#“I'm absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

[whumpsmith-participates]

AI-less Whumptober 2024

Day 20 - "I'm absolutely not qualified for this shit."

Tags/CW: hospital setting, blood, chaos

Ryan had gotten so many warnings when he chose to pursue a career in nursing. He was warned it would be hard and thankless work. He was warned that the hours would be brutal in a desperate attempt to make up for the staff shortage. And he was warned that he wouldn't command the same respect as a doctor.

Ryan was ready to face it all.

Or so he thought.

It wasn't his first placement. Hands-on learning was very important, especially so close to graduating, and Ryan had always learned best by simply doing. Nothing could curb his enthusiasm, not even when the seasoned nurse who was supposed to show him around gave him a stern talking about how this was no school trip.

It wasn't his first placement, but it was his first placement in the Emergency Room.

Despite the daunting prospect, they were told that they would be eased into it. Beginning with a tour, showing them what tended to happen where, what the different areas were called, and where to find supplies that they would be undoubtedly ordered to fetch.

"I hope you kids can keep up with the pace, because in here, when you're told to run, you don't run like your life depends on it, you run like dozens of lives depend on it," the nurse in charge said.

Ryan noticed one of the girls in his group notably paling, probably intimidated by the whole speech. He didn't blame her. It sounded like they were headed into a war zone. Yet, when he looked around, it seemed to be mostly sutures, tummy aches, kidney stones, and he could've sworn he heard a patient loudly proclaim they fell on something.

"It'll be okay," he said quietly, giving the pale girl a nudge, "if it's like any of the other placements we'll probably start out doing the simple things; making beds, clerical stuff, I've even mopped floors if the staff shortage was bad enough."

"...I-I don't know how to mop floors!" the girl gasped in response.

"Oh...honey..."

Ryan wasn't sure what else to say. Luckily he didn't have to, as at that point some kind of buzzer went off, startling him and the two other newbies.

"That means we have multiple emergencies incoming!" the nurse in charge said, "you three stick with me, stay close, but don't get in the way!"

And that apparently concluded the tour, plunging them straight into work. The three nursing students felt like little ducklings trying to follow their mother duck whilst being blown all over the place by strong and sudden gusts of wind. Multiple people flocked towards the ambulance bay, and multiple people were shouting orders.

Ryan did his best to lock in, waiting for the nurse in charge to shout orders, knowing he only had to listen to her...until he had no other choice. As soon as the patients were rolled in, the three students were split up. Ryan vaguely caught something about a collision on a nearby junction and more patients being on their way, before he heard his own name and that of one of the doctors.

He located said doctor as he waved him over, and he quickly changed direction to help push the gurney to the right area so the doctor could assess and treat the worst injuries, while Ryan was instructed to stick all kinds of sensors on the poor young woman so they could track her vitals. He had to cut through her shirt and bra, quickly yanking part of the curtain closed for her modesty before pulling the fabric aside and finishing his job.

He relayed the measurements the machines took, to which the doctor decided what to do next and asked for the necessary kits. Fortunately Ryan remembered the kits were near that area, making it so he only had to run a short distance to retrieve the necessary items.

Even though it had started so suddenly, Ryan felt like he was doing quite well. He located his pale-looking fellow student and shot her an encouraging thumbs up while she was hanging a bag of fluids for her patient.

And then it all went to shit.

First, he noticed that his socks had gotten wet. As he looked down he found his patient was bleeding at such an alarming rate onto his shoes that it soaked through the canvas and into his socks. Only then did the machines start beeping in alarm as her blood pressure got dangerously low.

The buzzer for an incoming emergency rang again, the doctor cursing as he and Ryan feverishly tried to locate and plug where the woman was bleeding from. Of course, at that moment, one of the med students on that floor decided to faint, knocking over some equipment that set off another alarm, which forced the doctor to abandon Ryan to make sure that patient wouldn't die as well.

"Just hold pressure!" he said, before disappearing.

"Oh my God..." Ryan quietly said as he looked at the carnage around him, unable to assist anywhere as he was pretty sure his fingers were the only thing keeping his patient from bleeding out, "I'm absolutely not qualified for this shit."

@ailesswhumptober

Masterlist Main account

Ryan's rough awakening. He's more qualified now.

[guinevereslancelot]

hm am i going insane or is it just november

[thedawningofthehour]

Ok I have a lot of questions and I have to break this down into parts.

Actually, on the revealed page of the new comic, you can see Casey jr in one of the panels, and he looks the same as he does in the movie, which would confirm that the deaths of donnie and Raph were actually recent.

Wait, what's going on with the gay laws in china? Last I heard, china was actually tightening their laws regarding anything remotely queer, because of that many danmei (chinese gay genre) productions who already had experience working around censorship were having problems to the point where they didn't know if they could release. Even the genshin impact company was having problems over there, because one of their male characters was too feminine for their standards.

Aw, I got the impression from Casey Jr that he had never met Raph. He was really comfortable with Donnie and April, but much stiffer with Splinter and Raph. I always took that to mean Raph and Splinter either died before he was born or when he was too young to remember much. And you know Raph would have dadded any child that displayed even the slightest need for dadly guidance.

The way I have the order of death plotted out in my own headcanonical world, the death order went: Raph on invasion day -> Bella dying to save Donnie -> Splinter doing something stupid in a 'it needs to be done and it might as well be him' scenario -> Cass doing something unimaginably badass and cool and probably screaming "WITNESS ME" -> Donnie sacrificing his life to take out the Technodrome -> Draxum going on a suicide mission to destroy one of the main three Krangs -> Big Mama and April as we see their bodies at the beginning of the movie.

I will not be amending this whatsoever in light of the canonical material.

No but for real, I kind of enjoyed that the fandom had so much leeway to really do whatever we wanted with the post-apocalypse storyline. And I'm going to admit it now, I don't like Donnie's overalls. I like the ones other people have drawn on him and maybe it's because the sketch we saw was pretty low quality, but it doesn't do anything for me.

I said Chinese attitudes, which...in retrospect, means a lot less than it really should. Jesus Christ, I literally said that on the 35th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square massacre.

My understanding of what goes on in China is-well, for one, it's just not something I'm super informed on, I had literally one semester of world history in high school and we didn't even really get to east Asia, we started with Africa and moved east but got stuck in the Arab world because this was 2011. (use your imagination on what was said there) Literally, everything else was American history with the occasional Ancient Greece unit thrown in. No shit, I am literally Raph, I didn't know the Holy Roman Empire was a separate thing from the original Roman Empire until I was an adult. (I also thought nobody was Jewish anymore until I read 'Are You There God? It's Me Margaret' and realized that the Jews didn't all convert in Jesus' time) And what we did learn about modern China, we learned it through a...very anti-red lens. Which isn't to say communism good and all criticism of China is red scare propaganda, but educating yourself post-indoctrination involves actively challenging and unlearning the shit you were indoctrinated with, which can interfere with actually learning about shit with an open mind.

What was I talking about? Right, gay stuff in China. There's been little victories on that front, but from what I've read they've mostly been pretty performative without real underlying change, like with women's rights in Saudi Arabia. Which is its own problem, but progress is progress? But yeah, the censorship is getting worse. Which is worrisome.

Maybe it's kind of wishful thinking on my part, but I also think a shift in official attitudes would be the most logical thing for China right now. A lot of Chinese people support LGBT rights, and that number is only going to swell as older, more conservative people die off and young people enter adulthood. (and people get exposed to pro-LGBT viewpoints and content and realize homophobia is dumb) And the rest of the world is becoming more and more gay-friendly, the only exceptions really being Russia and a few Islamic states, and, uh. China is not really...endearing itself to the Islamic world right now. We'll leave it at that. It's going to get to a point where the UN is pressuring them and their own people are pressuring them, and either they give in on that issue or it comes to conflict. That's how it works.

I'm hopeful that things will change in China in my lifetime. I'm just very worried about how much blood it will take.

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Okay I'm not saying that this semester's students suck ass bc I'm not there to teach them, but isn't it just such a coincidence that the vast majority are failing so miserably and they don't have someone who will tutor them outside of class and go over notes and skills with them, while the previous semesters did have that and the majority passed? Super interesting stuff. Too bad we'll never know if things could've been different if they had just fucking paid me :)

[monster-noises]

Ahahahahaaha love love Love getting Medical Anxiety triggered by over hearing something at work and fucking Finally feeling normal by the end of the work day only to come home and Remember It

Best time

Good vibes

My insides are vibrating at a daaaaangerous frequency and it's Not Helping

[thewritingpossum]

Forgot to mention it but there was a huge debate at my study group the other day about wether or not you could call yourself an historian after getting your bachelor degree and two of my favorite profs were defending opposing views and they were trying to keep it light and funny but you could see that they were getting lowkey heated and for a so-called academic I actually don't do that well with conflicts so I was like haaa mom and dad stop arguing!! T_T but anyway, my one german prof that some have called 'intimidating' went to see me me and my buddy who accidentally started the debate earlier (by joking that he was about to graduate and could finally call himself an historian), put his arms around our shoulders and kindly told us that we could call ourselves historians if we want so I guess that was some nice validation lmao

[frogkeyboard]

i'm about to get a 4.0 this semester for my first all ap schedule GOD BLESSSSS IM GETTING AN A IN AP CALC

[stabbylambchop]

Hey uh

anyone here on Art Fight this year or-

Cuz I'm on there, same name and everything. I'm on Team Vampires.

You can like, add me or whatever...I mean, if you want...

I haven't interacted with anyone on here or even really drawn in a couple months, sweet pulsating spider-christ ...

[theladygazingatemptiness]

me @ me: hoe don't kill this fish tryna be Mother Ocean

[wereh0gz]

I was gonna comment this under a youtube short abt a specific stim (tapping your ears) that reminded me of something from my childhood but I realized I was on youtube and decided I won't risk being emotionally open on that hellhole so I'm posting it here instead

Anyways the video reminded me of when i was in elementary school back when i still lived in Puerto Rico. i got so overwhelmed in one of my classes because all the other kids were being deafeningly loud and i couldn't keep up with the notes (had written two whole whiteboards worth of notes and the teacher was erasing one of the boards to write more)(notes were all fully handwritten, no guided notes packets or anything)(was always made to write ALL OF IT, no shorthands) and then the teacher started using a goddamn WHISTLE to get the kids' attention and shut them up (didn't work, just made more noise which made me more overwhelmed). i burst into tears and started tapping my ears almost unconsciously to try and mitigate the noise since just covering them wasn't enough somehow.

