#and i had a vision 🤣

[wikiangela]

idea: bucktommy squabble over nothing when their laundry gets mixed up and one of them cares less and they wear eo clothes and it's not a big deal most times, they love seeing each other in eo clothes, but then one of them is looking for his favorite pair of underwear or smth stupid and gets annoyed (maybe on edge bc of other stuff and it's the last straw, *cough* buck working under gerrard *cough*) and they argue about it but it's so ridiculous in the end they just laugh it all off

idk, just give me bucktommy having a small inconsequential squabble that's so ridiculous and lighthearted lol

just buck coming to work all annoyed and everyone's like "what happened" and Buck is like "he always takes the last clean pair of socks" or smth lol

[kithtaehyung]

— ✰ YES HYUNG !! ig ; twt

[hurricanek8art]

Behold my masterful photo editing skills.

Secret about autistic people: a lot of times we don’t actually miss a social cue. We see it. We just decide to ignore it because we think it’s a stupid social cue.

[gumdropgamespot]

Which tumblr accounts are your favorites for masculine + grunge/rough/tough sims? I need some style inspo.

[romy350-romyakari]

You know what, scuff sequence is ok and then later I can figure out how to draw them all better so I can have the skeleton at least once I get back to my pc and makes this faster or at least more efficient :)

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

[eclipsaria]

Took You Long Enough

Summary // In which a workaholic CEO finds his calm in the form of his respected senior’s daughter.

Pairing:

CEO! Seungcheol x reader

Warnings:

Fluff, slow-burn, romance, engaged, age gap(10 years), mentioned of kids, married, food, cologne and watch brand names, sugar daddy! Seungcheol if you squint, lmk if i miss out any

Side characters:

SVT members

W/C:

12 671

Rating: [ 13+ SFW ]

Note:

@nerdycheol , you are the one that suggested the watch brand and Hermés cologne brand🤣 and you as a cheol's wife, i take anything you said🫡

Song:

Main Masterlist

Seventeen Masterlist

Taglist

Âme Sœur Masterlist

The office buzzed to life every morning by 8:00 a.m. A polished world of swift elevator dings, the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, and the faint scent of espresso lingering near the breakroom. Floors were lined with pristine glass partitions, and employees moved with a subtle urgency, well aware of the silent clock that ticked behind every deadline.

On the top floor, behind a sleek black door embossed with silver letters, was the corner office of Choi Seungcheol, the man who built the company from the ground up. He wasn’t just the CEO, he was the presence. Charismatic, sharp, and composed, Seungcheol was known for walking into a room and changing its air pressure with just a glance. Rumor had it that he could read a financial report faster than most people could skim a menu, and no one ever left a meeting with him without either a promotion, a plan, or a panic attack.

But beneath his tailored suits and impenetrable gaze was a man with a past no one dared to ask about, and a reputation he carried like armor.

Today, as sunlight spilled through the towering windows of his office, Seungcheol stood facing the city skyline, coffee in hand, unaware that the day ahead would shift everything he thought he had under control.

At just 30 years old, Choi Seungcheol had already climbed the summit most people only dreamed of. It was hard to believe he started as a low-level assistant at the age of 20. No connections, no shortcuts, just a relentless work ethic and a vision that burned behind his sharp eyes. He wasn’t born into wealth, nor did he inherit the company. Every step upward was carved with grit and sleepless nights.

Now serving his second year as CEO, there wasn’t a single person in the company who questioned his leadership. Titles didn't need to be old to command respect, not when every project under his lead launched with flawless execution, crushing expectations and setting new industry standards. His name echoed in boardrooms across the city as a young prodigy, the kind of leader who didn't just manage—but rewrote—the playbook.

What made him even more admired, or perhaps feared, was how calm he remained in the face of chaos. Seungcheol didn’t just make decisions; he made the right ones and fast. He listened more than he spoke, observed more than he intervened, and when he did speak, the room listened.

He turned back from the window now, placing his coffee on the desk as his assistant knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” he said coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates were real, love was less of a question and more of a certainty. The rule was simple. When you meet your soulmate, just one look into their eyes, and you’ll hear wedding bells. Not a metaphor—actual bells. Ringing in your ears like a celebration only you two could hear. After that, everything seemed to fall into place, like the universe giving you a neatly wrapped ending: soulmates meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

Well… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his closest circle, were either happily married, halfway through wedding plans, or sending him pictures of their toddlers with captions like “Uncle Cheol, when’s your turn?” The world was moving fast, and for someone like him, who always caught up quickly, this was the one race he couldn’t outrun.

He wasn’t single because he hated love. He just didn’t want to gamble with emotions. Exes and soulmates don’t mix well. What if he fell in love with someone who wasn’t the one? What if he broke someone’s heart only to meet his true soulmate later, and it all came crumbling down? So he stayed away from flings, from love, from anything that could mess with the balance of his life.

Still, it didn’t stop the slow crawl of anxiety. He wasn’t worried about getting married late, he was worried about his parents.

At 27, his mother had set him up on a blind date with someone’s daughter, he showed up out of respect, but came home early with a headache.

At 28, his father mailed out carefully written profiles of Seungcheol to other families with daughters, practically advertising him like some limited-edition luxury product.

By 29, they dropped all pretense and started pushing for an arranged marriage. “Just meet her, see if your eyes ring,” they said. He didn’t.

Now at 30, Seungcheol didn’t know what plan his parents were cooking up, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

But what could he do? Nothing. And so, as always, he chose the routine that never disappointed him: Wake up. Go to the office. Handle meetings. Review reports. Sign approvals. Go home. Sleep.

It was safe. Predictable and efficient.

It was just another day at work. The usual hum of morning emails and the faint buzz of distant phones filled the air, when Seungcheol’s secretary knocked once before entering, arms full with neatly stacked document files.

She placed them on his desk without a word at first, as he flipped through the last few pages of a report. But then, came a rare request.

“Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has extended an invitation. It’s a masquerade party,” she said, tone light but respectful. “Held by his wife. They’re hoping for your attendance.”

The name made Seungcheol look up, pausing mid-page. “…Mr. Shin?”

She nodded. “Yes. He personally requested your presence.”

Choi Seungcheol blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. Mr. Shin wasn’t just anyone, he was a veteran in the business world, one of the few people Seungcheol looked up to when he first entered the corporate jungle at twenty. Sharp, poised, but known for his warm charisma, Mr. Shin had once told Seungcheol over lunch: “Success is important, but relationships will carry you further than numbers ever will.”

Unfortunately, Seungcheol never quite grasped the latter.

He was never a party type. In his mind, parties disrupted efficiency. Hours wasted in polite conversation, standing under chandeliers, sipping drinks he didn’t care for. He didn’t hate people, he just… preferred structure.

But this invitation wasn’t something he could brush off. Not when it came from Mr. Shin. Refusing could send the wrong message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife was out of the question.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“…Tell them I’ll attend,” he said finally, a faint crease forming between his brows. “Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any clashes, push them back. And set a time for shopping. Something formal. Masked.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied with a slight smile, already tapping notes into her tablet as she turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind her, and then silence returned. Seungcheol sat there for a moment longer, staring blankly at the papers in front of him before removing his glasses and slowly pinching the bridge of his nose. A heavy sigh followed.

“A masquerade party, huh…” he muttered.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The night of the masquerade arrived with a velvet sky draped in soft stars, the city skyline glowing beneath it like scattered jewels. Seungcheol’s black car pulled up to the venue. An opulent estate on the outskirts of the city owned by the Shin family, known for hosting only the most exclusive circles.

From the very first step inside, the masquerade felt like stepping into another world.

The entrance hall was grand. High arched ceilings adorned with delicate gold filigree, with glittering chandeliers casting warm light across the polished marble floors. Elegant floral arrangements stood tall in glass vases, the soft scent of fresh orchids and lilies lingering in the air. Staff in crisp uniforms glided past with trays of champagne and wine, offering delicate glasses that sparkled like the guests themselves.

And the guests. Each one hidden behind ornate masks, dressed in tailored suits and flowing gowns, laughter muffled by polite conversation and the occasional clink of crystal. The entire ballroom shimmered with motion and elegance, the air alive with quiet prestige.

At the far end of the room, an orchestra played a soft, haunting melody. A waltz that wound through the evening like silk. Violins harmonized with cellos as couples swayed gently across the dance floor, their silhouettes graceful under golden lights. The music didn’t demand attention; it wove through the space, letting elegance speak for itself.

Seungcheol stood at the entrance for a moment longer, absorbing the scene. Dressed in a deep charcoal tuxedo, his mask was sleek, made of brushed silver, perfectly fitted and simple. Just like him.

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit with quiet precision and took a slow breath.

Seungcheol moved through the grand hall with quiet grace, the soft shuffle of his polished shoes drowned by the music and conversation. His eyes scanned the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure near the center of the ballroom. Mr. Shin, dressed in a regal navy suit, silver embroidery trimming the collar of his jacket. Standing beside him, equally elegant, was Mrs. Shin, her mask adorned with pearls that shimmered with every turn of her head.

With his posture poised and his mask adjusted, Seungcheol approached them and gave a respectful bow.

“Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin,” he greeted formally, voice steady. “Thank you for the kind invitation.”

Mr. Shin turned, a pleased smile stretching under his mask. “Seungcheol! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t show. I’m glad you came.”

Mrs. Shin offered a soft nod, “You look dashing tonight, dear. As always.”

“I wouldn’t miss this, not when it comes from the both of you,” he said with a light smile, still formal in tone. “The venue is breathtaking.”

They shared a few pleasantries, light jokes exchanged beneath crystal chandeliers. Seungcheol tried his best to blend into the moment, smiling at the passing comments, laughing politely, sipping wine when handed a glass, but the stiffness in his shoulders never quite faded.

And then, as expected, his conversation naturally veered back to what he knew best.

“Actually, just before coming here, we finalized the restructuring proposal for the third branch’s distribution-”

He stopped himself, but the Shin couple only smiled knowingly.

Mrs. Shin tilted her head with a gentle chuckle, “Oh, darling. You can talk about work all you like if it helps you feel at home. No masks are needed for that.”

Her words, though playful, pierced the tension in him like a warm knife through ice. Seungcheol let out a soft exhale, barely realizing he had been holding his breath.

And so, he spoke. About the company. About numbers. About staff growth. About challenges and solutions.

And strangely enough, the conversation didn’t feel out of place. Mr. Shin offered insights, Mrs. Shin listened intently, nodding with that gentle, matronly glow she always carried. The air grew lighter around them, the laughter more genuine, the pressure in Seungcheol’s chest slowly easing.

Then, Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder with a proud smile.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said. “My daughter just returned home after her studies abroad. I think the two of you will get along.”

Seungcheol turned just in time to see her approach.

You wore a pale lavender gown, subtle and elegant, flowing like morning mist. Your mask was delicate, silver trimmed with lace, soft feathers curling at the edges. You moved with the grace of someone raised in soft-spoken confidence, eyes quietly scanning the room until they landed on him.

The moment your eyes met, everything fell silent, except for the sound of wedding bells. Clear and unmistakable. Ringing only in your ears, like the universe had struck a chord, and fate had written the first line of a new story.

Both stood still for a moment too long, unsure whether to speak or breathe. And in the corner of his eye, Seungcheol saw Mrs. Shin’s knowing smile.

The bells still echoed faintly in Seungcheol’s ears, even as the rest of the ballroom returned to its natural soundscape. Soft music, low chatter, the clinking of glasses.

But for Seungcheol, the world had slowed.

His soulmate. He had finally found you. He should have felt relief, even joy. This was the moment most people spent their lives yearning for. The ache he had carried silently for years, the lingering worry behind every family dinner and silent commute, had finally found an answer.

But fate, it seemed, wasn’t going to make it easy.

You are twenty. Young, bright-eyed, and still new to the world. Ten years younger. And worse, you are Mr. Shin’s daughter, the Mr. Shin he had admired for over a decade, the very man who shaped the path Seungcheol now walked. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel allowed.

This couldn’t be happening… could it?

Just as he was grounding himself, still locking eyes with the girl whose existence had just turned his world upside down, Mr. Shin’s voice cut in again, calm and casual.

He reached out, gently patting his daughter’s head as he looked at you with a father’s pride.

“I’ve been preparing for retirement,” he said, almost wistfully, “but before I can step back, I need to make sure she’s ready for what comes next.”

Seungcheol turned to him slowly, blinking.

“I need someone to teach her how to face the working world. Someone sharp, experienced… someone I trust more than anyone else in this industry.”

He turned fully to Seungcheol now, smile warm, eyes firm.

“So before I retire, Seungcheol… can I pass her to you? For mentorship, or practical training. Nothing prepares someone better than real experience.”

The room suddenly felt too warm.

Seungcheol’s grip on his champagne glass tightened slightly, his composed expression slipping just barely for a breath of a second.

Not only had he just discovered his soulmate, he was also being asked on the same night to personally guide you into the working world, into the very fire he had spent ten years learning to survive.

And you would be close every day. His soulmate. His senior’s daughter. His future trainee. His knees almost gave out, but he smiled faintly and nodded, because what else could he do?

“…Of course, sir,” he said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. “I’d be honored.”

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. and Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all.

You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

“So… I guess we heard it too,” you said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Yeah. We did.”

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” he said, dipping his head politely. “But I assume you already knew that.”

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. “And I’m Shin Y/N.” You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on—guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves—but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still. Electric.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “Tonight, or… you.”

You let out a small laugh. “You mean you didn’t expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?”

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. “Was I that obvious?”

“Just a little,” you teased. “But it’s alright. I didn’t expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we’re even.”

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior’s daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

“If this gets overwhelming,” he said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, “just say so. I won’t rush into anything. I know this is… a lot.”

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. “Why do you sound like you’re the one overwhelmed?”

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

“…Because I’ve spent years building a life I could control,” he said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. “Then maybe I’m here to teach you how to let go. Just a little.”

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed… and then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

“…I think you might be,” he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn’t quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. “Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir.�� And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. “It’s an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi.”

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes… his eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn’t losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

“Thank you,” he managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. “You may begin today.”

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time. “You may return to your tasks,” he told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you.

The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full.

You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

“I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

“…Don’t get too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

“Take out a pen and a notebook,” he said briskly, avoiding your eyes. “If you want to be the next CEO of your father’s company, you’ll need to start by remembering a few things.”

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

“Rule number one,” he continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. “No one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name.”

You nodded, scribbling it down.

“Rule two,” he said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. “Always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, “That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi.”

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Rule three,” he said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. “Stop charming your mentor. It’s distracting.”

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface.

He kept his instructions sharp, his tone professional, walking you through key departments, introducing the core team, and pointing out what made his company function like a well-oiled machine. To any outsider, it looked like another day of excellence from the CEO.

