#Relaxing and stylish suite

[tsaseo]

Deluxe Double Room

[amirasainz]

So I read a lot of stories similar to my requests. But I just think you are the best author on tumblr, so I wanna ask you😅☺️

Secret marriage with Oscar. They married really young and the drivers reaction. She is always at the races, but just in the shadows. The only one that knows is Charles, because he is Oscars "dad" 😭😍

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

Secret marriage

The F1 paddock buzzed with the usual energy and tension. The race weekend was in full swing, and every driver, mechanic, and team member was focused on the task ahead. It was Friday afternoon, and most of the drivers had just finished media sessions and were now lounging around in the driver's hospitality suite, swapping stories and strategies. Oscar was among them, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed expression.

Nearby, Lando noticed a familiar face in the crowd. A woman, sleek and stylish, with a British Vogue ID around her neck, had been lingering around Oscar’s side of the paddock all day, chatting with him occasionally before darting off to interview other drivers. Lando squinted, intrigued.

“Oi, Oscar,” Lando called out, leaning back in his seat. “Who's that Vogue chick? She’s been following you around like a shadow.”

Oscar glanced up from his phone, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Who, Y/N? She’s just here for work. We know each other pretty well.”

George, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow. “Pretty well? Mate, you guys looked like you were practically whispering sweet nothings before she left the garage.”

Oscar shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. “Maybe we were.”

Lando sat up, fully interested now. “Wait… what? Are you and Miss Vogue dating?”

Oscar chuckled, keeping his cool. “Not exactly.”

Pierre, catching onto the conversation, leaned forward. “Come on, spill the beans! There’s definitely something going on.”

Oscar finally sighed, looking up at his friends with an amused smirk. “Well… actually, Y/N and I… we’re married.”

The room fell silent.

George blinked. “You’re what?”

“Married,” Oscar repeated, his tone casual as ever. “Been married since we turned eighteen, actually.”

The explosion was immediate. Lando gasped, practically jumping out of his seat, while Pierre clapped a hand over his mouth in shock.

“No way!” Lando exclaimed. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Oscar nodded, barely reacting to the chaos unfolding around him. “Yep. Just never made a big deal out of it.”

“You’re telling me,” George said, his voice high-pitched with disbelief, “that you’ve been secretly married for… what? Three years now?”

“Three and a half, actually,” Oscar replied calmly, clearly enjoying their reactions. “We wanted to keep it private. Just worked out that way.”

Pierre looked like he was about to faint. “Mate, do you realize we never even knew you had a girlfriend, let alone a wife?”

Oscar gave a little shrug. “Guess I’m good at keeping secrets.”

George put his hands on his head. “I thought I was the reserved one around here! But this? Oscar, this is next level. How did we never catch on?”

Oscar chuckled, glancing over at Y/N, who was currently chatting with a journalist a few feet away. “She’s at most of the races. Just… behind the scenes.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Pierre muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

Just then, Charles strolled into the room, looking curious as he caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s everyone freaking out about?”

Lando grinned, looking ready to explode with excitement. “Charles, you’re not gonna believe this. Oscar’s married! Secretly married, since he was eighteen.”

Charles’s reaction was far more subdued. He simply nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “Ah, yes. I know about Y/N.”

The room went silent again as every driver turned to gape at Charles.

“You knew?” George demanded, wide-eyed.

Charles gave them a smug shrug. “Of course. I’ve known for ages. I’m Oscar’s ‘dad,’ remember?” He winked, referencing the Monaco joke that had become a running gag between them. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Oscar snorted, smirking over at Charles. “Guess you can’t keep secrets from your ‘Monaco dad.’”

Lando threw his hands up in the air. “You’re all insane! Charles knows, Oscar’s been married for years, and we’ve all been left out!”

Pierre shook his head, still processing. “Wait, how did you find out, Charles?”

Charles leaned back, crossing his arms with a grin. “Oscar told me after our Monaco podium. Said he needed someone to know in case he ever needed advice. Before we went partying, I met Y/N and let me tell you, she is a lovely girl. And, you know, as his ‘father’ in the paddock, it was only a matter of time.” He gestured grandly, making everyone laugh.

George narrowed his eyes playfully. “So all this time, we could’ve been calling him ‘married man Oscar’ instead of ‘little Oscar’?”

Oscar rolled his eyes, amused. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly a talking point. We wanted to keep things between us. Y/N’s work with Vogue keeps her busy and traveling too, so it worked out.”

Oscar turned his head towards Y/N, calling out softly with his arm outstretched. " Love, came here for a second, please."

Y/N approached just then, noticing the group staring at her with a mix of shock and admiration. “Is everything okay?”

Pierre looked at her, still in awe. “So… you two are really married?”

She glanced at Oscar with a smile, nodding. “Surprise?”

Lando leaned in, grinning like a kid at Christmas. “How have you kept this a secret all this time? You must have some insane spy-level skills.”

Y/N laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. We just wanted to enjoy it without all the attention.”

“Respect,” George said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “You two might be the most low-key power couple I’ve ever seen.”

Charles looked proud, wrapping an arm around Oscar’s shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, shoving Charles off. “Alright, alright, let’s not make a big thing out of it.”

Lando looked at Oscar, eyes still gleaming. “Mate, this is a big thing! You’ve been living like some kind of undercover superhero. ‘Married Piastri’ is a whole new level of cool.”

Pierre nodded eagerly. “Right? It’s like finding out Clark Kent was Superman all along.”

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying his friends’ reactions. “Well, maybe now that you guys know, I’ll bring her around a bit more.”

Lando lit up. “Please! And maybe you can finally get that double date with George and Carmen going!”

George chuckled. “Right, because that’s exactly what we need. A bunch of drivers swapping marriage advice.”

Pierre smirked, nudging Oscar. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know. Now everyone’s gonna ask why we’re not secretly married.”

Oscar smirked back. “Hey, don’t blame me. You all had just as much chance to find out as Charles.”

As the group laughed, Y/N leaned into Oscar’s side, whispering, “Well, I guess the secret’s out.”

Oscar grinned, wrapping an arm around her. “Guess so. But I don’t mind. Not if it means we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Now, can we get back to racing, or are you going to give us a honeymoon slideshow too?”

The group burst into laughter, and Oscar looked around, more comfortable than ever. His secret was out, but he couldn’t be happier to finally share it with his friends.

[hellotailor]

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

[thecreatormj]

Ember Woods Apartments [50x40]

(Public: 08/03/2024)

Perfect for families and individuals alike, offering a variety of living spaces to suit different needs.

Unit Types

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One cozy studio unit: Ideal for singles or couples, this unit offers a compact yet comfortable living area with all the necessary amenities.

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Fully equipped gym: Residents can stay fit and healthy with access to a state of the art fitness center.

Inviting pool: The pool area is perfect for relaxation and recreation, providing a refreshing escape on hot days.

Relaxing hot tub: Unwind in the hot tub, a perfect spot for relaxation after a long day.

Convenient grill area: The outdoor grill area is great for hosting barbecues and gatherings with family and friends.

Ideal for comfortable and convenient living, offering a range of amenities and living spaces designed to meet the diverse needs of its residents.

Location:

 San Sequoia🌆

Lot Type & Size: 

Residential Rental🏢 - 50x40

Packs Used:

For Rent ️🔑

Download

[celebtf]

TAYLOR’S CHRISTMAS SWAP

The agency’s annual Christmas event was in full swing, a dazzling spectacle of lights, laughter, and luxury. Taylor Zakhar Perez was the evening’s center of attention, effortlessly charming everyone with his megawatt smile and confident air. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit, he moved through the crowd like a star in his element.

Near the corner of the room, a Santa sat in an oversized red chair, surrounded by festive decorations and a line of children. This Santa, with his bushy white beard, rosy cheeks, and jiggling belly, seemed straight out of a classic Christmas card. But Taylor saw none of the magic.

“Seriously?” Taylor sneered to his friend. “Who hired that guy? Did he walk in off the street? Look at him—he’s a walking cliché. The beard’s faker than my last co-star’s Botox, and that belly? He’s probably been chugging eggnog since Halloween.”

His friend chuckled nervously. “Come on, Taylor, it’s just for the kids.”

“Yeah, but even kids deserve better acting. Watch this.” Taylor sauntered over, his grin twisting into something smug.

“Hey, Santa,” he said loudly, drawing the attention of nearby partygoers. “Tell me—do you practice that jolly laugh in front of a mirror, or does it come naturally with all the cookies you shove down your throat?”

Santa looked up, his icy blue eyes meeting Taylor’s. He said nothing, but his gaze held an unnerving intensity.

Unfazed, Taylor kept going. “And the beard? Is it glued on, or do you just wake up like that after a long nap? Honestly, I’ve seen mall Santas with better game.”

The room grew quiet as more people turned to watch. Santa stood slowly, his presence towering despite his bulk.

“You think this is a joke, young man?” Santa’s voice was deep and resonant, carrying a weight that made Taylor falter for a split second.

“Relax, old man,” Taylor said with a smirk. “I’m just giving you some pointers. Maybe next year, you can step it up.”

Santa’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps it’s time you learned the weight of the role you so lightly mock.”

Before Taylor could respond, Santa snapped his fingers.

The world around them froze. Conversations stopped mid-word, laughter hung suspended in the air, and even the twinkling lights seemed to pause.

“What the—” Taylor began, but Santa snapped his fingers again.

A strange heat surged through Taylor’s body, starting at his chest and radiating outward. He clutched his stomach as a strange pressure built inside him.

“What’s happening?!” he gasped.

His thick black hair turned ashen gray, the strands lengthening and curling wildly. His smooth, youthful face began to wrinkle, deep crow’s feet etching themselves around his eyes. He reached up in horror as a thick, snow-white beard erupted from his chin, growing longer and fuller with each passing second.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified. His taut, sculpted abs softened, then ballooned outward into a massive, round belly that jiggled with every panicked breath. His toned thighs thickened, straining the seams of his expensive trousers before they reshaped themselves into red velvet pants. His arms and chest swelled, his entire frame growing bulkier and heavier.

“No, no, no!” Taylor cried, his voice deepening into a rich, resonant baritone.

His designer suit shimmered, morphing into a plush red coat trimmed with white fur. Black boots materialized on his feet, their polished surfaces gleaming under the frozen lights. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses appeared in his hand, as if mocking his transformation further.

While Taylor’s body grew heavier and older, Santa’s did the opposite. The heavy weight of his belly receded, replaced by the taut, defined muscles of a man in his prime. His white hair darkened, shortening into a stylish cut that framed his now-youthful face. The thick beard vanished, leaving his jaw clean-shaven and sharp.

Santa flexed his fingers, marveling at the vitality coursing through his veins. He patted his flat stomach, grinning.

“Well, this feels… refreshing,” he said, his voice now identical to Taylor’s. He glanced down at his oversized Santa suit, which hung loosely on his newly slender frame, and laughed. “Guess I’ll need a new wardrobe.”

He turned to Taylor—now the perfect likeness of Santa Claus—and smirked. “How’s it feel, big guy? Heavy, isn’t it? The beard, the belly, the responsibility.”

Taylor stared at his reflection in a nearby ornament, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief.

“This can’t be real!”

“Oh, it’s very real,” Santa said, slipping the glasses onto Taylor’s nose. “You wanted to make fun of Santa? Well, now you are Santa. Merry Christmas.”

He snapped his fingers again.

The room came alive once more, the hum of conversation and laughter resuming as if nothing had happened.

Taylor—now Santa—stood frozen, his oversized red suit fitting him perfectly now.

“Taylor!” someone called, approaching Santa. “Nice touch with the Santa suit! You look amazing!”

Taylor - now Santa ,turned his protests dying in his throat as everyone treated him as if he’d always been the party’s Santa.

Meanwhile, Santa—now Taylor—mingled with ease, his youthful face beaming as he charmed the crowd.

Taylor sank into the oversized chair, his heart pounding as he realized the extent of his predicament. He was no longer the star of the evening. He was Santa Claus.

And somewhere across the room, the real Santa—now free of his ancient role—smiled in satisfaction, knowing he’d delivered the ultimate Christmas lesson.

[goldenecho]

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[mrsgiovanna]

The little things (Yan! Don Giovanna x reader)

It's been forever and a day since I've written anything, so this isn't the best 😭... just an idea inspired by @thecw-unicorn .

Word count: 1.8k

Tw: yandere behavior, possessiveness, just yand Giorno being yan Giorno haha. Pls, I don't condone this behavior in reality. This is just fiction.

Your day started off just as they all had for the past few weeks... woken up by the ambient light that filtered through the gauzy curtains in your room, followed by slowly meandering through your morning routine until you were convinced it was late enough for you to go down to breakfast without having to cross paths with him. Your fingers trailed through the various outfits in your closet, each perfectly constructed to meet your measurements and likes while still catering to his preferences. It annoyed you, how everything was curated to suit you but felt so insufferable to experience.

From the outside looking in, your existence was a dream, lavished with the best of everything, housed in a villa with comfort few could even imagine, and a handsome powerful man who could create a universe for you, and he would, if you'd ask for it. But this charmed existence came at a price… as most things did, but you often wondered if all the designer clothes and expensive jewellery was worth your agency? Could you continue to live within the confines of his rules? Sitting at the vanity mirror, you looked at yourself, the visage was your own, you recognised the curve of your cheeks and the slope of your nose and the ways the sunlight bathed your complexion but your eyes felt different… foreign… but in a way that you just couldn't name.

A soft tapping at your door pulled you out of your reverie.

“Yes, come in,” you responded, returning to your reflection as you smoothed out your outfit for the day. It was one of Giorno’s staff, Stella, the helper he had assigned specifically for you, who had let themselves in at your invitation.

“Don Giovanna wishes to see you,”

The silence hung in the air for a while, before prompted again.

“[First]? Did you hear me?”

“I did,” you sighed, and stood. Stalling wouldn't help you today, Giorno only ever sent anyone for you when he was insistent on seeing you and no amount of tricks would save you from that.

“Come along, we wouldn't want to keep Don Giovanna waiting,” said Stella with a serene smile.

“You wouldn't want to keep him waiting, I on the other hand, have no such reservations,” you quipped. Stella simply shook her head at your defiance and walked with you towards the grand dining room.

On occasion you would take your breakfasts there, and dinner when Giorno would be your dining companion, otherwise you had preferred the sunroom with large windows overlooking the beautifully manicured gardens of the villa. You could spend hours there, lost in a book or one of the other hobbies that had become an outlet for you. Giorno had always encouraged your passions… the ones that would keep you on his premises that is.

It was always like that with him. Behind his kind gestures and honeyed words was a veil of control that he was unwilling to relent on. He had always said that it was to keep you from harm, but you wondered how anyone could inflict harm on a man who was akin to a god.

You had arrived at the dining room and seated yourself at the furthest seat from Giorno across the long mahogany table. There was a feast of items, from fresh fruits to pastries and fluffy scrambled eggs and toasted breads. He knew you'd try to hastily leave and was always prepared for resistance from you, but there was something softer in his demeanour today. You eyes wandered over him, he was more relaxed today, even in his dressing, the cashmere turtleneck and dark wash jeans replaced his usual tailored suit, which was still impeccably stylish, but aimed at comfort.

He folded the newspaper he was reading and settled it neatly to the side at your arrival.

“Good morning, [First]” he greeted with a smile, his green eyes sparkling almost as bright as the emeralds on your bracelet.

“Morning….” You flinched internally at the blandness of your response but schooled your features into indifference.

“Have you slept well?” He asked, attempting to ignite a semblance of a conversation.

“Well enough thanks… so… is there a particular reason you wanted to see me today?”

Giorno laughed at the bluntness of your response.

“Always to the point… it's one of the things I love about you. To answer your question, there is something I'd like to talk about”. You nodded for him to continue.

“I was thinking, a change of scenery might be nice, what would you say to a trip to Corsica? I've acquired a secluded villa right on the coast, it's beautiful this time of year…” Giorno trailed off at the downcast expression on your face.

“When do you want to go?” you asked, buttering a piece of toast just to give your hands something to do.

Giorno leaned forward slightly, his expression softening as he caught the hint of reluctance in your voice. "We can leave whenever you’d like. I thought a few days away would do you some good—away from the city, from the noise. Just you and me, no distractions."

The idea of Corsica sounded lovely in theory—a place so far removed from the rest of the world. A place where you could find peace. But you knew better. No matter where you went, no matter how beautiful the scenery, it would still be a gilded cage. The control would remain, the invisible strings pulling at you, limiting your freedom.

You sipped your tea, trying to mask the tension building in your chest. "It sounds nice," you replied carefully, keeping your tone neutral. "But I have things to take care of here." A lie, an unconvincing one but it was all you could think of.

