was funny.

Oscar Piastri | 81

oscarpiastri: got a tan and a new helmet: ready to destroy the next half of the 25' season! @.mclaren

→ yourusername: finish taking that shirt off. now.

→ yourusername: take off your pants too while your at it.

⎯→ user 01: OH MY GOD (Y/N)?????? UNDER A MCLAREN TAGGED POST TOO????

→ user 02: they're never ever going to beat the dating accusations

⎯→ yourusername: we're about to be dating once he comes home

→ user 03: thought i was a freak but (y/n)... u can have him

→ yourusername: my lovely wonder-bread, bend over for me.

⎯→ user 04: i thought this was a joke about his name sounding like pastry but she's just calling him white, isnt she

⎯→ user 05: that's her precious white chocolate delight

→ yourusername: gonna get ur fine ass pregnant

→ yourusername: raw. next question.

⎯→ user 06: i can't tell if she's tiktok typa horny or tumblr typa horny

⎯→ user 07: definitely tumblr...

No image. I'm not searching this shit up again.

Max Verstappen | 01

Tiktok is something Max tries to stay away from. Not that he hates the app, he'd just rather do something else with his time. But you, the newest and youngest driver on the grid, loved Tiktok. You were basically the marketing for Redbull despite your out of pocket videos at times.

And that included you coming up with the idea to have Max react to fans posts. An innocent idea that Max didn't mind filming content for, after all, he loved his fans. But you quickly were going to make him doubt that.

You were smart, showing him innocent tiktoks first. Fan art, cool edits, and even analysis on his best drives. As the video was coming to an end, you brought up the trend where drivers were compared to a food and a quote.

Often times Max was compared to a key lime pie, bell pepper, or an energy drink. But you then showed him THE strawberry slideshow. You knew what the ending was.

"Oh strawberry!" Max said, excited to finally get a sweet themed item. But as he swiped and saw the strawberries then coated with white chocolate, obviously implying something, he jumped back and gasped. "OH!!! Well, I didn't... I didn't expect that."

While you were dying, already posting it - he was traumatized.

Oliver Bearman | 87

Interviews were fun between you both, fans always loved it. Mainly because both of you can't keep your mouth shut. The only way to make your interviews even worse is to get Franco to join in with you guys.

But unlike Ollie's sassy comments, you asked stupid questions. Butt fuck stupid questions. Which Ollie always took serious. Think of Tom Holland answering the question about him "faking" being British or Theo Von's podcast vibes. It was the dumb American x understanding Brit duo.

So when you both were forced to create a "podcast" for Prema, aka a race preview, you both took full advantage of this time. You were supposed to be just folding laundry, but almost nothing got folded. It was just yapping and yapping.

"I got a question," You say, attempting to fold a shirt but doing awful at it.

"Hmm?" Ollie replied, picking up the shirt you just folded and undoing it. Only to fold it properly himself.

"Why is your name Bearman?" You ask. "Cause like, I know British people got like, My Little Pony names. Like how people named Smith's were blacksmiths and stuff."

"Oh well," Ollie paused to think, "I dunno actually. It's from my great grandpa so."

"Did he fuck a bear or something?" You ask, nonchalantly while Ollie instantly is confused. "Cause lowkey, back in the day I bet Bearman was a slur."

"No..." Ollie hesitated, "I highly doubt my grandpa fucked a bear. I think we probably just hunted bears-"

"So you're a family of necrophiles?" You shake your head, "That's just wrong man."

"I never said that-"

Paul Aron | 17

paularon_: Went for a run, in Italy, with a film camera🇮🇹🎥

→ yourusername: is it say yes to the dress or say yes to the SLUT???

→ yourusername: is this your soft launch for your only fans?

⎯→ user 01: i'd so buy it tbh

→ yourusername: pepemartiofficial kimi.antonelli olliebearman jakcrawford_ zane.maloney isackhadjar dennis_hauger

⎯→ paularon_: why are you @ ing the whole grid

⎯→ yourusername: to slut shame you

→ pepemartiofficial: did you lose your shirt over the summer?

→ olliebearman: go eat a burger (save somes baddies for the rest of us)

→ jakcrawford_: we get it, ur buff with a huge dick

⎯→ user 02:: how do u know that…

⎯→ yourusername: I can vouch for

→ isackhadjar: put a bra on slut

⎯→ yourusername: I don’t even think mines will fit him

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 51: Back To The Start

Summary: Now that you're back on base there's some adjustments that have to be made in order to make things as painless as possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,471 words

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, angst, emotions, flashbacks, PTSD, angst, military inaccuracies, weapons, angst, language, some rehashing of previous chapters events

A/N: So this went in a different direction than I planned but we'll get there soon enough. This story is going to be 392040 chapters long atp

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“We didn’t have any choice.”

“There were ways to do this that could have avoided bringing her here.”

John stares hard at Simon, into the gap in his mask where his eyes stick out. He had donned the mask before they left the cottage, reverting back to old habits. He knows why Simon does it, why Simon insists on keeping himself hidden from those outside his pack.

He would have preferred to have this conversation in his office, away from where you might overhear, but the alpha had been on him as soon as they were away from the rec room.

“Like what?” He asks, crossing his arms.

“We could have gotten an apartment.”

“She couldn’t be left there by herself. That would be too dangerous.” John counters.

“We could have taken her to one of our families. Let her stay with them.” Simon says.

“I don’t know how long this will take. It’s not fair for us to burden them with taking care of our omega.”

Simon stares at John for a long moment. “You’re afraid of separation.”

John swallows thickly. Of course Simon would be able to read him so easily. “The last time I left her I nearly lost her. I’m not willing to risk that happening again.”

“So you’ll keep her here where she’s unhappy?” Simon gives him a look. “What are we going to do when we have to train or run drills? We don’t have anyone to lean on this time. We can’t leave her in here alone.”

“One of us will stay here with her, or we’ll bring her with us. We’ve done it before.” John hates to admit that Simon is right, but there’s no other option. “It’s only for a few weeks. This is the best option and we’ll do our best to make this as painless as possible.”

Simon stands up straighter, getting close to him. “It’s going to be painful for her no matter what. She’s not like us, John. She can’t just forget.”

Simon brushes past him, heading down the hallway before turning left towards the rooms. John hates that Simon is so right, but he’s brought up good points. They don’t have Dr. Keller to lean on this time. He knows if he called she’d come back without hesitation, but he won’t. She’s moved on to her new life and she deserves to live it. He can’t leave you here alone again, not after what happened the last time he did that. He’s worried, but he knows there really is no other option for them. They have to do this, have to make it through the next few weeks and hope his paperwork gets processed sooner rather than later.

The couch is just as uncomfortable as you remember. It never was comfortable, but it was what you had available. Now, after seeing what you could have, it’s almost unbearable. You miss the soft couches, the soft light, the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. You miss the soft colors and the warmth, the freedom that the cottage presented.

Now you’re trapped back in a prison, a prison of nightmares. It’s not just unwelcoming, it’s depressing and full of horrible memories. Broken promises, insecurity about yourself and your pack, anxiety about every aspect of your life, fear that something might happen to you or your pack, terror from the threat on your life. So much heartbreak has happened here that being back in it feels as if your heart is breaking all over again.

“I know it’s hard.” Kyle says softly. Your head is pillowed in his lap, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. There’s a blanket tossed over you, one Johnny had dug out of the boxes currently stacked in the hallway.

They’d abandoned unpacking and moving boxes as soon as your panic attack happened. If you weren’t so upset still, you’d almost find it endearing. How much they’ve changed from the cold, battle-hardened soldiers you met over a year ago.

Johnny is cleaning the rec room, keeping his hands busy after affirming you were going to be okay. Were you really? Debatable, but you knew he needed to do something. The barracks haven’t been cleaned in months and there’s quite the build up of dust across every surface. There’s a stale smell as well, not musty but like air that’s been stagnant too long. No one’s been inside to disturb it, to bring it back to life until now.

John and Simon went away to argue. You know that’s what happened as soon as Simon got you settled on the couch with Kyle. You wish John were in here now, comforting you, but you know they’re having a discussion leader to leader, alpha to alpha. What do we do? What can we do?

Nothing.

You can do nothing.

You’re stuck here in your nightmare until John’s retirement paperwork gets processed. That could take weeks. You’ll be stuck here in hell for weeks, forced back into old routines in a place you’ve always hated. Now you have even more reason to hate it.

Quiet footsteps approach the couch. Even after months they’ve never lost that ability. Always light on their feet, always agile and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. You’d never see it coming. You’re lucky McKinney had been far less skilled.

The thought of him sends a shiver down your spine, your leg aching where that scar is. You’ve tried not to stare at it, blanking your mind every time your fingers grazed over it in the shower. You wear a mark now like them. They all have those scars revealing close calls. Now you’ve had your own.

John sits down on the coffee table facing you. He leans his elbows on his knees, reaching out a hand to cup your face. His thumb is rough as it strokes your cheek, running over dried tear tracks. You managed to stop crying. That’s saying something.

“How are you?” He asks, his voice soft.

You almost scoff. “You want me to answer that?” You murmur.

“I know.” He breathes. “I should have thought about that before you came in.”

Yeah, you should have, you think. You wouldn’t dare say that out loud.

“We’ll get the door fixed and keep it closed.” He says. “You won’t have to go in there unless you want to.

I won’t want to. You’d be happy to never set foot in that room again.

“You won’t have to stay here alone, either. You’ll come with us if none of us can stay here with you.” He says, pulling his hand back. “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

It’s never going to be painless. Every moment spent here will be misery.

He stares at you for a long moment. You stare back, Kyle’s hand still in your hair, gently rubbing your scalp. There was a time you could have slept like this, but now you can’t relax. Your body is stressed, adrenaline high as fight and flight battle in your brain. You can’t do either, instead stuck in the limbo of freezing. You should feel safe, comforted by his words, his promises...but this is the place of broken promises.

“Now,” He says, putting his hands back on his knees. “We need to go check in, then we’ll get some dinner.” He gives you a weak smile. “Take a minute and breathe. Then we’ll go.”

He pushes himself up to stand, leaving the rec room. Johnny follows, but not before casting a glance your way.