But the staff, sharp-eyed and always quietly observant, noticed something was off. It wasn’t something loud. There were no smiles stretched too far, no extravagant gestures. It was the way he stood a little too close.

The way his voice dropped just slightly whenever he spoke to you. The way he’d glance at you longer than he intended when you weren’t looking. And above all, the strange, rare gentleness in his expression when he watched you scribble notes or tilt your head in concentration.

To them, he was different today.

Seungcheol didn’t think so. He was just… doing his job. Guiding you, as Mr. Shin had asked, offering knowledge and sharing insight. So why did standing next to you feel like the only part of his day that wasn’t suffocating?

Every time your shoulder brushed his as you walked beside him, his chest felt lighter, like the years of pressure he’d buried beneath routine and deadlines were slowly peeling away.

He blamed it on the soulmate bond. That had to be it.

Still, it didn’t explain how you made silence feel so comforting. Even when neither of you were talking, your presence carried a calm aura—quiet but grounding.

And for someone like Seungcheol, a man who lived and breathed pressure, your calm was unfamiliar… and unsettling.

Not in a bad way, but in a foreign, “how-do-I-function-while-feeling-peace” kind of way.

He was in the middle of explaining their operations team structure when he noticed you looking up at him with that same unwavering gaze. Focused, soft, and admiring, as if he wasn’t just your mentor, but someone you deeply trusted already.

That was when he blanked out. He literally forgot the point he was going to make.

“-and that department handles… uh…” His brows furrowed, staring at the floor plan pinned on the wall like it had betrayed him. “The, um…”

You tilted your head. “The logistics team?”

He cleared his throat, nodding once. “Right. Logistics.”

His voice returned to its usual pace, but internally, panic echoed like an alarm.

Thankfully, a familiar knock on the glass broke the moment. His secretary peeked in again.

“Sir, your meeting is in fifteen minutes.”

A lifeline.

He straightened quickly. “Right. Thank you.”

He turned to you, voice brisk but not cold. “I’ll need to prepare. My secretary will guide you around the rest of the office.”

You nodded politely. “Of course, Mr. Choi.”

And just like that, he walked away, maybe a little too quickly, and stepped into his office, letting the door close behind him.

Only when the lock clicked into place did he exhale. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against his desk for a second, glaring at nothing in particular before muttering under his breath: “…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol.”

He scowled at his own reflection in the black monitor, then sat down and opened the meeting files, anything to distract himself from the echo of your smile in his mind.

The meeting room was sleek and quiet, filled with department heads and key project managers all seated in neat rows around the long conference table. On the wall, the quarterly projections were being presented by one of the finance leads: charts, graphs, bullet points ticking forward one by one.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol looked the same as always. Sharp suit, steady gaze, and the calm posture as he sat at the head of the table.

But his fingers betrayed him.

They tapped quietly against the table’s surface, then began twirling his pen between them. An unconscious habit. Over and over, the silver pen spun in rhythm, not once slipping, not once faltering. Precision, yes, but not focus.

His eyes stayed forward, directed at the slides, but his mind wasn’t in the room.

It was still in the hallway. Back where you walked beside him, soft footsteps echoing alongside his. It was stuck on the memory of the way you tilted your head, smiling gently. The way your voice sounded when you said, “I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat picked up again.

He subtly loosened the top button of his collar with one hand, hoping no one noticed. A deep breath filled his lungs, but did nothing to cool the sudden warmth behind his ears.

Get a grip, Seungcheol.

One of the department leads directed a question toward him. He caught it, answered professionally and concisely. The pause before he spoke was half a second too long, but not enough to cause alarm.

His pen spun again, even faster now, almost mechanical.

Why was this happening?

He had handled crises, led multi-million-dollar negotiations, turned failing branches into flagship models. He had faced rooms full of foreign investors and government officials. But now, here he was, fidgeting with a pen like some college intern, thinking about a girl with calm eyes and a presence that made his carefully structured world feel… quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. And Seungcheol didn’t know if that was comforting—or terrifying.

Someone called out his name again, snapping him out of his trance.

“Yes?” he responded, blinking back into the present.

All eyes turned to him, waiting. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “I agree with the previous point. Let’s move forward with scenario B, but add a contingency plan for client-side delays. I’ll review the proposed schedule by Friday.”

Everyone nodded. The meeting continued.

But even as the presentation resumed, Seungcheol’s hand never stopped spinning the pen. And under the table, where no one could see, his leg bounced just slightly.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling, just barely.

The meeting ended without incident, at least from an outside perspective. Everyone filed out of the room with their notes and laptops, chatting quietly, discussing next steps. Seungcheol stayed seated for a few seconds longer than usual, pretending to review the printed schedule, though his eyes barely read the lines.

When he finally stood, he adjusted his jacket, gave his usual nod to his assistant, and made his way back to his office.

The walk down the hallway was normal. The familiar click of his shoes on polished floors. A few passing greetings from staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until he opened his office door. And you were there, seated on the leather guest chair in front of his desk, legs crossed, notebook in hand. You looked up immediately as the door opened, offering him that same disarming smile, the one that had singlehandedly ruined his focus for the past two hours.

“Oh,” you said softly, “welcome back, Mr. Choi.”

His steps faltered, but only for a second. He walked inside with his usual calm, closing the door behind him. “Did my secretary bring you back here?”

“She did,” you replied, standing up as a gesture of respect. “I didn’t want to wander around too long without you.”

His jaw tightened ever so slightly at that sentence.

Without me, huh?

He made his way around the desk, taking his seat while pretending not to notice the way your presence shifted the air in the room. He placed his notes down, but didn’t look at them.

You stood there quietly, notebook still in hand, waiting—always respectful, always composed. He hated how much he liked that.

“Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?” he asked, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, stepping forward again, calm and graceful. “Yes. Everyone was kind. But…”

You paused for a beat, then gave a teasing tilt of your head. “It’s a little boring without you.”

His pen rolled slightly across the desk from how fast his fingers froze.

You quickly added, “I meant that you explain things better. That’s all.”

“…Right,” he replied, clearing his throat, gaze darting briefly to the side before grounding himself again. “Let’s resume where we left off then. Sit down.”

You obeyed, smiling faintly as you opened your notebook again. Seungcheol forced himself to focus—not on you, not on your expression, not on the soft perfume that somehow lingered between the pages of your notes—but on his words. Yet, as he began speaking again about corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning, his voice betrayed him. It was softer now, gentler.

He wasn’t sure when that started happening. He only knew it never sounded like that before you arrived.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The sun dipped lower behind the skyline, casting a golden hue across the city buildings outside his office window. The office had begun to empty, lights switching off one by one as employees finished their tasks and bid each other goodnight.

Seungcheol was still at his desk, organizing a few final documents, when your voice cut through the stillness.

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, standing by the doorway, bag slung over your shoulder. “I think my driver forgot to come. I’ve been trying to call, but… nothing.”

He looked up immediately, brows tugging together. “Didn’t your father assign someone?”

You shook your head, looking only slightly bothered. “Both of my parents are working late today. The housekeeper said she can’t leave either. I can wait, it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment longer before instinct kicked in. He grabbed his phone and stood up, dialing Mr. Shin with practiced fingers.

The call connected quickly. “Mr. Shin,” Seungcheol said with crisp professionalism. “This is Seungcheol. I wanted to ask if I should assign one of my drivers to send Y/N-”

“Why do you fetch my daughter back home?” Mr. Shin’s voice cut in, amused. “You know where my house is, and I’m sure my daughter trusts you.”

Seungcheol’s brain momentarily stalled.

“I- uh…” His voice cracked before he caught himself. “Yes, sir. Of course. If that’s what you prefer.”

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Shin said cheerfully, “Good luck,” and then promptly hung up.

The silence in his office was sudden, sharp. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at it like it had betrayed him.

And then, your voice.

“So?” you asked, leaning slightly into the doorway now, your tone light, your smile just a touch too innocent to be unintentional. “What did he say?”

Seungcheol sighed, head tilting back briefly toward the ceiling. A soft groan escaped him, one of defeat rather than irritation. He looked at you, one brow slightly raised.

“Grab your things,” he muttered, already reaching for his coat. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

You let out a delighted hum, following close behind as he flicked off the lights and walked toward the elevator.

Inside, the air was calm and comfortable, yet Seungcheol’s heart thudded just a little faster. Not because of the weight of responsibility, but because you were beside him again, walking into the kind of silence that didn’t feel awkward.

This day was spiraling far faster than he’d planned… and he hadn’t even started the car yet.

The car ride started in silence.

You sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands resting neatly on your lap, your bag tucked by your feet. Seungcheol, behind the wheel, exhaled slowly as he adjusted the rearview mirror, not because it needed adjusting, but because he needed something to do other than look at you.

He wasn’t used to this.

His soulmate, sitting this close, beside him, inside his car. A space that had always been quiet, strictly for thinking or decompressing. Now? It felt like you were too close, and your presence was too warm. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, and then your voice came. Soft, teasing, and sweet.

“You don’t talk much when you’re driving, huh?”

His knuckles went white on the wheel. “I’m focused.”

You chuckled. “Focused on not crashing? Or focused on ignoring me?”

His jaw clenched.

God, your voice.

Light and lilting, floating straight into his ears, sitting there like it belonged. It curled around him slowly, teasing the edges of his control. He prayed to every higher being in the sky that the red light wouldn’t last long, or else he’d melt into the driver’s seat. And then you had to go and say it.

“By the way… I know I didn’t ask earlier, but is it okay that I sit here? In the front?”

He nearly choked on air. What was he supposed to say to that? No, please sit at the back so I don’t lose my mind?

“It’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, eyes locked firmly on the road ahead. “You’re my passenger. Of course you sit there.”

But you weren’t just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you were looking at him like you could see every thought written on his skin.

He was barely holding it together. His grip on the steering wheel never eased. His heart was pounding in a very unsafe rhythm, and he had no idea what expression you were wearing because he didn’t dare glance your way.

Not until you touched him.

It was gentle, a brush of your fingers over his knuckles, maybe meant to comfort him. But the warmth that surged through his entire arm?

The way your touch somehow seeped into his skin and calmed every frantic part of him?

Too much, his heart skipped a beat, and that was when he almost crashed.

“-Shit,” he hissed as the car veered just slightly toward another lane. Someone honked loudly. Seungcheol reacted fast, jerking the steering wheel just enough to swerve back, crossing briefly into an open lane before easing to the side of the road.

He came to a slow, shaky stop. Only then did he realize, he’d been holding his breath. The exhale that left him was heavy, his hands still frozen on the steering wheel. His eyes wide, jaw clenched, adrenaline coursing through him, and beside him, you were giggling. Not just giggling, you were laughing.

He turned his head slowly, lifting one eyebrow in disbelief.

Your laughter only got louder, trying, but failing, to look apologetic as your shoulders shook.

“Y-You almost-” you hiccuped in the middle of your laugh, “-crashed because I touched your hand? Really?”

He should have been mad, or embarrassed. But instead… he found himself smiling, leaning back against his seat as the tension slowly bled out of him.

“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated. “Too dangerous.”

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, still breathless. “Sorry! I really didn’t think it’d throw you off that much.”

He clicked his tongue, finally letting out a small laugh of his own. “Don’t touch me when I’m driving, or I might not just almost crash next time.”

You placed a hand over your chest, playfully solemn. “Got it. Hands off the CEO while he’s behind the wheel.”

With a final, lingering look, and a sigh that carried a secret smile, he started the engine again. This time, the drive was calmer, still quiet. But the silence now? Laced with warmth.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The next day, Choi Seungcheol arrived at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair styled neatly, tie perfectly knotted, suit crisp. A plan already mapped in his head.

Today, he told himself, he would not lose focus, he would be composed and professional. Distant, even.

He was a CEO, not some college boy crushing on his lab partner.

And then you walked in. Calm as ever, radiating soft energy like it was stitched into your aura. You greeted everyone with a polite bow, a warm smile that reached your eyes, and when your gaze met his across the hallway, you smiled wider.

He blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. Stay sharp, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed behind him into his office, as per usual. You placed your notebook on the desk neatly, your voice as honeyed as it was yesterday. “Good morning, Mr. Choi.”

His heartbeat betrayed him again, but he forced a nod.

“Morning. Let’s begin the schedule,” he said, already opening his laptop to avoid your eyes.

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You slept well after your near-death experience yesterday?”

He stiffened.

You were teasing him, again.

His jaw clenched, and he sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t near-death.”

“It was slightly near,” you said with a soft giggle. “You looked like you were about to write your will in that parking lane.”

He closed his laptop slowly, eyes finally meeting yours. “Are you done?”

You grinned. “Maybe.”

He clicked his pen once, and twice. Trying to stay unbothered and ignore the way your laughter from the day before still echoed in his ears like a favorite song.

“Right,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Let’s move on to today’s shadowing.”

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. You had plans. You stayed close, just close enough to keep him aware of your presence, but never inappropriate. You asked thoughtful questions, tilted your head as you listened, eyes always fixed on him with that same soft admiration.

Your voice? Still sweet.

Your tone? Still respectful, but never flat.

He was drowning quietly. And the worst part? He knew you were doing it on purpose.

He tried keeping distance. Told you to observe from the corner during a department discussion. You obeyed, then proceeded to thank him afterward, calling his approach “insightful and clean-cut.”

He told you to grab coffee for a break, hoping you’d step away. You returned ten minutes later with a second cup for him. His favorite, somehow.

He froze when you handed it to him. “How did you know this is what I drink?”

You tilted your head again, the faintest smile playing on your lips. “You mentioned it once. Thought I’d remember.”

He had no words, just sipped silently, while the heat of the coffee failed to cover the warmth spreading in his chest.

By lunch, he was cornered—emotionally, mentally, completely. And then came the final blow.

You peeked into his office again after a quick team session, hands behind your back like a child with a secret. “I finished organizing the files from the budget review. Do you want me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

You stepped inside, but instead of placing the files on his desk, you walked closer, slower, and set them gently right beside him, leaning just a bit forward. Then, you whispered, voice like silk, “You're doing great, you know.”

He turned his head so fast it startled even himself.

You stepped back immediately, that same sweet expression never leaving your face. “Just thought someone should tell you.”

He stared at you, absolutely blindsided.

You smiled again. “I’ll get back to my desk now.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, like you hadn’t just sent his heart sprinting through his ribcage.

He leaned back in his chair slowly, dragging a hand over his face, muttering under his breath: “…I’m doomed.”

Per Mr. Shin’s earlier request, Seungcheol knew that as part of your mentorship, you needed to start observing internal meetings, especially the ones that mattered. And this one, definitely mattered.

