#LIKE.. THE INTERVIEWER ASKING IF THEY'D HAVE DINNER

[lingerdingdong]

Marc Revelado Documentary clip and English transcript

[cheriladycl01]

Random Girl - Lando Norris x Actress! Reader

Plot: Y/N being spotted in the most random places you could think off and its gets to the point where people joke that they wouldn't be shocked if she posted a story from the ISS.

Lando knew his girlfriend was a bit ditzy, but that was the whole appeal that she came with. However, what he didn't expect was when he was at race weekends by himself that she couldn't attend, he'd get notifications from gossip pages, new articles and pap pages showing his girlfriend to be spotted in the most random places possible.

It first started when they had only been dating for a few months, they'd met in the McLaren paddock where she'd been invited to a GP and brought her motorsport loving father along with her. They'd hit it off immediately. Lando was shy, having this well known actress talking to him like she'd known him all his life and kind of fumbled at the opportunity to ask her out to dinner after the race.

Of course, you had swooped in asking him yourself.

After those few dates, you both became busy. Crazily enough he still didn't know much about you. Obviously he knew enough, like your age and that you were from England and all of those other weird Wiki facts that people added to your profile after you'd stated them in interviews.

So when he saw a news article that was a picture of you, in what he deemed to be loungewear on a countryside town in the UK helping your dad out mucking the stables he couldn't help but texting and asking where you were.

When you'd replied at home, it made more sense but he was shocked as you seemed like the definition of a London city girl.

And of course you were a London City girl, but that didn't stop you going back home, to your routes and getting your hands a little dirty.

After this, you were then cast in the GranTurismo movie as Audrey the girlfriend of Jann Mardenborough. You made friends with Emelia Hartford, Archie Madekwe, Joshua Stradowski, Darren Barnet and Sang Heon Lee. Of course you were already familiar with Orlando Bloom and David Harbour having acted with them before.

It was funny however, how it wasn't public knowledge that you and Lando were an item yet and you were in a movie to do with racing. You both found it bazar, but it also wasn't the usual type of movie you were in. So when fans watched and then realized who you were rumored to be dating it all made sense.

The next was he was in his drivers room with his team mate Oscar, they were both aimlessly scrolling through TikTok waiting for their typical Thursday media duties when all of a sudden Oscar practically spat his water out, choking on it.

"Mate that's disgusting" Lando complains flicking the spitty water off his wrist.

"Tell me why your girlfriend is on my TikTok for you page weightlifting in the middle of London!" he asks rewinding the video just to make sure he wasn't seeing things and that it was you.

Without a doubt, it was you. Even with sunglasses and a Mclaren cap covering your face from the general public, he knew it was you. Not only could he tell it was you because he'd seen you so many times in the paddock and hanging out with his own girlfriend Lily that he'd introduced you to and you'd both become fast friends. But the noticeable thing was the massive keychain you were holding.

You were known for loosing stuff, so one Christmas the grid decided to all get you something to attach to your house and car keys. So whenever you left the house you didn't loose them. There was a pink fluffy ball attached that Max had got you, your Mclaren Car Key was showing, the Pirelli wheel Lewis had got you. The picture of you and Lando, Lando had got for you, there was an Yves St Laurent charm from Lewis and much more but it was so specific that Oscar knew it was you.

"What do you mean my girlfriend is weightlifting on your tiktok" he asks crawling onto the sofa from the ground that he was sat on, budging up closer to Oscar and looking over his shoulder to where he phone was playing the small segment.

There you were, placing your keys into your bag before hitching it high up on your arm and lifting the weight. It was heavy and from the rest of the video not many other people had managed to do it. However you there, in your high heels and short skirt you lifted it up no problem. He knew it was in your range as you often would work out with him, and sometimes you had a better stamina than he did. That was because of some of the movies you'd had to train for in the past, making you have a really serious work out regime.

The crowd applauded you before you did a kind curtsy taking the drink from the guy who was recording the video. As you lifted your glasses up taking a drink, people stared to recognize you and started to ask for pictures and autographs. The video cut out to the next lifter before he could see what occurred from the fans that were around you.

"Babe what the hell is this on Oscar's titkok of you weightlifting for free drinks from randoms in the street! Are you okay did you get mobbed? The video cut out before we could see anything. My god its so dangerous you shouldn't be out alone!" he scolds before even saying hi to you.

"Hello to you to Lando" he laugh and he sighs.

"You shouldn't do stuff like that baby, I worry!" he explains and you just giggle.

"I was fine Lan, I had security waiting for me behind the camera and there wasn't too many people! I was fine and got home all safe!" you smile into the phone rolling your eyes at your mum who was awing at how cute he was being. After a while he hung up needing to go for media duties.

Then during your first summer break together, you, Lily, Oscar and Lando all wanted to go on holiday together. So you all suggested somewhere you wanted to go, that couldn't be your home. So Lando suggested Lapland, Lily suggested Bali, Oscar suggested Greece and you suggested Florida, specifically Disneyworld so of course, yours had to be picked being the most likely place to be seen.

And of course if you were going to Florida you had to bring Logan... so obviously when pictures were released of you and the others being toured round the parks by a cast member and finding yourself building cars in Test Track in Epcot and Lando making a Lando Log out of it. The parks were extra busy when you guys went as well so you had to have your security walk round the parks with you, so you guys just drew all the attention to you.

After this you were in New York, filming the ending of the movie you were currently the lead in. So you couldn't come to the first race after summer break.

So when Lando was chilling out at home after the first race waiting for you to land back in France so he could drive and get you, he was watching TikTok's. He was aimlessly scrolling until he saw a video that was those ones where people go up to strangers with headphones and ask what they were listening too.

The guy clearly had no idea he was talking to you, a very famous actress but Lando once again was shocked how you seem to get yourself into these situation.

You politely take one airpod out and offer him a sorry i didn't understand. He asks what song your listening to and your reply had Lando bursting out laughing as it was Voulez-Vous by ABBA. He watched as you walked off with the song playing in the background as you took note of the camera and waved with a big grin.

He checked the comments knowing there would be an outrage that the guy didn't know who he was speaking too. And he was right of course.

-user1: how has my guy fumbled like that in front of Miss Y/N

-user2: no way my guy didn't know he's speaking to the richest young actress out there right now...

-user3: boy don't know Y/N Y/L/N and he's into F1... blunder fr

-user4: it's so funny where Y/N is caught out and how normal she is, she's just one of us at the end of the day

-user5: Y/N is spotted anywhere fr

The next time was when your mugshots got released, now this was the one that Lando found the most shocking. But after hearing your side of the story he was laughing and your manager eventually got the LAPD to apologize for their actions and their mistreatment.

"So Y/N some pictures were released of you ahead of this weekend following a big apology from the Los Angeles Police Department. Can you explain to us what happened?" the F1 interviewer asks and you chuckle a little.

"Yeah, its actually really funny considering i spent the day in a holding cell because no-one could get hold of me. So i was driving to set to start filming, and I was pulled over. I still don't know what I was actually pulled over for, they never ended up telling me. But when i was asked for ID i accidently handed over my Fake ID from the movie set. Once i realized my mistake I stupidly forgot we were in America where officers are a little more hands on and he decided to arrest me for handing a fake id to an officer of the law and interfering with an ongoing investigation. Obviously once people from set realised i wasn't just late they came down to the office and explain what i was trying to do, they re watched the footage from both my dash cam that was on me, and the officer's footage and it was deemed as an unlawful arrest so they let me go. I have no idea who leaked the mugshots but I still look good!" you exclaim making the interviewers laugh.

"That's quite the story Y/N, what do you get yourself into!" he offers making you laugh even more.

In the winter season, you taken some time off so you could travel round with Lando both for his last few races and his winter break, you spent his off season with him travelling from Bali, to Australia, to Finland, back home, and then to Thailand. But you had one request and that was to go tAmerica or South Korea to watch a KPOP concert.

You wanted to see StrayKids live, and so Lando not only got you front row tickets but also came with you to their LA show. You were sat in a normal bit of the crowd with other fans who when they noticed it was you were screaming before the artists themselves even came on.

It was even more funny when the group came out on stage and it took them 4 songs before they recognised you.

"Holy shit guys is that Y/N Y/L/N?" Chris asks looking down at the crowd where you were sat.

"Huge fan!" Hyunjin shouted, even though you had worked together before in Versace as Brand Ambassadors. Same with Felix and Yves Saint Laurent. Fans went crazy at the interactions happening and when it went viral later people only commented on the fact that you were just casually at a KPOP concert with your F1 driver boyfriend.

The next time was when Lando, who wasn’t opposed to going to a casino himself walked in on his girlfriend after a race at a casino. She was there at the Poker Table with winning chips animatedly talking to the dealer.

“Babe?” He’d asked you with a laugh surprised to see you here!

“Omg baby! Hi the guys said you were coming here and I wanted to surprise you but I ended up coming here a few hours to early and now I’ve won 30k. I’m thinking I’ll get you a new watch with that” she grins as if this 30k has just changed her life. When they know that 30k is absolutely nothing to her.

“You, how do you find yourself in these situations” he laughs looking over at you before tossing one of your chips into the pile looking at your current cards.

“Hey bet with your own money baby!” You frown at him everyone around the table laughing.

“Are we at the high stakes table right now?” He asks looking round and seeing some familiar faces of very rich men.

“Yeah baby why?” You ask nonchalantly, like it was nothing.

“My god, okay let’s wrap this up and go meet everyone else at the club”

And the most recent time was when you started live streaming from the top of the HollyWood sign after making the long climb up there.

Lando just watched from Bahrain, at pre- season testing while you were just climbing up to the Holly wood sign and showing the world where you were currently at.

He did worry for a second about your inability to know what you should and shouldn’t be showing the world and when. But when you panned round to show the two security with you in casual gym wear he was more settled.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

[steddieas-shegoes]

documentary

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the music'

rated m | 723 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: modern era, famous corroded coffin, established steddie

📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹📹

"Steve!" Gareth calls from the couch of the living room, not caring that Eddie was fast asleep in his chair. "It's on!"

Steve rushes into the room, nearly falling face first when he slips on the corner of the rug. He's wiping his hands on a towel, probably wet from doing the dishes after dinner.

Jeff and Frankie are sitting on the other couch, leaning forward to watch.

Eddie's still asleep somehow.

"Metal bands have always been expected to just make due with whatever already exists in the metal community. 'Don't play acoustic' and 'You can't play Coachella' and 'You can't feature a pop star.' But we just like music. We wanna share music with people."

"Listen to you, Jeff. So poetic," Frankie teases. Jeff shoves him, but they keep watching the ad for their documentary.

"We live in a time where people don't have to just like one thing. Someone can have a playlist that's got us right next to Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift if they want. If people saw my playlists, they'd think a group of teenagers made it."

Eddie doesn't even wake up when his voice fills the room, his face on the screen.

"Corroded Coffin announces world tour with a new opening guest for every show. The artists range anywhere from Chappell Roan to Sleep Token." A male reporter is shown on the screen.

"No one's doing it like them, that's why we love them," a few fans say into a camera during an interview.

"The members of Corroded Coffin refused to do a documentary for years, too busy writing, recording, and performing music for the masses. But they've taken time off this year, focusing on personal time with loved ones and staying out of the limelight they worked so hard to reach. We finally managed to sit down with them and find out who they are...behind the music."

The ad changes to a fast food commercial and Steve laughs.

"That was somehow more dramatic than anything Eddie's ever done," he says as he walks over to wake up his still sleeping boyfriend. "Ed, you missed it."

Eddie's eyes blink open, but he doesn't seem to remember that he fell asleep with everyone in the room. He grabs Steve's thighs and pulls him down so he's straddling his waist.

"Hey, big boy. Was just dreamin' about you."

Steve laughs. "You can tell me all about it later. When your best friends are not sitting a few feet away."

Eddie turns his head, but doesn't take his hands off of Steve's hips. "You should all go. I have business to attend to."

"You missed the ad, dumbass," Gareth says, throwing one of the pillows at Eddie. "Keep your hands to yourself until the next run."

"Don't you think it's already on social media?" Frankie asked before Eddie could.

"Probably, but it's different on tv."

Eddie squeezes Steve's hips, but lets him get up. He sits up and smiles up at Steve. "Later?"

"If you can stay awake, sure."

Steve leaves the room and Jeff, Frankie, and Gareth all start teasing Eddie immediately. He lets them; He knows he's a lovesick idiot.

When the next ad comes on as scheduled, Eddie watches it silently.

He pulls his phone out and calls Wayne, asking if he saw it.

And then he starts crying.

Everyone's in complete shock.

"Steve! Eddie's crying!" Gareth yells.

This time when Steve comes rushing into the room, it's with panic in his eyes. He seems to realize what's going on the moment he sees Eddie, though. He shoos everyone out of the room as he makes his way to him, kneeling in front of him and placing his hands on his face.

The guys don't hear much, but they can make out Eddie blubbering "we worked so hard for this and it's happening" and Steve's gentle shushing and praise.

"Should we get pizza delivered?" Frankie asks.

"I think now's a good time to just leave," Jeff suggests. "We can get hibachi."

"Hell yeah!" Frankie fist pumps and opens the front door, holding it open as Jeff walks through it.

Gareth looks back towards where Steve has Eddie's head against his shoulder, hand in his hair. He smiles to himself as he leaves to join Jeff and Frankie.

They really did work their asses off to get here.

[its-avalon-08]

Can we have some hurt comfort with Lando Norris. Like Lando and her haven’t been spending a lot of time together and when he is free he’s spending all his time gaming or golfing and reader is feeling like he doesn’t love her anymore because of that.

But happy ending.

brick on my heart (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, fluffy ending

Y/n sat perched on the edge of the sofa, a half-finished cup of tea growing cold in her hand. The television broadcasted a pre-race interview, Lando's face filling the screen. He was animated, talking strategy with a practiced ease that had become a trademark. But the excitement in his voice didn't translate to his eyes. They held a weariness, a hollowness that mirrored the growing emptiness in her own chest.

Across the room, Lando was hunched over his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. The rhythmic click-clack was the only sound in the once-lively apartment, a stark contrast to the playful banter and movie nights that used to fill their evenings. Y/n had planned to surprise him with dinner - a gourmet pasta dish she'd spent the afternoon perfecting. Now, the aroma just mocked her, a forgotten promise of connection in the sea of Lando's single-minded focus.

A notification chimed on his phone. He glanced at it briefly, a fleeting smile tugging at his lips before he returned to the game. Y/n's stomach lurched. Was it a message from a teammate, a sponsor, or maybe even a fan? It certainly wasn't from her. The silence between them, once comfortable, now felt suffocating.

She rose silently, pushing the untouched pasta towards the back of the fridge. Lando didn't react, his eyes glued to the screen. Maybe a part of him registered her movement, but it didn't translate into a question, a "Hey, where are you going?"

Y/n retreated to the bedroom, the sting of unshed tears pricking her eyes. She picked up a book, the worn pages offering a refuge from the cold reality of their apartment. But even the fictional world couldn't hold her attention. The echo of Lando's laughter from a past game night played on a loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of what they'd lost.

Later that night, when Lando finally emerged from his gaming trance, he found Y/n curled up asleep on the bed, the untouched book lying on the floor beside her. Her peaceful slumber masked the storm brewing within. In the dim light, he didn't see the silent tears that stained her cheeks, the growing distance between them, or the love slowly withering in the absence of his attention.

The Monaco sun beat down on the bustling paddock as Y/n followed Lando, his pace brisk and focused. Conversation was a forgotten luxury, replaced by the rhythmic crunching of gravel beneath their feet. As they passed by the Red Bull garage, Daniel Ricciardo gave Y/n a bright smile and a cheery, "Hey there, sunshine!" but it fell flat. His usual banter felt forced, his eyes lingering on Lando's oblivious form.