Kyle pulls his hand away, resting it on your arm. “Come on,” He squeezes your arm gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re numb as you push yourself off the couch, your legs shaking just a bit from the drop in adrenaline and the nerves still coursing through you. You’re not sure which is worse, being trapped in the barracks or having to leave and face down the rest of the base.

Kyle takes your hand, leading you into the bathroom across the hall. He wets some towels with cold water before gently pressing them against your face. “I know,” He says, moving from one cheek to the other. “I’ll be glad once my paperwork’s in and approved. Won’t miss this place.”

His words don’t do much to quell the twisting in your stomach. “What about Johnny and Simon?” you ask quietly.

“They’ll stay here.” He says, pressing the paper towel against your forehead. “Simon will take over as leader of the team. He might work with Laswell to find new members, or it’ll stay just the two of them.”

“They’ll still get to see us, right?” You ask.

“Of course.” Kyle smiles, gently cradling the back of your head to press the towel over your eyes. “They’ll get to go on leave just like everyone else.”

He dabs at your face, the cool water helping calm your shaking body just a little. You can’t wait for the next few weeks to be over with, when you can leave this place in the dust and never have to return. You love Simon and Johnny but you wouldn’t come back here if your life depended on it. Even if it means going months without seeing them.

Kyle moves the towel to the back of your neck, his thumbs stroking your jaw as he holds it there. There’s a soft smile on his face as he stares down at you. “You’ll be alright. We’ll make sure of that.”

You wish you could believe him.

As much as you the to admit it, the cold water has helped a bit, grounding you out of your state of panic and nervousness slightly. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Kyle’s waist. He tosses the paper towel towards the trash can where it lands with a wet plop. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest.

A moment of silence passes before you speak. “You missed that, didn’t you?”

He’s silent for a second. “...No…”

A small smile pulls at your lips as you hold him.

You wish you could say being outside the barracks was better than being in them, but that would be a lie. The nerves are back as the five of you walk towards the main building on base, the one in the center of everything. The last time you were there, you met General Shepherd for the first time, when the cameras were put up in your room. That idiotic moment when you left the barracks with a stranger.

Even now walking with your pack, you feel that nervous edge that had been there the first time. You’re in the middle of them, John leading the way, Kyle and Johnny on either side of you, and Simon picking up the rear. You remember all those times walking back and forth exactly like this. They only did it here, not when you went to town while you were at the cottage. Maybe because they knew you were more in danger here than out in the real world. These are well trained soldiers too, not easily intimidated like the average civilian.

It’s cool inside the building. Apparently no one on base has heard of heating. Not that it was really cold enough outside for it, but you’re beginning to crash from your heightened emotions and your body feels cold and shaky.

John guides you to a chair near the front, easing you down into it. His hand stays on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Stay here. We’ll be right back.” His fingers slide to your chin, lifting your face so you’re staring up at him. “You know what to do if someone approaches you.”

You nod. Whether or not you could actually do it is debatable. John stares down at you for a long moment before releasing you, turning his back to guide the rest of the pack away. You watch them go until they disappear behind a door, your nerves starting to pick up. There’s hardly anyone in the building aside from the stray soldier walking by. They give you hardly more than the occasional glance in passing. You doubt they’ve forgotten who you are in the months you’ve been away. Those orders still stand. They’re to leave you alone no matter what.

Time seems to crawl by, your legs starting to shake nervously as you wait for their return. John said it wouldn’t take long, but the minutes are starting to feel like hours. Time seems to pass differently here, slower than it did at the cottage. There’s more to be aware of here. You can’t relax in safety and security like you did there. Even when the threat of Shepherd was still looming over your heads there was still a sense of security at the cottage. You were far from anyone and everyone, free to do what you wanted.

Now you’re going to have to stick to a tight schedule, surrounded by the constant need for hypervigilance lest you face the threat of a cocksure alpha brave enough to approach you, even with your pack around.

That would always be a threat to you as an omega, but here it seems extra prevalent. Here there are rules, here there are expectations. They know better, but that hasn’t stopped them.

You let out a breath of air as your pack walks back through the door, heading towards you.

“Aright?” John asks, his hand on your back as you stand.

You nod. Are you really? Debatable, but nothing happened while they were gone so you have to say yes.

“Let’s get some dinner then we can work on unpacking.” He says, glancing at the rest of your pack before taking your hand.

You walk with him, the others following as you make your way towards the mess. It’s late enough it’s going to be full. You didn’t miss the mess. You didn’t miss having to eat in front of others at set times. The guys liked to keep a schedule, but it was your schedule at your own times. Now it’s entirely dictated by someone else.

You can’t wait to finally be free again.

John keeps his hand on your back as you enter the mess, eyes turning to you. They’re all staring, all glancing your way as you make your way to the line. They’re all wondering why you were gone for months, why you came back. They want to know but they never will. They’ll wonder again in a few months when you and John and then eventually Kyle drive away and never return, when it’s just Simon and Johnny showing up. You wonder if any of them will be the ones chosen to join the task force, which of them Simon would choose, if any.

You do wonder if he’ll choose anyone. It would be different, since they wouldn’t be part of your pack. You know Simon would never allow anyone else to join. It’s the five of you and that’s it. You have your dynamics, your balance settled. Anyone else runs the risk of disrupting it, turning it on its head.

Most of all, you know they wouldn’t be allowed near you.

John fills your tray for you, not forgetting his duties even back in this setting. At the cottage he made your plate, here he fills your tray with what he knows you might eat of the offerings tonight. It all looks so bland, so...beige. Formless slop with a side of mushy peas.

The five of you find a table near the back of the room, thankfully away from most of the prying eyes. You sit between Kyle and John, Simon and Johnny facing you. It’s like riding a bicycle, back to the automatic patterns even months spent away couldn’t break.

You stare down at the unappetizing meal on your tray, your mind already back to home cooked food, even if they were only okay at cooking. It was still infinitely better than this sad excuse for a dinner that you just know it’s going to be bland as hell.

They have no problems diving in. They’ve been eating this food for years, no doubt only thinking of nourishment and not what they’ve left behind.

You’re fighting tears as you attempt to cut what you think is chicken. It’s slightly tough, overcooked most likely. It doesn’t taste any better than how it looks, seasoned with hopes and dreams of what might have been good chicken. You wish you could go in there and cook your own dinner for your pack, give them the food they deserve to eat.

You pick at your food, eating and chewing slowly as you try not to think about it. You lived on this food for months, you even enjoyed eating it sometimes. You can do that again, slip back into that headspace where you had to do things, where you had no choice. You have no choice now?

“Everything okay?” John asks, glancing down at your still full tray.

“Yeah, just...not hungry.” You say. You’re starving, but you’re too busy grieving food with flavor and defined edges.

You should eat. There’s no snacks to go back to. They’re all probably expired and stale after months of sitting. Besides. Most of them are probably in your room anyway. The last place you want to go is in there, even out of desperation for some kind of good food.

“At least eat your peas.” John says, nodding to the mush of green in one of the sections of the tray. They don’t look in the least bit appetizing.

Tears gather in your eyes again as you acquiesce despite your reservations, spooning a bit into your mouth. They’re just as mushy and bland as they look, and you don’t waste much time chewing.

They’re all watching you as you eat, their own trays mostly clear. You feel a bit like a child forced to eat your vegetables before you leave the table. Shame burns hot in you and you quickly finish off your peas before downing the rest of your water.

“Good girl.” John says, patting your back before taking your tray. Your stomach is churning, and you feel a bit like you’re about to be sick, but you hold it down. This is the last place you want to cause a scene...another scene. You’ve already done that once.

You won’t be doing it again.

You cough a little as more dust flies up into the air. There’s a thick layer of it over everything and it’s currently being kicked up into the air by John’s dusting. You’re seated on his bed on a blanket, the sheets stripped to be washed. All of the washers are going right now, one for each of them filled with blankets, sheets, and clothes. Tomorrow they have to go back to wearing their uniforms again. You’ll miss the look of Simon’s ass in jeans.

There’s a bear in your arms, squeezed tight against your chest as you watch him clean his bookshelf. You’re trying to silence the quiet gurgling of your stomach. Whether it’s hunger or your body’s protest to the mushy peas you’re not quite sure.

“You doing alright?” John asks, deeply focused on cleaning the shelf he’s working on. The books are stacked next to him, each one getting a thorough wipe down.

“Yeah.” You say, rubbing some of the bear’s fur between your fingers.

“You want something to read?” He asks, glancing up at you.

You shake your head. “No, that’s alright.”

He sits back on his heel, pausing what he’s doing to stare at you. “You’re turning down a book?”

You shrug, dropping your gaze to the bear in your arms. “Just don’t feel much like reading right now.”

John hums before pushing himself up to stand. He sinks down on the bed next to you with a sigh, his arm wrapping around you to pull you against his chest. “I’m sorry you have to do this. I wish I could make it easier.”

“I hate it here.” You murmur, still holding your bear close to your chest.

“I know. I know you always have. You were here because you had to be and now that we’ve all gotten a taste of what life could be like...it’s hard to come back.” His hand rubs your arm. “Even if I hadn’t already decided to retire, I think I would have been pushed in that direction after coming back. If nothing else I’d suck it up and take a desk job and move us off base.”

His words give you pause for a moment. “Why didn’t you do that? Why fully retire?”

“It wouldn’t be the same. I’ve always been a man of action, out in the field, fighting to save the world. Better to be out completely than sitting behind a desk knowing I could have been out there myself.” He squeezes you gently. “At least if I retire I can learn to relax.”

It falls silent between the two of you for a moment, John’s scent soft and relaxed. It’s helping ease the turmoil in your mind just a bit. He’s trying hard, you know that. You know he means it when he says he’s sorry for bringing you back here. He really does feel guilty for what happened to day, for what this place means to you.

He sits up straighter, his arm dropping from around you. “I have an idea.”

He pushes himself up to stand, holding out a hand for you. You take it, frowning a bit as he pulls you up to stand next to him. He kneels down, putting the books back on the shelf before standing again. He starts to dig through the boxes, pulling out blankets, stuffed animals, and pillows before stacking them on the desk and underneath on the floor.