The conference room was filled with tension the moment it began. You sat beside Seungcheol, with his secretary just one seat away. The opposing company’s team stood at the other end of the long, glass table—well-dressed, well-prepared, and, unfortunately, woefully out of touch.

At first, the presentation was tolerable. Numbers were clean, projections stable, but as soon as they reached the slide titled Strategic Timeline for Implementation, everything changed.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed.

The speaker on the opposing side continued confidently, explaining outdated timelines and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since flagged as liabilities.

He raised a hand, slowly, but firmly.

“Hold it,” he said.

The speaker paused. Seungcheol gestured toward the screen. “This segment. You need to revise this strategy. We’ve already seen instability in those markets. Collaborating there puts the project at risk.”

The man across the table gave a tight smile. “We understand your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline may damage our relationship with the local representatives. A shift might send the wrong message.”

Seungcheol’s expression hardened.

“I said it needs to change.”

The tension escalated. His voice was still level, but underneath it was a warning. You could feel the air grow heavier around the table. The other attendees exchanged subtle glances. His secretary lowered her gaze.

You sat there, watching him. His knuckles were turning white, hand clenched against the table. His shoulders stiff, jaw set, clearly holding back the frustration simmering inside.

Should you do something? You hesitated. You’d never seen him this serious before. This cold. It was a side of him you hadn’t met: CEO Choi in full form. Intimidating, sharp, commanding.

But something in you… moved.

Even if he’s your boss. Even if you’re scared. You didn’t want him to be swallowed by the storm he was holding back.

So, gently—barely noticeable to anyone else—you reached out beneath the table, and touched his knuckles.

The tension left his hand almost instantly. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look at you, but he felt it, and it grounded him.

His eyes flicked back to the presenter. His shoulders lowered slightly. And then—calm, steady, dangerous—he spoke again.

“I said the cons of not changing. If you can’t change,” he began, voice slow and clear, “I can already see your company failing, and dragging mine down with it.”

The room froze.

“So I suggest you change it,” he continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him, “or I’ll stop collaborating with you altogether.”

He leaned forward just slightly, voice dropping a notch.

“It’s not a question. It’s a statement.”

Dead silence followed.

The opposing speaker faltered, swallowed hard, and eventually nodded. “Understood… We’ll revise it.”

Seungcheol nodded once, satisfied. “Good.”

The rest of the meeting passed with no further resistance. Everyone suddenly became a lot more agreeable. When it ended, people stood slowly, gathering their notes and trying to pretend they hadn’t just witnessed the CEO version of a guillotine.

You, meanwhile, were still seated, glancing at him quietly.

As soon as the door shut behind the last guest, Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. Not loud, but deep. Then he finally looked at you. Not cold, not intimidating, just… aware.

“Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You blinked. “For what?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a small, dry smile. “For keeping me from flipping the table.”

You giggled softly. “Glad I could stop a potential lawsuit.”

He laughed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “Me? I just touched your hand.”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyeing you. “That’s the problem.”

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room closed with a muted click, sealing away the tension that had filled the space just moments ago. The silence that followed was a welcome relief, wrapping around the room like a comforting blanket.

Seungcheol remained seated at the head of the table, shoulders finally relaxed, jaw no longer set, but he didn’t move, not yet.

He glanced toward you, and then his gaze dropped to your hands.

They were resting gently in your lap, fingers slightly curled, relaxed. The same hands that had grounded him just minutes earlier with nothing more than a simple touch.

His eyes lingered there longer than he should have and you noticed.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips, making his eyes flicker up to your face in mild panic, but you weren’t teasing. Your smile was warm, as if you already understood what he was thinking without needing him to say it aloud.

You shift your seat closer to his, and without asking, without hesitation, you reached out and gently cupped his hands, both of them.

Your palms were warm. Your grip wasn’t delicate, it was steady and secure, like you weren’t just touching him, you were anchoring him.

He stiffened at first, not used to being handled like that. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something cracked inside him. Something quiet.

You smiled at him again, sweet and sure, and then said with the calmest voice he’d ever heard: “Hold onto mine if you want. I’m always here beside you.”

The words weren’t loud, they weren’t dramatic, but God, did they hit hard. His breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers, usually firm and commanding, hesitated, and then slowly, tentatively, curled around yours.

The pressure in his chest eased, the sharp edge of his thoughts dulled, and in its place was only your warmth, quietly settling in his bloodstream, pushing out the last remnants of the anger and disappointment that had clouded him just minutes ago.

It felt dangerous and addictive, but more than anything, it felt right.

He said nothing, still lost in your gaze.

And you? You didn’t ask for anything in return, you simply stood there, smiling as if you had all the time in the world to wait for him to breathe again.

And finally, he did.

“…You’re trouble,” he whispered, lips barely moving.

You laughed, soft and silvery. “You’ve said that before.”

He shook his head slightly. “I meant it even more now.”

But he didn’t let go, not yet.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The day had finally drawn to a close. The last of the lights at the office flickered off, and staff began to disappear one by one. Choi Seungcheol stepped out of the elevator, jacket draped over his arm, briefcase in hand, ready to head home.

That was until his secretary caught him in the lobby.

“Mr. Choi,” she said with a small nod toward you, waiting quietly near the front entrance. “Ms. Y/N doesn’t have a ride.”

He blinked once.

Again?

His eyes drifted toward you. You were scrolling on your phone, humming lightly under your breath, completely unbothered. Just like yesterday.

Suspicious.

You looked up at him at just the right moment, smiling, and all his suspicion melted into a sigh.

“...She’s doing this on purpose,” he mumbled to himself, but louder than he meant to. Still, he nodded toward the car. “Let’s go.”

You fell into step beside him, cheerful and bright even in the evening glow. Once inside the car, you didn’t even hesitate, you walked straight to the passenger seat and slid in smoothly, as if it were your assigned spot.

Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began to drive.

Silence filled the space again, peaceful, but electric in its own way.

He kept his eyes forward, focused, or trying to be. Then your voice—soft, laced with mischief—cut into the quiet.

“Do you want to get late supper?”

The car didn’t swerve this time, but Seungcheol’s grip on the wheel definitely stiffened. He glanced at you briefly.

Late supper? That was not in the schedule.

His routine was sacred. Home, shower, towel-dry hair for two minutes exactly, collapse onto bed, wake up, work, and repeat.

He did not do it spontaneously yet here you were, blinking at him innocently.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to look at you.

“Late supper?” he repeated, like the phrase was foreign.

You nodded. “I know there are some places still open for people like me.”

People like you? What did that mean? Were you just… casual about life like that? Wandering the streets at midnight, hunting for warm broth and rice with no plan whatsoever?

That was chaos, and dangerous… but oddly tempting. And while his mind absolutely panicked over the idea of shifting his routine by even an inch, his heart was already halfway to the restaurant.

He stared at you. You stared back, innocently and unassuming, completely unaware of the inner breakdown he was having. Or… maybe fully aware.

He sighed heavily, eyes closing for a second. “Key in the address.”

You beamed, tapping in the location into his GPS. He drove through the green light with a defeated grunt. He glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in your eyes. and for once in his life, he didn’t hate the idea of change.

The city lights shimmered against the night sky, and neon signs flickered above street corners, glowing softly like stars fallen to the ground. The GPS guided Seungcheol through a few narrow turns before slowing to a stop beside a quiet cluster of food stalls tucked between two buildings.

The air was thick with the scent of grilled meat, fried batter, and warm soup broth.

It wasn’t flashy or pristine, it wasn’t anything remotely close to what CEO Choi Seungcheol was used to.

And yet… he was here.

You stepped out of the car with a bright grin, your shoes softly clicking on the pavement. You turned back to face him as he closed the car door slowly, taking in the unfamiliar scene like a foreign landscape.

“First time?” you asked, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, adjusting his sleeves. “Very first.”

You giggled, hugging your arms to yourself. “Same. But I wanted to explore, and I figured... food like this probably tastes better when you’re not worried about etiquette.”

He raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “That’s what everyone says before they get food poisoning.”

You shot him a mock glare. “You’re such a corporate man.”

“And you’re reckless,” he muttered, but followed you anyway.

You led him to one of the stalls with a steaming pot of tteokbokki, skewers glistening beside it. The ahjumma running the stall gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to sit.

The two of you took seats on worn plastic stools under a flickering lightbulb, the table in front of you scratched with time, marked with memories. And somehow, to Seungcheol, it felt weirdly peaceful.

You handed him a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “Let’s try not to act like we just left a board meeting.”

Seungcheol stared down at the food. No plated silverware, no polished wine glasses, just bubbling spicy sauce and steam against the cool air.

It was chaotic and… warm.

He picked up a piece of rice cake, blew on it once, then tasted it. His eyebrows rose.

“...That’s not bad.”

You laughed. “Not bad? That’s it? That’s your review?”

He nodded, eyes focused on the next bite. “Spicy. A little sweet. Soft texture. Good balance.”

“God,” you groaned, “you’re reviewing it like a Michelin judge.”

“You invited a CEO. What did you expect?”

You laughed again, and the sound danced through the night air, making his chest feel far lighter than it had all day.

As you both ate, conversation flowed more freely. You talked about small things: food preferences, random bucket list items, silly high school moments. Seungcheol found himself leaning forward more, laughing softly, even forgetting to check the time.

He didn’t even realize how relaxed he looked. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks clumsily trying to balance a fish cake skewer.

At one point, you handed him a tissue as he dabbed the edge of his mouth, cheeks slightly red from the heat of the spice.

“Next time,” you said between bites, “we should try grilled skewers by the river. I heard they open till 3AM.”

He stared at you.

Next time?

A part of him panicked again, knowing this was starting to become a habit. But the other part? The one quietly folding inside his chest, heartbeat slow and warm? That part didn’t mind at all.

After the last bite was eaten and the food stall cleared, you both stood up from your stools, stomachs full and spirits even fuller. You reached into your bag for your wallet, already fishing out a few bills to pay, but before you could even lift your hand to the stall owner, Seungcheol moved faster. With practiced ease, he gently pushed your hand aside—not harshly, but firm enough to make you blink in surprise—and handed over the exact cash to the ahjumma behind the stall.

He didn’t even look at you as he accepted the change with a polite nod.

You, on the other hand, were left blinking in quiet disbelief.

No words were exchanged in that moment.

The two of you returned to the car under the soft night sky, sliding into your seats once again. The car’s interior greeted you with its usual scent, clean leather and something that faintly smelled like cedarwood and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head toward him, curious.

“How did you have cash money in you?”

He glanced sideways, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the air conditioning. His lips curled into a lazy smile.

“I’m not always a card guy, okay?”

You let out a playful scoff. “Right. A card and cash money guy who doesn’t know how to relax.”

That made him laugh this time, a sound that was deep and rich and a little too attractive for your heart to handle. But it didn’t stop there.

He turned to say something else, only to realize you hadn’t buckled in yet. His eyes lowered to the strap by your side, then back at you.

“Seatbelt,” he muttered softly, but instead of waiting for you to fix it, he leaned in.

You froze.

The air felt thinner suddenly.

Seungcheol reached across you, one arm brushing past your shoulder, fingers catching the seatbelt smoothly as he clicked it into place. His scent surrounded you, something expensive and warm. He didn’t notice how close he was. He didn’t see the way your breath hitched, or how your lashes fluttered like they were trying to compose themselves.

To him, it was just another responsible act.

To you? It was too close. Too sudden and overwhelming.

He leaned back into his seat like nothing happened, shot you a relaxed smile as his hand returned to the wheel.

“Ready to head back?” he asked, as if your heart wasn’t thundering like a drum in your ears.

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parting, unsure if you should thank him or scream internally. But eventually, you just gave a small nod, tucking your hands on your lap.

“Yeah…” you said quietly. “Ready.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The morning sun seeped gently through the sheer curtains of Seungcheol’s penthouse, casting warm light across his pristine walk-in closet. Rows of crisp shirts, tailored blazers, perfectly ironed trousers, and a curated collection of designer watches lined the walls like an exhibition.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror, a clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, his charcoal grey blazer slung loosely over one arm. His hair was still slightly damp, falling in soft waves over his forehead.

And yet, he frowned.

Something was… off.

His hands moved on their own, slipping off the blazer and replacing it with a navy one. He buttoned the cuffs, stared into the mirror and tilted his head.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-colored jacket, loosened the collar slightly, and he looked at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

There was no event today, no company gala, no board of directors flying in from overseas. It was just a regular day at work. But then again… you would be there.

That alone was enough to make his entire closet suddenly feel insufficient.

He wasn’t even sure when it started, this strange habit of wanting to look just a little better each morning, starting from today. All he knew was that your eyes, so bright and attentive, always lingered a little longer than necessary. And the way you smiled at him, as if he was someone worth admiring…

He wanted to live up to that look.

He tried on three different watches before settling on a Piaget brand Polo Date watch. Switched out his usual thin-framed glasses for a bolder pair. Dabbed on a Creed brand cologne. Then he stood back, observing himself fully.

Blazer sharp, tie slightly loosened, hair perfectly imperfect, and a hint of confidence in his smirk, just enough to keep him grounded. Still, he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Choi Seungcheol...”

But he didn’t change.

With one last glance in the mirror and a small breath to steady the fluttering inside his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The automatic doors of the building slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a gentle gust of morning air. Seungcheol stepped into the familiar lobby, polished floors reflecting the low sunlight spilling through the glass walls. The day had just begun. Staff were slowly trickling in, exchanging greetings and organizing the day’s start.

And then he saw you, standing near the entrance, chatting lightly with the front desk assistant, smiling just enough to make time slow down.

You looked simple—fresh-faced, your hair styled neatly, blouse tucked into a modest skirt—but to Seungcheol, you were breathtaking.

Maybe it was the light hitting you just right, or the soft sound of your laugh, or maybe, it was just you being you. Whatever it was, he was gone the moment your eyes lifted to meet his.

You turned fully toward him, a little surprise in your gaze, followed quickly by something warmer, something curious as your eyes slowly drifted from his face to… his clothes.

You blinked once, and then twice before your lips curled up knowingly.

“Oh?” you said with an arch of your brow, arms crossing lightly over your chest. “New look today, Mr. Choi?”

He tried to act unaffected, adjusting the strap of his watch as if it wasn’t planned, as if he hadn’t spent twenty minutes debating between jackets this morning.

“I just picked whatever was clean,” he said flatly.

You giggled softly, stepping closer, eyes never leaving his figure.

“Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today.”

He froze, not obviously, but just enough for his breath to catch for half a second.

You looked back up at his face, tilting your head, clearly amused at how his ears turned ever so slightly pink.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not,” he deadpanned.

“You are.”

“Y/N,” he warned lightly, though the corners of his lips gave away the smile threatening to break free.