Giorno’s lips twitched into a slight smile, as if amused by your deflection. "Of course, you do. But none of it is so urgent that it can’t wait a few days, no?" His tone was gentle, coaxing, yet firm—leaving little room for argument.

You set your cup down, fingers lightly tracing the rim. "Maybe. I’ll think about it."

There was a pause, the room falling into a familiar, tense quiet, the kind that always followed when Giorno offered you something that was, in truth, an order cloaked as a suggestion. He never pushed too hard, but he never let go, either. You could feel his gaze on you, studying, waiting for the resistance to fade.

"I just want you to be happy, cara," he said, voice low and sincere. "I know things have been difficult, but I want us to have more moments to ourselves, to enjoy life together."

You glanced up at him, meeting those piercing green eyes that always seemed to see more than they should. A part of you wanted to believe in his words, to think that he truly cared, but the weight of his possessiveness and control was never far from your mind.

“I know you do,” you replied quietly, “but sometimes… I need space to find that happiness.”

Giorno’s smile faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with an understanding nod. “Of course. We can discuss it further whenever you're ready. But just know, I’ll always be here, offering whatever you need.”

You gave a small, polite smile and shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of his words settle around you. The breakfast laid out before you seemed like a feast, but you felt anything but hungry. It was always like this—an endless cycle of gilded promises wrapped in velvet chains.

And no matter how far you went, no matter how beautiful the setting, the freedom you craved always seemed just out of reach.

Giorno watched you in silence for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any flicker of happiness. The quiet tension between you felt too heavy, too oppressive, and he wasn’t one to let things remain that way for long. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

"You seem tense, amore," he remarked casually, his tone light but with a calculated intention behind it. He gestured toward the fruit plate with a lazy wave of his hand, and in the next instant, you saw something move out of the corner of your eye.

A tiny kitten materialized on the table, no bigger than the palm of your hand. Its fur was a delicate golden color, shimmering faintly as it mewed softly and blinked up at you with wide, curious eyes. It stretched its tiny paws and let out an adorable little purr, batting at a grape that had rolled beside it.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Giorno, what—?"

He chuckled softly. "I thought you could use some company. Sometimes, it's the little things that can brighten your day."

The kitten padded its way closer to you, its tiny paws pattering against the table. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against its soft fur as it purred louder and nudged your hand with its small head. A reluctant smile crept onto your face, despite the guarded wall you’d been trying to keep up.

"There it is," Giorno said, his voice gentle and pleased. "A smile. I knew you had one hiding in there."

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the warmth spreading in your chest as the kitten pawed at your fingers, its playful energy contagious. You picked it up carefully, cradling the delicate creature in your hands, and it immediately curled into your palm, purring contentedly.

Giorno watched you intently, his gaze softening as he saw the tension in your posture begin to ease. "See? A simple little thing, and already the day feels better, doesn’t it?"

You shook your head, unable to suppress the small laugh that escaped you. "You really think a kitten is going to fix everything, don’t you?"

"Not everything," he replied with a knowing smile, "but it’s a start."

You held the kitten up, watching as it batted at your finger playfully, its tiny claws barely scratching at your skin. There was something about the innocence of the little creature that tugged at your heart, and for a moment, the weight of the morning lifted just a little.

Giorno leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he continued to watch you. "I don’t need to fix everything, amore mio. I just want to see you happy—whatever that looks like for you."

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, glancing over at him. His green eyes, always so sharp and calculating, held a softness that made it hard to look away. He wasn’t pressuring you this time, wasn’t forcing you into something you didn’t want. He was simply… there, offering a small moment of joy in a life that often felt too controlled.

You stroked the kitten, your smile lingering as you looked down at the small, golden ball of fluff in your lap. "Thank you, Giorno," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his smile widening just a fraction, the sound of his name from your lips was always a balm to his soul. "It’s nothing, cara. I’ll always do whatever I can to make you smile."

[flippinpancakes64]

Day at the pool with the Cullens

I love pools and I love swimming so here we are

All additional photos I found on Pinterest

Edward:

Volleyball expert

Loves having competitions to see who can "hold" their breath the longest

(There's never an actual winner, it's just who gets bored first)

Loves to tackle you in the water

Can and will sneak up on you to pull you under

Roughhousing x100

Will think you're boring if you just sit on the side of the pool

He wants to play, dammit

Wears a nose plug unfortunately

He doesn't like the feel of the water in his nose

Can and will stay there all day

He doesn't go out of his way to go to the pool, but when he does he never wants to leave

I imagine he'd like swim shorts with a pattern

He doesn't want to wear something boring

Alice:

Diving board queen

She could go to the Olympic level if she wanted to

Definitely an attacker

Will sneak up behind people just to scare them

Does that freaky thing where they go underwater to swim through people's legs when they don't expect it

Loves seeing how fast she can lap the pool

Loves getting on Emmett's shoulders and wrestling people

Splashes people

Not too fond of the beach balls or volleyballs but she will play

She wears something intricate and definitely uncomfortable looking

Stylish tho

Jasper:

Not really interested

He came along because everyone else went

He prefers baseball

He's in the water though

He might join in on volleyball or diving, but I think he'd prefer to just chill out on a raft or a tube

He just wants to enjoy all of the positive emotions around him

He might swim around with you though if you ask him

He's not opposed to doing anything

Would really enjoy a lazy river though

He just wants to veg out and I love that for him

Just lets Alice choose whatever she wants him to wear

Has absolutely no preference at all

Rosalie:

You're lucky if she touches the water at all

Prefers to lay by the poolside and "tan"

She really just enjoys the heat from the sun

Like a lizard under a heat lamp

Might dip her toes in

If you beg her to get in she might go to the shallow end and stand there for a little bit

If you splash her it's over for you

So best just to leave her alone :')

Will throw the diving toys though

Like those girls on tiktok who are tanning and throwing the toys for their boyfriends like they're dogs

That's her

She thinks it's funny

MIGHT get up to retrieve the ball if you guys throw it out on accident

Heavy on the might tho

She'd wear something cute with a pretty pattern

Emmett:

King of the Pool

Roughhousing final boss

Will start actually wrestling with people

He brought the water guns

Shows absolutely no mercy

His favorite game is water chicken

Always the base guy

Even though he's not supposed to be fighting, he still does

Is the one mostly diving for the toys Rosalie throws

Wears goggles just because they look funny

Has broken the bottom of the pool before

Would do it again too

Likes to pick people up and throw them as far as he can

Jumped off the diving board and did a cannonball once

That's how he broke the pool floor

Wears the most idiotic trunks he can find

Since it's only their family at the pool, Alice can't use the whole "keeping good appearances" thing as a reason why he should wear what she picks

Carlisle:

Likes to let loose a little bit

He has to act old to keep appearances, so everyone forgets he's physically only about 25

Like Alice I think he'd enjoy the diving board

Would love to unwind on an inner tube as well

He likes to swim to the bottom of the deep end and just sit there

He finds it peaceful

Won't join in with the fighting though

He's here to relax and have a good time

Keeps it simple and classy as far as suits go

For the longest time he wore a speedo though...

Alice quickly put an end to that

Esme:

A less grouchy Rosalie

She's here to enjoy the sun and the warmth

She would also enjoy sitting on a raft and floating though

Lazy. River.

She would enjoy watching more than anything

Would keep score and help be a referee

Would also throw the diving toys

I feel like she would enjoy just wading around though

Making laps or just floating slowly

This is her big relaxation day

I think she would enjoy suits with a bit more coverage

And she would love flowy skirts or shawls

It makes her feel elegant <3

Vampire! Bella:

Another roughhouser here folks

She went her whole human life being a walking accident, of course she's going to make the most of actually having reflexes

Loves to do just about anything

Volleyball, basketball, diving, chicken, wrestling, water gun fight

Literally anything

Is usually Edward's partner for chicken

Loves to do things that humans absolutely cannot do

She's still getting used to it and everything

One time she stayed underwater for a full 5 hours

Just to see if she could

Will ask you to time her laps around the pool

She goes for a more practical suit

Something similar to what she had when she was human

[footballfanficwriter]

First day

Summary: where it's Kylian's Real Madrid presentation and the reader is there on by his side

I wake up to the soft light filtering through our bedroom window in Paris, and I feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling in my chest. Tomorrow is the day Kylian officially becomes a Real Madrid player. As I slowly slide out of bed, trying not to wake him, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower. The warm water does little to calm my racing thoughts, but it gives me a moment to compose myself.

I dress in a stylish yet comfortable outfit, knowing the day will be long and full of events. As I finish getting ready, Kylian wakes up, stretching and yawning. He looks at me with those beautiful eyes of his, filled with love and anticipation.

"Good morning, my love," he says, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," I reply, smiling as he pulls me into a warm embrace.

He kisses my forehead. "Today’s the day we move. Are you ready?"

"More than ready," I say, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. We share a tender kiss before heading downstairs to our waiting car.

The ride to the airport is filled with light conversation and laughter. Kylian's hand never leaves mine, his thumb gently stroking my skin. The city of Paris rushes by outside the window, but my focus is entirely on him. He looks so calm, so confident, and it reassures me.

As we board the private plane, I can’t help but feel a rush of excitement. The flight attendants greet us warmly, and we settle into our seats. Kylian wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"Can you believe it? We’re actually moving to Madrid," he says, his voice filled with awe.

"I know. It feels surreal," I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. "But I’m so proud of you."

He kisses the top of my head. "I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N."

The flight is smooth, and we spend most of it cuddled together. Kylian talks about his dreams and plans for his career in Madrid, and I listen, my heart swelling with pride. Every now and then, he kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my lips – each touch sending shivers down my spine.

Upon landing in Madrid, we are greeted by a driver who takes us to our hotel. The energy of the city is palpable, and I can feel the excitement of the fans already. Our suite is nothing short of spectacular, with a breathtaking view of Madrid.

Kylian takes my hand, pulling me close to the window. "Look at this, Y/N. Our new home," he says, his voice filled with wonder.

I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into me. "It’s beautiful, just like you," I murmur.

He turns to face me, his hands cradling my face. "Not as beautiful as you," he whispers before kissing me deeply. Our kiss is filled with promise and passion, a silent vow of the future we are about to build together.

We decide to take the rest of the day to relax and adjust to our new surroundings. We explore the hotel, take a leisurely walk around the nearby area, and enjoy a quiet dinner together. Every moment is precious, and I savor the time we have to just be with each other.

The morning of Kylian’s medical tests, we wake up early. I make sure he has a nutritious breakfast, knowing he’ll need the energy. He takes my hand as we head to the medical facility, his grip firm and reassuring.

The facility is state-of-the-art, filled with bustling staff and high-tech equipment. Kylian is taken to a room for his tests, and I wait in a comfortable lounge area. My heart races with anticipation and pride. As I sit there, I receive reassuring texts from him, letting me know that everything is going smoothly.

After what feels like an eternity, he emerges with a confident smile. "All good," he says, pulling me into a hug.

"I never doubted it," I reply, kissing his cheek.

We head to the Real Madrid headquarters next, where he’ll sign his contract. The atmosphere is electric, filled with anticipation and excitement

The room where Kylian will sign his contract is grand, with an air of importance. As we enter, we’re greeted by club officials and media personnel. I take a seat beside Kylian, our fingers intertwined.

The club president gives a brief speech about Kylian’s achievements and the club’s excitement to have him join. Then, Kylian is handed the contract. He takes a moment to look at me, his eyes filled with emotion.

"Ready?" he asks softly.

"Always," I whisper back.

He signs the contract, officially becoming a Real Madrid player. The room erupts in applause, and I can’t help but beam with pride. Kylian pulls me into a celebratory kiss, his lips warm and soft against mine.

After the signing, we move to the press conference room. Kylian takes his place at the front, and I find a spot where I can see him clearly. The room is packed with journalists, cameras flashing nonstop.

Kylian looks calm and composed as he begins answering questions. His eyes occasionally find mine, and we share silent, affectionate glances.

"How does it feel to finally be a part of Real Madrid?" a journalist asks.

"It’s a dream come true," Kylian responds. "I’ve always admired this club, and I’m excited to contribute to its success."

He glances at me, his eyes filled with love and reassurance. I smile back, giving him a small nod of encouragement.

"Can you tell us about your decision to join Real Madrid?" another journalist inquires.

Kylian takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering to me before he speaks. "It was a tough decision, but ultimately, I felt that Real Madrid was the right place for me to continue my career. The club has a rich history and a passionate fan base, and I’m looking forward to being a part of that."

Our eyes meet again, and he subtly nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. I can’t help but feel a swell of pride and love for him.

Throughout the press conference, we share these silent moments of connection. When he talks about his family and his support system, his eyes soften, and I know he’s thinking of me. I feel a sense of pride and warmth wash over me, knowing that I am a part of his journey.

The next day, we head to the Santiago Bernabéu Stadium. The stands are filled with ecstatic fans, all eager to welcome their new star. The energy is electric, and Kylian steps up to the podium, looking every bit the confident and poised athlete he is.

"Hola, Madridistas," he begins, his voice strong and confident. "This is a dream come true for me. I’ve always admired this club, and I’m excited to be here."

He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on me. "I want to thank my mom, my dad, my siblings, and my incredible wife, Y/N, for always supporting me. Without their love and encouragement, I wouldn’t be standing here today."

His mom is in tears, and I quickly move to her side, wiping away her tears and rubbing her back comfortingly. "He’s amazing," I whisper, and she nods, smiling through her tears.

Kylian continues his speech, talking about his goals and aspirations for his time at Real Madrid. His passion and dedication are evident, and I can see the fans are just as captivated as I am.

"I promise to give my all for this club and its fans," he says, his voice filled with determination. "Together, we will achieve great things, ¡HALA MADRID!

The crowd roars in approval, and I feel a swell of pride and love for him. He glances at me, and I give him an encouraging smile.

After his speech, it’s time for the family photo. His parents step onto the stage, posing proudly with him. Kylian looks around and notices I’m not there. He signals for me to join them, but I shake my head, indicating I’ll stay out of the picture. He doesn’t take no for an answer. Walking over to me, he takes my hand and leads me onto the stage.

"You're part of this family, Amore. Always," he whispers, his eyes locking with mine.

We pose for the picture, standing next to the Real Madrid president. I feel Kylian’s arm around my waist, holding me close. The camera flashes, capturing this unforgettable moment.

The rest of the day is a blur of celebrations and fan greetings. Kylian walks around the stadium, shaking hands and thanking the fans. I watch him, my heart swelling with pride and love. When we finally return to our hotel room, we’re both exhausted but elated.

As soon as we close the door behind us, Kylian pulls me into his arms, kissing me passionately. "I couldn’t have done any of this without you," he murmurs between kisses.

We collapse onto the bed, cuddling close. He becomes clingy, holding me tightly as if afraid to let go. "What do you think our life will be like here?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder.

"I think it will be amazing," I reply, running my fingers through his hair. "We have each other, and that’s all we need."

He smiles, kissing me gently. "I love you so much, Y/N."

"I love you too, Kylian," I whisper, our foreheads touching. "Forever."

We spend the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, talking about the day and dreaming about our future in Madrid. Every kiss, every touch, and every word is filled with love and promise. This is the start of a beautiful new chapter in our lives, and I couldn’t be happier to share it with the love of my life

After a while of Kylian and I having our conversation and he's fallen asleep on my stomach, I decide to check people's reactions and what they thought, occasionally smiling at their comments

@FabrizioRomano: 🚨 Official and confirmed: Kylian Mbappé is now a Real Madrid player. Contract signed until 2028. Here we go! #HalaMadrid ⚪️🔴

@RMadridUpdates:The King has arrived! Welcome to Real Madrid, Kylian Mbappé! This is going to be legendary! #Mbappe2028

@FootballAddict: Mbappé to Real Madrid is the biggest transfer of the decade! Can’t wait to see him in white. #Galactico #Mbappe

@LaLigaLover:With Mbappé at Real Madrid, La Liga just got a whole lot more exciting! Let's go! #HalaMadrid #Mbappe

@KylianFanClub: So proud of Kylian! He’s finally living his dream. Real Madrid is the perfect place for him. #Mbappe2028

@RomanticSportsFan: Did anyone else notice the way Kylian kept looking at his wife during the press conference? So much love! #RelationshipGoals #MbappeLove

@FootballGossip: Kylian Mbappé’s wife might be the real MVP here. Those supportive glances and little gestures... True love! #Mbappe

@FanGirlCentral:Okay, but the way Kylian’s wife wiped his mom’s tears and rubbed her back was so sweet. She’s already a fan favorite! #MbappeFamily

@TheRealMadridista: Mbappé signaling his wife to join the family photo... Can we talk about how cute that was? #CoupleGoals #Mbappe

@SportsRomantics: Watching Kylian and his wife exchange those little glances during his speech was everything. You can tell they’re so in love. #MbappeLoveStory

@RealMadridFans: A new chapter begins with Kylian Mbappé at Real Madrid! His wife is such a supportive partner. We stan! #HalaMadrid #Mbappe

   - Comment: @LoveFootball: The way he looked at his wife during the press conference was just 🥺���️ True love! #MbappeLove

@FootballRomantics: The way Kylian looked at his wife during the press conference was just... 🥺❤️ True love right there. #Mbappe

   -Comment: @GoalDreams: They’re such a beautiful couple! #CoupleGoals

@SportsLoveStory:Did you see how Kylian walked over to his wife and brought her onto the stage? My heart! #CoupleGoals #Mbappe

   -Comment:@FanZone: That was the cutest thing ever! They belong together. #MbappeFamily

@FootballMoments:That moment when Kylian’s wife comforted his mom was so touching. She’s already part of the family. #MbappeFamily

   - Comment: @TearsOfJoy: She’s such a sweetheart! #FamilyFirst

@MadridistaLove: Kylian and his wife’s love story is the real deal. Watching them today was like a movie. #MbappeLove

  - Comment:@FootballHeart: True love exists and they are the proof! #HalaMadrid

Overall I'm just so happy that Kylian was able to fulfill his dream and I'm so honoured to be stood by his side as he makes this transition

[hamsterclaw]

Drift Kings

You and your brother Seokjin live completely separate lives, until one day when your worlds collide.