You take a couple steps back towards the bathroom door as he grabs the mattress, sliding it down to the floor. He shoves it up against the desk before standing. “Be right back.” He disappears out the door.

You stand there, watching the doorway as he makes his way down the hallway, calling for all of them to bring their mattresses and blankets. It’s not hard to figure out what he’s doing. You’re just not sure why.

John reappears in the doorway, a small smile on his face. Simon’s not far behind him, dragging his mattress into the room. He shoves it in next to John’s, dropping a pile of blankets on it. You didn’t even know he had so many blankets. He’s always seemed like a one rough, ratty blanket kind of man.

Kyle and Johnny appear at the same time, nearly getting stuck in the door at their excitement to add to the growing nest. It’s a nest. John’s making a nest for you.

John starts to arrange your blankets across the four mattresses squeezed onto the floor. They’ve all brought their own blankets, likely ones picked up while at the cottage or ones they washed and dried. You stand there as they arrange the pillows and blankets, trying to make a perfect nest for you. You haven’t nested in months and here they are trying to build you one instead.

Tears start to slide down your cheeks, a quiet sob leaving your lips. All four of them look up at the sound, pausing in what they’re doing.

“What is it?” Kyle asks.

“Is it wrong?” Simon asks at the same time.

You shake your head, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “It’s so sweet.” You cry, holding your bear tight against your chest.

“Aw bon, c’mere.” Johnny holds his arms out and you move forward into his hold.

The other three surround you, folding yourselves into a group hug as you cry. The action nearly makes you cry harder as you’re enveloped in their warmth and comfort. Their scents surround you, seeping into your brain and deep to where your omega has been pacing back and forth, awakened thanks to your fear and the perceived threat looming in the back of your mind.

It’s nice, being held by them, surrounded safely in their arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been held like this by them, all of them at once, securely in the middle of their protective circle. It makes you feel warm, fighting off the inevitable chill of the barracks that seeps into your very soul.

You don’t want them to let go, but you let them. You can’t stay that way forever, no matter how badly you want to. You don’t doubt they’d stand there until their legs gave out if you asked them to.

“Better?” Johnny asks, gently wiping your tears.

“Yeah.” You breathe, sniffling still. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Kyle kisses the top of your head. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

“I know.” You give him a small smile. “Even murder.”

“Just tell us who.” Simon says, looming behind you.

“Thankfully no one right now.” You say, plopping yourself down into the nest. “But I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” Simon says, staring down at you for a moment before heading towards the door.

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“Gotta get ready for bed.” He shrugs before leaving the room.

“Right.” You say, looking down at your clothes. You should probably get ready too.

You crawl over to the boxes of clothes, popping one open before digging through it. It’s a box of John’s stuff but that’s alright. That’s what you were looking for anyway. You pull out a t-shirt for you, before moving on to another box, looking for John’s pajamas.

“What are you doing?” John asks, watching you dig through his neatly folded clothes.

“Looking for your Pj’s.” You say.

“Probably won’t need them tonight.” He says. “It’s going to get warm in here.”

You sit back on your heels. He’s right. The last time you’d all slept in the same room it had gotten unbearably hot. You shrug before pulling your shirt over your head, ditching your bra and pants before pulling John’s shirt over your head. You turn to stare up at him, his eyes hooded as he stares down at you.

“What?” You ask, wiping your face in case you’ve been wearing remnants of mushy peas that no one told you about.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling his shirt off. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering. “Don’t,” You say unconvincingly. “You’re gonna distract me.”

“Good.” He smirks, undoing the button on his jeans. You watch his fingers as he pulls the zipper down before looping those fingers into the waistband and tugging.

Your eyes follow them down before trailing back up his body to his face. He’s watching you as he steps out of his pants, kicking them over towards the bathroom door. You lick your lips, staring at his face for a moment before crawling past him, grabbing your big bear from the spot on the floor at the end of his bed. You drag it over to the middle of the nest, situating it next to where you’re going to lay. Right in the middle between them all.

You situate the bear before getting up, heading to John’s bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

“Bloody hell.” You hear Simon say, no doubt about the bear. It has a smile tugging at your lips.

You try to hide that smile as you step out of the bathroom, climbing back into the nest. Simon has settled himself closest to the door, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. Your mood has been steadily improving since this new development, your eyes trailing across Simon’s back as he sets his phone on John’s shelf.

Johnny and Kyle enter, both of them forgoing shirts as well. Johnny is in nothing but his boxers, Kyle a pair of shorts. They’re trying to kill you, you know it.

Distraction: successful.

You settle yourself in the middle next to your bear, slipping under one of the blankets. Kyle tosses a couple more onto the pile, still warm from the dryer. Johnny plops down on your right, between you and Simon. He wraps his arms around you, tugging you against his chest. You just barely manage to get your arms around your bear, pulling it with you.

“No fair.” Kyle pouts, settling himself on your other side.

“Shoulda been faster.” Johnny says, spooning himself up against you.

You wrap your arms around the bear, holding it close against you. Johnny’s arms stretch across your middle to wrap around the bear as well, nearly suffocating you between them.

Kyle huffs, laying on his back. “I’m starting to realize why you hate the bear so much.”

“Insulting, isn’t it?” Simon mumbles from behind Johnny.

“Give into the bear.” You say, reaching over it to blindly find Kyle’s arm. You tug him over, or at least try to. He scoots closer, letting you pull him close against the bear.

He drapes his arm across the bear and across you to rest it against Johnny’s side. The room goes dark as John turns out the lights, making sure the door is closed and locked before moving to lay on the other side of Kyle.

“Can you breathe in there?” He asks before settling down.

“Yes.” You answer, your voice muffled from the fluff of the bear.

“Get some rest.” He says to everyone, his phone thunking as he sets it on the desk. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Kyle and Johnny grumble, no doubt dreading what tomorrow is going to bring after being spoiled for months. There will be no sleeping in, no lazing around, no more slow mornings. Now it’s only rise and grind, something you’ll have to get used to as well. You don’t want to be left alone here, no matter how badly you want to sleep in. If getting up early means getting out of the barracks sooner, you’ll take it.

You lay there, listening to their breathing even out. You’re jealous of their ability to sleep anywhere at any time. A learned skill in the field, you know. They never know when they’re going to get the chance to rest, so you have to be able to drop off at any time. You’re not so lucky.

It’s quiet in the barracks, too quiet. You can hear every breath, every small creak of the building as it settles. The door is locked and you have four very well trained soldiers surrounding you, but still you can’t shake that paranoid thought. What if someone gets in? What if someone comes back for revenge? What better time to strike than at night when you’re at your most vulnerable? It was dangerous coming back here.

You won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

It’s still dark out when his alarm goes off. He’s wide awake as soon as the sound starts, his hand reaching behind him to grab his phone and quickly silence it. It’s enough to rouse the others, quiet groans of displeasure reaching his ears.

Simon lets out a breath, wrapping his arms around the soft body against his chest for a moment. A soft body. Too soft.

He turns on his phone screen, glancing down.

He’s snuggling the bear.

He lets out a scoff, shoving it down off the end of his mattress.

4:30 his phone screen tells him. He’s been getting up early since the arrival at the cottage, unable to retrain his natural clock. Only, instead of getting up most days he just laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, pondering his life choices, thinking about what was going to happen next in his life, worrying about who might come after them on Shepherd’s behalf. It was senseless to worry, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the racing thoughts, the fears that filled him, the images in his head. Shepherd would get rid of them to cover his ass. He’d never be safe so long as the 141 was out there, just as they’d never be safe so long as Shepherd was out there. Two missiles heading right for each other where they’d inevitably meet in the middle.

Now it’s over. Now they have nothing to worry about. Shepherd is gone, the threat has been removed from over their heads. John trusted they were safe enough to return here to base. Simon wishes he could be that positive.

He pushes himself up to sit, rubbing his eyes. The others have settled again. They won’t get up for another thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He’s always the first up, always the one starting the earliest. It feels good, getting back into this routine, this predictability. He likes it. He needs it.

He casts a glance across the four sleeping bodies next to him. John had gotten up to plug in your nightlight, giving the room a soft glow. Johnny is starfished across an entire mattress, Kyle curled up next to him. Simon’s startled to see you sitting up rubbing your eyes. John is on his side next to you, arm outstretched where you had been laying.

Simon crawls over, your head lifting to look at him. “Go back to sleep.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You let out a quiet sound, half murmur, half whine as he eases you back onto your back next to John. He tosses a blanket over you before standing, stepping back over Johnny’s legs towards the door. He steps on the bear on his way, not even looking down as he unlocks the door before turning the nob.

It’s bright out in the hallway, his eyes burning as he squints. He can understand your hatred of overhead lights in moments like these. He’s more than capable of moving in the dark, but the eternal fluorescents in the hallway render that skill useless.

He quickly changes into his gym clothes, slipping on his runners before hesitating, his hand hovering over the drawer to his nightstand. It’s been weeks since he’s put on a mask. He got so used to not wearing one it almost feels strange to don the characteristic skull-print balaclava once more. He could go without one. He could choose to bear his face to the many soldiers on base for the first time, but anxiety churns in his stomach. They’ll stare, they’ll point, they’ll talk.

No, he doesn’t want that.

He opens the drawer, pulling out one of the masks from the stack of them that have been sitting for months. It’s free of dust from having been shut in the drawer but he dusts it off anyway, staring down at it for a moment. He could choose not to, but that could complicate things. He pulls it over his head, situating it in place before heading out the door. There’s still an early spring chill to the air as he makes his way across the road towards the gym, his breath visible. It’s quiet on base, not many up this early since they don’t have to be. Usually there’s only movement this early when there’s a drill being run.

Soon he’ll be the one running those drills. Well, he’ll be running Johnny through those drills. Soon it’ll be just him and Johnny against the world.

He can hardly believe it. He never thought John would retire like that, though things have changed since your arrival, he supposes. You’ve changed all of them and priorities have shifted. John did what he needed to do. He eliminated the threat against his pack and now what’s left for him? He’s seen how you reacted to being back here, they all have. It’s torture for you and Simon hates it.

