#swift fic

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[outromoony]

"I'm not like other girls." Well, that's good for you, but I am. I love reading books and fanfics. I love obsessing over fictional characters and screaming music at the top of my lungs. I love fangirling over celebrities and getting overly invested in ships that will never be canon. I cry over sad endings and laugh at memes no one else understands. I love getting way too excited over small things, daydreaming about impossible scenarios, and staying up late to finish just one more chapter. I love getting lost in fictional worlds, losing sleep over them, and rewatching my favorite shows a million times. I love spending hours scrolling through fan art and feeling alive through the stories, music, and love for people I will never meet. I love being like other girls.

[skyrigel]

“Does that feel good…huh ?”

Simon pulled you back by your neck, his breath piping down your spine in blazing hot rings. “I bet it does.” He growled maniacally, chuckling as you whimpered against his chokehold.

He pulled out his cock just until it breached against your used wasted hole before slamming back in all over, arching your back further as your orgasm came in waves — there was no point holding back as your thighs shaked, still the constant pouncing didn't stop, the back of your thigh met his hips in every jiff, while hot cum leaked down and coaxed his big cock and he groaned at the heat of your pussy, me, only letting him rattle your insides while your toes curled from overstimulation.

“Did Daddy say you could cum, huh ?” Simon didn't wait for an answer, and as came his hand pinching hard on your bud, and after were two consecutive hard spanks that stirred another heated arousal, “ya’ being bratty today, is that what'll do ?”

Your vision blurred, tears brimmed and fell down and you shaked your head, it felt good to be pounded down after moaning and writhing over dildos that were nothing compared to your man's veiny cock, but even so you lost count how many times you came and how many times Simon punished you by going harder once again.

“C’mon you promised to be daddy's good girl, no ?” He leaned down over you, enveloping your bare back with his hot body, his heat pulsing like a drum through you and not to mention the bulge that twitched as you moaned like a whore against his arm.

All your thoughts were mussy except how good his big dick felt inside you, how obsence it must look — on your fours getting pounded from behind like cock slut, being forced to take it after third or maybe fourth orgasm.

“Daddy didn't say you could cum whore ?”

Simon kneaded your tits that jangled with every thrust, and you couldn't take it anymore, feeling your nerves numb in your body as you thought to utter your safeword with no success, finally remembering to shake your head as Simon always told you.

Simon couldn't understand until thrusting three more times then he pulled himself out, his hold of your throat came undone as you trembled all over against the emptiness of your pussy when he pulled out with wet pop, swollen and hard.

“Lovie.” He cooed, all the hardness left somewhere as his soft voice hummed — you fell face down on the pillow, tears soaking against it. “Hey, hey…love ?”

Simon's deft finger pushed away your hair that sticked up through sweat and tears, his eyes were sweet and loving.

“Did I hurt you ? Tell—”

“No.” You croaked, feeling your thigh numb all over, his weight shifted beside you until you scrambled over and laid your head on his chest, his heart beating melodiously enough to lull you in some heavenly sleep.

“I was too hard on my princess, wasn't I ?”

You looked up, knowing how heavy your eyes were and no doubt your lips were swollen from the intense make out session earlier, and cum drying over like frost on dew.

He loved you like this, all fucked up, all marked up — just for him, only by him.

Simon smiled shyly, then leaned to kiss your forehead — “I should get us a bath—”

You didn't want him to go anywhere, “Stay ere’ with me.”

“Mmm.” Simon pulled you closer to his chest, wrapping his safe arms around you while you relished in the sillage of sex and euphoria of it all, finally breathing Simon's sharp cologne.

“Would you like water baby, huh ?” But you didn't, you only wanted Simon to cradle you in his arms and sway you gently.

“Alright lovie, sleep.” He whispered, carding through your hair and soothing your scalp, knowing he'd pulled too hard, just how his nasty girl liked, “I love you.”

“Love ya too.” You inhaled, feeling so good.

Masterlist

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[c6nrad]

❝I like to think it’s not so much how many years you get, but what you do with them. And JJ packed it in.❞

— John Booker Routledge

[manifestobackshot]

CLOSING SHIFT — LEE HEESEUNG (teaser)

UPDATE: SHE'S POSTED HEREEEE!!!!

Since you’ve started working at Target, you’ve always been scheduled with Heeseung as your closing shift manager. Zone, organize, stock, assist—things that were outlined in your job application and employee handbook. Now, nowhere in your job description did it lay out an affair with your manager, Heeseung.

PAIRING: retail manager!lee heeseung x employee!afab reader

WORDCOUNT: 15k (est.) TEASER: 0.7k

TAGS: smut, (semi)-public sex, oral (male-receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, jealous heeseung, and more…

As you rounded the corner, you passed the Women’s section, where someone had shoved what seemed like every style of jeans Target sold haphazardly throughout the display. You started sorting it properly, muscle memory at this point, when a shadow fell across the display.

“Helping out outside your zone again?”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Heeseung.

You looked up too quickly and regretted it instantly. Why was the lighting in this store so flattering on him? 

“Just making sure no one dies in a Universal Thread avalanche,” You said, forcing a smile. “You know. Hero stuff.”

Heeseung crouched next to the cart and started folding jeans alongside you. “You always this dedicated to the greater good?”

“I like my job.”

“I can tell.”

There was something in his voice—not teasing exactly, but thoughtful. Like he was cataloging something. Taking note.

You cleared your throat. “Did you need something?”

Heeseung glanced up at you. “No,” he said. “Just saw you and figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh,” You said, very articulately. “Cool.”

Cool?

Fuck, Heeseung.

The moment you clocked in, you knew it was going to be one of those shifts.

The store was understaffed—as usual—and the Ready to wear department looked like a tornado had swept through it. You were halfway through untangling a pile of graphic tees when Heeseung’s voice broke the silence, calling for you, of course.

Heeseung's voice was calm, professional, but you'd worked here long enough to hear the undercurrent of something else. Something that made your fingers tighten around the hanger in your hand.

You pressed the button. "Ready to wear. Doing go backs."

A beat of static. Then: "Copy. Need you in Shoes for a zone check."

Sunoo, who was pretending to organize the jewelry counter nearby, didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Oh wow. Shoes. How urgent," he drawled, stirring his iced coffee with exaggerated innocence. "Should I become HR Sunoo now or—"

Shoes was empty when you got there—no guests, no team members, just rows of perfectly stacked shoes and the distinct feeling you were being watched.

"Zone looks fine to me," you said to no one in particular.

"Does it?"

You turned to find Heeseung leaning against the shelving unit, arms crossed, red tee a little more disheveled since the last time you saw him. His gaze dropped to your name tag,then back up to your face. "I think you missed a spot."

You arched a brow. "Really? Where?"

He stepped closer, reaching past you to adjust some boots that didn't need adjusting. His sleeve brushed your shoulder. "Here."

The air between you thickened, the scent of his cologne—something expensive and woodsy—filling your space. His fingers lingered on the shelf's edge, knuckles grazing your hip—contact you unconsciously welcomed.

It felt dangerous, for some reason. Your body’s willingness to accept him and not resist one bit was telling. Yet still, you were speechless at the situation you found yourself in, pinned between your ETL and some shelves.

No movement, no words. A small gasp is all he got out of you, and perhaps he was expecting more. The way Heeseung had you trapped under him, staring you down as if he were going to pounce on you at any moment, made your heart race faster than you would’ve liked to admit. 

“Say,” he started, “how observant do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, what?”

“Do I make you nervous?”

And again, you were at a loss for words, zoning in on the sight in front of you—he was mere inches away from you, gaze tracing from your eyes, to your lips, and back again. Still, so attentive through his lashes and half-lidded eyes. 

In a low voice, he spoke, “I’d like to ask,” quiet so as to not stir attention, “why do I make you nervous?”

You could practically feel his voice dripping with satisfaction, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I…Hey, this is—”

“Do you like me or something?” he prodded, bringing his arms down to again graze your side, almost resting them along your hips as he steps closer, almost pressing his hips against your—

[afterglowsainz]

bye | charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader x alexandra saint mleux, reader x ex!max verstappen

summary: when max breaks up with you, you find solace in his childhood rival and his stunning girlfriend

fc: taylor swift

request: here

a/n: guys i’m not even a charles girlie but he looked so happy in that podium i wanted to cry

—

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and others

yourusername always the biggest pleasure, paris🤎

view all comments

username she’s unreal

username forever obsessed with this tour

username watching the video i record of vigilante shit over and over

username max verstappen can you fight??? 🤨

username the most magical night fr

alexandrasaintmleux 💗

charles_leclerc ☺️

username max not even liking this but charles and alex …

username they’re hilarious 😭

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc and others

maxverstappen1 free practice was okay, now we can focus on quali and the race

view all comments

username no but max being furious and still finding a way to post charles 😭

username no power on earth can separate those two

username can’t believe we’re watching the fall of red bull in real time

username FREE MY MAN FROM THAT TRACTOR

username time for me to suggest y/n going to the grand prix and bring max good luck 😁

username frfr she hasn’t been in forever

username lestappen is alive and breathing i see

liked by ynupdates, f1gossip and others

f1wags y/n y/l/n on saturday and sunday at the paddock for quali and the grand prix

view all comments

username glad to see she’s still alive 😭

username omg i thought she wasn’t gonna go with the tour and everything

username the best wag everrr

username so iconic

username OMG SHE SAW THE COMMENTS

username y/n in the paddock means a good race for max i know it 🧿

username the way i had completely forgot she was dating max 😭

username those two don’t interact with each other anymore i swear 😩

liked by f1wags, ynupdates and others

f1gossip max verstappen and girlfriend y/n y/l/n were seen fighting outside their hotel after the grand prix, y/n later walked away and left max alone

view all comments

username damn

username right after we thought everything was okay 😔

username no because the first gp my girl goes to after forever and they fight?

username idc what happened i’m blaming max

username lol agree

username guys be honest do you think they’re breaking up???

username my heart says no but my head says they haven’t been seen together for a while and when they do they always fight so…

username yes

liked by charles_leclerc, gracieabrams and others

yourusername fresh out the slammer … into the studio

view all comments

username HUH?

username miss girl ??? explain

username new music yay!

username is the caption a lyric or something ??? WDYM FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

alexandrasaintmleux sooo excited! 💕

yourusername 💞💞💞

username alex what do you know

username is this like a happy song or is it going to make me hate men?

username no because i need to know too 😩

liked by yourusername, flavy.barla and others

alexandrasaintmleux with a full heart ❤️

view all comments

username i love their friendship

username guys charles made it to the feed!

yourusername pretty gorgeous beautiful everything

alexandrasaintmleux 🤭

username no but y/n in the last slide took me out 😭

username SAME i thought this was a charles post

charles_leclerc favorite girls❤️

alexandrasaintmleux 💘

username “girls” ????

username explain !!?

username is this a safe space to say what i’m thinking? …

alexandrasaintmleux’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🍝] [caption 2: 💘]

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ynupdates charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux, kika gomes and pierre gasly at tonight’s show of y/n’s tour in milan

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username i love their friendship they’re so supportive of her🥰

username now THAT is an outfit

username alexandra the fashion icon that you are

username this is such a green flag for all of them

username friends who support y/n >>>>

username notice how max has been quiet since y/n won charles in the divorce

username i know that man is FUMING

username no but seriously i’m glad she still has supportive friends after the break up 😔

username was i the only one who noticed that she kept looking at the vip tent while singing the love/crushing songs? 🤭

username which could mean nothing!

username WHAT WERE THE SURPRISE SONGS

username invisible string and sweet nothing!

username :0

liked by ynupdates, f1gossip and others

f1wags alexandra saint mleux and y/n y/l/n today at the paddock, y/n used to date max verstappen but recently broke up and was seen today at the ferrari hospitality with alexandra and charles, with whom she stayed friends

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username 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

username they both look so hot

username and if i say power couple then what 🤨

username i’d say alexandra has a boyfriend and you’re delusional 😭

username messyyyy

username the amount of money i would pay to know what’s going through max’s brain

username imagine losing THE y/n y/l/n and not only that but your rival since you’re four years old stayed friends with her

username he lost the break up

username we got y/n at the ferrari garage before gta 6

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: alexandrasaintmleux 🫶🏽🫶🏽] [caption 2: 🍸]

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

charles_leclerc mes trois coeurs❤️

tagged yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

view all comments

username DAMN

username what do you mean your three hearts? wydm!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

username honestly it makes so much more sense that they’re all dating 😭

username CONFIRMATION AT LAST

username the most drop dead gorgeous woman you’ll find and the cutest puppy on earth 🥰

username charles really won in life 😩

username and they called me crazy for even suggesting this 🙄

username POWER THROUPLE

scuderiaferrari the family as god intended🫶🏽

username ferrari 😭

yourusername gotta learn french asap!

alexandrasaintmleux we’ll teach you love💗

charles_leclerc de cette façon nous pouvons te dire que nous t'aimons dans toutes les langues chérie ❤️ (this way we can tell you we love you in every language dear)

yourusername ily both too much💘

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername monaco! you are one of the best crowds ever ❤️ i had too much fun singing from the top of my lungs with all of you and performing for the first time ever my two new singles, “fresh out the slammer” and “bye” 😽 i have the feeling we’ll see each other wayyy more often

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username STOP she’s so cute 😭

username i’m afraid “bye” is one of the best songs ever made and “fresh out the slammer” changed the trajectory of my life

username “boy bye it’s over its over oh yeah” GIRL-

username she had too much fun writing that one

username “didn’t think you’d lose me now it’s just too late to choose me” UHM

username if that song is not for max-

username RED DRESS FOR FERRARI IKTS

username “now pretty baby i’m running back home to you” the fact that she calls them home i- 🥺

username “another summer taking cover, he don’t understand me” i gasped

username y/n calling her relationship with max literal prision was not in my bingo card

charles_leclerc you’re incredibly mesmerizing love 😍 best concert ever!

alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest and most talented there is! 💗

yourusername je vous aime tous les deux❤️ (i love you both)

[criminalamnesia]

ok but price and simon could give such tolerate it vibes.

him with a younger partner. he finds your naivety and youth charming. you look up to him, and you can’t believe someone older and wiser is with you.

you met him when he was on leave, and things started getting serious after a few months, but then he was facing deployment again. so, with teary eyes and a broken heart, you watched him leave and promise you’ll write every day.

he chuckles and nods his head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair before slipping away.

you do write him everyday, and at first it’s endearing how worried you are. you don’t know what’s happening, and you’re so concerned— and he appreciates that. find it charming, even.

he comes home from that first deployment and you’re there, waiting with a battle hero’s welcome. streamers and balloons and a fucking cake you baked yourself on the dining room table of his flat. you, beaming brightly and clutching your hands together in glee, waiting by the door.

he laughs it off, tells you he appreciates it, but it was unnecessary. you tell him you think he deserves more.

time passes, and the charm of your naivety and doting loses its shine. you’re boasting to all your friends about your man, how amazing and strong and brave he is. and he tolerates it, laughs it off.

the next time he comes home from deployment, you’ve decorated your now shared flat. the whole nine yards because it’d been a longer deployment. his favorite meal, hot and fresh on the table. a bottle of his favorite liquor.

he can’t help but be annoyed. it was cute at first, and now he doesn’t understand it. he doesn’t care for the festivities— he’s done things no man should be proud of, yet here you are, celebrating him.

he doesn’t want to fight, so he tolerates it. puts on a smile, eats a few bites of dinner, and slips away for the evening. you frown but don’t question it.

soon it’s like you’re living with a shell of the man you loved. he’s quiet. gone a lot. barely affectionate. when the two of you talk, it usually ends in an argument. he won’t introduce you to any of his friends.

you still shower him with love, talk his ear off about plans and your day and whatnot, and he nods along absentmindedly.

your friends tell you he doesn’t deserve you. you’ve basically become a live-in housemaid that he occasionally fucks. you don’t believe it at first, but you come to realize it’s truth.

your love should be celebrated, not tolerated. you should be with someone who loves you as much as you love them.

the next time he’s on deployment, you move out. pack all your shit into a u-haul and move in with a friend for the time being. leave a note stained with tears on the dining room table.

he gets home from deployment, expecting what’s become normal. you, waiting anxiously by the door, jumping into his arms as soon as he’s inside. the smell of dessert or his favorite dinner wafting from the kitchen. balloons and streamers and confetti.

the house is dark when he steps through the door.

part two here, part three (ending version 1) here, part three (ending version 2) here

[xximperioxx]

Help Me Hold Onto You

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k (not proofread)

Warnings: parent death (mother) , mourning, panic attack/breakdown(reader throws up), patient death, robby walks in on reader having a panic attack, fluff, age gap, medical inaccuracies, very brief mention reader having tattoos

Notes: For some reason did not include a dad but oh well. Probably why the reader has a thing for Robby. this took me a while to write idk. Also I based the panic attack symptoms on mine so pls don’t come at me. Totally listened to The Archer by Taylor Swift while writing this. Thank you for all the love recently and hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————

You don’t hear Robby’s voice telling you to call the time of death until he puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

You silently watch Donnie and Mateo cover the woman’s body.

“She was your family?” Mel asks

Your eyes pull away from the now sheet covered body to look at her confused, “No, she-she came in yesterday.”

She sees your confusion and nervously rocks on the heels of her feet. “Oh. You called her mom, I just assumed.”

Your head whips up and your eyes burn with anger. “No, I didn’t.”

Mel shrinks and is about to open her mouth before Robby pops his head back into the room instructing everyone to take a break.

An irritated scoff leaves your mouth as you slip away from the group. Donnie and Mateo share a silent look.

Your heart hurts. It’s not that you didn’t believe Mel- you absolutely did. You just didn't think you would slip like that. Someone else’s mom you couldn’t save. You let her slip away like your own mother. Same cause of death. A heart attack.

You come to a stop and your hand rests at your chest. Your heart thumping loudly. Your eyes begin to burn as you try to focus your breathing.

Your feet move you to the closest bathroom which happens to be the unisex bathroom.

You bust open the bathroom door, fully hyperventilating now.

You couldn’t save her. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to your own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mel finds herself approaching Dr. Robby at the hub. “Dr. Robby,” She interrupts, “I’m um… concerned about Dr. (Y/N).”

Robby continues his work on the tablet, “Well, she did just lose a patient, Dr. King, and that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times.”

“She kept calling the patient ‘mom’. At some point during compressions I heard her say, ‘Please don’t do this mom’.” Robby’s eyes glance up with concern. She continues, “I tried to ask her about it and she got angry.”

He sets the tablet on the counter. “I’ll check in on her.” He gestures to the screen, “And you keep up the good work with your patients.”

As Dr. King walks away, Robby slides his glasses to the top of his head before running his hands down his face. He knew something was up. Normally the two of you worked in sync. Two peas in a pod. You were his top senior resident, not that he would admit it out loud.

You were always in his eyesight and even on your days off, Robby’s eyes would search for you. You had taken a few days off during the week and you had left suddenly. Not even letting him know, he had found out from Gloria you would be taking a few days off due to personal reasons. He knew something was wrong when he texted you and never got a response or when you had come back to work with dark circles under your eyes. You looked fragile and not your usual radiant, lighthearted self. There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs, no glances directed at Robby or anyone in the Pitt.

Robby had watched Gloria approach you at the beginning on your shift. How she took your hands and gently told you something he couldn’t read on lips. How you gave her a weak smile as you said thank you. When you just silently stood with your arms around yourself for a few moments after Gloria walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slide to the floor gripping at your chest and neck as if it would help you breathe.

You don’t hear the door open with the ringing in your ears nor do you see who swiftly comes into the small bathroom. Your eyes are closed with the intent of trying to focus on your heartbeat. Hopefully to also stop the tears from flowing.

Robby rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, finally catching a moment to pee.

The sound of a zipper causes your eyes to peek open. A noise attempts to come out of your throat. You recognize the navy blue sweatshirt and cargo pants. Your head finds itself back in between your knees.

Robby jolts at the sudden noise, “Jesus – fuck.” He whips his head around. His eyes widen at the sight of you. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

He quickly zips his pants back up ignoring his belt as he kneels in front of you. His hands pull your face up, his eyes scanning your face. Your name continues to slip from his mouth.

Your eyes open and your vision is still fuzzy. His fingers graze over some stratch marks on your neck before checking your pulse. 160 bpm. Your shortness of breath suddenly turns into dry heaving. Without thinking, you shove Robby to the side and retch into the toilet. All that comes up is the iced coffee you had this morning.

Robby places a gentle hand on your back. You let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally feeling like you can breathe again as if you threw up the heavy feeling in your chest. You finally pull your face away from the toilet and let your body relax. Grabbing some toilet paper, you wipe the lingering tears on your face before looking at Robby.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bathroom break,” your voice raspy. A tired smile attempts to form.

He leans against the bathroom wall with you. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes studying you. “You doing okay?”

You blink.

He takes in your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles before letting out a nervous chuckle at your reaction.

“Besides the fact that you walked in on me having a panic attack?” You press your lips into a fine line, “Just peachy.”

He nods and nudges your shoulder with his. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

You scoff while standing up. Robby lets out a groan as he stands up, his joints yelling at him. You turn the faucet on and begin washing your hands. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You wipe your hands,“That’s rich coming from you.”

Robby wants to flinch. There had been moments in the past where you had begged him to tell you how he was feeling whenever he would shut himself down. You had begged him to let you help him. You always saw right through him. He always pushed you away and you would always pull him back in.

He sighs. “I just want to help you. I’m worried about you.”

You huff, “Just stop. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Robby tries to reach for you. You jerk away as your voice wavers, “Please just leave me alone. I-I want to be alone.”

His heart breaks. You sound like him. His lips press together as he watches you unlock the door. He runs his hand through his hair. The roles are reversed now.

You pause before leaving, “Don’t forget to piss.”

All you hear is a snigger as you slip out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the hub. Your eyes up to see Langdon already staring at you. A small smirk resting on his face.

You sigh, “What?”

He leans against the counter, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you just walked out of the single bathroom Robby happens to be in.”

The two senior residents watch Dr. Robby walk out of the bathroom. You quickly clear your throat and reach over Langdon, grabbing a tablet, “You just love being an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Robby would never want to admit it to himself but you’re the one he would risk it all for. Yet he’s too scared to act on his feelings with you. When he looks at you, he’s reminded of his failed relationships and deep down he knows he’s better off alone. He wouldn’t make you happy in the long run. You’re young. You have your whole career left ahead of you and he doesn’t want to put that in jeopardy.

Dana snaps her fingers in front of Robby’s face. He gently shoves her hand out of his way. Her hands now on her waist.

“I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes.” She searches his face. “You okay?”

He aimlessly nods, his mind still on you. Dana gives him an update regarding some patients. Half listening, he glances past Dana and focuses on you. You meet his gaze.

Robby interrupts her, “Do you know what’s going on with (Y/N)? She’s not herself.”

Dana tries to joke, “Worried about her, lover boy?” He gives her a look. “Right. Well, the poor kid just lost her mother. She just lost a part of herself. So of course she’s going to be out of it.”

Robby's face falls. His heart drops. The pit in his stomach is now bigger. Why didn’t you tell him?

Dana notices the look and frowns, “Did she not tell you?”

He goes to look for you but you’re nowhere to be seen. He shakes his head out of frustration. “It’s like she’s shutting me out.”

The charge nurse puts her hand on his shoulder, “Sounds like someone I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby finds you making a coffee an hour later. Just as you’re about to take a sip, Robby takes the cup out of your hand and tosses it in the trash.

“Robby, are you fucking serious?” If looks could kill.

“You’re going home.”

“What?”

“Grab your bag. You’re going home.”

This time you laugh. You brush past him.

He backs up, blocking the doorway. “I’m serious.”

You look at him unimpressed, “Well, jokes on you I don’t have any more PTO or sick time so I can't leave.” You try to sneak under his arm through the doorway.

His arm curls around you, stopping you once again. He sighs, “As your attending, I am making the decision to send you home.”

You furiously blink away some tears, “You’re going to pull the attending card now, Robby?”

He silently nods.

“Y-You don’t understand I need,” you let out a shaky breath, “–I need to work. Please Michael.”

His lips press into a thin line as the sinking feeling in his chest returns. He was trying to do what’s best for you.

Robby’s arm drops. He looks down and gently takes a hold of your hand, “You need to mourn.”

You rip your hand away. Almost angry he knew about your mother. Your lips trembling while shaking your head, “No-No, I don’t.”

Robby lets out a deep breath. “Please.” Finally, you look up at the man in front of you. “You need to go home.”

You stand there, bitterly wiping away tears as you watch Robby walk away to grab your backpack from the hub. You sniffle.

How could he just send you home like this? How could you let yourself break down this much? He can’t just do this to you when you have tried to help him mourn Adamson for years. You angrily take your bag from his hand and brush past him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jess, if I get any more sympathy flowers I’m going to start giving them back as a warning. Like an omen.”

Your roommate, Jessica, takes the vase of flowers from you. “I like them. They brighten up the apartment.”

You begin to walk to your room, “Yeah...nothing like being reminded your mom just died with flowers.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She yells from the other room.

You lay on your bed, picking at your fingers. Your eyes close. You haven’t slept in days. You have a migraine from crying. Any time you were alone your thoughts were plagued with her. Childhood memories. Her passing. The future without her. She would never see you get married, meet her grandkids, see you succeed.

Your mind wanders to Robby. She would never meet him. You talked about him enough that she probably had him imaged out. You see him with you. Your future. Together.

Your eyes pop open. Did you just think about marrying him? Suddenly your heart aches, feeling guilty with how you treated him. You were shutting him out. You don’t want to push him away. God if anyone knew what you were going through it would be him.

You stare at the ceiling fan. Maybe you should text him.

“(Y/N)! You have a special delivery.” Your roommate sings out.

You sigh and curl into your bed. You hear her call your name again.

Slowly but surely you stand up from your bed. Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make your way to the living room. You can hear Jess making small talk with someone. “Jess I told you - give the flowers back. Let them be an omen.”

You pause when you see Robby in your apartment. Tired eyes, a warm smile on his face, a hand in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a coffee, and his backpack on the floor by his feet. He’s still in his scrub top and cargo pants meaning he had come right after work. To see you.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move away from Jess, taking you in. Your hair still damp from a shower, an oversized college shirt, and a pair of pajama shorts. Robby’s eyes can’t help but trail up your legs, noticing tattoos he didn’t know you had.

He snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “I brought you a coffee.”

“To make up for the one you threw out?”

He nods. You purse your lips to stop you from grinning. You take the coffee from his hand.

“I’m uh–going to go grocery shopping. Please make yourself at home.” Jess picks up her bag from the kitchen table. She hesitates, stopping by you. She whispers with excitement, “Is this doctor daddy?”

With a roll of your eyes, you give her a shove. You notice the tip of Robby’s ears turned bright red at the not so quiet comment. Your roommate waves goodbye before heading out.

You take a seat on your couch. “How’d you find my address anyways?”

Robby rubs the back of his neck, “Langdon.”

“That little fucker,” you mutter. He cracks a smile.

Robby follows you to the couch. He walks over to a shelf, admiring your life outside of work in pictures. You sip your coffee. It’s quiet.

He gently picks up a face-down picture frame. It’s you and your mom smiling at each other. You watch him as his eyes study the picture.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want people knowing.” You sigh, “I guess it’s been a way for me to feel like the whole thing never happened.”

He takes a seat next to you. Your knees touching, “You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to send you home like that– I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I know you didn’t get to mourn Adamson like you should have. I know it still haunts you.”

He shakes his head almost wincing at his mentor’s name, “I could see myself in you today and that terrified me.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Your eyes become watery, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Robby mutters, “I hated that you shut me out.”

Looking down, you blink away your tears, “I just feel so broken. Alone.”

He looks at you and whispers quietly, “I’ll put you back together,” he lets go of your hand. His calloused fingers trace your jawline, gently turning your head to look at him. “Just like you’re doing with me.”

Your eyes search his, “You would stay?”

A grin spreads onto his face, “Can’t get rid of me. Even if you tried.” His face softens, “Help me hold onto you.”

Your face mirrors his, “I mean I’ve held onto you this long.”

Robby jokes, “I know how you feel now when you try to take care of me.”

You lean into him, “I can be pretty annoying.”

He smirks and leans in closer, “I’d say so.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

He brushes your hair out of your face, “And why’s that?”

“We see right through each other.”

There was never a time where you didn’t see through Robby’s bullshit lies. Whenever Gloria would get on his nerves, when he was struggling with his depression or anxiety, or when he had a tough patient. Robby always seemed to know when you didn’t get enough sleep, having a rough mental health day, when you were hangry, or when you just needed a hug.

Robby’s dilated eyes dart down to your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dr. Robinavitch?” You murmured. Your soft lips brush against his.

“If you’d let me.”

He takes your nod as a yes. Robby closes the gap between you and connects your lips together. You immediately reciprocate, gently kissing him back. His rough calloused hands cup your face, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds you slowly pull away. His forehead rests against yours.

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about that for an embarrassingly long time.”

A groan rumbles at the back of Robby's throat. “You don’t want to know what I’ve thought about.”

You snicker before placing a soft kiss beneath his beard. “We can discuss that later.”

He pulls your legs over his lap and wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest as his hand rests on your bare thigh.

You listen to his accelerated heart beat slowly calm. He lays his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. You stifle a yawn.

“I wish you could have met her,” you whisper.

“I would tell her she has the most intelligent and beautiful daughter…” his thumb gently caressing your skin, “And that she won’t have to worry about you because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swells, “Thank you.”

“Adamson is proud of you. I know it.” You mumble into his chest. Robby releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A sense of reassurance floods him. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

After a few moments, Robby hears your breathing become slow and rhythmic.

Robby sighs, “I would also tell your mom–I have loved her daughter for a long time and have just been too afraid to admit it.”

“I love you too, Michael.” You tiredly mumble as the curve of your mouth curled up slightly.

He presses his lips to the top of your head with an embarrassed smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica comes back to the apartment to find the two of you on the couch. Robby quietly snoring and you in his arms, sleeping for the first time in days.

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love V part 1 || joe burrow x reader

description: this upcoming week will be monumental for you and joe. both of you have a chance to get to the top of the mountain in your respective careers, and for the first time, you are by each other's side through it all, and the whole world is watching

a/n: im baaaaaackkkkk! well, did I ever really go anywhere LMAO? anyway, sorry this one took so long ;) hope you enjoy it. this is part 1 of 2. the corresponding social media fic will hopefully be up this week!

warnings: SMUT mdni, fluff, hint of angst here and there

word count: 29.9 k

YAIL masterlist  ||  YAIL lore → (this might clarify some things in terms of albums)

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @softburrow @yelenasbraid @burrowbarbie @lovelyburrow @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @definitelynotdomanique 

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing, Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling, No, I didn't see the news, 'Cause we were somewhere else

Scrolling through your latest track recordings always felt like the most rewarding part of your exhausting day in the studio—a chance to sit back and revel in the magic that had poured out of you. But tonight? Tonight, it felt different. It felt better. You know why? Because this one was a glitter gel pen song. Every take, every note, every perfectly stacked synth—it all fit together like a dream. It was carefree, light, the kind of song that twirled you around the room in a haze of champagne bubbles and whispered secrets. The type of song that felt like the drunk girl in the bathroom at a party, grabbing your hands and telling you that you looked like an angel. You leaned back, tapping your fingers against your wooden desk as the track played through the speakers, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Damn,” you muttered to yourself, satisfaction settling deep in your chest. “That one’s it. Two for two on those blends, Jack would be proud,”.

The way the melodies melted together, the shimmering production weaving through every lyric—it was magic. The kind of song that didn’t just sit in the background, but demanded to be felt. It had all the makings of a smash hit.

That is, if it ever saw the light of day.

Your album had already been finalized for a few months now and there were no intentions to add to it, but the thing was, you just couldn’t stop writing. It’s like every little thing was inspiring you; from his laughter, to his knee silently rubbing against yours under the table—teasing, comforting, constant—to the way he looked at you before you fell asleep in his arms. Hell, even the cheap wine you pretended was champagne which he had picked up in a haste before coming back home to celebrate you inking the deal with Vogue to be on their cover for the May edition. 

Words. Lyrics. Poems. 

