#Because when ever it was someone else in the drivers seat

[shintaru]

Heart eyes

m.list ♡ taglist

Synopsis: For the past few years, the "Heart Eyes" serial killer has moved from different cities in the United States, killing multiple couples on Valentine's Day. We’ve every reason to suspect Heart Eyes has moved to New York! Two couples have been found murdered, one at the Statue of Liberty and another at Staten Island Ferry.

Let the killing begin!

“I can’t believe I’m now the manager of the Gold Rush crew” you thought to yourself you’ve always wanted to travel to New York City but you didn’t expect it to be so soon especially under these conditions. You’re still heartbroken and you wish you could forget it ever happened.

If you knew confessing to Owen knight would not only get you rejected & fired as a Light Calvary’s manager you would’ve stayed silent. “It’s not professional to have feelings for someone on the team, I’m sending you to the Gold Rush crew. You'll work alongside Poel. He's been wanting to recruit you as his manager for years, you'll do fine there” you recall Owen saying. It’s just not fair, Noah has a crush on Owen. You think to yourself.

What's even worse is that you despise Poel you have since Light Calvary’s race against the Gold Rush crew 2 years ago. He didn’t necessarily do anything to you, just something about him got under your skin and now you’re the manager of his team, how will you survive? You think to yourself as you exit the airport. You had spent the whole flight in your head trying not to cry over the situation.

You look out the window after getting into the cab that Poel called to pick you up, too heartbroken to text him back so you just like his message letting him know you saw it. You’re currently on your way to have a “date” with Poel Reynolds at River Café in New York City. It's your first day here and Poel suggested taking you to dinner while you two discuss rules for joining his team.

Upon entering the café you’re met with the nice smell of coffee and pastries. Poel waves you over from a booth near the back of the café. “You’ve been ignoring my texts! What if something happened to you?! What if the cap driver was a creep?” He says loudly causing customers to stare at you two. “I came here in one piece didn’t I? It all worked out” you say hoping he’ll calm down.

When you finally sat down your order was already on the table. “How did you know my order?” You say as you look up at him even though he is sitting he’s still quite taller than you. “No way, anyone else besides us orders an iced mocha latte with creamer and extra chocolate drizzled on top” he replies. Then you remember that after the race with Light Cavalry and Gold Rush Owen had called in drinks and everyone got to order and that’s when you leaneed you and Poel had the same coffee order.

“Dating isn’t forbidden in my crew” he suddenly says making you choke on your coffee. “I’m sorry, what?” You say and “there isn’t a rule against dating in my crew so you can date if you want” he repeats himself making you roll your eyes and scoff. “I’d rather not think about dating right now” you laugh sarcastically. Taking notice of your annoyance by the mere mention of dating, Poel asks “why is that?” “Because it’s nothing but disappointment.” You say

“What if I told you I liked someone?” He asks “I’d tell you it’s a waste of your time and you should give up it will only end in heartbreak, or you’ll get cheated on, or they only want you for sex dating is nothing but a shit show” you say making Poel get of from his seat causing his chair to fly back and hit the wall he walks out the cafe slamming the door.

Then you realize how harsh you were with him and how you could’ve possibly ruined his hope over his crush liking him back when it’s not his fault you were rejected today. Before you could apologize, the Cafés TV turned up.

News reporter on Café TV: “Over the past several years, the infamous serial killer "Heart Eyes" has ravaged cities on Valentine's Day by tracking down and murdering couples. This Valentine's Day, no couple is safe. Stay inside and don’t make any plans this holiday until the killer is caught.”

After hearing the message on the TV you run outside the café. “Poel I’m sorry I was very rude, the truth is I had a crush on Owen for a very long time and I finally told him and he made me quit the team and now I’m here it’s all so sudden and it’s not your fault” you ramble not really knowing why you’re confessing your rejection to him of all people.

Poel leans down to your eye level and says “you’re here with me forget him and focus on me” as you’re about to reply some maniac with dark blue hair is speeding on a bike and they are headed straight for you you try getting out the way tripping making you fall right into Poel your eyes widened when you realized your lips are touching you hear a guy mumble “sorry” you hear the pedaling get quieter as they leave the scene.

Poel doesn’t seem to mind the sudden contact he cups your cheeks with his hands pulling you in further for a kiss you grab tightly onto his shirt melting into the kiss when he pulls away he smiles saying “you know if you wanted a kiss you totally could’ve just asked you have a funny way of apologizing” he says laughing. “Wait I wasn’t” you try and explain you didn’t mean to kiss him.

You both were unaware of the danger watching you from a distance, Heart Eyes watches The two of you observing the way Poel eyes follow your every movement the way his eyes light up when he sees you smile and immediately Heart Eyes found their next target.

Poel quickly calls a cab over. Once you’re both in the cab he tells the driver the destination of his apartment. The ride is silent, Poel breaks the silence “you can stay here for the night until we get your living situation sorted out” he offers. “Thank you!” you reply. “How will I deal with him for the whole night?” You ask yourself hoping he doesn’t plan to annoy you.

You arrive at his apartment but Poel can’t seem to find his keys. “Shit I totally left my keys at the café when I walked out in a hurry” he states. “Do you have a spare?” You ask, trying to be helpful. “Yep, but it’s upstairs you need two keys. One is to get into the building, the other is to get into your apartment.” He replies. “What the fuck kinda shit is that? Are all apartments like this in New York?” You ask, making him laugh.

His laughter is cut short when a knife flies between both of your heads sticking straight into his apartment complex's door. “What the fuck is your problem? You almost hit her with that watch where you’re throwing shit” Poel says grabbing the knife out the door.

The killer kicks Poel into the door, making him hit his head; he gets knocked out instantly. The killer beads straight for you and you run down the street. “HELP SOMEONE CALL 911” you yell out hoping someone will hear you.

After it feels like you’ve been running for miles a cop car pulls up beside you. When you look behind you the killer is nowhere to be seen. “I was being chased by the heart-eyes killer” you tell the cop. “Im officer Harvey and I work with officer Priscilla in the investigation of the heart eyes murders we have every reason to suspect your boyfriend is the killer” Harvey says.

“What?!” You say in shock. “We are victims, we've been chased by that psychotic killer all night and you’re blaming Poel for the murders?!” You shout. “I know you’re under a lot of stress and this is sudden so I’ll keep it short, he was found with the mask and the weapon laying outside his apartment unconscious and a ring we found at the Statue of Liberty murders crime scene has his initials P.R” Harvey says. “He also has been in every other state that the murders occurred in” he adds.

“No that can’t be true” you say without believing a word he says. “He is a world class cyclist he has to travel to a lot of states for races!” You exclaim trying to defend Poel. “Save it for when you’re questioned.” He says. You can’t believe the audacity he has to speak to you this way when you’re the victim. You watch as Poel is driven away in another cop car. Harvey drives you to the police station.

At the station, Rivera & Harvey point out Poels initials match the ones on the ring found at the Statue of Liberty crime scene, and that he was in the same cities at the same time as the killer's previous attacks. “I swear I’m being framed, I never killed anyone and I’m not married” Poel says. “That’s what they all say” officer Harvey replies. Priscilla cuffs Poel to the table in the interrogation room. Finally beginning the interrogation process.

You arrive at the station running into the lobby. You approach the front desk swiftly asking Frita the receptionist, where the suspect is. “He isn’t the killer he was with me all night, we’ve been running from the killer all night if it was him I’d know” you say. “Relax, I'll go get you some information,” Frita says. “Thank you!” you reply.

Frita leaves you in the lobby to go speak with officer Priscilla. Frita enters the interrogation room alerting Priscilla that they have a code CWIL at the front desk. “I’ll take care of it,” Pricilla says. “Hey, what’s code CWIL?” Poel asks. “It stands for crazy woman in love” Fran answers.

As you’re waiting in the lobby some weird IT technician named Daniel asks you on a date. “I almost got killed tonight by the couple killer also known as heart as after me and an acquaintance got mistaken for a couple.” You say hoping the odd confession will get him to walk away. “Oh I’m sorry forgive me” he says and slowly exits the police station. You sigh in disbelief at the night you’ve had.

Priscilla enters the lobby and tries doing a background check on you as her and Frita ask you questions but the Internet is down. “The internet's down. I'm going to go check the breaker and I'll be back. Frita don’t let her go anywhere until I get that background check done.” Frita nods her head in response. “You sit down in the waiting seats and don’t move until she gets back.” Frita tells you.

Before you could question why they need to do a background check on you Frita gets stabbed through the chest by heart eyes with the national flag of the United States on a pole. The power goes out leaving you and the killer briefly unable to adjust to the new lighting. You take the opportunity to grab the garbage can and charge at the killer knocking the cab straight into them. The killer falls back into a wall. You grab Fritas' gun and keys from the floor and skedaddle towards the hallway running into officer Harvey. “THE KILLER IS DOWN THERE HE KILLED YOUR RECEPTIONIST” You yell at him. “I’ll take care of it, you go hide.” He warns you.

You run to find the room Poel is in but you’re not exactly in the same room. You’re in the observation room you’re able to see Poel through a one way glass window but he’s unable to see you. Having a horrible idea you take Frita’s gun and start shooting at the glass. Poel ducks under the table trying his best to cover his head but he’s still cuffed to the table so he’s having trouble doing so. You jump through the new opening you just made rushing over to Poel.

You use the keys you stole from Frita to free Poel from the handcuffs. He grabs your hand and as he’s about to open the door it swings open Revealing heart eyes. A knife is swung and you and Poel, he lets go of your hand and shoves the table into heart eyes. Poel grabs your hand again dragging you to the opening in the window he picks you up bridal style and sets you back down in the other room. He then hops through the opening himself and you bright run out the room hand in hand exiting the police station.

You flee to a drive-in movie theater. You and Poel notice all the couples at this location. “Oh no we just lead him to an all you can kill zone” you say. “It will be ok, come on follow me” he replies gripping your hand tightly pulling you through the cars trying to find a hiding place. You two find an unlocked van and you both hop in.

You hear several screams from inside the van as you’re sure couples are being brutally murdered outside. Soft moans distract you from the screams outside you and Poel slowly turns to look at each other and you slowly look in the back of the van. Where you spot a hippy couple fucking in the back of thier van. “Hey keep it down there is a killer outside you” whisper shout. “We love role playing,” the woman says. Poel rolls his eyes while making a funny face. “We are going to get caught because they are fucking too loud” he says.

As if the killer read Poels mind the back of the van doors swing open and the killer stabs the woman all the way through her throat and the weapon exits the back of her head he yanks the weapon out her mouth splattering blood everywhere. The man underneath her screams as her body drops onto him as his screaming is cut short heart eyes stabs the same weapon in his throat killing him in an instant. You and Poel exit the vehicle while heart eyes is occupied.

Heart eyes heads to the vehicle where you and Poel just left. Poel takes your hand and runs to the back of the vehicle. You’re gonna kill me? I won’t hold back. Poel says as he takes the knife out of the couple in the van and stabs it straight through the killer's neck fatally wounding the killer splattering blood all over you two. The killer's body drops to the pavement. Poel squats beside the body pulling the mask of revealing that the killer is a complete stranger.

“Do you know this guy?” He asks. You shake your head no. “In the ghost face movies the killer is usually someone you’re close to” you say confused as to why some random guy is going around killing innocent couples.

“We just killed someone” You say. “yep.” Poel replies trying to catch his breath. “Really? We can go to jail for murder and all you have to say is yep?!” You replied, you question how he’s so nonchalant after what just happened. “What it’s self defense!” Poel says.

An ambulance and cop car approach the scene. After gathering all the details from you Poel and other witnesses as the drive in. A paramedic says “damn, you two will be famous! The bad ass couple who stopped heart eyes!” He stuck his tongue out showing off his split tongue “damn it kinda turns me on” he says making you and Poel give each other a concerned look. The other paramedic was even weirder, you thought he wore a mask, he never said a word the only sound you heard from him was his laughter after his colleague made the inappropriate remark.

Officer Rivera arrives at the scene stating she has a few more questions for Poel and he needs to come with her. “Be careful something about her isn’t right.” You warn Poel. “I’ll totally be fine, it’s her job to help us but I completely understand it’s hard to trust anyone after the night we’ve had” he says as gets in her car. He waves goodbye to you through the window.

Great, I'm stuck in this ambulance with two nut jobs. You begin reflecting on your night as the two paramedics tend to your wounds. You haven’t thought of Owen once since you’ve been with Poel. “Am I falling for him?” You think to yourself. Your thoughts are interrupted by a text from Owen “I’m so sorry are you and Poel okay? I saw the news. I had no idea the heart eyes killer was in the US.” You’re unable to reply to his message because you receive and call from an unknown number. At the same time a texts pops up from an unknown number saying “you better answer or he dies”

You answer the call “come to the old abandoned chapel alone if you want him to live” the killer sats posing an obvious trap the call ends abruptly after that. “HEY SNAKE TONGUE CHASE THAT COP CAR” you say. “Sure~” he replies, turning on the siren, speeding after Priscilla. “I’m not sure what’s going on but things are getting interesting hehe.‪‪❤︎‬” The paramedic says you learn his name is Wooin and the other is Hyuk and they really aren’t paramedics. They stole the costumes after beating up the real premedics because they wanted to see the scene of the murder.

“Good luck saving your boyfriend” Hyuk yells out the window as the ambulances exit the chapel's parking lot. “HE IS NOT MY BOYF- forget it” you say knowing they wouldn’t hear you anyway. You enter the old chapel upon arrival you’re greeting with a tied and gagged Poel. You run over to him to get kicked back by two masked killers. “Not so fast” one killer says as they take their mask off revealing their identities Priscilla and Daniel.

“If you’re the killer then who did we kill at the drive-in?” You ask. “He was just a fanboy and a short lived lover” Daniel replies. “We’ve committed every murder together as a couple” Priscilla says. “I killed the couple at the Statue of Liberty unfortunately I lost my wedding ring there” Daniel admits. “And I killed the couple at Staten Island Ferry” Priscilla admitted with a sinister smile on her face.

“We killed your fan boy lover” you admit. The psychotic couple turns and gives you a confused look. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there a problem? I thought we were confessing our body counts” you say while laughing. “Sorry did I kill the mood? Please continue.” You say motioning for them to continue their story. They roll their eyes and scoff Priscilla grabs Poel by the neck and ungags him.

“Why'd you let her take you home dumbass?” You ask Poel. “Well aren’t you intriguing” Priscilla replies. “You’re not the dumbass I was talking to” you snap back making Poel stifle his laughter he was still tied with with his hands behind his back. “I thought she’d at least be scared, after all we’ve threatened her and her boyfriend’s life” Daniel says. You don’t even bother correcting him that Poel isn’t your boyfriend. “I got my heart broken today. I don't have time for your lover's bullshit” you say.

Daniel revealed that he’s married to Priscilla Priscilla Rivera and they got married in this very building. “Well congratulations on your marriage I’m so happy for the two of you” you say sarcastically. Making the psychotic couple laugh at your remark. “You see killing is our kink” Priscilla says, sliding the knife down Daniels chest. “You see I didn’t ask nor do I care.” You say rolling your eyes causing Poel once again to stifle his laughter.

“Don’t get smart with me bitch” Daniel says. “We got lucky that you and I share the same initials otherwise we would’ve been caught” Priscilla says to Poel as she drags her knife tracing his facial features with the sharp tip. “We aren’t a couple so let us go” you tell them.

“Oh we know but your chemistry is better than any of the couples we’ve ever killed we just couldn’t resist the urge to kill you two” “now pick up the gun you have two choices if you truly aren’t a couple and you don’t love him then kill him and you’re free to go but if you love him you can save him by killing yourself” the killers demand guving you no choice but to comply.

You pick up the gun slowly and aim it right for Poel’s head with a smile on your face “looks like I’ll have to pick you” you raise the gun above poels head adjusting your aim and shooting Priscilla in her hip.

“Did you really think I’d shoot him?” You say laughing Poel takes it as an opportunity to knock Daniel off his feet you quickly run to untie him. “I swear I totally thought you were going to shoot me for a sec” he says “I wanted to a few times but I’d never” you say.

Poel gets dragged away by Daniel and Priscilla has you by the throat breaking up your heartfelt reunion with Poel. “I want you to watch as the love of your life takes his last breaths” Priscilla says as her grip tightens around your throat holding you in place. Leaving you only able to watch in fear hoping Poel will be ok. Poel is knocked to the ground by Daniel; he's struggling to break free from the attack. Poel finds an arrow in Daniels pocket as he attempts to push him off he quickly grabs it and stabs it straight into Daniels eye. Resulting in Daniel standing up yelling out in horror alerting his wife Priscilla as he stumbles in a table holding candle wax knocking it all over him.