He enters the gym. It’s quiet, no one up yet. Just the way he likes it. He steps into the weight room, setting his phone on a bench before he begins stretching. He tried to keep up on his fitness at the cottage. Pushups, situps, jogging when he could. He knew coming back would be hard regardless after months away being spoiled. It had been nice, despite his inability to accept that kind of life.

Sometimes he wishes he could retire that easily. When he saw your face, how happy you were when John revealed his decision...it struck something inside of him. He always knew he’d be in this life as long as he could. He’d either die in the field or be forced to retire. Most days the former seemed the most likely option. The idea of being forced behind a desk was enough to drive him crazy.

That’s why John is leaving, though. He’d never be able to survive behind a desk. Better to be out completely than forced to watch others out saving the world knowing that could have still been you. It’s going to be hard. People like them don’t make that shift to civilian life easily. He’s glad Kyle is going too. John’s going to need support that you can’t give him. You don’t know what it’s like. You won’t understand when the nightmares hit, when the itching begins beneath your skin, when your hands start seeking out the comfort of a gun between them again.

What is he going to replace it with? What is he going to do to keep his mind and his hands busy? Fishing? Farming? Maybe he’ll get a dog. A big one he can take on runs. Long runs to keep his mind clear, give him some sort of familiarity of the life he’s spend more years in than out of.

Maybe he’ll fully settle down and you’ll have pups.

The mental image of you greeting him at the door with a fat baby on your hip has him twitching in his shorts.

Fucking hell, Simon, he grunts as he racks his weights.

That would be down the road though. The first battle is getting settled, figuring out how to live in the civilian world. That’s going to take time. He almost wishes John would get a place in Hereford where Simon and Johnny could stay, but he understands. He knows John wants to get as far from this life as he can, get you as far from this life as possible. He’ll get you your little house by the sea, let you live out your domestic fantasies.

Simon’s happy for you two. He’s happy for Kyle.

That doesn’t stop the bitter taste of jealousy from rising in the back of his throat.

It’s still dark out when the next set of alarms go off. Two of them ringing loud in the air. Kyle and Johnny move almost in sync as they reach for their phones on the floor above the nest, silencing the alarms. You’ve been awake since Simon’s went off. You’ve been awake most of the night, the hours crawling by as you drifted in and out of a light sleep. You wanted to get up with Simon, go sit with him in the gym or something, but he’d forced you back into the nest, back into a sleepless hold. John stirs beside you again, his arm shifting from beneath your neck. You wonder if he’s going to get up now too. You wonder what he’s going to do with his day. Go on like normal or is he going to do only what he has to for the next few weeks?

You can’t be sure.

Johnny and Kyle both sit up rubbing their eyes. No doubt it’s rough going from sleeping in and being lazy to having to be up early and start the day right away. You’d probably be feeling the same if you could have slept. You go to sit up too but John’s arm wraps around you tighter, keeping you down with him.

“Morning, love.” Kyle rasps, leaning over to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Get more sleep.”

You wish you could.

Johnny rolls over as Kyle stands, rolling until he’s face to face with you. “Enjoy sleepin’ in while ye can.” He says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll see ye later.”

Both of them leave, your eyes squinting against the stream of light from the hallway. Silence falls once they’re gone, John breathing evenly behind you. You want to get up, go get ready with them and head to the gym if only to sit and watch them, but John’s grip around you is firm.

“Did you sleep?” He asks, his voice rough with sleep.

“Not really.” You admit, knowing he’d probably know if you were lying.

He hums, his face pressing against the back of your head. “We’ll stay here until they get back.”

“Not going to work out?” You ask.

“I’ll do it later.” He says. “We’re running drills after breakfast. See just how out of shape we all are.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Yes.” He answers, tightening his hold around you. “Wouldn’t be fair to leave you here alone.”

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.” You say despite your relief at his decision to bring you along with him. “I’d be fine.”

“I’m not sacrificing anything.” He says firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not after what happened last time.”

“You’re scared.” You say quietly, laying there in his tight hold.

“Of course I am.” He breathes, shifting slightly behind you, almost as if you realization is uncomfortable for him. It probably is. It must take a lot for him to admit that he’s afraid. For a while, you weren’t sure he could feel fear. “I nearly lost you.”

“John?” You breathe, tears gathering in your eyes. “Would it have happened anyway?”

He pauses for a moment, just a brief second but you hear it loud and clear. “Inevitably. They would have used you no matter what. It was a fail-safe. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

“It’s not going to happen again, is it?” You ask, speaking aloud your fears even if they are irrational.

“No.” He says, his lips brushing your ear. “I won’t let it.”

“I’m scared.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek.

“Don’t be.” He says, tightening his hold around you until it borders on painful. “I’m right here.”

You’re not sure how long you lay there, pinned tightly against his chest. You wish you could sleep but you’ve been awake too long. Your pulse races in your ears, muffling any sound that might indicate something is wrong, your paranoia heightened in your exhausted state. You want to believe John, but you know men like him have enemies. Perhaps you’ll never be safe, no matter how much he tries to reassure you. They all have their enemies. Sooner or later one of them has to come for you.

An hour goes by fast, your brain in turmoil as the thoughts race. John doesn’t let up, his hold around you tight. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s nothing he could say. All he does is hold you, breathing slow and even, his chest pressed against your back.

The barracks door opens and you flinch, the squeak of tennis shoes coming down the hallway. You hold your breath, preparing for the worst. You’re in front of John, you’re the one in the line of fire. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes closed as the door handle turns.

“It’s pishing it doon out there.” Johnny says, sticking his head in the door.

He’s soaked, mohawk flat and dripping water into his eyes. That explains the squeaking shoes. No one trying to sneak in would take that risk.

“English MacTavish.” Simon’s voice floats down the hallway.

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Ye know what I mean.” He turns to look back at you two still in bed. “Dress warm.”

He closes the door, heading off to go shower most likely. John doesn’t move for a moment, still holding you tightly. No doubt he felt your flinch, sensed your fear before you realized it was Johnny. The paranoia is running rampant this morning, your mind stuck in a loop of fear.

“Come on.” John says softly, finally releasing you. He sits himself up behind you, leaning over your body. “Let’s get dressed. Go and get some food.”

You don’t want to get up. The prospect of moving your body feels daunting. Yet, you don’t want to lay here either. You push yourself up to sit too, John leaning over you to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s so soft and gentle, the opposite of the thoughts racing through your head.

He pushes himself up to stand, moving to his closet to pull out a uniform. Back to playing the soldier. He really is playing this time. In a few weeks he’ll be officially retired and the two of you will leave base never to return again. You’ll move on to some semblance of a normal life, playing at domesticity. Not long after Kyle will join you and it will be you and your pack with Simon and Johnny playing the satellite. Maybe some day they’ll take the plunge and join you.

You crawl over to the boxes, digging through to find your own clothes. You wonder if he’ll bother unpacking anything from these boxes. Or if he’ll just leave them so they’re easier to grab once the two of you do leave.

John goes into the bathroom while you decide what to wear. Sweatpants or jeans. T-shirt or long sleeves. Johnny said to dress warm so you decide on a t-shirt and a sweatshirt with jeans. Hard clothes meant for a military base. No more lounging around in the barracks all day. You’ll be out there with them, watching them run drills for the first time in months.

You quickly change, stepping into the bathroom after John is done. You’re quick, not wasting any time. The more you dally, the more time your brain has to focus on the fear swirling in the back of your mind.

John is waiting for you when you exit the bathroom. He’s close to the door, crowding you as you step out into the room. Your eyes trace his form from his feet to his face. He grips your chin, holding you still as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes minty, like toothpaste, his lips soft against yours.

“What are you doing?” You murmur when he pulls away.

“Trying to distract you.” He breathes.

“Do it again.” You say.

He kisses you again, this one harder as his hand slips from your chin to your throat. You hate to admit that it’s working, the swirling emotions in the back of your brain quieting as you kiss your alpha.

He pulls away too soon, your lips parted and eyes still closed as he releases you. “Better?” He asks.

You nod. You do feel a bit better. Your thoughts aren’t quite so loud now.

“Come on.” His hand slips into yours, squeezing it gently as your eyes finally open.

It’s time.

He leads you out the door, pausing to put his boots on once he’s over the nest. It stays where it is, messy and rumpled. None of them bother making the beds and you wonder if it’s driving them crazy. No doubt that need to make sure their bed is made carried with them to the cottage. You hardly ever bother as you usually wind up back in it at some point in the day. You wonder how crazy you drive them with that habit, or lack there of.

You walk with John at the head of the column as you step out into the rain. It is raining hard, and you’re glad you went with something with a hood. You should have dug out the rain jacket John got you at the cottage. That probably would have been smarter.

You’re cold and wet when you make it to the mess. It’s early enough it’s sparsely populated. You wonder if John did that on purpose, or if it’s just coincidence. You hold onto his hand until you reach the front of the line, letting him fill your tray for you with plastic looking eggs and far too watery porridge. Once again you’re reminded of how much you were spoiled at the cottage and how far you’ve fallen into the world of bland, tasteless food.

Or, as you would call it, British food.

John graciously chooses a table near the back, keeping you out of sight for the most part, away from prying eyes. You sit between him and Kyle again, staring down at your depressing looking tray of food. The only thing that looks good is the fruit, so you focus there first. They go down the easiest, filling your desperate stomach. You haven’t eaten a good meal since you all stopped to get food on your drive back to Hereford. You underestimated how much you’d struggle adapting to mess hall food again.

Granted, the last time you were coming from the CIA and their cafeteria food, and before that the institute. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you had a home cooked meal before the cottage. Maybe that’s why you were struggling so much.

How you wish you could go into the kitchen and make your mother’s enchiladas.

You struggle your way through breakfast, using the fruit to get you through the porridge. You leave most of the eggs, unable to stomach more than a few bites. Of course the rest of your pack clears their trays. This food must be heaven compared to stuff they eat while they’re away on missions.

It’s mostly stopped raining by the time you leave the mess hall, now just a drizzle. You’re clinging to Kyle’s hand, letting him lead you after John as he heads across the base towards one of the hangars. Time for training, you assume.