That was all that filled your mind when you were with him—which, at this point, was quite often. 

And there’s only one person to blame for that.

Joe.

The song you had been working on tonight—Paris—was loosely inspired by your little adventure across France last month. From the dazzling waters of Cannes to the stylish Parisian streets, it was a trip filled with firsts & so many moments that had you thinking of song lyrics like it was second nature (which it was). Every stolen glance, every drunken whisper while stumbling down the dimly lit hallways of your hotel, every moment that felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you—it all poured into the song effortlessly.

We were somewhere else

You could still picture it. The way his fingers laced with yours as you wandered through the cobblestone streets, the city lights reflecting in his oceanic eyes making him look ethereal. The quiet laughter over dinner in a tucked-away bistro, the kind of place that felt like a secret. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he pulled you close on the balcony, the Eiffel Tower glowing in the distance. You really were somewhere else with him, it felt like you two were separated from the world, so immersed in your bubble to the point where you didn’t know what was going on around you. 

Privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours

Love wasn’t something you needed to prove to anyone. You had learned that the hard way.

During this trip, after months of speculation, silence, and blurred paparazzi photos, the world finally knew—you and Joe. 

The pop star and the athlete. The girl with the guitar and the boy with the game ball. The lyricist and her muse. The songbird and her falcon. 

The headlines were persistent, dissecting every past lyric, every old interview, every possible connection they could make between the lovers. But they couldn’t pinpoint what it was, how someone like you had ended up with someone like him. Two different worlds. Two different crowds. Yet somehow, your hearts found each other and something extraordinary was etched in the stars as a result. 

It was a big step, terrifying in a way that only fame could make it. Because for the first time, you were willingly letting in the same people who had spent the last year ripping you apart piece by piece.

But you weren’t scared. Not this time.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t give a damn.

Because romance isn’t dead—not if you keep it yours. You had spent so long believing love needed an audience, that it had to be constantly flaunted and performed to be real. But now, you knew better. Love was in the quiet moments. In the space between heartbeats. In the way Joe looked at you when no one else was watching. You kept that privacy sign up—on the door, on your page, on your entire world—because peace was priceless, something valuable and unattainable for the ill-fated that once you found it, you’d do anything to protect it. The outside world might try to crack open the doors, to pry into your life, but you didn’t owe anyone that access. Some things were too sacred to be shared, and that was perfectly okay. You were only going to let them see things on your own terms, without any need to prove something to someone. You were unbelievably happy with your life with Joe, and you wanted people to know—but never once should it have to come off as forced. And that’s what was so different about your relationship. 

Nothing about it felt forced.

Which is why Paris was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. It was so easy, it all felt so natural—like the two of you had stepped into a world where time slowed down just for you.

The city had always been romanticized in your mind, but being there with Joe had turned every moment into something straight out of a movie. Fashion Week was his grand debut into that world—his first time on the runway, and you’d never been prouder. He and Justin had taken the stage like they belonged there, breaking barriers with each confident step. You still remembered standing off to the side, watching as Joe walked with that signature focus of his, the same intensity he carried on the field. Except this time, instead of pads and cleats, he was draped in high fashion, and god, did he wear it well. 

The fittings had been an adventure in themselves. You had spent hours in designer showrooms, watching him try on pieces that ranged from effortlessly cool—Joe Cool—to downright ridiculous. At one point, he came out in a look so wild you couldn’t help but fall over laughing, clutching your stomach as he just stood there, unamused. “Babe,” he deadpanned, turning to the mirror. “I look like a rejected boy band member from 2003,” and you only laughed harder.  

When you weren’t wrapped up in the whirlwind of Fashion Week, you had slipped away to explore the city together. Mornings were spent wandering through art museums, fingers laced together as you admired centuries-old paintings. Joe had a way of tilting his head when he looked at something he didn’t quite understand, brow furrowed in concentration. “So…this is just a bunch of dots?” he had murmured as you stood in front of a Seurat painting, and you had to bite back a smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s called pointillism, babe,”.  

Afternoons were for indulging in every pastry Paris had to offer, for letting him feed you bites of pain au chocolat, for stolen kisses between sips of espresso at a quiet café. And the nights…well, the nights belonged to just the two of you. Quality time in the hotel room, tangled limbs beneath silk sheets, whispered words and soft laughter echoing against the walls after he had just finished drilling you into the soft mattress.  

But outside your little Parisian bubble, the cameras had followed, the questions had lingered, the online buzz had been relentless. The world now knew about you and Joe, and they had plenty to say about it. Some were supportive, some skeptical, some downright nasty. But none of it mattered when you were with him.  

And now, here you were, back in your studio, lost in thought, lost in Paris, lost in him.  

Paris wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. One that lingered, even now, as you sat in the dim glow of the studio, layering harmonies over a melody that already felt like nostalgia. This song wasn’t just about your time in the city of love. It was about him. The feeling he made you feel.

And you were dancing to the beat of that feeling, letting it guide you wherever it wanted, just as you let him guide you through the unpredictability of love.

After going through the recordings, you decided to head back to the drawing board. The soft hum of unfinished melodies filled the room, blending with the distant city noise outside. You absentmindedly tapped your blue glitter pen against the pages of your notebook, eyes scanning over the lyrics you had scribbled down earlier. The scent of coffee and warm studio air surrounded you, holding you in this moment—just you, your thoughts, and the music waiting to be shaped into something real.

Wrapped in your Bengals blanket, you sighed, sinking deeper into the plush velvet couch. A new verse was forming in your mind, the words almost there. You took the pen from your lips, pressing it to the page, ready to chase the feeling. But then, your phone buzzed beside you, pulling you from your thoughts.

The screen lit up, casting a soft glow in the dark studio, and a smile rose at the corners of your lips. Your lock screen—a snapshot of a moment that felt like home.

Well, because it was. 

Last November. A slow morning wrapped in golden light. The photo had been taken in bed, the white sheets tangled around your bodies, the warmth of sleep still lingering in your limbs. Joe had snapped it—his arm extended, his messy morning hair barely in frame, but the focus was on you, tucked into his chest, your cheek pressed against his bare skin, eyes still heavy with sleep, while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t even know he’d taken the photo until later that afternoon when he changed your lock screen himself, grinning like a kid who just got away with something. “You looked cute,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And now, every time your phone lit up, it was there—a reminder of warmth, of love, of the kind peace you never thought was possible to possess. 

You then read the message below, seeing it was from your assistant.

Jen: new interview was released from paris! looks like lover boy had a few things to say about his lover girl ;)

“What…,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat as another message popped up, this time with the link to the interview clip. You were aware that Joe had his own media run during your time in Paris, as the highlight of the trip was Joe’s Vogue World debut with Justin. It was something unique, something that broke the glass ceiling as these two American football stars took on the world of fashion and Anna Wintour like a hurricane. They were the center of attention during Fashion Week, so it was a given that there’d be an inquisitive microphone shoved in his face and a camera following his every move. Every step they took, every outfit they wore was analyzed and dissected by the press, but Joe seemed unfazed despite his initial nerves before the trip. 

Your eyebrows knitted together out of curiosity, the only thought you had was, “He didn’t tell me they asked him about me,” and then you clicked on the link without hesitation, and there he was. You recognized the surroundings—seeing the racks of clothing, glam vanities, and cameras—and realized this must’ve been a BTS interview during his fitting that morning before he walked the runway. 

You tapped play, and within seconds, his familiar, eye-crinkling laughter filled the studio, intoxicating and so freaking adorable, making your heart flutter all over again. 

“What do I think of Y/N?” he repeats with a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite put it all into words. There’s a blush creeping onto his cheeks, undeniable, even under the bright studio lights. “I mean, she’s great…honestly, she’s more than great. She’s magic. The literal best thing that has ever happened to me. She’s everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She’s everything to me. A constant source of support, someone who understands the pressure I’m under because she’s in the same position as me but in her own career, someone who can make me smile and laugh harder than I ever have before,”.

He pauses for a second, running a hand over his jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. “Having her by my side over the past year has been nothing short of incredible. It’s been a blessing, a learning experience, a constant source of happiness in my life. Aside from being the most talented person I know—like, truly, watching her work, seeing her create, it’s inspiring—she’s also the most kind-hearted, down-to-earth person I’ve ever met. The way she carries herself, the way she navigates everything that comes with her career, it’s admirable. it’s one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place. I’ve learned a lot from her about how to manage my life in the NFL, privacy is a big thing for me and it’s rare…but she knows how to maintain it better than anyone,”.

His expression softens, voice dipping into something more intimate, like he’s forgetting for a moment that the cameras are rolling. “The world sees her as this superstar, this powerhouse who sells out stadiums and breaks records, but I see the girl who hums under her breath when she thinks no one’s listening. The one who stays up late, perfecting lyrics because she wants to make sure every word matters. The one who gives everything to the people she loves, no matter how exhausted she is. And somehow, I am lucky enough to get to be the person she comes home to,”.

The interviewer smiles, clearly intrigued by the connection between Joe and you, and then asks, “It’s clear you’re incredibly proud of her, but with both of you being in the public eye, do you ever feel the pressure of all the attention, especially when it comes to your newly public relationship?”.

Joe’s eyes flicker with thought as he ponders the question. His posture shifts slightly, and his expression softens as if the weight of it all settles in. He lets out a small sigh before responding. “I mean, yeah, there’s definitely pressure. We’re both in the spotlight, and people always want to know about us—about what we’re doing, what we’re feeling. It’s hard to escape that, sometimes. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about the noise around us. It’s about what we have. And we’re not afraid to show that,”. He lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “You know? Like…that’s my girl, that’s my lady. I’m not afraid to show that and own that. I’m proud of her, of us. I think when you have something that’s as real and rare as what we have, you should never take it for granted. You should protect it, yeah, but you should also be proud of it. Be happy. Show people how happy you are, but not so much that it feels forced and like you’re doing fan service. Do it for yourselves,”.

His grin turns a little playful, but the gravity never leaves his eyes. “She deserves that. She deserves everything good in this world, and I’ll spend forever making sure she knows that,”.

And then, the video ends, and the studio is once again filled with silence. But if you listen closely, you can hear the soft splosh of the teardrop hitting your phone screen.  

You blinked, startled by your own reaction, swiping at the tear with the sleeve of Joe’s sweatshirt—the same one you’d stolen from him last night and refused to give back. A watery laugh bubbled from your throat as you stared down at your phone, the weight of his words still settling in your chest.  

He called you magic.  

He called you the best thing that ever happened to him.  

He called you his girl. No. His lady. 

You sucked in a shaky breath, pressing your lips together to keep from completely sobbing. You weren’t new to grand gestures or poetic declarations—hell, you wrote about love for a living—but this? This was different. This was Joe. And for the first time in your life, you were being loved out loud, without hesitation, without restraint.  

No vague answers. No dancing around the truth. Just him, speaking about you the way you’d only ever dreamed someone would.  

You replayed the video, just to hear the way his voice softened when he talked about you, the way his smile lingered long after he finished speaking. And maybe you played it a third time. A fourth. Okay…five times, but who was counting?  

“God, I love you,” you murmured to the screen, even though he couldn’t hear you.  

But he would soon.  

An hour later 

You wrapped up your work shortly after watching his interview, that giddy feeling in your stomach making you dizzier by the second. You planned on staying for at least another hour,  but the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him until his lips were swollen and breathless overpowered every other thought in your mind.

The entire drive home, he was all you could think about.

The way he talked about you, with so much admiration and certainty…that he was your’s and you were his, like loving you wasn’t just something he did—it was something he was made for. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when answering personal questions, that adorable little hesitation before he said something sweet, as if he still got shy about admitting just how much he adored you. Not because he didn’t want to accept it, but because he was so obsessed with you, it was so hard for him to stop talking once he started. 

It had been nine months since your world had been turned upside down by the man who taught you the true meaning of love, yet every single day felt like the first. The excitement, the awe, the gratitude that you got to be his and he got to be yours—it never dulled.

And as you pulled into the driveway, barely remembering how you even got home in one piece, one thing was certain: you were completely and utterly wrecked for him.

Once you made your way inside, you slipped off your cream-colored Ugg slippers and padded toward the kitchen island, dropping your bag onto the cool marble countertop. Your eyes flickered to the stove, where two pots and a pan—ones that definitely hadn’t been there when you left—rested on the burners. The faint scent of garlic, butter, and something rich and savory still lingered in the air.

“He must’ve cooked dinner for us,” you murmured to yourself, a smile tugging at your lips.

Of course, he did.

He knew you’d be coming home late, probably exhausted from hours of staring at a screen, adjusting vocal layers, and maneuvering the microphone until everything sounded just right. He knew you’d be too tired to even think about eating, let alone cooking something for yourself.

You felt warmth bloom in your chest as you ran a finger along the cool surface of the pot, already picturing him standing right here, sleeves rolled up, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully followed a recipe. Because while Joe wasn’t exactly the most confident chef, he tried for you. He always tried for you.

Even if he was working with the irrational fear that he’d give you food poisoning or burn the kitchen down.

Your eyes scanned the living room, and to your surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Normally, around this time he’d be sprawled out against the couch with a blanket, reading or watching some dumb movie to pass time before you came home. 

Because that’s when the real fun started. 

He couldn’t wait to wrap you up in the plush blanket with him, put on one of your favorite shows, and listen as you told him about your day—his favorite part being when your fingers found his hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands while he soaked up every word.

But tonight was different. He wasn’t following his little routine.

You wandered toward the stairs, assuming he was in your bedroom or office, slowly climbing each one as you felt the dull ache in your thighs return, a pleasant reminder of what transpired in the backseat of his Porsche last night on the way to visit his parents’ for dinner. One look at you in that denim mini-skirt and gray polo quarter zip sweater, and he was gone. 

Flashback to last night

He exhaled sharply through his nose, “Watch it,” he mumbled, watching as your hand trailed up his thigh. 

You grinned, loving the way you got under his skin, how easily you could make him spiral. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, but the way your fingers crept higher on his thigh told another story. You’d been teasing him all night, ever since you caught him watching you a little too closely, his gaze lingering on your ass when you leaned into the mirror to fix your hair. That hungry, distracted look in his eyes told you exactly where his mind had wandered—and your choice of skirt wasn’t helping.

He was trying, really trying, to be good tonight. To focus. To not think about how easy it would be to slip that tiny thing up and bend you over the nearest surface.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. Not one bit.

Joe let out a quiet curse, his free hand darting out to grab your wrist, stopping your movements. “You really wanna play this game right now?” he asked, voice laced with something dangerous.

You just shrugged, leaning closer. “Depends,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “What happens if I win?”.

Lucky for both of you, the highway was long behind, and now you were on the quieter, more familiar roads of his hometown. When he spotted a deserted shopping complex up ahead, the parking lot empty and a thick cluster of shrubs tucked away behind it, he didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he swerved the car into the lot, the tires skimming over the road with a satisfying screech. He threw the car into park and immediately turned to you, his eyes darker than the night around you—stormy, almost predatory.

“Get in the back,”. 

A thrill shot through you at his tone, and you didn’t waste a second before climbing between the seats, settling against the cool leather as he followed closely behind.

You two had danced this tango quite a few times in the past, so you knew exactly how this was going to go. Flashes of the two of you, sprawled out in the backseat after picking him up from practice, his sweaty tank still clinging to his body, your legs spread over his lap as he groaned into your mouth, filled your mind. The thrill of being caught only added to the fire between you, his hands rough and impatient as they gripped your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing your back against the cool leather.

You knew exactly where this was going, just like all the other times—the way his lips would drag down your neck, the way his breath would hitch when you reached for him, the way his self-control would snap the second you rolled your hips just right.

His grip on your hips was ironclad as you straddled his lap, your denim skirt bunched up around your waist, the thin barrier of your panties already pushed aside. His head rested against the headrest, his lips parted, breath ragged as he watched you roll your hips against him, grinding your soaked core along the length of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin, barely holding himself together. “You’re such a tease, aren’t you?”.

You smirked, leaning in to brush your lips over his, teasing, taunting. “Maybe,”.

He sighed, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you even closer, making you feel just how hard he was for you. The teasing was short-lived, though—you both wanted it too badly. You lifted up just enough to line him up, his tip rubbing against your entrance, and then you sank down, inch by inch, until he was seated to the hilt.

A short gasp left your lips, your hands bracing against his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch, the fullness of him buried deep inside you. Joe cursed under his breath, his hands flexing against your waist as he fought the urge to thrust up into you. “Shit, baby,” he rasped, his head tilting back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they snapped back open. “You feel so fucking good,”.

You rolled your hips slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing beneath you. Taking full control, you lifted up slowly before slamming back down, drawing a strangled moan from his lips. “Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers bruising against your skin, his need for control slipping with each bounce of your hips.

You set the pace, riding him hard and deep, your movements messy and so calculated as if it was muscle memory.“Mm, fuck,” you whimpered as the windows fogged up, the car filled with the sound of your moans, his deep grunts, and the filthy slap of skin on skin. His hands roamed under your sweater, pushing it up to expose your chest, his warm palms immediately cupping your breasts through your black lacy bralette, thumbs flicking over your hard nipples. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and biting as his hands greedily explored your body. “So perfect,”

You moaned in response, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing that high that was rapidly approaching. He felt it too, his hips snapping up to meet your thrusts, taking control in that way only he could.

“God, Joe—,” you gasped, hands flying to his hair, tugging as your body trembled.

“I got you, baby,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic, his thrusts rough and deep. “Gonna cum for me?”.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you and the coil in your belly snapped, your walls clenching around him, dragging him right to the edge with you. His grip on your waist tightened, and in one swift motion, he lifted you just enough to slip out. “Gonna…fuck—,” he cut himself off with a deep grunt, his fingers digging into your sweaty skin as he pulled you flush against him, his faint—but there—abs flexing as he spilled onto your stomach, painting your skin in hot, sticky ropes of his release.

And god, you lost it.

Your fingers swiped through the mess on your stomach, bringing it up to your lips, licking the taste of him off your skin, moaning around your fingers as you locked eyes with him. “Holy fuck,” Joe choked out, his blown-out pupils darting between your mouth and your stomach, his jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break a tooth.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging your fingers back to your lips, his breath heavy as he whispered, “Do that again,”.

End of flashback 

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath, a rush of heat rising in your body just at the mere thought of last night. You’d so kill for a repeat, but you were about two seconds away from passing out and sleepy, tired sex wouldn’t be enjoyable for either of you. 

Once you reached the bedroom door, barely making it because your legs felt like they were about to collapse, the faint melody of an extremely familiar song wafting through the frame had you tilting your head in curiosity. The synth, the voice…the bass…it was so....

You slowly nudged the door open, and—oh.

Joe was sitting on the floor, shirtless, clad in just a pair of black sweats, glasses perched on his nose as he focused intently on the pile of Legos in front of him. Your breath hitched.

Oh my god.

The glasses.

He never wore them unless he absolutely had to, always opting for contacts since they were convenient, but he must’ve needed to give his eyes a break. And the fact that he was sitting there, all casual and domestic, building one of the many Lego sets you both had drunkenly ordered on the boat in Cannes?

You were instantly, irreversibly feral. 

“God, dammit. He always does this,” you sighed and thought to yourself, the heat pooling in your lower belly. 

But you kept it down. Barely.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted with an easy smile, still focused on clicking a piece into place on the Milky Way set he’d been working on. He looked so boyfriend right now. Too boyfriend. You didn’t even think—you just met him on the floor, crawled into his lap, clinging to him, burying your face in his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hands instinctively landed on your hips, completely forgetting the Lego’s in front of him as he steadied you. “You okay?” his voice was softer now, laced with quiet concern.

You nodded, exhaling against his skin. “Yeah. More than okay,” you whispered. “I just love you,”.

You felt him relax under you, his arms wrapping fully around your waist, pressing you closer. “I love you too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face, and his expression was nothing but warmth. And god, he just looked so soft and babyish in those black glasses. He never wore these out in public, which is why you felt so special because he only lets you see him like this. This was the real Joe. Your Joe. 

“I saw the interview,” you admitted, using your thumb to brush lightly against his cheek.

He hummed, a knowing look flickering in his eyes since he knew exactly what you were referring to since his own assistant had also alerted him. His thumb traced soft circles against your hip as he stayed silent. He didn’t need to say anything. He just held you, knowing how much moments like these meant to you. 

Quiet love. 

“You out-do yourself every time,” you muttered in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of coconut & hibiscus—your bodywash which he surely had stolen again. “Just when I think you can’t possibly be more perfect and sweet to me, you take it to the next level without breaking a sweat. And it’s so natural for you to just talk about me, like me. I’m such a mess but you see past all of it and somehow find all the redeeming qualities in me and I…,”.

As you trailed off, his hand slipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, pressing against the cool skin of your bare back. His fingers pushed into your plush-like skin, a subtle way of showing you that he was here, he heard you, and he felt you. “You deserve it,” he whispered in your ear, his other hand pulling you further into his lap. 

“You deserve all of it, Y/N. I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it when I say you’re magic, because the way you lit up my entire world by just existing in it? That’s some houdini shit right there. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. And I’m gonna make sure everyone with an ear hears about it. You spent way too long clawing and fighting for someone to see you the way you deserved to be seen,” he said. “But baby, you don’t have to fight anymore. I see you. And I’ll never stop making sure the whole damn world does, too. If you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,”.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, capturing his lips in an all-consuming kiss. You poured everything into it—every ounce of gratitude, every whisper of love, every unspoken promise that you’d never take a single moment with him for granted. Joe sighed into the kiss, his grip on you tightening as he melted into you, like he was just as desperate to hold on to this feeling as you were.

When you finally pulled back, your breath came in soft, uneven pants, your forehead still pressed against his. “You’re so good to me. You are literally magic, forget me,” you whispered, a breathless little laugh escaping you.

He grinned, his fingers brushing against your jaw, his thumb tracing that faint love-bite he left last night. “I love you,” he cooed, tilting his head, his nose nudging yours. “I’m gonna love you ‘til the end of time. That’s all. No magic, spells, witchcraft…even voodoo. Just love. My love,”.

You pushed your face back into his neck, his hands returning to their spot on your waist as you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the serenity that he brought to your life so easily. By just holding you close, letting you listen to the lulling thrum of his heartbeat. “Thanks for cooking tonight, by the way. You were a busy bee, weren’t you? Cooked and worked on the Legos,”.

He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You’ve had a jam-packed week…long studio sessions, rehearsals for your performance on Sunday, finalizing everything for the weekend. I, one, wanted to take some of the load off you, spoil you a little, and make one of your favorites—,”.

Your ears instantly perked up. “Chicken Parm?” you interrupted, eyes wide with excitement.

He chuckled, shaking his head at how easy you were to please. “Yes, I made you Chicken Parm,” he confirmed, barely getting the words out before you started peppering grateful kisses along his neck, murmuring little hums of appreciation against his skin.

“And two,” he continued, voice slightly strained from the distraction, “I needed to keep myself busy because I missed you,”.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “Missed me?” you teased, tilting your head playfully. “Damn, Joey, are you that attached to me?” your tone was light, teasing, but the truth of it made your stomach flip. The fact that he could barely go an hour without hearing your voice, three hours without seeing you—it was adorable. It was everything.

His grip on you tightened as he exhaled through his nose, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do I really need to state the obvious?” he murmured, before slowly pushing himself off the floor, lifting you effortlessly with him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as warmth bloomed in your chest.

He led you both over to your massive California king bed, the plush duvet, which usually would be neatly folded, was now slightly messed up, evidence that he had been lounging here before getting distracted by his Lego project. He sat down on the edge, keeping you firmly in his lap, his hands roaming up and down your back in slow, comforting strokes. “In case you forgot,” he murmured, his lips attaching to your neck while he spoke. “I’m extremely obsessed with you,”.

Your hand found its way into his bed-head hair—soft, messy, with a lingering scent of rose—as you dragged your nails across his scalp. “Yeah? Is that why you were listening to my music before I walked in?” you teased, a confident smirk rising on your face as you gently pulled him away from your neck to meet his eyes. 

You knew it was familiar—the production, the vocals—because it came from you. 

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve. 

The magic you had created that dreadful night in New York, when the only way you knew to get your feelings out was through music. When the only thing you could do was either cry until your eyes shrunk, or sing until your voice was gone. When you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your phone, because every single headline popping up reminded you of the betrayal, the heartbreak, the way the world seemed to turn against you overnight. Every notification felt like a fresh wound, every cruel word from strangers a dagger to your already shattered heart.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do—you poured it into your music. You sat in that dark studio, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the piano keys, your voice raw and aching as you sang the truth you could never bring yourself to say out loud.

Before you could get lost in the past, Joe squeezed your waist, transporting you back in the present, away from the place you so narrowly escaped. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s different now. You’re different now. I’m here now,”.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled a slow, steady breath, calming yourself before the nerves could creep in and drag you under. You had fought too hard to climb out of that darkness, clawed your way back piece by piece. And he—he had fought just as hard to hold you steady, to be your anchor when the waves threatened to pull you under.  

No.  

You couldn’t let yourself spiral. Not now. Not when you had come so far.

“I’m better than that. I’m better now,” you reminded before taking another breath. Once you opened your eyes to meet his, you sighed, “I know,”. His eyes were soft, yet behind them were the faint remnants of the pain you’d been carrying for nearly a year. The pain he took upon himself because he couldn’t bear to watch your heartache alone. He had carried it with you, every step of the way, shouldering the weight even when you tried to tell him it wasn’t his burden to bear. But that was just who he was; loving you meant feeling everything with you, for you.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch so light, so reverent, like he was trying to soothe away the ache that still lingered beneath the surface. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured. “I get it,”. 

Joe hesitated, caught in the push and pull of his own thoughts. His mind pushed him to press further, to dig into the remnants of pain left behind by the smallest man who ever lived—to make sure not even a trace remained. But his heart? His heart told him, No. She’s happy…truly happy. You know that, and she knows that.

And when it came to you, Joe never listened to his mind. He always followed his heart, let it lead him like a compass pointing true north. Because if he did listen to logic, to the voice in his head that warned him to guard himself…well. Who knows whose hand he’d be holding right now?

Instead, he chose you because his heart did. Every time, in every lifetime.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm against your cool lips. “We’re both going for the gold, you know,” he smiled, his voice a mix of pride and promise. “Nobody does it like us. Literal IT couple. And it’s not even close. They wish they were us…this successful and hot,”.

This was his attempt at making you smile again, to shift the focus from your wounds to your wins. Because that’s what mattered now; not the past, not the pain, but the triumph waiting just on the horizon. This week was going to be intense, to say the least. Sunday, the Grammys, where your last album was nominated in every major category—including Album of the Year. Wednesday, the NFL Honors, where Joe was up for MVP. A whirlwind of milestones, each one a testament to the blood, sweat, and relentless dedication you had both poured into your crafts. And yet, success had never come without its shadows. Doubt, tension, the watchful eyes of those who lived to speculate, to pick apart your every move. But despite it all, you rose. You both did. Because nothing—not the noise, not the pressure, not the skeptics—could overshadow the truth: you worked for this. You earned this.

You internally screamed at his effortless transition, grateful for his ability to sense your nerves before you even voiced it. He knew that this would bring up something you didn’t want to think about again, and he wasn’t going to let you go there. Your fingers began toying with the collar of his sweatshirt as you focused back on what he was saying, “So you’re saying we’re untouchable?” you winked.

“Untouchable and Unstoppable,” he corrected with a smirk, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pushing into the skin and watching it pop back into place. “No one comes close,”.  

And they didn’t. Nobody could come close to the level of stardom you two had, and combined? 

Forget NFL QB and Pop Star, you were The Royal Couple of America. The world had been obsessed ever since your relationship went public, and the frenzy hadn’t died down one bit. If anything, it had only grown stronger. With every new detail that was shared, every photo, every little crumb from your time together, they fell even more in love with the two of you.

A soft sigh left your lips as you melted into him, your head resting against his shoulder and your body shifting closer to his. “Are you excited?” you asked, voice quieter now. “For everything coming up?”

“Excited?” he scoffed, pulling back to meet your gaze. “I’m fucking hyped. I get to watch you set the stage on fire, and I get a front-row seat. Does it get any better than that?”.

You bit your lip, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Announcing the album, stepping into this new era…I’ve been waiting for this. I need this. To really turn the page. I just hope it goes the way I want it to. I really really love this album and I hope they don’t get caught in the revenge gimmick of it all when truthfully, this album is a love letter to you,”.  

Joe’s eyes softened as he cupped your face gently.

A love letter.

A love letter to the man who had shown you the kind of love you’d always dreamed of, the kind you never thought you deserved. The way he’d supported you, held you up when you felt like crumbling, and how every moment with him felt like coming home. A love letter to those late nights, when the city was asleep, and all you could taste were his lips…your idea of luxury. A love letter to days in the sun, when you were drinking on the beach, with him all over you. A love letter to the king of your heart. To your endgame. To your Karma. To Daylight in human form. 

“I promise it’s going to go the way you want, okay? You’ve worked so hard, put your heart and soul into every song, every little thing with this one. I can feel how special it is to you, and your fans, the ones who’ve stuck by your side since day 1…they’re gonna see it,” he assured you. “You’re about to kill it, baby. This is your moment,”.  

A slow smirk spread across your face as you traced your fingers over his chiseled jaw. “And what do I get if I win?” you asked, your voice laced with heat, a kind of heat that sent a thrill through Joe’s body. 

His expression turned mischievous as he dipped his head closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a deep murmur. “Lots, and lots, and lots of time in bed,” he rasped, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he gave it a teasing tug.  

A breathy gasp left your lips as you pulled back slightly, your eyes flickering up to his. “Perpetually horny,” you whispered, your hands sliding up his bare chest underneath his hoodie, nails dragging along his belly, teasing him until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  

Joe only grinned, completely unapologetic because he really didn’t care. He meant it. Every damn word.

“You love it,” he shrugged, his hands slipping beneath your sweatshirt again, fingertips tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His hands slowly inched closer to your bra clasp, and you weren’t going to stop him. 

Because he was right. Damn, you loved it.  

You loved the way he’d rile you up like this…subtly, with the most gentlest of touches. You loved the way he’d cover every inch of your skin with his mouth, like worship, like devotion. You loved the way he fucked the feelings out of you, made you forget about everything except him—except the way he felt inside you, the way he made you unravel, the way he whispered your name like a promise.

You loved when you got caught up in a moment with him, with lipstick on his face. 

You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, wherever he wanted, and whenever he wanted. Because with him you were safe. With him, you didn’t care. With him…you let things go they way they were meant to go. 

Flashback 

It was late. Way too late. But you didn’t care. The studio was dimly lit, the warm glow of the soundboard and the neon sign on the wall with your name casting soft shadows across the room. It was just you and Joe—your favorite kind of recording session. No producers, no distractions, just the two of you. 

And so it goes…

You adjusted your headphones, eyes flickering to the glass separating the recording booth from the lounge area. Joe was sprawled out on the couch, his black hoodie slung over his shoulders, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He had his hood up, but you could still see the glint of his baby blues as he watched you intently, lips quirked up in admiration.

You pressed play, letting the instrumental flow through the speakers. The bass thrummed low, sultry, the beat crawling under your skin as you let the music take over.

I'm yours to keep, and I’m yours to lose…

Joe let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, that’s my girl,” he grinned, dimples flashing. “Fuck, that sounds sexy as hell,”.

You bit back a smirk, running a hand through your hair before stepping back up to the mic. You tried to focus, but it was hard when you could feel his gaze on you—hot, unwavering, dripping with pride and something else that sent a spark of heat straight to your core.

You know I'm not a bad girl but I, do bad things with you

Joe groaned from the couch, shifting slightly as he felt a growing tent in his sweats. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Those lyrics…the implications of what you were saying. That’s what drove him mad. You weren’t a bad girl, but with him? It was as if you lost every shred of decency and shame in your body. From the risky late-night escapades after dinners in New York, to the way he’d press you against the wall of whatever storage closet you stumbled into at the facility just because he wanted to taste you—the primal urge taking over every one of his senses—to the way you’d scream his name as loud as you could while shaking underneath his sweaty body in the privacy of your hotel room…on a very public floor. You didn’t give two fucks with him, and that solidified the effect he had on you.