I still do it sometimes when there's too much noise but like. In a less noticeable way i guess? Just kinda rub my ear which gets a similar effect to tapping it. Bc i know it's weird and i was already the weird kid by then so like i can't be More Weird. Y'know. So most of the time i just endure loud noise and try not to get super pissed off or cry instead.

Anyways i'm not saying i'm for real neurodivergent but i am saying that my parents should've done something about my very obvious issues way earlier on instead of just chalking it up to me being "shy" or "sensitive" or "a perfectionist" or whatever the fuck. Bc this incident among other things that happened before and after it were literally big flashing signs that i was Not Normal. But noooo instead they had to leave current me with emotional regulation issues constantly wondering what the fuck is wrong with me

[unpassive-viewer]

Watching breaking in the olympics has been awesome as a former hip hop dancer, but holy shit. For every person who doesn't know how breaking even works and doesn't think it's a sport, there's ten more who are excited about the men's competition, but absolutely ragging on the women's competitors. My head is actually spinning.

If you don't know about breaking, I need to explain some things:

The breakers all know one another already, and all respect each other. This includes between the m&f categories. Nicka (silver medalist - women's) and Phil Wizard (gold medalist - men's) have literally competed as a duo.

The breakers that you think "are better than everyone in the finals" already went through the qualifying trials. They also compete with all the medalists, they also tried out for the olympic teams. They did not make it.

To that end, every battle is its own battle. They may have done poorly in the qualifying trials, but have beaten the now-gold medalists in other competitions. It's not like swimming where Katy Ledecky will pummel everyone else in the race unless she has an exceptionally off day.

Related to point 2 - breaking was born in the Bronx. It was also born in the 1970s. Being mad that the demographics don't reflect who you think should be dancing, or being mad that the dance isn't "in touch with its roots" is like being mad that someone modified the recipe for ginger beef. Some of the guys who were competing today are old enough that they were dancing with the same people who invented the sport. I promise that they have crazy respect for how it began and all of its influences.

Related to point 3 - breaking requires originality. It is a foundational element of the sport to evolve and be creative. It's a sport, but it's also an art form.

Dancing for three rounds in three separate battles is a lot for any dancer. If you think some of them looked like shit toward the end (I disagree, but whatever) it's because they are tired. Not to mention there were heat warnings in Paris! They still have more athletic ability in their left pinky finger than I've ever had in my whole body - and I was someone who also did street dance!

The music wasn't decided ahead of time, but the DJs were playing very very popular breaking songs. All of the competitors already know how they go, so if they were scoring low in musicality, it's not because they panicked not knowing the song.

The athletes have sets made up already, they're not freestyling. They adapt them to the music, but unless they blank in the middle of the competition, they already know which skills they want to show off. (I'm editing to clarify that some of them did freestyle, but for the most part it was after they felt like they'd done what was going to get them points)

I really doubt that anyone on tumblr is going to care, but Instagram users can't read and YouTube is full of bots. I'm so excited that I got to watch my sport in the Olympics, but my lord people cannot behave.

[agender-witchery]

I feel like every post that focuses on and celebrates the sexuality of transfems hyperfixates on gock and like. I get it, the majority of transfems are either pre-op or non-op, and yeah those people are so frequently excluded from even being allowed to celebrate sexuality and need representation because, hey, especially for the pre-op folks, that reassurance that you're desirable is needed. I should know, I used to be pre-op and I fucking hated it. I didn't get that reassurance when I needed it most, and I'm damned happy that people who do need it can get it now.

But now I'm post-op and like, what? I just get to feel even more excluded from that sort of celebration? It's mostly just all encompassing, like it is nearly the totality of what constitutes celebrating trans bodies, with a teeny tiny exception carved out for transmasc bodies which I am absolutely not qualified to have an opinion on, not even gonna try, and damn near nothing for post-op transfems.

The thing that gets me the most is porn. Sure, it contributes to the feeling of unwelcomeness that nearly every post that gets slapped across my dash is about The Gock, but I don't seek that out. I'm not out here looking for text posts about how cool gock is, I haven't had one for 7 years. But I seek out porn. And any time I see porn that depicts transfems, even when that porn isn't fetishizing transness, the thing that defines a transfem is her dick. Aside from literally one instance, I never see a girl with a scar on her abdomen, I never see a cross section of a pussy with no womb, I never see someone with two holes and an estrogen patch. It just isn't there.

And on one hand, it feels like I don't deserve to complain, that I'm lucky to have even gotten to have surgery, but on the other hand, fuck you! I get to complain about shit like this, I get to complain that the overall atmosphere of transfem sexuality necessarily including gock, I get to complain that this shit makes me feel like surgery was a mistake even though if I take a couple hours off social media and think hard about it, I don't have any real regrets, I get to complain that when transfem bodies are celebrated, that almost never seems to include my transfem body. I get to complain that trans representation doesn't represent me.

So fuck it. Neopussy Tuesday.

[formulawolff]

“you better.” — t.w.

pairing -> female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count -> idk y’all, my bad

warnings -> boss x employee dynamic, slight power imbalance, angst, cursing, gg being a little bit of a brat, toto being down bad (he would do anything for his woman, and he means it!), sexual innuendos, yadayadayada

a/n -> hiiiii it's me! i'm back with another gg x toto installment. i'm sorry if the writing is not my best, i've been a little rusty. this fic was a request idea sent to me a few weeks ago. anon, this one is for you! i hope y'all enjoy reading about them! <3

"god fucking damnit!"

blood roars in his ears as her helmet collides against the wall, forming a sizable dent. paint chips flutter to the floor, the figure inhaling a sharp breath as curses roll from her tongue, the driver pacing back and forth.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the figure's jaw clenches as her arm sweeps along the nearest table, sending items flying in her wake.

all right, that was it.

the final straw.

time to intervene.

"you need to cut it out. you're acting like a child. you of all people know tantrums get you nowhere."

at his sentiment, her head swivels, nothing but pure, fiery rage flickering about in her stare. strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, her lip curling into a sneer.

"your orders cost me two positions. it cost me a podium this weekend. i think i deserve to be a little upset about it."

"it's only the beginning of the season, love," toto wolff tuts, folding his arms across his chest, "you have time to make up for it. you have so much time to win the title."

at his statement, she pauses, her brows furrowing together. he can sense her fury dissolving by the second, her rigid muscles relaxing as her shoulders slump. silence creeps in as she crosses over to the couch, curling up in the fetal position.

to put it lightly, it was a tough opening weekend in melbourne.

not only did she have to deal with the wake of the loss to max, she had difficulty familiarizing herself with the new car. the media was in a frenzy, circling around like vultures every single time she moved or spoke. fuck, she could barely even breathe without a microphone close by.

toto couldn't imagine how draining it must have been to deal with it all. there was an instance over the weekend where a reporter inquired about their sex life. following that, there were numerous questions involving when he was going to propose, when they were planning on having kids, and if she would retire if they had children.

she executed a brilliant drive during qualifying, managing to snag the third position on the grid, just behind lando and max. if all went according to plan, she would be able to push past lando at the start of the race, and be able to battle it out with max for the victory.

at the start of the race, she drove beautifully. she was able to surge ahead and get past both max and lando, sailing into the first position.

it was going perfectly until lap twenty-three, where there was a mishap with the steering. following the error came a miscommunication with strategy. although toto knew the tires would last a few more laps, it was not his call to bring her in to the pits.

the pit crew was not quite ready, fumbling with two of the tires. it was a painfully slow stop, her radios reflecting exactly how toto felt about the fiasco.

the call for the early pit ultimately cost her three positions, which ended up crushing her hopes of a podium on opening weekend.

following the race, she exchanged some heated words with the media. something along the lines of, "fuck off or you're going to feel that boom mic up your ass." of course, that sent social media into a frenzy.

so, when she decided to release some pent up emotions in her driver's room after the race, toto let her.

he couldn't blame her, really. this weekend was an absolute shit show.

yet, he knew they had to move forward from it. the helmet could be replaced. the dent in the wall could be patched. the team strategy could be tweaked.

there was nothing he wanted more than to just wrap her up in his arms, bringing her tightly against his chest. he ached to just hold her, murmuring all of the reassurances she needed to hear. he yearned to just pepper her beautiful face with endless kisses, just to hear that melodic giggle ring in his ears.

he couldn't though.

at least, not yet.

the team principal stays put, waiting until she gives him the cue.

it wouldn’t be verbal. it would be the way her body would shift toward him, inviting him over. it would be the way her arms would droop, begging to be held.

it wouldn’t be too much longer. any minute now.

as expected, she practically sinks into the couch, pleading for some sort of comfort.

there it was, that cue he was desperately waiting for.

he strolls over, settling into the cushion next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

"i-i just wanted to get a head start," there's a tug at his heart as her voice falters, "i wanted to prove to everyone that i could compete with max this time. i just wanted to win a fucking race after what happened last ye-"

"my love," the team principal exhales, a tender hand connecting with her back, just between her shoulder blades, "you have to keep your head up. you are not a failure just because you didn't finish on that podium. you are not defined by what happened last season. things are different now, so much more different."

in the light, he catches the gleam of a tear as it rolls down her cheek, "i just know they're all talking about me. they want nothing more than to see me lose. i just wanted to prove them wrong."

"we have so much time do that," his voice is barely a murmur, "we will make you a champion, my sweet girl. don't worry about what they all think. focus on me. focus on us. focus on how we can correct our mistakes."

the tears are flowing now, the streams glistening as she sits up, pressing her body against his. her head nuzzles into his chest, lashes fluttering as his hand begins to roam, gently kneading into her sore muscles.

"i-i'm sorry."

the words are merely a whisper, but toto hears them.

"why are you apologizing, sweet girl?"

"for acting like a brat," she still won't meet his gaze, her eyes fixated on the door, "i shouldn't have thrown my helmet."

the team principal hums, his fingers treading along the zipper of her suit, "it's all right, love. i think you should do it again, actually."

"stop it," she huffs, rolling her eyes, "you just thought my little outburst was hot."

"quite," his mouth ghosts over her ear, "take that anger out on me, actually. you know, you're quite sexy when you're all riled up."

"maybe i will." the corners of her lips twitch, and toto can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

she was fighting a smile, and fuck, was she fighting one hard.

carefully, she swings a thigh over his lap, straddling him as the tip of her nose brushes against his, "maybe i will take my anger out on you, toto. i want you to do something first, though."

in his khakis, he feels his cock stiffen, his throat tightening as she leans in even closer, "w-what is it, my love?"

fuck, he did he loathe how much power she held over him.

she cocks her head, a hand drifting to his cheek. her thumb trails along his cheekbone, relishing the way he completely crumbles under her touch.

"i want you to inform the fia that i will not be participating in any press for the next three races. will you do that for me?”