Pairing: Jimin x f! reader, Yoongi x f! reader

Genre: Drifting, street racing AU, smut

Word count: 9.5k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of drugs, cigarette smoking, illegal street racing

You know from the first time you lay eyes on Park Jimin that he doesn’t belong in your world.

He’s physically blessed, that much is obvious to anyone with eyes, but he’s all wrong.

His suit is beautifully tailored, but the material’s wrong. His shoes are expensive but in that modern, stylish way that screams new money.

You doubt any of the jewelry he has on is inherited.

He catches you staring, assumes it’s because of his good looks rather than that you’re finding him lacking.

He has the audacity to give you a once over of his own, like he has the right to judge you like you judged him.

You stay perfectly still, let him look.

You’re a Kim, and you’re used to people staring at you.

His lips curl in a smile that looks closer to a sneer.

‘You should wipe that sour look off your face, princess, before the wind changes.’

You’re too surprised to snap back at him, and a moment later, he turns away, like he’s the one dismissing you. 

You’re still staring at his back when Seokjin, your brother, arrives with Yoongi.

‘Were you waiting long?’ Seokjin asks politely, gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the private room he’s reserved for dinner.

‘Not long,’ you say, still thinking about the very beautiful man who’s just cut you down.

***

Seokjin, is as unmarked as he ever was, at least from what you can see whilst he’s dressed in a three-piece suit.

You’re glad.

Your brother’s always loved cars. When you were growing up, he spent every spare moment in Yoongi’s family’s auto workshop, similar to how you spent every moment in your father’s office, learning the ropes of your family business.

There was a Kim needed to take over the company, and thankfully, your family didn’t have any qualms about which Kim sibling it was.

A life in business would have killed your brother, totally unlike a life spent drag racing on Mount Samo, you think, uncomfortable with the irony.

If your parents were still alive, they’d probably have things to say about Seokjin’s lifestyle.

At least he’s always with Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

You sneak a glance at him over your plate as you eat.

Around you and Seokjin, his normally serious face relaxes into a smile, perfect teeth flashing often, eyes crinkled at the corners.

Your brother’s closest friend, you spent most of your teenage years swinging between a desperate crush on him and a desperate need not to be perceived by his intense, penetrating gaze.

Now that you’re older, the heat of your crush has settled into a burning ember he occasionally stokes by turning up when you meet Seokjin, all dark eyes and deep voice and the odd flattering comment that has the power to set your heart aflutter.

Apart from all that though, you know enough about Min Yoongi to know he’s got the heart of a hustler, and fierce loyalty to your brother. If your brother ever went down, Yoongi would be right there with him fighting to the bitter end. 

‘You look tired, sis,’ Seokjin says, dropping a dumpling onto your plate.

‘I’m just closing on a three year contract with the Moiwa group,’ you say, not denying it. You’ve been working on a lucrative partnership with the tech company for months, and you’re finally on the home stretch.

You’re not sure how much Seokjin knows about the family business, he rarely attends board meetings, like you’ve never seen him race.

Seokjin loosens his tie, wincing slightly as he does so.

‘How’s your collarbone?’ you ask.

Four weeks ago Seokjin had broken his collarbone and three ribs on Mount Samo. He hadn’t told you about it, but as you are each other’s next of kin, you’d found out anyway.

‘Healing,’ Seokjin says, making up for his brevity with a brilliant smile.

You know what they call your brother on the circuit. 

Chaebol. Often said with a sneer, despite the fact that he can put together an Evolution IX blindfolded and drive it in a way that credits all the tuneups he can afford to pay for.

‘I hurt my shoulder,’ Yoongi tells you, teeth flashing in the half-smile-half-snarl that makes you feel lightheaded when it’s directed at you.

‘I’m sure you have plenty of people to take care of it for you,’ you say, straightfaced.

Yoongi blinks, and his lip curls again. ‘Don’t you want to?’

You laugh. ‘Are you trying to be cute? It doesn’t suit you, Yoongi.’

‘Stop flirting with my sister, Yoongi,’ Seokjin interjects, distracting you from Yoongi’s pout.

He turns back to you. ‘Are you free this weekend? I was planning to visit Daejeon.’

‘I’m free,’ you agree.

Your parents’ graves are in Daejeon. You and Seokjin go a couple of times a year.

Your phone rings. It’s your PA, Daeun.

‘I should go,’ you say, apologetic. ‘It’s hectic right now at work.’

‘At least finish your food,’ Seokjin urges.

‘I’ll pick up something before I get home,’ you reply.

Seokjin frowns. ‘I’ll drop food off at your place.’

You smile. ‘I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Keep my brother out of trouble, Yoongi.’

‘And you stay out of trouble too,’ you add.

Yoongi throws you another grin. ‘For you,’ he promises.

‘This weekend,’ Seokjin says. 

Both men rise as you leave the room.

***

Seokjin wanted to drop by Yoongi’s workshop on your way to Daejeon, and you have to admit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen his crew.

Jung Hoseok, the angel-faced mechanic turned racer who has a smile and personality that can light up a room and drives like he’s halfway to heaven.

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, a baby brother to all who of recent years seems to be trying his hardest to hide the facts of his pretty face and endearingly cute little shit personality, by getting tatted and pierced and wearing exclusively black.

There’s an unfamiliar person though, and as he turns to greet Seokjin upon your arrival, you realise it’s the beautiful man who sneered at you in the restaurant.

‘Y/N, this is Park Jimin,’ says Seokjin.

Park Jimin gives you a smile that makes you long to slap him.

‘We’ve met. Turns out, I wasn’t far off when I called you a princess.’

His comment makes your hackles rise.

‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure,’ you say coolly. 

‘How did you meet?’ Seokjin asks.

‘It was at the restaurant that night,’ you tell Seokjin, trying to shut down the line of questioning.

You turn to Yoongi, who’s leaning against a workbench, watching the whole exchange with a bemused look on his face.

‘I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Y/N,’ Hoseok remarks, kindly. ‘It must be your fault, Jimin.’

You laugh. ‘I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, Hobi.’

If Seokjin’s the chaebol racer, and Yoongi’s the drifting king, you’re the ice princess of Cheongdam-dong. 

You’re well aware that your family’s laissez-faire attitude to succession isn’t necessarily shared by all. You’ve grown so weary of the misogyny in your society that it barely even registers to you, now. You learned long ago to apologise for daring to carry on your family business lineage. 

You completely miss the look that passes between Seokjin and Yoongi.

‘I’ll be back by nine,’ Seokjin says to Yoongi.

That gets your attention. ‘A race?’

‘We’ll look after him,’ Jungkook assures you sweetly.

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Who’s going to look after the rest of you?’

***

Seokjin parks the car, cuts the engine. 

You unbuckle your belt, and you both walk around to the trunk to get the flowers you brought.

Seokjin asks, casually, as you walk down the path to your parents’ graves, ‘How’s work going?’

‘Still busy,’ you say, shading your eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun.

‘The deal came through,’ you tell him. ‘I spent most of last night celebrating with my team.’

‘Congratulations,’ says Seokjin. He’s had the foresight to put on sunglasses, you can’t see most of his face.

‘Thanks,’ you reply. ‘How’s the Supra coming along?’

Seokjin and Yoongi are working on tuning up a fourth generation Supra for a client from Hong Kong.

‘It’s coming along,’ Seokjin says. He smiles wryly. ‘Jungkook keeps asking if he can ��road-test’ it.’

You laugh along with him. 

‘Yoongi says he’ll let him if he can rebuild it after,’ Seokjin continues.

You know Jungkook’s talented, but he’s not as skilled as either your brother or Yoongi.

‘You can come watch the race tonight, if you want,’ Seokjin offers. 

He’s never invited you before.

‘Sure,’ you say.

‘We’ll head off when we get back,’ Seokjin says. 

You’ve reached the graves.

Seokjin kneels down to lay the flowers on the ground. 

You wonder if it’ll ever get easier.

***

You’re sitting in a corner of Yoongi’s workshop, watching as Seokjin and his crew get ready.

The atmosphere’s crackling with anticipation, a wild energy that has adrenaline thrumming through your veins. 

Seokjin and Yoongi are hunched over the popped engine hood of Yoongi’s Nissan GT-R, talking quietly. 

Jungkook and Hoseok are roughhousing by the workbench. Jungkook’s dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots, a chain round his neck, and you wonder, again, when the maknae started to become such a menace.

Jimin’s sitting on the raised walkway over Yoongi’s workshop, arms on the railing, feet dangling off the edge.

He catches you looking at him, and the slow smirk that spreads over his face is, to your chagrin, equal parts infuriating and attractive.

You can’t deny it, he’s not your usual type but he’s so fucking attractive you almost can’t stand to look at him.

His blond hair is styled back, a stray lock falls across his brow as he stares at you, almost in his eyes. His full lips are curved, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

The way his jacket’s lifted, with his arms braced on the railing, shows off his flat stomach, the plain t-shirt he’s got on doing nothing to hide how cut his torso is.

Beside you, Seokjin clears his throat. 

‘You can ride with me,’ he says. He glances up at Jimin as he speaks, and you wonder how long Seokjin was watching before you noticed.

***

You’ve been in Seokjin’s Honda before, but never on a race day.

The interiors are black leather, he’s modified the sound system, of course, but most striking to you is the way the engine vibrates with power, even when he’s driving the speed limit en route to Mount Samo.

Up ahead, Yoongi’s leading the convoy. You’d glimpsed the flash of his grin as he’d cut Seokjin off at an intersection a couple miles back, and the barely leashed ferality of it had made you fantasise, for the umpteenth time, about sleeping with him.

Bringing up the rear are Jungkook, Hobi and Jimin, keeping tight on Seokjin’s tail.

You look around with interest at the cars idling at the summit when Seokjin slides smoothly into a spot next to Yoongi.

Seokjin cuts the engine, and you get out.

You’d expected Seokjin to get a reaction, your brother is striking even when he’s not driving a midnight black Honda, crimson racing stripes cutting the car in half lengthways, but to your surprise, there are an equal number of eyes on you.

Yoongi’s lit a cigarette, the glow of the lit end reflected in his dark eyes as he moves over to make a space for you next to where he’s leaning.

Smoke curls around your face as he asks, polite as ever, ‘Do you mind if I smoke around you?’

‘I don’t,’ you reassure him. 

Yoongi nods. ‘I usually just have the one.’ 

His lips curl. ‘Then another when I win.’

Seokjin says. ‘Jimin will drive you back down when he’s scouting. We’ll see you at the bottom.’

‘Scouting?’

‘For police,’ Seokjin explains. 

You look at him sharply.

‘If you want, Jimin can drive you home right now,’ Seokjin offers.

It occurs to you then, just how separate yours and Seokjin’s lives are.

Yours is a world of meetings, boardrooms, euphemisms for what one really means.

And Seokjin’s is this, nighttimes and headlamps so bright they light up the city, and a physical rawness you never see.

Your brother looks chaebol but inside? He’s this.

‘I’ll stay,’ you say. ‘Good luck.’

Seokjin’s gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t say anything else.

When Jimin arrives Seokjin takes him aside. They have a conversation you can’t hear, they’re several feet away and Hobi’s trying to show you pictures of his new puppy.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, the deafening roar of engines, blinding lights as three new cars arrive.

One looks like it’s heading straight for your brother’s Honda. 

You tense as it approaches at full speed, screeching to a halt barely a foot from the front bumper.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, and beside him Yoongi straightens up, grinds the remnants of his cigarette to ash under his boot.

‘Who’s that, Hobi?’ you ask, as the driver gets out.

He’s tall, like your brother, good looking in a flashy way, and the way he stares at your brother as he approaches makes your skin crawl.

There’s a tattoo running up the side of his neck, next to a jagged scar.

You slip past Hoseok and go to stand next to Seokjin.

‘Hyunjin,’ Seokjin says, neutral.

Yoongi just stares back, lip curled in a sneer.

‘Seokjin,’ the man replies. ‘Ready to be driven off a mountain?’

You tense, and Hyunjin’s gaze shifts to you.

‘I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,’ Seokjin replies, but Hyunjin barely reacts. 

He’s still staring at you.

‘Who’s this?’ he asks.

‘The person who’ll make you pay if you do anything to my brother,’ you snap.

He raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting between you and Seokjin thoughtfully.

‘You must be the ice princess. I didn’t think you’d be quite this pretty. I guess Seokjin keeps you hidden away for a reason.’

‘Shut up,’ Yoongi growls, as Seokjin shifts so he’s in front of you.

You realise Jungkook and Hoseok are behind you.

Hyunjin just laughs.

‘I’ll see you at the bottom, princess. If I beat your brother can I have a kiss?’

Seokjin says, voice low and even, ‘What about winner gets the loser’s ride?’

Your eyes widen. You know how many hours Seokjin put in on his car in Yoongi’s workshop.

Hyunjin scoffs. ‘I’m going to enjoy driving your car.’

He gives you another long look, and then he’s turning on his heel.

‘Go with Jimin,’ Seokjin says, glancing at you. ‘I’ll see you down there.’

You’re hesitant. ‘Seokjin —- that guy —-‘

‘Don’t worry,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll beat him.’

His expression softens.

‘It’s not my first race,’ he reminds you gently.

You realise Jimin’s got his car pulled up next to you, door open, waiting.

‘Good luck,’ you say, still uncertain.

Seokjin nods, waits until you get in the car, closes the door after you.

***

Jimin drives in silence, navigating the hairpin bends that make Mount Samo a drifter’s dream with a competence that makes you wonder why he’s not racing himself.

‘Is my brother going to be all right?’ you ask, plaintive in the quiet of the car.

Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, and you’re wondering if he heard you when you catch him looking at you in the rearview mirror.

‘Your brother will be fine,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll wait for him at the finish.’

You’re thinking about the way Hyunjin sneered at Seokjin.

‘Is it always like that?’ you ask.

Jimin takes his time answering this question too.

‘Seokjin and Hyunjin have a history,’ he tells you. He turns to you briefly.

‘You should ask Seokjin about it.’

‘Have you known Seokjin long?’ you ask.

Jimin glances at you again.

‘Not long. We started working together a few months ago.’

‘Do you race?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘Are you any good?’ you ask. 

Jimin changes gears, slows to a stop. 

‘Never good enough for you, princess,’ he says, flicking his gaze at you. 

You feel chastened. It’s fair enough, you know that you can be a snob. It’s a learned behaviour, from your years trying to prove yourself as leader of the Kim conglomerate, but Jimin wouldn’t know that, and you doubt he’d care. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. 

Jimin parks the car, turns up the music. He glances at the clock on the dash. 

‘Your brother’ll be down in twenty minutes. We’ll have an extra car to drive back - which is why Hobi and Jungkook rode together on the way here.’ 

‘The wager,’ you say, a question. 

‘The wager,’ Jimin confirms. 

‘It was all planned then?’ 

Jimin laughs, short. ‘Hyunjin’s predictable.’ 

He glances in the rearview. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drift like your brother.’

You’re processing this when he says, referring to your apology, ‘It’s fine. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you since we met.’ 

‘Are you any good at your job?’ Jimin asks.

There’s the faintest hint of taunting in his voice. You can’t blame him in all honesty.

You decide to tell the truth.

‘I’m inexperienced but I have a good team.’