He was like a drug, blocking out every one of your senses and making you feel euphoric and untouchable. 

Your lips curled into a smirk, taking note of his obvious discomfort, “You okay over there?”.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze dark and hooded. “No,” he murmured. “I’m struggling,”.

Your stomach flipped.

You tried to keep it professional—you really did—but when you stepped out of the booth, something in the air had shifted. Joe was already pushing himself off the couch, eyes locked onto yours as you met him halfway.

“This is soundproof, right?” he murmured, referring to the studio room, his hands finding your waist, tugging you flush against him.

You smirked, dragging your nails down his chest. “Mhmm. You’re dating a singer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips against his jaw. “We can be as loud as we want in here,”.

That was all it took.

In an instant, he had you bent over the soundboard, your palms splayed against the cool surface. He shoved your leggings down, not even bothering to take them off completely—just enough to give him access. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he smirked, dragging his hands over your ass, gripping the plush flesh hard enough to make you gasp. “Standing up there, looking like a fucking dream. singing those lyrics? You knew what you were doing,”.

“Joe—,”.

Your words cut off in a sharp moan as he slid two fingers between your folds, teasing, spreading your arousal. “So wet,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Always so fucking wet for me,”. You whimpered, pushing your hips back against his hand, but he pulled away, leaving you desperate and empty.

Then, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Your breath hitched, your nails scraping against the console as he pushed in, slow at first, making you feel every inch as he stretched you open.

“Oh…fuck,” you gasped, head dropping forward. Joe groaned behind you, hands gripping your hips tight as he bottomed out. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, voice strained from pleasure. “Always so goddamn tight for me,”.

He pulled back, just a little—then slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. “Joe!” you cried, your voice bouncing off the soundproof walls.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

He set a ruthless pace, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your desperate moans and his intense, breathless groans. Your ass bounced against his pelvis with each deep thrust, the force making the soundboard shake beneath you.

“Yeah, that's it,” he gritted out, watching the way your body responded to him, how you took every single stroke like you were made for him. “Look at you, baby. Taking me so fucking good,” your legs trembled, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as he hit that spot deep inside you, over and over again.

“Joe, please—,”.

“Please what, baby?" he chuckled, his hand moving down to your ass, kneading the flesh as he continued to rut into your dripping heat. “C'mon, baby. Tell me what you need,”.

“More,” you sobbed, rocking back against him, chasing your release. “Fuck me harder—,”.

His groan was guttural, almost pained as he watched your eyes roll back, your jaw slack and your hand gripping the console like your life depended on it. “Yeah? You need it?” he murmured, gripping your hips even tighter before fucking into you with reckless abandon, dragging you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust.

The pleasure was too much. Your body burned, feeling growing so intensely that all you could do was hold on, your moans turning into broken cries.

Joe loved it.

“Listen to you,” he groaned. “Screaming for me, just like that. Fuck, baby, you sound so good. So fucking good,”. His hand trailed down your back, nails leaving faint scratches to amplify the sensation you were feeling in your body. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and he knew it. “B- baby p..please, I can’t…agh,” you whimpered, the coil in your stomach tightening with each snap of his hips into your core. 

His hand slid down further, fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. “Cum for me,” he panted, his pace relentless. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, baby. Let me have it,”.

Your whole body tensed, a high-pitched moan ripping from your throat as the pleasure snapped—your orgasm crashing over you in a white-hot wave. “Ohhh, fuck. Joe, mmph,” you panted, his rhythm faltering as you walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” Joe rasped, “Fuck, I’m gonna—,”. He thrusts in one last time, burying himself deep, spilling into you with a soft, lustful groan before loosening his grip on your hips. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, slowly coming down from his high while he remained buried inside of you. 

The only sounds filling the studio were your ragged breaths and the low hum of the track still playing through the speakers, looping in the background like the soundtrack to this moment. your vision blurred, the dim glow of the LED panels above molding into something cosmic—like the city skyline outside, like the stars you and Joe traced with your fingertips whenever you stayed up too late on the balcony.

Joe finally pulled out, a soft kiss pressed between your shoulder blades as his hands soothed over your hips where his grip had definitely left bruises.

“So it goes?” you murmured breathlessly, looking back at him, your voice strained with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

He chuckled, still breathless, forehead resting against your spine. “Yeah,” he nodded, pressing another lingering kiss to your bare skin. “So it fucking goes,”.

But he wasn’t done with you yet—not like that. Before you could even process it, he was moving, slipping out of your in search of something, leaving you cold and fucked-out against the console.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice softer now, filled with tenderness. A few seconds later, he returned with a small towel from the corner of the studio, one of the ones you always kept here for potential food or drink mishaps. He crouched between your legs, cleaning you up with the utmost care. “You okay?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, a lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,”. He kissed your temple, helping you adjust your clothes before handing you a half-empty water bottle from the table. “Drink,” he told you, before pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you. His fingertips traced slow, absentminded patterns over your thighs as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I missed you today,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, like this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d told you that.

You hummed, nuzzling into him, the warmth of his body grounding you. “You’re insatiable,” you teased, but the way your fingers curled into him, the way you melted against him, told a different story.

End of Flashback 

That night was the perfect example—messy, unrestrained, all-consuming. Whether it was those late hours in the studio, tangled up in the haze of music and lust, or the nights spent wrapped up in each other beneath the sheets, it was always like this. Intense. Perfect. 

Like everything was falling right into place, just for the two of you. 

His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, his touch featherlight, teasing, like he had all the time in the world to tease you. But the heat pooling between your thighs begged to differ. You needed him, now.  

“Tell me,” he murmured, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, purposely stopping himself from kissing you which he could see you so badly wanted. “Tell me how bad you want it,”.  

Your breath hitched, fingers curling against the hard planes of his stomach. “Joe—,”.  

“Nah, baby,” his voice was a low rasp, his hands sliding underneath the straps, fingers massaging your skin. “Say it. I know you were thinking about it, I can see it in your eyes,”.

Busted. 

A soft whimper escaped you as you absentmindedly rocked against him, chasing the friction you craved. He chuckled smugly, that signature cocky confidence you fell in love with practically dripping from his body.

Because he already had you exactly where he wanted you.

And that was his favorite part. 

—

A few days later — Los Angeles, California

Sunset Boulevard.  

The Hollywood Sign. 

The Walk of Fame. 

Those same paved streets you used to stroll down years ago, when your innocence and naivety were still fully intact. When your dreams…well they were just dreams at that time. When the closest you’d got to stardom was accidentally being mistaken for a celebrity because you’d walked into a coffee shop on Sunset with those navy blue Prada shades perched on your nose and the matching bag around your shoulder. 

Your first big girl purchases. 

You remember how back then, you sat in your shoebox apartment in Studio City, textbooks and notebooks stacked high on the coffee table, mocking your so-called ambitions. Reminding you that a degree, a stable job, a normal life was your best bet. That making it in this industry was a long shot. That you’d never get there.

With the stars.

You spent hours refreshing your inbox, praying for a response to your audition tape…hell, even acknowledgment of the demo you’d sent out. Because back then, you thought acting was your best shot. That music—the real dream—was too far out of reach. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because here you were now. In the heart of the city of angels. Sitting in a vanity chair with your name stamped across the back. Your team buzzing around you in your dressing room, makeup brush in one hand, a tablet with your schedule in the other, your custom Versace dress hugging your body like a second skin. At the Grammys.

Because you did make it. And you weren’t just with stars. You were the star.

Coming back here…to this city…the place that once was your dream, after everything? It was evoking a number of emotions within you. This was the city where you fought for every opportunity, where the recording booths and studio lots held your wildest dreams. But once you had it—once you lived it—you realized this wasn’t how you wanted to exist. That you couldn’t stand the constant pressure and spotlight on you. 

You loved SoCal, the picture-perfect beaches, the electric pulse you’d feel while cruising down Beverly Hills. But beneath the glitz, the sparkle, the promise of it, this place was hell. The paparazzi lurking outside your house, trailing your every move, digging for dirt. The relentless scrutiny, the hidden jealousy that was deeply rooted in the people you considered your friends, the constant hunger for more. 

So you did what you knew how to do best. When things got hard, when they stopped feeling right, when the life you built started to feel more like a cage than a dream—you bolted. Like hell. Straight to the city that never slept, hoping its restless energy would drown out the noise in your head. But in your rush to run away from it all, you didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to question if you were running toward something better or just away from the chaos you left behind. Your judgment was poor, and New York? It was the worst place you could’ve chosen to find peace.

You wanted to escape the loudness of LA, but New York was even louder. The flashing lights, the rapid pace, the way it swallowed people whole without a second thought. You tried to lose yourself in the towering buildings, the crowded streets, the music that pulsed through subway tunnels and rooftop bars. You tried to convince yourself that this was where you belonged, that the city would be your saving grace. And in a way, it was. It helped your career soar.

But at an irreplaceable cost.

Your happiness. 

When the version of New York you had in your mind faded—the romanticized dream of it all—you realized that this place wasn’t for you either. The loneliness and chaos here was just as loud as it was in LA. Surrounded by strangers who moved with purpose, who seemed as if they had it all figured out, you felt like the outlier. The straggler. The one who had wandered too far from home, only to realize she had no idea how to find her way back. And the lingering question in your mind this entire time was…where was home? And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, everything you’d built came crashing down—because of him. The biggest mistake of your life.

Those green eyes you once considered your safe haven? They were darker than you ever could’ve imagined. Like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was as if, with one swift motion, he had taken his hand and wiped the chessboard clean, sending every carefully placed piece tumbling to the ground. The rules no longer applied. The game was his to control. And you?

You never even stood a chance.

But then, you felt it—the eerie calm in the thick of chaos, the kind that only exists in the eye of a storm. The world around you was still spinning, the remains of everything you’d been running from circling just out of reach, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t being pulled under. It was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that made your ears ring, but the kind that coaxed you to open your eyes, to really look, to really see.

And when you did—when you finally dared to lift your head—there they were.

A pair of piercing blue eyes, steady and unwavering, cutting through the destruction like a lighthouse in the middle of a stormy sea. Eyes that didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. They just watched you, saw you, held you in place when everything else threatened to slip through your fingers.

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t lost anymore.

He took your hand in his and suddenly, the storm that had raged around you didn’t seem so terrifying. He didn’t just pull you from the wreckage; he became the place you could run to, the shelter standing strong against the winds and relentless downpours.  

With him, the chaos dimmed to a quiet hum. The weight of the world didn’t sit so heavily on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a refuge; he was a promise—one that whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore,”.

You found yourself going back and forth, sneaking into his bed from that point on. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel—like you were more than the world made you out to be. In his arms, you were whole. You were more than just a name or a face; you were someone deserving of peace, of love, of calm in the storm. When the cameras wouldn’t stop poking. When the headlines and comments became too sharp. When you needed to be held, to be reminded that you were still flesh and bone, not just a brand. You’d run to him. To his bed.  

And in the blink of an eye, that bed became your home.  

He became your home.  

Joe became your home. 

“Joe…,” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, barely audible. You were so lost in your own daydream that you didn’t even realize you’d said it out loud.

Jen—your assistant—noticed the way your gaze had drifted, your fingers toying with the fabric of your dress. She knew that look all too well. It meant one of two things—you were nervous, or you were thinking about him. And judging by the soft, faraway expression on your face, she already had her answer. She smirked knowingly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the vanity. “He’s really got you in a chokehold, huh?”.

Her voice snapped you out of it, your eyes refocusing as you blinked a few times. “What?”.

Jen let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in amusement. “Joe. You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “I was just…zoning out,”.

“Mhm.”.

She wasn’t buying it. Of course, she wasn’t buying it. That’s because she was Jen.

Jen was an enigma—impossible to define with just a few words. She had a little bit of everything in her: sharp wit, relentless determination, and a heart big enough to carry the weight of all the people she cared about. She was kind, but with an edge that guaranteed she was never underestimated. Brilliant in her work, yet always a step ahead, using her cleverness like a well-honed weapon. And most importantly, she would do anything for you—not just because she was your assistant and PR manager, but because she was one of your best friends.

She’d been with you since day one, witnessing every mistake, every triumph, every late-night breakdown, every whirlwind romance, and every gut-wrenching fallout. She knew the struggles you had tolerated to get here, the price you paid for your success. And no matter how messy, chaotic, or impossible things got, she never walked away.

Her job wasn’t easy. You knew that. And sometimes, the guilt of it sat heavily on your shoulders.

But Jen? She never let you carry it alone.

And that meant everything to you. 

“Zoning out about your football-playing lover, I assume,” she winked, knowing all too well what that glint in your eyes meant. When you and Joe first started hanging out, in that ‘get to know each other’ phase, you had carefully hidden it from everyone in your life. Friends, family, your manager, even Jen. But this woman could read you like one of her many floral notebooks, filled with detailed notes and perfectly color-coded tabs. She had a knack for spotting the things you tried to keep buried—especially when it came to him.

You should’ve known better than to think you could hide it from her. It was in the way your phone never left your hand, the way your smile lingered a little longer after a text, the way your eyes darted toward the door whenever he was supposed to be near.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, shaking your head as she smirked. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

“Maybe,” she hummed, reaching for your lip gloss on the vanity, “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

“She knows me way too well, ugh,” you thought, sighing and finally conceding. “I just…this is a big night, you know? And it’s our first red carpet together. It’s…a lot. Tonight is a lot for more than one reason,”.

Jen nodded in agreement, her teasing smile softening into reassurance. “It is. But you’ve done this a million times, Y/N. And now, you get to do it with him. You finally have someone with you who wants to support everything you do, wants to be on your arm, and wants to let you have center stage. But you also have someone who wants to shield you, protect you, be that steady hand that won’t ever let go of you. That safety net that’s always ready to catch you.,”. 

That part was true. You weren’t walking this carpet alone. You weren’t facing the flashing lights, the screaming reporters, the endless scrutiny by yourself. Joe would be right there, his hand in yours, standing beside you like he always did. But he wouldn’t do anything to make this about him. No. He’d never steal your moment, never even think about doing something to outshine you. 

That’s what separated him from the rest. And that thought alone made everything feel a little easier.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the vanity table. You glanced down and felt your heart do that stupid little flip it always did when you saw his name.

joe: almost go time. how’s my girl doing?

You bit your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress your smile as you typed back. God, the way he sent butterflies through your stomach by sending such a normal, typical boyfriend-like text to you made you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream like a teenage girl. 

you: nervous. excited. wish you were here already though. i miss you

Seconds later, the three little dots appeared.

joe: i’m on my way, promise. it’s just this stupid ass LA traffic like why are we just sitting here. they act like there isn’t multiple routes to get to the arena

you: welcome to grammy weekend in LA baby. get used to it ;)

joe: i wish i could just fly like superman or some shit. but i’ll be there. trust me. i’ll run all the way if i have to 

The thought of him actually doing it—sprinting down the streets of downtown LA in a perfectly tailored black suit, breathless, sweaty, that wild determination in his eyes—sent a shiver down your spine. The image alone was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m so fucked tonight—especially because he’s wearing the suit,” you thought to yourself. 

It had been your wish for the longest time—to see Joe in a suit, crafted by one of your favorite designers. You’d pictured it so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The sharp lines, the way it fit him just right, the way he carried himself in it. It was almost unfair how good he looked.

You knew he preferred comfort, especially at events like this. He was never one for the glitz and glam, never one to trade comfort for something too flashy. And the last thing you ever wanted was for him to feel like a fish out of water. But tonight was different—tonight was important to you. And he knew that.

So when you casually brought up the idea, expecting at least some resistance, he surprised you. He didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate. He just agreed. Because if it mattered to you, then it mattered to him. Sure, the scratchy fabric and tailored fit would probably have him fidgeting all night, but he had you by his side. That was all the comfort he needed, the only thing that truly mattered. 

As you got lost in the whirlpool of thoughts regarding how amazing and rewarding it would feel to peel his suit off his chiseled body tonight, after the hectic and tiring experience of it all, you saw another message bubble appear from him.

joe: which by the looks of it, i will be ;)  good thing me and dak worked on cardio last off season 

joe: but you know i got you. always. i’m gonna be with you soon. i promise 

A smile rose on your lips at his last message, “He’s on his way,” you told Jen, admiring his text for a second more before sending him a white heart emoji and placing your phone back on the table. “I didn’t show him the look for tonight so…make sure you have an AED on standby,” you joked, settling back into the chair as your makeup artist finished applying the last bit of highlighter to your rosy cheeks. 

Jen shot up straight, her movements suddenly precise and efficient, as if a switch had flipped in her brain. The moment your words registered, a silent alarm seemed to go off, setting her into motion. Without a word, she spun around on her heel and walked toward the couch, where your travel bag sat. You watched, brow furrowing, as she crouched down and carefully unzipped the side compartment with the kind of focus that made it seem like she was handling something far more serious than, well…whatever it was she was looking for.  

Your curiosity grew as she rifled through your belongings, her fingers moving with purpose. “Uh…Jen?” you said, your voice laced with amusement. “What exactly are you doing?”.

She didn’t answer instantly, too busy locating exactly what she was looking for. When she finally pulled it out, she held it up like it was a crown jewel.  

The thigh chain.

It was a gorgeous gold chain decorated with a pattern of diamonds and black jewels, which shimmered under the dressing room lights. The delicate ‘J’ charm at the center catches every glimmer. 

This was the most important piece you had custom-made. The one you’d kept a secret, just like your dress.  

Jen grinned triumphantly. “This,” she said, holding it up for emphasis. “This is going to be the thing that sends him over the edge,”.  

You laughed, shaking your head as she handed it to you. “You think?”.

“Oh, I know,” she smirked. “You’ve been killing him with these little touches lately, and this? His initial wrapped around your thigh? He’s going to malfunction on the spot,”.   

You bit your lip, glancing at the delicate chain in your hands before looking at your reflection in the mirror. The final touches were coming together, and you couldn’t have been more excited for the carpet. For the chance to show everything off now that you were coming back into the limelight. Your dress—custom Versace, stunningly sculpted to your body—was already a showstopper. The blacks, the golds, the silvers…it was as if you were wearing your album in clothing form. The snake ring and the stack of gold and diamond chains around your neck matched the aesthetic you were going for perfectly.  

Oh, and how could you forget?

The bracelet. 

The one he had custom-made for you by Cartier and had gifted you during your trip to Cannes. It sat around your left wrist, his initial and yours shining brighter than any piece of jewelry you were adorning tonight. It was the only personal addition to your look, partly because you never took it off, but mostly because you wanted just about everyone to know how much this meant to you. How much he meant to you. Show them how—just like the bracelet said inside the band—the stars all aligned. They aligned for you both and this moment you were sharing, and you were ecstatic to share a glimpse of that with the world.  

But this? The thigh chain…this was even more personal. A quiet, intimate detail meant just for him. And well…whoever else’s eye it caught. Your fingers traced over the black and gold ‘J’ before you looked back at Jen. You knew he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you with this on, let alone remain standing after he saw you in this dress. You felt awful for getting him so flustered by wearing things like this—whether it was a new bikini, a new dress, or a pair of jeans that hugged you just right—because you knew he paid attention to every little detail of your body. Every curve he ran his hands along, every expanse of skin he pressed his lips to, every crevice he was allowed to cherish. 

But that was what made this so exciting.

“...Alright, help me put it on,” you grinned, your fingers sliding the fabric off your thigh to disclose the skin where the slit was. 

She smiled, placing her hands on your shoulders and giving you a reassuring squeeze, “With pleasure,”. 

—

Safe to say…Joe was in need of immediate medical attention when he walked into your dressing room.

The moment he caught a glimpse of you, everything else seemed to fade into the background for him. Like the world was draped in a dark cloak, and the spotlight was shining just on this beautiful figure in front of him—you. His blue eyes widened, his jaw slackened just enough to make you smirk, and for a second, he just stood there, taking you in like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

And when you did a little twirl—letting the dress cling and shimmer in all the right places—he damn near lost it.

“Holy—,” he started, but his voice cut off as he raked a hand through his hair, exhaling with a sharp breath. But then…then he saw the chain. The delicate gold and black diamond ‘J’ draped around your thigh, catching the light with every subtle movement.

“Is that—,” he said a little quieter, slowly walking toward you as his eyes remained glued to that specific piece of jewelry. You bit your lip, watching his reaction play out with pure satisfaction. Then, with the smallest tilt of your head, you shifted the dress slightly, unbuttoning the slit just a bit to let him see it better. His breathing hitched. “Is that…my initial?”.

He was right in front of you now, close enough for you to see the way his pupils had blown wide, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard to keep his composure. But he was failing. 

Miserably.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joe let out a low curse under his breath, dragging a hand down his face before shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, without a single warning, his hands found your hips, gripping tight enough to make you gasp.

“...Joe—,”.

He leans in, lips hovering just below your earlobe, “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers, voice strained and raspy, which combined with the way he was hand was firmly placed on your hip, only meant one thing. 

He’s horny. 

Slowly, a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips as you felt the heat of his breath against your skin, his grip on your hips tightening like he was using every ounce of restraint not to lose himself right then and there. His nose brushed against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and you swore you felt him shudder. “Wearing my initial on your thigh like that…you knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?”. 

You tried to stop a giggle from escaping your lips, but it came out as more of a breathless hum. “Maaaaaybe,”. 

Joe groaned, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, heavy with something deep and unfiltered. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your hips before he sighed heavily like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running wild in his head. “You expect me to just carry on after this? This dress is insane on you, and you’re already gorgeous as is but…damn, Y/N. Makin’ me feel a lot of things right now. You look so…so gorgeous, and I swear I’m about to short-circuit,” he muttered, looking at you like you were the sole reason for his downfall.

“You managed to make it here in one piece,” you teased, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the fabric of his suit jacket. “Maybe that means your self-control isn't as bad as you think,”.

Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah? You think so?” his fingers trailed lower, brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh, just above where the chain rested. His touch sent a shiver up your spine. “Because right now, all I can think about is how fast I can get us out of here,”.

You raised a brow, pretending to consider it even though you knew that you couldn’t skip this even if you begged Jen on your knees. “That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? After all, I did put this whole look together just for you. Made sure I showed off just enough of everything to keep you on edge all night…so you wouldn’t get bored,”.

Joe's head tilted, his lips twitching in frustration. “You’re evil,” he muttered, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he forced himself to step back. He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna need a damn miracle to make it through this night without ripping your dress off at any given chance,”.

You slouched your shoulders, feeling a little more at ease now that he was by your side. “And I’m gonna need a miracle to make it through tonight without having a manic breakdown,” you nervously chuckled, grazing over his suggestive joke and suddenly feeling the reality of the situation as if you hadn’t spent weeks preparing for this specific moment. 

You’d have to face the buzzing cameras, the invasive questions, deal with the whispers and the constant attention—good or bad—for the first time in nearly a year. You’d been away from all this, and although you had slowly made your way back into the limelight during Cannes & Paris last month, treated it as a quiet reintroduction, this was the biggest test. 

Because not only were you just walking the carpet, you were making a statement. A statement that you were back, not going anywhere anytime soon, and you were happy. Your smile would be brighter than the stars, genuine and heartfelt. But most importantly, the pristine image they created of you would finally crumble. 

You could finally just be you.  

This was the first time you were putting yourself back in the game, pushing yourself back into the fold of the business you lived for. The last time the world saw you, you were a ghost of yourself, swallowed whole by the weight of everything that had gone wrong. They had watched as your life unraveled in real-time, dissecting every misstep, every crack in the facade you had so carefully built. You had become their favorite tragic storyline.

But now, you were coming back—stronger, sharper, more in control than ever. Reclaiming your throne with more confidence, talent, edge, and zero fucks to give. And yet, not giving a fuck was what made this so terrifying. It was a constant tug of war inside your mind between the girl ready to make that statement and the girl who cowered in fear of the idea of this backfiring. 

The sharp sting of those words echoed in your mind, rumbling through your chest, threatening to dim the light you had fought so hard to reclaim.

“Because when people fall out of love with you, there’s nothing you can do to make them change their minds. They just don’t love you anymore,”.

You had said it once. Spat it out like poison on a night when sleep was the last thing on your mind, in the dim glow of his living room, wrapped in the kind of grief that felt like it would never leave your bones. And those words were all you could think of currently. 

Joe's expression softened instantly as he carefully watched your movements. He could see it—the way your fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, the slight tremble in your breathing, the way your confidence wavered just for a second. And that second was enough for him to step in, to remind you why you were here, why you were meant to be here. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. His thumb traced soothing circles along your skin, a simple but significant gesture. “You don’t need a miracle, baby. You’ve already got this,”.  

You huffed out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about the screaming paparazzi or interview questions designed to make you slip up. I swear to god if I hear one of them pass a single disrespectful comment or ask me about him. I’m walking right out,”.  

Joe smirked, squeezing your hand. “And as you should. But you know, I do have to make sure I don’t black out the second I see you step onto that carpet, looking the way you do,”.  

That earned him a small smile, but the nerves still lingered. He could feel it. He had become an expert at seeing right through you, even when you tried your hardest to hide your emotions from everyone around you. He’d only been with you for a short amount of time—compared to some of your friends and family—but somehow, he knew you better than they ever could. 

So, he did what he knew best. He anchored you to him, his fingers tightening around yours as his blue eyes locked onto yours, and he spoke to you. And if there was one thing Joe Burrow was good at? It was speaking.  

He was the best listener you knew, but even better at giving advice. Every word that left his lips was thought out, measured, and laced with a warmth that could bring you back from the deepest trenches of your mind. He had this way of making even the most chaotic moments feel painless, like everything wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed. And when he spoke to you specifically, his words were extra soft. Not once did he lose his patience, raise the tone of his voice, or even utter a word that would rub you the wrong way. 

“I know this is big. I know it’s a lot all at once. But you’re not walking out there alone. You’ve got me, you’ve got Jen, you’ve got your team. And more than that? You’ve got the entire world watching, waiting to see you own that carpet and stage he way only you can. Waiting to see you come back and take what was always yours,” he assured while giving you a warm smile. “Remember everything we worked on these past few months, okay? Number 1. They don’t know you. Number 2. They don’t own you. Number 3. They can’t touch you. You control this game, now. They wanted you gone, so you did what they asked and you took your shit and left. Now, you’re back. And now, they’re all waiting out there for you. They follow what you do. They listen to what you say. And they are afraid of what you’re going to do. Not the other way around. You’ve made them wait for months to the point where they need you. You don’t need them,”.  

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink into your skin. He was right. You’d spent months away from this world, rebuilding your life, your confidence. Spent all your time refocusing, rewiring everything they’d forced upon you. 

He was right. They needed you. 

They needed you because they could feel the weight of your absence, the lack of the kind of excitement only you could bring to the table. An empty hole in the industry that many tried to cover, but failed miserably. And that was because there was only one you. You’d taken the time to heal yourself and prepare yourself for the moment when you’d have to come back. And now? Now was that moment. And you weren’t just walking the carpet.  

You were taking it back.

Your name. 

Your reputation. 

Without speaking a single word, you launched yourself forward, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. You inhaled the scent of his expensive cologne, a warm mix of sandalwood, amber, and the faintest hint of something undeniably him. It was intoxicating, comforting, the kind of scent that wrapped around you like a protective shield.  

Joe didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight like he was trying to mold you to him, like he could hold you together even when the world threatened to pull you apart. And for a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the flashing cameras waiting just beyond the door, the weight of expectation pressing against your chest. None of it mattered—not when you were here, safe in his arms, breathing him in like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.  

“You good?” he murmured against your temple, voice laced with concern.  

You nodded, but your grip on him tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket. 

“Liar,” he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.  

You exhaled a shaky breath, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Those blue eyes that had saved you once before. That were still saving you now.  

It was almost strange how effortlessly he could pull you back down to earth when your mind started to spiral. Joe excelled at just about everything—football, leadership, and being a role model for his fans. But if there was one thing he was truly unmatched at, one thing he did better than anything else…  

It was being your person. And not once did he ever make you feel like that was difficult for him to do. 

“Just…don’t let go yet,” you whispered, wanting to stay in the quiet calm of this special moment for as long as humanly possible.  

Joe’s lips twitched, but there was something serious in his gaze as he ran a hand down your back, soothing you, steadying you. “Not a chance, baby. Not a fucking chance,”.

—

A half-hour later — Red Carpet 

The moment your heels touched the edge of the carpet, a small wave of nerves crashed over you like the first signs of an impending storm. The sight of the flashing lights, the sound of the camera shutters…they were relentless. A blinding, dizzying storm of light and noise. You hadn’t stepped onto the actual center carpet yet since you were waiting for Joe to finish his conversation with Jen, but you could already hear the voices calling your name, overlapping in a chaotic symphony. You could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that sensation made your skin crawl. God, you had almost forgotten how much you hated this part of what you did. 

You took a sharp inhale, nervously adjusting the fabric of your dress with your trembling fingers as you waited for Jen to lead you over. Once you felt her gentle hand wrap around your forearm, you knew it was go time. “I’m okay…I’m okay,”  you mentally chanted, but were you trying to convince yourself that you weren’t about to burst into tears…or everyone else?

But then, the second your gaze locked with the paparazzi—the eager voices calling your name—something in you shifted. Suddenly, the nerves, the hesitation, the creeping doubt? Gone with the wind.

“Well, that was easy,” you smiled to yourself, surprised at how all it took was the call of your name for you to calm down. But just like how it wasn’t easy for you to reach this point in your life—where you felt secure in the world you’d built, deeply in love with the man of your dreams, excited about your future—it wasn’t going to be easy to just waltz back into this world, despite how seamless it initially felt. And that fact hadn’t hit you just yet.    

Like flipping a switch, you straightened your posture, lifted your chin, and stepped forward with a grace and confidence that had taken months to master. Your movements were effortless, your expression poised. This time was different. This wasn’t like the years before when you let them dictate your every move—the way you smiled, how long you posed, how much of yourself you gave away.

No.

This time, you were in control.

“Y/N! Over here!”.

Flash.

“We missed you!”.

“How’s Joe?”.

“A little to the right!”.

Flash. Flash.

“Y/N, look over here!”.

“Gorgeous! Stunning!”. 

Joe stood off to the side, just beyond the madness, watching you with pure awe. He had seen you like this before from a distance—poised and radiant under the spotlight—but there was something different about tonight, about seeing it up close. Maybe it was the way the dress clung to your body or the way your presence commanded attention even when you felt like crumbling beneath it. Maybe even the way you were standing there as yourself for the first time, and not the version of yourself the media had created. Either way, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

But unfortunately for you, nice things don’t always last as long as you’d hope. You could feel it—the creeping anxiety, the familiar pressure pressing against your ribs because well, it was too good to be true. Did you really think they’d learned to be respectful and less invasive during the time you were gone? Please.

“Why’d you disappear?”.

Flash.

“What happened between you and him?”.

Flash. Flash. Flash. 

“Did you cheat on him with Joe?”.

“The chain on your thigh, is that for Joe?”.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, and your chest tightened as the chaos began to overwhelm your senses. The cameras, the flashing lights, the sea of eyes dissecting your every move, it began to blur all into one maddening hum. That familiar heat crept up your spine, flushing your cheeks and burning your eyes. 

And those questions? Those fucking questions?

Had they just…forgotten? Forgotten how he had shattered you, how he had stripped you down to nothing, piece by piece, betrayal by betrayal? Had they forgotten how it all came crashing down in one disastrous, very public fallout? The leaked texts, the photos, the posts that turned into headlines overnight?

Had they forgotten him? The man who made you doubt everything you ever knew about love? Because you sure as hell hadn’t.

They had the audacity to think you cheated? Did your previous album just write itself? Did you simply disappear for almost a year just because you felt like it?

And then it hit you. You were feeling exactly like how you felt nearly a year ago. 

Like history was repeating itself in the worst way possible.

Like you were back in that hotel room, the one you fled to because the paparazzi had opened up shop outside your home, waiting for a glimpse at you. A glimpse at America’s new favorite tragic storyline—who couldn’t keep her picture-perfect relationship or career straight. It was like you were holding your phone again, hands trembling as you scrolled through an endless flood of headlines. What Really Happened Between Them? The Fall of a Pop Superstar. America’s Sweetheart: Not So Sweet After All?

