#and they’re both Australian what are we actually doing

[ak4e7a]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞) - 𝐩𝐬𝐡

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 / '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦

synopsis: you were never one to take the high road... until you met someone who made your body burn like rubber on asphalt.

street racer! hoon x street racer!maneater! reader

wc: 16.9k holy fuck honestly this hoe might be a 3-parter lowk

a/n: hi sorry i disappeared... but enjoy LOL and happy one year to my blog! i met so many cool people over this past year. reblogs are appreciated and i will astral project into your room and hug you ≽ܫ≼

banner by @karinasbaby i love you this one's for you big dawg. year in the making, let's go

“Didn’t think you were going to grace us with your presence tonight, Miss Probation,” Jaeyun smirks as you get out of your car, swinging both of your legs out closed like a lady so as to not flash anyone with the black miniskirt you’re wearing. He greets you with an air-kiss to your cheek, to which you roll your eyes—although you bask in the way the other girls stare at the two of you. If only they knew how annoying your best friend actually was.

“It’s Jungwonie’s turn to race for us, so who am I to deprive my brother and the team of our good luck charm? We need all the luck we can get tonight,” you reply, taking a seat on the hood of your baby pink Supra. “We’re on a good win streak. Might even take this season’s cup without me.”

The other racers from different teams have started to arrive, many of them making their way over to say hello to you. You give your girls—Jimin, who races for Razor; Aeri, the beloved race girl; and Soyeon, a member of the AZ team—air-kisses from across the parking lot. You aren’t feeling like walking over to the groups they’re mingling with. (And because you don’t feel like being near Hwang Hyunjin right now.)

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, sitting beside you when you pat the spot next to him. “But you know, Wonie is better than you think—”

“Hey, you never let me sit on your car,” Wonbin says, striding over to you with a smirk. You glance up at him, and he looks like he’s expecting you to either push Jaeyun off or scoot over yourself—either way, he wants a turn.

Basically everyone in your little racing scene does, but you think it’s more fun to work them like dogs than to give in to anyone. Especially not after what happened with— “You’re not even in Enigma, Wonbin. Privilege is for teammates only, get lost,” Jaeyun says condescendingly.

He looks at you again, like an expectant puppy—which only works if it’s Jaeyun doing it to you— waiting for you to reach into your purse. You sigh and reach in and feel around for a particular wrapper. “Here. Go away.”

The Australian snickers as Wonbin walks away dejectedly. “The grandma coffee candy, huh?”

“He was too cocky, that's all he deserves tonight. Even if he’s cute. He’s lucky I gave him anything at all.”

“What about me? I’m cuter,” Jaeyun asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his signature cheeky grin, batting his eyelashes at you the way you do to him. You’re used to flirting with him; it’s more of a way to keep both your skills and his sharp than anything romantic or suggestive. After all, you grew up with Jaeyun, and you know all his embarrassing secrets just like he knows yours. One time in high school, the two of you fake-dated for a week to get some girl too obsessed with him for her own good to leave him alone. It’s safe to say she didn’t buy it, not one bit. You and him bickered too much for it to be believable, and you accidentally screamed when he kissed you on the forehead. 

“Hmm…” Playfully, you pretend to be deep in thought, hand digging in your purse again. “Here.”

His face lights up in innocent delight, a huge contrast to his outfit of baggy cargo pants, oversized hoodie, and sneakers, complete with a thick, iced-out Cuban-link chain around his neck. “Ooh, yum! Grape Hi-Chew!”

You roll your eyes. “I only carry that for you, loser. Everyone knows the mango one is the best.”

“You just say that because grape was—”

“Hey, Y/N! Nice wrap,” Riki says, waving his long arms at you like he’s drowning. The tall, newly-turned 21-year-old bounds towards you before tackling you in a hug that sends you almost crashing into the ground, your hands flying to tug the hem of your skirt down lest your protective younger brother scold you about not dressing for the weather. It’s a cold spring night, as proven by Riki who’s in a loose, knitted navy blue sweater and destroyed light wash jeans.

“Jeez, Riki, I just saw you yesterday, no need to suffocate me,” you grumble affectionately, reaching up to muss his black-and-silver hair before sitting back down on the hood of your car. You’ve been fond of the boy since Jungwon brought him over one day, his first new friend since losing his best friend (and one of yours, honestly) in a betrayal that still hurts to speak of to this day. Riki clings onto you like you’re his older sister, too, and you reckon it probably has something to do with missing his own sister back home. “You saw me finish the wrap on the car, too, remember? Jimin and Soyeon were there.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks good even at night! Very professional. Maybe you can wrap the GTR next?” he says, to which you side-eye him, and he adds, “I can pay you.”

“You can pay for my meals every time we go out to eat for the next three months and I’ll call it even.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal. You eat less than Jungwon hyung, anyways.”

“Why are you talking shit about me to my sister again, freak?” your younger brother demands, making his way up to the small crowd that’s starting to form around you, Riki, and Jaeyun. He looks taller today, you think to yourself, and when he comes into full view, you see that he’s riding on the back of an unfamiliar person, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a pretty nose, whose bangs droop over his eyes. He’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, with a black and blue leather racing jacket covering his torso from the chilly Seoul air. 

“Well, did I fucking lie?” Riki snaps back, arms crossed. You hide your laugh in the crook of your arm, eyes locking with the man who’s got your brother draped over his broad shoulders like a backpack. He looks at you intensely, in a way that makes you feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. You feel like your insides are turning into lava. What’s his deal?

“Whatever, cricket legs.” Jungwon jumps off the man’s back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You notice that he’s yet again stolen one of your oversized hoodies. “Oh, hyung! This is my sister, by the way. Noona, this is Sunghoon hyung. He’s joining Enigma.”

He’s cute, pretty, even, and you like that. You’ve always preferred pretty boys. And up until about five seconds ago, you would have said that—even though your ex-boyfriend is a cheating bastard who deserves nothing but suffering—he was still the prettiest man you’ve come across. 

But this one, this one in front of you right now, this one takes the cake. He’s got full, thick brows that frame dark almond eyes, and his cheekbones flow into his jawline in a way that makes you think his face has probably stopped traffic at least once in his life. Before you stare at him for way too long, you reach into your purse and pull out one of your mango-flavored Hi-Chews (from your personal stash) to give him. 

“Hi, Sunghoon. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Enigma.”

He repeats his own version of your greeting a bit too curtly for your liking, but you don’t care either way, he’ll be under your thumb in no time, just like everyone else, just the way you like. Rolling the wrapped cube in his hand, he asks, “What’s this for?”

To which you reply, “Oh, nothing. I just like candy.”

“I feel like ‘like’ is an understatement,” Riki snorts, sticking his hand in your purse for something he can snack on. You sigh and hand him your purse for him to rummage around more freely. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at that, but turns to you anyways. “Do you race, too? I don’t want to assume or anything.”

You give him a coy smile, translucent bubblegum-pink-manicured fingernails clicking against the hood of your car as you drum your fingers against it. “Yeah, I do. I’m banned from racing right now, though, until the end of the season at least.”

He cocks his head like a curious puppy, blinking slowly at you. Oh, no. He’s cute and probably doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely dressed like he knows he’s hot. “Why’s that?”

Your smile turns into a smug smirk as you answer, “Because I go too fast.”

“Fourth-gen Supra,” he muses, glancing between your bare legs at the titanium Toyota emblem on the hood that you’d had imported from Japan. For some reason, you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “Cute.”

“Oh? And what’s your ride?”

“Beamer M8 Comp,” Sunghoon says, an air of nonchalance about the answer like it’s nothing special. It kind of pisses you off. You’re pretty certain he didn’t win that car by racing for the pink slip like you did with your Supra. Before you got that car, Jungwon’s 350Z was yours, and you’d only had it because you salvaged it from a junkyard and rebuilt the whole damn thing yourself when you weren’t working or sleeping.

If there’s one thing you might hate more in this life than cheaters, it’s people who come from money, people who didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend that they were playing life on easy mode. People who never had to suffer, because, to you, they never learned anything.

Sure, you had a hard life. Sure, your parents kicked you and Jungwon to the curb when the both of you refused to take over the family business. Sure, you worked hundreds or, more likely, thousands of hours just to make ends meet and take care of your brother while the two of you finished school. Sure, you wished you could have enjoyed your youth more instead of having to worry about money.

But instead, you had to pay the price for your freedom. Part of you still wonders if it was all worth it. If you should have stayed in your hometown. If you should have just went along with the arranged marriage your parents were proposing with someone you didn’t even know instead of running away with your ex and dragging Jungwon to hell with you.

Okay, maybe it really pisses you off. 

“Ooh, rich boy,” you deadpan, your long nails preventing you from balling your hands into fists. You deny him the pleasure of seeing you roll your eyes back into your head. “Daddy must have spent a lot on you.”

“That’s not very welcoming to say,” he shoots back, although his voice is just as flat, his eyes narrowed at you.

You pout mockingly at him. “I’m just teasing our newest member—don’t worry, silver spoon. It’ll be over for you sooner if you decide to quit while you’re ahead.”

“You scared you won’t be the best racer on the team anymore or something, princess?”

“Just wait for me to get off probation and I’ll make you eat my brake dust, Daddy’s Money.”

“You’re already calling me daddy, even though we just met? Because it was my money that bought the car, for the record.”

You’re a little embarrassed and also slightly turned on, neither of which you would ever admit to even Jaeyun, and he knows you just about as well as he knows every single Fortnite map. “Tell someone who cares.”

The back-and-forth between the two of you is thankfully cut short as everyone hears the roar of a particular engine, marking the arrival of Enigma’s leader. You could just kiss him for his impeccable timing—if it weren’t for the fact that neither of you saw each other that way. You reckon both of you would rather eat a jean jacket than get more intimate than the platonic skinship that marks your friendship with him and the other Enigma boys.

People move aside as he puts the metallic, slime green Lamborghini Huracan in reverse and backs up into the parking spot next to you. The ostentatious exotic car belonging to Jay was gifted to him by one of his first clients, a filthy rich businessman who respected and admired Jay’s hard work and dedication to his job despite Jay being a corporate grunt in those days. During this period in your lives, Jay never once showed up late to a meeting with Mr. Big—even when his old Mitsubishi Lancer finally gave up on him after years of being pushed to its limit, even if it meant he had to wake up at three in the morning to start walking from his old apartment in Ahyeon-dong to Gangnam to make the scheduled 6 AM meetings—since the subways unfortunately didn’t operate until 5:30.

After Old Moneybags found out about Jay’s struggle, it was safe to say your best friend wasn’t on hard times for very long after that.

“Jay!” you call out, playing up your role as the only girl in Enigma just to assert dominance over the racer groupies in attendance tonight. You haven’t seen him since the last race, on account of the both of you being too busy with your work schedules to hang out properly. You immediately nudge past everyone—including Sunghoon, who you intentionally brush up against, your ass against his leg—to be the first to greet him.

“Hey, sweets, missed you,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, been just fine. You know me, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” you assure him with a smile. He pinches your cheek. “What about you?”

“Oh, same shit, different day. Hoping I finally clutch this huge promotion at work. Head of an entire department,” he answers, protective hand on your waist as he guides you back to the rest of the Enigma boys. Along the way, he daps up some of the other racers who say hi to him, before giving Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Riki a dap and that weird side hug that guys who are close friends do. “Have you met Sunghoon yet?”

“Yeah, I have.” Your lips form into a slight pout, even though you know everyone but Riki is immune to your occasional petulance. “No one told me we were getting a new member. I thought we agreed to vote if it ever happened again? And… I thought it was never going to happen again?”

“You weren’t answering your phone when we voted, so Riki and Wonie took your vote,” Jaeyun snickers, shaking Jay’s hand and giving him the one-armed, “definitely not gay, bro” hug. “Think you had the group chat muted again.”

“Well, that was for good reason,” you argue crossly. While you loved your boys, that didn’t stop them from getting on your nerves at least once a day. “I was mad at you guys for not wanting to go get milk tea with me. And then you got it without me, clearly.”

“Didn’t we bring you some that night, though?” Jay retorts, ever the level-headed one when his temper wasn’t getting the best of him.

“Yeah… but I wanted to come! We live in the same building, for fuck’s sake!”

“It was a boys’ night, silly. Are you a boy?” Jaeyun pats your head and you swat his hand away, grumbling under your breath at him to not to touch you and to fuck off. 

Your attention veers to Jungwon as he turns to Sunghoon, who’s standing with his arms crossed, watching you bicker with the boys from a distance. “Don’t mind her, she’s always like this. You ready to race?”

“Always like what, Yang Jungwon?” you ask mirthlessly, hands on your hips.

“A brat!” Jaeyun and Jay answer on his behalf, tugging you away so as to allow the racers on tonight’s card to drive up to the starting line, and everyone else can get behind them.

That’s how your scene’s races have worked since you were tasked with changing the rules two years ago; two drivers from each team participating would race, while the others would drive behind them as pace cars. They would also be ready to distract the police at a moment’s notice and keep the roads clear of civillians. It was as ethical as you could make it, and, honestly, it worked and kept everyone safe.

On this night, you’ve been roped into Jaeyun’s metallic blue Mustang Shelby GT500, with glimmering white racing stripes you added on yourself, huffing and muttering to yourself about how the boys were being “mean” to you in front of Sunghoon to try and impress him. Jay has gone ahead to wait at the finish line. He’d refused—again—to not “put the Huracan anywhere near any of these morons with driver’s licenses,” and so he’s there to note down the order in which the racers arrive, armed with several precisely-calibrated stopwatches. 

You yourself have refused to ride with any other driver even though many of them offered to bring you along as their “passenger princess”. You will only ever ride with one of your boys. Riki is in his blacked out R35 Nissan GT-R, the other seats occupied with the life-sized plastic skeletons that he “borrowed” from his school’s anatomy lab. He’s cruising beside Jungwon, and behind you and Jaeyun; Sunghoon is in his own car beside you two.

“How’d you even meet that guy, anyways?” you groan to your best friend, trying to shield your eyes with the way Riki’s obnoxiously bright, blue underglow on his car is blinding you in your side mirror. Your hand dangles out of the open window, fingertips tapping idly on the outside of the door. “He’s so unfriendly.”

“Actually, he’s pretty cool when you get to know him. Riki and I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. He asked if one of us could spot him on the bench press—for three plates, that’s fucking sick! But, uh, yeah. We started working out together after that.”

You scoff. “Oh, great. Another meathead like you two.”

“Y/N, that’s not nice,” Jaeyun chides, glancing at you with the same affection of an older brother, even though you’re both 24 years old. “You’re not being very nice tonight.”

“Well, neither is he. He’s just some spoiled little rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“Um… so am I, honestly… and so is Riki, honestly, but you don’t say anything about that, do you?”

You begin to reply, but you frown as Sunghoon speeds past the two of you in his pearly black BMW M8 Competition, the exhaust pipes screaming bloody murder, heading for the starting line just a hundred feet ahead. “Did he hear me say that about him?”

“Most likely.”

“Fuck.”

Part of you wants to apologize; maybe you’re being a little harsh on him, maybe you’re projecting your feelings towards this guy just because he reminds you of a certain someone, maybe you need to finally come to terms with what you’ve been denying for all these years.

Jaeyun pulls up to his spot behind the racers, right between Riki’s GT-R and Jungwon’s 350Z. You signal to the Nissan Boys, as you affectionately call your little brothers, to put their seatbelts on. They both pretend to sigh begrudgingly as they buckle themselves in.

The race girl is your good friend, Aeri, who every guy in your racing division is also obsessed with. Between the two of you, you think that she’s the truly adored one, because she is still as sweet as the day you met her—and you have an inclination to terrorize anyone of the opposite sex who rubs you the wrong way (due to your past). You can’t help it though, and, surprisingly, none of the boys who fall at your feet fault you for it.

But no one ever seemed to feel the need to prove you wrong, either, and that was your problem with them.

Aeri stands in between the middle two drivers, reaching under her top to unclip her bra. You take this as your cue to pull out the megaphone from where it sits waiting at your feet. Leaning out of the window, you announce, “First one to the base of Namsan Mountain wins! I expect a clean race, no funny business. Take no shit, but do no harm!”

“Isn’t that backwards?” Jaeyun whispers to you. You wave him off. He’s right, but you’re trying to emphasize your point about not dragging any innocent people into the racers’ mess.

You continue.“Tonight’s winner will receive the cash prize from me, personally, at a later time. Are we clear?”

A chorus of revved engines gives you your answer. “Alright. Aeri, count us down?”

She nods, pulling out her bra from her top and holding it up in the air. “‘Kay! You guys will go on 1! Ready? 3… 2… 1!” At the final number, she lets the hot pink satin garment drop to the ground, and everyone guns it, driving off in a flurry of exhaust smoke and burnt rubber.

“How much was the buy-in tonight, sweetie?” Jaeyun asks, using his own form of the sugar-derived nickname for you.

“Five million won apiece,” you answer. You scroll through Yun’s phone and play a song on his obnoxiously overpriced sound system. You’ve been joking to your friends that you’re in your “girl Future” era, citing your borderline toxic behavior towards the other racers who constantly slide in your DMs as proof that you’re literally the female version of the rapper. It doesn’t help that your coworker, Minjeong (who is also your self-appointed “work wife”), encourages you to torment men.

“‘I Serve the Base’? Really?” he snorts, leaning back in his seat. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”

“I dunno, it just fits the vibe,” you shrug. “Just quit yapping and drive, please.”

“Like I said, a mood.”

You sigh and physically turn away from him like a petulant girlfriend would—knees pointing towards the door and all—and stare out of the passenger window at the cars in front of you. You watch as Wonbin and Hyunjin duke it out on the road, trying to put each other in last place. The way they’re maneuvering their cars makes you a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed that they clearly didn’t listen to a word you said not two minutes ago. “Yunie, flash your high beams at them.”

“Say please.”

You look at him in confusion. Where’d he learn to say that?

“Sorry, Sunghoon does that to Riki and Jungwonie all the time.”

Yikes. Part of you hopes he doesn’t do it to girls, too… but you wouldn’t mind it if he were to do it to you. It’s high time someone really makes an effort to put you in your place, honestly. You reach behind you, to the back seat and grab the laptop you took from Riki, opening it up and typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Accessing the street cameras,” you answer like it’s obvious. Being nefariously good at using the Internet was a perk that came with hanging out with your brother way too much. “I want to see what’s going on.”

“Well? Give me the rundown, then.”

“Jungwonie is in third place, it looks like. He’s gapped Hyunjin in front of us by at least a kilometer… and he’s approaching San and Wooyoung real quick. But—fuck, wait.” You click through a bunch of tabs, scanning the screen faster than when you’re reading twenty-six text message screenshots that Aeri sent you to dissect. “I can’t find Sunghoon anywhere.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he get pulled over or something?” he asks, lowering the volume of his speakers using the button on his steering wheel, eyes still trained on the road in front of him. He flashes his lights again, this time at just Wonbin to pick up the pace, urging him to pass Riki—who now has his underglow set to a stealthy dark red—up ahead.

“No… just… wait, give me a sec… oh, holy fuck.” You click through the camera footage, rewinding it and slowing down the playback. “Oh, my God.”

“Jesus Christ, what is it? You can’t just cliffhanger me like that!”

“I can’t see him because his lights are off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think he has a mod on his car—you literally can’t see him unless he drives under a streetlight.”

“Wait, that’s what Riki imported for him?!”

“What the—oh shut the fuck up, it was me who imported that light system! That fucker said it was for a friend when I asked him why he was buying new bulbs, ‘cause I knew he just got those halo LEDs!” You take a deep breath before sticking your hand in the pocket of Jaeyun’s pants.

“Yo! I thought we agreed not to fuck in the car! And especially not while I’m driving—but I guess I shouldn’t turn down some road head…”

“God, shut up, you perv! I need to get your phone and call Sunghoon!” you cry out. “He needs to turn his lights on, what if he gets hit by someone?!”

Jaeyun laughs. He laughs. At your misery, or your panic, or at you. “So you do like him.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously, Yun, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’re already on thin ice with the cops as it is!”

“Shoutout San, though,” he chuckles, shifting gears so he can close the gap between him and Wonbin, who is starting to approach Hyunjin again. 

Your friend Choi San, also a racer on the AZ team, is from a family of high-ranking Seoul Police Department officials; he’d gotten pretty much everyone off the hook more than once for various traffic violations. You keep a stash of mint chocolates in your purse for whenever he’s around—even if they remind you of your ex-best friend—as your way of thanking him for keeping everyone’s records clean. It also helps that he absolutely loves your attention. 

“You’re so annoying, Sim Jaeyun. Let me call Sunghoon, seriously.”

“Dude, chill, look at the cams again. The gap between everyone is getting smaller.”

You check the laptop screen again, and he’s right. You see Jungwon overtake both San and Wooyoung, and while you’re still holding your breath in worry over your baby brother, another part of your heart soars with pride at how good he’s gotten. You’d like to think that he got his driving skills from you, even though it was your stupid prick of an ex-boyfriend who first put him behind the wheel of a car.

But when you look up, you notice that Jaeyun is distracted trying to change the song playing on his phone. And there’s a sharp turn coming up ahead. You feel sick, adrenaline immediately rushing through your bloodstream.

Instead of screaming nonsense, you slam the laptop shut, tossing it on the floor and practically crawling across the center console to grab the wheel with one hand and the e-brake with the other. You drive your knee into Jaeyun’s leg to floor the accelerator, and at the same time, you deploy the e-brake and turn the steering wheel hard. The car drifts around the turn with ease, thanks to him immediately springing into action, tossing his phone somewhere in the cupholders and countersteering as he shifts gears.

“Pay attention next time,” you mutter in annoyance, as if the two of you almost crashing was a slight inconvenience and nothing more.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he snorts, downshifting back to his cruising speed. You give him the middle finger as you watch the cars change formation in front of you. Hyunjin cuts off Wooyoung at the junction between two roads, and Wooyoung swerves in the opposite direction to avoid hitting San to his left. Wonbin approaches from behind San, flashing his lights, trying to get one of them to move over, but they both downshift, forcing Wonbin to brake, fall back, and move over to try and find another opening.

And then it happens.

You hear a distinct 8-liter engine roaring furiously somewhere in the vicinity, but you see nothing. You think for a second that it could be the sound of a police helicopter overhead, but you doubt it, not if San tipped off his family that there would be a race tonight, and he always does, because you remind him to do it. You think that he pretends to forget just so you’re forced to text him and he’ll have an excuse to talk to you, but you don’t really care because he’s sweet and always earns himself the best of your candy stash—although you’ll reluctantly admit that Sunghoon has been the first to get the candy that you carry for yourself. 

Because you’re not allowed to smoke inside Jaeyun’s car, you unwrap another mango Hi-Chew and wonder if Sunghoon would taste like you if you kissed him. Sure, you don’t like him all that much so far, but he’s hot, so maybe you could just hook up with him and dip—

Oh, who are you kidding? You haven’t slept with anyone since your ex, even though everyone thinks otherwise. You’ve made out with San and Hyunjin a few times, much to the amusement of Jaeyun and Jay, but you never let it get past that. You just go home and use your vibrator to finish the job. Sex is too intimate, feels too much like baring your soul to someone else and you don’t want anyone to get too close like that any time soon.

Too close, too close, too close just like the sound of that engine, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Sunghoon finally turns his lights on, and reveals his location for everyone to see. He’s at the front, way ahead of even Jungwon, who is currently trying to keep Hyunjin off his tail.

No one but Sunghoon ever had a chance to win.

The race ends before you can truly even register this fact, and everyone parks at the base of Namsan Mountain to congratulate the winner, who seems insanely put-off by all the attention.

“Jay,” you say, approaching the Huracan driver quietly, your shoes crunching the gravel beneath you.

He looks up from his phone at you, jawline illuminated by the screen. The way he slightly tilts his phone away from you signals that he’s texting Aeri. You laugh inwardly; he doesn’t know that you know about them secretly hooking up. “Mm?”

“What was Sunghoon’s time?” you ask. Your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth, and you don’t even realize how hard you’re biting down.

“Eight minutes, twenty three seconds.”

You gulp. Like actually, visibly gulp, as if you’re swallowing a hard-boiled egg whole like some cartoon character. “Oh. That’s—”

“Almost a whole minute faster than your record. He told me he took a detour somewhere at the halfway point.”

“He’s good,” you admit. “Just like—”

Jay interrupts you again, pocketing his phone. “Don’t say his name, sweets. They’re nothing alike.”