You look out the window.

‘I don’t have a problem carrying responsibility. Out of the both of us, I was the better choice. Corporate life would have killed Seokjin.’

You press a thumb to your temple, massaging the tension headache that’s threatening to come away.

The silence in the car is deafening. 

You glance at Jimin.

He’s staring at you, unreadable.

‘I’ll wait outside,’ you say. 

You push your door open and step out into the cool darkness of the night.

A light rain starts to fall.

Behind you, Jimin gets out of the car. A moment later he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body heat.

All he says is, ‘They should be here soon.’

***

Your heart accelerates when the gleam of headlights cuts through the dark.

The rain’s stopped but the tarmac of the road still glistens with wet.

You can’t see who it is, blinded as you are.

The car comes to a smooth stop not six feet from where you and Jimin, and a handful of others, are waiting.

The door opens as your vision begins to adjust, and your brother steps out. 

He looks around, spots you and Jimin, lifts his hand in a wave like butter wouldn’t melt.

There’s a wave of cheering, drowned out by the roar of Yoongi’s Nissan as he cruises past, stops a little way past your brother’s car.

You don’t even notice when Hyunjin and the rest of the racers arrive, caught up as you are in the overwhelming wave of relief that your brother and Yoongi are all right.

You lose Jimin in the crowd that surges forward, eyes only on your brother as Hyunjin tosses keys on the ground at his feet, disgusted.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check it distractedly as you head for Seokjin. 

It’s an unknown number. 

You’re swiping to answer when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.

You’d be off your feet if an arm hadn’t curled around you to steady you.

You look up into Hyunjin’s face.

‘Where’s my kiss, princess?’ he asks. His grip around your waist feels like steel.

You lean back. 

‘I don’t remember promising you one,’ you tell him, bringing your arms up against his chest, trying to put more distance between you.

He laughs, holds tighter, starts walking you backwards.

‘Get off me,’ you warn. 

‘Or what?’ he asks. ‘You gonna call your brother to come save you?’

‘She’s got more than one friend here, actually,’ comes a voice from behind you.

You turn to see Jimin, hands loose by his sides, expression hard.

‘She asked you to get off her,’ Jimin points out.

Hyunjin’s hand tightens painfully around your wrist for a heart stopping moment before he scoffs and drops it.

‘Maybe next time, princess,’ he says.

He leers at you as he steps away.

‘Are you ok?’ Jimin asks, nodding to your wrist.

‘I’m fine,’ you say automatically, despite the throbbing in your wrist. You’re used to showing no weakness. 

Seokjin and Yoongi have reached you. 

‘What happened?’ Seokjin asks, an edge to his voice.

‘We saw that fucker head straight for you,’ Yoongi says. The feral spark’s back in his eyes, he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight.

You tug the cuffs of Jimin’s jacket down over your wrists.

‘Nothing happened,’ you say.

Seokjin doesn’t believe you, you can tell, but you don’t want to talk about it.

Finally, he says, ‘I’ll drive you—‘

‘I can drive you home,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s on my way.’

***

You sit in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, waiting as he grabs something from the trunk.

He gets in, tosses a heat pack into your lap.

‘He grabbed you pretty hard,’ he says. ‘You can use that if you feel sore.’

You look at it for a moment.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m sorry I lost you for a moment there in the crowd,’ Jimin says, shifting the car into gear as he pulls out onto the road.

‘I’m not a kid,’ you say.

The heat pack feels nice. 

‘You’re definitely not a kid,’ Jimin agrees.

His gaze flicks over you, so quick you wonder if you imagined it.

‘You don’t even know where I live,’ you say, with a flicker of amusement. 

‘I’ll drive you anywhere you want,’ Jimin replies. 

For the first time, he smiles at you, lips curving, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Where do you want to go, princess?’ 

***

Your back’s against the front door of your apartment, your head thrown back as Jimin presses heated kisses to your neck. 

He’s beautiful, dark eyes and gleaming skin, you keep wanting to watch him but he’s kissing you so well it’s hard to keep your eyes open. 

He’s got one hand under your top, smoothing circles over your skin, the other curled over your ass, squeezing your flesh. 

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, your hand braced on his shoulder, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.

‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, silvery voice making you tingle. ‘Touch me, if you want.’

You slide a hand over the hardness of his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs, the tautness of him. 

Skin over muscle over bone.

He’s hard all the places you’re soft.

You can’t stifle a moan as he rolls his hips against yours. 

‘Where’s your room,’ he grunts, pulling a whine from your lips as he lifts his own lips from your skin.

You point, and he knits his fingers with yours, tugging you with him as he heads for your bedroom.

The door closes behind you, and in front of you, Jimin shucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

His beauty stops you in your tracks.

Jimin grins. He tilts his chin at you, all golden skin and bright eyes.

‘Stop staring,’ he says, bold, ‘and take your clothes off.’

You can feel your skin heat as Jimin fixes his gaze on you, watching as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undo the fastening on your jeans.

You can’t meet his gaze when you’re in your bra and panties.

Jimin takes two steps forward, dropping his own jeans.

You’re still looking down, so the bottom half of him comes into view first.

The waistband of his boxer briefs, stretched over taut skin, the very obvious bulge just beneath. Thighs so muscled your own thighs tighten against each other.

He lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him.

‘Why so shy, princess? Look how hard I am.’

He doesn’t wait for a reply, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle.

He walks you backward onto the bed, takes a moment to look at you laid on your sheets. His hand strokes over his rigid cock once, then he’s lowering himself on top of you.

He’s gentle, but you can feel the coiled power in his muscles as he grinds himself into the softness between your legs.

‘You really are a princess,’ he murmurs into the dip between your breasts, so lightly you know he’s just teasing.

He kisses the round of your breast, tongue flicking around your areola tantalisingly until you’re soaked, your hips seeking friction against his hardness.

‘Jimin,’ you plead, maddened with arousal.

‘Don’t worry,’ he soothes. ‘I’ve got you. Panties off.’

You lift your hips to pull your panties down.

There’s a rip of foil, a barely suppressed groan from Jimin as he unrolls the condom onto himself. 

He positions himself above you, slides into you like he’s been doing it his whole life, and you moan, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch of him.

‘You like that?’ he asks, silvery voice deep now, breath hot against your skin.

‘Yeah,’ you cry.

He props himself on one arm, rolls his hips against yours.

‘Fuck,’ he groans.

He picks up the pace, eyes on you, flicking between your face and how he’s making your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts. 

He’s glistening with a sheen of sweat now, hair flopped over his face, damp. 

‘Look at you, princess,’ he murmurs, voice dropped low, breathless. ‘Look how well you take me.’

He flattens a hand over the curve of your lower belly, thumb flicking over your clit, purposeful, firm, making the pleasure build. 

Slows, lifts your hips so he can fuck you deeper. 

The curve of his cock hits so good you’re crying out with each rock of his hips against yours. 

You come with a gasp of his name, and Jimin drops down on you, grinding, hips working. 

‘Fuck,’ he groans, deep in his chest. ‘Take it, baby.’ 

You wind a hand around his neck, and his lips meet yours again, tongue licking into your mouth as he fills the condom. 

‘Shit,’ he groans, pulling out, knotting off the condom, tossing it carelessly. 

You’re breathless still, heart hammering in your chest, but you sit up, admire how he looks sprawled out on the covers of your bed, flushed and glowing. 

‘You were right, you know,’ Jimin says. 

He’d been looking up at the ceiling, but now he flicks his gaze at you. 

‘You’re too good for me.’ 

You scoff. ‘Shut up. I never said that.’ 

Jimin laughs. ‘I didn’t say it was going to stop me from pursuing you.’ 

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Pursuing me?’ 

‘I said what I said,’ Jimin says. 

He sits up, muscles flexing, hair pushed back. He drops a kiss on your exposed shoulder, teeth flashing as he follows it up with a playful nip. 

As you’re getting up, picking up your clothes, you notice a flash of gold half-out of the pocket of his jeans. 

You lift it out, curious. 

Jimin says nothing as you rub your thumb over the gold badge, turn it over to see his ID. 

‘You’re a cop,’ you say. It’s not a question, you have the proof in your hand, but it comes out querulous anyway. 

‘I’m a cop,’ Jimin replies. 

You’re trying to process. ‘Does my brother know?’ 

‘Seokjin knows,’ Jimin says. 

He gets up, starts getting dressed too. 

‘It’s illegal to race on Mount Samo,’ you say. 

‘I’m undercover,’ Jimin tells you. He reaches for his badge, and you let him take it out of your loose grip. 

‘What are you investigating?’ you ask. 

‘Currently, your ass,’ Jimin says. 

You crack a reluctant smile. ‘Could have told me you were a cop before we slept together.’ 

‘I usually wait for a second date before I get the handcuffs out,’ Jimin shoots back. 

You laugh, but your mind’s still racing, wondering why Jimin’s hanging around with your brother and Yoongi.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts it takes you a moment to realise Jimin’s watching you.

‘I should get to bed,’ you say, feigning a yawn. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

Jimin asks, quietly, ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’

You’re troubled, but you force a smile. 

‘I’ll save my questions for when I’m less tired,’ you say.

Jimin’s got his jacket on, you’ve both moved out of the bedroom.

He says, ‘I’d like to see you again.’

Your smile becomes a little less forced. 

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but all he does is nod, flash you a smile before he leaves.

The click of the latch falling into place as he pulls the door to sounds oddly final. 

***

You’re tired.

You’ve been in and out of meetings all day. On top of that there’s been a problem with the city planning committee over the new property you’ve just acquired.

It was a hard fought battle but you’d managed to pip your competitor, Jungcorp, to the post. You’re not sure why Jungcorp had fought so hard for it, it’s an abandoned tower block in an unglamorous part of the city, but the land’s invaluable to you for development.

As far as you know Jungcorp’s got no vested interests in property development. 

You look up, exasperated, as there’s yet another knock on your door. 

It’s past 8pm, your feet are sore and all you want to do is go home and take your bra off, if you could only just finish reading and sign off on the city planning committee’s requirements.

Plus you thought you’d sent everyone from your executive team home. 

Your frown softens when you realise it’s Jimin.

You’ve been texting back and forth since you hooked up, he’s called you a few times, but you’ve been too busy to meet.

‘How’d you get in here?’ you ask, getting up to greet him.

‘I’m a cop, remember?’ Jimin says. He looks as pretty as ever, dressed all in black, silverware in his ears.

‘I have security,’ you point out.

‘Jaebeom?’ Jimin asks, feigning innocence. ‘We used to work together.

You roll your eyes.

‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this,’ Jimin says, ‘because I brought food.’

He brings his arms round from behind his back to reveal a bag of food that makes your stomach growl, loudly and ungracefully.

‘When did you last eat?’ Jimin asks.

‘I had a protein shake for lunch,’ you say, eyeing him as he sets out boxes of noodles. ‘They’re apparently a complete meal.’

It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes.

‘Prawns or chicken?’ he asks, holding out chopsticks to you.

You reach out and grasp his hand instead.

‘I’ve missed you a little,’ you say, tugging.

Jimin lets you pull him closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you a lot.’

He’s close now, head tilted to yours, face barely inches away.

‘A lot?’ you ask, staring at his lips.

‘Yeah.’ His voice is husky now, and he dips his head to yours.

You meet him more than halfway, lips already parted.

Jimin’s hand curls around the back of your head as he slants his own to kiss you deeper.

‘I lied,’ he murmurs, crowding you against the edge of your desk.

‘I didn’t just come to bring you food. I came because I knew you’d look fucking sexy in your work clothes.’

He kisses you again, hips pressed against yours, hand slipping down to cup your ass.

You slip your arm around him, sighing a little as he kisses you, lips warm and sweet.

‘Eat, before we get distracted,’ Jimin says, pulling away.

You whine, disgruntled, but he’s insistent.

The noodles are hot, tasty, satiating the hunger you’ve been suppressing all day.

‘Thanks,’ you say, as Jimin gets up to clear away the food.

You’d help, but it’s the longest break from work you’ve had all day, and now that you’ve sat down on the comfortable sofa you’re not sure you can muster the willpower to get up.

Jimin looks at you knowingly.

‘Want a ride home?’

‘I should probably get back to work,’ you say, regretfully.

Jimin says, ‘You look exhausted. Here, I’ll take you home.’

You find yourself picking up your things, letting Jimin help you on with your coat, following him to the lifts.

Jimin curls an arm around you, and you lean into him as you wait for the lift.

He smells good, but more than that, he feels good, solid, his shoulder corded with muscle under your cheek. 

‘You can lean on me,’ Jimin says. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.

In the car, Jimin leans over to help you fasten your belt.

‘I can do it,’ you say, but he just smiles. 

‘I said you can lean on me,’ he tells you. He starts the engine, puts on soft music, a lo-fi beat. 

‘Sit back, princess. I’ve got you.’

You want to tell him to stop calling you princess but you’re so comfortable and warm the words won’t leave your lips.

You blink awake to find that Jimin’s parked outside your apartment building. 

‘Sorry,’ you mumble, trying to orientate yourself. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’

‘You talk in your sleep,’ Jimin tells you. 

Now you’re fully awake. 

‘What did I say?’

‘I didn’t know you liked my ass that much,’ Jimin says, thoughtfully. 

‘What?’

He laughs. ‘Go to bed, princess. Want me to walk you up?’

‘I’ll be all right,’ you tell him. You hesitate, hand on the door handle. 

‘Thanks, Jimin.’

‘Anytime, princess.’

He waits until you’re inside the doors before he drives away.

***

Yoongi rolls himself out from under the body of the Subaru he’s working on just as Seokjin approaches. 

He stares at the pictures Seokjin hands him, jaw tightening, anger sparking, hot and bright, within him.

‘Does she know?’

‘Jimin says she doesn’t seem to know,’ Seokjin says, voice low, furious.

Yoongi hands him back the pictures, lip curled in disgust. 

‘I think you’d better fucking tell her,’ he says. 

‘It’s not just that,’ Seokjin says. ‘I got this, too.’

Yoongi listens to the recording on Seokjin’s phone, swears.

‘Shit, that asshole’s asking to be fucked up.’

‘Call the guys,’ Seokjin says, voice hard. ‘We get her and then we show him what happens to people who fuck with us.’

***

You’re hurrying, running late. You’re meeting a client from Norway in the busiest part of the city at 7pm sharp.

You glance at your watch just as the light goes green at a multiway intersection, watch the numbers indicating how long you have to cross tick down as you walk briskly across the white stripes on the road.

There’s a thunderous roar, a wave of screams, and the throng of people crossing with you disperses rapidly as you look around to see where the noise is coming from.

The crowd’s clearing, but you stay where you are in the middle of the intersection because you recognise the midnight black Honda with the red racing stripes heading straight for you, the sleek silver Nissan keeping pace alongside it.

Your brother drives slightly past you and executes a 90 degree turn so his car’s across your path, lengthways, tyres screeching.

The acrid smell of burning rubber fills your nostrils, but you almost don’t notice it, because three other cars surround you in quick succession, boxing you in.

To your left, Yoongi, dark eyes scanning you as if to assure himself you’re unharmed.

To your right, Hobi, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

Behind you, Jimin, a shadow behind his blinding headlights.

Seokjin leans across the passenger seat, pushes the door open.

‘Get in,’ he says.

***

You have questions, but Seokjin waits until you’re out of the busiest part of town, when the streets get a little wider, the lights less bright, before he starts talking.

You realise he’s taking you to his apartment.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask.

‘Hyunjin threatened you,’ Seokjin says, terse, jaw tense as he navigates the expensive neighbourhood his apartment’s in. 

‘He threatened me?’ you ask, sure you’ve heard wrong.

Seokjin glances at you. ‘The land you just purchased.’

You frown. ‘The square footage we fought Jungcorp over?’

‘Jungcorp is Hyunjin’s grandfather’s company,’ Seokjin says.

The puzzle pieces click into place.

You let out a low whistle. ‘Shit. And he calls you chaebol.’

‘The company’s in trouble,’ Seokjin says, ‘and they’re being investigated for running drugs out of Jamsil.’

He slides into a space in the underground car park, cuts the engine.

‘You know Jimin’s part of the narcotics squad.’

‘He didn’t say what he was investigating,’ you reply, sliding out the door, walking with Seokjin to the private lift.

Seokjin punches in the code, activates the lift, and a moment later you’re walking into his apartment.

There are pictures scattered across the coffee table in the lounge, and for once you don’t stop to admire the view of the city.

They’re all pictures of you. Full colour, high resolution.

Pictures of you in your office, walking into your apartment, at a client dinner. Even, to your horror, one of you in your bed, asleep.

‘Who took these?’ you ask. Your voice comes out tremulous, you barely recognise it.