Priscilla is shocked and angry; she lets go of her grip on your throat which gives you an opportunity to kick her feet out from under her, making her fall and hit her head. You grab a piece of broken plywood and stab it into her side. She kicks you, knocking you into the floor as she stands up, snatching your hair and pulling you to stand. You tack the opportunity and run pushing her into the statue behind her. The statue's sword stabs straight into her and begins to hear her choking on her own blood gasping for air as she takes her last breath.

David springs back to life charging straight for you, Poel quickly grabs the gun from early and shoots him in the end Daniels body hits the floor with a loud thud. Finally their killing spree is put to an end as Poel goes over to double check that Daniel is dead.

“It gets your blood pumping, doesn't it?” Poel says excitedly. “Yeah it does, I just hope we don’t end up with the same kink…” you joke. “I swear we’re gonna have one hell of a therapy bill” Poel jokes back, making you laugh as you both hear sirens approaching in the distance."Don't you have anything to say to me?" Poel says dropping the gun to the floor.

“This will sound crazy especially after the night we just had you know almost getting killed not once, or twice, but three times but I fell in love with you I realized that when I panicked about the thought of you being gone I was scared I’d lose you” reader dialogue “I’ve liked you for a long time, I swear eventually I was gonna confess but there was never a right time” Poel confesses. You two share your first kiss in the Chapel surrounded by a scene only found in horror movies.

One year later, you and Poel return to the couples drive-in movie.

“Look, don’t freak out,” Poel says, pulling out a key from his pocket. “I want you to move in with me after the year we had. I don't wanna be apart” he says. “Poel of course I’ll move in with you” you say happily giving him a kiss on the cheek leaving him blushing.

You receive a sinister prank call putting it on speaker for Poel to hear. “I’m watching you, did you really think it was over” the distorted voice on the other end says before quickly hanging up. You and Poel look at each other knowing you that it isn’t over it’s just begun.

Dedications: @bfwooin @dzvelinaskebiyars

Wooin, Hyuk, Joker, Vinny, Juwon, Oliver, Michele, Owen, & Chris are next! Should I add Bale?

[ashesinthewritten]

Its so interesting, from a character standpoint, of Grian’s involvement in shows.

From the insane series that was from sam, where he clearly suffered, forced to witness Death, to bear the Dead’s name and clothes, and tormented so much more still.

To Evo, which he did make, but was later hijacked by Watchers, turning from simple intrigue to to the ever present dread of what would come next. If it was ‘simple’ or if their next test would result in Disapproval, which Grian knew all too well and all too much. If it would hurt just him, if he was to draw their ire upon him (and away from his Players, his Friends, real actual loving friends, who did not deserve the torment) or if They were to gaze upon his only true friends, would that mean their Death? And if it came to that, he would, he will, he did Sacrifice all that he was to save them from Their Lash.

And then onto Hermitcraft. He was free. He learned to be free, to be more than he was conditioned to be, from his so-called friend, to those that (finally) rule far far away from him. Bringing him healing, bringing him love; for himself, for his life, for His Hermits, and the worlds they live on. He was able to become himself once more, without his fears to become fact, because he is truly Home with Kind and Stubborn and Brave, Courageous being to support him.

And when His new Cravings, New needs, ran so low, and hungered him to starvation, He Created. He Created a world where everyplayer would always know the stakes the reason. The Why.

And these Crazy Insane mostly mortal people Volunteered? They obliged his needs? Happily and eagerly? Well. If He knew where his Heart was, (he did, worlds upon worlds, and galaxies far far away), it simply would just Quake and Tremble and Burst with Love for His Players, Friends and Strangers alike.

Maybe his new Life was not so horrible, nor was it a curse, or some Cosmic Punishment for what he had done, or did not do. Because, after all. The Universe said I Love You, because You are Love.

[no-144444]

sweating- o.piastri

summary: oscar has been acting strange

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Brown! reader

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Zak had been worried about Oscar for a while. The far-off looks in meetings, the silence at dinners, the constant stares he was getting, all of it. He’d even been so worried, that he came to you, and you’d told him that Oscar had been just fine at home, so it must be something to do with work. 

It was a strange thing, to be dating your boss’s daughter. Oscar had in fact fallen for you within seconds of meeting you back in 2022, his first visit to MTC, before everything else happened. You, a legal trainee on the McLaren legal team, was the one running him through his contract, and he was very thankful that his lawyer was there to ask questions, because he was just focused on you. As he joined the team, you two got closer. About half way through his rookie season, he finally plucked up the courage to ask you out, and you had said yes. What ensued was a few months of sneaking around until you finally told your dad, who supported you two, but from afar. He liked Oscar, would he have preferred you pick someone that wasn’t his driver, yes, very much so, but he didn’t have a say in your life. You were an adult and if you wanted to go get your heart broken by an F1 driver, that was up to you. The one thing Zak hadn’t accounted for was the fact that Oscar was a sweetheart who was genuinely head over heels for you. He saw it when you were in the paddock, how Oscar smiled a little brighter, how he made you a priority all weekend, how he performed better. 

So what the fuck was going on with Oscar now? 

Zak was worried that he was planning on breaking up with you, or maybe he was just going through some mental roadblocks at work, so he called him into his office. 

Oscar awkwardly took a seat across from him, waiting to be addressed. 

“Are you alright, Osc? You seem a bit… off lately,” Zak asked, nothing but concern in his voice. 

Oscar shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said, but even he knew it sounded wrong. This is really not how he wanted this to go. He was insured of Zak’s worry by the way his brows furrowed. “You can talk to me kid, you know that right? If it’s about Y/n or-”

“It’s not about Y/n,” Oscar assured him. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Oscar, talk to me, I’m here for you. If you’re going through something-”

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask for your blessing!” he admitted, speaking far too loud and far too fast. Oscar looked up to see Zak’s face blank, his jaw slightly dropped. “I’m so sorry-”

“You have it,” he said. Now it was Oscar’s jaw that dropped. “Of course you have it,” Zak’s lips turned into a smile. “She adores you. You clearly adore her. I love you, my wife loves you, my sons love you. Of course you have my blessing.”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you,” he chuckled. “God, I was terrified.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Oscar shrugged. “Maybe?” 

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Zak was very happy when he woke up to a call from the two of you, engaged, a few weeks later.

oscarpiastri

liked by pierregasly, zbrownceo, landonorris and 348,928 others

oscarpiastri: awesome season, can't wait to marry this girl though :)

comments

landonorris: OMFG YALL ARE YOUNGER THAN ME PLZ SLOW DOWN -> oscarpiastri: no more papaya rules 🤷

pierregalsy: too young -> kikagomez: bitch -> user92: lmao he's never said that before

zbrownceo: Congrats guys! Can't wait to walk you down the aisle!

charlesleclerc: MY SON IS GETTING MARRIED!!!!!! -> oscarpiastri: thank you adoptive father :)

user93: god she is GLOWING

user12: these are the cutest photos ever!!!!!!!

user8: THE RINGGGGG

lilymunihe: OMG I'M SO EXCITED!!!! ->youruser: OMG LOVE YOUUUUU

user98: they're so in love it's actually sickening

logansargeant: no ring picking creds? -> oscarpiastri: I don't think grimacing at every ring I chose was very helpful -> hattiepiastri: nah, but it was funny

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[whorelaud]

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (07)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content mature content, nsfw (nothing too explicit, it gets interrupted), suggestive, making out, pet names, unresolved tension, fluff, sexual jokes, desperate rafe (mhmmmm), brief mention of cocaine

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 06 ! 07 ¡ 08

↳ yourusername replied to your story: hey… that’s not very nice :( 

Rafe kissed you. 

It wasn’t a dream, nor was it accidental. Rafe Cameron, whom you marked off limits, kissed you, and hell, did you enjoy every second of it. 

From that moment on, every minute you spent within his presence felt like living on edge; sneaking behind your brother’s back to enjoy his company, aware of the consequences, and the heartbreak that would result out of the truth. 

Liking Rafe was like a calm after the storm, the moment your eyes land on him, time stops, and you forget all your worries. How were you supposed to resist him, when he’s your only escape from reality? The only person who’s ever made your heart rate increase in pace within a span of seconds. 

Getting a casual conversation out of a guy, without it oscillating to something sexual was difficult in this society, however, with Rafe, it was easy. His eyes bloomed with more than just lust, it made all your doubts about finding the one fade, and that alone, would have younger you screaming. 

Because what do you mean there’s a man out there that lines up with everything you’ve dreamed of and more, the puzzle you’ve been missing your whole life, merely for him to end up being your brother’s best friend, someone so forbidden, it burns when his touch lingers.

A bob formed in your throat, one hard to swallow down, that as much as it stings, you chose to bear it, even if it goes against the trust you formed with your brother. You told yourself it was okay, Ryan won’t overreact if he found out, right?

With a few touches, you managed to head downstairs, with everyone rushing you to come out, starting with Ryan, who somehow managed to call you fifteen times in the span of a minute. To your surprise, it wasn’t him driving, though, but Rafe? 

You slightly halted when he greeted you with a smile, one hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pair of sunglasses hugged the bridge of his nose, covering the glint of cockiness swelling through his gaze. 

Reaching for the door handle, you quickly smiled at the sight of Sarah as she perked up from her seat once she seized sight of you. A grin formed on your lips, joining the girl’s side, completely forgetting yourself in her embrace, that Ryan’s scoldings barely registered in your system.

“Your brother is such a dick,” she joked, eyebrows furrowing with fake annoyance. “I couldn’t even properly get ready ‘cause of him.” 

“Me?” He gasped, irritated by the ‘false’ remark. “You’re the one busy eating your boyfriend’s face!” 

“Why am I getting involved?” John B chimed from Sarah’s side. “I was helping her out.” 

“Yeah?” Ryan muttered in a mocking tone, “How so?” 

“I do not want to know that.” Rafe clicked his teeth, dismissing Ryan’s question with his statement. 

“You shut the fuck up.” Ryan scoffed, a sour expression smeared over his face. “Lending JJ my car? God knows what will happen to it.” 

“JJ’s not a bad driver…” you trailed off, earning a dirty glare from your brother. “What?! Unless he’s drunk off his mind, then you’re good. He was always in charge of Twinkie.” 

“That horrendous Van?” Ryan asked, voice filled with disbelief. “My baby and that ugly thing are two different things, don’t you dare compare them.” 

“Alright man,” John B started, “At least it gets the job done.” 

“Why are you picking a fight with everyone?” Rafe chuckled, pulling out of the driveway. “Sit back and relax, don’t stress your pretty lil’ brain out.” 

“Gross.” Sarah muttered under her breath, nose scrunching with disgust. 

“Can I get aux?” You asked, earning Rafe’s attention as he seeked the chord plugged to the speakers, immediately offering it to you from over his shoulder when it was within his reach. “Thank you.” 

“Mhm.” He hummed, the grogginess in his tone rattling through your chest. 

“Why is she in control of aux?” Ryan perked up at the act, addressing Rafe with his question. “I thought we agreed I’d be in charge.” 

“That’s in bed, baby.” Rafe flashed him a tight-lipped smile, sparing him a glimpse for a second, before his attention was back on the road. His fingers found the curve of Ryan’s jaw, using the tip of the digits to scratch the latter’s chin. 

“Move!” He slapped Rafe’s hand away, lips jutting into a frown. “Why’s everyone ganging up on me today?” 

“‘Kay, stop acting like a bitch.” You started, further getting on your brother’s nerves. “Should’ve stayed home.” 

Rafe’s arm blocked Ryan from shooting off his seat, a glint of amusement smothering through his expression. If one could calm Ryan, it was definitely Rafe. Considering their differences, they get along quite well, perhaps why they’ve made it together far this long. 

The rest of the car ride filled with havoc, as both you and Sarah sang along to the lyrics, while John B sat back and watched, admiring his girlfriend with so much love, you were envious. Oh to openly stare and have it not be a problem; was that too much to ask for? 

A pit of jealousy laid low in your stomach, gaze shifting back to Rafe, whose eyes were glued to the road. Or so you thought, as his pupils caught you staring through the rearview mirror, not breaking the contact in hopes of you noticing him, even for a mere second. 

The action was cut short when Ryan took notice of the situation, eyebrows furrowing with puzzlement as he directed his attention to you in a swift movement. His face pressed to the leather seats, reaching over the dashboard, and flicking your arm with the intent of capturing your focus. 

“Where’s your wallet?” He asked, voice muffled due to the melody playing in the background. 

“My wallet?” You repeated, afraid you heard the phrase wrong. “Why do you need my wallet?” 

“I put my ID in there,” he explained, searching for the object with his gaze. “Figured you’d have it on you.” 

You rolled your eyes, patting around your seat, in an attempt to grab your wallet, instantly coming to a halt as realization washed over. “Wait.” 

“What?” Ryan mumbled. 

“Did I get my wallet?” You asked, the question mostly to yourself. “I think I forgot my wallet.” You stated, peeking down the seats, in case it fell by accident. “You idiot, this is all your fault!” 

“How is it my fault?!” He shot back, “Who forgets their wallet? That’s totally on you!” 

“Yeah, own one then come talk.” You stifled out a sarcastic laugh, crying out with frustration. “This is so annoying, can’t we go back?” 

“That’s a twenty minute drive from here.” Rafe answered, “I’d go back, but that would delay our plans.” 

“Yeah,” Sarah agreed, rubbing soothing circles to the blade of your shoulder. “It’s fine, you can jus’ use my card, baby.” 

“It’s okay Sarah,” you groaned, falling back in your seat. “That’s not necessary.” 

“Oh come on, are you scared I’ll put you on a budget?” Sarah teased, attempting to ease your discomfort. “Don’t worry, I’ll sugar mama you.” 

A giggled escaped your throat at her words, mockingly sticking out your tongue when Ryan flipped you off. While Sarah strived to comfort you, worry yet washed over your expression, contemplating how you were going to spend the next few hours, with nothing but your phone on you. 

The passing few minutes felt like an eternity upon your arrival, quickly joined by your friends once Rafe was all parked. It was fun, despite your friends insisting they’d pay for you, you still refused, shaking your head anytime they offered to buy you something that caught your interest. 

Rafe noticed your shift in mood, cracking a joke every now and then, for a mere reaction out of you. And surprisingly, it worked, the latter managed to squeeze a giggle out of you, ridiculed by the horrible dad jokes he added in between conversations. 

“Is it hot?” Rafe questioned, eyebrows furrowing with concern at the droplets of sweat trickling down your neck. 

“Hmm?” You hummed, lips jutting with confusion. “It’s not bad.” 

“Yeah?” He teased, gaze flickering to your hand, as you patted your neck dry with the gesture. “Want something to drink?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head, admiring while your friends observed the handbags displayed on the counter. “I’m fine.” 

“Hey uh,” Rafe’s voice suddenly broke out, earning everyone’s attention in the process. “We’re grabbing drinks, do you guys want anything?

Your gaze fixed on Rafe with disbelief, taken aback when he tugged your wrist, nodding along to your friends’ requests. Ryan took in the scene with confusion, mind racing with all sorts of thoughts, over why he shouldn’t reach over and yank Rafe’s hold off, forcing the fact that he was his best friend, he wouldn’t do such a thing, and betray his trust. 

And if Rafe saw, he didn’t say a thing, choosing to not acknowledge it as he dragged you with him to the main lobby surrounded by different varieties of fast foods’ restaurants. Rafe let go of your hand, upon standing in line, with you already missing the warmness of his touch, breath hitching when he stood close enough for you to take a whiff of his musky cologne.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Rafe flashed the cashier a polite smile once it was your turn, eyes hovering over the menu displayed on the screens. “Can I get a uhh…” 

You took Rafe's side while he listed your friends’ orders, stiffening when he turned to face you, with the purpose of asking for what you wanted. “I’ll get a milkshake.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, observing the milkshake options on the menu. “What flavor would you like?” 

“Whatever that’s available.” You stammered, clearing your throat as your eyes flickered to where Rafe was looking, trailing off before you muttered your next sentence. “Chocolate’s fine.” 

“We’ll take one chocolate milkshake, then.” Rafe informed the cashier, flashing him a tight-lipped smile as he handed him his card. 

The cashier passed Rafe the receipt, politely asking you two to step to the side, while waiting for your order to finish. You obliged to the request, following in Rafe’s steps as he took a corner, snorting when he plopped his arm over the counter, for the mere purpose of supporting his weight. 

“What?” He chuckled, toying with the straws presented in the cup. “What’s so funny, Bug?” 

“Don’t call me that.” You jokingly huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Is this about your wallet?” He cooed, poking your side with one of the straws. “Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset.” You repeated, denying the assumption, though the boy had you practically figured out. “You’re annoying.” 