You turn to him, eyes searching for answers. He simply puts a hand on your shoulder before pulling you into the hug he knows you need right now. “It’s been two years,” you mutter into the fibers of his cashmere sweater, hoping that the knit is dense enough that it drowns out the sound of your voice. “Why do I still bring him up?”

“He was a big part of your life. And ours, too. It’s okay. You’re going to have to accept that none of it was your fault eventually.”

“And stop taking it out on anyone else that comes after him, huh?”

Jay pats you on the back. “Bingo.”

“Wait, no one ever gave me a real answer, but why do Jaeyun and Riki live together? And Jay and Jungwonie?” Sunghoon asks. He’s sitting across from you in the former pair’s living room, letting your younger brother lean against him as the alcohol takes over Jungwon’s weak tolerance.

You raise your glass like it’s an extension of your hand, leaning against the bottom of Jay’s leather couch where you sit beside him. “That was my idea, when I was moving out of my old apartment. I lived there with my ex, until I kicked him out. When my lease was ending, all of us decided to move to a new building—this one—and I figured that each of the two young ones should have a hyung to look after them. But also, I didn’t want anyone living with me.”

The last part leaves everyone silent, and you laugh, adding, “Why do you guys look surprised? I told you that when we were signing our leases.”

Sunghoon looks at Riki to his right, who is trying to make a soju bomb with more soju and less beer, and then across from Riki at Jaeyun, who is egging him on to just drink straight from the soju bottle, and back at Riki, who listens to the Australian intently, like he’s some sort of genius. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

You wave him off. “Oh, yeah. They’re just off the clock right now. You know, can’t be serious all the time.” Oops, another dig at him.

Your phone chimes with notification after notification, and it’s not just updates from Candy Crush. It’s text messages, and not the good kind from Aeri or Soyeon telling you which racer they’ve gone home with tonight.

Before you can silence your phone, though, Jaeyun, who’s on your other side, picks up your phone, laughing exaggeratedly as he waves your glowing screen in the air. “Guys, look! I told you it was gonna happen!”

“What?” Sunghoon asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You shake your head at him and mouth the words “don’t listen to him”.

But then Jay starts cackling, catching your phone over your head when Jaeyun throws it to him in order to read the messages out loud. You don’t even bother fighting their teasing anymore; in fact, you’re a little excited, because you know your boys are about to go in on whoever’s hitting you up. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here! From Wonbin: ‘it was nice seeing you tonight, do you want to hang out this week?’”

“Ewww, gross,” Jaeyun groans with a mouthful of fries. “He was literally trying to sit on the Supra when Y/N pulled up!”

His revelation is met with a chorus of laughs and jeers as your boys mock Wonbin for his transgression, for being so stupid and arrogant to think that you would have just given him a free pass. After all, that car is your baby. You suffered a lot for it, and not just anyone could come up and touch it. In fact, one time, Jungwon was banned from riding in your car for a month because he got his fingerprints on your side mirrors.

“Did San-hyung text noona?” Riki’s nosy ass asks, running up behind the couch and diving onto it to look over Jay’s shoulder. Jay pushes his head away. “Oh, shit, he did!”

Jungwon sighs, slumping further even against Sunghoon. “God, just read it and put me out of my misery. He’s so down bad for her, it’s disgusting.”

Jaeyun giggles, and kicks his sock-covered feet like a schoolgirl. “He’s probably gonna ask her on another date and make her bike along the Han River again.”

This makes you choke on your drink, and it almost comes out of your nose. “Hey, I thought we we agreed not to bring that up.”

“It’s not every day I open my Instagram and see your stupid ass fighting for your life getting hard-launched on his story,” he snorts. “Watching you trying to ride that bike gave me second-hand embarrassment.”

“Yeah, it’s like he didn’t even care that you looked stupid, he was really trying to let everyone know that he was out with you,” Jay adds. “Way to keep it lowkey, or whatever.” Your face burns hot with embarrassment as you realize that Yunie has taken out his own phone to pull up the screen recording of San’s Instagram story to show Sunghoon. Now you actually want to smack the phone out of his hand, but you figure it’s fine, you don’t care if he sees you like that. It shouldn’t matter, he’s just one of the guys now. He could join in the teasing for all you care.

Right?

“Yo, hold the fuck up, Y/N, I thought you and Hyunjin were done?” Jay says, scrolling through your notifications.

Your eyes flick up to Sunghoon, who is currently trying to busy himself with separating the perilla leaves—that no one has so much as breathed in the direction of tonight—as he seems to not pay attention to the video, or to what Jay is saying. Either that, or he really doesn’t find it funny. “Put it away, Yunie,” he says quietly, one hand gently pushing back Jaeyun’s phone towards him. “That’s too much. You’re embarrassing her.”

“I thought so, too,” you sigh at Jay, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Sunghoon may or may not have just stood up for you against your best friend. “He ignored my texts for, like, four days, and you guys know how much I absolutely hate that. I know I lag, too, but never that long. At least I’d tell you that I’m busy or whatever. Fuck’s sake.”

“What did Hyunjin hyung say?” Jungwon mumbles. He’s now using Sunghoon’s lap as a pillow, and the sight makes you feel a little soft. You love your younger brother to bits and pieces, and seeing him like this reminds you of the times he’d come home really tired from school and fall asleep at your dining table while you prepared dinner for the two of you. You often yearn for that period in your life, when things were much simpler and the only thing you were sad about was missing your family.

Now you have a new family, but another part of your heart is broken, and time hasn’t healed it—at least, not completely.

“He’s asking if she’s busy this week,” Riki answers. Part of you wants to drag him by the hair and put him on a one-way flight back to Japan. “Oh, Jay hyung is checking her calendar. Yikes, hyung… You’re still pushing that agenda?”

“What agenda?” Sunghoon pipes up after gulping down the last of his beer, his lips glossy from the liquor.

“Oh, he just thinks they’d be cute together,” the freakishly tall boy rambles, making a gesture out of Jay’s line of sight that signals to Sunghoon that Jay is crazy. The alcohol has made you basically nonverbal at this point, and you just let Riki explain your lore to the hot new member of your racing crew. Hopefully Sunghoon doesn’t remember any of it in the morning.“It’s kind of about time that noona gets a new boyfriend. Personally, though, me and Yunie-hyung are on Team San.”

“Isn’t that up to her though?” Sunghoon muses. “Like, why does it matter if she’s single or dating around?”

“Because she’s not that type of person who actually can do anything casual,” Jaeyun interjects, putting a hand over Riki’s mouth, only to pull away in disgust when Riki licks his palm. He wipes the drool off on Jay’s arm. “She just does it because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone who isn’t us. So it’s a vicious cycle. She says she’s healing, but she can’t fully heal the part of her that was wounded because she needs to be in a relationship with someone who will be patient with her and prove her wrong. Someone who will help her finally get over… him.”

“I figured, from what you told me before,” Sunghoon says quietly to your supposed best friend. He’s not really being much of a best friend now, you think, even though everything he’s said is both correct and true.

This piques your interest. Your index finger circles around the rim of the open bottle of soju that you’d confiscated from Riki. “What do you know?”

“Ey, Hoon, watch what you say, I don’t want her throwing her drink at me!”

You roll your eyes and look back at Sunghoon. “Don’t listen to him. Tell me what Jaeyunie told you, and I’ll decide if I throw it at him or not.”

“Well—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Jay says, setting down his now-empty glass of beer with a smug, victorious grin. “Well, actually, I’m not, but I texted Hyunjin back and said you’d meet him at that new fancy Italian restaurant in Gangnam on Wednesday at 7. And before you say anything, yes, you’re free that day. I checked your calendar and your emails.”

You flaked on your date with Hyunjin. To teach him a lesson, of course.

But you do start seeing more and more of Park Sunghoon as the weeks pass, what with him being a full-fledged, initiated member of Enigma now. And you hate to admit it, but he’s starting to grow on you, even though you still think he’s kind of stoic—mostly towards you. You can tell he’s softening a bit, though.

Because, truth be told, you’ve also observed him to be honest and kind and genuine, the latter the rarest thing you see amongst the racers involved in your second life who throw themselves at you like moths to a flame. He’s sincere, but he also doesn’t mince his words, so you have no choice but to take them at face value. You like watching him get along with the other boys in your life, the only ones you truly love, the ones who have done nothing but love you like a family could and couldn’t.

Riki, for one, loves to pester Sunghoon when he’s around and makes you sit and keep score for them while they play table tennis in the game room of your apartment complex. They’re both extremely competitive, and you think to yourself that Sunghoon is such a good sport even when Riki’s elaborate, well-choreographed victory dance gets too annoying even for you to tolerate. You’re pretty sure he adds a new move every single time he does it.

They go to the gym on days where Riki’s done with class early enough to beat rush-hour, and they bring you along for dinner afterwards if you feel like coming. Riki’s now got a debt to pay to you, on account of you wrapping his GT-R in a metallic oil-slick color. You and Sunghoon chose it together, because no one else was replying to you in the group chat. Sunghoon even helped you install it, if helping you meant feeding you dumplings from a takeout container because your hands were full with the heat gun in one and a felt-edge squeegee in the other. 

For an entire weekend, he sat in your garage with you quietly, making idle conversation when the white noise would get too much for even him. He asked you about yourself, and you told him about how you met Jake in third grade, when his family moved to your hometown all the way from Australia, and how you became friends with him only because you were the only one in your class who knew how to speak decent English. (You watched a lot of American TV shows on illegal streaming sites.) In turn, you asked him if he likes his job as an investment banker, and he tells you that he wanted to be an automotive engineer when he was younger, but every man in his family works in finance and expected him to do the same.

This admission prompts you to share that you were supposed to step up and run your family’s successful chain of restaurants, but you refused to do so, choosing instead to run away with your boyfriend at the time and follow him to Seoul for the two of you to go to college. Jungwon even came with you, and you let him. Sunghoon asks you if you regret it. You say no, because, really, you don’t. But you do still have trouble sometimes trying to understand why some of the people you loved the most in this life—your mother, your father, and later on, your boyfriend—did not care if you were happy. 

They only really cared that you did as you were told.

And Jay, much to your amusement, happens to be at the butt of most of Sunghoon’s teasing—whenever he’s in his extroverted mood, that is. They bicker much like Tom and Jerry, but you can tell that they get along just fine deep down. After all, Sunghoon’s been helping Jay decorate his and Jungwon’s apartment, listening (more like tolerating, if anyone were to ask you) to Jay ramble on and on about Herman Miller chairs and Noguchi lamps, and no one else can be in the same room as him when he gets like that, and that’s saying something because your apartment is also decorated in the mid-century modern style. 

Jungwon sometimes tags along with them to furniture showrooms, strictly on the condition that they treat him to a meal afterwards. Sunghoon, not so surprisingly, is always the one who invites you along with them as well, ever since that first night when you complained about the boys getting milk tea without you. You wonder if it’s a pity invite, but you don’t really care much if it is, because he doesn’t seem like the type who does things he doesn’t want to do.

There was this one time two weeks ago that you came along with them to go pick out a new rug—first mistake. Your second mistake was forgetting to eat before leaving your apartment. You sat on a chair clutching your stomach with one hand, scrolling through your phone looking at the drink menus of nearby cafes with the other. Little did you know that Sunghoon, who was standing right beside you, was nosily peeking over your shoulder while also on his phone, typing in the names of whatever menu item you would pause on.

He disappeared for a few minutes after telling you he forgot something in his car. This left you to decompose in your (very cushy) chair while you listened to Jay and Jungwon argue about low-pile versus high-pile rugs. You contemplated how long it would take for them to notice that you’d passed out from hypoglycemia. But then Sunghoon returned, holding a bag from the food delivery app you all like to use. He’d nonchalantly and wordlessly taken out a peach iced tea and a sandwich to hand to you, but you looked up at him like he was God coming down to earth to save you. You thanked him profusely and he actually smiled at you, eyes crinkling up at the corners and turning into pretty crescent moon shapes. 

If you didn’t already know that Jaeyun loves women, you’d think that he has a crush on Sunghoon. You seem to have lost your pet best friend to his new pet rich boy. Jaeyun loves to spend time with Sunghoon, even though he’s not at all very talkative. Regardless, every single time you come over to Yun’s apartment, Sunghoon is either already there or five or ten minutes away, depending on the day of the week and the time at which your best friend invites you over to his and Riki’s apartment. 

Then the three of you, with the occasional addition of any or all of the three other Enigma boys, will inevitably order some takeout delivery and watch a film—”Not a movie,” you insist—until you inevitably start crying at the plot and say you have to go home before the boys really start making fun of you. Sunghoon always walks you to your door, even though you live just down the hall. You always tell him he doesn’t have to, but he always brushes you off and tells you to get your things so you can leave. 

And one time, about a week ago, you heard him scold the other guys for being mean to you, reminding them that even though you’re technically one of the boys, you’re still a girl at heart, and they should make some effort to be nicer to you. You heard him really dig in to Jungwon in particular, and while you kind of felt the urge to come back into the room and defend him, Sunghoon told your brother to show some respect and think about all the things you’d done for him in the past seven years. So you stayed back, still in shock that Sunghoon had spoken up for you so vehemently.

Speaking of your younger brother, your precious baby all grown up, the only family you have left: Jungwon adores Sunghoon, viewing him as the older brother you wished you could have been for him. Yes, Jay and Jaeyun are literally right there, but you can tell that the connection between Jungwon and Sunghoon is different. Jaeyun is good for keeping both Jungwon and Riki out of your hair when you’re busy, and Jay indulges your brother, spoiling him every chance he can get, having no siblings of his own. 

Somehow Sunghoon has gotten through to your brother in terms of his life and his career; after all, he’s close to finishing college soon and doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet. You would kill for a chance to help Jungwon, but you reckon he hasn’t come to you because he doesn't want to add to your stress and you could cry at how considerate he can be when he isn’t teasing you. You promise yourself that one of these days you’ll thank Sunghoon for his help, maybe some time after you finally admit to yourself that you were wrong about him being a prick. And maybe you’ll apologize for making assumptions about him in the first place.

Yes, you’ve been observing the way Sunghoon gets along with everyone, and you’re happy, you really are, but something is gnawing at you. While the arrival of new racers in your scene is nothing new, Enigma itself hasn’t been disrupted since Jungwon met Riki and all of that other shit went down. 

More importantly, you haven't been disrupted for so long. Two years, to be exact. It’s been two years since you got your heart broken twice, and you’ve spent so long holding everyone at arm’s length away from you because you’re not too keen on ever experiencing that again. Sure, you date around, but like Jaeyun said, they don’t mean anything to you. You know what they want and it’s what you refuse to give them. And then this guy, this fucking guy with pretty brown eyes who is soft-spoken and quiet and has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen in real life… this fucking guy comes in with the audacity to make you feel like he simultaneously likes you and wants nothing to do with you.

Although you think the latter is just a defense mechanism on your part. You’d tried to convince yourself that he only cares about you so that the boys don’t kick him out of Enigma, because if the two of you didn’t get along, there would be no way he could stay on the team. After all, you’re still their best racer, and more importantly, their best friend. But that can’t be all true, because you fight with the boys sometimes, sometimes real petty fights that end in everyone crying, and you’re still an Enigma member through and through. So telling yourself that Sunghoon secretly hates you because of your ways is a lie on your part.

Because right now, about three months after you’ve first met, when you’re at the club with the boys, there’s no way Sunghoon truly doesn’t like you. The rational part of your brain can recognize that; after all, you’ve watched him countless times coldly brush off the advances of random girls in public who see his credit card and try to take advantage of his generosity. 

And you saw with your own two eyes the way he looked at you when you’d asked him if what you were wearing (a white mesh mini dress with baby pink kitten heels) was actually “too much,” and if you should go change like the others had said. You heard with your own two ears when he told you, “It is a bit much, but you look good. If there’s any trouble, don’t worry, I got you.”

It’s a good thing your face was already pink from the makeup you’d dolled yourself up with.

You never have to pay for drinks when you go out. The boys know this. You always tell them to not waste their hard-earned money—or in Jungwon’s case, your hard-earned money—on you when you can get some rich loser to buy you a bottle of Clase Azul if you bat your eyelashes at them and say you want to ring the bell.

Tonight is different, though. Usually you can score some of the top shelf shit without so much as lifting a finger, but because Sunghoon went with you to the bar, you can sense that the men in the club are not willing to put your dirty Shirley Temple on their tab. He doesn’t even have his hand around your waist, but you assume it’s the malevolent energy radiating off him in waves of expensive cologne that have people socially distancing from you like you’ve got the plague.

“Something wrong, Hoon?” you ask him innocently, swapping cocktails with him as you’ve often found yourself doing whenever the two of you are out together. It’s been a running occurrence since you’ve started joining him and the boys on their hangouts. He’ll order whatever you want to try, be it pasta or a coffee, and you can order something else you like. You sip on his Jack and Coke before making a face and taking your tequila sunrise from him.

���Do you want to wear my jacket?” he says, leaning in close so that you can hear him over the thrum of the bass-boosted music. “These creeps are staring at you too hard. It’s freaking me out. Pissing me off, really.”

You shrug. The buzz is starting to really hit you, thanks to your pregaming session at Jaeyun’s before you left for the club. “Doesn’t bother me, I’m used to it. It’s not like any of them have a chance.” You reach over and brush off invisible lint off Sunghoon’s shoulder, lingering a little longer just to feel the hard muscles underneath his clothes. “You do, though.”

He looks at you with his lips pursed in a flat line, a look he often gives Jay when Jay won’t stop pestering him. Then he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you. “Just put this on. I’ll be right back, I have to take a call.” He shows you the glowing screen of his phone, and you can read the contact name. It’s one of his bosses, and you only know this from the time he invited you to have dinner with them (and they’d pestered Sunghoon into bringing a date, since all of them are married).

You nod in understanding and nestle yourself snugly in his leather jacket, the same black-blue-white combination that he’d worn the night you first met. Idly, you sip on your drink, watching the crowd of swaying bodies underneath the colored strobe lights. In the distance, you can spot Jaeyun’s freshly bleached head of wavy hair next to Jay and Wonie, and that’s only thanks to Riki’s freakishly tall frame standing out like a cell phone tower beside them. They’re dancing with a group of girls, and you try not to gag when you see your younger brother let a girl grind up against him.

“Hey, why don’t you take this off? It’s hot enough in here because of you,” someone yells out right beside you, trying to make himself heard over the music. You turn to him, already pissed off because who the fuck says that?

“No thanks,” you say flatly. “I’m good.”

Even if you are feeling a bit hot inside the packed club, there’s something in you that wants to respect Sunghoon’s wishes while he’s gone, because you know behind his cold exterior he means well and it’s his own roundabout way of looking out for you. Either that, or he’s possessive, your delusional brain thinks, catching a whiff of his cologne in the lining of it.

“Well—”

You’re not paying attention to the douchebag beside you. You look back to the crowd and your boys have disappeared, no giant, Oreo-haired Riki to mark where they are. Suddenly, your tequila sunrise threatens to show itself in your throat. You’ve been hit on before, of course, but not like this, not this insistently. You keep your poker face on, trying to figure out how to get away from him but also avoid getting sucked in and trampled on in the giant crowd that just seems to keep doubling in size.

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?” another voice asks.

You look to your side and he’s there, he’s back, stone-faced and radiating what you would call actual bloodlust. You nod, giving him a look that you hope Sunghoon interprets as get him the fuck away from me.

“You heard her. You’re bothering the lady,” Sunghoon says flatly to the man beside you, in such a manner that leaves no room for argument. “And not just any lady, either. That’s my girl you’re bothering. Get lost.”

You yourself shiver at his tone. You’ve gotten used to seeing the icy but gentle side of him, so this shift startles you, making goosebumps raise on your back in fear and your core clench in need. You decide not to correct Sunghoon, either. The sooner you get out of this bust of a club, the better.

An hour later, you find yourself at one of your favorite restaurants, a little barbecue spot near your apartment building that serves the best marinated galbi you’ve ever had. You’ve taken the boys there countless times, enough for them to make a joke out of it. The place is supposed to be closed right now, on account of it being one-thirty in the morning but when you were in the taxi with Jay and Sunghoon, you overheard the latter on the phone, telling the other person on the line that he’d pay triple to have the place opened for three hours past closing time of midnight.

While Jungwon talks animatedly about the girl in his class who was at the club and how he somehow managed to get her number, Sunghoon serves you before everyone else, putting the strips of grilled meat on your plate. The other boys groan at him, telling him not to indulge you too much or you’ll get used to it and always expect it, just like you’ve done to them. They don’t really mean it, because you know them well enough that they—just like Sunghoon—don’t ever really do things they don’t want to do, but deep down you still hope he doesn’t take their words seriously.

“What’s so bad about that? Ladies first,” is all he replies to them, and you feel warm inside and it’s not just the double shot of peach soju making its way through your body.

“Okay, me next,” Jaeyun says. He’s still got sweat dripping down his forehead from chasing  tequila-drunk Riki and Jungwon down and dragging them both by the collars of their shirts into another taxi. 

Sunghoon looks at him before passing the tongs to him. “Do it yourself.”

“Jackass.”

This makes your smile widen, giggling to yourself uncontrollably. You take delight in messing with Jaeyun, and seeing the always-stone-faced Sunghoon take part in it brings a certain joy to you that’s both unfamiliar and welcomed. You catch his eye and he sends you a wink, so fast you wouldn’t have caught it if you didn’t have the habit of staring at him when you think he isn’t paying attention to you.

“Dickhead,” Sunghoon shoots back, bushy brows furrowed so cutely that you have the tipsy urge to kiss the peachy skin between them.

“Oh, well, at least if I liked a girl, I’d tell her, so I think that makes you the dickhead and not me.” Jaeyun rolls his eyes and takes a piece of meat out of your bowl, popping it into his mouth and seemingly swallowing it whole.

You frown. “What? Sunghoon likes someone? Is it Jimin? It’s Jimin, isn’t it?”

Jungwon and Riki groan. “Great, another idiot.”

Jay points his chopsticks at your younger brothers. “Shut up and eat your food already.”

“Yes, mother,” they say in unison, digging into their bowls of kimchi fried rice. You look down at your own plate, suddenly losing your appetite. You even consider going outside for a smoke break, but that’s how the boys disappeared at the club a while ago, and it’s too late for you to be going outside alone—at least, that’s what you’re very well aware that they’d argue. Your stomach hurts at the thought of Sunghoon liking another girl, and because you’re you, because you’re almost so self-aware to the point that it could put your therapist out of a job, you know it’s because you want him to like you, and only you.

And it’s not even because you want the same control over him that you have over the likes of San and Hyunjin and Wonbin and whoever else claims to be on your sad excuse of a “roster”. It’s because you like him, and it’s to the point that the only other being who knows this for a fact is your pet cat, because only she wouldn’t accidentally tell him the truth. She’s a cat, for fuck’s sake, a cat you unfortunately named after the girl you think Sunghoon might like.

Maybe the boys have noticed. But you doubt it, because if they did, they would have teased you so mercilessly about it that it would be considered bullying that could be punishable under law. It would be so severe that you’d have no choice but to leave the country if they knew.

What they actually do though, that you’ve picked up on in recent weeks, is their new nasty habit of dropping hints about how you should be with a guy who’s cold to everyone but you. Someone who’s both pragmatic yet thoughtful, someone who always tells the truth but can do so in a way that will spare your feelings because he makes an honest effort to not sound so harsh. Someone who can both protect you and yet also be able to get you to stop when you become… “irrational” was how they put it. Someone you’re attracted to, not just physically, but emotionally, as well.

You’re not stupid, no matter how often you think you are. You know they’re talking about Sunghoon. You know Jungwon and Riki will make plans with you and him and then flake at the last minute so that you two are forced to go out together, alone. They’ve done it enough times that you know it’s bullshit that they have a school assignment due at some random time in the evening. You know Jaeyun will loudly ask Sunghoon what he thinks of a certain girl when he knows you’re within earshot. It pleases you every time Sunghoon flatly replies “What about her? I don’t know her like that.” 

And you most definitely know Jay let Sunghoon take you on out to the racetrack to drive his Lamborghini for a few laps, under the guise that you’ve always wanted to go and Jay finally managed to get a slot booked on a day that he “isn’t able to make it” because of a “meeting”. Who the fuck even works on a Sunday? 

You fixate on this memory for a while. You can truthfully say it was one of the happiest days of your life.

“You’re telling me you’ve never used paddle shifters before?” Sunghoon asked with a lopsided grin, pulling into the paddock of the race track. Your leg bounces in your seat, not out of anxiety like usual, but out of impatience and excitement.