You recognize this one. You’ve been here before months ago. It was one of the first times you got to see their training. Hell, you yourself had participated in it once. You wonder if John will do that again, or if he’ll take pity on you and let you just watch.

“We’re going back to basics today, lads.” John says as the boys line up. “Testing where you’re at after months away. You’ll be timed on how long it takes you to get through the course as usual. Stay sharp and watch those corners. Who’s going first?”

“I will.” Johnny says, not even hesitating.

“Good luck Sergeant.” John says before turning to you. “Come on.”

He leads you up into the viewing area where the screens are located. You’ve been up here before a couple of times.

“Don’t want you catching a stray bullet.” He says.

You give him a sideways glance. The last time you were here they hadn’t used live rounds.

“Rubber bullets still hurt.” He says, giving you a grin.

You shake your head, watching as Johnny prepares himself to run the course.

Their times aren’t quite as good this time around. Even Kyle is dragging a bit, not quite as sharp as you remember him being. Granted it has been months. They’re all rusty and out of shape. You’re going to miss them being all soft and gentle. Even John will lose some of it before retirement, you think. The yo-yoing of his body is going to be hard on him. Strong and fit to soft and gentle to partially strong and fit again to permanently soft. You doubt he’ll give up everything completely. Morning runs, weight lifting, keeping himself sharp. He’ll never fully relax. He can’t.

“Not bad, muppets.” John says, standing in front of them. You hoist yourself up onto a crate. “But not good either. That’s to be expected after months of going soft. We’re going to focus on re-polishing those skills again. Building stamina and strength, sharpening those weapons skills again.” John stands up straighter. “Let’s hit the range next.”

He turns to you, holding out a hand. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You hop down off the crate, taking his hand. You’ve never been to the shooting range here. John always tried to keep you away from live fire as much as possible, god forbid there be some freak accident.

At least now you know what it feels like to be shot.

You have to accompany them now though, in fear of being left in the barracks all day. This is still far better than being cooped up in a place full of nightmares.

The range is in another hanger, and unfortunately not empty. It’s loud inside, two other soldiers inside firing at targets. You put your hands over your ears as you follow John towards the far side of the range. He grabs a headset, slipping it over your head. It offers just enough protection from the loud banging of the guns being fired. The sound in the enclosed space is enough to drive your adrenaline up. You can only imagine what it’s like with hundreds of guns going off all at once while half of those are shooting back at you.

You’ll never understand how they manage it.

You stand back out of the way behind them as they line up. Even John lines himself up this time, all of them firing down the line at targets. You keep yourself pressed up against the wall, watching them. It’s louder with the four of them shooting, your heart hammering in your throat. You can’t help but wonder what kind of firefight there was when they rescued you, if there was much of one at all. Their skills were sharper then, their abilities honed. Going up against trained soldiers would have been a walk in the park back then.

Had you known they were coming you might have waited, might have let them have their hostage rescue instead of having to chase your wild omega through the woods in her attempt to escape herself. You can still remember bits and pieces of it, the feel of blood on your hands, the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, the wild freedom to not care about anything but survival.

It makes your hands shake.

You squeeze them into fists, nails biting into your skin as they fire round after round, adjusting stances, reloading and then firing again. You can only see Simon’s target ahead, all of his shots hitting the outline of the body on the paper. You don’t think something like shooting would be a skill lost easily. Like riding a bike, you suppose.

You wonder how good it must feel to them to have a weapon in their hands again. That thought concerns you, but then again, there’s a lot about them that should concern you. You’ve gone numb to most of it, those thoughts you had early on not even in the back of your mind anymore. They are who they are, they’ve done what they’ve done and there’s no changing that. It simply comes with the territory.

“Hey,”

Your eyes dart up as a knuckle pushes your chin up. Simon is standing before you. He smells metallic like gunpowder. It meshes well with his natural scent creating an intoxicating blend.

“C’mere.” He tilts his head towards his now vacated spot. You follow him, his hands moving you into position. He slides the warm gun into your hands, clicking the safety off. “Take a shot.”

You stare down the line at the fresh target, gulping a bit. The gun feels heavy in your hands. The others have stopped, and you can tell they’ve gathered around, watching, waiting for what’s going to happen. You half expect John to stop this before it starts, but he lingers back, letting this play out.

Simon’s arms wrap around you, moving your hands into position around the gun. He lifts them up to proper height, holding you there for a moment before releasing you and taking a step back. Your finger twitches as it hovers over the trigger as you stare at the target. You take a deep breath in, holding it for a second before squeezing the trigger.

You fire three shots.

All three hit the paper of the target, missing the body but still hitting the paper. You lower the gun, clicking the safety back on before turning to face them. They’re all staring at you with faces of shock and mild amusement.

You glance at all of them before shrugging. “I used to live in Texas.”

Johnny and Kyle laugh, Simon shaking his head. “You need to work on your form.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you back around to face the target.

NEXT ->

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[orphicsun]

can you write a pit fighter vi smut fic where the reader works at a restaurant in zaun and vi comes in drunk and starts flirting with her pretty please 😼

Thank you sm for the request:3 hope you enjoy!

Content: 1.5k words, dub-con (Vi is drunk), casual sex, use of strap-ons (r! recieving), oral sex (r! receiving), slight overstimulation, this is rlly filthy blame anonymous for giving me the ammo to write this

Your hands are busy with several plates and your feet are sore in your shoes. Customers in Zaun have no decorum, either!

Being a waitress is not fun, especially not in a dingy restaurant like "The Sludge Pit." It's where most people are coming back from watching fights next door and want a cheap meal. To say that you hate you job is an understatement. But...money is tight, so choices are limited. It could be worse. You could be a prostitute at Babette's.

You've heard rumors that the fight tonight is going to be huge. There's a recently been a new fighter people have been placing bets on - a girl named Vi. You've heard the name before, of course. Jinx's sister, someone who was involved with a Piltie girl. You hated to get involved with all of the drama in Piltover, though; it was all meaningless. It was all just pointless drama that ended in another person in Zaun getting the short end of the stick or dead without a proper burial. Whatever happened was so hard to care about when it felt like an everyday thing.

However, something about the girl you've been hearing rumors about intrigued you. It is apparently often that this Vi chick is bulldozing men in the ring, getting drunk off her ass, and fucking Babette's whores. She got her heart broken, now she's all bitter, and you can't help but wonder what this girl is even like. What could she possibly be like when she's this well-known in the under-city?

It's around midnight. The fight is over because a huge crowd is occupying The Sludge Pit. You've got your poor hands full, tasked with scribbling down rude men's orders and serving them. Some are fucking creepy, too. You wonder if the Vi girl will be coming in tonight, but your curiosity is suddenly dashed when you hear the restaurant BOOMING with cheers from the main area.

When you walk out of kitchen, the first thing you see is the back left table seated with a black-haired girl. She's got no shirt on, just bandages that hug her body and a leather jacket. Her jeans are tightly fitted, sculpted onto her meaty things. The black pigment on her face is all messy. Next to her is a burly brunette man, facial hair covering most of his face. You've seen him before - "Loris."

When you approach Vi's table, she looks up at you and lets out a slight laugh. You look devourable, your hair back in two braids, fly-aways from the day's work. Your eyes are wide, and you look pretty terrified. Poor waitress. She's already decided that you're gonna be her next slut.

"Hi! I'll be your waitress today, what can I get for you-" Your voice is so shaky, oh fuck.

Usually, Vi wouldn't be so forward, but she just got back from the bar. There's too much liquid courage in her system, so now she's gonna get what she wants.

"Don't worry 'bout me, baby. Get my friend Loris here a burger."

You almost choke on your own spit.

Her voice isn't at all what you expected, not raspy or deep, but actually soft and persuasive. She's slurring her words slightly, but you're too focused on her eyes, the soft blue sparkle in them and the half-lidded, carefree look that is complimentary.

"Uhhh, okay! One burger coming right up!"

You soon come back with a shaky hand, plate in your palm. You set the burger down and look up down, adjusting your waitress skirt.

"One burger!"

Vi gives you a wide, lazy smile. Loris is just laughing, he's probably as drunk as her.

"Thanks, baby. How much will that be?"

"Ohhh....well, it's on the house. Since you won tonight, and all.." All rationale seems to leave you when Vi's calling you baby. Your boss is gonna chew you out for this, but the drunken giggle that leaves her mouth is so worth it.

"On the house? No, baby..c'mon, lemme pay."

You laugh and blow a stray strand of hair out out of your face. Her voice makes you imagine her throwing you around on your bed. "No, really, it's fine.."

"Hm..well, if you're not gonna let me use my money, why don't I pay you back in some other way?"

You stare at her for a second.

"What...?"

She chuckles at the cute but shocked look on your face. "Seriously. I wanna pay you back for the burger, since you're such a cute little waitress.."

She's got you in her twin-sized bed as she pounds into you at a pace you're surprised doesn't break the bed. You look utterly cock-drunk underneath her as her hips slam into yours: eyes practically rolled back into your noggin, whining on each and every thrust she gives your sopping pussy. Fuck, she's already obsessed with you.

Her hands are holding the back of your knees to keep you in position, and she pulls the cock halfway out of your pussy and slams back in, earning herself a wounded squeal from you.

"That's it, baby. Take all of my cock like a good girl," she coos, her eyes moving down to watch the hot-pink silicone disappear in your pretty pussy, and she's almost drooling at the sight.

"P-Please!! Please fuck me, oh my god!" You're screaming for her (soon you'll be creaming), and all Vi can think is how she wants to lick the cum out of your pussy when she's done plowing into you.

She laughs and spreads you legs back so she can hitch them around her own waist, still throwing sloppy thrusts into you. Your legs automatically wrap around her sides and she collapses onto your body, mouth wet and lazy on your throat. She's hardly thrusting now, just grinding up into your cunt like a dog in heat.

"Ohhh, fuckkk...this is the best pussy I've had in so fucking long, did you know that?" She's whimpering like she's not the one slinging strap..

You can't even answer with a proper response, only offering up a broken moan because in this position, the cockhead of the toy is bullying your sweet, spongey spot and making you see stars. By grinding into you, the base of the harness is catching on Vi's clit perfectly, making her her pace grow less and less composed She's fucking you like a touch deprived cave-man, for fuck's sake.