“sweet girl, you know i can’t do that—“

“please?” he can’t help but notice the way her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

all it would take is for her to bat those lashes once, and he would be done for.

and to his dismay, she does just that, “i just can’t handle the press right now. it’s too much and—“

“consider it done, my love. a statement will be out by the morning.”

“good boy,” she purrs, pressing her forehead against his, “you’re the best.”

“anything you want or need, it will be handled. i can promise you that. i will do everything in my power to make sure that you become champion.”

her lips press against his, a shiver running down his spine as she smirks, rolling her hips. it takes everything in his power to stifle a groan as her fingers delve into the waistband of his khakis, his cock throbbing.

she has him right where she wants him, but he doesn’t mind.

not. at. all.

she was his princess, after all.

and what his princess wanted, she got.

it only takes four words for him to come undone, any coherent thoughts slipping from his mind as her hand wraps around his shaft, his breaths coming out in pants.

“you better, toto wolff.”

[rubyuji]

Full Throttle (Kim Mingyu) ϑ : 🏎️ 🏁 🛞

“Dinner? What makes you think I’m the kind of woman who falls for candlelight and compliments?” ᝰ.ᐟ

Genre: Slowburn, Fluff

AU: Formula One AU!

Pairing: Ferrari Driver!Kim Mingyu x Seungcheol’s Sister!Reader

Warnings: Cheating (not Mingyu though), nothing much honestly

Synopsis: Mingyu, Scuderia Ferrari’s rising star, has quickly captured attention both on and off the track. Fans can’t help but notice his pursuit of a familiar face in the paddock—Choi Y/N, the younger sister of veteran driver Choi Seungcheol—sparking buzz about a potential romance brewing in the F1 world.

Note: Hi everyone! It's been quite some time since I published anything here since I was so preoccupied with school and F1 (which explains why this is an F1 fic you feel me). Anyway, I'm so glad to be back on here, and I hope you enjoy my fellow F1 and Kpop nerd besties. Don't forget to like + reblog as a form of support for me and other writers!

W.C: 12.9k (Holy shit ???)

Everyone knows breaking into Formula One is no small feat. It takes years of relentless dedication, countless hours on the track, and significant financial investment to secure sponsors and world-class training.

Add to that the sheer exclusivity of the sport—only 20 seats are available globally—and the odds are anything but favorable. 

For Kim Mingyu, however, the dream became a reality. His rise through the motorsport ranks, culminating in a dominant streak in Formula 2, had not gone unnoticed. It felt surreal when Scuderia Ferrari extended an offer for him to join their team.

From karting as a wide-eyed child with ambitions of professional racing to earning a seat at one of Formula One’s most prestigious teams in just his second season, it was a story worthy of the history books.

“Kim Mingyu does it again! What an incredible performance in his second season, claiming his first win at the Italian Grand Prix in Imola!”

The commentator’s voice reverberated through the circuit, electric with excitement as Mingyu crossed the finish line in his Ferrari, trailed closely by his teammate, Jeon Jungkook, and Red Bull Racing’s Choi Seungcheol.

“P1, Kim! What an absolute day. You fought brilliantly, mate,” his race engineer, Eunwoo, radioed in, pride evident in his voice.

Behind the visor of his helmet, Mingyu grinned, his heart pounding with exhilaration. As he drove his victory lap, he raised a hand to wave at the roaring fans in the grandstand, soaking in the moment.

This wasn’t just a race—it was proof that years of sacrifice, grit, and belief in his abilities had paid off.

“Congrats, Mingyu! You crushed it!” Minghao cheered, slapping Mingyu’s helmet affectionately before pulling him into a bear hug.

Jeon Jungkook, who had finished just behind him in P2, was quick to join the celebration. As his teammate and closest friend, Jungkook beamed with pride, clapping Mingyu on the back as they made their way to the podium together.

The air was electric as champagne sprayed over the three drivers, their laughter mingling with the thunderous cheers of the crowd. For Mingyu, it felt like a dream—a surreal, euphoric moment frozen in time.

Standing on the podium, the magnitude of his achievement began to sink in. If this was what victory felt like, he was determined to make the podium his second home for the rest of the season. 

As he gazed out over the roaring fans, one thought crystallized in his mind: becoming a world champion wasn’t just a dream anymore—it was his next goal.

“Congratulations on your first podium, Mingyu!” The reporter greeted him with a warm smile as he stepped off the podium.

“That was a phenomenal performance, especially this early in the season. After qualifying P19 and missing out in Q2, how did it feel to work your way up to P1 from such a position and then maintain the lead to secure the win?”

Mingyu paused, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears, as he prepared to relive the race that had just changed his life forever. He smiled earnestly at the camera, still feeling as if he was on cloud nine. 

“It’s an absolute honor,” Mingyu said, the adrenaline from his victory still coursing through him.

“Honestly, I expected to stay within the top ten threshold like I did in my first season, but somehow, I managed to push through and claim P1. I gave it everything I had out there. I’m incredibly grateful to secure this win, especially with such an amazing team supporting me every step of the way, and to achieve this in just my second season—it feels surreal.”

The reporter nodded, thanking him for his time before Mingyu was ushered to another group of journalists. Question after question about the race flowed his way, from strategies to pivotal moments.

By the time the interviews concluded and Mingyu finally made it back to his hotel, he felt utterly drained.

“Good job, Mingyu! Second season and already a first-place finish—you’ve proven your potential in the best way possible,” Minghao, his manager and best friend, said with a grin as they walked into the hotel room.

Mingyu sank into the nearest chair with a deep sigh, exhaustion catching up to him. From starting P19 on the grid to crossing the finish line in P1, it had been a grueling but rewarding weekend. The memory of every overtaking move and every strategic call from the pit crew replayed in his mind.

He knew maintaining this level of performance would be crucial if he wanted to achieve the ultimate goal: becoming a world champion.

“Finally made it to the podium, but how does he still not have a girlfriend?” Seokmin’s teasing voice echoed from the other side of the room as he lounged on the couch.

“Did you see how some of those reporters kept trying to dig into his love life? They were relentless! It was hilarious watching him answer every question about qualifying or race strategy with confidence, but then totally shut down when someone asked if he had a special someone waiting to celebrate with him. Or better yet, if he’d date a fan!”

Mingyu couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “I just wanted to talk about racing, but they always find a way to steer it into personal territory.”

“Don’t worry, Mingyu,” Minghao chimed in with a laugh.

“You’ve got bigger things to focus on—like keeping that P1 streak alive. Love life or not, the entire grid knows you’re the one to watch this season.”

Mingyu smiled faintly, the weight of expectations pressing lightly on his shoulders. Despite the exhaustion from the weekend, the thrill of victory reignited the fire within him.

This was just the beginning, and he was determined to keep climbing.

Grabbing a pillow, Mingyu then launched it across the room with a smirk.

“Is it seriously a requirement to have a girlfriend around here?” he quipped, watching as Seokmin dodged dramatically, letting the pillow bounce harmlessly off the window.

“I know I’m hot, but my time will come sooner or later. I guess the internet just can’t handle the fact that a sexy racer is single,” he added, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Minghao and Seokmin burst into laughter, their snorts filling the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes at their reaction, though he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Ever since his Formula One debut, he had earned the title “King of Visuals” on the grid—a moniker bestowed by fans who were captivated by his striking looks and undeniable charm.

So when he casually admitted during an interview that he was one of the few single drivers on the grid, the revelation had spread like wildfire across social media.

Memes, hashtags, and fan cams flooded every platform, leaving fans reeling with equal parts disbelief and excitement.

Mingyu had unwittingly become the internet’s favorite enigma—a talented driver with looks that could kill and no one to call his “special someone.”

“I guess being single just adds to the mystery,” Minghao teased, nudging Seokmin.

“Or the drama,” Seokmin shot back, winking at Mingyu.

Mingyu groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “If only winning races caused this much chaos,” he muttered, though a faint smile lingered on his lips.

Fans were relentless, swarming Mingyu at every opportunity—asking him out on dates, flirting shamelessly, or even making bold moves in the paddock.

While he’d be lying if he said a few gorgeous fans hadn’t caught his eye, Mingyu remained firm in his priorities.

He wasn’t opposed to dating; he simply wanted to let things flow naturally. Right now, his focus was on himself and building a career that was still in its infancy.

Not everyone believed his resolve, though.

“I doubt Mingyu will stay single for long,” Minghao said with a sly grin. “I caught him staring at Choi Seungcheol’s sister right before qualifying on Saturday.”

Mingyu froze, his jaw tightening as the memory resurfaced. He had noticed a stunning woman at the Red Bull garage, her presence impossible to ignore.

Her confidence was magnetic, her aura so captivating that he’d found himself stealing glances in spite of himself.

“What?” Mingyu’s voice rose in disbelief. “That woman talking to Jeonghan at the Mercedes garage is Seungcheol’s sister?” His eyes widened comically.

Minghao’s smirk deepened as Seokmin stifled a laugh.

Mingyu felt a chill run down his spine as the realization hit him. This wasn’t just any woman—this was Choi Y/n, a renowned model and the younger sister of his current rival, two-time world champion Choi Seungcheol.

And if that wasn’t enough, she was also infamous for her high-profile breakup with Jeon Wonwoo, a long-standing Mercedes driver whose questionable reputation had only worsened after their split.

The weight of it all sank in, leaving Mingyu feeling lightheaded. If he so much as looked at Y/n for a second too long, let alone entertain the thought of dating her, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The media would have a field day, and Seungcheol would probably want his head.

“Relax, Mingyu,” Minseo’s voice rang out as she strolled into the room unannounced.

Mingyu groaned inwardly at the sight of his younger sister, whose knack for knowing everyone’s business on the grid was unmatched.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she continued casually, “Y/n prefers to keep her private life actually private. She’s been clearing up the mess with Wonwoo, but fans are still warring over her. Not that I blame them—imagine getting cheated on, kept in the dark, and then watching your ex parade his new girlfriend around right after the breakup. Absolute trash behavior.”

Mingyu scowled. “Great. My life was already complicated, and now you’re giving me the full exposé on Choi Y/n.”

Minseo shrugged, completely unfazed. “You brought me here, genius. If you didn’t want the gossip, you should’ve left me at home.”

Mingyu groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Please, tell me more, oh esteemed and most beloved F2 wag,” he quipped sarcastically, earning a snort from Seokmin.

Minseo rolled her eyes, unfazed by the title. She had gained quite the reputation for her insider knowledge, thanks to dating Lee Chan, a rising star in F2 and the McLaren driver academy.

Mingyu had no one but himself to blame—he’d introduced her to the world of other F1 and F2 wags, unknowingly giving her a front-row seat to the intricate web of grid drama.