“I drive stick, why the hell would I use paddle shifters? Sorry not all of us drive M Comps,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “V8 bi-turbo headass. Can’t believe you run an automatic transmission.”

“I’m ignoring that. I’ll track it first.”

“What? No way, I’ve known Jay longer!”

“You’re going to drive it like it’s a city bus. I’m going to drive it like I stole it. You can sit there and look pretty first, then you can have a turn.”

“Sunghoon, if you’re just going to stare at me, you’re going to crash us into a wall.”

“Nah, my peripheral vision’s pretty good. Why, you don’t trust me?”

You sighed. You do trust him, that’s what bothers you.

Ultimately, the idea of Sunghoon liking another girl makes you a little… irritated. That’s actually a gross understatement, if you’re being honest. You can feel the dragon’s head of your jealous streak rise up from the ashes where it had once laid dormant, asleep. It wants to breathe fire. It wants to get a rise out of him. It wants to see his reaction.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on whose side you’re on, your best friend knows you too well.

“Y/N, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun, who is sitting to your left, asks. The salt pot is right next to Riki, who is sitting to your right.

Taking this as your opportunity, you look at him, tilting your head before you say the exact line that, by now, everyone knows that Sunghoon likes to use. “Say please.”

Jaeyun is too intoxicated to fight back, but he knows you well enough even in his inebriated state that he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Please?”

“Okay,” you answer, reaching across Riki’s plate to grab the salt. When you hand it to Jaeyun, his fingers linger on yours way too long to be respectable. There’s nothing there, of course. It just feels normal, no spark, no giddy, lovesick warmth. He’s just being outright obvious.

Picking up on your scheme, Jay chimes in, a malicious glint in his eye that only comes out after you can smell the alcohol on his breath. You see him elbow Jungwon at the end of the table—quite subtly, to his credit. “Ew, what are you two doing? That’s gross, get a room.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, giving Jay the middle finger. Oh, he’s playing up the dramatics of your ploy to see if Sunghoon cares or not. This is what being friends with him for pretty much your entire life is all about. “Can’t a guy and a girl be best friends? Chill, bro.”

“Guys and girls can’t just be best friends,” Jungwon adds, his mouth full of rice and barbecue. “That’s such a lie. You don’t see me with a girl best friend, because if I had one, I’d be fu—”

Sunghoon’s knee hits the bottom of the table, causing everyone to jump back in surprise. “Sorry, guys.” He looks at you, staring at him wide-eyed. “And lady. Leg cramp.” He gets up from the table and excuses himself to go pay the bill, talking with the older woman who runs the restaurant and who you know is madly in love with him (much to everyone’s amusement).

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Jay asks in a hushed tone, dropping his smirk and leaning forward. “What are we doing to him?”

“Forcing Sunghoon to confess,” Jaeyun answers back, switching to English so only the three of you can understand. 

You look at him quizzically, but you speak to him and Jay in English anyways. “Wait, what? I just wanted to make him jealous, what are you talking about—”

“Alright!” Sunghoon says loudly from behind you. “Time to go.”

Exchanging looks with your best friends, you collect your things from where they rest on the worn leather seats of the booth. “I’m gonna take a walk first,” you say. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Nah,” Jaeyun answers. “I’m beat. Gonna take the little ones home.”

“Whoooo the fuck are y-you… callin’ little,” Riki slurs, slumped over a sleepy Jungwon’s shoulder. You know your brother is in a food-and-alcohol-induced coma, since he says nothing about the drool Riki’s getting all over his unbuttoned shirt. “Fuckin’ Oompa Loompa.”

“Riks,” you sigh, getting up on your tip-toes to push his sweat-soaked hair from his face. “Be nice to your Yunie hyung.”

“S-sorry noona,” he hiccups, putting more of his weight on Jungwon, who yelps. “I’ll be nice.”

You shoot Jaeyun a warning look, telling him not to egg on the poor boy who looks like he might throw up in his sleep later. “You guys gonna be okay going home?”

“Yeah, bro, it’s only like a block away,” Jay interjects, prying Riki off of Jungwon and hoisting him onto his own back. Jaeyun takes your brother in his hold, grimacing at the skin-to-skin contact of Jungwon’s bare chest on his fingers. “Go take your little walk. Text us when you’re back.”

“Yes, mother, I promise.” You can feel Sunghoon looming over you like a skyscraper. Without turning to him, you ask, “Are you coming with me?”

“Well,” he answers, his huffed breath blowing over your head in cigarette smoke. “Obviously. I’m not letting you go alone.”

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter with the same tone, shivering to yourself. The air is surprisingly cold for the beginning of June, and you’re dejectedly starting to regret your outfit.

And of course, like clockwork, Park Sunghoon notices your discomfort and quietly puts his jacket over you for the second time that night.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. He acknowledges you with a soft hum, matching your stride as you cross the empty road to the little park nestled behind the flowering trees.

You continue to walk, trying to think, but it’s difficult to burn off the rest of the alcohol and gain some clarity when the man you’re thinking about is right beside you. You would kill to read his mind. You could just ask him, straight up. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? What’s the worst thing he could say? That he doesn’t have feelings for you? That he sees you as a sister? That he actually does like Jimin like that?

Fuck.

You finally admit to yourself that you do like him. You do like him, you do want him, you do feel those things genuinely and not out of greed, not out of wanting to make him one of your trained dogs, not out of wanting to punish your ex through him. 

You… you fucking like him, and it pisses you off. Him, of all people. Liking Jaeyun seems less complicated than this. You know for a fact that Sunghoon is quite possibly the king of hard-to-get. Kazuha and Yunjin, the race girls from AZ, both made a move on him and ended up fighting over him for nothing (which your own girlfriends clowned on them mercilessly for, while you sat back and watched rather smugly). He didn’t even give them the time of day, let alone his phone number. 

Minjeong, your beloved work wife, wanted to test that theory and when you’d left them during dinner one time to go use the restroom, she tried to flirt with him. She ended up meeting you in the restroom with a smirk, telling you that he’s impossible to break. She’d even asked you if you considered the fact that maybe he likes men.

Intrigued, you’d “innocently” asked Jaeyun and Riki, of all people, to get you the answer. Eager to please, and glad that they had some new bullshit to do, they came back to you after three hours of pestering Sunghoon at the gym during their workout. They’d reported that they annoyed him so bad he left them at the gym, forcing them to take the train back home.

That night, he texted the group chat “Not gay. Waiting for my wife” and nothing else.

A big shock to the rest of you, to say the least. The boys were busy laughing at the first sentence, while you were fixated on the latter half of his text. His wife. What a strong choice of words, you’d thought. But it was a good thing, too, that he knows what he wants. At least one of you does. A wife. That’s more definite than just wishing to feel safe and secure around other people.

“Did you eat well?” Sunghoon pipes up, finally breaking the chilly silence between the two of you.

“I did,” you reply curtly, now doing your best to match his pace. It’s hard. His legs are so long, with equally long strides, but you push yourself in your heels anyways. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Why do you always flirt back?” Sunghoon asks. He sounds like he’s been holding that in for a while.

“What? Are you talking about Jaeyunie?”

He grimaces. “No. I know that was just him being him. I’m talking about the others. That Wonbin guy. San hyung. Hyunjin hyung. Whoever the fuck. Them.”

You stop walking, and so does he. He turns around to face you as you incredulously ask, “So suddenly? Why? Does it matter?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you. That’s the first time you’ve ever elicited that reaction from him, and it hurts a little. “Yeah, it does. You’re making them think they have a chance with you.”

“Okay, so what?” you say harshly. Really, why does it matter to him? He likes Jimin, doesn’t he? Why is what you do any of his business?

“Well, do they?”

“No!” you snap, hands on your hips. The sound of your voice, echoing through the deserted metal playground, startles the both of you. “None of it is ever serious with them! Men are dogs, anyways!”

“Meow.”

You look at the tall man in disbelief. Under the glow of the lampposts, he looks both sinful and heavenly. Even if he’s pissing you off like never before. Blinking—too shocked to laugh—you ask, “Did you just meow at me, Park Sunghoon?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not a dog, and I’ll prove it to you,” he answers, thick arms crossed over his broad, sturdy chest.

“Why bother doing that? Why does my opinion of you matter to you? It’s none of your business what I think. So why?”

He scoffs. But he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

Oh, you’re so annoyed. Why now, of all times, can he not be direct with you? Or is this how he actually is? Has he been pretending to be genuine this whole time? No, that can’t be. People usually can’t keep a facade up for that long without slipping up in between, unless they're sociopaths, serial killers, or both. “No, tell me why. I want to hear it from you. You and your stupid… your stupid… stupid, pretty mouth.”

“Did you just call my mouth pretty?”

“Answer the question, Park Sunghoon!”

He glares at you, but it’s not menacing. After what seems like hours, he sighs, turning away. Then he quietly says, “I love the way you love.”

You realize now that the entire time you’ve been watching Sunghoon, he’s been watching you, too.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The way you care about them. The others… The way you look out for them. For Jungwonie and Riki, always making sure they’ve eaten and they rest enough for school, and that they’re on top of their studies. Jay, you always scold him for working too much. And Jaeyunie, you get worried when he’s not home by a certain time… I realize now that you might not have space in your heart for me. And I should accept that no matter what I do, I’ll always just be another one of your dogs.”

“Sunghoon, what—”

He shakes his head, which hangs low in something you think must be shame. His bangs cover his eyes, so you can’t get a read on him unless you brush them out of his face. And with what he’s just said, you don’t think that now is the best time to touch him. “No. We’re not going to talk about this tonight. Or ever again. I can promise you that. Now come on. I’ll walk you home and we can pretend like this never happened.”

Back in your apartment, you lay in bed, wishing that there was still enough alcohol in your system to put your restless mind to sleep. But there isn’t, not after you walked it all off with an awkwardly silent Sunghoon escorting you back to your apartment. You’d offered your couch for him to sleep on—not out of pity, you’d told him. Out of worry. The trains had stopped running and there were no taxis coming to your side of town anytime soon.

He looked like he really wanted to stay. But for whatever reason, he shook his head at you again, told you it was okay, and said he’d walk home.

You’d texted him to keep you updated on where he was. He didn’t reply. You just got a single notification that “Park Sunghoon has started sharing locations with you,” and that was that. No actual message from him. You share yours right back, telling yourself that it’s fine, all the other Enigma boys had your location, too. But you know the truth.

Sitting up, you reach for your phone and your purse, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, both of which you’d stolen from Jaeyun. He would steal them back from you very soon, anyways, what with him sharing one singular, pitiful peach blueberry ice-flavored vape between himself, Jungwon, and Riki.

Your cat follows you curiously as you walk into the living room and slide the glass door to the balcony open. She curls up in your lap when you sit down on the rocking chair, just as she always does when you come out to smoke.

“You know this is bad for you, right?” you joke quietly, scratching her head with the hand not holding a cigarette. “You should be inside, breathing the purified air I pay good money for.”

Mrrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I should stop. But you should be proud of me. I don’t even do it that often.” That’s actually the truth. You and the boys all say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, and you can’t call yourself a smoker if you only go through one pack every two weeks at the very least. By Seoul nightlife standards, your lungs are healthy. “You can hiss about it to your Jaeyunie-oppa.”

Meow.

“Okay, Jiji. Whatever you say.” You take a long drag before pulling away, flicking the ash onto the ceramic tray that Riki brought back for you as a souvenir the last time he went home to Japan. “Fuck, I really do like him. Sunghoon. Not Yunie, ew.”

Mah?

“Because… because… I just do. He’s so… he’s so not like… you know. Heeseung.”

Your cat stiffens on your lap at the mention of your ex’s name. You laugh to yourself, knowing that there’s no one in this world she despises more than him.

“He’s not… he actually cares about me. He doesn’t have to tell me; I don’t even have to ask him if he does. I see it now. And it’s different from how he cares about the boys. I know it’s not just because I’m the only girl. I’ve seen the way he treats other girls. So… he probably doesn’t like Jimin, huh?”

Jiji perks up at the mention of her full government name, but then looks at you as if to say, are you fucking stupid?

“Yeah, I am, haven’t you noticed? I talk to you all the fucking time.”

Aaow.

“No, I don’t just like him because I get preferential treatment. I just—he never does anything to stress me out. I know he considers my feelings, I mean, fuck, he always tells Jaeyunie and Jungwonie to stop making fun of me when we’re hanging out, and, like, he’s always doing shit for me without me having to ask him or even hint at it. He just… he does it because he wants to? And being around him makes me calm. And he’s strong. And he’s kind, and he doesn’t brag about all the nice fucking things he does for everyone, for me… And… and…”

You lose your momentum as your face begins to sting, tears welling up in your eyes. You can hear the pain in Sunghoon’s voice when he said he’d “always just be one of your dogs” echoing in your head. 

“And he doesn’t lie.”

Lying is something you’ve always had a hard time stomaching. As a child, you were taught that it was better to tell the truth and be punished once than to get caught in a lie and get punished twice. You don’t feel good when you lie. Not even when they’re little white lies, like the one you told Hyunjin about Jungwon being sick when you’d flaked on your date with him.

So when you’d found out that Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s best friend since literal birth, had been helping Heeseung hide his secret relationship with Sunoo’s own cousin, Chaewon—and had been accepting money from Heeseung to help him keep that secret—you lost your fucking mind.

You’d been through everything with your boyfriend. You abandoned your family for him. You moved to a new city with him. You slept on the floor of a shitty apartment for months with him, while Jungwon was stuck in the dorms of his university with three other roommates. You took home leftovers from the restaurant you worked at all throughout college to feed yourself and your brother.

All of that which you endured, just to find out that everything was a lie.

Heeseung didn’t love you as much as he said he did. Because if he did, he would never have gone behind your back with someone else for months and had the nerve to kiss you with the same mouth he used to lie to you.

Sunghoon doesn’t lie, you tell yourself.

He’s not him, he’s not him, he’s not him.

And it’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.

Sunghoon, for as long as you’ve known him, always keeps his promises. But you also hope that he breaks that last promise he made to you.

You don’t make any appearance at the next race, which is a week later. You purposefully ignore the group chat when they ask you where you are, if you’re coming to watch Riki beat Shotaro and get his revenge for the last time they’d raced against each other.

They get the message—or lack thereof—loud and clear, and leave you alone. You’re grateful that they don’t pry, although Jaeyun texts you separately to scold you about “making Hoonie sad”. You reply to him with the middle finger emoji, even though you know he’s right. For once, at least.

You get texts from Jimin, Soyeon, and Aeri in the racer girls’ group chat, all of them pouting about how you’re not going to see Jimin and Soyeon race against each other in their newly-modified cars. You apologize and wire Aeri a million Won, telling her to place a bet on your behalf for Riki to win in his race. You stop replying when Jimin and Soyeon get on your ass for not being able to choose between who between the two of them would win.

Minjeong had said something to you at work a couple days ago that made your stomach not be able to stop hurting since. Because she’s the most neutral-territory friend you have, you told her exactly what happened between you and Sunghoon, not sparing any detail—not even the thing he’d said to you that made you feel like a monster.

“You can’t build a new house with the bricks from the last one and expect it to be different.”

She’d said it so casually, like she’d read it off the subject line off the first email in her inbox, but it struck you so hard, hammering in what Jay told you the first night you met Sunghoon. To stop taking out your pain on every man that tried to come your way after Heeseung.

In your defense, again, it wasn’t like they were truly serious about you, anyways. Except Sunghoon, who refused to play your games and refused to flirt back with you whenever you’d try to make a pass at him.

It was your automatic distrust of him that brought you here, sulking at home, feeling helpless beyond your control. What made it worse was that Sunghoon definitely knew why you are the way you are, what with Jaeyun’s big fat ginormous mouth being unable to stop itself from spilling all the gory details of your past to him before you two had even met.

There’s a knock at your door. You find that odd; everyone should be out on the road right about now. You check your friends’ locations on your phone to see who could possibly be in your building right now.

You see Sunghoon’s contact photo right above the glowing blue dot that signifies where you are.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Y/N?” he calls out, muffled by the thick wood of your front door. You turn to Jji, who is looking at you curiously.

“Go, bedroom.”

Obediently, your cat runs to your room, and you can tell she uses her back legs to kick it shut behind her by the way it closes softly. It’s a trick that Jungwon and Riki spent an entire week of their summer vacation last year teaching her to do, and this is the first time it’s ever been useful.

You check yourself in the mirror in the entryway to make sure you look at least somewhat presentable. You’re wearing Aeri’s light pink sweatpants and a massive white t-shirt you’re pretty sure Riki left in your car once and completely forgot about. You shrug. It’ll have to do.

You open the door. Your voice comes out harsher than you intend it to. “What are you doing here, Sunghoon?”

The man flinches almost imperceptably, but the glimpse of it still has your heart twisting in your chest. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s not a question of if I hurt you or not with what I said, because I know I did.”

You purse your lips, trying to process the fact that he’s apologizing to you without you having to prompt him for it. “Oh…”

He continues shakily. “I realized that I didn’t tell you the truth. The full truth. I like you, I really do. Like, not just as a friend, you know. I like you like… that. Fuck, sorry, I’ve never had to do this before.”

You smile at him softly, looking up at him. The light in the hallway illuminates the crown of his head like a halo, making him look more ethereal than he usually is. “Never?”

“Yeah, never. It’s usually the other way around, but I caved this time.” He sighs. “You’re a special girl. You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You shrug. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

“Meaning?”

“I thawed you out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you really did. So—”

“Just come in,” you say, stepping aside to make room for him. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you besides water or strawberry milk, but we can go raid Jay’s fridge. I have a key.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I can order takeout for us.”

“What’s behind your back?”

He holds up a bundle wrapped in clean white paper. “I brought these for you. They’re not, um… they’re not really ‘I’m sorry’ flowers so much as they are ‘will you go out on a date with me?’ flowers.”

“Roses,” you muse, taking the bouquet from him. The arrangement is simple yet stunning, with various shades of muted pink that you realize are quite similar to the color of your Supra. “How original.” You pause, your voice softening. “But thank you, though, really. They’re beautiful.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I wanted to get you lilies, but I learned that they’re toxic to cats.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He’s so considerate, he even thought of that. Is there anything that he doesn’t think about? Is this what he does when he zones out? “Who told you that I have a cat?”

“You mentioned it a few times,” he answers softly, like he’s reminding you to breathe. “Like that one time Riki made us take him to the arcade and spent too much money trying to win the stuffed… whatever that was from the claw machine.”

“Hm. I did, huh?”

“Yeah... So can I see it?”

“My cat? That’s a little forward, don’t you think? Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“Your pet cat, you brat.” His grin is wide, though, as he looks down at you adoringly. 

“Oh! Oh, yeah, duh.” You take your phone out and swipe through your camera roll until you come across a picture of your white ragdoll cat, her pretty blue eyes staring at you much in the same manner that Sunghoon is right now. “This is her. Her name’s Jimin… erm, yeah, like the one we know… but I call her Jiji.”

“She’s cute… she kinda looks like you, hm? Is she not here right now?” he asks, scanning your living room. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, I sent her to my room before I answered the door—she doesn’t really like guys except for Wonie and Riki but I think it’s because she thinks they’re her servants. And, uh, also, I don't know if you're okay with cats.”

“Ah. I like cats, don’t worry. I’d love to meet her if that’s okay with you.”

“She might scratch you, though. Just a warning.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. You’d bandage me up, though, right?” When he smiles at you reassuringly, your heart thrums. You don't hear any innuendo in his voice, nothing that suggests that he expects something more from you. Turning away to hide your blushing face, you mumble a “yes” and make a beeline to your room to retrieve Jiji.

You get to the door and open it. She’s standing right in front of you, looking at you expectantly, as if she's asking you where Sunghoon is. 

“In the living room,” you answer. You’re talking to your fucking cat. What’s new? Jiji struts right past you, her tail flicking against your ankles, and trots to the living room. 

You follow her from a distance and watch as she pauses in front of Sunghoon, who extends a hand down for her to sniff at. 

“Hello, Jiji,” he says softly. “Nice to meet you.”

The cat chirps at him, and your eyes widen. Usually, she greets males (mostly your ex and his friend) other than your boys with something akin to a hiss that sounds like slicing someone’s tires open. Sometimes she swats at them, claws out and everything. But she hesitates for a second before butting her little head into Sunghoon’s palm, eyes closed and purring up a storm much like the way she does when she wants you to give her a treat. 

“Wow,” you remark. “She likes you. A lot.”

Sunghoon hums in agreement before saying, “Yeah. Wonder what her mommy thinks of me, though. And if she’ll go on a date with me.”

You blush yet again. He’s certainly dialing up the charm tonight. Mustering up the courage to flirt back, you reply, “I think… yeah, her mommy likes you too. And I think she will go out with you.”

“Mm.” He pets Jiji’s head, scratching between her ears which prompts your cat to roll over and expose her soft belly to him for him to rub. Whore, you think to yourself, as if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. “That’s good. I’m glad. Actually—scratch that. I’m relieved.”

By now you’re very well-acquainted to the way he speaks, straight to the point without very much embellishing in his sentences. At least it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. He doesn’t talk with the intent to deceive or play games, and, quite frankly, you adore that about him.

“I don’t just want you to care about me. I want you to let me care about you,” he says suddenly, looking up at you with round, sparkling eyes. He’s being forthcoming and earnest. Enthusiasm suits him well, you think. It makes his face look younger, softer, happier. “I want to earn your trust. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I already do, though,” you reply, voice quiet as if you don’t want to jinx it somehow.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “I know. But I want to be the one you come to for everything. For anything at all.”

“But—”

“You’d never be a burden to me,” he adds. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

There’s still enough time for you to go watch the final event of tonight’s race, the showdown between Riki and Shotaro. You hurriedly fix your hair and throw on a jacket, not caring about how your outfit looks because, frankly, you’re not interested in showing off tonight. You know for certain now that the only person whose attention you’ve wanted has been yours all along.

When you arrive, you can see that the Enigma boys are all circled around what you assume is Riki’s GT-R, only because you can see the underglow bouncing off everyone’s shoes. Leave it to your youngest to be annoying as usual.

You get out of Sunghoon’s car and head over to them, him following closely behind you. You pinch Jaeyun’s forearm and he immediately steps to the side to let you through so you can see what’s going on.

The engine hood is up, and you can see someone’s legs sticking out from under the car.

“What’s going on?” you ask no one in particular.

“Well… Riki fucking forgot to change his oil today, and the jack broke halfway, so none of us can fit under there… except Ning,” Jungwon answers.

“Ning?” you repeat.

“Yeah. The girl I’ve been seeing…” he mumbles. “You know, the one from school.”

Your heart drops at the idea that you’ve been so caught up in your own angst that you haven’t bothered to keep up with anyone else’s life, especially your own brother’s. “Oh. I see. She knows cars, huh?”

“Well,” Riki shrugs. “I guess. Jungwonie-hyung gave her the worst instructions on how to change this shitbox’s oil, and she’s doing it just fine, so she must be smart.”

Before Jungwon can even reach Riki, Sunghoon grabs him by the collar of his shirt, holding him back. “Chill out, bro.”

Jungwon glares at the taller man. “Hey, just because my sister thinks you’re hot doesn’t mean—”

“Good lord,” Jay groans. “Can we please have five minutes of peace so I can start this race? I want to go home already. I can feel my bed calling me.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon snickers. “It’s calling you to wash the damn sheets, you slob.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you approach Ning, who’s just rolled out from underneath the GT-R.

“Surprised you didn’t go blind in there,” you say, helping her up. “Riki’s lights are no joke.”

She smiles at you, shaking her head. “Actually, it helped, I could barely see anything down there, it was all covered in brake dust.”

This makes everyone burst out into laughter, mocking Riki for poorly maintaining his car. You roll your eyes, taking the wrench from Ning. You turn to Sunghoon.

“Hoon, can you help me with this? I think we’re gonna need more than an oil change to win tonight.”

“Hey!” Riki exclaims. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Language, young man,” you snap back at him before looking at Sunghoon. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Headlight air intake?” he asks, a smile forming on his plush lips.

You grin. “Headlight air intake.”

“Oh, you guys are officially fucking crazy,” Jay whistles, admiring your handiwork when you’re done. With Sunghoon’s help, you’d removed one of Riki’s precious LED headlights to allow more airflow into the engine, enabling him to push the car harder without fear of overheating. “Poor Taro isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

“This is legitimately worse than the time Y/N Viper-swapped her Supra,” Jaeyun giggles, clapping his hands together in glee. “Ooh, everyone’s so fucked. They’re lucky she doesn’t drive with a missing headlight, too.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Sunghoon jokes. “She can barely see at night as it is.”