You hear feel her body tense up, and now she's pounding into you, each time your skin connects her body is pressing further into your, grinding her pussy against the harness, making you whine her name.

"You want me to cum inside you, huh? I bet you'd just love that. Wish I actually could cum inside this sweet little pussy." Her words grow more and more deranged the longer she's fucking you, and they send you right over the edge with a gasp and a cry out. For mercy, or for bliss, she isn't able to tell.

You poor legs are shaking around her waist and your voice is chanting her name like a prayer along with cute little cries of "I'm cumming for you, Violet!!" You indeed did cum, your face all flushed and your hips bucking up into hers, making her own cunt clench with need as she hits her own peak. She kisses you to swallow your sweet whines, tongue sliding against yours so you can taste the Vodka on it. She's just rutting into your pussy, and she swears she can feel your walls milking her cock like it's real. The alcohol in her system really does make her delusional.

When she's done, she pulls out of you and throws the strap-on somewhere in the floor, immediately moving down your body to suck the cum out of your tender hole.

You whine and protest, "V-Vi!! Too sensitive!"

She moves her lips to give your clit a firm suck and holds you legs open, "shh, just need to clean you up first.."

Her tongue moves to fuck your pussy as deeply as it can, filling you with the hot, wet muscle, and grazing your overstimulated g-spot until you're begging for mercy and she relented to go swirl around your previously neglected clit.

Her hands are groping your tits, your own tugging at her shitty dye-job as you buck your hips up in the air for more. She doesn't stop, giving you exactly what you want, sucking at your engorged clit and flicking it shamelessly with her tongue.

"Fuckk, V-Vi!! I'm gonna cum again!!"

Your juices paint her face so perfectly, mixing in with her black make-up and making an even bigger mess of your sopping cunt. She pulls back to see your face all red, soft little pants leaving your lips, and your chest heaving like you just ran a marathon. You look perfectly ruined, your hole still wrecked from the cock she fucked you with and your braids messed up into oblivion, but you look satisfied. She really paid you back for that burger, didn't she?

Safe to say, The Sludge Pit is her favorite place to find a meal at.

[hotchnerwrites]

“Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning.” Saw this concept on here and got me thinking—reader works at the bau and thinks hotch hates her, but in reality it’s the opposite and she’s misreading his signals?

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, idiots in love, good ending, swear words

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!! sorry for the long wait!!! finally have some time on hand from exams and im getting all reqs done!!! chose to go down a dry humour/funny route for this. honestly reminded me of my olive branch fic, except it's reversed ahahah. anyway, thank you so much for your patience. i hope you enjoy this!!!! so much love, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

ps- i kind of maybe forgot to proofread so let's pretend any errors don't exist 😬 

At the end of the day, it was just work.

You all were colleagues— professionals selected for their skills, all crammed together into one bullpen and expected to play nice. That didn’t mean you had to be friends. People were allowed to dislike each other if they wanted. It happened. Tensions flared, personalities clashed, and someone always ate the last yoghurt tub.

And if Aaron Hotchner happened to hate you in particular, well, that was his right. It was just part of the job. And you were aware of it. Oh, so aware. Acute, constantly and embarrassingly aware.

There was no question about it: he hated you. Not disliked. Not tolerated with professional indifference. No— this was loathing. Cold, calculated, deep-in-his-bones hatred. 

You felt it in your blood every time Hotch walked into the bullpen and skipped over you when saying good morning. It radiated from his office like a laser death ray whenever you laughed a bit too loud. 

It wasn’t paranoia. You’d done the math.

Morgan? A nod of approval. Prentiss? Professional respect. Reid? Indulgent patience. Rossi? Best friends. You? Fuck all.

You were sick of the stone-faced silence. And that look he did. That little glance from the corner of his eye, paired with a crease between his brows. Like your presence caused him physical pain. You’d once made a joke in the SUV, and he sighed. Not laughed. Sighed. It was actually quite impressive, how consistent he was about it. 

You’d retaliated by calling Hotch all kinds of names. Mentally, of course. It was childish and dramatic, you know. But no more dramatic than the way he had once corrected your paperwork with a red pen, and hadn’t even told you— just left it on your desk like a cursed object. 

You tried not to take it personally. For a while, it worked. But then he started doing this thing— this new thing— where he’d enter a room, and leave as soon as you walked in. It had only happened twice, but it had been the same excuse both times: that superiors called him away. Suspicious.

So you did what any well-adjusted and emotionally mature adult would do. You went straight to Garcia’s office and told her that your boss hated you and you were going to get fired because he could smell your weakness. She’d gasped, handed you a bejewelled stress ball, and offered to hack into some database on your behalf (you declined, but it was nice to feel loved for a change).

Still, you couldn’t shake it. It seemed like he couldn’t be in your orbit for more than three and a half minutes without the need to file an HR report.

So when the moment came, you weren’t prepared.

●・○・●・○・●・

You were in the briefing room, finishing up your notes after everyone else had gone. The case had closed. People were smiling. Even Hotch had smiled at someone. (Not you. Obviously. But still.)

You were alone now, sorting through crime scene photos, muttering under your breath about timelines, when his voice startled you.

“You missed lunch.”

You jumped. Clutched a photo like a weapon. “Hotch—you can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

He looked vaguely alarmed. “I knocked.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he insisted, like someone trying to explain doorbells to a raccoon.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want?”

He paused. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and—without ceremony—placed a sandwich in front of you. Neatly wrapped. Labelled with your name. From your favourite place.

You blinked. “…What is this?”

“You didn’t eat.” A beat. “It’s been a while since the brief ended.”

“I— I was going to—”

“I’ve noticed.”

You stare at the sandwich like it’s a bomb. Then at him.

“You got me food?”

“Yes.”

“Because you hate me and you’re trying to poison me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you said, hands raised in mock surrender. “I respect it. A clean kill. No one would suspect a thing.”

“…Why would I hate you?”

You let out a single, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? You avoid me like I’m radioactive. You only talk to me when absolutely necessary, and even then, you struggle. You sigh when I speak.”

Hotch looked absolutely, entirely baffled.

“I sigh at everyone.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. It’s a thinking thing.”

You scoffed. “Well, you don’t think around Morgan that much, apparently.”

He exhaled. Then, before you could launch into Exhibit D (the Unspoken Broom Closet Incident), he said:

“I’ve always valued your insight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your reports are consistently the most thorough. Your geographic profiling is precise. You’re one of the most detail-oriented agents I’ve worked with.”

You stared at him. “…So you don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Quite the opposite.”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, about to ask what the opposite of hate even meant in Hotch-speak, but he was already turning away, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, suddenly very interested in the wallpaper, “I thought you might want lunch. That’s all.”

And then he was gone. Just—left. Like he hadn’t just lobbed that cryptic grenade over his shoulder and walked away.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t eat it right away. Not because you’re still suspicious—it’s from your favourite deli and has your name written on the brown paper in what can only be described as Hotch's weird, neat serial killer handwriting—but because you're too busy mentally disassociating.

Quite the opposite.

What on earth did he mean?

The rest of the day passes in a weird, slow-motion haze. JJ gives you a weird look when you accidentally sit in her chair. Reid asks if you’ve seen his recent paper, and you blink at him like you’ve just returned from war.

Because you’re thinking. Hard.

Like:

That time Hotch asked if you were staying late and then looked weirdly panicked when you said you were walking home.

The morning you came in limping from breaking your ankle, and he said, “You shouldn’t be here,” in the flattest tone imaginable.

How he called you by your first name once, and you almost fell out of your chair because he never uses anyone’s first names. You chalked it up to a lapse. 

And then. Then, the worst one.

Last month. You’d been coughing like a maniac during a briefing. He had placed a bottle of water in front of you with a dull thunk. At the time, you had taken it to be his passive-aggressive way of saying please shut the fuck up right now. Only to find out later from JJ that he’d actually gotten up and left mid-meeting to get that water for you.

Now you're sitting at your desk rewatching it all in your head like the twist ending of a psychological thriller.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t see Hotch again until nearly 6 p.m., and when you do, he’s at his office door, jacket folded over one arm, clearly intending to head out.

You’re not even thinking when you get up and intercept him halfway down the hall.

He stops mid-step when he sees you. “Everything alright?”

“I… need you to clarify what’s going on.”

He exhales like someone who just got caught by airport security. “About what?”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but your heart is pounding like you’re about to ask your boss if he’s mad at you—because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“You’ve been… weird,” you say finally. “With me. For months.”

Hotch tilts his head. “Weird.”

“You barely speak to me unless it’s about a case. You avoid sitting near me on the jet. I brought cookies in last week, and you took one, then put it back. Who does that?”

He has the audacity to look mildly horrified. “I didn’t mean to put it back.”

“That’s not the point.”

You’re spiralling and he knows it. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens like he’s trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, are mortified.

“I just need to know,” you continue, quieter now. “If I did something wrong. If I’ve annoyed you somehow, or if you genuinely just… can’t stand me.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make you want to crawl into the floor tiles.

Hotch runs a hand down his face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I—” He pauses, and then, with all the charisma of a man giving a congressional hearing, says, “You make me nervous.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You… distract me,” he mutters, like he’s admitting to tax fraud. “I didn’t mean to be distant. I thought it would help.”

“Oh.” It comes out stupidly small, because your brain is too busy cataloguing every single interaction the two of you have ever had and realising, oh no, he was just emotionally repressed and completely, tragically bad at this.

You swallow. “So… you don’t think I’m annoying?”

“No,” he says, almost immediately, and then after a pause, “Not even a little. Not even when you talk over me in briefings.”

You almost laugh. “That’s because you talk like we’re in court.”

“And you talk like you’re arguing with your GPS.”

Now you do laugh, and something about the way his shoulders ease tells you this is maybe the most honest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

You look at him for a second longer, searching his face. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve just said you liked me.”

“I’m saying it now,” he says, softer.

And okay—maybe Hotch didn’t confess it with a rose in his teeth and violins playing in the background. Maybe it came out like a man filing paperwork for a broken heart. But it’s still something.