The McLaren garage, once a haven of laughter and shared excitement, now felt cold and sterile. Mechanics scurried around, their greetings to Y/n polite but perfunctory. Lando disappeared into a briefing, leaving Y/n awkwardly adrift in the sea of racing paraphernalia. She found herself drawn to the relative quiet of a secluded balcony overlooking the track. Leasing her back against the railing, she allowed the weight of her unspoken words to crush her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of the sleek cars below.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice startled her. Carlos Sainz, his usual smirk replaced by a worried frown, stood beside her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Y/n choked back a sob, shaking her head mutely. Carlos, ever perceptive, understood. Without a word, he enveloped her in a warm hug, his strong arms a comforting presence against her shaking frame. The tears came then, hot and uncontrollable, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

"Lando?" he asked gently, his voice barely a whisper.

She shook her head again, the effort to speak a betrayal. Carlos held her tighter, a silent promise of understanding hanging in the air. He wasn't just her brother's teammate; he had always been a confidante, a protector.

Exhausted from the weight of her unspoken pain, Y/n leaned sleepily against him. The rhythmic thrum of the engines below served as a lullaby, a distant echo to the storm raging within her. When Lando finally emerged from his meeting, searching for Y/n, he found her fast asleep on the couch as Carlos lay a blanket over her.

The sight hit him like a physical blow. The worry etched on Carlos' face, the vulnerability in Y/n's sleeping form, it was a stark reminder of his neglect. Shame burned in his chest, replacing the usual pre-race nervousness. The starting grid, once a symbol of his ambition, now seemed insignificant compared to the love he felt slipping through his fingers.

The checkered flag fell, signaling the end of the grueling Monaco race. Lando, his face flushed with exertion but a triumphant smile playing on his lips, emerged from his car. He scanned the crowd for Y/n, his heart sinking when he spotted her standing stiffly at the edge of the podium.

He jogged towards her, expecting a celebratory hug. Instead, she offered a weak smile and a forced, "Congratulations, Lando."

His smile faltered. "Hey, you okay?" He reached for her hand, but she subtly pulled away.

"Yeah," she mumbled, staring down at her feet. "Just... tired. I think I'll head back." She knew about the post-race party, the usual celebratory affair Lando relished. She didn't want to be a burden with her heavy heart.

Lando's stomach twisted. "You sure? I could—"

"No," she interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Go celebrate. I'll see you later." She turned and started walking away, her steps heavy and defeated.

Lando watched her go, a knot of guilt tightening in his chest. This wasn't right. He needed to talk to her, to fix this. He glanced at his car, then back at Y/n's retreating figure. With a determined sigh, he changed his mind.

He caught up with Y/n outside the paddock, keys jingling in his hand. "Change of plans," he said, his voice firm. "You're coming home with me."

Y/n looked up, surprise flickering across her tear-filled eyes. Too tired to fight him, she simply nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. The silence on the drive home was thick, pressing down on them like a heavy fog.

Once inside the apartment, the silence shattered as Y/n finally broke. The dam holding back her emotions crumbled. "Lando," she choked out, her voice thick with unshed tears, "you don't love me anymore. It feels like there's nothing left in here," she clutched her chest, a gesture mirroring the hollowness she felt inside.

The raw pain in her voice hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He saw the hurt etched onto her face, the love he had taken for granted slowly fading away. Tears welled up in his own eyes.

"No, Y/n, that's not true!" he rushed out, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything. This season… it's been chaotic, it's swallowed me whole, and I… I was stupid. I didn't realize how much I was neglecting you, pushing you away. Y/n, listen to me. I know I've messed up, big time. But that's no excuse. The truth is, I've been so focused on winning, on proving myself, that I completely forgot what truly matters. And that's you."

He sank to his knees in front of her, his head bowed. "

Seeing you walk away after the race… it hit me like a ton of bricks. You looked so… empty. And the worst part? It's my fault. All this time I've been chasing trophies, podium finishes, while neglecting the biggest prize in my life – you."

"The late nights spent gaming, the hours practicing golf, the quick goodbyes for training… I never realized how much I was pushing you away. I took our love for granted, assumed you'd always be there."

"But you're not just a trophy girlfriend, Y/n. You're my teammate, my confidante, the person who makes me laugh even after the worst race. Seeing the hurt in your eyes… it tears me apart."

"Please, believe me when I say I love you. More than anything. I know my actions haven't shown it, but you're the sunshine in my day, the calm in my storm. I can't lose you. This season can wait, the sponsors can wait, the races can wait. But you? You're irreplaceable. Please, Y/n, believe me. I can't… I can't lose you."

Y/n, witnessing his genuine remorse, felt a flicker of hope rekindle in her chest. She knelt down, gently cupping his face in her hands. "I love you too, Lando," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But we need to fix this, together."

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. Relief and gratitude washed over him. "We will. I promise. No more neglecting you. No more letting the racing overshadow our lives." He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "We'll race together, laugh together, love together."

Y/n smiled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. This time, it wasn't a tear of sadness, but a promise of a new beginning, a love strong enough to weather any storm. In the quiet of their apartment, they held each other close, their tears mingling, a testament to a love that had been bruised but not broken, ready to face the future together.

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything - Part Two

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language, smut (mdni!!) notes: i still hate doing smaus but this is fun

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: Surprise!!! Lover's End dropping in 3...2...1... Special thank you to all of you, my darlings, for your unwavering love and support over the past 6 months. (I'm only gonna post about Monaco and F1 for the rest of the week)

↳ user1: 'You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart' MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR           ↳ user2: MOTHER ATE ↳ user2: silver springs my FAVOURITE           ↳ user3: so much anger in this EP ↳ user4: it's SO GOOD

"So you'll be riding along and having a normal chat with him. Pretend like the cameras aren't there. Feel free to ask questions about anything you'd like." The assistant lowered her voice. "Other than the PR photos at hospitality later and your interview Saturday about your history of loving formula one, this is the only formal thing you have to do all week, I promise."

"Thanks." Y/N nodded as the clip mic was attached to her blouse, grinning when she saw Charles approaching on a bicycle. Muffling a giggle when he nearly crashed into the side of the Ferrari waiting for him to give her the tour of Monaco, she greeted him warmly, thinking of their friendly chatting the night before at the Ferrari dinner.

"Are you ready to see Monaco?" Charles asked once a mic had been clipped to his shirt and an assistant had fixed his hair. He immediately ran his hand through it, ruining her work, and y/n grinned again.

"Absolutely."

He drove through the winding streets, stopping to point out the more famous sites – the hotel, the casino, the harbour – telling her stories from his childhood of watching the races, seeing the grandstands being built.

"Oh, you were always rich… I can't imagine growing up in a place like this," she said as he drove past the harbour which was filling with yachts. "But I guess it was all you knew."

Charles nodded, and she noticed he looked slightly panicked at her calling him rich. "I didn't appreciate how, ah… Privileged I was until I became a man. I'll show you my school?"

"Sorry, I grew up poor so I'm always fascinated when I meet someone who didn't. I'm well aware of how different my life is, but in my head I'll always be that little girl with no money at the book fair," she babbled.

He furrowed his brow. "Book fair?"

"Oh my god they were the best thing! You'd get a flyer with all the books they'd have available and the kids would circle everything they wanted. And there'd be things like posters and bookmarks and cheap little toys? Like a little bookstore set up in the school." She smiled at the memory.

"That is why you donate money to schools, yes? To help kids like you?" he asked softly.

Y/N smiled. "Exactly." She realized she was yapping as he drove through the streets but couldn't stop herself because it was something she cared about so much. And Charles seemed to genuinely care, nodding and smiling a little as she went on an on, to the point she didn't feel the need to apologize for her blathering.

"My school," he said, parking in front of a somewhat nondescript building. "I got into so much trouble here…"

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Surely they were just inchidents?"

He giggled and she saw his cheeks darken as he pulled away from the curb. A few moments later, he asked, "You've traveled around the world. Do you have a favourite country to visit?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know… I've been around the world twice now. But I feel like I haven't seen any of it. It's always airport to hotel to media stations to venue and back again. I rarely get back home, though. So I'll say that's my favourite place to visit." She shifted in the seat to face him. "What's your favourite colour?"

He giggled again, tugging at his Ferrari polo. "I have to say read, no?"

Y/N grinned. "Ooo, the colour of love…"

The rest of the tour was filled with laughter and reflection, and they stood near the harbour chatting once they'd finished filming, discussing music and she got the feeling he was getting around to asking her out when someone walked by and Charles laughed, turning and calling out—

"Oscar!"

The man turned and y/n felt a giddiness rise in her stomach as she recognized him. His eyes were on Charles as they fist bumped and then his brown eyes swiveled towards her, widened, and…

"H-hi," he said, and she pretended to not notice the way his voice cracked.

Smiling, she held out her hand. "Hi, so great to meet you."

His hand was warm and strong and his cheeks were turning pink. "Ah." He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning darker, his hand still shaking hers. "Great t-to meet you t-too."

She felt the urge to giggle but refrained, continuing to shake his hand as she stared into his eyes. Next to her, Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just talking about her new music," he said.

They hadn't been but that seemed to snap Oscar out of his little stupor. His eyes widened and his lips quirked up into smile. He loosened his hold on her hand and she would have sworn she imagined his shaky exhale.

"Y-yeah, I listened this morning. It's great." Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. "As always."

"You're too sweet," she insisted, marveling when the pink of his cheeks darkened more. "I'm glad you enjoy it."

Charles looked from her to Oscar and back again, and she felt her cheeks grow warm when he smirked.

Oscar stammered – Oscar stammered! she would never get over him seemingly starstruck by her – out that he was a big fan of her music and she sensed him relax while she talked about recording in secret over the past few months. "Lando's a huge fan, too," he said, his cheeks still pink and his eyes still a little wide.

"Is he? I'd love to meet him."

He was already nodding. "Y-yeah, that'd be great. Y-you can drop by the motorhome anytime."

She felt the urge to play with her hair and probably would have if Charles hadn't been watching them so closely. "I'll do that, sure. Later on, after I do some PR stuff with Ferarri?"

Oscar's shoulders sagged and he was still nodding. "Excellent." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again. "I'll, um, see you later then."

As soon as he was out of earshot Charles laughed.

"I have never seen him like that around a celebrity."

Y/N watched Oscar disappear in the crowd milling along pit lane. "Really?"

Charles hummed and held out his arm. "You must have that effect on people."

"I really don't know why. I'm just me," she mumbled as she slid her arm through his to walk towards the Ferrari motorhome. "Well, no, I suppose I get it. It's just… Weird to think of someone notable being flustered meeting another notable person, right?"

"So you were flustered just now?" Charles hummed knowingly.

"Stop, he's one of my favourite drivers," she groaned. "I get flustered meeting anyone."

"You weren't flustered meeting me," he sighed with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"I was," she confessed, thinking of how anxious she'd been in those first moments after meeting him and Carlos the night before. Mainly because she hated formal, corporate affairs when everyone had to be on their best behaviour.

liked by charles_leclrec, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and others ynyln: things I've learned today: my aussie accent is shit 😔, oscar hums a lot 🤭, carlos refers to me as "la pequeña niña americana" 🥰, and when I sit in a f1 car I feel claustrophobic 😬 tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari

↳ carlossainz55: Sí, mi pequeña niña americana           ↳ ynyln: 🥰🥰🥰           ↳ user1: do you even understand that?           ↳ ynyln: no but it's spanish so I'm swooning ↳ oscarpiastri: I didn't say your Aussie accent was shit?           ↳ ynyln: Lando did 😔           ↳ landonorris: it is?           ↳ ynyln: you hurt my feelings ☹️           ↳ mclaren: Lando you should apologise           ↳ scuderiaferrari: so rude           ↳ ynyln: isn't it 🥺           ↳ landonorris: wtf 😥 ↳ user2: what was Oscar humming though?            ↳ user3: probably something off the wall            ↳ ynyln: it was the oscar mayer jingle            ↳ mclaren: that was you            ↳ ynyln: 🤫🤫🤫 ↳ landonorris: I'm sorry for saying your aussie accent is shit            ↳ ynyln: I forgive you 🤗

Looking up from her phone after posting the recap of her day to instagram, Y/N smiled at Charles, enjoying the quietness of the evening. Leo was dragging his toy around, growling playfully each time Charles tried to take it away. She hadn't expected his invitation to dinner after the end of media day, but here she was in his apartment, the flavor of his thrown together pasta dish lingering on her tongue.

Charles leaned back against the couch, tossing the toy across the room for Leo. "It's none of my business…" He sighed and shifted to look at her. "But are all your new songs about him?"

She nodded. "Wrote them in a fit of rage, really. Except Flowers, I wrote that when I realized how better off I am without him."

He eased the toy from Leo and tossed it again. "I am sorry you had your heart broken."

Y/N chuckled. "Me too."

"Are you looking for someone new?" he asked after a moment. After Leo dropped the toy and flopped dramatically on the rug.

"I don't know." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why, are you interested?"

Charles laughed softly. "In a relationship, no."

She wasn't disappointed, really, but she gave him a pout. "My poor ego…"

Grinning, he moved, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "But I'm willing to…" He hesitated, finally resting his hands on her knees. "Fuck the memory of your stupid ex away."

Her eyes widened at his boldness. Before she could think of the reasons she should say no, she was nodding, moving to the edge of the couch as his hands slipped up. "I'm fine with something casual," she murmured, sliding her hands over his shoulders.

"That I can give you, cherie."

His kiss was gentle, lips and tongue working against hers until she melted. Guided by his hands, she slid off the couch as he stood, the kiss growing in intensity as he pulled her towards the bedroom. "It's been a while," she mumbled between kisses, her fingers hesitating at the hem of his sweater. "So like… Tell me if I mess up."

Charles huffed out a soft laugh, nipping at her bottom lip. "It is like riding a bicycle, hm? You'll be unsteady at first then get into the rhythm."

"Just don't expect me to ride, I'm so not into being on top," she admitted, relieved when he laughed, breaking away to peel off his sweater. His skin was warm under her fingers and she kissed him before pulling back to remove her top, keeping her eyes on his face.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, one hand cupping the back of her neck as he kissed her again, this time with growing urgency. His other hand was everywhere – at her waist, teasing the waistband of her jeans, ghosting over her ribcage, tracing the curve of her breast, flicking open the button of her jeans.

"Ah!" she gasped sharply as his fingers eased into her panties, his facial hair grazing her neck while his lips moved down. Her gaze landed on the mirror behind him and she stared at the muscles of his back as they rippled under her touch, her eyes slipping shut when his fingers began to stroke her slit at the same time his mouth closed around her nipple.

"Are you watching yourself, cherie?" he whispered against her skin, moaning when her fingers clutched at his hair.

"No… Watching you," she breathed. She opened her eyes, watching her hand trail down his back.

Charles laughed quietly, pulling his mouth from her nipple with a soft pop. "Can I watch you?"

Blushing, she gave a small nod, helping him unfasten his jeans while her heart thrummed excitedly in her chest. His lips met hers again, his hands working her jeans down her legs.

His blanket was luxurious, his sheets soft beneath her knees as he gently situated her so she faced the mirror. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he exhaled slowly, his hands framing her hips and sweeping upwards. "So soft," he breathed, eyes locking with hers in the mirror, breath hot against her skin.

Y/N could only stare at him in the mirror, feeling as though she were watching another couple entirely, the eroticism of watching his hands explore her body making her feel disconnected. Until he whispered in her ear. Gentle commands, fervent admirations that forced her to feel his touch as well as see.

His hand slipped down, cupping between her thighs, and she moaned sharply at the sight of two fingers sliding into her pussy. Reaching back, she groped at his hip, nails dragging across his skin before her hand wrapped around his cock, watching his face as he let out a ragged moan.