You stepped beside him, walking toward the elevator as he followed. “You know,” you said, glancing at him sideways, “if dressing up makes you this charming in the morning, I might start asking you to do it more often.”

He scoffed gently, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t get used to it.”

“But you did it for me, didn’t you?” you teased, voice low and sweet.

The elevator dinged, and he walked in without responding. You followed closely behind, the space inside suddenly smaller than you remembered. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead. You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer. And when he caught your reflection in the elevator door, still staring at him with that quiet affection, you saw it: that small smile, breaking through.

The morning had passed quietly. Well, as quiet as it could be when your mentor happened to be the CEO and also your soulmate.

You sat at your desk just outside Seungcheol’s office, sorting through case studies he had handed you earlier. You were almost done highlighting key points when your phone buzzed softly beside your notebook.

It was a message from your mother.

《Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual. We’d love to see the two of you together. I made a reservation already, just in case.》

Your eyes widened slightly at the abruptness. You sighed softly. Of course your mom didn’t wait for confirmation before booking a spot. After re-reading it twice, you got up from your desk, lightly knocking on Seungcheol’s office door before pushing it open.

He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up as he reviewed a report. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of your knock.

“Yes?”

You stepped in, holding up your phone. “My parents messaged. They want to have lunch with you today. Apparently they already made a reservation.”

He turned fully to face you, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Today?”

You nodded, showing him the text.

He didn’t react much on the surface, but you could tell he wasn’t the type who took surprises well. Still, his expression remained composed, only betraying a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

“Cancel the team check-in for 1PM. And block a lunch schedule under the Shin family.”

“Understood,” his secretary replied promptly.

He turned to you, expression unreadable but his tone even.

“I assume they picked a restaurant already?”

You nodded. “They did. I’ll send you the location.”

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of work on his desk, clearly adjusting his internal clock again.

You smiled faintly. “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not a shareholders meeting.”

He gave a short sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve met your parents, right? Do they seem like the type to keep things ‘casual’?”

You laughed. “Touché.”

He watched you quietly for a moment, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

You paused. “…Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re… you,” you said honestly. “And I know how much they respect you, likewise to you.”

He held your gaze a beat longer, before his lips curved, just slightly. “You make it sound like I’m meeting them for the first time.” then he cleared his throat and reached for his watch.

“I’ll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty.”

You nodded, turning to leave, but not before tossing him a cheeky smile over your shoulder.

“You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi.”

The only reply you got was the sound of a pen clicking behind you, and a quiet, amused exhale.

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The restaurant was elegantly quiet, the kind of place where even the clink of silverware was softened by velvet-covered walls and subtle classical music. The hostess led you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents were already seated. Your mother in her pearls, your father sharp in a navy suit, as dignified as ever.

“Seungcheol,” your father greeted first, standing to shake his hand. Seungcheol gave a slight bow, professional but respectful.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin.”

“Likewise. Please, sit.”

You quietly slipped into the seat beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands folded politely on your lap.

The first few minutes were expected. Business as usual. Your father inquired about company expansion, potential collaborations, the trajectory of your training under Seungcheol’s wing. You listened attentively, occasionally stealing glances at your mentor, who answered every question with calm poise and clean, articulate responses.

It was going perfectly. Then the food arrived, and with it, your mother’s sudden ambush.

“So,” she said lightly, reaching for her soup spoon. “How is my daughter in your company?”

Seungcheol dabbed his lips with a napkin before answering.

“She’s attentive. Observant. Quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she’s shown in just a few days.”

You blinked, warmth blooming in your chest. The compliment made you sit just a little straighter. But your mother wasn't finished.

“And how is she…” she said, stirring her soup slowly, “…as your soulmate?”

The spoon Seungcheol had just brought to his mouth halted halfway. Then-

Choke.

Not a polite cough or a dignified clear of the throat, no. A full-on choke. You nearly dropped your own spoon as you rushed to grab his glass of water and held it out to him with both hands. He took it immediately, eyes watering as he tried to recover, sipping fast, gulping once, then twice.

“M-Mom!” you cried, cheeks flushing. “Seriously?!”

Across the table, your mother wore the most innocent smile imaginable. “What? I’m just curious.”

Your father turned to her slowly, eyebrows raised. “Soulmates?”

Your mother nodded, sipping calmly from her tea. “I noticed at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other for far too long. I had a feeling something happened. So I made a few… connections.”

You and Seungcheol froze.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you. Him still trying to swallow down the last of his panic, and you patting his back while staring wide-eyed at her like she’d just exposed your deepest secret.

Then she tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You were too stunned to deny it. Beside you, Seungcheol finally lowered the glass, setting it down slowly on the table.

But he didn’t look up. Not at your mother, and especially not at your father.

His fingers curled slightly in his lap.

You could see the gears in his head… what would they think? A man ten years their daughter, their trusted work partner… now tied to her by something unbreakable, fated.

He was terrified of your father’s judgment, terrified of how this would change everything.

You saw it all in the way his shoulders tensed, and how his eyes remained fixed on the tablecloth. For a moment, the air was still. Then your father set down his spoon with a soft clink and leaned back in his seat.

“…Choi Seungcheol,” he said.

Seungcheol immediately straightened in his chair, gaze still lowered. “Yes, sir.”

Your father’s voice was unreadable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Seungcheol hesitated. “…Because I didn’t want to risk complicating anything. With your daughter… or with you.”

Your mother looked between the two men, eyes narrowing slightly. You bit your bottom lip, and your father was quiet again. Then, after a moment that stretched painfully long, he spoke.

“…You’re an honorable man, Seungcheol.” Both you and Seungcheol blinked. Your father continued. “I’ve known that since the first time you sat across from me in a boardroom. That hasn’t changed. But now…” He looked directly at Seungcheol. “That honor means something more. It means you’ll protect her.”

Seungcheol finally looked up, stunned.

Your father gave a small nod. “You didn’t choose this, neither did she. But if fate tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her well, not as your intern, not as your subordinate, but as your equal.”

You stared at your father, lips parted in surprise. And beside you, you heard the breath Seungcheol finally let out. Quiet, shaky, and filled with quiet relief.

“…I will,” he said, voice low but clear. “I promise you. I’ll protect her, sir.”

Your father nodded again, then returned to his soup like he hadn’t just shaken the tension off the entire table. Your mother, watching everything with that quiet knowing glint in her eyes, simply smirked behind her teacup.

“Well,” she said, “now that that’s out of the way, let’s enjoy lunch properly.”

The quiet click of the car doors closing echoed softly in the air, muffled only by the cocoon of silence surrounding the two of you. The engine remained untouched. Seungcheol sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting lightly on the wheel, gaze fixed on the windshield.

But he wasn’t seeing the road.

He was reliving the moment, the conversation over lunch, the weight of your father’s words, the softness in your mother’s knowing smile. He had braced himself for resistance, for disapproval, for that slight pause before your father might say “But she’s still too young.” Instead, what he got… was a blessing. Permission to be selfish with his heart, to love you out loud.

He swallowed hard, feeling the words echo in his chest like they had carved out space just for you. You didn’t choose this, but if fate tied you together... treat her as your equal.

And god, he would.

He would treat you like a queen. He’d spoil you relentlessly, shamelessly. He’d plan every date to perfection. He’d get you that charm bracelet you’d once said you liked, and for every monsary you celebrated together, he’d add a charm. One for each memory.

The pressure of restraint melted off his shoulders like winter snow beneath the sun. And in its place, something even warmer bloomed: freedom. Freedom to love you.

And so, without starting the car, without breaking the moment, he turned his head, and saw you already watching him.

Lovingly. Softly.

As if your gaze could read the chaos of emotions unraveling in his chest.

You smiled, a small, sweet curl of your lips. “Hi,” you whispered.

That single word, just one syllable, was enough to make his head spin.

He laughed. A real one. Not the tight-lipped CEO chuckle he gave in meetings, no. This one was open, light, carefree. His teeth showed, his eyes crinkled, and you, caught in his joy, joined him with a soft chuckle of your own.

Then the laughter faded into something quieter, heavier, something that made the air between you two spark.

His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Mind if I do something,” he said slowly, voice low and a little breathless, “that’s normal for a thirty-year-old me... but might be embarrassing for you?”

You blinked once, head tilted like a curious kitten, but you nodded, without hesitation. And with that, he leaned in.

One hand lifted, fingers brushing past your hair to cradle the back of your head gently. His touch was steady and certain, like he had waited long enough.

And then, he kissed you soft and warm, eyes closed. No rush, no pressure, just him letting everything he had been holding in for days spill into that single, quiet kiss.

You melted against him almost instinctively, lips moving in sync with his—tender, slow, meaningful.

And in that kiss, Seungcheol thought: so this is what peace tastes like, this is what fate feels like.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads brushed, breaths mixing in the small space between. You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushed, lips parted. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with something sincere.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the masquerade.”

— ♬ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ♬ —

The hum of conversation filled the large, sunlit private room in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Laughter echoed off the walls, glasses clinked, and the smell of food already filled the air, even though not everyone had arrived yet.

The door creaked open, and in walked Seungcheol, dressed in a sleek black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his watch and veins. Beside him, you entered quietly, but not subtly, your fingers gently laced with his.

Heads turned, every conversation stopped. Then-

“Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!”

“Wait, is that her?!”

“Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!”

A wave of chaotic excitement crashed over the room as all of Seungcheol’s friends—his closest circle, the ones he called his brothers—immediately swarmed you with bright eyes and louder voices. Mingyu clapped Seungcheol on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. Soonyoung practically bounced on his heels. Seokmin gave you the biggest, warmest grin.

They were chaos, but they were warm.

You didn’t even have time to respond before Jeonghan looped an arm around your shoulders like you were already part of the family.

“So you’re the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?” he teased, eyes glinting. “God, we’ve been hearing about you without even hearing your name. It’s an honor.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but let out a small, amused chuckle as everyone finally settled into their seats.

The chaos didn’t stop there, though. Once the appetizers were cleared and laughter quieted to occasional giggles between sips of wine, Jeonghan leaned forward with a grin that screamed mischief.

“You know what’s crazy?” he said, pointing a lazy finger at Seungcheol. “This guy’s been dating her for two years and still didn’t bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't bear waiting. A father now, remember those past times?” He flashed his ring proudly.

The others chuckled, some shaking their heads, others rolling their eyes at Jeonghan’s dramatics, even Seungcheol cracked a wide grin. But he didn’t say anything, not yet, because the best part hadn’t come.

After the main course, when desserts were being served and the wine glasses were half-full, Seungcheol stood up slowly, lifting his glass.

“I have two pieces of news,” he said, his voice calm but his smile soft.

Everyone quieted, eyes turned.

He looked at you briefly, then back at the group. “First- Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father’s company starting this year.”

A round of cheers, whistles, and applause erupted from the table.

“Yah! That’s huge!”

“A power couple, oh my god.”

“Don’t forget us little people when you both own half the country!”

You bashfully lowered your gaze, cheeks warm, mouthing a soft thank you as Seungcheol gently placed a hand on your back.

“And the second piece of news…” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect, “-is that she said yes.”

Silence with confused blinks, then-

“Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!”

“SAID YES TO WHAT?!”

“Oh my GOD!”

“You’re LYING!”

The table exploded.

Mingyu stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. Soonyoung dropped his fork. Jeonghan’s jaw dropped open like something out of a drama. Seungcheol just smirked, then gently reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He didn’t even need to open it. The moment the box was visible, the screaming got worse.

You held up your hand, heart racing, showing the sparkling ring on your finger with a small smile.

“I’m his fiancée,” you said, voice shy but filled with certainty.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

“Since WHEN?!”

“DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

The group erupted again, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the ring, while Seungcheol calmly sat down next to you, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just broken the minds of every single person at the table. And in the midst of all the shouting and disbelief, he leaned in close to whisper just for you to hear: “You're mine now. Officially.”

Your heart fluttered. And in the chaos of friends and laughter, you never felt more sure. Of him. Of you. Of forever.

Tagging: @stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee @ateez-atiny380 @reiofsuns2001 @thetjtales @metaphorandmoonlight

[suliigwp]

BUON FUCKING GIORNO

You said you wanted to hear from me again??? Well here I am!! 1: LOVE your Mirrored hearts series it’s 😗🤌🏾😘💋MWAH chef kiss. 2: I’ve had in idea for a SMAU with Kimi Antonelli x best friend!reader… like reader is studying engineering and her dream is to get in Ferrari but Kimi is trying to get her to shift from Ferrari to Mercedes to have her close,(and because of his repressed feelings). Lest throw in Mercedes socials admin being a menace, reader kinda crashing out on her finsta bc she thinks that Kimi doesn’t like her back and in the end best friends to lovers bc why not. Do you see the vision??? Feel free to ad your ✨touch✨ to it. I’ll let you cook…

XoXo from Italy,

-🐢 anon

Engineered to love

Kimi Antonelli x Engineer!Reader | SMAU + Written | angst + fluff

SULI: hiiiiii 🐢anon! Oh it is so lovely to hear from you! Thank you for your kind words🫶 hope you enjoy this and thank you for requesting🫶 and yes, I'll wait to hear from you again tehe— I did have to add written part because I just Have to make it angsty — sorry this took this long😭

SUMMERY: Kimis ways of trying to get his best friend to join Mercedes puts a crack in their friendship

Warnings: none

yourusername

📍Maranello, Italy

Liked by kimi.antonelli, Ferrari, yourmom and 12k others.

yourusername got the call. I’m going to Ferrari.

I look grumpy in this because they dragged me away from the data screens mid-run and handed me snacks like that was supposed to help.

I was seven. I already knew what I wanted.

thank you to every version of me that kept going.

(and yes, I still snack like this before debriefs.)

comments:

kimi.antonelli: you’re not even in the factory yet and already giving ted talk captions huh

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: let me have my moment you bitter future world champion

mercedesamgf1: still time to change your mind 🤍

->yourusername: this feels like emotional tampering

f1paddocktalk: not the data prodigy origin story 😭😭

->yourusername: born to overanalyze throttle maps

kimi.antonelli: you were annoying even then

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: and you’ve never known peace

...

yourusername

Liked by kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, ferrarif1 and 16k others.

yourusername 12-year-old me would be crying.

Got to spend the week at the Ferrari Innovation Campus in Maranello — got my hands on real aero data, shadowed the team on a test day, and cried twice in a supply closet. No shame. This is the dream. This is my dream.