“Oh,” you flirt back, “Is that why I think you’re more handsome in the daytime?”

Riki and Jungwon fake gagging noises behind you, but you smile.

“We’re making it out of the hood tonight, boys!” Riki hollers from his position at the finish line. Jungwon is beside him, at the wheel of his 350z. To Jungwon’s other side is Shotaro, looking annoyed. You can see him glare a hole into the back of Riki’s head as he walks behind your brother and his friend.

“Since when was Itaewon considered the hood?” you call back at him. Everyone laughs.

You see Jaeyun whisper something into Jimin’s ear, and she giggles. Meanwhile, Jay, awkward as he can be sometimes, plants a kiss on Aeri’s forehead. “Is it fucking cuffing season or something?” you mutter under your breath, thinking it was low enough that no one hears your annoyance.

“Us next,” Sunghoon responds cooly from behind you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “How’s that sound?”

“Holy shit,” Riki gasps, dramatically putting a hand over his mouth. “Sunghoon-hyung’s—”

“Got some serious rizz,” Jungwon finishes. “And if it weren’t directed towards noona, I’d cheer him on.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Won, you act like you haven’t wanted them together since you first met him.”

Jungwon pouts cutely and shrugs. “Yeah, yeah. It’s more fun to pretend to be an opp, though.”

You glare at your brother. “Wanna see a real opp? I’ll tell Ning that you like to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He turns to Sunghoon. “Hyung, did you know that noona sometimes drools in her sleep?”

“I do.”

“WHAT?” the boys chorus like they’re in a cartoon.

Sunghoon looks at them with pure curiosity. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I know? She fell asleep and drooled all over my arm when we watched Interstellar for the fifth time.”

“Sunghoon!” you squeal. “You’re not supposed to tell them that happened!”

“Wait, fifth?” Jaeyun asks, hands sassily placed on his hips. “We’ve only watched it four times.”

You and Sunghoon exchange a look, your face heating up. “Well, uh…”

“Nevermind that,” Jay interrupts, his arm around Aeri’s waist. “We know you two hang out without us. Jaeyunie’s just fucking with you.”

“Yeah,” Riki agrees. “In fact, we want you guys to hang out without us.”

You look at Ning, rolling your eyes. “See what you’re getting into?”

She gives you a warm smile. “I don’t mind.”

park sunghoon: We’re still on for our date tonight, yes?

you: yeah! what are we doing?? i can pick a spot if you don’t have anything in mind

park sunghoon: None of that from you, princess. Just be ready by 7, I’ll pick you up. Our reservation is at 7:30. I already made sure you’d like the restaurant and you can wear that black dress you bought last week.

… Princess?

you: how…?

park sunghoon: Well, I know what food you like because we’ve gone out to eat so many times. And also, I saw you post the dress on your story when you tried it on in the fitting room, so I figured you got it. 

park sunghoon: Before you get upset thinking I’m controlling what you wear, I’m not. I know you have a hard time choosing your outfits (even though they’re all very nice) and the dress looked lovely on you.

He’s trying to make your life easier. You smile to yourself, face going hot. You bite your knuckles to keep yourself from screaming at your desk.

you: oh… okay!

you: i’ll see you later hoon :)

park sunghoon: Can’t wait. Have a great day at work, beautiful.

God, you want to throw your phone across the office with how giddy you are. You finish work early by skipping your lunch break, and you go home at 2:30 in the afternoon, thanks to Minjeong excitedly whisper-yelling at you that she’ll cover for you and to “Go get some dick, girl!” and smacking your ass as you scurried to the elevator. When you arrive home, you immediately run to your bathroom and turn on the shower. You’ve got music blasting from your speaker while you wash your hair and shave and scrub down your entire body. You’re smiling at yourself in the mirror while you dry your hair and do your skincare routine, and you’ve still got a good four hours to get all dressed up for your first real, official date in years.

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @venomhee @lilifiedeans @sngleehee @hoonfr @seuomo @en-verse @starfallia @eloelooo @lhspeachie @idkdykilr @seochannnn @moon368 @capri-cuntz @p-d1ddy @xxbluestrifexx @p4ranormaluv @laurradoesloveu

[leahthedreamer]

This has to be the most egregious miscasting of the century

[antimonyandthyme]

WHAT IF CARCAR REALLY HAD MAGNETS BETWEEN THEM

/or a stuck together au

“It’s like Eat Pray Love,” Carlos says.

“I’ll be honest,” Guanyu says. “Neither of you remind me of Julia Roberts much.”

“Please just,” Oscar massages the bridge of his nose, “point to a place on the map. Any place.”

“Why China,” Guanyu presses. Of course he’s curious. “Why not Spain or Australia?”

“Neutral ground,” Oscar says quickly.

“Ah I see,” Guanyu says. “You can’t agree on a spot, right?”

“I keep telling him,” Carlos says, always with the over-the-top gesticulating. He tries it with both hands first, then realizes Oscar’s being all sorts of petty and weighing his left arm down on purpose where they’re joined, so he continues gesturing eagerly with his right. “Come to Madrid!” He nearly smacks Oscar in the nose with his hand. Oscar scowls. “We have so much good food. I can show you all the things, but no! Piastri will only agree to get sunburned on Australian sand. We have beaches in Spain, too!”

“Guanyu,” Oscar urges, “a place, now.”

“Here,” Guanyu says, index finger plopping down. Like some cartoon scene, both Oscar and Carlos automatically lean in to squint at the map, and bump their heads against each other.

“I hate you.”

“Hard same.”

“Lijiang is actually a famous honeymoon destination,” Guanyu says.

“I hate you,” Carlos says.

“Hard same,” Oscar says.

“Hey.” Guanyu grins like this entire situation is wildly hilarious. Maybe it is, for everyone else. Oscar kinda wants to jump into the sea, but Carlos will only drag him down, their uncoordinated conjoined limbs tangled and thrashing. “You guys asked me to choose. Look, don’t you want to see pandas?”

Carlos makes some sort of shocked noise. Oh, for the love of—Oscar groans. He knows when someone’s just bought something.

“Carlos wants to see pandas,” Guanyu says, sounding far too delighted. “Chengdu’s like a fourteen-hour drive from Lijiang, that’s totally doable.”

They stare at him blankly.

“Oh my god. Chengdu, you know? Research base for giant panda breeding? Panda capital of China?”

Twiddle-Dum and Twiddle-Dee: “Ohhhhh.”

“Yeah, now you got it. In between, you can hit a dozen other places and never grow bored.” Guanyu taps his finger along the map, tick, tick, tick. “So why not? Complete the journey. Transform into Julia Roberts.”

“And break the curse,” Carlos says solemnly.

“Break the curse,” Oscar repeats miserably, but with his left hand, goes to look up flight tickets on his phone.

--

They discover that the only way they can pull on extra layers is if they yank themselves apart with all their might, creating just a sliver of space between their elbows. It’s painful. Oscar never wants to have to do this again.

“Now,” Carlos yells, and in a flurry of movement Oscar gets his coat on before their elbows snap back together.

Ow, ow. Oscar’s eyes are watering. He suspects Carlos’s is doing just the same.

“Okay, okay,” Oscar says. “Now your turn.”

Carlos waves him off. “I’m not cold.”

Oscar opens his mouth to argue, but Carlos is already dragging them off toward a sign with a car on it. The rental cars are left-hand steering, and it dawns on both of them at the exact time that Oscar will be doing all the driving, with the way they’re stuck to each other.

“No fair,” Carlos moans, as Oscar fist pumps the air. It would be too childish to stick his tongue out at Carlos. So he doesn’t.

A part of Oscar’s a spectator to all of this. Watching with his mouth hanging wide open, some disembodied shade looking from outside in, as his own body purchased tickets, packed a luggage (with Carlos in the same room), and boarded a plane. None of this makes sense. Getting into a car with Carlos, firstly. Then with the added condition that both of them have to clamber in from one side, before Carlos can climb over the middle console into the passenger seat. Fourteen hours of this, huh? He’s going to give Guanyu hell when they get back.

If, they make it back. Oscar guesses it’ll be two hours before they attempt to murder each other. You don’t go road tripping with people you can’t stand. It’s the one and only sacred rule of road tripping.

“I think I saw this in Final Destination.”

Oscar, zoned out staring at the road, manages a stupid, “What?”

“You know that pileup where everyone dies?”

“Everyone always dies in Final Destination.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, shakes their joined elbows for emphasis. “The scene where the logs fall off? A lot of screaming? A lot of swerving? All because they were stuck behind a logging truck?”

“Carlos.” Oscar takes one deep, deep calming breath. “Are you asking me to overtake?”

“If you can, yes,” Carlos says, like Oscar’s the one being thick. “Go on. I’ll help you hold the wheel steady.”

Oscar cranes his neck and glances around the side of the truck. The opposing lane seems clear, not a headlight in sight. What the heck. You can take the driver off a track, but he’ll still want to race.

“Woo!” Carlos yells, as Oscar zooms around the steadily plodding truck. A little clumsy, with Carlos almost overcompensating the steer as they merge back into the right lane, but successful, nonetheless. No one dies.

Mismatched hands on the wheel. Adrenaline spiking for just a few seconds of speed. Oscar finds himself wearing a grin to match Carlos’s. Maybe they’ll cut it down to thirteen and a half hours like this.

--

“Guanyu was right,” Carlos says thoughtfully.

Oscar’s got his nose buried in a helpful English guide. A sense of ambitious adventure appears to have overtaken them. He wants to hit at least three lookout points today. “About?”

“Look,” Carlos points in some vague direction. “All the couples.”

“Huh,” Oscar says. “That is a lot of couples.”

No one pays them any mind. They haven’t been recognized since they stepped foot here. For all intents and purposes, they could just be another one of those peaceful couples, milling about.

Well. Peaceful, would be a bit of a pipe dream.

“YOU CAN PLAY GOLF AT JADE DRAGON SNOW MOUNTAIN.”

“Carlos,” Oscar hisses. “Quiet.”

“You can play golf,” Carlos repeats, softer but no less excited, eyes larger than two sparkling coins, “at Jade Dragon Snow Mountain!”

Oscar snatches the guide back from Carlos’s hand. “I’m pretty sure I just read that the mountain’s considered holy.”

“They let people play golf on a holy mountain,” Carlos says for the third damn time. “I love it here.”

“We’re not playing golf,” Oscar says.

“Oscar,” Carlos says, dismayed.

“You have one hand, remember?” Oscar wriggles their stuck arms, a reminder he didn’t even know Carlos would have needed.

“Riiight,” Carlos says, shoulders drooping.

“We can still see the mountain though,” Oscar says, is alarmed at the tiny skip-hop going on in his chest when Carlos brightens again. Doesn’t take a lot to keep this guy happy. That’s, good for him. That’s good.

They decide the cable cars up are too much hassle, with the queues already stretching out for hours. The mountain’s basically viewable from anywhere, so Oscar steers Carlos toward Old Town. Where he discovers that Carlos is terrible at haggling. Absolute nightmare. He hands over money to anyone who so much as gestures him over. The singular tote bag Oscar brings starts to get filled with random trinkets, from fans to calligraphy pens.

“What’s this,” Oscar says, when Carlos shakes his head as Oscar prepares to pack away two wooden charms in the shape of a very rotund cat.

“Not for keeping,” Carlos explains. “They’re for wishes. We hang them up in the temple.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. Carlos had gotten one for him too. “I didn’t think you believed in these things.”

“I don’t,” Carlos says quickly, before looking away, like he’s afraid Oscar will laugh at him.

Oscar chews at his lip. He didn’t mean to suggest it was silly. It’s a little unfair for Carlos to think so lowly of him. If they could, this is where they’d walk their separate ways and browse different shops, long enough for the awkward tension to diffuse. Come back refreshed and recharged for more time spent in each other’s company. No such grace, here.

The stream whispers as it flows by the stone-paved path. The wooden house clusters look as if they’re linked, hand to hand, a never-ending line all the way to the top. Everything here’s older than Oscar, older by years and years and years.

“I keep an amulet in my helmet,” Carlos says. His eyes wander around like he’s sightseeing. “I don’t know why I lied.”

“A little belief can’t hurt,” Oscar blurts out, just so Carlos would stop looking so wounded. “That’s what I always say.”

Carlos nudges him. “You never say that.”

Above them, a thousand colorful prayer flags blow gently in the wind. Wooden charms as numerous as the birds adorn the roof of the temple. Wishes for health, prosperity, family. Oscar tries to peek at what Carlos is writing, only for Carlos to shove him away so violently that they both fall over.

Oscar laughs as Carlos strains to keep his charm out of prying reach. No easy task, both of them being joined and all.

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For my family and friends, good health always. For myself—

Oscar wrenches his gaze away. Some things aren’t for anyone else to know.

He watches Carlos hang his charm up carefully. And then Carlos waits, back turned as much as he can, for Oscar to write his own wish. It’s simple. Fast car, many wins. Happiness. Oscar ties his somewhere near Carlos’s. Closes his eyes and listens to them jangle together.

--

For myself, patience.

--

Oscar’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“I thought,” he gasps, in between gulps of warm tea that only makes things infinitely worse, “I told her not spicy?”

Carlos is cackling like the unhelpful asshole he is. “This is not spicy.”

When you explore some place new, local recommendations for food are a must. Oscar’s seriously reconsidering Travel Tip 101 when he gets fed hotpot that turns his tongue worryingly numb.

“Well, it is a little spicy,” Carlos concedes. “But nothing I can’t take.”

“Isn’t Spanish food not spicy?”

“It’s not,” Carlos says. “Actually, I wasn’t good at taking spice until after I started driving.” He fans exaggeratedly at Oscar’s overheated mouth, like that could even help an iota. It’s so Carlos it’s endearing. Shit. “I only started putting hot sauce on all my trainer’s meals because everything tasted so bland.”

Oscar coughs, wiping at his leaking nose. “It burns,” he moans.

“There, there,” Carlos says, mock sympathetic. “Don’t cry.”

“Seriously.” Oscar blinks rapidly, is it affecting his eyeballs too? His pulse thuds like the hoofbeat of a runaway horse. “How are you not even sweating?”

Carlos winks at him. “They don’t call me chili for nothing.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” Carlos says, and finally puts himself to some use by waving down a server, and sweettalking her into bringing a pitcher of iced water over.

Oscar calls first dibs on the shower, claiming the need to wash the spice out of his pores. Carlos rolls his eyes but acquiesces, gallant about it for once. They force themselves not to make it awkward. Pull apart for just long enough to slip their clothes off, eyes everywhere but on each other. Carlos stands outside the curtain as Oscar tries to shampoo and soap himself down in the narrow tub with one hand.

When it's Carlos's turn: “Oh my god,” Oscar says. “Carlos, are you using soap for your hair?”

“I’m trying to be quick,” Carlos says, voice disembodied even though he’s right next to Oscar. Separated by the thinnest sheet of translucent nylon. The shadow of Carlos is unmistakable in the light. The broadness of his shoulders, the tapering of his waist. “So you do not stand outside for forty-five minutes like I did.”

“I didn’t take forty-five minutes!”

Carlos laughs, the cackle now almost familiar. “And how are you knowing I’m using soap? Are you peeking?”

“I hate you,” Oscar says, waits for Carlos to return with a Hard same like they’re in on the same joke. Waits and waits until Carlos emerges from behind the curtain, not fifteen minutes later, lips still sealed together like withholding some secret.

--

As designated shotgunner, with no say in the matter, Carlos is in charge of the GPS and the AUX cord. After the second album of Enrique Iglesias, Oscar relegates him to Captain of Pointing Out Exit Signs Only. Carlos pretends to pout about it, but he reclines his seat, as far back as their joined elbows will allow. Closes his eyes, limbs loose, all relaxed. He looks so good like that, when he’s as easy as easy can be.

Oscar swallows the click in his throat back down.

“I feel bad,” Carlos murmurs, sounding like he’s close to drifting off. “You’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind,” Oscar says. He’s getting real good at one-handed maneuvers now. Hah, maybe this will be beneficial on the track. “I hate getting driven. I rather do it myself.”

“Control freak,” Carlos says.

“Yeah,” Oscar admits. “A little bit.”

When Oscar dares to look over at Carlos, there’s a smile curving his lips gently up. They didn’t magically learn how to talk to each other. But it’s a start, trading little morsels of information like passing notes in school.

One of Guanyu’s other suggestions had been Emei Mountain, boasting an altitude of over three-thousand meters and some ridiculous number of stairs.

(Sixty thousand, to be precise. Oscar had opened his mouth to complain, but Guanyu had responded with a report of the monkeys that lived in the mountain. There came that dazed, excited noise from Carlos again, and Oscar knew it was a lost cause.)

Jet-lag’s working in their favour, and they’ve arrived before the tour buses can deposit too many people for them to stomach. Ambitions are dampened when they realize climbing’s harder when surgically joined by some unknown force at the elbow. When Oscar lifts his left leg, his right arm wants to go, which means Carlos’s left arm needs to go, which means Carlos’s right leg needs to lift. They clunk around clumsily for the first chunk of steps, griping and critiquing each other’s technique. The fog rolls in and laps at their ears, and for a while, there’s nothing much to see.

An elderly lady pressures them into an early lunch, and Carlos gives in effortlessly, like always. It ends up being the best thing Oscar’s eaten since coming here. They fight over the last slice of barbecue pork, and Oscar wins, by virtue of being slightly better at using chopsticks.

By the time they’re halfway up, they’ve got climbing down to an art, limbs moving like clockwork around the constriction. Carlos takes advantage of their newfound skill to increase their pace to a march.

“Carlos,” Oscar’s not ashamed to beg. “Please, won’t you stop and look at the monkeys.”

Carlos laughs at him and calls him slow. Because Carlos is crazy, he’s taken off his light sweater even in this weather, and the threadbare white shirt he’s wearing leaves little to imagination. Chest hair, nipples. Oscar looks away before he can be caught staring. The fog’s given way to some amazing views. Rich vegetation, more trees than Oscar’s brain knows what to do with. Beautiful things all around.

Carlos’s face swims into view. “Come on.” The tugging at the elbow doesn’t hurt as much as it did before. “To the top! There are giant golden statues!”

The statues are indeed golden. And they are indeed giant. The largest one weighs six hundred and sixty metric tons, according to the pamphlet. Larger, surely, than the feeling expanding in his lungs.

“Look, Oscar!” Carlos points with their joined arms, all delight.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. Quickened pulse from the strenuous activity, and he wills it to settle. Control freak. “I’m looking.”

--

Designated phone time on the bed is an hour long. Oscar uses it to text his mum, sift through photos from the day. With how close they’re forced to be, it’s hard to get a picture without a body part of Carlos making its way in. Oscar finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s got one of the cloudless, blue sky, the backdrop for the Leidongping cable car station. Carlos is pointing at something again, his finger situated artistically right in the middle of the lidless eye of the sun.

Guanyu’s the one who got them into this mess, so he probably deserves a photo update. Oscar sends it over WhatsApp and receives an O-M-G!!! in return, along with nine panda emojis.

No pandas, we’re not at Chengdu yet, Oscar types.

Honestly, I’m surprised you even made it this far, Guanyu says.

Wow, thanks

Oscar squints, rereads Guanyu’s message.

Wait, you were the one who gave us this itinerary!

Hahaha, is all Guanyu says, followed by multiple peace sign emojis.

加油!

Oscar has to google translate that, learn that it means to add oil. To go for it. Go for what?

“Teto says he wishes he was here too,” Carlos says sleepily, looking up from his phone.

“Teto’s out of luck,” Oscar says, ignoring the flash of something hot and possessive down his spine.

He plucks Carlos’s phone out of his willing fingers. Reaches over Carlos for the pull chain of the lamp. Beneath him for just a second, Carlos shifts, comfortable, cozy. Oscar gets the ludicrous notion that if he were to collapse down, right now, Carlos’s body would welcome him.

Shit. How long until they come apart?

Click, off go the lights. Meekly, Oscar makes his way back to his designated side of the bed. Carlos mumbles a soft Good night. More intimate than he could ever mean. Oscar mumbles something back, and satisfied, Carlos closes his eyes. He likes sleeping on his side. Coincidences of coincidences, so does Oscar. Carlos falls asleep faster though, and it gives Oscar a lot of time to stare without accusation. Trace the planes and slopes of Carlos’s face before he drifts off himself.

--

At long last. Chengdu panda base.

After jostling with the crowds to watch the pandas tumble around for their food, then tumble around to play, then tumble around to sleep, Oscar turns to Carlos.

“Well?”

“Eh,” Carlos makes a see-saw motion with his hands. “It’s a little anti-climatic.”

Oscar barks out a laugh. A joined body part, three shared showers, thirteen and a half hours in a car together later, and Carlos still surprises him. He really doesn’t do Oscar well on a neurochemical level.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

“I thought it was,” Carlos says. It’s no longer only their elbows touching. Now it’s bicep to little pinky, pressed up against each other like puzzle pieces which fit slightly crooked. One long, unbroken line of heat. “I thought—”

Carlos tapers off. Oscar waits.

“Well, it’s the journey that counts, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“They’re very cute, too.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says. “Pictures or Guanyu’s never going to believe we made it here.”

Oscar takes one of Carlos with a sleeping mama panda in the background. He’s halfway through checking if it’s any good when Carlos grabs the phone.

“Come here,” he says.

It’s not easy arranging themselves together and catching a panda as well, but heck, didn’t they climb sixty-thousand stairs with some careful coordination? Carlos holds out the phone with his right hand, smooshes their cheeks together. The scrap of Carlos’s stubble against his skin—that’s, there’s a new sensation, in every way possible.

“Say panda,” Carlos says.

“Panda,” Oscar says, the same way he would say, Alert, or Danger, or Abort. His cheeks are going to show up pink in the photo. And Carlos will notice and say something completely asinine—

“Hee hee,” Carlos says. “Your eyes are closed, Oscar.”

--

Once they get enough panda souvenirs to shower the grid, the rest of the day passes in the laziest of fashions. They’ve hit their goal now, so there’s no need to rush. Oscar actually bothers to look through Yelp for restaurant options, and after all his hard work, gets yanked by Carlos into some random alleyway with plastic stools to eat hand-pulled noodles.

Meandering like leaves on an easy stream down the folk and culture street, the promise of a hot shower eventually calls to them. Oscar, gentleman that he is, lets Carlos go first.

Oscar stares unblinkingly at a water spot on a tile as Carlos hums and soap himself, as easy and as relaxed as if he weren’t stuck with Oscar listening to the way the water hits his skin. The first time in the shower, when Oscar had unwittingly brushed his hands over his dick, he’d jumped, then stood still for a whole minute, waiting for Carlos to call him out on it. It’d felt forbidden, with Carlos standing not two inches away.

To Carlos’s credit, he doesn’t punch Oscar when the curtain is pulled back, with a force that can only be described as resolution. He only yelps like a little pup, clapping his free hand over his chest, before the hand trails self-consciously down.

“I’ll help you shampoo,” Oscar says. “It’s faster this way.”

“Well,” Carlos says, “if it’s faster.”

They’re staying at the Shang this time, and there’s fancy shampoo smelling like bergamot and orange. Oscar douses Carlos with half a bottle, squeezing too much out by accident. He keeps bumping his hand into Carlos’s while they attempt to scrub. The lather gets into Carlos’s eyes, and Oscar has to try and hide his smile while Carlos whines piteously. It’s not actually faster in any way.

“There, there,” Oscar says, in a similar tone as to when Carlos had observed Oscar leaking copious fluids over hotpot. “Baby.”

Carlos makes a face and pretends to start crying again, and something terribly fond constricts the entirety of Oscar’s ribcage.

Towelling each other dry is a whole new learning curve, just like putting clothes on, and driving one-handed, and climbing stairs. They’re looking at each other this time, too. That’s also new. Huh. Carlos is very, very gentle as he dries the back of Oscar’s ears. The kind of gentle that speaks of someone having done this for him before, resulting in an insistence in getting this right. Oscar gets all warm, even with the water cooling rapidly on his skin.

“Phone time?”

“No need,” Carlos yawns.

It’s Carlos that leans over this time for the light switch, even though Shang’s posh enough to have light switches at both sides for easy access. Carlos hovers over Oscar for a suspended moment, and Oscar sucks in a breath, straining with anticipation. The head pat is unexpected, but enough for now.