He spoke but she barely registered the words, already reduced to pitiful, needy whines, the live porn in front of her only adding to her desire, and when his fingers, slick, dragged to grasp her hip she leaned forward in anticipation. Still stroking his cock, still watching his face ass while she felt him shift behind her. Her thumb smeared precum over the tip of him and she was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath before he groaned into her hair, his hands nudging hers away. She lifted her hand, catching his eye in the mirror as she licked her thumb clean.

Her eyes automatically closed when he began to enter her and she whined as his hand reached up, cupping her chin and lifting her head.

"Look at your face, mon couer," he whispered.

Pure, wanton neediness. She nodded, licking her lips, clutching his forearm with both hands and forcing her eyes to stay open while he entered her slowly.

In a split second of clarity she wondered if her chin always wobbled during penetration.

"Magnifique," Charles panted against her ear, his hand sliding down to lightly rest just below her neck.

"Oh my god," she whined.

His other hand gripped her hip tight, fingers digging into her flesh. "Good?" he whispered.

She nodded, staring at his white knuckles at her hip. "So good," she gasped, shifting on her knees slightly. Suddenly keen to see more. The hand on her hip squeezed and he began a slow roll of his hips, fucking her slowly. Watching her body respond, watching the look on his face, she felt her toes curl, heat twisting deep in her belly.

Within moments the woman in the mirror was flushed. Trembling. Breasts bouncing wildly, lips parted. Charles's hand slipped up, gently cupping her throat and holding her upright and she licked her lips, hips pushing back against him, eyes rolling back each time his cock hit her spot. All she could hear was his harsh breathing and deep moans and the delicious, slick sounds of him fucking her above the sound of her own racing heartbeat.

"I'm—" She cut off with a sharp cry as the hand on her hip slid forward, fingers strumming her clit in small, hard circles. A split second later her eyes closed, back arching and a guttural moan emanating from her as she came, pushing her hips back harshly and grinding against him. Stars scattered behind her eyelids and her moan turned into a series of harsh cries as his fingers worked her immediately into another crest of bliss until she was whimpering.

"Shh shh shh," he soothed, his fingers slowing, hips still rolling against hers as he guided her down. He stayed over her while she shuddered and gasped, fingers sliding off her clit when she squirmed.

She had no idea what he was murmuring in her ear, his mixture of broken English and French lost on her as she struggled to catch her breath. But she nodded, clutching his forearm until the world around her seemed to right itself, opening her eyes to see him staring at her in the mirror.

"Très magnifique," he whispered, both hands sliding over her back as he sat upright. His eyes met hers again and he gave her a smirk that very nearly made her cum again. "Now we can really have fun, yes?"

(reblogging with taglist in like 4 mins)

[emjayewrites]

a king & his queen • ibou konaté oneshot

SYNOPSIS: Ibou loves his wife — period, point blank.

WARNINGS: cursing, sex scene, mentons of religion, rude/judgmental parents - 18+

TAGLIST: @kj77, @ibouchouchou, @saturnville, @lev-1-1, @irishmanwhore, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @f1-football-fiend @peyiswriting

Ibou worshipped his wife.

Some called him whipped, however. Down bad even.

The comments on his Instagram always got him laughing. Twitter buzzed with playful memes about how he turned to putty around his wife. "Biggest simp in the Prem," they'd joke, posting clips of him gazing at Saniya during post-match interviews or adjusting her coat as they left Anfield. He'd even dropped a heart emoji in response to every tweet or comment.

Ibou wore their teasing like a badge of honor—let them talk.

But see, that was the thing about finding your person at twenty-four. You didn't care what anyone else thought.

"Babe, you sure you packed your earphones?" Saniya was triple-checking their carry-ons in the Liverpool Airport lounge, her curls falling into her face as she dug through her designer backpack. "You know how your ears get on long flights."

"In my pocket." Ibou patted his hoodie, then reached over to tuck that stubborn curl behind her ear. "And I packed your anxiety meds, your favorite snacks, and that lavender roll-on thing you like."

She looked up at him with those eyes – part Southeast Asian from her mum, part Nigerian from her dad – and his heart did that thing it always did. Like someone had pressed pause on the whole world.

"What would I do without you?" she asked, leaning into his side.

"Good thing you'll never have to find out." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, gentle and quick. Even after one year together, these little moments still felt like stealing something precious.

The flight attendant called for business class boarding, and Ibou felt Saniya tense slightly. Flying wasn't her thing, never had been. That's why he'd booked the morning flight – she did better with daylight travel, one of those little details he'd filed away in his heart like other men memorized stats.

"Je suis là," he murmured as they walked through the jet bridge, his hand finding its home in the small of her back. "Right here, always."

Their seats were everything he'd hoped for when he'd spent hours picking the perfect ones – by the window because Saniya liked watching the clouds, but not too far back where the turbulence hit harder. He helped her settle in, pulling the blanket from its plastic wrap before she even asked.

"You're doing too much," she said, but her smile said different.

"Doing exactly enough for my wife." He loved saying that. Wife. Six months married and it still tasted like honey on his tongue.

The plane started its taxi, and Saniya's hand found his, their fingers interlacing like they'd been practicing this dance forever. Maybe they had been. Maybe that's why everything clicked that first night they met, when his teammate's wife had invited them both to dinner in London.

He remembered how she'd worn this blue dress that brought out the bronze hues in her skin, how she'd asked him about football but really wanted to know about the person behind the jersey. Most girls he met were already following him on Instagram, had their minds made up about who Ibou Konaté was supposed to be. But Saniya? She'd looked right through all that noise and seen him – just him.

Their love story wasn't conventional by any means: the Muslim footballer and the demisexual psychology graduate who didn't share his faith but understood his soul. Saniya's demisexuality meant emotional intimacy came first, long FaceTime conversations that stretched into dawn, shared silences that said more than words had built their connection slowly, beautifully. By the time they first kissed, four months into dating, he felt like he'd known her in a past life. And then he proposed two months later because why wait when you knew for certain she was the one?

"Remember when you tried to impress me with your French?" he teased now, watching her get comfortable under the blanket.

"Shut up," she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "I still say 'croissant' better than you say 'innit.'"

"That's because you're from London and I'm—"

"A proper French boy who thinks he's too cool for slang?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Mr. 'I Only Wear Designer But Still Steal My Wife's Hoodies'?"

"They're comfortable!" He defended himself with a grin. "And you steal my shirts all the time."

"That's different." She yawned, already getting drowsy as the plane climbed through the clouds. "I'm your wife. I have rights."

Rights. Like she needed any official permission to take whatever she wanted from him. His shirts, his heart, his whole world – it was all hers anyway. His teammates never let him live down about how soft he got around her, but that was their problem. They hadn't figured out yet that being strong meant knowing when to be gentle.

The plane leveled out somewhere over Europe, and Ibou watched Saniya drift in and out of sleep against his shoulder. She'd been nervous about this trip, not just because of the flying thing. "What if you need physio while we're there?" she'd asked last week, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "What if the injury—"

"The injury's fine," he'd promised, pulling her into his lap right there in their kitchen. "I'm fine. And you know why? Because I've got the best care in the world right here."

Now, watching her breathe softly beside him, he thought about how lucky he was. Two injuries this season had knocked him sideways, yet she'd been his constant. Running him bath salts after rehab. Making sure he ate properly. Never once making him feel less than whole when the press speculated about his future.

"Stop staring at me," she mumbled without opening her eyes.

"Can't help it." He brushed his lips against her temple. "You're too beautiful."

"You're too much." But she snuggled closer, and his heart did that expanding thing again, like it couldn't quite contain everything he felt for her.

The flight attendant appeared with their lunch service, and Saniya stirred properly awake. Ibou had made sure to pre-order halal for himself and that salmon dish she loved. Little things. Always the little things.

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?" He asked as they ate, his voice low enough to stay private in the cabin.

"Only about a hundred times." She rolled her eyes fondly. "But go on then."

"You were wearing that blue dress..."

"You and this dress!"

"It was a beautiful dress, mon cœur. And you were sitting there at Mo's dinner party, talking about your psychology thesis like it was the most fascinating thing in the world."

"It was fascinating," she protested, but her eyes were soft with memory. "A study on athletic performance anxiety and cultural pressure in first-generation immigrants."

"See? Even now, you light up talking about it." He caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I remember thinking, 'This girl has no idea who I am, and it's perfect.'"

She laughed quietly. "I knew exactly who you were, babe. I just didn't care."

"Exactly." The word came out like a prayer. "You saw me. Just me."

Some turbulence hit then, making Saniya grip his hand tighter. Ibou switched seamlessly into comfort mode, pulling her closer, murmuring sweet nothings in French until her breathing steadied again.

"Tell me about the villa again," she said, clearly wanting the distraction. "What's the first thing we're going to do when we get there?"

"First? Get you settled. There's this massive bathtub with a view of the Gulf…" He painted the picture for her, watching her eyes light up at each detail. "Private beach access, infinity pool that looks like it melts into the ocean. No cameras, no schedules. Just us."

"Sounds perfect." She yawned again, the gentle hum of the engines lulling her. "Wake me when we're landing?"

"Always."

That was their thing, really. Always. Not just the big moments like wedding vows or injury recoveries. But the small ones too. Always checking her tea was the right temperature. Always knowing when she needed space to read or cuddles to decompress.

The flight tracker showed they were somewhere over Turkey when Saniya stirred again. "Been thinking," she mumbled.

"Dangerous, that."

She pinched his side playfully. "Been thinking about what my mum said. About us being too young for marriage."

Ibou tensed slightly, but her next words melted him.

"She was wrong, wasn't she? Because this – us – it feels like the most grown-up thing I've ever done. The most real thing."

______________________________________________

Dubai appeared below them like a jewel box spilled across the desert, all glittering towers and impossibly blue water. The captain's voice crackled over the speakers announcing their descent, and Ibou squeezed Saniya's hand.

"Almost there, baby."

Landing was smooth, thank Allah, and Saniya's relief was visible as they stepped into the terminal's cool air. Their driver was waiting in arrivals, holding a discrete sign reading simply "KONATÉ."

"Assalamualaikum," the driver smiled warmly, reaching for their bags.

"Walaikum assalam," Ibou responded, while Saniya echoed the greeting with practiced ease.

"I am Hassan. Welcome to Dubai." He led them to a sleek black Mercedes, the AC already running against the afternoon heat. "The villa is ready for you, and the weather is perfect for swimming today."

The drive from the airport was like watching a movie of impossible architecture, each building more striking than the last. Saniya pressed close to the window, phone forgotten in her lap.

"Mad, isn't it?" she whispered to Ibou. The city stretched endlessly around them, a mix of ultra-modern and ancient that somehow made perfect sense.

Hassan proved to be the perfect guide, pointing out landmarks with quiet pride as they made their way to Palm Jumeirah. "Your villa has the best sunset view on the beach," he mentioned, catching Ibou's eye in the rearview mirror. "Very private, very peaceful."

The front gates opened to reveal their home for the next week, and even Hassan's description hadn't done it justice. The villa rose from its private beach like a modern dream with all clean lines, wooden accents, and endless glass.

"Ibou, this is..." Saniya breathed, stepping out of the car.

But words failed her, and that was okay. Some moments didn't need them.

Hassan helped them with their bags, leading them through massive glass doors that slid open silently. The entrance opened into a space that seemed to float between sky and sea, the late afternoon light painting everything gold.

"The kitchen is fully stocked," Hassan explained, setting down their bags. "Your private chef will arrive at seven, unless you prefer a different time?"

Ibou glanced at Saniya, who was still taking everything in. "Seven is perfect, shukran."

"The pool controls are here," Hassan demonstrated on a sleek panel. "And this button calls the concierge. Anything else you need?"

"We're good," Ibou smiled. "Thank you, brother."

After Hassan left, Saniya kicked off her shoes and padded across the cool marble floors. "This is actually ridiculous," she laughed, spinning slowly. "How did you even find this place?"

"Did my research, didn't I?" He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. The wall of windows in front of them framed the Gulf like a painting. "Had to make sure it was perfect."

"You spoil me."

"That's the plan."

She turned in his arms, reaching up to touch his face. "Shower first or explore?"

"Shower. Definitely shower." He pressed a kiss to her palm. "Then I want to see that smile when you discover the rooftop garden."

"There's a rooftop garden?!"

Their laughter echoed through the villa as they grabbed their bags and headed upstairs. The master bathroom was bigger than her first flat, with a freestanding tub positioned to face the sunset.

"Oh my days," Saniya whispered, running her hand along the marble counter. "We're never leaving."

"Fine by me." Ibou was already unpacking their toiletries, setting out her favorite products exactly how she liked them. "Though I think the gaffer might have something to say about that."

The shower was all steam and quiet giggles and Saniya using Ibou as a wall to lean against while she washed her hair. These were the moments no one saw – just them, just peace, just love without cameras or commentary.

Wrapped in fluffy robes later, they wandered onto their private terrace. The sun was starting its descent, turning the water to liquid gold.

"I can hear you thinking," Ibou murmured, pulling her close.

"Just happy," she said simply. "Just really, really happy."

The call to prayer floated over the water, and Saniya squeezed his hand. "Go on. I'll finish unpacking."

But before he could move, she pulled him down for a proper kiss. Slow, sweet, familiar. A thank you, a promise.

While Ibou prayed, Saniya unpacked with the methodical care she brought to everything. His favorite sweatpants folded just so. Her books stacked on the bedside table. Little pieces of home scattered across this dream villa.

They dressed quickly and their chef arrived precisely at seven, a warm-faced woman named Lailah who spoke English with a soft Lebanese accent. "I've prepared a special menu for your stay," she explained, moving through the kitchen with practiced ease. "All halal, of course, and I remembered your note about seafood being a favorite?"

Saniya's eyes lit up. "You're an angel."

The scent of grilled fish and aromatic rice soon filled the villa. Ibou set up their dinner on the terrace, arranging cushions on the outdoor sofa. The sun was almost gone now, painting the sky in impossible purples.

"This is mad," Saniya said for probably the hundredth time, curled up against him as they ate. "Like, actually mad."

"Good mad though, yeah?"

"The best mad." She popped another grape in her mouth. "Though the group chat is going mental. Mads keeps demanding photos."

"Let them wait." He pulled her closer. "This is just for us right now."

The evening settled around them like a warm blanket. They could hear the gentle lap of waves below, the distant hum of boats, the soft whisper of palm fronds in the breeze. Saniya had changed into one of his t-shirts, drowning in the fabric but looking so right it made his chest ache.

"What?" she asked, catching his gaze.

"Nothing." He smiled. "Everything."

After dinner, they explored the rooftop garden. Fairy lights twinkled between potted palms, and a swinging daybed beckoned them. Saniya immediately claimed it, pulling Ibou down beside her.

"Remember our first proper date?" she asked, playing with his fingers. "When you tried to be all smooth and sophisticated?"

"Tried? I was smooth!"

"Babe, you knocked over an entire bottle of water trying to pour it."

"That was tactical," he protested. "Made you laugh, didn't it?"

"Everything about you made me laugh." She looked up at him, her face soft in the fairy lights. "Still does."

The night air was perfect, just cool enough for her to snuggle closer. Below them, Dubai sparkled like scattered stars, but Ibou wasn't looking at the view. How could he, when she was right there?

"We should probably sleep soon," Saniya yawned. "Get over this jet lag."

"Probably," he agreed, making no move to get up. "Or we can just stay out here....all night."

"All night?" Saniya scoffed in mock disapproval. "You're crazy."

"Crazy about you, Mrs. Konaté," he quipped automatically, giving her a wink. Ibou’s grin softened as he reached for her, his touch was warm, grounding her in a way that felt both familiar and electric. He brought one hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against her knuckles before meeting her gaze again.