‘Hyunjin had them sent to me,’ Seokjin replies.

You have to sit down. 

‘They want you to give up the Jamsil property and land,’ Seokjin tells you.

You’re struggling to take all this in.

‘Or what?’

Seokjin doesn’t want to give you the details of what Hyunjin threatened to do to you.

‘You should stay at mine until this settles down,’ is what he settles for.

You look up at him.

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Seokjin. It’s the biggest victory I’ve had since I took over the company.’

‘No victory is worth your life,’ Seokjin points out.

Logically, you know your brother is right, but you don’t know if he knows how hard you’ve fought since you took control of the reins of the Kim conglomerate.

The times you were challenged over decisions the board would have praised you for, if you were a man.

The tears you cried in secret when your spirit was battered and bruised from pretending you were immune to the snide comments, the demeaning remarks.

You know you’re stronger than the adversity you faced but it’s never been easy.

Seokjin studies your face, a look in his eyes that makes you wonder how much your older brother really knows.

‘Yoongi’ll take you home to get your things. I’ll fix us dinner for when you get back.’

***

Yoongi never really seems to expect anything from you when you’re together.

It’s a trait that you’ve come to appreciate more and more as the years go by.

He listened to your naive prattling about your friends on the odd occasion when he picked you up after school, never commenting except to ask if you wanted ice cream.

He picked you up sometimes when you were back from college, letting you choose the music you wanted to play, handing you snacks silently, sometimes smoking out the open window.

He drives quietly now, changing gears so seamlessly you barely notice even though you’re staring at his hands.

You remember once, a couple years ago, when you’d met by chance when you were walking to the metro after a disastrous blind date.

You’d been so stung by the experience the indignation had tumbled out of you, words jumbled, as he’d pulled up alongside you and offered you a lift.

Yoongi had listened all the way to your apartment, murmuring support in the lower range of his vocal register, a reassuring rumble if not any actual words.

As soon as he’d stopped the car you’d unbuckled your belt, intending to turn to him and thank him, and instead, you’d looked at him looking at you, his hair pulled back from his forehead in a tiny ponytail, eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d leaned forward and kissed him instead.

Yoongi had grunted a little, and you would have pulled away, if he hadn’t cupped the back of your head and sought your lips with a hunger that thrilled you all the way to your bones. 

Heat had pooled in your belly, down low, as he licked boldly into your mouth, slid his big hands around your hips to steady you.

You’d pulled away, breathless, more than a little aroused, and he’d quirked a brow at you.

A question.

You think that if you’d showed any uncertainty, Yoongi would have stopped, and so you didn’t.

You’d taken his hardness in your mouth with a confidence fueled by the reverent, affectionate way he said your name, had learned what he liked by the way his breathing quickened until it was laboured gasps, then a single uttered, emphatic ‘fuck’ as he spilled down your throat, hand clenched on the steering wheel.

He’d given you a feral smile, thumbed away a smear of his cum from the corner of your mouth and put his hand up your skirt like it belonged there.

You’d come crying his name, once with his tongue buried deep in your cunt and another time on his cock as he drilled you into your bed.

He’d left in the morning, a kiss on your forehead and a goodbye so sweet it’s never mattered to you that you’ve never talked about that night since.

You sometimes wonder if he still thinks of it. You’ve never asked.

You look out the window as Yoongi drives.

He reaches into the centre console, tosses a packet of chocolate fish into your lap.

‘I’m not a kid, you don’t have to bribe me with snacks,’ you grouse, but you open it anyway.

The chocolate reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.

‘Stop being cute and I won’t buy you snacks,’ Yoongi says, reasonably.

‘I’m not cute.’

He just snorts.

‘Want one?’ you offer.

‘You look like you need them more than me,’ Yoongi says, but he accepts the fish you place in his palm. 

He walks you up to your building once he’s parked, waits in the living room as you pack a bag.

Once you’re back in his car you turn to him.

‘Did you see those pictures?’

Yoongi’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes.’

‘Seokjin’s worried,’ you say.

‘He’s your big brother,’ Yoongi says, neutral. ‘He worries about you like you worry about him.’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.

‘I’m not,’ Yoongi says. He glances in the rearview, signals to turn. ‘I’m angry.’

You put your hand on his arm. ‘You’re always angry,’ you point out, gently.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘No one comes for you, especially not some half assed wannabe racer like Hyunjin.’

You’re touched at his anger on your behalf.

Yoongi looks at you. ‘Seokjin and I will take care of it.’

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Yoongi. I’ve finally clawed myself some credibility.’

‘Fuck that,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re not giving up jack shit for that asshole.’

His lip curls in a half snarl. ‘We’re not giving in even if I have to chain you to me to keep you safe.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow back. 

He stops in front of the private lift to Seokjin’s apartment. 

‘I think you’d like being chained to me,’ you say, unable to resist.

The smile he gives you is a mix of rueful and cocky. 

‘Of course I fucking would. I’d make you like it too.’

He unlocks the doors so you can get out, rolls down the window as you get into the lift. 

‘I think about that night all the fucking time,’ he tells you, voice low.

You look up at him in surprise, but don’t have time to reply before the lift doors shut between you.

***

Seokjin sets a plate in front of you.

‘Eat,’ he urges.

You pick up your chopsticks and dig in.

‘The responsible thing to do would be to tell you to give up the land,’ he says. ‘That’s what our parents would tell you to do.’

His words set off a pang of sadness that resonates in your chest.

‘If our parents were still here I wouldn’t be running the company,’ you reply.

‘I don’t want you to give up the land. I know how hard you fought for that victory.’

Seokjin takes another bite. 

‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting.’

‘Running the company was always what I wanted,’ you tell him. ‘It’s just that it was supposed to be with dad at the helm whilst I found my feet.’

It’s the first time you’ve ever come close to hinting that it hasn’t been easy.

There’s sadness in Seokjin’s eyes.

‘I can put in some time at the company. I’m a Kim, too.’

‘The company is what I want,’ you say, very gently, ‘but it’s not what you want.’

Seokjin sighs. ‘What I want is for you to be happy. I am.’

You snort. ‘You have three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone.’

Seokjin smiles. ‘And you have no injuries. Let’s keep it that way.’

You clink your glasses in a toast.

‘So, Jimin, huh?’ Seokjin asks, sly.

You blink at him but don’t say anything.

Your brother manages to smirk at you anyway.

***

You’re in the gym in your brother’s building, running through your PT routine when there’s a flicker of reflection in the floor to ceiling window you’re facing.

Jimin.

‘Seokjin said you’d be down here,’ he says.

You look up at his reflection in the glass.

‘I’ve got a meeting with my board tomorrow,’ you say. ‘They’re going to want to congratulate me on the Jamsil acquisition.’

You get up from the mat, turn around, and realise he’s as sweaty as you are.

Jimin tilts his head, blond hair falling over one eye. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath that’s moulded to his torso, sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets. 

The gold pendant he wears glimmers in the low light of the gym. 

There’s a faint bruise on his jaw. 

Unthinking, you step forward and brush a thumb over it lightly. 

‘What happened?’ you ask. 

Jimin stays perfectly still as you touch him. 

‘Just some bangers down by the river,’ he says, vague. 

‘Hurt anywhere else?’ you ask. 

‘Check me over and see,’ he says, an invitation. 

He’s ready for the kiss you press on him, sliding his arms around you, hands warm on the gap between your top and leggings. 

You lose yourself in his kisses, only realising he’s walked you backward when your back hits the glass. 

The cool press of the window against your shoulder blades is a startling contrast to the warmth of him. 

Shit, why’s he so warm? 

Jimin’s more insistent than usual, you can feel his erection, already rock solid, nudging at your core even between your layers of clothing. 

He grunts, fingers tugging at the zipper down the front of your top, working your breasts free, hands cupping you possessively, pinching your nipples. 

You’re aware anyone could walk in but you’re struggling to care, at least whilst Jimin’s hot mouth is pressed against your skin and he’s murmuring filth to you as he touches you. 

You’re the one who ends up tugging your leggings down. They’re barely at mid thigh before Jimin’s surged forward, entering you to the hilt in one stroke. 

‘Shit, Jimin,’ you gasp. It’s tight like this, your legs pinned together. 

‘Turn,’ Jimin commands. 

He pulls out, turns you, one hand cupping your cheek so your face doesn’t hit the glass, the other pressed into the small of your back so your hips are angled perfectly for him to enter you again. 

He fucks you hard, drilling you into the glass, cock gliding in and out of you at a pace that makes stars form behind your eyelids. 

You’re not wet enough but the friction adds to the thrill. 

Your nipples tighten harder against the cold of the window. 

‘Look at you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.’ 

His hand kneads the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard you know he’s going to leave handprints. 

He groans again, long, drawn out, into the back of your neck as he spills. 

You’re stil recovering when he turns you around again, drops to his knees, pushes his head between your thighs. 

He looks up at you, flushed, breathless still from fucking you, eyes dark as he licks up into your cunt. 

He hooks his hands over your bared thighs, parts you with his thumbs, and laps at your clit. 

‘Jimin,’ you gasp. 

‘Yeah, fuck,’ he moans. He’s flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue, slow circles, fingers sliding into you, curving, pressing. 

You can see his come leaking out of you, dripping down his hand as your cunt spasms around his fingers. 

He keeps up the pace, fingers moving in and out of you, lips suctioning at your clit, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you come. 

He moans like he loves the taste of you, licking at your arousal until your knees weaken. 

You get re-dressed in a hurry, Jimin helping you with most of it, shucking off his hoodie and pulling it tight around you.

‘Come on. I’ll put you to bed.’ 

You’re boneless from your orgasm, weary from the stress of the last few days. 

You lean on him as you head back up to Seokjin’s apartment. 

Jimin waits, seated on the edge of your bed as you take a shower, pulls back the covers so you can get in. 

You grasp his wrist as he gets up. 

‘Where are you going?’ you ask, sleepy. 

‘I’ve got more to do, princess.’ 

Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead. 

‘It’ll be over tomorrow, ok?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. 

‘Yeah. Promise.’ 

You want to ask more but you’re asleep before he leaves your room. 

***

You love the view from your office, in the nighttime but also on days like today, when the sun blazes bright, laying out the city before you.

In the distance, the silhouette of Mount Samo. 

It always reminds you of Seokjin.

Seokjin had asked you to back down from the deal on the Jamsil land, just until he could ‘take care of things’, but your board meeting’s been planned for months.

The success of the acquisition was meant to be the cherry on the top of the cake, the final step in proving your worth to the company.

You’d tried, at dinner last night, to articulate to Seokjin how much you needed this, but had found yourself too close to tears for comfort.

You think maybe at the end he’d understood.

You breathe in, slow, trying to get your head in the game before you face your board.

Your PA buzzes with a reminder.

You take one last look at Mount Samo in the distance and turn.

Time to go.

The walk to the meeting room’s never felt so short.

Everyone rises when you enter. 

You scan the sea of faces around the U-shaped table and are about to sit when the glass door swings open.

The murmur through the room makes you turn sharply.

Your brother, tall and broad and exquisitely coiffed, walks up to stand beside you at the head of the room.

All eyes are on you, but Seokjin doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

He leans over, and says, simply, ‘I was wrong.’

You search his gaze, and realise how wrong you were to think Seokjin has no idea what you’re going through.

The realisation makes warmth course through you.

You compose yourself enough to say, ‘That’s why our parents left the company to me, brother.’

The laugh you share makes the tension ease in a way it hasn’t in days.

You turn back to your board. 

‘Let’s begin.’

***

The meeting is a success.

Maybe you’re just flying high off the reaction to your report, but you think you’ve made a significant step towards proving your abilities.

Seokjin, beside you, loosens his tie as he starts the car.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask.

‘You’ve done your bit,’ Seokjin says, glancing in the rearview as he pulls out of the space he’s parked in.

His jaw tightens. ‘It’s time to do mine.’

***

You’ve never really been on Mount Samo in the day before, and the hairpin bends that Seokjin’s manoeuvring with ease are making you a little queasy.

Seokjin glances at you in the rearview mirror, amusement on his face.

‘I could drive this blindfolded,’ he tells you.

‘That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,’ you mutter, trying to keep your eyes straight ahead instead of gaping over the sheer drop you’re inches away from.

‘What have you got planned?’ you ask.

‘We’ve actually already carried out the plan,’ Seokjin tells you. ‘I thought you’d like to be there for the final part.’

You’re curious, thinking back to the night before, when Jimin met you in the gym and then left because he had things to take care of. You’d never heard Seokjin come back, you’d assumed that you’d been asleep and that he’d been quiet.

For the first time, you notice the dark circles under Seokjin’s eyes, marring his normally perfect complexion.

It strikes you that although you’ve been bemoaning your brother’s lack of involvement in your work life, you know very little about what he gets up to.

‘What did you do, Seokjin?’ you ask.

‘Nothing Hyunjin didn’t have coming to him,’ Seokjin replies.

He shrugs.

‘I set him up to meet again today so he could have a chance to win back the car I won from him the other day. I gave Jimin all the pictures Hyunjin sent me, the threats he sent against you.’

Seokjin’s lips thin into a hard line. 

‘Hyunjin’s car’s been captured on CCTV in a notorious spot in Jamsil that the narcotics squad have been monitoring.’

You’re staring at your brother.

‘There are traces of narcotics in the trunk.’

Seokjin blinks. ‘Jimin knows I won the car, but he left with you that night so he hasn’t seen it driven by anyone other than Hyunjin.’

You see what your brother’s done.

You turn to him, realising only now, how carefully he’s been watching you this whole time.

Seokjin’s voice is carefully neutral. ‘This is the kind of thing your big brother gets up to.’

Seokjin doesn’t know about everything in your life, and you don’t know everything about his.

All you know is, he’s your brother, and you can stand up for him like he stood up for you.

You put your hand on his, where it’s loosely curled over the gear shaft.

‘Guess you’re a good big brother after all.’

Seokjin fixes his gaze on your joined hands, throat bobbing as he swallows.

‘I’m the best,’ he agrees, giving you a crooked smile.

***

When you make it to the summit, Yoongi’s already there, peering through binoculars.

‘Hey princess,’ he says, shifting over on the hood of his car to make room for you.

He hands you the binoculars, casual. ‘Check this out.’

You hold the binoculars up, and Yoongi gently pushes you in the right direction, fingers warm under your chin.

The scene’s a few hundred feet down from the summit, and for once you’re not distracted by the vertiginous drop.

There’s Hyunjin’s distinctive car flanked by a tactical team, all clad in distinctive blue and yellow jackets over bulletproof vests. 

Hyunjin, hands above his head.

A flash of blonde hair you’d know anywhere.

Jimin cuffing him and guiding him to an armoured van.

Beside you, there’s the clink of a lighter as Yoongi lights a cigarette.

You lower the binoculars. 

‘I guess that’s that.’

Seokjin lowers his own binoculars.

‘Guess so.’

‘Your boyfriend’s a good cop,’ Yoongi remarks.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you reply.

Yoongi’s dark eyes fix on you with interest, but all he does is hum, noncommittal.

It’s barely a quarter of an hour before a car pulls up to the summit, parks beside Seokjin’s.

Jimin steps out, still in his regs, a sight for sore eyes.

He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.

‘We’ve got him,’ he tells you.

‘We saw,’ you say.

‘I’ve got to go down to the precinct, then they’re sending me down to Gwangju.’

He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It could be months.’

You reach out and give him a hug.

He smells faintly of sweat and gunmetal, and you think you like it.

‘I guess you should call me when you’re next in town then,’ you tell him, close so only he can hear.

Jimin turns his head, lets his lips brush your cheek.

‘Is that an invitation, princess?’

‘Take it however you want it,’ you reply.

Jimin laughs. ‘I will.’

He gives you a look so heated your skin warms. He nods at Seokjin and Yoongi, gets back in the car.

You all watch him drive off.

Yoongi finishes his cigarette, grinds it into the dirt at his feet.

‘Dinner?’ Seokjin suggests.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Yoongi curls his lip at you, that familiar slow smirk that makes your heart skip a beat.

‘Wanna ride, princess?’

Seokjin rolls his eyes. ‘See you guys at the restaurant.’

You guess he really is the best brother ever.

©hamsterclaw 2023

[hwashua-luv]

Sweet Encounters

Walking down the pavement—the gentle hum of city life around you, the long shadows of the late-afternoon sun sprawling over the ground. Just an ordinary day, with the same tired routines and duties in store. Little did you know, today would bring a surprise that would turn the whole course of your day upside down.

That was a few months ago when you first met Choi Seungcheol. This time, it was purely incidental; he had bumped into you at an art gallery in front of the very same painting. He was quite the smooth talker, breaking the ice by striking up a conversation, and you were easily pulled in by his effortless grace and interest in your thoughts. What began as light, ephemeral pleasantries turned into a slew of texts and sporadic meetups.