Satisfied, Oscar closes his eyes.

--

“Hey!” Carlos exclaims. “Oscar, we’re free!”

“Whuh,” Oscar says blearily. He’ll never acquire Carlos’s habit of waking up at eight.

“Look, look,” Carlos says, all childish delight. He waves his arms in front of Oscar’s face. Both his arms.

“Hey!” Oscar says, shooting up, suddenly awake.

“Yeah!”

“So all we needed was a shower?”

“Oscar,” Carlos says disapprovingly. “It wasn’t just a shower. We wrote this on prayer cards.” Oscar doesn’t point out neither of them wrote this on a prayer card. “We climbed a mountain. We saw pandas!”

“And took a shower,” Oscar says.

Carlos sniffs. “Have it your way.”

“Fine, fine,” Oscar says. It’s too early to be feeling all warm and crumbly, like the center of a freshly baked pie. “It was the journey that counts, yes?”

“Yes,” Carlos nods. “Maybe. Maybe it was something I—we had to learn. In preparation for. For—”

May the new year bring surprises and joy. For myself, patience.

Their hands are no longer joined, but Oscar takes Carlos’s, and presses a quick, dry kiss to the backs of his knuckles. Carlos is so surprised he lets him.

“Ah,” Carlos says, voice trembly and a little hopeful. “What happens now?”

Oscar looks down at their hands. Going through all of this to separate, only to choose to stay touching. There’s something about a journey being full circle, but Oscar doesn’t want to finish that thought for fear of actually transforming into Julia Roberts. And anyway—

“Now we drive back.”

They’re not near done, yet.

[maxillness]

🇬🇧 || Satisfy The Fans || LH44 x RBR driver!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, angst (?), (implied) age gap, fake dating, drunken confession, mutual pining, slow burn,

Wordcount: 3.1k

From the start of her f1 career, she had always had a close relationship with Lewis, so the small pecks on the forehead she got from him wasn’t abnormal, but when it got caught by a paparazzi, it turned the whole internet towards them

Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver

That was the days headline. She sat scrolling on her phone when she heard the bickering from the garage

She had yet to read it herself, but the small talks from behind her got her curious

“What are you whispering about back there?” She turned her head behind her to see Max, Christian and a few mechanics standing in a small circle

They all froze when they heard her voice. None of them answered, but it was clear they had heard her, so they couldn’t exactly ignore her

Christian was the one to speak up after he cleared his throat “Are you… Dating Hamilton?” He asked, hesitation obvious in his eyes

“What?” She was confused by his question “No. What makes you think that?” She asked with knitted eyebrows

He looked back into his phone and read aloud from it “Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver. During the Australian qualifying sessions, Lewis Hamilton and Y/N Y/L/N was seeing kissing” He locked his phone and looked back up at her

“Huh?” She was even more confused “Did you get that from twitter? I’ve never kissed Lewis in my entire life” She explained “It was a peck on my forehead. He does it all the time” She shrugged

“So you’re telling me they’re lying?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest

“Yes. Yes, I am” She chuckled, turning back to her phone “Don’t believe everything you reading on the internet, Christian. Especially if it’s on twitter”

After the race that Sunday, she came knocking on Lewis’ hotel door “You’ve read the rumours?” She pushed past him, not even bothering to greet him

“I have, yeah” He watched as she kicked off her shoes and threw her body onto the bed, messing up the sheets “Wine?”

“Do you have something stronger?” She asked, drawing out a chuckle from him

“Anything specific in mind?” He asked, watching her roll over on her stomach, her hair already a mess

“Anything above 25% and I’ll be happy” She sat up, leaning against the headboard as he found whatever alcohol he could

“We drink too much” She sighed as he came over with a bottle and two glasses

“Who cares?” He asked, sitting down on the bed with her

“Other than our livers, kidneys, and doctors, nobody” She said, watching her glass getting filled up with liquor

They sat for a few hours, drinking and talking, feeling the alcohol really start to kick in as they neared midnight

“What if we actually dated?” He asked, earning a pair of raised eyebrows from her “I’m not suggesting we date, I’m just saying, what do you think the internet would be like if we actually dated?”

“They wouldn’t get out of our faces, I think” She said, emptying her glass down her throat, too used to it to feel the burn

He just looked at her as she pouted from the empty glass “You want to, don’t you?” She asked, seeing the glint in his eye when she looked back at him

“We both know we don’t have feelings for each other, but it would be fun to see, Y’know?” He said, switching their glasses so she had his filled one and his were empty

“You know what? Let’s fake date, Lew” She took out her hand like they were making a deal

“Get that hand away” He slapped her hand away with a laugh on his lips

“Imagine all the fans were gonna satisfy” She said, another empty glass in her hands

For the next race, they had both informed their PR managers, but no one else, and they made sure to be seen as much as possible out in public together, as well as in the paddock

They arrived together at the paddock, talk in between practice sessions, and whenever it was possible to get some free time

Saturday after qualifying, they took a stroll down the city. They hadn’t realised the time, and they had stayed out until late

It was getting dark and cold in the streets, but it was too beautiful to go back to the hotel. They walked a few steps before Lewis stopped in his tracks

“What?” She turned around, looking up at him

“Let’s satisfy the fans, no?” She didn’t get to answer before he had pulled her body into his, holding her face with one hand as the other were on her waist, kissing her lips soft

She was too startled to kiss back, yet her hands were placed softly on his waist. He pulled back slightly, looking at her surprised expression

“There’s a paparazzi across the street. Wanna make it believable, right?” He smiled as he surprised state faded into a friendly smile

“Idiot” She slapped his chest softly before she were able to get out of his grip and started walking again

“You told us you weren’t dating” Max came bursting into her drivers room without knocking, making her yelp slightly

“Jeez, ever heard about knocking?” He just stood there silently “Anyway… What are you talking about?”

She watched as he took out his phone, typing at it. She took the phone from him when he handed it too her

She was met by the image of her and Lewis the day before, standing in each others arms kissing

“Oh, yeah. That was taken yesterday, Max” She explained, handing him his phone back “So what I told you was technically the truth”

“So you are dating?” He asked surprised

“Yes. Yes, we are” She said, standing up from the couch, walking past him to get out into the garage again

“Uh-uh. We aren’t done here” He said, following behind her like a lost puppy

“Since when did you start caring about my love life?” She sighed, walking over to her side

“Since it evolved the rival” He whispered, pulling her out to the said

“Look, Max, it’s not like I’m gonna bring it on to the track. People can have separate relationships on and off the track. Do you trust me to make this work?” He nodded but not without hesitation “Thank you”

Soon enough, all the drivers had heard about their ‘relationship’, as well as the team principals

“Y/N, how did your relationship with Lewis start?” She hadn’t thought about the interviews when they made their agreement

“Well, we’ve always had a close relationship as friends, and I guess that we slowly realised our feelings for each other the more time we spend with each other” She explained, coming up with a lie as quick as she could

“That’s actually quite sweet” The interviewer smiled “How are you handling all the hate?”

“We’re both handling it fine. I think people should get love who they love despite their age gap, as long as it’s a reasonable range, of course” She said, fiddling with her fingers

“Alright, thank you, Y/N” She walked away after a quick goodbye

“You okay?” Lewis had grabbed her attention before she had fully stomped off

“‘M fine” Her voice was telling the absolute opposite

“Come here” He pulled her body close into a hug, his lips meeting the top of her head, soothing her back down to earth

“Thank you, Lew” She pulled away and walked towards her crew who led her back to her drivers room

“Can we get back to the interview, Lewis?” The interviewer asked as his eyes still lingered on her body walking away

“Of course, sorry” He said, turning his head back to the person in front of him

“It’s quite alright. You two are very cute together” She said, making Lewis smile the slightest “Now, how did this begin- the relationship between you two?”

“We’ve always been close friends, and I guess the more we hung out and knew each other, our feeling for each other became more than friendly” The only thoughts in his head at the moment; what would it be like to actually date her?

Their act has been going on for half a year now, and it was going good, she still got startled when he kissed her after seeing a paparazzi and she didn’t. She would never get used to the feeling of his lips against hers

They were in her hotel room, sharing a bottle of whatever liquor they had, talking about everything and nothing

After about half an hour, he called it quits and said he had to go to sleep, so he went back to his own room a floor under her

As soon as he had closed the hotel door to her room, she took her phone out, typing up Max’ name

Can you come in here? I need your help with sm

Give me 2

About those two minutes went by before she heard the knock on her door “Thank god” She said relived as he stepped into the room

“What do you need help with?” He asked, sensing the worries in her body language

“Lewis” She watched as he knitted his eye brows together “I don’t know if he loves me” She had started to feel the changes a month after they started ‘dating’

He had become more caring, more sweet, more like a boyfriend than the friend she used to have

“What do you mean? Of course he does” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed “I’ve seen the way he looks at you”

“Yeah, but that’s all an act. He doesn’t love me like I love him” Max became even more confused by her words

“All an act? What?” His face was pure confusion

“Me and Lewis never dated, not really anyways” She sighed, sitting down on the bed as well

“We fake dated to see what would happen” She said once she saw his expression

“Okay” He nodded slightly “So what makes you think he doesn’t have feelings for you?” He asked, wanting to help her

“The day we started ‘dating’, he said ‘we both know we don’t have feelings for each other’, and I get that, we’re good friends. I don’t think he ever would have feelings for me” She explained, feelings her throat almost close up

“I’m positive he doesn’t have feelings for me, Max” He sighed hearing her words

“Wait, so you’re telling me you two never dated?” George was as confused as Max had been just a minute ago

“Did any other words come out of my mouth?” Lewis asked, tone full of sarcasm

“Wow, getting sassy early” George said, raising his eyebrows at his teammate

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do. She obviously doesn’t have feeling for me” He slumped down on the couch, the air coming out in a huff

“You could just talk to her, tell her how it is” George shrugged, trying to help his teammate

“And risk loosing our friendship? No thank you. Rather live like this than without her” Lewis explained, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if he told her

She just wished she could tell him

He just wished he could tell her

Abu Dhabi rolled around, and she had going at it with the partying for a while before she had headed to bed

Around 1:30am, she heard a knock on the door that startled her awake. Now that she was awake, she could just answer the door

“Lewis?” Her eyes was still blurry from the fact she still wasn’t fully awake

“Can I come in?” His words were slurred, very obviously drunk

She sighed as she took in the state of him “Sure, baby” The pet names was something they had agreed on was okay, and they were used so much in public it had gotten into their private lives as well

She closed the door behind him as he took a few steps in. She barely got to turn around before he was spilling words at her

“I love you. I love you so, so much. I have loved you since we started dating, and I can’t keep it in anymore” He had taken her face into his hands

“Lewis-“ “Just let me love you” He had pulled her face into his kiss her softly. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him away

“You’re drunk, Lewis. You don’t know what you’re saying” She said, taking his hands away from her face, pulling them down to rest at his side

“What is it that they say? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’” He said, taking a step closer to her

“Lewis, you’re too drunk to be allowed to speak. Will you just go to bed?” She asked, letting him take that step forward

“Will you join me?” He asked, obvious hurt in his eyes

“Do you promise to sleep?” He nodded, not daring to speak “Then I will” She sighed, starting to guide him over to the bed

He got out of his jeans before she got him under the covers. She laid down beside his already dozing off body

He scooted closer to her, curling his body into her arms, sighing at the feeling of her warm body

As he woke up, she wasn’t in bed

“Morning” She said, handing him a glass of water and a two painkillers of some kind

He sat up right, taking the glass and pills “What would I do without you. I love you” He swallowed the pills before taking a sip of the water

“I know. You already said that today” She said, sitting back down on the bed

“What? When?” He was confused, remembering nothing of the sort

“Around 1:30 after you woke me up” She explained

“Oh my god. I am so sorry, really, I am” He looked away from her

“Lew, it’s fine-“ “No, it’s not. I’m really sor-“ He was silenced when she had forced his head towards her and had connected their lips

“I love you too, Lewis” She had pulled slightly back, seeing his pupils darken, taking the brown in them away

“You do?” He asked softly, almost like his words got stuck in his throat “Like, you *really* do?” A smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he put the glass onto the nightstand

She kissed him again, proving her point. He groaned into the kiss as it got more sloppy and heated

He had gotten her pinned down to the bed, lips going from her mouth and down her neck, leaving a few lovebites behind as he moved to the other side of her neck

“Lew, please” She whined, bucked her hips up into his, trying to get more friction

He scooted down the bed, his lips landing on the insides of her bare thighs. His fingers hooked into the waist band of her shorts, pulling them down

She whined as his lips made their way back to her inner thighs, leaving marks behind

“Please, Lewis. I need you so bad” Her breath stuttered as he pulled her panties down slowly, his fingers ghosting her skin

He wasted no time to draw his tongue through her wet folds the moment her panties were removed

“Fuck, Lew” She bucked her hips into his mouth, gripping the sheets beneath her harshly

She moaned loud when his tongue settled on her clit, putting pleasurable pressure on it

“Lewis, please” She arched her back off of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the grip in the sheets

Two of his fingers teased her entrance, making her whine as his tongue started flicking her clit, making her moan loud

He slowly started setting a pace with his fingers, curling them every now and then, hitting the spot inside her that made her body shake

“Lewis, please. Don’t stop- fuck, feels so good” Her words were slurred as she neared her orgasm, clenching rapidly around his fingers

“Fuck, Lew- ‘M gonna come, please” He sped up his fingers, curling them every time, sending her over the edge

She came with cry of his name, her whole body shaking, her chest rising and falling at a rapid speed

He kissed the insides of her thighs, soothing her out of her orgasm “Please, Lew… I need…” She still had trouble speaking from her orgasm

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m right here” He got off of the bed. He quickly removed his clothes and got back on the bed between her legs

She put her legs around his hips, pushing further against her as he started prepping small kisses to her neck and throat

He slowly entered her, drawing out moans from both of them. He stilled his hips, letting her adjust to him before he started moving

“Move, please” Her hands were all over the skin she could reach before settling at his back as he started moving

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby” He whimpered as her nails dug into his back, scraping along his skin

He angled her hips in a way that made him it hit that perfect spot inside her that made her moan loud

“Fuck, right there, Lew- fuck” He sped up, making sure to hit the same spot over and over again

“‘M so close- fuck, baby” The way she was rapidly clenching around him drew him closer to the edge

The next room over could probably hear their skin against skin sounds as well as their mixed moans

“Fuck, you clench so good ‘round me, love” He leaned down and prepped kisses above her breast

“Baby, please-“ She didn’t even know what she was pleading for, but she knew she could feel him getting close as well as he was twitching inside her

“Mhm, right behind you, baby” She took the cue and within a couple of thrusts, her body shook yet again with his name rolling off her tongue

And as promised, he was right behind her, stilling his hips as he came inside her with a moan

He slowed down his hips, circling her hipbone with his thumbs as she came down from her high

He pulled out of her, drawing a whine from both of them at the loss of contact between the two of them

They both sat in the bathtub, her back against his chest, his hands rubbing her thighs as she was slowly drifting away into a sleep

“Will you be my girlfriend?” They way his lips felt against her cheekbone woke her up

She turned her head to face him “Yes. Yes, I will” She smiled, pulling his face into a soft kiss

[cloveroctobers]

HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL — RIO [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I was debating between making this Rio or Manny based and usually I like to alternate but for this prompt it felt more Rio like 😂 so hopefully for my October prompts if I write for Mayans again I’ll probably write for Manny. Anyways! Hope you guys get a kick out of this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: language & things actually got a little 🌶️ towards the end which isn’t normally my thing but I guess I got inspired 😈 Enjoy!

SYNOPSIS: Rio’s so productive he hardly gets a day where he can get enough rest in…what happens when you disrupt that over something so irrational? He swears he loves you but he’s also not putting up with your shit.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

<- check out my previous summer anthology writings here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Rio preferred it cold.

It just made sense for the weather to be cold or cool rather than as hot as Diablo’s breath. He wasn’t made for hot weather and he couldn’t get away with his dark attire in the hotter months either. That’s where you two deferred, you loved the heat over the cold any day so as soon as the first day of summer hit…you seemed to glow more even when it wasn't golden hour.

You were outside way before the official day of summer hit because the warm weather was actually sticking around in Detroit and usually Rio was down for whatever, in fact he already booked a trip to Grenada in August (which his skin would probably regret as soon as y’all touched down in the West Indies), but for this particular outing felt like a waste of a time. A older Australian couple that the two of you became acquainted with when the two of you picked up the sport of pickleball—Rio still liked tennis better—invited you two to celebrate their furbaby’s (a Chinese Crested) birthday.

Thats right a whole ass birthday party for a dog who was now widowed, you two attended the wedding just last year and the Chinese Crested, Harlowe was still dealing with the loss of their loved one so the couple thought a party would uplift his spirits. It was ridiculous what rich people got up to but you liked to entertain it sometimes.

For Rio? It was all about networking considering that the wife of the pair was a retired attorney and her husband owned a billionaire company. You knew it wasn’t really a genuine friendship (more so out of convenience) they were the couple you mainly chatted with just to past the time when you all appeared at the same events. So the both of you didn’t appear that disappointed when the husband called Rio up just fifteen minutes before the both of you were getting ready to leave telling you that they, “regretfully want to inform that their beloved Harlowe was not up for a party and rather a intimate gathering with just his parents.”

“Do you think they’re still having something but much smaller and we got uninvited?” You asked, already stepping out of your heels when Rio came back into the bedroom to tell you the news.

Rio lifted his shoulders, “we’ll find out if they did but I didn’t want to go no way.”

“I know you didn’t,” you laugh as you spin around motioning for Rio to help you out of your dress, thanks to a old shoulder injury that had you attending PT from time to time.

He pauses with his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck, “whatchu getting undressed for? You don’t want to find other plans for tonight?”

This wasn’t shocking, usually when plans got dropped the both of you always found something else to get into. It was rare for either of you to just take cancelled plans for what they were since the both of you stayed busy as a couple and separately.

“Nope…we can stay in. We’re hitting the gym in the morning anyway right?”

“I did say that didn’t I?” Rio sighed while you laughed to yourself, knowing he would prefer doing his own workout at the park or even in the backyard of your contemporary colonial—when you were with him—rather than at the gym.

He already had to put a few people in check for looking at you too long or even turning a friendly conversation into flirtations. Of course you loved Rio letting his protectiveness come out but you drew the line at him causing a few to lose their jobs when it was never that serious (to you). In this economy?! He even tried to persuade you into another gym—which was about an hour AND thirty minutes away from home but you liked the set up of your current gym and already made a few friends there as well.

Which is why he was putting in that work to get ownership over the building these past few months (which went from professional to lethal) but that was a need to know basis for you.

“Uh huh,” you nodded holding the front of the now slumped cowl silk aqua dress, “I know you can’t hang with me, so I’ll let it slide and you can enjoy your PTO.”

“Thank you for your permission, mama.” Rio rolled his eyes playfully, which then proceeded to follow you as you disappeared into the closet by the bedroom door.

Rio leans against the doorway just watching you as you shoved into some loungewear.

“I think I washed these on the wrong setting, ain’t no way these shrunk after only having them for a month.” You stated, pulling at the ends of your plaid boxer shorts with a huff.

Rio hummed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth while he viewed the length of your legs in those shorts, “nah…that ass is growing and it’s giving me and those shorts something more to eat.”

Throwing your head back with a shake of your head you sharply exhale through your nostrils in warning, “behave.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you look like that.” He licked his lips, tempted to pounce.

“Please, I’ll put you to sleep as soon as you get up in it.” You tease as you step to cradle your husband’s face, “get some rest first honey and then we’ll talk.”

Patting his cheek, you went to squeeze by him but Rio caught your wrist to gain your attention once more. Peering up at him, Rio let his eyelashes flutter as he took his time analyzing the shape of you which was part of the many reasons he loved you, “you’re lucky I could use a few hours.”

You just smile at the heaviness in his raspy tone, leaning forward to press a kiss right to his plump and always moisturized lips. “I’ll be downstairs deciding on bourbon chicken or honey pineapple salmon for dinner.”

Rio kept a straight face as he fought back a yawn but still nodded his head at your retreating form. It felt like as soon as you told him to take his rest, his body was underneath your spell and normally he liked having that effect on you more so but he’ll fight you on it later.

What he hoped you didnt fight him on was taking a spot right on the couch to get these much needed hours in. He couldn’t exactly hide it as the kitchen and living room were basically side by side in an open floor plan but once you got on the phone with your girlfriends…that Kiking was unstoppable and lengthy. Moments later it only took you placing the fillets into the oven, sides done and covered to keep warm, with you getting off the phone and finally glancing to your right to notice the lanky frame of your husband snoring on the sofa. His limbs were always too long for the couch in the living room, which is why majority of the time he spent time on the 2-piece sectional downstairs.

Thankfully Rio wasn’t much of a snorer but sometimes when that sleep really hit? It came out and you knew he needed it. Rio was always sitting on ready regardless of his laidback but cardinial personality but you knew his profession as a, “businessman,” was anything but sweet—unless it came to counting the bag that is. You didn’t get much into his business, always being the one to turn the other cheek until necessary.

The both of you shared words a few times at the start of your relationship when you became serious and found out that Rio had people (before Mick) following you. You were an artist with a successful art gallery, which contained half of your artwork along with other local artists, new and young, and you even had some imported from all over the world. Rio tried it with the import portion of your gallery once before but you shut that shit down and the both of you didn’t speak for at least a week—almost two until the gym became his second focus—after making things right with you. Take that how you will. At the beginning you didn’t appreciate being followed and figuring out that Christopher had something to do with it after pulling out your own piece—something you hated to do but you knew how to handle your own business—Rio tried to persuade you later on that it gave him comfort knowing that his men can keep a eye on you when he can’t.

Some may have felt like that was a red flag (half of your girlfriend’s being the “some,” but one of them always had something negative to say about anything you had going on…which is why you weren’t friends at this point in time) but with a love so immense? And a career like Rio’s? You grew to accept it as a source of another security blanket since you didn’t like to get your hands dirty. Having that kind of power where someone could do that for you? Was indescribable. Sure Rio’s methods of getting to the money may require things you didn’t really agree with, you kept your own business clean just how you wanted but the way you felt about Rio was not something that could just vanish. You knew what his business entailed but you didn’t need to see the grit of it.

So maybe you did get off just a little at your man having that kind of pull on these streets.

Somebody should sue oh wait…they tried that and were part of a missing person’s report but that case was closed back in January.

You leaned against the white marble countertops, another small smile playing on your lips as it was your turn to watch your lightly snoring of a husband on the couch. He didn’t even get the chance to turn the tv on to fall asleep to, another opposite of your relationship, he needed some noise while you preferred it quiet and no light. His ankles hung off the sofa, one hand crossed over his chest as he held onto his shoulder in slumber. It wasn’t until you noticed the bright colored fiesta floral blanket pulled up and slanted underneath his chin that had you entering the living space.

You almost stopped your actions as you stared down at him in peace. You hated him watching you sleep and here you were doing the same but that didn’t last long as you shifted the spatula in your hand.

SLAP!

The stinging Rio felt against his forehead jolted him awake. His lengthy lashes popped open, making him sit up some as he tried to figure out what and who just assaulted him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus his vision before he shifted his view to you and that teal silicone spatula.

A furrow appeared seconds later, hand going from his shoulder to rub at the spot in between his thick brows. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice is groggy and you almost felt bad for slapping the mess out of him. Yet he should be thankful that you didn’t slap the eagle tattoo right off the skin of his throat. The blood rushed to that spot on the center of his forehead but him rubbing at it only made it worse.

“I can ask you the same thing, why are you cuddled up with that blanket?” You motioned to the item with the cooking utensil.

Rio licked his lips, glancing down at the peach, orange, yellow, green, and navy blue blanket. He clears his throat, “Whatchu mean? I’m sleeping and the air’s on.”

Not Mr. Cool needing a blanket when he’s the one who loved having the house set on: icebox where his heart used to be, Omarion needs to slide glide and collect his boy real talk.

“Whose fault is that? I told you it didn’t need to be lower than seventy.”

Rio side eyed you a bit and proceeded to close his eyes again, ready to check out but you kicked at the cushion he laid against. Which made him sit up on his elbows, pinching the space in between his brows, “what’s good wit you? You think that makes sense to have the thermostat set on seventy when it’s damn near ninety out that front door?”

“Yes. It’s all about comfort.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do with this blanket, thank you.” He went to plop back down, ready to pull the fallen object back over his shoulders.

