#NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS BUT I STILL MADE IT

[princesssmars]

better leave your man at home!

mini stories of vi, sevika, abby, and ellie showing you your true worth.

wc : 7.306

contains : sfw and nsfw. fxf. fem!reader. cheating on the men's part until ellie's part lol. ellie’s is a modern!au the rest are in canon. mentions of violence and alcohol. silco but he's chill. owen but he's not chill. reader can be interpreted as bi or comphet i think!

a/n : ladies if you're reading this...cheat on him. or cheat back. yknow what just leave him.

VIOLET ꨄ

ʚɞ ever since getting out of prison and restarting her life, vi had been looking for a new purpose.

ʚɞ she had found a solid job, managed to reconnect with wither last siblings left alive, and started to build up a life for herself, but still, she felt...aimless. she longed for a deeper connection than the ones she had, someone she could yet again.

ʚɞ and then she meets you, a sweet little store owner with a voice that sounds like a symphony and an attitude as sweet as cookies. the first time she even met you she bumped into you on the street outside your bakery, knocking you supplies for your treats all over the ground. she's expecting that usual zaunite 'watch where you're going!' but instead you tell her not to worry, that you were carrying too many things anyway.

ʚɞ it was almost instinct for her to assure you she was at fault, downright demanding she help you carry everything that dropped inside and that it was the least she could do. you call her a sweetheart and tell her if she does you'll send her home with a plate of her favorite dessert. how could she say no?

ʚɞ she cant help but to quickly hang out with you whenever she can. after her shifts she stops by to help you close up, telling you its the least she could do for someone who was oh-so sweet. you seem to welcome her affections, whispering one late night when making some extra batter that you always appreciate when she stops by. she goes home on a high that night.

ʚɞ but then the worst thing ever happens. you get a boyfriend.

ʚɞ apparently he's some old family friend who moved back to the city when he found a small fortune overseas and was ready to come back to 'win you over like he tried years ago'. you told the story with a slightly wistful voice but all vi could do was nod along with wide eyes and a shut mouth.

ʚɞ eventually, she meets the guy, a tall and rather weasly looking guy who was waiting impatiently outside the store. she gave him a simple greeting and all he could do was tilt his head in recognition that she was there, apparently. she passed him and went to the back of the store and asked you what he was doing standing outside looking all suspicious. her eyes nearly bulged out of her head when you told her he was waiting to take you out but had to stand outside because he couldn't stand the smell of bread.

ʚɞ yeah, this definitely wasn't gonna last long. she’d just have to get you to see that.

ʚɞ sadly, she didn't have to do much work. ton a sunny day when the two of you were walking through the upper city levels together you stopped in your tracks, a talking vi whose arm was wrapped with yours questioning what made you stop before following your eyesight to see your boyfriend in the arms of another woman, way too close for comfort. vi wanted nothing more in that moment than to go and knock the bastard's lights out, but she had to prioritize you first.

ʚɞ you go into a depression for a week, your shop closed and your apartment locked as you skulk and cry in your home. but thankfully you gave vi a key not too long into your friendship, and she wakes you up one afternoon and demands you go and clean yourself up while she takes care of your chores.

ʚɞ you come out of the shower feeling rejuvenated and refreshed, your mood only lifting higher at the smell of cookies in the air. you pad out to the kitchen and cant help but smile when you see vi standing with a tray of perfectly made chocolate chip cookies on the island counter.

ʚɞ you sit up on your counter and moan at the taste of the cookies, vi accepting your praise of her baking skills with pride as she rubs over your bare thighs. eventually the topic steers to your recent heartbreak and vi makes sure you can complain and vent to her all you want.

ʚɞ but the last thing she wants to hear is you blaming yourself, teary-eyed and mumbling about how maybe you were too overbearing in your affections. she gently but sternly brings your attention to her, making sure you look her in the eyes when she goes on about how you’re the nicest and most soft-natured person she’s ever known and he was a fool to not see what an amazing woman he had in front of him.

ʚɞ and you cant help but feel even worse at the clear effect her affection has on you, unconsciously biting her lip at her praise and closeness. her eyes dart down to your lips and back to your eyes, slowly inching her head forward for permission. as soon as you slightly nod your head she’s kissing you with months of pent-up adoration, warmth, and lust.

ʚɞ a small part of you feels guilty for moving on to your close friend only a week after you broke up with your boyfriend, but when her fingers are drifting down to your cunt and making you cry as you cum over and over again, you can't find it in you to care.

ʚɞ “he was an idiot to give up on someone as sweet as you. but down worry muffin, i’m not gonna take that chance.”

SEVIKA ꨄ

ʚɞ sevika had made a promise to herself years ago: don't mess with married women.

ʚɞ she could give herself some grace, she was young and dumb, and the woman was incredibly gorgeous. and when a woman with legs that could bring any person woman or man to their knees comes up to you and asks you your plans for the night, you cant exactly pass up the opportunity. though she wishes she did after her partner caught them together in bed and she got in one of the worst fights of her life.

ʚɞ but she had to admit things in her life were getting a bit…stale, to say the least. her schedule was a steady routine of doing tasks for silco, reeling in jinx, and keeping the last drop working like a well-oiled machine. she didn't want anything drastic that would screw up their plans to happen, just…something.

ʚɞ and oh, does she get it. some out of towner got too rowdy in the bar and started a bar fight and before she could come in and get things under control theirams leg gets broken. so now she’s tasked with finding a good enough replacement to cover him for the few months it gets healed since he for some reason couldn't just take a shimmer dose and get back on his feet in no time.

ʚɞ she goes through dozens of recruits, all either too disobedient or downright atrocious behind a bar. she’s just about to give up and force one of the goons to do it when you come through the door. you’re rather unassuming, and at first she things you’re joking until you travel behind the bar and instruct her to give you any drink and you can make it. after ten different drinks she’s more than convinced.

ʚɞ she doesn't talk to you much at first, you’re just another cog in the machine that keeps the enterprise running smoothly. obviously she’s noticed that you’re attractive, surrounded by a stern but easy-going aura that makes most customers sit and want to talk to you for hours on end. it amused her when she watched how you convinced three different patrons to buy some more drinks so you’d continue telling them a wild story of some adventure you apparently had in bilgewater years back.

ʚɞ she can't help but ask you if its true later when the bar is closing and you’re wiping everything down, rolling her eyes when you call her out for listening to your conversations. you reveal that all your stories of adventure and excitement are true, but that you gave that life up when you decided to settle down after you get married.

ʚɞ she scoffs that the woman you married must be a hell of a catch to get you to leave behind such an exciting life, and she sees your eyes drop when you reveal that life with your husband is a nice and quiet alternative to your days of danger. sevika’s always had a good poker face, and she’s really glad she has it now after hearing you gave up all of that for a guy. and that her gaydar was apparently wrong, which never happens.

ʚɞ but its almost like this is the challenge her mind has been looking for, because after that conversation she keeps having late-night talks with you when no one else is around. you’re disarmingly easy to talk to, able to show a compassion and understanding that isn’t common for the folks down here. its only a few hours after she gets a bit too tipsy and accidentally lets slip a story about her upbringing that she lays in bed and slaps her human hand to her forehead in frustration when instead of being embarrassed all she can think about is your soft hand gently rubbing her shoulder as she poured her heart out.

ʚɞ she is so screwed.

ʚɞ eventually, you draw silco’s attention. mostly because the profits from the bar have nearly doubled since you started working, partly because he can tell a certain someone is distracting sevika. he gave her a list of tasks one day that he could tell she hated doing and she went off with a nod and without a word, and she either had a new woman in her life or she was about to snap. he made sure to find out about you a few minutes later, and asked/demanded to know more about your life. in particular, any outside connections you had.

ʚɞ sevika doesn't know whether she wants to thank silco or kill him when you’re given a more permanent position at the bar and finally introduce the crew to your husband, a man who silco has apparently given a job in his booking department. when sevika pulls him aside later to ask why he would od something like that, he just. shrugs. silco never just shrugs.

ʚɞ now that you’ve basically part of their little crime family it's even easier for sevika to spend more time with you. unfortunately for you jinx has taken a liking to you, but you handle it well and always make sure to give the girl her favorite drink in her favorite cup whenever she stops in the bar to babble on about some new weapon of mayhem she’s decided to make.

ʚɞ but after a few weeks she notices your mood start to sour, how you start getting snippy with some of the more rowdy drunks who stumble through the bar. she catches you a few hours after closing sat behind the bar with a half drunken bottle in your hand and mascara running down your cheeks. normally if this was anyone else she’d scoff to herself and quickly make her exit but instead she plops herself down next to you and demands you tell her what's wrong. through hiccups and tears, you tell her that you’re pretty sure your husband is lying to you. about a lot. in particular about where he spends his nights and comes back grumbling about ‘unfair bets’ and losing cash.

ʚɞ sevika assures you she’ll get to the bottom of it, and it only takes her a few hours of trailing thee guy to find out the problem. it seems your betrothed has been gambling your money away in seedy gambling circles, with some guys she swore she told to cut it out months ago when it came to rigging their dice when playing with tourists. but the amounts he’s using are definitely more than what either of you are making on a salary.

ʚɞ she tries not to smile when she picks the excuse of a man up by the back of his neck with her mech hand, reveling in the horrified look on his face as he makes up excuse after excuse for why he’s been stealing money from you and the boss, that he swears he’ll make it back up to silco-

ʚɞ you come in the next day as confused as ever, whispering that your husband packed up his things in the middle of the night and disappeared. sevika sits you down and explains that your husband was a thief, stealing hundreds from silco rather sloppily under his nose, and was dealt with in a timely manner. but she assures you that you won't be affected by any debts he may have had, she’ll make sure of it and make sure none of those gamblers come after you.

ʚɞ you only grow closer and closer after that night, and its no surprise you start to catch feelings for the gorgeous woman who constantly makes sure you’re safe and protected. its on one of the bars rather more exciting nights that you relent and play a drinking game with some members of the crew, and in a moment of weakness accidentally admit that since your husband left you haven't been laid in weeks, and in an additional moment of weakness admit that the first person you’d like to rock your world would be none other than silco’s second hand.

ʚɞ it was just your luck that the woman was walking by when the words left your lips, and fueled by her own dose of liquid courage came up behind you and whispered that she was free at that moment.

ʚɞ you expected many things when you settled down in zaun, and getting bent in half for hours on end by the second in command to the rule of the underground was not one of them. but when sevika groans in your ear and moans about how you have the tightest pussy she’s ever had the pleasure of taking, you’re really glad it happened to you.

ʚɞ “god, i’m really not gonna be able to stay away from you now. promise that the next time you get married you’re not gonna have to worry about being disappointed ever again.”

ʚɞ (when sevika walks in the next morning with a rare smile on her face silco does admit that he hired your husband knowing he’d be an idiot that she’d have to get rid of. you’re welcome.)

ABBY ꨄ

ʚɞ abby never saw herself as a jealous person. she’d only been in one relationship before, and even though it ended rather sourly she knew it was only natural that they’d both eventually move on. but when she sees you, a new wlf recruit walking and smiling side by side with owen, she feels…weird. really weird.

ʚɞ she does feel bad that as soon as he introduces you all to the group at a small party thrown by some of the soldiers all she can manage is tight-lipped smile and a small wave. you visibly deflate and smile it off, immediately pulled away by nora and leah to grab some drinks. manny butts her shoulder with his, giving her that ‘what the hell?’ look he loves to do. she defensively apologizes, because how should she react? her ex-boyfriend clearly has a thing for you, is she supposed to be all buddy buddy with you?

ʚɞ it doesn't help that its clear to everyone that you’re pretty. like, weirdly pretty for someone in the middle of an apocalyptic setting. crystal clear skin, smooth lips, and eyes of a beautiful shade. she caught herself staring once in the gym as you laughed with one of the trainers and had to quickly get herself together.

ʚɞ isaac must be playing a sick game because you then get assigned to go with her on patrol. she initially resented, questioning why you were tagging along when you mostly worked with the medics and mel was already trailing along. he said that apparently you had asked for the chance to get some more field practice and left it at that, dismissing her with a wave.

ʚɞ she was quiet for most of the ride to the patrol spot, hands tight on the steering wheel as you sat in the back of the truck with the others in the group and laughed at some story one the guys was talking about.

ʚɞ god, even your laugh is cute, she thinks as she carefully maneuvers the truck around a downed tree. youre like if a dream girl was placed down in this wasteland to torture her, a giant sign to tell her of course owen went after you, you were perfect. more perfect than she could be.

ʚɞ it isnt helpful that shes left partnered with you as you clear out the abandoned store in the strip mall they've all been sent to check and re-clear the spaces if necessary. she finds herself frustrated when you very reasonably and very smartly stick to her side the whole time. she swears she almost trips over an overgrown branch when she catches a whiff of your soap and she doesnt know where the hell you managed to snag vanilla flavored anything.

ʚɞ everything is fine for a while. you both remain vigilant as you walk through the barely lit aisles of the department store, the only action when a clicker jumps up out of nowhere and nearly tackled you before she’s roughly pushing you out of the way and kicking out its knees before bashing in its head with her boot. she’s panting and catching her breath before roughly asking if you were alright and reminding you to stay vigilant, taking your wide eyed stare for shock at a close encounter to what would be a rather painful death.

ʚɞ but despite her rather abrasive attitude you try your best to be friendly with her. you reveal that owen did confide about their past relationship, and as awkward as the situation sometimes was you wouldn’t let it drive a wedge between you, that you in fact wanted to be friends with abby. you had heard a great many things about her, how she was a loyal friend, a courageous leader, clearly an incredibly strong soldier-

ʚɞ her brain. short circuits a bit. the way you called her strong, like it was fact that was so obvious that she’d already proven it to you just by being out here. sure she’d pushed you of out the trajectory of that clicker but that was normal, anyone should and would do the same. she realizes you wouldn’t get the chance to see any displays of strength like that back in the base save for the visits to the gym, and a foreign voice in her head laments what a shame that is.

ʚɞ she doesn’t realize until a day later just how screwed she is.

ʚɞ whatever weird…feelings she has for you don’t even get a chance to go away or settle, just fester and multiply with your constant presence. where abby is her friends are close by, and that now includes you. at small get togethers, shared gym workouts, breakfast lunch and dinner hangouts, you’re always there with a bright smile and a warm greeting for her. she thinks she’s hiding whatever it is she’s hiding pretty well until nora pulls her to the side and asks why she just keeps staring at you whenever you’re around, that she understand there might be some lingering feelings of jealousy and resentment towards owen but that’s no reason to treat you rudely.

ʚɞ abby stumbles over her words, insisting that she’s not treating you rudely, that’s the last thing she would want to do. who would ever do that to someone as nice and sweet and gorgeous as you? she ends her mini explanation with a stiff chuckle and looks at nora who’s now staring at her with an open mouth and a flabbergasted look on her face.

ʚɞ so it’s clear that abby likes you. she doesn’t know how to grapple with the fact, and decides its best to just deal with it privately and wait for it to just pass as most things do. the only person who knows is nora, who after not talking to her for a few hours after their last encounter came back to abby’s room to apologize for walking out on her in a moment where they so clearly needed to talk more about what was just revealed. she assures abby that she’ll help her through this but it’s very confusing to herself as well. it’s not every day you have to deal with your best friend falling in love with her boyfriends new girlfriend.

ʚɞ she doesn’t agree with abby’s method, frequently telling her that dealing with this in private will only have the opposite effect. and just like normally she’s right, abby’s increased attempt at distance from you only peaks your worry and drives you to constantly check in on her to make sure she’s okay. one day you come by her room after one of your workouts, and the sight of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in shorts and a tank asking her sweetly if she’s feeling okay and if she’d like to join you for lunch let’s her know for sure that she really can’t do this for much longer.

ʚɞ so she’s tries her best to try a different approach : exposure therapy. as bad as it sounds, she’s sure once she starts spending more time with you she’ll realize you aren’t some mythical girl of of her dreams and are just a normal person who’s dating her ex and who she can totally just be normal friends with. she comes up to you in the halls a few days later and asks if you’d like her to help you train for more field work and you beam up at her before wrapping your arms around her neck and thanking her a multitude of times before composing yourself. you go one about how you were so eager to prove yourself and you’d do no better than to have the abby anderson teaching you the basics. she zoned out as soon as she felt your skin against the back of her neck, nodding along to all of your words with a doe-eyed blank look.

ʚɞ it’s really nice bonding with you over the course of a few short weeks. you quickly pick up on the things she teaches you, and whatever you don’t she’s more than eager to help you learn. she hates to admit it but her conscious cheered a little bit when you told her you needed help aiming one of the bigger rifles, and it nearly screamed when she got to place herself behind you and helped you aim at the target practice. maybe she’s a bit delusional at this point but she swears she felt your body relax into hers, felt your breath stutter just a bit when her chest met your back.

ʚɞ and she knows it’s serious when she trusts you enough to share her space in the library. it’s a night when manny has a girl over so she’s in her usual cozy spot surrounded by the book shelves when she shears your gentle footsteps and call of her name, remarking that you initially went to the room out of loneliness about owen being gone for the night but came here when a breathless and shirtless manny told you her usual sleepover spot. she invites you to settle in with her in her heap of old blankets surrounded by dusty novels, trying her best to remain calm when you lean your head on her shoulders and insisted she keep reading her current book aloud.

ʚɞ she wakes up to the early morning light with her head rested on top of yours, snuggled up to battle the chill of the stadium air and your hand clamped around her arm. when she looks down at your face and wishes she could see you like this every day she realizes that she is really, really screwed.

ʚɞ luckily she doesn’t have to wait long to see you like that again. well, the circumstances are rather horrid. yet another soldier was having small secret party ok one of the larger stadium dorms and you were glued to abby’s side. everyone besides nora was confused but happy that the two of you seemed to be getting along so well, and nora herself kept giving abby looks that were a mixture between pity, worry, and just a bit of ‘you need to just get this off of your chest to anyone else but me’ annoyance.

ʚɞ abby was your designated drink manager, constantly making sure you weren’t too drunk and were drinking enough water to stave off any of the negative effects of the smuggled in alcohol they brought in for the party. you’re both sitting on one of the couches and observing the party when you make an off handed comment about not seeing owen for a while and abby decides to sit you down snuggly on the couch while she goes to look for him to appease your tipsy haze. her search leads her down the hallway, and it’s only when she hears an object drop in a nearby maintenance closet does she find out the truth.

ʚɞ she whips open the door to see owen and mel in a rather…well, let’s just say a really lewd position. in the midst of being disgusted and infuriated she finds a bit of amusement at mousy mel of all people doing a drunken hookup in a dingy closet. owen hurriedly tries to fix himself and his pants, insisting to abby that it’s not what it looks like, and suddenly his eyes lock on an object behind her and she turns around to see you, teary eyed and clearly betrayed before you silently stoop off to the direction of your own room.

ʚɞ abby is normally a calm person. as a soldier she isn’t afforded the luxury to let her emotions get the better of her in moments of stress. but seeing you with tears in your eyes and a wobbly lip makes her wish she broke owen’s nose on the spot. collecting all of her composure, she slaws the closet door in his face and quickly runs after you.

ʚɞ she quickly chases after you, making her way down the stadium halls until she finds your bedroom door agape, quickly knocking and entering when she hears your quiet cry demanding owen leave. she makes sure to announce who she is once she settles in beside you on your bed, gently extending her hands to make sure shes allowed to physically comfort you before pulling you into a tight hug once you let her know it’s okay.

ʚɞ she had again struggles to keep her composure when you cry into her shoulder, not minding the tears staining her t-shirt when she hears you weep about what a fool you wer, how you were such an idiot to believe that someone like him could truly care about you.

ʚɞ in the morning, she can blame the weeks of pent up feelings, or maybe the cup of beer she had an hour before, but she can’t stop herself from grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards her, commanding your attention before she reveals that should’ve warned you about owen earlier, that she should’ve known he would take advantage of someone with as sweet a nature as you. She’s always known he was a fool, but to ruin his chances of someone like you is the dumbest thing he ever could’ve done.

ʚɞ when you sniffle and look up at her with those shiny eyes and puffy lips and ask her if that’s true she feels her composed facade slipping, hands shaky as she reaches up to wipe your tears away before letting her palm letting her fingers trail down your face, biting her lip when she sees your eyelids flutter closer when her hands start to ghost down your neck.

ʚɞ she doesn’t feel sorry when she watches you take off your top, doesn’t feel guilt when she pushes you down to the bed and lets her lips bite and kiss from your neck to her chest and draw out all manners of whines and gasps from your throat. and when she feels your hips lift up and grind into her crotch, when her hands attach themselves to your hips and forces you to bring yourself to an orgasm in your pants, she doesn’t give a shit how it’ll seem when she parades you around the stadium tomorrow.

ʚɞ manny and nora are open mouthed and shocked when you walk hand in hand into the cafeteria the next morning, both starry eyed and covered in love bites as you sit together nearly attached at the hip. when owen walks in a few minutes later and quickly storms out after seeing the two of you, abby can’t help but shrug when manny asked her what the hell is going on.

ʚɞ “owen had his chance, and he should learn that jealously is a monster.”

ELLIE ꨄ

ʚɞ in moments like these ellie remembers laughing at how her fellow lesbians would fall for their straight friends in middle and high school and end up with broken hearts and broken friendships. and now as she sits across from you and listens to you lament about your boyfriend, she realizes that karma is real and she is totally a bitch.

ʚɞ truly, she has no one to blame, but herself the moment she saw you walk into the record store she worked at she knew that this would only lead to trouble for herself. It was obvious to Dina, who lightly pushed his shoulder and told her to stop drooling and to focus on her work and not fall into another relationship so soon after her catastrophic breakup with cat. she had rolled her eyes at the brunette and assured her nothing would happen, that she’d politely introduce herself, help you buy a product, and never think about or see you again.

ʚɞ god, what an idiot she was.

ʚɞ as soon as she introduced herself, you complemented her tattoo, mention that you had wanted one but were too indecisive about a design and placement. before she can even think of what she wants to say she’s telling you that wouldn’t mind hooking you up with her tattoo artist who could help you decide what you wanted. hell, she wouldn’t mind helping you decide what kind of vibe you were going for when it came to the body art and where exactly on your body would be best to showcase it.

ʚɞ you’re beaming up at her and thanking her, telling her that she really is just too kind. she’s even kinder when she continues to talk to you as she helps you look through the store, helping you decide which record would be best for your collection.

ʚɞ and helping you pick out another record as a gift. for your boyfriend. she can hear dina snicker at the counter all the way from three aisles away, passing it off as allergies when you turn to look at her.

ʚɞ but it’s not like she’s gonna fall for you. she gives you her number, but that’s because she already promised she’d help you with the tattoo stuff. and sure she talks with you for hours the following week and even goes with you to the parlor for moral support, but that’s because she’s a good person! and you even told her she’s a great friend for helping you with this! she’s just being friendly.

ʚɞ soon enough she basically becomes your new best friend. she doesn’t know how it happened really, somewhere between helping you when your car broke down in the middle of the road and having dinner with your parents when they demand to meet the person who’s been taking up an extra chunk of their daughters time. it’s frightening how easy it is to just be with you, to talk to you about any and everything. she remembers it took dina pestering her at work for weeks for them to become friends, and here she is laughing with your dad over roasted chicken after a month.

ʚɞ dina and jesse call her delusional. when the former shows the latter a picture of you on the instagram account you have to ellie he folds over in laughter and tells ellie oh so eloquently that she’s definitely going to fall for you, it’s only inevitable. but she remains vigilant that she wouldn’t do something so dumb. i mean yeah you’re basically exactly her type, like a deity went into one of her wet dreams and plucked the woman she manifested and placed you in the real world, but she was strong. there were plenty of fish in the sea. plenty of gay fish, to be exact.

ʚɞ she tries to go on dates, scrolls through tinder and likes every other attractive viable woman she sees. she even manages to have a few hookups. its really just a coincidence that they have some of your similar characteristics, truly. she’s not actually looking for you in any of these girls, that’d just be weird.

ʚɞ but then it happens. she has a girl over, her leg thrown over her shoulder as she grinds herself into the pretty girl’s cunt. she’s lost in a high after the blunt they’d shared earlier and her heads thrown back as she’s letting out expletive after expletive, and then she does it. she moans your name. she pauses, the girl pauses, and its silent as they remove their entangled limbs from each other and rigidly lay in bed side by side. it hurts even worse than the embarrassment when the girl pats her shoulder with a smile after she’s put her clothes back on, wishing her luck with whatever’s goin on between the two of you.

ʚɞ there’s no point in denying it then. she doesn't even get the chance to keep it to herself, the next day when she’s watching a movie on your couch you poke and prod at her until she reveals what’s got her in such a sour mood. she doesn't tell you the full story, of course, just that something absolutely mortifying happened last night when she was riding some girl. she groans that she didn't even get to finish and that was way worse then what she said, hoping the joke will ease some of the embarrassment she has telling the story and the guilt about passively lying to you.

ʚɞ she doesn't notice how you hips shift in your seat, how your teeth bite at the skin of your lip. she does notice when you question what she meant by riding a girl. she cant help but think about how adorable you are before explaining the position in the nicest way possible. you hum and turn your attention back to the movie and she thinks that's the end of the conversation. but only seconds later you’re asking her to show you.

ʚɞ she thinks she's dreaming. no, she knows she's dreaming. its happened before, weird dreams she has after a strong high where she swears her dreams become all the more vivid and lifelike. it was super annoying the second time it happened, she woke up to a world where she in fact did not win the lottery and get to make out with her celebrity crush. but this is just cruel, she didn't know her brain could be so masochistic. but no, the feel of your hand shaking her shoulder and shyly asking if you’ve made her uncomfortable is real, your big eyes flitting to anywhere but hers is real.

ʚɞ she stutters over her words, asking if you really mean it. and you say yeah, you’d been curious about this anyway. it wouldn't hurt to do it with ellie, you were friends, right? and god what an idiot she was because she’s nodding along like of course, this couldn’t make your friendship weird at all, right? so she gets to work, not doing anything too lewd except for gently pushing you to lie on your back as she maneuvers her body over yours, placing her crotch over yours until she can feel the heat of you through her jeans. she tries not to show a reaction to the sight of you looking up at her, curious and flushed as your hand briefly comes up to rest on her hip. its only when your hips delicately press up into hers that she abruptly removes herself from on top of you, stiffly chuckling before recommending you get back to the movie.

ʚɞ neither of you bring it up again.

ʚɞ it’s so much more difficult to be around you now. before she was resolute in the fact that she was alone in whatever weird feelings she had towards you, but eventually she might move on. but with only a few actions you threw that whole viewpoint out the window. now it was clear that you were interested. maybe not in ellie but in sex with another woman. a small part of her is upset at the fact it might not be her. its only cliche that if you started having these feelings you’d fall for your gay best friend, who the hell else were you thinking about? whatever, that wasn't important.

ʚɞ what was important was what occurred over the next few weeks. it happens slowly but surely, your complaints about your intimate troubles with your boyfriend. now ellie had met the guy before, and it made her feel slightly better that she had a valid reason right from the start not to like him. the man was clearly an ass, looking her up and down the first time they met and giving her a ‘yeah you’re weird’ look that he apparently didn’t think she’d recognize. luckily she didn’t have to see him often, only seeing him in passing when she spent time with you at yours or picked you up to go hang out.

ʚɞ but now his weirdness is apparently front and center. she nearly chokes on her chipotle when you tell her that he questioned why the two of you were spending so much time together, feeling like ellie was going to make a move on you.

ʚɞ and yeah, it was offensive. just because she was a lesbian didn’t mean she wanted to jump the bones of every woman she met. unfortunately that didn’t apply here because she very much did want to jump your bones. not like he knew that. hopefully.

ʚɞ but she doesn’t want to get in the way of your relationship, begrudgingly recommending that maybe the two of you should spend some time apart so he can chill out and realize he’s being paranoid. she’s very happy to hear your quick rebuttal, remarking how you’d rather dump him then spend any more time away from her.

ʚɞ god you are making this so confusing. and it only reaches a head the next time she sees you. you’d texted her to ask if she could come over late at night and obviously she said she would, along with a bag of your favorite drinks and snacks just in case you got peckish. so she’s sitting on the couch as you both eat some shareable m&ms when the topic becomes a bit more…intimate.

ʚɞ she notices your rigid shoulders as you sit stark straight on the couch and laughs about how pent up you must be. your following laugh is awkward as you agree that you have been a bit stressed lately. so she tells a joke, that your boyfriend isn’t up to par in bed. she expects you to laugh and hit her shoulder but you nod your head.

ʚɞ you…nod your head. and then you turn to her, and she’s getting flashbacks to the last time you were this close on your couch. her face is hot as whisper that the past few times you’ve tried to sleep with your boyfriend he, as you eloquently put it, ‘just pumps and dumps’, and brushes you off whenever you bring up the fact that you haven’t had a release. that as much as it ashamed you to say it, once he falls asleep next to you you sometimes find your hand trailing under your shorts and thinking back to her stories of the hookups she told you about, wishing she could show you how all of that felt.

ʚɞ ellie has always liked your bedroom. its soft and sweet, with vines of fake ivy hanging across the ceiling and a large canopy hanging over the bed. you even have an adorable collection of stuffed animals, a few of them gifted to you by her throughout the months of your friendship. all of the little guys have been shoved to the floor now, and for a fleeting moment she things they’re really just going to have to understand before her mind is consumed again with you, how you’re pretty flushed face is staring and moaning up at her as her wrist nearly cramps with how fast her fingers are pistoning into your wet cunt.

ʚɞ you haven’t even touched her and she’s already on cloud nine. your confession nearly made her pass out, and she swore she had died and gone to heaven when you asked her to help you with your problem and grabbed her hand to lead her to your bed. it was like her horniest dream come true to see you undress, to feel over your skin, to lower her head to your pussy and try her best to suck out your soul in the most loving way possible.

ʚɞ she feels her boxers get soaked when you cum around her fingers again, legs wrapping around her waist and head raising to muffle your sounds in her shoulder. she swore she nearly came when you bit into her shoulders, already knowing she was going to look into the mirror later to look at the mark your teeth left on her with a smile. but she didn’t predict for you to be so insatiable, for as soon as she pulls her fingers out of your cunt you’re whining and grinding your hips up into hers, whispering little *‘please, el, need more’*s

ʚɞ “don’t worry, baby, i’ll give you whatever you want. swear once i’m done you’re never even gonna think of that stupid boyfriend of yours again.”

[planetaryupscaled]

The Bed We Made

Male Reader x Teyeon x Winter

Tags: 18k, smut, creampie, dubcon, incest, oral, tw

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It’s not often you meet a mother who is as good-looking as her daughter or the rest of the family for that matter.

-

Groaning and moaning is all i heard as I passed the guest bedroom where my cousin Chaewon had been. ‘It’s nice to see someone is having fun’ I said to myself as I walked down the hall past my sister's bedroom. Now I close my ear. Shit, I don't want to hear what happens inside there.

I didn't like Minjeong boyfriend, that's no secret. But I’d learned a long time ago to stay out of her love life. That guy was an asshole. I couldn’t hide my feeling on him, not from her, but I remained silent on the subject. I was sure Minjeong would figure it out eventually and for the time being, at least he was a good-looking asshole that seemed to make her happy.

I moved on once again toward my own room. Chaewon’s brother Sojun was there with his new girlfriend Juhyeon. He was using my room because the only other bedroom available was my mom’s and neither Minjeong nor I thought it right that he and his girlfriend sleep there. I got mom’s bed since I was the one who stupidly broke up with his girlfriend the week before.

“I really could have timed it better,” I mumbled to myself.

Minjeong and I had started planning this night from the moment mom told us that she was going out of town on business. I was twenty and going to college. Minjeong was twenty-three and already working. She still lived home while she saved up for a place.

Mom was pretty old fashioned and didn’t let the people we were dating sleep over. She was a typical mother. She liked to think of us still as kids. It would have been cute if it weren’t so annoying.

I stopped in front of my bedroom door and listened. I forgot to get a pair of sweats to sleep in out of my closet before Sojun and Juhyeon disappeared into my room. I didn’t hear anything, so I opened the door gently. I glanced at my bed and saw that they were asleep.

They were naked. My eyebrows rose in appreciation when I saw Juhyeon. I had to give him credit. I’d thought she was cute when I met her earlier, but now I realized that Juhyeon was a lot more than that. She was hot, and had a very nice body. I shook my head and looked away.

The sweat pants were easily reachable and I got them as quietly as I could. I was making my escape when I stubbed my toe. I cursed as quietly as I could.

“Are you okay?” I heard Juhyeon ask. I looked back toward the bed. She had pulled the covers up, but I could still see her curves through the sheets. She saw me looking and smiled.

“Fine,” I replied a little too quickly. “Sorry. I just needed to get something to sleep in.”

“No problem,” she said kindly. “I shouldn’t have a problem going back to sleep. I’m still pretty drunk.”

“Aren’t we all?” I grinned. “We finished almost all the alcohol we bought, and that’s saying something.”

“It was a fun night,” she smiled in return. It was sexy as hell. I looked at her and shook my head as I fought to hide my sudden and intense attraction to her.

“You know, if you do have a problem going back to sleep...” I began, and paused when I realized what I was about to say. What’s wrong with me?

“Yes?” Juhyeon asked with a raised eyebrow. I was tempted, but it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t the type to try and steal someone’s girl. “You could wake him up. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“You think?” she smiled.

“I know,” I laughed, then glanced at my cousin who seemed almost comatose and added, “Although he seemed wiped out.”

“He is,” she replied, slowly looking at me oddly. “Do you want to fill in for him?” I was stunned. Tonight was the first time I met Juhyeon. She was pretty quiet earlier. I would never have guessed she was like this.

“No,” I replied with some difficulty. “Not that I’m not tempted, you are hot as hell,” I laugh.

“How sweet,” she teased. “Oh, thanks for the complement.”

“You deserve it,” I said, shaking my head.

“If you keep talking like that,” she smiled sexily. “I might not give you the choice.”

“I’d better be going then,” I laughed, but it was very difficult to move.

“Now look what you’ve done?” she asked. “I’m horny again. I guess I’ll have to wake him up.”

“Think you can?” I joked. “He looks passed out.”

“Watch me,” she replied confidently. Juhyeon shocked me again by reaching out and beginning to rub my cousin’s cock through the sheet. She was watching me, obviously enjoy my reaction.

‘Wow!’ I thought. ‘Drunk or not, this girl was definitely something else.

Juhyeon continued to look at me as she worked her mouth. I stood there mesmerized. She had one of the sexiest smiles I’d ever seen. She let the sheet drop slightly and exposed her breasts. I shook my head.

“I don’t suppose you have a sister?” I asked.

“Two,” she grinned. “But the younger one is only eighteen and pretty innocent.”

“And the older one?” I asked.

“You couldn’t handle her,” Juhyeon laughed.

“Maybe not,” I smiled. “But after watching this, I’d sure like to try.”

“Watching what?” she asked huskily, no longer laughing. “You mean this?” And with that Juhyeon pulled the cock from under the sheet and took it into her mouth while her eyes never left mine. I swallowed hard.

“Does he know just how much of a slut you are?” I groaned. My eyes were locked with hers.

“Not yet,” she smiled sexily, “But he’s learning.”

“Are you sure you aren’t willing to introduce me to your sister?” I joke.

“Maybe one day,” she smiled. “Or maybe I’ll let Sojun play with my sister and keep you to myself.”

“Okay,” I laugh. “Are you always like this?”

“Not usually,” she admitted. “But like I said earlier, I’m pretty drunk.”

“So, if you were sober you wouldn’t want to do what you just suggested?”

“Oh, I would want to do it,” she replied. “I just wouldn’t have suggested it, at least not so soon after starting to date Sojun and meeting you.”

“Hah you are something else.” I said, shaking my head.

“Yes, she is,” my cousin said, finally awake.

“Hey lover,” Juhyeon said, smiling at him.

“You two have fun,” I said, shaking my head again and leaving my room.

I went into the bathroom and changed into my sweats. I had to wrestle my cock inside. Juhyeon really got to me. I forced Tried to force myself not to think about it or I’d never get to sleep.

Mom’s room was the biggest and she had a king-sized bed. I shook my head sadly as I looked at it. It was too bad she never shared it with anyone. My father had disappeared right after I was born. I didn’t know him and at this point I never wanted to.

I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. I was tired, but had a hard time going to sleep. I knew what was going on in all of the other bedrooms and I had to admit that I was jealous, and horny as hell. I thought about taking care of myself, but I was in mom’s bed and I just couldn’t do it.

It took me some time to finally relax. That’s when lying in mom’s bed helped. It smelled of her and reminded me of how she used to help me calm down and fall asleep when I was a kid. In fact, mom’s bed was where Minjeong and I used to climb in when we had nightmares. Mom would play with our hair until we fell asleep.

I’m not sure how long I slept before I heard someone enter the room. It was pitch dark and whoever it was didn’t seem to be interested in putting on the light despite stumbling. I couldn’t quite remember what I was dreaming about, but I knew it was sexual. I was disappointed that my sleep was interrupted.

I opened my mouth and almost started to ask what was going on, but I stopped myself when I realized that there was no reason for someone to come in here in the middle of the night. It had to be one of the people sleeping over.

I reviewed who was in the house and a thought came to me. I felt myself stiffen instantly. Could it be? Would she do this?

I thought the answer to both questions obvious. I remembered the way Juhyeon looked at me and what she said. It had to be her. The question was, what should I do about it? She was sneaking into the room I was sleeping in, her intent obvious, but she was my cousin’s girlfriend.

‘Maybe Sojun knows. Maybe they decided to do what she said. Maybe my cousin is going to get Juhyeon’s sister while I get Juhyeon,’ I thought suddenly, but then frowned and added, ‘That’s a hell of a lot of maybes.’

I was still wrestling with myself on what to do when she climbed into bed next to me. All the sexual tension from before returned in full and I reached for her. Juhyeon we were in my mother’s bed, but I was too worked up to think or worry about it anymore. I aggressively pulled her into a kiss before she could say anything. She was naked and tasted strongly of alcohol.

Juhyeon stiffened at first when I kissed her. I guess she was surprised I was awake. She relaxed quickly enough though and ended up being a good kisser despite being drunk. She moaned softly into my mouth as I started rubbing her breasts. She took my cock in her hand and start stroking it like she did with my cousin earlier. It was my turn to moan.

I pulled off my shirt and sweats and dropped them on the floor. We were both obviously beyond the need of foreplay. I rolled on top of her and Juhyeon spread her legs wide. The scent of her excitement spread and despite being ready, I couldn’t stop myself from taking a moment to taste her. My tongue dipped deep into her pussy and she cried out. Juhyeon’s pussy was surprisingly hairy. I liked it.

“Yes! It’s been so long!”

I froze at the words. The voice wasn’t Juhyeon’s! My mind took seconds to function before it could wrap around the truth. I was lying here with my head between my mother’s legs, What the… she was supposed to be out of town!

“Don’t stop!” she cried, using both hands to pull my face against her. I didn’t know what to do. This was wrong, so very wrong!

‘Or is it?’ I suddenly asked myself. I mean, I knew it was wrong, but obviously she liked what I was doing. I loved her and if it brought her pleasure, maybe right and wrong didn’t come into it. Besides, she tasted amazing!

“Please!” she cried. “I’m close!” I tentatively started licking again almost without realizing it. She groaned and pulled my mouth against her even harder. “Whoever you are, you have the nicest tongue!”

‘She must be very drunk,’ I thought. Mom wasn’t the type to drink or sleep around. I knew that. In fact, she’d only moments ago said that it had been a long time. She obviously wasn’t thinking straight right now, but she would in time.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I’m going to cum…” Her pussy became even wetter and the taste overwhelmed me.

I refocused my attention on what I was doing and was quickly rewarded with her cum. She cried out as her orgasm took her. The sound made me smile, almost proudly. No matter what else, I’d given her a moment of ecstasy.

“That was amazing,” she said afterward. I could hear the contentment in her voice, but I also realized that she wanted more. So did I.

‘I can’t feel this way about her, It’s so wrong!’ I thought. Yet, I felt what I felt. ‘No!’

I knew it was time to leave despite my own excitement. The only problem was that she wrapped her hand around my cock and she started stroking it again before I could figure out how to make my escape. A few moments later she kissed me and all thoughts of leaving disappeared.

I was amazed at how excited kissing she made me feel. It didn’t make sense! She was my mother and you didn’t do this with your mother, only I was and it felt incredible. Her tongue danced in my mouth and I moaned. I was lying on my back now and after a few minutes I felt she start to shift on top of me. I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t ready for that. Not with her!

I pushed her off.

“Men,” she laughed. “You’re all the same. It doesn’t matter how many years have passed.” I didn’t know what she was talking about until she took my cock into her mouth.

‘Holy shit!’ I cried silently. ‘she is giving me a blowjob’ The fact that she was very good at it only made it worse.

I moaned and rested one hand on her head. She didn’t need any direction, but it felt good to have my fingers intertwined with her hair. She wasn’t a full-figured woman, but neither was she skinny in any sense. She went to the gym every night and stayed trim. She said it was because of her job, but I knew that she was proud of her figure.

My orgasm grew close very quickly as she continued to suck my cock like crazy. She also messaged my balls with one hand. It didn’t take long for me to cum in her mouth. She drank it all down.

“I hope you don’t take long to recover,” she said afterward as she rolled onto her back. “I need this. It’s been a very long time and I’ve had a horrible last couple of days.”

I wondered what happened that made them horrible, but there was no way to find out without letting her know who I was. So instead, I kissed her again. She was obviously excited because her tongue danced wildly in my mouth.

“Oh, very nice,” she cried when she felt my cock hardening again. This time she tried to shift me on top of her. I helped despite my uncertainty. She sighed contently when she felt my weight on her and added, “I’m ready.”

The question was, was I? Would I really have sex with her? I knew she needed it and frankly, I was horny as hell, but what would happen tomorrow? How would we deal when we were both sober?

She was rubbing my cock up and down her pussy.

“Please don’t tease me!” she begged, and the next thing I knew I was pushing inside of her. None of my questions or fears had been addressed, but I was beyond caring at the moment.

She was pretty tight, but she was so excited that it didn’t take me long to push all the way in. I didn’t want to think about the only other time I’d been inside her pussy. Instead, I started stroking in and out of her.

“Yes!” she cried. “You’re so big!”

She wrapped her legs around my hips and pulled me deeper. She also raked my back with her nails. It got worse the closer she came to orgasm.

“Nghhgod….” she cried. “I’m cumming!” I was pretty sure she drew blood with her nails.

My own orgasm was still far off. I wanted to bring her pleasure and my own excitement was obvious, but this just wasn’t right. Don’t get me wrong. What we were doing felt amazing and was driving me crazy. I just couldn’t finish, not like this.

She thrashed under me as her orgasm took her. I held her through it and kept my cock pressed as deeply as it would go. It took her surprisingly long time to finish.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding almost as if she were crying. “I really needed that.”

I refused to get off of her or pull out. In fact, it wasn’t long before I started gently moving in and out of her again.

“Again?” she asked in surprise. I pushed in deeper in reply, causing her to moan.

I continued to work her pussy until her excitement grew to the point where she was once again scratching my back. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet. It felt like my cock was an iron-like rod being thrust in and out of a furnace. It was amazing, I wanted to cum inside her, but I knew that there was only one way I’d be able to do that. She needed to know the truth. Could we?

“You are beautiful,” I said, she stopped scratching my back as my words were sinking in past her alcohol filled mind. “I love you.”

“Minho?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes mom,” I answered. “It’s me.”

“No!” she cried and pushed against me wildly. I wouldn’t let her get up, but she spun around and buried herself into the bed. My cock pulled free and I groaned in disappointment.

“Mom, calm down,” I said.

“Get off!” she cried.

“No,” I said, surprising us both. My cock was still hard and wedges between her ass cheeks.

“This is so wrong…” she whimpered.

“It’s already done,” I replied. “And don’t act like didn’t love every minute of it, The bed is soaked.”

“How could you?” she asked.

“I didn’t know it was you at first,” I replied. “What’s your excuse? Just who did you think was in your bed?”

“I didn’t think!” she moaned. “I’m drunk.”

“I know,” I said more gently. “Me too.”

“Minho, please get off of me.” She asked more calmly, but obviously still in shock.

“Mom, we’ve already done the worst we can,” I said. “And it was amazing. I need to cum in you. Please let me.”

“No… Never!” she cried. “You’re my son!”

“I’m also the man whose back you scratched in passion as I drove you to orgasm,” I said.

“We can’t!” she said, but it was obvious she was weakening. I knew that tone of voice. All I needed to do was be patient and I’d get my way. I learned that a long time ago. The only problem was that I couldn’t. I shifted my cock to the entrance of her pussy.

“You wouldn’t,” she cried. I thrust my cock deep. “Stop!”

I ignored her cries, she was now a woman I wanted desperately, needed desperately.

She tried to get out from under me, but I held her in place. She fought harder, but her pussy became wetter with every passing second.