“Yeah, and you’re grumpy.” He scrunched his nose, the gesture playful, teasing you in a way. “Whatever you want, buy it, I’ll pay for you.” 

“I spend a lot of money, Rafe.” You uttered, ridiculed by his words. “Sure you can handle it?” 

“Well,” he leaned down, voice dropping barely above a whisper. “Can you spend as much as I can earn?” 

That earned a scuff out of you, rolling your eyes as you lightly smacked his shoulder, the action rattling a chuckle out of Rafe. Your face flushed with heat , remaining silent to suppress your flustered state from taking over your expression. 

It didn’t take long before you were heading back, with the drinks ceased in your hold, as well as Rafe’s. Your friends were quick to help out, handing each person their order, while they offered you a smile of gratitude in return for your act of kindness. 

Conversation with Rafe flowed like water, lifting your spirits, and cracking a smile of you every time he’d lean down and whisper hushed words into your ears. The action was subtle, you were sure none of your friends picked up on the way you’d tense each time Rafe stood too close, or made his presence known, shamefully letting his gaze flicker to your parted lips while your brother stood a few inches away, unaware of the latter’s intentions, and the tension seeping through the thick air. 

Speaking of Ryan, the boy wandered off, leaving you and your friends behind, though that swiftly oscillated as each of you split into pairs, leaving you with Rafe, who did everything in his power to cut through the silence building up. 

You brushed off his statements with short sentences, your dry responses settling a pang of guilt through your chest, intents far from hurting the latter, only realizing the switch in Rafe’s mood after you glanced up, and noticed the look of disappointment smothered all over his face. 

Your attention fixed on the several fragrance bottles splayed on the shelf, misting the aroma over the paper samples to sniff each one. Rafe stood and watched, whirling your shake (God knows how that ended up in his hold) around with a lack of enthusiasm, failing to hide the fact that he wasn’t interested in what you were doing. 

One of the perfumes piqued your curiosity, spraying it on your wrist to take another whiff, the soft vanilla scent intoxicating your senses. You suddenly turned to face Rafe, a smile spreading across your lips when he halted, lips extending with confusion at your sudden burst of excitement. 

“What is it?” He mumbled, brows pinching in a knot. 

“This one smells so good,” You uttered, taking a step forward, then pausing to ask your next question. “Do you wanna smell?” 

“Sure.” He instantly straightened up, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Without thinking, you moved your arm ahead, offering the boy the patch of perfume sprayed on your hand, the action deemed innocent, catching Rafe off guard as he froze. He took a moment to process how close you were, now merely separated by your wrist as it blocked his vision from landing on your face, and hell, did you look pretty up close, though the majority of your features were covered.

Rafe hesitated, processing the risky ponders wandering through his head with haste, letting his impulsive thoughts take over as his fingers seized control of your wrist, inching it closer to his chin before he planted a gentle peck to the palm of your hand. 

His hold lingered around your wrist, his mouth burning hot over your flesh, and spiraling a rush of adrenaline through your veins. A shuddered sigh barely escaped your parted lips, fluttering your eyes up at the latter, your flustered expression not much of help; smearing a mischievous smile across his lips.

“What are you doing?’You stuttered through a breath, hastily retrieving your hand from Rafe’s hold.

“Smelling it,” he explained, acting as if the action was the most normalest thing ever. “You asked me to smell it, did you not?” 

“I did,” you shot back with frustration, pupils narrowing with the flutter of your chest, feeling your pulse quicken under Rafe’s gaze. “I said to smell it, not kiss it.”

“What’s wrong?” He chuckled, pointing his finger in your direction. “Are you shy?” 

“What?” Your face twisted with fake annoyance, glimpsing around before you lightly kicked his knee. “No, Rafe. What if someone saw you?” 

“I don’t care.” He stifled out a sarcastic laugh, amused by your reaction. 

“Yeah?” You forced your lips into a fake smile, ridiculed by Rafe’s lack of worry. “And how will you explain whatever that was to Ryan, Mr. I don’t care?” 

“He’ll understand.” Rafe mocked, grabbing the perfume you sprayed from the shelf. “How can I hold myself back, when you’re this beautiful, baby?”

There it was, baby. The pet name only made your heart race more, the sound so loud, you heard it echoing through your ears.

A hitched breath knocked out of your chest, taken aback by the sudden boldness seeping through Rafe’s tone, your shyness only encouraging him more. You cleared your throat, grabbing the drink from his hold before facing away, afraid you’d crumble if you stared any longer. 

“Shut up.” You dismissed, faking interest in the purses displayed on the shelf. “Don’t do that again.” 

“‘Won’t make any promises.” He clicked his teeth, grabbing a packaged perfume from next to the various ones on display. “Do you want to get it?” 

“No.” You shook your head, politely refusing with a glimpse over your shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

“Alright,” he nodded, streaking past you, and heading straight towards the line. “We’re getting it.” 

“That’s not necessary, Rafe.” You muttered through gritted teeth, avoiding the weird looks you received when Rafe dodged your attempt at snatching the boxed fragrance. 

While you were stubborn, the latter was twice as stubborn as you were, insisting on buying it, despite you refusing. And true to his intentions, Rafe ends up purchasing the perfume for you, a defeated scoff exiting your throat when he flashed you a sheepish grin, proud of his accomplishment. 

A sigh of relief tumbled past your mouth when you spotted Cleo, along with Pope, taking the scene as an opportunity to escape Rafe’s side; though that wasn’t a choice, with the blond practically gluing to you, following in your steps like a lost  puppy. 

It didn’t take long for the rest to join in, deciding it was a good time to leave upon the stores closing, one followed by another. Ryan contently retrieved his keys from JJ, fetching Pope, Cleo, and JJ, while the rest of you stuck in a group, the ride back filling with chaos, as yet, another karaoke session broke out, excpet this time, it involved lots of heartbreaks. 

A new category. 

The majority of your evening was consumed by the ocean waves rocketing, while you and your friends messed around. You let your worries go for once, heart swelling with happiness, one you didn’t think could be ruined.

Things were perfect, as you reunited with your friends, got to spend your summer vacation with them, and you met Rafe. You haven’t been happier since, it terrified you, heart stinging with horror, because you refused to believe this wasn’t ending on a bad note, hence it was a little too perfect.

The night ended off quite earlier than you had expected, with your friends excusing themselves to bed after movie night. Rafe subtly sneaked a smile your way, mouthing ‘goodnight’ before disappearing off to his room. 

That being said, you strived to fall asleep, resetting your progress every time you’d accidently unlatched your eyes, a huff of frustration escaping your throat in the process. You were too overwhelmed to sleep, unable to suppress the foolish grin masking your lips as what happened earlier stumbles across your mind, the vivid image of Rafe’s expression creating a flustered mess out of you. 

You tried not to think about it, being as quiet as physically possible, to avoid stirring Kiara’s slumber, anything but wanting to disturb her sleep. A random video played on your phone, a mere background noise as your brain, yet wandered back to the situation, zoning out, and fully abandoning the device in your hold. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a ping, attention shifting back to the bright screen, almost gasping when you caught the contact of the sender. 

It was Rafe. (not one person is surprised)

rafe 👍: You awake?

Sent, 12:55 am

You: ?? hello

rafe 👍: Hi baby

Your face flushed with heat, unfamiliar with the latter constantly using pet names, the act surprising, never failing to make your heart flutter. 

You: why are you awake?

rafe 👍: Hmm

rafe 👍: Probably the same reason you are

A laugh stifled out of your throat at the message, hurrying to type back a response.

You: yeah 🤨

You: and what reason must that be

Rafe’s text bubble appeared and disappeared, fingers hesitatingly hovering over the screen, while you awaited the latter’s answer. 

rafe 👍: I 

rafe 👍: I can’t stop thinking about you

rafe: It’s driving me crazy

Oh. 

Oh. 

You: stop being an idiot

You: go to sleep its late

rafe 👍: I’m not fucking around

rafe 👍: Wanna see you so bad

Your eyes fluttered with utmost desire, digging your teeth through your bottom lip, merely to confirm this wasn't a dream. 

You: we’ll see eo tmr 

rafe 👍: You think

rafe 👍: I can wait til’ tomorrow? 

rafe 👍: I can't Yn

rafe 👍: Can I come to your room

You: Huh

You: what

You: for what?

rafe 👍: Js’ wanna see you baby

rafe 👍: Am I not allowed to do that?

You nervously gulped, well aware he wanted more than to just see you; both of you did. 

You: kies asleep

rafe 👍: Okay 

rafe 👍: I’ll be fast

The desperation in his tone squeezes a shy snort out of you, sitting up in bed as you typed out a reply. 

You: don’t come

You: stay in your room

rafe 👍:  What

rafe 👍: Why? 

You: i’ll

You: come to you

rafe 👍: Shit wait

rafe 👍: Are you serious?

rafe 👍: Don’t fuck with me 

You: is anyone by you

rafe 👍: NOo

rafe 👍: No one is by me

rafe 👍: I’m all alone

you: alr

you: im coming

You don’t know whether it was the sleep heaving your eyes, or the desire engulfing your insides,  however, you felt sure of your decision, leisurely pulling the covers off your figure, before you hastily made your way out, with the purpose of seeking Rafe. 

A knock is all it took, with the latter quickly unlatching the door, chest rising and falling with a breath once he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed down to your satin sleep set, perfectly adorning your figure, that holding himself back felt far out of the picture. 

“Hi.” You sheepishly greeted the latter, growing nervous under his gaze. At that, Rafe’s head shoots up, swallowing down the lump forming in his throat. 

“Hey,” he shot back, clutching the doorknob with force. “Come in.” 

You accepted the invitation, steps slow as you let yourself inside, observing the plain furniture, so boring,yet screaming Rafe’s name. “Your room is nice.” 

“Thanks.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head once he shut the door, eyes roaming everywhere but your face. 

He was starting to regret this, tempting himself when he knows he can’t handle another minute with you this far away, wanting nothing but to seize the distance, cross the now invisible line and fuck it. 

“You’re welcome.” You hummed, lips pursing into a thin line. 

Tension seeped through the air, heaving the atmosphere with lust, desire; all your wants and needs. 

“Why did you want to see me?” You abruptly asked, approaching the door once again, a few feet down from Rafe. A chuckle escaped your lips, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “In the middle of the night, too? You’re not slick, Cameron.”

Mhm, that made things even worse. 

“Do I need a reason to see you now?” He answered you with another question, casually, but deliberately approaching you. “You think I’m that bad?” 

“No.” You whispered, fingers clutching the fabric of your shorts, reminiscing over the memory of his lips colliding with yours after your back firmly pressed to the door, chest immediately swelling with Deja Vu. “It was a joke.” 

“Yeah?” He mumbled, voice dropping to match yours. “You think that night was a mistake?”

“What night?” You stiffened, prior to acknowledging his question, as you’ve done nothing but avoid it over the past few days. 

“The night I kissed you.” He further clarified, his figure swallowing yours as he hovered over you. “You regret it?” 

“Why are you bringing that up?” You nearly choked on your own spit at the confrontation, goosebumps breaking out across your arms when the tip of his fingers lightly traced over your forearm, the sensation like feathers to your flesh. 

“Don’t know,” he replies, vision going blurry. “Wanna know how you feel.” 

A shaky sigh managed its way past your lips, mouth gaping to speak, but instead met with utter silence in return. Rafe’s eyes glinted with keen, seeking an answer out of you; a response to all his problems and more. 

But nothing. 

“I’ll leave.” You started, words far from what you wanted. “It’s getting late.”

Rafe’s face fell at that, chest swelling with disappointment as he shifted to step back, giving you enough space to squeeze through. “Right, you should; ‘s totally my fault for keeping you up.” 

One word. That’s all you wanted to hear; don’t. 

However, you were both idiots, too afraid to express your feelings for each other, hesitating over the possibilities of what if’s.

So what if Ryan found out? 

You like Rafe, so much it stings knowing you can’t have him, your said brother being the reason he’s forbidden. He’s your blood, though, him of all people should know how much this means to you, hence he’s witnessed all your horrific experiences with dating. 

Telling Ryan wasn’t the problem, it was you all along; teetering to make the first move, let your impulsive thoughts win and claim him, move forward and crash your lips on his, it was all on you for putting other people’s priorities over yours. 

Putting yourself first spoke like no other, and that’s exactly what you did as you grabbed Rafe by the collar of his shirt, wasting no time before you collided his lips with yours. 

Rafe’s eyes widened with shock, arms awkwardly hanging to his sides as you captured his bottom lip in between your own, proceeding with the gesture when you angled your head to the side, intending to deepen the kiss. 

Rafe didn’t do anything though, he froze in his spot, not daring to move, even after you mustered up the courage to kiss him. Panic immediately washed over as you pulled away, mouth moving faster than your brain while muttering your next words. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You apologized, guilt evident in your expression. “I thought you wanted this– I didn’t mean to force anything on you, we can jus’ act like this never happened, I don’t m–”

Your rambling cut short, interrupted when Rafe sweeped you in an eager kiss, the action desperate, seeking closure through it. You contently kissed him back, yelping when his arm found the curve of your waist, applying enough pressure to seize control of your body. 

The latter almost stumbled over his own feet, nearly falling in the process of leading you to the bed. Rafe took action when he noticed your struggle to keep up, hands traveling to the back of your thighs, and before you knew it, the boy scooped you in a swift movement, your legs latching to his sides for support.

Your arms wrapped around Rafe’s neck, moaning as he nibbled the plump of your lip with the graze of his teeth, using your parted lips as an opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, letting the warmth of your spit coat his own. 

His tongue swirled over yours, managing to plop himself on the edge of the bed, all while squeezing and kneeding your ass, chasing after your pleasure with each time you squirmed in his hold. 

“Fuck,” rafe muffled in between kisses, “Taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” 

A moan rolls off your tongue at the praise, mind hazing with despair as Rafe’s hot breath fanned over your face, the warmth tickling your skin, and sending shivers down your spine. Rafe wasted no time, fingers finding the hem of your shirt, the tip of his digits teasingly toying with it.

You whined into his mouth, protesting to the wait he’s putting you through, hips unintentionally rolling down over his crotch in the process, almost folding when you felt him twitch at the gesture. Rafe hissed at the contact, swiftly pressing your hips down in place, the hardon in his pants not being much of help. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He grunted, lips ghosting over yours. “God, you’re killing me.” 

“Rafeee,” you cooed, throwing your head back with the intent of arching your back, panties now soaked with your juices. “Feels s’ good.” 

“You’re a mess.” Rafe teased, stifling out a laugh. He purposely halted, testing your limits, and how far you can go without crumbling in his hold. “So desperate for me, aren’t you?.” 

“Fucking do something.” Your nails dug to his shoulders with force, well aware your hold would bruise, already forming red marks with the touch. “Don’t jus’ tease me.” 

“You’re being a brat.” He chuckled with amusement, gaze landing on your cleavage, now half exposed from him groping the delicate flesh. “Thought you were a good girl, baby.” 

At that, your breath hitched, forehead leaning against Rafe’s when his fingers lightly traced over your breasts, the sensation like feathers to your skin. He licked a stripe of your tit, the warmth of his spit coating the outer shell of your boob. 

Rafe took your chest in his hold, action falling short as a knock suddenly erupted through the door, startling both of you out of your haze and despair. You instantly froze, pushing Rafe off to spare him a glance, almost as if to ask what the noise was. 

“Aye Rafe.” The familiar voice echoed through your ears, causing your heart to sink to the pit of your stomach. “Are you in there?” 

“That’s Ryan.” Rafe beat you to speaking, words stating the obvious. 

“No shit it’s Ryan.” You sarcastically whisper-yelled, “What is he doing here?” 

“I don’t know!” Rafe shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he was asleep.” 

Both of you turned with panic when the doorknob twisted back and fourth, indicating the latter was trying to open the door. “Aye come on, open up; I know you’re awake.” 

“Shit, we’re in trouble.” You nervously bit your lip, scrambling to get off his lap. Rafe fixed his shirt, adjusting his position to hide the hardon visible in his pants. “What do we do?” 

“Okay– shit, wait.” Rafe took a breath, observing the room with frustration. “I’ll hide in the closet, you open the door and shoo him away.” 

“It’s your room, dude.” Your face scrunched with disbelief, “I’m the one that should be hiding.” 

“No, yeah, right.” The latter nodded, pacing back and forth. “Where should you hide?” 

“Not the closet,” you shook your head, checking under the bed. “I’m claustrophobic.” 

“Under the bed?” Rafe suggested, eyeing the somewhat narrowed place, though it was slightly bigger than the said closet.