“Don’t be mad because I know things,” Minseo teased, crossing her arms.

“Besides, you’ll thank me when you need the inside scoop on how to avoid getting on Seungcheol’s bad side.”

Mingyu groaned again, burying his face in his hands. Racing might be his job, but navigating the social minefield of the paddock was starting to feel like an entirely different sport.

Minseo plopped down beside her older brother on the bed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “She’s a tough nut to crack, I’ll give you that,” she began, nudging him lightly.

“Jiheon told me she’s here for one reason only: to support her brother. She’s not looking for anything romantic, especially after what her ex put her through. If you’re hoping to catch her attention, Gyu, you’re going to need to be more than just a hotshot driver with a nice smile.”

As Mingyu groaned, Minseo pulled out her phone, her expression turning thoughtful.

“Honestly, I look up to her. Y/n’s the type of woman who’s got it all—well-educated, graceful, kind, and, let’s be real, totally charming. Spending the weekend with her and the other wags was eye-opening. She’s not just beautiful; she’s smart and grounded, too. You’d better bring your A-game because she’s not going to fall for someone who’s only about muscles and pole positions.”

Minseo paused dramatically before adding, “Oh, and let’s not forget—she just got out of a toxic relationship with Jeon Wonwoo, the guy everyone calls the next Lewis Hamilton. She’s not exactly eager to dive into another mess.”

Mingyu grimaced, running a hand through his hair as her words sank in. He couldn’t deny the truth in them.

The paddock had been buzzing a year ago when the news broke that Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend—none other than Choi Y/n—had been the one he cheated on.

The revelation had sent shockwaves through both the racing world and social media, making Wonwoo public enemy number one for a while.

But time, as it always does, had softened the uproar. Wonwoo’s reputation for brilliance behind the wheel had gradually eclipsed the whispers about his personal life.

On the track, results often spoke louder than scandals, and the noise had all but faded into the background.

Still, the thought of trying to win over someone like Y/n—a woman with her own storied history and a grace that made her untouchable—felt daunting. Mingyu sighed, leaning back on the bed.

“Why do I feel like this is going to be harder than winning a championship?” he muttered under his breath.

Minseo chuckled, her teasing grin returning. “Because it is. But hey, maybe if you stop grimacing and start acting like the guy everyone thinks you are, you might have a shot.”

Seokmin, who had been quietly observing, chimed in with a laugh. “No pressure, though. You’re only competing with her brother’s protective instincts, her ex’s reputation, and, oh yeah, the rest of the paddock. Easy, right?”

Mingyu groaned again, throwing a pillow at Seokmin. “You’re not helping.”

There were undeniable pros to asking you out.

First, you were single and finally free after healing from a traumatic relationship. Second, he had an unexpected advantage—his younger sister, Minseo, who already seemed to have a friendly rapport with you.

But the cons? Oh, the cons were enough to give even someone as bold as Mingyu pause.

You were practically an untouchable goddess in the paddock, your presence commanding attention and reverence.

Mingyu wasn’t oblivious to the fact that other drivers—some of them far more experienced and decorated than him—were already vying for your attention.

To make matters worse, dating you could throw a wrench into his carefully curated reputation.

You weren’t just anyone; you were Choi Seungcheol’s sister and Jeon Wonwoo’s infamous ex.

For a rookie still carving out his place in Formula One, the optics of dating a rival’s sister, much less a former wag, were a minefield.

Mingyu could hear the whispering headlines already. "Rookie Kim Mingyu entangles himself in paddock drama!" It wasn’t the kind of attention he needed so early in his career.

Yet, there was an undeniable pull—a magnetic allure he couldn’t ignore.

He mulled over the idea, torn between his cautious side and the part of him that thrived on risks.

After all, wasn’t risk-taking how he’d clawed his way into Formula One in the first place? ‘Fuck it,’ he thought to himself, but the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him.

Even with all the confidence in the world, this wasn’t a decision he could make lightly.

“Just give it a go, man. You can prove yourself worthy and treat her better,” Seokmin said, breaking Mingyu’s spiral of thoughts. His friend’s voice was casual, but the words hit with the force of an ultimatum.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d faced impossible odds before, betting on himself when no one else did.

He wasn’t afraid of a challenge—Formula One had taught him that much. But this? This wasn’t just about proving himself on the track.

This was about putting his heart on the line, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to gamble.

Still, a spark of determination flared in his chest. If he was going to take this leap, he’d do it the only way he knew how— flat out, full throttle, no looking back.

After all, Mingyu didn’t just race to win; he raced because he thrived on the thrill of defying expectations. Maybe this was just another race he needed to run.

“You should talk to her at the after-party tomorrow. It’s your chance to ask her out once we’re back in Monaco,” Minseo teased with a mischievous glint in her eye, a snort escaping her as she nudged Mingyu’s arm.

Minghao didn’t miss the opportunity to join in, giving Mingyu a knowing look. “She’s right. You’ve got an opening—don’t waste it,” he added, smirking as Mingyu rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The thought of asking you out swirled in his mind, accompanied by flashes of possible scenarios.

You, like Mingyu, currently called Monaco home, a city tailor-made for romance and spectacle.

Mingyu’s mind toyed with ideas—maybe he’d take you out on his yacht, letting the waves of the Mediterranean set the mood, or perhaps a drive around the glittering streets of the principality, culminating in an unforgettable night of vibrant nightlife.

But before he could settle on anything, Minseo shattered his daydreams.

“If you’re genuinely thinking about bringing her out on your yacht, save yourself the trouble. Y/n’s a simple girl,” she remarked, shaking her head.

“She’d prefer a nice dinner with a stunning view and a good glass of wine.”

Mingyu let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Well, that makes things easier. I owe you one,” he said, genuinely grateful for the insight. The last thing he wanted was to overdo it and come off as trying too hard.

On the day of the after-party, Mingyu is scrambling to look his best. He puts on a sleeveless black Vetements top and a pair of black cargo jeans, finishing the look off with tinted glasses. Mingyu hears a whistle from behind him as Minghao laughs.

As he adjusted the glasses in the mirror, he heard a low whistle from behind him.

Minghao, leaning casually against the doorway, burst into laughter. “Look at you, pulling out all the stops. You sure you’re not overthinking this?”

Mingyu smirked, glancing back at his friend. “You can laugh all you want, but first impressions matter. Besides,” he added, tugging on the hem of his top, “I’m not taking any chances.”

Minghao grinned and gave him a pat on the back. “Relax. Just be yourself, and you’ll be fine. And hey, if all else fails, at least you’ll look good while striking out.”

With a groan and a shake of his head, Mingyu grabbed his jacket and headed out.

Tonight wasn’t just another party—it was an opportunity, and he was determined not to let it slip through his fingers.

At the club, Mingyu felt a rare mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath his cool exterior.

The pulsing lights and bass-heavy music only amplified the electric energy of the night. He’d decided to be optimistic about his chances, reminding himself that confidence was key. After all, wasn’t that what got him into Formula One?

When he spotted you speaking to Minseo near the bar, he knew it was his moment. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his tinted glasses and ran a hand through his hair.

This was his chance to make an impression, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

As he approached, Mingyu couldn’t help but pause for a brief second to take you in. The flashing club lights danced across your figure, highlighting every elegant detail of your appearance.

You were a vision—draped in a sleek black mini-dress that hugged you perfectly, accentuating your silhouette.

Your hair was styled in a loose bun, soft tendrils framing your face in an effortlessly alluring way. But it was your lips—a stunning shade of red—that truly stopped him in his tracks.

Mingyu felt his throat tighten for a moment as he struggled to gather himself. Keep it together, Gyu, he thought. You’ve driven at 300 kilometers per hour—this is nothing.

But somehow, approaching you felt infinitely more nerve-wracking than overtaking a rival on the track.

Minseo caught sight of him first, giving her brother a subtle but encouraging nod. You followed her gaze, and when your eyes met his, Mingyu felt the rest of the club melt away.

The noise, the crowd, the lights—all of it seemed to fade as a small, curious smile graced your lips.

With renewed determination, Mingyu straightened his posture, his confidence returning. He flashed you a smile and closed the distance between you.

“Mind if I join the conversation?” he asked, his voice smooth but slightly tinged with nervous energy.

You tilted your head slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Well, if Minseo vouches for you, I suppose I can spare a few minutes,” you replied, your tone playful but inviting.

As you exchanged introductions and began chatting, Mingyu found himself relaxing. You were warm and genuine, your laughter lighting up the room in a way that made him forget the pressure of the moment.

And for the first time that night, he realized something important: this wasn’t just about taking a chance—it was about truly connecting. And so far, it seemed like he was off to a good start.

“So, Mingyu,” you began, your voice silky and low, “what makes you think you can just waltz over here and steal away all of my attention? I’m sure there are plenty of women in this club waiting for you to flash that grin their way.”

Mingyu’s lips quirked into a confident smile, but there was a softness in his gaze. “Maybe, but they’re not you. Something about you, Y/n... You make this rookie want to risk it all.”

Your eyebrow arched, your expression playful yet enigmatic. “Risk it all?” You tilted your head, letting your gaze linger on him for a moment too long, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Bold words for someone who doesn’t even know what I like to drink.”

He chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to match yours. “Let me guess—red wine. Something deep, bold, and unapologetic, just like you.”

You smiled, clearly pleased but refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not bad,” you murmured, sipping your wine, your eyes fixed on him over the rim of your glass.

“But knowing my drink won’t get you very far. Impressing me takes more than pretty words and that charming smile, Mingyu.”

He straightened, undeterred, his grin widening. “Dinner in Monaco. Just you and me. Let me show you I’m more than just words.”

Your laugh was low and sultry, sending his heart racing. “Dinner? What makes you think I’m the kind of woman who falls for candlelight and compliments?” You leaned closer, your perfume intoxicating.

“You’ll need to earn my time, Mingyu. I don’t waste it on anyone who can’t keep up with me.”

The challenge was clear, but something was inviting in your tone—a test wrapped in flirtation. “So, what do you say?” he asked, his confidence unshaken.

You tapped a finger against your glass, pretending to deliberate, though the glint in your eye gave away your amusement.

“Alright, rookie. Impress me tonight, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll consider giving you my time. But I don’t make promises.”

Before he could respond, the moment was interrupted by the presence of two figures approaching from behind him.

Wonwoo and Jeonghan stood there, their expressions unreadable but charged with unspoken warnings.

“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo’s voice was smooth, yet there was an edge to it. “Got a minute?”

You stepped back gracefully, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “Don’t let them scare you off, Mingyu. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You chuckle, turn, and disappear into the crowd, leaving him to face the two seasoned drivers.