“This is so wrong.” she moaned as she finally stopped fighting and lifted her hips slightly to give me better access. I smiled and pushed in deeper.

“You’re right.” I grunted, and then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “But that’s not going to stop you from cumming again. Me either.”

“Oh yes…” she groaned. “Cum in me… I want to feel a man fill me again!”

“Even if that man is me?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. She came to her senses and fought briefly once more, but I held her in place until her need took control again. It wasn’t very long. She was too excited to let her sense of right and wrong get in the way. I drove into her over and over again.

“Your cock is so big!” she moaned. “And you’ve found my weakness, just like your father did all those years ago.”

“Weakness?” I asked.

“Don’t make me say it!” she begged between gasps, but oddly, I knew that she wanted me to.

“Tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me your weakness.”

“I won’t!” she cried, suddenly fighting to get out of me again. I held her down and drove into her harder and faster. She suddenly stopped fighting and came. Her orgasm was explosive.

“Yes! Yes! Nghhh…” she moaned.

I was close, but I wasn’t there yet. She thrashed under me violently. It got so bad that my cock popped free of her. I tried to shove it back in, but I missed and ended up pushing against the entrance to her ass.

“Just like your father!” she moaned again as she froze. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted. No way?

“You want me to fuck your ass?” I asked.

“That’s disgusting!” she cried, which wasn’t a denial. I’d never taken a girl’s ass before, but the thought had always interested me. I pressed the head of my cock against the entrance to her ass more firmly. It was surprisingly tight. It didn’t help that she was fighting me once more. She was clenching her ass. I paused. What if she really didn’t want me to?

“Tell me you want me to fuck your ass and I will,” I said.

“Never!” she gasped under me. “I’m a good girl! I would never say something like that!”

“But you want me to, don’t you?” I asked. She didn’t answer. She just fought harder and the truth hit me. “That’s it, isn’t it? You like to think of yourself as normal and wholesome, but the truth is that you’re a slut.”

“I am not!” she cried. “I’m not doing this of my own free will. You’re forcing me!”

“And you love every moment of it.” I said, realizing I was right. “You like being held down. You like being taken. Admit it!”

“Minho, I’m your mother!” she cried in response.

“So?” I asked. “You’re also a woman. Admit it!”

“I can’t!” she cried. I was done talking. I knew the truth even if she wouldn’t say it. Her ass was still clenched. I was tempted to push past her resistance, but I didn’t want to hurt her. So, I shifted down her body.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I ignored her question and forced her thighs apart. Now her pussy and ass were open to me and only inches from my mouth. I stuck my tongue out and licked her pussy. She moaned and relaxed slightly, but that only lasted until my tongue moved to her ass.

“Minho, no!” she cried. “Not even you father did that!”

“His loss.” I grunted and focused on what I was doing. I also drove two fingers into her pussy and used the thumb of the same hand on her clit. It wasn’t long before she moaned loudly and she relaxed. I worked both her pussy and ass hard and she loved every minute of it.

“This is so wrong…” she finally gasped.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed easily now. I smiled and decided to tease her. “How can you just lay there and let your son have his way with your body? I’m licking you ass, what kind of a mother are you?”

“No!” she cried, and started fighting me again.

I moved up her body and pressed her down against the bed. She continued to fight until my cock pushed into her ass for the first time. She cried out and surprised me by thrusting back to meet me.

“Your ass is so tight…” I whispered in her ear as I continued to force more of my cock inside.

“So much like your father!” she gasped out again. “Only bigger!”

“Kiss me.” I demanded as my cock finally reached into the depth of her ass. Her head turned and she looked at me. The room was pitch black, but I could feel her eyes. “Kiss me. Show me just what kind of a slut you really are.”

I thought she’d start fighting me again, but she surprised me by finding my mouth and thrusting her tongue inside. I moved in and out of her ass slowly as we continued to kiss.

“Minho stop…” she cried after a while and refused to kiss me. I knew what she was trying to tell me. She was ready. She wanted me to fuck her ass hard. She needed to feel me take her.

“We’re not done yet.” I said, thrusting into her ass with more power and propping myself up. “I need to cum, I need to fill your ass.”

“No…” she cried and started fighting me. I held her down roughly and fucked her ass with everything I had. My hips slammed into her meaty ass with every stroke and made a slapping sound that drove me crazy. She liked it too. I could tell.

“I’m getting close,” I groaned after a while. “I want you to cum with me. Play with yourself.”

“No… Good girls don’t do that!” she replied.

I took one of her hands and roughly pushed it under her and between her legs. It threw my rhythm off, but that was fine for a bit. I wanted this to last. I took her hand in mine and made her rub her soaked pussy. She fought, but not a lot and not for long. It was only a few seconds before her fingers blurred on her clit without my direction.

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to do this!” she cried as her orgasm growing.

“Shut up and just do it.” I demanded. She moaned as I started fucking her ass in earnest again. I was holding her hips now and ramming in and out of her.

“I’m cumming!” I cried as my orgasm hit.

“That’s it baby! Cum in me! Fill my ass!” She cried as her own orgasm hit. I guess in the heat of the moment she forgot she was supposed to be a good girl.

I pumped a huge amount of cum into her ass. My orgasm took me for what felt like minutes. This was the hottest moment of my life. I had to admit I liked the roughness of our sex too. It was something new to me.

“Are you okay?” she asked in what sounded like real concern when I became dead weight on top of her.

“Better than that,” I moaned as I rolled off of her. We lay there in silence for a while, both fighting to catch our breath.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. I could almost see her shaking her head. She was calmer now.

“I know,” I said, surprising her by pulling her so that her head was resting on my shoulder. It was my turn to comfort her by playing with her hair.

“I feel so guilty,” she added.

“Don’t,” I replied. “If anyone should feel guilty it’s me. I did force myself on you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she sighed.

“Yes it is,” I insisted. “And the truth is that I liked it. I liked it a lot. And don’t you dare say I’m so much like my father again!”

“But you are,” she said. “But only in the ways I like. You’re not the type of guy to run out on his family.”

“No, I’m not,” I agreed vehemently.

“And you are a lot bigger where it counts,” she added. She was obviously trying to defuse my anger at my father. It would always be there, but she was right. This wasn’t the time of place.

“Thanks,” I said. “Knowing that helps.”

“Men!” she laughed.

“So, why did you come home early?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Ugh,” she stareted. “I had to quit my job. My boss tried to force himself on me while we were away, and not in the way I like.”

“That asshole!” I snapped, ignoring her attempt at humor. “I’ll...”

“Do nothing,” she said in that tone all mothers used. “He was my problem and I took care of him. You will stay away from him.”

“Okay,” I said, but it was too quick and she knew.

“Minho, I’m serious,” she said. “He hit on me all trip and it came to a head when we were at a presentation. Someone was up on stage giving a talk and my boss and I were sitting with the rest of the audience. He grabbed my leg under the table and tried to reach higher.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I dumped a glass of water over his head,” she said in satisfaction. “We were in front of most of his clients. It will cost him more than you think.”

“Should’ve sued him,” I said.

“I might,” she replied. “But that’s not a conversation for tonight.”

“Tomorrow then,” I said.

“Well see,” she said, and then changed the subject. “By the way, why aren’t you sleeping in your bed?”

“Sojun and Chaewon came over,” I said nervously. It was weird really. Only a few minutes ago I was in control, holding her down and taking her roughly to both of our enjoyment, but here I was afraid to tell her that we’d had a small party while she was out.

“You and Minjeong had a party, didn’t you?” she guessed.

“Just Sojun and Chaewon,” I said, but then added guiltily. “And Changho, Gyumin and Sojun’s new girlfriend Juhyeon. I thought you were her.”

“You thought I was your cousin’s girlfriend and you jumped me?” she asked.

“Well, she did climb into the bed I was sleeping in,” I said defensively. “Besides, you’d have to meet her to understand. She’s a bit wild.”

“So,” she sighed. “What you’re trying to tell me is that my daughter, nephew and niece are all in the other bedrooms with their significant others having sex?”

“I doubt they’re still at it,” I shrugged. She surprised me by laughing.

“You just better hope your uncle never finds out,” she said when her laughed died down. “He would completely lose it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You seem to be handling it pretty well.”

“I’m not my brother,” she replied. “And after what we just did, I don’t have any moral high ground to stand on for the moment.”

“Well, that’s true,” I laughed.

“Minho, it’s not funny,” she sighed. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but that isn’t going to help tomorrow when we have to face what it means.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “I like when you talk to me like this.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like a woman,” I replied. “Don’t get me wrong. I love you and appreciate everything you did for Minjeong and me growing up, but we’re adult now. Besides, I never realized just how hot you could be before.”

“That’s wrong on so many levels,” she sighed. “I’m your mother. I’m not supposed to be hot, at least not to you. Besides, we both know that you wouldn’t be saying that if the lights were on.”

I reached for the nightstand. She was clearly not expecting it when the light came on. It was soft and dull, but we’d been in completely darkness.

“Minho!” she cried, reaching for the covers. I rolled on top of her and held her in place. “Stop!”

“Relax,” I said. “I just wanted to prove you wrong. You’re just as hot in the light as in the darkness.” She froze and looked up at me. I smiled down at her.

She looked great. I knew that and so did she. She worked hard at keeping herself that way and her curves showed it.

“You know, whatever else I’d say about your boss, he has great taste.”

“Minho, get off of me,” she said, shaking her head, but smiling slightly.

“I would, but I seem to have a problem,” I said with a grin. She frowned briefly in concern, but she saw my grin and quickly realized the truth. The fact that my cock was bumping into her belly probably helped.

“No way.” she cried, but I ignored her and tried to kiss her. She twisted her face to the side and I ended up kissing her neck. I didn’t mind in the least. I worked my way up to her mouth. “Minho, we can’t… not again.”

“I want you.” I said between kisses. “And I want to look into your eyes as you cum.”

“No…” she cried again, louder.

“If you get much louder, you’re bound to get the attention of everyone else in the house. Could you just picture Minjeong’s reaction? Or uncle if one of his kids told him?”

“That’s my point.” She said. this time she kept her voice lower. “We can’t keep on doing this! We’ll get caught eventually and then what?”

“Good point,” I said, but then grinned and shrugged before adding, “But at the moment I could care less. I want you. I’m going to have you and that’s all that matters.”

She looked up into my eyes and saw that I was serious despite my grin. She licked her lips in a way that left me know she wanted it too. That was all I needed to know. I pushed my cock halfway into her pussy with one thrust.

“Stop….” she cried, fighting me once more. “I’m your mother…”

“You’re a hot woman that I want to make scream.” I growled. Her eyes got bigger as I thrust the rest of my cock inside her. She cried out and wrapped her arms around me. I started stroking in and out of her. Once again, I felt her nails on my back.

“Minho, I thought I raised a good boy.” she gasped as her orgasm neared.

“You did,” I replied. “But no one is good all the time. Not even you,” I said, “Now, be my slut and cum for me.”

“Nghhhyess…” she cried, her body locking up in orgasm. I watched her passion filled expression in awe. She really was beautiful. I’d remember this moment forever. She noticed me watching and added, “Minho cum with me… cum inside me.”

I grunted and let lose. I filled her pussy as she rolled into another orgasm. Our bodies slammed together over and over again until we were both completely spent.

“Tomorrow we’ll deal with the repercussions,” I said, holding her close afterward. “There must be some.”

“I know,” she sighed. She fell silent for a few minutes. I was starting to nod off when she shook her head.

“What?” I asked.

“You do realize that what we’re doing is incest?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted. “And you want to know the sick part?”

“What?”

“The knowledge is only making it better,” I answered.

“For me too,” she admitted, almost too softly for me to hear. “And I’m the mother. I should know better.”

“So do I,” I shrugged. “I’m not a kid anymore.” We fell silent for a while.

“So much for being a good girl,” she sighed eventually.

“Hey, we didn’t plan this. It just happened,” I said. “There’s no sense is beating ourselves up after the fact.”

“It has to stop,” she said.

“I agree,” I said.

“And you can’t sleep here tonight,” she added.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room. Right after I take a shower.”

“Good,” she said, but I thought I heard a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

“You know mom,” I said innocently. “I bet you could use a shower too, and your bathroom has the nice big walk in one.” She looked at me and smiled slowly.

“Yes, it does,” she said. “I think I’ll use it first. You wait here and don’t you dare come in. It would be wrong!”

I watched her walk to her bathroom and smiled. She was seriously hot. I’d always know it, but it never really registered until now. Watching her ass wiggle as she walked made my cock stir despite my last orgasm.

I waited a few minutes until I heard her in the shower and then went to the door. I turned the knob and it opened. She hadn’t locked the door. I smiled widely and went in.

“Oh Minho. What am I going to do with you?” she asked, hiding a smile. She was standing under the shower as hot the water cascaded down her body. I shook my head as I watched.

“I have a few ideas,” I replied moving toward her.

“Don’t you dare,” she cried. “You can’t come in here!” Yet, I noticed she moved back from the door to give me room.

“We’ll see about that.” I snapped, opening the door and stepping in. I took her into my arms and kissed her roughly as she started fighting me. Oddly enough, despite her resisting me, somehow her hand found my cock and her tongue thrust deep into my mouth. This continued for some time.

“I want your ass again.” I growled when I couldn’t take it any longer.

“No…” she cried, spinning away from me.

She ended up standing on her toes with her hands against one of the shower walls. I looked at her ass and shook my head. It was round and full. My mouth literally watered.

“Please don’t kiss me down there again.” she cried as if to let me know what she wanted.

I dropped to my knees and buried my face between her ass cheeks. She cried out and thrust her ass out further, giving me better access. She was more than ready, but I took my time. Her ass tasted amazing and she clearly like how it felt.

“What are you doing?” she cried as I stood and pushed my cock against the entrance to her ass.

“Taking a good girl and making her my slut.” I whispered.

“No…” she said. I crushed her against the shower wall and shoved my cock deep into her ass and started riding her slowly.

I took her hair and pulled it into a ponytail and moved it to one side, giving me access to the back of her neck. It was pale white because she always wore her hair down. I licked it and she squirmed under me. I kissed it and her squirms became more pronounced.

“What are you doing?” she asked. The answer came without me realizing it.

“Marking what’s mine. Marking my slut.” I growled and started sucking hard on her neck. The mark I would leave wouldn’t be seen by anyone else as long as she wore her hair down, but we’d both know it was there. It was something that would last beyond tonight.

“No…” she moaned, but she pushed her ass back hard against my cock, forcing it in even deeper.

“Yes,” I snapped, pulling back and looking at my handiwork. She was marked, but it wasn’t dark enough. Not yet anyway, I kissed her neck again.

“Minho, you are going to make some girl very happy one day,” she gasped.

“I’d settle for you today,”

“I am happy,” she moaned. “It’s been so long since I had a real man and no one has ever gotten to me like you do.”

“Not even father?” I asked.

“Not even him!” she groaned. I could feel her fingers brush my cock as she played with her pussy. She was getting close. So was I.

I took her hips and started riding her ass hard. She moaned loudly and came. I continued to stroke I and out of her until she was done. After that I pulled out and spun her toward me.

Her eyes flashed hungrily as I pushed down on her shoulders. She dropped to her knees and reached for my cock, but I stopped her. I held her head with one hand at arms distance and pointed my cock at her with the other as I brought myself to orgasm.

“Open your mouth,” I demanded. She did as she continued to watch me hungrily.

The first few ropes sprayed her face and chest. Some of it made it into her mouth. She pushed my hand away and fell on my cock. I grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth until I was done.

“You need to go,” she said once I was able to half focus again.

“You’re mine,” I said, still a little blurred from my lust.

“I remember,” she sighed. “And I am yours… for tonight.”

“For as long as that mark remains,” I said. She shook her head.

“I thought we agreed that this was just for tonight?” she asked.

“It’s the smart thing to do,” I said, standing up. She looked up into my eyes nervously. “But I’m not giving this up. I’m not giving you up.”

“And if I don’t want this to happen again?” she asked.

“I’ll take you against your will,” I shrugged. “And you’ll love it.”

“I know you don’t mean that. You would never force me if I really didn’t want to.”

“Mom,” I sighed, looking at her. “I’m not sure if that’s true with you. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” she said. “Go get some sleep.”

“Okay,” I said, but my mind wandered. My concern must have been plain on my face, because she took my chin and made me look into her eyes.

“Minho, don’t worry,” she said with a gently smile. “I know you better than you know yourself. You really wouldn’t force me.”

“I hope you’re right,” I sighed.

“I am,” she said confidently, and then added more softly, “But even if I weren’t it wouldn’t matter. I’ll always want you. I just don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”

“It isn’t,” I agreed, relaxing slightly. “And you’re right. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I kissed her one more time and slipped out of the shower. I dried myself quickly and grabbed my sweats and tee-shirt off the floor in her bedroom. I put them on quickly and took one last look at her bed before leaving. It was rumpled and stained with our pleasure.

It was the same bed I’d gained comfort from when I was a kid. Yet, now it was also something more. It dawned on me that my thoughts described her as well. She was the same person I knew and loved growing up, but now she was something more.

“Hey little brother,” Minjeong said as she flopped down on the couch cushion next to my head with a grin. “What are you doing sleeping out here?”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” I groaned as I sat up. “This couch sucks! I’m exhausted.”

“Weren’t you going to sleep in your mom’s room?” her boyfriend asked.

“That was the plan,” I sighed. “Until she came home.”

“Mom’s home?” Minjeong asked, no longer smiling.

“Yeah,” I replied as I stood and stretched.

“Oh shit!” Changho sigh. “She hates me as it is, and this isn’t going to help.”

I fought off a smile. Mom didn’t hate Changho. She didn’t hate anyone, but then again, he wasn’t her favorite person. Mine either for that matter.

“Does she know about the party?” he asked.

“Of course,she does,” Minjeong said, answering for me.

“Don’t worry,” I said to Minjeong. “I told her it was his idea. You should be okay.” I then turned to Changho and added, “Although, she did say something about wanting to talk to you this morning.”

“What?” he asked nervously.

“Relax,” Minjeong sighed. “Minho is just joking.”

“Very funny!” he said angrily. I shrugged.

“Changho, I think you’d better be going,” Minjeong said. “Mom’s an early riser and I don’t think you want to be here when she gets up.”

“I’m gone,” he said, giving Minjeong a quick kiss and making for the door. I frowned. This guy is annoying.

“Think we should wake up Chaewon and Sojun?” Minjeong asked.

“Probably,” I answered, forgetting about that dumb boyfriend of hers for the moment. “It will give them a chance to prepare.”

“Like you can prepare for one of mom’s lectures,” Minjeong sighed, but then added, “On the other hand, maybe they can slip out too. There’s no reason for everyone to have to face her wrath.”

“I’ll wake them,” I said.

I climbed the stairs quickly as memories of the night before drifted through my head. My hangover was bad and my head throbbed. Thinking was almost painful. I was also exhausted from trying to sleep on the couch.

The last question was the one that concerned me the most. I had no idea how to react, but I figured I’d work through it eventually. On the other hand, I was seriously worried about mom. I was afraid that there was a good chance she wouldn’t handle it at all. And then what?

I pushed open the guest bedroom door and forced the thoughts of the night before out of my head for the moment. Chaewon and her boyfriend Gyumin were asleep in the bed.

“Wake up you two.” I said, shaking the bed. Gyumin didn’t budge, but Chaewon opened her eyes.

“For God’s sake, why?” Chaewon groaned.

“Because my mom’s home,” I replied.

“Aunt? Oh shit!” Chaewon cried, and then started shaking her boyfriend.

I left the room and moved on to my bedroom. I pulled my shirt off as I went. I needed something to get me going. A shower was just the thing. I’d grab some clothes while I woke Sojun and his girl up. Maybe it would help with my hangover.

I threw open the door to find Juhyeon riding my cousin on my bed. The room smelled of sex. Juhyeon looked at me and smiled. I shook my head. She didn’t even pause in what she was doing.

“You two better hurry,” I said. “Because my mom is home and she’s bound to wake up soon.”

“Damn!” Sojun cried and pushed his girl off of him. Juhyeon clearly wanted to finish. I shook my head and went to the dresser.

I grinned to myself, remembering last night when I thought I was going to get a chance to do much more than just look. That hadn’t worked out, but something much different had.

“Minho, what the hell happened to your back?” Sojun cried as he stood and threw on his clothes. Juhyeon did as well, but she was moving slower.

“Looks like someone played with a tigress,” she grinned. It took me a second to realize what they were talking about.

“Yeah,” I said, thinking as quickly as I could. “I met a girl a couple of nights ago. She was wild.”

“She must have been.” Sojun laughed.

“You’d better get going,” I prompted. “Mom will be up soon.”

“Right!” he said.

“I’m right behind you,” Juhyeon said when Sojun looked at her impatiently. He nodded and left. I moved to leave and take my shower, but she stopped me by placing a hand on my shoulder.

“What?” I asked. She was looking at me oddly.

“Those scratches are new,” she said. “There’s no way they happened before last night.”

“No...” I began, but she covered my mouth with her hand briefly to silence my protests.

“Maybe I was wrong,” she smiled sexily. “Maybe you can handle my sister.”

“You’re older sister?” I asked. She nodded, getting very close.

“You must be wilder than Sojun describes,” she said. Juhyeon was so close that if I moved at all our bodies would touch. “Because those scratches are new and I’m the only girl not related to you in the house.”

“That’s- I...” I began, but she covered my mouth with her hand again.

“I know,” she smiled, her eyes burning into mine. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. It also doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get to me… on a purely sexual level.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. It didn’t matter. Juhyeon removed her hand from my mouth and barely brushed her lips against mine before turning and moving toward the door.

“I’m looking forward to introducing you to my sister,” she said as she left the room. “It’s been a while since she and I double dated.”

I swallowed hard. It was such an innocent statement, but I thought there was more to it. She didn’t seem shocked at all by her discovery that I had an incestuous affair, only enticed.

“I’m sure it will be some double date,” I mumbled to myself, and then thought, ‘I think it’s time Sojun and I had a talk. I want to make sure he knows what Juhyeon is hinting at before I meet her sister.’

The shower felt good. My back stung as the water hit the scratches and I let myself dwell on how I got them for the first time since waking up. If nothing else, they were proof that the night before wasn’t a dream.

“Wow!” I said, shaking my head as the truth tried to sink it.

The whole situation from the night before was impossible, but it had happened. I knew that, and now I’d have to deal with the repercussions. I finished my shower, dried and got dressed. I even took the time to brush my teeth and dry my hair. I almost felt human again by the time I left the bathroom.

I could hear voices being raised downstairs. Mom was obviously awake and it sounded like Minjeong and her were going at it.

When I went to downstair, it was just Mom and Minjeong, and the others were nowhere to be found.

“Let me make you some breakfast before I’m leave,” Mom said, but poor Minjeong looked totally confused.

“What’s up with mom?” Minjeong frowned.

“Ease up on her,” I said softly. “Mom quit her job last night.”

“She what?” Minjeong cried, but then added, “Let me guess. It was her boss, he hit on her, didn’t he?”

“You knew about him?” I asked in surprise.

“No, but I guessed,” Minjeong sighed. “He had jerk written all over him. I’d better go in and make sure she’s alright.”

“Okay, but don’t push her,” I said. “She’ll tell you about it when she’s ready.”

“Minho, mom’s not the only one acting weird today,” Minjeong said, but then thankfully left the room before I could think of how to respond.

I moved on to the guest bedroom and clean it while he was in the shower. It didn’t take long and I had plenty to think about.

“Breakfast!” I heard Minjeong call up the stairs.

The meal ended up being surprisingly good. Mom seemed to be relaxing and I made sure not to do or saying anything to upset her. We were all laughing at one point when the phone rang. Mom picked it up.

-

“This is still my house and I don’t want it becoming party central or where you and Minho have your booty calls.”

“Booty call?” Minjoeng asked in surprise. “Where in the world did you hear that?”

“I’m old, not dead!” mom sighed.

“Who are you and what have you done with my mother?” Minjeong asked.

“Very funny,” mom sighed, glancing my way briefly. I’d intentionally remained quiet. “I guess last night opened my eyes up to a lot of things. It wasn’t just your party and sleep over.”

“I know,” Minjeong said. “Minho told me.”

“Heard what?” mom asked, clearly stunned. I knew what she was thinking.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I guess I should have let you tell Minjeong that you quit your job.”

“My job?” mom said, shaking her head. “Ah right.”

“Are you okay?” Minjeong asked.

“I will be,” mom answered honestly. “It’s just a lot to take in all at once.”

“Don’t worry mom,” Minjeong said. “Minho and I will help.”

“We’ll be fine,” mom smiled. “I’ve got enough saved before I’ll have another job.”

“I still think you should sue him,” I grumbled. “Or better yet, let me pay him a visit.”

“No.” mom snapped. “I can take of him myself.”

We changed the subject and went back to finishing breakfast.

-

“I’m wiped,” I sighed.

“I guess that means I can’t convince you to help me clean?” Minjeong asked.

“You clean? That’ll never happen. Do you even know how to wash a dish?” I joked.

“Very funny,” Minjeong said. “You jerk.”

Minjeong really wasn’t much of a cleaner. She could do it when she put her mind to it, but that wasn’t very often. I wasn’t much better, but I’d been known to throw a load of laundry on every so often. I even vacuumed upon rare occasions.

“You aren’t serious, are you?” I asked.

“Yes I am,” she replied. “Mom had a tough day.” I frowned and nodded. I was very tired, but she was right. On the other hand, cleaning could wait a little while.

“How about we take a nap first?” I asked. “Mom will be out for a while.”

“Hmm,” Minjeong said thoughtfully. “That does sound good, but I need a shower first.”

“Enjoy,” I shrugged. “Bed time for me.”

Minjeong was first to the stairs. She climbed them and it actually took me a moment to realize I was staring at her ass.

‘Pervert!’ I snapped to myself, but then I shrugged. After what happened with mom, did it really matter? I took a few moments to think about my sister and her appearance. ‘Shit, Minjeong’s pretty hot!’

It wasn’t that I didn’t know what she looked like or that I thought she wasn’t attractive before, but I’d never truly looked at her as a girl. No, that’s not right. I’d never looked at her in a sexual way, and I was now. Fuck.

Minjeong had mom’s blond hair and was built athletically. Her ass was small, but rounded nicely from all the sports she played in high school and college. She was a gym teacher and it showed. Her breasts weren’t nearly as big as moms, but they were still pretty amazing on her tight body.

“What?” Minjeong asked when we reached the top of the stairs. She obviously noticed the attention I was giving her.

“You know,” I said, breaking one of the unspoken rules between us. “You could do a lot better than Changho.” I saw her start to swell up angrily, but then she stopped and sighed, letting out a breath.

“You’re right,” she said, surprising me. “It’s too bad really. He’s handsome and smart.”

“Pretty packaging doesn’t make a good guy,” I said. “And neither does brains. And what’s with the total lack of a sense of humor?”

“Okay little brother, ease off,” she said pointedly. I raised my hands with palm toward her in surrender. Minjeong rolled her eyes and laughed.

I’d learned long ago not to comment on her boyfriends. The fact that she hadn’t jumped all over me when I offered up my opinion about Changho said a lot about how close she was to dumping him already.

“See you in a couple of hours,” I said, entering my room. The clean sheets felt wonderful and I was out almost instantly.

-

I woke up slowly. It took me a few minutes to realize I wasn’t alone in my room. Minjeong had pulled my desk chair out and was sitting in it, facing me. She looked like she’d been there for a while. I looked at her and rubbed my face as I fought to wake up. Whatever was bothering her was bad.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting up.

“I couldn’t go to sleep after my shower,” she said. “I was thinking about how to break up with Changho.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered. She shrugged it off and continued.

“So, I decided to start cleaning,” she said. “I couldn’t vacuum with you sleeping so I did laundry instead.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I shrugged, fighting to get my mind fully functioning and wondering where she was going with this conversation.

“There were plenty of sheets to clean, so I started there,” she added, looking at me meaningfully. I still wasn’t processing well enough to follow her yet.

“Okay,” I offered. Minjeong frowned and shook her head before continuing.

“Can you imagine my surprise when I found four sets of dirty sheets instead of just three?” she asked. “Mom typically does laundry on Tuesdays. I was wondering why she stripped her bed this morning.”

‘Shit,’ I thought, finally catching on. ‘Oh shit!’

“So I opened them to see if she dropped something on them that might need special attention,” Minjeong continued. “They were a mess, but not really that much different than any of the other sheets. They were damp and cum stained.”

“Really?” I finally got out, my mind whirling. “I guess it’s true. Even moms need to take care of themselves.”

“Minho, there were fluids from both a woman and a man,” she said angrily. “What happened last night?”

I was tempted to deny everything and play stupid, but Minjeong wouldn’t fall for it, not after she saw my expression when she mentioned what she found. I’m sure I looked guilty as hell and Minjeong could usually read me better than anyone else other than mom.

I was also tempted to tell her that I took care of myself before mom came home and that she must have followed suit afterward, but one look into Minjeong’s eyes and I knew it was pointless, so instead, I told her the truth. It didn’t take very long.

“I can’t believe it,” Minjeong said, shaking her head.

“Honestly, me neither,” I sighed. “It’s not like I planned it.”

“But you didn’t stop it either,” Minjeong said pointedly.

“I was drunk!” I shrugged. “So was she and the truth is that we both needed it.”

“So, last night was the first time?” Minjeong asked.

“Yes,” I answered. We fell silent for what felt like minutes. I had no idea what to say and Minjeong was obviously trying to accept what she learned.

“Did you both enjoy it?” she asked, surprising me.

“I guess,” I answered uncomfortably.

“You guess?” she asked. “That’s it?”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “Yes, we both enjoyed it. Hell, it was the best sex I ever had, does that make you feel better?”

“It makes me feel left out,” Minjeong said glumly.

“It’s not like you weren’t busy with Changho,” I said.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” she replied. “Ever since dad died it’s been the three of us together. Now I feel like I’m on my own.”

“Why?” I frowned. “Because mom and I accidentally ended up in the same bed and let our passions get the better of us?”

“Yes,” she shrugged. I knew it was an honest answer even if I didn’t understand it.

“I’m willing to cuddle with you if that will help?” I joked badly.

“If I thought it would help, I might take you up on it,” she sighed. “But I don’t. Besides, I’m not ready for that.”

“Minjeong, you know mom and I love you.” I said.

“Yes,” she smiled, but her eyes were sad. She stood and added, “I think it’s time for a nap of my own.”

I watched her leave the room and shook my head. What could I do to make Minjeong happy? I didn’t want to see her this upset.

‘I’d better let her sleep and see how she feels when it sinks in,’ I thought. ‘Hell, it’s barely sunk in with me.’

Minjeong slept a long time. I let her. I was just thinking about waking her when mom came home. She didn’t look happy.

“My brother can be so...” she began angrily, but I cut her off.

“We have bigger problems,” I interjected. “Minjeong knows.”

“Knows what?” she asked.

“She decided to do the sheets while you were out and I was sleeping,” I said. “She found the ones to your bed.” Mom shook her head almost numbly and sank down on the couch.

“She’s twenty-three and never done a chore without me nagging and today she decides to help?” she said, obviously stunned.

I got up and went to her wine rack. It was the only alcohol left in the house because we made it off limits the night before. I poured us both a glass and handed one to her as I sat down on the couch next to her.

“How did she react?” she asked after downing half her glass.

“Oddly,” I frowned. “She wasn’t so much mad or disgusted as hurt. She feels left out. She thinks we now have something special that she’s not part of.”

“That’s bad,” mom frowned.

“I’m sorry mom,” I sighed. “This is all my fault.”

“Not all,” she said, shaking her head. “If I really wanted you to stop last night, I could have made you, but it just felt so good.”

“Yes, it did.” I said, sipping mine.

We sat there for a while. We didn’t say much, but we did finish the bottle of wine quickly enough. Minjeong came down from her nap as I was opened the second bottle. I saw her frown, but she took the glass I handed her. The three of us looked at each other in silence for a few moments.

“I know it’s been a while,” mom suddenly smiled as a thought came to her. “But I think it’s time for movie night.”

“Movie night?” Minjeong asked in surprise. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“That’s a great idea,” I said quickly. “You’re never too old for a movie night.”

Every once in a while, when we were kids, mom used to set up trays in her bedroom. We’d eat and watch television, something she never let us do normally. Afterward, we’d settle onto her bed and watch a movie. Mom always let us stay up late and eat plenty of popcorn and candy. It was just the bonding experience Minjeong needed now.

“Minjeong, you can choose the movie,” mom said. “I’ll order from your favourite restaurant.”

“But...” Minjeong began. It was too late. Mom was already in the kitchen picking up the phone.

“What’s gotten into her?” Minjeong asked.

“I told her what you figured out,” I replied. “She wants you to know that she loves you.”

“You told her?” Minjeong cried.

“I had to,” I shrugged. “Your reaction before was bad.”

“I was tired and hung over!” Minjeong snapped, but I knew there was more to it.

“Just humour mom and go with it. She’s really worried about you,” I sighed, and then added more softly. “So am I.”

“I’m fine,” Minjeong said, a little too quickly.

“Good,” I said. “Then a movie will be fun.”

“I really should go find Changho and break it off,” Minjeong frowned.

“Give him one more night,” I said. “I never liked the guy much, but even he deserves one more night of believing he’s dating one of the hottest girl’s alive.”

“Very funny,” Minjeong sighed.

“Who’s joking?” I replied, but then hit her with a couch pillow before she could respond. It was a short, vicious fight and although I typically won, just this once I let her.

“Will you two cut it out?” mom snapped from the doorway, but she wasn’t really angry. How could she be? Both Minjeong and I were laughing.

“How long until the food is ready?” I asked.

“You have just enough time to put on your shoes and go pick it up,” mom grinned.

“I walked into that one,” I laughed.

“I think I’d better go,” Minjeong sighed. “You two have been drinking.” I started to argue, but mom cut me off when she realized Minjeong was right.

“We’ll have everything ready when you get back,” mom said. I nodded in agreement.

There wasn’t that much to do, but we busied ourselves with getting mom’s room ready. We also continued to drink the wine, only slower now. When the second bottle was gone, we both agreed to hold off on any more until after we ate. We were well on our way to being drunk.

“Minho, stop that.” mom snapped. She was standing at the counter getting the popcorn maker ready for later.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re staring at my ass!”

“I am?” I laughed, walking up behind her. She turned and faced me quickly.

“Don’t you dare…” she says. “Hasn’t what happened already caused enough trouble?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “But you know the old adage. You can’t go back. We have to move on.”

“Agreed,” she said. “And moving on entails never making the same mistake again.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “What happened was wrong, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake.”

“Minho, you can’t be serious?”

“Oh, I am,” I said. “I really liked what happened. So did you.”

“I did not…” mom cried, but we both knew she was lying. “Okay, I was drunk and in need and you took care of it admirable, but it’s wrong.”

“And that makes it even hotter.” I groaned, pulling her into a kiss. she returned the kiss despite her protests, but when it was done she pushed me back with both hands.

“No…” she said. “Tonight is about Minjeong. We hurt her and that’s unacceptable.”

“You’re right,” I said, but then pulled her again. “But Minjeong isn’t here right now and just looking at you is driving me crazy.”

“Minho!” she cried. She spun away from me, but I had her trapped against the counter. I thrust my hard-on against her ass to let her know just how much she was getting to me. “We can’t… There’s no time…”

“I don’t know about that,” I grinned, lifting her skirt up past her ass and pushing her panties down. I was wearing sweats and they dropped past my cock easily enough. She was try to fight, but she thrust out her ass giving me access to what we both wanted. She moaned when I pushed my cock inside her pussy.

“Oh Minho…” she moaned. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” I grinned. “But I do know what you’re going to do for me.”

“There’s no time!” she moaned.

“Then hurry,” I groaned in reply, picking up the pace.

She was leaning over the counter as I fuck her hard. I was just starting to feel my orgasm approaching when I heard the front door open.

“Fuck.” I cried, pulling out quickly.

“No…” she moaned in frustration. “I was so close!”

“Sorry,” I said, meaning it. God, did I mean it?

“Just go stop your sister from coming in here.” she snapped. “If she walks in right now, she’ll know what we were just doing and that wouldn’t be good.”

“Agreed,” I said, pulling my sweats back up. I also pulled my shirt down and let it cover my front. It was the best I could do.

“Mom went crazy,” Minjeong said when she saw me. “There’s more food than we could eat in a week.”

“She’s really looking forward to this,” I said. “Let’s go set the food out upstairs. She’ll join us in a minute.” Minjeong must have sensed something because she looked at me funny. I guess it made sense. Only a few moments before I was stroking in and out of mom. That wasn’t something that was easy to hide, especially considering I had to stop abruptly just before my release.

I tried to focus on looking as innocent as possible, but I wasn’t sure I fooled Minjeong. On the other hands she didn’t say anything as we brought the food upstairs.

It was weird to be back in moms’ room after the night before. Scenes of what happened flashed in my head and they didn’t nothing to help calm down my already surging libido. I went to the bathroom and threw some cold water on my face after the food was set out. It helped.

The meal was delicious and we laughed and watched television during it. It was like old times except for the fact that my eyes lingered on mom overly long upon occasion. She would frown when she noticed until I looked away. I think Minjeong might have noticed once, but she just shook her head and took a sip of her wine.

The movie Minjeong picked was decent for a chick flick. We were all slightly drunk by the time it ended. We’d done a good job of denting mom’s wine collection, but the food balanced it.

“Another movie?” mom asked.

“Sure, why not?” Minjeong smiled. Mom and I exchanged a smile of our own. Minjeong seemed okay.

“Can I choose?” I asked.

“Please…” mom snorted. “I don’t want to watch something gory right now. The food is just settling in.”

“And porn is out too,” Minjeong joked.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” I teased back.

“And what makes you think I’ve never tried it?” Minjeong asked. She was clearly feeling no pain.

“Minjeong!” mom cried.

“Come on mom,” Minjeong grinned. “Are you telling me you never watched porn?”

“I haven’t,” mom shrugged.

“Wow,” Minjeong laughed. She was obviously drunker than I thought. “I would think in this day and age everyone’s seen porn, or at least a clip. I mean the internet makes it all so available.”

“Not me,” mom shrugged. “I worked with computers all day. Why would I want to be on one at night?”

“Mom, you really need to get a life,” Minjeong sighed.

“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” I asked in surprise.

“Oh please…” Minjeong said, rolling her eyes. “If mom had one, maybe she wouldn’t have had sex with you last night and ruined everything.”

“That’s not fair!” I said. Mom put her hand on my arm.

“Maybe Minjeong is right,” she said calmly, but her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Oh shit!” Minjeong sigh when she realized what she’d said and how badly mom was taking it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“I know dear,” mom sighed. “But that doesn’t make you wrong. I don’t know why I let Minho do what he did.”

“You didn’t let me,” I said. “I didn’t give you a choice.”

“Oh Minho…” mom sighed. “Like I said earlier, you couldn’t...”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. I grabbed her and kissed her. Mom was so surprised that she didn’t fight at first, but it wasn’t long before we were wresting on the bed. I rolled on top of her and pinned her under me before kissing her again.

“Wow.” Minjeong sigh, reminding me she was there.

“And that’s what happened last night,” I said, moving off with some difficulty. “She couldn’t have stopped me if she wanted to.”

“But I didn’t want to,” mom said, sitting up and wiping her lips. “And that’s really the point.”

“This is a lot more than just incest,” Minjeong said, shaking her head. “You two are seriously perverted!”

“And you’re not?” I asked. “I heard your bed last night. It was slamming into the wall pretty hard.”

“He’s my boyfriend! that doesn’t make me perverted!” Minjeong groaned.

“But you can’t say that you didn’t like what you just saw. I can see it in your eyes.” Mom said.

“So?”

“So, if you weren’t perverted you would have been disgusted,” mom replied. “Instead, you got excited.”

“I’m both,” Minjeong said.

“Maybe, but you’re a lot more of the second,” I grinned.

“I’m drunk,” Minjeong said again.

“We all are,” I shrugged. “What does that have to do with it?”

“It’s the alcohol making the sight of you two kissing turn me,” Minjeong said.

“I doubt it works that way,” I said.

“Drinking lowers your inhibitions,” mom put in. “It doesn’t make you like something you don’t.”

“Fine!” Minjeong snapped. “I’m just as perverted as you two! Does that make everything alright?” She ran out of the room before either one of us could answer.

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “How did we get here?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” mom frowned. “What we did was a mistake. I knew it then, but I didn’t realize how badly Minjeong was going to take it.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know,” mom said, and for some reason that shook me. Mom always knew what to do.

“I think we need to sleep on it and see how she’s feeling in the morning,” I finally said. Mom nodded.

“You need to sleep in your own bed tonight,” she said.

“Agreed,” I sighed, standing and going to my room without kissing her goodnight, but only because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop despite what was going on with Minjeong. I loved her and didn’t want to make her upset.

I lay in bed for quite a while, unable to fall asleep. My mind vacillated between my desire for mom and my concern for Minjeong. Hell, there was a part of it that even wondered what being with Minjeong would be like.

‘Pervert!’ I grumbled, but that only made it worse.

I closed my eyes and tried to wipe all the thoughts from my head. I pictured a white room with no corners. It was my version of counting sheep. It started to work.

“Minho?” I heard from the doorway to my room. It was Minjeong’s voice. “You still awake?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“I’m sorry about before,”

“Me too,” I sighed. “I know mom feels bad too.” Minjeong came into my room and sat on the edge of my bed.

“You know what all this goes to show?” she asked.

“What?”

“That I should never do laundry ever again,” she replied. “I would never have found out if I didn’t.” It was a weak attempt at humour, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

“The man you marry better be rich,” I teased. “He’ll need to hire a cook; a maid and god knows what else.”

“Ha Ha, Very funny.”

“Hey, the truth hurts,” I laughed.

“Jerk!” she snapped, but she was laughing too. It lasted far too long, but she obviously needed it.

“Minho, I want to go back to mom’s room,” she said afterward. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” I said. “But what for?”

“We always end a movie night by falling asleep together,” Minjeong said softly. “I miss that.”

“Well let’s go,” I smiled, getting out of bed and taking Minjeong by the hand. We went down the hall and knocked on mom’s door. The light was still on so I knew she was awake, but she took a few moments to answer the door.

“Come in.” she finally called.

I opened the door and led Minjeong in. I took one look at mom and saw that she’d been crying. Damn Minjeong noticed too, but didn’t say anything.

“Yes?” mom asked.

“Move over,” Minjeong smiled and climbed into mom’s bed. I moved to the other side and got in as well. Minjeong was already resting her head on mom’s shoulder. “Sorry mom.”

“No, I’m sorry,” mom replied.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I put said. “After a good night’s sleep.”

“Sounds good,” Minjeong said, reaching out the nightstand and shutting the light. “Good night.”

“Night,” mom said.

“Sweet dreams,” I put in. I knew I was going to have some. I was in bed with my her again and it was dark. I was sorely tempted to touch her, but I knew it would be a mistake. The thought of Minjeong being in bed with us didn’t help at all.

I’m not sure who fell asleep first, but I know I was last.

“Wow…” I heard as I slowly woke up. It was Minjeong’s voice again. “Is he always like that in the morning?”

“How should I know?” mom asked in reply.

“But you’ve seen it before,” Minjeong said, her voice a little excited. I was awake now, but I didn’t open my eyes. I had a feeling I knew what they were talking about. I could feel my hardness even with my eyes closed.

“Yes,” Mom replied nervously.

“You’ve felt it inside of you?” Minjeong asked. She knew the answer, but I guess she wanted mom to say it.

“Minjeong!” mom cried in surprise, but then slowly added, “Yes.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” mom admitted. “Very good.”

“He’s big, isn’t he?” Minjeong asked. “I mean, I know he’s bigger than Changho, but he’s big in general, right?”

“Minjeong, I have a feeling that you probably have as much experience with men as I do,” mom answered. “But I’d say yes. He’s big. He’s certainly bigger than your father.”

“Who would have thought it of my younger brother?”

“Maybe we should cover it up” mom said.

“No, leave it. I like looking at it.”

“But he’s your brother!”

“And your son,” Minjeong said pointedly. That quickly quelled mom’s protests. “I still can’t believe that you both really did it.”

“You and me both,” mom sighed.

“Do you regret it?” Minjeong asked. “I mean really regret it, not just feel guilty about it because it’s wrong.”

“I regret how it’s affected you,” mom replied. “Neither one of us wanted to hurt you.”

“I know that,” Minjeong sighed. “It’s just that it’s been the three of us for so long. I didn’t realize just how much the thought of you two excluding me from something would hurt.”

“Minjeong, you weren’t excluded,” mom said. “At least not intentionally.”

“But that’s how I feel,” she replied, sounding sad.

“So, you’d feel better if we’d included you in our perverted, incestuous affair?” mom asked in disbelief.

“I honestly don’t know,” Minjeong replied. “But maybe…”

“You’re serious?”