“Okay–” you winced as another thud erupted through the door, rushing to bend down, and slide under the bed. “Be fast, please.” 

Rafe nodded, flashing you a reassuring smile before fixing up the covers, vision now glistening with dimness. You perked up at the sound of the door creaking, groaning when Ryan’s footsteps practically shook the floor. He plopped himself on the bed, with Rafe hissing at the gesture, knowing your brother probably startled you with the action. 

And he did, but that wasn’t the point. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe asked, sprawling himself next to Ryan. 

“I got some yayo,” Ryan whispered with a chuckle, probably already high by the tone of his voice. “Figured we could smoke it together.” 

“At one past midnight?” Rafe argued. 

“So what?” Ryan shrugged, ruffling his hand in the plastic bag he spread out on the bed. “You’re actin’ as if we’ve never done it before, this is not– wait, what?” 

Rafe paused before responding, face turning pale. “What?” 

“Is that Bug’s phone?” Ryan questioned, smile fading off his lips. “What is my sister’s phone doing in your room?”

Shit, your phone.

a/n all support is v much appreciated!! i honestly have no idea how i got this out bye literally stress wrote almost the whole thing and im surviving off three hours of sleep mind you for the past two days AND i also finished most of this on the plane so feel special... i cherish my plane rides but i put you guys first since ily 😣 that being said i spent the past like eight hours finishing it up HELP yeah sorry to disappoint mama tried her best 💔 nsfw part is not detailed on purpose i want to put my badussy for their first time yeah (it wont be explicit dw) 💪💪

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TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 5.12.25

⨯ est wordcount: 30k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 22k ⨯ est release date: june 2025 for patreon, public release date is still tbd ⨯ completion: 70% of 100% ⨯ scenes written: 13 of 16

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・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have imagined after what you’ve already gone through. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than anyone else was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when your mother passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going despite the horrifying truth of your life. 

It’s the fact that it was a “mutual” break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him at that point. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

He wanted to do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

You can’t imagine being the light in someone’s life anyway.

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying to hold it together. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls meant close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own, with no one beside him. You had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with the rejection after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words through phone calls were his way of coping, a way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it is…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for. 

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and his own thoughts.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him, of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. Sure, he has work, but it comes easy when he doesn’t even need to leave the house for it. When he’s the boss, and when he has people to practically do his job for him. You don’t have that. 

But, you have Heeseung, do you not? It appears to him that you’ve been doing okay until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and get through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he hasn’t already become that person for you.

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. If there was ever a good time to do this, it was probably a year ago, the second best time is now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone.

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. Truly sees it.

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t been home in a while so, I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes out to you with a small, breathy laugh.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew that this may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But simply looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention. Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way yet his mind still spirals. Already he’s caught himself nearly calling out her name rather than yours when your back is turned to him.

And for you, it just feels…too nostalgic right now. Walking through the door for the first time and not being able to see your mother running to greet you. 

Ouch. It’s like your body reacted, dropping everything in your hands to expect a hug, only to feel and see nothing while Sunghoon bumped into your back by accident with your things.

“Oh– Sorry.” He said briefly, stepping back and trying not to drop your boxes. 

You moved quickly out of his way, stepping into the room and grabbing a box from him. The smell in the house hit you harder than anything though. It still smells like her perfume, you suspect Sunghoon must be spraying it quite often for it to be this strong. 

It’s suffocating. So much so that it takes every ounce of energy for you to gather the rest of your things to put them in your room without your eyes burning with tears. Only able to breathe one full breath when the bedroom door is closed and your window is open. 

This is not how you cope. Still being able to smell her hurts, despite knowing it’s nothing more than a too-expensive bottle of perfume you can buy from any high end store. It’s more than that to you, and more than that to Sunghoon. It’s her. 

That scent he had grown accustomed to does not assault his nostrils, if at all, his skin burns when the air isn’t polluted by it. Still, unaware of why, Sunghoon had noted the rush in your step. He tries to pay no mind to the way you lock yourself behind that door, knowing you’re needing to settle in before he makes any effort to be who you need right now. After all, his mind is struggling to be a good father right now too. He needs the distance just like you do.

And what exactly does being a good father entail, exactly? Give you your space, make sure you’re fed, throw around a few shitty jokes? Fuck if he knows. All he can do is try to pretend that this isn’t awkward. That his mind isn’t going in fifteen different directions regarding this situation as a whole. Ten of those directions being…well, not savory for most.

Intrusive thoughts. That’s new, even for him. 

So, he lets you stay in that room walls away, and he mimics the action himself by closing himself in his own bedroom that he’s grown to despise. Alone again, empty, lying in a bed that always felt so full until she was no longer here. 

The walls, empty of photos because he struggled to look at them day after day. The scent of her perfume is still in the air by his own doing. Nothing has changed for the better, even with you just down the hallway. And you can argue that you feel the same.

Then again, expecting an immediate change is more insane than the two of your struggling minds put together. 

Already, you miss the tiny dorm room you just abandoned. There weren't many places to cry in there, but here there’s far too many corners with memories, far too many walls and windows to contemplate while you stare off. Much like him, much much like Sunghoon, it just feels…worse.

You find yourself lying down on your childhood bed trying not to kick and scream. You remember the last time you had a tantrum in this bed and the reasoning feels so small to you now as you anticipate the bubbled feeling of loss claw and scratch at your chest. Your mother wouldn’t let Heeseung sleep over, even though you offered to leave the door open and promised that there would be no funny business.

He was so happy with you back then, cheeky and mischievous smirks at each lie you’d tell your mother. You both knew the door would fall shut by “accident” like it had done so many times before. 

Funny how the two who caused that tantrum are no part of you now outside of fond memory and pain. Even funnier how the tantrum you could throw now would end far more dangerously, with ripped sheets and broken windows. 

You just cry quietly instead, pushing the assignments you still need to try and prioritize to the back of your mind, hoping that this short one week break from classes will help you get your head screwed on straight. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The days blur together during your time off, pretending to laugh and enjoy conversation with a step-father you barely know well enough for it to be real. It became routine after the first day, which is kind of helpful because routine is what you need right now. 

Something to focus on, something to keep you from wondering where it all went wrong for the last light in your life to flicker itself out so willingly. Still, you wonder where Heeseung’s head has been since your mother’s passing. You must have grown to be too much for him, too heavy of a burden on his shoulders to stay much longer with you through it. 

You appreciate him if that’s how he felt, because you really had no idea. He was always so gentle, loving, and kind towards you. Never changed in any way, or even acted as if he was hiding anything. That– you think, proves that in some way, he does truly love you. Or, did love you. Just not in the way you need. 

He may not have enough love in his body to stabilize someone like you. Someone who is entirely unbalanced on this earth. And when you look at Sunghoon sometimes, you wonder how much he loved your mother, or how he got through it without someone to constantly exhaust with his mournful antics like you did. 

The circles under his eyes and that permanent furrow in his brow shows the stress he’s been living with. You never thought he could appear more dull and lifeless even before she passed, but now. Now he looks dull. Now he truly looks lifeless, lost, maybe even as if he died with her. There’s part of you that feels bad over how you thought of him previously compared to now because of it. Thinking back, there was so much more life in him, and probably so much of him to enjoy from your mother’s perspective. You just never cared to see it. 

You missed the chance to see what it is about Sunghoon to love, and now all you can see is a shell of a person who made your mother the happiest she had ever been, if you can call it that. You know it wasn’t Sunghoon’s fault, if anything, he’s the reason she held on for so long. 

And you note the house’s condition more and more as you wander around, almost like this isn’t your own childhood home. It’s pristine now, in immaculate condition. Never has the house been this clean, and perhaps that’s why you feel like you don’t entirely belong anymore. It doesn’t feel like it has been lived in. You don’t know how he finds the energy to keep the place clean after the nature of your mother’s death came to light. Or even how to stay in this house at all, in that bedroom, sleeping on that bed. 

He’s still hurting. Maybe even more than you.

The worst part of it is that you truly felt like you were healing when Heeseung was with you, but it turns out, he was just a bandaid and a distraction. He didn’t like seeing you sad, so he wouldn’t let you feel those things if he could help it. You couldn’t mourn, you didn’t want to mourn. 

Now you have to. 

It’s hard to truly believe you were healing only to find out that you haven’t faced the loss of your mother at all and now you’re forced to face not only her passing, but Heeseung prying you off of him and moving out of the country just to get away from you.

He still loves you, right? He doesn’t resent you…right?

It’s just you and Sunghoon now, hopefully you can get through it together. So, you try. You try to use some of your time to spend with him, to genuinely laugh at his jokes, and mock his attempts to pretend that the two of you have always been close just for the sake of pretending like a family. 

No smile reaches the eye though, for either of you.

It feels easier as the days pass though, up until you’ve got only two days left before you need to start going back to campus. You spend them trying to make the days lighter. Opening windows to erase the scent of your mother, because in all fairness… seeing Sunghoon discreetly spray her perfume every morning is really, really heartbreaking. Additionally, you’re trying to let the dishes pile up in the sink and practically plead with Sunghoon to just…leave them. 

Let the house be a mess for once. No more nervous cleaning, no more busying yourself with things that don’t matter. No more, no more.

And it’s like hell for him seeing you try so hard to feel okay, but he relents to your pleas of letting the house become a mess. His hands itch to clean, but his heart burns knowing that if you feel better, maybe he will too. Even with the scent of your mother wafting out the windows into the big, horrifying world, he tries to stay away from that bottle of perfume too. He misses her so much that it nearly crippled his brain. 

Somehow, you’re bringing a type of normalcy back despite the dark thoughts that he doesn’t allow to surface. Still, there’s a long way to go with this, it seems. He knows all too well how you fall apart once your bedroom door is closed. The effort from you is endearing during the daylight hours though, and he softens up at you everytime. 

Yet, those hidden tears aren’t just for your mother and he knows it. There is something else happening. 

“So, how has Heeseung been?” Sunghoon asks over dinner. A shitty bag of takeout mending both of you bite by bite. 

He doesn’t notice at first the way you fall silent, awkward again as if it’s still the first day you came home. 

“Oh–” You come up with excuses, with lies. “He’s taking a semester off to see his mom. Guess what happened rattled him a bit too, wanted to hug her and stuff.”

Sunghoon’s gaze stays on you as you avoid eye contact. You’re lying, he knows it. He remembers your mother always calling you on your little lies when you still lived here too. “She always curls her pinky and ring finger when she’s lying.” She had chuckled to him back when she still had a twinkle of hope in her eyes. He recalls how you slammed your door that night, lying about being with Heeseung when you said you were with your very obvious not-best-friend. 

Your mother would have let you go, but you were just a teenager and she had to at least pretend to parent you. Sunghoon loved watching her do it. All the laughs that came out of it, learning about you through her and her alone. 

Now, he sees your hands on top of the table and he focuses on that pinky and ring finger curling into your fist. Such a small action telling on you.

 The point is, Heeseung wouldn’t just up and leave you like that, not in a million years, Sunghoon thinks as he remembers the sheer amount of times he’s met the boy. In fact, it was rare to see you without Heeseung. 

“I see…” He trails off, taking another bite of his food before washing it down with a gulp of soda. “Has he called you?” 

You feel it in your stomach, the fact that you’ve even avoided asking yourself that question. Because no, of course he hasn’t. And he probably hasn’t because he knew you didn’t want to break up despite pretending it was okay. It’s for you, he’s giving you space. It’s not because he doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” You nod, trying to mask yourself to be perfectly fine. “The other day he called super late and I was already asleep so we didn’t really get to talk.”

“Does he know you’ve moved back home?”

You nod slowly, wishing that Sunghoon would go back to not really caring about what’s going on in your life.

“Yep.” You lie again. “Seems pretty happy about it, said he thought it would help me since he’s not around anymore.”

Unfortunately, you don’t notice the slight slip of your tongue. He’s not around anymore. That sounds far more permanent than a simple home visit where he misses his mommy due to the death of your own. 

“Ah, that makes sense.” Sunghoon watches you and your nervous body language. Lie after lie plastered blatantly on those false-smiling lips. “Forgive me if I’m prying but, don’t you think it’s selfish that he just up and left to see his own mother after–well,” 

You nod without intent before raising your hands in defense of Heeseung. 

“No, no!” You exclaim, Sunghoon noting how this is the most emotion you’ve had all day. “I don’t blame him. I’d probably do the same thing.” 

He relents now, realizing it’s probably too early to expect real, honest answers from you. Even if he’s just curious, he would assume anyone would be considering the way you and Heeseung, again, were attached at the hip. 

“Well, I’m still here for you.” He finally says. 

Before, you’d just wave him off, but now? It feels like your efforts are making it so that you pay attention when he says those words. When he pretends to care, or offers his comfort. He’s really all you have now, and maybe it’s just your own mind telling you that. Then again, maybe it’s all that sorrow and guilt that’s doing it. 

“I know…” You sigh, losing your appetite entirely. “You can talk to me too though, you know?” 

Changing the subject seems easier. The fact that Sunghoon is trying so hard right now does mean a lot to you, but even if your relationship with him wasn’t estranged– you still wouldn’t be ready to talk about how Heeseung left you the way you did. Not yet at least.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Sunghoon responds warmly, not mentioning how much you should. 

“Focus on you.” 

You nod, looking down at the table and recognizing that this food that once smelled so delicious to you is now turning your stomach. 

“I do worry though.” You mutter. 

Sunghoon sees your fingers uncurl from your fist at those words and he physically can feel as his heart swells. Finally, someone worries for him again. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. I write within my own triggers, not yours.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[seungcheorry]

svt + "oh no, the car is packed"

seungcheol: says you're riding shotgun and doesn't allow anyone to say anything else. "but hyung, i'm too big~" mingyu could say, and seungcheol would be like 🤷 yeah well, that sounds like a YOU problem.

jeonghan: depending on his mood, he's either the one sitting on your lap like a princess or he's the cocky motherfucker who will smirk because you'll have to sit on his.

joshua: ever a gentleman, he lets you decide if you're comfortable with sitting on his lap or if you'd rather sit on anyone else's/have someone on your lap. would probably tell you to ride in the front seat with the driver too.

jun: stands there like 🧍 just casually talking logistics with wonwoo and chan until he also casually gets in the car and gives you a small smile and a nod, telling you to make yourself as comfortable as possible. blushes the entire ride.

soonyoung: literally couldn't care less but has the time of his life with you sitting on his lap, you'll have to be careful not to bump your head as he's bouncing his legs in excitement.

wonwoo: has you on his lap like it doesn't mean a thing but deep down he's all butterflies, rainbows and unicorns. most likely to rest a hand on your waist just because. has the time of his life during a 15 minutes ride.

jihoon: "jihoon-ah, what do you prefer?" *doesn't answer as he's already calling an uber, he is NOT doing that or puttng you in such a position*.

seokmin: apologizes the moment you sit on his lap, but you know he ain't sorry - his smile is too big in that moment. will crack a joke to make you laugh and then he'll laugh with you and you'll feel his breath on your shoulder and-

mingyu: a big baby :( would be bullied into riding in the backseat and pouts because of it, but then smiles when you have to sit on his lap. wraps his arms around you to "make sure you're safe" - yeah, right. you don't fool me, kim mingyu.

minghao: does his best to make everyone let you ride in the passenger seat because you don't deserve to be in the backseat all squeezed against those losers. sneakily grab the keys and then drive the car, saving himself from the backseat too.

seungkwan: doesn't even try to play it cool or cocky, he literally giggle as he sits on your lap. grabs the back of the driver's seat for dear life the entire ride otherwise he's gonna combust. apologizes every time he has to move. "i'll start a diet tomorrow-" "boo seungkwan, just shut up, please".

vernon: "should we just ride the subway?" "i don't know, vernon. i mean, it's gonna take us double the time to get there?" "yeah. let's take the subway". please understand his message.

chan: is torned between having you on his lap or sitting on yours. frowns in annoyance when one of his hyungs tells you to sit on their lap - like, come on now, give him a break!! but also, chan has the brightest smile on his face when you have to change laps and sit on his because he's smaller than almost all of his hyungs.

[wethotcrazy]

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin.  "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck together

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

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

Only a handful of people have this number.

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

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

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

You only say yes because Natasha was her friend.

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

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

You nod, walking up to the car.

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

“What am I supposed to do?”

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

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

“It won’t be long, right?”

“Couple of weeks, tops”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I woke up and didn’t... didn’t know if we were safe” Wanda says, her voice small. You didn’t even hear her get out of the car.

“Ask next time, instead of trying to kill me” you turn to look away, to hide your confusion.

Even if you knew her for a small time, you don’t remember the Maximoff girl having this kind of power.