"Saniya," he murmured, his deep voice laced with something that made her heart skip a beat.

She tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Yes, Mr. Konaté?"

Instead of answering, he leaned in, closing the small distance between them. The moment their lips touched, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. His full lips slanted against hers, soft yet insistent, drawing a soft gasp from her.

Ibou took his time, savoring her taste—hints of the mint tea they had shared earlier and something uniquely her. His hands, large and gentle, cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as though memorizing every inch of her skin. Her soft moan melted into the kiss, and he responded by deepening it, his mouth moving with hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left her breathless.

Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Gently, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment before rising and pulling her to her feet.

"Come," he said softly, his voice laced with tenderness as he led her downstairs, their fingers intertwined.

The journey to their bedroom felt suspended in time, each step heightening the anticipation between them. When they reached the room, the moonlight streaming through the curtains cast a silver glow across the bed.

Ibou turned to her, his dark eyes filled with an adoration that made her chest tighten. "You’re beautiful," he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her face before pressing another kiss to her lips.

This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as though he was savoring every second. He eased her onto the bed, hovering above her, his weight carefully balanced as his hands framed her face once more. "Tell me if it’s too much," he murmured, his voice low and reverent.

Saniya’s breath hitched, but she nodded. He pressed a line of kisses along her jaw, his stubble grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver. His mouth traveled to the hollow beneath her ear, then down the smooth column of her neck. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, floral intoxicated him.

She leaned into him, her fingers threading through the tight curls at the back of his head as his lips traced the line of her collarbone. Slowly, deliberately, he eased the t-shirt over her head, revealing more of her.

"Beautiful." His hands followed the path of his gaze, calloused fingers trailing over her arms, down her sides, lingering at her hips. He kissed her again, this time on her shoulder, then lower, his lips finding the curve of her breast. His hands mapped her body with care, as though learning her anew.

"Ibou…" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes soft but intent. "I’ve got you," he said simply, his deep voice steady and soothing.

His mouth continued its journey, kissing the plane of her stomach, the curve of her hip. He was thorough, unhurried, savoring her every reaction—the way her breath hitched, the soft sighs that escaped her lips, the way her fingers curled into the sheets.

When he finally moved back up to kiss her lips once more, his hand slipped lower passed her underwear, finding her with a precision that made her gasp. He didn’t rush, didn’t press too hard. Instead, he focused on her entirely, his deft fingers pleasuring her, his eyes watching her closely as he brought her to the edge and then over it, her body trembling beneath him.

He smiled faintly as she came down, her breath ragged. "Always you first," he murmured, his voice a mix of devotion and pride.

When he finally removed the remainder of both their clothing, he entered her fully, and it was with the same care and intention—his movements slow and deliberate. Each thrust was measured, his lips brushing against hers or finding the curve of her shoulder, the soft line of her neck.

He couldn’t believe this was his life—her warmth, her trust, the quiet intimacy they shared. It overwhelmed him sometimes, how deeply he felt for her, how much she meant to him.

Saniya’s nails dug lightly into his back, her moans soft and breathy in his ear, and it only spurred him on. He shifted slightly, adjusting their angle until he felt her tighten around him, her cries growing louder, her body arching beneath his.

"That’s it," he murmured against her skin, his voice low and encouraging. "Let go for me, Saniya."

And when she did, shuddering against him, her head falling back against the pillows, he followed soon after, his release quiet but no less profound.

He collapsed beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms. Their breaths mingled, still heavy, and he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead.

"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing a curl from her face.

She nodded, her lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smile. "Perfect."

Ibou chuckled, the sound low and content. "Good." He kissed her once more, lingering, before resting his forehead against hers. "Because you are. Perfect."

He held her against his chest, their breaths mingling as they lay tangled together. His fingers lazily traced patterns on her back as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Sleep now, Mrs. Konaté," he whispered, his voice soft and steady.

But she only smiled, her fingers trailing over his chest. "Not without you, Mr. Konaté."

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling against her cheek. "I’m not going anywhere."

Dawn painted their bedroom in gentle pastels when Ibou stirred awake. Saniya was still deep in sleep, her curls wild against the pillow. The sheets held the memory of last night's slow, tender intimacy.

He slipped quietly from bed for his morning ablutions, a familiar ritual grounding him in the new space. The bathroom tiles were cool under his feet as he performed wudu, each motion a meditation. Through the vast windows, he could see the first rays of the sun turning the Gulf to molten gold.

Back in the bedroom, Saniya had shifted into the warm space he'd left behind. She always did that, seeking him even in sleep. The sight made his heart swell. Last night had been perfect, the way she'd whispered "I love you" against his skin, the way they'd moved together like waves meeting the shore.

The call to Fajr drifted through the villa. Ibou pressed a feather-light kiss to Saniya's temple before heading to pray, his heart full of gratitude. For her. For them. For mornings like this.

When he returned, she was sitting up in bed, his shirt slipping off one shoulder, scrolling through her phone.

"Morning, baby," she smiled, voice still husky with sleep. Her skin glowed in the early light, marked here and there with evidence of his devotion from the night before.

"Admiring your handiwork?" Saniya teased as Ibou slid back into bed, his fingers tracing a constellation of marks along her collarbone.

"Mhm." He pressed gentle kisses to each one. "Had to make sure everyone knows you're taken."

"Everyone who? The seagulls on our private beach?" But she tilted her head, giving him better access. "You were a man on a mission last night."

"Always am when it comes to you." His voice softened, lips finding that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Speaking of missions…"

She knew what he meant. They'd been letting nature take its course lately – no planning, no pressure. What Allah willed would happen. The thought of a little one with her eyes and his smile… but they weren't stressing about it. Just loving each other, living life, seeing what happened.

"Stop thinking so loud," she poked his chest. "I'm starving. Feed me?"

The kitchen was a chef's dream, but Ibou kept it simple – fresh fruit, pastries from the bakery Hassan had recommended, eggs done just how Saniya liked them. She perched on the counter watching him cook, stealing berries and planning their day.

"So beach first? Then that art gallery you mentioned?"

"Sounds perfect." He slid a plate toward her. "Then I got us reservations at Cavalli for dinner. There's this whole show with dancers and everything."

"Ooh, fancy." She swiped a bit of egg with toast. "Good thing I packed that new dress."

"The red one?"

"Maybe." Her grin was wicked. "Guess you'll find out."

The beach was exactly what they needed. Private, peaceful, just them and the endless blue. Saniya looked gorgeous in her burgundy swimsuit, curls wild from the salt air. They splashed in the waves like kids, Ibou chasing her through the surf until she shrieked with laughter.

"Put me down!" she demanded when he caught her, lifting her easily.

"Make me," he challenged, right before she kissed him quiet.

The art gallery was a modern marvel of glass and steel. They wandered hand in hand through exhibitions, making up stories about abstract pieces, Saniya's psychology training giving her unique perspectives on each artist's mindset.

"This one's clearly about maternal longing," she declared about a swirl of blues and golds.

"Pretty sure it's just a fish, belle."

"Everyone's a critic."

Dinner at Cavalli was something else entirely. Saniya had worn the red dress – a flowing thing that made Ibou forget how to breathe for a second. Their table overlooked the whole restaurant, giving them a perfect view of the show.

"This is insane," she whispered as acrobats spun overhead, music pulsing through the space. The lights caught the gold flecks in her eyes, and Ibou found himself watching her more than the performance.

"You're staring again," she murmured during dessert.

"Can't help it." He reached across the table, thumb brushing her knuckles. "You're the best show in here."

Later, walking along the marina under stars that seemed close enough to touch, Saniya tucked into his side. "Thank you for this. All of it."

"Thank you for being here to share it with."

Because that was the thing about love like theirs. Every moment – from breakfast kisses to beach chases to fancy dinners – was better because they were in it together. No pressure, no expectations. Just them, writing their story one day at a time.

The call came during their third morning in Dubai. They were lounging by the infinity pool, Saniya reading one of her psychology journals while Ibou dozed nearby, when her phone buzzed. The moment he saw her face fall, he knew who it was.

"Hi, Mum," she answered, her voice already smaller. Ibou watched his confident, brilliant wife shrink under her mother's words, and something in his chest tightened.

"No, we're not being irresponsible... Yes, I know the season's not over... No, his injuries are fine..." Each response came quieter than the last.

He could hear Mrs. Okafor's voice through the phone, sharp with disapproval. Something about "gallivanting around Dubai" when they should be "settling down properly." About how "mixed marriages never work" and how "that footballer lifestyle" wasn't sustainable.

Saniya's hand trembled slightly as she ended the call. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at nothing.

"Come here," Ibou said softly, opening his arms.

She curled into him like she was trying to disappear. "I don't know why I let her get to me."

"Because she's your mum." He stroked her hair, choosing his words carefully. "Even when she's wrong."

And she was wrong. So wrong. The woman had never given him a real chance, viewing their relationship through a lens of prejudice and fear. She'd been cold at their wedding, barely hiding her disappointment that her daughter had chosen a Muslim footballer instead of the nice Christian banker she'd picked out.

"She thinks we're rushing everything," Saniya mumbled against his chest. "Says we're too young to know what we want."

"And what do you think?"

"I think..." She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. "I think she doesn't understand that some people just know. Like how I knew, that first night, that you were different. Special."

"Tell me again," he encouraged, wanting to draw her out of that dark place her mother's words had pushed her into. "Tell me about that night."

A small smile touched her lips. "You were wearing that ridiculous designer tracksuit..."

"Excuse you, that tracksuit was fresh!"

"It was awful," she laughed, the sound still a bit watery but real. "But then you started talking about your family in Paris, and your eyes got all soft, and I just... knew."

Ibou pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Want to know what I remember?"

"What?"

"How you put salt in your tea by accident because you were so busy arguing about cognitive behavioral therapy. And when I pointed it out, instead of being embarrassed, you just said 'new recipe, don't knock it till you try it.'"

That got a proper laugh out of her. "I was trying to play it cool!"

"You were perfect." He tilted her face up to his. "Still are. No matter what anyone says."

They spent the rest of the morning just being together. Ibou ordered her favorite foods for lunch, then suggested they skip their planned desert safari in favor of a couples massage at the villa's spa. Sometimes healing meant just being still, being held.

"I love you," she whispered later, as they watched the sunset paint the sky in colors no painter could capture. "Even when my family makes things hard."

"Especially then," he replied, because that's what love was. Being there for the hard moments, the quiet tears, the healing laughs.

On their last night in Dubai, they skipped the fancy restaurants and elaborate shows. Instead, they ordered room service and sat on their private beach, feet buried in sand still warm from the day's sun. The stars seemed bigger here, braver, like they were putting on a private show just for them.

Saniya wore his Liverpool training jacket over her sundress, curls wild from a week of sea air and happiness. She was using his chest as a backrest, both of them stretched out on a huge beach blanket, watching waves catch the moonlight.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in the coconut scent of her shampoo. "We've built something beautiful, haven't we?"

"And we're just getting started."

She was right. Whatever Allah had planned for them – babies, more trophies, challenges, victories – they'd face it together. A team. Partners. A king and his queen, like those fairy tales his little sister loved, but better because it was real.

The call to Isha prayer floated over the water, and Saniya squeezed his hand. Their signal, their rhythm, their dance. But before he moved, she turned in his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For seeing me. All of me. For loving me exactly as I am."

Ibou cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. "That's the easiest thing I've ever done."

Because that was the truth of them. Beyond the football, beyond the headlines, beyond family drama and cultural differences and everything else the world threw at them. They saw each other. They chose each other. Every day.

And if the boys at training still teased him for being sprung, if Twitter still called him the biggest simp in the Premier League, if her mum still hoped she'd "come to her senses" – well, that was their problem.

Because Ibou worshipped his wife. Simple as that. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

[pickingupmymercedes]

 “why do you always do this to yourself? i don’t fucking get it..” 

please bless us with some angsty vibes 🤭 i am a sucker for a happy ending though, if you decide to choose peace. congrats again on 500!

Thank youu for always supporting my writings, really it means a lot ❤️

Hope you like this one, there's a special "what if" on the happier side on this one

“why do you always do this to yourself? i don’t fucking get it..” 

They'd fallen into a pattern, one Y/N hated and loved in equal measure. They'd bicker, flirt, share stolen moments, then Lewis would crack a joke, a little too personal, a little too revealing about how well he saw through her walls. And just like that, Y/N would panic, holding up her own shield to hide the vulnerability threatening to crack through.

"Beautiful view," she said, voice strained as she stared out the window of Lewis' Monaco apartment, the cityscape a glittering blur underneath them. The silence in the room felt deafening, pressing down on her like a physical weight. He'd ordered dinner, a simple pasta dish that smelled incredible, but neither of them had made it past the first bite.

"Yeah," Lewis muttered from behind her turned back. His breathing too close for comfort. "It is."

She took a deep breath. "You did great out there today." It felt almost a betrayal, this small offering of praise, knowing she'd tear it down soon enough.

"Thanks," he replied reaching for her waist "So did you, with all those interviews." He knew her job with the F1 channel was stressful, the constant travel exhausting, but it was another way she kept him at arm's length.

Y/N forced a laugh. "Just doing my job, keeping the fans happy."

He turned her around, his gaze holding onto hers. "Y/N," he started, his voice low, "why do you always do this to yourself? I don't fucking get it..."

Tears pricked at her eyes. "Do what?" she choked out surprised once again at how easy Lewis could read her.

"This dance," he said, his frustration clear. "We open up, we connect, then you run. Like a damn scared rabbit."

"I'm not scared," she lied, hating the tremor in her voice.

"No?" he challenged, his eyes flickering across her face. "Then why can't you let yourself have this, Y/N? Why can't you let me in?"

The vulnerability in his voice, so raw and unexpected, ripped the carefully constructed wall from around her heart. "Because..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, "because it never works out for me, Lewis."

"So, you just give up before you even try?" The anger in his voice was laced with a deep sadness that mirrored her own.

She looked away, the city lights blurring into a wash of tears. "Maybe because I know it won't work," she countered, her voice cracking with unshed tears. "Maybe because you're a shooting star, Lewis, and I'm just a… caught in your orbit for a couple stolen moments."

He turned her face, his grip surprisingly gentle but his gaze unwavering. “We take things one day at a time if need be. But if you want me to walk away, you're gonna have to be damn clear about it. Because if there's even a chance of this working, I'm not giving up without a fight."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[tavolgisvist]

Michael Lindsay-Hogg

about Let It Be and our lads

I showed the final cut to them and we all had dinner afterwards. Then we went down to a discotheque underneath the restaurant. Ringo was jiving 'til two in the morning, Paul said he liked the movie…It was all a very good experience until they broke up, which was only two months after they'd seen the picture ready to go.