“It would be wrong, but I wouldn’t feel so alone like I do right now,”

“Oh Minjeong,” mom said. “Don’t cry. You know I love you with all my heart.”

“I do,” Minjeong said, obviously fighting back the tears. I felt guilty making believe I was sleeping through this, but ‘waking up’ right at this moment would only make things worse.

“Are you going to be okay?” mom asked after a while.

“I’ll be fine,” Minjeong replied slowly. “But only if you do me a favor.”

“What?” mom asked.

“I want you to kiss me,” my sister said. “Like you kissed him last night.”

“But you’re my daughter!”

“And he’s your son,” Minjeong replied. “That didn’t stop you.”

“I didn’t kiss him.” mom cried. “He kissed me.”

“True,” Minjeong said, and suddenly I could feel the bed move.

“What are you doing?” I heard mom cry. “Don’t!”

“I want to kiss you,” Minjeong said. “Don’t you love me the same you do Minho?”

“Of course, but you’re a girl.” mom argued.

“So?” Minjeong asked. “Haven’t you ever kissed a girl before?”

“No!” mom cried.

“Well, I have,” Minjeong replied.

“On God!” mom cried.

“It was a long time ago when I first started dating,” Minjeong said. “Chaewon and I practiced kissing each other.”

“Your cousin?” mom cried.

“Oh relax,” Minjeong sighed. “All we did was kiss. It’s no big deal.”

“Did you like it?” mom surprised me by asking.

“Honestly… yes,” Minjeong replied. “It was the best kiss I had for a long time, but I think that was mostly because it was also the most relaxed. Eventually I met some guys who kisses drove me far crazy.”

“Like your brother’s,” Mom said, sounding thoughtful.

“I don’t know,” Minjeong said. “I’ve never kissed him.”

“Why don’t we wake him and you can see?” mom offered.

‘Oh yes, please’ I thought to myself.

“Mom, I want to kiss you first,” Minjeong said.

“I can’t.” mom moaned. “I just can’t do it!”

“Then you do love Minho more than you do me” Minjeong said, obviously close to tears again.

“You’re wrong.” mom cried, sounding teary-eyed herself. It was time to wake up. This was only moments away from disintegrating into something very bad.

“Minjeong,” I said as I opened my eyes and sat up. “Weren’t you paying attention last night? Or just a few minutes ago when mom tried to tell you her problem with kissing you?”

“You’re awake!” mom cried.

“Of course,” I smiled.

“I don’t understand,” Minjeong frowned.

“She just told you that she didn’t kiss me,” I explained. “Mom thinks of herself as a good girl. She doesn’t do things like incest and lesbianism.” I laugh.

“But...” Minjeong began. I cut her off.

“She’s never going to kiss you,” I interjected. “But that doesn’t mean she’ll stop you from kissing her.”

“She just did,” my sister cried. “I tried, but she pushed me back.”

“Try harder,” I grinned.

“Hey, Wait a minute…” mom cried, but I silenced her by grabbing her by the neck and pulling her lips to mine. Mom fought at first, but then moaned softly into my mouth.

“See?” I said, pulling back. Minjeong was smiling once again.

“I get it,” she grinned.

“Don’t!” mom cried, but she licked her lips in excitement. “Good girls don’t kiss their mothers!”

“And whatever gave you the idea that I’m a good girl?” Minjeong laughed, taking mom’s head in both hands and kissing her. Again, mom fought, but only for a few moments. Minjeong moaned happily when mom’s mouth opened.

“That looks hot” I groaned.

“Don’t worry brother,” Minjeong grinned. “I have a kiss waiting for you too.”

“Just a kiss?” I asked.

“You’re terrible!” Minjeong laughed, shaking her head before leaning toward me. Her lips were only inches from mine when she stopped. “I shouldn’t. You’re my brother.”

I grabbed Minjeong’s the neck the same way I had grabbed mom’s moments before. I pulled her to me and our lips met. She didn’t fight me like mom, but it was obvious that she wanted me to be aggressive.

“That’s so wrong,” mom moaned excitedly.

“Oh, but he kisses so nicely.” Minjeong moaned.

“It’s not the only thing I do nicely,” I grinned.

“Don’t you dare.” mom cried.

“Think you’re man enough, little brother?” Minjeong asked, her eyes starting to burn with the same lust I could see in mom’s eyes. I was certain it was in mine as well. I took off the few clothes I had on. Minjeong did the same.

“Minjeong don’t… He’s your brother!”

“And you’re my mother,” Minjeong replied. “I wish I was a little braver because then I would try doing something more with you.”

“Oh shit.” I moaned, my cock standing straight out by now. “Now that’s hot.”

“You do like the thought, don’t you little brother?” Minjeong grinned, taking my cock in her hand and stroking it. “Or should I call you big brother?”

“You can call me whatever you want,” I groaned. “Just don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“How about we let mom help?” Minjeong asked. “I don’t want her to feel left out.”

“No.” mom sigh, but everything else about her demanded to be part of what was happening.

Minjeong forced mom’s head down to my lap. Mom fell on my cock despite her protests. Minjeong watched hungrily for a few minutes. Mom’s hair was in the way, so she pulled it into a ponytail and lifted it.

“What’s that?” Minjeong frowned, looking down at mom’s neck. The hickey I left was very noticeable.

“Mom said that we could only be together for one night,” I answered, remembering. “I disagreed and left that mark. I told her she was mine until it faded.”

“Do you always mark what’s yours?” Minjeong asked, smiling sexily. She was obviously enjoying teasing me.

“Yes.” I groaned. “Now why don’t you help mom?”

“Oh?” Minjeong grinned sexily before moving down between my legs as well. She pushed mom’s mouth off of me and started licking my cock. Mom shifted down to my balls and sucked gently.

“Oh fuck.” I grunted. “I’m not going to last long with both of you doing that.”

I had one hand on each of their heads and I couldn’t stop myself from thrusting up into Minjeong’s mouth. She locked eyes with me briefly and then took my entire length down her throat. I groaned and came. Minjeong drank it all down.

“We have to stop.” mom said afterward. Minjeong smiled at her and then pulled mom’s lips to hers and exchanged a deep kiss. It actually took me a few moments to realize they were sharing my cum.

“Damn.” I groaned, actually feeling my cock start to stiffen despite the orgasm I had moments ago.

“Little brother,” Minjeong said, pulling back from mom after a while and wiping her lips. She looked at me and I smiled knowingly. “Will you help me?”

In moments I was on top of her with my cock rubbing up and down her entrance. Minjeong took it in her hand and directed to her pussy. I pushed in slowly.

“Oh brother… yesss!” Minjeong cried. “You’re going so deep!”

“Minho no!” mom cried. “She’s your sister!”

I pulled mom to me and kissed her roughly. She gasped into my mouth. I reached out and palmed her pussy, thrusting the middle fingers deep.

“Don’t worry mom,” I said. “You’re next.”

“No…” she cried, but then shifted so that her mouth was next to my ear. She whispered one word and pulled away. “Hurry…” It surprised me and my cock stiffened even more.

“I’ve never felt so full before!” Minjeong gasped. I leaned forward and kissed her as I began stroking in and out of her hot pussy. Her pussy was perfect, it was tight! Minjeong wrapped her arms around my shoulder as I thrust into her.

“He’s your brother. You’re letting your brother fuck you!” mom cried.

“Oh yeah…” Minjeong moaned. “Keep talking mom. It’s only getting me hornier!” I saw mom smiled slightly.

“It’s so wrong.” mom cried. “I don’t care how good his big cock feeling pushing inside of you.”

“Ohhh It does… It does feel so good!” Minjeong moaned. “Minho’s cock is reaching deeper than any other guy ever has before! I can feel my orgasm building.”

“Wait until it hits,” mom said, looking at me hungrily and forgetting herself for a moment. “Minho knows how to make your body feel like it’s exploding.”

“Nghhyesss!” Minjeong cried.

“But that doesn’t mean you should let him do this,” mom added, staring at her expression once more. Minjeong’s face was completely lit with her lust. “Don’t let him fill your pussy with his cum!”

“Oh yess!” Minjeong moaned. “Fill my pussy! Please!”

“You are such a slut.” I groaned, kissing her roughly.

“Minjeong, you see?” mom asked. “Now your brother thinks you’re a slut, is that what you want?”

“I want him to cum in me!” “Minjeong gasped. “I don’t care if he thinks I’m a slut. I’ll be his slut if he just cum in me!”

“So you want to be his slut?” mom asked rhetorically, but she then surprised me by turning to me and added, “If that’s what she wants then you’re doing it wrong.”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“Sluts get taken from behind,” mom smiled. “You know that.”

“Oh yes!” Minjeong moaned. “He’ll get even deeper than way!”

I pulled out without another word. Minjeong kissed me briefly before rolling onto her stomach. Her tight ass was same as mom’s, just as enticing. her pussy was open and inviting. My mouth literally watered.

“Wait… what are you doing?” Minjeong asked as instead of going back to fucking her I shifted lower and thrust my tongue into her pussy.

“That’s it,” mom cried. “Lick the little slut’s pussy!”

“Mom!” Minjeong cried.

“You said you wanted to be his slut, now deal with it!”

“Ohhh….” Minjeong cried. “You’re going to pay for that later!” Mom smiled again.

I continued to lick her pussy until she was on the brink of orgasm. She arched her back and gave me full access.

“Minho’s little slut, do you want to cum this way or do you want him to fuck you again?” mom asked Minjeong.

“Fuck me please!” Minjeong moaned. I shifted up and thrust my cock deep with one long stoke.

“Wow.” mom gasped.

“Ohhfuckkk!” Minjeong cried. “I’m going to cum…”

I was close, but not there. I fuck Minjeong through her orgasm. She shivered and shook for quite some time. The sight was something I’d remember forever.

“Stop!” Minjeong cried. “I can’t take anymore.”

I pulled out slowly and she sighed. I turned toward mom and she bit her lip. She saw my expression and saw the look in my eye. She looked frightened despite her excitement.

“Now,” she started. “Leave me alone, you’ve already had Minjeong.”

“Come here.” I demanded.

“No!” she cried and tried to get off the bed. I grabbed her and pulled her back on. Mom rolled onto her stomach, but her hips were raised high and I could see her excitement in her swollen lips and pink gasp. My tongue was drenched in her juices a moment later.

“Wow?” Minjeong said, shaking her head. “Mom, you’re a bigger slut than I am.”

“I am not!” mom cried and tried to get away. I’d barely tasted her, but she was ready. I forced my mother back onto the bed and pushed into her from behind. The sound of her ass made when my hips slapped into it was louder, more enticing.

“Mom, be ready for the ride of your life.” Minjeong said, shaking her head.

“I am…” mom gasped.

“So, you want me to do this?” I teased.

“No…” mom cried right away. “Get off me!”

“You first!” I grunted.

“Very funny,” Minjeong said, rolling her eyes at my bad joke. I could care less. I’d just fucked her and now it was mom turn.

“Minho, this is so wrong!” mom cried as she met my thrusts.

“It really is,” Minjeong said, smiling. “But you love every second of it and you know it! You love how his cock feels stroking in and out of you. You love the thought of him cumming deep inside you!”

“No!” mom cried, but then she locked up in orgasm. She shivered and shook under me for a long time.

“We can’t keep doing that,” mom sighed as she came down from her orgasm.

“Sure you can,” Minjeong grinned. “After all, he marked you as his that first night. I can still see the bruise.”

“Only until it fades,” mom shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“True,” Minjeong said, standing up. “And I don’t think it’s fair that he marked you as just his. I like to think of you as mine also.”

“I’m willing to share mom with you,” I said, standing as well. “I’m willing to share all the incestuous sluts in my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minjeong asked. I pulled her toward me and kissed her. Minjeong responded with just as much passion.

“That I want you to be my slut too,” I growled.

“I’m not marked,” she shrugs.

I shifted her around until I was behind her. I had one hand around her breast, pulling her back into me. My cock was lodged between her ass cheeks. I used the other hand to lift her hair off her neck. Minjeong’s head fell forward and I sucked on her neck.

“Yes…” she gasped. “Make me yours.”

I left a hickey on the back of her neck, just like mom’s. I also shoved her against the nearest wall and started fucking her again. Minjeong moaned with every thrust.

“Cum in me please…” she cried when her next orgasm was about to take her.

“Yess…” I growled and flooded her pussy with my cum.

“Ohh…” Minjeong cried as her orgasm exploded. “It feels so… good!” We both ended up against the wall panting and trying to hold ourselves up.

“You two better sit down before you fall,” mom said. She was watching us from the bed. I was pretty sure she’d been playing with herself as well, but she stopped after we came. I helped Minjeong to mom’s bed. We both all but fell in it.

“Mom,” Minjeong said. “Kiss me please. I want you to be part of how I feel.”

“Of course,” mom said.

“You know,” I said. “You two could do more than just kiss.”

“We’re not lesbians!” mom said.

“Mom,” I smiled. “Lesbian or not, you love her, it’s just a kiss.” I said.

“Or at least let me take it,” Minjeong smiled.

“Possibly,” mom admitted with a slow smile of her own.

“And one day I might,” Minjeong said, surprising us both. “But not today. I’m not ready.”

“No rush,” I smiled. “Why don’t we just spend the day in bed?”

“No,” mom said, sounding serious. “I have some stuff to get done.”

“And I have to talk to Changho,” Minjeong put in. “It’s bad enough you two have made me a slut, but I don’t want to be a cheating slut.”

“Oh Minjeong,” our mother said. “Must you talk like that?”

“Sorry mom,” Minjeong smiled. “I’ll hide what I am from the real world like you want me to. Besides, I’m really only my brother slut anyway.”

“What about mine?” mom asked.

“Nope,” Minjeong laughed. “You don’t want a slut. You want to be a slut.”

“I do not!” mom cried.

“Sure you do,” I put in.

“Until your mark disappears,” mom agreed.

“You know mom,” Minjeong said thoughtfully. “I think if I ever do take things further between you and me, I’ll need to mark you as mine too.”

“It only seems fair,” I grinned.

“Hey, you both know this can’t go on forever, right?” mom started.

“Sure,” I said.

“Of course,” Minjeong added.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while it lasts,” I added.

“Agreed,” Minjeong said, exchanging a look with me. We both obviously had the same thought. “I guess I can wait a little longer to tell Changho.”

“Don’t even think about it.” mom cried. Minjeong and I both moved toward her. Mom’s eyes flashed as she tried to get away and she protested loudly when we caught her. The only thing louder was a moan a moment later.

—

“Looking good!” I said as Minjeong walked by my room in nothing but a towel.

“Thanks,” she smiled, pausing at the door. She was blond and beautiful.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Yes, so don’t even think about it.” she snapped, not buying it for a moment. She knew what I wanted. I grinned and shrugged. Minjeong smiled at my reaction, shook her head and then added, “Truthfully, I wish I did have the time, but it’s my week to oversee the early morning workouts in the weight room.”

“What a life,” I teased.

“Tell me about it,” she sighed.

“Please…” I snorted. “You love your job.”

“It’s okay,” she replied.

“Come on,” I teased. “How does it feel to know that you’re every teenage boy’s fantasy?”

“What?” she asked.

“Minjeong, you teach in high school,” I explained. “Not only that, you are beautiful. You’re the hot gym teacher every boy thinks about late at night.”

“Oh joy,” Minjeong said sarcastically. “That’s a picture I could do without.” I couldn’t help it but laughed.

“You love it though.” I teased. She shook her head again and didn’t bother arguing.

“Minho, make sure to wake mom up on time,” she said, changing the subject. “She’s got her third interview today.”

“I know,” I smiled. “Did you see how nervous she was last night?”

“She has a right to be,” Minjeong replied. “This job is perfect for her.”

“She deserves it,” I smiled. “I can’t believe how quickly it’s moving.”

“It was pretty cool when she got a call from her old company’s biggest competitor the morning after she quit,” Minjeong said.

“Yeah,” I smiled. “She’ll do fine.”

“Fine?” Minjeong frowned. “She’ll do great!”

“True,” I laughed. “I just wish she didn’t have to fly across the country and spend days at their corporate office.”

“Oh, don’t worry” Minjeong smiled. “Mom will be home before you know it. Besides, I’m still here. I’ll take care of you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I laugh. “You can’t cook and your cleaning leaves something to be desired.”

“Jerk.” Minjeong laughed.

“On the other hand, there are some things you do very well,” I said, smiling slowly.

“Not if you keep being so mean to me,” Minjeong said pointedly and moved past my doorway.

I smiled contently. It was only two weeks since mom quit her job and everything changed so drastically at home. We were all happier now. I wasn’t sure it could last and mom kept bringing up the fact that it couldn’t, but right now I was enjoying myself immensely.

I heard Minjeong leave the bathroom and go into her bedroom. She was done there surprisingly fast. She was one of those morning people. Ugh!

“I’m leaving,” she said as she stopped by my doorway on the way out. “Go wake mom up.”

“What I have to do it?” I asked, far too comfortably to move.

“Mom needs something to help relieve her anxiety about the interview and you’re it.”

“Are you crazy?” I laughed. “She’ll be wired! If I try and go near her...”

“That’s the point,” she interjected. “Do what you always do and don’t give her a choice. She’ll thank you afterward.”

“You could do it,” I offered hopefully.

“No, I can’t,” Minjeong said.

I sighed, reading her expression. “I get it.”

“The thought of mom and me together must really turn you on,” Minjeong said, looking at me thoughtfully. “You bring it up all the time.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Let me think? My mother and sister in bed together. Two beautiful women driving each other crazy. You bet.”

“Pervert!” Minjeong laughed.

“Takes one to know one,” I called as she disappeared down the hall. I heard her leave a few minutes later. “I guess I should wake mom.”

The trip to her room was short. I didn’t bother putting any clothes on. I opened the door and saw mom sleeping in her bed. The sight made me smile.

Instead of shaking her awake, I climbed into bed next to her and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t wake up at first. She snuggled closer instead. I hugged her tight and then kissed her gently.

“Now that’s the way to wake up,” she moaned, returning my kiss.

“Only the beginning of it,” I replied, giving her another kiss before slipping under the covers.

“Minho, what are you doing?” she asked groggily. I ignored the question.

The answer was obvious.

She slept in the nude these days as well. We all did. Frequently we ended up together on the weekends, but most weekdays we slept in our own beds because otherwise we’d all be too exhausted the next day.

“Hey stop!” she gasped when I buried my face between her legs. “I have to get ready. I don’t have the time.”

“Sure you do,” I disagreed, running my tongue up and down the length of her pussy.

“We shouldn’t.” she moaned, spreading her legs and giving me better access.

She tasted just as amazing as always. She had plenty of time before she needed to leave for her flight and I planned on making it memorable. It wasn’t long before my tongue was working her clit just the way I knew she liked it.

“Oh…” she moaned as her orgasm neared. “You’re tongue is so…” I thrust a finger inside of her in response.

“Cum for me.” I demanded.

“Nghhnooo…” she cried, fighting the inevitable. A few moments later her orgasm took her. I licked and sucked until she was done.

She was smiling contently as I moved from under the covers to lie next to her. My lips were still damp with her juices, but she didn’t hesitate in kissing me. She was obviously ready for more despite her orgasm.

Her hand found my cock and she stroked it, not that I needed the stimulation. I was already hard. On the other hand, it did feel really good. I enjoyed what she was doing for a few moments before pulling her on top of me.

She gasps of surprise quickly turned into a moan when I took her hips in both hands and shifted her body until my cock was lined up with her pussy. She was still soaked. I pushed my cock up into her.

“Oh… this is new.” she cried, obviously enjoying the position as I held her hips steady and thrust into her a few times.

“It’s because you like to play hard to get,” I laughed. “I usually have to chase you and hold you down.” I thought she was going to pull off of me.

“You’ve corrupted me…” she whispered lustfully as she started slowly moving up and down.

“So you like having sex with me now?” I teased.

“I’ve always liked it,” she answered in that same lust filled tone. “It’s just so wrong!” I reached up and cupped her breasts.

“But that’s the part you love best, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes…” she admitted, squeezing down on my cock. “And that’s why I keep saying we have to stop. Minho, the last couple of weeks with you and your sister were completely wrong in so many ways, but the truth is that I’ve never been happier. I love you two with all my heart and the pleasure we share, sick and twisted as it is, is more than I could ever have hoped for, but it can’t last forever.”

“I don’t want to talk about that now,” I groaned. “Instead, why don’t you tell me how it feels to ride my cock?” She looked down at me and bit her bottom lip.

She looked ready to continue her argument. I thrust up into her with more strength and pinched both of her nipples gently. She gasped. I could feel her giving in slowly.

“Incredible.” she finally moaned, picking up the pace. She was now bouncing on my cock slowly.

“Focus on that and nothing else.” I demanded.

“Nghhh.” she gasped; her argument forgotten. “Your cock is so big. It fills my insides completely.”

I reached up and pulled her toward me. I kissed her passionately and then shifted her just enough for me to kiss her full tits.

“You like my breasts?” she asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear me say it.

“They’re perfect.”

She smiled and leaned forward, propping herself up with her arms and dangling them in my face. She swayed slowly, teasing me. I enjoyed it for a few moments, but could only take so much of that.

I knocked her arms out of the way and buried my face between her breasts as her torso fell on me. I held onto her hips tighter and started thrusting up into her with short fierce strokes.

“Yes!” she cried as our bodies slapped against each other. It didn’t take long for her orgasm to build. I rolled us around until I was on top and continued stroking in and out of her, only now my thrusts were much longer and deeper. Her nails racked across my back.

“Try not to draw blood this time,” I groaned.

“It’s not like I do it on purpose.” she gasped.

I grabbed her hands and held them above her head, against the bed. She looked up at me and smiled. Her expression was one of lust. I took her beauty in and shook my head.

I held her like that while I thrust in and out of her over and over again, getting faster as time went by. I watched her expression as her orgasm threatened. There was nothing more beautiful to me then the passion that filled her eyes at the moment of release.

“Tell me.” I whispered, close to losing it. “Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t make me say it…” she cried. I stopped stroking for a moment. “No, don’t stop!”

“Then tell me.” I demanded. She gave in quickly.

“I want to feel your big cock buried inside of me!” she cried. “I want you to hold me down and fill me with your cum!” I thrust deep into her pussy.

“Hmm yess…” I grunted and came. She was right behind me. We shivered and shook through our mutual orgasm for quite some time.

“Thanks,” she said with a sigh afterward. “I needed that.”

“Minjeong thought you would,” I grinned, rolling off of her.

“Smart girl,” she smiled. And add, “But what we’re doing is almost over.”

“Over?” I asked in surprised concern.

“You said until the mark you gave me disappeared… It’s almost gone.” She lifted her hair to show me her neck. The hickey was still there, but it was fading. The sight of it stunned me. She walked into her bathroom before I could say anything.

I heard the water turn on as I lay there. I sat and thought for a few minutes.

-

“Minho?” mom groan as I walked in on her. “What are you doing in here?”

I didn’t bother responding. I simply walked into the shower, spun her around and pushed her against the wall. I pulled her hair into a ponytail and moved it out of the way.

“No!” she cried when she realized what I was doing, but by that time it was too late. My lips were latched onto the back of her neck. She fought, but I held her tight as I kissed and sucked on her neck until the hickey was bright once more. I let her go then and she turned to face me.

“I don’t want this to end,” I said. “Not yet.”

“But...”

“I won’t let it end!” I interjected more strongly. “You’re mine until my mark fades. That was the deal.”

“You cheated,” she said, shaking her head.

“So?” I shrugged, pulled her body against mine and kissing her hungrily.

“Minho!” Shhe moaned. “You shouldn’t have this kind of an effect on me!”

“You’re mine.” I said.

“For as long as the mark lasts,” she said between kisses. “That was the deal.”

“I knew you’d see it my way,” I smiled.

“Get out,” she said as she shook her head and laughed. “I really do need to be going soon.”

“You’d leave me like this?” I asked, motioning toward my hardening cock. “Excited and alone? What kind of mom are you?”

“The worst kind,” she said, but then dropped to her knees and took my cock into her mouth.

“You mean the best?” I groaned, taking her head with both hands and stroking my cock between her lips.

She locked eyes with me as I fucked her mouth. She never once looked away. It didn’t take long for me to cum. The sight of her watching me and swallowing as I spurted rope after rope of cum down her throat only made my orgasm last longer.

“Can I return the favor?” I asked, leaning against the shower wall to hold myself up. She started to stand and I reached out one hand and helped.

“When I get back,” she smiled. “We really don’t have the time. If I don’t get going right now, I’ll miss my flight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I promised.

“I know,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry,” I added with a grin.

“You my son, have a one-track mind,” mom sighed.

“I wonder where I get it from.” I joked.

“Not me.” she laugh. “I’m a good girl.”

“Sure you are,” I agreed easily, slapping her ass playfully and laughing as I left the shower.

“Hmm,” she sigh sternly. “You and I have to talk about the correct way to treat a lady.”

“I’m willing to listen,” I replied as I dried myself. “But I’m reasonably certain you’ll miss your plane if you try and explain it right now.” She shook her head.

“Another time,” she said, fighting off a smile.

“I can’t wait,” I grinned.

She made it out of the house in plenty of time. The car the company sent to take her to the airport was only waiting a few minutes before she was ready.

“Good luck,” I said as I put her bags in the trunk. “Not that you’ll need it.”

“Thanks,” she said, getting into the car.

I waved and smiled as she drove away. I had just enough time to get a couple more hours of sleep before I had to get up and ready for class. I needed it. Mom had a way of completely exhausting me, and the thought of what might happen this weekend with Minjeong made me smile with anticipation.

[diamonddaze01]

Full Throttle (i)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 20.6K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOOOOOW BURN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // eventual smut.

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record 

summary: jeonghan's not used to someone who pushes his buttons as easily as you do, and you're not used to someone who challenges you as quickly as he does. maybe it's time to go full throttle, both on and off the track.

a/n: this one is gonna be long. buckle in. this is dedicated to kae @ylangelegy , who was the one who pushed me to write this in the first place, and also graciously beta read this // this is also dedicated to alta @haologram , who watched me lose my mind over this for so long and gave me so much love and support as i wrote this. // huge thanks to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading and giving me their thoughts, especially about when things were too technical // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 2 here! <3

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit 

The Australian Grand Prix had come to an end, but the buzz from the race still lingered in the air. The paddock had started to quiet down, though the echo of cheers and the scent of champagne were still fresh. Jeonghan stood at the edge of the pit lane, watching as the last of the mechanics began to clean up, the high of the win beginning to settle into a low hum of satisfaction.

His fingers absentmindedly brushed over his helmet, the familiar weight grounding him after the chaos of the race. But his mind wasn’t on the mechanics or the trophy waiting for him. No, it was on you.

You had walked away with that smug grin of yours, and even now, hours later, the image of you—cool, collected, and far too clever for your own good—lingered in his thoughts. The way you’d turned the tables on him, effortlessly making him feel like the one caught off guard. For once, it hadn’t been about the race or the rumors swirling around his personal life—it had been about you and the way you knew how to press all his buttons without breaking a sweat.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. "I should’ve asked her to dinner."

But there was no time for that now. The press was waiting. The fans, too. He needed to play the role of the cool, collected champion for the cameras, the last thing he needed was another round of gossip, another round of teasing from the people who loved to stir the pot. And yet, the thought of you, the way you’d made him feel a mix of frustration and something else entirely, was almost too tempting to ignore.

The crew cheered as he finally made his way back to the motorhome, the world still swirling in a whirlwind of victory and flashing cameras. But inside, it was quieter. More personal.

"Jeonghan!" His manager greeted him with a smile, the kind of smile that signaled the end of a long race and the beginning of yet another whirlwind of interviews, photos, and meetings. But Jeonghan only half-listened as his manager spoke, his mind flickering back to the conversation earlier.

"You sure know how to keep things interesting, don't you?" His manager chuckled, noticing the distraction in his eyes. "The headlines are still buzzing. You planning on setting the record straight anytime soon?"

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "Let them talk," he muttered, flashing a grin. "It’s part of the game."

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. It was you. The way you’d baited him, just enough to make him feel the heat of the moment. He had never been this distracted by anyone—or anything—before.

"You have a minute?" a voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was his publicist, holding a phone in one hand, the other gesturing toward the press conference set up for him in the next room.

Jeonghan looked at her, then glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see you again. But you were gone, just like that. He gave a small sigh, almost imperceptible to anyone watching.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this," he muttered, before stepping forward. Jeonghan’s footsteps echoed through the motorhome hallway, the thrum of victory still running through his veins, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the way you’d looked at him—those piercing eyes, full of challenge. He'd seen that expression before, but this time felt different. You weren’t just some reporter stirring up a bit of drama—you were someone who knew exactly how to get under his skin.

His publicist was waiting outside the press room, ready to brief him on the upcoming interviews and meetings. "You’ve got a full schedule, Jeonghan," she said, giving him the rundown with practiced precision. But Jeonghan barely heard her, his mind still distracted by the way you’d turned the tables.

"Hey," he cut in, slowing to a stop in front of her. "What do you know about Y/N?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The publicist blinked in surprise, and beside her, his manager gave a short laugh. "Y/N? You mean the reporter?" the manager asked, voice dripping with amusement. "The one you’ve had run-ins with over the past couple of seasons?"

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Run-ins?" he repeated, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. "What exactly are you implying?"

The publicist shrugged, exchanging a look with the manager. "She’s been covering F1 for a while, pretty sharp with her articles," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "Some of them have definitely gotten attention, especially that one a few weeks ago... the one about you and the whole ‘mysterious love life’ thing." Her eyes flicked to his manager, who made a face at the mention of that piece.

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d tried to forget about that article, but your earlier conversation (read as: challenge) had baffled him. "I shouldn’t have said anything," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But you know she always gets a rise out of me, don’t you?"

The manager snickered. "Oh, we know. It’s not every day we get to watch you struggle to keep your cool. She’s got a way with words, that one." He winked. "But hey, I get it. She’s a great reporter—sharp, clever—and always knows where to find the juiciest stories. You just might want to be a little more careful with what you say around her next time."

Jeonghan smirked. "Careful? Since when have I ever been careful?"

His publicist gave a pointed look, clearly not impressed. "That’s not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s that you tend to forget she knows exactly what buttons to push."

Jeonghan chuckled, his eyes glinting with a new energy. "Oh, she’s good, I’ll give her that. But I’m not so easily rattled." His mind wandered back to the way you’d smirked and walked off, leaving him standing there feeling like he'd just been served a dish of his own medicine.

"Don’t underestimate her," the manager added, half-joking. "You’ve been in this game long enough to know, no one gets a rise out of you like that without knowing exactly what they’re doing."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you’re right. But maybe..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing as a plan started to form in his mind. "...Maybe it’s time I gave her a taste of her own medicine."

The publicist and manager exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. They knew that look—the one Jeonghan got whenever he was plotting something, usually with a dash of mischief and just the right amount of charm to make it impossible for anyone to say no. The same charm that had gotten him into trouble more times than they cared to count.

"You’ve got your interviews now, Jeonghan," his publicist reminded him gently, pulling him back to reality. "We can revisit this later. Just keep your head in the game for now."

He nodded, though his mind was still fixated on you. "Yeah, yeah. Later."

As he entered the press room, he was immediately hit with a barrage of questions. The usual ones about his win, his performance, and his plans for the rest of the season. But even as he answered, his thoughts lingered on you and that damn article. You were always one step ahead, always stirring the pot just enough to keep things interesting. But now, it seemed you had caught his attention for real.

And maybe—just maybe—he was going to have some fun with this.

FORMULA 1 MSC CRUISES JAPANESE GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Suzuka Ciruit

The neon lights of Tokyo cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the bustling streets, the city alive with energy even late into the night. After a long day of prepping for the upcoming race, you’d decided to wind down with a quiet drink in a tucked-away bar that promised a moment’s reprieve from the chaos of the paddock.

The bar was small and intimate, the kind of place that felt like a secret only locals knew about. Jazz music hummed softly in the background, and you found a seat near the corner, ready to savor your drink in peace.

But of course, peace wasn’t in the cards tonight.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you freeze mid-sip. Turning your head, you found none other than Yoon Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his face lit with mild surprise and unmistakable amusement. He wasn’t in his Ferrari team gear for once—just a sleek black jacket and jeans, looking effortlessly casual in a way that somehow made him even more irritatingly attractive.

“Jeonghan,” you replied evenly, setting your drink down. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding onto the stool beside you without an invitation. “Same as you, I’d imagine. Taking a break from the madness.” His eyes flicked to your glass. “Whiskey? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

“And what type is that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into that trademark smirk. “The type who drinks whiskey alone in a bar and pretends they’re not thinking about work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not thinking about work. I’m thinking about how nice it is to not deal with questions about lap times and tire strategies for five minutes.”

Jeonghan chuckled, signaling to the bartender for a drink. “Fair enough. Though, if memory serves, you’re usually the one asking those questions.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shot back. “And if memory serves, you’re usually the one avoiding them.”

“Touché.” He raised his glass when it arrived, a silent toast that you reluctantly mirrored with your own.

For a while, the conversation meandered through safer topics—Tokyo’s sights, the food, the insanity of race week—but there was an undercurrent of something sharper, a game of verbal ping-pong that neither of you seemed willing to let go of.

“You know,” Jeonghan said after a particularly clever jab from you about his less-than-stellar start in Australia, “I think I’ve finally figured you out.”

“Oh?” you asked, amusement dancing in your tone. “Do tell.”

“You act all cool and collected, but deep down…” He paused for dramatic effect, leaning in slightly. “…you love the chaos. You thrive on it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though a grin tugged at your lips. “And what about you, Mr. Reigning Champion? Aren’t you the one who said chaos is just part of the game?”

“True,” he admitted with a lazy shrug. “But I like to think I’m more strategic about it.”

“Strategic?” you echoed, incredulous. “You literally said ‘let them talk’ after crossing the finish line in Australia. That’s not strategy, Jeonghan—that’s reckless arrogance.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how it made your chest tighten just a little. “Maybe. But it keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, sipping your drink instead, determined not to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you with a knowing glint. “This feels familiar.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “What does?”

“Let’s just say you have a knack for leaving me with something to think about,” he said casually, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

A flicker of amusement crossed your face. “Still losing sleep over it, Jeonghan?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low, laced with mischief. “Not quite. But I’ve been wondering if you’re all talk or if you actually mean half the things you say.”

You smirked, leaning back just a little. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” he said smoothly, signaling to the bartender and slipping his card onto the counter.

You frowned, catching on quickly. “Jeonghan, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I don’t,” he replied, his smirk growing as he leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, intimate and teasing. “But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat you every now and then?”

“A terrible one,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, standing up and adjusting his jacket. “Always so quick with the comebacks.”

You tilted your head, not backing down. “And yet, here you are, still trying to keep up.”

He grinned, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “Oh, I’m not just keeping up, sweetheart. I’m leading.”

With that, he threw on his jacket, turning to leave, but not without one last playful remark. “Enjoy your night, Y/N. And next time…” He flashed a grin over his shoulder, his voice dipping lower. “Try putting that mouth of yours to better use.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you could hear his laugh as you watched him disappear into the neon-lit streets. 

Damn him.

The Suzuka Circuit’s air was heavy with anticipation, the disappointment in Ferrari’s garage palpable. Jeonghan leaned against the barrier in the media pen, his crimson Ferrari suit contrasting with the growing dusk. Despite his relaxed posture, the tension radiating off him was hard to miss.

"Yoon Jeonghan," you began, stepping forward with your mic. "P11 today—your first time not making it to Q3 since your rookie season. What happened out there?"

His smile was thin, masking the fire simmering beneath. "Suzuka’s a tough circuit. I put in a solid lap, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. A couple milliseconds make all the difference."

"Kim Mingyu of McLaren knocked you out in the dying seconds of the session," you pointed out, your tone as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, Mingyu had a great lap," he said, though his smirk betrayed a hint of frustration. "Kudos to him for that. It’s the nature of the game—sometimes you’re the one knocking others out, and sometimes you’re the one being knocked out."

You tilted your head, pressing just a little. "Ferrari’s upgrades were supposed to shine here at Suzuka. Do you think the car—or the driver—fell short today?"

His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Is that your way of asking if I’m losing my edge?"

You smiled faintly. "Just doing my job, Jeonghan."

"And doing it well," he replied smoothly. "I’ll make sure to give you something better to write about tomorrow."

Yoon Jeonghan’s Q2 Knockout: A Sign of Ferrari’s Struggles or a Driver Underperforming?

Your analysis was live before the sun set over Suzuka, dissecting Jeonghan’s performance lap by lap:

"While Ferrari’s SF-24 showed promise in Q1, Jeonghan’s Q2 lap exposed cracks in execution. Hesitant braking into Spoon Corner cost him vital time, and a wide exit through Degner 2 raised questions about his confidence under high pressure. Kim Mingyu’s decisive lap in the McLaren only highlighted the contrast, leaving Ferrari fans wondering if Jeonghan can rebound from this rare stumble."

It didn’t take long for the article to ripple through the paddock—and reach its subject. The article was sharp, critical, with the same bite that you had become a household name for. And Jeonghan read every word.

He must have been an idiot to assume you would be kinder after the way he’d left you gobsmacked a few nights prior at the bar. 

You had just wrapped up your interview with Mingyu, the day’s pole sitter, when Jeonghan found you.

"Got a minute?" he asked, voice deceptively light.

You glanced up, startled to find him so close, still in his Ferrari suit, his hair slightly damp from the cool-down lap.

"Something on your mind?" you replied, keeping your tone professional.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. "That article."

You raised an eyebrow. "Specificity helps, you know."

He chuckled darkly. "The one where you ripped apart my Q2 performance like you’re a technical director." He took a step closer, and for the first time, the calm façade cracked - his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Hesitant braking? Lack of confidence under pressure? You really think I’m losing my touch?"

"I think Suzuka demands perfection," you replied evenly. "And today, perfection wasn’t what we saw."

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You love this, don’t you? Watching me stumble so you can tear me apart in print."

"Jeonghan," you said, straightening, "if you want me to write glowing reviews, give me something to work with."

"You should’ve mentioned how close I was to Mingyu’s time," he shot back.

"Close isn’t enough," you countered, coolly. "Not in this sport."

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Careful, sweetheart. Don’t let them think you’re this obsessed with me."

"Careful, Jeonghan," you shot back mockingly. "Sienna Hartley might not like hearing you get so worked up over me."

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could walk away. "Here’s an exclusive for you," he said, his voice sharp. "Me and Sienna? Not together."

You blinked, thrown off for just a moment before you schooled your expression. "Good to know. Now let go."

He released you immediately but lingered just long enough to murmur, "Don’t think this is over."

The Suzuka chaos worked in Jeonghan’s favor. 

When the lights went out, Jeonghan’s start was perfect—clean, aggressive, calculated. By the first corner, he had already gained two places, capitalizing on a sluggish Alpine and threading the needle between a Williams and an AlphaTauri. 

The midfield battle was fierce. Suzuka’s notorious esses demanded precision, and Jeonghan attacked them with surgical efficiency, his Ferrari responding like an extension of his own instincts. He overtook the Aston Martin of Lee Seokmin into Turn 11 with a move so bold the crowd audibly gasped. 

Each pass felt like a small victory, but it wasn’t enough. The podium still felt miles away. His fingers tightened on the wheel as he navigated the sweeping Spoon Curve, catching a glimpse of the orange McLaren far ahead—Mingyu.

The memory of your post-quali interview slipped into his mind. Close isn’t enough. Not in this sport.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Jeonghan approached Degner 2, the car planted firmly under him. He could feel the wear on his tires but knew he still had grip to spare. He glanced briefly at the digital display on his steering wheel, calculating the gap to the car ahead—P5, the Red Bull of Choi Seungcheol.

As he accelerated toward the Hairpin, your voice echoed in his head again. Hesitant braking. Confidence issues.

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t anger—it was something more complicated. Why did you always manage to get under his skin? He should’ve been focusing on tire wear, fuel management, or his next target, but instead, his mind betrayed him.

He thought of the way you’d smirked during the interview, how your tone had been sharp, almost daring. The way you’d walked away, leaving him with more to say.

Focus. He snapped himself back, braking perfectly into the Hairpin. The slip of attention hadn’t cost him, but it had been close. Too close.

A well-timed pit stop under a virtual safety car catapulted him to P4. He rejoined the track with fresh mediums, slicing through the field with an aggression that stunned even his team.

By Lap 40, he was staring down the rear wing of Kwon Soonyoung—his own teammate. The team’s radio lit up, the pit wall hesitating.

“Jeonghan, Soonyoung ahead on a different strategy. Keep it clean.”

He didn’t wait for a direct order. Into 130R, the fastest corner on the track, he swung to the outside. His car shuddered with the force of the maneuver, but he held his line, leaving Soonyoung no choice but to yield.

“P3, Jeonghan. You’re on the podium now. Great move.”

With only two laps to go, he was in P2, chasing Mingyu, who had a comfortable lead. Jeonghan knew catching him was impossible, but that wasn’t the point anymore. This was about proving something—to his team, the fans, and maybe even to you.

The Ferrari hummed beneath him, a symphony of power and precision. Every turn, every braking zone, every shift felt like redemption. When he crossed the line in P2, the roar of the crowd was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

The media room was packed, buzzing with questions for the podium finishers. You started with Mingyu, still glowing from his dominant victory.

“Kim Mingyu,” you began, “another win for McLaren. How does it feel to catch up to Jeonghan in the driver’s championship?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning into the mic. “It feels incredible. The car was perfect today, and the team did an amazing job. Credit to everyone back at the factory.”

Before you could move on to the next question, Jeonghan interjected from his spot.

“Must feel nice to start up front and stay there,” he quipped, his tone light but pointed.

Mingyu grinned, unfazed. “You would know, Jeonghan. But you kept me looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

The room chuckled, and you shot Jeonghan a warning glance, which he ignored entirely.

Later, when a question was directed at Jeonghan about his race recovery, his response was pointed. "Oh, you know. I’m pretty good at managing tire degradation. And I had a lot of people doubting me on this track specifically, so I had to prove them wrong too."

His gaze locked on yours as he delivered the last line, and the meaning wasn’t lost on you—or anyone else in the room.

Jeonghan barely made it three steps out of the press conference room before Soonyoung intercepted him, leaning casually against a stack of Pirelli tires like he had all the time in the world. The amusement on his face set Jeonghan’s internal alarms blaring.

“What the hell was that about?” Soonyoung asked, arms crossed in mock authority.

Jeonghan blinked, expertly schooling his expression into one of pure confusion. “What was what about?” he replied, his tone dripping with innocence.

“Oh, don’t even try to play dumb with me, Jeonghan. I know you too well.” Soonyoung’s grin widened as he stepped closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You were doing something during that press conference. I’ve never seen you look that smug unless you’re—”

“I was answering questions,” Jeonghan interrupted smoothly, plucking a water bottle from the cooler without breaking his stride. He unscrewed the cap with deliberate calm, taking a slow sip. “That’s what press conferences are for, in case you forgot.”

Soonyoung squinted at him, unconvinced. “Right. And here I thought press conferences were for you to pretend you’re unbothered while delivering backhanded digs at Kim Mingyu.”

Jeonghan barely managed to keep a straight face, though he felt the tiniest flicker of pride. He had been particularly good with his barbs today. Still, there was no way he was admitting that. “Don’t project, Soonyoung,” he drawled. “Not everyone uses media day as therapy.”

Before Soonyoung could retort, a new voice joined the conversation.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee.

“You know what?” Jeonghan asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

“That look you had during the Q&A,” Sunwoo continued, leaning casually against a tool chest. “You were staring at her, man. Like, full-on laser focus. It’s like you were trying to send her a message.”

Jeonghan’s grip on the water bottle tightened. He felt his ears heat up but refused to let it show. “I was answering her question,” he said evenly. “It’s called eye contact. You should try it sometime—people like that sort of thing.”

But Sunwoo wasn’t done. “And don’t think we didn’t notice you getting all flustered when Mingyu’s name came up,” he added, his smirk widening.

“Flustered?” Jeonghan repeated, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. “Right. That’s definitely the word I’d use to describe me.”

“Come on, dude.” Sunwoo shrugged, undeterred. “Admit it. You’ve got a crush.”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jeonghan froze mid-sip, choking slightly as the water went down the wrong way. He coughed, spluttering as Sunwoo and Soonyoung erupted into laughter.

“Alright,” Jeonghan said sharply once he’d recovered, pointing a finger at Sunwoo. “You’ve been spending too much time on TikTok. Get back to work before I have you polishing rims for the rest of the season.”

But Sunwoo only grinned wider, completely unbothered. “Jeonghan’s in loooove,” he teased, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice.

“I said that’s enough,” Jeonghan snapped, the slight pink tinge creeping up his neck completely betraying his forced composure. “Shouldn’t you be tuning an engine or something useful?”

Soonyoung, meanwhile, was doubled over laughing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. When he finally straightened, he clapped Jeonghan on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man. If you need advice, just let me know. I’m great with women.”