I know it’s just a visit. But some places feel like home even when you’re just passing through.

comments:

kimi.antonelli: you cried twice?? and didn’t text me?? ♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: you would’ve made fun of me and I was emotionally vulnerable

->kimi.antonelli: I would’ve said “come to Mercedes” and then driven to get you gelato

->yourusername: See. Exactly.

mercedesamgf1: Okay but. Like. What if we gave you access to our wind tunnel too. For... reasons. 👀

charles_leclerc: it was amazing meeting you❤️ I felt like the dumbest person in a good way🤣

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: charlie🫶

ferrarif1: Real recognize real. You’re always welcome, ragazza rossa ❤️ ♥️ Liked by Author

->kimi.antonelli: delete this please

f1gossipqueen: is it just me or is @/kimi.antonelli fighting a silent war in this comment section

->yourusername: 😐

...

mercedesamgf1

Liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli, susiewolff and 1.4M others.

mercedesamgf1: Kimis favorites around the paddock🩶 Working with our data girl🩶

Even if she refuses to wear silver. 🙄

comments:

kimi.antonelli: remove slide 4 before she kills me

♥️ Liked by Author

->yourusername: I am going to kill you

->kimi.antonelli: worth it

yourusername: “DATA GIRL.” do you even respect me as an academic

♥️ Liked by Author

->mercedesamgf1: actually we’re printing that on mugs 😇

ferrarif1: shouldn’t she be in Maranello right now? 🧍‍♂️

->kimi.antonelli: she’s exactly where I want her to be

f1teaofficial: PLS the comments are giving “pining Italian boy who doesn’t know how to say I love you”

->yourusername: I AM RIGHT HERE

->mercedesamgf1: and yet not in silver 😔

...

It was almost one in the morning when you finally stepped outside the simulator building, exhausted and overstimulated and still buzzing with the kind of clarity that only came with too much data and too little sleep. The air was sharp, biting, the chill wrapping around your arms like a warning. You sat on the edge of the stone bench outside, staring at the quiet Mercedes campus, his jacket in your lap but not on your shoulders.

Kimi was already out there, elbows on his knees, fingers locked together. He hadn't said a word when you sat down.

You didn’t either. Not at first.

And then—

"You looked good at the Innovation Center," he said suddenly, voice rough from silence.

You blinked. "Is that a compliment or the start of a complaint?"

"I don’t know," he muttered. "Both, maybe."

He finally turned his head toward you, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize something he already knew too well. "You looked like you belonged there. I hated it."

You laughed, a dry little sound, burying the ache it caused. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific, Antonelli."

He leaned back, stared up at the sky like it might help him find the words he couldn’t say directly to your face. "I want you to come to Mercedes."

You let the words hang. You’d known this was coming. Still, it made something twist in your chest.

"No shit," you said lightly, but your voice cracked right at the end.

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

He looked at you this time, really looked — like he was hoping you'd already said yes and he just hadn’t heard it yet.

You exhaled. "Kimi… I’ve worked for this my whole life. Ferrari has always been the dream. Every class, every project, every scholarship I wrote about them. I grew up with posters of the SF70H above my bed. I applied to Maranello before I even finished my thesis. It’s not just some internship, it’s—"

"—your oxygen," he finished quietly. "I know."

You nodded. "And now you’re asking me to give it up?"

"I’m not asking," he said, voice low. "I’m just… hoping."

You went still. The bench felt colder beneath you.

He kept going. "I want you here. Where I can see you. Where you don’t fade into someone else's legacy. You could build your own here. You should.

"And you think I can’t do that at Ferrari?" you challenged, eyes sharp.

"I think they'll let you in, yeah. I think they'll love having you around. I also think they’ll keep you in a box and smile while they do it. And I think… I think you won’t even notice, because you’ve wanted it too long to question it now."

Silence stretched. The wind blew your hair into your face. You didn’t move.

"That’s not fair," you said finally, almost a whisper. "You don’t get to weaponize the fact that you know me like that."

"I'm not trying to weaponize anything," Kimi said, quiet but firm. "I’m just telling you how I see it. And maybe…" He swallowed, looked down at his hands. "Maybe I want you close because I don’t trust myself not to fall apart if you go."

You froze.

There it was. Not dressed up. Not disguised as concern. Not even veiled in professionalism. Just raw, stupid honesty in the middle of a cold night.

You looked away, blinking fast. "So this is about you?"

"No," he said, and this time his voice broke a little. "It’s about us. If that still exists."

Your throat felt tight. "Don’t say that unless you mean it."

He didn’t look away.

"I mean it," he said. "I just don’t know what I’m allowed to want anymore."

You stood up too fast. The jacket fell to the ground.

Kimi didn’t move.

You stared at him like you were trying to convince yourself he was still the boy you grew up with. The one who used to cheer from the karting fences. The one who used to fix your helmet strap like it was sacred. The one who never once made you question what side he was on.

Now?

He felt like the very thing pulling you off-track.

“You’ve been waiting for me to break,” you said, voice trembling despite everything in you willing it not to. “Every time I talk about Ferrari, you get quiet. You make comments. You guilt me.”

“I never—” he started.

“No. Don’t lie,” you cut him off, sharp. “You don’t say it directly because that would make you the bad guy. But you drop hints. You say things like ‘Mercedes would treat you better’ and ‘you shouldn’t be someone else’s legacy.’ Like it’s concern. But it’s not. It’s control.”

He flinched.

You didn’t care.

“You don’t actually believe in me,” you continued. “You believe in me if I choose you. If I orbit your world. But the second I try to build something that doesn’t include you, suddenly it’s wrong. Suddenly I’m throwing everything away.”

Kimi stepped toward you, voice low and tight. “You really think I don’t believe in you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“You think I’ve spent the last ten years fighting for you, dragging you into every room you deserved to be in, defending you to people who didn’t even see you—just so I could control you?”

“Then what is this?” you snapped. “What is this choice you’re making me make?”

“I’m not making you do anything—”

“You’re making me feel like I’m betraying you by chasing the dream I had before you ever came into the picture!”

That shut him up.

And it made something in your chest break.

You lowered your voice, finally—like your anger had burned through and left nothing but ash behind.

“I loved Ferrari before I even knew your name. And now I can’t even think about taking the internship without wondering if I’m about to lose you.”

Kimi looked at you. Really looked.

“I didn’t mean to do that to you,” he said quietly.

“But you did,” you replied. “And I don’t know if I can forgive you for it.”

He took one step closer. "So that’s it?"

You shrugged. "I don’t know. Is it?"

He stared at you.

You had spent years imagining this moment. The one where you got the call from Ferrari. The one where it all paid off. The one where you'd finally be living the dream you bled for.

You never thought Kimi Antonelli would be the one making it feel like a betrayal.

The silence was suffocating.

And then he said it.

Quiet. Cold. Final.

"Then go."

Like you were some passing thought. Like everything you'd built together—friendship, trust, whatever the hell this almost-love thing was—meant nothing.

Your body locked for a second. Not from shock, but from the sharp heat that flared beneath your skin.

Then you let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “Right,” you muttered. “Of course. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You push people out the second they stop orbiting you.”

Kimi flinched—but didn’t speak.

Didn’t deny it.

Didn’t follow you.

So you stepped back.

You turned on your heel with more force than necessary—your footsteps loud against the concrete, your spine stiff with fury.

And as you walked away, your voice snapped through the air like a whip:

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to see me fade into someone else’s legacy. You won’t see me at all.”

And then you were gone.

You didn’t look back.

Not once.

And Kimi?

He stood there. Silent. Still.

Not brave enough to stop you.

Not strong enough to admit he wanted to.

And he would regret that for a very, very long time.

...

They were twelve.

The heat was brutal. The kind that clung to your neck and made your fireproof suit stick to your skin, sweat pooling in your gloves and boots. You were sitting on the edge of the pit wall, legs swinging, fingers clenched around a half-melted paper cup of water someone shoved in your hands after the last heat.

Your helmet sat beside you on the concrete. Scuffed. Too big. Still humming with the leftover echo of your own breathing.

You stared at the track like it had betrayed you.

Twelfth.

You came twelfth.

Not because the kart wasn’t good enough. Not because you weren’t fast.

Because you locked up on Turn 4—went wide, didn’t recover, and lost everything in three stupid seconds.

You blinked hard. The sting behind your eyes was building fast, like heat rising in an engine. You hated crying. Especially in front of him.

Kimi sat next to you. Quiet. Always quiet, but especially after races. You’d learned by now not to expect much talking from him unless he had something to say. He wasn’t like the other kids, didn’t brag or scream or throw tantrums. He just sat there, knees bent, fingers picking at the Velcro on his gloves.

You were halfway through convincing yourself to go cry in the bathroom when he spoke.

Soft. Like he’d been thinking it for a while.

“You’re gonna change F1 one day.”

Your head whipped toward him. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Still staring at the track, like he was seeing a version of it you couldn’t yet.

“You’re gonna change everything,” he said again, firmer now.

You scoffed. “I just came twelfth.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You furrowed your brow. “It does a little.”

He finally turned to you.

“No, it doesn’t. Not really. You made one mistake. That’s not the point.”

You didn’t respond. Just looked at him like he was speaking another language.

Kimi sighed and leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

There was a cut on his elbow and dust on his collar. He looked like a kid who belonged in this world — someone built for it. Born into it.

“You see things the rest of us don’t. That turn? Everyone else just takes it. You overthought it. You were already trying to correct the line before you even locked up. I watched.”

You blinked.

He kept going, voice picking up like he finally had something to say.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever seen go straight from the kart to the telemetry screen without even taking your gloves off. You ask better questions than half the mechanics. You feel things in the setup before the data even shows it.”

You looked down, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You think it’s about winning. And it is, kind of. But it’s more than that. You’re not just fast. You’re smart. And that’s the part no one trains for.”

You swallowed hard. The paper cup in your hands crumpled slightly.

Then came the part you’d remember forever.

He sat forward again, elbows on his knees, and looked at you — straight on.

No jokes. No sarcasm. Just quiet, unshakable belief.

“You’re gonna fix cars better than half the engineers on the grid. You’re gonna read data better than the guys on the pit wall. You’re gonna build things they haven’t even thought of yet. And yeah, you’re gonna piss off a lot of people by doing it better than them.”

He shrugged, like it was obvious.

“You’re gonna change everything. I just know it.”

The air felt too heavy in your lungs.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

You just looked at him — the boy with dirt on his face and grease on his fingers — and something clicked.

For the first time that day, you didn’t feel like crying.

You’re in Maranello.

Ferrari ID badge hanging from your neck. Data sheets in your inbox. Everyone’s shaking your hand, telling you they’ve “heard so much.”

You should feel proud. Triumphant. Fulfilled.

But all you can hear is a twelve-year-old boy’s voice echoing in your head.

“You’re gonna change everything.”

And all you can think is:

He believed in you before you believed in yourself.

And now he won’t even look you in the eye.

...

kimi.antonelli

📍Barcelona, Spain

Liked by mercedessamgf1, georgerussell63, lando and 52k others.

kimi.antonelli clean weekend. good vibes. grateful. thanks to everyone who made it feel like home out here 🤍

Comments:

landonorris: and yet I still beat you at padel

♥️ Liked by Author

mercedesamgf1: the sunset pic??? ok moodboard king

f1gossipgirl: Not @/yourusername being dead silent?? hello?? 😭

georgerussell63: amazing weekend mate✊

♥️ Liked by Author

f1updatesonly: wait has she not liked any of his posts since the Ferrari announcement…

pitlaneprincess: used to be top commenter. this is actually so sad now 💔

georgiaracegirl17: idk if y’all are still besties but she made you feel real in posts like this.

...

landonorris

📍Miami

Liked by zacbrown, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 1M others.

landonorris good food mid chaos 🧡

Comments.

f1gossipgirl: okay wait where’s @/yourusername???

pitlaneprincess: she hasn’t posted since Kimi’s “clean weekend” post 😭

mercedesamgf1: can neither confirm nor deny our collective heartbreak

scuderiaferrari: she’s working. y’all should try it sometime. Liked by kimi.antonelli

...

PRIVATE GROUP CHAT — “grid therapy (unpaid)”

@/landooooooo: Kimi’s still asking where you are. This is hilarious.

@/dying.in.data:

he told me to go. I went. case closed.

@/notcharleslol: not closed.

you still post about him at 2am in Helvetica italics with blackout captions like we can't tell.

@/teamradiotrauma63: she soft launched heartbreak like it was a firmware update

@/carmen.in.crisis: she hasn’t posted a selfie with eye contact since the argument. I’m scared.

@/gossipgasly: she posted a photo of his helmet on her Pinterest board and captioned it “whatever.”

girl be serious.

@/dying.in.data:

I didn’t think you’d notice that

also shut up

...

…Then Kimi Antonelli finally cracks.

...

@/dying.in.data:

Guys...

There's a note with it

It says "I'm sorry <|3"

@/landooooooo: okay wait that’s actually really soft????

@/notcharleslol: he’s annoying and I still want you to kiss him

@/carmen.in.crisis: this is literally the boy version of “it was always you”

I’m crying at my desk

@/dying.in.data:

I miss him

@/teamradiotrauma63: girl go get your man?!?!

@/dying.in.data:

He's not my man

He doesn't feel that way about me

@/gossipgasly: denial is a river in Egypt

...

It was late.

The paddock was mostly empty. Media had cleared out. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting long shadows against the concrete.

You were leaning against the pit wall, arms crossed, jacket zipped up to your chin. You weren’t supposed to be there — you’d finished your analysis hours ago — but your badge still worked, and the silence felt cleaner than whatever mess was still clinging to your chest.

Behind you, soft footsteps approached. Then stopped.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him.

He didn’t speak at first.

Neither did you.

Until—

“You still won’t look at me.”

Your jaw tightened. “And you still think everything deserves to be forgiven just because you finally show up.”

A pause.

Kimi stepped beside you, leaned on the wall without touching you. Just close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

“I don’t want forgiveness,” he said quietly. “I want to stop pretending like we’re strangers.”

You stayed quiet. Let that sit.

“You made me question myself,” you whispered. “You made me feel like chasing my dream meant losing you.”

He didn’t flinch this time. Maybe he’d rehearsed this.

“I never wanted you to give it up,” he said. “I just… I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding selfish.”

“So you chose silence?”

“I chose wrong.”

The words were simple. Honest. You hated how much they cracked something in you.

You turned toward him, finally, and the look on your face stopped him mid-breath.

“I’m still not sorry I went,” you said.

“Good,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be.”

You held each other’s gaze.

Years of friendship. Months of tension. One moment of sharp clarity.

“We don’t fit neatly into each other’s worlds, Kimi,” you said.

“No,” he agreed. “But maybe we can stop trying to fit, and just find a way.”

You looked at him. Not as a teammate. Not as a boy who let you down. But as someone who had always, in some fractured way, loved you—even when he didn’t know how to show it.

You nodded once.

“Okay.”

Not a promise.

Not a fix.

But a beginning.