“I was just reading your mind” she defends herself. You’re about to argue again when she turns to the car, looking at the kids who are wide awake.

“Boys…” she begins, but looks your way and stays quiet. “Is there a restaurant nearby? We could have some food and a bathroom break”

“The safe house isn’t that far away” you say. You really don’t want to stop, considering Maria didn’t tell you anything specific.

“Please” Wanda says when you clear your throat. With a sigh, you nod. But before she can open the car door, you put your hand over it, looking straight into her green eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, Maximoff”

It annoys you that she doesn’t answer, only glaring at you until your hand drops and she gets in the car, smiling at the kids.

Luckily for them, there’s a small diner by the side of the road, along a gas station and a couple of old restrooms. Open 24 hours, probably to cater to truck drivers and other people who have to go miles without seeing another soul, never mind a place to eat.

Food probably sucks.

“Stay in the booth over there” you point to the back of the restaurant, sitting at the counter where you can see anyone walking in or driving by.

Within minutes of entering, you have already found any weapons you could use, emergency exits and potential obstacles.

But there’s nothing, no one seems to care about your presence.

The kids eat pancakes while Wanda watches them, making small talk. You wonder who are they.

Then again, the bleep brought a shit load of troubles with it. Maybe they disappeared five years ago and their parents are nowhere to be found.

So many people disappeared, aside from the ones that turned to dust.

“They just have to use the bathroom and we’re ready to go” Wanda says, frowning when she notices your empty cup of coffee. “Did you eat anything?”

“I’m fine. Don’t take too long” you leave a couple of bills on the counter, more than enough to cover for the food and your cup of crappy coffee.

The sun is starting to rise and you really wish you could get moving. It’s always better to go when it’s dark, even if enemies can hide in the shadows.

What’s taking so fucking long?

Walking away from the car, you find Wanda trying to stop a man from approaching her any further. He must have come from the other side of the road, as you didn’t see him until now.

“Just wondering what a cute girl like you is doing all alone down this dirty old road” he says.

“None of your fucking business” you say, making the man jump out, scared. “Leave her alone”

“You her guard dog? Be a nice mutt and go dig up some bones” he says, pulling out a knife.

With a roll of your eyes, you reach for it, twisting his hand and punching him in the face. It takes you five seconds to knock him out. Just for fun, you spit next to his motionless body.

“Told you to make it quick” you say to Wanda, pretending to be annoyed.

“We’re done” she says, walking back to the car. The kids share a look as they walk past the unconscious man, giggling when they pretend to be fighting each other.

Wanda smiles when you open the back door for her, while you pretend not to notice her eyes on you.

“Thank you”

Luckily, the rest of the ride to the safe house goes smoothly.

—

Maria didn’t lie about one thing.

This place is a shithole.

Wood pannels are broken, there’s dust everywhere and you’re gonna have to cook and get heat the old fashioned way.

“Yikes” one of the kids says as you walk through the door. You have to agree.

“It’s going to be fine. We’ll make it work” Wanda promises, feigning excitement.

“Can’t you just…?” you make a movement with your hands, and she frowns at you. “Abracadabra the place?”

“I’d rather not use my powers unless it is strictly necessary” she says, closing the front door. That falls off its hinges.

“Home security doesn’t strike you as a necessity, Maximoff?”

The tilt of her head is all the answer you get. With a sigh, you walk up to the shed, hoping there are some tools you can use to fix the door.

Well, at least there are weapons, cash, and all the essentials to make sure the door doesn’t fall again.

Home chores are not your favorite thing in the world, but at least it’s distracting you. Wanda is inside, cleaning the second floor while the two kids come up and down, carrying things and laughing.

“Do you need any help?” one of them approaches you.

“It’s fine. Sorry, I don’t know your name”

“I’m Billy, and my brother’s name is Tommy” the boy says, smiling. Though his brother seems reluctant to give out that information so freely.

“Well, Billy, like I said. I’m almost done. Thanks anyway”

“Oh. Ok”

The disappointment in his voice annoys you.

Kids.

“Fine. Nail that for me”

You hand over the hammer, holding the nail between two of your fingers. The first time he hits your hand, and you barely flinch. You encourage him with a nod, and he crashes the hammer against the rotten wood, adding another task to your workload.

“Sorry”

“That’s on me” you say, inspecting your hand. No damage.

“Are you bullet proof?”

“Not quite. Just harder to kill, that’s all”

Wanda clears her throat and you turn to look at her, frowning.

“Boys, come help in the kitchen” she asks and they both nod, walking past you. Before you can go back to work, Wanda approaches you, hissing. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention things like killing in front of two kids, Y/L/N”

With a glare, you stand up, and Wanda doesn’t back down when you tower over her.

“And I would appreciate it if you could make jazz hands and save me the trouble of fixing this shithole. But alas, we’re both stuck, aren’t we?”

“Brute” she spits out. You give her one last glare, and kneel back next to the door, fixing the wood.

Spoiled brat.

You hear a gasp and a small ball of red magic hits your side. It barely hurts, and it feels more like a warning.

You’re pretty sure you didn’t say that out loud.

“You thought it very loudly” Wanda says.

“Oh, for that you don’t mind using magic” you mutter. Wanda turns to glare at you, and you decide to shut your mouth.

You don't want to push your luck.

—

The better part of your day is spent securing the house. You’re a soldier and an agent, not a handywoman. Still, you hope this won’t take long and pretty soon you and Wanda can be on your separate ways.

After showering, you go out into the porch and open up a beer, taking a large gulp.

“Where’d you get that?” Wanda appears out of nowhere and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Someone left a secret stash”

And thank God, because you’re gonna need it if Maximoff will be breathing down your neck for who knows how long.

“Beer on an empty stomach? There’s food inside. Not my best, but with the groceries we have is what I could do”

“No offense but if I don’t make it, I don’t taste it” you mutter, taking another sip of your beer.

“Yeah, well, you’re no use if you’re drunk” she complains, crossing her arms.

“Do you really think this gets me drunk? I’m a super soldier, remember?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, that’s what you are” she says before going back inside.

Well, she’s not wrong.

The sounds coming from inside the house tell you the kids are getting ready for bed. Once you notice the lights upstairs are off, you decide to go to the kitchen.

Wanda’s right, whoever got the provisions is an idiot. There’s canned food, some cereal, but nothing that can actually work if you put it together.

Unless…

Could there be another hidden stash?

You examine every inch of the kitchen thoroughly, knuckles testing the wood to find an empty panel. After a few minutes, you stumble upon one and smile.

“Bingo” you say, lifting the pannel and finding a cabinet full of cookies, chips and candy.

You pick a bag of chips, and go back outside, drinking another beer. As you look at the woods surrounding the safe house, your mind can’t help but go back to what little you know about Wanda Maximoff.

Natasha had told you she was just a terrified kid, that HYDRA had taken advantage of her and her brother to conduct experiments and turn them into weapons.

You could definitely relate to that.

You barely spent time with her, as shortly after the entire Avenger initiative went to shit and well…

Best not to think about what happened after that. The nightmares are enough reminder.

The night goes by slowly, but you refuse to sleep. One, you are supposed to be looking after them, no matter how much Wanda annoys you. Second, if it were up to you, you’d never sleep. So, you struggle to stay awake, even if it’s freezing outside.

Around five in the morning, you begin to doze off, and decide to take a walk around the house to make sure everything’s in order.

By eight, the lulling sound of birds chirping relaxes you enough, the way it always does when you’re back home, so you begin to drift off…

Until you feel a little flick hitting your cheek. It’s annoying, like a bug, but you think nothing of it as you settle in the chair.

But then it happens two more times. You huff, smacking your own cheek hoping to catch the bug. You look at your empty palm, skin stinging with the force of your own hit.

For a few minutes, you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Alert to any change around you, you finally manage to reach and catch the little culprit.

“You little shit” you mutter, but are surprised to see Tommy right next to you, struggling with the hand that is holding to his shirt.

“Mom!” he begins to yell, scared out of his mind.

What the fuck do you mean mom?

You don’t have time to ask out loud, as a burst of red magic throws you out of the porch and into the front lawn.

The sight of Wanda levitating, eyes glowing red makes you crawl back, terrified. It’s been a while since you’ve been scared shitless by something, that’s for sure.

“I will kill you” she states, her accent heavy as a hand reaches forward, red magic curling around your throat and lifting you up in the air.

Oh, well. You had a nice run. It’s very clear that nothing you do will overpower her. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, Wanda’s magic can hold you down, throw you around, choke the life out of you like she’s doing right now.

There are worse ways to go.

“Mom, stop, please!”

The lack of air is probably making you hallucinate, but a second later you’re dropped to the ground, coughing violently and rubbing your neck.

“Tommy, don’t” Wanda pulls him to her side when he tries to reach you and you see fear in her eyes.

She thinks you’ll hurt the boy.

Now, that stings more than the murder attempt she just pulled off.

When you feel like you finally caught your breath, you stand up on shaky legs, and walk away from the house and into the woods.

You don’t stop until you find a small clear and drop against a log, panting.

Maria picks up immediately.

“You’re gonna tell me the fucking truth”

“What…”

“She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. Why the fuck did you call me, then?”

There’s a pause that extends for longer than you’d like and you’re about to tell her how Wanda almost killed you when Maria sighs, giving up.

“Her powers are… unstable. Or rather, she is. I don’t have clearance to tell you everything. But we want to know if she can be a threat”

“To whom?”

“To the world”

You feel like throwing up. You should have never answered the call, you’re way over your head.

“I’m not someone who should be making those decisions. Find anyone else”

“We don’t trust anyone else enough to…”

“Call Barton”

“He’s retired”

“Well, unretire his ass. He knows her better than I do, Hill”

You have a feeling this is is an argument you’re not gonna win, unless you just pick up your shit and leave. Which you could very well do considering what just happened.

A scream that tears throw the quiet of the forest makes you look up.

“I have to go” you say, discarding the burner phone and running back to the house.

Billy’s the one screaming, but you can’t tell why until you reach the edge of the property, looking between Wanda and a strange woman, piercing blue eyes and wild brown hair making her look deranged.

“What…?”

Then, you notice the dagger she’s holding against Billy’s throat.

“Don’t pull any tricks, Wanda. I’m done playing nice”

[gollancz]

Guys. Christmas is coming. Consumerism is in the driver's seat and GAWD don't I know about the existential ennui of all these faceless corporations trying to schill you their wares. It's cold. Impersonal. Bleak.

So I, a fellow tumblr user, will instead try to schill you MY wares, so that when you purchase these items you can say "Hey, that person from tumblr worked on this", and feel the warmth of HUMAN CONNECTION in a way that is completely normal and not parasocial at all. We really are friends. I promise. Yes, you. Love you, bestie. Remember the boop war? Good times. Fond memories.

THIRTEEN STOREYS and FAMILY BUSINESS by Jonathan Sims

Tumblr's favourite Nightmare Factory @jonnywaistcoat has two novels out and they're phenomenal horror that also punch you in the throat with SOCIAL COMMENTARY and FEELINGS. He's so adept at tapping into the specific part of my brain that feels fear like a small child - not the adult creepy scared that I normally get around horror, but specifically the kind of fear that almost freezes your limbs and vocal chords with a terror you don't quite understand because there is so much in the world that you don't know, but you know that somehow this thing might be quick enough or smart enough or sneaky enough to get you before you can get to the safety of your parents sort of fear.

THIRTEEN STOREYS is a haunted house novel, but set in a refurbished block of flats. Each chapter follows a different resident being haunted in a different way, with a style to match the flavour of ghost. It's all tied together phenomenally and brutally.

FAMILY BUSINESS is a story about ghosts in a different way, following a woman who joins a post-mortem house cleaning service while grieving the death of her best friend. But as she removes the stains from the houses of the dead, she begins to suspect something else is removing even more.

Both of these titles are available from Gollancz worldwide!

THE LAST UNICORN, THE WAY HOME, THE INNKEEPER'S SONG and A FINE AND PRIVATE PLACE by Peter S. Beagle

Obviously Peter's work needs no introduction, and our editions aren't available in the US and Canada, but I've had a wonderful time working with Peter and his team to bring these beautiful books back to the UK. Meeting him at Worldcon this year was such a magical moment, and he was jet-lagged and I had gone through sleep deprived into hyper and was bringing an Extremely Weird Energy to every interaction I had that day, resulting in this photo:

THE LAST UNICORN and THE WAY HOME are a matched pair of wonderful fairy stories. THE WAY HOME has two novellettes in it, and the first - 'Two Hearts' - won the Hugo award. It will also destroy you.

A FINE AND PRIVATE PLACE was Peter's first ever novel, and it's wistful and romantic and so beautiful.

THE INNKEEPER'S SONG is his epic fantasy quest, it's an adventure story that reads almost lyrically. Also there's an orgy in the middle which caught me by surprise when I was reading it for the first time on the train into work.

HIGH VAULTAGE by Chris and Jen Sugden

It's possible that someone on this website doesn't know I was involved with this book but don't worry, I will HUNT THEM DOWN AND TELL THEM. This is the first book I took all the way through the editorial process from end to end and I am SO PROUD of it and Chris and Jen and their wonderful world of @victoriocity. Officially one of the seven funniest books published in the UK this year, shortlisted for the Wodehouse Prize for Comic Fiction. It's a chaotic, bonkers murder mystery set in an alternate Victorian London which is the most gleeful dystopia I have ever encountered.

Featuring:

Grumpy Sunshine besties

The Victorian Equivalent of the Chuck Norris Meme

A robot who undertook a course in People Management

An indefatigable beagle

This is another book that you can get from Gollancz all over the world, and you SHOULD because it's amazing. Go into your local bookshop and ask them to order it into stock. It's a great Christmas present. It's my firstborn book baby (like that's a completely normal thing to say when I didn't even write it). Also if you're a fan of the podcast, why not tell the Guardian how great it is, and make a nuisance of yourself until they review. (I would, but the form asks for your name and then they'd know I didn't suddenly discover Victoriocity this year. Either that or think I was a very careless editor.) If you've not listened to the podcast yet, you absolutely should. It pings all my Douglas Adams receptors in the best way. If you like HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE, if you like CABIN PRESSURE, VICTORIOCITY is the perfect addition.

HAMMAJANG LUCK by Makana Yamamoto

SLIGHTLY cheating because HAMMAJANG LUCK isn't out in North America until January (pre-orders make great Christmas presents guys), but it IS out in the UK and the rest of the world next week! This is my second big editorial project and it's a Big Gay Space Heist ft. disaster lesbians, trans characters, and a tech billionaire getting put in his place. It's joyous and energetic and crammed full of Hawaiian pidgin as a love letter to the diaspora. @makana-yama is a phenomenal writer and this is their love letter to their communities, families both born and found, while also a statement on the victims of gentrification (and how those are disproportionally BIPOC communities). PLUS:

friends to enemies to cautious allies to lovers

trans cyborgs

Suck It Space Elon

You know that One Scene in Charlie's Angels where Cameron Diaz is in the white body suit and breaking into the safe and has to stretch out to hit two buttons at once? Yeah. That's the vibe.

Being able to work with Makana is a delight, and HAMMAJANG tapped into all the feelings I got watching LEVERAGE for the first time, so I went to watch it again while I was editing. Also OCEAN'S 8.

DEEP BLACK by Miles Cameron

So, barring Branderson, Miles Cameron may be one of our most prolific authors. He writes a minimum two books a year, one SFF and one historical fiction (as Christian Cameron) and he is... An absolute phenomenon. He IS the Chuck Norris meme. I'm obsessed with him. He's former US military intelligence turned naturalised Canadian Hippy, has written over fifty novels, can turn his hand to any genre and write it fantastically, is a practical archaeologist - running large scale re-enactments from a variety of periods ranging from Bronze Age right the way up to the Victorian era, using traditional techniques to allow academics to study how the practicalities of weapons, clothes, food etc. would have worked in practice. Two years ago he won a medieval combat tournament in Verona, a clear ten years older at least than the next oldest competitor, he teaches Historical European Martial Arts, but ties it into the history of martial arts globally. He can make his own clothes, ink, leatherwork. He's a ballet dancer. I once took him for a day out and he ended it in a different shirt and shoes from the ones he'd started in. I asked him for an author photo and he sent me this:

DEEP BLACK is the sequel to his critically acclaimed SF debut ARTIFACT SPACE, where he has taken his research and experience of global historical cultures and extrapolated to create an interplanetary future where the best of all are celebrated. And then Aliens Happen. And then, in reaction, Capitalism Happens (which is covered in the short story collection BEYOND THE FRINGE).

He's such a thoughtful and erudite speaker, if you're curious about his work, I'd recommend listening to his episodes on the Friends Talking Fantasy podcast, and also his appearance on The Publishing Rodeo.