Jeonghan groaned, brushing him off. “The day I take advice from you, Soonyoung, is the day I retire. He shoved past them toward his motorhome, muttering under his breath. “Insufferable. Both of you.”

But even as he slammed the door behind him, Jeonghan couldn’t stop the echo of Sunwoo’s words from rattling around in his head. 

You’ve got a crush.

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, tossing the water bottle onto the couch. But as he sank down beside it, arms crossed and jaw tight, he couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering.

Jeonghan didn’t want to be here.

The club pulsed with energy, a humid swirl of bodies pressing too close, the bass reverberating in his chest like a persistent headache. Strobe lights sliced through the haze, and the air smelled faintly of spilled drinks and cheap cologne. Somewhere in the chaos, Soonyoung had disappeared, leaving Jeonghan to fend for himself.

He’d been ready to make his exit the moment they walked in, but Soonyoung had insisted. “You need to loosen up, Jeonghan. Let the adrenaline from the race wear off. Have a drink, maybe dance.”Jeonghan had scoffed at the idea, knowing full well that his reason for not wanting to stay wasn’t exhaustion.

No, it was you.

Even when you weren’t in the room, you lingered in his mind like the ghost of a song he couldn’t stop humming. The podium had been a nice distraction. But now, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and the clinking of glasses, his thoughts drifted back to the press conference and the pointed, teasing look you’d given him when he spoke.

And then there was Mingyu—always Mingyu—whose name you’d said with just a little too much warmth. Jeonghan had pretended not to notice, but it had been impossible to ignore.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan pushed through the crowd, determined to leave. He had almost made it to the exit when someone collided into him, hard enough to send him stumbling forward.

“Whoa—watch it!” a voice slurred, sharp with irritation but unmistakably familiar.

He turned, already scowling, but the expression froze on his face when he saw you.

“Jeonghan?” you said, blinking up at him, your voice teetering between surprise and amusement. Your cheeks were flushed, lips curling into a slow smile as you adjusted your grip on the drink in your hand.

“You?” he blurted, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

“What are you—?” you started, only to trail off as a giggle bubbled out of you. Shaking your head like you were trying to clear it, you added, “Wow. Small world, huh?”

“I guess so,” Jeonghan said, his tone carefully even, though his gaze lingered on the way the dim light caught the sheen of your hair, the curve of your smile. His eyes dropped to your drink, then back to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly, before adding with a sheepish laugh, “Okay, maybe. Just a little.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to curve into a smile. “Sure looks like it.”

You waved him off with a dramatic flourish, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be... I don’t know, brooding on a podium somewhere?”

He tilted his head, pretending to be affronted. “I don’t brood. And besides, this is a celebration.”

“Oh, right,” you said, stepping closer. Your gaze softened, and your voice dropped just enough to make the words feel like they were meant for him alone. “The big comeback.”

“Lots of doubters, huh?” you added, the slight slur in your voice doing nothing to dull the edge of your words.

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard, before a chuckle escaped him. “Well, your article did the talking for you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes a little too bright, your smile a little too slow. “What a way to get my attention, pretty boy.”

His breath caught, his carefully built façade cracking for just a second. “You think I’m pretty?”

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, a hand landed firmly on your shoulder.

“There you are!”

Jeonghan looked up to see one of your friends glaring at him as they steadied you. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re... what? Flirting with Yoon Jeonghan now?”

“Not flirting,” you protested weakly, though your lopsided smile said otherwise.

Your friend wasn’t convinced, nor were they interested in his response. They tugged you into the crowd with an apologetic glance over their shoulder. “Sorry about her—she’s had a night.”

Jeonghan stayed rooted in place, his gaze following your retreating figure. His lips curved into a faint smile as your words replayed in his mind.

“What a way to get my attention,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

And yet, as he stood there, the thought struck him that maybe you’d already gotten his.

FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO 2024Track: Circuit de Monaco

The paddock at Monaco was alive with its usual glitz and glamour, the unmistakable hum of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Cameras flashed, team personnel buzzed around, and the harbor glistened under the sun. Monaco, the crown jewel of the F1 calendar, had a way of amplifying everything—victories felt sweeter, defeats more crushing, and the stakes impossibly higher.

Jeonghan, fresh off securing pole position, had his usual air of nonchalance, but the glow of triumph was undeniable. The fans chanted his name; the cameras adored him. Yet as he stepped off the podium erected for the post-qualifying festivities, his sharp eyes caught sight of something—someone—that brought him up short.

You.

You were standing just beyond the throng of journalists, your press badge gleaming under the midday sun. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, weeks since your sharp quips and piercing questions had filled the air between you like sparks on dry wood.

Those weeks had been… odd, to say the least. You’d been reassigned to cover Formula E, a shift Jeonghan had learned about only after noticing your absence at the paddock in China. He had played it cool, pretending it didn’t matter, but he had found himself seeking out your byline anyway—reading articles that had nothing to do with him or F1, just to feel the rhythm of your words.

Even the searing critiques you usually aimed at him had been sorely missed. It was maddening, really, how much quieter the world had felt without your fire.

Now, here you were again, back in the fray of Formula 1, as though no time had passed. Jeonghan’s expression remained casual, but his stride toward you was deliberate, cutting through the chaos of the paddock.

When he stopped in front of you, his smirk was already in place, a shield against the strange, unwelcome flutter of relief in his chest. “Where’ve you been?” he asked, tilting his head with practiced ease.

You looked up from your notebook, arching a brow at him. “Missed me, Jeonghan?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The word landed between you like a drop of rain on hot asphalt, its simplicity taking you aback. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but notice how the sharpness in your gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

But then, as quickly as the moment arrived, he leaned in, his smirk deepening. “Someone had to keep the paddock interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, recovering your composure. “I see the Monaco air hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“And I see Formula E hasn’t dulled your wit,” he shot back, stepping closer so the noise of the paddock faded slightly.

You shook your head, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve done not too bad these past few races, huh?”

The comment was offhand, tossed in almost as a formality, but it hit Jeonghan harder than he expected. Compliments—genuine ones—were rare from you, and they stirred something unexpected in him.

Jeonghan blinked, the smirk faltering for just a second before he quickly replaced it with mock arrogance. “Not too bad?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I dominated in China, held my ground in Miami, and destroyed Emilia Romagna. Give me some credit here.”

For all his ego, Jeonghan knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d won China by a jaw-dropping 22.3-second margin, Mingyu so far behind that Jeonghan had time to deliver an entire thank-you speech over the radio before the McLaren driver even crossed the checkered flag. In Miami, even a grueling five-second stop-go penalty hadn’t stopped him; he finished P2 (behind Kim Mingyu, annoyingly) and picked up the extra point for the fastest lap, earning him Driver of the Day. And in Emilia Romagna, he was the clear favorite from the moment the race weekend began. The Tifosi were relentless, their cheers in the grandstands so deafening that Jeonghan could barely hear his engineer’s voice over the radio.

When he crossed the finish line first, the sea of red under the podium roared with such thunderous applause that his ears rang for hours afterward. In just three races, Jeonghan had cemented himself as the best contender for the 2024 World Champion.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t as sweet without you there to write about it.

“Alright,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ve been exceptional.”

The word struck like a sucker punch. For once, Jeonghan didn’t have a clever retort. 

"Congrats on pole, Jeonghan," you said, your voice cool but sincere, offering him a small smile. It made his heart skip a beat.

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You called me exceptional."

You glanced up at him, closing your notebook with a flick of your wrist. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk. "Yes. Now, thoughts on pole?"

He's silent for so long that you politely clear your throat, hoping to cut through the sudden stillness. "Maybe this should be my headline for the day, Jeonghan. Monaco's Maze Leaves Golden Boy Spinning Out."

It's like someone doused him with ice water. His easy, sun-soaked posture stiffens, and the small smirk he'd been wearing evaporates.

You're still a journalist. He forgets that sometimes.

"Why do you do that?" he mutters, voice edged with something unfamiliar—disappointment, maybe.

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely between you and the notebook tucked in your hand. The lenses of his sunglasses catch the sunlight, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind them. His gaze pierces, searching for something in your expression. “Bringing the shitty headlines into every conversation."

You arch a brow, tucking the notebook closer to your chest as if shielding it from his line of sight. “Shitty? You mean accurate, Jeonghan.”

His jaw tightens, a subtle movement, but enough to draw your attention. There’s a faint crease forming between his brows now, and you realize it’s not your usual back-and-forth banter. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, voice low and barely audible over the hum of the paddock—the distant rumble of engines, the echo of voices, the clinking of tools in nearby garages.

For a moment, you’re at a loss. Jeonghan doesn’t let things like this bother him—or, at least, he’s always been good at pretending they don’t. His whole brand is carefree charm, a perpetual smirk, and the confidence of someone who knows he’ll always be the center of attention. This feels different.

“You’re upset about a headline?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“It’s not about the headline.” His tone sharpens, but he stops himself, jaw clenching like he’s swallowing something bitter. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his fingers brushing over the brim of his cap. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “It’s about how you never let up, even when it’s me.”

The admission lands heavily between you, unexpected and disarming.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his words, the way they seem to strip away the professional distance you’ve been clinging to. “Why should I?” you counter, keeping your voice steady despite the flicker of doubt creeping in. “You’re just another driver, Jeonghan.”

His laugh is short and humorless, cutting through the charged air between you. “Right. Just another driver.”

There’s something about the way he says it—low, almost resigned—that catches you off guard. The bitterness in his tone isn’t theatrical; it’s real, raw, and so at odds with the image he projects to the world.

You glance at him, searching for the Jeonghan you’re used to—the one who shrugs off criticism with a knowing grin, who always has a teasing retort ready. But for once, he’s not hiding behind a smirk or a cocky quip. He looks tired, the weight of his words pulling at the edges of his carefully maintained charm.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can find the right words. “Forget it.”

He takes a step back, and it feels like a gulf opening between you. The mask of indifference slips back into place with practiced ease, but you’ve already seen the cracks. “You’ve got your job to do,” he says, his tone clipped and distant. “Make sure you spell my name right in that next ‘shitty headline.’”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, hate the instinctive urge to reach out and stop him as he turns to walk away, his figure retreating into the chaotic swirl of the paddock.

But you don’t.

Instead, you grip your notebook tighter, the edges digging into your palm as if the physical discomfort might drown out the ache building in your chest. The buzz of your phone in your pocket snaps you out of the moment. Grateful for the distraction, you pull it out to see a text from your editor: Post-qualifying article. Deadline: 6 PM.

Just another driver.

The words echo hollowly in your mind, unconvincing and painfully untrue.

Because the truth is, Jeonghan has never been just anything to you.

And that’s exactly why this is so damn complicated.

Jeonghan spends the night refreshing his Twitter feed. 

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, honestly. 

Maybe it’s the rush of validation that comes from a clever reply, or the sting of criticism that reminds him he’s still human under the helmet. Or maybe it’s something else entirely—something he doesn’t want to name. The applause of the crowd is long gone, and the adrenaline from securing pole position hours earlier has settled into a restless hum. His phone feels heavier in his hand as he scrolls, tapping at random links and skimming comments that veer between praise and criticism.

The article finally pops up, your name bold and unmistakable at the top. His stomach tightens, a sensation he’ll never admit to anyone, least of all you. 

He clicks it immediately. 

The headline strikes first: 

Kim Mingyu’s Risky Qualifying Lap Keeps Rivals on Edge

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes scanning the words again to make sure he didn’t misread.

Mingyu?

Confusion knots his brow as he scrolls down. The opening paragraph is a glowing analysis of Mingyu’s audacious lap—a near miss in the second sector, a masterful recovery in the final corners. The kind of detailed, evocative writing that Jeonghan knows you reserve for stories you care about.

Then, buried halfway through, he finds his name:

“Jeonghan, true to form, delivered a flawless lap to secure pole position. His consistency and precision were unmatched, placing him at the front of the grid for tomorrow’s race.”

That’s it.

No breakdown of his sector times, no mention of the deft control it took to navigate the tight Monaco corners under immense pressure. Just a single, clinical acknowledgment, overshadowed by Mingyu’s second-place drama.

Jeonghan stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the refresh button. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—a parade in words? A headline with his name front and center?

It’s ridiculous, he tells himself. Pole position speaks for itself. It doesn’t need a poetic article to back it up.

But that doesn’t stop the irritation bubbling under his skin.

He tosses his phone onto the bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hotel room feels quieter than it should, the distant hum of the city barely seeping through the windows.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re making a point. That this is your way of reminding him that while he might be the golden boy on the track, he doesn’t get special treatment in your world.

Not in your writing. Not from you.

It’s infuriating.

And yet, a part of him—one he’s unwilling to examine too closely—wants to know why you didn’t write more about him. Wants to know what he’d have to do to make you look at him the way you clearly look at Mingyu.

Not just another driver.

But the one worth writing about.

The morning of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned with the soft hum of engines filling the paddock and the gleaming streets of Monte Carlo radiating under a cloudless sky. Jeonghan arrived early, his customary calm masking the roiling anticipation beneath. Pole position was his—secured with a lap so clinical it had left his rivals chasing shadows. Yet, the sharp sting of your article still lingered, buried beneath layers of pride and annoyance.

By mid-morning, the paddock buzzed with tension. The Monaco circuit—narrow, unforgiving, and relentlessly demanding—left no room for error. Victory here wasn’t just about speed; it was about precision, strategy, and an unwavering mental edge. Jeonghan knew that all too well.

As he suited up, the familiar ritual steadied his thoughts. Helmet, gloves, fireproofs—each piece transformed him into the driver everyone expected him to be. His engineer’s voice crackled over the comms. “Focus on the start, Jeonghan. Turn One is everything.”

He gave a curt nod, stepping into the car. The roar of the crowd was muffled as the cockpit enveloped him. Lights on the dashboard blinked in sequence, a visual metronome syncing with his heartbeat.

The engine roars to life beneath Jeonghan as he settles into the cockpit, the familiar hum of the Monaco Grand Prix vibrating through the seat, up his spine, and into his very bones. His focus sharpens like a blade, the heat of the sun seeping through his visor, but he’s not thinking about the sweat trickling down his neck or the weight of the helmet that obscures his field of vision. He’s thinking of the laps he’s put in, of the sacrifice, the years of work that led him here, to this very moment, pole position in Monaco.

He has no illusions about the challenge ahead. This track has always favored the one at the front, especially when that one is someone as methodical and precise as Jeonghan. It’s not often that the pole sitter falters here. But that’s not what has his stomach in knots. It’s not the track or the other drivers. It’s you. The thought of your words, your perspective, your gaze.

What if this win isn’t enough? What if I’m still just another driver to you?

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he considers the possibility of failing, of cruising through the race without the sharp, passionate energy that has always pushed him. What if he doesn’t even get the headline he’s chasing? What if all this effort amounts to nothing more than another expected victory, no deeper praise, no recognition?

He blinks, pushing the thought away. He can’t afford distractions. He’s here to win—nothing else matters.

The lights blink, one by one, before finally turning off, and he’s off, the car surging forward into the narrow streets of Monaco, engines screaming in unison. His concentration narrows, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. The first few laps are a blur of tactical moves, maintaining the lead, setting the pace. Behind him, Mingyu is close—too close—but Jeonghan has enough room, enough air to breathe.

The laps tick by, the gaps between drivers stretching and shrinking like the ebb and flow of a tide. In Monaco, you can’t make mistakes. The barriers are close enough to bite, and one slip-up could send everything into chaos. Jeonghan doesn’t think of that, though. He doesn’t think of the press, of his reputation, of the words hanging in the back of his mind.

What he thinks about is the win. The pure, simple joy of crossing that finish line first. He wants to feel the weight of the moment, of the accomplishment, and more than anything, he wants to look up and see you there—see that your words reflect the magnitude of this victory.

He holds the lead through the race, but it’s a quiet victory, one he can feel in his bones but doesn’t fully experience. The lap times are consistent, but nothing spectacular happens. No drama, no surprise overtake, no breathtaking maneuver.

It’s a clean, controlled victory—exactly what everyone expects from the driver in pole position.

By the time the checkered flag waves, Jeonghan crosses the line in first. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Jeonghan doesn’t feel the same rush of emotion. The thrill is absent, replaced instead by a deep, gnawing sense of doubt.

The win is his, but it feels like it’s already slipping away from his grasp.

In the post-race briefing, he sits with his team, nodding as they discuss tire strategies, pit stops, and the things that went right. But his eyes keep drifting to the back of the room, to where you stand, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes with focused intent. Every time he tries to catch your gaze, to make eye contact, you look away, as if determined to keep your distance.

It stings more than it should.

Jeonghan leans back in his seat, the weight of his helmet resting against his neck, the pressure of your indifference pressing down on him. He wants to reach out, wants to tell you that this win—this clean, controlled, expected win—deserves something more. But he stays silent, twisting the words in his mind, unable to voice the insecurity that’s suddenly consuming him.

The press conference follows the briefing, a whirlwind of questions, cameras, and flashing lights. The room is full of journalists, all clamoring for soundbites, all eager to discuss the expected result—Jeonghan, pole position, and now, victory. But Jeonghan doesn’t care about the usual congratulatory remarks. He’s waiting for something more. Something real.

When the article finally drops, hours later, he barely waits before pulling it up on his phone. He knows what it’s going to say, but still, the disappointment claws at his chest as he reads the headline.

Jeonghan Dominates Monaco: Pole Position Translates to Victory

His stomach twists, and he exhales sharply, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through him. It’s everything he expected—a result that leaves no room for admiration, no room for praise. Just the simple, obvious statement that he did what everyone expected him to do. The race was clean, flawless even, but there’s no depth to the words, no recognition of what it takes to win here, at Monaco, the most challenging track in the world.

The thought gnaws at him.

It’s not enough.

The press conference continues, the cameras flashing, but Jeonghan’s mind is far from the words he’s being asked to repeat. He’s not thinking about the team’s success, about the strategies that worked, or even about the crowd's cheers. His eyes find you across the room once again, but this time, you don't look away. Your gaze is fixed on something—anything—but not on him.

He can’t help but wonder if it’s because you don’t see him as more than just another driver. Just another one of the usual suspects who gets a win when it’s expected. He’s fighting for something more—something beyond the surface. But for now, it seems like that’s something he’ll never get from you.

He’s won Monaco. But in that moment, the victory feels like the hollowest thing in the world.

FORMULA 1 AWS GRAND PRIX DU CANADA 2024Track: Circuit Gilles Villeneuve

The Canadian Grand Prix feels like a blur. The rain starts as a light drizzle, but by the time the race begins, it’s pouring, transforming the circuit into a slippery mess. The slick track glistens under the flood of water, making the circuit treacherous, a spinning wheel of danger. The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt, and there’s an ominous tension in the paddock, a murmur that hangs in the atmosphere as if everyone knows something bad is about to happen. 

You catch sight of Jeonghan on the grid. He’s staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect, like the picture of composure. But you can see it in his eyes—something flickers there, a mix of tension and determination. His car, finely tuned for dry conditions, isn’t built for this. The engineers have done what they can, adjusting the setup, but there’s only so much they can do when the weather turns so violently. You know this track—the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve—is not forgiving, and for someone like Jeonghan, a precision driver who thrives when everything falls into place, this is the worst-case scenario. He’s trying to keep his focus, but you can see the strain on his face, the pressure mounting with every passing moment.

The starting lights go out, and the cars roar off the grid, their engines screaming in defiance of the rain. Jeonghan’s car is sluggish in the first few laps. You see him fighting with the wheel, struggling to keep the car in line, each turn a reminder that the odds are stacked against him. The rain is only getting heavier, and the car, built for speed in perfect conditions, is no longer responsive, no longer the finely-tuned machine he’s so accustomed to. It’s like he’s driving a different car altogether.

As the laps tick by, the race feels like a slow-motion disaster, unfolding before your eyes. Jeonghan’s always been skilled in the wet, but this is different—this is more than just rain. This is a mechanical mismatch, an impossible task to overcome. You watch him push, trying to find any way to make up time, but it’s clear he’s just not able to. The car slides wide through the corners, the back end kicking out as he struggles to maintain control. His frustration is palpable, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

And then, it happens.

The rear end of Jeonghan’s car breaks loose as he enters Turn 6, and for a moment, it’s a dance of power and precision, a flick of the wheel, an attempt to save it. But it’s futile. The car loses traction, and before you can even process it, he’s in the barriers. The sound of impact is like a gut punch, a sickening crunch that sends a wave of dread through you. The crowd's collective gasp is drowned out by the static crackle of his radio.

“Jeonghan, do you copy?” The voice of his engineer is urgent, panicked, but there’s no mistaking the defeat in it when the response comes through. Jeonghan’s voice is clipped, emotion stripped away in favor of the cold reality.

“I’m out. Car’s done.”

The message is simple, the weight of it crashing down on you. The race is over. Lap 30. The dream, the chance to prove himself in a season that’s been anything but easy, has slipped away, drowned by the rain.

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. It’s a loss for Jeonghan, but it feels like a loss for you too. Not because of the race itself, but because of the frustration you saw in his face. The disappointment. The feeling of helplessness. It’s all there, and it hits you harder than you expect.

He doesn’t speak to anyone after. He doesn’t go to the media pen, doesn’t stand in front of the cameras for the obligatory interview. There’s no deflection, no distractions. He’s just... gone. You barely see him in the paddock. He doesn’t even go to the Ferrari garage to debrief with his team. He disappears into the background, like he’s trying to erase himself from the scene altogether, retreating into the shadows, avoiding the world that’s waiting to cast its judgment.

And you? You stay away too. The press room feels suffocating, the questions ringing in your ears as you try to focus. You write your piece, a cold, sharp report about the race and Jeonghan’s crash, a clinical dissection of what went wrong. But something feels hollow as you type. The words don’t flow the way they used to. They’re just words, strung together to meet the deadline, to give the readers what they want. It’s not about the story anymore. It’s not about the race. It’s about the loss.

You can’t shake the image of Jeonghan crashing out, of his frustration written in every line of his face, every motion of his hands. You can’t forget the way he looked when he climbed out of the car, shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen onto him. His eyes are distant, like he’s already checked out, retreating into himself. It’s a look you’ve seen before, but it’s sharper now, more pronounced. He’s carrying something, a burden that you don’t understand, a burden you’re not sure you can even help him carry.

But all you can do is write. And even that doesn’t feel like enough.

FORMULA 1 ARAMCO GRAN PREMIO DE ESPAÑA 2024 Track: Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

The Spanish Grand Prix feels different from the moment you step out of the car, the heat oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and the inevitable tension of the weekend. The usual rhythm of the paddock is off-kilter, heightened by the suffocating summer heat, the burning sun beating down on every exposed surface. The heat is more than just physical; it's palpable in the way the drivers move, in the clipped tones of the engineers, in the quiet buzz of conversation that flickers out like static.

But even through the sticky, heavy air, the tension feels electric—charged, ready to snap. The circuit is a challenge in itself, and the drivers know it. There’s no room for error here—just wide, hot tarmac and the constant pressure of chasing that perfect lap.

You’ve done your best to avoid Jeonghan, kept a comfortable distance as much as possible. But there’s something about the way he carries himself now—an edge that wasn't there before. It’s sharp, biting, and yet there’s an underlying vulnerability that makes everything harder to ignore.

When qualifying results flash up, you’re caught off-guard. Soonyoung is on pole, Mingyu in second, and Jeonghan… Jeonghan is in third. 

Jeonghan strides into the paddock after qualifying, his face carefully composed, but there’s a look in his eyes—something sharp, something that makes you hesitate. You haven’t spoken in days, not since Canada, not since he shut you out. You’ve been avoiding him, and he’s been avoiding you, but you both know the silence can’t last forever.

You’re standing near the media area when he approaches, and for a moment, it feels like the world holds its breath. The slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze flicks over your shoulder, pretending not to care, but you see through it.

"Don't do this," he says, his voice tight, but it's not the playful teasing you’ve grown used to. It’s something darker. Something tired.

"Don’t do what?" you snap, your patience running thin. "Pretend everything’s fine?"

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been avoiding me. Why? Because of Canada?"

You blink. The question hits harder than you expect, and you struggle to keep your composure. “You expect me to just forget what happened? You were fine after the crash, Jeonghan. You didn’t even bother with the press. I can’t just pretend that wasn’t... anything.”

The words come out sharper than you intend, and for a split second, you regret it. You see the way his shoulders stiffen, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes before he masks it with that carefully constructed indifference.

"Maybe I didn’t want to deal with your harsh words," he snaps, taking a step closer. “Maybe I’m tired of being the perfect driver for you, the one who’s supposed to be good enough to meet your standards. But I’m not—am I?"

Your chest tightens at the accusation, at the sudden rawness in his voice. "You think I’m too harsh? You think I’m just waiting for you to be perfect all the time?" You laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. "That’s what this is about? You crashing out wasn’t because of me. I write the truth, Jeonghan. And maybe the truth is you didn’t have the car for that race. It was out of your control."

His expression darkens, and you see that familiar flash of anger—one you’ve seen more times than you care to admit. "No," he hisses, taking another step toward you. "The truth is, you're so wrapped up in your narratives, you forget that I’m human. You forget that I have feelings too, and that maybe... maybe I wanted to do this for myself, not for some headline or some article. But you... you don’t see me that way, do you? You see me as another story, another fucking headline to dissect. Just another driver."

His words cut deeper than anything else could, and the final crack in your restraint breaks wide open. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat, the way your breath hitches.

“You want me to treat you differently?” you bite back, furious, stepping into his space. “You want me to hold your hand and tell you it’s okay every time you fail? Because you’re so tired of being just another driver? Well, you know what, Jeonghan? I am tired. I’m tired of trying to keep this professional, of pretending that I’m not watching the same guy who couldn’t even handle his own crash. You don’t get to demand better treatment from me when you can’t even handle the heat.”

For a moment, neither of you move, and the silence is thick, charged with the weight of your words.

He stares at you, eyes dark, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You’re both too close now, caught in this space where words are weapons, and you’re both bleeding out.

Finally, Jeonghan turns away, his expression unreadable, but you can see the tightness in his back, the way his jaw works, like he’s holding something back. "Maybe you should stop writing about me altogether," he mutters, his voice rough, before stalking off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and chest aching.

For a moment, you stand frozen, caught between regret and relief, between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the sudden emptiness that creeps in now that he's gone.

The moment Jeonghan storms off, leaving you standing there with a surge of anger and a pounding heart, you don't realize someone’s been listening. But someone has. The faint click of a camera, barely audible over the sound of your pulse, is enough to make you pause. You turn, instinctively, to see a familiar face from the gossip side of the paddock. It's Soojin, a reporter known for getting the juiciest bits of drama and twisting them into scandalous headlines. She’s got a camera in one hand, her phone in the other, furiously typing something into it with a smirk that sends an uncomfortable ripple through your gut.

Before you can say anything, she’s already gone, blending back into the throng of people milling around the paddock, her steps quick and sure. The damage has been done. You know it, and the prickling sensation in the pit of your stomach tells you that it’s about to get a lot worse.

By the time you’ve made it back to the media center, the storm has already hit. Your Twitter feed is flooded with the words “Trouble in Paradise?”, and the accompanying photos. The images are damning—Jeonghan’s angry face, red with emotion, and your own flushed, furious expression, both of you screaming at each other in the middle of the paddock. There’s no context, no explanation, just the raw emotion, raw enough to sell.

The headline isn’t even what stings. It’s the comments that follow. Speculation, assumptions, and a flood of opinions. Some call it a lover’s quarrel, some assume the worst, but most seem content to paint the picture of two people on the verge of breaking. It’s not just your name that gets dragged through the mud; it’s Jeonghan’s too. Both of you, caught in a perfect storm of emotions and bad timing. The last thing either of you needs.

You try to shut it out, but it’s impossible. The text messages from your editor come through, asking for a statement. Your phone rings with calls from the PR team, from your colleagues, and even from your friends, who all seem to know about the situation before you’ve even had a chance to process it yourself.

And then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, the email comes. It’s from Ferrari’s PR team, and it’s almost too professional to be true:

Dear Y/N, In light of the recent events surrounding your interactions with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, we would like to offer you full access to the Ferrari garage for the remainder of the season. This will provide you with the opportunity to write an in-depth feature on the team, showcasing the work and dedication that goes into each race weekend. We believe this move will allow for a clearer perspective on the situation and help ensure that your reporting reflects the true nature of the team and its drivers. We look forward to your continued coverage. Best regards, Ferrari PR Team

It’s a calculated move—a distraction, a chance to smooth things over. And you know it. The message is clear: everything must look fine. Everything must be fixed, packaged neatly for the media and the fans to consume. You’re a pawn in a much bigger game, and they’re making sure you play along.

At first, you think about refusing. You think about how everything feels so wrong right now. About how the image of you and Jeonghan, caught in the heat of an argument, is being used to feed the frenzy. But the PR team doesn’t leave room for argument. You know that declining would only escalate things further, make them harder to fix.

So, you agree.

The access starts almost immediately. They give you a full tour of the Ferrari garage, show you the inner workings of the team, introduce you to the engineers, the strategists, the pit crew. You’re given permission to write about the team’s strategy, their behind-the-scenes preparation, but there’s always a sense that you're being watched—every move, every word.

You can’t help but notice Jeonghan’s absence. Every time you walk through the garage, he’s not there. The driver who once greeted you with a cocky smile and a teasing remark, the one who always found a way to make you laugh, is nowhere to be found. It’s like he’s vanished, swallowed by the thick wall of Ferrari’s PR machine.

It’s as if nothing is real anymore. The false smiles, the calculated interviews, the way the drivers exchange glances with a rehearsed ease. The more you observe, the more you realize how much of this world is a performance, a show put on for the audience, with no room for anything real. It all feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but an empty, fragile façade.

Still, you’re expected to keep writing, to deliver the polished pieces the team expects. You’re supposed to put the headline “TROUBLE IN PARADISE?” behind you and focus on the carefully constructed narrative. So, you do. For now.

But even as you walk the pits, breathing in the scent of burnt rubber and sweat, there’s a quiet ache in the back of your mind. The truth is, you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that everything is fine.

Not when you still feel Jeonghan’s words hanging in the air between you, like the remnants of a storm that’s yet to pass. Not when you still want, with everything in you, to be able to fix it.

And maybe that’s the problem.

The crash happens so quickly, so violently, that it almost feels unreal. One moment, the tell-tale red of Jeonghan’s car is cutting through the circuit with his signature precision. The next, it’s a twisted mess of metal and rubber, skidding off the track, his car spinning wildly as Lee Seokmin’s Aston Martin clips him just before the tight corner at Turn 14. You watch it all unfold from the pit wall, your heart stopping for a brief second as the sound of the crash echoes through the air. 

There’s a collective gasp from the crew around you, followed by the frantic chatter of engineers and strategists, trying to process what just happened. You can see the smoke rising from the wreckage, and your breath catches when the marshals begin to swarm the car, signaling that Jeonghan is still inside. 

The radio crackles to life, but Jeonghan’s voice doesn’t come through. For a second, it feels like time slows down. The pit wall is a blur of motion, but you’re frozen, eyes locked on the track, praying for him to be okay. 

Then, finally, the confirmation comes: “Jeonghan is out of the car. He's fine. We'll move him to the medical center.” 

A wave of relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. The weight of the crash—his crash—still hangs in the air, and it’s clear from the looks of the Ferrari crew that no one knows exactly what went wrong. The tension in the paddock is palpable, and as you’re given full access to the debriefing room afterward, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken frustration. 

Jeonghan walks in with that same seething expression he had after the crash, and the room goes silent. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw clenched, the kind of anger that’s so deep it can’t be shaken by anything or anyone. His usual confident swagger is replaced by a taut, barely contained rage that makes it hard for anyone to even breathe in his presence. His voice, when he speaks, is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. 

“You think this is a joke?” he snaps, looking at his team with a glare so intense it’s almost suffocating. His fists are balled at his sides, his shoulders tense with barely controlled fury. 

The debriefing begins, but it’s clear that no one knows how to handle him. His coach tries to keep things calm, but Jeonghan's sharp words only make the tension worse. The rest of the team sits in silence, unsure of what to say, how to fix the situation. His eyes never leave the table, his posture rigid, as though every part of him is fighting the urge to storm out. 

The meeting goes in circles—strategies discussed, what went wrong, how to move forward—but nothing seems to land. Jeonghan doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to listen to anyone right now. His frustration is palpable, and it’s clear this crash, this failure, has broken something inside of him. 

When he finally stands, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, there’s an air of finality to it. Without another word, he storms out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. No one dares to speak, knowing that anything they say would be pointless. The door slams shut, and the meeting disbands soon after. 

But you don’t leave. You don’t really have anywhere to go. Not yet. 

You make your way to the Ferrari canteen, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. It’s one of those rare moments when you’re not chasing a headline, not following the usual routine, and the monotony of it all feels like a relief. You order two beers without thinking. You don’t need two, but for some reason, it feels right. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the crash, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything—the pressure, the disappointment, the simmering frustration with Jeonghan that you haven’t had the chance to process yet. The beers are cold, the glass bottles slick with condensation, and when you walk outside to the grandstands, you find him. 

Jeonghan is sitting alone, his back against the metal railing, the crowd long gone. The air is warm, the kind of summer heat that clings to your skin and makes everything feel a little heavier. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back as he stares at the sky, and for a moment, you wonder if he even notices you approaching. 

Without saying a word, you sit beside him, the soft crunch of your shoes against the gravel the only sound in the stillness. You don’t offer him a drink immediately. Instead, you hold the bottles in your hands, feeling the chill seep into your palms, letting the silence stretch between you. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hand him one of the beers. He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the faintest shift in his posture, a soft hum of acknowledgement as he accepts it, cracking the cap with a quick twist.

“Jeonghan,” you say, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than you expect it to be. He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. You take a sip of your own beer, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment. You can feel the tension that’s been building between you both, the weight of the unspoken words, but for now, you can’t bring yourself to make him speak. 

Then he does. “Full access, huh?” His voice is rough, the teasing edge to his words gone, replaced by something heavier. The bitterness is unmistakable. “You must be thrilled, getting to see me crash out in front of the entire team.” 

You almost choke on your beer. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuinely hurt, but it stings regardless. 

“I’m not,” you say quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish he would look at you, but he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw still tight, muscles still coiled like a spring. "I don’t want that, Jeonghan. What don’t you get?" 

“No?” He tilts his head slightly, but his gaze stays fixed. “I would think Miss Scathing Articles would relish the chance to tear me down again.” 

A sharp retort sat on your tongue, but you swallowed it. There was no point. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the distant horizon where the racetrack lay, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. "I don’t," you said quietly. "I’m not interested in tearing you down. I never have been." 

Jeonghan’s laugh was hollow, almost like a scoff. "Color me surprised." 

A beat passed between you both, the air thick with unspoken words. You took a sip of your beer, now lukewarm and slightly flat, but it didn’t matter. Neither of you had the luxury of pretending everything was fine anymore. 

He finally turns to you, his eyes meeting yours; there’s something in the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, almost like he’s waiting for the punchline of some cruel joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long silence, your voice softer this time, barely above a whisper. You’re not sure if he hears you, but he looks at you with an expression that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a minefield. 

He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he exhales a long breath, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as though the weight of it all is finally catching up to him. The tension between you hangs heavy in the warm summer air, the quiet hum of distant cicadas filling the space where words should be. Jeonghan takes another sip of his beer, the bottle pressed lightly against his lips as though it might cool the heat simmering under his skin. He looks tired—no, more than tired. Worn down. The type of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says finally, the words coming out uneven, almost like they’re foreign on his tongue. His voice is softer now, missing the sharp edges that had cut into you moments before. “You were just doing your job.” 

“Jeonghan,” you start, but he holds up a hand, silencing you. 

“No, really.” He forces a thin smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of expression you’ve seen him use in press conferences—a shield, practiced and perfect. “You’re here because Ferrari told you to be. Because someone thought it’d be a great PR move. You don’t owe me anything beyond that.” 

The words sting, even though you know they shouldn’t. He’s not wrong. This isn’t your world, not really. But you can’t help the knot tightening in your chest as you watch him retreat into himself, the walls going up before your eyes. 

“I’m not here because they told me to be,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I’m here because I wanted to be. Because I saw the crash, Jeonghan, and I—” You stop, swallowing hard as the memory flashes behind your eyes again. The twisted metal, the plume of smoke, the moment you thought— 

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Not as a journalist. Not as someone with a job to do. As someone who—” Jeonghan’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s something vulnerable there, too, something unguarded. 

You don't finish the sentence. 

Jeonghan watches you closely now, his beer suspended mid-air, forgotten. The sharpness in his gaze softens, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe, or an unease he doesn’t quite know how to address.

The air between you feels heavy, suffocating in its quiet. You can still hear the faint echoes of the crash in your mind, the awful screech of metal against asphalt, the split-second horror of thinking you’d just seen him—

He sets the bottle down with a soft clink against the railing, breaking the spell.

“Scared, huh?” His voice is quieter now, and there’s a touch of disbelief, as though he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words or dismiss them.

You nod, throat tightening as you try to push through the lump that’s settled there. “Terrified,” you admit, the word feeling foreign and vulnerable on your tongue. “Not because of what I’d have to write, but because I thought—” You bite down on the rest of the sentence, unwilling to say it aloud.

Jeonghan exhales, long and slow, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back against the railing. “I’m fine,” he says eventually, the words flat and unconvincing. He glances at you, his lips pressing into a faintly wry smile. “A little bruised. A little pissed. But I’m fine.”

It’s not enough to untangle the knot in your chest, but it’s a start. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

He finishes his beer in a few swallows, the motion oddly decisive, before standing and brushing off his pants. For a moment, you think he’s about to leave without another word, the tension between you both left unresolved.

But then he turns, holding out a hand toward you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint curve to his lips that feels almost... playful.

“Friends?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. “If you’re going to be hanging around the garage all season, might as well, y’know?”

You blink at him, taken aback. The man who’d stormed out of the debriefing room in a fit of rage, who’d spat barbs at you moments ago, now stood here offering a truce like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Friends,” you echo, narrowing your eyes as you take his hand. It’s warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if this is another performance—an act to keep you at arm’s length.

But when he pulls you to your feet, there’s something genuine in his expression, something almost relieved.

“You better not make me regret this,” he says, letting go of your hand as he shoves his now-empty beer bottle into your other one. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the shit you wrote.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he smirks.

For the first time all day, the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. You follow him back toward the paddock, your steps lighter than they’ve been in weeks.

And for now, that’s enough.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Red Bull Ring

The Red Bull Ring stretches out before you like a postcard of precision. Nestled in the Austrian hills, the track gleams under the soft morning sun, its curves and straights inviting the first roar of engines. The garage is alive with motion—engineers bent over laptops, mechanics tightening bolts, and the hum of anticipation that comes with any race weekend.

You step into the Ferrari garage, an interloper in a sea of red. Jeonghan’s car gleams in its designated spot, pristine and ready, as though it hadn’t been a crumpled wreck just a week ago. The team works around it like a well-oiled machine, barely sparing you a glance. You’re supposed to be here, technically, but that doesn’t stop the slight twinge of unease as you find a quiet corner near the monitors.

“Back again?”

The voice is unmistakable, light and teasing. You turn, and there he is: Yoon Jeonghan in his fireproofs, the sleeves tied around his waist, his white undershirt faintly clinging to his frame. He looks every bit the picture of calm, like he hasn’t spent the past few days fielding press questions about his crash.

“Didn’t think you’d miss the chance to watch me run into someone,” he adds, smirking as he adjusts his gloves.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying you’re aiming for Aston Martin?”

He laughs, a real laugh this time, and it’s startling how much it changes the air around you. “Not today. But I’ll keep you updated if Seokmin starts driving like a rookie again.”

“Careful, Jeonghan,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “I might put that in my next article.”

He leans casually against the wall, his dark eyes scanning your face with an intensity that’s become familiar in the past few weeks. But there’s no edge to it today, no armor. Just him, relaxed and—for once—almost easygoing.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are,” he says after a beat, his voice low enough that the hum of the garage nearly drowns it out.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the grin that creeps onto your face. “And you’re not as charming as you think you are.”

He tilts his head, considering this like it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. “Fair. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Purely professional,” you quip, ignoring the way his smirk grows.

Before he can reply, the engineer by the monitors calls him over, gesturing to the screen. Jeonghan holds up a finger, signaling for a moment, then turns back to you.

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” His voice is lighter now, teasing but not in the way that cuts. It feels natural, like banter between...well, maybe not quite friends. Not yet. But something close.

You shrug, watching as he walks toward his team, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. The tension that had lingered after the crash feels like it’s finally begun to dissolve, replaced by something steadier. Not quite trust, but something adjacent.

As you settle into the corner, notebook in hand, you can’t help but glance at him every so often. On the surface, it’s just another practice session, another day at the track. But for the first time in weeks, it feels like something close to normal. 

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS BRITISH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Silverstone Circuit

Silverstone roars to life under a blazing sun, the grandstands filled to capacity with fans waving flags and wearing team colors. The overcast sky has burned off, leaving the track shimmering under the summer sun. It’s one of the biggest stages of the season, and Jeonghan delivers a masterclass in qualifying, the finely tuned Ferrari underneath him responding to every input like an extension of himself. The sharp smell of rubber and fuel lingers in the air, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He’s back.

The final lap times on the leaderboard tell the story: pole position. Ferrari’s garage is electric with celebration, engineers clapping each other on the back, a cheer rising when Jeonghan steps into the swarm of red. His team surrounds him, hands gripping his shoulders, voices shouting praise over the din.

He grins, wide and unguarded, the weight of the last few weeks lifting ever so slightly. Spain and Canada had shaken him, but this—this feels like a reckoning. Proof that the mistakes and setbacks weren’t the whole story.

“Perfect lap, Jeonghan,” his engineer says, beaming as he hands him a water bottle.

He nods in acknowledgment, taking a swig, his heart still racing as he glances around the paddock. The sun is high now, glinting off the sleek curves of the cars lined up in parc fermé. Jeonghan’s gaze sweeps over the crowd, soaking in the energy—until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren garage, the vibrant orange of their branding a stark contrast to the reds and blacks of his world. You’re leaning against a barrier, the breeze tugging at your hair as you laugh at something Mingyu says. Your face is so open, so full of light, that it’s almost magnetic.

Mingyu gestures animatedly, clearly in the middle of some ridiculous story, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. You throw your head back with a laugh, and Jeonghan feels a tightness in his chest he can’t quite place.

The joy that had filled him moments ago flickers.

Why does it bother him?

The thought lingers as he watches you, his water bottle dangling forgotten in his hand. Jeonghan isn’t used to this kind of gnawing discomfort. He’s competitive, sure, but this is something else entirely.

Jealousy.

The sun is lower in the sky when he finds you, his long strides purposeful as he weaves through the paddock. The golden hour light makes everything seem softer, but Jeonghan’s mood is anything but. His thoughts from earlier have been simmering, the warmth of victory eclipsed by a frustration he can’t shake.

You’re leaning against a railing, scrolling on your phone when he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Ferrari garage?” he says, his tone sharper than he intends.

You blink up at him, startled. “I was just catching up with Mingyu.”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Funny. I thought you were doing a full-access piece on Ferrari, not McLaren.”

There’s something in his voice—an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “I am,” you reply slowly, standing up straighter. “What’s this about?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why your articles about Mingyu are always glowing? What, are you sleeping with him?”

The accusation is like a slap, cutting through the air with a harshness that leaves you stunned.

Your expression shifts, disbelief giving way to anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight. The regret in his eyes is fleeting, buried under the weight of his own misplaced frustration.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. “It’s always one step forward, two steps back with you, Jeonghan.”

His lips part as if to reply, but you don’t wait for him to dig himself deeper. You storm off, your footsteps echoing against the paddock floor. The sting of his words lingers, but so does the look on his face as you walk away.

Jeonghan stands there, watching you go, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knows he’s crossed a line, and the weight of his own stupidity settles heavily over him.

The knock on your hotel room door comes before sunrise, soft but insistent. You groan, burying your face in your pillow before dragging yourself to the door.

When you open it, the hallway is empty. But at your feet sits a bouquet wrapped in crisp white paper, tied with a simple satin ribbon.

Roses. Soft blush pink, their petals perfectly unfurled, paired with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

The arrangement is beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so, the kind of bouquet that feels like a story in itself. You crouch to pick it up, your fingers brushing over the velvety petals. The faint, sweet scent of roses fills the air, mixing with the crisp morning chill that seeps into the hallway.

Nestled among the flowers is a small envelope.

You pull it out, your thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as you open it. Inside, scrawled in a slightly messy hand that’s unmistakably Jeonghan’s, are two simple words:

I’m sorry.

You glance down the hallway instinctively, half-expecting to see him lingering in the shadows. But it’s empty, as silent as it was before you opened the door.

You stand there for a moment longer, the bouquet in your arms and the note trembling slightly in your fingers. The apology feels heavier than the flowers, weighted by the memory of his words from yesterday.