He smiled, soft and crooked. “Still team red?”

You smiled back. “Still team red.”

Then he pulled the snack you liked from his jacket pocket and handed it to you without a word.

You laughed. Took it.

And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t hurt to be near him.

But you didn’t move away either.

Didn’t look at him.

Not yet.

You stared at the wrapper in your hand. Familiar. Stupid. Intimate.

“I got your box,” you said, voice low.

He looked over, surprised — not because you said it, but because you finally did.

> “Yeah?” he asked. Like it had been sitting heavy in him, too.

You nodded, slowly. Eyes still on the ground.

“I didn’t open it all the way at first,” you admitted. “Just enough to know it’d make me feel worse.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

You paused.

“But it did anyway. Because it was… you. And it was thoughtful. And I was mad at you. And I didn’t want to be grateful while still being hurt.”

The silence between you stretched again. But this one wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Worn-in. Like grief finally finding somewhere to land.

You finally looked at him.

“So… thank you. For sending it anyway. Even when I didn’t deserve nice things from you.”

Kimi’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile. Not quite a wince either.

“You always deserved them,” he said. “Even when you hated me.”

You blinked once, throat tight.

“I never hated you,” you said. “I just didn’t know how to stop being disappointed.”

He nodded. “I know."

You turned away then, just a little — enough to hide the glassy edge in your eyes. You tucked the wrapper into your jacket pocket like it was something fragile.

“It meant something. The box,” you added, quieter now. “It really meant something.”

“So did the silence after,” he said.

You looked at him again — wide, startled.

He shrugged, like it didn’t destroy him to say it.

Like maybe it already had.

“But… this? This right now?” he said. “It means more.”

This time, you didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

And when you finally walked away, he didn’t follow — but he didn’t feel left behind, either.

...

@/teamradiotrauma63: saw you two talking

What did he say?

Anything 👀👀👀

@/dying.in.data:

Nothing?

We just talked the fight out

@/teamradiotrauma63: tell me you're shitting me

...

@/georgerussell63: I need to have a word with you

@/kimi.antonelli:

???

...

It was quiet in the garage long after the debrief ended. The engineers were gone. The screens dimmed. Just the low hum of lights and the kind of silence that makes people say things they probably shouldn’t.

Kimi was still sitting at the desk, tapping a pen against a telemetry sheet he wasn’t reading.

George leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“You’re actually unbelievable,” he said suddenly.

Kimi didn’t look up. “Good to see you too.”

George pushed off the wall and came closer. “She’s in the same paddock as you. You get the chance to talk to her every weekend. And you just… don’t?”

Kimi finally glanced up. “It’s complicated.”

George scoffed. “No, it’s not. You like her. She likes you. You both look like kicked puppies around each other. What’s complicated?”

Kimi’s voice was low. “We said things.”

“So say better ones now.” George’s tone was sharper than usual. “You think you’re protecting her by staying silent? You’re not. You’re just making her feel like she was wrong. Like she made it up. Like you didn’t care.”

“I do care,” Kimi muttered.

“Then act like it.”

Kimi went quiet again, fingers tightening around the pen.

George ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick here—actually, no, I am. Because I’m sick of watching this play out like a bad movie.”

Kimi exhaled slowly. “She’s at Ferrari. She’s doing what she always wanted. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

George stepped closer. “You think you’re not already in the way? She’s hurting. She doesn’t say it, but she is. You’re hurting. And instead of doing something, you’re sitting here playing noble idiot.”

Kimi’s jaw clenched. “It wasn’t the right time.”

“It’s never going to be the perfect time,” George snapped. “There’s always going to be pressure, always going to be something. But the right people? You don’t let them slip just because the timing’s a bit shit.”

Kimi didn’t say anything, but something in his face shifted. Something like guilt. Or maybe realization.

George took a deep breath and said, softer this time, “She doesn’t need grand gestures. She just needs to hear it. From you. Not from the box. Not from Lando. Not from some story you think tells her everything. She needs to hear it.”

Kimi blinked. “And if she doesn’t feel the same anymore?”

George gave him a look. “Then at least you’ll know. But right now? You’re punishing both of you for being afraid.”

Kimi stared at the telemetry sheet like it held an answer he hadn’t considered yet.

George grabbed his jacket. “Tell her before someone else does.”

Then he walked out, leaving Kimi in the low hum of silence.

...

@/teamradiotrauma63: I swear I am a driver not a therapist

...

He found you in the back paddock lot, standing by the railing. It was quiet, late. You didn’t look surprised to see him.

You just crossed your arms and said, “Took you long enough.”

Kimi stopped in front of you, eyes tired. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

He nodded. Fair.

You sighed. “Why are you here, Kimi?”

“I need to say something. Actually say it. Not send a box. Not drop a hint. Just—say it.”

You looked at him. “Then say it.”

He took a breath, steadying himself.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And I was too scared to say anything because I thought it would ruin what we had. And then I let you walk away without fighting for you, and that’s on me.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at him, trying to figure out if he meant it this time. If he really understood what it cost you.

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to pick me over Ferrari,” he continued. “I didn’t want to be that guy.”

“You didn’t make me choose,” you said. “You didn’t make me feel anything. You said nothing. That’s what hurt the most.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I thought I was protecting you. Turns out I was just pushing you away.”

You looked down at your hands. “You hurt me, Kimi. Not because you didn’t like me. But because you didn’t trust me with it.”

“I do now,” he said. “I want to fix it. If you’ll let me.”

You looked up at him, straight in the eye. “I don’t need perfect. I just need honest.”

“This is me being honest,” he said. “I missed you. Every day. I hated not talking to you. I hated wondering if I ruined it forever.”

Your voice was quieter now. “I missed you too.”

Neither of you moved for a second.

Then, slowly, you stepped in and wrapped your arms around him.

He didn’t hesitate. Just pulled you in tight, like he’d been waiting for it since the second you left.

It was everything.

...

yourusername

Liked by georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, f1 and 1M others.

yourusername: do NOT ask. yes we yelled. yes we’re fine 🩶❤️

Comments:

kimi.antonelli: you forgot “yes, he was wrong”

lando: finally i can breathe again

charles_leclerc: no bc what was i supposed to do during the silent treatment?? babysit BOTH of you??

georgerussell63: i literally fixed this you’re welcome

mercedesamgf1: nothing to see here. just excellent cross-team collaboration 😌

scuderiaferrari: we’ll allow it. for now.

carlossainz55: who had ‘public truce photo’ on their bingo card?

alex_albon: does this mean she’s back on main? the finsta was scaring me

...

kimi.antonelli

Liked by mercedesamgf1, maxverstappen1, yourusername and 3M others.

kimi.antonelli: anyway. i’m fine now.

Comments:

lando: NAUGHTY. BOY.

yourusername: you did not just post the last pic i will literally cut your brakes

->kimi.antonelli: amore😉

charles_leclerc: oh he’s IN it

iamrebeccad: babies😍

user17: THE POST-ARGUMENT GLOW IS CRAZY

georgerussell63: was this pr approved?

->georgerussell63: forget it I know the answer

user55: KIMI WHAT IS THIS

pierregasly: HELLO???!!??!!

carlossainz55: happy for you. scared of her.

alex_albon: “i’m fine now” as in whipped beyond repair? yes we see that.

mercedesamgf1: posting like it’s a 2014 indie romance. proud of you, king.

scuderiaferrari: someone’s getting a strongly worded email about the driver lounge keycard

user12: he's a freak like us

Taglist, comment to be added; @angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot @faithxyu

make sure you can be tagged!

[reidsdimples]

Like Puzzle Pieces

18+ ❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Spencer Reid x Reader

no plot, just spice (who’s surprised) 🤣

“You can do it baby,” Spencer exhales.

He grips your hips as you hover over him, trying desperately to sink down on his cock despite the aching stretch you felt. Your legs shake and the delicious sensation of being too full, too stretched out mixed with a dull ache.

You whimper and jerk upward with your fingers curled in his hair as the pain intensifies.

Spencer had warned you of this. His… girth mixed with his impressive length was challenging for most of his partners to take. You were determined, however, despite his protests that you didn’t have to.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks gently as he cradles your cheek in his large hand. You pout your bottom lip out.

“No, I want it. I want you,” you frown.

“I know,” he pauses for a moment. “Lay on your back, we’ll try missionary.”

“We probably should have tried that first,” you admit. It was you who insisted gravity would help and you just HAD to ride him. He argued that missionary allowed you to relax more. Hopefully he was right.

He moves on top of you and nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling slowly and planting kisses there. You run your hands up the planes of his body and moan against the sensation of his cock rubbing upward between your folds.

He bares his narrow hips downward, inching into you with cruel slowness. Still you gasp, your walls stretching as they try to accommodate him. This time though it feels more delicious, more sinful, less painful to open up for him.

The gasp he lets out is like floating in space, breathy uncontrolled. It’s unreal, having him like this. Where at work he’s the picture of control, logic, wit. Here he’s a panting mess as you take that final inch of him. Your swear he’s in your stomach and you moan his name.

“So so good,” he shudders.

“You like that I can take all of your cock, Dr.Reid?” You purr and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your fingers twist into his hair as he works his way in and out of you again.

He mutters an incoherent answer and buries his face in your neck. Your pull you knees up higher, giving him an angel to get deeper. You think time stops when he obliges and pushes himself down into your core. Fuck.

“Look,” he grips your jaw and turns your head so you can the reflection in the mirror.

The way his muscles flex as he thrusts into you? Your legs dutifully moving to wrap around his waist, his hair falling around you. You want to paint the image into a masterpiece, one to rival the greats. The beauty of him inside of you is unreal, its art. Fantasizing about it didn’t do it justice.

The sight has your heart racing, your pulse chasing your orgasm to the edges of eternity while he makes certain to hit that spot inside of you.

And when he moans your name?

You’re done.

Cosmos explode in your vision your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around him, trying to keep his hard cock inside as you pulse and come apart. He shudders at the sensation, exhaling open mouthedly as you capture him and force him to still inside of you as your finish rupturing.

Chills shoot over your skin, goosebumps left in the wake of your orgasm and you can’t even see straight. A simple Spencer shaped blur above you. But he starts moving again, pulling something like a pleasure laced cry from your chest.

“You fit me so well,” he huffs. He’s right, you were scared at first but now it’s like the two of you are puzzle pieces, destined to connect.

He feels amazing, you can’t escape the feel of him as if he’s touching every part of your insides. It’s delicious, it’s torturous, it’s perfect. But you can’t imagine ever not feeling this full, how could you adjust again to not having him within you?

Your nails claw down his back, causing him to suck air through his teeth as he murmurs a string of praises and you’re climbing again. Climbing toward that peak, towards him.

His hands grip your heart, wrenching your head back slightly. Those damned hands…

You lose sight of reality as your second orgasm threatens to take you and he’s close to it wouldn’t it be perfect if…

“Spencer!” It takes you by surprise.

Your orgasm rolls violently through you, a malevolent being conquering your existence. Then you feel him tense, hear that moan, that string of whimpers, then he’s pumping into you. You feel his warm cum filling you and it’s so delicious mixed with the way you’re soaking him. His groin, his stomach, his hips, his bed, all coated in you.

He looks down at the mess and exhales a small laugh in awe. You try to catch your breath and cover your face in embarrassment, your cheeks burning.

“Hey,” he implores in a gentle voice as he moves your hands.

“Don’t hide from me. I want everything you have to offer,” a devilish grin plays on his lips and he leans down to kiss you.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I definitely need more Dad!Logan and or Pregnant!Reader! Anyway we can get something where Logan and the reader are married and they are teaching at the school (different classes) when the reader suddenly passes out during a lesson and it causes a frenzy and when she’s taken to med bay and tests are ran, it’s discovered she’s pregnant and she hadn’t been showing any symptoms until she passed out? From there we see some sweet moments through her pregnancy (also would it be Logan if he didn’t threaten Scott for getting too close to his family? 🤣)

sight to see

a/n: love this sm anon

Warnings: pregnancy, dad!logan

MASTERLIST | KOFI

It started off as a seemingly normal day, you say bye to Logan, giving him a kiss before you walked into your classroom, where all your students “ooohed” at you, causing your cheeks to heat and your eyes to roll, waving them off.

The lesson had started normal as well, you pointing to the chalkboard in front of you, making sure they were writing it down.

“So-“ you paused, suddenly feeling a wave of lightheadedness, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Mrs. Howlett? Are you okay?” You heard one of your students ask worriedly, all of them staring at you in confusion.

You smiled, swallowing before nodding, and trying to continue on with the lesson. Your ears rung, your vision getting slightly blurry, and your breathing picking up.

You suddenly dropped to the floor, the lead thing you heard being your students concerned voices in the back.

“Listen, kid, that’s not my prob-“ Logan stopped his sentence upon seeing multiple students rush into his classroom, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, hearing all their voices overlapping as they spoke.

“Woah, woah, woah, one at a fucking time.”

“Mrs. Howlett, she fainted in the middle of a lesson.” He heard one student say, to which he immediately shoved through the other students blocking him, practically running to your door.

He slammed it open, seeing Charles and Jean over you. He swallowed thickly, looking to the both of them.

“What the fuck happened? Is she okay?” He asked, walking over to them.

“She’s breathing, she’s fine. I just might need to take her down to the lab, run some tests.” Jean responded.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair, following Jean and the professor down to the lab.

Jean and Hank looked at the screen and then at each other. Logan sat impatiently next to you, his leg bouncing up and down, his hand holding yours.

Hank finally walked out and over to the both of you, Logan looking at him for answers.

“If what we’re seeing is…correct,” he glanced down at the picture in front of him before speaking. “Y/n is pregnant. 5 weeks pregnant.”

“What?” Logan spoke, confused out of his mind at the moment, in disbelief. “That’s not…. She hasn’t been showin’ any signs or nothing, I don’t- are you sure?”

“Uh.. here.” He handed him the picture, pointing to a little figure that showed up.

He looked at the picture and then at you, sighing and falling back into the chair, holding his face in his hands. He wasn’t prepared for this at all.

Hank swallowed, and decided to walk away, letting him think for a moment.

It was then that you woke up, letting out a groan and your other hand going to your head.

He looked up at you, standing up and going to your side.

“What the hell happened?” You asked groggily while he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead.

“You fainted. Your kids came in and told me.”

You sighed, looking up at him. He still held your hand in his, he sat back down.

“What? Why’d i faint?”

He sighed again, staring at you while he spoke in a low tone. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?!” You squealed, whether out of confusion, happiness, or fear, you had no clue. Jean and Hank quickly came back in when they heard you were awake, explaining everything much better and clearer.

It took Logan a while to come around to the idea, to fully accept and grasp the fact that he was going to be a fucking dad. It seemed like something straight out of a dream to him. Something he never thought he would have.