At best, your relationship with him was unconventional. Seungcheol was a millionaire businessman with a reputation for being charismatic and mysterious; you were an aspiring writer trying to make a name in a world that often felt indifferent. Although he was far above your station, Seungcheol had offered you financial support; it was an act starting in its frankness. He insisted on referring to it as a mutual arrangement, a way in which you could end up with a little bit of free time to write with less continuous level stress of not having enough money.

Today you met with him again for yet another of your regular catch-ups. The evening was warm, and you dressed simple, yet elegant: a perfect choice for the occasion. You had always loved moments like that with him; he provided comfort to your soul by his side and in his conversation.

You reached the upscale café where you decided to meet Seungcheol, and seated at one edge, you found him, incredibly stylish in his made-to-measure suit. His eyes lit up as yours met his, and he quickly rose from his seat. The friendly smile was just right.

"Hey," you answered, trying to cool down the enthusiasm and nervousness that had crept into your voice. "Sorry I'm a bit late."

"Not at all," he said suavely, drawing out a chair for you. "You look lovely, as always."

You sat down, your heart fluttering at the compliment. "Thank you. How was your day?"

"Busy, but good," he answered, eyeing the menu. "I've been looking forward to this all day. It's nice to have a break from the usual routine."

The waiter came around and took your drink orders, and you soon fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. Seungcheol talked animatedly about his new business venture to which you spoke a little about how you wrote and some of the difficulties you ran into.

The conversation was so easy; you just couldn't help feeling that you were meant to be with him. The class and money barriers didn't seem to count in each other's presence. It was just two human beings who understand each other, share interests, and respect each other.

After some time, he came back with your drinks and a small plate of pastries. Taking a sip out of your coffee, feeling the rich taste melting inside, you took a moment to relax.

"So," Seungcheol said, the soft look in his eye directed at you. "I've been meaning to ask. How are you feeling about your writing lately? Are you making any progress?

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and hesitation. "Actually, yeah. I have been struggling a bit. There's this one story that's just been giving me a hard time. I mean, I keep rewriting the same scenes over and over again."

Seungcheol leaned forward, attentive. "Writer's block, huh? I know that can be tough. Sometimes it helps to step away from it for a while and gain a new perspective."

You nodded, feeling he understood you. "That's what I've been trying to do. Maybe some distance will clear things up."

Reaching the length of the table, he picked up your hand with such warm, gentle hands that a nice shiver ran up your arm. "You're really good, and I know you're going to totally ace this. If there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, just say the word."

It was the sincerity in his voice that swelled your heart. You looked into his eyes, and you could see they held real concern and encouragement for you. It was in these little moments that you realized just how special the connection you shared with Seungcheol truly was.

As the night dragged on, you noticed that you became looser and less rigid. The topic of their conversation grew more light-hearted and filled with laughter and banter. Then the sun began to set, giving a golden hue to the outdoor café setting.

Finally, the conversation quietened down, and there it was: that comfortable silence between the two of you. You gazed on Seungcheol, who watched you with another thoughtful expression.

"I'm really glad we met," he said softly. "You brought so much light into my life."

You felt a flush hit your cheeks after hearing such words. "That's nice to say. You've been so kind and supportive. I really don't know where else I would be otherwise."

His eyes locked with yours, and for one full moment, everything else seemed to blend out of focus. There was a level of understanding between you that spoke for a connection so deep, one that had cultivated over the months.

His eyes never strayed from yours as Seungcheol began to move closer, inch by inch. His hand still rested against yours as your breath hitched in your throat, your mind grasping exactly what was happening next. You felt mixed emotions, part excited, part nervous.

His lips brushed against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The sensation was tender and full of emotion; it could not be more perfect, a real reflection of the bond between you both. Your bond is deepening now, and with each touch, your heart begins racing as you melt into this moment.When he pulled away, the both of you were panting, your eyes locked in what seemed like mutual understanding. The kiss was more than a physical action. It was like the seal on the pent-up feelings building between you.

His smile was tender, relieved. "I've wanted to do that for a while now.".

You couldn't help but smile back, and contentment rushed. "I'm glad you did."

The rest of the night was basically a blur of happiness. You walked around a park located a few blocks from the coffee shop. The two of you talked and laughed as the stars began to appear above. It was a perfect ending to a day that started off somewhat ordinary but turned out to be really memorable.

"It's a deal," Seungcheol shook your hand the last time while saying goodbye, the slow, light squeeze meaningful.

"I'll see you soon."

You nodded; you were getting too thrilled and happy. "I can't wait."

He left your side with a final smile and a lingering look, and you walked away, with each step you took away from him you felt everything swell with the promise of a future bright and hopeful, more than it ever was.

That sweet encounter with Choi Seungcheol made you realize that sometimes life surprises you. You just found something extraordinary in the middle of your routine—some honest connection reeling out from societal bounds to touch your heart in ways unimaginable.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Word count: 1217

Author's note: This is my first time publishing my work so please let me know if I have spelling or grammar mistakes. The same book has been posted on Quotev and Wattpad (hwashua-luv). Each oneshot will be posted on Instagram (hwashua._.luv1708). Requests are also open <3

All rights reserved. © 2024 hwashua-luv

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

[legendary-69420]

Fashion, Flirtation, and Frenemies

Chapter 6

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

Mark Spencer was a man of many contradictions. One of the most striking was his complete indifference to his appearance. He lived in hoodies—oversized, comfortable, and utterly unassuming. Yet, somehow, he managed to look like he belonged on the cover of a high-fashion magazine even in his most relaxed attire. His messy hair, chiseled features, and an effortless aura of confidence made sure of that.

But when Mark decided to clean up… Good Lord.

It was a bright afternoon during a PR event at the Ferrari headquarters. The team was preparing for interviews and photo shoots, and as always, Mark had kept to himself, absorbed in something on his iPad. He entered the room quietly, wearing a white turtleneck that clung to his frame, paired with tailored trousers. His sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal a sleek, expensive watch. His hair, messy in a calculated way, framed his face perfectly, while the sharp lines of his freshly trimmed beard accentuated his jawline. Spectacles perched on his nose added a touch of intellectual charm, and his pout—unintentionally adorable as he concentrated on the stats on his screen—made it impossible to look away.

The room fell silent as heads turned.

Even the most focused team members found themselves distracted. A PR representative stumbled over her words, forgetting the next instruction, while Charles Leclerc, seated in the corner, froze mid-sip of his espresso. His eyes narrowed, scanning Mark from head to toe. It wasn’t the first time Mark had caught everyone off guard with his looks, but it was the first time Charles felt a growing, unexplainable ache in his chest.

Charles muttered under his breath, “He doesn’t even try.” ______________________________________________________________

It was the Texas Grand Prix, and Mark couldn’t have looked more out of place—or more irresistible—if he tried. From the moment he stepped out of the car, it was clear that he had fully embraced the Texas vibe, leaving fans—especially those in the paddock—completely speechless.

Mark had donned a cowboy hat, the wide brim casting a shadow over his eyes, giving him an air of mystery. His shirt, an open-collared, loosely tucked Western button-down, clung just enough to hint at the strong muscles underneath, but it was the tight, well-worn jeans that had everyone’s attention. They fit him perfectly, hugging every curve and contour, and for once, Mark didn’t even try to hide the fact that they put his “ass-ets” on full display. The leather boots he wore clicked with every step, making him look like he had just walked straight out of a country music video—and everyone was here for it.

But what truly made the look was his accent. Mark’s usual multilingual charm took on a sultry, southern edge as he greeted everyone with a soft, “Howdy, y’all.” The contrast between his usual European elegance and this rugged Texan persona made his fans weak in the knees.

Charles couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way the light caught Mark’s features, his jawline sharp and his chest—oh God, his chest—barely contained by the tight shirt, made Charles’ stomach twist in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Mark was more than just the rookie Ferrari driver, he was… a force.

______________________________________________________________

A few days later, the drivers planned a dinner together—a rare moment to unwind amidst their hectic schedules. The group gathered in the hotel lobby, dressed in casual but stylish attire. Charles, ever the gentleman, wore a smart blazer over a casual shirt. He stood chatting with Lando and Carlos when the elevator doors opened.

And there he was.

Mark stepped out dressed in an all-black suit that seemed tailored to perfection. The fabric hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to his long legs. A faint hint of his cologne—a dangerously intoxicating blend of musk and cedar—lingered in the air as he passed. His hair was slightly slicked back, accentuating the sharpness of his features, and a subtle smirk played on his lips as he adjusted his cufflinks.

He looked like he had walked straight out of a mafia drama, the kind where he’d play the enigmatic and dangerously hot boss. Conversations around the lobby hushed. Even Lando, known for his endless jokes, muttered a quiet “Bloody hell? Is he here for dinner or is he here to kill us all?”

Charles swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the glass of wine in his hand. He couldn’t deny it anymore—Mark Spencer had a way of commanding attention without even trying, and it was driving Charles to the brink.

As Mark made his way toward the group, he could feel every pair of eyes on him. It wasn’t just the drivers who were mesmerized—fans across the world were reacting to his sudden sartorial change. Social media erupted with enthusiasm.

Fan Reactions:

*"I was NOT prepared for this level of hotness from Mark Spencer. That suit? *chef’s kiss* #FerrariFashion #MarkIsKillingIt"*

"Okay, but did anyone else feel like Mark just walked out of a mafia movie? What’s next, a dramatic action scene?? #NewFavoriteLook"

"The way he just casually owns that look? That’s the kind of swagger we need in F1. 👏👏👏 #MarkSpencer #StyleIcon"

"Mark is serving us the *exact* amount of hotness we need in 2024. Someone please tell me how to pull off a turtleneck like that. #F1FashionKing"

"I’m not even mad that Charles Leclerc’s in the background—Mark is absolutely stealing the show right now. #Unbothered"

The attention didn’t stop there. As the evening wore on, Mark couldn’t help but notice Charles stealing glances at him. It was subtle—almost too subtle—but Mark had learned to read Charles by now. There was something in the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long, and it made Mark’s heart race. But he was determined not to acknowledge the growing tension.

Dinner passed in a blur of laughs and lighthearted chatter, though there was an undeniable energy that hung between Mark and Charles. Eventually, the group headed back to the hotel.

In the elevator, the air was thick with unspoken words. Charles and Mark stood side by side, their proximity almost unbearable. The faint sound of the elevator’s hum was the only thing filling the silence.

Finally, Charles broke the quiet. "You know," he began casually, "you clean up way too well."

Mark raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. "What, you’re not used to seeing me in something other than a hoodie?"

Charles smirked, his fingers drumming lightly against his arm. “Yeah, but this… this is something else.”

Mark chuckled softly, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “What, you worried I’ll steal your spotlight?”

Charles looked away, clearly flustered. But Mark, ever the tease, leaned closer. “Don’t worry, Charles. You’ll always be the pretty one.” He said it with a playful grin, but the words hung in the air longer than necessary.

Before Charles could respond, Mark’s finger accidentally brushed against Charles’ hand, the briefest touch sending an unexpected shock through both of them. It was enough to make Mark pause and meet Charles’ gaze. The playful smile on his lips faltered slightly, and Charles didn’t look away.

And then, without thinking, Charles leaned in, his lips brushing against Mark’s for a brief moment. It wasn’t a deep kiss—nothing more than a spark of electricity—but it was enough to send both their hearts racing. When they pulled apart, neither of them knew what to say.

Mark’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed something softer, something that wasn’t there before.

“Well,” he murmured, breaking the silence, “that’s certainly one way to say goodnight.”

Charles, still flushed, muttered a quiet, “Yeah, sure.”

As Mark stepped off the elevator first, he shot Charles one last look, his smirk wide and knowing. “Sleep well, Charles,” he said with a wink.

Charles, stunned, could only manage a small nod.

This was a new kind of tension—one that neither of them was ready for, but one they couldn’t ignore any longer. ______________________________________________________________

(dividers by @anitalenia , @bunnysrph , @omi-resources )

[the-fluff-piece]

Sexy devil fruit power shenanigans - headcanon

Eating a devil fruit changed them forever. And it affected their behaviour, too!

Headcanon about how Sabo, luffy, law, smoker and kinemon use their ability with you and in their daily life

18+

If you liked this one, have a look at my masterlist for headcanons and stories

Law

His room ability has to be used consciously, it doesn't just happen by itself, which suits him just fine. Can't just make a room whenever he's having whicked thoughts while staring at you

Loves to float in his room and doze like that. He wasn't sure if you'd like it too, so it took him a while to ask. Now it's your quality time.

Having absolute control inside the room has opened up new possibility of playing with you

It's very draining for him, but sometimes in the evenings, he is too lazy to get up, so he just makes a big room and shambles you into his bed together with a few snacks. It often happens, by pure coincidence of course, that you're just done showering and your towel is not coming with you

When you can't be together for a while, he begs for your hand. To cut off. And keep so he doesn't feel lonely.

You may not leave it when you're going on a trip, but sometimes you let him have it for a few hours. Let's just say it's kind of exciting when you're going about your day and suddenly feel him kissing your hand and than makes you stroke him

Sabo

Having powers of fire has made him even more of a cinnamon role than before, his temper burns hotter than ever

When he is agitated or excited, flames appear around him. You can tell when he's having naughty thoughts whenever blue flames dance around him

He's burnt more than one bed when he couldn't control his power or his passion. He still can't forgive himself for burning you once with his too hot kisses

So foreplay is now cool-down play where he really needs to take the edge off before touching you - by touching himself as he watches you...

When he's really moody, he makes little puffs of smoke without noticing it

Heat and spiciness is no longer an issue for him. No burrito is too hot for him, no chilli too spicy. He has been banned from all eating competitions regarding hot foods

Luffy

His gummi powers have a strong influence on his bodies viscosity, that's how he stretches

Whenever he is relaxed, his body becomes very soft, when he is really, really relaxed he almost becomes a fluid

So after your first night together, he became a happily snoring, super- soft and cuddly pillow. His arms were still inescapable though

Whenever your gone and he has to sleep by himself, his hands stretch and search for you, making it really hard for everyone else to sleep

His creeping hands turn up whenever you least expect them, too bad he's really good with them. Eating together with the others has become agony since he realized he can just fondle you from under the table

Smoker

He prides himself on the absolute control he has over his powers, so whenever he turns into smoke randomly or the room gets very foggy, he gets defensive and gives a bad, bad explanation why he wanted to do that

He wants to keep your relationship a secret, so he creeps through windows or doors as smoke, materialising bit by bit in your bed

He can effectively divide his body by only partly turning into smoke - it gives him very interesting abilities to please you in unusual ways

He doesn't admit it, but he cannot leave you alone. So even on absolutely sunny days, a suspicious cloud is following you around.

Kinemon

His dress up ability turned you into the most stylish girl over night. Since he has to picture it in his mind first, his perverted thinking also turned you into the sluttiest

Since he can create anything in a few seconds, you save lots of time in the morning and with laundry. Since it also vanishes in an instant, you safe time undressing, too

Kinemon uses this with delight when he catches you alone during the day, he has you in your underwear in a heartbeat - and dressed once you are finished

He gets very creative with lingerie and straps. Whenever he has a new idea, he is giddy all day until he can see how you look wearing it

[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 1 - The Lady in Red

Summary: A chance meeting in a coffee shop leads to a date with a writer that goes very well.

Length: 3 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC.

Warnings: Bucky feeling somewhat isolated and lonely.

Author notes: This story takes place after FATWS but Bucky is back in New York, isolating himself from everyone except Sam. Thunderbolts and Captain America 4 haven't happened.

The entire month of November had been cold and dreary, in a way that made Bucky feel all of his years.  The leaves had turned quickly, seeming to go directly from green to yellow then falling en masse during one of the many chilly, windy, or rainy days that New York experienced more of during this particular month.  There was no chance to enjoy autumn, savouring a relaxing walk under the fall colours of the many different trees in the city.  Even visits to his favourite coffee shop weren't doing it for him, as everyone who came in didn't seem inclined to relax in the ambience; instead, they quickly placed their orders then hustled out the door to wherever they had to be.  It emphasized his own solitary life, leaving him feeling isolated, alone, and unwilling to put himself out there.

On this specific day, Bucky had just sat down in the coffee shop with his plain black coffee, checking the many text messages from Sam, telling him it was still warm in Delacroix and inviting him to stay a while and work on the boat.  Although he appreciated the repeated offers, he felt uneasy about accepting them.  Maybe it was the realization doing so would feel like running away from the life he was trying to rebuild in Brooklyn, or maybe it was the thought that if he did go, he was accepting that he couldn't make his own life without Sam's help.  Plus, Sam was busy training Joaquin in the intricacies of the wing suit and when they were both up in the air, Bucky felt somewhat left behind.  Regardless, it was keeping him from making a decision.  Placing his phone on the table, he sipped his coffee, then he noticed a woman outside, in the shadow of the outside awning, looking through the window of the coffee shop, before entering and standing in line. 