He didn’t need to apologize like this, you think. He could have texted, could have mumbled something in passing when you inevitably crossed paths today. But instead, he’d gone to the trouble of figuring out your favorite flowers—roses and baby’s breath, a detail you don’t even remember telling him.

The realization stirs something in you, softening the edges of your anger.

The roses sit on the desk as you get ready for the day, the baby’s breath adding a delicate touch to the arrangement. The card leans against the vase, its two-word apology a quiet presence in the room.

Somewhere in the city, Silverstone is waking up, the air already buzzing with anticipation for the race. But here, in the stillness of your hotel room, you take a moment to breathe, to let the gesture sink in.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes faintly in your mind, the memory of yesterday’s confrontation still fresh. And yet, as you glance at the roses again, the sting of his words begins to dull, replaced by something softer, something not yet ready to be named.

The pre-race buzz was electric. The roar of engines echoed faintly in the distance, a constant backdrop to the paddock’s chaotic rhythm. Mechanics zipped between garages, reporters hustled to get last-minute quotes, and fans outside the barricades chanted their favorite drivers’ names. Amid all this, your footsteps fell heavy against the asphalt, your target in sight: Yoon Jeonghan.

There he was, leaning against the nose of his red Ferrari, his race suit a striking flash of scarlet that caught the sunlight and made him look annoyingly pristine for someone who had caused you so much grief. He was chatting with an engineer, that easy, charming smile plastered on his face like he hadn’t thrown baseless accusations your way less than 24 hours ago.

You marched toward him, purpose sharpening your steps. The bouquet from this morning was still vivid in your mind—blush pink roses, soft and elegant, their delicate petals almost glowing against the green of the baby’s breath, a stark contrast to the seething frustration you still carried. And the note—just two infuriatingly simple words—burned in your pocket, a reminder of the apology you hadn’t quite accepted yet.

“Jeonghan,” you called, your voice cutting through the low hum of conversation around you.

He glanced up, his casual demeanor faltering for a split second when he saw you. Then, like a switch had flipped, his smile returned. “Oh, hey.”

You stopped a foot away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “How did you know my favorite flowers?”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, and he leaned ever so slightly against the car, as if the conversation were a game he’d already won. “Oh good, they got delivered to the right room.”

“Jeonghan,” you said, your tone sharper now, “don’t deflect.”

“Deflect what?” He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with that infuriating glint of mischief that made you want to throttle him and laugh in equal measure.

“JEONGHAN.” The snap in your voice turned a few heads nearby, but you didn’t care.

He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. A certain papaya-colored birdie told me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Papaya-colored birdie... Mingyu?”

Jeonghan hesitated, his grin faltering for just a moment. You saw the gears turning in his head, calculating whether to deflect again or come clean.

“Spit it out, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, stepping closer, “or I’ll never write a single kind thing about you for the rest of your life.”

His mouth twitched, caught between amusement and resignation. Finally, he shrugged, his voice almost too casual. “Childhood friends, eh? You and Mingyu? That explains yesterday.”

You blinked, thrown by the abrupt shift in topic. “Don’t change the subject,” you snapped, though his words tugged at something in the back of your mind. “You really went to Kim Mingyu for help? After accusing me of—”

“I might have... aggressively encouraged Mingyu to spill everything he knew about you,” Jeonghan admitted, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised a brow. “Aggressively encouraged?”

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I threatened to steal his steering wheel from the McLaren garage if he didn’t talk.”

Despite your irritation, a snort escaped you. “And he just handed over my life story, huh?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, mirroring your stance. “What can I say? He’s surprisingly chatty when he thinks you’re in trouble. Very protective, that one.”

You clenched your jaw, the pieces clicking into place. “So, that’s why you jumped to conclusions yesterday. You thought—”

He cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know. I was out of line. That’s what the flowers were for.”

For a moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade. The wind carried the faint scent of burning rubber, and the distant cheers of fans reached your ears like a muted hum. Jeonghan’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, his tone lower now, “I really am sorry.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of the last day lifting slightly from your chest. “You’re lucky I like roses.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin returning, lighter this time, almost boyish. “Good taste, huh?”

“Good recovery, at least,” you muttered, your lips twitching despite yourself.

Jeonghan’s laughter followed you as you turned and walked away, the sound less grating than it had been the day before. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it felt like a start.

FORMULA 1 HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Hungaroring

The Hungarian Grand Prix paddock was buzzing, but you could tell something was off. The sound of chatter and engines felt like distant echoes as you stood by the garage, watching Jeonghan’s Ferrari pull back into its stall after a less-than-stellar FP1. The car’s engine quieted as the mechanics immediately went to work, inspecting it. But it wasn’t the car that caught your attention—it was Jeonghan himself.

He was unusually quiet, his usual cocky confidence buried beneath the furrow of his brow as he stripped off his helmet and gloves. His gaze was focused on the car, but it was clear his mind wasn’t in the garage. He seemed... distant, almost frustrated. The others in the team were busy talking strategy, discussing the data, but Jeonghan barely spoke up during the debriefing. It was strange.

The team finished up, but you noticed Jeonghan lingered near the back, hands on his hips, staring at his car like it had personally betrayed him. It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, especially not after a session where he was so used to being in control. You could practically feel the weight of his thoughts from where you stood.

You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t ignore it—something was wrong.

You walked over, careful not to disturb the mechanics who were still busy at work. "Jeonghan," you called softly, stepping beside him. He turned to you, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. They were focused on something distant, like he was seeing the track or the car but not really seeing them.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the concern out of your voice, but it slipped through anyway. “You’ve been quiet since the debriefing.”

He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t buying it. You had known Jeonghan long enough to recognize the way he carried his frustration. It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be hidden behind a casual smile, no matter how practiced.

“You sure? You know you don’t have to be okay all the time, right?” you pressed, stepping a little closer. The air around you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words.

Jeonghan exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into his gloves before he slowly pulled them off. He seemed to be gathering himself before speaking. “I hate it,” he muttered, and his voice had a rawness to it that caught you off guard. “Not being perfect. I... I can’t stand it.”

“Not being perfect?” you echoed, surprised. Jeonghan, the ever-cocky, confident driver, admitting that?

He looked up at you then, his eyes intense, as though he was searching for something in your gaze. “Yeah. I know it sounds stupid,” he said with a wry laugh that lacked its usual humor. “But it’s who I am. I’m a perfectionist, always have been. Every little mistake... it sticks with me. I can’t just move on. I think about it. Constantly.”

You watched him, absorbing his words, the vulnerability in his tone feeling like a crack in his otherwise polished exterior. Jeonghan, always so composed on the surface, always teasing and joking, was admitting something deeper now—something more personal.

“Is that why you were so quiet during the debriefing?” you asked, keeping your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to the car again. “I know I didn’t have the best session, but it feels like... like I failed. Like I’m not doing my job right. I could’ve done better.” His jaw clenched as if he were angry at himself.

The silence that fell between you was thick, almost suffocating, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. You hadn’t seen him like this before—not with this level of self-doubt.

“You’re not failing,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re allowed to have bad sessions. Hell, everyone has bad days. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It’s just a part of it.”

Jeonghan glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, nodding. “I mean... it’s not all about being perfect. Sometimes it’s the mistakes that push you to be better.”

Jeonghan looked down at his hands, still clutching the gloves, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I get it,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the side of the garage. “But you’ve got a whole team behind you. And we all know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there. It’s just one session.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes softening. “Thanks.”

There was a long pause, the sound of distant chatter and the hum of the paddock filling the silence. You were so used to Jeonghan’s teasing and cocky attitude that this quieter, more introspective side of him felt like a different person altogether. And maybe it was—it was the side that wasn’t the driver who fought for every fraction of a second on the track, the side that just wanted to be good enough.

“It’s not stupid, you know,” you added quietly. “Caring about being good at what you do isn’t stupid. It’s just... exhausting sometimes.”

Jeonghan laughed lightly, the sound a bit more genuine this time. “You have no idea. But I’m getting better at... handling it. I think.”

You smiled at him, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. There was still that hint of unease in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders, but for the first time all day, he seemed a little more at ease with himself.

As you turned to leave, you shot him one last look. “Just don’t be so hard on yourself next time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, you almost believed him.

The stands were eerily quiet now, a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd just hours earlier. You wandered through the empty paddock, your steps unhurried as the hum of the night settled around you. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint clatter of the Ferrari team packing up, but Jeonghan wasn’t with them.

You’d seen him after the race, his jaw tight as he climbed out of the car. Finishing P5 wasn’t bad by any measure, but it wasn’t what he wanted. And with Mingyu overtaking him in the Driver’s Championship by just twenty points, it was clear Jeonghan had taken it as a personal blow. His disappointment hung around him like a shadow.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he’d gone.

Sure enough, when you climbed up into the grandstands, there he was. Sitting alone in the middle row, still in his Ferrari race suit, unzipped to the waist to reveal his black base layer. His hair was tousled from the helmet, his posture slouched, shoulders hunched as though the weight of the day hadn’t yet left him. Beside him were two bottles of beer, one already open and resting loosely in his hand.

You approached quietly, but Jeonghan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn around when you reached him, your feet crunching softly against the debris of the crowd—discarded programs, empty wrappers, and forgotten flags. He must’ve known it was you, though. He always seemed to know.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, your voice breaking the stillness.

He finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “It’s a free grandstand,” he muttered, gesturing to the empty seats around him.

You slid into the seat next to him, the cool metal chilling through your clothes. Jeonghan’s gaze returned to the track ahead, where the floodlights illuminated the ghost of the race. He took a sip of his beer, silent.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—just heavy. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, the bitterness that came with being so close but not close enough.

“You should drink this before it gets warm,” he said suddenly, pushing the unopened beer toward you.

You picked it up, twisting off the cap with a small smile. “Thanks. Not exactly the post-race celebration you were hoping for, huh?”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Not exactly.”

The silence fell again, but this time you weren’t willing to let it linger. You turned to him, watching the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the neck of the bottle. “You’re still in the fight, you know,” you said gently.

Jeonghan’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you are,” you insisted. “Three points. That’s nothing. You’ve come back from worse.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back, looking up at the dark sky above the track. “You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It’s not just about the points. It’s about everything. The mistakes, the pressure... the expectations. It’s like... like I have to prove that I deserve to be here. Every single time.”

“You do deserve to be here,” you said firmly, the conviction in your voice enough to make him turn to you. “You wouldn’t be in that seat if you didn’t. You’re one of the best drivers on the grid, Jeonghan. Everyone knows it. Even Mingyu. Especially Mingyu.”

Jeonghan scoffed, a flicker of a smile breaking through his stormy expression. “Bet he’s loving this right now.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning back against the seat. “But knowing Mingyu, he’s probably already plotting ways to rub it in at the next race.”

That earned a laugh, small but real, and the sound was enough to make you smile too.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his tone softer now. “Talking me off the ledge.”

“Someone has to,” you replied with a shrug. “And honestly? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. One race doesn’t define you, Jeonghan. You’re not just a number on the leaderboard.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering. There was something in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Thanks,” he said simply, the word weighted with more than just appreciation.

You clinked your bottle against his. “Anytime.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the weight of the day slowly lifting as the quiet of the night wrapped around you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And as Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles, you knew he’d be okay. Eventually.

You took another sip of your beer, the chill of the bottle grounding you as Jeonghan’s earlier tension began to melt away. The ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips, and for the first time since you’d climbed up to find him, his shoulders seemed lighter.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice tinged with a familiar mischievousness, “what’s your headline going to be this week?”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. “You’ll see it when you see it, Yoon Jeonghan. No spoilers.”

His chuckle was low and warm, a sound that felt like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “Should I be worried?”

“Always,” you replied, the corners of your lips quirking upward. “But maybe not too much this time.”

He gave you a curious look, his expression halfway between wary and amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting back to the track. The night was calm now, the weight of the day’s disappointment tucked into the folds of shared silence.

The headline hit Monday morning, and Jeonghan had to admit, you’d delivered once again.

Ferrari Falters in Hungary: Yoon Jeonghan's Fight for the Title Tightens

The article was incisive, as sharp as he’d expected. You broke down his struggles in FP1, critiqued his race strategy, and even called out the overtaking move that cost him crucial points. It was the kind of detailed, no-nonsense analysis you were known for, and Jeonghan read every word with a mix of frustration and admiration.

But at the bottom, tucked beneath the last paragraph, there was a footnote—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

“Despite Hungary’s setback, Yoon Jeonghan remains one of the most popular and formidable contenders for the championship. With only twenty points separating him from the lead, Belgium offers a more than fair chance for the Ferrari star to close the gap and reclaim his momentum.”

Jeonghan blinked, then read it again, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, the paper still in hand, and shook his head.

“Subtle,” he muttered, though his tone was anything but annoyed. It was gratitude, warmth, and a flicker of hope all wrapped together in a single word.

He might have faltered in Hungary, but you’d reminded him—the season wasn’t even half over. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fighting alone.

FORMULA 1 ROLEX BELGIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

The weekend at Spa began like a dream.

The legendary Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps was a driver’s haven and a monster in equal measure. The longest track on the calendar, its 7 kilometers of asphalt wound through the lush forests of the Ardennes, combining high-speed straights, sweeping corners, and the unpredictable challenges of its microclimate. The iconic Eau Rouge and Raidillon dared drivers to go flat out, while the downhill plunge into Pouhon tested their courage and precision. It was a place where skill separated the good from the great.

Jeonghan thrived on its challenge.

FP1 and FP2 were his playgrounds, his Ferrari gliding through corners like it was made for this circuit alone. The car was responsive and balanced, every adjustment in setup shaving precious milliseconds off his laps. Jeonghan pushed it to its limits, feeling every bump and curve beneath him as if Spa’s asphalt were an extension of himself.

By the time he returned to the garage, his name was at the top of the timesheets, and his team wore expressions of pride and relief. Engineers crowded around him during the debrief, their excitement palpable. Even Mingyu wandered over to toss a mockingly impressed, “Don’t get used to it, Yoon,” in his direction.

Jeonghan, basking in the buzz of dominance, had only winked.

But then came the penalty.

A breach in power unit regulations—an unavoidable technicality that slapped him with a grid penalty. It was frustratingly bureaucratic, a punishment that felt out of his control and yet deeply personal. His pole position was stripped away, and he was relegated to P10.

In the Ferrari garage, Jeonghan leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, the weight of his helmet heavy in his hand. The rhythmic hum of power tools and bursts of chatter around him did little to soothe his simmering frustration.

It wasn’t just the penalty—it was the sting of perfection slipping through his fingers, a weekend that had started flawlessly now teetering on the edge of disappointment.

He glanced up, ready to bury himself in the chaos of the paddock, and froze.

You were there, leaning casually against the pit wall, chatting with one of the mechanics. The glow of the overhead lights caught in your hair, and despite the whirlwind of activity, you were a picture of calm. Your hands moved as you spoke, animated yet confident, the faintest flicker of a smirk playing on your lips.

His gaze lingered.

It hit him—a memory of your words from Hungary, your unwavering belief cloaked in sharp wit: “A more than fair chance to close the gap.”

For the first time since the penalty, the gap didn’t feel insurmountable.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until you caught his eye. Your brows rose, and you tilted your head in mock curiosity before excusing yourself from the mechanic and walking toward him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with a note of amusement and something softer underneath.

Jeonghan shrugged, plastering on his signature cocky grin. “Since when are you worried about me?”

Your lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. “Oh, I’m not worried. Just curious. I wanted to see how Ferrari’s golden boy handles a little adversity.”

His grin faltered for the briefest moment before sharpening again. “Keep watching,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I might surprise you.”

You tilted your chin, your expression a blend of challenge and intrigue. “Don’t disappoint me then.”

The way you said it—like you meant it—sparked something fierce in him.

As you turned to leave, the faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, anchoring him to the moment. Jeonghan watched you disappear into the paddock, your confident stride a sharp contrast to his brooding, and for the first time that day, a smirk tugged at his lips.

It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

P10 to P1. 

It was the kind of race drivers dreamed of—the kind that earned its place in highlight reels for years to come.

The chaos began even before the lights went out. Rain had threatened all morning, dark clouds heavy over the Ardennes, but it held off just long enough to keep everyone guessing. Jeonghan sat in his Ferrari on the grid, surrounded by cars that had no business being ahead of him. He’d spent every second since the penalty recalibrating his mindset, shifting his frustration into fuel.

As the lights went out, his singular focus kicked in.

Turn 1, La Source: Jeonghan dived inside, threading through a gap that barely existed. The radio crackled with his engineer’s voice, commending his clean move, but he barely registered it. Eau Rouge and Raidillon loomed ahead, their uphill sweep demanding precision, bravery, and trust in his car.

He took the corners flat out.

By Lap 5, Jeonghan was in P7. His mind churned as he studied the cars ahead, each one a problem to solve. Every braking point, every shift in weight through the curves—it all required perfect execution.

But then came the rain.

It began as a drizzle at Pouhon, the light sheen on the track turning treacherous by the next sector. Jeonghan’s grip on the wheel tightened as he adjusted his lines, feeling for every ounce of traction.

“Box this lap for inters,” his engineer instructed.

“No,” Jeonghan replied, his voice steady. He could feel it—the balance of risk and reward. He stayed out one lap longer, the gamble paying off as he overtook two cars struggling on the wrong tires. When he finally pitted, the stop was flawless.

By Lap 20, the red flag came out, the rain too heavy for safety. Jeonghan sat in the pit lane during the suspension, helmet off, sweat beading his brow. His thoughts wandered for the first time since the race began.

Your words came back to him.

"Jeonghan’s perfectionism is both his weapon and his curse. When he is at his best, he’s untouchable. But the question remains: can he handle the pressure when the odds aren’t in his favor?"

His jaw tightened. You were right—about the pressure, about the way he held himself to standards so high they sometimes crushed him. But you’d also written something else.

"A more than fair chance to close the gap."

He wasn’t sure why, but that sentence anchored him.

When the race restarted, Jeonghan was a man possessed.

Sector by sector, he clawed his way through the field, each overtake cleaner and bolder than the last. At Blanchimont, he overtook Soonyoung in a move that was half instinct, half calculated risk. His engineer’s voice came over the radio in a disbelieving laugh: “Mate, you’re insane!”

By the final lap, he was leading. The roar of the crowd blended with the steady beat of his heart as he crossed the finish line, victory his once more.

The pit lane was a blur of celebration. His team engulfed him in a sea of red, their cheers drowning out even the din of Spa’s loyal fans. Soonyoung appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Winning in Spa from P10? You better believe I’m buying the first round,” Soonyoung declared, grinning despite his P2 finish.

Jeonghan laughed, the sound ragged and raw from effort, but his mind wasn’t entirely in the moment.

Later, in the quiet of the motorhome, when the adrenaline had settled and exhaustion was creeping in, Jeonghan pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the search bar before typing your name.

The article was already live.

His breath caught as he read your headline:

From P10 to Perfection: Yoon Jeonghan’s Masterclass at Spa

It was glowing, but in your unmistakable style—balanced, sharp, and honest. You praised his overtakes, his strategy, and his ability to rise under pressure. Your writing was like poetry, an ode to his resilience, his precision in the rain, his ability to claw victory from the jaws of defeat.  But what caught him off guard was the final line.

"With the championship fight closer than ever, it’s not a question of if Jeonghan will close the gap. It’s a question of when."

Jeonghan read it three times, his chest tight with something that felt almost like pride.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe them.

The bass thrummed low and heavy, a pulse that seemed to reverberate straight through the packed room. 

Jeonghan leaned against the bar, his drink in hand, his racing suit long since replaced by a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone. The sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his forearms, the dark fabric clinging to his frame in a way that effortlessly commanded attention. Around him, the club buzzed with post-race energy—drivers, engineers, and team members alike reveling in the victory and chaos of the day.

Soonyoung was next to him, buzzing with his usual infectious energy. Jeonghan caught snippets of his teammate’s banter, but his mind was elsewhere.

“God, Jeonghan, if you stare any harder, she’s going to spontaneously combust,” Soonyoung teased, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Jeonghan blinked, startled. “What?”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, nodding toward the dance floor. “Her. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a particularly tricky apex all night.”

Jeonghan followed his gaze.

There you were, dancing with a group of Ferrari engineers, the colored lights spilling across your frame, making your skin glow. You laughed at something one of them said, your head tilting back, your hair swaying with every movement. Jeonghan’s grip on his glass tightened.

“You’re hopeless,” Soonyoung said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just go talk to her. Or better yet, dance with her. God knows you’ll make everyone else jealous.”

Jeonghan scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure, and you just happened to spend the past ten minutes glaring at the poor guy she’s dancing with.”

Jeonghan shot him a warning glance, but Soonyoung only grinned wider.

“Look, you’ve already won at Spa,” he added, leaning closer. “Might as well take another victory tonight.”

Jeonghan shook his head, but the heat in his chest betrayed him. He cast one last glance at you before downing the rest of his drink and pushing off the bar.

The crowd was a blur of movement, bodies packed tightly together under the pulsing lights, but Jeonghan moved with purpose. He found you easily, your energy magnetic even in the chaos.

The beat shifted as he approached, slowing to something deeper, sultrier. He stepped in behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You turned slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a teasing smile, your eyes dancing in the dim light. “Jeonghan. Didn’t think you were the clubbing type.”

He smirked, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “I make exceptions for special occasions.”

You arched a brow, leaning back into him just enough to blur the line between teasing and inviting. “Special occasions, huh? Like winning at Spa?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice a touch quieter now. His fingers rested lightly on your waist, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

You turned to face him fully, your hands drifting up to rest on his shoulders, playful and almost casual. “So? What’s it like being untouchable?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. “You’d know,” he said smoothly, “if you were paying attention during my races instead of writing snarky articles.”

You laughed, a soft, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “I did pay attention,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your lips barely a breath away from his ear. “You were alright, I guess.”

“Alright?” he repeated, feigning offense. “You called it a masterclass. Don’t think I didn’t read your article.”

Your grin widened, the fire in your eyes matching the teasing edge in your tone. “Oh, that? Don’t let it go to your head, Yoon. I still expect a proper interview.”

His hands shifted to your hips, grounding you against him as he swayed slightly to the beat, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“And if I did?” you teased back, your voice soft but no less challenging.

For a moment, the world around you fell away. The music, the lights, the press of the crowd—it all faded as the space between you closed. Jeonghan’s eyes lingered on your lips, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing.

Then, just as you tilted your head, leaning closer—

“JEONGHAN!”

The moment shattered.

Sunwoo’s voice boomed over the music as he appeared out of nowhere, the mechanic’s grin wide and oblivious. “Bro, come on! You can flirt later! Dance with me!”

Jeonghan groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as your laughter spilled over him like warm sunlight.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You pulled back, still laughing, and met his gaze with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN DUTCH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Zandvoort

The paddock at Zandvoort was always one of Jeonghan’s favorites. The smell of fresh sea air mixed with the unmistakable tang of fuel and rubber, while the orange-clad crowd painted the stands in a fiery glow. Jeonghan didn’t even mind the noise—something about the Netherlands had a way of energizing him.

He was walking back from the driver’s parade when he spotted you outside the Ferrari hospitality tent, a coffee in hand, your eyes scanning the throng of people with practiced ease. The crisp breeze tugged at your hair, and Jeonghan slowed his pace, his lips curling into a familiar smirk.

You glanced up just in time to catch him staring. “Don’t you have a race to focus on?”

“Don’t you have an article to write?” he shot back, his voice smooth as ever.

“I’m multitasking,” you replied, raising your coffee in a mock toast.

Jeonghan stepped closer, close enough that the conversation felt private despite the bustling paddock around you. “Let me guess,” he said, crossing his arms, “today’s headline is, ‘Ferrari Driver Jeonghan Looks Extra Handsome Under Dutch Sunlight.’”

You snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Oh, please. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘Can Ferrari’s Yoon Jeonghan Deliver After Spa Masterclass?’”

“Flattering,” he mused, tilting his head. “I thought you’d save the sarcasm for the post-race write-up.”

“I aim to keep you humble,” you said with a shrug, though the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word in—

“Jeonghan!”

A voice cut through the tension like a knife. You both turned to see Soonyoung jogging up, waving enthusiastically. “There you are! We’re late for the strategy briefing!”

Jeonghan sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced back at you. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

You grinned, your eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t let me keep you from your briefing, Ferrari’s golden boy.”

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. “I’ll see you after I win.”

He walked off, Soonyoung talking his ear off as you watched him go, the heat in your chest lingering far longer than it should have.

The race came and went, and though Jeonghan didn’t win—Mingyu’s dominance at Zandvoort was almost an inevitability—he still managed to bring home a solid podium finish.

Later, back at the hospitality suite, you found yourself standing near the balcony, staring out at the ocean waves in the distance.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” came a familiar voice behind you.

You turned to find Jeonghan leaning casually against the doorway, his hair still damp from the post-race shower. He’d swapped his racing suit for a simple white shirt and jeans, but somehow, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Though I was expecting a win. Should I change the headline to ‘Close, but Not Quite’?”

Jeonghan’s laugh was low and smooth as he closed the distance between you. “I think you’re just trying to rile me up.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Is it working?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint freckle on his cheekbone, the way his lashes caught the light. “You tell me.”

The air between you crackled, your banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Jeonghan!”

The door slammed open, and Mingyu’s booming voice shattered the moment.

Both of you jumped, turning to see the taller driver grinning sheepishly. “Uh, sorry. Team dinner’s starting soon, and they’re waiting for you.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, but he plastered on an easy smile. “Of course they are.”

Mingyu left as quickly as he’d come, leaving you and Jeonghan alone again.

“Do people just have radar for this?” Jeonghan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you to focus on racing.”

He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Or maybe it’s telling me I’ll just have to try harder.”

Your pulse quickened, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically, stepping back with a rueful smile. “Guess I’ll have to settle for third interruptions.”

You smirked, folding your arms. “You’re consistent, at least.”

“Don’t forget it,” he said with a wink, his voice smooth as ever as he walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone, the waves crashing in the distance as you wondered how long this game of cat and mouse could last.

another lil a/n: full throttle is probably one of my favorite things i've EVER written and i am so proud of myself for getting this out of my head and onto the page.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery: Christmas

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Cub

"We could get her another cat?"

"We're not getting her another cat!"

It's strangely difficult to find ideas for Christmas presents to give a little girl that's only obsessed with cats, the washing machine and baking.

Your mothers can't exactly buy you your own washing machine or an electric mixer or, god forbid, another massive cat for you to carry around and insist isn't fat, isn't a complete monster or isn't the absolutely worst enemy of your mothers.

One of those worst enemies, your incredibly fat tabby Garfield, sits on the kitchen counter attempting to bat open a box of cereal to feed his never ending hunger.

Mapi and Ingrid ignore him, knowing that sooner or later this burst of energy will leave and he will amble off to a sunspot so he can nap away the rest of the day.

"Mami!" A call comes from your bedroom. "I'm stuck again!"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "Just a minute, cub! I'm coming!" She turns back to Ingrid. "Definitely a no to the cat?"

Ingrid sighs. "No more cats."

"Just trying to make it easier on us!"

"Go and help our kid put on her t-shirt. I've got this."

But Ingrid very much doesn't have this. It shouldn't be this difficult to find a Christmas present for you but you're such a content kid. You've already got toys and the tv and the washing machine and the cats.

There's not really much else you want or need.

You're no help either, of course, because when Ingrid asks, you just reply with a simple:

"Er...I can get more time in yours and Mami's bed?"

So, it was very clear that you didn't quite know what you wanted for Christmas either apart from, clearly, curling up in Mapi and Ingrid's bed with them and probably kicking Mapi in her sleep.

Ingrid spends weeks stewing over what she and Mapi could get you. They'd gotten you a few throw away things like a new yellow digger after your last one fall off the balcony and smashed into the pavement below and a cute little necklace that doubled as identification with things like your name and had Mapi and Ingrid's numbers on them in case you ever went missing in a crowded area.

In the end, it's Frido that comes to her and Mapi's rescue, throwing out an idea at random during lunch when Aitana takes you up to the buffet to find some chicken.

It's a throwaway comment but with Mapi and Ingrid struggling to work out what else they could get you, they cling to it like a lifeline. They're fairly easy presents to source, something that Ingrid is glad for because she's cutting it abnormally close to Christmas day to get everything sorted.

"Mami..."

There's a crackle on the monitor that has Mapi stirring awake.

"Maaaami."

Mapi counts to ten in her mind before rolling out of bed, kissing a still sleeping Ingrid on the cheek and making her way out to your room.

"Merry Christmas, cub," She says as she pushes open your bedroom door," I see you've got company."

All of the cats seem to have migrated to your bed overnight.

Garfield, as usual, is laying on his back after (presumably) being used as a stuff animal for most of the night. Bagheera sits by your feet, grooming herself primly while the monstrous León-León stands nearby, tail flicking from side to side as he stares.

"We had Christmas cuddles," You say happily," And now we have the gingerbread?"

"We'll have to wait. Mama is still asleep."

"Why?"

"Huh? Why is Mama still asleep? She's tired."

"But why?"

"Because she was busy making sure everything was good for today."

"But why?"

Mapi scrubs a hand over her face. "You know what, let's go eat that gingerbread. Then we'll go and get your Mama."

You wiggle happily all the way to the kitchen, where Mapi lifts you up onto the counter so you can have a breakfast of the gingerbread you and Ingrid made last night and so Mapi can stop you from running into their room before Ingrid is awake enough to function.

The cats come running in as soon as they hear the rattling of their dishes - though Garfield kind of lumbers in, far behind León-León and Bagheera but still manages to steal most of the food.

Mapi does a pretty good job of stopping you going for the presents until Ingrid finally gets up, a nice warm mug of coffee waiting for her and an overly excited child trying to shove some gingerbread into her mouth.

"Tha-Thanks, Cub," Ingrid laughs as she pushes away one of your sticky little hands from where it's trying to shove biscuit into her mouth," But I'm fine with my coffee."

"It's good," You say through your own full mouth and Ingrid laughs.

"I know because it was made by us, with lots of love." Ingrid kisses the tip of your nose. "But really you should eat it all yourself."

"Really?"

"Really-really," Ingrid insists and you giggle, kicking your feet happily as you finally settle on her lap, sprinkling gingerbread crumbs everywhere as you move.

Garfield, as he always does whenever there's food to spare, comes ambling over to eat them all up.

Usually, Ingrid would scold him but Mapi's coming over with presents and she decides that even the cats can get away with things they usually wouldn't today.

"Are you ready for presents?" Ingrid asks, bouncing her knee so you burst into a round of giggles.

"Presents!"

Mapi and Ingrid exchange triumphant looks as you tear open your presents.

Your new ID necklace is placed snugly around your neck immediately, ready for in case you get lost during the walk your mothers have planned later that day.

You take great delight in placing your new yellow digger with all of your other construction toys in the corner of the room next to your little wooden set of tools.

"Mama! Mami! It's CAT!"

It's truly a surprise how many CAT themed things the club has managed to make in such a short amount of time. It's even more surprising just how much stuff they can buy for so cheap a price with their team member discounts.

But, perhaps the most surprising of all is how much the club was willing to just straight up give to them in return for just a few pictures of you with CAT the mascot.

It's not shocking to the staff and fans alike who the biggest CAT fan is and, while you do regularly appear on Mapi and Ingrid's Instagrams, it's a rarer feat to see you featured on the team's.

But, with just three pictures of you with CAT and a very cute video of you nearly taking the mascot of their feet in an attempt to hug them, Mapi and Ingrid received a bundle of CAT merch in return.

"It is CAT," Mapi laughs," It's a t-shirt with CAT on it!"

"And a keyring! And a new mug!" Ingrid continues as you rip open your presents, getting more and more excited the more CAT things you see.

"CAT's my second best friend," You tell Mapi and Ingrid earnestly in the next hour as you all take a nice walk together through the park.

"Oh, yeah?" Mapi says," And who's your best friend?"

"You and Mama," You reply.

"Oh, cub," Ingrid coos," That's so swe-"

"And Bagheera and Garfield and León-León."

Mapi laughs. "There it is."

[lyculuscaelus]

Ok but can we just talk about the fact that in Epic Penelope was asking Odysseus himself, instead of Eurycleia (like in the Odyssey), to move the olive bed? This is a test in both ways: to see if this is truly the Odysseus she once knew; and to see if Odysseus in this new mindset would actually be willing enough to try and move it (if you’ve done so many monstrous things for me, are you willing to make this one more sacrifice to bring me some peace?).

Rage was Odysseus’s response—how could this woman he loved so much ask him to destroy the symbol of their everlasting love himself? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots—the very roots where their love first sprung, where their memories of the past forever remained (when he was still the kind and gentle husband she used to know, and she was still the passionate wife without all these years of weariness). How could she ask him to destroy any of these with his own hands?

There was a length this man-made monster wouldn’t go, after all.

And this was the Odysseus she knew, and would fall in love with, over and over again.

So she rejoiced, and in her happiness shouted “only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you”; But she feared Odysseus would hate her for ever suggesting this, so in her desperation she explained “only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you”; But this man before her refused to see how deep inside he was still the man Penelope knew, so she exclaimed “only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you”; And she had found her love at last, so in her excitement she declared “only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you”.

Only then did Odysseus realize, he passed the test, after all.

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[chrisisvbun]

three soldiers. 40s!steve rogers & 40s!bucky barnes x chubby!fem reader x origins!logan howlett.

synopsis: steve, bucky and logan, three soldiers that were hanging out in a bar, lay eyes on a beautiful woman that seems to be their type, and instead of fighting for whoever will have you, they solve things like mature men they are: having a foursome.

cw: foursome, triple penetration (jeez gurl) sweet steve, rough bucky and logan, slight bi!logan, mentions of gay sex, anal, unprotected piv, crempie, oral (both m and f), dom!logan, dom!bucky, dom!steve (mentions of sub Steve tho), chubby reader, slight mention of insecurities, fluff, aftercare.

words: 4k (I'm sorry.)

a ten nsfw chapter series masterlist.

Bucky and Steve's drinks were already empty by the time Logan approached to hang out.

The three of them were soldiers, they shared experiences, people they met, women they slept with, and they found out they shared a taste: plump, chubby women. A girl with flesh to grab, grip, bite. Extra flesh was amazing for the three of them, anywhere in the female (or male) body: tummy, hips, thighs, arms, cheeks, breasts, ass, everything was welcome.

And it's just their luck that you walk in. A gorgeous plump woman, with chubby rolls, fat thighs, broad hips, soft skin, and gorgeous cheeks that made your under eyes wrinkle when you smiled.

As you walked in, the three of them follow your body with their eyes, and where they place their eyes betray them in what they are attracted too. Bucky's eyes were staring al your fat, big thighs, and how you squeeze them together. Steve, ashamed of himself for looking at you so bluntly, was looking straight at your breasts, the cut of your dress showing how big and soft they are. And Logan, Logan was enamored with that tummy of yours, those rolls that press and show in your fat body so beautifully, in such a precious way that had him drooling. He wanted it even fatter with his baby there, but that's just the animalistic instinct talking.

So they had a bit of a chat, trying to figure out which of them was going to approach, and finally, they decided that, why not the three of them? If you backed off, the one that had more chemistry with you could try by himself.

"Hi there." Bucky smirked at you, leaning against the counter with Steve by his side and Logan from behind.

"Add what she has to my tab." Logan said, his eyes still looking down at you while he passed his card to the bartender.

"Are you all by yourself here?" Bucky said again.

"Uhm, yeah..." You said, shyly, which made the three men smirk.

"Lookin' too cute to be by yourself." Logan said from behind you, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. You blushed, you eyes glancing at the three men.

"Guys, we are intimidating her." Steve spoke up, and offered you his hand. You grabbed it shyly, and he kissed your knuckles. "I'm Steve Rogers."

"Bucky Barnes." Bucky gave a tiny bow, removing his hat.

"And that's Logan." Steve nodded at the mentioned, who was still enamored with your figure and your hair.

"Hi." He smiled at you, and his grin widened when you smiled back.

"So, doll, you sure you are alone here? No other men?" Bucky asked, crossing his arms.

You smiled. "Just the three of you."

"Three is a lot, isn't it?" Steve said, smirking at you while his eyes moved all over your body.

"it's not that big a number." You said, starting to get the situation.

"Really? Think you can take three?" Logan's voice was almost in your ear, his hand moved to your broad waist, squeezing it and making you gasp.

"M-maybe... I-" You swallowed, your eyes moving between the three of them. "I won't know until I try."

(...)

Logan said that his apartment was a good place, and it definetly was, he said he had the biggest bed, and the biggest mirror that covered the wall next to the bed.

And during the car ride, Logan was driving with Steve next to him, and Bucky already worked up, all over you. His hands gripped your thighs, kissing your cheek, your neck, your chest, while mumbling sweet praises. "So pretty, so soft..."

You gasped when he sat you on his lap, his hands gripping your ass like his hands where made to be there, and making out with you. His tongue was about to get all hungry inside of your mouth, until he had a taste of your sweet lips, automatically melting on your kiss. Your hands grabbed fists of his brunette hair, Bucky's hands moving under your dress to squeeze the flesh of you backside.

"Love birds." Logan called, you removed your lips from his, your lipstick over Bucky's lips and surroundings, and of course, all over your too. "We are here."

Before you could climb off his lap, Bucky lifted you easily in his broad arm, and like that, he removed all the insecurities you had about your weight, because he closed the door with one arm, while the other was under your thighs.

"Comfortable?" Steve smiled sweetly to you, and almost like he could read your mind, he kissed your sweetly while being held by Bucky. "You are beautiful, my God." He smiled between kisses, and allowing himself to move a hand to one of your big breasts. He moaned and pulled away. "Logan, be quick."

"Relax, pretty boys." Logan opened his apartment door, pushing it open to let the three of you in. "Uh-uh-uh." He stopped Bucky. "My turn."

Bucky rolled his eyes and let you stand on the floor. Before you could miss the touch of Steve and Bucky, Logan's hands were all over you from behind, gripping your waist, your breasts, your thighs, your stomach, while grunting on your ear.

"You are not that innocent, aren'tcha?" He said and kissed the shell of your ear, both of you watching Steve and Bucky removed his jackets and belts. "Takin' three men, three soldiers, you are charming, you are beautiful, this isn't your first rodeo, isn't it?"

You giggled a bit, caressing his big arms. "It isn't, but I never had three." You said, blushing. Logan chuckled, kissing your cheek.

"So sweet, I want to binge on you." He groaned and he began to trail open-mouth kisses over your neck, holding your hair behind. "Boys, let's get the princess ready."

(...)

Logan wasn't lying when he described his bedroom, he was totally right.

You were making out with Steve, he laying between your legs and holding your back to have stability. Bucky was already shirtless, Logan was watching Steve and you making out, on his white tank top and smoking a cigar.

"Steve, let the girl breath." Logan puffed out the smoke.

"Yeah, we are supposed to share." Bucky teased, lying between where Logan was sitting and where you were lying with Steve.

Bucky's hand cupped the back of your neck to kiss you, your hand went to his chest while Steve began to kiss your neck.

The differences between the best friends were clear. Steve was sweet and gentle, his bites and kisses were like cuddles in your skin, while Bucky was rough and desperate, his teeth sank on you lips and neck, trying to make you bleed, everything under Logan's gaze.

Steve's sweet hands pulled off the sleeves of your dress, kissing your shoulders and all the new skin exposed. Bucky hooked a finger on Steve's shirt.

"Take this off, man." He said as he pulled him away from your skin to be the one kissing it.

Steve rolled his eyes and removed his shirt. "You are not joining, Logan?" Steve said.

Logan checked him out a second and smirked. "I'm good watching you three for now, pretty boy, don't worry 'bout me." He winked at him, taking another drag of his cigar.

Steve chuckled, a slight blush on his cheeks. He moved to you again, pulling your dress down to leave you in your white bra and lacy blue underwear.

"Wanna get down?" Now, Steve had pulled Bucky's hair, and consequently, Bucky was removed from your skin.

His bright blue eyes moved to you, looking for your agreement. When you nodded eagerly, he smirked, and quickly began to pull down your panties and get between your legs.

You looked down at him, breathing heavily as he began to lick your slit, his warm tongue on your most sensitive part. You moaned, and your hand moved to press him more against you, a sign that allowed him to begin devouring your cunt.

Your whimpers were silenced but a pair of lips, that tasted like smoke and mint. You quickly recognize Logan's cologne, your hand moved to his hair too, kissing him hungrily while moaning against his lips.

Steve, of course, didn't want to be the four-wheel, so he unhooked your bra. His eyes brightened at the sight of your big breasts, and he started to kiss them both, squeezing them in his broad palms. He moaned against your flesh like he had never seen a pair of tits in his life.

You were overstimulated by this point. If you had to choose, Logan was the best kisser: sweet and rough at the same time, he had that cocky smirk that slipped between kisses every time you moaned. Bucky ate your cunt like it was his favorite meal: messy and hungry, his tongue lapped in your clit and when you started to get used to that, we would fuck you with his tongue, his warm muscle in and out of your tight entrance. And Steve, that sweet mother fucker was worshiping your body like you were a goddess, his hands gripped your flesh, not wanting to let you go ever. And even with his sweet nature, he covered your tits with hickeys and bite marks, he sucked your nipples and pinched them violently.

Bucky's tongue was having his wet dream coming true. A wet, fat cunt like yours, with such a sweet taste, such a responsive body with it. His head was squeezed against your thighs just like he wanted, like he had dreamt the second he layed eyes on you.

"Gonna take turns or is your friend gonna eat her out until we get tired?" Logan asked, obviously rhetorically.

"From my point of view, he looks like he is more into the second one." Steve said, his breathing ragged as he looked down at Bucky, his head squeezed in your big thighs. That mother fucker was having his fantasy coming true.

Logan rolled his eyes but his harsh look softened when he found your face: a pleasure pout, puffy red face, lips parted, heavy breath, and your little whimpers.

"Looks like Bucky is getting the first orgasm of the night." Logan teased.

"Fi-first?" You asked, whiny.

"What? You thought you would have only one orgasm with three men?" Logan raised his eyebrows in a chuckle. "Darlin', you are gonna walk out of here dry, if you can walk once we are done with you."

"What Logan means is that we have a lot of stamina on us, we are gonna take great care of you." Steve said, as he kissed your shoulder gently.

You squeaked when you felt the intrusion of Bucky's fingers inside of you, he smirked up at you as he rubbed your clit with his rough thumb, his face glistering with your slick. "C'mon, doll, lemme have the first." He said while kissing your thigh.

The knot in your tummy snapped in the second he pressed the tip of his fingers in your spongy spot, wetting the blankets under you and Bucky's hand.

"That's it, veery good." Logan soothed you, caressing your hair as you came out of your high.

Bucky removed your legs from his shoulders. "I'll take the ass"

"I'll take the front." Steve said quickly.

Logan rolled his eyes, making you giggle. He sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll have your pretty mouth then." He amirked, you giggled a bit again and he pressed a sweet kiss on your lips.

Steve removed his pants and boxers, sitting against the headboard, and helping you sit on top of him, kissing you sweetly.

"I'll be gentle, 'Kay?" He said with those sweet eyes in yours. You smiled and nodded, kissing you again.

He slowly began to sink you on his long cock, until his balls were pressed against your ass. You squeezed his shoulders, as he kissed your face to soothe you. You heard Bucky chuckle.

"If she is having problems with him, imagine what's gonna do with you." He said to Logan.

"W-what?" You said, looking at them from behind your shoulder.

"Logan is... pretty big, yeah." Bucky chuckled.

"And... and Steve is not?" You tried to understand.

"Oh, no, it's just... I'm definitely not bigger than him." He also chuckled. You almost looked scared. "You are gonna do perfect, sugar." Steve kissed your face again, as he began to rock upwards to you, slow and gentle.

All your worries dissappear once his cock began to kiss your sweet spots, briefly as he rocked against you, grunting under his breath.

"So tight, Jesus..." He threw his head back a second, but instantly moved back to kiss you, this time hungrier and deeper.

His hands grabbed your ass to move you up and down on his length, the clapping sound of his skin against yours filling the whole room.

Riding Steve was like a dream, you felt so loved and treasured, and surely you weren't expecting that in this kind of situation. His eyes looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, his hands grabbed you like you were delicate, made of porcelain. He kissed you like you were the woman of his life.

You heard the sound of fabric being removed and turned your head to see Bucky finally removing his pants. And while Steve kissed your neck as you rode him, you gasped at the sight of Bucky's cock. It had the same length as Steve's, which was already long, but it was way fatter, enough to make you doubt if it would fit in your virgin ass.

He spread the lube over his shalft, pumping it a few times before he got behind you.

"Don't you dare to stop." He smacked your ass, kissing the nape of your neck. "Gonna get you ready, and you are gonna keep riding him like a good girl, alright?" You nodded with whiny little sounds. "Very good." He smiled, peppering kisses on your neck as his big finger covered in lube began to sink in your back entrance.

You squealed at the intrusion, but you didn't stop riding Steve. The blonde kissed you, trying to soothe you from the possible pain, but there was not such thing, only raw pleasure.