You snatch it right off his body, “this blanket isn’t for you to get your drool on.”

“I don’t drool and wait a minute…did you hit me with that? A used spatula? You’re about to mess up my skincare and that’s feelin’ a little disrespectful to me.”

You scoff as you proceed to fold the blanket how you previously had it tossed along the couch, “No it wasn’t used! You know me better than that and I know you take pride in self care. I wouldn’t do you like that but it’s clear you’re disrespecting me by using this blanket that abuela gave to me.”

Rio felt his eye twitch as he exhaled his rising nerves, “…what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?”

“It’s for show!” You exasperated as you finished brushing over the fur of the oversized blanket.

Rio snorted, “oh for the love of almighty!”

You huffed with your hands on your hips, pulling your attention away from the blanket that was back to the way it was, “What?”

“Be real with me.” Rio jabbed a thumb at the direction of the blanket, “you want me to believe that you’re being this extra over a blanket my abuela got you from fucking Marshall’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “oh no you didn’t, not you being uppity Mr. Serena & Lily.”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Now you’re disrespecting Abuela!” You pointed at him accusing, “Just wait until she hears about this!”

“Nah you’re not telling her nothing!” Rio latched onto the waistband of your shorts, yanking you right on the couch as you squealed feeling the air hit your lower back.

You elbowed him as you collapsed right on his lap, “are you trying to get me to moon you? What’s wrong with you?!”

He shushed you with a smirk, “Thanks for confirming just what I needed to hear…” his hands slip down your sides and towards your bare hips beneath the fabric, squeezing the sides of your ass.

“No, we have beef now you pervert.” Your attempt to get off his lap was not working for you, at all.

His lips are at the space beneath your earlobe and the way he’s sucking on the skin is definitely leaving some tingles all over your body. Rio chuckles as he feels you shudder in his lap, “what beef? I think we should talk it out, don’t you?”

He moves one hand from the side of your ass to travel up the valley in between your breasts, grabbing a hand full of the one on the left and his right. Your breathing is picking up now as Rio settles you both back against the couch and it isn’t until you feel the plush of the blanket against your shoulder that you come back to your senses.

You pull yourself from Rio’s hold, snatching the spatula back to aim right at him in defense, “that wasn’t talking.”

“Well I disagree and thought it was until you rudely interrupted me.” Rio briefly rests his elbows against his knees as he sizes you up while you cautiously step back towards the kitchen, “you clearly don’t want me getting in that overtime of sleep anymore so I guess I’m well rested enough to spend quality time with my wife.”

Rio has his eyes set only on you and he can visibly see you gulp at the distance you put between you. That feeds his ego enough, he sniffs as he pushes himself to his feet, stalking over you to pluck the spatula out of your hand and to slide it against the counters towards the deep sink. Rio towers over you, using his fingertips to grip your jaw firm enough to get your sight back on him. Quickly he latches onto your thighs, lifting you against the counter and making space for himself right in between.

His forehead is pressed against yours breathing you in as he yanks you right to the edge of the counter, his hands caressing the warmth of your upper thighs, “you care about that damn blanket so much, I want your eyes to stay only on it while I sample my appetizer, you got that?”

A finger ran over your clothed center and you pushed your moan back down your vocal cords. The both of you were famous for your poker faces but eventually one of you would take it off of the other.

Your heart was pounding against your chest along with the adrenaline also running wild at the way Rio was looking at you, seeking to devour you while biting down on his bottom lip as he fought to keep his eyes on you and not on the increased rise and fall of your chest.

His hand snakes up to your throat, squeezing just enough to let you know what time it was, “I said, do you got that?”

You sucked your teeth, “I heard you—

You started just for Rio to push you by the throat with the swiftness against the counter, other hand flying behind your head just in time to protect the back of it while your thighs instantly latched around his hips in alert.

He laughs a bit, “yeah I knew you’d like that shit,” as he lets go of your throat after turning your head to face the living room, right where your blanket sat then using both of his hands to nudge your thighs apart so he can leave you bare from your shorts.

Curiosity got the best of you as you tried to take a peek to see what your husband was up to. Usually he was the light sleeper but you didn’t miss the sound of the pop of his lips, making you turn your head to see two damp digits.

“What did I say?”

Quickly shutting your eyes, you shielded them with a free hand trying to fight back a smile and still holding your “innocence,” as you waited to open your eyes again.

“Wait!” You called out, just knowing what was to come, “…check the timer for the salmon.”

Rio barely let the annoyance hit as he gazed over his shoulder to the clock on the stove, “ten minutes left. That’s all I need for right now…desserts a different story.”

And with that being said you let his touch be felt in the most pleasing of ways, folding at the way Rio knew just what to do to set you right.

Sitting in the dining room, since you refused to sit at the island—which Rio found humorous and promised he would clean—you can’t be eating at everybody’s house y’all—the both of you sat face to face with you on the bench and Rio in the navy chair across from you.

He chewed on his last piece of fillet, hand underneath his chin as he stared at you slouched over a bit. His long limbs tapped against you underneath the table, watching you flinch as you pushed your shoulders back, which added to more of Rio’s amusement.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his dark eyes can’t help but to falter down to your white tank top, “you look cold and might need a blanket? There’s one not far from us actually.”

You scowled while he laughed grinning at you, “you’re such a dick!”

“And you took it so well.”

A gasp fell from your lips while you tossed a folding napkin right towards Rio’s smug face, who snatched it before it could touch him. Leaving him to mockingly kiss his lips at you, “it’s all love.”

“We’ll see.” You chewed back a smirk but Rio can read you just by looking into your eyes.

Rio raised his brows, “That a challenge? I can guarantee you we can make it happen.”

Rio loves leaving you a crying mess and talking you down from your high. His drive was hardly ever low but he thought it was respectable for the both of you to get some nutrients in before the full rounds started.

You held up a finger, grabbing your glass to chug the rest of the water, making Rio rest his cheek into the knuckles of his hand with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you exhale, “but it’s my time to set it off.”

Rio nodded his head ready for whatever you had in mind although he’s envisioning reverse cowgirl, “cool, no complaints on my end.”

“I bet,” you raise a foot to caress his lap, “Can help you back to sleep in some blankets that are actually meant for sleeping with.”

Rio groaned for two separate reasons of course, reaching one hand down to grip your ankle, “lead the way, mama.”

“Not until you do the dishes and clean the counter. I know how much you hate going to bed with a dirty kitchen and we ain’t got shit to do so…get to it. I’ll be waiting.” It was your turn for some small payback as you hopped up from the bench, a glare crossing Rio’s features.

You laughed as you gripped his shoulders, leaning down to press your lips against his. The both of you tilted your heads just right as your lips battled against each other soon before you slipped your tongue against Rio’s. It was getting nasty again and he was ready to pull you right in his lap and let you do your thing right there but you pulled back with a bit of saliva between your lips.

“Hurry up, I’ll be ready to take my own nap myself soon.” You wink at him before you quickly pulled yourself from his grasp.

Rio swallowed his own breathing down, hands rubbing at his wet lips first and then the tension in his jaw all while feeling the twitch below again. Looking at the dishes and feeling the pull towards you was another battle within itself. Usually he wasn’t the clean up crew, he had people for that professionally and personally and as he started cleaning one dish he checked his own pocket to book a cleaning service for the morning. However he did take his time cleaning down the island, he wasn’t that cruel.

And who needed the gym anyway when you had his heart pumping enough?

He didn’t have to cancel that too.

Rio always ran shit.

The gym was just as much as his now as you are.

Just how he liked it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Continue with my summer anthology prompts & writings here.

[monzabee]

girl crush – dr3

masterlist || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go. 

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4522

Warnings: fluff, shy daniel, shy reader, max being a menace (we love you max), awkwardness, 2023 australian gp, oscars (i love you Jamie Lee Curtis, you rock), slight age gap? (the reader is around the same age as Max)

Request: this is a long one besties, but you can read the request here! + “Hello! Can I please request nepo!reader who's an actress and maybe has an oscar or something? Maybe with Lewis or Daniel”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this title changed so many times i lost track, but at the end, i went with the song – mainly because harry styles. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but this was very hard to write because i had BIG plans for it, so i’m sorry it took a while for me to finish it. also, i listened to a lot of la la land for some reason, so here you go. i hope i did it justice, and this was definitely very fun to write and i had a great time writing it, so thank you, to the anons, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Growing up with parents who were obsessed with Formula One had finally taken its toll on you, you decide as you walk towards the Red Bull Hospitality. Your father’s sudden retirement from acting, combined with your mother’s stubborn personality is the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. You don’t really know why they didn’t wait for the one in Miami, or perhaps Las Vegas, since their primary residence is in the US, but you had no choice but to join them when they pulled out the ‘We’re getting old’ card. So there you are, after 15 hours of flying over the Pacific Ocean, in Melbourne and ready to enjoy the racing weekend. Or so you think – because you spend the entirety of Friday catching up on lost sleep while cursing every single time your parents decide to call you to let you know how much of a great time they’re having. 

In the end, you get ready Saturday morning, to get breakfast with your parents before leaving for Albert Park. Just as you’re about to leave your room, your eyes fall on a familiar hat, adorned with a certain number, and you put it on your head without giving it a second thought. Your parents don’t comment on your choice of merchandise even if they find it odd, which is good, you think, because you don’t particularly want to hear your father tease you over your “teenage crush”.  The whole paddock is buzzing by the time you get there, and you immediately feel guilty because you missed the practice sessions the previous day. You quickly lose your parents to the crowd around you, too busy looking at the action around you, when you hear your name being called from somewhere. You look around trying to find the source of the voice, when you find a familiar face which makes you smile. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You ask, quickly pulling Samira for a hug, who in return points to the camera. 

“Weekend job, babe.” She laughs. “I’ve interviewed your father just a couple of minutes ago, actually.” 

“Oh no,” You laugh and shake your head. “Did he tell you about his petunias?” “He did, indeed.” Samira nods and hands you one of the microphones in her hand. “Are you up for a quick interview?” She asks you as she gives you an innocent smile. 

You nod while letting out a chuckle. “Well, someone has to save your viewers from my father’s garden talk, so why not?” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Samira tells you, her words coming of a bit slurred because of the way she talks too fast. She then turns to the camera after making sure that your mic is working. “Welcome back to the second day of the Australian Grand Prix, I’m here with Y/N Y/LN, whose father we just spoke to; Y/N, is this a family day out, or what?” 

“This is definitely a family day out, Samira.” You laugh, nodding to strengthen your point. “Not a very usual one, we usually prefer to stay a bit more local for the weekend outings, but you never know where we’ll be next, I guess.” 

“By ‘local’, do you mean the Oscars, perhaps? I mean, can we talk about your win for a moment? How does it feel to be the receiver of the award for the Actress in a Supporting Role?” 

You take a deep breath as you feel your smile widen, as you can’t even try to hide your happiness. “It feels amazing, let me tell you. It was an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank enough to the lovely director and everyone who made the movie possible.” Samira nods with a satisfied look on her face as you answer. “Congratulations once again for your win. I have to ask, big Red Bull fan?” She asks you in a teasing voice.

“What?” You asked, confused. Only to realise the hat sitting on your head when she points to it with a silent chuckle. You let out a laugh while instinctively touching the hat on your head. “Oh god, you could say so, I guess; yeah.” 

“I mean, I have to comment on the obvious part here.” She points to the hat while shooting the camera a look. “Number 3? You do realise the changes in the grid, don’t you?” 

You laugh at her teasing voice, shrugging and smiling with an innocent look. “What can I say, I like to avoid the reality and live in my delusions.” After a few more teasing from Samira, you explain with a laugh, “No jokes, though, I honestly hope Daniel Ricciardo returns to Red Bull somehow because I don’t know how I’ll cope without him for another season.” 

“A big Danny Ric fan, then, I presume?” Samira asks, pointedly. 

“Oh yeah, been for a while now.”

After you’re done with your interview and bid adieu to Samira, who thanks you a dozen times more, you find your parents at the Red Bull hospitality, speaking with none other than Christian Horner himself, accompanied by Max. It’s a slightly awkward transition when you join their conversation, but it passes quickly. It doesn’t take long for your parents to be involved with their own conversation with the team principle, and for you and Max to speak amongst yourselves. Although you ask him every single question that comes to your mind about racing, whether it makes sense or not, and he answers each of them without discouraging you. 

He pulls a funny face when he realises your choice of merch, pointing to your hat with a mischievous smile on his face. “Interesting choice, I would have gone with Checo.” 

You roll your eyes and huff, taking your hat in the process. “You’re just jealous because it’s not your number, Max.” 

“You wanna try that again?” Max raises his eyebrows. 

“So what if I’m wearing his number?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest. “He’s a very good driver.”

“Who is not driving this seaso– Ow! Stop it!” Max exclaims as you hit his arm repeatedly in an attempt to stop him talking. “I hope you’re just as charming when you meet him.”

You pull a face while asking, “What do you mean ‘when I meet him’?”

He gives you an unamused look. “You’re either a very good actress, or you are very bad at checking your social media.” His eyes widen when you match his look, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You know he’s around, right? He’s shooting promo stuff, I think.” 

“What do you mean he’s around?” You shriek in an attempt to hide your hat, as if Daniel is actually around to see it. 

“Yeah, wait, let me call him.” He takes out his phone and quickly dials him before you have the opportunity to tell him not to do that, but he quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he spots someone familiar over your shoulder and waves them over. 

Your eyes widen as you hiss, “You’re the worst, you know that?” 

He winks at you a playfully in return, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Then, he shakes the hand of the driver, who finally makes his way to both of you, and pulls him into what you can only describe as a ‘bro hug’. “Hello, man.” 

“Hello, mate.” Daniel greets him back. His eyes widen in recognition when he catches your eyes over Max’s shoulder, and he side-steps to shake your hand with excitement, which only makes you clutch the hat closer to your chest. “Hello, you’re Y/N Y/LN. Oh my god, I’m a big fan!” 

“M-me too!” You manage to get out, and then quickly add, “A big fan of you, not myself. That would be very egotistical of me.” You inhale a sharp breath as you ignore the look Max gives you, and close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Please ignore that, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with my brain.” 

“Sure, we’ll call it the jet lag.” Max mumbles, which earns him a hit with your elbow in his ribs. “Ow!” 

“I’m this close to switching teams and supporting Mercedes instead.” You lift your hand to show the minimal space you’ve left between your thumb and pointer-finger. 

“I think I should take over, here before you drive her away, Max.” He jokingly shakes his hand in a motion to make him go away, and then turns you with a warm smile as Max leaves the two of you to join some of the engineers nearby. “Now, should we get you a Red Bull?”

Talking to Daniel is very easy, you realise quickly. Once you (both) get over your shyness, the conversation just flows in a way you’re not used to. He, too, answers any questions you might have like Max did, but the look in his eyes are different when you show interest in something he’s particularly passionate about. He asks you about receiving your first Oscar, and you ask him about how his wine business is going – which ends up with him promising to send a few bottles over so that you can give it your stamp of approval; you both decide that your review is going be on the back of the bottles. 

“But doesn’t it get into your eyes when you’re spraying it?” You ask him, trying to comprehend how the champagne they spray doesn’t go everywhere. “And doesn’t it burn? It has alcohol, and… bubbles.”

“You might be onto something here.” He mumbles in thought, thinking whether the champagne burned his eyes or not. “Occupational hazard?” He asks in an uncertain voice, hoping it satisfies your question as an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You nod, taking another sip from the can he got you. “It’s crazy, you’ve won like what? 8 races? That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” The way you keep saying whatever comes to your mind makes Daniel smile as the energy you’re feeling taking over your body for the time being. “Wow, I’ve never felt like this, is this what energy drinks do to you?” 

“Probably why you shouldn’t drink too much.” He agrees.

“Sorry.” You smile apologetically, suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, rattling nonsense in front of your biggest celebrity crush. “You must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be holding you back. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Daniel is panicking inside when you start to get up, his mind scrambling up words to find a way to make you stay – he feels like a kid who’s asking his parents to let him play for a little longer. It’s not that he is not a social person, he is, but the conversation the two of you share is one of the most meaningful ones to him, even though you’re not actually talking about anything that deep. But he realises there is no pretences with you, no expectations, nothing to hide. He enjoys the way you speak what’s on your mind, whether it might be complimentary or the opposite, but he enjoys how you present your opinion and why you have it. He knows he’s extremely starstruck at that very moment, god knows he’s met enough famous people to know what it feels like, but it’s the kind of starstruck that makes him want to be not shy about it. He wants to keep talking to you for as long as you can tolerate him, because in his mind, he might be the one who is butchering the whole conversation up just by shutting up and succumbing to his shyness. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he has held himself back over the past hour, just because he was thinking about the fact that your hair is looking very shiny under the Australian sun and it is his number on your hat. It’s not something the two of you talked about, yet, but when he realises that it is his number on it, there is this inexplicable pride surging over him.

So, with his entire courage, he says, “Stay.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to think of something else to say. “I mean, I don’t have anything else I need to do, and it’s very nice to talk to you. So, you know, if you want to, we could maybe, I don’t know, continue to talk?”

“Oh.” You let out a breath, eyes wide with excitement (and a little bit of apprehension), but despite all the nervousness you’re feeling, you find yourself back in your seat, and mumbling. “Of course, it’s very nice to speak with you too.” 

And so you find yourself immersed in another conversation with the Aussie seated across from you. He is open about the past year – which as a fan you’re dying to know what happened, but don’t want to question him because he is only human after all. But for some reason, it comes naturally to talk about his pseudo-retirement with you. He tells you about his plans for the year, and how he hopes to get back to a seat by the start of the next season. In return, you tell him about the time how you almost stopped acting, but the last project you gave a change brought you an Oscar. It’s a much deeper conversation than before, but somehow you find yourself talking without feeling nervous to do so – without any second thoughts. 

“I, uh, I like your hat.” He smiles nervously, pointing to the discarded hat on your lap. 

You laugh nervously as your fingers occupy themselves with the visor of the cap. “Thanks, it’s my favourite.” 

“Yeah?” The question that leaves his mouth is so soft that you think you would miss it if your eyes weren’t so focused on him. 

“Oh, yeah.” You assure him with a little shrug. “Much better than orange, let me tell you, I look hideous in orange.” 

A large smile finds its way onto your lips when he lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I somehow find it impossible to believe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Daniel.” You tease, causing him to smirk back at you. He doesn’t answer you, but instead looks at you with a very particular look which confirms what you’ve just said. Your small stare-down is sadly broken apart by Max, who calls out Daniel’s name to let him know that Christian is looking for him. 

There is a sad look in his eyes when he realises that he has to go for real this time, but you give him a sad smile as you let him know you’ll be watching the screens for him during the quali. As you feel the wind breezing around you, you instinctively wrap your arms around your middle to get rid of the shiver the colder air provides. A look of recognition passes through Daniel’s face as he asks, “Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s oka–”

“I’ll be right back.” Daniel announces as he leaves you and Max, causing the latter to turn to you with his phone in his hand. Max lets out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath in a language you don’t recognise, most likely Dutch. 

“What are you doing?” You ask him, head tilted to the side to try and see what he’s looking at on his phone. He turns it to you after a while, apparently finding what he was looking for. “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the phone which displays a paused video of Daniel sitting in a chair. 

“He’ll probably kill me once he realises I’ve made you watch this, but the way the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies is making me nauseous.” He points to the phone with his head. “Play it.”

You give him a sceptical look, but do as he says and press the little triangle in the middle of the screen. The interview starts to play, and Daniel is talking about racing and the ongoing season. You let the video play for a while before looking up at Max again, more confused. “What am I supposed to see?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Max groans, taking his phone out of your hand and fast-forwarding the video to find what he’s looking for. “Here.” 

You press play on the video once again, but this time it starts with the interviewer asking Daniel about his celebrity crush. While he’s thinking about his answer in the video, you throw an unamused look at Max, who urges you to direct your attention back to the video. Just as you move your eyes back onto the screen, his answer echoes through the phone speakers which makes your eyes widen. “What?” You ask Max as you scramble to play back the section of the interview. 

“So, any celebrity crushes we should be keeping our eyes out for?” The interviewer asks, out of frame. 

There is a thoughtful look on his face as he thinks about his answer and once he decides, there is a smile breaking on his face. “I mean, probably Y/N Y/LN. I’ve watched everything she’s in, probably multiple times, she’s just so talented.” 

You watch that particular part of the video back a couple of times before Max takes his phone out of your hands with a look asking if you’re okay. “When was this?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A couple of years back, but I don’t think his answer has changed over the years.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to digest the fact that your celebrity crush also named you as his celebrity crush. “Oh, wow.” 

Daniel returns a few moments later with a hoodie in his hands. He smiles at you warmly as he hands it to you. “Here, that should help.” 

“Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to.” You breath out, taking the hoodie out of his hand and putting it on with his help when he gives you a look that says he won’t accept it back. After you fix the oversized hoodie on you, you turn to him with a smile as you also put on the hat on your head. 

The smile he gives you in return when he sees you in his number and merch fills your stomach with butterflies, and Max must be feeling weird about being a part of the scene because he lets Daniel know that he’ll wait at the garage. As Max leaves, Daniel turns back at you with a sad smile on his face. “I really don’t wanna leave, but–”

“You have a job to do, Daniel.” You smile with an understanding, putting an encouraging hand on his forearm. “Although I would love to keep you to myself, I’m sure there are fans out in the world who would love to see you back as much as I do.” 

He lets out a small groan. “Please tell me you’ll be here tomorrow as well.” 

“Well, I came all this way to watch the race too, so I’ll probably be around.” You tease him. 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks you in a hopeful voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You affirm. 

After a final look, both of start walking in different directions. And just as you’re about to leave the hospitality, you hear him call out your name. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder you hear him yell, “My number looks good on you.” 

In retrospect, you wanted to arrive earlier to find a certain driver, but you couldn’t sleep last night because you couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. So when you wake up later than your alarm Sunday morning, you rush to get ready to leave your hotel room. By the time you arrive at Albert Park, it’s almost noon. You’re not late to see the race, there is still couple of hours until the big event, but your eyes look around the chaotic hospitality to spot Daniel. You can see a few familiar faces, some engineers you met yesterday and the drivers talking to some crew members near the garage, but there is a small frown on your face as you keep looking for the Australian driver. You’re about to give up when, suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm – which makes you jump back with a shriek. 

“You scared me!” You exclaim, looking at the stranger who, thankfully, lets go of your arm after your outburst. “Sorry, can I help you?” 

“Sorry! I thought you were lost and looking for your boyfriend.” They respond, pointing towards the garages. “I saw him enter a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t have a–” You start the say, but the person is already starting to walk away to the opposite direction. “Boyfriend.” You sigh, deciding to take the advice and see if Daniel might be at the garage after all.

If you thought there was a chaos outside the garage, you’re greatly wrong, because the only word you can use to describe the Red Bull garage is chaotic. There are crew members everywhere, trying to get the cars ready for the upcoming race. So, you do your best to slip through them without disturbing their work. Some of the members you met yesterday greet you, which makes you smile as you greet them back. You catch a familiar set of eyes, which lose the boredom in them and widen with recognition once they meet yours and he starts walking towards you.

He's beaming by the time he reaches you, as he exclaims, “You’re here!” 

“Hi!” You greet him and then pull him for a quick hug.  

“I’m glad you made it, Y/N.” He smiles down at you, without letting you go, and then gestures around the garage. “Have you looked around?” 

You nod, matching his smile as you look up at him, “A little bit when I came in, it’s crazy out there today?” 

He lets out an affirmative voice. “It’s always like that during a race day. Where are you watching the race from?” 

“The Paddock Club, I think?” You answer him with a small frown. “We watched the quali from there yesterday.” 

He pulls away from you slowly, and begrudgingly, holding your hand and starts to pull you away from the entrance. “I have a better idea.” He walks you towards the front of the garage, stopping right in front of the barriers and asking a crew member for a headset. 

There is a playful smile on his face when he turns to you with them in his hands, which makes your eyes widen with concern. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” 

He waves his hand, passing the headset to you as he assures, “Of course, it’s the best seat in the house. Plus, it’ll be easier for us to find each other.” 

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” You ask him as you do your best to narrow your eyes. 

“Absolutely, yes.” He nods with excitement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.” 

You giggle in response. “Oh, I know. Max made me watch a video.” 

“He– what?”

“It was a lovely compliment.” You assure him, patting his arm with a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m going to kill–” He begins to say, but one of the engineers call out his name, telling him that they need him before the race. He turns to you with a groan, jumping over the barriers instead of going through the door, which makes you chuckle, and points to you while walking backwards. “We have to talk about this.” 