Jeonghan was the first to speak, his usual teasing demeanor masked by a surprising edge.

“Y/n’s... a handful, you know. Complicated in the best and worst ways. You sure you want to dive into that?” His smirk was still there, but his tone hinted at something deeper.

“She’s nothing like any of those ditsy admirers you have, by the way,” Wonwoo interjected, his voice clipped and direct.

“And if you’re thinking of making a move, tread carefully. She’s been through more than you can imagine, and she doesn’t need someone messing around in her life just to back out when it gets tough.”

Mingyu shifted his weight, unfazed by their words. His voice was steady, almost challenging.

“I know about what happened between you two,” he said, looking directly at Wonwoo.

“And I know how much it hurt her. But I’m not here to bring her more pain. If anything, I want to be the one who treats her the way she deserves.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. The weight of Mingyu’s words seemed to hang in the air, his sincerity impossible to ignore.

Jeonghan leaned closer, his smirk deepening as he let out a low chuckle.

“Big words, rookie. Do you think just because you’re sweet-talking us here, you’ll get a free pass? Let me tell you something—Y/n’s not a charity case, and she doesn’t need saving. She’s been doing just fine without you or anyone else.”

“I’m not trying to save her,” Mingyu replied firmly.

“I just... I see her, and I know what I want. She deserves someone who sees her for who she is, not what she’s been through. And I’m willing to prove I’m that guy.”

Jeonghan’s teasing expression softened just slightly, though the glint in his eyes remained.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But this isn’t a race where all you need is speed and a good strategy. This is Y/n. You fumble, and you’re out—not just with her, but with the rest of us watching from the sidelines.”

“Noted,” Mingyu said, his confidence unwavering.

“But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this sport, it’s that the best rewards come from the biggest risks. And Y/n? She’s worth it.”

Wonwoo’s expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something—reluctant respect, perhaps—passed through his eyes.

“If you’re serious, you better be ready. She doesn’t give second chances, and she doesn’t forgive easily.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to,” Mingyu replied simply. Jeonghan clapped a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, his grin widening.

“Well, rookie, if you’re that determined, good luck. You’re going to need it.” His tone was light, but the underlying warning was clear.

As they walked away, Mingyu exhaled, his resolve only growing stronger. This wasn’t about proving himself to the others—it was about proving himself to Y/n.

You were a challenge unlike any he’d faced before, but he was determined to show you that he was ready for whatever it took. For you, he was willing to take the risk—and win.

The low rumble of the Ferrari 812 Superfast filled your ears as you gazed out at the glittering Monaco skyline.

The sleek red car sliced through the winding streets, the hum of its engine almost hypnotic.

You weren’t about to admit it, but the smooth ride and his confident handling of the car were mildly impressive—though it also stirred an uncomfortable familiarity.

Your ex had loved the showy grandiosity of moments like this. The high-end cars, the breathtaking views, and the carefully curated settings screamed perfection but felt empty beneath the surface. A part of you braced for the same facade now.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mingyu said, breaking the silence. His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, but his tone was laced with amusement.

“I’m just admiring the ride,” you replied coolly, turning to face him. “You really leaned into the whole Monaco-Ferrari cliché. Should I be flattered?”

He chuckled, casting you a glance before focusing back on the road. “It’s not a cliché if it works. But if the car isn’t enough, maybe the destination will be.”

You allowed yourself a faint smile but didn’t respond, letting the glittering city lights distract you.

As the car climbed higher, the roads became quieter and more secluded. When the car finally came to a stop, Mingyu stepped out quickly, moving around to open your door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said, extending a hand with a boyish grin. You raised an eyebrow but accepted his hand, stepping out gracefully.

The view before you was breathtaking—a cozy, secluded restaurant perched on a cliff, its warm lights spilling out onto a terrace that overlooked the entire harbor. The sea stretched endlessly into the night, reflecting the twinkling city lights.

“Points for effort,” you said lightly, brushing off your dress, though the scene tugged at something buried deep in your chest.

Inside, the restaurant was intimate, far from the prying eyes of the world. Your table was set at the very edge of the terrace, offering an unobstructed view of Monaco’s skyline. The warm evening breeze and soft glow of the lanterns set a perfect scene.

“You like to impress, don’t you?” you asked as you settled into your seat, your fingers lightly brushing the stem of your wine glass.

He shrugged with that same confident grin. “I just wanted the setting to match the company.”

You laughed softly, swirling the dark liquid in your glass. “Flattery, Mingyu? I would’ve thought you’d try something more original.”

“I’m not flattering you,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Just being honest.”

That made you pause. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, and for a moment, your playful smirk faltered.

It reminded you of the early days with your ex, back when he’d been convincing enough to make you believe in his charm. But unlike before, this didn’t feel rehearsed.

“Do you always go to this much trouble for a girl you barely know?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you set your glass down.

“Only for the ones who are worth it,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady.

Your heart tightened, the old wounds from your past relationship threatening to surface.

Your ex had always said the right things too—until the truth unraveled, and you realized how hollow those words had been.

But as you held Mingyu’s gaze, you couldn’t find the cracks you’d learned to expect. His determination wasn’t about ego; it was quieter, steadier.

“And what exactly are you expecting in return?” you asked, your voice soft but challenging.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Except a chance. A chance to show you I’m serious.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of pretense. But all you found was earnestness, and it unnerved you.

“Maybe,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Maybe I’ll consider it.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a satisfied smile, but he didn’t push further.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm, the playful edge between you softened by something deeper.

When you slid back into the car for the drive home, you caught yourself stealing glances at him.

He didn’t need to fill the silence with charm or bravado, and for the first time, you wondered if he might actually be different.

The thought scared you—but it also left you with something unfamiliar. Hope. Maybe this rookie was more than just a fleeting moment—and maybe, just maybe, you’d let yourself find out.

After dinner, the night air was cool as Mingyu opened the car door for you once again, the hum of the car coming to life beneath his touch.

Instead of heading straight back, he took a turn that led deeper into the illuminated streets of Monte Carlo.

“Where are we going?” you asked, a curious edge to your voice.

“It’s too early to end the night,” he replied, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Monte Carlo at night was a masterpiece—its streets glowing with golden light, the harbor dotted with yachts shimmering like jewels, and the gentle hum of the nightlife echoing in the distance.

The Ferrari’s engine purred as Mingyu navigated the winding roads, his confidence behind the wheel evident in every turn.

The windows were slightly down, and the cool breeze swept through your hair as you leaned back in the seat, the city lights painting your features in soft hues.

From his side, Mingyu stole a glance at you, his heart skipping at how serene you looked.

For someone who carried such an untouchable aura, there was an undeniable warmth in moments like this.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft, “you’re really something.”

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Something? That’s a little vague, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “Alright, let me be specific. You’re beautiful, but not just in the obvious way. It’s… the way you carry yourself, the way you challenge me. It’s magnetic.”

You looked away, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks as you tried to play it off with a small laugh.

“Careful, Mingyu. Keep saying things like that, and I might start believing you.”

The car slowed as he pulled into a quiet overlook, the city sprawling out before you in a sea of light.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the nightlife below.

“I used to love nights like this,” you said suddenly, your voice softer than before. “When everything felt… simple. Before it all got so complicated.”

Mingyu turned to you, sensing the shift in your tone. “You mean before—?”

“Before everything,” you interrupted gently. “The spotlight. The rumors. People assuming they know you because of headlines. It’s exhausting.”

There was a vulnerability in your words that he hadn’t seen before, and it made his chest tighten.

“You don’t have to carry all that alone, you know.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of pity but finding only sincerity. It caught you off guard, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax completely.

“Maybe,” you said softly, echoing your earlier words from dinner. “Maybe I don’t.”

The drive back to your place was quieter, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy. Instead, it was comfortable, the two of you lost in your own thoughts as the city passed by in a blur of light and shadow.

When he finally pulled up to your building, you hesitated for a moment before unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice warmer than before. “I… I had a good time.”

Mingyu smiled, leaning slightly toward you. “So, does that mean I get another chance?”

You didn’t answer right away, stepping out of the car instead and turning back to face him with a playful smirk. “We’ll see.”

With that, you disappeared inside, leaving him grinning like an idiot.

When Mingyu got home, he found Minseo lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he walked in, immediately catching the glow on his face.

“So?” she asked, sitting up eagerly. “How’d it go?”

Mingyu flopped onto the couch beside her, running a hand through his hair with a dreamy smile. “It was perfect. She’s… amazing.”

Minseo smirked, nudging him playfully. “Did you tell her how much you like her?”

“Not yet,” he admitted, his smile softening. “But I think she’s starting to let me in. Slowly.”

“Well, don’t screw it up,” Minseo teased, though her tone was affectionate. “I like her already.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning back and closing his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. And as he replayed the night in his head, he couldn’t wait to see where this road would take him.

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the energy in the paddock was electric.

The iconic views of the harbor, the glamorous yachts, and the bustling atmosphere of the streets, combined with the sounds of engines revving and the anticipation of one of the most prestigious races of the season, made for a thrilling backdrop.

Inside the Ferrari hospitality suite, fans were buzzing with excitement, but it wasn’t just the drivers who caught their attention that day.

As the crowd navigated the high-end lounge, all eyes were drawn to Mingyu, who, as usual, effortlessly commanded attention with his tall, lean frame and charismatic smile.

But what had people talking was the stunning woman standing beside him.

You, dressed in an elegant white silk dress with subtle touches of gold—perfectly matching the Monaco glamour—were engaged in a conversation with Mingyu.

Your laughter blended with the excitement of the moment, and the two of you were noticeably close, almost as if the world outside didn’t exist.

There was a natural ease between you, one that made it impossible to deny the undeniable chemistry sparking between you and Mingyu.

As the two of you shared an inside joke, the fans watching couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

Who is she? Is she a lucky charm? The murmurs quickly turned into something more salacious as the gossip began to spread like wildfire.

Wait... isn’t that Y/N? Wonwoo's ex? Some fans gasped, clearly recognizing you from the rumors that had circulated about your past relationship with the Mercedes driver. I thought she was with him, but now she’s with Mingyu?

The whispers grew louder, some speculating that Mingyu had bagged Wonwoo’s ex—someone who had been publicly cheated on.

Others were wondering if it was all some sort of calculated move. She’s with Mingyu now? After everything that happened with Wonwoo?

It was impossible to ignore the buzz around you, but you and Mingyu remained blissfully unaware of the growing gossip.

You were so absorbed in each other, lost in your private world, that the fans’ prying eyes went unnoticed.