After you got used to one, Bucky sank another, moving it in a scissors way to stretch you out. He whispered soft praises in your ear, telling you how well you were taking him, how tight and warm you were.

"I need you to relax, doll." He said in your ear, slowly removing his fingers. "Can you take a deep breath for me?" You nodded, inhaling, retaining, and by the second you exhaled, Bucky was already sinking his tip in.

"Oh god!" You moaned, hugging Steve's neck.

Now, you had both friends rocking against you, filling you up, getting you cockdumb with a few thrusts. Steve was hitting your cervix beautifully, while Bucky was using your tight ass, gripping your hips to rock against you harshly.

"Having a good time without me I see." Logan teased, finishing his cigar.

You looked at him, tears filling your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that you were feeling. He removed his belt and then his tank top. You were drooling, literally, against Steve's neck, between moans, at the sight of his enormous body, that you didn't notice when he pulled off his pants, showing that Bucky and Steve where right.

He was longer than Steve, fatter than Bucky, it had a long, thick vein that started in his happy trail and finished in his tip. You were thanking and blaming God that you didn't have him in your ass or your cunt, because he was definitely gonna rip you open.

He stood in front of you, pressing his tip on your parted lips. You kissed it messily, his tip already covered in your saliva, trying to fit it in your mouth slowly due to the movements of your body. You stayed still, letting Steve jackhammer you while Bucky fucked you from behind, and slowly slid his cock in your mouth, fitting half of it.

"Can't take it?" He mocked you. "Guess I'll have to take your cunt once blondie finishes."

He grunted when your tongue moved around his thickness, pulling your hair to keep your head still, until you began to move it back and forth, gagging as you tried to take more of him

"Fuck sake..." Logan grunted loudly.

"L-language." Steve said between groans.

"Shut up or I'll use your ass as my sex toy." He threatened and laughed when noticed by your reaction that his cock throbbed inside of you at the idea.

Steve rocked against you harder, Bucky hugged your body from behind, both of them trying to get you over the edge.

Your eyes widened when both men hit your spot almost at the same time, making you clench around them as your orgasm snapped, coming all over Steve's cock and dripping into the blankets again.

Weakly, you kept sucking Logan off, your tongue lining that thick vein and giving the tip some kitten licks that made him smile between groans.

A couple of thrusts inside of you and Steve came inside of you, his thick release painting your cunt. Your legs shivered at the warm feeling, and you had to remove Logan's cock from your mouth to take a breath. But his hand moved you to make out with his cock again, showing that he wasn't done with you

Bucky's thrusts began to get irregular and messy, his pace already ruined, and with a shaky moan, he pressed head in your shoulder and his hips against your ass, which was dripping his cum in that very second.

"S-sorry..." He apologized, already sensitive, but the shaky laugh that came out after that showed that he wasn't sorry at all. "I cum a lot." He chuckled, staying inside as you kept sucking off Logan.

You were already exhausted, burnt out, and Logan could see that. He removed your head with a little pop and kissed your cheek.

"Take a breath." He mumbled. "And you two, get off. Gonna show you how it's done." He teased, although there was some truth behind his words.

Bucky removed first, you hissed a bit as clinged to Logan, who helped you lift your hips in order to Steve to roll off. He lied you on the bed, getting between your legs and putting them on his shoulders. He kissed your ankle gently as he slid in.

You moaned weakly, mumbling something like you couldn't take it anymore.

"You sure? Because she seems to be sucking me in." He teased, slowly rocking his hips against you, Steve's cum still dripping from there.

In a second, he gripped your legs and began to fuck himself inside of you, mocking your expressions as you got overwhelmed once again with how he filled you up. You loved riding Steve, it was magical, but missionary with Logan? He hit the right spots with every movement, definetly a winner.

He suddenly stopped, looking behind him to find both young boys with their hands on their cocks, two pairs of eyes on how your tits and rolls bounced.

"You know, boys." He started. "I think there is enough room."

Your eyes darted between Logan and the two friends, slowly understanding the situation. Logan smirked when you clenched around him at the idea. "And someone here seems to like the idea."

You looked at the three men now in front of you, broad and masculine. Steve pressed your left knee in your chest while Bucky did the same with your right one, your abused hole with Logan's dick still inside now in sight.

Slowly, Bucky slid in, you whimpered at the stretch, but still taking it, breathing in and out.

"You look like you are giving birth." Bucky teased, Logan grunted.

"Don't give me ideas."

Steve gently slid half of his length in, with each inch, your moans got louder and louder, you could have come in that second.

Three cocks inside was a lot, too much, of course, but you were taking it so good that it seemed like you did this every single time.

"Such a dirty whore, taking three cocks like a champ." Logan teased, starting to slowly fuck himself inside of you.

Steve did the same, although much slower and gentle. Bucky snapped his hips against you in a quicker pace, watching how his cock disappeared inside of you.

It didn't take long for you to feel that knot in your tummy undoing itself, each thrust a little pull that threatened to snap it.

"I-I..." You babbled, just noticing you were drooling over your chin. "Cum... p-please..." You managed to pronounce.

"Cum, huh?" Bucky smirked, grunting as he kept thrusting.

"Well aren't you pretty?" Logan teased. "She is taking us so well, maybe you deserve to cum." His broad hand moved to knead your breast.

"She does, of course she does." Steve moaned low, and his rough thumb moved to your abused cunt, finding your clit and flicking it in his pad.

"Oh god!" You sobbed, gripping Logan's forearm and the bedsheets.

You threw your head back and simply allowed yourself to let it go. The room was filled with the clapping sound of skins snapping against each other, grunts, groans, growls and moans, whiny airy sounds that sometimes appeared from the men's lips.

Finally, the knot snapped undone and you came, you came a lot, there was a big stain in the bedsheets that was your art piece, and your entrance was dripping a thicker fluid that covered their cocks that, after a few thrusts, began to come, one by one.

Your core and thighs were a mess of slicks, and you, you were a shivering disaster at this point, shaking with overstimulation, your pupils dilated like you were on drugs.

Bucky was the first to cradle you in his arms, holding you against his chest while cuddling your sides.

"Get her clean, I'll change the sheets so we can rest." Logan said once he caught his breath.

Bucky lifted you easily, rocking you as he moved to the bathroom with Steve. The blond caressed your hair and kissed your face while Bucky cleaned you gently, his hands moving over your body with nothing other than affection and care. Once cleaned and dry, Logan put you on some boxers of his and one of his flannels.

"Ready to sleep, beautiful?" He asked, caressing your hair. You smiled lovingly and nodded, making him smile too and he leaned to kiss your nose.

"Here, doll." Bucky handed you a cup of tea. "That throat must hurt." He kissed the top of your head.

"You made me tea?" You asked surprised, your eyes shining at him.

"Of course I did, doll, why so surprised?" He lied in the right side of the bed, with you sitting between Logan's leg and resting your back and head on his chest, his arms around you.

"I didn't expect this, that's all." You said shyly, drinking from your beverage.

"Well, that's the bare minimum, you were so kind letting us do this with you, and you took it great." Steve said softly, kissing your forehead and laying on the other side.

"You three do this often?" You asked curiously.

"Never the three of us, Steve and I have done threesomes, but never with the old machine." Bucky elbowed Logan, who rolled his eyes.

"And it was a great experience, darlin', I must admit." Logan nuzzled against your hair, the two soldiers nodded along.

"Well, I wouldn't mind repeating it other time." You fidgeted with the cup.

"Is that so?" Steve pressed his face in your shoulder, smiling sweetly at you.

Bucky's hand move to caress your thigh. "I wouldn't mind either." He kissed your arm gently.

"Well, everyone seems happy in this situation." Logan sighed. "Guess we will have to share you, because if we do this everytime, we are gonna end up breaking you."

"I'll take the first." Steve said quickly.

"I'll take the second!" Bucky followed alone.

"Don't you think she gets the right to choose, you idiots?" Logan huffed, and you giggled.

"I'll take Logan first." You answered.

"Oh, come on!" Bucky pretended a complain.

"He earned it!" You giggled.

"Yeah, I got the apartment." Logan added along. "And I'm the eldest."

"How old are you?" You asked innocently. The three men got silent.

"You don't wanna know yet, darlin'."

[archangeldyke-all]

i had a crazy thought–imagine sevika's wife saying something that annoys/peeves her just a tiny bit and ceo!sevika doing the most over the top thing the next second.

imagine they live in a huge expensive modern penthouse and sevika's wife says "how come we live in the same house but we don't see each other?" and on the next day sevika is already taking her around to go see houses for sale 😭😭

or when her wife trips over the huge glass coffee table in the middle of the living room, and it's gone in the next hour and replaced by a smaller, cuter coffee table

i just wanna see sevika simping for her wife pls im begging i think she's so so cute 😭😭😭 like a grizzly bear 😭😭😭

this is like the epitome of ceo sevika i love her so fucking much

men and minors dni

you shouldn't be surprised.

this has been happening long before you and sevika were even dating, back when you were just assistant.

you can still remember the first time sevika did this to you. you ran into the office, discombobulated and late, worried that sevika would be upset.

she wasn't upset, though. it was the oppisite. she sighed in relief the moment you walked through the door wrapping you up in a hug. "fuck, i was worried you'd been carjacked on your way here! i can't lose you. not before the board meeting."

you laughed and relaxed in her arms, breathing in her expensive cologne. "sorry. my phone is fucking ancient and can't hold a charge anymore-- it died overnight and my alarm didn't go off."

"hmm." she'd said. at the time, you thought that was it.

then you got home that night, and found three brand new cell phones sitting on your doorstep.

you blinked down at the boxes, confused. a small envelope caught your eye, and you picked it up, flipping it open.

pick your favorite. -s.

the extravagance only grew once you got together.

"ugh, my back is killing me." you complained one morning.

"'s wrong?" sevika asked, a worried look in her eye. you shrug.

"think i pulled something yesterday while restocking the cabinets above the copier." you say.

that night, you pout in confusion as sevika takes the wrong exit off the highway. "where're we going?"

"you'll see."

"awe, sevika, i can't do a date night tonight baby, i feel like shit."

"it's not a date. well, it sorta is... just trust me, okay?" she'd asked. you nodded.

"of course."

sevika pulled the car into a spa parking lot. you frowned. "spatopia? aren't they closed this late?"

"i made a few calls for us." she said with a shrug, kissing you over the center console and then hopping out of the car. she ran around the car, pulling open your door and walking you to the store front.

two hours and two couples' deep tissue massages later; you were both too relaxed to drive home and you had to call an uber. it was one of the nicest gifts of your life.

now that you're married, it's only gotten worse.

you make a passing comment about your couch being stiff, and sevika's taking you furniture shopping that weekend.

you trip over a (incredibly expensive) persian rug in sevika's study more than once and she's rolling it away and buying one that doesn't snag your toes.

you once complained about the lack of legroom in her fucking porsche, so she bought you an suv. she's fucking insane.

and now she's done something truly crazy.

"you bought us a fucking house!?" you squawk. sevika shrugs with a smile. "sevika, we have a house!"

"we have a penthouse. penthouses don't have gardens. you want a garden."

"wh-- i do?!" you ask. sevika laughs.

"yeah, you do. remember? you told me on our first date what your dream house would be. you said something with charm, something you could make your own, something with a yard big enough for a garden and some pets."

the memory is so distant and blurry to you-- at the time you'd mostly just been talking out of your ass and fantasizing. but sevika remembered. because she's incredible.

"y-you're fucking insane." you cry. sevika smiles.

"good or bad?"

"sevika." you break down in tears, wrapping your arms around your wife. she laughs against you, rubbing your back. "y-you can't just buy a house without asking your wife!" you scold. she giggles.

"most people can't-- but we've got the money for it. i could buy you a dozen houses if you wanted."

"no!" you squeak. she laughs. you rip out of her arms to glare up at her. "you have got to stop doing this shit sevika, you're gonna give me a heart attack eventually!"

"you're gonna have a heart attack when you see the main bath in this place." she whispers with a sweet, excited smile. you burst into laughter and pull her in for a kiss. "if you hate it we can just put it back on the market, y'know." she mumbles. you snort.

"well... at least let me see the place first."

sevika grins, big and wide. you shake your head at her, in love and endlessly endeared by her. "i love you. i'd spoil you in any life, but i'm glad in this one i got the money to treat you the way you really deserve." she says.

you sigh dreamily and cup her face. "please tell me there's already a bed in there."

"...yeah, why?" sevika asks. you grin.

"i'm gonna ride you until you're paralyzed from the waist down, baby. c'mon. show me around my new house." you request, tugging sevika into the house by her tie.

sevika follows you with a dopey smile and hearts in her eyes.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[nerdlvr]

✩ᰔ cockwarming

(MDNI)

smut with some feelings , jaemin and female reader , fwb jaemin though not mentioned , they both secretly like each other , cockwarming ofc , LOTS of petnames , possessive jaemin , you sat on his dick facing him on the couch btw , requested here !

when you had asked jaemin to try cockwarming with him he didn't think he'd enjoy it this much,

but he should've known by the way his cock twitched in his pants as you ducked your head, your request coming out as a soft strangled stutter off your lips.

how could he say no to your sweet little, "please jaem?"

"jae-"

"shh princess, it's okay, i got you." jaemin's hand was hot against your back, fingers running along your spine to soothe your tense body.

"s-so full, feels, feel good jaem."

he could feel your slick running down his balls, cock stuffed deep inside your pulsing heat. "i know baby, so good. feel you squeezing around me, like my cock that much hm?"

you nodded against his neck, breath fanning against his exposed skin as soft pants left your lips. he could feel your body heating up, skin getting sticky with sweat.

"want me to move angel? can fuck you real good right now, you just have to ask."

your grip on his shoulders tightened as you leaned closer to his chest, nipples rubbing against his smooth skin. "n-no, like this, like being close to you jaem- oh fuck."

he threw his head back as his length pulsed inside of you, your words making his stomach tighten. his hands ran up and down your body, stopping to rub your ass.

he sucked in a breath as you gently rocked against him, "like me close hm? like feeling me deep inside this pussy baby, who else fills you up this good?"

he knew he was pushing the line, but as you clenched around him, a soft just you jaem, he knew tonight was his night. "hm baby? only i can make you feel like this right? pussy was made for me- fuck"

you squeezed tighter around him soft whines leaving your lips, "yes, yes jaem, only you, made for you baby."

his hands found their way into your hair, gently pulling at the roots to make you look at him, "yeah baby? all mine, look at this pretty little face-"

a wild grin spread on his lips as one of his hands traveled down to hold your jaw, "only i get to see you like this, begging to be stuffed, only me." you struggled to nod against his grasp, biting your lip to hide the pathetic whine threatening to slip past your lips.

he let go of you with a chuckle, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you towards his chest. you ran your hands up his chest to cup his face. your voice was soft, shy blush dusting your cheeks, "and you're mine? yeah?"

he moved your hands from his face, leaning forward to plant a quick peck on your lips, "not even a question angel, yours always."

your giggles filled the room, bodies still latched together in heat.

"wait, wait, wait."

you covered your mouth to hide your giggles.

"wait, shit- you're squeezing me every time you laugh- stop- stop laughing it's not funny- oh my."

you threw your head back, core clenching around his length as you giggled louder, jaemin's face twisting into a half laugh, half moan, "you little-"

he rutted his hips up, cock pushing deeper into your heat. your giggles died in your throat as you gripped onto the back of the couch, head falling onto his shoulder,

"let's see how funny it is when i fuck you senseless- oh you like that huh? oh baby you're gonna wish you never asked me to try this."

what you really wished, is that you had asked him sooner.

[rmview]

they try to win you back, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys try to win you back after a fight/break up! ( can be read as part 2 of this )

contents — mentions of past fights, reconciliation and fluff.

bang ღ chan

bang chan wasn’t the type to let things slide, especially when it came to you. after the breakup — a fallout caused by his relentless work schedule and lack of communication — he knew he’d messed up. but when you finally agreed to give him another chance, he vowed not to let you go.

bangchan started small. one morning, you woke up to a playlist he had sent you titled “for my love,” filled with songs that reminded him of you. the accompanying message read: “just a little something to start your day. i’m still learning how to do better, but i’ll make it worth it. – chan.”

later that week, he surprised you with a handwritten letter. the envelope smelled faintly of his cologne, and inside, his neatly written words laid bare his heart. he wrote about how he’d never stopped loving you, how the breakup had forced him to reflect on his mistakes, and how he wanted to be the kind of partner you deserved.

“have you been sleeping better?” he asked one evening when he showed up at your door with a basket of your favorite snacks and a plush blanket. “i remember you saying the nights feel colder now. thought this might help.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness, despite trying to keep your guard up. “thanks, chan,” you said, accepting the basket.

his smile was soft but tinged with nervousness. “i know actions speak louder than words,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i’m going to keep showing you how much you mean to me.”

one night, he invited you over to the studio where he spent countless hours. the space felt intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy setup. “i wrote something for you,” he said shyly, gesturing to the microphone.

as the music filled the room, his voice poured out lyrics that spoke of regret, hope, and an unwavering love. when the song ended, he turned to you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “that’s how i feel,” he said softly. “i hope i can keep showing you, every day, just how much you mean to me.”

felix ღ

felix had always been the sunshine in your life, but after the breakup, you noticed his light dimmed. when you finally agreed to give him another chance, felix made sure he poured his heart into showing how much you meant to him, determined not to make the same mistakes again.

the first sign of his efforts came in the form of baked goods. one evening, after a long day, you came home to a neatly wrapped box on your doorstep. inside were cookies shaped like little hearts, each one perfectly frosted. a note attached to the box read: “i know i hurt you, but i’m not giving up on us. let me make things right. – felix.”

the following weekend, he invited you over to his place. the moment you walked in, you were greeted by the warm aroma of vanilla and butter. felix stood in the kitchen, wearing an apron dusted with flour, a sheepish grin on his face. “i thought we could bake together,” he said, holding up a whisk.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “you’re really trying, huh?”

“i have to,” he admitted, his voice soft but earnest. “you’re everything to me, and i won’t lose you again.”

as the two of you mixed dough and laughed over his attempts to juggle eggs (which ended in a sticky mess), felix stole small glances at you, his heart swelling at every smile he managed to coax from you and how easily your guard managed to lower.

later that evening, as you sat on the couch sharing a plate of freshly baked cookies, he turned to you, his deep voice filled with sincerity. “i’m not perfect, but i promise to keep trying for you — for us. you’ve always believed in me, and now it’s my turn to prove that i’m worth it.”

the most touching gesture came one rainy afternoon. felix surprised you with a scrapbook he had been working on — a collection of photos, handwritten notes, and little mementos from your time together. on the last page, he had written: “our story isn’t perfect, but it’s ours. i want to keep writing it with you.”

tears welled in your eyes as he took your hand. “i know i hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “but i love you more than anything, and i’ll spend every day proving that to you.”

lee ღ know

lee know had never been one for grand gestures, but when it came to making things right with you, he found himself stepping outside his comfort zone. the breakup had been his fault — his blunt words and tendency to shut down during arguments had driven a wedge between you. when you agreed to give him another chance, he knew he had to approach things differently.

the first sign of his efforts came subtly. one morning, you found a neatly packed lunch waiting for you at work, complete with a note that read: “eat well. i know i didn’t always take care of you like i should have, but i want to do better. – minho.”

later that week, he surprised you by showing up at your favorite café. “thought you might like some company,” he said casually, sliding into the seat across from you. but the way his eyes lingered on you betrayed the nonchalance in his tone.

over time, his gestures grew more personal. one evening, he invited you over to his apartment. when you arrived, you found the place meticulously decorated with fairy lights and a small spread of your favorite dishes on the table.

“you cooked?” you asked, surprised by the spread as the warm scent made you smile.

“i wanted to do something for you,” he said simply, pulling out a chair for you. “i know i’m not the best at saying how i feel, but i hope this shows you.”

as the two of you ate, minho watched you closely, his usual sharp demeanor softened considerably. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he said suddenly. “about how i didn’t handle things the way i should have. i’m not good with words, but i need you to know that i’m trying.”

the dinner together was amazing and true to his words, he brought you to the dance studio where he spent most of his time one day, a glint in his eyes. “i have something to show you,” he said, his tone almost shy.

he played a track and began to dance, every movement purposeful and filled with emotion. it was a side of him you hadn’t seen before; raw, vulnerable, and completely open. when the music stopped, he stood before you, slightly out of breath.

“this is how i express myself best,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “i don’t want to lose you again. i’ll keep trying to be better, for both of us.”

hyun ღ jin

hyunjin had always been passionate, wearing his heart on his sleeve. but that same intensity had been the cause of your breakup. so when you decided to give him another chance, hyunjin knew he couldn’t rely on words alone to win you back.

the first time he saw you again after the breakup, he showed up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. but these weren’t just ordinary flowers — they were intricately painted on a canvas he had spent hours creating. “i wanted to give you something that lasts,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “like how i hope we will.”

hyunjin’s gestures were deeply personal. one evening, he invited you to his art studio, where a single easel stood in the center of the room. “i’ve been working on something,” he said, motioning for you to sit.

you watched as he unveiled a portrait of you, painted in soft, dreamy hues that captured the way he saw you — radiant and full of warmth. “this is how i see you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “even when we were apart, you were always in my heart.”

you were touched to nearly the point of tears, as his sincerety was making it harder to keep your guard up. another night, hyunjin surprised you with a private dance performance. he led you into a dimly lit studio, where soft music played in the background. “this is for you,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours before the music swelled.

every movement of his dance told a story — of regret, love, and a desperate desire to make things right. as he finished, his chest heaved from exertion, but his gaze never wavered. “i’ve made mistakes,” he admitted, stepping closer to you. “but i’m learning. you’re the one i want to share my life with, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

hyunjin also made an effort to handle conflict differently. one evening, when a small disagreement arose, he surprised you by calmly sitting down and saying, “let’s talk about this. i don’t want us to go back to how things were before.”

his growth, combined with his heartfelt gestures, slowly chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. hyunjin knew it would take time, but he was willing to be patient. after all, loving you was worth every effort.

i.n ღ

i.n had always been mature for his age, but the breakup — caused by his occasional aloofness and failure to recognize how much you needed reassurance — had shaken him to his core. though when you agreed to give him another chance, he knew he couldn’t take it for granted.

the first sign of his determination came when he surprised you with something simple yet meaningful: a framed photo of the two of you from happier times. he handed it to you one evening, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “i wanted to remind you of what we’re working towards,” he said softly. “this is the version of us i want to get back to.”

from that moment on, i.n’s actions spoke louder than any apology he could offer. he started paying closer attention to the little things that made you happy. one afternoon, he showed up at your place with a playlist he had carefully curated. “these songs remind me of you,” he explained, plugging in his headphones to share the music with you. as you listened together, he held your hand, a quiet promise in the way his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin.

his gestures extended to your everyday life. knowing how stressful your days could be, i.n would occasionally leave you handwritten notes in your bag or on your desk, each one filled with words of encouragement and love. “you’re doing amazing, and i’m so lucky to have you in my life,” one note read.

but i.n’s biggest gesture came one weekend when he surprised you with a small picnic at a secluded park. the spread included all your favorite foods, and he had even learned how to make one dish from scratch. “it’s not perfect,” he admitted with a shy laugh as you tasted it, “but i figured you deserved the effort.”

as the evening wore on and the sun set, he turned to you, his eyes earnest. “i know i’ve hurt you,” he said, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “but i’m learning to be better, and i’ll never stop trying. you mean too much to me.”

his sincerity and consistent efforts slowly began to rebuild the trust between you, showing you that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right.

han ღ

han wasn’t one to do things halfway, whether it was his music, his humor, or his love for you. the breakup had left him heartbroken, but when you gave him a second chance, he threw himself into proving that he was worthy of your trust.

his first move was to apologize in a way that only han could: through music. late one evening, he sent you a voice note. the melody was soft and heartfelt, and the lyrics spoke of regret, love, and the hope of a new beginning. at the end of the recording, his voice came through, unpolished and raw. “i wrote this for you. it’s not perfect, but neither am i. i just… i want to make you smile again.”

from then on, han made a point to be present in your life in ways that mattered. he started showing up to your favorite café during your lunch breaks, bringing little treats he knew you loved. “thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he’d say with a cheeky grin, placing a pastry and your favorite drink in front of you.

one evening, he invited you to the studio where he worked. “i want to show you something,” he said, leading you inside. on the wall was a collection of sticky notes, each one with a memory, a thought, or something he loved about you. “this is my reminder,” he explained, “of why i can’t mess this up again.”

despite his playful nature, han wasn’t afraid to get serious when it came to making amends. during a quiet moment one night, he looked at you, his usual mischievous expression replaced with a rare vulnerability. “i know i joke around a lot,” he said, his voice soft, “but you’re the most important person in my life. i’ll spend every day proving that i’m worth this second chance.”

han also worked hard to communicate better, often catching himself when he started to get defensive or overwhelmed. “wait,” he’d say during a disagreement, taking a deep breath. “let’s figure this out. i don’t want us to fall apart again.”

with every sweet gesture and heartfelt conversation, han slowly reminded you of why you had fallen for him in the first place, proving that even the most impulsive hearts could learn to love with patience and care.

seung ღ min

seungmin wasn’t the type to let emotions cloud his logic, but the breakup had been a wake-up call. when you decided to give him another chance, seungmin didn’t take it lightly. he knew he couldn’t rely on his usual reserved nature; he had to show you how much you meant to him.

the first sign of his effort came subtly. he started paying attention to the smallest details about you, things you thought he might not have noticed. one morning, you found your favorite drink waiting for you on your desk, a neat note attached: “thought you could use a boost. have a good day. – seungmin.” it was practical, understated, and so very him.

a few days later, he surprised you with something more personal. “i know i’m not great at saying how i feel,” he said one evening, handing you a leather-bound journal. inside were pages filled with his handwriting — entries where he reflected on your time together, what he had learned, and the moments he cherished most. “this is me trying to do better,” he admitted, his voice steady but his eyes vulnerable. “you deserve to know how much i care.”

seungmin also worked on being more emotionally available. during quiet evenings together, he would ask how you were feeling, genuinely listening and responding with thoughtful insight. “i want to understand you better,” he’d say, his tone sincere. “i don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

his biggest gesture came one chilly evening when he invited you to a quiet spot by the river, where a small portable speaker played a playlist he’d curated just for you.

as the two of you sat wrapped in a blanket he’d brought, seungmin turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically tender. “i know i’ve been distant before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i’m here now, and i’ll keep being here — for as long as you’ll let me.”

chang ღ bin

changbin had always been passionate — sometimes to a fault. the breakup, caused by his tendency to act out of frustration and say things he didn’t mean, had left him devastated. when you gave him another chance, he threw himself into showing you how much you meant to him, channeling his fiery energy into thoughtful gestures.

the first thing he did was apologize, not just with words but with actions. one day, you came home to find a handwritten letter on your table, accompanied by a small box of your favorite snacks. the letter read: “i know i’ve hurt you, and i’ll never stop trying to make it up to you. thank you for giving me another chance. – binnie.”

changbin also started showing up for you in ways he hadn’t before. if you mentioned being stressed at work, he’d surprise you with a quick visit, bringing something small to cheer you up. “i figured you might need a break,” he’d say, his boyish grin disarming any tension.

one evening, he invited you to his studio. “i’ve been working on something,” he said, gesturing toward the equipment. as the music played, you realized he had written a song for you — its lyrics raw and honest, capturing both his regret and his deep love for you. “this is how i feel,” he said when the track ended, his voice soft yet firm. “i want to be better, for you and for us.”

despite his big gestures, changbin also made an effort to be more patient and open. during one of your conversations, when emotions ran high, he surprised you by taking a deep breath and saying, “i don’t want to argue. let’s talk about this. i want to understand how you feel.”

his most heartfelt effort came during a casual evening together. as you walked through a park, he suddenly stopped, pulling you close. “i know i’ve been intense at times,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “but that’s because i love you so much. i’ll keep working on myself because i don’t ever want to lose you again.”

with every gesture, big or small, changbin showed you that his love for you was as unwavering as his determination to make things right.

notes: i’ve never really been in a relationship so i mentioned a lot of things i’d personally want a guy to do for me (T^T) i hope yall enjoyed either way!

[cherryxbooo]

Not the same anymore

Summary: After ending his three-year-long relationship due to his friend’s influence, Lando tries everything to get his lover back.

Note: I’m back!!! The winner of the poll I set up was loud and clear! I hope all of you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! P.s buckle up this one is a long one!

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

I had been dating Lando for three years, and our relationship was everything I could have ever hoped for. We met at an event, our eyes locking from across the room. He was so handsome, his smile blinding, and I knew right then that I had to talk to him. Except I was too shy to approach him. At that moment it felt like the universe heard me and made Lando approach me. We talked all evening long and we hit it off instantly.

From that moment on, we were practically inseparable. We spent hours talking and getting to know each other, our bond growing stronger with every conversation. I still remembered vividly how he had made me laugh until my sides hurt, how he listened with genuine interest to every word I said.

I remembered the excitement and anticipation when he asked me out, the butterflies in my stomach when he first held my hand. It felt like a fairy-tale come true, and I knew from that moment on that he was the one for me. We shared so many moments of joy, of happiness, and even the occasional disagreement, but we always worked through them together.

At first, I tried not to worry, thinking it was just a phase, but the changes in him only became more pronounced. He was less responsive to my texts and calls, and he seemed to prioritize spending time with his friends over me. I felt lonely and confused, unsure of what had caused this sudden shift.

Lando invited me to his place, and I was excited. I thought he was doing just the same, planning to spend some quality time together.

However, as soon as we found ourselves alone, Lando's face was serious, and my heart started to pound. I knew something terrible was about to happen.

Lando sat down next to me, his gaze fixed on the floor. There was a long, heavy silence before he finally spoke.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice almost a whisper.My heart dropped. Those words... they were never good.

I sat there, feeling the dread settling in my stomach. I knew whatever was about to come couldn't be good. Lando took a deep breath, but his face remained serious.

"I think... we need to break up."

I felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Break up? The words hung heavy in the air, and my mind struggled to process them.

"W...what?" I managed to choke out, my voice shaking slightly. "Why, Lando?"

He avoided my gaze, his fingers fidgeting nervously. "It's just... I need to focus on my career right now," he said, his voice robotic, like he was reciting lines. "Being in a relationship is a distraction, and I can't let it interfere with my goals."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was throwing away our three years together with such ease, as if it meant nothing. I tried to reason with him, to remind him of all the happy memories we had shared.

"We've been together for three years!" I said, my voice rising in volume. "Why is it suddenly a problem now?"

"I need to be 100% focused," Lando insisted, finally meeting my eyes. "It's not just about the amount of time, y/n. It's about the current moment, and right now, my career is my priority." He sounded almost cold, like he was pushing me away.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but I fought them back. How could I mean so little to him, that he would discard our relationship so easily?

"What about us, Lando? What about everything we've been through together?" I pleaded, my voice shaky.

He remained stoic, his expression unchanging. "I'm sorry, y/n," he said, his tone lacking emotion. "But my mind is made up."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It felt as though he was a stranger, a shell of the man I had fallen in love with. “You don’t mean any of it! You’re just stressed.”

Lando seemed to snap. "My friends were right," he said, his tone sharp. "This is for the best. Now, I don't need the distraction of a relationship, and I'm better off without you."

His words felt like a stab in the heart, and I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. I wanted to defend myself, to challenge him, but his friends were the last thing I wanted to bring up.

But I couldn't help it. "Your friends?" I shot back. "They're the worst! All they care about is partying, drinking, and living off your money.”

Lando's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "Don't you dare talk about my friends like that," he snapped, his tone filled with resentment. "They're the ones who are always there to support me, unlike some people."

I couldn't hold back anymore, the emotions boiling over. "Unlike some people? Are you kidding me?" I retorted, my voice cracking. "Who was there for you when you were doubting yourself? Who stayed up late with you, listening to your worries, pushing you to keep going? Wasn't it me?"

He looked stung, but he shook his head, trying to uphold his cold facade. "That's not how things work," he said stiffly. "My career is my top priority, and I don't have time for anything else."

I felt my own anger rising to match his. "So, you're telling me three years of love, support, and understanding mean nothing to you? Just throw it all away for the sake of your career?"

Lando stood up, his face tense. "The decision is made. I don't need a distraction right now, and that's what you are. A distraction." His words felt like a slap in the face.

My heart shattered, each word breaking another piece of it. How could he turn our love into nothing more than a mere bother? How could he talk to me like this? But I couldn't let myself break down fully. Not here, not in front of him. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back tears and keep my composure.

"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "If I'm just a distraction, then go ahead. Focus on your oh-so-important career." I crossed my arms, trying to hide how much his words had hurt me.

"And you know what, Lando?" I continued, my voice rising. "Your friends? They're all using you. They're not true friends; they're just there 'cause you're famous and rich."

Lando's face twisted in anger at my words. "How dare you talk about my friends like that?" he sneered, his tone spiteful. "They're the ones who have supported me through everything. They're true friends, unlike you. Maybe that's why I'm better off without you."

My eyes narrowed. He had crossed a line. How dare he? "At least I never used you. I loved you for you, not for your fame or your money," I shot back.

He laughed, a humorless, bitter laugh. "Love? Please. You only liked being with a famous guy. The attention it brought you, the luxury. Let's not pretend this wasn't also about status for you."

I felt my fist clenching so hard it hurt. "You know that's not true," I said through gritted teeth. "I never cared about your fame or money. I loved who you were, or at least who I thought you were."

"Oh, really?" Lando challenged, his tone sharp. "Then why didn't you ever say no to the fancy parties or designer clothes I bought you? Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

I felt like my chest was tightening with every one of his accusations. How could he twist things like that, making it seem like I only cared about his money? It was so far from the truth. The minute those words left his mouth I knew it was his friends feeding him these lies about me.

"Those were gifts, Lando," I said, my voice cracking. "I loved them because they came from you, not because they were expensive!"

I didn’t let him speak as I grabbed my bag, my hands shaking with emotion. "Fine. Just don't contact me ever again," I said, my voice cold and void of emotion. "This is over. You’re not the same anymore.”

I walked out of his place, my steps heavy and numb. I didn't look back, afraid of seeing him or breaking down in tears. I just wanted to leave, to get away from his words that echoed in my head, and the painful ache in my heart.

As I stepped outside, the fresh air felt like both a relief and a cold slap in the face. I hailed a taxi, and as I watched the familiar streets pass by, I felt as though my old, happy life had shattered into pieces. I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away for his stupid career. I would never make that mistake again, I promised myself.

Lando sat in his place alone after she left, the silence of his now-empty home weighing heavily on him. He started thinking about the breakup, feeling a pang of guilt, but quickly pushed it aside, remembering that he had chosen his career over her. It was for the best, he told himself, repeating what his friends had been telling him.

As the hours passed, the guilt started to fade, numbed by the pain and the alcohol he poured himself. He eventually called his friends, and they eagerly agreed to come over, happy to hear he had broken up with his now ex-girlfriend.

They arrived, with smiles on their faces, their eyes glinting with anticipation. "Finally, you get to live a little without that distraction!" one of them said, slapping Lando's back. "We're gonna party hard tonight, man! You deserve it."

Lando felt himself slipping into a numbing haze, the alcohol dulling his emotions and his conscience. He allowed himself to be guided by his friends, their words like sweet poison, promising him that he was better off without me, that he wouldn't miss her. They started planning their night out at a flashy new club, their enthusiasm infectious in Lando's alcohol-doused state.

Lando found himself nodding along, his resistance fading away with each drink. The idea of partying seemed like a good escape, a way to drown out the guilt and the loneliness. He convinced himself that tonight, he would let loose and forget, throwing himself into the nightlife and the company of his so-called friends.

As the night progressed, Lando found himself increasingly affected by the alcohol he had consumed. The world started blurring at the edges, and his thoughts became a jumbled mess. He grabbed his phone, his fingers clumsy as he fumbled with the buttons. After several clumsy taps and misdialed numbers, he finally managed to dial Max's number.

As the call went through, he heard Max Fewtrell answer from the other end. "Lando? What the hell, it's 3 am, are you drunk?"

Lando let out a chuckle, his voice slurred. "Heyyy, Maxxy," he said, his words tripping over themselves. "You sound so grumpy. Come ooon, I need to talk to youeee."

Max sighed, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the sleep from his voice. "Lando, this better be important. I was trying to sleep, you know." His tone was annoyed, but the concern was evident under the surface.

Lando ignored Max’s tone, his mind swimming with alcohol-induced impulsiveness. "I need to talk, buddy," he said, his words stumbling over each other. "It's about y/n."

Max sat up in his bed, his annoyance fading in the face of Lando's evident distress. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more awake and alert. "Okay, Lando, I'm listening," he said, his voice steady.

Lando took a deep breath, his words slurred. "Max, I messed up, I really messed up," he slurred, his voice cracking. "I broke up with y/n, and man, I feel like crap. I miss her, Max. I miss her, and it... it hurts, Max, it hurts so much." The line of words came out in a jumble, the weight of his emotions too heavy to hide under his inebriated state.

Max let out a sigh, his concern growing with Lando's admission. "Okay, Lando, listen to me. Stay exactly where you are, and for god's sake, don't go anywhere else. Tell me the name of the club, and I'll come get you."

Lando mumbled the name of the club through the phone, his words a bit muffled. "It's... uh, it's called 'The Neon Lights.' It's that new club in town, very fancy. Can't miss the neon lights," he hiccuped.

Max sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, Lando. I'm on my way. Just don't do anything stupid. Just stay put and wait for me." Max quickly got dressed, leaving his bed behind for the task ahead.

Max drove as fast as he could, and reached the club soon. He spotted Lando right away. His best friend was sitting outside, next to a homeless man, laughing loudly in his inebriated state.

Max couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Lando's current predicament. He approached them, giving the homeless man a nod in greeting. "Alright, Lando, let's go," Max said, reaching out to grab Lando by the arm to help him onto his feet.

Lando tried to protest, but his words came out as a muddled mess. "No, wait! I was just having a talk with him!" he argued, hiccuping. He tried to pull away from Max, but his balance was too shaky. "He's a cool guy, Max. Look!" Lando gestured at the homeless man, his movements exaggerated.

Max shook his head, trying to keep his composure. "Lando, stop making a fool of yourself. Let's go, you're coming with me." He gently led Lando away, making sure he didn’t stumble and fall.

By now, a few people from the club were giving them odd looks, amused by the sight of an apparently famous driver being a mess outside. Max just focused on guiding Lando away, thankful no one had recognized him. "Come on, buddy," he said softly, his arms holding him steady.

Lando put up minimal resistance, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He tried to protest but his words only slurred together, making it impossible to understand. His legs felt like jelly, and he let Max guide him to his car, his head spinning from the alcohol.

Once they reached the car, Max opened the passenger door for Lando, gently guiding him into the seat. Lando slumped in with a groan, his eyes flickering. Max secured Lando's seat belt, making sure he was as safe as he could be in his current state.

As they arrived at Lando's apartment, Max helped Lando out of the car, his feet dragging sluggishly. Walking him to his bed was a challenge, as Lando leaned heavily on Max. With effort, they finally made it to the bedroom, where Lando practically flopped onto his bed, groaning as his head spun.

Max was concerned about Lando, still inebriated and vulnerable. He grabbed some medication and water, placing them on the bedside table for when Lando woke up. He covered Lando with a thin blanket, making sure he wouldn't be cold in the night. He left quietly, making a mental note to check on him in the morning, closing the door softly behind him.

Max returned to Lando's place the next morning, his concern for him still lingering. He used the spare key Lando had given him and let himself inside the apartment. There was a noticeable silence, the aftermath of Lando's excessive drinking still hung heavily in the air.

Max was in the kitchen by the time Lando trudged down, looking half dead from the night before. His hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and his face pale. He groaned as he spotted Max standing by the counter, a cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast ready.

Max watched as Lando slumped into a chair, cradling his head in his hands. "What the hell were you thinking, Lando? You were drunk off your ass," Max scolded gently, his voice laced with worry.

Lando winced as he lifted his head, his eyes squint to slits. "I... I don't know. Needed a distraction," he groaned, his voice hoarse. The alcohol had taken its toll, and he felt like death warmed over.

Max sighed, pushing the cup of coffee towards Lando. "There are better ways to distract yourself than getting drunk, Lando. What if the media had found out? You could have jeopardized your entire career."

Max paused, his gaze fixed on Lando’s disheveled state. "So who were you with last night? Who was irresponsible enough to let you drink in such a state, and then leave you alone in that condition?"

Lando rubbed his temples, trying to remember through his foggy memory. "Some friends," he mumbled, avoiding Max's accusing stare.

"You know, just some guys I hang out with sometimes. They were partying, and I... I don't know, I joined in." He paused, trying to compose himself. "Then I got drunk and they... they left."

Max’s eyes narrowed, seeing right through it. "Those friends, right? Are those the ones who always use you, Lando? The ones who take advantage of your fame?" His voice was sharp and filled with frustration, knowing exactly how those 'friends' manipulated Lando.

Max’s tone was hard as he continued, his questions probing deeper. "Did they invite you or did they just drag you along with them? Because I know how they are, Lando. They always take advantage of you. They use you for your money, your fame, and never really care about you."

Lando hesitated, his eyes downcast. He knew Max had a point. "I... they invited me," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I went because I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget her." His voice trembled slightly, the pain he felt creeping into his voice.

Max's ears perked up at the mention of y/n. "Is that why you broke up with y/n, then?" Max's tone softened slightly, realizing this was a sore subject.

"Because you wanted to forget her? To distract yourself from the pain?" He saw Lando wince at the mention of her name, and it confirmed his suspicions.

Lando swallowed hard, the pain in his eyes speaking volumes. "I... yes," he whispered. "I thought if I ended things, it would make it easier, but it's only made it worse." His voice shook with regret, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders.

Max probed further, sensing there was more to this. "Were the friends the ones who influenced you to break up with y/n, Lando?" He had a feeling they were involved, knowing their toxic nature.

Lando shifted uncomfortably, not meeting Max's gaze. "They... they encouraged it, yeah," he admitted, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.

"They kept saying she was holding me back, that a relationship would only hinder my career, and I... I let them get into my head."

Max was furious. He had seen how much y/n loved Lando, how much she supported him at every turn, and now he had thrown it all away because of some 'friends' who didn't care about him. "They're the worst, Lando!" His voice rose. "They don't care about you, not like she does. She's been there for you, through everything. And you let them poison you against her?"

Lando closed his eyes, the reality of Max's words piercing through his foggy mind. Max was right. He had let himself be manipulated by his so-called friends, allowing them to turn him against the one person who genuinely cared about him.

"I know," he whispered, his voice choked. "I messed up. I'm an idiot."

Max sighed, his frustration mingling with a sense of compassion.

"You're not an idiot, Lando. But you made a terrible mistake. You let yourself be led astray by the wrong people. Those friends, they're poison. And y/n... she's the one who truly cares for you. You need to fight for her, Lando. Don't let them ruin what you and y/n had."

Lando admitted, his voice filled with regret and defeat. "It's too late, Max. She has blocked me everywhere. She doesn't want anything to do with me." His shoulders slumped, the weight of his mistake heavy on him. "She probably hates me now, and I don't blame her. I hurt her, Max. I don't think she'll ever take me back."

Max, determined to help Lando, decided to take matters into his own hands. He texted y/n, hoping to plead on Lando's behalf, but Max was met with a cold wall - she had blocked him too. Frustration welled up inside, knowing how much of a hole Lando had dug for himself.

"Lando," he said, his tone heavy, "She blocked me too. This is going to be harder than I thought."

Lando flinched as Max confirmed y/n had blocked him too. It felt like the finality of his mistake, like the door to reconciliation was slammed shut, and he had no way to open it.

"I can't blame her," Lando muttered, his eyes downcast. "I messed up so badly. She's got every right to hate me now."

Lando's phone suddenly buzzed with a text from one of his 'friends,' inviting him out again. But before Lando could even react, Max swiped the phone from his hand, angrily blocking them all.

Lando stared at Max, a mix of shock and annoyance on his face. "Dude, what the hell!" he exclaimed, trying to get his phone back.

Max's expression was serious, his tone firm. "Those friends of yours are poison," he stated, holding the phone just out of Lando's reach. "They're the ones who encouraged you to break up with y/n. They're not your real friends, and I'm not letting them influence you further."

Lando tried to reach for his phone again, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Max, please give me my phone. You can't just block them all! Those are my friends!" He sounded desperate, trying to justify something he knew deep down was wrong.

Max stood his ground, shaking his head. "No, Lando. Those friends are the reason we're in this mess right now. They don't have your best interests at heart. They only care about what they can gain from you. You need to see that!" His grip on the phone remained firm, not giving Lando any chance to retrieve it.

Lando, still hungover and angry, tried to make his case. "But... but they're the only ones who are there for me, Max!" Lando argued, desperation lacing his voice. "They're the ones who party with me when I feel down. They're the ones who go out to clubs while y/n stays home. They're just trying to look out for me."