If SF isn't your bag, he's also got:

Arthurian fantasy

Bronze Age fantasy

Medieval Mages fantasy

A CURSE OF CROWS - Lauren Dedroog

I actually inherited Lauren when a colleague of mine departed for fresh pastures, which gave me the great opportunity to work on this series which is so vastly different from my usual fare. It's epic, sweeping, romantic and lush, with such detailed description and complex political machinations, while also being brutal, dark and heavy (tw: for sexual assault, torture etc, etc.). If you like Sarah J Maas and Cassandra Clare, this should hit the sweet spot. Lauren is an ICU nurse when not writing, and this was somehow created when she was putting in a million hours in hospitals during COVID. The feat boggles my mind.

A CURSE OF CROWS is out now in the UK, Australia and Europe, and it won the People's Choice for Standaard Boek's Book of the Year award in 2023, in her home country of Belgium. It will be hitting shelves in North America next September! A DANCE OF SERPENTS is where I get to pick up the editorial mantle, and that has just landed in my inbox this week so I am excited to dig in.

Featuring:

Harold, they're lesbians

Murder baby is actually a cinnamon roll

Sensitive wings are sexy

For serious, though, I'm lucky enough to work with a lot of authors I'm genuinely obsessed and astounded by. And yes, I do get to work on Joe Abercrombie, Brandon Sanderson and Andrzej Sapkowski, but they're not MY authors - they're led by the incredible Gillian and Marcus who I'm not 100% certain sleep. There are so many people on the Gollancz list who I could recommend for DAYS (and will, if you so request), but this is my stable of superstars.

[azullumi]

JESUS, TAKE THE WHEEL ?!

premise — to put it simply, hsr men driving. characters — boothill, sunday, aventurine, veritas ratio, jing yuan, and blade content tags — small mentions of reader, probably fluff, not proofread, i don't know how to tag this please | wc: 0.6k ; headcanons

note from me — this idea was brought to me after nearly crashing and getting multiple heart attacks while my dad was driving

BOOTHILL, races with the wind that it feels like you left your soul somewhere in the road—literally a wild spirit who seems to enjoy the feeling of the breeze on his skin. He probably got you lost one time too, or maybe twice, or thrice. He just loves fast cars and faster chases, likes the thrill of it (much to your dismay if you’re a cautious person). He’s probably cussed someone out for cutting him off his lane which led to him nearly crashing when he pressed the brakes suddenly. Despite his reckless driving habits, his quick thinking and reflexes keeps him out of harm.

SUNDAY, perfect law-abiding citizen—follows the traffic rules, doesn’t go past the speed limit, never crashes, never gets pulled over, you’re in the safest hands and you can trust the entirety of your life on him. You have a good road trip, a great driver, and someone who you can easily talk to. It’s perfect. He probably has a playlist ready with the most of it being his sister’s songs, playing and listening to it as he drives, often humming along with the melody.

AVENTURINE, drives like there’s no tomorrow when he’s alone but drives like the most responsible and careful driver whenever there’s someone with him in the car. He likes driving during the night despite the risk of it (and that’s honestly the point); he does love the quiet streets and the solitude he gets, taking long drives to often clear his mind or just drive somewhere where he wants to be, often taking the scenic route. There are times that he drives in complete silence, deep in thought, and taking random turns.

VERITAS RATIO, just your normal and average sane driver. Literally it’s all just normal with him that it feels so wrong. He’s quite the careful driver but is easily annoyed when someone cuts off his lane and you’ll have to deal with a rambling doctor that calls people who have no driving etiquettes foolish and reckless. He strictly follows the rules of the road, but doesn’t hesitate in voicing out his frustrations at those who don’t. Other than that, everything is fine. He rarely listens to music, however, opting to listen to educational podcasts or the radio instead—he says it helps in keeping him focused.

JING YUAN, bold of you to even assume he’s driving; he doesn’t drive, or he rarely does. He’s a passenger princess, a shotgun queen, the backseat sleeper,—preferring to sleep on his seat than focus his eyes on the road. If he ever drives, however, it’s slow and careful. He’ll reason that there’s nothing to rush for and that you all have the time in the world, and you don’t know if you’re supposed to accept his reasoning, especially when you’re going to be late. The chance of him falling asleep while driving is higher than the chance of arriving at your destination early (a 10-minute drive easily becomes a 30-minute one and no, it’s not because of the traffic).

BLADE, believe it or not but he’s, if not the most, but one of the trusted drivers. While he does go past the speed limit sometimes and maybe he does have to swerve the car that you’ll fly off your seat (if not without your seatbelt) ever so often, you never die while he’s the one on the driver seat—thankfully. Surprisingly, he does wear his seatbelt and even urges you to wear yours (even if he didn’t, you’ll have to because you have nothing else to hold on to). The most silent car ride to ever exist though as he’ll only speak when you’ll ask him something, otherwise you’re left on your own with a conversation in the wind. Nevertheless, you’ll arrive at your destination in one piece. Not until the mara strikes.

FELIIII, a lovely mention to the beautiful and lovely @dr-felitas !! i'm getting back to writing now since i'm back from vacation (which means i can do anything and everything i want, but not including ghosting 🔥) ANYWAYS i would like to say thank you for always being patient with me and my replies ,, like my bad g 🙏 i really appreciate your presence in my life and your constant understanding, and i know i already told you this but you're a very warm and comforting person and i only hope for the best things to come in your life (i know love and beauty exists because you exist and you're full of it). i will support you in each and every one of your decisions, despite how bad or stupid it can be. don't let anything hold you back boo, never listen to your haters or your opps 🗣, you're still young and you have all the time in the world to experience meaningful moments (even heartbreaking ones). so go talk to that girl bae <33 no matter what happens, i'll always be here for you. ily lots mwaaaa

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[bunny-jpeg]

secret tattoo (vol. 4)

lewis hamilton

tags: smut/pwp, tattoos, rivals au, driver!reader, (former) lewis fangirl!reader, age gap (20s/30s), missionary position, lovers/friends/rivals, pull-out method, 2k words

max edition // charles edition // lando edition // toto edition

you made a face when you saw lewis cross the paddock at the start of the 2025 season. dressed in his new ferrari gear. you didn't want to admit that he looked good in red.

maybe it was because he dressed like the red flag he was. he was all smiles and waves as the press wanted the first look at the new ferrari driver. when he spoke, he sounded confident, but when he caught a glimpse of you. his expression shifted, but quickly he was smiles once more for the camera.

but you tried not to feel jealous after all, you learned long ago. to never meet your heroes.

you and lewis were friendly when you were a rookie. he took a liking to you. he once fondly said that you brought a new life into the sport and he couldn't wait to see what you could accomplish. under his praise you felt warmed like a plant in the sun. there was magnetic energy to him that drew you in.

when you were successful, he cheered you on. slaps on the back and handshakes. bright smiles and cheers over (non-alcoholic) drinks. there was a companionship. he was also the first person you spoke to after your boyfriend back home couldn't take the distance and left. you trusted lewis.

and then he took your ferrari seat. you sat dumbfounded, the only words you could hear were, ferrari isn't a place for a woman. and that lewis would be a better fit for the team. while you still had a seat on the grid with williams. a dream was shattered, and by someone you trusted.

"i'm going to beat you and i'm going to beat that stupid fucking team." you snapped at lewis, "fuck you, fuck ferrari. i hope this season is your worst." before you stomped off, your ears burned and eventually you cried in your car.

thus started one of the more intense rivalries in the last couple of years. it overshadowed anyone else. you and lewis, friends turned enemies. butted heads over every little thing.

photos of you two arguing in the paddock. him pointing to the screen while you wagged your finger at him. you both locked in a heated debate until your team principals came to break it up.

when you lost momentum at the canadian grand prix, lewis simply smiled at you and said, "keep up, or get out." and you wondered, for a brief moment, if it was possible to get away with murder in canada.

you replied, looking him dead in the eyes as you replied, "i hope you never hear your national anthem at the podium ever again."

he smiled, it wasn't a press smile. it was the reassuring smile that he gave you when you two were closer. he said, "with the way things are going. they might be playing it when i get the championship."

rivalries turned up the heat, and heat led to passion. and after a night during the summer break in monaco. you ended up in lewis' apartment. months of bitterness came to a head. and while it wasn't a shock to either one of you.

it was a shock when he got you out of your jeans and saw ink on your skin. it wasn't a shock to see a driver's number on a driver's skin. but to see his number on your skin was something else. a small inked '44' on your thigh. somewhere that he knew many didn't see.

"what is-"

"i meant to get it covered up." you crossed your arms under him. you diverted your gaze and felt hot embarrassment. you sighed, "i was a fan of yours, lewis... before we were friends... before we were this."

he placed his hand over the tattoo and said, "i guess i am really on your mind all the time." he leaned in, "i guess even my rivals think about me every day."

you shifted, "hamilton. either you fuck me or call me a cab." you still felt embarrassed.

lewis smiled and leaned in, "i know it's a lot less permanent. but i still have that key chain of your rookie year helmet on my bag."

you made a face, "you said you got rid of it." you reached out and splayed your hands across his toned chest. across the dark ink of tattoos.

he leaned in further and your hands dropped to the bed. he looked at you and said, "you think about me. i think about you. i guess we're terrible rivals." he took you by the hips, "i carry a piece of you with me. you have me tattooed on your skin." he leaned in further to capture your lips against his.

you moaned a little. there was a joke to be a made that rivals toed the line between enemies and lovers. and tonight, under the soft light of your bedroom. you were lovers. the skins of rivals were shed at the front door. when he sank his cock into you, your nails dug into his strong shoulders.

"we're terrible rivals." you said when the kiss was broken. you laid under him, you moved a little as you accommodated his size. it wasn't like you were having much sex. not while racing was on the brain. the month off in july allowed from the rivalry to explode into something new. like a fuse and a spark.

lewis chuckled, "i guess we are. but, you do look hot when you're angry. i feel like this has driven you." he held onto your hips and started to rock against you. after all the time. all these moments between you two.

you moaned at the feeling. the heat between you two. there was something so magnetic about him. still. even after everything. it was hard to stay made when he treated you with such tenderness. the sex wasn't rough the way rivals fucking should be. it wasn't tender either the way virgins would be. rather it was like the explosive fuse fizzled out and you were trying to work through your problems with sex. to let the bed frame nudge against the wall.

to feel one another in a way both of you hoped for. the layers to your relationship were dense and confusing. they were barely defined and melted together at the edges. rivals, friends, lovers, sex partners, racers. close like blood yet were out for it.

neither of you cared. there was little room to care. lewis' soft lips on your neck. your arms wrapped around him as he held onto you middle to move you up and down his cock. the moans were loud, but not loud enough to file a noise complaint. they died down when the two of you kissed deeply.

fuck ferrari. still. you felt more angry at the team than lewis. the sport was a do or die, and to be on a legacy team like that was an honor for anyone. even a legend like lewis. your nails scraped across his shoulders as the two of you moved against one another.

"shit. ah." you moaned as you arched your back a little when the pleasure started to grow in your core. you could feel the heavy pulse of pleasure in your body as the two of you continued to fuck.

"we're terrible rivals. fuck being rivals." he said as he held you closer. like you were going to slip away once more. you moaned in response and clutched onto him. a silent promise that you were going anywhere.

"we are. fuck, i still have to cover up that tattoo." you moaned.

he looked at you and shook his head a little, "no need. no need. keep it. it's a good number on you. lucky forty-four." it fed his ego, plus he wanted to see the tattoo next time you two got intimate. he knew there was going to be a next time. he said, "i didn't know you did tattoos." you had nothing else on your body.

you replied, "it was a three am decision after drinking. it was when we became friends. i was going to get my number... but then i accidentally said yours. and my stupid friends didn't say anything." you clung to him tighter.

"good choice." he said, "but if you wanted my number so badly." he whispered in your ear, "i could've given you something else with it. i know a pretty girl like you likes pretty necklaces." and you shuddered.

you two both had a vast collection of jewellery. you had worn his bracelets and he still had a pair of your earrings. fuck, you two made horrible rivals.

the two of you continued your steady pace. it wasn't rough nor was it soft. but it was steady and the consistency made the pleasure grow in your gut. it felt hot. erotic in a way that left the hammering in your chest feel present.

the kisses continued, the lust wrapped through you. the feverish heat left both of you panting for more. you needed him. he needed you. you pushed each other to new limits. even a legacy racer like lewis was pushed because of your ability to stand toe to toe with him.

you didn't just make racing fun again. you made life fun away. so any way he'd have you, he'd take. and you were the same. challenged and needed. that was what you were to each other. and it all came together in between the sheets.

you panted heavily as you looked up at him. your expression was full of bliss as you felt the shudder of pleasure in your core. you said between gulps of air, "i'm close."

you two continued. the thrusts were heavy and full of want. the pleasure between you two was heavily felt and it didn't take much longer before you held onto him tightly and came around his cock. your toes curled and your legs kicked out a little at either side of his waist.

he continued to move. his pace quickened as he felt himself close to climax. he gazed down at you. you looked beautiful under him. perfect like a sunrise that he wanted to soak in every morning. he hoped that you'd be in his life for a long while.

now you found mutual understanding. found a connection stronger than rivals. something deeper, that touched the soul. he pulled out and stroked his cock a few times until he came all over your stomach.

he tensed up for a moment as he decorated your stomach with his cum. he could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he slowed his fist around his cock to a stop. he panted heavily and swore under his breath. you both stayed there for a moment before you slowly leaned over to grab tissues to clean up.

he helped you clean and then watched you walk to the waste bin near your desk to dispose all the tissues. you walked back to the bed with shaky legs and ended up back in bed with him.

"there she is." he said as he pulled you next to him. like lovers.

you both laid curled up in one another, lewis' arms were around you and his fingers brushed against the tattoo. he hadn't forgotten about that. it was quiet in the bedroom. clothes everywhere and the lights low. the lingering feeling of sex and the fallout after climax.

"we need to talk." he said as he traced imaginary patterns across your back. he looked down at you while you looked up towards him, "this.. this can't keep going on like this. we'll kill each other before anything else. he swallowed, "i'm hoping that we can go back to how it was."

you cupped his face and rubbed your thumb across his cheek. you stared at him for a moment. you wanted it to go back to the way it was. you hoped there was mutual ground to be found.

as much as you wanted the seat in ferrari, as much as it angered you. you yearned for his company, and not just in the bedroom. he was a better ally than an rival. you leaned up to kiss him on the lips as you said, "we can try... but you have a lot to make up for." <3

[angeliteria]

saw this tiktok where a girl jumped out of her bf’s moving car because she was losing an argument, and i’m thinking of that with rafe and fem!reader but with a twist to it <3

✿ ⁺ 🎀‧₊˚🩹⋆ ✩

rafe had hauled you into his truck, slamming the passenger door shut. anger was pumping through him, and he hastily got into the driver’s side, pressing on the gas to drive away from the party.

he was mad at you for not only wearing a short dress, but was mad at the fact men were giving you attention because of it. you knew very well that even if other males were to give you attention or flash you a charming smile, they knew better than to ever approach rafe cameron’s girl.

but for some reason, that knowledge didn’t stick to rafe’s own brain.

“my girl is out here, dressing like a fucking slut!” rafe yelled, and you rolled your eyes, ignoring the complete fact he was going 100MPH over the speed limit.

you would be okay with getting in a car accident at this very moment. maybe he would kick in some conscious or decent common sense into his head.

“want me to dress like i’m fuckin’ amish or something, rafe?” you asked, scoffing. “i get you want control or whatever, but my style is up for me to decide. not my fault you’re insecure.”

rafe’s head immediately snapped in your direction, eyes bulking with rage and madness, like a bomb about to go off. “the fuck did you just tell me?” he asked, mindlessly not paying attention the road in front of him.

“said its a not my fault you’re insecure,” you repeated, grinning happily. “a man who knows what he’s secures with doesn’t fucking trip every minute — all you do is worry, and get mad at the attention people give me.”

“i’ll throw you out this fuckin’ car right now,” he threatened, and you shrugged, picking at your acrylic nails. “leave you on the side of the road for someone else to get you.”

“yeah, hopefully it’s topper or cameron,” you said, bored of rafe’s threats. when you date a guy like him for over a year, doesn’t take much to start yawning and getting tired of his bullshit.

“you’re a whore,” he went on, and you hummed, glad to see he at least had his eyes back on the road. “parading yourself around like some tramp. looks like i’m with a fuckin’ pogue or something.”