“We will.” You assure him. Just as you watch him walk by, you call out, “Daniel!”

“Yeah?” He calls back at you. 

“You’re my celebrity crush, too.” 

Instead of answering he winks at you over his shoulder, which makes you giggle. You’re sure that you’re also blushing, but decide not to think about it too much and focus on the race which is starting. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, from the start to the second restart to the end. The people around you are not much different, everybody holding their breaths every time one of the cars make a sharp turn. You let out an occasional gasp, or wince throughout the entire race, your hands covering your shocked expression. But, at the end, you’re happy to see that Max is P1 and Checo managed to finish the race in P5. Everyone around you seems to be sharing your opinions, since they are celebrating the good results when you take off your headset. 

Daniel finds you eventually, after speaking with some of the engineers and pit crew, and there is a huge smile on his face as he asks, “So, how’d you like it?” 

“Are you kidding me? It was insane!” You exclaim, using your hands to relay your point. “Eight cars, Daniel, eight cars! That’s crazy!” 

“I get you’ve liked it?” He asks, his eyebrows raising. 

You let out a scoff while shaking your head. “Of course I liked it!” 

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/N.” He smiles, “So, I’m your celebrity crush, huh?”

“Oh please, you already knew it!” You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I’m wearing your number, aren’t I?”

He shrugs, letting his hands occupy themselves with the end of the hoodie you’re wearing. “And it looks good on you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your eyes as he asks, “You’re wearing it again today? Isn’t it some sort of fashion crime in Hollywood?”

“Well, I’ve never fit in much anyway.” You shrug, letting a smirk break at your lips. “It might just become my favourite item of clothing, just so you know.” 

“Yeah? I’m happy to hear that.” 

“You should be, I’m very particular about my hoodies.”

He smiles at your comment, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. “When is your flight back?”

“Tuesday.” You answer him, suddenly very aware of the fact that you don’t have much time left in Melbourne at all. “But I can be convinced to stay for longer.” 

His eyes widen with surprise, excitement taking over the sad look in record time. “You can? Really?” You nod your head, which makes him pull you closer to him with the hand still holding your hoodie. “Let me take you out on a date.” His eyes seem to beg. 

You nod your head once again, tilting your head backwards to keep your gaze locked to his. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Yes? Are you sure? It’s the point of no return.” There is a playful tone to his voice. 

You roll your eyes, taking off your cap and placing it onto his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, ‘honey badger’.” You tease. “Who knows? You might just convince me to say a while longer.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He echoes your words from earlier. 

[unsolicited-opinions]

Many have been talking about the way that much of the the Muslim community in Australia has sought to defend the behavior of two Muslim NSW Health nurses on Bankstown, deflect accountability, and excuse inexcusable ethical failings.

These images (from this article), for example, are all over Twitter:

Haviv Rettig Gur's words echo my own thoughts and fears, but I worry that he and I both may be falling into Islamophobia. Haviv writes:

What if there really is a problem in the Muslim world, a crisis of modernity, of equality and democracy, minorities hounded into nonexistence, systematic oppression of women, rampant antisemitism? And what if this deep crisis is being carried into the West by Muslim diasporas?

I mean...he's asking the same question I'm asking lately, but his phrasing feels awfully similar to Tucker Carlson's "just asking questions," doesn't it? That makes me feel uneasy. I admire Haviv's work. I think he's intellectually honest and genuinely insightful. I don't think he's motivated by bigotry and I don't think he hates Muslims, but this phrasing and framing leaves me feeling uncomfortable.

Hend Amry, a Libyan-American who currently lives in Qatar, responds to Haviv:

just asking questions while I wipe them out

Haviv:

I’m wiping out Islam? That’s your answer? I admire Islam, I first seriously encountered it via medieval Jewish philosophers. I know a bit about the vast diversity it contains. And now, knowing that, reread the tweet and answer the actual point.

Hend Amry:

“What if there really is a problem in the Jewish world, a crisis of modernity, of equality and democracy, minorities hounded into nonexistence, systematic oppression of women, rampant Islamophobia? And what if this deep crisis is being carried into the West by Jewish diasporas?” We know what a Nazi sounds like, changing the subject doesn’t change it.

The false equivalence and Holocaust inversion lost her this argument.

Haviv Rettig Gur:

How dull and racist. Yes, let’s compare Muslims to Jews on this point. The greatest fights among Jews today are about Jewish mistakes and misdeeds. Jewish forums have been intensely debating Gaza for 17 months. How many Muslim forums and institutions have debated Muslim violence? Meanwhile, Jews everywhere are constantly told, often by Muslims, that they must distance themselves from other Jews or be deemed complicit. Jews everywhere have become legitimate targets for harassment on this point. Muslims are not similarly required to fret about the crimes happening within and in the name of their religion. (Many do, but they’re a small minority.) And to ask of them to criticize or distance themselves is deemed racist by the likes of Hend. This started as a comment on those murder-encouraging Australian nurses. What do we think? Did their own community respond as the Australian Jewish community would have responded in their shoes?

Haviv has what I think is a legitimate point, but perhaps he has missed the fact that some Muslim groups in Australia did respond with firm condemnation:

From SBS:

The Ahmadiyya Muslim Community Perth said the nurses' comments "not only violate the sanctity of human life, but also fundamentally contradict the teachings". [Full statement here] Imam Syed Wadood Janud of Perth's Nasir Mosque said the comments were "factually contradictory to what Islam teaches about the afterlife". "Islam teaches respect, compassion, and justice for all humanity, and such vile remarks have no place in our faith," he said in a statement. In the same statement, Ata Ul Hadi, a senior resident doctor at Armadale Health Service, said he was shocked that healthcare professionals could hold "such insensitive ideas about human life". "As a Muslim, I have a deep regard for the struggles, pains, and vulnerabilities of my patients. I strive every day to go above and beyond to ease their suffering," he said. "How anyone in the health sector could see their duty any differently is incomprehensible." The statement reiterated Islam is a religion of "peace, compassion and respect for all humanity", and said the community stands against hatred, bigotry and discrimination. Imam Kamran Tahir of Adelaide's largest mosque, Mahmood Mosque, was also critical. "The comments made by the nurses are completely against the teachings of Islam. Service to mankind is the essence of Islam," he said. "The fundamental qualities that we must all acquire to serve mankind are love for humanity and kindness in our hearts for others." ...

A joint statement by 24 Hazara [Afghan ethnic group] community organisations said the alleged threats against patients were "abhorrent" and that all individuals "deserve compassionate and equitable treatment" from healthcare providers. "These comments are deeply disturbing and fly in the face of everything we stand for as a community," the organisations said in a statement. "We believe in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being, regardless of their ethnicity or religion." The statement also said Hazara organisations were "particularly saddened" to learn that one of the nurses, Ahmad Rashad Nadir, had come to Australia from Afghanistan. It said that individual's comments "do not reflect the values of diaspora communities from Afghanistan." "Our community has always valued inclusivity and understanding," a spokesperson said. "This incident does not represent who we are."

Haviv is correct that if the roles were reversed, the international Jewish community would be nearly monolithic in its fierce condemnation of any Jewish clinicians who threatened patients based on religion, national origin, or ethnicity.

The Muslim world, however, is not monolithic. As Haviv himself wrote: "I admire Islam, I first seriously encountered it via medieval Jewish philosophers. I know a bit about the vast diversity it contains."

Muslim groups which seek to excuse Ahmad Nadir and Sarah Abu Lebdeh, groups who suggest the international reaction of revulsion to their behavior is inappropriate or driven by Islamophobia should be cordially invited to perform anatomically impossible feats of self-buggery - but that's not who all Australian Muslims are and it seems to me that we'd do well to support and amplify the Muslim voices who so clearly, without reservation, condemn their co-religionists' disgusting behavior.

These Muslim communities should not just be embraced as allies of Australia's Jews, but of all people everywhere who treasure liberal values and secular pluralism.

[summerofofelia]

15 day BL challenge time!

OG here 🧡

Day 8 - The trope you hate except when it’s “this series”.

Throughout the course of my twenties, due to a combination of working with incredibly difficult people (never work in Australian media y’all) and navigating personal drama, I have learned that the best way to interact with people is through direct, honest communication. I have learned how to be gently confrontational, I am comfortable being uncomfortable and saying to someone, “hey, can we sit down and have a chat?” And as a result, I find myself huffing impatiently when miscommunication rears its ugly head.

Looking at you buddy

Ah yes, miscommunication. My arch nemesis. Miscommunication is the rotten toenail of tropes. So often it feels like a cheap way to manufacture drama because the writer was too lazy to come up with something more original.

If the central conflict of your story stems from a miscommunication that could be resolved if the characters had a two minute conversation, but instead you stretch this petty misunderstanding out for an infuriatingly long amount of time… ya boring. Go back to the drawing board. Think of how else you can create tension and obstacles that compel the audience to care.

So which show is my only exception?

BL: My Personal Weatherman.

My Personal Weatherman, for those unfamiliar, is essentially a story about two emotionally constipated dumbasses that are desperately in love with each other.

And I adore it.

So what makes their miscommunication different?

This is not a surface level miscommunication that can be solved with a simple conversation. It requires serious introspection, recognition of fears, voicing insecurities and allowing vulnerability. These are not things that happen overnight.

Yoh has incredibly low self esteem and believes he has nothing to offer Segasaki. He constantly downplays his abilities, despite the fact that throughout the series we see him being Segasaki’s safe space.

He can’t bring himself to be honest about his feelings to Segasaki (except when he’s drunk). He is confused by Segasaki’s actions and finds himself becoming resentful, finding reasons to hate Segasaki because he thinks his heart is the only one that races when they’re together.

Segasaki, on the other hand, wears a mask around others, feeling like Yoh is the only one that understands him. He can pretend with everyone else, but with Yoh he is utterly defenseless. Since day one he has been captivated by this man that sees right through him to his very core.

Segasaki desperately needs Yoh to be by his side, he craves him, and yet it takes seven episodes for him to finally break and say, I can’t breathe without you. Even after this declaration we see him tying Yoh up in an attempt to keep him from leaving, begging telling Yoh to be his and his alone, his insecurity palpable (also, he never actually tells Yoh about his insecurities, he just tortures himself in private). This moment of vulnerability is a turning point in their relationship.

And all this is externalised through a lack of communication, and not just that, but a lack of understanding about different communication styles. Segasaki is taken aback when he finds Yoh drunk and sullen, proclaiming that he will earn enough money to move out because Segasaki only sees him as a slave. Meanwhile Segasaki is like, wow, okay, first of all rude to say that to your husband.

But after this, Segasaki specifically takes Yoh out and they experience all these cute little date moments. It’s super sweet and everything is going well, until Yoh says, “hey, if you want to do something without me you can”, leading Segasaki to walk away despondently (and lie about having other plans) because he clearly thought they were on the same page (however, he still uses this time to buy Yoh a jumper while Yoh goes off to buy more sheets so they can fuck be intimate more often (because they’re both dumbasses who haven’t heard of a dryer)).

Through Segasaki’s actions, he thought he was clearly saying, “hey, I like you.” And yet, the lack of literal vocal communication meant these gestures went completely over Yoh’s head (literally at one point he says, this guy really needs to use more words!!). His low self esteem has created a barrier in their relationship. He doesn’t understand that Segasaki actually wants to be with him. How could this amazing man ever actually want him? And it’s understandable that he’s struggling, because Segasaki can be quite ambiguous with his words.

Now could all of this be resolved in one conversation? Not exactly, no. It’s more complicated than that. Which is why it works. Because there is something far deeper going on.

In order for these two to find each other, they have to overcome their own insecurities. They are each fighting an internal battle and don’t actually understand how to vocalise their needs and fears to each other.

It’s hard, but they get there eventually.

Dumbasses (affectionate).

[formulaa-1]

Hi there, can I request a one shot with Oscar Piastri, where he is dating his childhood best friend from Australia, and they are hanging out and visiting both their families and friends while they’re at Melbourne for the Australian GP.

one shot🤿 O.P

fem!reader x Oscar piastri

Oscar’s dating his childhood bestfriend and they visit Australia for the Grand Prix and spend some quality time together 🫶🏼 ps. theres a promise ring at the end 🙈💍

Thankyou so much for the request! I hope this is kind of what you were thinking of because I was kind of just going with whatever came to mind especially the promise ring haha! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

y/n’s pov

-

if you would have told me 4 years ago id be dating my bestfriend since childhood, I would have laughed in your face.

everyone saw it coming,everyone but us of course.

it happened when we both went on vacation to Hawaii with our families for a little getaway before Oscar started his formula 2 season. we’d all been drinking one night, and me and Oscar were the only ones left; we danced and spun our way across the beach feeling free and laughing til’ we couldn’t breathe anymore. I had spun too fast ,falling over and pulling oscar down with me.

it was like a switch had been flipped.

we couldn’t keep our hands or eyes off of eachother for the rest of the night.

when we woke up, we finally confessed our love to eachother and made things official. as soon as we went downstairs everyone already knew that we had admitted our feelings and that we were now together. typical.

but that was 3 years ago.

we’re now currently in our hometown, melbourne,soaking up the aussie sun at his parents home before the busy race weekend starts and it’s the definition of perfect.

on the first day in Melbourne, oscar had taken me and some of our mutual friends to the Great Barrier Reef and spent the day surfing and swimming.

it was perfect, growing up in Australia I was always too busy with school work and my own sports I never really had much time to explore many of Australia’s natural wonders.

this is one of the things I love the most about Oscar, he’s always so thoughtful and always knows how to make things special. He knew I wanted to go and he made sure it was just that little bit more special for me, he truly is one in a million.

on the second day, he took me to my favourite book shop and insisted on paying for whatever I wanted. I declined and told him he didn’t need to and that I’d pay for them myself but he of course told me to stop being silly and bought them anyway.

on the third day, we ate breakfast in bed and watched all of our favourite films (Harry Potter because Oscar’s a massive nerd just like me) whilst talking about anything and everything.

on the next few days we relaxed,visited friends and family and took time for ourselves.

on the very lasts day Oscar took us on a helicopter ride through Melbourne. It was heavenly,it was truly a dream come true. It was their where he had kissed me on my forehead before pulling out a ringbox, revealing a promise ring.

“y/n, I wanted to give you this as a promise that one day we will have everything we ever wanted and that I’ll be with you for the rest of my life and that even if things get hard I will always be there for you and by your side. this ring also signifies that one day we’ll have that big house with the white picket fence and little mini me’s and mini you’s running around. I love you so much y/n”. he said with tears pricking his eyes.

I had kissed him so passionately and that even tho it was just a promise ring, I knew that it was a promise of the life we would have and for that I couldn’t be happier.

-

authors note🎀 okay guys !!! what do you think of this?? I’m actually happy with this like AHHH!!! I felt like I was really motivated and it felt like this was kind of an easy flow but let me know what you think 🫶🏼 sorry its taken so long to get round to requests I’ve been very I motivated and had MAJOR writers block or whatever it’s called 🙄 I hope your all okay and looking after yourselves !!!

[professionalranter31]

So I mentioned in a previous post how Overwatch has a lot of factions that aren’t expanded upon a lot, so I’ve got a list of my top five that are currently represented and my top five that I wish got representation

We’ll start with the ones that currently have representation

Number five is Oasis, represented by Moira who is their Minister of Genetics however we do know in lore that there are other ministers so they could be playable in the future or someone else who works within Oasis

In the same vein as Oasis at Number four we got the Atlantic Arcology which is represented by Lifeweaver. It’s a similar place to Oasis where many great minds live in order to try and further research in various fields and I just feel like both of them should have more representation given the significance they most likely have with advancements in the Overwatch Universe

Number Three is Blackwatch, we only know of four of them and one them also doubles as representation for Overwatch. I want to know more about the black ops of Overwatch, like, did they have a tank?

Number two is the MEKA Squad, with what we know of them in lore is surprisingly little and I’m gonna be honest the vibes I’ve gotten from the lore is that D.Va does most of the work and I want to be proven wrong about that. Plus, the Genshin are meant to be this big threat but it’s hard to take it as a threat when we are only able to see the capabilities of one of Korea’s defenders

And at Number One, the Inti Tribe because why the absolute FUCK is Illari labeled as its only defender!? No seriously, she is fucking 18 why is she treated in lore as her tribe’s only defender. If she was their tribe’s only sun warrior that’s a different thing but she’s working with others to defend their tribe but the Sun Warriors made up the bulk of the defenses so at least then it still gives to the tragedy of her explosion while not leaving the literal eighteen year old as the only defender of an entire giant tribe I want an explanation Blizzard!!! I will crawl into your office like a demon possessed and tear through whatever lore books you have in there to find my answers give them to me!!!

On to the factions that don’t have representation within Overwatch that I feel should have it

At Number five we got the Hashimoto. They’re meant to Kiriko’s main enemy and as of the recent Hanzo short story his as well but they just feel like a dime a dozen goons from what we have seen. Like how Null Sector began to feel like more of a threat after Ramattra was added I feel like the Hashimoto would be seen as more dangerous if we actually got a hero to represent them

At Number Four, the Gwishin. Sort of the same story like with the Hashimoto except we do have some idea of what they are capable of, no what I want a hero to represent them for is how they happened in the first place and how they are able to adapt like they do

At Number three the Wastelanders of Australia, they’re the outcasts of the junkers and what Junker Queen used to be when she was exiled. It shows a new perspective on the Australian Wasteland that’s different from the Junkers

At Number two we got the UN. Look, given how big of a deal the UN is in the larger story of Overwatch I just feel like having a hero to represent them would be pretty good in terms of lore and generally either a character who is morally grey or a villain

At Number one we have the God AI. We currently know the names of four God AI, Anubis, Chernobog, Xibalba, and Macaria. Given the massive importance the God AI have in the lore of Overwatch I’m genuinely surprised that not one of them has been made into a playable hero. I’m also kinda impressed that Blizzard hasn’t released a hero that is just them taking a god from mythology and translating that into an FPS. Anyway, given the various purposes the AI had there’s plenty of ways to design their kits around it and there have been hints that some of the God AI achieved some level of Sentience such as Chernobog’s lore. So yeah, I want them represented in game

[psilliguykai]

give me the under my skin hms ramble i think about that song and hms every time i listen to it (song)

Aurghhhhefiwodslnk sorry for the late response but tysm for asking !!! Seriously this made my day - I’m so happy to hear other people agree and are interested in hearing me ramble :D

This got wayyy too long so a bit more context + actual ramble under the cut!

Sorry in advance, I’ve historically been more of an animator/visualizor than a text analyzer so this might seem more like. poorly written notes for a music video rather than a proper assessment lol. 

Also a couple notes:

1: None of this is meant to be “objectively correct” - this is all just how I personally envision the song, but you’re welcome to disagree! Think of this more as “Here’s what it looks like in my brain and if you agree, cool!” rather than “this is what YOU need to think” :]

2: In my futile attempt to keep this a reasonable length, I’ll only be including lyrics I actually have a solid vision for.

3: Under My Skin Heart and Mind art piece which sparked this, for those who don’t have context ^^

Alright let’s get on with it :p

The first section is Soul singing to and/or about Heart and Mind. 

“I can fit two people under my skin”

This is him feeling irritated and fed up with H&M. He’s stuck with these two other people (rather than in the original where one of the two said people is actually the singer, iirc) and their constant bickering. Them and their incessant fighting are getting under his skin. 

“You crawl up in there and join me within” could be daring the audience/new challenges to come and add to his already existing problems perhaps ??

“I can feel your heart beating under my skin

And the beating of your heart is making me bleed from within

And if we cut open your heart, pour it in a cup”

I this is Mind talking to Soul about Heart [getting "under his skin"]. Rather than “cut open your heart” meaning to pour out your emotions, in this case Mind is possibly suggesting violence against Heart. 

“Do you think it'd be enough, do you think it'd be enough

To fill... my heart with music?

Oh no, not a chance in hell

Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well

Heart melts, yeah you meant so well

But your song's no good round here”

Soul gets irritated and interrupts Mind’s suggestions of violence and adding to the conflict. I read this in the tone of like . “Do you really think I’m that gullible? That you could just convince me to hurt him like that? That it’ll help the situation? I’ve heard both your ‘songs’ [as a metaphor for sob stories and lies in teh attempt to sway him] too many times already. Fuck no, and fuck off.”

“I can feel you breathing under my skin

I can feel you breathing under my skin

And each breath you take is a brand new begin

Each breath you take, brand new begin..ing”

Soul is talking about Heart and Mind again, “each breath” being each quarrel and fight and violent action ending up in a reset of the time loop [“brand new beginning”].

“England has a way of getting under my skin

And my family has a way of getting under my skin

And my family had a castle way back when”

Australian erasure; they’re English now [/j!!]

Nah fr though. This is Soul talking, first about the general stressful surroundings/environment which led Whole to split ["England"], then about Heart and Mind, them being his “family” [which isn’t necessarily literal - I feel this can apply regardless of how you see HMS’s relationship] and the “castle” being whole. 

“I don't think there is anyone under your skin

Like a Cheshire cat I think that you are just a grin

And I can feel you laughing, under my skin

And the happy palpitations are making me... grin.”

The Part!! It’s The Part!!! As depicted in the art piece, I see this as Heart singing to Mind and Waugh does it fit so well (in my opinion anyways :3). Heart is telling Mind how he feels despite everything he (Heart) and possibly Soul as well go through, plus everything Heart tries to do to him, Mind remains unfazed. Grinning. Think “but every time I’ve hurt you, or at least tried to, you’ve laughed and smiled instead” from Light. 

A more personal note outside of analyzing the song: I don’t think Mind is truly unfazed. I think either he’s physically unable to stop smiling, he simply grins and laughs through suffering as a natural response, and/or he puts on a facade in an attempt to make himself seem stronger and more mature than heart. Perhaps a somewhat trite and overstated belief in the fandom, but I find it pretty accurate, intriguing, and important :]

Anyways, Mind analysis aside- I see the “happy palpitations” as sarcastic, and referring to the stress and suffering Mind’s presence and the fighting with him puts him through. It causes his (Heart’s) own uh. Heart. To palpitate. I believe “happy” and “grin” are in a bitter sense - he’s so stressed and breaking down to the point where all he can do is grin. It could also be in a completely sarcastic sense, somewhat mocking Mind. Final alternative option is that during the pause before grin, Heart comes to a realization/conclusion and decides to go more strongly against Mind. he decides that rather than fall victim to Mind’s attacks and fighting and mocking, he’ll “transmute the pain to kinetic energy” so to speak (the kinetic energy being stronger defense/attacks against Mind).

“You know it fills my heart with music...

Oh no, not a chance in hell

Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well

Heart melts, yeah you meant so well

But your song's no good round here

Oh no, not a chance in hell

Yeah I've heard you sing but it ain't too well

Heart melts, yeah you meant so well

But your song's no good round heeere no no no no!”

I think this Whole [haha] last section would be cool with all of HMS singing at once. They’re all getting under each other’s skin. They’re each done with and can see right through the others' “songs” [pleas and attempts at cutting down or manipulating one another for control]. None of it's any “good round here” anymore - they’ve each heard it all before and it’s turning them exhausted, irritated, and bitter towards each other.

Thank you again sploon-fic-fan for the ask, this was so much fun :DDD and uh thank you if you read this far!! Sorry it got so long, I get really passionate about animatic-vision-type things and this has been bouncing around in my brain for a while now ^^ if you haven't already, go check out the song Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost it's super duper cool and very HMS-coded [see essay above lol] :3

[swissboyhisch]

The Aussie Snack Experience

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Aussie!Reader

Summary: As a marketing idea, you get to feature in a video with Nico trying snacks from your home country.

Word Count: 1637

Warnings: Alcohol. A little bit of an AU as Devs and Rangers aren't apart of the global series.

A/N: Another to the Nico x Aussie!Reader series

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

You had been missing home a little and asked your family to send a box of Australian snacks and drinks. Unsurprisingly, your parents sent you multiple huge boxes, much bigger than you had ever expected. Lollies, biscuits, chocolate. Soft drink, alcohol, milo. So many things from your childhood. Luckily you had a whole team of hockey players you could share with. 

When the news had gotten to Anna in the Media department about your delivery, she asked you if you were willing to do a video with Nico. Apparently the idea of Nico trying Australian snacks and drinks was a good marketing idea. Especially since New Jersey was one of the teams just announced as a part of the Global pre-season games in Melbourne.