Rumors twisted into daggers, and speculation sharpened into accusations. Each tweet, each article, each dissected frame of your past relationship pushed deeper into the open wound until you weren’t sure where their version of you ended and the truth began.

And now, here you were. Face-to-face with the past.

Your breath hitched.

Your body betrayed you, a subconscious step back—small, but telling. The doubt crept in first, then the fear, then the overwhelming weight of it all. For the first time in a long time, you felt her—the girl you used to be. The one who had crumbled under the pressure, who had let the world convince her she was nothing more than a failed love story.

Then, like instinct, like second nature, like it was all you knew, you turned your head in search of him. 

Joe caught your nervous gaze in an instant, and he moved without a second of hesitation. He didn’t even need you to say anything, because he just knew. He saw it happen in real time, how your loose posture stiffened, how you dug your fingernails into your palm, how your radiant smile faltered for a split second.

He saw the way your eyes were slowly softening, crying out for him with a silent plea. 

The second he was at your side, his presence wrapped around you like thick armor, shielding you from the suffocating fog that was forming around you, making it harder for you to breathe. His large, warm hand found your waist, fingers pressing into the black fabric of your dress just enough to let you know—I’m here. After he gave you that gentle squeeze, like clockwork, your shoulders dropped, your breath evened, your pulse no longer hammering against your ribs. It was like he turned down the heat just before the water boiled over, keeping everything steady before it could spill into chaos.

But even though you had relaxed a little, the cameras didn’t stop. The voices didn’t stop.  

“Are you nervous to see him?”.

Flash.

“Is it true you have an album coming out?”.

“Joe, how does it feel knowing she wrote an entire album about another man?”.

Flash. Flash.

“Joe, how do you feel about her past?”. 

Your jaw clenched, but before you could let the words settle in your mind, lose yourself in the nonsense, before the whispers could crawl under your skin, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. With a bold grin he murmured, “I cannot wait to fuck you tonight,” voice rough around the edges in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “After you win everything and steal the spotlight like I know you can,”.  

A breathy laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, all the cameras caught it. Thankfully, they couldn’t hear his words because they were being drowned out by the sound of their own relentless questions. God, you’d seriously never show your face again (for real this time) if they heard something that was strictly meant to be spoken in private. When you tilted your head to look at him, you looked straight into his eyes, instantly sensing exactly what he was doing. Calming you, distracting you, making sure you stayed with him instead of plunging into the chaos. 

And damn it, it worked. Like a charm. 

For once, his cheeky comments and shamelessness were to thank, usually they made you roll your eyes but now they were your saving grace. You still rolled your eyes, however, but smiled because of his silly, maybe even slightly insatiable way of getting through to you. “Watch your tongue, Burrow,” you grinned as you leaned into him for just a second longer, letting yourself relish in the heat radiating off of him, the way his fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, his hand slipping lower and lower. But then…

“Joe! Kiss her for the cameras!”

“Give us something good!”

“Show us you’re not just the rebound!”

Your grip on him tightened, that last particular comment hitting a little closer to your heart than you would have liked. “They just wouldn’t quit, would they?” you thought to yourself, the idea of Joe, the man you’ve been calling your home for 9 months, being a rebound, was sickening. And Joe being Joe, once again noticed your mild discomfort instantly. 

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, blue eyes sparkling with something mischievous and entirely too smug. It was the shade of blue his eyes had been all those times he’d motioned for you to sneak off with him to one of the storage closets during practice. The shade of blue his eyes had been every time he pulled you into his childhood bedroom when you were visiting his parents, just because he needed you alone, because he missed the taste of your lips. The shade of blue his eyes were every time he asked you to run away with him. 

And then, before you could react—he pulled you close and kissed you. He just kissed you so casually in front of an entire audience of paparazzi, in front of every single person in this room. The man who despised PDA, who hated flaunting his affection, just pressed his lips to yours in front of the entire world. 

Not just a quick peck for the cameras. Not just a half-hearted attempt to silence the speculation.  

No, this was a soft, warm, slow kiss. A kind of kiss that you two shared in private, away from the rest of the world because it was far too sacred to share. 

A statement. The statement.  

It silenced the whispers, shattered the doubts, and rewrote the narrative in real time. It wasn’t a rebound. It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a carefully calculated move for the cameras. This was real—undeniably, unapologetically real. It was a declaration, bold and clear, that your love was something to be celebrated, not dissected. That he wasn’t just standing beside you—he was standing for you. He didn’t have to kiss you, he really didn’t. But he wanted to, and he did it with no room for hesitation or doubt. This said that as long as he was here, no one could touch you, no rumor could shake you, and no ghost from your past could haunt you.  

It was a testament. To him. To you. To the love you had built; one that didn’t just survive the storm, but came out stronger on the other side.

Your breath hitched, your body momentarily frozen as his lips moved against yours with the kind of certainty that made your head spin. You knew how he felt about things like this, but at this moment, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. The flashing cameras, the relentless voices, the suffocating atmosphere, all of it melted away.  

It kind of reminded you of the first time you kissed him. 

When he pulled back, there was a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he had just done to you. “Oh,” you breathed out, blinking up at him.  

Joe chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist, his voice teasing as he leaned down again, just for you. “What? Didn’t see that coming?” he smiled. 

No, you didn’t. That was exactly why your jaw went slack, eyes locked onto his as the butterflies in your stomach turned into a full-blown hurricane. The cameras flashed in rapid sequence, capturing every lingering glance, every effortless touch, every moment between you and Joe that was sure to dominate headlines by morning.

You barely had time to process it before you felt his hand glide back to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into the fabric of your gown as he subtly angled your body toward the cameras. And then, like this was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled you in just a little closer, flashing that signature Joe Burrow smile—the one that had fans wrapped around his finger and the paparazzi eating out of the palm of his hand.

He was giving them a show. Giving them exactly what they wanted while maintaining the wall that prevented them from prying into your carefully crafted safe space. And the thing was? He wasn’t even trying.

You held onto him a little tighter, standing tall beside him, your confidence growing under the ardency of his touch. A few more poses were made, some designed specifically to show off your thigh chain, which was making Joe’s body temperature rise by the second, but also should be doing numbers online by now. You gave them a few more smiles, a few more adorable moments caught in the flashing lights as you made your way down the carpet. But suddenly, as you were nearing the end, it felt like the energy shifted; like the clouds outside had become dark with warning, like the stitches along your heart—the one’s Joe placed—were being picked at.

The yells started again. Louder. More urgent.

“There he is!”. “Y/N, look!”. 

You felt your heartbeat come to a sudden pause, your breath hitching and your stomach churning all in one go. It was the feeling of pure dread curling in the pit of your stomach, like ice-cold water was rushing through your veins. Your body tensed instinctively, muscles freezing as your eyes darted toward the paparazzi who were all looking back. The room suddenly felt like it had shrunk, the walls closing in as the once-deafening crowd faded into white noise. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears, and feel the weight of every inhale, every exhale, as if the very air had condensed around you.

Your fingers tightened at your sides, “No. Not here. Not now,” you muttered under your breath. And when you followed their gazes back onto the carpet, your entire world tilted on its axis in a way it hadn’t since last year.

You saw him. He was there. He was here.

Your ex.

His piercing green eyes locked onto yours with an unsettling sharpness, as if he was trying to tunnel his way back into your soul, back into the very place he once claimed as his own. The same soul he had cradled with whispered promises and sweet nothings, only to stab away at it with his insecurities, his flaws, his selfishness.  

And you hated it.  

What was worse—what made your skin crawl—was the way he dared to smile at you. That same cheshire cat smile he used to flash when he wanted to smooth things over, to lull you into compliance, to make you forget the way he had gutted you time and time again. As if he thought he still had that power over you. As if he thought he had the right to look at you like that after everything he had done—after turning your love into a battlefield, after making you question your worth, after reducing you to nothing but a fractured version of yourself.  

And the cameras? They were capturing every second of it.  

They weren’t catching the invisible scars he had left behind, the ones that only you could feel. They weren’t catching the nights you had spent fraying in the dark, trying to piece yourself back together from the wreckage he had left behind. They weren’t catching the way he had rewritten your reality, made you second-guess everything you knew about yourself.  

No. They only saw the spectacle. The headlines. The narrative.  And the worst part? He didn’t even care.

The blissful bubble you had been floating in popped in an instant, a flood of memories hitting you like a freight train. The things he said to you, those poisonous words that you thought were the truth, they came rushing back.  

“You’re exhausting, you know that? It’s always something with you,”.

“Nobody actually cares about you in this industry, they just care about what you can give them,”.

“Maybe if you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere,”.

“You act like I hurt you so badly, but you should be thanking me. I made you relevant,”.

“You’re never satisfied. I could give you the world, and you’d still find something to complain about,”.

“You act like you’re perfect, like you never did anything wrong in this relationship,”.

“She’s just a friend, stop being like those other girls, Y/N,”. 

The way he made you question yourself. The guilt trips. The gaslighting. The loneliness that had stewed even when you were right beside him. It all came back to you, making you feel like it was just yesterday when your entire world, the only one you knew, crumbled to pieces and went up in flames. 

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until you felt Joe’s touch, and when you did, you jumped from the warmth he brought back to your ice-cold skin. “Hey, hey,” his voice was softer now, laced with concern. His fingers brushed over your hand first, then your cheek, coaxing you back to him. “It’s okay, It’s okay. I’m here,”.

He had seen him too, and the anger Joe was feeling was far worse than anything you were. He had to control the urge to walk over there and swing at him, make that pathetic excuse of a man feel the same kind of pain he inflicted on you that had you feeling like this even months later. 

Joe didn’t have to say his name for him to understand how you felt. He didn’t have to ask because he knew what you were feeling, because he could recognize the look in your eyes. His other hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in soothing strokes. He dipped his head, forcing your eyes to meet his. “I love you,” he murmured, quiet and soft enough just for your ears to catch. “I’m here now. It’s going to be okay. He can’t hurt you,” he said, the look in his eyes drawing you in. They were endless, like the deep ocean at midnight, swirling with something extensive and unlimited. Small streaks of lighter blue shimmered like stardust caught in the waves, galaxies trapped beneath his irises. There was something magical about them, something that made you feel light, like if you stared too long, you might get lost and never find your way back. But you didn’t want to look away. His eyes held everything—comfort, love, a silent promise that you were safe, that as long as he was here, nothing could touch you.

He had spent the last nine months proving that your past didn’t scare him. That the baggage you carried wasn’t a burden, but something he wanted to help you hold. That love—real love—didn’t come with conditions, ultimatums, or twisted justifications. Joe had seen the cracks in your foundation, the places where love had once lived before it was shattered, and instead of stepping around them, he had sat beside you, helping you piece yourself back together. He didn’t ask you to forget, didn’t rush you to heal—he just stayed and waited. 

He loved you when you were radiant and untouchable, standing under the bright lights with the world at your feet. But more importantly, he loved you in those quiet moments, when you couldn’t stand on your own. When you were lost in the shadows of your past, gasping for air under the weight of memories that tried to drag you back.  

And right now, that love was all you needed to believe in. “...Okay,” you nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you breathed in his comforting scent and melted under his touch. You needed to remember that he was the past, no longer a factor in your future, a future that was as bright as the light shining on you. No longer something you’d let yourself be defined by because you were defined by the things you loved. 

You had healed. You had grown. You were happy. 

And you did all of that without him. You did all of that with Joe.  

Joe kissed your forehead softly, lingering for just a second before gently guiding you off the carpet, ignoring the chaos behind you and bringing you back to reality. His eyes locked with Jen, who was already rushing to your side along with the rest of your team. You felt her hand gently grab your free hand, a sign of confidence given as she gave a firm squeeze, “You did amazing, Y/N. I had no idea he would be here, let alone get on the carpet right after you. But you did great, seriously,” she assured you, and after taking another deep breath, you returned her sentiments with a soft smile. 

“You need to thank Joe, you know,” you laughed quietly, nudging his hand to get his attention as the two of you made your way through the doors toward the entrance to the main hall. The distant hum of the crowd buzzed through the walls, a persistent reminder of where you were, of what was waiting just beyond the next turn. “I may have been toeing around the manic breakdown territory line, but he did what he always does,” you smiled up at him.  

“Save you?” he simply asked, tightening his grip on your hand as you both passed more paparazzi, who seemingly took a step back once they saw the look in Joe’s eyes. One that screamed: That’s enough of that. Freak her out again and I’ll throw you across the room like a football. 

You stepped through the last curtain, the dim backstage hallway meshing with the electric glow of the arena. The moment you stepped into the open, the mere scale of it hit you like a tidal wave. Hundreds upon hundreds of people filled the seats on the floor and throughout the arena, the air vibrating with excitement and anticipation as this night was known for when musicians left their marks and had their moments at the center stage. The massive stage was illuminated in deep silvers and golds, shimmering under the lights and it stole your breath, just for a second. It was like this was your first time being here, and in a way…it kind of was? 

It was your first time here as the new you. 

Your fingers tightened slightly around Joe’s as your eyes traced the stage—the very place you had poured your heart out, which felt like a lifetime ago, where your voice had carried through every inch of this arena, where you had left pieces of yourself behind in every lyric. Seeing it now, bathed in light, surrounded by the crowd’s buzz, made something settle in your chest. Pride. Awe. A little disbelief.  

Who knew you could have missed the sights and sounds of this place so much?  

Joe squeezed your hand, bringing you back to him. “Hey,” he murmured, ducking his head slightly so you’d meet his eyes. “You okay?”.

You nodded, exhaling, your lips curving into a small smile. “You don’t need to save me,” you finally answered, glancing up at him. “You do that thing…with your eyes, and your touch. Like you’re asking me to run away with you without actually saying it…when I get like that. All zoned out and nervous,”.  

A smirk tugged at his lips. “And would you?”.

You leaned into him, heartbeat calming, a comforting heat radiating between you as you looked back at the stage—at the place where you belonged. “Every time,” you whispered, a little breathy as if the shimmering lights, open stage, and sleek black microphone had cast a spell over you, making it hard for you to focus on him.  

And as he led you toward your seats, his fingers laced with yours, thumb sliding up and down yours out of habit, you knew the past couldn’t touch you here. Not with him by your side. This was your night, and nothing would stand in the way of taking back what was once yours. But most importantly, Joe wouldn’t let anything get in the way. Whether it was your own nerves threatening to take over and strangle your confidence or the ghost of your past trying to cast a shadow over your moment, he was there to shield you.

He had seen you plant the seed of this night long ago, watching you from afar, from the screens, before he got to know the woman behind the art. He watched as you nurtured this album through storms of doubt and heartbreak, as you tended to it with passion and dedication. And now, as it finally bloomed into something magical, something with the potential to be extraordinary, he wasn’t about to let anything ruin it.  

You had grown, and flourished despite everything meant to break you. That was the most admirable thing about you. Your strength, your ability to rise from the ashes time and time again—like a flower pushing through the cracks of concrete, refusing to fall—were some of the biggest reasons he had fallen in love with you.  

Joe had always known you were special, but watching you now, still standing tall under the pressure of it all, he was reminded of just how unstoppable you truly were. No matter how many storms had tried to destroy you, you had only come back stronger, more vibrant, more you than ever before. And to him, that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

—

The ceremony was in full swing just a half hour later, and once it all commenced, you felt yourself easing into the moment, the tension in your shoulders loosening bit by bit. The spectacle of it all—the glittering stage, the flashing cameras, the sheer magnitude of the night—had initially been overwhelming, but now, surrounded by the best company, it felt a little less daunting.

You were seated with the perfect group—Joe, Jack, Margaret, Taylor, and Sabrina—each of them a pacifying presence in their own way. Laughter bubbled up between sips of champagne, conversations floating effortlessly between catching up and playful banter. For a moment, it almost felt like just another night out with friends—except, of course, for the hundreds of people in the arena, the millions watching from their homes, and the fact that your name had already been called more than once by the presenters on stage.

That’s right…more than once.  

Three times to be exact.  

Once for Best Pop Solo Preformance, which had you frozen for a good 10 seconds once it was announced, then for Record of the Year, which you nearly missed because you were in the bathroom, and finally—one of the most important categories—Song of the Year. 

It hadn’t registered in your brain that this was really happening, that your talent and work were being recognized in the highest regard. You really came into this expecting absolutely nothing, especially after the year you had, and well, pissing off your ex-boyfriend’s dad who happened to be the very respected CEO of your former record label doesn’t exactly increase your standing in the industry. But regardless of everything that happened, the label switch, the breakup, the drama, they were celebrating your piece of work and you without any hesitation. But you were still confused as hell each time you heard your name, like…did they actually care? Because it sure as fuck didn’t feel like they did when you actually needed them in your corner.

That’s why you couldn’t believe it when you heard your name come from the stage…again. You were mid-sip of champagne, fully convinced that Taylor would win for SOTY, already half-turning toward her to celebrate her moment—until the words actually registered in your head.  

“And the Grammy goes to...Y/N for ‘Is It Over Now’!”.

For a second, it felt like the world stopped. The golden lights blurred above you, the roaring applause barely reached your ears, and all you could do was sit there, mouth slightly open in shock, processing what had just happened.  

Then, Joe was in your line of vision, his eyes wide before they crinkled with a proud, almost cocky smile. Before you could even think, you stood up and launched yourself into his arms, a squeal leaving your lips as he caught you effortlessly, lifting you slightly off the ground. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to your lips. The cheers from your table—hell, from the entire arena—only grew louder at the sight of it.  

Joe swayed you side to side, his hands gripping your waist as he leaned back just enough to beam at you. “You did it, baby. 3 for 3 so far, like I told you. Full sweep,” he murmured, his voice filled with so much love it nearly made you tear up on the spot.  

You barely had time to catch your breath before you turned, immediately dapping up Jack, who grinned and pulled you in for a tight hug. “I fucking told you!” he laughed, shaking you slightly. “Song of the Year, baby! Look at you!”. When you looked over you saw that Margaret was wiping at her eyes, her happiness for you—someone she considered a sister—coming out in the form of tears. Sabrina was screaming, letting everyone around you know that you just did that, “Look at her!! That’s my fucking girl!”. And Taylor? She looked both proud of one of her closest friends and in awe of how Joe was, once again, openly showing this much affection towards you in front of everyone.   

It was perfect. So freaking perfect.

Heart still hammering against your ribs, you made your way to the stage, your entire figure shimmering and dazzling under the lights, and as you took the golden trophy in your hands from the presenter, you exhaled sharply into the mic, still dazed. Still unsure of how the hell you got up here in one piece. 

You don’t remember what you were saying in your acceptance speech, almost feeling like your mind was detached from your body and you were moving on autopilot, but all you could sense was that whatever you were saying had everyone in the room looking up at you with a genuine proud smile. The same room of people who you had thought turned their backs on you a year ago, had stabbed you in the back when you were at your lowest, were celebrating you.

The only thing you did remember from your speech was something you wouldn’t normally do. 

A dig. 

The old you would never shade someone like this, let alone at all. She would quietly accept her award, give everyone their flowers, downplay her role in her own accomplishment—emphasis on her accomplishment—and leave the stage. Because that’s what she had been trained to do.

The new you? Oh, she didn’t care whose feelings were hurt, who was offended that they didn’t get a shout-out, or if he was listening. 

Which was why…

“—And of course,” you added, voice laced with a syrupy sweetness that didn’t quite match the glint in your eyes, “A very special thank you to the one who inspired this lovely, lovely Song of the Year,”. You let the words sit in the air for a second, flashing a knowing, almost dangerous smile. “He knows exactly who he is,” you smirked, locking your eyes with the person you had so sweetly called out in front of an entire arena filled with celebrities, studio execs, media, and his own peers. “Thanks for that! ‘Cause now I got one of these,” you smirked, nodding towards the golden trophy in your palm. 

The crowd lost it. Laughter, gasps, and even a few whoops filled the arena. They all knew who you were talking about, it’s not like your album and even this song was lacking any clues, and their reactions were doing exactly what you needed them to do. Make him nervous and show everyone your newfound edge. 

When you scanned the crowd again, this time searching for something sweeter rather than sour & bitter, you saw Joe, still in his seat, throwing his head back with a laugh, shaking it in pure amusement. “God, she’s so good,” he chuckled to the rest of the table, his heart swelling with pride because he was witnessing the by-product of months and months of deprogramming and healing—unshakable confidence & the balls to grab the bull by the horns.   

You grinned, shifting gears as you returned to what you originally meant to do up here. “But really, this means the world. Thank you for letting me do what I love. Thank you for letting my pain turn into something beautiful. And most importantly…thank you for letting me prove that I could still do this,”. You lifted the Grammy slightly in the air, a silent moment of gratitude before nodding at the crowd. “I love you guys. Thank you, again!”.  

With that, you made your way offstage, an echo of applause filling the air, your heart still pounding, your hands slightly shaking from disbelief, but the moment you locked eyes with Joe again—all you felt was peace. 

After the show went to commercial, you spent a few moments chatting with your peers as they came over to congratulate you, even allowing them a chance to formally meet your date, a few of them even wanted to take a photo with him because well…he’s Joe Burrow. You weren’t paying that much attention to what they were talking to him about because your attention was being held captive by the performance stage, feeling the nerves creep back in as you were soon going to be up there and doing what people came here to do—make their marks on the night where artistry was honored. 

Once the conversations around you died down and the crowd dispersed, you eased back into your seat, letting out a breath of relief as you let yourself sink into the familiar fervor of Joe beside you. Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against your thigh, your eyes sweeping over the room, scanning for any trace of Jen. There was only one thought in your mind now, only one sound really. 

The sound of the clock ticking. 

Then, you felt it—Joe’s hand coming down over yours. The touch alone made your breath hitch, but it was what he did next that made your chest tighten. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His lips were soft, the heat of his breath tickling your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The simple, intimate gesture calmed you, pulling you back from the whirlwind of nerves spinning in your chest.

His voice was quiet, just for you. “That was badass,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Calling him out like that? You had the whole damn place eating out of your hand again,”. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with something intense—something that made you feel like the only person in the room. “You deserve every second of this, and I’m so fucking proud of you,”.

Your stomach fluttered, heat rising in your cheeks. Joe had always been proud of you, and had always been your biggest supporter, but hearing it tonight—after everything—hit differently. It settled deep inside your bones, quieting the self-doubt that sometimes crept in.

“I just spoke my truth,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “And, okay, maybe I had a little fun doing it,”.

Joe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “A little fun?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to that husky, intimate tone that always sent a thrill down your spine. “Baby, you set the whole damn place on fire the second you touched the carpet. I seriously think the entire city will fall after you announce the album. Like triggering an earthquake not caused by the San-Andreas fault line,”.

A breathy laugh escaped you but it was unfortunately short-lived, the importance of what was coming next settled over you once again; the realization that you couldn’t escape the inevitable. The performance. The moment that would redefine everything. The moment you had been waiting for ever since you started recording reputation back in August. Your pulse quickened at the mere thought of being on that stage, singing those lyrics that nobody had heard yet, wearing those colors that were meant to usher you into a new era. You were excited about this, no doubt about that, but you were feeling those jitters again since you hadn’t done this in a very long time. 

Joe must have sensed it because he gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at you with the most gentle smile humanly possible. He knew how to handle you in moments like these, with words that held the same kind of intensity his pep-talks to his guys during half-time would, but conveyed with a softness that allowed you to be vulnerable with him. 

“I don’t deserve him,” you thought to yourself, a pout forming on your face because of how he could easily tell when something was bugging you. Before you could answer, some movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Jen was making her way toward you, her earpiece in place, phone in hand, her signature smile on her face. “It’s time,” she said, voice stable but laced with uncontrollable excitement as she also had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around Joe’s one last time before you stood. His eyes never left you, steady and sure, his silent way of saying, You’ve got this. I believe in you. You turned back to him before you walked away, your voice softer this time, but laced with that newly developed cocky confidence of yours that he adored so much, “Are you ready for it?” you asked, leaning down to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek. 

His smirk deepened, something mischievous flashing in his eyes when he looked into yours after you pulled away. “Let the games begin,” he winked. 

You stared into those beautiful blue eyes for just a few more seconds, fully taking in the last few moments of peace you had before you let Jen guide you backstage so you could get changed into your performance look. The moment you stepped behind the curtain, the energy shifted. The bass of the music thrummed in the floor beneath your feet. The buzz of the crowd vibrated through the walls. The anticipation was thick, electric, and ready to explode the second you stepped onto that stage.

“And next, she makes her long-awaited return to the center stage! A special performance by Y/N!”.

A breath shuddered from your lips as the wardrobe team rolled up the rack carrying your performance look—an all-black, sparkling bodysuit that shimmered like something unreal under the lights, knee-high boots—sleek and powerful. 

The final nail in the coffin. 

You flexed your fingers, rolled your shoulders, breathing through the last lines of nerves. “You got this…You got this,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else, shaking your arms to ease the tension and loosen your body.

Just behind the curtain, the stage was waiting for you. The entire world was watching to see what you were going to do, what your next move was going to be. Would the headlines in the morning be drenched in praise, commanding your return? Or would they drip with disappointment, another story of a star who couldn’t reclaim their light?

You refused to let it be the latter.

Fingers tightening around the edges of the vanity table, you stared into your own eyes through the mirror, searching for the fire that had carried you this far. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself against the whirlwind of nerves and adrenaline crashing through your veins.

Then, with quiet confidence, you whispered to your reflection, “Remember who you are,”.

—

The arena hummed with electricity as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd turning into a haunting silence. They didn’t know what was coming—nobody knew except for Joe and the people at your table. You had kept this a secret, held it close to your chest like a hidden weapon, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They all expected you to perform your hit single, it was the most logical thing to do since it was your leading nomination tonight and the most safe move you could make after coming back to the scene.  

But since you were in an era of unpredictability & breaking through the standards people set for you, you were going to do the exact fucking opposite. Safe is great, it’s comfortable and familiar, but risk is even more thrilling. You had been preparing to perform two unreleased songs from reputation for the past month, and this was it. Here it was. 

The lights shifted to a dark mix of crimson red and black, the first haunting notes of Don’t Blame Me rang through the speakers as you stepped onto the stage. Your voice was sultry and controlled, your figure cloaked in the shadows as you hummed the opening melody of the song.

And then a few seconds later, the lights around you flickered away, a spotlight shining behind you highlighting your silhouette as the shadows moved in sync with the pulse of the song.  

“Don’t blame me, love made me crazy…,” you sang slowly, your body gradually being revealed by the spotlight, cheers and applause ringing through the arena as you came into their lines of vision. “If it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right…,” you continued, now starting to walk forward towards the center of the stage—your stage. 

Then, a flurry of background dancers and backing vocalists came onto the set, taking their places behind you as you smirked at the audience, fully immersed in the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. And damn, it felt so good. 

Like you were coming home. Like your thirst was being quenched for the first time in a century. 

“Oh lord, take me, my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life,” you belted as the backing vocalists made the lyrics echo throughout the room through their voices, your own voice dripping with raw intensity, dripping with power. The bass rumbled through the stage beneath your boots as you continued, vibrating in your chest as the music built, electric and intoxicating. Your dancers moved behind you in perfect synchronicity, their bodies swaying, their movements sharp yet fluid, feeding into the dark, hypnotic energy of the performance.

Your arms stretched out, head tilting back as the lights flashed in perfect time with the crescendo, bathing the stage in pulses of deep crimson, gold, and black. You felt it—the power, the desire, the sheer force of hundreds of voices screaming your words back at you, feeling every single lyric as deeply as you did.

You continued through the song, your vocals had never been better, and you were hitting every move with an effortless ease that drove the entire crowd mad, giving them looks—the pettiness, the confidence, the change all shining bright. 

The realization hit you right then and there—Joe was right. You were absolutely untouchable and unstoppable, the crowd goes wild at your fingertips. You surrendered yourself to the music and the choreography, allowing the drug that was performing on stage to overwhelm your senses and the euphoric rush to kick in.  

As this song neared its end, you found yourself back in the center of the stage, your breaths coming in pants yet remaining controlled as you continued to the final verse. But just as they expected this game-changing performance to end here, you kept going. 

With a wicked grin curling your lips, you let the words drip from your mouth like honey laced with poison. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what you made me do…,”. Your gaze swept across the crowd, calculated, searching. You weren’t just performing anymore—you were hunting.

And then, you found him.

Tucked away at one of the tables to the right of the stage, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. His skin had gone pale, his hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, his entire body stiff as if he had just seen a ghost.

You tilted your head, smirk deepening as you zeroed in. Slowly, you raised a single hand, finger raising like a loaded gun, pointing in his general direction. And then, you moved. A slow, calculated fall, lowering onto your knees with grace, eyes never leaving his. The lights shifted, bathing you in deep crimson again as you let the final words roll off your tongue, each word laced with venom. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what. you. made. me. do,”.

Boom.

The bass dropped, the lights pulsated, and the transition was seamless—Look What You Made Me Do crashing into the track like a strike of lightning, the guitar echoing through the air like thunder, like a second heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

The entire arena erupted.

It was an explosion of sound—cheers, screams, the electricity of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm. Every flick of your wrist, every strut across the stage was met with unrelenting energy from the crowd. This wasn’t just a performance. This was a reckoning. A return. Another statement.

The kick. The power. The sheer, indescribable high of being back where you belonged, doing what you did best. You had missed this—the stage, the heat of the lights, the deafening sound of your own name being screamed by thousands of voices.

You had starved for this moment. You had waited for this. You worked for this. From the looks on their faces, they had too. The question hung in the air, unspoken but loud—Why the hell did she disappear? Because watching you now, with all that fire, all that command, all that untouchable, magnetic presence—it was impossible to believe you had ever left. 

You twisted and twirled, your dancers following in perfect sync, the dark, theatrical magnificence of the set shifting around you. Your lips formed a knowing smile, the adrenaline thrumming in your veins, pulsing with the beat, with every perfectly timed pause and drop.

And then, you reach the favorite part of your song. You mimicked a phone with your fingers, raising it to your ear as you looked out to the crowd, “I’m sorry, but the old Y/N can’t come to the phone right now,”. You shrugged, “Why? Oh…'cause she's dead!”. The bass drop that followed sent a bolt of electricity through the room, the strobe lighting, the movement of the dancers, your movements—it all came together. Those lyrics, it was a message to everyone. Bold, loud, and irreversible. 

The old you, the one they all knew, she was gone. Your past was gone, and you were moving forward. The cameras caught every second—flashes of the audience, the stunned faces, the way everyone was fully, hopelessly, entirely enthralled.

And the man who supported you in getting here was watching it all. Joe stood at your table, eyes locked on you like you had personally rewritten the stars. He’d never seen anything like it before, the way you commanded the crowd with your enchanting voice, how everyone was stunned by the theatrics of the performance you’d spent hours designing with your team. His heart swelled at the sight of seeing you up there, so confident and sure of yourself, especially because he knew how nervous you had been for this. He had always believed in you, but seeing you like this? Seeing you reclaim every ounce of what was stolen from you—owning it—had him completely, utterly mesmerized.

You smiled when you saw that his phone was in his hand, recording every second of your performance which he would surely watch back with you tomorrow and give all of his adorable commentary. His jaw clenched, his lips twitching at the corners as he mouthed along to the words. The giant smile that played on his mouth displayed his pride, his awe, it was something deeper—something that made you tighten your grip around the microphone. 

Then…your eyes met his directly. It was like a slow-motion collapse of everything around you, the world quieting to nothing but a faint hum, the screams and flashing lights fading into the background. It was just you and him. The man who was your anchor, your constant, and your everything. And in his eyes, you saw everything you needed to.

His heart swelled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the look he gave you was filled to the brim with love, making your breath catch in your throat. Seeing how proud he was of you just made your love for him increase to a level you never thought was attainable, it physically hurt. 

But in the best way possible. 

After the performance — Backstage 

“Oh my god! That was perfect,” Jen shrieked as she pulled you in for a tight hug, your breaths coming out in pants as you were trying to take in the moment. You had just finished the performance, your brain still hazy and legs feeling like jelly from everything that had just happened, and you had absolutely no idea how you made it backstage again, but somehow you did. 