But those murmurs were starting to spread rapidly, and no one dared to ask aloud, too caught up in the electric chemistry between you two.

Still, the tension in the air was palpable, the fans too intrigued by the dynamic unfolding before them.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of familiar eyes had been quietly watching from a distance.

Wonwoo, strolling alongside Seungcheol and his teammate Woozi, caught sight of the two of you as he passed by.

His step faltered for a brief moment, his gaze lingering longer than he intended.

His heart skipped, not out of jealousy, but something much more inexplicable.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of something—what was it? Curiosity? Longing? Before he could process the feeling, Seungcheol, ever observant, raised an eyebrow and asked with a smirk, "Who’s the lucky guy?"

"Is it Mingyu?" Woozi added, clearly noticing the dynamic between you and Mingyu.

Wonwoo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply shrugged it off, turning his focus back to the upcoming day’s events. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Back inside the hospitality suite, you slowly began to let your guard down, the intoxicating ambiance of Monaco, mingled with Mingyu's easy-going nature, allowing you to feel more at ease.

It wasn’t often that you felt so relaxed around someone, but Mingyu had a way of making everything feel effortless.

Your conversation flowed like a river, the outside world fading away.

However, with a glance at the clock, you quickly realized that it was time for you to head to the Red Bull Hospitality before the qualifying session.

"I’ll let you get ready for qualifying, Gyu. I’ll be in the Paddock Club cheering you on," you said with a small, warm smile.

Mingyu smiled, his eyes sparkling with appreciation.

"Good luck to me, then. I’ll see you after!" he teased, but there was an undeniable warmth in his voice.

As you made your way toward the exit, your heart fluttered a little, but you pushed the feeling down, knowing Mingyu had his focus on the track.

Meanwhile, the buzz in the hospitality had only grown, fans whispering about the connection they had witnessed between the two of you.

The moment qualifying ended, the energy in the paddock shifted. The Ferrari garage erupted in cheers as Mingyu claimed pole position in a spectacular performance.

The roar of the crowd and the camera flashes filled the air, but Mingyu’s mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking of you, and only you.

However, you had made it clear earlier that you didn’t want anyone to know about the arrangement between you and him. It was a secret that had to be kept, at least for now.

The media and fans were already speculating about the connection they’d seen in the hospitality suite, and you didn’t want to fuel the rumors just yet.

After the qualifying session, you quickly slipped away from the Paddock Club hospitality and headed to Parc Fermé.

Mingyu had specifically asked you to meet him there, away from the prying eyes of the paddock.

You approached the secured area where the cars were lined up, careful not to attract attention.

Mingyu, still in his Ferrari racing suit, was surrounded by his team, but his eyes immediately found you in the crowd. He gave you a small, knowing smile, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

You walked toward him, heart racing in anticipation. "Congrats on pole, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice soft yet full of warmth.

"Thanks," he replied quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride for him, but you both knew that you had to keep things discreet.

His fingers brushed against yours briefly before he quickly pulled his hand back, a silent reminder of the arrangement you were trying to keep secret.

The chemistry between you two was undeniable, but in this world, it had to remain in the shadows for now.

Before you could say anything else, a familiar face appeared—your brother, Seungcheol. He was making his way toward the press conference area, and his eyes swept over the scene in front of him.

You straightened up quickly, knowing you needed to distance yourself from Mingyu before Seungcheol noticed.

Mingyu nodded subtly in understanding, backing away a few steps to give you space.

"Good luck tomorrow," you said quietly, not wanting to make a scene. "I’ll be cheering for you from the Red Bull Garage."

Mingyu’s smile was both grateful and a little teasing. "I’ll see you there."

With one last glance, you turned and left, making your way toward the crowd, careful not to look back.

Back in the Red Bull hospitality suite, you tried to focus on the race, but your thoughts kept drifting to Mingyu and the moment you shared a few minutes ago.

His performance, his quiet smile, the brief touch of his hand—it all felt electric.

You had just taken your seat when you saw a familiar figure outside, weaving through the crowd. It was Mingyu.

He was making his way toward the Red Bull hospitality suite, without a care and with a determined look on his face.

Fans, noticing the connection between you two, whispered to each other as he walked past, but he didn’t seem to care.

Mingyu wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was looking for you. He was coming for you, and you admired the boldness.

Your ex usually kept you under wraps, but Mingyu was determined.

As he entered, his eyes immediately found yours. Without a word, he walked over to you, a warm smile on his lips, his presence making your heart flutter.

"Ready for tomorrow? I just finished my interviews so I could come visit before my meeting," he asked softly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"I am now, you shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble, you know?" you replied, giving him a small smile, feeling the energy between the two of you intensify.

The murmurs around the room had grown louder, and the whispers that started with Mingyu and the girl from Ferrari soon shifted toward something more intriguing.

Wait a minute... Isn’t she... A fan who had been observing the two of you pointed to you and then to a familiar face in the paddock.

"Isn’t she... Wonwoo's ex-girlfriend?"

The conversation quickly spread, as fans began to piece together your past. Oh, that’s her—Seungcheol’s sister, right?

The whispers turned into speculation, with fans recalling the well-known drama surrounding your breakup with Wonwoo.

Wait... isn’t she the one he cheated on? The room buzzed with theories. So she’s with Mingyu now?

Some fans couldn’t help but wonder if Mingyu had stolen her away after the public mess with Wonwoo. What happened between them?

The gossip was relentless, with fans scrambling to connect the dots of your past relationship with Wonwoo and the secretive interaction they had just witnessed between you and Mingyu.

The more they talked, the more the pieces seemed to fall into place, and the intrigue only deepened.

But neither of you cared about the growing attention. What mattered was the moment you shared, the quiet connection that spoke louder than any rumors or expectations.

For now, it was just the two of you, and that was enough.

Mingyu’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his words so soft that they seemed to vibrate in the air between you two.

"No one needs to know everything, right?"

You smiled, a soft laugh escaping your lips, the playful warmth of his tone making your heart flutter. "Not yet."

But as he pulled back, your gaze lingered on him, and for the first time that weekend, a wave of realization hit you.

Being with Mingyu felt... different. It wasn’t just the chemistry or the electric pull that seemed to draw you closer every time he was near. It was more than that.

In the chaos of the Monaco Grand Prix, amidst the flashing cameras, the gossip, and the pressure of it all, you had found something in Mingyu that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

It wasn’t just the comfort of having someone to lean on, though he made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t expected.

It was the way he understood without needing words, how his smile made everything else seem less important, how he could make you forget the world and simply be with you in that moment.

It was as if everything else—the mess with Wonwoo, the drama, the expectations—had faded into the background.

With Mingyu, you felt seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.

No pretense, no games—just raw, real connection. The kind of connection that made you wonder if it was time to stop hiding, to stop keeping everything a secret.

But then reality crashed in. You couldn’t just throw everything into the open, not yet.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many things that needed to be untangled.

Still, in that brief exchange, in the quiet of the moment, you allowed yourself to think that maybe this was different.

Maybe Mingyu was different.

As he gave you that knowing smile and turned to walk away, you stood frozen for a second, your mind racing.

Maybe you had been too cautious for too long, too afraid to step into something real again.

But with Mingyu, it didn’t feel like a leap—it felt like a step toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but something you couldn’t resist.

You glanced back at him, his tall figure moving through the crowd.

Maybe you hadn’t figured everything out yet, but with him, you felt like you were starting to.

Slowly, surely, you could see where this could lead.

As the evening settled over the Monaco paddock, the energy from qualifying slowly began to dissipate.

The buzz of celebration in the Ferrari garage was still palpable, but the crowds had thinned, leaving only a few lingering team members and the two drivers.

Mingyu, having played the role of the victorious pole-sitter all evening, decided it was time to steal a moment for himself—and for you before you both retired to your homes.

Navigating through the quieting paddock, he slipped away from his team’s hospitality, his steps purposeful as he made his way toward the secluded corner where he knew you’d be waiting.

The soft hum of the Monaco harbor filled the air as he rounded a corner, only to come face-to-face with none other than Wonwoo and Hoshi.

Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrowed as he took in Mingyu’s casual, almost nonchalant demeanor.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he said, his voice laced with disdain.

Hoshi, standing beside him in his McLaren race suit, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a slight smirk.

"Well, well, sneaking off, are we, pole-sitter?" His tone was teasing, but his gaze was scrutinizing.

Mingyu straightened, his jaw tightening as he met Wonwoo’s glare. "I don’t see how this concerns either of you," he replied evenly, though there was a sharp edge to his voice.

Wonwoo stepped forward, his expression hardening.

"It concerns me because she’s Seungcheol’s sister. And more importantly, because I know you, Mingyu. You think this is a game? You’re not fit for her."

Mingyu’s eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "That’s not for you to decide," he said firmly. "Especially not after what you did."

Hoshi chimed in, his voice light but his words pointed. "I think what Wonwoo’s saying is... tread carefully. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?"

The tension between the three drivers was palpable, but before it could escalate further, your voice cut through the air.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The three men turned to see you standing a few steps away, your arms crossed and your gaze fiery. Mingyu’s tense posture softened slightly, but Wonwoo’s face hardened.

You marched up to them, your eyes fixed on Wonwoo.

"Seriously? You’re trying to tell Mingyu what to do? You don’t get to have a say in my life anymore."

Wonwoo opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t give him the chance.

"You cheated on me, Wonwoo. You made it very clear how little you cared about me back then. So don’t you dare act like you’re some protective ex now. You lost that right a long time ago."

Hoshi raised his eyebrows, clearly taken aback by your bluntness, while Mingyu’s lips quirked into a subtle smile, pride flickering in his eyes.

You turned to Hoshi, your tone still firm but less cutting.

"And you? I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself. Mingyu has been nothing but kind to me, and honestly, I don’t need the two of you ganging up on him."

Wonwoo looked away, his jaw clenched, while Hoshi gave a small, apologetic nod. Mingyu stepped closer to you, his hand brushing yours in a silent show of support.

You sighed, your voice softening as you addressed all three of them.

"I’m not some prize to be fought over. I make my own decisions. And right now, I’m choosing to be with someone who actually respects me."

With that, you turned to Mingyu, your expression softening as you met his gaze. "Let’s go."

He nodded, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back as the two of you walked away, leaving Wonwoo and Hoshi standing in the shadowed paddock.

As you disappeared around the corner, Hoshi let out a low whistle. "Well, that was something."

Wonwoo didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the spot where you had stood.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the sting of regret—not just for losing you, but for realizing that someone else might treat you the way he should have.

As you and Mingyu walked away from the tension-filled scene, the quiet of the dimly lit paddock enveloped you both.