For once, you accompanied Nico to the arena one this day with your boxes of Australian stuff in the back of the car. Jack had picked you both up. Meaning he got roped into help carrying the boxes into the room where Anna had set up the video production. You two were setting up while the boys had morning skate. 

“Did your parents actually send you all this?” Anna questioned as she unpacked the drinks box.

You hummed as you pulled out the little bags of different flavours of Shapes. So many things. “Yeah, I was feeling a little homesick. Missing some snacks.”

“And even alcohol?”

“Yep!” You respond as Anna holds up a four pack of cruisers. “Those are my favourite. They sent me a heap of them thankfully.”

As training neared the end, you prepared the fairy bread. The slices of white bread slathered with butter and the Hundreds & Thousands on top. The perfect kids party food. Anna had set up a table of food off camera. As you and Nico would sit in frame, Anna would bring one plate of food or a drink for us to try. Well Nico to try.

“Heya babe,” Nico hummed, coming to join you on the couch. His hair was wet from his shower. All shaggy just like you liked it. 

“Hey sexy.”

A flush coloured his cheeks at the comment. Nico pressed a kiss to your cheek as the media crew set up the equipment. Majority of it was done, just final touches before you all started the shoot. Nico was going to start off the video with a little welcome.

“Hi, my name Nico Hischier and I’m here with my Australian girlfriend (Y/N),” Nico starts off. “As preparation for the Global series in Melbourne, (Y/N) has brought in a heap of Australian snacks for me to try. Some I may have already had, some I haven’t.”

“I tried to make it so it’s mostly the ones you have,” You add.

Nico waved over to Anna, “Anna is going to bring in the snacks for us.”

“Snack one!”

Anna brought over a plate of Tim Tams, just the plain ones. You got excited at the sight. Since receiving the box, you haven’t actually eaten anything so you couldn’t wait.

“I’ve had these!” Nico exclaimed happily, immediately grabbing one and takinging a bite.

You follow his actions, taking a bite from the biscuit and savouring the taste. “Do you remember what they’re called?”

“Uhhh, Tim Tams yeah?” You clap happily, giving him a smooch on the cheek as a reward. He laughs, “Is that my reward, a kiss for every right guess on what they’re called?”

“That wasn’t a part of the plan but I guess we could fit that in.”

The next thing was a glass of milk which confused Nico. Anna put two glasses down before the pair of you. You knew exactly what it was for and it was something you haven’t done since you were a child.

“Uh…”

You laughed, “Time of a Tim Tam Slam.”

“You’ve never told me about this,” Nico argues.

Without telling him anything, you grab another biscuit and bite the two opposite corners. You dunk it a little in the lactose-free milk and suck like it’s a straw. Nico just watched on, confused as hell. 

“It makes it taste like chocolate milk,” You reveal, nodding for Nico to try his own. 

You watched as the Swiss tentatively bit off the corners and sucked up the milk. His eyes widened when he tasted the milk. 

“That tastes really good,” He comments.

You nod in agreement, “Now bite the Tim Tam.”

To you, the best part of the Tim Tam Slam was eating the biscuit after. The mushy biscuit. Sounds gross but it was so good. Anna brings out the next snack which is fairy bread.

“Is this the fairy bread?” Nico asks, examining the plate.

“The best party food of all time.”

“Isn’t a children’s party food?” 

You scoff, “I had this at my 18th birthday party thank you very much.”

Nico was tentative when he picked up a slice of bread. Spilling the Hundreds & Thousands over his lap. You giggled, taking your own piece and taking a bite. It took you back to your birthday where you and your best friend just ate the whole plate while drinking cruisers and cob loaf.

“Can we have a drink to wash this down?” You ask, smirking at Anna.

That was the code word you had sorted out earlier for Anna to bring out two of the cruisers. Both of them are your favourite flavour, Zesty Lemon & Lime. Nico saw them before they made it into frame. He lit up, having had Cruisers before as you loved drinking them when you went home for the off season. 

Nico immediately grabbed one, as did you, and clinked glasses. He took a sip happily. “These are Vodka Cruisers.”

“Like White Claws but better,” You add, taking another swig. 

“Lemon and Lime is probably the best flavour,” Nico comments.

You grin, “You take after me.”

Nico grabbed your legs, lifting them to rest them over his lap. You two made yourselves comfy which Anna loved. The fans were going to eat this up. Nico liked to keep you hidden, to himself. But this was a gold mine of content. 

“Do you have any Shapes on that table?” Nico asks, peering over behind the camera. 

At the request, Anna brings over multiple little bags of all the flavours of Shapes. Nico immediately went for the Pizza flavour. It was your favourite too. Then the door opened revealing Jack Hughes and Dawson Mercer.

“Snacks?” The youngest asked, heading straight for the table.

Anna suspected this would happen at some point. The team couldn’t help themselves but annoy whoever was on media duty. “If you want snacks, go sit with (Y/N) and Nico in front of the camera and introduce yourselves.”

Both of the boys excitedly sat in front of the couch like little kids. Your hand came to pat Jack’s head while Nico flicked the back of Mercer’s head.

“Seriously you two?” Nico huffed. 

“Leave them,” You laugh, nodding to Anna to bring out more snacks.

“Hi! My name is Jack Hughes and this is Dawson Mercer. We’re joining our parents to try Australian snacks from Mum’s home country.”

Dawson nodded, “What he said.”

The next to be brought out to the table was a bowl of favourites. Jack grabbed the Crunchy, Dawson grabbed a Flake, Nico went for a Boost and you grabbed a Picnic. Jack opened his, making the flakes of chocolate land all over his lap. Dawson just pissed himself laughing at his friend.

“They’re your favourite, yeah?” Nico asked, nodding to the chocolate in your hand. Trying to ignore the children in front of you two.

You nod, taking a bite. “Behind Chomps.”

“Chomp?” Jack questions.

At those words, Anna threw a couple bars of Chomp at you guys. You and Nico both caught yours but watching Jack and Dawson getting hit in the head cracked the you guys up. Jack looked like a deer in the headlights when he felt the bump before it landed in his lap. You didn’t waste any time though. Tearing into the bar and biting at the crunchy, caramel, wafer and chocolate treat. 

“Yo these are great,” Jack stated, chewing still.

You slap him up the back of his head, “Eat with your mouth closed Jackson!”

“My name isn’t Jackson,” he argued.

“Don’t argue with Mum.”

Nico rolled his eyes, “Love that we just suddenly have kids.”

You just picked up your cruiser again and skulled it. It’s better to deal with these two when drunk. Anna finally stopped laughing long enough to bring out lamingtons. Jack didn’t bother waiting, going immediately for the food. 

“What’s this?” Dawson asked you. 

You take one and offer it to Nico. He smiled, taking a bite of the dessert then pressing a little kiss to your lips. You hum at the taste coating your lips. 

“A chocolate lamington,” Nico answers for you.

In response to his words, you press a kiss to his cheek once more. “Neeks is right.”

“You guys want to wrap it up?” Anna suggests to you. 

Jack and Dawson weren’t even paying attention anymore, Just grabbing at the different snacks on the table. Luckily Jack was driving you and Nico as you both had drunk a couple cruisers through the duration of the filming. It wasn’t a game day which was why he was allowed to drink. 

You decided to do the outro as the two younger boys didn’t give a shit about the video. Nico was being clingy, holding you to him. “Thanks for watching me feed the boys Australian snacks. Make sure you guys come see the boys play against the Rangers in Melbourne on the 23rd and 24th of September. You may even catch a glimpse of me somewhere in the stadium. Peace out.”

“Bye!” The boys shout, waving at the camera. “See you in Australia!”

TAGLIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings @jayrami3

[mrs-toohot]

Ryder, decoded

So the THTH writers apparently googled “Australian slang” and went copy/paste into his dialogue with absolutely no concept of what any of it means or how commonly it’s used.

So, as your resident Australian, I’m going to translate for you.

Below, you’ll find the examples I found so far, a translation, and a rating out of ten for how commonly it’s used / how accurate the slang is.

Disclaimer: I am born and raised Aussie. My ancestors were convicts. And while I do live in a major city, I grew up in the most country of country towns; population 847. So I am fluent in Aussie.

So without further ado:

Buggers.

If you look up the word buggers you’ll find it’s short for buggery which is the act of engaging in anal sex. But it’s not really used that way any more. I would never use “sexy buggers” that’s kinda weird. It’s only ever used these days as a light-hearted term, such as “cheeky bugger”(usually said with a hair ruffle). Alternatively, you can say someone’s “playing silly buggers” which means they’re messing around/being silly.

Accuracy of usage: 6/10

True-blue.

I see this and I think of this song which I believe they may have played at Steve Irwin’s funeral. It’s basically the same as “proper” or “right” for the Brits. Interchange with “verifiable”. Is entirely a stereotype and wouldn’t even be used ironically these days. In its place, we would use “fuckin’”. The only time this word is used is when you’re describing someone as “he’s a true-blue Aussie battler” (he’s very Australian)

Accuracy of usage: 1/10

Sheilas & blokes.

No. Absolutely not. Sheilas 🤢 is a way of describing a group of girls, but it’s very outdated. You could still call a guy a bloke, but it’s not interchangeable with “guy”. A bloke is specifically very traditionally Aussie & masculine, and you’d almost be more likely to use it as an adjective (I.e. “he’s a bit blokey”). I’ll be honest, you want someone who’s “blokey”, think “Gary from LITG”.

Accuracy of usage: 1/10 and 4/10 respectively

Ripper

Means ‘great’. And unless it’s in relation to specifically calling someone else a ‘ripper legend’ (shortened to ‘ripper ledge’) it’s not used commonly whatsoever.

Accuracy of usage: 2/10

Bonzer

No. Absolutely not. Never in a million years would bonzer be used today. It also means ‘great’ but this can’t even be used ironically. Even in the deep dark depths of country western NSW, using this word will get you looked at weird.

Accuracy of usage: -10/10

Crikey

Sorry to disappoint, but this one’s also a no. It means essentially “wow”. The only time we’d use this is to amuse internationals. We associate this word with ol’ mate Steve as much as you do.

RIP buddy 🪦

Accuracy of usage: 2/10

Fair dinkum & arvo

You’d ask if something was ‘fair dinkum’ if you were questioning if the aforementioned statement was true, or you were trying to figure out if someone was for real. “I’m Spider-Man”, “oh, fair dinkum?” It is… not common. Very outdated and only your countriest of the country boys would use it (and only if they’re 60+)

Now- ARVO- this is a different story. I use arvo EVERY DAY. It is short for afternoon and I don’t remember the last time I used the full word. “What’re you doin s’arvo?” Absolutely used every single day.

Accuracy of usage: 3/10 and 10/10

Have a squiz and take a gander

Both mean the same thing: take a look. Do not ask me where they come from but welcome to Australia. I have definitely said “give us a squiz” or “I’ll take a squiz” lol. The latter is still said but only by much older people. A funnier version ( only said ironically) is ‘have a captain cook’ (rhyming slang for ‘have a look’)

Accuracy of usage: 9/10 and 7/10

Have a yarn

Means ‘have a chat’, ‘talk’, or ‘shooting the shit’. This is actually really commonly used by indigenous Australians, and ‘yarning’ culture is really crucial and involves a cuppa tea 😁 I liked seeing this one pop up.

Accuracy of usage: 10/10

Possible upcoming slang:

Yeah, nah: No

Nah, yeah: Yes

Have a root: Sex

Pull your head in: Calm down, get it together, wisen up

Ta: thank you

Sweet as: sounds good

Righto/Righteo: alright

No worries: not a problem, that’s okay. Often said in conjunction with ‘she’ll be right’

No wukkas: no worries, short for “no wukkin furries” which is an intentional mispronunciation of “no fuckin’ worries”.

Bloody oath: bloody hell/Fuckin’ hell

Ocker/yobbo: super Aussie guy, see “bloke”. Specifically very country.

Drongo: forbidden phrase. Never used ever. Means an idiot/dork. If they use this I quit.

Flamin’ galah: said ironically, very funny. Said seriously, no.

Dropkick: super common. Similar to derro or deadshit. A loser, someone who is going nowhere in life.

Derro/deadshit: derro is short for derelict. Someone who bums cigarettes at the train station. Wears thongs (flipflops) everywhere even in winter.

Bum: (verb) to bum sth: to beg for/ ask for / grift for. “Can I bum a smoke off ya” (often followed by “I’ll pay you back”)

Let’s see what gems they come out with this week, shall we?

[markerofthemidnight]

I love your Hatchetfield fics Grayscale and Hidden Depths. Can you tell me a tidbit about both/ether of them?

AHHHHHHH I’d be happy to oblige!!!

As much as I’d like to talk about both at the moment… I hate to admit this, but I’ve really been ignoring the existence of Hidden Depths as of recent. And Greyscale, but Hidden Depths deserves attention too! So, since Chapter 6 has been held back for so long, why not share some more about the Old Lords?

HD: ULTIMATE Recap was, after all, only a very small tidbit of extra info on them. I’m also working on a piece that’ll show you all their designs- except Kindler’s, since we’ve already seen his, but I’m not even halfway through that yet. Starting to get pretty concerned with how little I’ve been doing stuff as of recent…

Well, anyways! Here’s some extra information on the Old Lords and my thought process behind making them.

Kynzol Errakt (aka Kindler)

The God of the Sun and Flames, as you know. Previously known as the God of Drought in Chapter 1, but I felt like it was pretty odd to have a god whose powers can only be defined by what they aren’t associated with.

Obviously very draconic in design, but the dragon actually isn’t his associated animal. That would go to the thorny devil: everybody’s favourite spiky little reptile that I felt best summed up what exactly I was trying to go for with Kindler, and that was before I learned that they can apparently drink water by absorbing it through their feet!

Known as the Everburning Star, Kindler is the de facto leader of the Old Lords. He carries himself with a sophisticated yet very intentionally intimidating disposition, and tends to not really think about the wellbeing of others unless it affects his.

It’s fairly obvious from his behaviour that he has a pretty big god complex (ironic, huh?), and is incredibly stubborn in his beliefs. Not even the Old Lords would ever dare speak out against him: the only reason why they’re so comfortable with his presence is because they’ve spent 5,000 years with him.

You may be wondering why I chose this specific personality when it’s not very different from Wiggly’s. Well… that’s because Kindler was pretty much just based on my perception of what Wiggly’s predecessor probably would’ve acted like, which slowly developed into the dragon we know today.

The main difference between them, I’d say, is that Wiggly is only partly scary (hence why so many people are in love with him), whereas Kindler is actually genuinely scary and villainous. It’s like the difference between any normal Disney villain and Emperor Belos from The Owl House.

Trypnarash (aka Thrasher)

The God of Noise, associated with a bat for fairly obvious reasons. Rather fittingly, also as blind as a bat. For some reason he switches between having an Australian or a Cockney accent depending on whichever one I think would be better suited to what he’s saying.

Known as the Beastly Cacophony, Thrasher is… loud. Very loud. Strangely enough, he’s actually surprisingly chill: he’s pretty much fine with anything as long as it’s entertaining.

However, it’s important to keep in mind that this still doesn’t make him a good person. He’s evil just like the rest of them, only in his own ways. (Not Evil from The Lego Movie 2 is a song that I associate with him quite a lot, by the way.)

Inspiring false hope so that the others can crush it, and toying with people in more personal ways, is his MO. He pretty much does whatever’s most entertaining to him at the moment: the only reason why he’s alright with Blinky not being evil is because in a few months, he’s gonna be dead for good. No point in caring about that.

Gazon Q’raktic (aka Gazer)

The Goddess of Space, associated with jellyfish since it was the first animal I thought of that felt alien enough to be associated with space. Also known as the Scholar of the Stars.

My basic concept behind her and her personality was “what if the ancient deity was a girlboss.” A stark contrast to the slowly rotting incel with ADHD that we call Tinky. Some would call her arrogant, though it’s important to keep in mind that arrogance implies misplaced confidence.

And hers is definitely not misplaced.

She is smarter than you. Much, much smarter. Gazer has peered into the distant voids of space, and understands the universe in a way no one else can. She knows how the Big Bang happened, she knows about the existence of extraterrestrial life, and the answers to many more unanswered questions about the universe. How does she know? Simple: she figured it out. HERSELF.

She has an IQ of at least 2,000. And she is cursed with knowledge no one else can ever bear: because no one, not even any of her fellow Old Lords, is intelligent enough to understand it.

Kindler is arrogant to the point of being delusional. Gazer is… probably the only one out of those five who actually has her head on straight.

Honestly, she’s also probably the closest to being a good person, as well? Whenever she plays with mortals, it’s usually some kind of simple challenge with fair enough rules, which only gets violent if those rules are broken.

Retonydunfir (aka Rattler)

The God of Decay, associated with vultures. The name Rattler comes from the bones all over his body. Known as the Harbinger of Decay.

Rattler is… you know how I just said Gazer’s probably the only sane one there? He’s close to being sane. Not quite there yet, though.

His base personality is best described as the archetypical cranky grandfather who says the most appalling and racist things as if he’s just talking about the weather. Except Rattler is more intimidating than that.

He works slightly differently to the other Lords in that his powers are fueled. When something somewhere in the universe dies or decays- no matter how great or small- he gains power.

He is obsessed with what he calls the “art” of decay. Partly because it fuels his powers, but mainly because he’s just, for lack of a better term, a nightmare fetishist.

This stretches not only to physical decay, but mental decay as well. Unlike Nibbly, he’s very patient, and prefers to make people suffer through slow torment that steadily gets worse as it continues, rather than just… eating them.

Definitely not someone you want to have on your bad side… or your good side, as he’s known to subject some of his own followers to similar things once they die. What they endured his room (and, to this day, continue to endure in Nibbly’s room) can only be described as a really big, really long retelling of I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.

Stinturmor (aka Stinger)

The Goddess of War and Discord, and probably my favourite out of the old Lords in Black? Her associated animal is an ant, because ants go to war with each other all the time. She’s known as the Gyne General (a gyne being the primary reproductive female in a system of insects, i.e. an ant queen).

She has two forms in total. The first and more commonly seen one is a small cartoony blue ant. The second… I can’t talk about what the second one looks like.

She’s also the first of the Old Lords to have her room fully designed. It’s a medieval castle on a hill (🎶 AS THE STORY GOES 🎶), mainly either royal blue or baby blue in colour.

She likes ponies, drinking tea with honey, and drawing her favourite mortals all being horrifically tortured whilst laying on her little princess bed with her feet kicking in the air like a toddler.

…Yeah.

So the main inspiration for Stinger, as well as my headcanon voice for her, was The Ghost of Christmas Present from Scrooged. If you’ve watched that, I’m sure you’ll know exactly what Stinger’s going to be like in the story, specifically when talking to Pokey.

The reason why that specifically is her personality is because, if Pokey represents peace and harmony, she represents war and discord. Dissonance, conflict, contrasting elements between characters.

So naturally, my only option with her was to play up the general vibe of the canon LiB, giving her two sides: the first being this cutesy little whimsical creature who talks like she’s from Oz, and the second being a horrible nightmare that’ll torture you for days on end, kill you as soon as she gets bored, and then resurrect you as soon as she gets bored of all her other favourite playthings.

She also has the ability to summon any weapon at will. And I do mean any weapon, even ones that she shouldn’t feasibly be able to wield. She prefers ones from the Dark Ages or beforehand, but unfortunately for you, our dearest Stinger doesn’t exactly believe in consistency.

For this very reason, I am very much looking forward to writing a scene in Hidden Depths where she just nonchalantly whips out a grenade launcher.

[sexhaver]

Genuine question that you’re probably tired of but I’m actually an outsider: coming from an Australian perspective where we have a) compulsory voting, b) a not as strict two-party system (usually a balance of 4 parties plus a handful of independents), and c) a preferential voting system, it’s confusing for me to see the debate around US presidential election.

It seems straightforward enough to me that if a left-leaning voter doesn’t vote Democrat for whatever reason, it seems to just be passively handing the election to Republicans given that the political right seems more united and more willing to vote for the Republican candidate even if they don’t agree with all their positions. Is it not just preferable to vote for the “lesser of two evils”? Is anybody on the left actually convinced that not voting at all and increasing the chances of a Republican victory is really, truly better than just voting Democrat despite their misgivings? Why do left-leaning Americans have such a strong hesitation to voting for Biden when the alternative is Trump? Are they really convinced that they’re just as bad as each other, both domestically and internationally? This probably comes across as very loaded but the debate just baffles me a lot of the time.

if you vote for democrats no matter what then there is no motivation for them to be any more than 1% less awful than republicans in order to guarantee votes, and also allows republicans to be the sole movers of the overton window meaning it only moves to the right. i am deleting the 4 other anons in my inbox asking this exact same question and blocking any further ones

[violivs]

NMTDaily: Project II - One Shot

- Dogberry and Verges accidentally photobombing is cute. They’re so panicked about it!

- Love how the crew tries to pretend they’re not all one big friend group, and yet they all sit together at lunch.

- Ben, why would you bring something so messy and cumbersome as a whole mango to school? Slice it at home at least! Oh my god, evidence that Ben’s parents are slightly neglectful because they don’t notice or stop him from packing weird lunches? I don’t know, just wondering.

- Ben and Bea hate each other so much that they make sure to sit as close together as possible without actually being at the same table. I see you guys.

- Peter mugging for the camera and blowing it a kiss! (It is now an active struggle to remember we were calling him Pedro at this point, I always default to Peter.)

- The boys just talking about food as their intro-to-scene chatter just tickles me. Mango and chili, chocolate and chili. Ooh- things you wouldn’t think would go together but actually really do work as a pair? Hmm… (I haven’t tried them, but just go with me here)

- “We’ve known each other for a long time, right?” Oooh, another “I know you of old.”

- Ben’s name spiel, truly spoken like someone who has been fighting the “just call me Ben” fight for years. I bet his least favorite day of school is the first day, because he has to endure the two minutes of being laughed at when the new teacher calls roll and everyone is reminded of his full name again. Before he gets the teacher to put a note in the attendance book so that won’t happen again.

- And then Beatrice deliberately ignores him and keeps calling him Benedick, because of course she does.

- Honestly I just had to sit back and watch the rest of this episode. It’s too damn good to even liveblog, you’ve just gotta let it happen. I love it so much. I did rewatch to finish the liveblog but it’s such a tight episode it’s hard to know what to say.

- I mean. The fact that for as long as they’ve known each other, Bea and Ben have literally had a game on with their friend group of “let’s argue about stupid stuff for fun”- brilliant. Perfect. So them.

- Also love how resigned their friends are to B&B’s arguing. It’s just normal to them. Sometimes Pedro or Meg or Claudio try to intervene, but they know it’s useless in the end. But it’s ok because they also find it pretty funny for the most part, at least for now.

- Obsessed with them citing academic studies of mango skin back and forth at each other. To be reading academic articles in their spare time, they are both such a specific type of nerd. I love them.

- Ben fishing for a compliment from Bea is adorable and cringy. Everything he does makes me more sure this was a “Ben fell first, Bea fell harder” situation. They’re gonna be in LOVE.

- “You said I looked ‘mighty fine!’ ‘Babein’!” Oh my god the origin of “Babein” was here and not in PIZZA?! Mind blown.

- I don’t think I ever caught that the flamingo argument involved “would you rather be pecked to death by flamingos” before. Ben’s argument is definitely that flamingos are too majestic and amazing to be violent, and Bea’s argument is that that’s stupid because they’re still wild animals and wild animals can mess you up if they want. They never even get to the other half of the would-you-rather!

- *smacks both Ben and Bea for the ableist would-you-rather, high-fives Claudio not finding it funny, then smacks Ben again for jokingly saying ‘that’s racist’ about British stereotypes*

- *smacks Claudio for ‘you sound like a gay Australian’* *high fives Pedro and Ben for telling him to shut up* *wonders whether Pedro was already questioning his sexuality by now*

- The making fun of each other’s accents does crack me up. Low-hanging fruit though, they’ve both got better insults.

- “Queen Elizabeth is gapping it over here to come scissor-kick you in the head!” And “How do you know about the microchip?” Some of Ben’s most iconic lines tbh.

- Ben is SO performing in this entire scene. Trying so hard to make everyone laugh, asking for high-fives, trying to one-up Bea at every turn. He’s holding court, honestly. And you only really know that he’s acting and putting on a show of confidence upon rewatch.

- Whereas I do feel that Beatrice is always 100% herself. She says what she feels. And she always gets the last word. Though he does bite the mango at her, so he gets the last action, lol.

💖🥭🦩