“Mm, Holy sh- shit,” you breathed out, looking around at the buzzing energy surrounding you. Everyone was beaming, clapping, celebrating like they had just witnessed history being made. And maybe they had? You couldn’t really focus on any of that right now because you were still riding the high you had from the performance. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, heart battering in your chest, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

You reached up, running a shaky hand through your hair, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you tried to wrap your head around it. You had actually done it. You were back back, hadn’t missed a single beat, and somehow you were better than ever before. And it felt even greater than you could have ever imagined. “That was unreal,” someone said, patting you on the back. Another crew member handed you a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted, taking a long sip to soothe your dry throat.

Jen was still gripping your shoulders, eyes lit with pride. “You owned that stage. Every single person in that room is losing their mind right now. Do you hear them?”.

You smiled at her mention of the crowd because you absolutely could hear them. Even backstage, you could hear the lingering echoes of cheers, the mere force of the crowd’s energy refusing to die down. There were probably about a million questions floating through their brains right now, and they’d all be answered soon—hopefully at least. 

It sent another thrill down your spine. You let out another breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, I missed this. I really, really missed this,” you said, getting a little emotional as you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. You’d been away from the one thing that you lived for far too long, had to learn to let go of this all because it wasn’t doing you any good, but now you were back. And you were coming back so strong. 

Jen grinned, her excitement oozing out of her as she gave you a gentle shake. “And this missed you,”.

Your fingers curled tightly around the water bottle, fingers rubbing against the condensation so you could cool yourself as you let the moment settle in. You could still feel the heat of the stage lights, the pounding of the bass in your chest, and the way the world had disappeared the second you locked eyes with Joe. 

You knew that every time you looked into his eyes the world around you would disappear, go fully silent—whether you were quietly staring into them before you fell asleep in his arms or in moments of panic like earlier on the carpet. But you had no idea that it would happen while you were performing, thinking that the rush you would get would overpower everything else. But no, you were wrong. 

He overpowered it, overpowered it all. Every single time, it was always him. 

“…Joe,” you murmured absentmindedly, your mind drifting just like it had earlier when you were getting ready for the carpet. But the distant sound of the announcer’s voice snapped you out of your haze.

“And coming soon, the award for Album of the Year!”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered under your breath, not wasting another second to get back out there and with him. You knew that you wouldn’t have a lot of time with him before the final award of the night would be presented, no matter the outcome. Whether you win or lose, you’d become occupied by press, media, your team, and peers considering you would either A. announce/heavily tease your album in your acceptance speech, or B. immediately post the announcement on your Instagram page. Both outcomes meant little to no time to just exist with him, time you valued more than anything else in the world. So, after murmuring a quick, “I need to change,” to Jen, you slipped away from the commotion and made your way back toward the dressing room.

You slipped back into your dress, put all your accessories back on, and spent a few minutes adjusting your hair and touching up your makeup, replacing your black performance lipstick with your signature pink/red mix. “That really happened,” you laughed to yourself in the mirror while adding a little more lip liner to your bottom lip, “I…really…I really did it,”. 

It took months and months of blood, sweat, and tears. But you actually did it. It was beautiful to see the difference that a year away from all of this could make in your life. For the first time, you felt at ease in every aspect—career, family, relationship, and friendships. You weren’t worried about what people were thinking, what criticism was running through their poisonous minds, you didn’t even care about if they liked the songs you just performed or not. Even better, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought. He spent months tearing your name down in front of the same crowd you just performed in front of, and now? Now it was your turn. And this time, he would sit back and watch you reclaim the land that was always yours.

“That’s the last time I let someone take this from me,” you smiled, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress before walking towards the door, your body filled with that kind of confidence you never thought you would be able to have. 

When you made your way back into the main room, the energy in the air was filled with anticipation, which only meant one thing. The final awards were being presented—important ones, no doubt—but they were just the final steps leading up to the moment everyone was waiting for. Album of the Year. The pinnacle of the night.

Navigating through the sea of tables, you felt every brush of a hand, every nod of approval, every quiet applause from your peers as you passed. The high-fives, the murmured words of admiration—it all fueled you, straightened your spine, lifted your chin higher with each step. You had done that, they all were acknowledging it, and you felt like the hottest thing in the entire city of Los Angeles right now. You had earned this moment.

And then you saw him.

Joe was right where he had been before, standing at your table, his back straight, shoulders squared, but his head turning, scanning the room. Searching. For you. The second his eyes met yours, everything about him shifted. His pink lips parted slightly, his eyes softened, but there was something else there too. Something deep. Something raw. A fire burning just beneath the surface. A fire that was lit within him from just watching you up on stage, being effortlessly you. 

And just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist...again. 

You moved toward him without thinking, your pulse thundering in your ears, but for an entirely different reason now. His hands were on you the moment you were close enough—pulling you in, gripping you like it was instinct, like he had been waiting for this exact second. No words. No hesitation. Before you could even take another breath, before you could fully process the rush of everything around you—he kissed you. His lips moved against yours with a cadence that made your knees nearly buckle, as if he was trying to say everything he was feeling without uttering a single word. His fingers curled around your waist, the tight grip of his hands steadying you as the noise of the room melted into nothingness.  

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe you were real. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You were insane up there,”.  

You exhaled a breathless laugh, still trying to process the way he was looking at you, like he had just witnessed something divine. “Yeah?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, like he was making a promise. “I’ve never seen you like that before. You looked so…in control of everything. Like you could do anything your heart wanted. Like you had something else rushing through your veins, kinda like me when I’m out on the field. You didn’t even miss a single beat, no rust or anything. It was insane, Y/N. You were so amazing. You sounded so good, looked even hotter, and god, the way you were controlling the crowd? I’m in awe of you,”.  

He had this twinkle in his eyes when he was speaking to you, like he couldn’t believe what he had seen, like he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this side of you existed. His brain was actively short-circling, and you could see it behind his pupils. 

Adorable.  

A blush creeped up your cheeks as you let him guide you back to your seat around the table, your hands still tangled in his for just a few extra seconds before you finally let go. But he didn’t. His arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your shoulder, like he needed to keep that connection. “You feel it, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, just for you.  

You turned to him, eyebrows raising. “Feel what?”.

His blue eyes scanned over your face, studying you like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He didn’t have to explain. You knew exactly what he meant. That rock—the one that had been pressing down on your chest for the past year—was gone. That heaviness, the burden of expectations, of pain, of loss. It had lifted.  

You weren’t carrying it anymore.  

“You sound different,” he continued, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, almost in disbelief. “Not just on stage. Right now. There’s…something in your voice,”. He paused, tilting his head, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for the right words. “Like a breeze. Like it’s lighter. Fresh. Cool,”.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by how deeply he saw you, how effortlessly he could put into words something you hadn’t even fully acknowledged yet. But he was right, and that made your heart burst. That ache that had lived inside you for so long was gone. The feeling of everything—the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the doubt—it had lifted the second you stepped onto that stage. And of course, Joe noticed. He always did. “I missed this,” you admitted, voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I missed…feeling like this,”.  

Joe’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, his thumb pressing into your skin, promising and constant. “You never lost it,” he said firmly. “You just had to remember it was always yours,”.  

A lump formed in your throat as you met his eyes again, thick and unmoving. It was all there—etched into the smooth curve of his lips, the softness of his gaze. The pride, the love, the relentless belief in you. It had never once wavered, not even in the moments you had convinced yourself you weren’t enough. Not even when you had crumbled, doubted, disappeared.  

You wanted to tell him something, but you didn’t think you could because if you did you’d never stop crying. But not from unhappiness, but from overwhelming joy.  

Thank you.  

That’s what you wanted to tell him. Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself.  

Thank you for seeing me when I felt invisible, for holding me when I swore I was unlovable, for standing beside me when I thought I had nothing left to give.  

These past nine months had been nothing short of a dream—one you had once been too afraid to believe in. From the quiet, stolen moments wrapped in his arms, when the world outside felt like too much, to the nights he stayed up just to listen. To remind you. To tether you back to yourself when doubt became too loud. Every whispered “you got this,” every brush of his fingers against yours, every look that said, I see you. I love you. I believe in you.

Every moment had led to this.  

And the truth crashed over you all at once—you wouldn’t be standing here without him. But before you could say anything, before you could even take another breath, the presenter’s voice rang through the grand hall.  

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for—Album of the Year!”.

The atmosphere changed in an instant. The quiet murmurs silenced, the entire room holding its collective breath. This was the moment that could change the trajectory of artists’ careers…or solidify their spot amongst the greats. This was the moment when they would declare whose year it had been, and which piece of music had captured everyone’s attention since the beginning. Which artist created something so special that it was impossible to overlook?

The competition was fiercer than ever this year. It had been an outstanding year for music—one that felt like a renaissance in its own right. The category was stacked with diversity, a seamless blend of genres that painted a vibrant picture of the industry’s growth. From pop anthems to soul-stirring R&B, from country storytelling to genre-bending masterpieces—every nominee had left their mark.

This could be your moment, and the thought of that made your stomach twist, your fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of your dress as if it were a pool floatie preventing you from drowning. Your previous album, Woodvale, had won big last time, you were leading the headlines for the entirety of the following week, but the one category that it didn’t win in, was this one. Even the media was stunned that you had managed to win in nearly all the big 4 categories, but somehow missed the mark for Album of the Year. 

Back then, it had all been about your rookie year, about proving yourself, about what you could do with your first real shot at greatness. It was about potential, about possibility. About making a name for yourself. But this time…this time, the meaning of it was different. Heavier. More personal. This award wasn’t just about the music anymore. It wasn’t just about the headlines, the charts, or the record-breaking moments. It was bigger than that. It was everything. It was the months spent piecing yourself back together after the breakup, the nights that stretched into mornings as you fought through the doubt, the exhaustion, the voices in your head that told you maybe you weren’t enough. It was every lyric scribbled in the margins of your notebooks, every melody born from the deepest parts of your heart.

It was you. All of you. This award—if it was yours—would be a symbol. A testament to the resilience, the pain, the healing, the love, the sheer force of will it took to make it back to this stage.

And now, it all came down to this moment. Would they hear you? Would they see you?

Joe’s hand slipped under the table, finding yours in the dim lighting. His fingers curled around yours, soft and assuring, lacing them together like they always belonged there. The simple gesture made your chest tighten, your eyes flicking toward him. “You got this,” he whispered, the confidence in his voice pushing out the doubt creeping into your body.

Your pulse pounded against your ribs. The envelope was in the presenter’s hands now, their fingers curling under the flap, tearing it open with deliberate slowness. Your breath felt stuck in your lungs, the anticipation stretching out unbearably, like time itself was dragging this out just to make you sweat. Joe leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, calming you in a way only he could. “I love you regardless,” he murmured, his voice softer now, threaded with something so deep it made your heartache. “You're still number one. You always have been and always will be,”.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his words settled deep in your chest. That was all you needed to hear. Win or lose, the truth remained the same—you had already won in the ways that truly mattered. No trophy, no accolade, no industry recognition could ever measure up to the happiness he gave you, to the love that consumed you. You had already won the greatest prize of all—a life with him.

When you looked back up at the stage you saw how the presenters smiled at each other, dragging out the suspense, the golden card in their hands holding the answer that would either send you soaring or leave you swallowing disappointment.  

A pause.  

Your fingers tightened around Joe’s.  

“And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to…,”.

A heartbeat.  

“Is It Over Now! Y/N!”.

For a moment—just one fleeting, impossible second—you didn’t react. It was like your brain refused to process the words, like you had misheard them, like they were meant for someone else.  

But then the room erupted.  

Cheers. Screams. Applause so loud it shook the walls. The sound crashed over you, a tidal wave of celebration, of validation, of everything you had fought so hard for. Your hand flew up to your mouth as the realization sank in, the camera capturing every second. A choked sob escaped your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes. 

Joe was on his feet before you could even move, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him like he had been waiting for this exact moment all night. Like he had always known it would happen. “You fucking did it,” he breathed against your hair, his voice carrying that light, drunken energy that made your cheeks blush—his grip impossibly tight.

Your hands clutched at the back of his suit, clinging to him as the first tears slipped down your cheeks. “I– I can’t believe it. Oh my god,” you whispered.  

But it was real.  

Your name was being called. People were standing, clapping, cheering for you. Your peers, your idols, the very people who had shaped you as an artist—they were all on their feet, celebrating you.  

Joe’s grip on you tightened for a second, like he didn’t want to let go just yet. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice nothing but a breath, a promise. “I told you this was yours,” he whispered. “I told you from the very beginning. And I will keep telling you every single day. I’m so proud of you, Y/N. I love you, superstar,”.

Your heart clenched, and for a moment, it wasn’t the flashing cameras or the roaring applause that filled your senses—it was him. His touch, his belief, the way he had always seen you, even when you couldn’t see yourself. You clung to him for a beat longer, forehead pressing against his, as you leaned in for a kiss. Before you pulled away, his hands slid down your arms, reluctant, but he let you go.

Because this moment was yours.

Jack was one of the first people you saw when you turned, hands in his hair, yelling, “I told you! I told you!” before practically tackling you into a hug. He was beaming, shaking you by the shoulders like he couldn’t believe it, like he could but still needed to make sure this was real. 

Margaret was crying, again, hands clasped together in front of her mouth before she reached out to squeeze your arm, whispering, “You deserve this,”. Sabrina was standing a few feet away, eyes glassy but full of joy, nodding at you like she knew exactly what this meant. Like she understood every step it took to get here.

And then there was Taylor. She had been one of the first to rise, clapping, smiling so big her dimples showed, eyes filled with nothing but pride. The second you met her gaze, she mouthed, “Go. Go take it,”. The moment wrapped around you, overwhelming, breathtaking, years of hard work, pain, resilience, everything leading up to this.

And as you turned, taking that first step toward the stage, Joe called after you, his voice laced with everything he was feeling. “Go show them why you deserved this,”. 

A breathless laugh bubbled out of you, the kind that only came when you were overwhelmed with happiness. You nodded before turning back and going toward the stage again. Your legs felt shaky, your chest tight with emotion, but every step forward felt like proof.  Proof that the sleepless nights, the pain, the doubt—it all meant something. Proof that no matter who tried to break you, you had built yourself back up stronger.  

And now, as you reached out to accept the golden trophy, standing under the blinding lights, the applause still booming around you…You knew for certain.  

It was never over. It had only just begun.

You stepped up to the mic, “Oh my God. Oh my God,” you say as you clutch the award, trying to catch your breath, voice already shaking. “I…wow. I don’t even know what to say right now,” you laugh tearily, your eyes pooling with tears while you scan the crowd. Every single person was standing for you, smiling for you, you couldn’t believe it. 

You took a deep breath, one to calm yourself, before continuing, “This album…this album came from the hardest, messiest, most painful time in my life, as you all know,” you said, watching a few nods come from people in the audience. “I didn’t know if I’d ever feel okay again, let alone be standing here, holding this. When I was making Is It Over Now?, I wasn’t thinking about awards or charts or accolades—I was just trying to…survive. I was trying to put words to the heartbreak, the betrayal, the absolute destruction of everything I thought was real. And now, standing here, looking at all of you, I realize…maybe it all had to happen this way. Maybe this was always how the story was supposed to go,”.  

You raised your hand to wipe the tear slipping down your cheek as you continued, “To my team, Jen, my producers Jack and Aaron—every single person who stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk away. I love you. We made something so real, so honest, and I’m so proud of what we created,” you smiled, pointing towards Jack at the table, watching him mouth a “Love you,” back to you. “And my fans…my god, my fans,” you laughed, allowing a moment for applause before continuing. “You guys have been with me through everything. Every high, every low, every moment where I thought I couldn’t keep going, you reminded me why I do this. You screamed these lyrics like battle cries, like prayers, like you knew—you understood me in ways I didn’t even understand myself. You defended me when I couldn’t defend myself. You stood by me when the world pulled me apart. And now, we stand here together. I hope you know that this isn’t just my award—this is yours. Because without you, I don’t know if I would’ve made it here,”. 

You pause for a moment, eyes searching the crowd until they find him—Joe. Standing there, his eyes glistening, his hand swiping at his cheek, trying to hide the tears that he can't quite contain. But even through the emotion, his smile is wide, brighter than anything in the room, and it’s like the world fades away when you look at him

You’ve never talked about him like this before—not on a stage like this. Not in front of the world. But here, now, it feels like the right time. The moment feels like it’s meant to be.

Here we go.

“...And Joe…oh, god, Joe,” you laugh through the tears, a smile forming on your lips again as you make eye contact with him. You see his face soften immediately, his hand swiping at his cheek, but the proud, teary smile never fades. His eyes glisten, and you swear you see a flicker of disbelief behind them—like he can’t quite believe this is real, but it’s happening.

“You just waltzed into my life with those signature Cartier shades on your face, looking like the coolest guy in the room, with that grin of yours that’s practically been trademarked by now, and that Joe-Cool persona that’s become a part of you over the years,” you laughed, watching him tip his head back slightly, the familiar chuckle that only he could pull off escaping from his lips. “You came into my life when I honestly didn’t even know if I had one left,”. You paused for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Joe’s eyes softened as they always did when you got emotional, his hand brushing across his jaw like he was trying to hide the way his heart was swelling at every word. “When I thought love was just another lie, when I didn’t trust anyone, especially myself. And you didn’t try to fix me, you didn’t try to change me—you just stayed. You let me fall apart, and then you showed me I didn’t have to stay broken. I will forever appreciate you for that. These past few months with you have been everything I could have ever wanted, filled with so much love, and happiness, and so much carefree energy. Energy that I never knew I needed. You’re the first person to hear every song now, the one who sits on the floor with me at 3 a.m. because I have an itch to scratch and you want to be a part of it, who listens to every rough demo, every messy lyric idea, and somehow, you make me feel like every single thing I create is magic, even if it’s unserious and deliriously written,” you chuckle, the audience laughing along with you, some of them even having their hands over their hearts because of the way you were speaking about him.

“You changed my world the second you walked into it, like literally,” you smiled, remembering the night at the white party, the way he had looked at you with that easygoing grin, as if you were the only person in the room. “You told me I didn’t need to be perfect, like that silly football joke you cracked when we first met. You said, ‘I might throw a perfect pass on the field, but I’m still trying to figure out how to land a date without fumbling the ball’,” you laughed, the memory so clear, his voice, his playfulness, like it was yesterday.

He chuckled softly, nodding at the memory. That goofy, endearing smile that always had the power to light up the room. “You were so wrong, you know,” you teased him gently, “You didn't need to throw any passes. You already had me from the moment you looked at me,”.

You continued, looking at him, your heart swelling. “You made me believe in myself again, in us. And I will spend every single day for the rest of my life thanking you for that. Everything you touch is filled with love, with light, with joy—and I love you more than I could ever find the words to say,”. Joe’s eyes softened at your words, his gaze full of warmth. You could feel his heart in every look, in the way he just was with you, always there. “You know, I’ve got a lot more to say about you...but I think some things are better kept in the music, don’t you think?” you winked, giving him a subtle nod, knowing how much he loved those little secrets. The clear allusion to your next album sends waves of murmurs throughout the audience. 

“I think the next chapter will be something special,” you added, a smile creeping onto your lips as you imagined what the future would hold, “And I can’t wait to share it with you. You are everything I never knew I needed, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you…thank you for loving me the way you do,” you finished, feeling the weight of your love for him in the air between you both. And in that moment, it wasn’t the award, the spotlight, or the applause that mattered most. It was him. Always him.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing, but this time, from a place of defiance. “And to the people who doubted me, who called me an industry plant, a one-hit wonder, who said I was only here because of someone else…oops,” you smirk, holding up the trophy as the crowd cheers once again. The specific dig aimed at the haters, the media, and even your former record label, lands with the perfect blend of sweet satisfaction.

You took a final deep breath, your gaze sweeping over the crowd. The applause was still rippling through the room, but now, you felt something deeper—something that had been building for months. “This album, this moment, everything—it's been a journey. A journey through heartbreak, through self-doubt, through finding myself again. I disappeared for a while, didn't I? I had to. To heal. To rediscover what I wanted to say. And it wasn’t easy. But sometimes, you have to step away to step into your truth,” you paused, your voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction.

“I’ve learned that growth comes from the toughest moments. The ones that break you open. The ones that hurt the most. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Every tear, every sleepless night, every song written in the dark, it all led me here, to you. To this stage. To this award. To a place where I can finally say, ‘I’m not afraid to be myself anymore’,”.

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and something else, something new. “This album is a reflection of everything I've been through—the heartbreak, the lies, the lessons I never wanted to learn. It’s a journey from confusion and denial, through the painful realization of what was lost, to finally finding the strength to walk away. It’s about facing the truth, no matter how hard it is, and finding a way to rise from it,”.

The crowd cheered, and you raised the trophy slightly, a subtle nod to the story you'd just shared. “But…if you think this is the end? Well, you’ve got another thing coming,” you grinned, knowing exactly what that meant, knowing what was waiting to be unleashed.

“Because just like any great story, there's always more to tell. And trust me, the next chapter is going to be...unforgettable,” your voice dropped slightly, the weight of what you were hinting at sinking in. “I’ve shed my skin. Now it’s time for you to see who I really am,”. you smirked, the audience was on edge, eager for what was to come. After that, you winked and blew a kiss into the air, stepping back from the mic. “Thank you so much for this award! I’ll see you soon,”.

And just like that, you left them wanting more.

The second you step off the stage, the world behind you simply fades away. Joe’s hands are already around you, pulling you into a tight, all-encompassing hug that nearly makes you fall back. It’s not about the flashing lights, the cameras, or the millions of people still watching from their screens—it’s just the two of you in this moment, and that’s all that matters. His warmth floods through you, grounding you, making everything feel real as he sways you back and forth. “I am so damn proud of you,” he murmurs into your hair, voice laced with emotion, as if every word is a weight he’s been carrying since she walked out there. “You fucking killed it, baby. Congratulations,”. 

This was like your Super Bowl, and this was the moment when the significant other would rush on the field to congratulate the champion. He was congratulating his champion. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the tears rise again, even though you thought you’d run out. You exhale shakily against his chest, clutching the award like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. “Did that really happen, Joe?” you ask him, threading your fingers through his hair, your voice soft and shaky, asking him as if you weren’t the one out there just now. 

Joe pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hands coming to your face, like he needs to hold you still, to savor every second of this. His thumbs gently brush away the stray tears on your cheeks, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. “Hell yeah, it did. Believe it,” he says, his voice quiet and firm. “No one deserves this more than you, Y/N. You worked so hard for this,”.

The satisfaction in his eyes makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but smile through the tears. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re finally home. He’s not just proud of you; he’s in awe of you. And you can feel it in every touch, every look. You’ve always known he’s your biggest fan, but hearing it from him, seeing it reflected in his gaze—it makes everything worth it. You laugh softly, still catching your breath. “I…thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “You’ve been with me through everything. And I just…I can’t believe you’re here, with me, in this moment,”.

Joe’s smile softens, his forehead coming to rest against yours for a brief second. “I’m always here,” he murmurs, like he’s trying to make you believe it’s true, even though you already know. Then, he smirks, rubbing his hand along the curve of your hip, each press of his fingers sending a jolt of heat through your frame. “Also…that speech?”.

You giggle through your tears, wiping your eyes as you shake your head. “Too much?”.

“Too much?” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Baby, you just torched the place. Hit every topic, addressed everyone you needed to, and hit ‘em where it most definitely would hurt,” his laugh bubbles up from deep in his chest, pure joy in the sound. “That ‘oops’ line? You were perfect. I love this version of you,”.

You can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck, a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Good,” you tease, leaning into his chest, finally letting the tears fall freely. “I’m glad it wasn’t too much. I just had to let them know…,”.

Joe laughs softly, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter. He’s always been so humble, but when it comes to you, he has this way of holding you with such admiration, like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. And in this moment, you know that’s how he sees you. Always.

“You were perfect, baby,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible as his hands cradle your face. His gaze holds yours, soft but filled with that familiar heat you’ve never been able to get enough of. “You know I don’t care about anything else, right? The trophies, the lights, the cameras…none of that matters. I just want you. And I’m so damn proud of you. Of us. I know it wasn’t easy for you to do this, to do this with me, but you did it anyway and for that, I say thank you. Thank you for trusting me, for letting me in, for letting me love you,”.

You lean into his touch, letting yourself get lost in him for a second because in his arms, you don’t need to pretend. You don’t have to hold it together. Here, with him, it’s just love—raw, real, and safe. “I love you,” you whisper against his chest, pressing a kiss to his neck, your voice barely more than a breath. “I love you so much, Joey,”.

Joe’s smile is soft, his lips brushing against your forehead as he presses a lingering kiss there. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. I’m so proud of you,”. Your eyes fill with a new wave of emotion as you step back slightly to look at him. His eyes are so full of love, so tender, and you know that in this world of chaos, the spotlight, and the noise, there is no one else you’d rather have by your side. “Let’s get you out of here,” Joe says softly, pulling you back to him with easy confidence. “Celebrate properly,”.

You smirk, arching a playful brow as you run your hands along his clothed chest, “And by celebrate, you mean?”.

Joe grins, his playful glint never leaving his eyes. “You’ll see,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss, just enough to remind you of how real this love is. He pulls back just a little, his hand resting on your waist, keeping you close. “Trust me, it’s going to be our kind of celebration,”.

And with that, you realize it’s one of those rare moments—etched into your memory, a quiet but monumental piece of your shared journey. A moment that’s entirely yours, carved out amidst everything else. It’s not about the awards or the albums or the headlines. It’s about what you’ve fought for, what you’ve built together, and the future that’s still unfolding. 

As Joe’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you close, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. This, this is everything—the foundation of your love, the strength of your bond, the unwavering support you offer each other. No spotlight, no accolades, no applause could ever compare to the certainty that you’re in this together, through it all. And as you walk side by side, you know that this—the quiet moments, the connection, the love—is what truly matters.

And the best part? This was only just beginning.

—To be Continued—

stay tuned for part 2!

you are in love: big reputations part 1 (social media fic follow up)

[wchswift]

─── SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: As teenagers, you and Dean had a whirlwind romance before everything fell apart. Years later, you reunite—and it’s like high school all over again.

contents! mutual pining, teenage love, soft, flirting and touching, stupid in love dean, mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 2.8k

𝒟ean masterlist !

Dean was the first and only real love you had.

Well, not exactly real. And maybe not exactly love.

He was the good part of your day. That person you knew would be there. The person who made school possible and tolerable.

Dean was always known for his charm, for his way with girls. For always having them. But the moment Dean joined your group of friends and you two became even remotely close, it was as if something, a connection, that you didn't know could exist, finally made itself present within you.

It wasn't something verbalized, something explicit. But as soon as you had your first kiss, there was no one else. No other girl in school had a chance with him. He wouldn't let you go, and much less took his eyes off you.

Everything felt so real. Even if it was just between the lines.

He was the best "relationship" you ever had. The best moments and the best treatment you had from a boy were with Dean Winchester.

And then just as it all began, suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

One night you two were together in the back seat of the car and the next morning he was gone from town, without any explanation.

And when you were seventeen, that was the last time you saw Dean.

You and Dean were sure you would never see each other again. You were teenagers, it was normal. People come and go from school all the time, it was common to meet people at school and then never see them again, never find out how they are.

This is what you and Dean thought things would be like. Just a memory that would fade in time. Never having to worry about looking each other in the eye again.

But when was anything ever simple in Dean Winchester's life?

A case never ended up being just a case.

The small town didn’t exactly scream "monster hotspot," but something was definitely off. Three people had vanished without a trace in the past two months, all last seen at the same place—a cozy little diner on Main Street that doubled as a bookstore. The place was old-school charming, the kind of spot with checkered floors, the scent of fresh coffee in the air, and a tiny bell over the door that jingled whenever a customer walked in. Nothing about it screamed "supernatural danger," but Dean had learned long ago that the worst things often hid in the most ordinary places.

“Alright, so we got three missing persons, no bodies, and a common location,” Sam said, flipping through his notes. “No signs of struggle, no EMF spikes, no sulfur. If it’s something supernatural, it’s keeping a low profile.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the Impala’s steering wheel, squinting at the diner across the street. “Or it’s just smart. Maybe a witch, maybe something we haven’t seen before.”

Sam sighed. “So, the usual—talk to employees, check out security footage, dig through lore?”

Dean smirked. “Aw, you're so smart, Sammy.”

With that, they climbed out of the car and crossed the street, the bell over the door announcing their arrival. The place was warm and inviting, filled with the quiet hum of conversation and the soft crackle of pages turning. Dean barely had time to take it all in before his gaze landed on someone behind the counter.

He recognized you instantly. There wouldn't be a day that he wouldn't.

You were busy jotting something down, focused on a customer, completely unaware of him—at first. Dean’s stomach tightened, his pulse kicking up. It had been years, but damn if you wasn’t still the same girl he remembered—just sharper, more grown-up, but still you. The girl who had once snuck out of your house to meet him, who had laughed against his lips under the Friday night stadium lights, who had looked at him like he was worth something—until he left without saying goodbye.

When you lifted your head, ready to serve the new customers, that’s when you saw him.

For a second, just a second, your eyes met, and he saw it: the flicker of recognition, the moment your heart probably dropped into your stomach the same way his had.

To this day, Dean always remembers the way you used to look at him. The sparkle in your eyes, the way they seemed to smile, emanating happiness and trust.

Just seeing you made him feel as if he were in high school again.

And now? Now you were standing behind the counter, your apron tied around your waist, a pen tucked behind your ear, looking at him like you weren’t sure whether to punch him or pretend he didn’t exist.

Dean opened his mouth, but for once in his life, words failed him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you finally muttered, eyes narrowing.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean—?"

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, Sammy.” Dean snapped out of it, forcing a grin. “Long time, no see, sweetheart.”

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Winchester.” Your voice was calm, even, but there was an edge to it, a quiet challenge. "Guess life’s full of surprises."

Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… guess it is."

Sam, ever the unfortunate third wheel, glanced between them and shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, we’re actually here about the disappearances. We’re—"

"FBI?" you cut in, lifting a brow. "Do you want me to believe that you two are FBI?"

Dean had to bite back a smirk. Of course you weren’t buying their act. You had always been sharp. Always saw right through him.

Sam hesitated. "We just have a few questions."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the counter before jerking your chin toward an empty booth in the corner. "Fine. Take a seat. I’ll be over in a minute."

Dean watched as you turned on your heel, disappearing into the back. Only when you were out of sight did he let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face.

“Well,” Sam muttered, “that wasn’t awkward at all.”

Dean ignored him, eyes still locked on the door you had just walked through.

Yeah. This case just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

Only to get better, when you return, you decided to act as if he didn't exist. There was no sign of recognition on your face. No lingering shock, no flicker of emotion. Just cool, effortless professionalism, like you didn’t just have the wind knocked out of you moments ago.

A notebook is in your hand now, the pen twirling between your fingers as you slide into the seat across from them. Your eyes flick briefly to Sam—acknowledging him first, like Dean isn’t even there.

“So,” you say, tone even. “What exactly do you want to know? If this is about the disappearances, let me say I don’t know much. Just that they all came in here before they went missing. We gave their names to the cops already”

Dean leaned in, arms folding as he tilted his head slightly. “You always this helpful, sweetheart?”

The nickname made your eye twitch—barely.

You finally, finally glanced at him, and for a second, all he could see was the fire behind your gaze.

“I try my best, agent.” Your lips curled in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Anything else?”

Sam cleared his throat, glancing between the two of you, clearly picking up on the weird energy but too polite, more like too damn confused, to say anything. “Uh—right. But anything else you might’ve noticed? Strange behavior? Anyone bothering them?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Not that I remember.”

Feeling that with all this tension he wasn't going to get anywhere, Sam decided to stop there. “Alright, I think that’s all we need for now, then. If you remember anything else, let us know.”

With a nod, you began to rise from your seat, your body moving almost instinctively as you embraced the end of the conversation. “Sure thing."

As Dean watched you walk back to the counter, he couldn't believe you acted as if he wasn’t even there. However, if you thought that was the end of it, you were mistaken. Now that Dean had found you again, he wasn’t planning to just walk away. Not this time.

“Dude,” Sam muttered, voice low, snapping Dean out of his reverie. “What the hell was that?”

Dean exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, no kidding. You gonna fill me in?”