“You want to get coffee or something?” you ask.

He nods once. “Yeah. I do.”

You don’t know what this is yet. But it doesn’t feel like work. And this time, he didn’t glare— so, by your standards, that was basically a proposal.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[ferrstappen]

dad of three l dad! max verstappen imagine

a/n: sooo max is officially a dad 😭😭 so I picked up the draft of my dad!Max series with the twins which you can find here! I hope you like it and let me m ow if you have some ideas!

summary: baby verstappen nº3 is here, and the twins are now happy with the idea.

It had been a quiet morning, at least by the new Verstappen household standards.

The Monaco penthouse, usually alive with the squabbling of six-year-old twins and the occasional feline disaster, was unusually peaceful. The cause of this rare tranquility? The arrival of Baby Lia had everyone mesmerized, literally and metaforically having everyone wrapped around her little finger.

Youcradled the newborn in your arms, gently rocking her in the nursery Max had insisted on painting himself. Pale pink walls, soft grey furniture, and a mobile of tiny stars that the twins helped assemble.

“You’re not even crying today,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss on Lia’s forehead. “It’s like you know I needed a break, what a smart baby, yes you are.”

Footsteps padded down the hallway, fast and energetic. Then came the crash of something toppling over. The twins ready to disrupt the quiet.

“Mila!” Luca’s voice rang out, shrill and dramatic. “You almost dropped her bunny!”

“It’s not my fault Jimmy knocked it down!” Mila huffed back.

You sighed, smiling despite the quiet moment gone. The calm had lasted exactly twelve minutes.

You stepped into the hallway with Lia, just in time to see Jimmy dart out from under the baby’s toy box with a fluff of pink clutched between his teeth.

“Mama!” Mila wailed, dramatic tears already forming. “Jimmy stole Lia’s bunny!”

“Yes, because you dropped it, Mila!” Luca reprimanded his twin.

Before you could intervene, Max’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Jimmy! No stealing from the baby!”

Max appeared, wearing sweatpants, a Red Bull hoodie, and holding two sippy cups. He looked equally amused and tired. parenthood in a nutshell.

“Crisis averted?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I think Jimmy wants attention,” you replied, bouncing Lia gently. “He’s jealous, he probably thought it was only going to be the twins forever.”

Max chuckled, scooping up the cat and plopping him into Luca’s arms. “That’s what happens when you’ve ruled the house for years. Then babies come and steal your spotlight. Tough life.”

“And what about Sassy?” You asked Max.

Max glanced toward the back of the couch where Sassy lounged with the disinterest of a feline queen, which of course she was. “She’s plotting our demise, probably.”

You snorted, the vibrations of your body earning a smile from Lia.

The twins came running, now united in their mission: cooing at their baby sister.

“Can I hold her again?” Mila asked, reaching for Lia’s tiny hand.

“No, me first!” Luca insisted, already positioning the couch pillows for support just like Max had shown them.

You sighed again, this time with a full heart. You remembered the day you told the twins about the pregnancy, Luca had declared he didn’t want “a baby stealing his toys,” and Mila had spent the afternoon sulking because “babies are boring.” And both of them had tried really hard to stop the baby’s arrival.

Now? They were obsessed.

It was later that weekend in Miami when Max found himself being cornered in the paddock for an interview with Sky Sports Netherlands.

“So Max,” the interview began in Dutch, “congratulations again on the new addition to the family! How are things going at home with three kids now?”

Max grinned, hands in his pockets. “Chaotic. Loud. Exhausting… Perfect.”

The interviewer laughed. “And the twins? How are Mila and Luca adjusting? I remember they weren’t too pumped when we crossed paths a few months ago.”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Honestly? I thought they’d hate it. When we told them (Y/N) was pregnant, Luca wanted to move out.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Mila made us sign a paper saying we’d still play Barbie games with her even after the baby came. They were so in denial that we got a call from their teacher.”

The small group of journalists laughed.

“But now?” Max continued. “They’re obsessed. They follow Lia around like bodyguards. Luca brings her toys she can’t even use, Mila sings to her. They fight about who gets to hold her. I think I’ve held her less than both of them.”

“And the cats?” The interviewer teased. “I hear Jimmy and Sassy have opinions.

“Oh, Jimmy’s a menace. He tries to sleep in the crib,” Max said, his tone fond. “Sassy’s smarter, she gives Lia a five-foot radius. She watches from a distance like she’s evaluating her for royal court or something which is very entertaining.”

There was more laughter.

“Sounds like a full house.”

Max nodded. “It is. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

-

Back home, the house was quieter than usual.

With Max in Miami, you were managing the trio on your own. Your mother had offered to stay, but you politely declined, liking the rhythm and evolving routine; early mornings with Lia after the twins left to school, midday chaos with the twins, and long, quiet evenings watching Max on the TV while feeding the baby.

You curled onto the couch, baby Lia nestled in a wrap on your chest, Mila curled up beside you, and Luca was completely knocked out from building a Lego fortress with a secret baby princess chamber, which he assured was for both Lia and Mila.

Max’s interview played in the background. “Luca wanted to move out,” Max said on the screen, laughing.

You giggled, watching Luca’s face twitch in sleep as if he’d heard his name.

The moment made your heart ache with pride and love.

Two days later, Max came home.

The door opened quietly, he’d learned not to make noise just in case Lia was sleeping, but before he could take a step in, Mila barreled into him.

“Papa!” she squealed.

Max laughed, lifting her with one arm and dropping his bag with the other. Luca followed, hugging Max’s waist.

You appeared at the end of the hall, holding Lia with one hand and balancing a bottle in the other. “Hello babe, the house didn’t burn down.”

He met you halfway, kissing you deeply, letting his hand rest over Lia’s tiny head. “Missed you,” he whispered on your lips.

“She missed you too. She kept staring at the TV every time you talked.”

“She’s a Verstappen, she knows good racing.” Max bragged, a habit he picked since the twins were born was now at its peak after the birth of Lia. “Plus, she was conceived the night I won the fourth so she knows what’s good.” Max whispered the last part so the twins wouldn’t hear.

Later that night, the five of you, cats included, were on the bed.

Mila had brought her blanket, Luca had brought snacks which were promptly confiscated by Max. Jimmy snuggled into Max’s feet while Sassy stared at the baby with mild disapproval.

Lia gurgled softly between you, wearing a pale pink Red Bull onesie Max had been gifted by the team.

“I can’t believe we made her,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered back, brushing his thumb along Lia’s little hand. “She’s perfect.”

“I was so scared,” you admitted. “I thought adding another baby would ruin the balance and let’s be honest, we never really thought about having another baby, we were just desperate to celebrate your championship.” You giggled, remembering the night.

Max turned to you, cupping your cheek. “You were right to be scared. But we didn’t ruin anything. We just… added more love.”

Luca yawned. “Papa, can Lia come to the next race?”

Max smiled. “Not yet, buddy. But soon.”

Mila curled next to her mother. “She needs earmuffs with her name printed, like the ones we use when we go see daddy race.”

“She’ll have them,” Max promised. “We’ll get her baby-sized ones.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading like sunlight.

“I know we have enough but… I think we need a new cat.” Max proposed.

You snorted. “Excuse me?”

Max shrugged. “It’s only fair! The twins have Jimmy and Sassy, Lia deserves her own.” Your husband worked his beautiful blue eyes on you.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” You said, knowing this fight was already lost.

“Mila was also talking about a puppy after meeting Leo.”

“Max!”

[pyraomen]

𐙚⋆.˚ 𝒀𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝑩𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 , elijah moore.

𝑺𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── after leaving chicago with mob money, smoke and stack open up their own juke joint in the mississippi delta. when cash starts running low, they call on a favor from an old friend. that same favor came with a price, and now smoke’s new job is to protect one thing mr. laveau loves most, his daughter.

꒰ bodyguard elijah “smoke” moore x spoiled!black female reader. time setting can be interpreted by you, profanity used, sexual tension, suggestive content, criminal themes, power dynamic, older!smoke, younger!reader — very much legal 21 and above, dominant!smoke, brat!reader, light possessiveness. ꒱

the summer heat was evident in the backroom of the juke joint, the air heavy with the remainder of last night’s activities. smoke and stack sat at a small table, peeling apart stacks of crumpled bills from the register. business was decent, couldn’t complain, but not nearly enough to keep up with the promises they made after skipping town with pockets full of mob money.

after hitting both the irish and italian mobs in chicago, they hightailed back down south with blood on their hands and a vision of owning something that was theirs. the juke joint was supposed to be that vision. but when the profits didn’t match the heat they were under, they reached out to an old acquaintance, mr. laveau.

mr. laveau was cut from the same cloth as any other black man, but he made a name for himself in the mississippi delta. people didn’t go to him unless they really needed to. still even with all the power he possessed. he couldn’t protect his daughter from everything, so he fronted smoke and stack a loan with one simple string attached — one of them would serve as his daughter’s personal bodyguard and that duty fell onto smoke.

“ain’t you supposed to be picking up lil miss right now?” stack asked, raising an eyebrow as he skimmed through the cash. smoke sucked his teeth and let out a low hiss, already irritated. “damn,” he muttered, pushing back from the table. “finish countin this for me, and don’t fuck up. you know damn well yo ass can’t count past ten without usin your fingers.” he pointed a serious finger in stack’s direction.

stack looked up, insulted. “nigga i can count the hell.” smoke didn’t bother arguing. he was already on his feet, grabbing his keys off the hook near the door. “be safe,” stack called after him. smoke nodded once, “always.”

by the time smoke made it across town to [ꪆৎ]’s house, the sun had started to set. his mind was tangled in thoughts of how to make it up to the girl, how to soften her disappointment, how to explain without sounding like he was making excuses.

he hated being late, especially with her. she wasn’t just some job or favor owed anymore. no, she was something else entirely. something that gnawed at him in his quiet moments and pulled at him more than he cared to admit.

the tires crunched over gravel as he pulled up to the laveau residence. the house stood tall and proud, just like the man who built it — gated, guarded, protected. he adjusted the collar of his shirt, wiped the sweat from his brow, and approached the front door like he had serious debt to pay.

the door swung open before he could knock, and there she was. standing there in dim lighting, arms crossed, lips pursed in a pout that could get her anything she wanted. the dress she wore was the color of warm strawberry cream, soft pink with a delicate texture. it hugged her body with purpose, the corset bodice sculpting her waist and lifting her chest just right, while the skirt flared out.

smoke leaned against the doorway, his eyes trailing down the length of her legs. those soft, thick thighs he remembered tracing with his eyes, countless of times, distracted.

he remembered when she first tried that dress on in the boutique, standing barefoot on the carpet, indecisive, per usual, with two different options in hand. she had walked out the dressing room twirling, asking him, “this one… or the other one with the slit?” and his only response was to toss both on the counter and pull out his wallet.

now, here she was standing in front on him. wearing the one she’d picked for the day, looking too fine and too proud for her own good. “you’re late,” [ꪆৎ] said, voice soft, but the pout on her lips and the disappointment laced in her tone cut deeper than anything loud ever could. smoke blinked, shoulders tightening as he looked at her. “i know,” he sighed, eyes softening with guilt. “i’m sorry, miss.”