She looked up at the artistically rendered chalk menu board, with a glowing expression on her face, as if she was looking at a masterpiece.   What she wore made her stand out; a bright red coat, one that had an inner liner to provide warmth on the transitional days between fall and winter.  Compared to the drab brown, black and grey outerwear most of the others wore, she looked stylish.  Her small black purse strapped crosswise across her body and knit cap completed the look.  When it came to her turn, the cashier looked at her expectantly.

"There's so much to choose from and I don't know the terminology," she began, as the clerk sighed.  "Right, people are waiting.  A large mochachino and a piece of coffee cake, please." 

She gave her name, paid then waited with the others, trying to temper her curiosity at everything, seeming to find just being there enjoyable.  Bucky watched, interested in how she seemed to light up the space with her presence.  After picking up her order she turned, looking for an empty table or a spot at the window counter, but the place was quite full for a change.  Reaching for his phone, he put it inside his jacket then gestured to the empty chair across from him.

"This chair is free," he offered, unsure why he just did that.

"Oh, thank you!"  She smiled as she placed her mug on the table, followed by the small paper bag with her coffee cake and unbuttoned her coat, revealing a soft blue sweater over dark jeans.  "I'm so new to this.  Everyone at home told me that New Yorkers could be rude ... you just proved otherwise."

Sitting down, she picked up her mug and sipped it, nodding her head at the taste, then pulled out her phone, making a notation in her notes app.  All through this Bucky observed her with a bit of amusement and curiosity of his own.

"Where's home?" he asked.

She described her small town, about growing up there, then going to college for her teaching degree, returning to teach English in the local high school.  Although it was a longer answer than he was expecting, he found himself interested in her descriptive monologue.

"So, you're a teacher?"

"Well, I was," she answered.  "It was always a toss-up between teaching and writing.  I wrote stories when I was growing up and continued throughout college.  Somehow, I found the time to write a book while I was teaching, self published it then submitted it to a literary agent, and they found a publisher.  They expect it to do really well, and the original edition is up for an award, so the publisher suggested I write another, and my agent said it was time to turn to writing full time.  It was a big decision, but my marriage had ended, so it seemed like a good time to take a chance and move to New York."

"I'm sorry about the marriage but I'm interested about the book," said Bucky.  He pulled a battered paperback out of his jacket.  "I'm a bit of a reader.  Perhaps I've read it."

She told him the name, but he hadn't heard of it.  "I'll get a copy of the new edition for you," she offered.  "Even sign it, if you want."

It wasn't so much the offer but the way she said it that made his day a little brighter.  Talking to her felt as natural as breathing.

"I'm Bucky," he said, offering his right hand to her. 

"Leia, like Princess Leia, but my agent and publisher want me to write as Adriana Weller.  Having a pseudonym is supposed to discourage stalkers ... you're not a stalker, are you, Bucky?"

"No, but I am infamous."  He shifted a little, surprised at the question and that he had answered it without being offended.

"Because of whom you are."  She sipped her drink, then leaned towards him and lowered her voice.  "I recognized you from the Flag Smashers coverage.  You are much nicer looking in person.  They always seemed to catch you in a serious moment."

"I have a lot of those," he smirked.  "You're very straightforward."

"I didn't offend you, did I?  You can't beat around the bush when you teach high school."

"No, not at all."  He flashed his smile at her.  "I appreciate it." 

He felt his phone vibrate and excused himself to look at it.  It was Sam wanting to know if he was up to a call.  Bucky responded that he was busy at the moment.  Leia just smiled and sipped her drink again, while watching the others who came in.  She pulled her own phone out and again noted something in an app.  When she slipped it back into her purse, she noticed Bucky watching her and smiled shyly.

"I, uh, observe things and write them down before I forget, on the off chance I get inspiration for a character or a moment in a book.  I wrote a little note about meeting a polite New Yorker who offered me a seat at his table.  No name or description, as I respect your privacy."

"Thank you, but I am from Brooklyn, just sayin'."  He said it with a smile that made his eyes crinkle.

"Noted."  She looked him in the eye, resting her chin on her hand.  "You're easy to talk to.  I've been here about 10 days and so far, other than my agent and editor, I've been yelled at by taxi drivers several times for crossing on the light, cat called by creeps who receive an earful from me for their rudeness, or I've been barely tolerated because I'm not quite up to speed yet in this environment."

"It can be like that."  Her words spoke a truth that resonated with him, and he made a decision at that moment.  "Would you go out for dinner with me?  Nothing fancy, just a Brooklyn boy showing a new friend the neighbourhood.  You do live near here, right?"

It was her turn to give him a warm smile.

"Dinner?  Only if we split the bill.  That way there's no obligation on either of us.  I have dating horror stories from after my divorce and it's kind of how I roll these days."

"Well, I'm still very much a 40s man, but if you allow me to bring you flowers, we can split the bill.  I wouldn't want to end up in your notes as not being flexible."

"That's a fair compromise," she said.  "I live a couple of blocks away.  Pick me up at 6:30?"

The time was set, she texted him her contact information and they enjoyed each other's company until they finished their drinks.  Later, when Bucky walked over to Leia's place from his, which was a few blocks away from the coffee shop in the other direction, he didn't notice the cold, or the cloudy skies.  It felt like the old days, before the war, as he sauntered towards the high rise she lived in, looking forward to the date.  He carried sunflowers, wrapped for protection from the cold, hoping she would like them.  She did, saying they reminded her of the Van Gogh sunflower paintings, which she loved.  Her place was nice, bigger than his, felt warm and comfortable, with a view that showed the lights of other highrises.  Considering she had only been there a short time; he was surprised she had personalized it so quickly.

"It's mostly just cushions and a few blankets," she said, as she placed the sunflowers in a vase.  "Every time I go out, I try to find something to add, although I did bring some things I couldn't give up.  The publisher hired some people to deliver them and set them up."

"I like it," he said, looking over her book collection.  "You have some good titles here."

"That reminds me," she murmured, producing a hard cover book Reflections on a Small Town.  "There's a saying to write what you know, so I wrote a bunch of stories about growing up in a small town; the good, the bad, and the ridiculous.  I personalized the message."

He opened the book up to the title page and smiled slightly at the inscription.

To Bucky Barnes, the big-city boy who showed kindness to a small-town girl. 

Leia Dunn, aka Adriana Weller

"Hopefully, you'll never have to sell it to pay for life saving surgery.  I haven't signed any of the publicity copies with my real name so this copy will be a collectible someday.  You know, since I will probably achieve Margaret Atwood status."

Her grin was infectious, and he grinned back.

"Thank you, I'll make sure to take good care of it and not damage the book jacket," he replied.  "If you don't mind, I'll leave it here until I bring you back. Are you ready to go?"

He helped her on with her red coat; after admiring the patterned black, gold, and silver tunic she had paired with black jeans to wear.    For the walk to the restaurant, she slipped gloves on, then placed her hand inside the crook of Bucky's elbow once they were out on the sidewalk.  As they walked it felt even more familiar to him, just like how it felt to go on a date before the war.  He pointed out various buildings along the way, managing to come up with an anecdote for each, most of them involving him and Steve.  Stopping briefly at a light, he started across while the wait sign was on, joining others who took the opportunity to cross during the gap in traffic.  Placing his hand over hers that still grasped his elbow, he stepped off the curb, assuring her it would be safe.

At the restaurant, Bucky opened the door for Leia, allowing her to enter first, then helped her into her chair.  After placing their drink and food orders they sat quietly for a moment then she leaned forward.

"I tried on about six different outfits before you arrived," she said.  "I don't think I've been this nervous about a date, other than the first one after I split up with my husband."

"I think you look great," he replied.  "For a moment I wondered if you were trying to match my arm."

She tilted her head slightly, unsure of what his comment meant.  Taking his gloves off he showed her his left hand. 

"Wow, it's beautiful."  She reached for it, then looked at him for permission, so he took her hand in it.  "This is incredible technology.  Fully functional, obviously."

"Yeah, I can feel heat, cold, pressure and touch."

Their drinks came and Bucky found himself enthralled at Leia's anecdotes.  She shared some stories about teaching, of her thoughts about moving to the city, including her eagerness to explore everything it had to offer.  Her expressive manner made it easy for him to open up to her about his own experiences in Wakanda, especially the culture shock of a traumatized city boy thrust into a rural community minus a limb. 

They talked, laughed, and commiserated for hours, until their server came with the bill and apologetically asked them to leave, as they had been there for four hours, and they were closing soon.  As agreed, they split the bill and the tip, then Bucky helped Leia on with her coat, and they stepped out into the first snowfall of the coming winter.  The soft blanket of white had already covered every surface brightening up the dark as the snow reflected the streetlights' glow.  With the sounds of the city muffled by the flakes still lazily drifting down they walked back to Leia's place, silently enjoying the presence of the person they were with.  Accompanying her up to her floor, Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets, as they stood outside her apartment door, nervously wondering if he should kiss her or not.  He really wanted to, but he also didn't want to come across too strongly.

"I had a really good time," she murmured.  "You're a very interesting man and I'm glad you offered me a seat at your table."

"Me too."  He rubbed the back of his neck as he towered over her.  "Would you go out with me again?"

"I would love to."  She unlocked the door and stood in the doorway, sensing his hesitation.  "I wish you would kiss me."

Removing the glove on his right hand, Bucky gently slid his fingers into her hair, so he was cradling the back of her head, then lowered his lips to hers.  The moment they touched, they both knew it would be a great kiss.  Leia molded her body to his, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder.  As the kiss deepened and their tongues gently tangled together, he was aware of one thing, her.  How she tasted, the smell of her hair and a touch of perfume that was subtle yet captivating; and when she whimpered slightly as he increased his hold on her, he didn't want to go.

"Holy cow," she whispered, as they broke apart a little.  "It wasn't just me, was it?"

His breath stuttered a little as it came out.  "No, I felt it, too."  Grazing her jawline with his fingertips he studied her face, then groaned a little.  "I shouldn't say this because we just met, but I don't want to leave."

"I don't want you to leave either."  Gently, she caressed his cheek.  "But ... I have a breakfast meeting at 7 am with the publisher and I'll have to be up at 6 for it, and I've only known you for a few hours."

"It's too soon, isn't it?" 

She nodded, then her eyes lit up.  "I'm invited to a party on Friday night, kind of a book launch and introduction to bookstore retailers.  I can bring a plus one."  Her fingers were toying with the buttons on his leather jacket.  "It's a suit and tie thing but it's an open bar and ... and I'm not doing anything on Saturday, if you still don't want to leave."

It was an impulsive offer and he felt just as impulsive when he decided to accept it.

"What time should I pick you up?"

"They're sending a car for me at 7:30 so be here before then."

"Alright, I'll see you Friday." 

They kissed again, a quick but sweet kiss, then Bucky headed to the elevator.  Just as he pushed the down button, he heard his name, and Leia hurried down the hallway with the book she gave him. It had been overlooked in the special moment they shared.

"You forgot this," she said, sounding a little breathless.

This time, the kiss was intense, as they both crushed their lips together, desperately caught in a sweet tussle of taste and sensation.  Her hands slipped under his leather jacket, pressing against his back, while he had one hand entwined in her hair, and the other wrapped around her waist.  The elevator doors opened to several people witnessing the kiss.  One of them shrugged and pressed the close door button.  Neither Bucky nor Leia noticed.  When they finally broke for air, she gazed up at him, while he smiled softly at her.

"Holy cow," he whispered.  "This is Wednesday night, right?"  She nodded slowly.  "I've heard that patience builds character.  I'll be full of it by Friday."

Her giggle filled Bucky with a warmth he hadn't felt since he was a young man.  Reaching for the down button, he pressed it again, as Leia waited with him.  When the elevator car reached her floor, he backed into it and pressed the main floor button, watching her intently until the doors closed.  It was still snowing out, so he stuffed the book inside his jacket, and walked home, thinking of her the entire way.

Part 2>>

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[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro's Role-Play Date

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

[Note: This date was translated with the help of Google Translate :>]

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 1]

The date starts with MC checking her appearance in a mirror at a game studio, and as she checks herself, she admires how exquisite the game studio's makeup is.

Suddenly, she gets a message from a smart watch that she's wearing on her wrist:

【The role you reserved is: Witch of Desire.】

【Your personal task is: Let your companions admit that they are "satisfied" before completing all the main levels of the game.】

【Afterwards, the teammate would be deemed to have failed the mission and the adventure will end.】

She presses the "OK" button on her watch.

Apparently, a few days ago, when MC pre-booked this live-action RPG game, she ended up drawing the "Witch of Desire" as her character.

This character apparently knows how to clear every level of the game in advance, and also comes with a large number of game tokens. Their job was to secretly lure their companions away from the game's main storyline.

Then, another message pops up on her watch:

【In order to facilitate your completion of the task, we have distributed game strategy manuals, level maps and a large number of game tokens to you for easy reference and use at any time.】

【Please make good use of your resources to "tempt" your teammates into falling into the trap of satisfaction.】

【P.S. The game co-branded leisure suite you reserved: "Witch Hut" is also ready and can be visited after the game has ended.】

【I wish you good luck in your mission. 】

The thought of being able to use this mission to lure Kiro into material traps and leading him astray through satisfaction...

And then spending the rest of our time relaxing and enjoying Halloween in every way possible at the customized suite I booked for us makes my imaginary tail wag uncontrollably.

I wonder what role he has drawn and what personal tasks he'll receive?

At almost the next moment, following a clear and translucent voice, a handful of fluffy gold bursts into my line of sight.

??: Why is this little witch smiling so proudly?

I hastily put my hands behind my back to hide my watch. When I raise my eyes, my breath stops for a moment.

The round retro sunglasses he wears are unable to conceal the smile in his blue eyes, and his solemn black attire makes his figure appear all the more stylish and elegant.

Under the exquisite dark gold collar button is a cross-shaped pendant, and the white stole hanging from his shoulders is embroidered with light gold patterns, remotely resembling the colour of his hair.

I stare at him with wide eyes and blink several times.

Kiro: Why are you so stunned?

He stretches out his hands to funnily hold my cheeks, and squeezes them a little harder with his fingertips.

I look at that intimately close clear blue and let out a dramatic sigh.

MC: I can't help it. This priest is too handsome.

MC: Just looking at you like this makes me want to become your believer.

Finding my remark amusing, he laughs out loud. He raises my right hand and twirls me around in a circle, akin to a dance.

Kiro: If that's the case, I'll announce the first tenet of this religion then: The center of the universe is my Miss Chips.

My cheeks unconsciously heat up, and the next second, he mischievously narrows his eyes, puts my hand to his lips and gently drops a kiss on it.

Kiro: Tenet 2: We are to be honest with each other.

He blinks slowly, and his clear eyes seem to see through all my thoughts and hidden motives.

Kiro: So... tell me all your secrets.

MC: And what secrets would that be?

Kiro: I just got the feeling that when you were looking at your screen just now, you seemed a bit preoccupied.

Knowing how my mission would directly lead to his elimination, I pull my hand back from his palm with a bit of guilt and respond with an ambiguous lie.

MC: I was reading the mission description, of course~

MC: When we play games together, don't you study the tasks very carefully too?

Kiro: So that's it.

The corners of his lips seem to lift a little higher, and he immediately hooks my fingers, leading me towards the entrance of the first level.

Kiro: I knew you'd be anticipating this adventure as much as I have, Miss Chips.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 2]

The game begins and MC manages to help Kiro solve a few puzzles right from the get-go. When she suggests they go visit a nearby merchant to restock on supplies, Kiro points out that they shouldn't have enough to spend, seeing as how they only managed to complete a few simple tasks.

Thinking of the large sum of gold coins in her own account, MC takes Kiro to see the merchant anyways, seeing it as a chance to garner his "satisfaction".

After some time, Kiro watches her in a daze as she comes back carrying plenty of props and supplies, and asks her where she got so many coins from.

MC: Since I'm the Witch of Desire, it would only make sense for me to satisfy people's desires~

MC: And it's not just gold coins. There are a lot of other things that I can create with "magic".

Kiro: I didn't expect my partner to be this amazing. Looks like we'll have a sure win in this game!

Hearing the mirth filled in his words, a sense of satisfaction wells up in my heart.

MC: Hmm, then if I may ask, Mr. Priest, are you satisfied with the assistance provided by this little witch at this point in time?

I calmly ask that tempting question and carefully look at him from the side, expecting him to give an affirmative answer, but also worrying that he might notice something.