Dean didn’t answer right away, just watched as you disappeared through the swinging door behind the counter.

He used to love watching you walk away. Now it just felt like he was losing you all over again.

After a beat, he pushed up from the booth. “I’ll be back.”

Sam sighed. “Dean—”

But Dean was already moving.

The back door of the diner led to a narrow hallway—one he knew you’d taken to get a breather. It was quieter back here, the hum of conversation fading into a dull murmur.

And sure enough, there you were.

Your hands braced on the edge of a small counter, eyes closed, breathing deep. He knew that look. Knew you were trying to steady yourself, get your walls up before he could knock them down.

Too late.

“Still not gonna look at me?”

Your shoulders tensed at his voice, but you didn’t turn. “What do you want, Dean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, arms folding. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe a little acknowledgment? A hey, Dean, long time no see. Thought you were dead or in jail—”

“Wouldn’t have been surprised.”

Dean let out a sharp breath, a humorless smirk twitching at his lips. “Yeah, well. Didn’t end up that way.”

Silence.

You reached up, rubbing your temple, like talking to him was physically painful.

And hell, maybe it was.

After a beat, you finally turned to face him, arms crossing. Your eyes were sharp, guarded. But there was something else beneath it. Something raw.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

His chest ached at the way you said his name. Not like you used to—soft, familiar, like it meant something. Now it just sounded… tired.

“Job brought us here,” he said, keeping it simple.

You studied him, unconvinced. “And what? You thought, hey, let’s stop by and ruin her day while we’re at it?”

Dean huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, because that’s what I wanted. To see you look at me like I’m a damn ghost.”

You flinched. It was quick—so quick he almost missed it. But he didn’t.

And suddenly, the fight drained out of you. Your gaze dropped for the first time since this whole thing started, fingers tightening against your sleeves.

Dean’s throat worked.

He could push. Could try to get you to really talk, break down that wall you were building brick by brick.

But the way you looked right now? Like you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—

He couldn’t do it.

Not yet.

Instead, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town. But I think we’re gonna be crossing paths whether you like it or not.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t answer.

Dean nodded, stepping back. “Just… don’t pretend I was never here, alright?”

And with that, he walked away.

He didn’t see the way your jaw clenched, the way your fingers curled into fists like you were stopping yourself from reaching out—

Didn’t hear the breath you let out, shaky and uneven, as soon as he was gone.

You knew this wasn’t the end—couldn’t be. Deep down, you knew that your story with Dean Winchester was far from over. And you knew that the moment he decided to see you again, he would pull you close once more, weaving his way into your heart until you could never imagine leaving his side again.

Weeks passed.

Looking back, you weren’t sure when exactly everything shifted.

Maybe it was after Dean came back to the diner and made you listen while he told you the truth—even though at the time you were sure that the man you once loved was completely insane.

But maybe it was when you started helping with the case, and somewhat believing him—not because you wanted to be a hunter, but because you wanted to be with him.

Or maybe it was just inevitable. Like gravity pulling you back into his orbit, like you never really had a choice in the first place.

All you knew was that, suddenly, it felt like before—like sneaking out past curfew, like warm summer air and stolen kisses in the Impala, like every love song that made your chest ache.

Only now, you weren’t kids anymore.

And Dean Winchester had never been the kind of guy to love halfway.

Which was how you ended up here.

Sitting in a diner, trying to pretend like Dean’s hand wasn’t sliding up your thigh under the table.

Across from you, Sam exhaled sharply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin.

“Dude,” he gritted out, glaring at Dean. “Can you stop touching her for five seconds?”

Dean, the picture of innocence, took a sip of his coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sammy.”

Sam’s expression was pained.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, but when Dean leaned in—his lips brushing your ear when he definitely didn’t need to be that close—you swatted at his chest.

“Dean.”

“What?” He smirked, not even pretending to be sorry. “Just admiring my girl.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like I hate this.

But it only got worse from there.

Dean was relentless.

His hands were always on you—an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt, palm resting low on your back. He kissed your temple absentmindedly, whispered things that made you flush, smirked when he caught you looking at him like you still had a teenage crush on Dean Winchester.

Because you did.

You always had.

Later, at Bobby’s, the three of you sprawled in the living room—Dean practically wrapped around you on the couch, arms snug around your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

Sam was across the room, doing some research on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen as if sheer focus could block out the absolute nonsense happening beside him.

Dean, completely unbothered, nosed at your temple. “You cold?”

You weren’t.

At all.

But you hummed innocently, just to see what he’d do.

Dean, ever the problem, tugged you closer, his hands sliding beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

You shivered.

He felt it.

And he smirked.

“You’re shameless,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip to repress a smile.

Dean nipped at your jaw. “Yeah?” His lips brushed your ear, and God, you felt it everywhere.

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, meant just for you. “Wanna know somethin’?”

You swallowed. “What?”

Dean shifted, his mouth so close his breath fanned warm against your skin. “First time I saw you? When we were stupid teenagers?” His hands traced higher, fingers barely grazing the edge of your bra. “Damn near forgot how to breathe.”

Your stomach plummeted.

“Dean.”

“Mm?”

Your heart hammered, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Sam is right there.”

Dean pulled back just enough to glance at his brother—who was clearly tuning you out, laser-focused on not acknowledging this entire situation.

“If he has a problem, he can get up and leave.”

You swatted at his chest, biting back a laugh, but when you turned to face him, his expression shifted—no teasing, no smugness. Just him, looking at you like he was seeing you all over again.

His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up.

And just like that, you felt seventeen again.

God, what was it about him that made you feel like this?

That made you ache?

Dean’s lips parted, his gaze flickering down to your mouth.

Your breath caught.

He grinned—slow, lazy, devastating. “You gonna let me kiss you, sweetheart?”

You were sure your heartbeat was so loud.

Sam made a strangled noise in the background.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the couch. “Jesus Christ, Sammy, just leave the damn room.”

“I'm living here too,” Sam deadpanned, not directing his gaze towards you.

Dean huffed, shaking his head before turning back to you—his eyes darker now, filled with something deep and warm and completely unshakable.

You swallowed, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

This man knew what he wanted and, boy, he definitely got you.

But God, Dean Winchester was so much. And he had been from the start.

And you were so gone for him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: I should have posted this a long time ago lol, but it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted and I was a little unsure but I hope you liked it <3

taglist: @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

[skyrigel]

You're my home. You're my religion. And when you smile all heaven sparks with joy, my heart wants to crawl out of my ribs and be home with you.

[hemmingsleclerc]

It's Over┃max verstappen

summary: where they bellieve max cheated on kelly with a famous singer his age but instead of the fans reacting badly,they celebrate?

maxverstappen x fem!singer!reader

  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧ ༘✰ ༘ ˚ ˚ ༘ ‧₊˚𖧧  ִֶָ 𖥔 ﾟ˖ ⊹ › ‹ ᵎ 𖧧. ⊹ ˖ ♡.˚˳១୨୧

Max has always been in the public eye, both on and off the track. His relationship with Kelly Piquet, the Brazilian ''model'', had been the talk of the paddock for years. Their 9 year age difference has been the topic of conversation and criticism everywhere, but it didn't seem to bother Max… at least not until now.

It all started at an exclusive party after the Monaco GP. The drivers mixed with celebrities of all kinds: singers, actors, models, athletes, etc. Among the crowd was Y/N, a world-wide known singer, nine-time Grammy winner, selling out full stadiums and breaking record after record. Lewis had met her a few years earlier at the Met Gala and they had become close friends so it wasn't surprising to see him listening to her music before a race.

Max was also a fan of Y/N's music and their paths had vaguely crossed at some events. But that night was a little different. They were seen together several times, sharing laughs and whispers that seemed too intimate for only being friends. The paparazzi, always being everywhere, managed to take several photos that would make the Internet go crazy for the next days.

In one particular photo, Max and Y/N were seen standing close to each other, with their faces inches apart, lost in conversation. Another photo captured the moment in which Max caressed Y/N's cheeck with a smile. The final image, which would become the most commented image on twitter the next day, showed Max with his arm casually around Y/N's shoulders as they left the party together and then got into his car holding hands.

The next morning, social media was blowing up. #MaxAndY/N was trending worldwide on twitter. Fans of both Max and Y/N couldn't contain their confusion and excitement. The most popular question was: Had Max finally left Kelly? Was Y/N the new woman in his life? Or was she the other woman?

f1_gossip

Liked by 1,593,694 others

f1_gossip WHAT THE HELL?! This morning a celebrity gossip account published these photos of Max and singer and songwriter Y/N where they are seen very close together! Did we miss something? Since when did Max leave Kelly??

username It's about time Max found someone his own age!

username I never thought that my two worlds collided

username did he cheat???

username HE DID IT!

username Y/N WHAT?!?!?!? 😭😭

Meanwhile, Kelly had been noticeably absent from the party as she was in LA on one of her many trips, which only fueled the breakup rumors; her silence on the matter was interpreted as confirmation. Fans speculated that Max had grown tired of her constant traveling and her indifference to his, and also the factor of their age difference. They believed he had found solace in Y/N, who shared her young energy and passion for her life and career.

Y/N's fans, known for their loyalty, received Max in a good way. They filled their comments on social media with messages of support and excitement.

Days turned into weeks and neither Max nor Y/N addressed the rumors directly. Instead, they continued to be seen together at various events: dinners, concerts and even a charity gala where they were photographed holding hands.

f1_gossip

Liked by 837,583 others

f1_gossip we got new photos of max and yn at the party after the monaco gp! What do you think about this? An anonymous person close to Kelly apparently said the couple had broken up months ago! but they haven't confirmed it

username kelly deserves better!!!

username I really feel that we cannot nor should we give an opinion on the matter, we do not know what happened between Max and Kelly......

username they look so hot

max_updates

Liked by ynlnupdates, f1_gossip and 947,583 others

max_updates STOP THEY'RE LITERALLY SO CUTE! Max and Y/N a few weeks ago outside a restaurant with friends!

username Is nobody address the fact he cheated and she broke a relationship?

username pls max and kelly had been already over for months really, she was only with him for fame

username they look sooo damn good

username 🥹🥹

ynlnupdates

Liked by max_updates, and 986,743 others

ynlnupdates max and y/n tonight!

username he looks so happy 😭🫶🏻

username they are so good together 😍

username PARENTS!

username fucking weird

f1_gossip

liked by 937,492 others

f1_gossip Kelly posted this story a few minutes ago finally speaking about her and max!

username lol ''remain good friend'' girl, he unfollowed u a month ago

username she's really trying to make it seem like Max is still talking to her😭😭

username god heard my prayers 🙏🏻

username max literally just said they hat they had already broken up months ago, grow up

username exactly! he didn't cheated at all!

Finally, in an interview after a race, Max broke the silence.

f1_gossip

instagram

max_updates

liked by 1,492,495 others

max_updates In case you didn't already know, this is a yn ln,singer, songwriter and director, max's new gf, we really can't blame Max for falling for this beautiful and talented woman y'all.

username mommy?

username oh my god she's beautiful

username Oh-

username new wag alert!!!!

username I can't wait to see her on tha paddock

ynlnupdates

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ynlnupdates meet max verstappen, 3 times f1 world champion, redbull driver and boyfriend of our yn 🫶🏻

username OH HE'S HOT

username I can't wait to see him on a concert of her's

username❤️😭 I LITERALLY LOVE HIM AND NOW HE'S DATING YN!?!??!

ok I hope this is not messy, I literally finish writing this at 3 am yesterday😭

[livwritessometimes]

loml - Max Verstappen

: Max Verstappen x Singer!reader

: Max and Y/n’s relationship was legendary…but it also was momentary

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note - After every fic i feel like wow this is the longest fic i have ever written...ya this! is probably the longest fic i have ever written!!

…

(set in 2018)

Yourname added to their story!

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| maxverstappen1 replied to your story

-> 💙

*liked by Yourname*

maxverstappen1 added to their story!

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| Yourname replied to your story

-> P1 Lesgoooooo 🙌🏻

| User34 replied to your story

-> it’s so nice to see you get the recognition you deserve <3

*liked by maxverstappen1*

Y/n was standing near the Red Bull garage when she spotted Max returning for his interviews. Without a second thought, she launched herself into his arms.

“Ahhhhh, I’m so proud of you!!! I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” she smiled as she pulled away from him. “You have, but it’s okay. I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” Max said as he looked at her as if her eyes held all the stars in the sky.

Max was aware that by now they would have cameras on them; the Red Bull team loved to capture any interaction between the couple. Ignoring all of that, Max pulled her close and kissed her.

For Y/n, all of this was very new; her last relationship hadn't been this public. The privacy of it all was something that was exciting at first, but after a while, it felt suffocating. When she met Max, she felt aglow like she had never felt before. It was only a matter of time before she knew that Max was the one for her.

And it wasn't easy; they were both slowly gaining more recognition, and people were ready to pick them apart. But as she watched Max celebrate his first Grand Prix win of the season in Austria, all the struggles felt worth the effort.

maxverstappen1 added to their story!

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"I have a story to tell you regarding the last song of the night," said Y/n as the crowd erupted in cheers. She smiled brightly before continuing, "A few years ago, I did not believe in love, not in the way I do now. Have you guys ever met someone who feels so right that all you want is to be close to him forever and ever?"

"Being with them feels like breathing, like something you've done your whole life. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Lover," Y/n said as she made eye contact with Max. Slowly, the intro starts playing, but all Max could look at was Y/n, in all her element, looking back at him.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Max would have died a happy man. Lost in their little universe, the two failed to notice all the fans that captured this beautiful moment between the couple. Racing can take up a lot of Max's time, and he's not proud of the fact that a lot of times it comes at the stake of their relationship. But right here, right now, all he could focus on was Y/n.

Yourname added to their story!

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| maxverstappen1 replied to your story

-> 💕

Yourname: I'm so happy that you were able to make it!! thank you so much for coming, it means a lot to me Max <3

-> Ofc Liefde, I had some time off thought I'd drop by

| User55 replied to your story

-> it is so nice to see Max at your concert!!! your entire face lit up when you saw him, i hope you guys stay like this forever ✨

*liked by Yourname*

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👤: maxverstappen1

Yourname: So proud of how far we’ve come, Maxiee!!! From being just a bunch of kids who wanted to make a name for themselves and achieve their goals to finally living their dream life, I couldn’t have done it without you by my side 💖

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maxverstappen1: Couldn't have done it without you as well Schat 💙

*liked by Yourname*

bffname: Cuties!!! Can't wait to meet you guys <3

*liked by Yourname, maxverstappen1*

The entire party, all Y/n could do was check her phone. She felt guilty; it was bffname's day, and it was supposed to be special, yet here she was feeling sad for herself. From the corner of her eye, bffname could see Y/n in the corner of the room, nursing her 4th drink of the night.

"You can leave, you know. I won't feel bad," said bffname. Y/n looked up from her phone immediately, as if she were caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "No, no, it's not like that. I want to be here; it's your 23rd birthday; I wouldn't miss it for the world," said Y/n. "You know you can fool anyone you want, but you can never fool me. I know you like the back of my hand," said bffname. "If you want to go to Max, it's okay; you being able to make it was more than enough."

Y/n felt her eyes tearing up a little; even after being a horrible friend, bffname was still understanding. "I'm so sorry; I have been a shitty friend, and yet you are here checking on me rather than celebrating," Y/n said as she finally felt a few droplets stream down her face.

"See, I know that you and Max haven't been in the best place, but it's okay. I know it's scary; you have been with him for so long that even the idea of losing him is scary," bffname said as she wiped a few tears off of Y/n's face. "Just don't lose yourself while trying to save your relationship."

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👤: maxverstappen1, Yourname

F1gossip: Red Bull driver Max Verstappen and singer/songwriter Y/n L/n were seen fighting outside by some of the paps. It was noticed that Verstappen had come to pick up L/n from a party (Bffname Bfflastname's birthday celebration). The two were seen arguing, and it is even believed that L/n was under the influence of alcohol. Verstappen was seen comforting L/n, but much to his attempts, L/n was not budging. Later on, Verstappen was seen shouting at L/n. It ended with Verstappen getting in the car and storming off, leaving a teary-eyed L/n behind. It is believed that the couple might have called it quits after dating for 2 years. This news has not been confirmed by either Verstappen or L/n. Check out our website for more updates on the Verstappen-L/n fight.

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User75: Nooo whyyyy???? they were so happy tho...

-> User09: ikrrr bffname had commented on yourname's post too! She was so excited to meet them. What happened?

User20: I'm not believing any of this until I see either of them confirm the breakup. They are happily dating, and this never happened ^^

-> User11: @/User20 check twt

(set in 2019)

liked by User32 and 51,329 others

👤: maxverstappen1, Yourname

F1gossip: 6 months after their breakup, Max Verstappen and Y/n L/n were spotted together in Miami. The two seemed to be having a good time at the beach under the warm Miami sun. A close source to Verstappen reveals that the two have been seeing each other for a few months now. This is the first time the pair were spotted together after their public breakup. Both Verstappen and L/n have been doing well in their career paths ever since their breakup. Verstappen has won 2 Grand Prix so far and has seen a massive improvement in this performance as compared to last year, whereas L/n has recently released her 3rd studio album, with all the songs making it into the Billboard Hot 100. Only time will tell whether the two are in it for the long run or whether they call it quits again.

view all 43,894 comments

User02: I'M NO LONGER A CHILD OF DIVORCE 🙌🏻

-> User59: I just hope they make it work this time!!!

User76: Not to be like that, but this will either give us the best love song of the summer or the most gut-wrenching song ever to exist

Y/n smiled as she put her phone down and looked back at Max. Both of them had decided to take a quick trip to Miami. "Do you think we'll have kids?" Max asked so nonchalantly that Y/n had to ask again to make sure she heard him right, "What?" "Do you think we'll have kids later on in life?" Max repeated. "I think I would like to have a girl," Max continued as he looked out at the sea. Amused, Y/n asked, "Oh, really? and why is that?" "I feel like a girl is easy to manage; you know, there are less chances that she'll end up like me," Max said before adding, "Plus, she'll look like you, so you know she is gonna have everyone wrapped around her little finger."

Max looked back at Y/n with a cheeky smile to see her already looking back at him with a look that conveyed nothing but pure love. "I think you'd be a great dad; even if we have a son, and if he becomes even half the man you are, then we did a great job raising him," Y/n said as she ran her hands through Max's hair. "I've not had the best example growing up; I mean, I know my dad wasn't the best, but had he not made all the sacrifices he did back then, I would not have been here. 'Max Verstappen, Star of Red Bull' I would have been a loser," Max said as he closed his eyes, soaking in his surroundings. It felt nice, peaceful even, being away from everything.

"A loser who I'd still love," Y/n said as she pulled Max closer. "Even if you do not have anything with you, you will always have me," she added. "Oh, don't you worry about that; I plan on keeping you by my side forever," Max said. "You just wait till I put a ring on that finger; after that, you can't leave me, even if you wanted to," he added. "I wouldn't dream of it," Y/n said before getting up and running towards the water. Their laughter filled the air as Max got up and chased after her, pulling her into the water with him.

Yourname added to their story!

(Cat's out of the bag I guess 🤭)

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| maxverstappen1 replied to your story

-> 💙

*liked by Yourname*

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| maxverstappen1 replied to your story

-> 💪🏻💪🏻

*liked by redbullracing*

Max should be happy; he should feel all the joy in the world; he finished 3rd in the standings after all, yet the smile did not reach his eyes. He looked around the party thrown to celebrate his and the team's victory and saw Y/n talking to one of the engineers. Max couldn't help but let the bittersweet thought take over his mind. He hated himself for thinking these things, but ever since he got back with Y/n, his season hasn't been goin- "She seems nice, Y/n, I mean," breaking his chain of thoughts, Max looked at his father. "Huh, oh ya," said Max as he took a sip of his drink.

"But she's not right for you; before you got back with her, everything was going in your favor, and look at you now; you're 3rd on the list. You can do better, Max," said Jos as he went to talk to other people at the party. Max hated his father for being critical about his relationship, but he hated himself more because he himself had thought about this.

So one cancelled date becomes two, and before Max knew it, he was constantly blowing off Y/n. In fact, if he comes to think of it, this is probably the first time the two have been out together in a month. So lost in his thought, Max did not notice a sad Y/n slipping from the party.

liked by User90 and 63,493 others

👤: Yourname, maxverstappen1

F1gossip: Is it finally over between Verstappen and L/n? Y/n L/n was seen leaving the Red Bull celebration a little early. The singer seemed to be upset as she left the building. One of the workers at the party informed us that the two did not spend much time together. Verstappen and L/n, who have not been spotted out in public in a month, were seen entering the party together a few hours ago, and that was the last of it. We got information from a close source to the couple that things have been rocky between the two. According to the source, Verstappen considers his relationship with L/n a distraction, which led to him not performing to the best of his abilities after the summer break. Verstappen has only won one Grand Prix ever since L/n confirmed that the two were back together via an Instagram Story. It seems like it is finally time to bury the hatchet in the Verstappen-L/n love story.

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User23: Honestly their constant on and off is annoying at this point, like make up your mind already ffs

User99: I mean, it's not like Max is wrong...ever since they got back together, he hasn't been doing his best, and that is pretty evident

(set in 2020)

Y/n knew that this was wrong. She knows that she can't keep running back to Max after he shows up, making the same promises again and again. At this point, Y/n can probably narrate it in her sleep: "I promise I'll change," "We are meant to be," "You're the love of my life; I can't lose you." Yet she believed him every single time. How could she not? They have been through so much together. How could she let go of all this history because things have been rocky between them?

Lost in her trail of thoughts, Y/n did not realize that she had reached the venue. It was when she felt her side of the door open that she looked up to find a dazzling Max looking back at her. He was glowing; having just won the 70th anniversary GP, Max looked like he would burst from happiness. Y/n couldn't help but match his smile.

They both slowly made their way through the red carpet, posing for pictures. As they reached the entrance, she felt Max fidgeting. "What's wrong?" she asked as she reached for his hand. Max laced his finger with her before saying, "Nothing; it's just that this is my first win of the season. I thought that this year would have been my year, but would you look at how it all turned out to be?" Y/n nodded at Max to continue, "I never thought I would spend so much time at home because of the pandemic, and I never thought that all that time alone would make me realize how much I have missed you," Max said before looking at Y/n. "Every second without you feels like I'm suffocating; you're like a breath of fresh air. Every time I look at you, I feel like all the stars in the sky are nothing compared to you," said Max as he caressed Y/n's cheek.

Y/n didn't know how to describe this feeling. Standing in front of her was a boy she had known for a long time, a boy who always wanted to prove his worth to his father, a boy who sacrificed so much to achieve his dreams, a boy who was simply madly in love with her.

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👤: maxverstappen1

Yourname: ...and at every table, I'll save you a seat 💙

view all 89,097 comments

maxverstappen1: I love you

-> Yourname: I love you too Max

User77: Y/n I love you sweetheart, but noooo why are you back with Max

-> User62: shut up! you're just jealous of what they have

-> User77: tf no, I am concerned about her! Every time they get back together, I feel like Y/n looks less and less happy

-> User22: can we stop all of this and just appreciate how hot they both look 🔥

liked by User71 and 72,391 others

👤: maxverstappen1, redbullracing

F1: Max Verstappen out of the Sakhir Grand Prix on lap 1. Trying to avoid Sergio Perez, who was hit by Charles Leclerc at turn 4, Verstappen ended up on the gravel, crashing into the tire barrier. This is the 4th time this season Verstappen has not been able to finish a race. With one race left, Verstappen's chances of winning the world championship seem a little out of reach at the moment. We can only hope for the best for the Dutchman.

view all 68,523 comments

User71: Then you guys say that him getting back with Y/n has nothing to do with his performance!!

-> User04: Shut up that has got nothing to do with Y/n

-> User71: whatever you say 🤷🏻‍♀️ the evidence is right there but okay ignorance is bliss i guess

liked by User22 and 90,272 others

👤: Yourname, maxverstappen1

F1gossip: All's well that ends well, but not for Y/n L/n. It seems like Max Verstappen has finally ended things for good between the both of them. This news comes after L/n was seen leaving their shared apartment with boxes of her belongings. The two have also since unfollowed each other on Instagram. Although many members of the Red Bull team, including team principal Christian Horner and wife Geri Halliwell, still continue to follow the singer, it is safe to say that their ship has officially sailed. Check out our website to see their entire relationship timeline.

view all 84,320comments

User22: Not the admin using lyrics from Lover

-> User48: I was thinking the same thing, like, "All's well that ends well to end up with you" i- 😀

User01: FINALLYYY I'm telling you all next year is gonna be Max's year!! I CAN FEEL IT!!!!

(set in 2021)

liked by maxverstappen1 and 892,620 others

👤: maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

redbullracing: OUR CHAMPION!!! LET'S GO MAX 🦁🏆

view all 231,494 comments

User01: I TOLD YOU ALL IT WAS GONNA BE MAX'S YEAR!!! HE FINALLY WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP 🏆🏆

*liked by redbullracing*

User11: I'm really happy for Max, but did he just confirm his relationship with Kelly Piquet!!! who, may I add, has a CHILD!!!!!!!

-> User67: Ikrrrrr like I'm sorry, but he was with Y/n for such a long time, and now he has a new girl and a child in his life??? This was supposed to be him and Y/n!!!!

liked by User88 and 89,638 others

👤: Yourname, maxverstappen1

F1gossip: Y/n L/n was spotted outside for the first time since the news of Max Verstappen dating Brazilian model Kelly Piquet came out. L/n was seen sitting alone in a park, drinking beer. It is believed that this park was one that Verstappen and L/n used to visit a lot with Verstappen's cats. Many bystanders have said that the singer looked lost in her thoughts as she continued sipping her drink. It seems that everyone had believed the two would be back together by the end of the season when pictures of Verstappen with a mysterious woman surfaced, but much to everyone's surprise, the woman in the pictures is now believed to be Piquet. I guess we can say with certainty that Verstappen-L/n has officially come to an end.

view all 68,938 comments

User03: Why are you so obsessed with Y/n? it's so annoying. They broke up; let her be!!

User56: Ofc she's salty now that Max has a good woman by his side. She'll just do about anything to get his attention, wouldn't she?

liked by bffname and 165,872 others

Yourname: I had taken some time off from everything - my music, my fans, my friends, even my family. I was at a place where I felt something I had never felt before. People tell you that there will come a time in everyone's life where you will feel absolutely lost, like you don't know what to do with your life now, and it is very easy to say that with time you'll get through it and find your way again. What everyone fails to mention is how lonely this time will feel. You have people who love you and want the best for you, yet you can't seem to get out of this hole you have dug up for yourself. Taking a break and going back to where I started my journey made me realize why I do what I do. I have never needed songwriting more than I did during this period of time. As I write this, I finally realize that this chapter of my life is over. I have no wounds that I need to heal, no bridges that I want to burn. As of today, I set this song free. It was mine once, and it's yours now. loml out at midnight.

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User55: Y/n wtffffff I was not prepared for this!!!!! Girl it's 2 PM YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THIS AND EXPECT ME TO BE FINE!!

bffname: I am so proud of you!!! words can't sum up how much I adore the person you have become 💕

*liked by Yourname*

User91: waitttt is this about her situation with Max???

-> User40: I mean must be! who else would she be referring to as love of my life??

-> User91: true

liked by bffname and 201,826 others

Yourname: I would like to thank all of my fans for the immense support they have shown me. Your kind words mean the world to me. Thank you for always accepting me the way I am and sticking with me, for better and for worse. I had the time of my life playing for you guys. I can't wait for more shows in the future ����

view all 121,455 comments

User32: I still can't get over loml!!! what do you mean by "A con-man sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme"

-> User13: Are we gonna ignore "What we thought was for all time was momentary"!!!!!!!! I feel like someone stabbed me in my gallbladder and then poured detergent over it 🫨

User40: What do you mean by loml - love loss of my life 💔

User28: "Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire. Your arson's match, your somber eyes And I'll still see it until I die" that is because that dream is dead now :(

-> User13: They talked about having kids one day!!! and now he gets to live that life with someone else 🥲

-> User66: Y/n I hate the fact that you had to go through this. My ex passed away before we could start a life together. It sucks when you plan your entire future with someone and then they're just not there. And now it's just you, alone, in the house of your dreams that you both built for yourselves. I wish you all the strength and happiness that there is in this world!! 🤍

[uniquexusposts]

Neighbours again (C. Leclerc's Version)

Summary: After 10 years of not seeing each other, Charles randomly spotted his old neighbour on the stage of a world famous artist. He was lost for words and actions. But what would he do when he had the opportunity to see her again?

Attending a Taylor Swift concert was certainly something you had to approach at your own risk. The roaring engines of F1 cars were nothing compared to the cheers, no, the roars, of the crowd when Taylor Swift began her next song. The bright stage lights cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the arena.

Charles Leclerc stood slightly behind his friends, glancing around at the thousands of fans singing along, their phones lighting up the darkness like a sea of stars.

He wasn’t the biggest Taylor Swift fan; this was Pierre’s idea, not his. In fact, he had been dragged along by his friend, the others, and their partners. Charles had begrudgingly accepted, though he couldn’t help but feel like the odd one out, being the only single person in the group. Still, he had to admit, the energy was infectious. He found himself nodding along to the beat, betraying himself now and then by mumbling along to lyrics he hadn’t realised he knew.

“See? This is better than you thought,” Pierre said, nudging him with a grin.

Charles smirked. “Yeah, yeah. She’s good.”

He was about to tease Pierre for being such a diehard fan when the massive screen above the stage flashed to life, displaying a montage of the dancers backing Taylor Swift. His breath caught in his chest, the world narrowing to a single point.

It was her.

Y/n.

She moved with effortless grace, every spin and leap perfectly timed. Her focus, her power, her radiant smile; it was mesmerising. Even with just a fleeting image on the screen, she commanded attention.

Charles straightened his back, his heart pounding faster and faster. “Wait-” he started, standing on his toes to get a better look, but the camera shifted back to Taylor before he could fully process what he had just seen.

“What?” Pierre asked, noticing Charles’s sudden shift.

“That girl,” Charles said, his voice barely audible over the music. “On the screen. One of the dancers.”

Pierre frowned. “What about her?”

Charles shook his head, his gaze fixed on the stage as if willing the camera to return to her. “I think I know her. No, I do know her.”

For the rest of the concert, Charles couldn’t take his eyes off the dancers. Every time the camera panned over them, he searched for her, a mixture of disbelief and awe bubbling in his chest. Y/n wasn’t just there, she was there. A professional dancer, touring the world.

His admiration grew with every glimpse. She wasn’t just part of the show; she owned it, moving like the music was alive in her veins. This wasn’t just any stage; it was Taylor Swift’s stage. Y/n had made it to the top, and she looked so confident, so alive.

By the time the concert ended, Charles was still staring at the stage, hoping for one last glimpse of her. The others around him were gathering their things, but he stayed rooted in place.

“You good?” Pierre asked, nudging him lightly. “Blown away by a dancer?”

“Yeah,” Charles admitted quickly, though his mind was racing. Over a decade had passed since he had seen her. Back then, she was his bright-eyed, talented neighbour, and now she was here, living this incredible life.

But as they made their way out of the arena, a wave of disappointment hit him. He had no way to contact her. Their families had lost touch years ago, and they were practically strangers now. He couldn’t even remember her last name to look her up on social media.

♡

Charles slowed to a jog as he approached his apartment complex, the crisp evening air cooling his flushed skin. Monaco had settled into its quiet twilight, the golden hues of sunset fading to soft lavender. His muscles ached pleasantly from the day’s effort, and he was looking forward to an uneventful evening.

As he neared the glass doors of the lobby, he noticed someone outside, struggling with crutches. One hand awkwardly pushed against the doorframe while the other juggled a paper bag that seemed on the verge of giving out.

Frowning, he quickened his pace. The figure, slightly hunched in concentration, muttered something under her breath.

“Let me get that for you,” he said, easily pulling the door open.

The woman looked up, her startled expression softening into gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, a little breathless.

A polite smile grew on his lips. His eyes fell on her face; the woman wouldn’t look at him. Her cheeks were flushed. She was probably embarrassed. The woman moved slightly, exposing her face more. Charles’ face straightened, he froze, his heart skipped a beat. 