And then, of course, there was so much going on to do with the breakup. First it was legal issues, but then legal issues became personal issues. By that point, Let It Be was kind of a little character in the corner saying, "Oh, remember me? Remember me?" They were not interested in it anymore, which they had been up until that point. There was just so much going on. … I didn't want the Beatles to lose their momentum. So when Paul came to me after the concert idea was off and said, “Should we stop filming?” And I said, “Well, no.” I thought, “Well, here's a chance to maybe do the documentary of the Beatles, which nobody has done before." Nobody had ever filmed them rehearsing. I didn't want to lose the chance, or risk the chance of their attention span going on to something else. So I was glad we stayed with them. … The Beatles were psychologically so interesting, having been together for such a long time. When they stopped touring in 1966, I think that had a very big effect on them because the other big bands kept touring. It makes bands more cohesive because they're stuck with each other. They're in a hotel room in Minneapolis and they can't leave the hotel because the crowd outside won't let them. So what are they going to do? They go down to the coffee shop, go get some breakfast and go back to their room. Nowadays they probably play video games, but back then they’d write a song. That's partly what changed for the Beatles, because they stopped touring and then they stopped living so closely and intimately with each other as they had in Liverpool, or performing in the Red Light District in Hamburg. Back then they were in the same hotel room, And then they stopped and they had to start to think, “What is my life?” I was always kind of aware in Let It Be that that's the point I got them at. I'd worked with them in ‘66, but by the time we were doing ‘69 they were asking the question that often people do ask: “What is my life and where am I? “ Even though they were so successful and so talented — they kind of had taken over the world — it still was the same questions: “Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?” … To get them on the roof was hard enough with the eleven cameras and the [camera crew] in the road and the two way mirror [with a camera] in the foyer [to film the police arrival]. But they got up there. And it was not a slam dunk even five minutes before we were supposed to be on the roof. There was still a sense of, “Well, do we want to do this…” I expected them to play the songs, but I didn't expect them to have so much joy in doing the songs. When I saw it the other night again, it's just so sweet. The way they look at each other, the way John looks over at Paul, and Paul and John. You know, they went to school together. They started writing songs when they were 16. And George embraced his part as the lead guitar player. You look at them and you go, “That's good, isn't it?” And that's the thing which is so miraculous about the picture: I didn't do it, they did it. The connection between them is so potent at the end that it almost breaks your heart to see…

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, May 2024, interview with Jordan Runtagh for People)

Q: There’s the infamous “argument,” between Paul and George, which now looks really tame. А: Well, that’s very interesting you say that, because whenever they saw it, they never mentioned the argument. They never said, ‘Boy, what are people going to think?” Once we turned it into a documentary, Paul said, “If you find there are things that we say to each other that show, ‘This is who we are now, it’s not the way it was a few years ago,’ let’s put them in.’ So that went in. But that’s really what you could look at as an artistic discussion between musicians. It’s the same in the theater, the same kind of things the actors say when they talk about a scene. “Are you really going to say the line that way? You can’t say it like that.’ ‘But if you say it like this, I can’t have my reply the way I want to do it.” And so that’s exactly like that. So for them it was business as usual. Q: Why did it look so shocking to people? А: It was shocking because they still thought of the Beatles as the mop-tops. People still saw them as the Ed Sullivan Beatles, the way they were when they started. People thought they were so cute and adorable. Well, they weren’t cute and adorable. They were four tough kids from Liverpool who’d learned their craft playing in hotel-cum-brothels in Hamburg. I mean, they were tough. They grew up in Liverpool, which was a tough city. It’s like growing up in Detroit or somewhere. Somewhere, that toughness always comes out. But when people went to see Let It Be, the Beatles had just broken up, and so people were watching the movie trying to discover the reasons why they’d broken up, looking for things that weren’t there, because it was such a big issue for a lot of people. Especially in America, because the Beatles represented so much here: President Kennedy in November ’63, all that grief, then the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, February ’64, and all the grief is overcome by joy. Everyone in America thought they were so cute, wearing badges that said “I love Paul” or “I love Ringo.” This is when they were 22, 23, 24 years old. But then they did change. That’s what you see in Let It Be—the boys we have known are becoming men. People hadn’t seen the men yet. They didn’t know the men. And that’s what I think Let It Be does show.

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, May 2024, interview with Rob Sheffield for Rolling Stones)

"Because the Beatles had been portrayed as the moptops, that they were just f***ing adorable. In real life, they were tough. This just goes back to where they came from. Liverpool is a tough town. I wouldn't particularly want to run into Paul McCartney in a dark alley, if he didn't like me."

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, May 2024, interview with Brian Hiatt for Rolling Stones)

As the TV concert had been cancelled, Michael felt he needed a new ending. ‘So I said, “Why don’t we do a concert on the roof?” Since then everyone has claimed credit for it*, including the ladies who cooked lunch!’ Before the event, he installed a two-way mirror in the lobby downstairs. ‘I did it in case the police showed up. I knew some people would complain about the noise and as an American who didn’t really have a work permit, I was afraid of being deported,’ he admits. As it turned out, he had bigger problems. In the anteroom underneath the roof, Paul was raring to go. ‘Ringo said, “It’s really cold up there” [he ended up wearing his wife Maureen’s coat while drumming] and George said, “What’s the point?” John hadn’t said anything yet and there was a pause where the whole thing was in the balance,’ says Michael. ‘Finally, John said, “F*** it, let’s do it” and they all walked up the ladder, onto the roof and into history.’

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, June 2020, Lina Das for The Weekend Magazine)

Q: You’ve said the rough cut had more of John and Yoko but that the other three members “didn’t want to have a lot of the dirty laundry” in there… A: I would not now call it ‘dirty laundry’. I would say that The Beatles didn’t want distraction. <…> Q: There’s one scene where Paul and George are arguing about what George is going to play… A: They never asked for that to be taken out of the movie… I think that, for them, that was a normal exchange between two musical artists who are thinking what’s best for the song. <…> Q: Who do you think was most invested in keeping the band together? A: Paul had the idea that they should maybe do a concert and the others more or less agreed. I mean, he’s a very strong personality. He’s incredibly smart… And I could completely see how that would focus them all. It seemed like a really good idea. So I would say Paul was the one who wanted that and it made a lot of sense. So that’s my answer to that question. Q: When George quit and then came back, he suggested moving to The Beatles’ Apple HQ to finish the album… A: Yes, he said, ‘let’s not worry about performing [the planned concert] and let’s just get out of Twickenham.’

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, May 2024, interview with Alex Flood for NME)

“There are moments of great sweetness,” he said. “No matter where you put the camera, no matter how you edited it, they loved each other. Anybody who sees ‘Let It Be’ again will find that.” … The film was a victim of bad timing, in his view. By the time of its May 1970 premiere, the Beatles had broken up. Traumatized fans saw it as “a breakup movie: ‘Mom and Dad are getting divorced!’” he said. … He has preserved much of what he went through with the Beatles in diaries, which he has kept since the “Ready Steady Go!” years. … He thumbed through the pages and landed on January 30, the blustery day in London when the Beatles played in public for the last time. As captured by Mr. Lindsay-Hogg and his team, their swan-song performance was the climax of both “Let It Be” and “Get Back.” The diary page was blank, except for one word scribbled in black ballpoint pen. Roof. “The busier you are,” Mr. Lindsay-Hogg said, “the less you write down.”

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, July 2022, interview with Alex Williams for The New York Times)

*Jan 7th

gif by @sgt-paul

Also Jan 7th Paul's 'colossal' idea about ideal end of their show

@crepesuzette2023, your tag 'Michael Lindsay Hogg would not like to run into him in a dark alley when he was in a bad mood!' reminds me I forgot to publish this :)

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Three

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.3K words

Shorter one because I'm moving tomorrow (and I've only just started packing and sorting my living space). Maybe no update for a few days, but I've got things planned, don't you worry.

Series Masterlist

The drunken quiz video was a success. The fans were loving it, almost as much as they loved Paddock Pals. But Y/N still hadn't seen the video. She didn't watch it after James had edited it, couldn't bring herself to. She just had to trust him and his editing skills.

If Y/N had any embarrassing moments in the video, she didn't care. It was the drivers she was looking out for. She couldn't be seen to be sullying their image, an accusation Christian Horner liked to throw around from time to time.

If she really did have any embarrassing moments, they'd be turned into a meme and posted throughout her twitter timeline. They were laughing with her, not at her, she justified.

When the video came out, Y/N had her phone turned off. She was at dinner with Lando, a regular occurrence during grand prix weekends. She couldn't see the immediate reactions of her fans. When she turned her phone on she was flooded with positive messages and screenshots of her best moments.

Nobody saw her interactions with Max as anything but innocent. That's because it wasn't anything but innocent. She'd half hoped that James had taken that part out, had worried about the consequences of them being left in, but nothing happened.

There had always been Y/NStappen shippers and they took what they could get. But the video had no consequences for her. Just the way Y/N liked it.

***

"JUST FRIENDS? WE DON'T THINK SO!"

Y/N stared at the news article in horror. No, no, no, this could not be happening. She clicked on the headline, giving in.

"Formula One driver Charles Leclerc seen out on a coffee date with a mystery woman in Miami."

Below that was a picture of Y/N and Charles. They were innocently having coffee, nothing more, nothing less.

She kept reading.

"This mystery date of his was later revealed to Y/N L/N, the popular Formula One youtube. The two have claimed to just be friends for years, but we don't think so."

Before the Miami grand prix, Charles had taken Y/N to a cafe. It was completely innocent. She was hungover and he was looking after her. As a friend. Nothing more.

In the cafe Y/N had told Charles about her slight crush on Max. Now, she was in the tabloids and rumoured to be dating Charles. What the hell was she going to do.

The YouTube channel was a two man operation - she didn't have PR team behind her to help.

Her phone buzzed several times. Texts, Instagram DMs, emails and twitter notifications. They all went off at the same time. But Y/N ignored them. She scrolled through her messages until she got to the all important person.

That made her smile. Lando always did. It was why they were best friends. But suddenly Y/N felt bad. She hadn't told Lando about the Max situation and he was her best friend. Why does Charles have more of a right to know than he does? Because he was in the right place at the right time?

There were more pressing things she had to take care of. Opening her twitter , Y/N began to type.

She had to turn her phone off after that. The notifications were too much. Instead, she turned her attention to her notebook. Monaco was the next grand prix and she wanted to do something unexpected for her YouTube video. Something she hadn't done before.

A serious interview with the drivers.

She made plans, wrote down questions she was going to ask everyone. They'd have to be pre-race interviews. There was no way she was getting a moment with anybody once the real press swarmed in.

Her phone lit up, but she ignored it. She was working, didn't need any distractions.

When she had one page of questions finished, she checked her phone. With so many notifications, Y/N went straight to the important ones. Messages from Lando, James and Charles, emails about potential sponsorships and Formula One news.

"What the hell," she whispered to herself as she looked at the Formula One news. She skipped the articles about herself and Charles (glad to seen none about herself and Max) and scrolled down to the news articles about the one, the only, Fernando Alonso.

She skipped the headlines, just reading the article.

'Secret romance? Rumours have been swirling around the internet about a potential romance between two time Formula One world champion, Fernando Alonso, and world famous popstar, Taylor Swift.'

"No way. No fucking way."

She had to say something, right? She had to put out a tweet or something, surely. This was maybe the best rumour to come out of Formula One social media.

***

Ever since the drunken quiz video, Y/N had been trying to avoid Max. She hadn't messaged him or sent him anything on social media. After he disappeared from her room without another word, Y/N hadn't tried. She didn't want to.

If Max say it as a drunken mistake, Y/N wouldn't blame him. Even if nothing happened. But that was the problem. She didn't want it to be a drunken mistake where nothing happened. She didn't even want it to be a drunken mistake.

With the Monaco grand prix coming up, Y/N knew she couldn't avoid him. It was the biggest, most spectacular grand prix. It was such a small place and it was where Max lived. It was the one grand prix Y/N was arriving late for, plane tickets booked for Friday instead of for the Monday.

Lando wasn't happy with her for that one. Who could blame him? He wanted his best friend there for the entire week. He'd even offered her somewhere to stay for the week.

On the Wednesday before the race, Lando was sick of it. He picked up his phone and called Y/N non-stop until she picked up the phone.

"No, I can't get an earlier flight," she said as soon as she picked up the phone.

Lando let out an almost childish groan. "But why not? You can come and stay at mine for the entire week."

"Lando, no. I can't. I'm working."

"Shut up, no you're not. Beside everybody wants you here. Me, Charles, Daniel, Alex and Max."

"Max want's me there?"

"Yeah, as well as Charles, Deniel and Alex. And, most importantly, me."

“Look, Lando, I’ll see what I can do. No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Brilliant, let me know when you land and I’ll come and pick you up.”

Not giving Y/N any time to respond, Lando hung up the phone. Y/N shook her head as she went into her messages.

Ouch.

Well that told her everything she needed to know. But Max was right. What was there to tell? From his end, certainly nothing. For her, everything.

Y/N felt like crying. Why? Because some guy she spent a drunken evening with didn’t want to do it again. His focus was racing, not Y/N.

That was when she decided. She would go to Monaco early not let whatever was going on with Max ruin that for her. Well, according to him, nothing was going on. so that was it. She was going to go, she was going to have a nice time and she was going to watch some racing.

Opening her laptop she worked on changing her flight ticket for that evening, paid the fee and began packing her things.

As she packed she had Netflix open, downloading episodes of Drive to Survive. Y/N hadn't yet watched the Netflix series; she didn't need to when she was living it. Sure she'd seen things online, quotes and screenshots. When Y/N had Max in her videos, laughing and joking around, people commented about how badly the show demonized him.

As soon as her bags were packed, Y/N drove to the airport. She parked herself up, got her bags checked in and waited for her flight.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner

[heartfullofleeches]

[Toon Yan + G.N Babysitter Reader]

Word Count: 2.3k

-

"Jessie! Dinner!-"

"Five more minutes!"

You've been their age before. Five minutes will turn into twenty if you let them off so easily. Their obsession with that show is starting to become a bit of a problem, but you're glad they're finally leaving their room. Jessie had always been a shy kid according to their parents and what you'd seen yourself briefly before hire. The move to a new city had taken it's toll on the kid overtime and so they boarded themselves up in their room to cope.

Among the toys and old photos, one other relic of their past was able to withstand the test of distance. A cartoon centered around the adventures of a well intending yet mischievous main character of unknown species and origin. When interviewed by their parents the show had to be on for them to stay in the same room as you. You got them to slowly open up during the process by asking them about the show and the plush cradled in their arms. They went from hiding behind their mother's sleeve to speaking non-stop paused only by their parents informing them you'd be back next week to continue the conversation.

You grant them the spare time as you finish setting up the table - ready to call them as you walk over the living room entrance. Jessie sprints past you and climbs into the empty chair, arranging their doll in the seat next to them. You push both up to the table as Jessie pulls their plate closer.

"Hungry?"

Jessie tears the crust off their sandwich and shoves it in their mouth. "Cholly says I better listen to you since you're their best friend and I need to eat if I want to get bigger."

"Really? Well thank you, Cholly." Amused - you prevent the doll from falling when it tips over as you move its chair, patting its plush head in appreciation for the help. "Alright, Jess. Don't rush, but try to finish up before I come back. Your parents will be home in an hour and want you in bed by the time they get here."

You pick up the butter knife off the table to rinse it off when a small voice stops you.

"Y/n, can you make one for Cholly too?"

Their parents have told you about their recent chats with their favorite staring characters. They never did this before - even before the move. They figure Jessie was still struggling with the change plus the start of school being around the corner and asked you to just play along which you were glad to do without their asking.

"Cholly likes peanut butter and honey sandwiches?"

"They prefer orange jelly more than honey, but anything will do. They said watching you all day works up an appetite."

"....What are your parents letting you see when I'm not here?"

They shrug. "Same things I see when you're here."

You wait till the finish half of their sandwich before making another to make sure "Cholly" really wants it. You set it down in front of the doll as you head into the living room to clean up before their parents arrive. The television basks the room in a eerie blue shadow. You round the table and stare briefly at the puzzle you and Jessie had done earlier. Completed, it was a picture of the vaguely hare-like creature the kid adored wrapping their beloved scarf around a bundle of wild flower in a makeshift bouquet. A pulled frame from an episode where they'd done the same to artfully whoo their way into someone's heart to steal a telescope they saw from their window.

Picking apart the pieces, you note a few of them missing and already in the box. Jessie must've started taking it apart for you - but you can't find the absent piece making up their right eye between what few pieces filled the box and what was left on the table. You search the couch where you were sitting and the floor below with no luck. Running your hands through the fine carpet you find it at last - hiding beneath the TV stand.

"You're welcome, Gorgeous!"