Kiro: Of course.

The watch on my wrist that automatically takes note of keywords doesn't give any signals. It seems that my mission hasn't been accomplished yet.

Just as I'm thinking about how much of a pity it is, a sweet taste blossoms on the tip of my tongue.

He unwraps a chocolate and feeds it to me, and whether intentionally or not, his fingertips gently press against my lower lip.

Kiro: I'm anticipating what will happen on this journey more and more.

In response, MC asks Kiro about where they should go next, and instead of answering her, he just silently looks at her, as if he's waiting for something to happen.

When MC asks him what's wrong, he just brushes it off, saying that he was thinking about where they should go next.

MC finds his sudden pause a little odd but brushes the thought aside when she secretly looks at the guide on her watch, finding a nearby trigger point for a hidden mission.

And so, MC suggests that they head in the direction of the hidden mission and Kiro agrees.

As they head deeper into the woods, their surroundings grow darker and darker, and Kiro wonders if they're going in the right direction.

MC: Yes, trust me.

He casts a glance at me, and the corners of his lips rise in amusement.

Kiro: Is this also one of the witch's magic spells?

MC: Uh-huh, I'm an expert.

Kiro: However... according to how these kinds of games and stories go, to cast magic, you have to pay a corresponding price.

Kiro: Will this witch also be charging me a price to bring endless happiness?

The eyes behind those sunglasses flash with a playfulness and inquiry that I'm unable to understand, and they gaze deeply into my eyes.

MC: Of... Of course not....

MC: I'm a very powerful witch.

I can't help but look away, worrying that my "conspiracy" will be exposed, but also because it is laced with some emotion that I can't explain.

MC: After all, wanting you to be happy is the most natural thing to me.

His light laughter drifts past my ears along with the night breeze, like a somewhat intimate kiss.

He quickly purses his lips, his eyes narrowing into a somewhat bewitching arc.

Kiro: So that's it.

He pronounces every word he utters with great certainty, but a hint of teasing flashes across his eyes. It seems to be responding to the direction I point at, or responding to something I said before.

Kiro: Then I can trust you 100%.

-

As Kiro and MC continue walking, they come to a spot that looks like a cemetery.

As they approach closer to the gates, their watches start beeping at the same time and a mission notification pops up on the screen:

[Congratulations on triggering the mission: Howling Cemetery.]

[This mission is a hidden mission. Please reach the center of the cemetery within the specified time and drive away the evil spirits under the holy and immaculate angel statue.]

MC acts all surprised, as if she wasn't expecting this to happen, but she is shocked to find how calm Kiro is as he pulls her deeper into the cemetery, as if he was expecting something like this to happen.

Usually, whenever they'd discover hidden missions in games they played before, Kiro would get all excited about it, but his lack of reaction here causes doubts to arise in MC's mind.

However, before she can dwell on those thoughts any further, Kiro points to a spot up ahead.

Kiro: Is that the angel statue mentioned in the mission description?

MC: Yes, but the description specifically says "immaculate angel statue". So we have to "purify" it first, and then...

Kiro: Miss Chips.

MC: Yes?

Kiro: Before I start my mission, I have a question for you.

Seeing the smile on his lips carrying with it an inexplicable sense of mischief, alarm bells suddenly start to go off in my head.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 3]

The small bat ornaments in the cemetery sway in the night wind. Kiro looks at me with a smile and speaks slowly.

Kiro: From the start of the game, I've felt like you've been keeping something from me.

Kiro: It's our first time playing this game, but you're always providing all kinds of assistance in the nick of time.

Kiro: You haven't done many tasks yet, but you can get a lot of game coins at any moment.

Kiro: This is clearly a hidden level. The mission instructions aren't very direct, yet you immediately realized how to clear it.

Kiro: If we consider it from the perspective of normal game flow, this would be too unbalanced.

I stare at him blankly, my mind a mess.

Kiro: You said before that you're able to do this 'cause of your powers as a Witch of Desire.

Kiro: So I've been thinking that... maybe you received some special personal mission?

Kiro: Like, getting me to say something like "satisfied"?

Putting on his brightest, most innocent smile, he asks a question that hits the nail on the head.

MC: Why are you talking about this all of sudden...

Seeing me hesitate and refuse to answer, Kiro turns around and walks towards the sculpture in long strides, as if he has planned this all beforehand.

MC: Wait, you can't go there now!

MC: Failure to handle the statue according to the task instructions will trigger a--

I quickly reach out and try to grab onto him, but unfortunately, my fingertips only manage to graze the corner of his clothes.

The moment he reaches the sculpture, the angel's face melts from top to bottom like wax, turning into a mass of distorted lines that made one's skin crawl.

Its hands, which were originally folded in prayer, suddenly drop and firmly grasp Kiro's shoulders, pulling him in front of it and holding him.

At the same time, accompanied by a burst of eerie sound effects, several ghosts sway left and right and float in his direction.

[You have fallen into a trap. Please escape within 3 minutes, or else the ghost will take you away from the mission area and end the adventure.]

MC: Kiro, why would you... you...

Everything happened so fast. Too many doubts flood my mind, and I even end up stumbling over my words for a while.

Kiro: Because I trust you, of course.

Although he is ensnared by the terrifying statue, he stretches out his voice and gives me a brilliant smile with sparkling eyes and a spirit of excitement.

Only now does he seem to truly be enjoying the game.

Kiro: I trust that as my "partner", you won't let me get eliminated so soon.

Kiro: So, are you willing to have an honest conversation with me?

Only then do I realize that he let himself get caught on purpose!

Since he has fallen into the trap so easily, I guess this game master already has a way of escaping, and is just waiting for me to reveal all my cards so that he can escape unscathed.

Thinking of this, I walk up to him and squat down with a bit of amusement, helplessly puffing up my cheeks.

MC: So a certain someone decided to run into a trap and take himself hostage to increase the difficulty of the game, huh?

Kiro: After all, what I want most is not just to play the game.

Kiro: Since I'm playing it with you, obviously it needs to be completed in the most interesting way possible.

As if to prove his words, he grabs my hand, puts it to his lips, and lightly kisses my palm.

A slight tremor is transmitted through my gloves. Although I can't feel his temperature and touch directly, it arouses another different sort of thrill in my heart.

Kiro: Tell me everything, MC.

He blinks cheerfully. Every time I gaze into those deep blue eyes, I feel as though whatever secrets I have, I should just lay them all bare.

But the taste of sweetness I get during this little spar of ours makes me want to drag out this situation with him for a while longer.

MC: Well... why don't you just test out that theory and say "I'm satisfied"? You'll know everything then.

Kiro: No can do.

Kiro: After all, I can't judge yet what sort of game mode will make us happier.

The sunglasses on his nose slip down a little, but he doesn't seem to care at all. He just looks at me fearlessly, as if taking a gamble that he is sure to win.

Holding my hand, he moves his fingers up along my wrist, stirring up a faint warmth.

Finally, he firmly interlocks his fingers with mine, his thumb stroking the base of my fingers as if to keep time with the gradually increasing tempo of the sound in the cemetery.

It seems like an urgent request, but also, a silent urging.

I don’t know if it’s due to the sound effects or the person in front of me, but I feel my heart beating faster.

The breath lingering between us causes the temperature of the air to rise by a few degrees. I blink and pretend to look calmer than I feel.

MC: But you have to cooperate with me first. Only then can we try out various things.

MC: Otherwise I'll leave you here and move on.

As soon as I finish my fake "threat", a light laugh falls into my ears. Kiro smiles and leans his head against mine for a moment.

Kiro: The "Witch of Desire" might decide to do that, but my Miss Chips definitely won't.

As he speaks, he sits back down against the statue and clasps his hands together in prayer. As he moves, a section of his well-defined wrist gets exposed between the black of his gloves and his cuffs.

The slender silver chain wrapped around his hand hangs loosely, dripping with scorching silver light along with the light of the moon.

Kiro: After all, no matter how interesting the game is, I can confidently say that the most enjoyable part is when we take risks together.

Kiro: We experience all kinds of things together, and finally reap the fruits of our victory together.

Kiro: So, come and rescue me.

He says that with such conviction that I can in no ways deny it. Whether participating in this game or carrying out such tasks, all I yearn for is to share in these joys with him.

As if to remind us that time is running out, the cemetery bells begin to ring, stirring up the crows to take flight, their black feathers scattering in the air.

Kiro: Without you, this would just be an ordinary role-playing game.

He still looks helpless, but his eyes curve up playfully, emitting a gem-like captivating light that makes it impossible for me to look away.

My heart is pounding. I'm the one who set up the trap, but now, my every move seems to be affected by him.

It's as if he is the hunter luring people into his trap.

As if to add the final weight to the swaying scale in my heart, he lowers his voice and asks in a bewitching tone.

Kiro: You are anticipating this as much as I am... right?

MC: I....

Just as I am about to answer, I suddenly realize that in Kiro's eyes, as he looks straight at me, there has been a glimmer of expectation hidden in them since I don't know when.

The word "anticipation" that inexplicably appears also makes me vaguely aware of a sense of disobedience.

Come to think of it, he seems to have mentioned "anticipation" many times today...

-[Flashback]-

Kiro: I knew you'd be anticipating this adventure as much as I have, Miss Chips.

Kiro: I'm anticipating what will happen on this journey more and more.

-[End of Flashback]-

Just as I would mention "satisfaction" to him from time to time, those meaningful words seem to have been quietly mixed in with his sincere invitations since a long time ago.

Even at this critical moment, he cleverly intersperses those words between his sentences, as if waiting for me to give a positive answer without noticing.

I raise the corners of my lips, put one hand on his shoulder, and move closer to him, almost putting all my weight on him.

MC: Someone requested that we have an honest conversation, but it seems that he too has many secrets hidden away in his heart.

MC: Your mission is to make me admit my "anticipation", right?

There is a slight ripple in his eyes, and the curve of his lips lift higher, neither affirming or denying the claim.

Thinking of the "traps" he set along the way, I poke his chest in revenge, then tilt my head in triumph.

MC: You almost had me fooled.

MC: Since my opponent is so formidable, I have no choice but to use special means!

Seeing that the ghosts around us are closing in, I pull my hand out of his palm, reach over his head and touch the sculpture, groping for a bulge and pressing hard.

After the sound of mechanical friction, the whole statue sways slightly and falls.

The dim lights of the cemetery gradually fade away, and all we can make out are each other's outlines in the dim light.

The sculpture rumbles, carrying us away from the sky and the earth, and sinking deeper into the ground.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 4]

After the statue comes to a stop, the wall lamps in the deep underground passage light up one by one, leading us to a door at the end of the passage.

Kiro: This is...

With a few quick steps, I take out the key from my bag, open the door, and invite him in.

MC: Welcome to the culmination of all your desires—the Witch of Desire's Hut!

The cozy room is already dotted with lively decorations. The adorably carved pumpkin lanterns emit a soft light, and dots of starlight hang from the curtains of the four-poster bed.

The air is filled with the sweet scent of cupcakes, and rows of sweet treats are placed around the room, just waiting for us to devour them.

Even the flickering candles exude a lighthearted pumpkin scent.

With eyes wide, he looks around. The flickering lights reflect a rainbow of surprise in his gaze, and his dark black robe is also dyed in an ambiguous warm glow.

Kiro: To think there'd be a place like this!

MC: This is the leisure suite I booked in advance when I booked the game.

MC: I discussed the layout with the staff for a long time and bought a lot of snacks that we both would like.

MC: There's also a private AV room, multimedia game room and bathroom next door!

MC: I had originally planned on waiting for you to say you were "satisfied" and then bring you here to enjoy a sweet holiday together...

With a bit of pride, I pull him to sit on the edge of the bed, tightly grab onto his sleeve, and narrow my eyes menacingly.

MC: However, I didn't expect you, Mr. Game Master, to be so uncooperative. I had no choice but to have you locked up early.

MC: But do you really want to complete your personal mission and beat me?

With the intention of teasing him, I smile and press myself against him, but he unexpectedly takes advantage of the situation and pulls me into his arms, holding me horizontally, his right hand wrapped firmly around my waist.

Kiro: I want to, but at the same time, I don't.

Kiro lowers his head, and his soft lips brush across my forehead.

Kiro: It's rare for us to take part in a live-action RPG game together, so of course I want to win and complete it with you to the end.

Kiro's thumb rubs across my waistline again and again, outlining an intimate arc, and the air between us is filled with a tender sweetness with each exchange.

Kiro: But what I want to do most is to make you anticipate every next second with me.

Kiro: To anticipate what surprises I will bring to you and what interesting things we will encounter together.

He slightly curves his eyes, as if to prove something, and hugs me tighter, dropping a light kiss on the corner of my mouth.

Kiro: There are a lot of things that are worth doing and experiencing together with you.

Kiro: So, I really want to hear you say to me that you anticipate what's to come.

MC: But if I say that, then the game will end.

MC: And that would be such a pity...

I too rub my thumb against his cheek, exerting a bit of pressure, and at the end, I punishingly bite his earlobe.

He lets out a slight gasp. Perhaps due to the dim lights in the room, the azure blue of his eyes appear tinged with a hint of darkness.

Kiro: Then let's talk about something else.

He tilts his head back and strokes my cheek with the tip of his nose, like a friendly greeting between small animals, but in a way that makes my heart melt.

MC: For example?

Kiro: For example...

He puts his hand around me with a bit of force, and with a slight creak, we fall into the fluffy and soft touch of clouds together.

Kiro: I want to hear you say, "The mattress is very soft."

The big witch hat on my head tilts to one side, and his gloves end up getting discarded during the movement.

The biscuits get scattered everywhere, and the sash that had been draped neatly over his shoulders spreads out on the bed like water, the wrinkled sheets mimicking ripples spreading out layer by layer.

I pick up a biscuit, pry open his lips and tongue, prop my chin up with one hand and gaze at him with a smile.

MC: Pfft… then I want to hear you say “the cookies are sweet”.

I trace his exposed neck over and over again, and smile as I cause those dark emotions to swirl in the depths of his deep blue eyes.

A soft laugh is followed by his breath and brushes past the tip of my nose. The soft, moist air is sweeter than candy.

Kiro holds the biscuit in his mouth, but does not bite it off or swallow it. He just raises the corner of his mouth silently.

His familiar warmth presses against my back, and without any clothing there to block it, my exposed skin is prominently branded with his touch.

His fingertips gently stroke up along the curve of my back, and a sweet shiver surges into my head, making my breath stutter and my cheeks flush.

Another chuckle follows, and those honey soaked eyes curve into an even more intoxicating arc, as if drawing pleasure from seeing my current state.

He gently raises his chin towards me and bites a corner of the biscuit with the tip of his tongue, sending me a silent invitation.

I don't know when my heartbeat started to speed up. I prop myself up and move closer to him, then lower my head and take a bite of the other half of the cookie.

As I taste the sweetness of the biscuits on the tip of my tongue, I suddenly feel a force on my wrist preventing me from breaking free. The hand that was originally wrapped loosely around my back suddenly tightens.

My line of sight shifts and he turns me over, pressing me under him. He takes off the silver necklace that was originally hanging on the edge of the bed and uses it to tie my limbs together tightly.

He swallows the half of his cookie and strokes his fingers against my cheek.

His low and gentle voice acts as bait, tugging at my heart and mind, prompting me to sink deeper and deeper into the scenes he has created.

Kiro: Very sweet indeed.

Kiro: Too bad I've tasted sweeter things.

MC: Hm? Such as?

Before he can even utter the words, I swallow them.

The breath on my lips smells like pumpkin, like cream, like all things beautiful and happy.

I blissfully close my eyes and let myself sink into his arms. That feeling of happiness continues to flow into my heart along with the sweetness that fills my nose and mouth.

MC: You're also many times sweeter than cookies, Kiro.

He gently pecks me on the forehead, and his slightly dropping eyelashes cast a dark shadow.

Those eyes that are usually so clear and flawless are now like a bottomless abyss, prompting me to descend into endless and prolonged joy.

I smile and kiss his cheek, reveling in the reassuring warmth of our skins.

MC: I also want to hear you say, "I had a great time tonight."

The sweetness that permeates my heart throbs, urging me to get closer to him.

Unknowingly, those words seem to have lost their original intent, but the clinging and tugging of our exchanges seems to have given them a more hidden and profound meaning.

The bright and cheerful colors of the room blend into a flowing vortex, making it difficult for me to tell whether this trap has caught him or ensnared me.

The arms around me tighten, and someone's sigh causes the air to burn with an unspeakable passion.

Kiro: MC...

His voice is a little hoarse as he pours out words that are both, a confession to me, as well as something he wishes to hear me say.

Kiro: "Stay here."

[END]

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

Masterlist: Here