“said you’ll throw me out of this car, right?” you wondered, taking off your seatbelt, and rafe eyed you for a hast moment. “i’ll just do the job for you,” you unlocked the passenger door, throwing your stilettos and purse out before you could proceed with them.

rafe reflexively pulled you backwards by the back hemming of your strapless dress, his other hand stern on the wheel. “what the fuck is wrong with you!” he shouted, slamming on his brakes in the middle of the road, and put the car in park. he tugged you back into your seat, and grabbed your jaw roughly, forcing eye contact. “some sorta attention seeker, huh baby? just trying to piss me off more.”

“thought i’d stick to your word for you,” you told him, and he panted heavily, his boiled anger coming visible to you. you only smiled, flashing doe eyes at him while batting your lashes. “can you grab my purse and shoes, then? least you can do, rafe.”

he let go of your jaw, staring at you for a moment with thoughts toppling all in his mind on what to do with you. he got out of the truck, went to grab your stuff, and tossed it down on your lap when he returned.

“you’re some fuckin’ surprise, baby,” rafe said, continuing the drive back to tannyhill. “you’re in for it when we get back home.”

[satoruhour]

Need sukuna in racer au 😩

REWARDS FROM A RACER

a/n: more of smut than him being a racer …. im not opposed to doing a ‘how they met’ ngl

wc: 2.1k

warnings: ooc sukuna, dom!sukuna, lewd declarations in public, he’s a little mean and calls you ‘whore’, ‘slut’, praise, degradation, pet names, car sex, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), light face-fucking, unprotected sex, riding, p → v penetration, clit stimulation, dash of daddy kink, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time till the race starts.” 

“i know, ’kuna! give me a minute, ’m just tightening the screws on the crankshaft.” you already hear the joke from miles away, a soft chuckle comes after he mumbles “heh, shaft” and you resist the urge to roll your eyes while stifling a smile. it seems like sukuna had enough of waiting for you in the driver’s seat, so he meets you at the front of the car where the hood is popped.

if anyone told you sukuna was someone who would’ve made time for anyone else but himself, you would laugh in their face because when had ryomen “king of curses” sukuna ever thought about anyone but himself? he had all that he could have: a ’66 Ford GT40 (that he named king of curses — a tad bit goofy, he knows), girls on his arm, first place for every race he took part in. he was untouchable.

but during a night in the midst of a drag race he saw you outside a club, barely catching a glimpse of you shoving off a man who couldn’t take no for an answer. he wasn’t surprised to see kenjaku — another racer from another region and someone who he had an infamous rival with — laugh when he had come to your rescue, cut off when the king of curses landed a clean hit to the other’s face. sukuna made sure you were okay after the whole debacle, but he also fucked you silly to show you how a man should really be treating you.

it was the only race he ever lost.

“sometimes i forget how much shit you put up with when you’re with me,” sukuna grins, a sneaky hand moving from your waist to your ass to squeeze it, “fixing my engine like an obedient little girl.”

you simply turn to him with a bored expression, but you can’t deny the throb between your legs when he talks to you like that, “glad you’re self aware, ’kuna.”

“smart mouth you have there, hm?” sukuna pulls you even closer against his front and you can already feel the half-hard bulge there. he’s always hard before a race, too. that you know, because it’s an emerging characteristic of his that you’re not opposed to because sukuna ends up pounding into you in his driver’s seat once the race is finished. he just can’t help the adrenaline, can’t he?

“guess i’ll just have to ruin you,” sukuna cuts off your next reply with a messy kiss, swallowing the soft moans that leave your mouth at the temporary relief you’re getting from grinding on him, “later.”

you scoff, feigning annoyance, “yeah, yeah, i know. you never miss a race.”

sukuna just smiles, smacking your ass slyly and makes his way to the driver’s seat before you have time to gasp, simply raising an eyebrow (“don’t tell me you didn’t like that?”) when you slap his chest later in the passenger seat.

“oh god, he’s going to do that thing again right?” beside you are the other more prominent racers of tokyo, the famous four excluding sukuna. gojo is the one who asked the question, nudging you with a grin that’s got you groaning into your hands. slowly, you nod.

across from you is sukuna in his Ford GT40, shouting with his windows rolled down, “i’m gonna fuck you so good after i win this race, princess!” and while you’re turned on at the prospect, you’re also wincing at how everyone whoops and cheers because he does this in every race. it never gets old, though, just as the laughter of the other four floods your ears.

“do you really have to scream it every time?” you lean down to the window once the two cars are at the starting line, running a hand through his mildly sweaty locks. his perspiration is a little pink from the dye he’s used to top up the colour of his hair and you jokingly wipe your wet hands on his top.

sukuna grabs your wrist, pulling you gently to give you a noisy, sloppy kiss, his words whispered against your lips, “they have to know how you scream every night.”

you tsk with a laugh, hand reaching down to palm his dick that makes him grunt, “give ’em hell, baby.”

and he definitely makes the other wish he never was born. sukuna likes to play dirty, bumping into the rear of the other when he’s behind, sending a middle finger to the racer when he passes him, it’s part of why your boyfriend tends to prefer solitude because he’s not on everyone’s good side.

with skidding tires, sukuna finishes with a dashing grin, but he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t realise the crowd around him, some reaching forward to congratulate him, others wanting to touch his car. the racer barks out before anyone can violate his ride.

“oi, you fuckin’ idiots dare touch my car and i swear i’ll fuck up yours.”

beside you, geto mutters out a yeesh while gojo just giggles, patting your shoulder before you bid goodbye to the famous four. the crowd makes way for you, naturally, when you walk towards his car, because what kind of mental person willingly dates sukuna? they follow your figure as you make your way to him, swaying your hips for everyone to see, but you hardly care when all you can fixate on is his promise to you before every race starts.

and all he does that night is fulfil his promise, whisking you away from the cramped parking lot and into the late tokyo roads, whizzing past street lamps and cop cars and howling at the top of his voice. he loves it, he loves you and you see it every time he drives you home after a late night race and every time he noisily drives up to you when someone’s bothering you.

sukuna loves your body, too, because all you know later on is his cock in your mouth on a quiet, remote mountain used for drifting. with the winter season approaching, it was desolate, except for the way your head bobs up and down on his length, which hardens even more inside your mouth.

“that’s it, fuckkk yes.” sukuna groans, a hand clutching onto the leather of his seat while the other finds purchase in your hair, pulling on your locks till it hurts. with his hips moving erratically paired with the soreness in your jaw, it’s really the only thing you can concentrate on in an awkward position while hovering over the stick shift. “suck like the dirty cockslut you are.”

“’kuna, mmfhh—!” your hands rush to find his thighs on a particularly deep thrust, tip hitting the back of your throat and you look up at sukuna through teary lashes and breathe through your nose before he lets you off briefly. but your mouth is too warm just like how your pussy feels and sukuna forces your head onto him again.

sukuna groans when he lets you do your own thing, mouth taking half of him while your hands help you with the other, alternating between taking sucking the bottom of his cock and lapping at his tip, continuing to flutter your lashes at him.

“stick out your tongue f’me, doll,” he manages to choke out a moan, grabbing his cock to slap it on your tongue (it’s so heavy that you moan), making lewd sounds before he starts thrusting again, feeling every inch of your mouth with no time to warn you of his impending orgasm until the car is filled with his incessant groans and grunts, hips faltering at how your mouth just keeps sucking. “fuck— i’m cumming.” sukuna spills unexpectedly, shooting his cum deep down your throat and you moan around his shaft. he’s not laughing now, focused solely on getting every last bit of cum into your system as he tilts his head back in utmost pleasure. 

“take all of it,” his movements slow down, admiring how you look like you worship him with a lax mouth and pleading eyes, and he knows you do, but before that he’s ensuring you know that his worship of you overtakes yours by miles, pulling you impatiently to his seat before dragging your panties to the side. the other likes it when you wear skirts, easy access he says, licking his lips in anticipation when he sees how the fabric sticks to your cunt from how wet you were, leaving a string of arousal that snaps once it’s far enough.

“well? what’re you waiting for?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, a small chuckle leaving him when you mumble out a i’m getting to it! as you gather the slick leaking from your needy pussy. the feel of his mushroom tip against your clit is gratifying and you line him up before sinking down slowly. even after taking him multiple times, his size always makes your eyes widen and jaw drop at the stretch, incoherent whimpers leaving as he watches you take all nine inches of him.

“s’kuna, f-fuck…” you wrap your arms around his neck, suddenly shy at being so spread open for him to see, “s’big, you’re so big!” he hums, pressing little kisses down the side of your face while kneading your ass, plush thighs nestled around his pelvis so cutely that he appreciates your brief pause before you start riding him — because he can’t resist cumming when he sees you crying on top of him, trying his best to prolong the way you feel around him.

“i know i’m big, but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you, baby?” sukuna coos, holding your eyes that struggle to stay open as you bounce on his thick cock, ass meeting his hips in noisy pap’s as you flood his car with whining pleas of him filling you to the brim. there’s a white ring of pre-cum at the base of his shaft where your juices mix, dripping down the hilt and onto his balls, definitely soaking his leather seats. “just a whore for me to fuck stupid, yea?”

you nod frantically, babbling to no one as you throw your head back, pussy clenching when his lips meet your tits and he sucks hard on your nipples, flicking his tongue around your buds before moving to the other. “got so t-tight from me doing that,” sukuna laughs, wrapping a hand ’round your chin to force you to look at him. lips pursed, eyes blown wide from his cock in your cunt, hair sticking to your forehead, he swear he could cum deep in you right there and then.

“you love how i stretch you out?” he then yanks your head down to make you watch how your pelvis meets his, juices spurting in all directions by how wet you were. it truly was a sight, how his cock disappears into you and reappears, thighs burning from how fast you were bouncing on him.

“love it s’much, daddy,” you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you grab his free hand, bringing it to your neglected clit that’s been throbbing all night, “but i n-need you here, s’kuna…” and when he starts to rub circles into your puffy clit, you jolt at the feeling, screaming out obscenities at the sensations that overwhelm your body. he knows you’re getting tired and close, too.

so he shocks you by thrusting up, your body immediately halting to receive the way he rails into you and while your muscles are still cramping, it’s infinitely better than riding him. with his thrusts and his hand on your clit, you can already feel the coil in your stomach turning as your body slumps against him, “daddy!”’s spilling from your lips with mixed wanton moans. “that’s it, a good little slut who’s taking daddy’s cock, fuck—”

“so warm, and tight,” within seconds, his thrusts are irregular when you start to clench around him again, high-pitched whines filling his ears before you reach your high with a slack jaw and trembling thighs, body lined with sweat. but it’s the way your cum leaks down his length that gets sukuna releasing after you, the familiar pleas of wanting his cum deep in your cunt. he does just that, grunting into your neck when his hips thrust deeply before he releases his hot, thick semen into your pussy, gushing out because there’s just so much.

“love it when i breed my girl,” he mutters with a laugh breathlessly while you’re moaning softly at how he’s still spilling into you, overflowing cum leaking from your cunt even when he’s still inside. sukuna grins when your hips never really stop, still continuing to grind aimlessly.

“love my sweet girl who can’t think of anything but getting fucked stupid.”

[actualyves]

Thinking about how Benson was a traumatized victim of CSA and a queer man living in the rural south in the early aughts. He saw so much of himself in Randy, and when Randy started getting pushed around and bullied, it was himself Benson saw being hurt yet again right in front of his eyes.

He was raised poor and by a single mother. Likely never came forward about what he was subjected to as a child, never developed any coping skills or received any sort of therapy. Just years of pent up pain, smoldering under the layers of himself he kept packed away inside like winter clothes, just waiting for the seasonal change that would never come so that he could finally shake the wrinkles out and examine it.

But then he saw himself in this scared young man. He knew who he’d become, even if no one else did, and the thought of seeing someone set on the same path when he had the power to help redirect his course and save him was lead-heavy on his spirit. So Benson, without any emotional regulation skills, who simply didn’t know what he didn’t know about healing, saved Randy in the only way he knew how.

Deep down he knew he needed comfort and healing and closure for the ghosts that never fully died and continued haunting him all these years later, his mind a decrepit and condemned house of horrors that he couldn’t afford to move out of or exorcise. So he did for Randy what he’d needed done for him, but laced with the anger and violence he’d come to associate with moving on. A cornered dog showing a puppy how to snarl and bite.

And when the literal face of his trauma was in front of him, speaking to him, not even recognizing him, whatever rational thought was still in the driver’s seat bailed out, and the anxiety and trauma and deep, visceral fear took over. Yes, the bullying at the beginning of the day triggered his PTSD, but coming face to face with the reason he became this way to begin with pushed him fully over the edge, and for literally the rest of his life Benson would be in the throes of reliving the trauma that had plagued him for most of his life.

He wasn’t an inherently violent person. He became this way because he didn’t know what or who else to become. The anger felt not just inevitable but like the only option. He never realized softness and vulnerability were an option outside of the wood paneled walls of his cluttered childhood home, where he could safely kiss his Ma on the forehead and bring her pastries and cigarettes. But he brought Randy there. Let him wear his clothes and meet his mother. Took him to breakfast and wiped his tears and told him It isn’t your fault, you were just a kid. Assured him that There is nothing wrong with you for being a virgin, and it’s a good thing that you’re the one in control of your body and sexuality. Encouraged him to Stand up for yourself, don’t let other people hold you back. Randy was a safe place for softness, and Benson was trying to fight against everything in himself that tied vulnerability to victimization despite how badly he wanted to be not only a comfort for Randy but comforted by him.

Benson felt he was too far gone, but Randy wasn’t. And maybe in helping Randy he could help himself. Randy could be his comfort and closure and peace.

But then Sheppard happened, and Benson’s mind turned on itself. He tried to fight back, but became only more distant from reality, retreating into himself while simultaneously trying to escape himself, spinning his tires in the mud and only finding purchase and movement when a bullet -his bullet from his gun- ripped through Randy’s shoulder. And his peace, his boy, was looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, scared and hurt, and Benson never wanted him scared and hurt, had only ever wanted to help. But now, freckled in blood and bathed in the red and blue lights of squad cars, Benson’s brain finally, finally, after all these years silenced, and he saw his life and himself for what they were.

He was a scared little boy whose last goal in life was to be a giraffe before his fate had been decided for him. He wasn’t equipped for adulthood or juggling the complexities that came with it. He was only ever rolling with the tide and surviving by caring for Ma and flipping burgers with a head full of trauma and a trunk full of bullets. His life had been driven by fear and violence, and his lot had been decided for him in the third grade. He never had a say in it. He was never in charge. A scared lamb without a sheepdog to keep the wolves at bay or a flock to insulate him and, not knowing what else to do, he threw himself to the wolves as a sacrificial omen, his last utterance the name of the man whose altar he was laying his body upon.

[therookieimagines]

Not that he cares...or anything.. - Tim Bradford x reader part one

Summary: After an argument with your TO you request a change, after a rough fight at home it leaves your Training officer to not only save your life, but unknowingly give you meaning in life as well.

warnings: Details of being shot, shooting someone else, you almost dying, your roommate being a creep

You were a rookie with the LAPD, working alongside some of the best, trying your hardest to do whatever is right, but today, your head was foggy, you were going through a thing with your roommate who had a thing for you, and now after politely declining, he's kicking you out.

You were out on a call with your training officer, Tim Bradford, he was no doubt an amazing officer, but you also agreed he was hard on his rookies, and for you it hurt because you actually felt like you two were pretty close, most times not having to communicate with each other on calls, you both just understood the other. "God Damnit, Boot! RUN! The suspect is running!" He screamed as he took off over the fence, you snapped back into reality, taking off in a sprint to cut off the drug dealer on the other side of the alley, but as you rounded the corner, you saw that Tim had already gotten him apprehended, and you could tell by the deadly glare he gave you, you were on his chopping block. You followed behind silently as he shoved the guy into the back of your guys' shop, slamming the back door before taking a long deep breath "O-Officer Bradford I can-" He cut you off by walking away to the driver side "I don't give a shit get in" He snapped as he slammed his door, you gulped down tears as you took your seat in the passenger, he didn't speak a single word the entire way back to the station.

As you booked your suspect you made your way over to John sighing "I think I screwed things up with Bradford" You sighed slumping against the wall "I'm sorry, hey maybe we can get drinks after shift? Sorry Harper and I are about to leave on a huge lead, talk when-" He couldn't finish his sentence before your fate was sealed "Rookie! The shop! Now!" Bradford shouted from the garage door, you rushed over, holding your service belt to keep anything from falling out while you jogged, as you loaded into the shop you held your breath, waiting for the lecture. "So..should I just..shoot you now?" He asked, his tone dripping with anger "W-what?..why?" You asked, confused on why'd he'd ever need to shoot you "Because what if that suspect had a weapon?! part of being a cop is always staying vigilant! and you failed today!" he shouted, his hand smacking against the steering wheel, out of instinct from the last week you flinched towards the door, your hand immediately popping to the door handle ready to run. Tim took notice, he just didn't want to see you hurt or worse, especially under his watch..not that he cared about you..or anything.