Cholly, dressed as a mail carrier, passes off a large box to an equally as confused patron - standing straight as a pike and saluting customer once their hands are free of the package. You'd seen this episode with Jessie before. Didn't their sentence end with -

"Y/n, we're done!"

"Coming!"

You throw the puzzle piece into the box and place it on the top shelf of the book stand connected to the TV. Jessie shuts the dishwasher as you reenter the kitchen, Cholly tucked under arm. Left on the table is a napkin adorned with a crudely made heart drawn out with orange crayon - Cholly's alleged favor color and one missing from Jessie's pencil box. There was a C scribbled just below the drawing.

"Did you draw this?"

Jessie holds up the real culprit. "No, Cholly did it. They said that sandwich was better than any of dad's cooking and you'd be better as a chef, but we'd both miss you too much if you became one."

They squeeze Cholly to their chest, authenticating the truth of their statement as their voice shrinks behind the doll's fur. You gently grip their shoulder - offering a reassuring smile. "Well I guess the world's gonna have to miss out on another great chef because I don't plan on leaving either of you soon."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Jessie."

You usher them upstairs and into the bathroom as time ticks on, taking the Cholly doll to get them settled in bed while Jessie brushed their teeth. After sharing so much about the Cholly with you, you were the only one they allowed to take it from their sight. Their parents are too rough and nobody knows how to care for them better than their best friend. You tuck the doll into the sheets, pulling the appropriately themed blankets up to their chin as the bathroom lights flicker off. Just about everything in Jessie's room was themed after that show. The dedication was cute. They crawl into bed next to Cholly and get beneath the covers as you fit them around them both, freeing Cholly's hands and placing them on top as Jessie told you they liked.

"Y/n, how did you become Cholly's best friend?"

You turn off their lamp as you sit on the edge of the bed. "I don't know. You're the one who introduced us so I guess you're the one to thank for that. They're pretty funny too and who doesn't love a fun friend?.... You're not jealous, are you?"

Jessie shakes their head. "No, I'm happy that you get along. Cholly said they were lonely before they met and while playing with me is fun it's something different. Cholly hasn't smiled like they did when you promised to stay with us since they came out of the tv."

"Well it's a promise I intend to keep for as long as you both need me. Goodnight, Jess. Cholly."

You nod to them both, standing to leave. Jessie pokes their head momentarily under the covets before calling out.

"Can Cholly have a kiss before you go?"

"I think that can be arranged." You kiss the doll's furry head. It's warmer and softer than you remember, chalking it up to be the heat of the blanket and a recent wash. Smells like tangerines. You wish them both goodnight once as you exit the room, pulling the door shut behind you. Walking down the stairs, small steps join you as you reach the bottom.

"Jess? What are you doing out of bed?"

"Cholly wanted me to give their scarf. They said it's chilly outside tonight and you shouldn't leave without extra protection."

It's a miracle they hadn't tripped over the material in their decent. The burnt orange bundled in their small arms draped over their shoulders and around their torst like the body of constricting serpent. Even you would have some difficulty with its length less you wrapped it around your neck ten times over. The fabric was softer than silk and weighed like a feather in your hands. Amazed by the quality, your fingers run over a discrepancy in texture hard to ignore. The letter C drawn in black ink barring uncanny resemblance to one you had seen before."

"Jessie, this is so sweet, but I can't take something your parents obviously -"

"Mom's here. See you later, Y/n. Bye, Cholly!"

Jessie waves and runs back up stairs as the aggressive glint of a car's headlights bleed through the open curtains. You shove the scarf into your bag to save for another conversation as you open the front door. You step out into the blistering cold - arms bound to your chest to keep in the warmth of your body heat circulating through your jacket. Cholly was right. It's freezing out here.

You're sure Jessie's mother won't mind you using what was likely her scarf if you explained things to her. You take the scarf out as you walk, wrapping it snug while treading carefully down the driveway up to her car as she shuts the door. Jessie's mother dawns a smile through chattering teeth, pulling a hand from the deep pocket of her coat to bring you in for a hug as you near.

"So good to see you. Had to leave earlier than usual this morning so I wasn't around to see you come in. Love the new scarf. I assume Jessie had a good day and is on their way to bed?"

"From a good friend apparently." You excuse, too tired and cold to properly explain. "Glued to the TV as usual, but we played a few games and got a puzzle done to past the time until bed. I'll be sad to see them less when they start school."

"Well there's plenty of time before then. With our schedules I'm sure we'll still be needing your help with a few adjustments. Have a safe drive home, Y/n."

"Call when you need me." You bid their mother fair well as she walks up to the front door and you unlock your car door. Climbing in, a brief flash darts over the overhead mirror from the back seat. You adjust the lense and watch as the neighbor across the street pulls out of their driveway. You beat your exhaustion to the back of your mind temporarily as you insert the key into the engine.

-

Arriving home, you shed yourself of your belongings and outer clothing as you collapse on the couch. The scarf's impressive length allows it to cushion your body the same as any blanket it as you unwrap a few of its layers. You pick up the remote left on one of the couch pillows and surf through the channels for something to watch you as you fell asleep. Your eyelids weight heavier as that familiar show tune plays. As much as you loved the kid Jessie spoiled just about every bit of the cartoon when you watched it together, so you took the liberty of watching it at home to avoid spoilers and catch facts about their favorite toon. It had become a go to when you wanted to mindlessly unwind from a long day.

The title card reads the name of an episode engraved into mirror. "Looking Glass Lovers." The equincial episode in which Cholly flirts with a never seen home owner for access to the spy glass in their bedroom. The episode starts a little different than you remembered. For one, they already had the tool of such they sought after and strolled down the same street seen in the original run viewing the world from its lense. Pointing the lense directly at the screen their seeing eye bulges against glass - irises of both eyes forming pink love hearts as smaller ones float above their head as they drop the telescope and it rolls off screen.

Cholly approaches the house which the episode is based around and enter the scene of their brief love interest's yard, begins picking flower following the pattern of the original run. Another divergence to the plot is that they pick the array straight from the garden over the wild dandelions they'd plucked from the front of the house in other showings. Cholly goes to grab their scarf to complete the pocket only to find their neck exposed. They reach down their shirt, fishing out a stack of plates that clatter around them as they drop them, an actual fish, and a worn down orange crayon. They throw the crayon back down the hatch with a shrug.

"Huh, wonder where that old thing has gone. Wherever it is I'm positive it's in good hands."

Cholly gathers up the flowers and strides up to the porch. They brush their pointy ears flat with their hand, adjusts an invisible bow tie, and raises their hand to knock on the door. The credits roll as their hand meets the wood - three in rhythm taps drumming from your front door.

Hands swearing, you answer the door to find a fishbowl on your porch stuffed to the brim with bright red and pink roses. A note card with waxy ink sits next to it.

"Sorry, gorgeous! Despite all the time we spent together I still get cold feet at the very thought of ya seeing me. Glad to see you got home safe and that you like my little gift. Even mud would look good on a catch like you so to see my old rags on you fills me with joy. Promise I won't chicken out the next time we met. Thanks for keeping yours and being my sunshine at the end of the tunnel. You' never know how much you need someone to brighten those dark days when clouds are you see.

Stay warm - C."

Returning to the couch with more questions than your spent mind could process - a text message from Jessie's mother adding to your confusion.

"Sorry to bug you so late, but have you seen Jessie's fish tank??"

[yesterdayiwrote]

btw Whatsapp is holding a 'women in motorsports' dinner and Carmen is the host, which is a choice, and a effing weird one at that. there's so many women in motorsports out there to host something like that, whatsapp is Doriane's sponsor after all.

(I got two asks on this so not sure if you accidentally sent it twice anon, or if you have a thought twin somewhere!)

Yeahhhh, I've seen that and I feel exactly the same as you do on the matter, and what's annoying is I feel like we've had this exact argument about what constitutes a 'woman in motorsport' before, back when Puma put Carlos' ex gf in an ad campaign with the tag line, and Kelly was in Vogue with the same title, and yet STILL brands are doing this lazy feminism and tone deafness.

It's unfortunate that this criticism comes sharp on the heels of the book nonsense, because it gives the opportunity for it to get dismissed as 'hate' when really it's not about which wag is doing it this time, it's about the fact that brands want to appear like they're uplifting women, whilst just further imposing the limitations and boundaries they claim to be fighting against.

I get why she would accept. She's not ultimately the problem in this instance (although I have some questions about how many Merc sponsors she's suddenly partnering with, in a way that we don't see from other wags. It's giving heavy nepo and idk that it's a great look, or really aligning with her financial independence schtick she's been pushing - come on girl have some awareness)

As you say there are COUNTLESS women in motorsport who would have been a great pick to put their name to this. Women who have genuinely fought through and overcome the patriarchal hurdles that motorsport poses in order to take their place on the grid or in the paddock. Wags have not done that. Their paddock pass is afforded them purely on the basis of who they know and they do not represent women who have faced an uphill battle to be seen and heard in a male dominated industry.

And this is where the Wag culture obsession really grinds my gears, because brands do know this and are more than likely picking wags to front their events like this a) for their image, because whilst the purpose is women, they still want to use women deemed conventionally attractive to entice men to take an interest - just check out the mean comments on Doriane's appearance under her Kimmel interview. And b) for their follower counts - which don't get me started on how ig follower volume is not a meritocracy - but rather than a huge brand like WhatsApp picking someone like Doriane and using their platform to push her story and bring it to more people, they'd rather pick Carmen and have her promote their event to her cohort of followers and all the young girls who follow her who'll now mistakenly think "Oh WhatsApp cares about women!"

It's more bullshit faux feminism (much like female invest funnily enough) Like I said, she's not the architect of it, but she is complicit in it and it's disappointing all around. Doriane, Bernie Collins, Ruth Buscombe, the list of people better suited for this is endless. I think the real test is going to be (much like these Charlotte tilbury dinners) how many ACTUAL women in motorsport will be invited, or will it be another influencer event that's all for show?

[satureja13]

Jeb had been ingame for a few hours (real time, ingame time almost a whole day) and Saiwa didn't allow anyone to watch his investigations on the monitior to not interrupt. So everyone had been busy doing their work. After Jeb returned, he'd still been so upset, they delayed the meeting and went up to Jack and Kiyoshi's shop. They made pizza.

Their chatter and laughing distracted Jeb from the madness that has happened ingame and he soon laughed with them (especially when Jack told them the story how he fell into the tub full of nectar and Kiyoshi, in autopilot mode, didn't even react ^^' Kiyoshi didn't even react now on that story. Still on auto pilot. They'd had a quiet day together, Jack and Kiyoshi. After a while, Jack just started talking to him, as Jeb had suggested. Nothing important or upsetting about their past. Just funny stories and stuff about their shop and their work. Even though Kiyoshi never responded or showed signs he even understood what Jack was saying, it was a good experience for Jack to get more comfortable around Kiyoshi. And who knows, maybe Jack's words did find his way to Kiyoshi, anyhow. Jack was even able to keep it up during dinner. And Jeb calmed down eventually.

They changed into their detective attire and went down to the PD to let Jeb tell them about his investigations. Changing the clothes helped Jeb to change into a different role and put a lilltle distance between him and the happenings. He knows it's just a game but it was deeply touching him seeing dead Jack ingame. It reminded him of Jack in his coma and of the message future Jeb and Jack had sent them. That some of them might die should they drift apart.

The first thing they saw was the whiteboard Jack and Tiny Can had outfitted with the latest screenshots from the victim, the suspects and the crime scene. Jack made some effort to clearly point out who the main culprit is. And Tiny Can had a hard time putting Lou's photo on the culprits side, Jack only allowed it because Lou looks so hot ^^' Saiwa: "Omg, Jack! Greg didn't kill you. He just made this innocent - and understandable - wish and the demon got it all wrong!" Jack: "I will only believe it if we find the real murderer - the one who ripped my heart out!" Saiwa sighed. He bets his brand new Flamingo Island Balcony that Jack would still believe Greg killed NPC Jack, no matter which cast iron evidence they provide to him...

Eventually Jack sat down and Jeb stepped forward. He's nervous about how Jack and the others would react to the latest happenings... But Saiwa reassured him and so he started to tell them anything he witnessed and learned while he investigated.

About - the footprints at the crime scene, - interviewing new culprit Lou (but Jack didn't let that count, he just interrupted and asked Jeb how Lou is doing without him...) - and that Greg obviously found Jack's corpse and revived him - in a creepy frankenstein manner...

After Jeb ended his report, Jack hugged him tight. Jack: "Thank you for reviving me! You're a true friend! Now I can finally go back ingame and meet Lou again!"

Saiwa: "Let him breathe, Jack!" Jeb contradicted and told Jack that Greg did the majority to bring NPC back, but Jack does not want to hear anything about that. He still hates Greg ^^' And he's quite sure that the footprints are from Greg, who carried him away from the crime scene to Saarburg - and not from Lou.

After a short break to take everything in, they sat down again to discuss their further actions.

First, Saiwa made very clear that Jack will not go back to Lou until their investigations came to an end and they have a clear documentation about what had happened. They still need prove that the Therapy Game will be ready for the open beta at some point. But with warnings and disclaimers - enter at your own risk... But it might be still of great help for any lost creature out there. Creatures like them are often used to violence - sadly.

So, what next?

They gathered some ideas: - ask NPC Jack what happened That might be tricky since he appeared a bit a lot 'absent', to say the least. But maybe his memories of the happenings will come back at some point. - go back to the crime scene and see if Jeb overlooked something. He was distracted by the pawprints (that probably belonged to Greg) and followed them as soon as he found them and didn't look further around. - find the Demon (and maybe NPC Jack's heart) If the demon really 'changed' Jack's heart, he must know where it is and with whom's heart he changed it. Ji Ho agreed to help finding the demon, but Vlad was utterly against sending Ji Ho back ingame unless the murderer is found. He didn't believe in the 'crossroads misunderstanding'

Jack: "Hey, I could go ingame together with Jeb and see if I can help NPC Jack get back his memories. Then we know what happened and I can go back to Lou!" Saiwa: "And witness first hand someone ripping your heart out? No!" Omg, Jack! ö.ö

'The scenes that I spit out I don’t know how much influence it’ll have here Can’t even understand A single word I’m saying They’ll try to chase me but then give up Those who ran away will probably become rotten water' (translated from korean/not by me)

Living in the City - Pullik OST from the K drama 'Lawless Lawyer' I love this song <3 Still so good after all those years. Plus the male lead, Lee Joon Gi, is one of the most beautiful and stunning and talented men I've ever seen ö.ö

Outtakes

Barfolomew showed up out of the blue and Jeb was not happy about it ^^'

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest

Current Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[luciferfemme]

so I love the idea of Angel and Alastor knowing each other when they were alive but instead of a meet cute I do think they'd have a meet ugly because like imagine. They run into each other right. Alastor's in New York for a job interview with a bigger station and Angel's just been kicked out of the house. He's high as a kite and he see's Alastor and alright he's kinda hot and Angel needs money so he's just like I'm gonna offer him the goods but Alastor is like No. Angel would be like I'm sorry what the fuck ya think ya too good for me or somethin' and I imagine Alastor is truly just fascinated by him. Because people in his home town don't talk to him like this. Nobody has ever propositioned him like this. So naturally he's just like... ??? but hey he's got nothing better to do his meeting went great so he decides to invite Angel for lunch and Angel's just like. HuH?

Angel: The fuck ya talkin about Smiley?

Alastor: It's... Alastor if you please. I'm inviting you to lunch.

He takes him to the Russian Tea Room which Angel is like this is kinda fancy what gives you don't have to buy me dinner ta fuck me and Alastor's like that's not why I'm taking you here. He's like I'm hungry I want lunch you can join me or not. And well Angel's not in a position to turn down a free meal though he kind of sticks out. Short black dress, messed up makeup, and his large fur coat and bloodshot eyes. Alastor however just treats him like a person and that's suspicious and confusing for Angel.