The distant hum of the harbor and the faint echoes of laughter from the remaining hospitality areas faded into the background.

Mingyu’s hand lightly rested on the small of your back, his touch warm and grounding.

After a few moments of silence, he finally broke it, his voice gentle. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Standing up for me like that.”

You glanced up at him, your expression softening as you saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes.

“Of course, I did,” you said simply. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.” Mingyu stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

The faint glow of the overhead lights cast soft shadows on his face, making the vulnerability in his expression even more evident.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed the truth. “I just... I didn’t want them dragging you into more drama because of me.”

Your heart twisted at his words. For all his confidence and charisma, Mingyu wasn’t as invincible as he seemed.

He was trying to shoulder everything on his own, and it hit you just how much he cared—not just about his image or reputation, but about protecting you from the chaos of his world.

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to gently rest on his arm. “Mingyu,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay? Really?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment as if debating whether to let you see the cracks beneath the surface.

Finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I am now,” he admitted. “But I hate that this affects you, too. I never wanted that.”

You shook your head, your hand sliding down to intertwine with his.

“I knew what I was getting into, Mingyu. And I’m not running away just because it’s a little messy. You’ve been there for me, and I want to be there for you, too.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on your joined hands.

He noticed the way your thumb absentmindedly traced circles against his skin, a small but significant gesture that spoke volumes.

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, the tension in your shoulders easing as you saw him relax slightly. “Good. Because I mean it.”

Mingyu didn’t push further. He could sense that this was a big step for you—letting your walls down, even just a little.

Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his silent way of acknowledging the progress.

“I’m lucky, you know,” he said after a pause, his tone lighter but still sincere. “To have you. Even when things get crazy.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your smile betrayed your affection. “Don’t get used to it just yet,” you teased, but there was no mistaking the warmth in your voice.

As the two of you continued walking, the tension of the evening seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were finally letting someone in, and Mingyu, ever patient, was exactly who you needed at that moment.

Later that night, the warm glow of the city lights filtered through the windows of your apartment, casting soft shadows on the walls.

You sat curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your lap, the faint hum of the Monaco harbor in the distance.

Across from you, Seungcheol sat with his arms crossed, his jaw set as he stared at you with the intensity only an older brother could manage.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mingyu, or do I have to find out from the gossip mill?”

You sighed, tucking your knees under you as you avoided his gaze. “It’s not... it’s not like that,” you started, but the way his eyebrows shot up made you correct yourself.

“Okay, maybe it is. A little.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re seeing him,” he stated bluntly, his tone somewhere between accusation and concern.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I am.”

The silence stretched between you, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He was fuming, you could tell—his tight posture, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, and the sharp edge to his expression.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “After everything with Wonwoo? Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice firmer than you expected. “Mingyu isn’t Wonwoo. He’s... he’s different.”

“Is he?” Seungcheol shot back. “Because I remember how broken you were after that mess. I had to watch you pick up the pieces, and now you’re telling me you want to jump back into something with one of his friends?”

You flinched at the mention of the past, but you refused to back down.

“It’s been years since then, Cheol. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. And Mingyu—he’s nothing like that. He treats me well. He respects me.”

Seungcheol stared at you, his expression unreadable.

You could feel the weight of his protectiveness pressing down on you, but you held your ground.

“I get it,” you said softly. “You’re just looking out for me. But I’m not the same person I was back then. I’m stronger now.”

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his emotions.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

“I know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“But Mingyu’s not going to hurt me. He’s been patient, Cheol. He’s been kind. And honestly... he makes me feel like maybe I can give love another chance.”

Seungcheol looked at you for a long moment, his gaze softening as he took in your words.

He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the way your shoulders relaxed when you talked about Mingyu.

Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the couch. “You’re a grown woman,” he said reluctantly. “I guess I don’t really have a say in what you do anymore.”

You laughed lightly, the tension in the room easing. “No, you don’t. But I still appreciate that you care.”

He shook his head, a small smile breaking through his stern exterior. “I just hope he knows how lucky he is. And if he screws up—”

“You’ll be the first to let him know,” you finished, grinning.

“Damn right,” Seungcheol muttered, though his tone was more affectionate than angry now.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

For the first time in a long time, you had opened up about your feelings, and while Seungcheol’s approval wasn’t everything, it mattered.

With his begrudging blessing, you felt like you were finally moving forward—ready to see where things with Mingyu might lead.

Seungcheol leaned back onto the couch, his expression softening as the tension eased between the two of you.

After a few moments, he raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity creeping into his tone.

“Alright, fine. But now you have to tell me how this all started. How did you even end up with Mingyu?”

You smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you leaned into the couch cushions.

“It was here in Monaco, actually,” you began. “Right after the Imola Grand Prix.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly. “Monaco? What happened here?”

“Well,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Remember the after-party that was hosted by Joshua Hong? You know, just to let loose a little after a hectic weekend since we all live here anyway. I wasn’t planning anything that night, but then Mingyu showed up. He was there with some of his friends as well, and... I don’t know, we just started talking.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He asked you out at the after-party? Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Don’t make it sound like that,” you protested with a laugh.

“It wasn’t sleazy or anything. He was... charming. Polite. He didn’t push, just asked if I’d like to go out to dinner sometime. Honestly, I almost said no.”

“Why didn’t you?” Seungcheol asked, his tone skeptical but not unkind.

You shrugged, your smile softening.

“There was something about him. He wasn’t overbearing, and he didn’t act entitled like some guys do. He made me laugh. It felt easy.”

Seungcheol hummed, leaning his chin on his hand. “So you said yes?”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes lighting up at the memory.

“A few days later, he took me out to this beautiful little restaurant overlooking the harbor. It wasn’t flashy, just... nice. Intimate. We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. And after dinner, he asked if I wanted to see more of Monte Carlo. He took me on this drive through the city, and it was... magical. The way the city lights sparkled against the sea—it felt like something out of a movie.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened further, though he still seemed hesitant. “And he’s been respectful? No games?”

You nodded firmly.

“Completely. He’s never pushed me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. He listens, Cheol. When I told him I needed time, he gave it to me. No questions, no complaints. He’s patient, and he’s made it clear that he’s okay with going at my pace.”

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed your words.

“Alright,” he said finally, his tone begrudging but genuine. “I’ll admit, that sounds... better than I expected. He’s really been that good to you?”

“Yes,” you said earnestly, meeting his gaze.

“He’s been amazing, Cheol. He makes me feel like I can trust him, like I can actually let someone in again.”

Seungcheol studied you for a moment longer before finally nodding. “Okay,” he said, his voice low.

“If he makes you happy and treats you right, then I’ll back off. But,” he added, his tone sharpening slightly, “if he ever does anything to hurt you—”

“Again, you’ll be the first one to kick his ass,” you finished, grinning. “I know.”

Seungcheol shook his head with a reluctant smile, leaning back onto the couch. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I really do.”

For the first time that night, Seungcheol didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

The final day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned bright and clear, the Mediterranean sun casting its golden rays across the iconic harbor.

The air was filled with excitement, the buzz of anticipation almost tangible as fans packed the grandstands and the paddock brimmed with activity.

The Monaco GP wasn’t just a race—it was a spectacle, a celebration of speed, luxury, and prestige, and today promised to be unforgettable.

You stepped into the paddock alongside Mingyu’s sister, Minseo, and your friend Jiheon, a wag whose easy charm made her a favorite among the paddock regulars.

Your off-shoulder white maxi dress swayed elegantly with each step, its flowing fabric catching the light and drawing eyes wherever you went.

The dress, paired with understated gold jewelry and a pair of nude heels, was the perfect balance of sophistication and glamour, effortlessly fitting the grandeur of Monaco.

Your hair fell in soft waves, framing your face as you smiled and chatted with your companions.

The three of you moved through the paddock with ease, turning heads as the collective grace of your group drew admiration.

Photographers snapped away, and fans whispered excitedly as they recognized you.

It wasn’t just the dress or the occasion—it was the way you carried yourself, the quiet confidence and elegance that had people wondering who you were and how you fit into the thrilling world of Formula 1.

Mingyu stood near the Ferrari garage, finishing up a pre-race discussion with his engineers.

His fire suit hung slightly open at the top, the vibrant red of his team unmistakable. As the conversation wrapped up, his eyes drifted across the paddock—and then he saw you.

Time seemed to slow for him as he took in the sight of you. The white dress, the way it flowed effortlessly as you walked, the soft smile on your lips—it all made his heart skip a beat.

You were stunning, a vision of grace and beauty, and the way you lit up when you laughed at something Jiheon said only added to your charm.

Without a second thought, Mingyu excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you.

His long strides carried him across the paddock quickly, his eyes locked on you the entire time.

You noticed him as he approached, and your face lit up in recognition, your smile widening in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes warm as they met yours.

“Good morning,” you replied, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “Ready for the big day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a small grin, his hands resting on his hips. “How about you? Ready to cheer for the wrong team?”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’ll be watching from the Red Bull garage today,” you admitted, a playful glint in your eye.

“But I’ll still be cheering you on, Mingyu. Even if you’re a Ferrari driver.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Traitor,” he teased, though his tone was laced with affection. “But I’ll take whatever support I can get.”

Before either of you could say more, Jiheon nudged your arm gently, reminding you it was time to head to the hospitality area.

You gave Mingyu one last smile, your voice soft as you said, “Good luck out there. Drive safe.”

“I will,” he promised, watching as you turned to walk away.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, the elegant sway of your dress and the way you carried yourself etching itself into his memory.

The pre-race atmosphere was electric. Mingyu stood on the grid, surrounded by his team as they made final adjustments to the car. But even with the chaos and noise, his mind wandered back to you.

As he glanced at the large screens broadcasting scenes from around the paddock, his heart skipped a beat.

There you were, standing in the Red Bull garage, chatting animatedly with Jiheon.

The camera lingered on you for a moment, capturing the way you laughed, your hands gesturing as you spoke.

You looked completely at ease, unaware of the world watching you. Mingyu’s lips curved into a grin, a soft chuckle escaping him.

The sight of you—so vibrant and natural—was all the motivation he needed.

Shaking his head slightly, he refocused on the task at hand. As he climbed into the cockpit of his Ferrari, he adjusted his gloves, his determination sharpening.

The roar of the crowd filled the air as the engines came to life, the sound reverberating through the streets of Monte Carlo.

Yet, even as the formation lap began, Mingyu couldn’t shake the thought of you.

Knowing you were there, cheering him on despite your seat in the Red Bull garage, gave him a sense of calm and drive that was hard to explain.

You weren’t just a distraction—you were his grounding force, his silent supporter in a world that rarely allowed vulnerability.