He loved you, he always would. And although he was scared, he knew you were probably just as scared- if not more. That first night you found out, he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around your stomach in the small med-bay bed.

And for the remaining months, he was careful, he was even more doting. All the kids loved to tease him, calling him whipped and such. He just told them to shut up, but they never missed that small smile on his face.

And of course, once the baby did finally pop out, she was the most adorable little thing. Logan adored her. He never wanted to let go of her.

It was a sight to see, the usually gruff Logan howlett being soft with his wife and tiny baby.

He was the most overprotective dad and husband ever- especially when it came to Scott. He caught him looking at the both of you once, and he pulled out his claws.

But you would have it no other way, really. <3

[blackcat-star]

Hello author,can I request where our!SLx readers meet with Canon SL..When Our!Jinwoo meet with Canon!Jinwoo where they just stare eachother with their signature face..Canon! Cha Hae In also meet Our!Cha Hae In..The canon was surprised that our!SL don't marry eachother but instead just friends..So the canon thought ask why so Our!SL just answered that they're already married with someone else..So that's moment fem!reader (Our!Jinwoo's wife) and male!reader (Our!Cha Hae In's husband) arrived with groceries in their hands.Put a comedy where OUR!SL has more children than canon🤣🤣..

And it's me,who share idea with you about four Jinwoo in the past 😅

Multi-Universe.

Cha Haein x Sung Jinwoo Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader Cha Haein x Male!Reader.

Note: [C]Jinwoo - [C]Haein : Canon!Jinwoo - Canon!Haein [O]Jinwoo - [O]Haein: Our  version of them, which x reader. [F] - [M] Reader/You: Fem!Reader - Male!Reader

____________________________

A spatial rift suddenly appeared in the sky above Seoul, a sparkling light in the air spreading like ripples on the surface of water. The strange thing was that the people below did not react to the sudden appearance of a strange circle, it seemed like they did not see it.

But [C]Haein and [C]Jinwoo did.

The two of them were standing on Kaisel's back, flying high in the sky. Today was supposed to be a normal date for the couple, eating at a fancy restaurant, shopping, and enjoying their high-altitude journey. But the appearance of the gate ruined that.

[C]Jinwoo frowned, the face that had been smiling just a few seconds ago quickly replaced with a cold and wary one. His Shadow Monarch instincts were burning. There was something different about the energy signature.

Some feeling inside him told him that this gate wouldn't bring any danger, but he couldn’t help but be cautious. There was no telling what might happen. On the other hand, [C]Haein held her husband's hand, feeling the energy emanating from the gate that was a little familiar.

"Do you feel that?" [C]Haein asked, her voice soft as she stood next to him. Her hand followed Jinwoo's sleeve.

"Yeah," [C]Jinwoo replied, his brows furrowed as he looked at the crack, one hand pulling [C]Haein behind him. The power within him stirred uncomfortably. "Stay behind me."

Suddenly the crack opened wider and emitted a bright light. A force pulled them towards the crack. Before being completely engulfed by the light, [C]Jinwoo only managed to hug [C]Haein tightly and cover them with his shadow, protecting them from any harm.

When the light disappeared and their vision returned, they found themselves standing in the living room of a house. It looked familiar, but also different.

[C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein looked around cautiously. Everything looked harmless.

Suddenly, a door to the room opened, causing both [C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein to be stunned. Along with that, a woman also walked out of the kitchen.

"I didn't expect to have a special guest visit so suddenly."

It was like looking into a mirror, but not quite. In front of [C]Haein and [C]Jinwoo were them (?), or a different version of them. The other Sung Jinwoo had sharp eyes that could cut through steel, the same dark aura of Shadow Monarch swirling around him that was almost imperceptible, and the same majestic presence that made even S-rank hunters retreat. Cha Haein was simpler, holding a ladle and wearing an apron.

For a long while, the four of them just stared at each other, their expressions of shock and feeling identical. As for the two Jinwoos, they locked eyes in a silent confrontation, not blinking, not wanting to appear weak. Both of them unconsciously adopted the same posture, legs slightly apart, arms hanging down by their sides, ready to summon darkness at any moment.

[C]Jinwoo was the first to break the silence, his voice cold and calm. "Who are you?"

[O]Jinwoo's lips curved into his signature half-smile, a smile that never reached his eyes but still conveyed both amusement and danger. "I think you already know the answer."

The air between them was heavy with tension as the two Shadow Monarchs sized each other up, their identically sharp gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. Neither backed down. It was like watching two apex predators circle each other, determining whether the other was a threat or merely a curiosity.

"Alternate dimensions," [O]Haein whispered, her senses piecing together the situation faster than the others. Her analytical mind had always been her forte.

"Fascinating. The energy signatures were nearly identical to ours, but with subtle changes."

[C]Haein's nose twitched slightly as she caught a whiff of an unexpected scent. Her enhanced senses had always been especially sensitive to Jinwoo, but something was off. "You...you don't smell like him," she said to [O]Jinwoo, referring to the signature scent that had initially drawn her to [C]Jinwoo, a scent that no other hunter possessed.

And [O]Haein chuckled softly, the sound breaking the silence. "We're not exactly the same."

At that moment, the front door opened, and two people, a man and a woman, entered the house, each with a bag of groceries in their hands.

The woman entered the house with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. She put the bag down on the ground and quickly hugged [O]Jinwoo. "We're back!" Completely unaware of the two guests' existence.

[O]Jinwoo also chuckled lightly and wrapped his arms around his wife, placing a loving kiss on her forehead. "Welcome back."

The man smiled shyly, raised his hand to greet [C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein, then walked over to [O]Haein, placing a kiss on her cheek.

[C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein looked at the scene before them in surprise.

"Who are they?" [C]Haein asked, curiosity momentarily overriding caution.

[O]Jinwoo glanced at the woman with obvious affection, his usually stern expression softening just enough to be recognized. "My wife."

[C]Jinwoo's eyes widened to the point of being almost imperceptible, the only sign of his surprise. "Your wife? But-" He glanced between [O]Jinwoo and [O]Haein, confusion evident despite his efforts to hide it.

It was only then that [F]you noticed the presence of [C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein, you looked at them with a bewildered expression.

"Oh! I didn't expect to have guests. I wonder if we bought enough for everyone!" You said with a worried look. You're worried about not having enough food for everyone, not about the appearance of a doppelganger of your husband and best friend.

[M]You facepalmed. "That's all you care about!?"

"Or what?" [F]You pouted. "Haven't we encountered more strange things than this? This is nothing."

[M]You: ...

That seems to make sense.

[C]Haein couldn't hide her confusion at the sight before her. A [O]Jinwoo who still maintained his regal demeanor, yet embraced another woman with a gentle gaze, the kind of gaze that only she had ever received. Meanwhile, [O]Haein comfortably received a kiss on the cheek from the strange man, her face beaming as if everything was normal.

"What the hell is going on...?"[C]Jinwoo muttered, his voice low and tense.

[M]You had stepped forward now, placing the bag of vegetables on the table and crossing your arms over your chest, looking straight at the two uninvited guests. "Are these two people from another dimension?"

[O]Jinwoo nodded slightly, his eyes still not leaving [C]Jinwoo. "It seems so. It wasn't intentional, they didn't expect this either."

"Then it's not their fault," [F]you interjected, his voice a little softer. "I'll reheat the soup and make some more dishes."

[C]Haein looked at [F]you, stunned. "Don't you find it strange? We look exactly like those two..."

[F]You smiled lightly, shaking your head. "Actually, there is a difference." Then you looked at [O]Jinwoo, your eyes filled with love, without any fear or doubt. "He is my Jinwoo, not yours."

[O]Haein nodded. "We are not the same. Didn't you say that Sung Jinwoo in this world is not like your Jinwoo?"

[C]Haein squeezed her husband's hand lightly, clearly feeling the wavering in him.

[C]Jinwoo glanced at [O]Haein and [M]you - a completely different couple from him and his wife. He had never seen Haein intimate with anyone else, and he could not imagine a world where the wife he loved could smile happily next to a man who was not him.

[M]You patted [C]Jinwoo's shoulder. "Don't worry. We won't interfere with your world. But since you're here, let's have dinner first. We'll talk about the multiverse later."

_______________

"WHAT!? THREE KIDS?"

[C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein were shocked to learn that in another world, [O]Jinwoo and [F]you had three children, while they only had one son, Suho.

You giggled at their reactions.

"Could it be..." [C]Haein stuttered, her eyes shifting from [O]Jinwoo to [F]you, then to the three family photos placed on the cabinet next to the living room. One photo was of the whole family smiling brightly by the beach, Jinwoo carrying a little girl on his shoulders, while two other boys hugged [F]you's legs from behind.

[C]Jinwoo stiffened, quietly walked over to the cabinet and picked up the photo frame. [O]Jinwoo's face in the photo was still his face, but the difference was the look, the smile. A gentle, patient, and family-like Jinwoo. And [F]you was smiling brightly, his eyes seemed to contain the whole world.

"Three children..." [C]Jinwoo repeated, his voice low and low like the wind. "Who do they resemble?"

"The oldest is like me, reserved but far-sighted," [O]Jinwoo replied, his voice proud. "The middle child is mischievous as hell, probably like his mother..." He turned his head to look at you meaningfully, causing you to frown and weakly retort, "I'm mature."

[C]Haein was confused. She didn't know what to feel - admiration, jealousy, or confusion. The man in front of her was still Jinwoo, but a Jinwoo who had matured in a different way. He had lived a completely separate life, a life she didn't belong to.

"What about the youngest?" [C]Haein asked, unable to resist her curiosity.

[M]You interjected, your eyes shining with an indescribable tenderness. "The youngest is the one who clings to her father the most. Every time Jinwoo goes away, she cries all night. She always says 'Daddy is my hero.'"

[C]Jinwoo asked [M]you curiously. "What about you two?"

"Ah, we have two daughters. The kids are currently at their grandparents' house."

[C]Jinwoo:...

Suddenly felt inferior.

Silence fell over the room. Each of the four people were initially immersed in their own emotions.

"It's strange." [C]Jinwoo said, placing the photo frame back on the cabinet. "It's as if we're looking at a possible future if things were a little different."

[F]You chuckled lightly. "Or maybe a different fate. Fate isn't always the same in all worlds."

[C]Haein gently held her husband's hand, her eyes still glued to the warm family image. "Jinwoo... do you think we could also...?"

He turned to look at her, his gaze softening, "We could."

Suddenly, small footsteps sounded from the top of the stairs.

"Daddy-" A small voice rang out, and then a little girl with long, fluttering hair ran down, wearing a Kaisel-shaped nightgown.

Both [C]Jinwoo and [C]Haein stood rooted to the spot.

The little girl hugged [O]Jinwoo's legs, then saw two people who looked like her father and Aunt Haein standing in the living room. She paused, blinked a few times, then looked up and asked, "Who is that?"

"Mom and Dad's friends," [F]you said gently, moving forward to pat her head. "They came from a very far away place."

The little girl nodded seriously, then turned to [C]Jinwoo "You look a lot like my daddy!"

[C]Jinwoo didn't know how to react. He looked at the child, not his child, but the child of someone who was also him.

[M]You turned to pat Jinwoo's shoulder. "You'll be a great father too."

"We only have Suho..." [C]Haein said softly. "Still learning how to be good parents."

[O]Haein smiled, her eyes gentle. "Then let's study a little more today."

[C]Jinwoo chuckled softly, the first time since they stepped through that bright gate.

[F]You smiled and clapped your hands, "Come on, let's eat before the soup gets cold! Jinwoo, help me prepare the table."

[O]Jinwoo immediately stood up, putting his arm around your shoulder. "Yes, ma'am."

Message: I remember you! Thanks for supporting me and sorry for making you wait for so long 〒▽〒

I hope you like this 💗love you

[revelboo]

Apologize to Metroplex right now ! 😭

Alright, alright 🤣

I Can Feel You Pt 10

Metroplex x Reader

• You’re gone and with you the only reason to cling to the drone. Too exhausted to maintain the connection as he’s dragged to Ratchet, to the medbay. The medic coming around to frown at him, he lets go. Needs to build up the energy to try again even as despair drags at him. If he recharges, he loses time. Days, years, decades. How long does a human live? Long enough that you’ll still be there when he stops dreaming or will you be gone without a trace? Slipping through his servos without him even knowing.

• “Ratchet said it was a drone,” Hound is telling Bee as you pick at your MRE and wish for real food even though you know how impractical it is for them to waste supply shipments on you when they can smuggle up these things that last forever in bulk. “Apparently one of Metroplex’s, but everyone thought they were destroyed at some point during the war. It must have activated somehow and was trying to follow some old prerogative. Creepy, if you ask me.” Your food clatters to the floor as you stand, staring at Hound as both bots look at you in surprise.

• Needs to rest. Needs to build his strength. To find you. To find the other two drones. Where are you? Safe with the Autobots, but he can’t sense you. Harder to focus now. Doesn’t have the energy to hunt for you, you’re so small and he’s so big. But you’d seen him, reached out to him and broke through his lonely isolation. Spoke to him, that soft voice sinking through his exhaustion. Waking him enough to reach out to you in return. Are you okay now without him watching over you? Worried about his silence? He’d just wanted to hold you in his arms, even if through the drone was the only way.

• Heart racing, you remember the way the bot, the drone, had been reaching for you. Almost desperate to get to you. Had that really been Metroplex? “You okay?” Hound asks as you start running for medbay. Is that why he’d not answered you? Because he was doing whatever he’d had to do to activate a drone to fetch you? He hadn’t abandoned you, hadn’t lost interest. Just too stretched thin to answer you? You’re crying you realize, vision blurring. When you’d been cradled in his mind, you’d felt how tired he is, how badly damaged he is despite the Autobot’s attempts to repair him. Hurting. Breath ragged, you enter the medbay, banging an elbow on the door in your hurry as you run deeper inside the building.

• Sneakers squeaking, you slide on the floor, almost missing the drone. Not even on a berth, it’s just leaned against a wall, head tipped forward and visor dim. You don’t really understand what’s different about the drone from the bots, but remember Hound saying it was creepy. “Metroplex?” Touching its hand, you look up at that slack face. “Can you hear me?”

• “Get away from there before that thing comes back online and accidentally crushes you,” Ratchet growls, as he spots you, coming to investigate the noise. “It won’t even notice.” And you don’t know how to explain that it was Metroplex, that he was looking for you. When you’d told them the Titan was speaking to you, they’d thought you were joking or imagining things. They won’t understand this, either. So you just nod and wait until he vents tiredly at you and goes deeper into medbay. And then you climb up on the drone, sitting on his thigh so you can lean into his warmth. Waiting for Metroplex to find you. Willing to wait as long as it takes.