Max's patience wore thin, his anger boiling over. He threw the phone at Lando with a snap, the device landing on the bed next to him. "Fine!" Max sneered, his voice cold. "Figure it out on your own, Lando. Seems you'd rather listen to those so-called friends than hear the truth. See how far they take you."

Lando flinched as Max threw the phone at him, feeling a mix of guilt and stubbornness bubbling inside. Max's words rang true, a painful reminder of the fact that he was defending his toxic friends over the one person who cared. But in his hungover state, he was stubborn, unwilling to admit his friends were the ones pulling him into a toxic pit.

"Fine!" Lando retorted, his voice rising. "I don't need you trying to control my life! And I don't need y/n. I can do whatever I want with my friends!" He grabbed his phone, clutching it tightly, his anger and resentment towards Max growing.

Max stormed out, leaving Lando alone in that moment, his thoughts swirling like a storm. Lando sat in silence, surrounded by the chaos he had created, and the weight of his choices. Max's absence left him with nothing but his own thoughts and the quiet, empty apartment, the reality of his situation setting in.

Days blurred together as I drowned myself in work, my fingers flying over the keyboard, creating numbers and reports that seemed like a lifeline in this sea of heartache. The silence of my apartment was too loud, so I stayed at the office, working until exhaustion took hold.

My best friend grew worried, her concern palpable, but I couldn't bring myself to open up. Who would even want to listen to my sob story, anyway?

I couldn't even bring myself to think about our breakup, the pain still too fresh. Work was my solace, a way to stay one step ahead of the thoughts that threatened to consume me. I tried to focus on the numbers, the deadlines – anything to avoid confronting the reality of my shattered heart.

But as much as I worked, the pain lingered, refusing to fade away. Every now and then, I'd find myself staring off into space, the memories of our time together flooding back. The sound of Lando's laughter, his warm touch, it all came crashing back in waves that threatened to crush me.

Lost in my own world, the sound of my best friend's voice finally broke through the fog of my thoughts. She had been calling my name for the past five minutes, but I hadn't heard a word, too consumed by my own internal battle. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the daze.

She stood by my cubicle, her expression a mix of worry and concern. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "I've been trying to get your attention for a while now."

I blinked again, trying to shake off the haze and focus on her words. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied through clenched teeth, forcing a small smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. "Just really focused on this project." I tried to sound convincing, but I couldn't meet her gaze.

My best friend gently urged, "Y/N, I'm here for you, whenever you're ready to open up. How about a girls' night out tonight? A chance to take your mind off things? You need a break."

Each word felt like a lifeline. She knew just what I needed, an opportunity to lose myself for a moment without the weight of the breakup suffocating me.

The distraction of a girls' night out sounded tempting. I'd have a chance to let go, to pretend things were fine for a while. "Okay," I softly agreed, a small hint of warmth amidst the pain. "A girls' night sounds great. Let's do it."

As the hours passed, I tried to focus on the preparations, changing into something comfortable after my long day of work. But as I stood in front of the mirror, my mind kept wandering, the memories of Lando and the happier times we shared together. I took a deep breath, locking those thoughts away at the back of my mind, and plastered on a smile.

We met at a nearby bar, the noise and laughter a stark contrast to the silence of my apartment.

My best friend tried to engage me in conversation, steering clear of any topics about relationships or exes. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and I found myself sipping on my favorite cocktail, letting the alcohol blunt the edges of my pain for just a moment.

As the night progressed, my best friend knew something was still weighing heavily on me. She steered the conversation deeper, her eyes meeting mine in understanding. "Y/N, really, what's going on? I can see something's eating at you."

I sighed, taking another sip. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and the pain I'd locked away started to slip out.

I hesitated for a moment, then the floodgates opened. The alcohol had loosened my tongue, and with each sip, the words poured out. "Me and Lando broke up," I said, my voice wavering. The pain I'd tried to hide finally came out in the open.

My best friend listened without interruption as I told her everything - the pain, the doubts, the sense of loss. She held my hand, her thumb running across the back of my hand in a comforting gesture, allowing me to release all the emotions I had been holding in.

The pain intensified as I allowed myself to acknowledge it again. "I still miss him," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, "but I can't go back to him. Not after everything he put me through."

My best friend stayed silent, letting me take the lead, listening without judgment, offering reassurance with her hand, holding mine firmly.

Her words were gentle, yet comforting. "You're strong, Y/N," she said, squeezing my hands. "It hurts, and it's hard, but you'll get through this. I'm here for you every step of the way."

Her words provided solace, reminding me of my own strength, even when I felt like I was crumbling.

She was right; I had gotten through tough times before. This, too, would pass. I tried to hold onto those words, a glimmer of hope in the midst of hurt. I wiped away my tears, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

After hours we decided to call it a night. As my best friend dropped me off at my apartment, the night's diversion ended, and the silence of my apartment fell heavily around me.

The momentary respite from the pain had come to an end, and the reality of being alone set in again. I tried to ignore the loneliness, the emptiness without Lando. Instead, I got ready for bed, trying to find solace in routine.

I reached for my phone in an attempt to distract myself from the memories that kept invading my thoughts. But as I opened it, I was met with a barrage of social media updates about Lando and me - our pictures together, speculation, and the truth I had been trying to escape. The pain hit me all over again as I saw others asking about our breakup, theories swirling around me.

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Liked by formula1_news, f1_wags and others

f1gossippoffical Trouble in Paradise? Fans have suspected that Formula One driver Lando Norris has broken up with his girlfriend Y/N. The pair have unfollowed each other on all platforms and haven't been seen together in months. This suspicion was confirmed after fans saw Lando getting drunk at a club without his partner, living his life. What do you think happened? Follow for more updates!

View all comments

loveformywags2 What? Is this confirmed? This can't be right?! 🥲

lalalandlando4 He deserved better anyways 🤷‍♀️

f1maniaclvr Do y/n and Lando know about this? 🤦‍♀️

pookielanscar481 It's just odd that he was seen being drunk out of his mind without her

mam4you81 That's what I was thinking... What if she broke up with him and he's drowning himself in alcohol?

nanalalaf14 Honestly I don't think so, I think he dumped her since he had stopped interacting with her on his socials while she still liked and commented on all his posts.

4everf1loca NOOOOO my sheilaaaaa 😭

As I scrolled through the comments, reading the theories about us, a bitter realization hit me. They were only seeing the surface, the façade we had carefully crafted for the public. If only they knew what had really happened, the pain, the reasons behind our breakup.

The comments were full of speculation and curiosity. People thought they knew our love story, but they knew nothing. They didn't see the fights, the lies, the coldness between us. Their theories felt like a slap in the face, mocking the reality of our relationship.

All I knew at this moment was that I should take the time to heal and not let anyone ruin this for me.

Months had passed since the breakup, and I had finally made significant progress in my healing journey. Though the memory of Lando and our heartbreak still lingered, I had come a long way. I had focused on myself, investing time in hobbies, spending quality time with my friends, and allowing myself to heal.

I had established boundaries, avoiding social media and news about Lando that would reopen the wounds. I started a new project at work, pouring my energy into something productive. Slowly, I felt like I was rebuilding myself.

Right now, I was sat with my best friend, enjoying lunch together. My phone buzzed with a notification from an old group chat I had almost forgotten about. It was the group chat I used to be part of, with Kika and Alex.

When I opened it, I was greeted with a flood of messages, the group hasn't been active ever since my break up. So I was curious to see what this was all about.

My best friend, curious, noticed the notification that I had checked my phone. She gave me a questioning look, asking, "What was that about?"

"It's an old group chat from two of my WAG friends," I explained. "They want to catch up during the next GP."

My best friend raised her eyebrow, visibly curious. "And are you going to go?" she asked, her voice gentle but eager to know.

"At first, I didn't really want to go because of... well, Lando being there," I admitted, a mixture of hesitation and bravery in my voice. "But then I thought why should I let him dictate what I do? I shouldn't be scared of him, right?"

I paused, my determination showing through. "So, yes, I agreed to go."

My best friend's face lit up with happiness as she heard my decision. "I'm so proud of you!" she said, her pride shining through. "You're not letting him hold you back or influence you anymore. That's such a huge step forward, and you should be proud of yourself."

For a moment, seeing my best friend's proud expression filled me with a surge of bravery. She was right; I wasn't letting Lando affect my decisions anymore. I was taking control of my life again, one choice at a time.

As I laughed with my best friend, the weight of Lando gradually faded into the background. We continued talking, laughing, and enjoying our lunch together. Lando's name didn't come up in conversation. For now, he was just a distant thought, overshadowed by the joys of friendship and healing.

Lando stood in the McLaren garage during the Silverstone GP, his entourage of fake friends surrounding him in his papaya-colored driver overalls. They joked, laughed, and offered their hollow support, all while he got ready for the race.

Amidst the laughter, Lando's thoughts turned to y/n. He missed her, the void she had left in his life was still present, gnawing at him. He had tried to reach out, creating new accounts, but he found himself blocked at every turn, silence his only reply. It was as if the universe itself was holding back any chance of them reconnecting, driving home his deepest fears and regrets.

Lando snapped out of his pensive state, focusing his mind back on the race ahead. He had a job to do, after all. With a firm tone, he told his friends to stay put, to relax and enjoy the race while he got ready. His determination was evident, a momentary distraction from his heart's constant ache.

Lando quickly realised that he had forgotten his phone. As he retraced his steps to retrieve his phone, he heard muffled voices from within his driver's room. Curious, he stopped before he entered, straining to hear the conversation inside.

Michael chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Can you believe Lando was so stupid to break up with her?" Sam agreed wholeheartedly, a sneer on his face. "She was perfect for him, a distraction holding him back from his true potential."

Jake snorted. "Yeah, she was a total inconvenience, always nagging and taking up his time and money. Good riddance, I say."

They shared a cruel laugh, satisfied with their opinions. The conversation between Lando's fake friends revealed their true intentions - to have Lando's undivided attention, away from someone who truly cared about him.

They continued their conversation, mocking y/n's influence on Lando. Michael spoke with a mischievous grin. "It was a piece of cake convincing him. He ate up everything we said like a fool."

John snorted in agreement. "Yeah, we made sure he saw her as a hindrance. Now we have him all to ourselves, no competition."

James interjected, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We convinced him she was holding him back, that he needed to focus on his racing. We even convinced him she was just after his money. Classic play."

They chuckled, pleased with the web of lies they had spun. Michael added, "He doesn't even know what's good for him. We'll keep him under our control, keeping his attention and his wealth all to ourselves. He's too naive to see through us."

Sam, the schemer, couldn't contain his glee. "This has been the easiest con ever. Lando's so trusting, so foolish. We just have to keep filling his head with our lies, and he'll do whatever we want."

Lando, his heart heavy with the revelations, stormed back into the room, anger seeping through his every feature. His fists clenched, his eyes darkened in fury. He couldn't believe how easily he had been manipulated, how blind he had been to the deceit around him.

"How could I be so stupid?" he bellowed, staring down the group.

The group of fake friends froze, their faces stunned. They stared at Lando, wide-eyed, their laughter abruptly silenced. They hadn't expected Lando to return so soon, or to have overheard their malicious conversation.

Lando's voice trembled with a mix of fury and pain. "I can't believe I let you manipulate me like this!" His eyes burned with a potent blend of anger and regret. He stepped closer, his voice filled with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You were behind all of this, convincing me to break up with her, making me think she was holding me back."

The friends, caught off guard, tried to scramble for excuses. But Lando's words cut through their attempts to justify themselves. Michael spoke up, his voice trembling, "We... we were just looking out for you, Lando. We thought she was holding you back. We wanted what's best for your career, that's all."

Sam chimed in, trying to appease Lando. "We were trying to help you, Lando. We saw how she was distracting you, taking up your time and money. You need to focus on your racing. You're our golden goose!" He forced a fake chuckle, hoping Lando would buy into the manipulation again.

Lando clenched his fists, his body trembling with fury. "You didn't care about what's best for me. All you cared about was having me all to yourselves, using me for my fame and money. You manipulated me, turning me against the one person who loved me truly."

Jake tried to interject, his voice oozing with false concern. "Lando, we did care about you. We just wanted to protect you from a bad influence. We didn't want you to be taken advantage of." He attempted a manipulative smile, trying to deflect the blame onto me.

Lando's voice rose in intensity, his anger boiling over. "Don't you Dare talk about her like that! She was the only one who genuinely cared about me, not you. You're just jealous because she didn't let you use me like you do. You're nothing but a bunch of leeches!"

Michael, emboldened by Lando's anger, smirked, his words sharp. "Don't you dare blame us. This is on you, Lando. You were the one who was too stupid to see through our facade. Now you've lost her because of your own damn foolishness, not our fault in the slightest."

Lando, seething with a mix of hurt and anger, quickly called the security guards. With a firm voice, he instructed, "Get these snakes out of here now!"

The security guards, recognizing the tone of a man pushed to his limit, swiftly entered, escorting the fake friends out of the garage. Lando stood there, watching them leave, a bitter taste in his mouth.

As the fake friends were forcefully escorted out, Lando was left alone in the garage, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. The pain, the regret, the anger—it all slammed into him, finally giving way to the torrent he had held back for so long.

He slumped against a wall, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. Tears prickled in his eyes, his breath coming in ragged breaths.

As Lando sat there, the regret gnawed at him, growing sharper by the second. He thought about y/n, the love he had lost. The memories of their time together flooded his mind, and he berated himself for throwing it away. He blamed himself for listening to the friends who had manipulated him.

He thought about the love they shared, how he had let it slip through his fingers, shattered by his own foolishness and vulnerability to their lies.

Lando, still in a vulnerable state, decided to reach out to Max, despite their rocky past. He thought about the clubs and the disagreements they had had, but he had no one else to turn to now. With a mix of regret and desperation, he dialed Max's number.

Max picked up the phone, immediately sensing the desperation in Lando's voice. As Lando poured out his emotions and apologies, Max listened, his tone softening.

Lando confessed, his voice cracking, "I should have listened to you, Max. You were right about them, all along. I was a fool to listen to their lies and ignore you."

Max, surprised but relieved, replied, "I'm glad you realize now, Lando. Those friends were toxic. They used you, and I tried to protect you, but I understood, now." Max's words were sympathetic, understanding Lando's turmoil, even though they had their differences.

Lando confessed, his voice trembling with a mix of regret and desperation. "Max, I miss her, I miss y/n so much. I'll do anything to get her back, anything at all. It's the biggest mistake I've ever made."

Max fell silent, his concern deepening. He didn't know the extent of Lando's mistreatment of her.

The mention of y/n stirred worry in Max. He gently asked, "Lando, you know I didn't want you to break up with her. But why do you think you mistreated her? Can you tell me about that?" Max's tone was cautious, sensing that there was more to the story than he knew.

Lando hesitated, knowing he had a lot to unpack. Max's curiosity fueled a mix of fear and guilt inside Lando. He knew he had to come clean, even though it was painful to admit.

Taking a deep breath, Lando began to confess, his voice shaky. "I... I treated her badly, Max. I hurt her, ignored her, and took her for granted."

Max couldn't help but wince, knowing there was a deeper issue.

Lando's voice cracked with remorse. "They fed me lies about her. They convinced me that she was holding me back, that she wasn't good enough. I believed them, and I treated her poorly."

Max, as supportive as possible, tried to provide words of encouragement. "Lando, that's rough. You've made mistakes, but the first step is admitting it. You know you messed up; now it's about making amends."

He sighed, "Lando, remember that true love isn't about perfection. It's about growing together, learning from mistakes, and valuing someone despite their flaws."

He paused, his voice serious. "But you've got to show her you mean it. Words are easy, but actions will be your proof. Are you ready to do that?"

Lando, though shaken and determined, nodded, his voice firm. "Yes, Max. I'm ready. I want to prove it to her. I'll show her I've changed and that I'm serious about making amends."

Max and Lando continued talking, their conversation growing shorter as Lando had to prepare for the race. As they bid each other goodbye, Max reminded Lando, "Stay focused during the race. Clear your mind; that's important, too."

Lando, though his mind was heavy with emotion, took Max's words to heart. He knew he had to compartmentalize his feelings for now and focus on the race ahead. He focused on the tracks, his car, and his performance, pushing aside his turbulent emotions for the moment.

I stepped into the grand prix feeling a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The grandstands, the roaring fans, and the smell of rubber and fuel in the air brought back a whirl of emotions. Seeing the tracks where Lando and I used to share moments filled me with nostalgia and a pang of heartache.

My thought were interrupted by two voices. Kika and Alex, my two closest friends, ambushed me with warm hugs, pulling me into their embrace. Their cheerful voices cut through the noise of the Grand Prix, and I felt a mix of relief and joy. It had been a while since we had been together.

"Y/N! You made it!" Kika exclaimed. "We've missed you so much!"

Alex chimed in, grinning widely. "We've been dying to hang out with you! It's been ages." She playfully pinched my cheek. "You look great, by the way."

"Oh, stop it! I didn't do anything special. You two, on the other hand, are the real stars here. Look at you!" I playfully nudged them both, my tone teasing and lighthearted.

Kika and Alex beamed, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery," Alex said, feigning exhaustion. "We're here to have a blast. You ready for this?"

I sighed one more time while looking around before replying. "More then ready."

We made our way to our favorite hangout spot at hospitality. It was cozy, far from the chaos of the track. As we settled in, surrounded by comfortable couches and tables, a mix of nostalgia and anticipation washed over us.

"I've missed this place," Kika said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "So many memories, right?"

We spent hours catching up, sharing stories, laughter, and heartfelt moments. The conversation flowed easily between us, like old times. Laughter echoed in the cozy space of the hospitality center, and our spirits were lifted. Time seemed to slip away as we bonded and supported one another. Eventually, the time came for Kika and Alex to head back out; their respective significant others were getting ready for their races.

Kika and Alex rose from their seats, their faces slightly apologetic. "We have to go," Kika sighed.

Alex nodded, adding, "Come find us later, okay?"

I gave them both a nod, understanding their commitment to support their boyfriends. "Of course, we'll catch up after the races. Good luck to them!"

Kika and Alex shared one last embrace, their hugs warm and reassuring, then they left to get to their respective spots by the trackside.

As they left, I was left to navigate the grandstands, finding my spot amidst the sea of fans. I blended into the crowd, the anticipation in the air as the racers prepared for their engines to start.

The race concluded, but it felt bittersweet. Lando's face was everywhere - on the screens, the winners' podium, the trackside banners. Seeing him in his natural element, celebrating victories, stirred mixed emotions in me. The pain of missing him and the hope of reconciliation blended together in a complicated mix.

After a bit, I decided that I needed to use the restroom so I headed that way. I made my way to the private VIP restrooms, my VIP pass granting me access. The restroom was clean and spacious, offering a respite from the noise outside. I checked my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to compose myself.

As I exited the restroom, I was lost in my thoughts, only to bump into someone in the hall. I froze, instantly recognizing Lando's familiar voice. His figure stood in front of me, and I felt my heart skip a beat. His gaze met mine, and time seemed to stand still.

Lando called out for me, his voice filled with surprise, "y/n." His eyes held a mix of shock and tenderness, his voice holding a hint of the emotions he was trying to keep at bay.

As the words hung in the air between us, my heart raced. His presence was so close, the warmth of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I got out of my stance, trying to leave, I tried to walk past him, but Lando blocked my path, stopping me in my tracks. I felt a wave of emotions crash over me - pain, anger, hope, and a deep longing all mingled together. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and I tried to suppress it.

Lando's voice was hesitant and filled with vulnerability. "Y/N, please…can we talk? Just for a moment."

His request was sincere, his eyes pleading with me not to walk away.

I shook my head, my resolve firm. "No, Lando. I can't and I don't want to." I replied, my voice resolute. The pain from our breakup was still too fresh, and talking to him now would reopen wounds I wasn't ready to confront. I tried to move past him, my expression set with determination.

Lando's face fell, a mix of hurt and resignation evident. He saw my determination, my refusal to engage. He took a step closer, his words soft but desperate, "Please... just hear me out."

My frustrations boiled over. "Don't you think it's ironic? Now you want me to hear you out, when you never listened to me when you decided to end things," I retorted, my voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

Lando winced at my words, the truth of them hitting him hard. "I know... I made a mistake," he said, his voice tinged with regret. He was trying to find the right words, his eyes pleading with me to give him a chance.

Lando's expression twisted, the guilt evident on his face as he processed my response. The words cut deep, the truth behind them undeniable.

"A mistake?" I repeated, my voice dripping with bitterness. "You ruined me."

I continued, my words raw.

"I spent months wondering what was wrong with me, why you ended a relationship of three years for a fake friendship that didn't even last a year. Where are those 'friends' who supposedly supported you through everything? I don't see them here, Lando."

Lando looked down, ashamed. He had no answer. His fake friends were nowhere to be found, leaving him alone to confront the consequences of his actions. The weight of his mistake seemed to grow heavier.

He finally managed to gather his thoughts, his voice a mix of guilt and sincerity. "I messed up. I don't expect you to forgive me right now. But please, let me explain." He took a step closer, his regret etched on his face, silently begging for my understanding.

I raised an eyebrow, my words sharp. "Explain? What's left to explain? You threw away three years of us for a group of shallow friendships. What could you possibly say to make this better?"

Lando knew my words hurt, but he was desperate. "I was blind. I was a damn coward," he confessed. "I allowed myself to be manipulated by my so- called friends, and in the process, I hurt you."

He continued, his voice tinged with regret and shame, "I saw them as my real friends, but now I realize they only saw me as a way to elevate their social status." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "They saw you as a threat, someone who could expose their true intentions. They convinced me you were holding me back, when in reality, they had me blinded."

His voice trembled as he continued, "I let myself believe their lies. They filled my head with jealousy, making me doubt our relationship, and I was stupid enough to listen to them." His vulnerability shone through, his emotions raw.

I nodded, my expression guarded. "I'm glad you've recognized your mistakes, Lando. But can you imagine the pain I've experienced because of them, because of you?"

My words conveyed a mix of grief and resentment. The hurt I suffered remained a palpable presence, a constant reminder of the pain he had caused.

Lando nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He knew he couldn't take back what he had done. The time he spent believing those fake friends and ending our relationship had shattered something that couldn't easily be repaired. He understood the depth of my suffering, a consequence of his blind trust and foolishness.

Lando looked at me, his expression sincere, and asked if we could try again. He voiced his regret, hoping for a chance to make things right. The hope in his eyes was clear, but the weight of the past lingered between us. He wanted to rebuild, to fix what he had broken.

He pleaded with me, his voice filled with remorse. "I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I want us to try again. I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't let those fake friends influence me anymore. I'll do whatever it takes."

I shook my head, my voice resolute. "No, Lando. I'm still healing, and right now, I don't want to try again. I need time, space. I can't just forgive and forget in a snap."

My words were firm, expressing my current inability to jump back into a relationship after everything I had been through.

Lando, his voice filled with sincerity, looked into my eyes. His gaze conveyed the depth of his regret and determination. "I understand," he said. "I will wait for you, for ten years or more," he promised. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

As we concluded the conversation, Lando stood there, his heart heavy with the weight of our future hanging in the balance. He watched me leave, a mix of emotions coursing through him: regret, hope, and an ache of longing. He had to accept that he couldn't rush our healing process, no matter how much he desired to be by my side.

I walked away, my eyes misty, the past and the uncertainty of our future intertwining in my thoughts.

f1gossippofficial

Liked by formula1_news, wagscloset, formula1_gossips and others

f1gossippoffical Months after their break-up, Lando Norris and Y/N have been spotted after the Silverstone GP. Sources state that the ex-couple were arguing, what the argument was about is still a big question. Many suspected it was because of a third party being involved. Thoughts about this one?

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lazyformulaland Bro leave them alone, they're both adults. Let them solve this in peace ffs. 🙄

lvr4lan Noooo Lando honey this isn't you run!

wagslov4 Did he pick you yet ? 🙄

bbpiastri81 What the hell is going on

norriswithrizz4 This is insane, the main focus of formula one isn't even on formula one anymore smh 🤦‍♀️

4everyours4ln Y'all are too invested, leave my girl y/n alone.

momolew16 Forreal the girl didn't ask for this

closetofpeacefashion7 Exactly she was finally thriving and then this happend. It doesn't even look like she wanted to talk to him

mayyoushush8 Did she tell you that 🤨

closetofpeacefashion7 @mayyoushush8 Don't be stupid even a kid can see that 🥱

I decided to head back home, not forgetting to shoot Alex and Kika a quick message which they completely understood.

As I reached home, the weight of the evening's emotions crashed down on me. The conversation with Lando had stirred up all the hurt and confusion I had been suppressing. I felt emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed, unsure of what to make of it all.

The silence of my home only amplified my inner turmoil, leaving me to wrestle with my conflicted feelings.

A few days passed after the incident, I decided to move on with life and not let it bother me again. A perfect distraction? Drowning myself in my workload.

I arrived at work as I stepped inside the building, I was greeted by Linda, one of my co-workers.

Linda, approached me with a mischievous grin, her question catching me off guard. "Do you have a secret admirer, by any chance?" she asked, the curiosity palpable in her voice.

I stared at her, confused by her question, wondering why she would draw such a conclusion. I shook my head, puzzled by the idea. "What makes you think that?" I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Linda chuckled, her eyes sparkling with a hint of intrigue. She replied, "Have a look in your office."

Puzzled by her cryptic hint, I made my way to the elevator and reached my office. As I stepped inside, confusion lingered in my mind, wondering what I was about to find.

My eyes widened with shock and surprise as I entered the office, finding a massive bouquet of my favorite flowers. The delicate blooms filled the space with a sweet, comforting fragrance. Attached to the flowers was a note, mysterious and intriguing. My heart fluttered with anticipation as I reached for the note.

My fingers traced the delicate paper of the note, and as I read the words, they stirred a whirlwind of emotions. The poem was written in delicate script, the words flowing like music... and it was about love. Each line spoke of tenderness, trust, and a future filled with hope. The words were so beautiful, it was as if they were carefully chosen specifically for me.

The little poem, written with a tender brush of affection, read:

"From the morning dew to the evening's glow, My love for you continues to grow. Through shadows and light, in every season's rain, Our bond remains, a gentle refrain.

In whispers of joy and moments of peace, I hold you close within my heart's embrace. Each smile shared, each memory we weave, My love will remain a boundless pledge."

I was so confused, who could've been behind this? As I read the poem again, my mind wandered to Lando for a moment. I quickly dismissed that Idea. He had confessed that he couldn't write romantic words, finding them cringeworthy.

If it wasn't Lando, then who would have written such a poem?

As the day wrapped up, I found myself heading home, my mind still lingering on the mysterious poem. Entering my home, I sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping through my bones. The softness of the cushions welcomed me as my thoughts played through my mind, trying to unravel the mystery.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of the doorbell that echoed through my home. It was late in the evening, and I couldn't guess who might be at the door at such a time. With some curiosity and a hint of wariness, I got up to answer.

I went over to the door to open it and I was met with a delivery man. The delivery man handed me a massive bouquet of fresh flowers and a large box of chocolates. The fragrance from the flowers mingled with the scent of chocolate. The combination was almost overwhelming, leaving me baffled as I accepted the gifts.

Now I was even more confused, this bouquet was even bigger than the one from my office. And the weird thing was, that the chocolates I got were only my favorites.

I examined the box of chocolates, finding another note attached to the top. Carefully, I opened the wrapper, retrieving the note. Just like the previous one, it was written on delicate paper, filled with intrigue. I unfolded it, ready to read the message.

As I unfolded the paper, I was met with neat, elegant handwriting. The words held a romantic touch, and I felt a mix of anticipation and curiosity. The second poem spoke of tender love and adoration.

"Your presence brings light to every room, A symphony of grace in each simple bloom. Though we may walk separate paths in life, My heart's allegiance is a ceaseless strife."

I sat there, taken aback by the heartfelt words. They spoke of admiration and deep affection. Who could have written these beautiful poems and left them for me? The confusion deepened, and I pondered who could be behind the mysterious gestures.

Plagued by curiosity, I reached for my phone and called my best friend, hoping for answers. As the call rang, I prepared myself for a wave of questions, expecting her to know something.

My best friend's cheerful voice filled the call, answering instantly. "Hello?" She sounded cheerful as ever, not knowing the mystery I was about to unload on her.

I cut straight to the point, my tone slightly urgent. "Hey, I have a question. So, I've been receiving anonymous flowers, chocolates, and... poems." I paused a moment. "Any idea who it could be?" I asked, hoping for some insight.

She was silent for a moment, her surprise apparent. But then her voice brightened, and I could tell she had a theory. "Oooh, a mystery admirer?" she asked, half-joking, half-curious.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully. "Well, yes. It is somewhat mysterious." I replied, unable to hide the hint of unease in my voice amidst the flowers and chocolates surrounding me.

We delved into the mystery, discussing possibilities. From past crushes to unknown admirers, we contemplated various scenarios. But no concrete conclusion surfaced, leaving me even more intrigued and slightly frustrated.

That was until my best friend's insight sparked a new perspective. She pointed out that the mystery admirer seemed to know me well. They knew my workplace, my love for romantic poems, and even my favorite chocolates and flowers. It wasn't just a coincidence; they seemed to have a grasp on my habits. The timing of the delivery was eerily precise, appearing just when I arrived home.

My best friend continued, her voice filled with speculation. "It's not just the flowers and chocolates, it's the timing. They know your work schedule. It's almost like they're watching, waiting for the right moment."

I agreed, thoughtfully absorbing. "Yeah, that's been bothering me. The timing is too perfect. They either know my schedule or they're stalking me." I chuckled, trying to soften the situation with humor.

"Wait!" My best friend suddenly interrupted, a speculative glint in her eyes. "Could it have been Lando?"

The name hung heavily in the air, bringing our conversation to a halt.

I shook my head, quickly dismissing the idea. "No, probably not. Lando doesn't enjoy writing, especially not romantic poems. He always told me he found them cringe."

My bestie nodded, acknowledging my response. "Ah, right. He's not exactly the poetic type, is he?"

I grinned slightly, remembering Lando's disdain for poetic words. "Nope, definitely not. He'd rather punch a wall than write a poem." I joked, the idea of Lando writing a poem seeming far-fetched, even for a moment.

After a while of thinking and cracking our brains open, we ended the conversation, deciding to table the mystery for the moment. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone, my mind still swirling with questions. I prepared for the night, the flowers and chocolates lingering in the background, their presence a reminder of the mysterious admirer.

Several months passed, and the mysterious gifts persisted, each one more thoughtful and personal. The flowers continued arriving, alongside a new addition - small, handmade tokens. Notes slipped into the bouquet containing thoughtful messages, while a box of my favorite chocolates came with a heartfelt poem.

I sought information, asking friends and family if they knew anything. They were taken by surprise and genuinely had no idea who was behind the surprises. The mystery deepend as everyone denied any involvement.

The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.

The mystery escalated. Along with the physical gifts, I discovered a surprise on my phone. Text messages arrived with miniature poems, each one carefully crafted and sweet. The sender's number remained undisclosed, leaving me baffled about the identity.

The messages, delivered alongside the tangible gifts, carried messages that resonated with my emotions and experiences. It felt almost as if this person truly knew me, yet remained hidden behind the anonymity of their identity.

It was that time again - our annual girls' night out. We always looked forward to these nights, a chance to let loose and have a blast in a vibrant club. I had my best friend beside me, ready to dance the night away. The only problem? My best friend chose a club that Lando used to go to every time. She reassured me that he wouldn't be here which I took her word for.

We strutted into the club, excitement filling the air. Music pulsed through the venue, the bass matching the rhythm of our hearts. The lights dazzled the dance floor, and we blended into the crowd, the worries of the day fading in the throes of the nightlife. We decided to hit the dance floor, letting go of any inhibitions as we lost ourselves in the music.

We danced with abandon, the beat pulsating through us, the rhythmic movements our shared language. The neon lights flashed, adding an electric charge to the atmosphere. As we danced and whirled, we felt liberated from the daily grind, living in the moment, lost in the music and the company of my best friend.

Later that night we both got thirsty, I made my way to the bar to get us drinks, when suddenly a man approached me. I could already smell the alcohol on him as he staggered towards me, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

He smirked, his words coming out in a clumsy manner. "Hey there, pretty lady," he slurred, his tone oozing with an unwanted familiarity. He invaded my personal space, leaning in a bit too close for comfort.

I could feel the warmth of his breath, tainted with alcohol, against my cheek as he spoke. "What's a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?" He tried to flirt, his persistence evident even amidst his intoxication.

I tried to maintain a polite smile, stepping back slightly. "I'm here with a friend," I replied, my voice a mix of politeness and discomfort. I glanced at the bartender, silently praying for my order to arrive sooner so I could escape this uncomfortable interaction.

He chuckled, his intoxication making him clumsy yet bold. "Oh, come on. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be tied down to just one friend. You should let loose and have fun," he insisted, his words filled with a suggestive undertone.

I tried to end the conversation, giving him a firm but polite dismissal. "Thanks, but I'm good," I said, my tone leaving no room for further conversation. I discreetly inched closer to the bar, hoping he would get the hint and leave me alone.

Instead of taking the hint, he persisted. "Oh, come on. Don't be a party pooper. One drink won't hurt," he insisted, his words slurring even more. He took another step closer, trying to close the gap between us.

I felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance as his persistence continued. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming, leaving a cloying odor on the air. I tried to maintain my composure, not wanting to cause a scene but also wanting him to back off.

He took another step closer, his gaze lingering on me. I could see the effects of the alcohol on him - the unsteady steps, the glazed look in his eyes, the clumsy attempts at charm. He reached out, attempting to touch my arm, his gesture too familiar and unwelcome.

The guy got annoyed when I backed away. He reached out, his hand grabbing my arm with a firm grip, trying to pull me back. I felt a jolt of fear as he attempted to drag me.

His hold tightened, his voice a mix of frustration and insistence. "Come on, don't you know how to have fun? Just one drink, a little chat." He tugged at me, his alcohol-fueled stubbornness evident.

I felt a mix of panic and defiance. "Let me go, you sick prick!" I exclaimed, my voice strained. I glanced around, hoping for someone to intervene, but every face seemed lost in their own world, oblivious or uncaring about the situation. The loud music blared, making it seem as if no one could hear my cries for help.

The guy gripped my arm tighter, his eyes filled with a mix of drunken determination. He leaned in closer, his face twisted with frustration. "Why are you making this so difficult? Just one drink, come on."

He forced me into an empty, private room, his grip on my arm still strong, leaving me with a sense of dread. The music was a distant throb outside, leaving me more isolated in this unsettling scenario.

His grip faltered as someone unexpectedly appeared, a figure entering the room with a decisive move. Before the guy could even think of pulling me fully into the room, someone intervened, delivering a well-aimed punch to his gut. The guy groaned, doubled over in pain as he released his grip on me.

The guy fell to his knees, clutching his stomach as the force of the blow rippled through him. Confusion, pain, and shock replaced the smugness from before. I could only watch, relief washing over me as I realized I wasn't alone anymore.

The drunk guy, overwhelmed by the combination of alcohol and the punch, scrambled to his feet before stumbling out of the room, whimpering in pain. The sudden exit left me alone with the mysterious person who had stepped in to save me.

Lando rushed towards me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion. The warm green in his eyes held a mix of worry and relief that I was alright.

He reached for my arm where the drunk guy had grabbed me before, inspecting the area to check if I was hurt. I could feel the tenderness as he gently ran his fingers over the spot, ensuring I was unharmed. Lando then gazed at my face, studying it for any signs of distress.

I gently pulled my hand away, forcing a small smile to reassure him. "I'm okay," I insisted, my voice steady but guarded. His concern was palpable, and I could see the relief in his eyes as he saw that I was not physically harmed.

Lando seemed desperate, unwilling to let me leave just yet. He reached for my arm again, his grasp gentle but firm. "Please, just hear me out," he pleaded, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

My response came sharp, biting. "Why would I? You didn't try to reach out, didn't try to find me, or even show an ounce of concern until now," I shot back, my words laced with bitterness and resentment.

Lando's response came with a mix of frustration and hidden emotion. "I haven't tried? Since our last talk, I've done everything I could to win you back," he retorted, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Who do you think sent you all those gifts? Who else would know your work schedule, your favorite foods, your love for poems? I know I said I hated them, but for you, I embraced them."

His words were layered with hurt and a desire for reconciliation. Lando finally confessed, "It was me, all along. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever, so I hoped my gestures would speak for me." The pain in his face was evident, his eyes pleading for understanding.

I stammered at his words, a mixture of surprise and confusion overwhelming me. Never in my entire life I would've thought Lando would do all of this for me. My mind raced as I tried to comprehend the lengths he had gone to reach me.

My voice trembled as I spoke, "So... you were behind those text messages as well? How...? But I blocked all your accounts, even the new ones. How did you manage to send me messages?"

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine as he confessed. "I bought a new phone with a different SIM card... just so I could message you." His answer hung in the air, the weight of his dedication palpable in the quiet space of the room.

He continued, his voice earnest, "I couldn't bear the silence between us, the distance. Even if you blocked me everywhere, I had to find a way to reach you, to express how I felt." The depth of his yearning and determination to keep the connection alive was evident in each word.

I remained silent, overwhelmed by his confession. Lando had gone to great lengths just to communicate with me, buying a new phone and SIM card, defying my attempts to cut off contact. The depth of his dedication was both touching and overwhelming. I couldn't deny the mix of emotions swirling within me.

Lando stood there, his eyes searching mine, desperate for a glimmer of hope. The air hung heavy with anticipation as he awaited my reaction, his vulnerability on full display, his heart on his sleeve.

I grappled for a response, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I... I'm still processing this," I managed to utter, my voice filled with a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why let me think you didn't care?" I blurted out, a hint of betrayal seeping into my voice.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his shoulders slouching slightly. "I was afraid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of being rejected, scared that you would push me away if I tried to talk to you and most importantly scared you would've moved on. I thought sending those gifts and messages would be a way to reach out without directly risking rejection."

I stared at him, taken aback by his honesty. His confession laid bare his fears and insecurities, exposing the vulnerability beneath his usually composed facade. But my hurt remained, the sting of his silence lingering.

I couldn't hide my feelings, and I let my resentment spill out. "But you let me suffer!" I cried out, the pain pouring out in my words. "I thought you didn't care, that you moved on, while I was here, hurting over our broken relationship."

Lando's face contorted with pain at my outburst, his shoulders sinking lower. He took a step forward, bridging the gap between us. "I know, I know," he pleaded, his voice filled with regret. "I was a coward. I let fear dictate my choices, and I hurt you in the process. I'm sorry."

I wanted to believe him, to fall into the comfort of his apology and the sweet gestures he had made, but the wounds of the past remained. The memories of his silence, his refusal to communicate, and the pain I endured still weighed heavily on my heart.

Lando saw the hesitance in my eyes, noticed the barrier I had put up. His expression pleaded with me, a mixture of sorrow and yearning. I could tell he wanted me to forgive him, to let him back in.

"Lando, I'm so conflicted," I confessed, my voice cracking. The wounds of the past still fresh, I couldn't let go easily. "How can I trust that you won't hurt me again? I've suffered so much because of you, how can I be sure you won't do something like this again?" I asked, hoping for an answer that would quell my doubts. The pain was still too raw to simply forgive and forget.

Lando's eyes filled with remorse, his face a mask of sorrow and guilt. He knew he had caused me pain and had no right to expect forgiveness so easily. He stepped closer, the gap between us becoming smaller. With a gentle voice, he spoke. "I don't ask for you to trust me instantly," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I want to prove to you that I've changed, that I won't make the same mistakes again. Please, just give me a chance to show you."

I held his gaze, my eyes pleading for understanding. "I need some time," I implored, my voice shaky. "I can't just forget overnight. Give me the space to process everything, to heal." The emotions coursing through me were overwhelming, and I needed time to make sense of the rollercoaster of events.

Lando's response was gentle and resolute. "I will wait for you. Remember, even if it takes ten years," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability. "I'll be here when you're ready, no matter how long it takes."

I looked back at Lando, his pleading eyes yearning for a reprieve. With a heavy heart, I whispered, "Goodbye," and reluctantly turned away. The music and lights faded as I weaved through the crowd, searching for my best friend who had remained oblivious to the emotional storm that had just unfolded between Lando and me.

I found my best friend in the crowd, her smile lighting up upon seeing me. However, her smile quickly faded as she saw the tears streaming down my face. Without a word, she stood up, concern etched on her face.

She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me towards the exit. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice filled with understanding. "Let's go home."

We stepped out of the club, the cool outside air a stark contrast to the stifling heat inside. We hailed an Uber, and my bestie decided to spend the night to provide comfort and lend an ear.

We settled into the car, the soft hum of the engine accompanying us as we made our way home. I took a deep breath, preparing to recount the tumultuous events of the evening to my best friend.

The Uber pulled up in front of my building, and we disembarked, the night's cool air a stark reminder of the emotional journey I had been through. We made our way into my house, the silence between us filled with anticipation.

We entered my house, the familiarity of the space providing a semblance of comfort. My bestie guided me to the couch, pulling a blanket over us as we settled in for what was sure to be a long night of conversation.

I poured my heart out, recounting every detail, from Lando's apology to the painful memories that still lingered. My best friend listened intently, her eyes widening in surprise and shock as she took in the emotional rollercoaster I had described.

She was stunned, her face reflecting the whirlwind of emotions that had unfolded. "Wow," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe he did all that."

My voice trembled with uncertainty, "I don't know what to do," I confessed, my emotions a tumultuous mess. "I want to trust him, but it's so hard to ignore the pain he caused. It feels like a never-ending cycle of confusion and fear." I rested my head on my friend's shoulder, seeking solace in her presence.

She rubbed my back soothingly, her support an anchor that kept me from drifting further into despair. In a gentle yet reassuring tone, she spoke. "It's okay to feel conflicted. Trust is earned, and forgiveness takes time. Don't rush yourself. Take whatever time you need to figure out what you want." She held me closer, offering her presence as a grounding force amidst the chaos.

My best friend posed the question that echoed within me, "Do you still love him?" The question sliced through the air, digging deep into emotions I had tried to bury.

Hesitantly, I met her gaze, tears glistening in my eyes. "I… I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

My friend's words were honest, cutting through the confusion. She persisted, "That isn't an answer, y/n. It's a simple yes or no question." I remained silent for a long moment, my emotions swirling inside. Finally, after an excruciating pause, I whispered, "Fine, yes. Yes, I still love him." The admission hung in the air, vulnerable and raw.

My best friend looked at me, her eyes mirroring a mixture of understanding and support. "Give him a chance," she urged, her voice gentle yet firm. "Don't give in immediately. See how far he's willing to go. If he goes beyond just gifts and gestures, you'll know he's sincere.''

A wave of confusion washed over me, and I turned to her for clarification. "What do you mean, 'beyond gifts and gestures'?" I inquired, the words tumbling out in a whispered plea for understanding.

She seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then met my gaze with an earnest expression. "I mean, beyond just grand gestures. Beyond the gifts and the poems. Love is about more than just gestures. It's about genuine care, about being there for each other, through every high and low. It's about trust and communication. Those are the true tests of sincere love," she replied, her words wise and heartfelt.

She continued, her voice steady. "If Lando truly cares about you, he will show it in every aspect of his life, not just with grand gestures. He will prioritize your needs, respect your boundaries, and be there for you, even in the most ordinary moments."

Her words resonated within me, their truth echoing in my heart. It didn't matter if he had sent flowers or sweet poems. Love wasn't just about gifts; it was about presence, understanding, and unwavering support through life's tumultuous journey.

We continued talking for hours, my best friend's words sinking deep into my thoughts. Eventually, we decided to call it a day, both exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster. My mind whirled with questions as we prepared to say our goodnights.

Lando's dedication persisted. In the days that followed, his gestures remained constant. I noticed flowers and chocolates carefully placed on my desk each morning, a poem hidden amidst the petals, and a warm coffee waiting when I arrived in the morning, exactly how I liked it.

Today it was different. I heard a knock on my office door, I replied with a simple 'come in' as the person entered. Lando stood in my office doorway, his hands holding my favorite coffee and a neatly prepared lunch. He spoke softly, concern in his voice.

"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I know you can get forgetful about your nutrition while working. So I brought you something." The gesture warmed my heart, leaving me momentarily speechless.

His willingness to break away from his busy schedule, solely to ensure I took care of myself, touched me deeply.

"Thank you," I expressed gratefully, touched by his thoughtfulness. I had to ask him, curious about the sacrifice of his valuable time. "But aren't you busy? You still made time for this?"

Lando responded, his voice gentle yet sincere. "I'm busy," he admitted. "But I make time for you because you matter to me."

His simple yet powerful response struck a chord within me. In the midst of the busyness of life, he had made time for me, prioritizing my wellbeing. It spoke volumes about his devotion and care, that he was willing to sacrifice his valuable time just to ensure I wasn't neglecting myself.