Y/n. 

“Thank you so much,” the woman said again. “I don’t know how to live with this. These crutches are horrible,” she mumbled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining.” 

Charles didn’t know what to say, not even if this wasn’t Y/n. What would someone reply to this? His heart skipped a beat when Y/n’s gaze met his. 

Her forced smile quickly turned into her signature smile. “Charles,” she smiled. 

“It’s you,” he murmured, unable to mask the surprise in his voice.

Y/n’s gaze met his, and after a flicker of hesitation, her lips curved into her signature smile; the one he thought he had forgotten but realised now he hadn’t.

“It’s me,” she said warmly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Charles.”

For a moment, the years that had passed seemed to dissolve. The noise of the city faded, leaving only the two of them standing there as if time had bent in on itself.

He cleared his throat, stepping aside to let her through. “What happened?” he asked, gesturing to the crutches and the brace on her knee.

Y/n adjusted her grip on the crutches, her expression slipping into something practiced and calm. “A bad knee, an old injury, and an accident,” she explained, her voice steady despite the exhaustion creeping in. “Surgery was a few weeks ago. Recovery’s been… slow.” She tried to smile but faltered.

His brow furrowed, the concern in his dark eyes deepening. “An accident?”

She nodded, glancing briefly at the ground. “Just bad luck. I’m managing, though.” Her tone was light, but there was a brittleness to it that didn’t escape him. “I’ll get there. Eventually.”

Charles hesitated. He wanted to ask more, but the vulnerability in her voice stopped him. Instead, he said quietly, “If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders eased. “Thanks, Charles,” she said gently. “That means a lot.”

He hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say next. There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so many things he wanted to know about her life, about the accident, her world. And yet, the words felt tangled, caught in the whirlwind of emotions that seeing her again had stirred. It felt strange, standing here like this; two people who once knew each other so well, now trying to navigate the weight of everything unspoken.

“You haven’t changed much,” Y/n said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile. “Still holding doors open for people, like the gentleman you’ve always been.”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension between them. “And you’re still finding ways to make the best of everything,” he replied.

She grinned, shifting her crutches slightly. “Someone has to.”

Charles glanced at the bag she was holding, noticing how the straps were barely holding together. “Let me take that for you,” he offered, reaching out.

“Oh,” she started, momentarily reluctant, before handing it over. “Thanks. That thing’s been threatening to fall apart since I left the store. I should have brought a backpack or something.”

“No problem,” he said, falling into step beside her as they made their way toward the elevator. He couldn’t help but notice how her pace was slower, measured, as if every step was a calculated effort.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“Just a couple of weeks,” she replied. “I’m staying with Jeanne while I recover. She’s been… very accommodating. Begrudgingly so.”

Charles smiled at that. “Jeanne? She moved back?”

“Yeah, work brought her here. And now she’s stuck taking care of me.” Y/n smirked. “Not her favourite role, but she’s been good about it. She won’t admit it, of course, but I think she secretly doesn’t mind.”

He chuckled. “She always had a soft spot for you. Even if she’ll never admit it.”

As they reached the elevator, Y/n pressed the button, leaning slightly on her crutches for support. “I didn’t realise you live here,” she said, glancing at him.

“I’ve been here a while now,” he said, his tone easy. “Apartment 32.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Above us, then. Never imagined we would be neighbours again.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Life has a strange way of working out, doesn’t it?”

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a smirk. “Strange, or just a cosmic joke.”

The elevator doors slid open, and he let her step in first before following. The quiet hum of the elevator filled the space, but the air between them felt alive, charged with something unspoken.

“Do you need help with anything else?” he asked as the elevator reached her floor.

“No, you’ve done plenty already,” she said with a soft smile. “Thank you, Charles. Really.”

He helped her carry the bag to her door, lingering for just a second longer than necessary as she unlocked it.

“Well,” Y/n said, her tone light, “it’s nice to know I have a good neighbour upstairs.”

He grinned. “And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her voice warm. “Though I should warn you, Jeanne might take advantage of that offer.”

He chuckled, stepping back. “I’ll be prepared. Take care, Y/n.”

“You too, Charles,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on him for a moment before the door clicked shut.

As he walked back to the elevator, Charles couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. Seeing her again had stirred something deep within him, a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name.

Back in the elevator, he leaned against the mirrored wall, a small smile playing on his lips. “Neighbours again,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Life really did have a strange sense of humour.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[eraenaa]

Imgonnagetyouback

Inspired by the song "Imgonnagetyouback" by Taylor Swift

Rafe Cameron x Reader Tag List

Summary: The plan is clear. Get Rafe back after your breakup. 

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy, ¡Kinda Biased Towards the Reader!, ¿Kinda Toxic Relationship?, Violence, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 3,826

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks since Rafe broke up with you, and only now did you begin to spiral. It was not as if it was your first breakup with him; you would admit you two had a handful of breakups during the duration of your relationship, especially when you consider that you two had been dating since middle school. But this instance was different; this was the first time that Rafe was the one to initiate the breakup. Before, it was always you who called it quits, and he would come to you on his knees, begging you to take him back. However, now, he was the one to leave, and a fortnight had already passed, and no word was heard from him, leading you to become inwardly frantic. 

“So this one’s official now, huh?” Sarah asked as you filed your nails, staring harshly at your phone, willing it to light up with a notification from your best friend’s brother. “The audacity he has to do this to me! Did I tell you how he broke up with me?” You asked, and Sarah said no, even though you had ranted to her the story at least twice. “We were just sitting here, watching a movie— we had not fought for at least a month, and then he just said, ‘Let’s break up,’ and fucking got up and left!” You groaned, remembering how you stayed up later that night waiting for Rafe because you did not believe his words and the ludicrous way he ended your relationship. “I hate him! I should smash up his bike to teach him a lesson. He’s so fucking immature!” You groaned and heard Sarah sigh, “I’ve told you that years before and hundreds of times after, but you just ignored my warnings.” You groaned once more and tightly shut your eyes. You feel Sarah go to where you sat, “What are you gonna do now?” She asked and you took in a deep breath. “I’m gonna get him back.” You stated, and from the side of your eye, you saw her expression grow confused. “What?”

“I’m gonna get him back,” You declared once more. “I’m gonna get him back then be the one to break up with him— a real break up this time. Like, totally over.” You say but that did not aid Sarah’s confusion. “He does not get to be the one with the final say. He does not get to be the one to end all of this.” You say. “No offense, Sarah, but I’m going to crush your brother’s heart.” You turn to her and watch her lips twitch. “Do you need help?” She asked, and that earned a genuine laugh from you after weeks of being stoic as you did not know if you should mourn your relationship or wait for Rafe to be standing with flowers at the other side of your door. “I’m gonna get him back so bad.” You say once more as your mind was already thinking of the ways to take your revenge. 

You played in the tennis court with Sarah, her already luring in Topper, and with Topper came your now ex, Rafe. They just came from a round of god, and you try your best not to grow distracted by his presence, you willed your stubborn heart not to admit that it had missed him. You bounced the tennis ball, waiting for Sarah to finish her conversation with Topper. You smirked to yourself as you felt eyes on your ass. Specifically wearing Rafe’s favorite tennis skirt of yours. Your mind conjured the memory of him almost drooling as he watched you step out of the fitting room, fashioning the tight, lilac skirt. Just like a moth to a flame, Rafe threaded towards your direction. 

“Hey,” He greeted; in his hand was a can of cold beer, and you urged your gaze not to be entranced by the veins on his rather attractive hand. There was just something about how he gripped things. “Hi,” you say, tilting your gaze upward and squinting your eyes as the sun is beaming down harshly. “How are you?” He asked, his voice holding an edge of tension and awkwardness. “Pretty good, we’re three, love,” You say and watch as his lips part as you intentionally use the nickname you used to call him in a phrasing that was completely ambiguous. It was exactly why you asked Sarah to lure them here to the tennis court, knowing it was the only appropriate setting where you could execute at least three parts of your plan to get him back. “Love?” He asked, his voice lower, and you nodded. “Yeah, love. Zero,” You say, your demeanor relaxed as if you were not at all affected that he ended your six-year relationship. 

You watch him wet his lips and take a chug of his beer. “About the uh… the— our break up,” He stuttered, and you gazed top at him innocently, “What about it?” You asked and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, your eyes catching the way the ball on his throat bobbed, his lips parting, and you could practically see his mind trying to form his words to address the situation. “That’s it?” He asked after a while, and you bit your lip, knowing he loved it when you did that action, convincing him that you, too, were trying to think of a response even though you already knew how the scene would play out. “Yeah, I suppose. I mean, ours was a middle-school romance; it has run its course.” You said and watch intently as how hurt flashes in his eyes before quickly covering it with cool detachment. “Why? Did you think this would end up in like a marriage or something?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, noting how Rafe’s jaw clenched. 

Every word you uttered was like a bullet into Rafe’s chest. He must admit he broke up with you for no particular reason other than just being petty. The sudden breakup was just a result of his pride being wounded. Topper and Kelce had reminded him of the times you broke up with him and him being quick to go down on his knees and beg for you back. His ego could just not stomach the way they called him a ‘simp’ and ‘fucking whipped’ that he made a rash and ill-thought judgment. He was waiting for you to contact him, a call, a text, even a fucking smoke signal, just anything as long as you did the first move first. But two weeks had flown by, and not a word came from you. Now, to hear you say that you’ve expected your relationship to end— that you were practically just counting the days before its demise presented Rafe with sorrow, regret, and, greatest of all, rage.  

“Did you think this would end up in like a marriage or something?” The sentence echoed through Rafe’s mind. What the fuck did you mean by that? He remembered all too well the times you gushed about your futures. About how your wedding ceremonies would play out. What dress you’d wear. Where your honeymoon would be. The number of kids you two would have. The house you two will live in. Every specific detail of your future was thought of and was embedded in his mind, and now here you go, disregarding all of those sacred plans. 

“Rafe?” You called as he stood before you unmovingly, but you could feel him seething internally. You stepped closer and placed your hand on his arm to get his attention. You bit your cheeks as you feel his skin grow riddled with gooseflesh, a reaction that only you could elicit from him. You stared into his eyes, intense blue orbs that were starting to think twice about his decision. “Hey asshole, get out of the court, we’re trynna play!” You hear Sarah scream from a distance, and you step back and steal away your touch from him but not your eyes, as you wanted him to get the message that there was no apprehension or sadness in you about his decision to end things. Rafe stomped over to the side, standing next to Topper, him obviously agitated and tense. You turned to Sarah, and a knowing smirk appeared on both of your lips as the laid-out plans were going well. You were so gonna get him back. 

After your round of tennis at the club, the group decided to go back to Tanneyhill. You made yourself comfortable at the estate that was practically a second home to you. “Hey, Wheez,” You greeted as you went to the kitchens to grab a bottle of water. “Oh, you’re back!” She cried, and you laughed as you were enveloped in a hug by Rafe and Sarah’s sister, who was practically yours, too. “I heard about the breakup,” she whispered as she parted, but her hushed voice was moot as her older brother still heard her words. You were not quite sure what to say, but luckily, Wheezie spoke once more. “I mean, it’s not like it was unexpected, but still! I can’t believe you ended it; you were supposed to be my sister!” She exclaimed, devastated. 

“She didn’t end it,” Sarah came, and you watched as Wheezie abruptly turned to her brother, who stood next to Topper, who was hindering from laughing. “You idiot! You let her go?!” She exclaimed at Rafe, and you just stood there as Wheezie expressed her disbelief at her brother. “Shouldn’t you be out playing,” Rafe gritted as Wheezie’s reaction was only solidifying his regret. You bit your lip and perched yourself atop the counter as you watched the three Cameron siblings argue, Rafe trying to be rid of Wheezie and Sarah coming to their little sister’s defense. You turn to Topper, the two of you being a constant audience of this little family affair. 

In the end, Rafe, who was urging Wheezie to be the one to leave, was the one who stomped away. “Well, that went better than expected,” Sarah said. The three of you girls were left alone in the kitchen as Topper followed out his friend. “Still can’t believe that he was the one to break it off,” Wheezie said. You simply shrugged, “That’s why I’m trying to get him back,” You say. “So I can be the one to really end it.” 

“Wait, so, if you two aren’t dating anymore, who are you going to take to Midsummers?” Wheezie asked. And you feel your lips part as that did not even cross your mind. You and Rafe had always gone to Midsummers together. The event connected to many memories and many firsts for the two of you. “I guess no one,” You say. “But what if he takes someone else?” Wheezie asked, and you turned to Sarah. “We need to find you a date,” She quickly said, and you nodded. “Wait— but aren’t you trying to get him back to get back at him? If you bring a date, wouldn’t that like piss Rafe off more?” Wheezie asked as you three headed towards Sarah’s bedroom. “Exactly. Haven’t you noticed Rafe likes things better when he can’t have them?” Sarah asked, and you nodded along, recalling the times Rafe’s determination to acquire things that were dangled before him but were just beyond reach. 

“So, who would you take to Midsummers?” Sarah asked, “That’s an easy enough problem to solve; what I need now is something to wear for the party later,” You say and watch Wheezie and Sarah frown. “You’re going to that? You hate house parties.” Sarah frowned. “I do. But Rafe is going and it’s important for him to see that this whole ordeal is not at all affecting me,” You explained. “What? You’re going to flirt with other boys?” Wheez asked, and you smirked, “Duh,” 

 Rafe watched steely eyes as you sauntered into the room, taking the drink some dude handed to you and flashing him with a smile that had always been meant for Rafe. His fist clenched around his cup, effectively crushing the red solo cup as he watched you entertain the guys he had always kept a distance from you. His heart throbbing in his chest and his rage consuming him as you let one of them lead you towards the dance floor. Letting him stand behind you and let your bodies be flushed— letting him take Rafe’s place. 

You gritted your teeth as Rafe made no move. He only stayed on his spot by the side with some girl from your school who had always been over him since he was in the third grade and you were in the second. But even then, even though you two were just children, you two had always been drawn to each other. You huffed as you felt the vile feeling rising in you as a random dude kept dancing against you, and Rafe made no move— at this point in time, you miss his violent jealousy that you used to frown upon. 

You feel your heart still as your eyes locked with his. The silent language between you had gone mute and was now forgotten. Your heart clenched as he did nothing, only turned away from you and draped his arm around the shoulders of another girl. You staggered back as his actions stunned you and stung your heart. “Wanna get out of here?” The guy behind you dipped down and whispered in your ear, tugging at your hand. Your lips parted as you looked between him and Rafe, you waited a moment, willing him to turn around, but he didn’t. Is it really over now? You swallowed thickly and squared your shoulders, turning to the guy you were dancing with. “Yeah, sure,” You say meekly, and he grinned, pulling you away from the crowd and towards the bonfire lit by the shore. 

Rafe felt appalled to have his arms around another girl, but he had these theatrics to get you back. He turned back his gaze to the dance floor, searching for your gaze and making sure that the guy you danced with did not step a foot beyond bounds. Rafe felt his heart fall out of his chest as he realized you were gone. He quickly removed his arm from the random girl beside him and searched for you. “Sarah, where is she? Did she go home? Tell me she went home alone.” Rafe asked as he saw Sarah with her boyfriend. “Who?” She asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t fucking play with me, where’s my fucking girlfriend?!” Rafe seethed, eyes franticly searching for you. “You don’t have a girlfriend, Rafe. You broke up with her, remember?” Sarah asked, enjoying the panic in her brother. Topper laughed beside her, and Rafe shook his head. “Fuck you two, you really do deserve each other,” Rafe gritted and headed towards the beach. 

Rafe thought he had already uncovered every level of anger within him, but he was wrong. Nothing would compare to the rage he felt when he saw the guy you were dancing with holding you by your arms, trying to keep you still as you pushed him away as he tried to kiss your lips that were meant for Rafe. “Get the fuck away from her!” Rafe charged toward the guy and landed his fist on the guy’s jaw. Your eyes widened as Rafe suddenly appeared. You just stood there in shock, watching Rafe let out his rage on a guy who finally deserved it. It took a moment before your mind registered the severity of what was now happening; a crowd appeared and circled as Rafe and the guy fought. None even made a move to hinder them. You looked around and saw Kelce and Topper by your right, urging them to get Rafe, who was not at all phased by the crows that suddenly appeared. “You fucking force yourself on her! Fucking cunt!” Rafe screamed as his punches never missed his target. He was not at all tired of beating the guy who dared touch you, his mind not registering anything around him except the rage he felt. 

You feel your heart drop as the distinct sound of a siren sounded out, the crowd that had gathered quickly dissolving, but the presence of authority did nothing to sedate and calm Rafe. He was relentless in punching the guy even though he was already on the brink of unconsciousness. “That’s enough! Go home!” The sheriff screamed, and two other officers pulled Rafe away from the bloodied and bruised body of the guy. “This was not supposed to happen,” You whisper to Sarah as they push Rafe against the cop car and handcuff his wrists. You found yourself being dropped off at the station to post bail and explain to the sheriff what had happened. “He was just defending me; that guy was forcing himself on me, and luckily, Rafe was there to stop him.” You explained and turned your gaze to Rafe, who was in holding, staring blankly at the wall, his jaw and fists still harshly clenched. “Well, he did more than stop him,” The sheriff muttered with a sigh. “He’s not pressing charges, so your little boyfriend’s free to go,” the sheriff added reluctantly. You nodded and quickly moved to go to Rafe, whose cell doors were being opened for him. 

Tense silence surrounded the both of you as you stepped out of the station, and it followed the both of you until you reached Tanneyhill. You turned to Rafe, lips parting to speak, but he cut you off by placing his lips upon yours and cupping your cheeks with both of his battered hands. You melted at his touch, finally relenting and admitting to yourself that you had greatly missed him. When you two parted, you stared deeply into his eyes, deciphering clearly the thoughts he always struggled to word out. “You still love me,” You breathed out and felt your stomach twist as he nodded his head. “Of course I do,” He answered and kissed your lips once more. You wrapped your arms around him, your fingers lightly scratching his skull, his buzzcut hair prickling and tickling your soft palms. You feel him grip your ass once more, the telltale sign that warned you where this would lead. And though you missed feeling your body tangled with Rafe’s, you still needed answers. You were still deciding if your best-laid plans should be set on fire, skeptical that all of this was just his sleight of hand. 

“Why’d you break up with me?” You asked, parting your lips. Watching as Rafe huffed and tried to kiss you again, but you turned away and urged him to answer. “I was being petty,” He mumbled, and you heard him groan as you frowned at him and removed your touch. “Baby, please,” He said as you stepped backward, your eyes narrowing at his words. “What?” You gritted. “Look, I’m sorry. It was a stupid decision. The guys were giving me shit about how you were always the one to call it off! I just… I wanted you to be the one to come to me and ask for me back…” Rafe trailed as he had no better word to explain his reasoning for breaking up with you. “You broke up with me because of your fucking pride!?” You almost screamed in anger. “I’m sorry, baby, please; I was so stupid.” Rafe sighed and tried to pull you to him; the big man he was had gone for the moment as his blue eyes pleaded with you. 

You took in a deep breath and your senses were consumed by the smell of him. Your ears rang with the sound of his voice begging for your forgiveness. Your skin tingled by his touch. You breathed heavily and shook your head. “You’re so immature,” You sighed and pulled him down by his shirt to kiss his lips. Rafe smirked against your lips and savored the taste of you that he had longed for. “Am I forgiven?” He panted as you two parted; you stayed silent for a moment. Gazing at his eyes that were alight with hope. “Depends on how many times you make me come tonight,” You whispered against his lips, watching as his blue orbs turned dark. You shrieked as he hoisted you up and made you wrap your legs around him, hurriedly bringing you back to his room just to show you how truly apologetic he was. 

You hummed in delight as Rafe sucked your tit, his other hand pinching the other bud. His body pushed you against the back of his bedroom door, and your hips moved to seek friction. “I missed you so much, baby,” Rafe groaned between the valley of your chest, biting and sucking your skin, leaving it red and most probably bruised. You bit your lip in anticipation as he tossed you on his bed. He watched you with a smirk as he removed his shirt, the moonlight illuminating his muscled body. “Like the view, my girl?” He asked and slowly crawled atop your body, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress, but he was slow to undo it. “Stop teasing, you’re still not forgiven,” You groaned as his hand was trailing the inside of your thigh. “Oh, right… I’m sorry, baby,” Rafe hummed once more and placed kisses on your neck as his hand cupped your cunt. His fingers draw circles on your cloth-covered nubbin, his lips peppering kisses on your neck. 

You bit harshly on your lip as you pushed your underwear aside and finally felt the wetness he had caused. “So wet… you wanted me back as badly as I wanted you, huh, baby?” He hummed and watched as your eyes rolled back as he abruptly inserted his two fingers inside you, curling the digits and taking your breath away. “Rafe— I need you now,” You cried as his thumb laid flat on your nubbin. “Whatever you want, baby,” Rafe hummed and obliged your pleas. Stealing away his fingers and replacing them with his length. “God, so fucking tight," He grunted as he thrust into you. You could no longer hold in your moans as he pounded into you, the tip of his cock perfectly aligned with the spot in you that made you see stars and spew out moans that you were certain would be heard by those in the hallways. But you could not find care as Rafe fucked you senseless and made you reach your peak in record time. 

You panted as you came down from your high. Your boyfriend is looking at you through his hazy, lust-filled eyes. “Am I forgiven?” He asked, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him to lie on the bed and for you to be atop him. “Not yet.” 

[banzonism]

YOU BELONG WITH ME

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, drama, comedy, angst, fluff, slow burn, love pining

tags: football player! jk, photographer! jk, student leader! reader, high school au, chilhood friend, boy next door jk, bff drama, friends to lovers, yeontan cameo

synopsis: Beneath the light banter and playful teasing of childhood friends lies a deep well of unspoken feelings, simmering just out of reach. Quick glances shared during laughter hold more meaning than anyone dares to acknowledge. But everything shifts dramatically when a heartfelt letter reveals unexpected truths, shattering the carefully constructed lives they have built. Will they find their way back to each other and uncover the truth of their feelings? In the end, they must find out if they really belong with each other.

words count: 10k

notes: hello everyone! here's another one-shot from me, and let me tell you i've been thinking about this fic a lot lot lot bc i'm a sucker of this kind of romance, sorry.... inspired by TS "you belong with me” mv but with a twist! if you’re a swiftie, you’ll probably notice quite a few nods to the iconic mv—incorporated some of its most memorable scenes into the story. hope you enjoy this fun, nostalgic ride <3

p.s. dont come for my girl Sana—she might be a little extra in the beginning scenes, but trust me she’s worth it! & threw a Yeontan moment to honor him... fly high, little one 🕊

The gym buzzed with energy as students rushed around, their laughter and conversations creating a lively atmosphere for the school’s event preparations. Colorful decorations filled the room, and tables were piled high with craft supplies. As the student council leader, you moved through the crowd with a clipboard, checking off tasks and motivating your excited team.

“Hey, Miss Y/N!” called out a freshman, her face showing worry. “Can you help us with this banner? It’s too high!”

“Got it!” you answered with determination, quickly heading to where a sturdy ladder was leaning against the wall. You set it up under the spot where the banner needed to go and felt a surge of confidence as you grabbed the banner in one hand and some tape in the other.

Climbing the ladder, each step brought you closer to the colorful paper reaching up to the ceiling. But as you neared the top, your foot slipped a little on the rung. In that quick moment, everything seemed to slow down. “Oh no—” you gasped, trying hard to steady yourself. Before you knew it, you slipped down the ladder and landed with a thud on the polished gym floor. The loud noise echoed in the sudden silence that followed.

Laughter erupted around you, filling the air with amusement. At the center of it all was Sana , the cheerleading captain and your former bestfriend. Her laughter rang out, almost mocking, as she stood with her friends, arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Be careful, Y/N," she mocked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Being busy might make you grow old faster." Her laughter felt sharp, and it stung even more when you noticed she didn’t offer to help you up.

Heat flooded your cheeks, mixing embarrassment with frustration, but you fought to keep it under control. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, straightening your back. “Alright, everyone, let’s get back to work! We have an event to make special!” you said, putting on a genuine smile that energized the team.

The room buzzed with renewed focus as your enthusiasm spread, pulling everyone back into the excitement of preparing for the event. Sana rolled her eyes and turned away with her group, their giggles trailing behind, but you didn’t let their laughter get you down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” a familiar voice called through the noise. You turned to see Kim Namjoon, the student council secretary and the head editor of the school paper, approaching with a concerned look on his face, a notebook tucked under one arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a grin. “Just stumbled a bit, nothing to worry about.”

“Impressive,” he said, chuckling. “Not many can fall like that and still walk away with confidence.”

"You think?" you grin. "Add it to the school paper column. Speaking of which, I need your help editing later." Namjoon smiles, his warmth reassuring.

While being the heaď of the student council was a big responsibility, you believed that your writing skills were really what helped you lead. Every meeting, every plan for events, and every motivational speech was shaped by your years of writing experience. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a vital tool that helped define your leadership style.

As the day went on, you guided the team with determination, turning your fall into a funny story rather than a moment of embarrassment. With the gym transforming into a lively celebration of school spirit, you felt a swell of pride in both the team and yourself for staying true to what really mattered.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The following day was the big foundation day event, and it turned out to be a tremendous success. As the sun set, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling proud of how everything had gone. You had led your team to pull off one of the year's most important events, and now you could finally focus on your studies again, catch up on assignments, and enjoy some much-needed relaxation.

But then, things took an unexpected turn.

That evening, the school's football team had a crucial game against a rival school, which brought a huge crowd to the stadium. At first, you had no plans to go; you were determined to finish your essays and study for your upcoming exams. Just as you were about to dive into your books, you received a call from Namjoon.

“Hey Y/N, I know this is really last minute, but can you come by the office?” he asked, sounding urgent.

Curious and a bit worried, you made your way to the editorial office. Being part of the school publication was something you loved, but tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t mean too much extra work.

When you arrived, Namjoon greeted you with a stressed look. “Y/N, I really need your help. You're one of our best writers, and we’re in a tight spot.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s happened?”

“Yunjin, who was supposed to write about tonight’s football game, is sick and can’t make it,” Namjoon explained, urgency in his voice. “We need someone to fill in and write the article for tomorrow’s paper. I know it’s short notice, but you’re our best option. Can you take it on?”

You paused, thinking about all the homework and studying waiting for you at home. “Namjoon, I’m not sure I can do this. Writing sports articles isn’t really my thing.”

Namjoon shot you a reassuring smile. “You just have to write down what happens during the game and maybe ask a few of our players about it afterward. You’re a fantastic writer, Y/N. I know you can handle this.”

Feeling torn, you considered the school, the players who had worked so hard for this moment, and how important it was to share their story with everyone.

“Okay, Joon,” you said with newfound determination. “I’ll do it.”

Namjoon visibly relaxed and handed you a notebook and a press pass. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I know you’ve already put in a lot of effort for the school. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You better. I’m counting on you for lunch for a week.”

Namjoon laughed. “Deal. Now go make it a great article. Good luck!”

With that, you headed towards the stadium, notebook in hand, ready to take on another challenge.

Later, under the bright lights of the stadium, you were caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the game. The crowd's cheers surrounded you as you walked along the sidelines, your press pass hanging around your neck. The lights created dramatic shadows over the players as they warmed up, and you could feel their energy in the air. You stopped for a moment, heart racing, to write down your initial thoughts about the buzz surrounding the upcoming match and the rival team's arrival.

Then, you saw him.

The golden boy everyone had been talking about. He was someone you had known since you were kids—the one who always made it difficult for you to hold his gaze for long. Memories flooded back of sunny afternoons spent playing in your backyards, the shy smiles exchanged during those brief encounters, and that unmistakable flutter in your stomach whenever he was near.

He stood in the middle of the field, naturally drawing everyone's attention, with his dark hair damp from practicing, strands sticking to his forehead. His jersey fit him perfectly, showcasing his athletic build. You could see the fire in his eyes from where you stood—a mix of determination and passion that made him even more captivating.

When the game ended with an exciting win for your school, the stadium roared with cheers. A wave of pride swelled inside you—not just for the team's victory but for the chance to capture this moment through your writing.

As you lingered on the sidelines, you felt torn about whether to approach him. You had enough material for your article, but a small voice inside you urged that this opportunity was too special to miss. Just as you were about to decide, a familiar voice broke into your thoughts.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There he was, striding towards you with that effortless confidence you both admired and envied. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, his hair tousled, and that bunny-like smile brighter than the stadium lights surrounding you.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you replied, trying to sound calm even though you felt anything but. “Congratulations on your win!”

“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head with a curious look, making you feel both exposed and energized. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you enjoy the game?”

“Of course! For the article tomorrow,” you replied, clutching your notebook like a lifeline. “You know, school paper stuff.”

“How did you find the game?” he asked, his tone light yet genuinely curious as if he wanted your opinion.

“That’s cool. I mean, you’re cool. I mean—you’re great,” you blurted, the words tumbling before you could stop them. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and the soft chuckle that escaped his lips didn’t make it any easier to compose yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

Trying to regain your composure, you cleared your throat. “Could I ask you a few questions about the game?”

“Sure,” he replied effortlessly.

You began asking him the standard post-game questions, scribbling down his answers. But as he spoke, your focus wavered. His voice was smooth and warm, carrying an understated excitement that made you lose track of your notes. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the team’s victory, how the corner of his lips curled into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. Your attention drifted, and your writing soon became a mess of half-written sentences.

“Hey, babe,” a voice interrupted, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up to see Sana, the head cheerleader—of course she would be here—striding over with her usual charm. Her cheer uniform fit her perfectly, highlighting her athletic build. In that moment, the butterflies in your stomach shifted to a sinking feeling.

“Oh, hey, Sana,” Jungkook greeted her, and you noticed a change in his tone.

“Great game! You were amazing out there,” Sana said before throwing her arms around him in a sudden hug. Jungkook’s body stiffened briefly, and his expression showed mild discomfort as he pulled away.

When she finally let go, Sana’s gaze shifted to you, her smile on a sharper edge. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding toward your notebook.

“It’s for the school paper,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t into sports writing, Y/N.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you debated whether it was worth responding. You were exhausted from the long day, and the last thing you wanted was to engage in her petty comments. But something about her smug tone lit a fire in you.

“And the last time I checked,” you shot back, your eyes lockig onto hers with a glare, “was a year ago. So, you don’t know much about what I’m doing now, Sana.”

The tension in the air thickened, but before you could say more, Jungkook stepped in, his voice calm yet firm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

You forced a polite smile, snapping your notebook shut. “Thanks, Jungkook,” you said abruptly, needing an escape. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go now.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on you. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a sting. Jungkook and Sana had been linked ever since she became the cheerleading captain, though rumors swirled that they weren’t officially a couple. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, it did—just a little. This wasn’t just anyone; it was your former best friend and the boy who had unknowingly captured your heart for years.

Later that night, you sat at your desk, struggling to finish an article you had started. The soft light from Jungkook’s room peeked through your curtains, reminding you of how near yet far he felt. His smile and the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. As you lay there, sleep refused to come, and you found yourself thinking about what could have happened if you had ever had the courage to tell him your true feelings.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After weeks passed and final exams wrapped up, you threw yourself into your studies. It wasn’t just about making your parents proud or keeping your position as a student leader; it was about getting a scholarship to the university of your dreams, something you had worked toward for years. After weeks of sleepless nights and exhausting tests, your final stretch as a high school senior came to a close.

That afternoon, completely worn out, you headed straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. When you woke up three hours later, it was dark outside, and your mom called you for dinner. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched and turned toward your window. That’s when you saw that your curtain was slightly open, revealing Jungkook’s room across the way.

He was there, his face faintly lit by a desk lamp, talking animatedly on the phone. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in his posture—his brows were knitted together, his jaw tense, and his hand was tugging at his hair in frustration. Concern rose in your chest. Without thinking, you grabbed a notepad and marker from your desk and quickly jotted down a message.

"Are you okay?"

You held it up to the window, feeling anxious as you waited. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did, his expression softened a bit. He sighed and wrote back:

"Tired of drama."

Unsure of how to reply, you eventually wrote:

"Sorry."