As the lights went out and the race began, Mingyu’s focus was absolute. But in the back of his mind, he carried the image of you in that white dress, cheering for him in your own quiet way.

It wasn’t just a race—it was a chance to show you that he was someone worth believing in.

The streets of Monte Carlo buzzed with electric anticipation as the Monaco Grand Prix soon reached its climax.

Mingyu was in the lead, his Ferrari weaving through the narrow streets with unmatched precision and focus.

Behind him, Seungcheol in the Red Bull was closing the gap, his aggressive driving style leaving no room for error.

Not far behind, Wonwoo in the Mercedes was biding his time, waiting for any mistake from the two drivers ahead.

The battle for victory was fierce, every lap a testament to skill and strategy.

In the Red Bull garage, you sat on the edge of your seat, your hand firmly intertwined with Jiheon’s. The tension in the air was palpable, the high-stakes nature of the race reflected on every screen in the garage.

Jiheon gave your hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes flicking to you with a supportive smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Mingyu’s got this. He’s driving like a man possessed.”

You nodded, but your heart was hammering. Watching Mingyu fight for every inch on the track made you realize how much you cared.

It wasn’t just about the race—it was about him, about what he was proving to himself and the world.

Out on the circuit, Seungcheol made his move, diving deep into Mirabeau in an attempt to overtake Mingyu.

His Red Bull was so close to the Ferrari’s rear wing that the commentators were holding their breath. But in his eagerness, Seungcheol braked too late, his tires locking up and forcing him to take a wider line.

Mingyu seized the opportunity to pull ahead, his calm under pressure shining through.

From behind, Wonwoo saw his chance.

As Seungcheol recovered, Wonwoo’s Mercedes gained rapidly, but a momentary loss of grip through the Swimming Pool complex forced him to back off.

Frustration flickered across his face, but he knew he couldn’t risk a bigger mistake.

In the Red Bull garage, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, clutching Jiheon’s hand tighter.

“Come on, Mingyu,” you whispered under your breath. Your eyes were glued to the screen, your entire body tense as the final laps unfolded.

With just two laps to go, Mingyu remained untouchable. His Ferrari danced through the streets of Monaco, every apex hit with precision, every straight taken at full speed.

The commentators marveled at his composure, declaring this race a defining moment in his career.

As the checkered flag waved, the grandstands erupted in cheers. Mingyu crossed the line first, securing a hard-fought victory.

His engineer’s voice cracked through the radio, full of emotion. “P1, Mingyu! Monaco is yours! Incredible drive!”

Mingyu let out a triumphant laugh, his voice filled with joy. “We did it! Thank you, team!”

In parc fermé, the energy was electric. Mingyu climbed out of his car, raising his fists in the air as his team swarmed him.

The weight of the victory was clear in his elated expression.

Seungcheol arrived shortly after, his Red Bull taking second place. Despite the disappointment of missing out on the win, he approached Mingyu with a sportsmanlike handshake.

“Great race, Mingyu,” he said, his voice tinged with respect. “You earned this one.”

“Thanks, Cheol,” Mingyu replied, gripping his hand firmly.

Moments later, Wonwoo pulled in. His Mercedes had claimed third, but his expression was anything but celebratory.

He exited the car with a scowl, his jaw tight as he walked past Mingyu and Seungcheol without a word.

His frustration was evident, the sting of falling short only amplified by the dynamic unfolding before him.

As they made their way to the cool-down room, the atmosphere was tense. Mingyu sat in a chair, catching his breath, while Seungcheol leaned casually against the wall.

Always the one to lighten the mood, Seungcheol joked, “I nearly had you at Mirabeau. You’re lucky I locked up.”

Mingyu grinned, his exhaustion giving way to humor. “Luck or skill? I’ll let you decide.”

Wonwoo, standing silently in the corner, crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Mingyu. The unspoken tension between them was thick, but Seungcheol, sensing the awkwardness, kept the conversation light.

“Track conditions were brutal today,” he said. “It’s a miracle we all finished without incident.”

As they were called to the podium, Mingyu stole a glance at the crowd. His eyes found you standing near the VIP section, your radiant smile sending a surge of warmth through him.

You waved, your expression full of pride, and in that moment, Mingyu felt invincible.

The podium ceremony was a spectacle of celebration. Mingyu stood on the top step, lifting the winner’s trophy high as the crowd roared.

Seungcheol stood beside him, clapping with genuine admiration, while Wonwoo’s expression remained neutral, his disappointment evident.

From your vantage point, your heart swelled with pride. Seeing Mingyu bask in the glory of his win solidified everything you’d been feeling.

As the champagne sprayed and the drivers celebrated, you knew this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. This was the beginning of something real.

After the podium, you waited near the Ferrari garage. When Mingyu finally emerged, still in his race suit, you didn’t hesitate to approach him.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, whispering, “You were amazing out there. Congratulations.”

Mingyu hugged you back tightly, his voice soft in your ear. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nearby, Seungcheol watched the exchange with a mix of protective instinct and acceptance. Walking over, he clapped Mingyu on the back.

“Good race,” he said. “Take care of her.”

Mingyu nodded, his expression serious. “Always.”

Wonwoo, watching from a distance, could only scowl as he turned and walked away, the sight of you and Mingyu together a reminder of what he’d lost.

But none of that mattered.

For you and Mingyu, this victory was more than just a race—it was a turning point, a moment that cemented your connection and opened the door to a future you were both ready to embrace.

Epilogue:

The glitz and glamour of the Formula 1 world always had its fair share of stories, but none felt quite as personal as yours and Mingyu’s.

Months after that life-changing Monaco Grand Prix weekend, your relationship had blossomed into something undeniably beautiful, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide.

The world first got confirmation when Mingyu posted a candid photo on his Instagram: you, standing on the balcony of his Monte Carlo apartment, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea.

The caption was simple yet heartfelt: “Worth every risk. ❤️”

You weren’t prepared for the wave of support that followed. Fans flooded the comments section with love:

“Finally! You two are so cute together!”

“She’s his lucky charm—look at his podium streak since Monaco!”

“From heartbreak to happily ever after. We’re here for it.”

Since then, you and Mingyu have embraced the freedom of being open about your relationship.

At races, he’d smile at you from across the paddock, his gaze filled with warmth, while you’d cheer him on from the Ferrari garage or wherever you chose to watch.

The stolen moments you used to have in secret were now shared openly—a hand on his arm after interviews, or a quick kiss on the cheek before he stepped into the car.

At the Singapore Grand Prix, you walked into the paddock hand in hand, the city’s bright lights reflecting the happiness you felt.

You could feel eyes on you, but instead of shrinking under their gaze, you smiled, more comfortable now in your place beside him.

During an interview, Mingyu was asked about the impact of your relationship on his career. He looked straight at the camera, a soft grin on his face.

“She’s my biggest supporter. Having her here makes everything better—on and off the track.”

You couldn’t help but blush, watching from the sidelines.

Later, when you teased him about making you the center of attention, he just shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What can I say? It’s the truth.”

At home in Monte Carlo, life was a dream. Mingyu often called you his lucky charm, pointing to his string of podiums and victories since you’d been together.

You’d laugh, reminding him that his talent and dedication had gotten him where he was.

One quiet evening, as you both lounged on the couch after dinner, Mingyu turned to you, his expression soft.

“Do you ever regret letting the world in on us?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head with a smile. “Not for a second. Hiding felt safe after the whole mess with Wonwoo, but this... this feels real. I’m glad we took the chance.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, his voice low but steady. “Me too. You were worth every risk, every whispered conversation, every secret meeting. I’d do it all over again.”

As you lay in his arms that night, you couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed. The walls you’d built around your heart were gone, replaced by a trust and love you hadn’t thought you’d feel again.

Mingyu had been patient, kind, and understanding—everything you hadn’t known you needed.

For him, seeing you open up was the most rewarding part. He knew the risks of being with you, the doubts and fears you carried, but it was worth it.

Fans had embraced your relationship, noting how grounded and happy Mingyu seemed with you by his side.

And as the F1 season rolled on, your love story became a part of the sport’s narrative.

Whether it was the way you supported him through the highs and lows of racing, the genuine smiles you shared after a victory, or the quiet moments when the cameras weren’t watching, your relationship was a testament to the magic of taking a chance on love.

Love, it turned out, was worth every risk. And for you and Mingyu, it was only the beginning.

© rubyuji 2025’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[fairene]

do it for you / ln4 sneak peek

established r. lando norris x f!reader

warning ⋯ language, 18++ mentioning,minors dni.

a/n ⋯ do it for you is a recent ask that i got that absolutely transitions into the lando!dad series that i've been wanting to create. of course, all of these 'oneshots' can be read separately, but can also fall into a canonical storyline. also--- holy shit!! grace isn't dead!! yes, i know!!! i'm just as shocked as you guys are. but i can feel some groove coming back, but this probably won't be posted fully until the following week. hoping to get it to about 5-6k words before posting!

wc ⋯ 720

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be. 

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress. 

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs. 

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other. 

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on. 

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling. 

and a good one at that. 

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car. 

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter. 

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit. 

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief. 

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized. 

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. 

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?” 

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger. 

“wore it for you.” 

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded. 

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.” 

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door.

taglist ⋯

@landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

comment to be added!

[celestialprincesse]

Can we please get realistic hc’s of Cpt.Price ? Dont get me wrong I love the delulu headcanons but if we are being fr these are military men 😭

I actually feel surprisingly qualified to write this? One of my dad's friends was in the SAS, and although he didn't talk much about work (for obvious reasons) he was a really interesting guy.

Firstly, this man drinks like a fish. Will go to the pub with his squamates and return absolutely smashed.

He's away more than he's home, too. Often goes weeks at a time with minimal, if any at all, contact. If he does get the chance to message, it'll be a simple "I'm okay, love you." or "Doing well out here." to put his partner's mind at ease. If he can even manage to get a secure line of communication.

I hope by now that we've all dropped the marble sculpted, washboard abs idea - because no. He eats a lot. He'll clean out a fully stocked fridge in three days, tops.

Realistically, he wants kids, but the dangers of his job are an ever lingering threat, and the thought of leaving his partner as a single parent mortifies him.

He makes a reasonable amount of money in his job, but most of it gets stowed away in a savings account or retirement fund, he's not the type to splash cash on anything that catches his eye.

Yes, he and the 141 are close colleagues, but they spend pretty much all of their time together, when they go their separate ways on leave, he wants to see his friends and family.

He's seen ugly, messed up shit. Killed people. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to relive it.

He knows he's not a good person in any traditional means, but he's doing what he does best, and what most would never be brave nor strong enough to try.