• Time is a difficult concept for him, moving so much slower than the Autobots he shelters. Coming back to awareness, he’s not sure how much time has passed, but hopes it wasn’t too much. That he’s not too late. Stretching out his awareness, reaching to hook a thought in the drone and relieved it’s still in the same place as his awareness spills into it. “Again? Primus, how many times have I told you to get away from there?” Someone’s voice, angry. There’s a warmth against him, a softer voice arguing as he tries to remember how to work the body all over again. Optics opening and seeing Ratchet, the medic’s own optics widening before he lunges. “Move,” he demands and Metroplex’s borrowed head tips down. Sees you there against him, waiting for him. That hand reaching to take you away and he moves faster than he thought he could, catching the medic’s wrist. His other hand shaky as he ghosts a servo against your cheek and you lean into his touch. “Hi, Metroplex.”

Previous

Next

[novamariestark]

back again with another hank request 😅

the reader gets into a bar fight with some random girl that’s talking shit about hank and their relationship, so the reader feels like she needs to defend him. the bartender instead of calling the cops, just calls hank. hank comes in and is kind of laughing to himself a little bit as he just effortlessly throws the reader over his shoulder and is like “alright slugger time to go home” or something like that.

Army - Hank Voight

Summary: No one talks shit about your man. Simple.

Warnings: None?? Except bad writing? 🤣

Word count: 1109

Fandom: Chicago P.D

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader

Molly’s was buzzing with energy, as it usually was at this time. People like you, who had either a successful day at work and wanted to celebrate, or a stressful day and wanted to drink it away, filled the bar. This, however, was your usual habitat at this time—not because you were stressed or celebrating, but because it gave you something to do while waiting for your boyfriend, Hank Voight. He usually worked late, and you’d come here to kill time until he could swing by and pick you up.

You were nursing your drink at the bar, half-listening to the background noise when you overheard a voice mention your boyfriend’s name, followed by a sentence that made your blood boil.

"Must be nice dating a guy who can make all your problems disappear…"

You froze, the words echoing in your ears as the rest of the noise in the bar became nothing but a backtrack. The woman sitting a few seats down didn’t even bother to keep her voice low, her friends laughed along with her. Your eyes narrowed in her direction, glaring daggers into the back of her head which was covered in fake blonde hair and cheap extensions. Your hands clenched tighter around your drink as you thought about ripping them out her head.

Behind the bar, Gabby, who had been putting freshly cleaned glasses away, caught the conversation and saw the storm brewing in your eyes. She sighed, already knowing where this was headed. She placed the last glass on the shelf before stepping away from the bar. Gabby slipped her phone out of her pocket and quickly dialled her brother.

"Oh yeah," another one chimed in, laughing quietly, "I bet she pays him back for those favors. You know, in her own whore way. I mean that’s the only reason he’s with her."

They both giggled, sending a smug glance your way. And that was it. They had just dropped a match over a pool of gasoline. Your grip on your glass tightened as you slowly turned in your seat.

You tilted your head, giving her a slow, dangerous smile. "I’m sorry, I was too busy daydreaming about ripping out your crappy extensions. What did you just say?"

The first woman leaned back, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "You heard me. Come on, it’s Voight. Everyone knows the guy bends the rules. I’m just saying, must be nice to have all your messes cleaned up for you. I’m sure you find ways to thank him for that."

Your vision blurred red. "You don’t know a damn thing about him or me."

"Oh please," she scoffed, "Everyone knows he gets his hands dirty, and you just smile and reap the benefits. Well… we also know you do a little more than just smile."

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you slammed your drink down and stood up.

"Say that again. I dare you."

The woman blinked at your challenge, clearly not expecting you to bite back so directly. Her lips curled into a smug grin as she leaned forward, her eyes locked on yours.

"I said," she began slowly, "everyone knows you’re just Voight’s little sidepiece, riding his coattails. And when things get messy—" she paused, glancing at her friends, who were snickering like schoolgirls, before her eyes found yours again, "—he cleans it all up. But we all know you do more than just sit pretty. Bet he’s got you on your knees thanking him every time."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the blood rushing to your ears as the last bit of your restraint snapped. You could practically see yourself launching at her, your hands in her fake blonde hair, dragging her off her stool.

Behind the bar, Gabby had moved out of sight, her phone pressed to her ear as she muttered something, "Hey, it’s me," Gabby said quietly. "Let Voight know his girl’s about to take someone’s head off."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Your fists clenched so hard your knuckles turned white. The woman raised an eyebrow, as if daring you to do something. "Oh, what? You gonna hit me?" she mocked, getting more giggles from her friends who maybe had one braincell between them.

You didn’t even think twice as your fist flew forward, landing squarely on her jaw. The shock in her eyes was priceless, but it was quickly replaced by a furious scowl as she stumbled back into her seat.

"Whoa, Y/N!" Gabby shouted, starting to rush around the bar, but you were already past the point of no return.

The woman recovered quickly, lunging at you with a wild swing. You ducked, avoiding the slap by inches, and shoved her back, sending her crashing into the table behind her. Her friends were still laughing, egging her on, which only fueled your anger more. You were ready to go at it again, fists clenched and teeth gritted.

And then you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, lifting you effortlessly off your feet. Before you could even register what was happening, you were hoisted up and over someone's shoulder effortlessly.

"Alright, slugger, that’s enough for tonight." A deep, familiar voice told you.

You blinked down and found yourself looking at the back of Hank Voight’s leather jacket as he carried you toward the door, his grip firm but gentle.

"Put me down, Hank!" you growled. He just chuckled as you squirmed slightly in his grip, "Hank, come on, let me at her just for a second," you pleaded, your eyes narrowing back toward the bar.

Once you were outside, he put you down on your feet. Hank shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You already gave her a taste,"

“But,” you said, gesturing back to the bar, intending to plead your case as to why he should let you back in there to smack the taste out that bitch’s mouth.

Hank grabbed your hand, placing a soft kiss to the back of it before leading you towards his car, “No buts,”

You sighed, knowing full well he wasn’t going to let you go back, so you just snuggled into him as you walked. Your right arm moving to hug his, your chin resting on his smooth leather covered shoulder.

“I’ve still got some paperwork to do, can I trust you not to start a fight with Rusek?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to kiss the skin just below his ear, “I don’t know, maybe you’ll have to handcuff me,”

“Don’t tempt me, beautiful,”

[spiribia]

2019 was the best new years lead-in solely because when people asked about resolutions everyone could just say “I don’t know, I don’t have 2020 vision 🤣”. no one had 2020 vision though. (Suddenly grim and somber) no one.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write about the reader being either Ford or stans controversially young spouse? Like they're close to their 20s instead of their 60s

Ooh to be their controversially younger spouse what a dream I wish I could live lmao 🤣

Before you became Ford’s spouse, the man would always use the age gap between you two as the sole reason as to why you shouldn’t be together romantically, he’s sweating bullets and loosing sleep over it because it’s just so glaringly obvious to him that you shouldn’t.

However this was all just a cover up for the fact that he did indeed feel things for you in a romantic sense. You were great with Dipper and Mabel, encouraging their passions and even getting involved in them should they need someone to be dazzle in gems or go out into the woods to look for the supernatural.

You even got along with Stan, which was only an added bonus for Ford but still he kept reminding himself that he was far, far too old for you that he might as well have been old enough to be your father/ grandfather! Wasn’t that enough to disturb you?

He knew some people held a liking towards older people but believed it was more for their wisdom and life experience, not the romantic kind.

Apparently it wasn’t because Ford accidentally over heard a conversation between you and Wendy regarding his age;

Wendy: isn’t he too old for you?

You: negative, I love older men. Especially older men who are smart, a little socially awkward and plays dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons.

Wendy: …respect dude.

Needles to say after hearing that Ford’s face became as red as cherries and his worries regarding how you felt towards the age difference seemed to have dwindled slightly, but still he worried that others would view you as weird for being with a man more then twice your own age.

Sure there wasn’t many…worthy candidates to date in Gravity falls but surely he couldn’t be the only one worth your gaze? Mabel must’ve at least tried to set you up on more then one occasion, but according to her you just never seemed to jell with the people she set you up with, saying that you had a distant look in your eyes as though you could be anyone else then at the date.

When Mabel confronted you about it one day, you told her that you liked men a little older then you, Mabel then asked why but you only ruffled her hair and told her that she might see the vision one day. Ford was now being presented with more proof that you would be more then content with dating him, it was undeniable and he even indirectly heard it from your own mouth, so what else could he possibly be held back by?

Fear and rejection from society if they ever were to see you both in a romantic setting?

Then again you both lived in gravity Falls and there were things far weirder than an 20 year old dating a 60 -pushing 70- year old man. And thus began Ford’s new hypothesis; how to win over a 20 year old’s heart.

After you stated dating, you beating the other ladies and men off with a stick because that sexy silver fox was yours! FINALLY! It was your turn to have a sexy older man in your bed!

Other then that you loved being with Ford as no two days were the same, you could be going out with him to look for supernatural as a date, thankfully surviving when Ford got a little distracted by spouting facts on what was trying to kill you both and ending up sat on the porch of the mystery shack and laughing together afterwards.

Or be in his lab and watching him work while admiring how handsome he looked with greying hair and an aging face, but Ford would see it otherwise and become a little insecure and reserved.

‘Don’t you think it weird?’ He’d ask you one day.

‘About us?’ You didn’t have to hear him respond when you knew that Ford was still a little uncertain with your age difference still after seemingly accepting it. You sigh and walked over to him and sat on his lap, making him blush and his eyes widen as you hold his face between your hands.

‘Ford, sweetie I don’t care about what they think, I’m just glad that I got to be with you after pinning for so long. I understand this is new for you but all I ask is that you trust me,’ you kissed his nose softly, ‘and trust in our relationship, there’s nothing weird about it unless you make it weird.’ You add with a smile as Ford rested his head against you, his hands now resting comfortably on your waist.

‘You’re right my sweet,’ Ford said, ‘I’m just worried that you might find someone close to your age more appealing then some old man.’ You couldn’t help but chuckle as you leant further into him.

‘Who could I ever find more appealing than you mr sixer?’ You asked rhetorically, ‘you’re more than perfect the way you are and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to call you mine, so everyone else can stay jealous for all I care knowing I have the most perfect man ever.’ You add as you kissed his lips this time and smiling when Ford reciprocated it with his sweeter, soft kiss.

You probably have moments where you recall something Ford wouldn’t understand and Ford would reference something that was older than you, it’s funny regardless of how you looked at it.

Ford’s body still has aches and pains despite keeping himself healthier than Stanley and so you would help him during these times and coddle him lovingly, while reminding him that he needed to take it easy on himself once in a while.

Ford apologises for it but you only shut him up and remind him that he has nothing to apologise for.

You didn’t treat each other differently because of your ages, if anything you made Ford feel young again and Ford gifted you advice and made you feel just that little bit smarter, which boosted your confidence in yourself. It was a beautiful relationship that was pure and sweet it could give anyone cavities.

Stanley didn’t give a shit you were dating his brother, he knew you liked men above a certain age when you kept eye fucking Ford whenever he walked past you, or how Ford would look at you longingly when you weren’t looking . He saw this shit coming from a mile away as it wasn’t exactly subtle on either end and may have made a bet with Wendy about how soon you’d come to him to announce you were dating his brother.

Stanley won the bet much to Wendy’s dismay.

You saw Ford shirtless once and went apeshit much to his surprise because weren’t people your age into six packs and hairless upper bodies?

Nope, not you, you loved his tummy and body hair that you clung to his side and spent the afternoon kissing his scars and embarrassing tattoos he kept covered in turtlenecks while whispering reassurance that reminded him that you were attraction to him was more then surface level. Ford would return the favour when you had episodes of insecurity would remains you of such by comparing your every insecurity to something beautiful.

Acne? Constellations/ clusters of stars

Stretch marks? Lighting strikes

You’ve got a tummy and thick thighs? Didn’t you know that they(thick thighs) saved lives?!

Needless to say that you came out with a newfound love for yourself afterwards.

You constantly held his hand and kissed each finger to show that you didn’t care about anything but him and his wellbeing, it warmed Ford’s heart as he found to love himself a little more with your help, and in doing so he was able to show you love by kissing your cheek in greeting or making you breakfast in bed or draping his coat over your shoulders when he saw that you were cold.

It was sweet and innocent but still it was enough to have you smiling and feel loved, which is all Ford ever wanted you to feel while with him.

Ford’s love was chivalrous, stubborn and awkward, but you wouldn’t want it any other way as you wanted Ford just the way he was and thrived when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement as he makes a discovery, leading him to grasp your face and kiss you on the lips while holding you close to his chest as he explained what he had done; all the while you stared at him with awe and love because he was really attractive when he was talking about things he was passionate about.

Ford would then catch himself and apologise for rambling but you would kiss him on the cheek and ask him to continue, to which Ford happily obliged, now aware that you were staring at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky.

Ford would find himself looking at you in a similar fashion when you were going on about what you and Mabel did in town, and Ford couldn’t help but hone in on your smile, shining eyes and hand gestures that told him that you enjoyed the hijinks that had happened while wearing the sweater that Mabel made you the entire time.

You’d catch him staring intently at you and suddenly you’re flustered and playing with the sleeves of your bright and vibrant sweater. ‘It’s kinda corny isn’t it?’ You’d ask as Ford chuckles, reaching out to hold your hand reassuringly in his.

‘No, not at all my sweet, I in fact find your adventures with my niece and nephew endearing and sweet. So please continue to tell me how you drop kicked a gnome into Mabel’s leaf blower.’ Ford said and within seconds you were back to being bright and talkative about your adventures of fighting off gnomes, barf fairies and pulling Mabel away from fae traps.

You both were each others listeners and would remember anything and everything said because you actually liked to hear where the other got up to when apart from one another.

Bonus; you definitely have a spot in his journal where he goes in depth of your relationship before ending it with: ‘they’re someone I don’t think I could envision a future without, for they make me young again while loving me regardless of our differences in age and much more. Thank you for loving me y/n, even when I don’t think it’s deserved.’

[vamo-vamo-vamo]

Something I just noticed about this gif…

He was running from her, then trying to keep her from falling, then falling himself, and now things have calmed down enough for them to just… look at each other. It’s the first time he really gets to look at her, like, really look at her in ten years. Not just through the cracks in the walls.

The way his eyes shift a little before he tries to nervously hurry away had me wondering - is he thinking “oh shit, this is it, this is happening” because she looks the exact age she was in his vision?

Dude was just trying to have a chill day of reject arepas and ratelenovelas and now he finally has to confront this. 😭🤣