The sincerity in his eyes and the way he stood in my office doorway, a small lunch in hand, felt overwhelming. It was as if he was trying to prove that he valued our connection more than the hustle and bustle of life.

In the weeks that followed, Lando's gestures became an integral part of my routine. He arrived at my office each morning with my favorite coffee, not missing a single day, even when I forgot it myself. During lunch breaks, he carefully watched over me, ensuring I ate, sometimes even bringing me delectable meals he prepared himself. He began helping me with paperwork, even when he didn't have the expertise—a gesture that left me touched.

Once, when I found a mouse in my apartment, he came at 4 a.m., not hesitating for a moment despite having an early flight.

His devotion continued. In the midst of his travels, he remained constant in sending me thoughtful gifts. The distance didn't seem to matter as his love crossed time and continents.

With each passing day, my heart opened up a little more. His gestures filled my heart with a mix of gratitude, warmth, and a hint of rekindling love.

It seemed like any ordinary day, with Lando on the other side of the world for a race. I was engulfed in my work, my focus solely on the paperwork, to the neglect of myself. Suddenly, my colleague Linda burst into my office.

Linda spoke with concern, her voice filled with worry. "You've been working nonstop. Come on, let's get something to eat." I protested, insisting on finishing my task first, but Linda's stern expression was unrelenting. I agreed reluctantly, rising from my seat. Little did I know, the world was about to spin.

As we walked, I started feeling dizzy, an unfamiliar sensation overtaking me. Linda's voice was heard from beside me. "Sweetheart are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm fine," I quickly reassured Linda, believing I had just stood up too quickly. Yet, before I could take another step, my world slipped away, and I plunged into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Linda witnessed the sudden collapse and hurried to my side, concern filling her voice. "y/n, are you okay?" she asked urgently, but I was unresponsive, the world around me fading into blackness.

The sound of voices echoed in the distance, Linda's voice calling my name. However, the comforting embrace of darkness held me captive.

As I emerged from the haze of unconsciousness, I felt a soothing yet firm hold on my hand. I groaned softly, my eyes slowly creaking open, reluctantly adjusting to the stark brightness of my surroundings.

As my vision cleared, I realized I was in a hospital room. The sterile environment, the soft hum of medical equipment, and the distinctive smell of antiseptic filled the air. I heard someone calling my name, I turned my head, my gaze drifting towards the source of the voice that called my name.

I blinked, still in a state of surprise to see Lando beside me. He looked at me with concern, his presence unexpected given that he was supposed to be on the opposite side of the globe. He spoke urgently, "How are you feeling? Should I call for a doctor?" His worry was evident in his eyes as he waited for my response.

Amidst the haze of confusion and exhaustion, my mind clung to one question. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice weak but filled with surprise. "You're supposed to be on the other side of the world."

His response caught me off guard, touching my heart amidst the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm you're emergency contact," he reminded me, and the realization set in.

He had crossed continents and time zones, arriving swiftly on his private jet, driven by his concern for my well-being. I had been asleep for 12 hours, and in that timeframe, he had made his way across the globe to be by my side.

The depth of his commitment touched my heart. Despite the demands of his career, he had flown across the world to be by my side, prioritizing my well-being above everything else. The knowledge that he was my emergency contact made a surge of warmth flow through me. It was a reminder of my significance in his life and the lengths he would go to for me.

I tried to compose myself, my voice still weak, I told him, "You shouldn't have done this. You have important things to attend."

Guilt tugged at me, knowing he had sacrificed his commitments to be here. His racing schedule, his career, everything seemed secondary to his concern for me in that moment.

Lando shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't care, none of it matters as much as you do," he insisted, his gaze filled with sincerity. He reached out to gently hold my hand, his touch comforting. "Nothing is as important as you," he repeated, emphasizing his priorities.

His words struck a nerve, causing a mix of emotions to rise within me. Tears welled up in my eyes, his unwavering devotion filling me with a combination of gratitude and sorrow. I had doubted him, feared a lack of commitment, yet here he was, proving me wrong in the most dramatic way possible.

His presence in the hospital room, despite the distance he traveled, felt surreal. The sound of medical equipment beeping in the background seemed distant compared to the intense emotions swirling between us. Lando held my hand, his touch warm and reassuring.

In that moment of tender silence, Lando spoke again. His voice was soft, carrying a mix of concern and affection. He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. "I was so worried," he admitted, his eyes locked on mine. "Seeing you here in the hospital... was terrifying."

His eyes mirrored the vulnerability he rarely displayed, raw emotions laid bare. The fear he had felt, the concern that gripped him, all visible in his expression. The reality of the situation weighed heavily between us, his emotions palpable and sincere.

I offered a reassuring smile, trying to ease his worries, though the weakness in my voice betrayed my fatigue. "I'm okay," I whispered, exhaustion evident in my words. My weak hand attempted to squeeze his in return, hoping to show my gratitude despite my physical state.

Lando's grip on my hand tightened, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin. His gaze remained focused on me, studying my face, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain. He was skeptical of my reassurance, his worry etched on his furrowed brow.

We delved into conversation, discussing random topics, our worries fading into the background. Our chat was filled with laughter and genuine connection. However, our peaceful moment was interrupted when the doctor entered the room for a routine check-up. The doctor informed me that I was discharged, giving me the okay to leave.

Lando assisted me in gathering my belongings, the tenderness in his gestures evident. He carried my bag and carefully guided me out of the hospital room. We paced side by side, making our way to Lando's car parked outside.

We traveled in a soothing silence, the weight of the hospital now off our shoulders. As we reached my place, Lando diligently helped me bring my belongings inside and prepared to leave. But before he could go, he paused and called my name, the sound breaking the tranquility.

I turned my attention his way, meeting his eyes with curiosity. "Yes?" I responded, wondering what was on his mind. His voice had held a hint of hesitation, as if there was something important he wanted to convey.

He inhaled sharply, the weight of his question becoming apparent. He spoke with vulnerability, "There's something I want to ask you. You're free to refuse, but I genuinely want to ask... Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?"

I was initially startled, but the anticipation in his eyes was evident. He swiftly added, "Only if you want it to be a date of course" I could see the sincerity in his gaze. A soft smile tugged at my lips as I accepted his invitation, my voice steady with anticipation. "Yes."

The relief and happiness that washed over Lando's face at my acceptance were evident. His shoulders relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll go on a date with me?" he asked, a mix of surprise and joy in his tone. "Really?"

The vulnerability in Lando's voice hinted at the significance of my acceptance. He was eager to hear my confirmation once more, his eyes glimmering with hope. I smiled warmly, reassuring him, "Yes, I'll go on a date with you."

We bid each other good night, both feeling the exhilaration of the upcoming date. The way we acted mirrored that of teenagers experiencing their first date, a mix of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. As we exchanged a final glance, our connection felt like a magnetic pull, both eager for the moment to come. The goodbye lingered for a few moments, filled with electricity.

The evening of our date arrived, and my best friend was diligently working on styling my hair, while I focused on applying my makeup. She fussed over my locks, while I carefully applied concealer and mascara to enhance my eyes. My outfit hung on the closet's door, chosen for the evening. The weight of my excitement made my heart flutter in anticipation of the night ahead.

My best friend, brushing through my hair as she styled it, spoke up. "You know, Lando really went above and beyond for you, don't you think he deserves a chance?" she said, emphasizing his efforts.

There was a pause as I met her gaze in the mirror, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I set down my mascara and turned to face her, the weight of her words settling.

She looked at me, waiting for my response, her eyes filled with a mix of encouragement and genuine concern. The reminder of Lando's efforts weighed heavily on my thoughts. He had shown dedication and cared for me, but my past fears and apprehensions lingered, making it hard to fully let go.

I took a moment, considering her words. Inhaling deeply, I nodded, offering a soft smile of agreement. "Yeah, I know," I admitted, my voice a mix of vulnerability and hope. "But it's... it's hard to trust after everything."

I voiced my intentions, my eyes glimmering with determination. "I want to give him a chance," I declared, my resolve strengthened. "Not just a chance, but an opportunity to show me that he's worth trusting." My past pain weighed heavily on my heart, but the hope in my voice was undeniable.

Her squeal of happiness filled the room, echoing her encouragement. "Oh my god, y/n! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "You're doing the right thing, giving him a shot. He'll make you so happy!"

She grinned, her excitement infectious. "I can feel it in my bones, this is gonna be great. He's going to sweep you off your feet."

We concluded our primping, with my best friend leaving with a parting "keep me updated, and good luck!" The anticipation in my stomach intensified, a mix of excitement and nerves gripping me. I took another glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance one last time.

I was wearing a black off shoulder dress, that hugged my curves nicely. I paired it with the famous uncomfy YSL heels and matching purse. My hair was styled in a beautiful blow out flowing over my shoulders. I sighed one more time before grabbing my stuff.

The doorbell echoed through the room, signaling Lando's arrival with its gentle tone. My heart leaped in my chest, his presence just outside my door.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then opened the door. Lando stood there, his presence immediately filling the space, and warmth spread through my chest. He looked handsome, his well-groomed appearance evident, but it was his warm eyes and gentle smile that greeted me.

Lando stood before me, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in hand. His expression was one of awe, his words momentarily lost. He managed to compose himself and spoke, his voice filled with admiration. "You look absolutely stunning," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of me.

The flowers were a beautiful display of color, their delicate petals reflecting the soft light of the hallway. Lando held them out, offering them to me like a bouquet of promises. I extended my hand, taking them with a soft smile, his compliment making my cheeks flush.

We walked out together, arm in arm, the cold evening air washing over us. Lando guided me to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me inside as a gentleman. As we settled in, the city lights danced outside, casting a cozy ambiance in the car.

We arrived at the restaurant, a charming Italian bistro with soft lighting and a cozy ambiance. Lando got out, rushing to open my door, offering a hand to help me out with a soft smile. The scent of fresh herbs and garlic filled the air, a promise of a delicious meal to come.

We stepped inside, the warmth wrapping around us. The atmosphere was romantic, with soft music playing in the background. Lando guided me to a table by the windows, pulling out my chair before taking a seat himself. Candles flickered on the table, casting a soft glow over everything.

We settled into our seats at the table, the ambiance around us serene and inviting. The waiter approached, greeting us warmly and setting menus before us. The scent of fresh bread and delectable aromas wafted from the kitchen, fueling the anticipation for the meal ahead.

Lando spoke with confidence, knowing my preferences. "What do you want to get?" he asked, but before I could respond, he answered himself, "No, I know already. Let me guess... the carbonara." A smile tugged at my lips as he remembered my favorites so effortlessly. I replied, "You know it," a mix of affection and appreciation filling my voice. His attention to detail and memories of things I liked made my heart swell with warmth.

The night unfolded, filled with lively conversation and laughter. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in our connection, the sound of others around us fading into the background. It felt as if the world had narrowed down to just us, an intimate bubble filled with shared laughter, stolen glances, and shared stories.

As the night drew to a close, neither of us wanted it to end. Lando paid for the meal, and I thanked him with genuine gratitude. We decided to take a stroll, drawn to a nearby bench that offered a view of the water. As we settled onto the bench, the gentle moonlight illuminated the night, casting a silvery glow over the water's surface.

I broke the comfortable silence, my voice soft and sincere. "Lando?" I began, my words carrying heartfelt appreciation. "I really enjoyed today. Thank you," I expressed, my eyes glimmering with warmth as I looked at him.

Lando met my gaze, a soft smile playing at his lips. He spoke with sincerity, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, his eyes mirroring the appreciation in mine. "It means the world to me that you had a good time. I truly enjoyed every moment with you."

I addressed the elephant in the room, acknowledging the immense effort he'd put in. "You know, you really have gone above and beyond for me these past months," I said, my tone sincere.

It had been a challenge to regain my trust, and Lando's consistent gestures had played a significant role in rebuilding it. His eyes glimmered with a mix of vulnerability and hope, absorbing my words.

Lando's voice was quiet as he responded, his tone sincere. "I know I have, but every moment of it was worth it," he confessed, his emotions clear in his eyes.

"I wanted to show you that you could trust me, that I would go to any lengths to earn your trust," he added, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and earnestness.

I continued, my questions flowing out. "What about after we get back together? Would you still care about me like this" I inquired, my eyes searching his.

Lando's expression shifted, vulnerability and sincerity mixing in his gaze.

"After we get back together, I want to cherish every moment even more," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want to support you, care for you, and be there for you through anything. I want to keep building on the trust we have and make our relationship stronger than ever."

His sincere words found their way to my heart, a tenderness washing over me. The vulnerability in his expression, combined with his commitment to cherishing our relationship, stirred something within me.

I spoke up, my voice soft but filled with resolution. "I think," I began, "I'm ready to be yours again."

Lando stood up, his eyes wide with disbelief, his emotions overwhelming him. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the bench in a tight embrace.

As he spun us around in a whirlwind of joy, he spoke with heartfelt conviction, "I won't disappoint you ever again. I love you so much."

His hands remained on my waist, a tender touch that seemed to anchor me. I felt a surge of warmth and contentment as I replied with a giggle that turned into laughter, sharing in Lando's excitement.

"I love you too, Lan," I confessed, my eyes glimmering with affection

Lando's grip on my waist tightened as he pulled me into a passionate kiss, a fusion of his emotions and desires. The softness of the moment contrasted with the intensity of our feelings, the kiss sending a surge of electricity through my body. I melted into his embrace, returning the kiss.

As the kiss intensified into a make-out session, I reluctantly pulled away, the reminder of Lando's fame echoing in my mind. However, Lando was unfazed, his response quick and resolute.

He shrugged off the potential consequences, insisting, "Let them see. I've got my girl back, and that's all that matters." His smile was filled with a mixture of certainty and passion as he pulled me back, their lips meeting once more in a toe-curling kiss that seemed to defy any outside concerns.

The moon shone down, lighting up the night as Lando wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, and we walked back to his car. The air held a delicate sense of anticipation, and as we drove away, I nestled my head against Lando's shoulder, feeling safe and cherished.

Gratitude and affection swelled within me as I realized I had given Lando another chance, and that my heart had bloomed open once again. I smiled, my thoughts swirling with appreciation and love for the incredible journey we were about to embark on.

The end

[northboreas]

I cannot understate how clever and beautiful Penelope's response to wyfilwma is. In the original myth, Penelope literally isn't sure if the man before her is truly her husband, so she asks him to move a bed that is impossible to move. A fact about their relationship that only he could know. When he gets absolutely flabbergasted over this request, it's proof that it IS him.

In Epic there is only one change. Instead of Penelope being unsure, Odysseus is unsure of himself and feels like he would be unrecognizable to his wife. He keeps telling her over and over again, I am not the man you knew, and it's almost as though he's trying to convince himself, too. Like since he crossed every line he's killed all the gentleness in him, and he has to force himself to accept it. Penelope knows better, Penelope knows him. Instead of using their wedding bed as a way to prove it to herself, she proves it to him instead.

"See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over?

Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here"

Shes talking about their bed but she is also talking about their love, their history, everything that makes up their marriage. Its like shes asking him, if you truly are someone else- here's everything that we used to be, everything that we built together, throw it out. You're not the same, right? Then surely you can detach yourself from it all.

But he cant. he cant he cant he cant and she knows that. The shock and the outrage and the pain of being asked to do such a thing hits him with a full force and he talks of how he made the bed, what its meant to them, why he couldnt possibly move it away.

"Do you realize what you have asked me?

The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots"

To cut it from the roots would be to sever their love entirely, it cant exist without what came before and what came before was the two of them. He fears thats what she wants, a completely uproot of their life together. But the fact that he fears it, truly deeply cares like a sentimental bastard, the fact that he could never not be the man who loves her is what she's been trying to show him all along.

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

like my GOD. THIS LINE. He cannot be anything but her love because he is the only man who knows what they are to each other. She says it and that is final. Moving it is impossible because seperating the man he used to be from the man he is is impossible too. They are one in the same.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been, you're mine

Don't tell me you're not the same person

You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting"

She is not loving him by ignoring the trail of bodies in his wake and her love does not change the carnage-- in fact she is the reason for it, she knows this and she doesnt care. This is her husband now and always. And as long as bloodied hands will still hold her weaving ones he is the same exact man she's been waiting for.

It is such a beautiful message to leave your audience with. It is so perfect for Penelope as a character and the emotional weight this song has elevated my understanding of the odyssey and their relationship. Twenty years is so long, everything has changed, we have done unforgivable things to get home to each other-- because our home is each other. You are sharp and cruel and I am cunning and so so angry and we are both so tired but guess fucking what, I love you. No matter how long its been, youre mine.

[vickymura]

headcanon - cuddles with boyfriend!riki ♡

PAIRING ~ sleepybf!nrk x menacegf!reader

SUMMARY ~ your boyfriend riki never lets you be the big spoon when cuddling and probably never will.

GENRE ~ fluuffff, disgustingly cute, playful argument.

WORD COUNT ~ 984

ᯓ★ i'm gonna die lonely this is so cute is it so much to ask for

with an exaggerated sigh of tiredness, you launched yourself to the comfort of your’s and riki's shared bed, squirming into the warm material of the black duvet covering it. you made grabby hands at him as an invitation for him to join.

riki fondly rolled his eyes at your actions, rather theatrics. he pulled his shirt off first, leaving his torso exposed before he climbed onto the bed and flopped on his side, on his designated side of the bed. he patted the space next to him. “come here,” he mumbled, his eyes already closed.

you huffed at his mannerisms and blatant laziness of making an effort to move, but enjoyed his cuddles too much to not roll your way closer to him, giggling as you did so.

with practiced movements, you pulled the duvet to cover both of your bodies, essentially blocking out the rest of the world.

as soon as your body was next to his, riki’s arms were around you. he pulled you in so your body was flush against his, your back pressed against his chest. his face buried into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your skin once again as he settled down. 

he sighed deeply in contentment, completely relaxed now that you were with him again. “mine..”

you frowned at the sudden and disrespectfully forced spooning. you wriggled in place, tapping on his arms surrounding you in a manner undoubtedly annoying. “you never let me be the big spoon!”

riki smirked lazily as he held you tighter in place, basically molding your body to his. “and i’m not gonna,” he mumbled against your neck, his words slightly muffled. “i like holding you like this.. you’re so small..”

“rikiii..” you whined out his name quietly, yet in a pitch high enough to deliberately irritate him. you squirmed in place, attempting to turn around and be the one spooning him instead.

riki let out an amused scoff as you tried to push against him, your small hands attempting and failing to flip yourself over. “nuh-uh,” his arms were like iron as he held you against him, refusing to let you even budge. “stay..”

“this is so unfair..” you dramatized in a way that might make one believe it was the end of the world. you gave up trying to turn around, momentarily, deciding to dig your face into the pillow below your head, angrily grumbling into it.

his smirk turned into a full on grin as he listened to your muttered complaints.. riki found it so adorable, the way you had tried to push yourself over but ultimately failed— you just weren’t strong enough. 

you were just so adorable. he pulled you even closer to him, arms wrapped fully around your middle and chest against your back. he nuzzled his face against your hair, eyes closing again. “cutie..”

his little compliment only managed to irk you. here you were, trying to hold your boyfriend and lull him to sleep, and he was calling you cute? “just let me spoon you, ki!” you whined out, your attempts to sound intimidating only coming across as a child denied candy to him.

“no.” one of his legs slipped in between yours, pushing them apart as he tangled with them. “no spooning me.”

“well, why not?” you questioned, with a small pout.

“cause i’m holding you instead..” riki mumbled, rubbing his nose against your ear. “and i’m not letting you go..” one of his hands came to rest on your hip, his fingers lightly massaging your skin. “stay still.. and go to sleep..”

with a petulant ‘hmph!’, you began wriggling in place and trying to turn over yet again, his nonchalant replies and behavior rattling you to the point of utter stubbornness. “but i wanna hold you sometimes too..” you sulked and pouted at him, hoping he’d take pity and give in.

“baby.. please..” riki mumbled against your neck. “just give up and let me hold you..” he pulled you impossibly closer, his chest now completely pressed up against your back. you could feel his heartbeat against you— along with that damn growing grin against your skin. “we both know i’m stronger than you anyways..”

you gasped, almost offended by his statement. “not true! i’m just as strong, if not stronger!” you defended, your words a clear lie even to an idiot.

“it makes me feel small when you spoon me, i wanna be the one holding you for once, y’know..” you continued in a dramatically mellow voice, before he could get back at you for your obvious lie earlier.

another smirk formed on his lips, your tantrum continuing to show your defeat. “don’t care.” riki’s fingers trailed over your hip, occasionally stopping just to caress the curved skin. “besides.. i'm supposed to be the one protecting you..”

“no fair, i can protect you too.. i got my guns.” you asserted, flexing your non-existent biceps and throwing nearly laughable punches in the air as a display of your strength.

“i know you can.. my strong baby,” he teasingly mumbled, the smirk evident in his voice. “but i think i can protect you better..” he nuzzled his face against your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “i'm stronger and there’s no changing that.. now go to sleep.. please.. i don't wanna listen to you complain anymore..” he continued, bringing the hand not on your hip to stroke your hair, knowing it always lulled you to sleep. a few seconds went by, and you were as silent and still as a rock.

"baby?" riki frowned at your sudden lack of irritating (and endearing) him, and peaked over your shoulder. he was met with the sight of you fast asleep.

he smiled like an idiot and shook his head fondly, admiring your rarely peaceful form for a good few minutes before giving into exhaustion himself, holding you tight in his arms all night long.

[mcrdvcks]

fantasize

chapter summary: You have a crush on Logan, but you're not sure he likes you back. Why would he? You're not his type. At least that's what you thought.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: here was the request

so i took a tad bit of creative freedom since i read a book on my kindle (that i got for christmas, one of the only good things about that day). it's a holiday romance/comedy book called 'good elf gone wrong' that you can read if you have kindle unlimited

anyways i took some inspiration from that book and applied it here, so i hope you enjoy it! and thank y'all for 900 followers!

warnings/tags: implied curvy!reader, slight angst, fluff, kinda protective!logan

The Danger Room was quieter than usual, with most of the team taking the rare free evening to relax or catch up on personal projects. Logan had been in there for a while, his gruff voice occasionally echoing out as he muttered to himself between sessions. The clang of metal on metal and the occasional snarl punctuated the stillness, but it wasn’t long before he stepped out, towel slung over his shoulder and a half-empty bottle of water in hand.

You were walking down the hall, carrying a box of supplies Hank had asked you to grab from the storage room. The box wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward, making it hard to see where you were going. You nearly bumped into Logan as he came around the corner.

“Whoa, easy there,” he said, steadying the box with one hand before it could topple.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, shifting it to your hip to get a better grip. “Hank needed these for his lab. Guess I should’ve watched where I was going.”

Logan smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re always doin’ stuff for people, huh? Gotta learn to say no once in a while.”

“It’s fine,” you replied quickly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm,” Logan said, his tone somewhere between a grunt and genuine amusement. He stepped back to let you pass. “Well, don’t let McCoy bury ya in work. You’ve got your own stuff to handle too, y’know.”

You smiled faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Logan watched as you disappeared around the corner, his brow furrowing slightly before he shook his head and headed off toward the kitchen. He wasn’t one to meddle in other people’s lives, but something about you always made him pay a little more attention.

---

“Hey, would you mind making 50 copies of this? I need it for my class in 2 hours but I have a meeting with the Professor.” Jean said, holding a single piece of paper, some activity for her class.

Even though you were cleaning the kitchen because Scott asked you to, and you had to fix the sprinkler system since Ororo couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it, you obliged. “Yeah, sure!” you replied, taking off your gloves you were using to clean to grab the paper from Jean to put in your small tote for later.

It was later in the evening when you finally got a moment to yourself. The mansion had settled into its usual rhythm of quiet chaos, and you found yourself in the rec room, curled up on one of the oversized chairs with a book. The soft hum of conversation and distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen made the space feel alive but not overwhelming.

Logan walked in, towel around his neck and hair damp from a shower. He gave you a quick nod before heading to the fridge to grab a beer. As he twisted off the cap, he turned to you, leaning back against the counter.

“You’re always workin’, doll. Don’t you ever sit down and let someone else handle it?”

You looked up from your book, smiling faintly. “I’m sitting now, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his beer before sauntering over to the chair opposite you. “Guess that counts. What’re you readin’?”

You held up the book to show the cover. “Just something light. Needed a break.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but not unkind. “You? Takin’ a break? That’s a first.”

“It happens,” you teased, marking your page and setting the book down on the armrest. “What about you? You’re always either in the Danger Room or off somewhere on your bike.”

“Gotta keep busy,” he said with a shrug. “Helps keep my head straight.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken weight behind his words. Logan wasn’t one to open up easily, but you’d learned to read between the lines.

“Fair enough. I guess we’re both bad at just sitting still,” you said.

He smirked. “Yeah, but at least I don’t let people walk all over me while I’m at it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Here we go.”

“I’m just sayin’, sweetheart. You’ve got a good heart, but it’s okay to say no once in a while.” His tone was softer this time, less teasing and more genuine.

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your book. “I don’t mind helping. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything else pressing to do.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked at you. “That’s not the point. You deserve time for yourself, too. Don’t let these jokers make you forget that.”

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest at his concern. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better,” he said, leaning back again and taking another sip of his beer. “‘Cause if I catch you runnin’ yourself ragged again, I might just have to step in.”

“Oh, really? And what would that look like?” you asked, amused.

“Let’s just say it’d involve you sittin’ in that chair for more than five minutes without someone askin’ you to fix somethin’.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Alright, deal. But only if you promise to do the same.”

He raised his beer in a mock toast. “Deal, doll.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the noise of the mansion fading into the background. Logan’s presence was steady, grounding in a way you hadn’t quite expected when you first met him. It wasn’t hard to see why you’d grown to like him so much—even if he didn’t realize it.

As you picked up your book again, you caught him watching you out of the corner of your eye. When your eyes met, he just smirked and shook his head, muttering something under his breath before finishing his beer and heading out. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, the moment lingering long after he was gone.

---

You and Ororo were making dinner, her stirring food on the stove while you cut up chicken at the counter. The kitchen smelled warm and inviting, the quiet hum of activity making it a relaxing space to chat.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Logan lately,” Ororo said, her tone light but curious.

You paused mid-slice, glancing at her with a small smile. “He’s been around, yeah. We just… talk sometimes.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, stirring the pot without looking at you. “And you don’t think that means something?”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “No, Ro. Logan talks to everyone—well, kind of. It’s not like I’m special or anything.”

She turned to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Because the way he looks at you sometimes…”

“What way?” you asked, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Ororo set down her spoon and crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter. “Like you’re the only person in the room. Like he actually wants to be around you—which, let’s be honest, is rare for Logan.”

You snorted, trying to brush off the comment. “He’s just… nice to me, that’s all. He probably feels sorry for me because I’m always running around doing things for everyone.”

“Nice? Logan?” Ororo gave you a pointed look. “That man growls at people for breathing wrong. He’s not just ‘nice.’”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Could she be right? You’d always thought Logan’s kindness was just him looking out for you the way he did for everyone on the team, even if it seemed a little… different sometimes.

“Even if you’re right,” you said finally, “I don’t think he thinks about me like that. I’m not exactly his type.”

Ororo frowned, clearly unimpressed. “And what makes you think you’re not his type?”

You gestured to yourself vaguely. “Come on, ‘Ro. He’s this tough, no-nonsense guy, and I’m—”

“Amazing,” Ororo interrupted firmly. “You’re amazing. And if Logan doesn’t see that, then he’s a fool. But from where I’m standing, it seems like he does.”

You sighed, setting down the knife and leaning your elbows on the counter. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t want to make things awkward, you know? If I say something and I’m wrong, it could mess everything up.”

Ororo placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I get it. But sometimes, you’ve got to take a leap of faith. You deserve to be happy, and if Logan makes you happy, it’s worth the risk.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Logan had wandered into the hall just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he listened.

“I’ll think about it,” you said softly, returning to the chicken.

“You do that,” Ororo said with a knowing smile, turning back to the stove.

Logan cleared his throat as he stepped into the kitchen, startling both of you. “Smells good in here.”

“Oh!” You nearly dropped the knife, your heart racing. “Hey, Logan. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya,” he said, his tone casual. His eyes lingered on you for a moment before flicking to Ororo. “You got room for one more?”

Ororo smirked, glancing between you and Logan. “Always. But only if you’re willing to set the table.”

Logan chuckled. “Fair enough.” He grabbed some plates from the cupboard, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

You tried to focus on the chicken, but your hands felt clumsier than usual under his gaze. Ororo shot you a sly look before turning her attention back to dinner, leaving you and Logan to fall into an easy, if slightly charged, silence.

---

Logan, for the first time in a long time, was clueless about what to do. He almost felt like a teenager, walking around with a secret—perhaps not-so-secret—crush.

To make matters worse, in the following days when he thought he had gathered himself to tell you how he felt, you flashed him a smile and all his previous thoughts went out the window. Logan found himself retreating to the Danger Room more often, grumbling under his breath about how he wasn’t built for this kind of thing.

One evening, after a particularly long day of running errands and fixing half the mansion’s quirks, you were in the rec room folding towels that had piled up in the laundry. Logan walked in, pausing in the doorway when he saw you. He frowned, his grip tightening around the beer in his hand.

“You’re kiddin’ me. Again?”

You looked up, startled. “What?”

“That,” he said, gesturing to the stack of towels. “You’re always doin’ somethin’ for everyone else.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, shrugging. “It needed to get done.”

Logan let out a low growl of frustration and set his beer down on the coffee table. He crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed the towel you were folding out of your hands, tossing it onto the pile. “Enough.”

“Logan, what are you doing?” you asked, startled.

“Savin’ you from yourself,” he replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “Sit.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. “What?”

“I said sit, doll,” he repeated, pointing to the couch. “You’re takin’ a break whether you like it or not.”

Reluctantly, you sank onto the couch, watching as he grabbed a towel and started folding it himself. “You don’t have to do that,” you said.

“Yeah, well, neither do you,” he shot back, not looking at you.

You crossed your arms, feeling both touched and mildly annoyed. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I like helping.”

“You like helpin’ so much you forget to take care of yourself,” he muttered, finishing one towel and moving onto the next.

“That’s not true,” you protested.

Logan finally looked at you, his hazel eyes piercing. “Yeah, it is. You’re runnin’ yourself into the ground, sweetheart. And for what? So McCoy doesn’t have to walk ten feet to grab his own damn supplies?”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s just… easier to say yes than to make a fuss,” you admitted.

“Easier for them,” he countered. “Not for you.”

You sighed, sinking further into the couch. “Why do you care so much?”

Logan’s hands stilled, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he set the towel down and turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable. “Because I like you, that’s why.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “I like you. And it drives me nuts watchin’ you run yourself ragged for people who don’t appreciate it.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. “Logan…”

“Look, I ain’t good at this kinda thing,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “But I know what I feel. And what I feel is that you deserve better than this.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, a mix of disbelief and something else—hope. “I didn’t think… I mean, I thought you just saw me as some pushover,” you admitted.

He snorted. “A pushover? Nah. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. But that doesn’t mean you gotta carry everyone else’s weight all the time.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. Logan took a step closer, crouching down in front of you so you were eye level. “You don’t gotta say anything, doll. Just… promise me you’ll start puttin’ yourself first for once.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

He gave you a small smile, one that made your heart flutter. “Good.”

Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Logan froze, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you. “What was that for?”

You shrugged, feeling bold for the first time. “For caring.”

A slow grin spread across his face, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he kissed you—gentle at first, then deeper, more sure. When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless.

“That… was overdue,” he said, his voice low and a little rough.

You laughed softly. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

Logan smirked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess I’ll have to stick around more. Make sure you’re takin’ those breaks.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” you teased.

“Part of it,” he said with a wink. “The other part… well, we’ll figure it out.”

And for once, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you deserved to be taken care of too.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Knight in papaya armor - Lando x F. reader

Summary: Lando gets a late-night drunk text from y/n who seems to be intoxicated and in a weird place. Even when they've broken up he will search the earth to save her.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mention of drugs, and roofies.

Word Count: 2.3K

Notes: I have something with exes, sorry not sorry.

···

When Lando got your text at 2 am he knew you were either in trouble or wasted. You had only texted him a couple of times after the breakup. The first one was a drunk voicemail telling him how much he had hurt you, and the other was when you had been locked out of your apartment in the middle of the night, no locksmith was available and he still had a key. But this had been months ago.

He was playing with Max off-stream. It was Christmas break, and he needed a detox from social media. When your message reached him, and as soon as Mary gave him the location, he was on his way there.

As he drove through one of the shipyard warehouses, his blood rushed just thinking about you alone there. As much as Monaco was a safe country, there were some places you wouldn't like to find yourself alone as a young female.

He parked his car next to some high-end cars and walked with his hood up towards the pined place.

He got to a semy-hidden entrance where a suited man stood blocking the door, looking at his phone.

"Invite code?" The man spoke without even looking at him.

"I don't think I need one" He rarely face-carded his way into places but knew there was no other way he could make it inside.

The guard looked up from his phone and took a close look at him, he was about to dismiss him when a drunk guy inside yelled his name.

"Lando? Lando Norris?" The drunken guy approached the entrance.

"Yeah" he simply answered.

"Mate, come on in" The drunken guy tapped the guard on his shoulder, and he moved to the side allowing the driver in.

"What can I get you?" The blond guy offered Lando a glass of champagne as soon as he was inside, the driver took it but had no intention of drinking it, he just needed to find you and get you the hell out of there.

"Thanks, I'm looking for a friend"

"I haven't seen any of the other drivers here" From the way he was dragging his words, Lando hoped his drunken state would make it easy to ditch him as soon as he had found you, allowing you two to escape the dark place.

As his new "fridend" kept talking, he looked around, a bunch of nepo babies, sketchy guys, and mostly underage girls in revealing outfits swamped the place. He could feel his heart rate rise just looking at the way most of the guys were behaving towards the drunken girls, and as he imagined you being treated the same, made his blood boiled.

"Sorry mate, the restroom?" He asked the blond guy.

"That way"

"Thanks" he patted him in a friendly way and walked towards the spot the guy had signaled.

When he was out of sight, he walked the place looking for you, trying to hide his identity. He was losing his patience by the second as he looked at the amount of alcohol and drugs being passed around.

He started looking for a red dress, and he could finally breathe when he found you. The moment he caught a guy's arm wrapped around your waist and saw him talking to your ear, he saw red. Without a second thought, he made a beeline towards you not caring anymore about pushing people to the side and being recognized, he just needed to get you out of that place, fast.

"Y/n" he yelled as he was arm's distance from you. The confused look on your face as soon as you saw him pained him a little. Usually, your eyes lit up when you saw him, but not this time.

"Lan?"

The guy next to you turned to look at Lando, annoyed.

"I need to talk to you" Lando took you by the arm and tried to pull you towards the exit but the dark-haired guy grabbed your hand before you two could walk away.

"Excuse me, she's busy"

"This will be quick" Lando tried to sound as friendly as possible.

"Don't think so, mate" The dark-haired guy pulled your hand harshly.

"Don't do that" Lando spoke menacingly.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Without a second thought, Lando punched the guy hard in the face making him lose his balance, his drunken state making it easy for him to fall and difficult to stand back up. He knew now, more than ever he needed to get the hell out of there. He grabbed your hand and pulled you fast toward the exit. Thankfully the people around you were too out of it to catch what had just happened.

You stumbled trying to keep up with him, but the heels and the amount of alcohol in your system complicated the task. You reached the entrance, the big guy in the suit was about to stop you but Lando swiftly shouldered him out of the way. He knew he had to run fast to his car so he pulled you over his shoulder and rushed to his car as you fought hitting his back and yelling for him to put you down.

He opened the passenger door, throwing you in as carefully as he could, and rushed to the driver's side, spinning his wheels leaving the bodyguards behind.

He reduced the speed once he was in the safety of the Monegasque streets.

"What the fuck?" You yelled annoyed, but he just kept driving silently, his knuckles white from how hard he was grabbing the steering wheel, breathing deeply, trying to ease his rushing heart.

"Lando, what the hell?"

Still no answer from the driver.

He got to your place and parked in the familiar spot.

You stood in the car in silence for a couple of minutes, the look on his face calmer now, but you knew him very well, it was one of those tense moments when you would just sit there silently waiting for someone to finally break the silence.

"Let's go" He opened the door and walked to the passenger side to open yours.

You stepped out the car, the look on his face softer now.

He touched your lower back and led you towards the elevator. You expected him to walk you there and return to his car, but he stepped in and pressed your floor.

You rode the elevator in complete silence, the alcohol in your system had gone down a bit, allowing you to stand up without any aid.

He walked you to your door, and you searched your bag for your key.

"Shit" you softly cursed under your breath.

A breathy laugh left his body as he searched his pants, took out a couple keys, and opened your door.

Yes, you had forgotten to get the keys back that last time he had helped you, or more like he had managed to avoid giving them back, just in case.

You stumbled in kicking your shoes off, and he did the same, remembering the no-shoes rule in your apartment.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He finally spoke.

You sat on the couch, confused, what the hell was he doing there? how the fuck he had found you?

"What are you doing here?" you tried to sound annoyed, you weren't sure why you were mad at him but knew you should be.

"You messaged me"

"What?" You took your phone and looked at the drunken texts. "Ugh"

"I'll take that as a a thank you"

"What should I thank you for? I was having fun at a party and you punched your way there"

"Actually, getting inside was the easy part" he joked, standing before you. He stared at you, assessing your estate, worried you had been drugged or something. From the way everyone was behaving at the party, he wouldn't find it weird the asshole talking to you had tried to spiked your drink.

"You can stop staring" You said trying to get his eyes off you. You had broken up six months ago but he still made your heart rush.

"Just making sure you're ok"

"No need, I'm perf-" A gag cut your speech short. "Fuck" you stood up and rushed to the toilet.

He walked behind you. You slammed the bathroom door in his face, but he stood outside as he heard you puke your guts out.

"I'm fine," you yelled behind the door. He smiled softly at your stubbornness; it was a sign you were okay, well, as much as you could be. He walked to the kitchen, giving you some privacy as he turned on the coffee machine.

You exited the bathroom a bit more sober now, your face damp from the water you had splashed over it trying to ease the dizziness and the minty taste of the toothpaste trying to cover the shameful puke aftertaste.

"Here" he offered a cup of coffee.

"Thanks" You took it and walked back to the couch.

"How did you find me?" you asked before taking a sip from the warm liquid, wincing at the bitter taste of the mint and coffee mix.

"Mary"

"She gave you my location?" Mary had spent the last six months cursing Lando's name.

"As much as she hates me she was worried about you too"

"Oh shit" That meant this was just the first time you were going to be scolded about tonight and Mary's version was definitely going to be worse.

"That's right, you scared us both, young lady"

"Don't call me that, i'm older than you two"

"Just one year, and it sure doesn't seem like it from the way you behaved tonight"

You rolled your eyes at his response and took another sip from the mug. Now that you were more conscious he knew it was time to lecture you, not that he never did stupid things, but this had actually been dangerous.

"Seriously, y/n" he sat on the coffee table in front of you, his hands on your knees sending electric waves through your body. "You can't do that again, please"

"Do what?" you tried to fight him.

"This, going to those places alone! do you know what could've happened?"

"It was just a party, I'm not a teenager, and I don't know why would you care anymore"

"I will always care about you, always"

"What?"

"Y/n, I love you" He softly said as his fingers caressed your knees under the satin fabric.

Your mind rushed, trying to remember the last six months, searching for the reason you had broken up and to remain apart. But there wasn't a specific reason, it had been a weird mix of life pulling you apart, his season being chaotic with the championship pressure, and your last year of school and the internship taking every minute of your time, making it impossible to support him like he wanted, making you feel guilty and making him feel alone and like a burden. He was the one who had offered to take a break, not because he didn't love you, on the contrary, he saw how you were trying to rip yourself into tiny pieces to fit school, work, and your love life, but it was too much, your sleeping and eating habits a mess trying to keep up with everything.

It pained him seeing you so worn out, and he felt if he pulled himself out of the equation, you might have time to take care of yourself, but of course, you weren't ok with it, your stubborness always trying to keep up with everything.

The day you broke up, you were running on 2 hours of sleep and two Redbull cans, the lack of food and tiredness blew everything out of proportion.

"If you don't want to be with me anymore, just say it, there's no need to make up all these dumb excuses!"

"Baby, listen to me"

"No! Just admit it, Lando, you don't want to be with me anymore!"

"Y/n, please listen to me" He tried to explain himself but you just grabbed your suitcase and rushed out of the apartment.

He tried calling you for days, but you were too burned out to listen to him, crying yourself to sleep every night for the next couple of weeks until Mary cornered you in some kind of intervention and kicked some sense into you. Of course, you had only told her your side of the story making her hate his guts for breaking her best friend's heart.

You cringed at the memory, feeling guilty as it downed on you he was just looking after you.

You looked down at the mug between your hands.

"Baby" Lando's hands took your face when he noticed a tear falling down your cheek.

"I'm sorry" you sobbed.

"There's nothing to be sorry" He sat by your side, hugging you tightly against him. "Baby, shhh, it's ok"

"No its not, I ruined it"

"No you didn't"

"I did, you were just trying to take care of me"

"I still do, I'll always will"

"How can you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, we were too tired and too busy to think things straight"

"You're too nice, I don't deserve you"

"No one really does"

You pushed yourself away to stare at him. A cheeky smile on his face.

"I'm kidding" He approached you and tried to kiss you but you turned away.

"Wait, I puked" you tried to push him away but he held you tighter against him.

"I don't give. shit" He turned your face and kissed your lips softly.

"I'm sorry" You said when he pulled back.

"Stop apologizing" he kissed you harshly now.

"But I really am. I wasn't thinking straight and I made Mary hate you"

"We both were too into our own stuff, and I'm pretty sure she didn't quite like me in the first place, so no damage done there"

"Are we..?"

"Do you want to give it another try?" His eyes glinted from excitement.

"Do you want to?"

"Of course, but you’re the one telling Mary we’re back.

“Chicken”

“She might actually kill me if I tell her”

________________________________________________

Thanks so much for all your love, feedback is greatly appreciated and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys

[disparatemind]

Sorry for the long delay, a family member passed last year right after Thanksgiving and then two weeks ago another family member passed, so writing this story especially was too difficult until recently

Link to pinned post with all parts here

Part 12

All was quiet in the cafe for a bit, and I made my rounds and conversed with several patrons while refilling cups and plates. The soul sitting with Wade still eyed me warily when I walked by, but showed no other sign of aggression towards me. Wade was doing all the talking, and the soul looked slightly annoyed at their predicament. I hid a smile and went back to the counter, putting together the ingredients for a double batch of cinnamon rolls.

The counter took up almost an entire side of the cafe, with a large stove and cabinets containing every bowl, pan, cup, and teapot I could ever need for baking and serving coffee and tea. Under one of the counters was a dishwasher that I simply loaded dishes into without washing, and once they were clean they appeared back in their respective cupboards. Not having to worry about washing dishes was a definite plus, as it gave me more time to focus on my patrons, and the refrigerator and pantry where the ingredients were kept were never empty. The finished pastries and goodies I kept in a couple of display cases and a large glass-fronted pantry, which I refilled and took from as I made batches of food and filled orders. 

I had originally worked from a recipe book when I first started at the cafe, but now I had made them for so long that I had all the measurements and steps memorized. The whole process of baking had been soothing to me in life, and it had been a pinnacle of coping and healing during my time here. The soothing repetition of something I was achingly familiar with as well as the comfort both given and received by the patrons and myself, had given me a halting way forward from the precipice I’d found myself at by that eerie shoreline.

~*~

Shaking my head of the unpleasant thoughts yet again, I heard my name called by a voice I easily recognized and went over to Couch. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you doing ok?”

The bluntness of the question took me back a bit, and it took me a moment to answer. “... kind of?”

A soft chuckle left him but his eyes held compassion. “You do know I'm happy to lend an ear the same as you've done for me all these years.”

When I smiled at him, I felt the familiar appreciation… and reservation. “I know, and I really do appreciate it. But there's only so much I can say while I'm working here.”

“... without breaking down completely” always went unsaid, but I was pretty sure Couch could see it on my face. He nodded and asked if he smelled cinnamon, and the sudden hope in his eyes had me laughing. “Yes, I'm making cinnamon rolls. But you know they take a while.”

The faintest of grimaces bent the corners of his eyes. “I'm in no rush,” he said dryly.

I resisted the urge to smack myself and went back to the counter. I'd barely gotten there, however, when another of my non-speaking patrons caught my attention.

“Excuse me, Rose?”

I immediately went over and smiled. “How can I help you?” I signed.

“I'm sorry to bother you but…” The soul hesitated and their eyes flicked towards the door to Life. “... do you know if there's a way to go back through that door?”

One of my least favorite questions.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hands and began to sign.

You run a café on the edge of life and death. Souls who have been departed from their bodies temporarily, such as in comas or near-death experiences, can relax in your quaint cafe for as long as they need before they can either return to their bodies or begin their journey to the afterlife.