He looked at your note, and a faint, tired smile flickered across his face. He shook his head gently, as if to say it wasn’t your fault. The simple exchange left a strange heaviness in your chest despite the silence between you. You wondered what troubles he was facing, and for a brief moment, you wished you could reach out and help him.

Jungkook then waved at you, a small gesture that felt like a goodnight. You waved back, signaling for him to get some rest. He smiled again, this time it felt more genuine, before closing his curtain. The room immediately fell silent, but thoughts of him lingered long after he disappeared from view.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

On a laid-back Sunday afternoon, you decided to take a break from your busy life by diving into a book that had caught your interest. You found a quiet spot on a bench in the park, where the calm surroundings helped soothe your busy mind.

Out of the blue, you were startled by a loud bark. Looking up, you saw a tiny, fluffy Pomeranian running towards you. Its shiny black and brown fur sparkled in the sunlight, and its bright eyes shone with playful energy. A smile spread across your face as the little dog, looking like a cuddly stuffed animal, stopped barking and approached you cautiously.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you said softly, reaching out your hand. The dog sniffed your fingers for a moment and then nuzzled against you, clearly enjoying the attention. Feeling a rush of affection for dogs, you scratched behind its ears and laughed as it playfully licked your hand.

Just then, a voice called out from a distance, “Yeontan!” You looked up to see Jungkook jogging toward you, looking a bit rushed.

“There you are,” he said, picking up the dog and holding it in his arms. “I’m sorry if he bothered you.”

“Oh, not at all,” you replied with a smile, still petting Yeontan. “He’s so cute!”

Jungkook chuckled and scratched Yeontan behind the ear. “He’s not actually mine, though. Taehyung asked me to look after him for a while. He can be quite a handful sometimes.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you said, charmed by the little fluffball. “I love dogs. He’s just too adorable!”

“Right?” Jungkook grinned. “He can be a bit of a troublemaker, though. So, what are you doing here? Just reading?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged. “I needed a break to clear my mind. It helps.”

“That's good to hear. You deserve some time off,” Jungkook replied, his tone growing softer. “So, what’s your plan after graduation? Are you staying here for college?”

You paused, closing your book as you considered your response. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My mom and I haven’t talked much about it, but I’m applying to a few schools that are far away. What about you?”

Jungkook sighed, absentmindedly petting Yeontan. “My dad wants me to stay here and take business classes while focusing on football. He has this whole plan for me to take over his business.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, tilting your head to study his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to let him down, but…”

“But what?” you prompted.

“I really loved photography and film,” he said quietly. “I told my dad I wanted to study film, but he wasn’t too excited. He thinks football is my best chance at making it to the national team, and that everything else is just a hobby.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. “That sounds rough, Jungkook. It’s great that your dad believes in you, but it’s your life. You should do what makes you happy.”

“That’s what your dad always said, right?” Jungkook remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I miss Uncle Seojun. He always encouraged me and was so excited about my photography projects.”

“He really was,” you replied, smiling at the memory of your father. “I remember how thrilled you were when you got that camera for your birthday. You couldn’t stop talking about it!”

He laughed softly, nostalgic. “Yeah, those were good times.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, momentarily distracted by a stray hair that had fallen over your face. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked it behind your ear. The unexpected touch made your heart skip a beat.

“There,” he said softly, almost whispering as if the moment needed a certain quiet. “Now I can see you properly.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find words, but your mind went blank. His hand lingered for a brief moment before he pulled away, and the faint smile he gave you sent your heart racing.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the sounds of the park and even Yeontan’s soft breathing seemed to disappear. You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

You both sat there quietly for a while, with Yeontan curled up between you. It felt like a snapshot of the past, a brief reminder of simpler times before life got more complicated.

But before long, the moment was disrupted. A red car pulled up nearby, and you recognized the girl stepping out—Sana. Of course, it had to be her. With her stylish cap and polished look, she approached like she owned the place.

“Hey, Jungkook! What’s taking you so long to grab Yeontan?” she called out, shattering the peaceful moment you had shared with Jungkook.

Jungkook stood up, brushing off his jeans as if to shake off the experience you’d just had. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “It was really nice talking to you again.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of feelings inside you. “Time to go now, buddy,” you said softly to Yeontan, giving the little dog one last affectionate pat.

Jungkook sank back onto the bench, his smile brightening the moment as he gently took Yeontan’s paw and waved it toward you. “Bye, Yeontan,” you said, unable to suppress the flicker of a smile that danced on your lips despite the weight in your chest.

When Jungkook got on the passenger seat, Sana suddenly whispered to Jungkook, making them like they are kissing on your view, which made Jungkook laugh. You quickly dropped your gaze back to your book, pretending not to notice, acting as if it didn’t bother you. But it did. It always did.

The car pulled away, taking them with it, leaving you alone once again with only your book and the lingering ache in your chest.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The office was filled with a low hum of activity, with the sounds of papers being shuffled and keyboards tapping away. You were sitting at your usual desk, surrounded by notes, layout plans, and playlists for the upcoming graduation celebration. It was your last year of school, and as the leader of the organizing committee, you were determined to make the event truly special.

“Hey, Y/N, have you had lunch yet?” a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

Looking up, you saw Namjoon standing there with a warm smile, holding a neatly packed lunchbox.

“I’ll eat later. I was thinking of heading to the cafeteria,” you replied, forcing a tired smile.

“No need for that,” he said, placing the box down in front of you. “I brought you lunch. You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“Not a problem. You deserve it,” he replied, pulling up a chair to sit next to you. “By the way, have you heard anything about your application to your dream school?”

You leaned back in your chair with a sigh. “No news yet. I’m just waiting and hoping for that scholarship. It all depends on this.”

Namjoon nodded, his expression confident. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

“I hope you’re right,” you said quietly, feeling the pressure weighing on you.

“It’s you, Y/N. You’ve been juggling so much—school, committee duties, everything. If anyone can handle it, it’s you,” he said earnestly, and his encouragement brought a small smile to your face.

You talked about school and Namjoon’s plans for college, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. For a moment, the stress you were feeling seemed to lift.

“So… about prom?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “Are you going? Has anyone asked you to go with them?”

You hesitated, playing with your pen. “Not yet. I’m not sure I’ll even go.”

“Why not?” he inquired.

“I’ve been so busy, and I really need to focus on studying for the scholarship. That’s what’s most important for me right now,” you explained, looking away.

Namjoon frowned a little but nodded in understanding. “I get it. But you know… you’ve worked really hard. Maybe you deserve one night to just have fun. Prom is an important event, especially for someone like you who’s given so much to this school. Just think about it, okay?”

You smiled softly, touched by his concern. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll think about it.”

He stood up and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now eat your lunch. You need the energy for everything you’re handling.”

As he walked away, you looked down at the lunchbox and smiled to yourself. Namjoon always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t realize it yourself.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Weeks passed, and the gentle light of your desk lamp lit up the messy spread of notes and open textbooks in front of you. You had been studying for hours, going over every possible topic for the entrance exam—a big test that could determine whether you got into your dream school. The clock struck midnight, but you were so focused that you barely noticed the time.

Even so, thoughts of prom kept sneaking into your mind. It wasn’t just that your friend Namjoon had encouraged you to go; it was the fact that prom, the highlight of your senior year, was happening on the same day as your exam. The test was in the morning, and there would be time to get ready afterward, but you wondered if it was worth the rush. Should you focus on your future or let yourself enjoy one night of celebration after all your hard work?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a door open from the other side. You saw Jungkook walked into his room, his hair slightly damp, probably from football practice, and his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He looked a mix of tired and effortlessly cool.

You quickly turned your attention back to your notes, trying not to seem obvious, but you could sense that he was watching you. When you glanced up again, you noticed him grab a notepad and a marker from his desk. He wrote something down and held it up to his window.

“Are you going to prom tomorrow?”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his direct question. Slowly, you grabbed your notepad and wrote back:

“No, studying.”

He read your response and his expression changed—was that disappointment? He sighed and quickly wrote another note, a small smile appearing on his face as he held it up:

“Wish you were"

Your heart skipped a beat. The simplicity of his words affected you more than you anticipated. You smiled back, feeling a mix of flattery and frustration. Prom had only been a distant thought until now, but Jungkook’s quiet hope made you reconsider.

You stood up and waved goodbye, signaling that you were heading downstairs for dinner. Your mom greeted you warmly and asked how your studying was going. You nodded, trying to focus on the meal in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere. Between the entrance exam, the upcoming prom, and Jungkook’s note, you felt like you were at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.

That morning, your mom took you to the university for an important exam. The car ride felt both long and too short at the same time, with the scenery rushing by as your nerves tightened. This was the moment you had been working towards after many sleepless nights and self-imposed pressure. There was no turning back now.

“I know you’re feeling anxious, sweetheart,” your mom said gently. “But no matter what happens, I’m proud of you. And your dad? He would be so happy.”

You nodded, trying to push down the lump in your throat. Her comforting words eased your anxiety, even as your mind raced with worries about what could go wrong.

When you entered the exam hall, the quietness was almost overwhelming. Other students, just as nervous as you, bent over their papers. Once the exam started, it was just you, the questions in front of you, and your pen. You poured all your effort into each answer, determined to do your best.

As you walked out of the hall afterwards, doubt began to creep in. Did I do enough? you wondered. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself, “I’ve done my best. Now it’s in the hands of fate.”

Back home after lunch, you tried to distract yourself from the exam, but the thoughts kept returning. It wasn’t until exactly 1:00 PM, hours later, that your phone buzzed with a notification. An email awaited you.

Your heart raced as you opened it, and the words “Admission Results” jumped out at you. As you read through the letter, one word stood out: Congratulations.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, and then exclaimed more loudly, “I passed!”

Your mom rushed in, startled by your shout. When she saw the email on your screen, her face lit up with joy. You both started jumping around the room, laughing and crying together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, wrapping you in a warm hug. “Your dad would be so proud too. I just know it.”

Later, in your room, you began to imagine the life ahead of you at your dream school. New friends, exciting opportunities, and a fresh place to learn and grow. The possibilities felt endless, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly excited about the future.

Your daydream was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. Startled, you turned to see someone you didn’t expect: Sana.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

She stood in the doorway, exuding her usual confidence, but her face was hard to read. "We need to talk," she said, crossing her arms.

The happiness from your recent achievement quickly faded as you wondered what she wanted. You stood frozen at your door, staring at Sana, completely shocked by her unexpected visit. It felt like ages since she’d last been in your house, let alone your room.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask, still trying to process her sudden appearance.

Instead of giving a straight answer, she crossed her arms and shot you an intense glare, her voice trembling with emotion. “How could you just leave me in this town? I thought we were going to college together!”

Her outburst hit you hard. “People change, Sana. Plans change. Everything changes,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart raced.

“You didn’t even tell me?” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to overflow.

You let out a heavy breath, feeling the weight of this tense moment. “How was I supposed to? We weren't really on good terms.”

Without another word, she walked past you, frustration clear in her body language, and sat down on the edge of your bed. “So what? Just because we weren’t talking doesn’t mean you could just vanish on me. Even if we were both acting foolish, you could’ve at least figured out a way to let me know.”

You followed her, feeling unsure whether to comfort her or give her some space. “How did you even find out I was going to another school? I’m not even sure I could pass the entrance exam.”

Sana wiped her eyes, and her frustration melted into vulnerability. “I overheard your mom mentioning it…and Jungkook told me too. And you think so little of yourself. Do you hate me that much?”

Her words cut deep. “I don’t hate you, Sana,” you replied softly, feeling your heart ache with her pain. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” she responded, her voice shaking. “I know I haven't treated you well this year. I—” Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands, regret washing over her like a tidal wave.

You paused for a moment but then sat down next to her. “I was going to send you a letter,” you admitted. “To explain everything before graduation.”

“A letter?” she repeated, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Let me see it!”

With a heavy heart, you opened your cabinet and took out a box filled with letters you had written to people who had meant a lot to you. With shaky hands, you handed one to her.

As she started to read the letter, you noticed her expression change. Tears filled her eyes as she processed the words you had written from deep within your heart. “Y/N, I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry for making you feel alone. If I could go back in time... I would give up cheerleading if it meant keeping you in my life.”

“Please don’t say that,” you replied quickly, your voice filled with urgency. “Cheerleading was your dream. I regret not being more supportive. I should have been there for you.”

Sana shook her head, a realization dawning upon her. “And I should have been there for you, too. I had no idea what you were going through with your dad’s illness. I thought you were pushing me away, but really, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The two of you sat together, unpacking the hurt and misunderstandings that had built up over the past year. You shared how your father's health struggles had taken over your life, creating a distance you didn’t know how to overcome. Sana opened up about feeling lost when you stopped responding to her messages, believing you no longer cared about her.

“Remember that time we were supposed to hang out? I saw you hugging Jungkook, and I… I thought maybe you didn’t need me anymore,” you reminded her, the memory still vivid.

Sana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jungkook? Oh my God, Y/N, he was just comforting me! I was upset about my parents fighting, that’s all!”

As the ridiculousness of it all hit both of you, laughter erupted, slowly easing the tension that had lingered for so long.

“And then,” you added, “I got a call from the hospital. My dad was in surgery, and I couldn’t stay.”

Sana’s expression softened, guilt showing on her face. “I thought you ditched me. I waited for you until I couldn’t anymore.”

When you finally returned home after your dad’s funeral, you had wanted to explain everything, but seeing Sana laughing with her new cheerleading friends had hurt you deeply. “I thought you’d moved on,” you admitted, trying to hold back the pain you still felt.

Sana groaned and covered her face, genuine sorrow washing over her. “We were so foolish.”

You nodded, a smile starting to emerge despite everything. “Yeah, we were.”

As the laughter faded, the weight of the past year began to lift, replaced by a sense of ease that had been absent for so long. Hours passed as you both reminisced, catching up on everything you had missed in each other’s lives. When you looked at the clock, you were surprised to see it was already 4 PM.

“Wow,” Sana said, leaning back with a playful sigh. “We just spent hours untangling a whole year’s worth of misunderstandings. Classic us.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Classic us! So, what’s next? How are things going with you and Jungkook?”

Sana's face shifted to one of mock shock. “Me and Jungkook? Oh, no! I think you mean me and his best friend.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, Kim Taehyung? Jungkook’s best friend?”

A sheepish smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Yep! Don't act so surprised. I was always around Jungkook because Taehyung and I... well, there’s definitely more happening there than with Jungkook.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really? This whole time I thought—”

“Thought what? That Jungkook and I were secretly in love?” Sana laughed dramatically. “Ew, no! He’s like a brother to me. Gross.”

You felt a wave of relief, though a hint of irritation bubbled up too. “Well, how was I supposed to know? You two always hung out, and there was that time you called him ‘babe’ during the football game!”

Sana grinned mischievously. “Oh, that? Totally just messing with you. I wanted to see if you get jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s obvious. I have known you since we were little, and you have liked Jungkook since middle school, right?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re just in denial about it. It’s painful to watch,” she teased.

Before you could respond, Sana leaned in closer and said, “But honestly, your face every time I was with him? Not subtle at all.”

“Well, excuse me for being human,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Sana just smirked. “Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Jungkook, but there’s definitely something between him and you.”

Your heart raced at her words, but you quickly shook your head. “You’re imagining things.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m the one imagining this. Not the girl who’s been crushing on Jungkook for years.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” you begged.

“Nope! You can’t get out of this. People always thought we were a couple, but it’s silly because there’s nothing there. The only person I’m into is Taehyung.”

You blinked, trying to grasp all the new information. “So... you and Taehyung?”

“Yep!” she said, grinning. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Jungkook knows you’re interested. Not that he doesn’t already.”

“Sana!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at her.

You both burst into laughter, the earlier tension completely gone. For the first time in ages, things felt normal between you and Sana, just like they used to be.

Suddenly, Sana spoke up enthusiastically, crossing her arms like it was settled. “You need to go to this prom!”

You sighed, leaning back against your bed. “No way. I’m not ready for this. I don’t have a dress, I didn’t make plans, and prom starts at 6 PM. Do you even know what time it is?”

Sana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Y/N? You know they never start right at 6.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, true.”

“But I still don’t have a dress!” you protested, looking down at your jeans and oversized hoodie. “Even if I did, it's too late to get ready now.”

Sana grinned mischievously and dashed out the door. “Don’t worry! We’re the same size, remember? I’ll grab a dress from my place and be back in no time. Bye!”

Before you could argue, she was gone, leaving you surprised and somewhat amused.

As you leaned back, you reflected on how just hours ago, you wouldn’t have imagined reconnecting with Sana and laughing like old times. Life can be full of surprises.

Moments later, Sana burst through your door, a garment bag draped over her arm, grinning widely. You perked up, but then noticed what she held—a white sparkly long gown.

“Wait a second,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Where’s the other dress? I thought we were going together!”

Sana winced, her smile faltering. “About that... I actually have plans tonight. With Taehyung.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re skipping prom for a guy?”

She raised her hands in mock defense, laughing. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it; I’m just a flawed human!”

You couldn’t help but laugh along, shaking your head at her antics. “Fine, but you owe me—big time.”

Sana smirked and shoved the garment bag into your arms. “Deal! Now go take a shower. We have a lot to do to make you look stunning.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom. “You better not do anything weird while I’m gone.”

“Me? Weird? Never!” Sana feigned innocence.

But as soon as you closed the bathroom door, you could hear her giggling outside.

Curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes landed on a small stack of letters sitting on your desk, and one in particular caught her attention. It had Jungkook’s name written on the envelope.

She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it. “Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back,” she muttered as she opened the letter.

As she read, a sly smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is perfect.” With a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, she tucked the letter into her bag, already planning how to make her night—and yours—unforgettable.

When you returned from your shower, wrapped in a towel and ready to get started, Sana was all business. “Alright, sit down. Let’s work some magic.”

The next hour was a flurry of hairspray, brushes, and accessories as Sana worked diligently, turning you into someone who looked ready for a fairytale. By the time she was done, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” Sana exclaimed, stepping back to admire her work. “You’re gorgeous! I’m so proud to call you my friend.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm. “Stop it, Sana. You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look amazing.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mom peeked in, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Wow,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “You’re... stunning, my darling.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you replied, trying to hide your blush.

“I thought you weren’t going,” she added, tilting her head in confusion.

“Change of plans,” you said casually.

Your mom turned to Sana. “What about you? Aren’t you going out?”

Sana grinned, ready with her excuse. “I have something important to do tonight.”

You smirked, catching onto the little fib. “Yeah, important,” you teased quietly, getting a playful shove from Sana in return.

As your mom stepped out, Sana handed you your sandals, the final touch, and gave you an encouraging smile. “Alright, Cinderella, it’s time for the ball. It’s almost 7 PM!”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Jungkook tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. The lights from the cars in front of him blurred as his thoughts drifted back to a note he had received from you the night before. It simply said, “No, studying.” It was straightforward and so very “you.” You were focused on your future and not swayed by a high school dance. That dedication was just one of the many things he admired about you—your ability to stay on track and ignore distractions.

But part of him selfishly wished you would go to the dance. It wasn’t about the glitz and glamour; he just wanted to see you there, enjoying yourself for once. You had worked so hard all year, and no one deserved a moment of fun more than you. And if he was honest, he simply wanted to see you smile.

He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head at his own thoughts. What was he imagining? He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything like that. He was just your neighbor, your friend—the guy who chatted with you casually and often caught glimpses of you through your room window when your light turned on.

A car behind him honked, snapping him back to reality. The light had changed to green. He pressed the gas and moved forward, only to hear his phone buzz in the passenger seat. He took a quick look at the screen during the next stop—texts from Sana.

Sana: Sorry, I’m gonna ditch you tonight. Sorry not sorry.

Sana: But I’ve got something to give you right now. Please meet me. Thanks.

Jungkook sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Sana had backed out. It was typical of her behavior, probably running off for some adventure with Taehyung. He didn’t really care; he didn’t have high hopes for the night anyway. The excitement of prom had faded the moment you decided not to attend.

Still, the weight of his disappointment settled deeper in his heart. For a brief moment, he had imagined that tonight could be special—his chance to finally tell you how he felt. It was his last year of high school, and if he didn’t speak up now, he might never get the chance.

With a sigh, Jungkook turned his car toward Sana’s house. His thoughts raced, torn between the reality of you not being there and the small, foolish hope that maybe—just maybe—you might change your mind and show up. Although, he thought bitterly, what were the chances you felt the same way about him?

Yet, there was a little voice in the back of his mind encouraging him to take the risk. To go for it, even if it meant putting everything on the line. Because if not tonight, then when would he ever find the courage to say anything?

It all started when you moved into the neighborhood. Jungkook had heard some talk at school about a new student joining their class, but honestly, he didn’t care much about gossip. That changed one afternoon when Jungkook found himself in a bad mood after spilling his favorite treat—banana milk. As he grumbled about how his day couldn’t get any worse, you appeared, handing him a fresh carton with a simple, “Here.”

At that moment, Jungkook thought you might be an angel. He didn’t know you well yet, but your quiet kindness left a mark on him. It wasn’t something big or flashy, just a small gesture of support that meant a lot. From then on, you became friends—not best friends like you were with Sana, but close enough for him to pick up on little things about you, like how much you loved reading, how your face lit up when you talked about your favorite subjects, and how determined you were in everything you did.

You were one of the few who encouraged him to take photos, aside from his dad. When Jungkook got a camera for his birthday, he was excited that you agreed to model for him. Over time, you became one of his favorite people to photograph. There was something special about the way you carried yourself—elegant yet strong—that made every picture meaningful.

As time went on, Jungkook noticed a change in you. He would see you walking home from school, looking down and seeming to shut the world out. It wasn’t until later that he found out the truth: your father had passed away after being ill for a long time. Jungkook wanted to reach out, but you had withdrawn from school and social life. He understood that you needed time alone to grieve. Still, he couldn’t shake the concern he felt. Things had changed between you and Sana too; you weren’t talking as much anymore, and Jungkook wondered what had shifted.

He thought about asking Sana about it, but hesitated. It didn’t feel right since she had her own things going on. For a while, Jungkook even thought Sana was interested in him because she was always around, laughing and chatting. But soon he realized her attention was focused on his best friend, Taehyung. Ever since he introduced them, Sana had been trying to get Taehyung’s attention, and Jungkook ended up as her unintentional sidekick.

That sometimes frustrated him, especially when Sana interrupted moments he wanted to share with you. Like that one day you were sitting together on a bench while he was walking Taehyung’s dog, Yeontan, who had a lot of energy. Suddenly, Yeontan broke free and darted away, and Jungkook had rushed to catch him, unexpectedly running right into you. At that moment, it felt like fate.

When senior year began, you returned as a new person—stronger and more confident, with a spark in your eyes that caught everyone’s attention. As the newly elected student leader, you tackled every challenge with determination. Jungkook watched in awe. How could someone who had faced so much come back even brighter? When he found out you were watching the school’s big football game, he played like it was the most important game of his life. Every move was made with the thought of impressing you. When the team won, he secretly hoped that you had noticed him.

But it wasn’t just your accomplishments that captivated him. It was the way you hummed while studying, the light in your eyes when discussing your future, and your unwavering determination. The more time Jungkook spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It felt complicated and overwhelming, and he couldn’t ignore it. But along with those feelings came frustration. Jungkook often felt unworthy of you. You were amazing in every way, while he thought of himself as just Jungkook. Even when he tried to pull away from his feelings, they would rush back, like waves that wouldn’t stop.

Jungkook arrived at Sana’s house, where she greeted him with a big smile. She held up an envelope, waving it around excitedly.

“Here,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Make sure you read this at the prom. Or else.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Or else what?”

Sana leaned in, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. “Or else I’ll share that karaoke video of you singing ‘Baby Shark’ at the top of your lungs last summer.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing the envelope from her. “Seriously? That was for my little cousin’s party!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she teased, barely holding back her laughter. “Now go! And don’t mess this up.”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After your mom insisted on giving you a ride and your friend Sana decided not to come with you for some unclear reason, you figured a late arrival would be alright. As you walked into the venue, the lively music greeted you, and then you spotted Namjoon, who had a huge, welcoming smile on his face.

“Oh, wow, you actually made it!” he exclaimed, practically lifting you off the ground with his excitement.

“Someone talked me into it,” you replied, thinking about Sana’s enthusiastic pep talk earlier.

“Whoever that is, I owe them one! By the way, how did your entrance exam go?”

You smiled. “I passed!”

His face lit up even more. “Oh my god, I knew you would! I’m so proud of you!”

“Should we celebrate?”

And celebrate you did. The night turned into a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Namjoon had a knack for making everything feel light and fun. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt like yourself again—free from stress and the heaviness of the past year.

But even while dancing and singing along to the songs, you couldn’t help but wonder about Jungkook. You remembered Sana saying he was supposed to be here—and even more confusing, that he was going to be her partner. The thought of him with her nagged at you, even though she had assured you there was nothing romantic going on.

Why are you even thinking about him? you thought, scolding yourself. Just because Sana said everything is fine doesn’t mean he feels the same way about you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon handed you a drink and pulled you back into the moment. “Come on, no sad thoughts tonight!” he said, grinning widely.

You laughed and accepted the drink, allowing yourself to be swept up in the music and the joy of the evening. Whatever happened later, you decided, could wait until tomorrow. For now, you were going to dance the night away.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was sitting away from the dance floor with his football teammates, lazily holding a drink. He wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying until Jimin leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, I just saw Y/N on the dance floor,” Jimin said casually, almost like he didn’t just drop a huge surprise.

Jungkook sat up straight, surprised. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope,” Jimin replied, dragging out the word for more suspense. “But... she’s with Namjoon.”

The smile that had started to form on Jungkook’s face vanished. Of course you were with Namjoon. He felt a familiar wave of jealousy wash over him, even though he knew it was silly—there was nothing romantic between you two, right? Still, he couldn’t help his mind from racing.

As he glanced down at the dance floor, he spotted you right away. You were laughing, your face bright in the colorful lights as you danced with carefree joy. Despite the sting in his chest, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. You looked so happy, and that mattered to him.

“She looks amazing,” he thought, feeling a bit of a ache in his heart.

Jimin leaned closer, grinning playfully. “You’re so down bad, man. When are you going to tell her? Keeping it inside for years is painful to watch.”

“Shut up, Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, grabbing the drink from Jimin’s hand and standing up quickly.

As he walked away, something slipped from his pocket and fell to the floor.

“Uh, Jungkook? You dropped something,” Jimin called out, picking it up.

Jungkook turned around, snatching the envelope before Jimin could look closer and shoved it back into his pocket.

He made his way to the restroom, his thoughts racing. After closing the door behind him, he leaned against the sink and pulled out the envelope again.

He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the night. Slowly, he opened it, curiosity bubbling inside him. As he read the first few lines, his breath caught in his throat.

You excused yourself, telling Namjoon that you needed a break and wanted to find the comfort room. He nodded and kindly pointed you in the right direction. As you walked away from the crowd, the noise of the venue faded slightly, and you welcomed the moment of solitude.

But before you could push the door open, you stopped in your tracks. Jungkook was standing there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes widened as they met yours. You gave him a small wave, unsure of what to make of his expression, but before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you outside.

“Jungkook, wait! What’s going on?” you protested, but he didn’t stop until you were far away from the venue, out of sight and earshot of the crowd.

Finally, you tugged your arm free, your breath slightly uneven. “What’s going on? Why did you bring me here?”

He looked at you, his jaw tightening like he was wrestling with something he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then he blurted out, “Do you still like me?”

You froze. “Pardon?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” His voice was more urgent this time, his eyes searching yours.

“What—Jungkook, I’m confused! What’s happening?” you stammered, until your gaze dropped to his hand. He was holding something—a letter. A very familiar letter. Your heart sank. No, this can’t be happening, you thought.

“Where did you get that?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. It was the letter. The one you wrote when you thought you had no chance with him. The one you hesitated to give because it felt too vulnerable, too raw. And now, he was holding it.

Dear Jungkook,

There’s so much I’ve been meaning to say, but I never quite found the right moment—or maybe I just didn’t have the courage. You’ve been such an important part of my life, and honestly, I can’t imagine it without you.

We’ve known each other for so long, and I still remember the little things—like the time when we were kids, and you cried because your favorite drink spilled. I gave you mine, and you smiled like the world was okay again. It might sound silly, but that moment has stayed with me.

As time has passed, I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you have deepened in ways I didn’t expect. Maybe it was during those awkward moments in middle school when you were there to help me out without making things weird. Your kindness in those moments really meant the world to me and made me like you even more.

I want to assure you that I’m not writing this to complicate our friendship because that means the world to me. I just felt it was time to be honest, especially with all the buzz around you and Sana. Regardless of what’s happening between you two, your happiness is what truly matters to me. She’s great, and you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of all, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, for capturing memories through your photos when I didn’t know how to see myself, and for being there when I needed someone, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Thank you for being a part of my dad’s life as well—I know he would be proud of the person you’re becoming.

I’m sorry for the times when I pushed you away or made it hard to talk. I know you wanted to connect, and I regret not opening up sooner. You know I’ve had my struggles, but I hope we can still be just like before.

No matter what happens, I hope you always choose what makes you happiest. You deserve that, Jungkook. I hope I’ll get to see you thriving, chasing your dreams, and smiling that smile that makes everything feel okay.

See you around.

Love,

Y/N

You should’ve known better. She always had a knack for getting involved in things she shouldn't, and this time was no different.

“Answer me,” Jungkook urged again, his voice softer now but still serious.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “Yes, Jungkook. I did have feelings for you,” you confessed, your voice shaking. “And... I still do.”

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook stepped closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was gentle yet charged, filled with all the feelings he hadn’t found the words for. It felt like time stopped, the noise of everyone else fading away until there was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a real, open smile that lit up his face. “I like you too, Y/N. I’ve liked you for so long. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught, not in surprise this time, but in the overwhelming realization that maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you had been waiting for.

He kissed you again, and it felt deeper and more passionate, your mouths moving together as if they’d always belonged that way. Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you catching your breath while still holding onto each other, his eyes shining with joy. "I can't believe this is actually happening," he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow, still reeling from everything. "Neither can I. You dragged me out here, kissed me, and now what? Do we just head back to prom like nothing happened?"

As you stood there with Jungkook, still processing everything, a voice crackled over the speakers from inside the venue.

“Attention, everyone! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of our prom king and queen!”

You turned to Jungkook, your hand still in his. “We should probably head back.”

Jungkook shook his head, grinning. “As if I’d win prom king. And there’s no way you'd win, unless you consideration of just how breathtaking you are tonight."

You tilted your head, smirking. “What if I do win prom queen? Don’t you want to be there for my big moment?”

You both laughed at the thought. But before you could say anything else, the emcee’s voice rang out.

“And this year’s prom king is… Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

You both froze. You stared at him in disbelief. “No way.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “Did they—? Are we hearing the same thing?”

The crowd inside erupted with cheers, and before Jungkook could react, the emcee continued, “And this year’s prom queen is none other than Ms. Y/N L/N!”

Your jaw dropped as you looked at Jungkook, astonished. “Okay, now I know this is a joke. Sana definitely set this up.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and began leading you back toward the venue. “Well, come on, Your Majesty. Let’s go claim our crowns!”

As you entered the hall, all eyes turned to you, clapping and cheering. Jungkook’s friends were the loudest, practically bouncing with excitement.

You and Jungkook were brought up onto the stage, where the emcee placed crowns on your heads. Jungkook leaned down and whispered, “I guess we’re more popular than we thought.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh in front of everyone.

As the first notes of a slow song filled the air, the emcee gestured to the dance floor. “And now, the prom king and queen’s dance!”

Jungkook extended his hand to you, his grin widening. “Shall we, Your Highness?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but took his hand. “Let’s not trip over our crowns, Your Majesty.”

As you both danced under the sparkling lights, the crowd faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. This wasn’t just any dance—it was a moment that felt timeless, a memory forming in your heart.

You hadn’t even wanted to come tonight, yet here you were, wrapped in Jungkook’s warm embrace, feeling as if everything had led to this unexpected moment. Looking into his eyes, you understood—this wasn’t just the end of the night; it was the start of something even greater.

For the first time, it all made sense. Like two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for each other, you fit together effortlessly, naturally, as if this was where you always belong to each other.

end.