Tim didn't see you the next day, you had showed up early to request a temporary T.O change, you just felt like you had crossed a line with Bradford and it'd be better to just give him space. Tim on the other hand was stressed the entire shift, making sure to listen to any radio calls from you or Detective Harper, not that he cared..or anything.. John had taken notice of Tim obvious behavior change "Forgive me if i'm wrong, but you're kinda acting like you care about y/n, alot" He suggested watching as Bradford shot him a dirty glare pulling up on scene to come in as back-up for you. "Listen here, rookie, I do not care for y/n, I am doing my job, They needed back-up, we're responding" He snapped getting out, following in behind you and Harper.

You sighed changing into your street clothes and heading to your car, trying to avoid Tim at any chance "Boot! Real quick!" You heard his voice shout as you went to open your car door "Listen, about yesterday-" You cut him off "Officer Bradford, really it's no big-" it was his turn to cut you off "It is, I lost my cool, and as a cop, training officer...and..friend..it wasn't okay" He admitted "So I'm sorry" You sighed "Tim, it's okay, I just figured you needed space, now I gotta get home, get some stuff handled" You smiled before getting in your car, starting it up.

Before you could realize you were home, you slowly approached the steps, still keeping your hand on your service belt, you had taken your belt home with you, signing it out just incase things went sideways. As you opened the door you could immediately tell something was off, the tv was on but muted, the stove was still on high with a boiling pot of some type of weird liquid, it wasn't just that though, you could sense something was bad, you slowly pulled up your radio, trying to stay quiet "This is Officer Y/n l/n badge number 49336, I need a cruiser sent to 39213 hollywood avenue for assistance in eviction" Tim heard you over his own radio at home, immediately running to his truck "Dispatch, This is Officer Tim Bradford Badge number 34831, please clock me in for duty, responding to Officer l/n's back call" He said into his radio as he sped to your address, knowing damn well something was happening.

You didn't even make it to your bedroom before you were body slammed into your hallway wall, you roommate yanking your gun out of your holster taking aim "You stupid bitch!" He shouted, you gulped, raising your hands as you tried to back into the wall further like it could hide you from the danger that was right in front of you. "L-Listen, We don't have to do it like this, you can just put the-" He cut you off by firing you gun, you couldn't feel the bullet bust into your stomach like you always thought, you just felt the stabbing burning pain it left as it went through your body. You fell to the ground watching as your roommate rushed to you pressing his hands down on your wound "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean t-too" He shouted, you went into flight or fight, only remembering your training, you could hear Bradford shouting in your head 'take out the threat, rookie!' You reached the gun that he dropped next to the both of you, quickly firing two shots into his chest watching him fall back, you let your body go limp, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes, exhausted from everything that had happened that day.

Tim rushed in, two other on-duty uniforms following behind "You two clear the main rooms, I'll go in the back, check the bedrooms, she's gotta be here somewhere" He demanded, pulling his phone out calling your cell phone still holding his gun in the air as he cleared the rooms, dropping his phone whenever he saw the bottom of your work boot peeking around the corner of the hallway, a tiny trail of blood slowly running to Bradford's shoe "Y/n!" He shouted "I need an RA! Now!" He screamed, he wasn't concerned for your roommate at all, it was obvious you had lost a lot of blood, your uniform was soaked through, the white patches showing your rank were now dark red, along with your hair. He never left your side, he was the one preforming CPR until your pulse was back, he was the one by your bedside for two weeks, he was the first person you saw whenever you woke up.

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the dark room, the bright wall clock telling you it was a little past one in the morning, as you looked around you jumped seeing a body sprawled out on a hospital bed somewhat close to yours, he couldn't of made it, you shot him repeatedly. You could hear your heart monitors beep increase as you went over every possibility of him living, there was no way, right as you thought you were going to pass out, the door opened with a nurse and doctor, and the man near you sprung awake, you were met with a shirtless Tim Bradford, with messy hair, that was normally always styled perfectly. "Look who's up" The doctor greeted as Tim bolted to your bedside "You're alright, boot, you were shot, but we got there just in time, you okay" He explained, you were slowly calming down, still confused on how you ended up shot, last thing you remembered you were finishing up a call with Tim about a robbery.

Tim explained everything over the course of the rest of the night, slowly he moved from his 'bed' to the chair next to your bed, to next to you in your bed as you both watched one of the uniform's bodycam footage per your request. Tim's eyes were on you the entire time, worried about how you may react seeing your own body basically dead, your eyes stayed glued on the scene, not realizing your smile peeked out a little seeing Tim already waiting by your door, his truck basically parked on your porch. Your body froze seeing the footage veer around your hallway to reveal the bloody scene, your eyes chose to focus on something other than the trauma that was everywhere "were you...holding me crying, Bradford?" You asked turning to look at him smirking "No! I was not crying! you couldn't tell but it was raining" He said, he couldn't help but smile at you "Fine! but..you weren't..you weren't awake! I-I thought I lost my first rookie on my watch" He explained trying to write it off as not caring that much about you still.

You just leaned into his shoulder pushing him a bit "Don't lie Bradford" You giggled, to your surprise he just sighed wrapping his arm around you "You scared me good..don't do it again..please.." He whispered pressing a kiss to the top of your head, holding onto you tight for the rest of night.

don't worry my children there will be a part two with so much more fluff and sappy Bradford, I just needed some good backstory lore ;)

[sargeteen]

𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍 ! ᶠ¹ ᵍʳⁱᵈ

for the sake of my survival ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

𝒇1 grid x 𝒎ale reader synopsis: reader has an alcohol problem and, after some light snitching, is dropped in the middle of the f1 season because of it. he struggles through rehab with little to no contact with his friends, but he comes out the other side swinging, ready for a second chance at racing and at life in general.

genre: angst, smau, REDEMPTION!! warnings: alcoholism & rehab, oscar & charles being snitches, die joke in texts

requested? nope author's note: my dad is 26 yrs sober so like kinda inspired by him ahaha ALSO!! sorry for not posting anything i’ve had no motivation lately for finishing fics ahhhh im sorry 😭😭

masterlist.

HIS FINGERS WRAPPED around another clear shot glass, the translucent liquid inside it sloshed around as he quickly brought the small cup up to his mouth. He threw his head back, and he barely had a reaction as the liquid burned his throat; to someone else, it could be a painful and horrible experience, but to him, it was comfortable and something that he knew well.

Y/n reached for his beer bottle and took a large swig of that immediately after he slammed his shot glass onto the table. He wasn't alone, but everyone else at the table was too deep in conversation to care that he was most definitely taking it too far.

Max sat across from him, the driver that they were celebrating tonight, and he was almost as far gone as y/n was. Today was the Bahrain Grand Prix and the 2023 season opener. Y/n didn't place too high, he ended up in 13th so it earned him not a single point for Haas, but Hülkenberg placed 15th so it made him feel a little better.

Maybe that was his reasoning for drowning himself in tequila and Coronas, but y/n hardly ever had a reason for his behavior.

"You okay, mate?" Oscar, the McLaren driver who ended up sadly DNFing the race, walked up to y/n's side, who was sitting on the edge of the booth in the corner of the bar. He was the most sober one out of all of the drivers that were invited to the bar after the win, which he usually was. His hand came down on y/n's shoulder, and he dipped his head to make eye contact with y/n's unfocused eyes.

"Hmm?" Y/n hummed with a small chuckle. He wasn't too far gone as he was used to his liquor, but he was starting to reach his peak. "Hi Oscaaaaar," y/n dragged out the a in Oscar's name once he recognized the Australian driver who moved his shoulder.

Oscar's brows furrowed, "Hi, y/n. I asked if you were okay." He became more concerned as the seconds passed. Oscar, while quite emotionless and quiet, noticed everything, including y/n's love for alcohol and getting as drunk as he could at night. "You're really drunk. I'll go get you some water, alright?"

Y/n just smiled and nodded at the McLaren driver. He whined quietly when Oscar moved away. If he were sober, he would be insanely embarrassed, but he wouldn't remember this moment in the morning, no matter how hard he tried to.

The time between where Oscar left and appeared back at y/n's side was a blur, so it seemed as though Oscar stepped away for a quick second to y/n. Oscar came back with a large glass of water with a straw shoved between the crushed pieces of ice.

"Drink this," Oscar demanded as he slid the large cup of water onto the table before y/n. With an eye roll, y/n leaned forward and took a large sip of the water before leaning back in the booth. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back against the booth seat. "Hey," Oscar pats y/n's cheek with his hand, causing his eyes to open. "Stay awake. I'm going to drive you home, alright?"

Y/n nodded as his eyes fluttered shut once more. Oscar sighed and turned to the rest of the table, which was still deep in conversation.

"Hey," Oscar called out over the loud music, which caused all of the heads to turn towards him. "I'm taking y/n back to the hotel," he nodded his head over to y/n, leaning his head on Oscar's shoulder as his eyes closed. "You guys all good?"

A chorus of different positive responses came back to Oscar, but Charles, who also unfortunately DNF'd today, spoke up. "Do you need help? I know where his room is," he leaned forward on the table. He was sitting to Max's left, so he leaned forward so Oscar could hear him better.

"That would be nice, yes," Oscar chuckled lightly. Charles slid out of the booth and helped Oscar get y/n out with a slight struggle. The two more sober drivers nodded to their driver counterparts before heading towards the exit. Y/n's arms were pulled over Oscar and Charles's shoulders as he sluggishly walked between them.

"Thamk you," y/n mumbled when they stepped out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Charles and Oscar glanced at each other over y/n's head and sighed.

Most nights usually ended up like this for y/n, drunk and thrown over two drivers' shoulders while they led him back to his hotel room. Tonight was no different. He slumped in the backseat of Oscar's car, and Charles and Oscar talked in the front seat.

Oscar glanced at y/n in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Once y/n's eyes were closed and he was leaning against the door, he spoke up. "Charles, I'm worried about him," his voice was low in case y/n was listening, even if he knew that y/n wasn't going to be able to remember this when he woke up in the morning.

Charles glanced up from his phone at Oscar. He looked over his shoulder to look at y/n, who was starting to drool on the window. With a sigh, Charles nodded. "Yeah," he breathed out, "me too." Charles wasn't stupid; he knew if something was going on with his friends, and there was something definitely going on with y/n. "But I don't know what to do about it," he sighed, defeated, as he shifted in his seat and faced forward.

"I know," Oscar drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he bit the inside of his lip. His eyes traveled from car to car as they passed, as he was stuck at a red light. He slumped in his seat and shook his head, "I just...I don't know. I hate seeing him like this. He's been like this for a while, and I just don't know what to do about it. I don't want to bring it to the FIA or Haas, but I might have to."

Charles nodded. "Yeah. I don't want him to lose his spot, but it could be dangerous for us if he shows up to a race like this," he gestured to y/n over his shoulder with his thumb. Charles picked at his nails, a nervous tick that manifested over the years.

The silence was tense in the car after their conversation had been left at that. Both Charles and Oscar knew it was the best thing to do for y/n and for the rest of the drivers that they shared a track with, but that didn't make them feel any less guilty for thinking of the idea.

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, haasf1team, and others

f1 BREAKING: Kevin Magnussen to replace Y/n L/n for the rest of the 2023 season.

After some behind the scenes discussions with the Haas F1 Team and L/n, the two have decided to part ways and Magnussen will replace L/n for the rest of the season.

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

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userone yo wtf????

usertwo ok wtf is going on with y/n??? he was performing great his first two seasons, but then he dropped down and started with haas, and now he’s no longer racing????

userthree justice for y/n!!! ⤷ userfour bro it sounds like he wanted this to happen 😭😭

userfive ok now what

usersix when i put mid season driver swap on my bingo card i didn’t mean y/n and magnussen???????? ⤷ userseven right??? like i really liked y/n even if he didn't bring in many points because he always had that 'give no fucks' attitude that not many drivers have ⤷ usersix maybe that's why they dropped him?? ⤷ userseven hmm it could be but i don't think so. he's been like that since he was in f3.

usereight NOOOO MY SHAYLAAA 💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭

usernine thank god, he's a danger to the grid and he brought in NO points for haas ⤷ userten yeah but neither did hulkenberg so like idk

posted april 4th, 2023

TIME SKIP — one year later

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, logansargeant, and others

youruser sober & bleach blonde.

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usereleven HE'S BACK???????

usertwelve after being gone for a year this is all you're posting????? what happened to hey hello how are you??????

logansargeant everybody cheered for sober y/n ive missed you ⤷ youruser i've missed you too logun sargun 💔

userthirteen sober????? am i missing something here

userfourteen is this implying that y/n was an addict or smth

oscarpiastri sorry for tattling on you btw ⤷ youruser i'd probs be dead in a ditch by now if it wasn't for u and charles thank you osco

charles_leclerc life is finally almost back to normal now ive missed u y/n 💔💔 ⤷ youruser charlssss i've missed you too omfg 💔

userfifteen im crying its a family reunion in the comments 😭😭

lando time to get to work, y/n!! a year long break is too long 💔 ⤷ youruser i agree lando, time to beat ur ass in padle

alexalbon please spare me ⤷ youruser i've practiced padle nonstop for a year i won't spare anyone

usersixteen i've missed you y/n 😭💔💔

userseventeen is the goat going to come back to f1????? ⤷ youruser depends if they want me back or not 🤷🤷 ⤷ userseventeen ??????????? f1 espnf1

danielricciardo fucking finally max isn't funny enough for me ⤷ maxverstappen tf?????/ ⤷ youruser ladies please not in my comments

liked by youruser, danielricciardo, lando, and others

f1 BREAKING: Y/n L/n to be Haas F1 Team's reserve driver for 2024.

After disappearing for a year from the internet, ex-Haas driver Y/n L/n is back and better than ever as he's signed as their new reserve driver for the 2024 season!

#F1 #Formula1 #HaasF1Team

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usereighteen this was not on my 2024 bingo card bro

usernineteen is this like....legal????? ⤷ usertwenty haas is so down in the dumps the fia hardly cares what they do

youruser the fight is back in haas! ⤷ usertwentyone is this kevmag slander????? ⤷ usertwentytwo definitely sounds like it....

usertwentythree haas is stacked, and i say this only because of y/n and because i want them to win ⤷ usertwentyfour oh that is sooooo real

logansargeant Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID I REPEAT Y/N IS BACK ON THE GRID!!!!!!!! LET'S PARTAAAAYYYY ⤷ youruser Y/N IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER!!!!

EVEN THOUGH Y/N was just a reserve driver, the FIA had everything locked down when we came back for the 2024 season; 3 sparkling grape juice bottles sat off to the side of the podium and away from the champagne in case he had to drive for one of his teammates and made it to the podium.

There was also a strict alcohol brand partnership rule; the brand must have a nonalcoholic version of their drink for the drivers to have a partnership. The FIA didn’t do this themselves, of course, it was brought forward by y/n’s team and they watched with a close eye if problems were to come to front.

But, other than that, everything was good for y/n for his return. He wasn’t getting as much publicity as his teammates were from the Haas team, but he made a significant impact on the other team’s social pages. Maybe it was his friends doings, but he got a welcome back post from Ferrari, McLaren, Red Bull, AlphaTauri, and Williams.

The rest of the season didn’t go in y/n’s favor much as he was only thrown into a car for the Monaco Grand Prix. He and Hülkenberg DNF’d the race as Checo crashed into both of their cars, forcing a restart of the race. Despite getting the fastest lap in one of the free practices, y/n wasn’t allowed back in a Haas unless completely necessary.

It was no surprise that y/n announced he wasn’t going to be with Haas for the 2025 season, but it was a surprise when it was announced he was going to be racing alongside Max for Red Bull, taking Checo’s seat. Y/n mentioned something about karma in a pre-season interview, but if you asked him about it, he would say he didn’t know what you were talking about.

The FIA was a lot more strict with their rules on champagne for the podium because for this season, it was a lot more likely for y/n to get on the podium in a Red Bull than it was last season in a Haas, and as a reserve driver. So, when y/n pulls out his best performance in years for the Australian Grand Prix and the 2025 season opener and ends up taking P2 next to Lando and George, the three of them pop open their sparkling grape juice bottles—after all double checking they were actually the grape juice—and covered each other in the sticky liquid.

It was an emotional roller coaster for y/n, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his best life with his friends, completely sober and walking towards a lifetime full of racing and nonalcoholic beers.

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier @raizelchrysanderoctavius