They end up talking and after their meal and before they part ways Alastor offers him money which Angel is a little offended by because he ain't no charity case, but Alastor is just like... well unless you want to work for me...

Angel's like work for ya how?

Alastor explains he's gotten a job as a radio host in Manhattan and that he'll need an assistant. He doesn't really but he's far too fascinated by Angel to let him get away that easily.

needless to say it would be a slow burn. Angel is constantly not sure whether to trust Alastor and probably does end up catching him killing someone but he thinks that Alastor is like hitting on this guy because he manages to almost seem sensual the way he convinces people to their own doom.

Angel gets jealous and he doesn't see the grizzly aftermath.

he lives on Alastors sofa for a while and eventually he has enough money to get an apartment but he's reticent to leave even though he doesn't know why and Alastor isn't pushing him to leave either. He likes the company and Angel makes his days less boring. It isn't until he talks to his friend Mimzy that he realizes he might have feelings for Angel or more accurately Mimzy points it out.

Alastor's like oh fuck well that's not good. Should I kill him?

Mimzy's just like no ask him out you lunatic and so he does and Angel is shocked. He never saw this coming but also like okay so maybe he's curious. They go out and it's good but it's been 3 years and it's 1933 and winter and so we know what happens. They're barely together and Alastor dies. This sends Angel into a tailspin because wtf my life was just getting back together and now he's dead and Idk what to do.

It isn't long after that Angel's own problems come back to haunt him and he ends up in Hell and maybe he meets Alastor right away and he's kind of surprised that Al is so huge down here and terrifying but more than anything he's grateful for the second chance.

[silvervinewine]

Hii! I hope you don't mind if I make a request here, because I dont really know where to- Although if you do see this, could you please write headcannons for some of the genshin men (Like Alhaitham, Diluc, etc.) on how they'd act when reader introduces them to their parents? Feel free to ignore this if you dont have time tho!! Thank you sm :)) <33

MEET MY PARENTS (W/ ALHAITHAM, DILUC SEPERATELY)

DILUC: AUTHORITARIAN PARENTS (also commonly known as, "i just want the best for you" parents)

your parents were rather worried about you, after all the man you had brought home was not a lawyer, or a doctor? how would you live with that?

you needed to get a good man, a man that would not be bankrupt any time soon.

needless to say when you brought home DILUC RAGNVINDR, known socialite and sought after bachelor, your parents were more than welcoming.

as soon as he pulled up in his fancy car, with one of his finest suits on, you knew you were in for a ride.

as soon as you welcomed in your boyfriend into your parents' home, was he bombarded with questions.

"where did you study?"

"how much do you make?"

"what are you planning to do with our child?"

"why did you choose them?

just your regular strict parents' shenanigans.

the formal dinner you organized, felt more like an interview, with every single response of his precisely calculated in their wording.

after everything he looks at you with pleading eyes as he paid the bill and left with you.

immediatly hugs you as you arrive at your home.

"felt like he was being watched by hawks."

you chuckle at his comment, as you lay down with him.

"you know, even if they don't look like it" you looked at him, "they actually really really like you."

"i mean you're serious, rich and good looking, everything up to their standard."

he smiled at the comment, after all if he wanted to marry you he would need to get your parent's approval.

AL HAITHAM: AUTHORATIVE PARENTS (also commonly known as, sane parents which love each other very much, #mommy issues)

while somewhat demanding, your parents never really asked much of you.

"just live a happy life, work hard to get what you want and always learn from your mistakes."

you were never asked to get a partner, you were never asked to settle down like this, yet you still chose to get a boyfriend.

AL HAITHAM was always a wallflower, your boyfriend smart academically, stupid socially.

he liked you, you were someone interested in the same things he was, you were someone he could lean on.

you two rode peacefully to the little quaint house your parents' resided on, as soon as you came in you were greeted with cheery smiles and laughs.

the meeting or... hangout spot was a little picnic in a nearby park. a place where you often used to hang out with old friends while sitting around telling stupid jokes while walking around.

you noticed how AL HAITHAM was reluctant to your parents' kindness, while your parents strolled around ocassionally picking up conversation with him he really didn't reciprocate.

you really got it, he wasn't much for small talk.

only ever really nodding or making small comments, chipping in with his commentary here and there.

that was until your mother asked him what he studied, things got real after that.

he looked up and started explaining his past lecture, rambling on about the foreign policies he was interested and the importance of proper storage of information and all that.

yeah needless to say, AL HAITHAM was personally invited to the next big family event by part of your parents' recomendation, he was real glad to have met them.

in reality, even though he did not show it enough, he really appreciated both you and your parents.

(A/N i used some psychology terms to explain the personalities of different parents, sorry if the personalities of these did not apply to your parents. thought this arrangement was necessary as there's no one size fits all in these type of fics.)

[charlidos]

"With Mr. Mortensen, Bloom "lost" himself in the New Zealand wilderness. 14 hours later they both returned to the LotR set bruised and thirsty and with a photo that's reputed to be the best ever taken of Orlando. If Mortensen would only release it."

In the myth of Viggo and Orlando's adventures in New Zealand and Middle Earth, this is my favourite legendary tale; two men getting lost and spending a night in a New Zealand rainforest, a "moonless night" 24 years ago. The leader of the pack taking the eager young pup on an adventure, Viggo the romantic renaissance man and Orlando's I'll-follow-you-on-any-adventure adoration. It is indeed the stuff of legends. And like all legends, the story changes over time.

So here's all we know, all we can guess and all we can blissfully imagine.

To begin with, the video interview is from 2004, and the info that Orlando was the "friend" accompaning him is from 2005. However, when Viggo told the same story back in 2003, he was alone, no friend mentioned.

"One time, I was in the rainforest near the west coast of the South Island. It was on a shooting break, one of those incredibly rare weekends where I actually had a Saturday off. So I just went down there for a day and a night to a place that I'd been to before. I wanted to get to the coast, so I headed into the woods, but it was a bit of a hike and it suddenly got dark. I hadn't brought a flashlight with me, which was a bit stupid, because I thought I knew the trail really well. But then I got lost. There was no moon and it was overcast, so it was just completely pitch black, especially as the vegetation was really dense and thorny. But I did have a camera with me, which had a flash, and a couple of rolls of film. So I used the flash to try and find my way out. For a second you could see everything around, so I was using the flash to try and find the trail. I kept thinking, 'It must be around here somewhere', but I never did find it. And then I ran out of film. At some point I was just getting really tired and ended up in a marshy area. I was falling down all the time, getting cut by thorns and I thought, 'This is stupid'. So, I found a piece of relatively high ground and lay down for a little while, until the moon came up. Luckily, when the moon arrived I managed to get my bearings and eventually I was able to figure out how to get back to where I started from. It was a huge relief, but when I showed up back on the set, I really alarmed everyone because it looked like I'd been through a grinder."

How come Orlando joined him on this trip into the wild? I can only speculate (it's what I'm here for, making an epic mountain of a molehill), but Orlando is famously very keen on adventure, so I'm sure he was eager to join. Moreover, he obviously worshipped the ground Viggo walked on (his "guardian angel" who has the skills to basically manage anything. Orlando probably thought "what could possibly go wrong?") and took any opportunity to follow his king. In other words, I don't think Orlando was hard pressed about coming along.

Why did Viggo ask Orlando then? Because he knew Orlando would say yes? Because he knew Orlando would appreciate it, more than the others? Because Orlando was the only other actor having a day off? Because Viggo felt a strong urge to share this beautiful and amazing place with him? Because of the chance to spend quality time with his sweet elf boy?

In Viggo's excellent plan for the hike, they'd be back soon, "in time for dinner". But instead they got lost. Maybe the prescence of the pretty elf prince distracted him? Or maybe he was being overly confident in his abilities, and perhaps wanting to show off a little? Even Viggo will want to impress people he likes, I'm sure.

Viggo brought his camera, photographer that he is. But he also brought an extra roll of film, suggesting he was planning to take a lot of pics. Maybe he wanted to photograph Orlando out in the woods; a beautiful elf in his natural element. But then he seems to quite quickly spend all the film on finding the way, running out before they were even remotely near home. Maybe he panicked a bit? Or maybe he really just wanted to get cool, impromptu photos for a book.

"When I developed the film, which was black and white, there were some really interesting images. The flash had lit up the ground, the foliage and these ferns which are typical of New Zealand. Some of them are almost like negatives because there was this fog and the flash was bouncing off them creating a really strange effect. It's quite unusual because there are these delicate ferns with their little tendrils and all the whiteness around them which makes them look like Japanese prints. I printed off four of them, which I've called Lost 1, 2, 3 and 4. You can see them on the internet."

(This is the first rendering of the tale, in 2002.)

The fact that Viggo apparently also took one - at least - photo of Orlando, suggests that Viggo either took some photos before getting lost, or he took photos of Orlando, furtively (or mistakenly?), while he was supposed to flash their way home. (But who is it who claims this photo is the best ever taken of Orlando? Orlando himself? Does he have it framed at home, as a treasured memory?)

As it got dark out with no moonlight, they started bumping into things, falling over and getting scratched by thorns and bruised by trees. They obviously didn't get seriously hurt, but maybe Viggo did start to worry for their safety. Like he said, he felt responsible for bringing Orlando out there, if he also got injured, it would have been disastrous. (Not sure if this rainforest also has dangerous animals and insects. Trampling on a deadly snake, walking into a poisonous spiderweb, getting prowled upon by a wild animal.)

The way Viggo tells it, the whole thing has an air of romantic adventure. Just picture them finding a piece of dry land for them to stay for a while. waiting for the moon and the stars to come out. (Or until the sun came up?) Imagine them lying on soft grass in a glade, talking softly, just waiting and enjoying each other's company.

Orlando can't have been used to being out in the wilderness, particularly in a foreign country, so Viggo was likely feeling protective. And I imagine Orlando keeping close to Viggo at all times, feeling safe as long as he could feel Viggo's warm body near. Trusting Viggo to keep them safe. If it was "pitch dark", how did they keep track of each other? I imagine Orlando grabbing hold of Viggo's hand, clutching it hard, his only anchor in a foreign, scary place. When they laid down in that glade, maybe they snuggled in close to each other to keep warm (since any night will most likely be a little cool). Maybe holding each other, for comfort and safety. Dirty, bruised, thirsty, completely lost and sharing a beautiful night together.

I can also see them finally seeing the first light of day, and being able to find their way back, hiking back to civilisation. Returning dishevled, exhausted yet very happy. I can see them, two crazy and adventurous nutters laughing about that night in the rainforest of NZ. And living to tell the wild tale, for years to come.

It's such a beautiful, romantic image. No matter what, I feel sure such an experience is one you keep with you for a long time. Bonding to the two together, forever. And creating a mythical legend to boot.

[writingforstraykids]

Addicted to you - Chp. 9

Pairing: Minlix | Minchan (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 4252

Summary: Felix decides to try a new way to cheer Minho up for a bit, falling back into old patterns with him. Chan walks in on them and at first, Minho doesn't care...until he does.

Warnings/Tags: smut, sub!felix, switch!minho, friends with benefits, panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: This for everyone who wished to see a little more of Minlix. I hope you like it~🌙

Chp. 8 | Chp. 10

How am I supposed to go out and find love again? Only know what it is 'Cause you showed me it exists How am I supposed to feel all the things that we felt But with somebody else? Knowing you exist Knowing you exist - Alexander Stewart

The following week, the atmosphere turned frosty whenever Chan and Minho were in the same room. Whilst Chan pretended nothing had happened and went on like before, Minho simply ignored him. To everyone else, Minho acted as normal, but Chan got the cold shoulder. The gap forming between their two hyungs worried the rest with every passing day. Especially when Minho started skipping group dinners, locked himself up in his room, or overstayed his welcome after dance practice. He refused to practice the new dance with Chan pressed up against him, and with every passing day, his appearance looked worse. 

During interviews, he stayed quiet, and looking at the footage, everyone could tell he was feeling like  shit, including the fans. When asked about the most important person within the team, Minho honestly answered Felix and Jisung since he didn't know what he'd do without them at the moment. Chan said Minho, saying he owed him a lot and hoped they'd always find each other no matter what. This caused Minho to stand up during the midst of the interview, stumbling over Seungmin's feet with tears in his eyes. Their management forced him back only shortly after, and for the rest of the interview, he kept his head hung low, hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks after removing his microphone. He was shaking, and neither Felix’s hand on his back nor Jisung taking his hand calmed him. The others glanced at him worriedly occasionally, and Chan tried his best not to look, seeming anxious. The video later got him into serious trouble with staff and raised even more questions among fans. 

Felix and Jisung had the most insight into what was going on since they were the only ones Minho really talked to. They knew that he was slowly destroying his knee by practicing harder and even more than before instead of resting. They knew that he had skipped meals quite often by this point. They were there to hold his hand before interviews or in situations when Minho had no choice but to deal with Chan. They ensured he got something to eat from time to time, held him when he felt sad, and helped him out when his body would shut down after a particularly long day.

Felix and Jisung took turns staying with him at night, knowing this was the only way Minho was able to sleep now. They didn't know how to make him feel better because deep down, what Minho needed was Chan, the one he’d been avoiding like the plague. It was a habit he formed a long while ago, to distance himself from anyone or anything that felt unsafe.

But one evening, Felix decided to try something new, wondering if it would help make Minho forget his pain, even if it was just for a few hours. They were sitting on the broad window sill in Felix’s room, leaning against opposite walls, facing each other. Minho was staring out into the night, anxiously fidgeting with the fabric of his sweater. 

“Min?” Felix spoke up gently, and the older one turned to look at him. “What are you thinking about?”

Minho shrugged his shoulders. “Everything and nothing at once,” he told him, rubbing his neck. “I’m starting to have serious doubts about Chan and me staying.”

“What?” he asked, written in his expression.

“I feel like I need a break from all of this. I’m not saying I want to quit, but some distance might be better than trying to avoid something I live in the same house with,” he sighed, defeated. Felix tilted his head at him.

“You think you’ll love him any less once you’re back? Your heart won’t break seeing him again?” he asked gently. They both knew it wasn’t possible, and Minho couldn’t bring himself to say it even if his was. 

“I…I just want to feel whole again, Lix. I can’t go on like this,” he told him and hugged himself. “It was alright before because there was nothing to miss…but I miss what we had so much. I never thought I’d feel so lonely and-,” he trailed off as Felix scooted closer, cupping his face with one hand. “What are you doing?” he whispered. Felix caressed his cheek and leaned in close. Minho's eyes widened as their lips brushed together. "Felix, you have a boyfriend." 

"He knows, he’s fine with it," Felix told him quietly, and Minho's resistance crumbled slightly, but he was still on alert. "Relax, I got you, remember?" 

Minho nodded, eyes fluttering close as their lips met. He melted into the familiar feeling and let Felix take the lead. He missed being held and kissed like that. He missed having someone close, showing him his worth with every passing day. Sometimes he really fucking missed Felix. 

Felix pulled him onto his lap, hands tracing down his back. His heart hurt at how desperately Minho kissed him. The way he gripped his shirt, pressing himself as close as he could to feel something again. Felix leaned back against the wall and smiled into the kiss as Minho moved to cup his face in his hands. His hand slipped beneath his shirt, gently gliding up Minho's spine and resting between his shoulder blades. "Gosh, sometimes I really miss you," Felix mumbled against his lips. 

Minho stopped in his movements and blinked at him. "You do?" he asked quietly. 

"You were my first for so many things," Felix gently brushed back his hair and nodded. "You meant a lot to me, you know." 

"Not enough, though," Minho said, and Felix hummed softly. 