[ꪆৎ] didn’t move. she just stared at him, slow-blinking like she was deciding whether or not to slam the door in his face. she wouldn’t. he knew that, but the possibility was still there.

“pa already left,” she said, finally stepping aside to let him in. “told me not to wait, but i did anyway.” smoke stepped inside, letting the cool air hit him, but it didn’t do much to ease the warmth crawling up his neck.

“i appreciate you waitin”, he said, glancing down at her again, the way her thighs brushed together as she turned, her scent lingering in the air — a hint of vanilla and something fruity he couldn’t put his finger on. “you look… real beautiful.”

[ꪆৎ] scoffed, soft but pointed, her back to him now as she reached for her small purse on the foyer table. “you only sayin that cause you late.” “i’m sayin it cause it’s true,” he replied, voice low, watching her from the corner of his eye. “and i apologize, should of been here earlier.”

she waved her hand, dismissing his apology. “you ain’t never been late before,” she said, stopping at the mirror near the door to check her makeup. she shook her head, “not this late.” smoke sighed, “we had a long night at the joint. stack was draggin his feet countin.” she turned toward him, giving him that look. the one that made his chest tighten and his mouth go quiet. “you should’ve left earlier. you know how my daddy feels about being on time.”

smoke nodded, taking the weight of her words. he stepped forward, just a little closer than polite. “i ain’t worried about what your daddy thinks,” he said. “i’m worried bout how you lookin at me right now.”

she tilted her head, arms folding once more across her chest — drawing the dress tight across her bust, the top straining dangerously close to slipping down the soft swell of her breasts. the motion was unintentional, but it still left an affect on him.

“and how’s that?” she asked, one brow raised, her voice laced with challenge. “like you wanna be mad,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to her chest before meeting hers again. “but you miss me just a little.”

her lips twitched, the pout threatening to soften. “i don’t miss you,” she said, turning to open the front door, but her voice had gone soft again, stinkingly sweet. “i just hate waiting.” smoke followed her out, his hand brushing the small of her back, lingering longer than he should’ve. the fabric was soft, but her skin beneath it was softer. “then i’ll make sure you don’t have to wait next time,” he said.

[ꪆৎ] glanced at him from the corner of her eye, “you better mean that, smoke.” he opened the passenger door for her, holding it with that quiet kind of care that said everything he couldn’t. “i do,” he said simply. and he meant it.

she sat into the passenger seat without a word, her legs crossing slow, deliberate. smoke rounded the hood, settling behind the wheel and starting the engine, but he didn’t pull off just yet. silence settled for a beat too long before she spoke.

“you know you don’t have to call me ‘miss,’ right?” her voice was soft but direct, eyes fixed ahead through the windshield, hands resting in her lap.

smoke glanced at her, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “and you don’t have to call me smoke.” that made her turn. just a little. enough to look at him from under her lashes, a faint smile threatening the edge of her lips. “well… i don’t know what else to call you,” she said, half teasing, half serious.

he shrugged, shifting the car into gear. “you’ll figure it out. i’m sure you got all kinds of names for me in that pretty little head.” she let out a quiet laugh, turning back toward the window, but the tension eased, for now.

“you were supposed to take me shopping,” she reminded him. “i had half the boutiques in town holding things”, a frown showed on her face. “i know,” he nodded, making the first turn onto the road. “and we still are. just got a little sidetracked.”

“you always got an excuse,” she huffed, crossing her legs slow like she wanted to be seen. knowing good and well her dress was sliding higher with every movement, showing more of those soft thighs he could never ignore.

smoke glanced at her, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. he knew her game. she wanted a reaction out of him, but he wasn’t the type to let her get her way just yet.

he cut his glance from her to focus on the rode. “you gon keep actin like that, or you gon let me make it up to you?”, he asked, voice low, laced with warning to check her attitude. she didn’t answer right away, just smirked to herself, fingers toying with the strap of her purse. “you lucky i’m still in the mood to let you spend money on me,” she said sweetly, like she hadn’t just tested his patience on purpose.

“not doin it cause i’m lucky,” he muttered, giving her another look, longer this time, letting his gaze linger on the fat of her thighs. “i’m doin it cause you deserve it. even when you sitting in my car with this fake pissy attitude.”

she didn’t say anything to that, just pressed her lips together, fighting a knowing smile, and turned to look out the window. that told smoke everything he needed to know. the rest of the ride hummed with quiet tension. not awkward, just thick. like both of them had more to say but neither one wanted to be the first to cave.

they pulled up to a boutique tucked between a flower shop and a record store, one of those high-end spots with blacked-out windows and gold-painted lettering that barely needed to advertise. everyone already knew who it catered to.

smoke killed the engine and turned to look at her, but she was already unbuckling her seatbelt, hand poised on the handle like she didn’t need him. still, he got out first and came around, opening her door like he always did. a gentleman, no matter her mood.

she hesitated for a second, just enough to make a point, then placed her hand in his. her fingers slid into his palm like they belonged there, soft and warm, with that quiet kind of confidence that always knocked him a little off balance.

smoke steadied her as she stepped out of the car, slow and smooth like she knew he was watching. the second she rose to her full height, her perfume hit him again. it wrapped around him thick, curling low in his gut and settling somewhere behind his zipper.

he clenched his jaw, eyes flicking away too late. the soft bounce of her body, the way her dress clung when she moved. every step she took made his self-control slip just a little more. his pants had already begun to tighten, his bulge pressing uncomfortable and obvious against his slacks, the effect of just being near her. and the worst part? she knew.

the way her gaze dropped for a second, and the slow curve of her smirk afterward? she didn’t need to say a damn thing.

no cars were in sight. the boutique was empty, just like it always was when she came. the owner knew better than to have customers hanging around when [ꪆৎ] laveau was in. she liked to browse in peace, and with her last name, peace was something folks were quick to make space for.

just as they crossed the threshold, smoke held the door open for her. “you gon behave in here?” [ꪆৎ] scoffed, brushing past him with a toss of her curls, hips swaying with purpose. “that depends. you gon show up on time next time?” her tone laced with sharpness. then she paused, just long enough to glance back at him.

“i ain’t no child,” she added, eyes narrowing slightly. “and i damn sure ain’t stack, so don’t talk to me like i am.” he just stood there for a second, watching her sway farther into the store.

he should've been annoyed. he should've put her in her place. but truthfully? he liked the way she said it, low, firm, with that little bite in her tone — damn near made him grin. he stepped up behind her, close enough for her to feel his presence. “you right,” he said, voice low and steady in her ear. “you ain’t no child.”

she froze for half a second, then kept walking like she hadn’t heard the change in his tone. as if just his tone didn’t make her wet. “and if i wanted to be round stack,” he added, following her with calm, measured steps, “i’d be back at the juke joint listenin to him count ones like they fives.”

[ꪆৎ] tried to hide her reaction. “i’m here with you,” he continued, watching the way her fingers skimmed over fabric. “so act like you know the difference.” she turned to face him then, dress she picked up in her hand. “is that you checkin me, smoke?” he tilted his head, eyes dragging from her face down to the hem of her dress. “nah. that’s me remindin you who you talkin to.” a beat of silence passed between them, hot and heavy like the mississippi air.

their moment of silence was interrupted as quick as it came. “miss laveau,” the girl behind the counter called, perking up. “everything you requested is in the back. i’ll set up your fitting room now.”

“thank you, baby,” [ꪆৎ] replied, her tone softening just enough to let her charm peek through. she turned back to smoke, gaze flicking down the aisle of mannequins and dresses. “make yourself useful.”

he didn’t say a word. just followed her as she moved from rack to rack, holding every dress she picked out. she held a champagne-colored dress up to her frame, studying herself in the mirror near the end of the row. “you gon stand there lookin, or help me pick?” she said smartly over her shoulder, not even glancing at him.

smoke stepped up behind her. he reached past her slowly, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder as he plucked a deep red slip from the rack. it was cut low, short, made of silk, and left nothing for the imagination. something she could wear only for him.

“this one,” he said, holding it out. “fits that smart ass mouth.”[ꪆৎ] turned her head a knowing gleam in her eye. “you sure you can handle my mouth?” smoke met her gaze, unbothered, that lazy smirk working its way across his face. “i been doin just fine so far, ain’t i?” she rolled her eyes with a small huff, snatching the dress from his hand, but not before their fingers brushed. [ꪆৎ] grabbed two more pieces on her way to the fitting room.

smoke watched her go, brown eyes trailing her figure the whole way down until the velvet curtain swished behind her. “you need anything, miss laveau, just holler,” the shopgirl called after her. “i’ll be alright,” [ꪆৎ] yelled back.

smoke exhaled slow, dragging a hand down his face as he leaned against the nearest wall. the boutique was still and quiet again, except for the hum of the AC and the faint rustle of fabric behind that curtain.

she hadn’t even been in there thirty minutes. and already, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep playing it cool.

sevyn’s note: i didn’t feel like writing a smut scene, just know the poor girl that works at the boutique would of been traumatized 🤭. expect more smoke fics and i hope yall enjoyed, feedback is welcome <3.

layout inspo @dollerin