"Did I?" he asked, and Minho's eyes flickered guiltily. 

"No, not like that," he then admitted, and Felix nodded. 

"We both knew it would end sooner or later," he said, caressing his cheek. Minho leaned into the gentle touch and inhaled shakily. "And that's okay because we were open with each other about it." 

"I miss you too sometimes," he told him honestly before covering his hand with his own. "I felt a different kind of safety with you." 

Felix searched his eyes as if he was trying to memorize every little detail he could. "I think I didn't tell you how beautiful you are often enough."

"Yongbokie," Minho said softly, eyes radiating nothing but warmth. 

"I mean it. You're beautiful," he told him and connected their lips. "Loving," he continued before kissing him again. "And too kind for this world," he added before pressing their lips together hard and full of desperation. Minho made a soft sound at the impact, and Felix grabbed his hips, leaning forward and pushing him onto his back. 

Minho shortly searched his eyes, wondering how far they'd go. Felix didn't seem to think much of it, hovering over him and chasing his lips hungrily. Minho let him, spreading his legs to make room for him as Felix almost fell off the window sill, bracing himself next to his head. Felix giggled softly and rolled his eyes at himself. Minho reached out for him, thumb brushing over his lower lip. "God, I lo-," he stopped, closing his eyes and remembering that this wasn't like what he thought he had with Chan. 

"You can say it, Minho. I know how you mean it," Felix told him, and Minho shook his head. "I love you, Min." 

Minho looked up at him with teary eyes. "I love you too, Lixie." 

Felix smiled gently, eyes sparkling with joy. He went back to kissing him, and the way Minho gripped his hair and arched up against him told him everything he needed to know. Deep down, Minho longed for more, longed to be close to him like they had been long ago. Felix knew better than to deny that he was feeling the same way. He reached down, smoothly opening the strings of Minho's sweatpants before palming him and rubbing his hand between his legs. Surprised, Minho gasped against his lips, unable to stop himself from bucking up into his touch. Felix slipped his hand into his pants, wrapping it around his dick, and stroked him experimentally. Minho moaned sweetly and gripped his hair tightly. 

"Felix," he breathed out. 

"I'm here," he said gently. 

"You don't have to -," he broke off as Felix continued his movement. 

"I want to," he promised, grabbing Minho's chin with his free hand. "Trust me," he told him and grabbed the bottle of lube stored in the drawer of his bedside table. He poured some onto his hand before reaching back into his pants. 

Minho did trust him, and his eyes fluttered close as he allowed himself to enjoy this. He pulled Felix back into a kiss, trying to stifle his moans as he rolled his hips. Felix leaned down, kissing his neck and leaving soft bites down from his ear to his collarbone. "Mark me up," Minho breathed out, desperate to feel something. 

"Are you sure?" Felix asked gently, nose still buried in his neck. 

"Please," he said quietly. 

Felix bit down below his ear in response, softly licking over the bite. He started sucking on his skin, moaning deliciously against his neck. 

Minho moaned out loud, and the way Felix's body responded reminded him of how much he had enjoyed him being vocal. "Fuck, Min," he moaned as Minho pulled at his hair and bit down harshly. 

Minho's eyes rolled back at the pleasurable pain, and he slammed his hand against the window, trying to brace himself somehow as Felix picked up the pace. His head fell back with a loud moan of Felix's name, making the younger one hum satisfied. 

Felix barely noticed the door to his room opening, lips attached to Minho's neck and being pressed against his skin by him. He pulled a beautiful moan from his lips, and glanced over at the door at the intruder. He realized it was Chan staring at them in pure shock. Felix locked eyes with him but didn't stop, not wanting Minho to notice. He knew Min would feel guilty, and in his eyes, there was absolutely no reason for it. 

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't sto-," Minho moaned out, and Felix didn't intend to. His eyes were squeezed shut, chasing his high and indulging the weight of Felix's body on his. 

"I got you. You're doing so good, babe," Felix mumbled against his skin. 

He didn't expect him to use that old pet name for him. Minho arched up against him, pulling at his hair with a groan before tensing up and spilling into his pants. A broken moan of his name left his lips, and Minho pulled him up and into a needy kiss, panting against his lips. Felix kissed back fiercely, and Chan was gone the next time he looked up. Minho caught his breath before giggling softly and rubbing his face. "I can't believe you just did that in front of the fucking window." 

Felix smirked and planted a tiny kiss on his nose. "You're so pretty," he told him adoringly, and Minho blushed a little. 

"Stop it. I’ve been a mess lately," he chuckled. 

"I mean it," he assured him. 

Minho kissed Felix's lips softly, making the younger one moan. His hands traveled down his back and squeezed his bum. Felix melted against him with a soft groan and looked at him, eyes filled with need. "You want to do this properly for once?" 

Felix nodded quickly before frowning. "I uhm…I never..." 

"Me neither, but I'm fine with it," he assured him, and Felix jumped up quickly, pulling him with him to his bed. 

"Do you mind doing this without a condom?" he asked. 

"Do you?" he gave back, and they nodded in agreement. "But I have to clean up first. You made a mess of me." 

"Wait here," Felix giggled. 

Not much later, Minho was on his back, and Felix was straddling his lap. Their clothes were scattered across the floor, and Felix had pulled the curtains closed, turning on the lights instead. Felix leaned down, kissing him passionately as Minho's hands traveled down his body. He reached out for the bottle of lube. "May I?" he asked. 

"Please," Felix nodded and buried his face in Minho's neck as he started preparing him. "Oh fuck," he breathed out as Minho opened him up one finger at a time. Felix took deep breaths and relaxed as he adjusted to the amazing feeling. Soon enough, Minho found himself four fingers in and Felix was breathless. "I forgot how skilled you are with your fingers- a-ah," he broke off with a moan as Minho's fingers brushed against his prostate. 

Minho smirked and buried his hand in his hair, pulling him back and making him look in his eyes. "Huh, I forgot how easy you fall apart in my hands," he said and grinned succeedingly as Felix shivered above him, eyes rolling back as he poked at his prostate again. 

Not much later, Felix was riding him, slowly working out a rhythm that felt good for both of them. Felix stopped suddenly and closed his eyes before shaking his head. 

"What's wrong?" Minho asked gently and swallowed at the guilt clouded in his eyes. Did he regret it already? 

"Chan saw," he whispered. 

"What?" he asked, confused. 

"He just walked in suddenly and stood in the doorway right as you…Min, I'm sorry, I should've told you," he said nervously. 

Minho blinked, comprehending the information just shared, before shaking his head. "I don't care," he said and laughed weakly. "I actually don't care if he saw us or not." 

"Don't you think he'll be pissed?" he asked. 

"Let him be," he nodded. "I'm not his boyfriend, I never was. He has no right claiming me as his own, Felix. I can do whatever I want," he said, and for the first time, he actually believed it. "I've been patient for long enough, and he never made a move. Right now, he fucking lost me." 

Felix stared at him for a long moment. "That's the first time you’ve said that and I actually believe you." 

"It's the first time I believe it myself," he said, grabbing his hips. Felix squeaked, surprised as Minho flipped them over, hovering over him now. "And right now, I really don't care about him either. I have you here." 

Felix's lips parted a little. "Don't you think we would've been amazing together in another life?" 

Minho smiled gently. "Perhaps," he nodded and cupped his face. "I'll always be here; however you need me. You know that, right?" 

"I know," he nodded. "The same thing goes for you Min. Now move before I really lose my mind," he giggled and lifted his head up to meet his lips. 

Minho let him as he pulled out a little and thrust right back in. He worked out a rhythm that drew sweet moans and deep groans from Felix's throat. His hands found Felix's, and he pinned them down next to his head, fingers intertwining. Felix was chasing his lips whenever he pulled away to catch his breath, and Minho remembered how needy for physical reassurance he could get. Minho was moving slowly and gently, drawing the moment out as long as he could. Their kisses grew more passionate with every passing minute, and Felix wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. 

Felix was a little overwhelmed right now. It wasn't like Changbin and Hyunjin weren't loving or gentle with him. He and Changbin didn't have sex often due to their busy schedules, which always included fleeting moments of desperate passion. Hyunjin loved to tease and help Felix explore what he liked and what he didn't. But Minho…Minho was making love to him. He'd always been gentle and caring and knew when to push which button. Today was no different, still. How he moved on top of him, held his hands, and kissed him with so much love felt different. 

Minho met his eyes, and his heart skipped a beat at the expression in Felix's bright eyes. A deep longing mixed up with pure love and adoration stole his breath for a moment. "My beautiful sunshine," he whispered, and tears brimmed Felix's eyes. Minho gently caressed his cheek. "Are you okay?" 

"That's the first time you called me yours," he whispered, not trusting his voice right now. 

"Oh, I…I'm sorry," Minho stammered but relaxed as Felix chuckled. 

"This might be selfish, but I don't mind Chan being an asshole if this is what I get for it," he said, and Minho couldn't help but laugh. 

"You're an idiot," he said fondly before kissing him again and thrusting in deep and slow, hitting every sweet spot just right. 

Felix shivered beneath him, his now free hand shooting up into his hair. He moaned needily into the kiss, and after a few more thrusts, he felt his stomach flip. "Min, I'm close," he told him. 

"Go on, I got you," he told him, and Felix smashed their lips together before pulling away with a broken moan of his name. Minho watched his face as he stumbled over the edge, admiring how effortlessly beautiful he was. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if that was what Chan thought about him. He chased his own high, moaning sweetly as Felix pulled him in close and clenched around him. It didn’t take long for him to stumble over the edge and fill him up.

“God, you’re amazing, baby,” he said, and Minho’s throat tightened.

“You too,” he whispered, trying not to think of Chan saying those exact same words so often before. 

Later, when Felix was asleep next to him, Minho still couldn’t sleep. He was thinking about the time he had shared with Felix in the past and today. He wondered if this had been a mistake or if he was actually alright with it. And somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about Chan and the fact he saw them. Minho closed his eyes and felt his throat tightening, wondering if he just destroyed the mere chance of them forgiving each other and working this out. Before he knew it, he was up on his feet and leaving the room.

Minho closed the door quietly and stumbled down the hallway to his room. Tears brimmed his eyes, and he couldn't see clearly anymore. A sharp pain shot through his chest, and his throat tightened painfully. He clutched his chest, unable to breathe, and fumbled the door open, stumbling inside. Minho grabbed the desk in front of him tightly and leaned forward with a groan before realizing in panic that this wasn't where his damn desk was located. Only Chan had it this close to the door. How the hell had he walked into the opposite direction? "Fuck, no," he pressed out, frustrated, and straightened up, bracing himself on the wall to find his way back outside. Someone pulled him back, and Minho found himself pressed against Chan's chest, his arms wrapped around him from behind. "No," he whined. 

"Shh, Min, you'll wake everyone up going outside like that," he said gently and closed his door again. 

Minho was breathing heavily, still feeling like the air wouldn't reach his lungs. "I can't breathe," he said panicked. "Chan, I can't -." 

Chan held him in his arms and made Minho lie down on his bed, climbing on top of him. Minho squirmed beneath him, protesting against it and hitting him forcefully against the chest. 

"What the fuck?!" Minho shouted at him, and Chan quickly covered his mouth, which only fed his panic. He started kicking, and Chan groaned at the impact on his body. 

"Fucks sake, Minho I'm trying to help!" he snapped at him, and Minho stopped kicking. He carefully pulled his hand off his mouth and swallowed hard at the tears running down his face. "It’s okay, you’re okay Min" he said gently, resting his hands next to his head. "I'll lie down on you now, okay?" 

Minho pressed his lips together tightly before nodding. Now, he understood what Chan was trying to do. Minho needed to be held down, feel some weight on top of him to feel grounded again when he was too far gone already, and Chan was the only one who knew about it. He exhaled softly as Chan put his full weight on him, making himself heavier than he was. 

Chan felt his heart race against his chest and very gently fondled his knuckles. "Take deep breaths, Min, you can do it," he encouraged him. 

Minho tried his best and felt his chest opening up slowly again. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore how good it felt to have Chan so close again. He tried to ignore his familiar, comforting scent and warmth. He tried to ignore the way Chan's hands felt in his, his hair tickling his neck and his heartbeat against his chest. But he failed miserably. "Please get off me," he whispered more so to himself than Chan. When Chan didn't react immediately, he squirmed. He started pushing again as hot tears made their way down his cheeks. 

"Hey, hey, relax," he told him and moaned softly as Minho's hand hit his chest again, pushing him off. "Minho, please," he told him firmly, already on his way to give him space. 

Minho sat up, panting, and stared at him before burying his face in his hands, sobbing quietly. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered. 

"Don't be," he told him gently and sat down in front of him. "You panicked, it's okay." 

Minho shook his head firmly. "That's not what I meant," he said, looking up with pained eyes. "I…I just had sex with Felix." 

Chan nodded, already knowing of it. "Him giving you a handjob can hardly be-."

"No, Chan, I just…I just came inside of him," he said, and Chan's face fell. "We did have sex." 

Chan audibly swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. "Okay," he whispered. 

"Okay?!" Minho asked in shock. 

"I'm not mad at you," he told him, and Minho's eyes filled with tears again. "Un-Unless, that's what you want?" he asked anxiously, not knowing what was going on in his head. 

"I said I wouldn't care about what you'd think," he said and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I was never officially yours in the first place, so why would I keep on pretending I was?" Chan swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "And it's true, I never was your boyfriend…but I still care about you," he said and sucked in a sharp breath. 

"Why Felix?" Chan asked quietly. "I thought you were done being the second choice for him." 

"You think he's my first choice?" he asked sadly, and Chan's eyes clouded with pain. "Felix always felt safe, no matter what, that's why. We knew what we were getting into, and that was fine." 

"Sounds complicated," he said. 

"Why do you even care?" Minho asked tiredly. "How am I any different from your one-night stands?" 

"What?" he asked, frowning. "Min, I fucking lo-," he stopped himself abruptly and Minho nodded. 

"You can't even say it now that it's real, can you?" he asked quietly, and Chan contorted his face. "It used to be one of the first things you said to me every damn morning for years now. You're so scared of the consequences that you’ll deny everything. You can't even allow yourself to tell me you love me." 

"I'm the leader of this group, I can't afford to get kicked out because of some dating amongst members drama," he said firmly. 

"We were never dating, though, were we? You weren't ready to label our relationship, and I should've stopped it all months ago," Minho said and swallowed hard. "Don't act like I said something wrong. We've never been a couple. You never called me your boyfriend. How is that any different from what Felix and I just did?" 

"That's not fair," Chan shook his head. 

"Calling me all those things and acting like I forced you into a situationship is not fair. Denying almost a year of shared intimacy isn't fair. Promising me to fight for us but not being brave enough to say those three little words isn't fair," he told him and saw Chan's firm expression falter. 

"Min," he tried softly. 

"Look, we’ve been having fun. And the fun has been amazing…but I want more. I want to be close to you in every single way, not just in bed or when we’re alone. You have to figure out what you want and quickly because I won’t wait around much longer Chan,” he told him quietly. "But anyways, I'm sorry for bursting in like that, I didn't know where I was going and-." He tried to change the subject, but his eyes widened as Chan suddenly moved forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. He shoved him off and panted softly. "What are you doing?" he whispered. 

"That's what I want," he said, pointing at him. "I want you, Min." 

"I got that," he nodded. "But that's not enough, not like that." 

"Please, give me a chance to explain. We can talk about this," he pleaded. 

"Not tonight, alright?" he asked, and Chan nodded reluctantly. Minho got up and looked at him for another moment. "Good night, Chan. Thanks for helping me out."

"Of course," Chan nodded and watched him leave.

Minho stood still in the hallway for a moment, fingertips pressed against his lips. What the hell was he doing? 

Chp. 8 | Chp. 10

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni