#but the rest of it is absolutely incredible

[naamahdarling]

I agree. I've been thinking about this so much, and I'm so frustrated with it, because there's a point at which I have to concede that when it comes to some things, there is no answer that lives up to my ideals.

I also think the rejection of the word "reform" in favor of "abolition" is partly due to how we have seen efforts to "reform" things go absolutely nowhere but to the bank with taxpayer money to cut a fat check to police departments that they use for "training" and body cams that then do fuckall. If that's reform, I want to kill that, too.

I am in favor of making prison as we know it (a locus of abuse and injustice that is in no way oriented towards helping anyone at all, as well as a source of legal slave labor) go away. Forever. So I have asked people the prison abolition questions. I have never gotten an answer beyond "we will support victims and with the measures we want to put into place there will be fewer offenders." Good. Okay. I want that, for sure. You have my full support. I get lost when I run into "That's a distraction." It isn't. I'm not saying we refuse to work on this until every bit of it is hammered out. I'm saying it very much is something we will need to grapple with, and it's actually a major thing because how we handle extreme cases of ANYTHING is THE purest form of principles.

It isn't a gotcha to say "if you do not have a plan for non-lethally dealing with people like Jeffrey Dahmer, because people like that exist and will continue to do so, you do not have a fully realized plan, you have some really good ideas that I already support."

"I don't know, we are working on that, it's an issue, we have a lot of ground to cover before then, and some of that ground will undoubtedly point us at some of those answers" is kind of where I fall, and it is a lot more honest than what I usually get, which is "Well, YOU need to imagine what that looks like, what do YOU think? This is for YOU, and all of us, to come up with. But don't ask about extreme outliers, that just shows you support the status quo and want alternatives to fail."

That isn't an answer that goes anywhere. Because I have thought about it extensively. And my answer is "putting them someplace pleasant that they can't leave, where they can't ever hurt anyone, and caring for them, all the while watching them like a hawk for the rest of their lives, because they simply cannot be allowed what we would call true freedom".

No community I know of is capable of managing someone like that while allowing them to go free, nor should the burden of that risk be placed on any community. I wouldn't consent to having someone like that living in my community, and one dissenting vote should be enough to keep them out, shouldn't it? And if they just cut and run, well. The next community maybe won't even know they're there until they do something that could have been prevented. Whose community in the first place? The one where they offended? Because that's...that's actually not okay. Which one, if there were several?

Outliers exist and have to be considered, because if you don't, you wind up with vigilante justice out of self-defense, or a string of inexcusable, monstrous acts continuing unopposed until the person dies, but the victims, or whoever is left who loved them, at least get "support."

I don't want to say "I support reform" because my god does that ever sound lukewarm at best. But I don't have a plan for the parts of abolition that don't already overlap with reform.

I want a word for "reform" that means "we are incredibly pissed off and we do intend to tear this apart beyond the point of recognition and make something new" but that can't happen in one stroke. At the very least, there are going to be long transitional periods while we restructure shit and get people used to the new ways of doing things.

I don't like all my answers, but I haven't been presented with anything better. I want to be. But some people get really pissed when I genuinely ask them to please show me a better way that I can actually believe in.

The other reason I'm generally annoyed with the "Abolish X" crowd who actually DO mean "abolish X" and not a watered-down version is that ime they very rarely have fully thought out the implications of what they're demanding and then get angry when other people ask about it.

"Family abolition means completely removing legal ties for family units and allowing all children the choice of where they live" okay. So if I see a three-year-old throwing a fit because she doesn't want to leave the park, and I go over and tell her if she comes home with me she can stay as long as she likes and then we'll get McDonald's on the way home, that three-year-old should have the ability to make that decision? The parent or guardian has no legal recourse to stop me from taking her? Cause if the answer's no, that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

"I'm done talking about what we'll do with rapists and murderers after we abolish prisons, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about!" Well yeah man! 98% of people just interpreted your words as "we're going to let murderers roam around killing people at will"! You need to explain very clearly what plans you have that will stop them that aren't incarceration or you're not going to make any headway! And if your answer involves any form of "well of course SOME people can't be allowed total freedom" - that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

I'm not even gonna touch the number of people who think we should abolish the police and replace them with what are essentially roaming squads of vigilantes dispensing "community justice", whatever the fuck that means.

Like these aren't "gotcha" questions, they're legitimate problems you're going to have to contend with. And if you wave away all these questions with "you're just making up ridiculous scenarios" and "we'll think of something to fix that once we destroy the current system", then yeah actually, I DO think you care more about sounding radical than about making any kind of change.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 8

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

Sadly, Max didn’t get to push George Russell of the track. Instead he accidentally hit Oscar in the first corner, which definitely hadn’t been on purpose…and also resulted in another penalty point and a 10 second penalty.

He was really done with this season.

At the same time, Charles carved his way up from P19 to P2 in which, what Max was pretty sure, could only be described as going on the warpath. Max was honestly just impressed at the speed with which Charles had managed to claw himself up to P2, and he would have applauded the effort if he hadn’t been so damn frustrated with everything else.

At this point, he just wanted to get the race done and over with and go home. He'd have time to worry about the penalty later - he just wanted to get this race over the finish line so that he could get a flight to Monaco and to Colette.

With that thought in mind, the last 12 laps went by in a blur, and it felt like no time at all until the checkered flag appeared.

For the first time all season, Max didn’t bother trying to push beyond the limit for an extra few seconds of time.Because quite frankly, it didn’t actually matter.

McLaren had gotten the constructor championship for the first time in 26 years.

"t may not have been the fastest race but I just wanted to say a big thank you for the season, guys. It hasn’t been easy at times, we still have quite a few things to improve on but we still won a world championship.  So, thank you for all the hard work the whole year," Max said into the radio. "Enjoy your time off and then we’ll go back at it again next year. Thank you, guys."

And now Max finally got to go home to Colette.

GP's voice came over the radio. "Get weighed and then we need you to come into the garage as quickly as possible, Max." 

Max furrowed his brows at the words. That was…odd. Why would he need to go to the garage immediately?

"Is everything alright?" he demanded. 

GP didn’t answer immediately, which did nothing to diminish Max’s worry.

His heart skipped a beat when the engineer finally responded, hesitantly. “Just come to the garage, please. Quickly.”He had wanted to apologise to Oscar about their incident in the first corner at the start, but that was quickly forgotten, at the tone in GP's voice.

It sounded alarmed and anxious, and that got Max's heart racing. Something was wrong, something was wrong, and he needed to get to the garage to find out what it was.

It took him an incredible amount of self-restraint not to outright bolt out of the car and charge into the garage, but he somehow managed to get out of the car, weighed himself in and all but dashed towards the garage.

"GP?!" he called out as he stormed into the garage. "What the hell is going on? What’s wrong? Why-"

GP was the one who dragged him into one of the side rooms, where no cameras would see the exchange that followed. There was Christian waiting, as well as his father. 

This wasn't good.

The sight was alarming enough to make him freeze. His heart seemed to skip a beat.

"I-” Max cut himself off, staring at the three men. "What- what's going on?"

"Colette is in labour," Christian answered. "Her brother Arthur texted me. Your pilot filed flight plans thirty minutes ago. There is a car waiting to take you to the airport."

For a moment, Max’s brain just froze altogether, his thoughts screeching to a halt.

His vision wavered as the words echoed in his head, and he had to reach out and grab a hold of the wall next to him as his legs tried to buckle.

He couldn’t have read those words right. There was no way - she had four more weeks. They had more time, Colette couldn’t be in labour.

But it was GP's voice that was cutting through the fog in his head. “Max.  Are you with us?”

Max had to take a deep breath, forcing his mind into action.

"Yeah," he heard himself croak out. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the airport. He had to get home as fast as he possibly could.

“We need to get Charles," he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it. I’ll pay whatever ridiculous fine the FIA demands. But if he finds out I left without him, he’s going to kill me.”

There was no doubt about that. 

Max was dimly aware that all three men were looking at him with varying levels of sympathy - but he didn’t care. He only had one thought in his mind, and that was getting to Colette as soon as goddamn possible.

"Gemma is getting him right now," Christian promised him. "I already talked with Ferrari...or screamed at them, that is more likely. So did Arthur apparently. I need to warn you though, the press is swarming outside, especially after your father's little interview," he said darkly.

"What interview?" Max asked, staring at his father. What interview were they talking about?!

"I talked to Sky News about your anger issues," his father said drily.

"Correction," GP snapped. "You told Sky News that Colette and Max are a couple and that their baby is due any day."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and they were like a punch to the gut. His father had done what?

"You told the damn media she’s having our baby?" he exclaimed, staring at the older man. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"No, I merely said it’s due any day," Jos snapped. "Not that it's actually on the way. Calm down, I only said it because you need to stop denying that you two are an item, it’s getting ridiculous!"

Max honestly didn’t even know how to react to the words. Normally, he would’ve been furious right now. His father had just gone and announced their private life to the entire world. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the fact that Colette was currently in labour…

"He also said and I quote It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough!" GP snapped, looking and sounding more furious than Max had ever seen him before. 

For a moment, Max almost choked and he whirled to his father, his eyes wide. "You-" the words got stuck in his throat. "We’ve been trying for nearly three years. Colette had two miscarriages!"

All of a sudden, the anger that had been boiling inside of Max just evaporated into thin air, leaving only cold, burning rage behind. He took a shuddering breath, his whole body trembling violently. "How. Dare. You," he spat. Even he was surprised how menacing it sounded, but he was also way beyond caring.

"You never said," his father said, nearly silently.

“Clearly I had a good reason,” Max bit out. “We lost two babies. And you are telling us that we took our time? How. Dare. You."

There was a flicker of something in his father’s eyes, which looked awfully similar to pain and regret, but Max was far too furious to care about some kind of guilt.

"You have no right-" he bit out, his voice trembling with anger, "No right to talk or say anything about-"

"It was already out anyway," his father defended himself.

The words made Max freeze again, and he slowly straightened, the cold fury rushing through his veins and making him feel lightheaded. He clenched his jaw, fighting to find the right words, even if he was pretty sure he was about to completely lose it.

“Another word. About her, about our baby. About either of them,” he snarled, his words low and dripping with venom. “ And I will have absolutely no problem with completely and permanently cutting you out of my life, vader.  You’ll be dead to me. To Colette. To our baby. Is. That. Clear? Colette is not something that we are going to negotiate about. It didn’t work when I was 15. It‘s not working now!"

Surprisingly enough, Jos didn’t reply. The only sound in the room was of Max’s ragged breathing.

He didn’t notice Christian’s worried glance in his direction, but GP’s low and quiet voice cut through his thoughts. "Max."

Max flinched, and he forced himself to get a grip. For a half a second, he couldn’t bring himself to turn to look at the people around him.

Finally, he straightened, forcing his legs to move and his mouth to form a response. “Yeah.”

“There is a car waiting. Go,” GP told him calmly. There really wasn’t any reason to linger, and if he were to say anything else, he was in serious risk of exploding.

Max took a deep breath and moved towards the door, the need to see Colette driving every thought out of his mind.

All the anger and adrenaline made it very easy to push through the hoard of reporters and journalists waiting just outside the garage, his mind laser focused.

There were cameras flashing and reporters shouting questions, but he ignored them all. His only priority was to get to Colette.

At the same time as his single-minded determination helped him to power through the throng of people and reach the car waiting for him, his mind was also whirling with a thousand different questions.

What happens if the baby came right now? What if something went wrong? What if-

***

Charles had known that something was wrong. But then...he had been having that feeling for days. Colette was feeling anxious and scared and angry and a thousand other things and Charles would have known that she was feeling that way, even if he hadn't texted her. 

They had always known if something was wrong with each other. They had always known what the other one was feeling.

That had always been their connection…He loved his brothers more than anything. He did. But they weren’t Colette. They weren’t his twin sister. 

Two lives, two halves of one whole. He would never feel complete without Colette. 

Charles could always tell if something was wrong with his twin. And for days now, something had been very, very wrong.

And still he had soldiered on. He had dragged his car from P19 up to P3. Just behind Carlos...two podiums for Ferrari but not enough to clinch the constructor's championship.

He had only done so because he had known that Colette was never gonna let him hear the end of it if he didn't do his very best.

Just like she had been with him during that Formula 2 race less than 48 hours after their father had died…and she had told him to get into that damn car and race in circles, she had done the same this time. 

And he had listened. 

Of course, he had. 

Still...he had never been more thankful that a Race was over than he was of this one. He was just happy that it was over. 

He followed along to the cooldown room on autopilot, Lando already, then Carlos following after him.

The absolute drama that went down there next...well, it simply started with a commotion. And screaming.

The next things they knew, there was Camilla, PR from Ferrari, in what could only be described as a screaming match with Gemma from Red Bull...with security following along as Gemma more or less threw herself into the cooldown room, completely ignoring what anybody else was telling her. 

Charles stared, utterly bewildered. What the hell was going on here? 

Why was Gemma here, literally shoving her way into the cooldown room and throwing herself at him, security struggling to stop her?

"He deserves to know!" Gemma snapped at Camilla. "You cannot keep this from him! This is about his family. We have tried to talk to Ferrari, you are either ignoring our calls or telling us that there is no way you'll tell him until after the interviews are done. What is wrong with you?"

“What the hell is going on?” Charles managed to finally find his voice. What was happening? What were they talking about? What the hell was wrong with Ferrari? "Someone, anyone, give me an answer!"

The only person who seemed willing to answer was Camilla and the look on her face was completely unapologetic. "You are a Ferrari driver," she said simply, as if that explained everything. "There is nothing that goes on with you while you are driving that takes precedence over your job."

"He isn't driving now," Gemma snapped, as she turned towards Charles. "Your sister is in the hospital. Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco."

That got Charles' attention like nothing else would have done. In one second, he went from baffled confusion to absolute shock and alarm. His eyes widened, his heart beginning to pound as adrenaline and fear suddenly flooded his system. "She's...she's...what?" he asked hoarsely.

"In the hospital," Gemma repeated, giving him a pointed look.

"What happened?" Lando demanded suddenly. "Is Colette alright?"

"Is something wrong with the baby?" Charles choked out. 

With the baby. No. No. Not again. 

He had seen his sister utterly heartbroken twice about her two miscarriages. 

And these two miscarriages had been horrible. Heartbreaking. Devastating. Had destroyed her. But they hadn't been...They had been early on in the pregnancy.

They hadn't been after Colette had spent months pouring over baby name books and buying things for the nursery, after she had let him feel the baby kick in her belly...after...after all of this...

"What baby?!" Lando blurted out suddenly, but Charles ignroe that. 

"Max's pilot has filed flight plans. There is a car waiting to bring you both back to Monaco," Gemma repeated. "But you need to come with me now, Charles.” 

"He's not coming with you!" Camilla snapped. "Charles has media obligations!"

"I don't give a fuck about my media obligations!" Charles snapped back at her. He was literally shaking with the sheer strength of his anger. "My sister is in the hospital! I am going. Now."

Charles didn't wait for a response. He was already headed towards the exit, his blood thundering in his ears as confusion and fear and anger raced through his body. The only thing that was going through his head was Colette was in the hospital, Colette was in the hospital, Colette. was. In. The. Hospital.

If anybody tried to stop him now, he would have absolutely no problem going straight through them.

"You are a Ferrari driver," Camilla growled.

"And," Charles snarled, whipping around to look at her. "I am a brother. And a twin. And she is my other half. She is in the damn hospital, and you tried to keep that information from me. What, did Ferrari think that I just wouldn’t care?"

That seemed to render her speechless for a moment, but only for a moment. "We believed," she said coldly, with an undercurrent of anger beneath. "That you would remain professional and focus on your job as you were paid to do so."

"Are you serious?" Lando snapped at that moment. "His sister is in the hospital and you want him to do interviews!?"

"I was not speaking to you, Norris," Camilla said, in a voice that could freeze water. "It is none of your business. We are trying to deal with a delicate public relations issue here that you don't understand."

"I have sisters too," Carlos snapped. "And you better believe that if one of them was in the hospital, I would be there too." 

"Go," Lando told Charles at that moment. "GO."

Charles didn't need to be told twice. He was already halfway out the door. There was only one thought on his mind. Colette.

[driftawayomnichord]

Genshin characters react to you sleeping on the floor - Part 2

Warning: not proof read; this is pure fluff and crack; (featuring Pantalone; Alhaitham; +Bonus: Jing Yuan)

*THUD*

Pantalone

Dealing with idiotic aristocracy is incredibly exhausting, sadly for Pantalone, that is a part of his everyday routine. Every day he goes into his office and has to stand their behaviour. So his favourite thing do to after a long day of work is to go back home and complain and gossip about said aristocrats. Usually be prefers to do that in bed, in your dark cozy room.

Today was no different, the moment he got home he rushed to find you and let all the built up frustration go. And so he did, at dinner, while getting ready for bed, in bed…he was particularly annoyed today it seems.

And after some time the pair naturally drifted off to sleep. That was until two hours later Pantalone woke up to get some water and after he had his drink he turned around with the intention to hug you.

Where are you.

He stood up and called for you - nothing. Went to check the bathroom - nothing. Living room - nothing. Dining room - nothing. The study - nothing. He went through every single room in that house to find absolutely nothing. Asked every servant if they have seen you - nothing.

He was left standing there, just completely puzzled as to what happened to you. And the first idea that came to his mind is one of his biggest fears. Maybe you never really loved him, were only using him for money and you were cheating on him.

While he wanted to avoid thinking about that possibility it just couldn’t escape his mind. He ordered some of the guards to go look for you around the city and decided to head to his bedroom.

Walking in he went towards the window, closer to your side of the bed when he suddenly hit his foot on-…something.

“Ouch- damn it.” Your voice rang.

He looked down and saw you…on the floor…glaring at him.

“Why did you hit me? What’s wrong with you?” You asked him annoyed. “I was sleeping.”

“You were…here.”

“It’s the middle of the night, of course I’m here, sleeping. Or at least was…”

“Why are you on the floor…” he questioned.

“I’m what-…why am I on the floor?”

He simply chuckled, picked you up, plopping you on your bed and laying down next to you. He shouldn’t have worried.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Alhaitham

Both of you were preparing to go to bed, brushing your teeth, hair, putting on some moisturiser (that you definitely don’t force Alhaitham to do). You were talking about your plans for tomorrow, or more like you complaining that you don’t want to bother tomorrow.

“After you are done with your presentation we will head out on a walk.” He suggested and headed out of the bathroom into the bedroom to finally relax his body, expecting you to follow him. But you didn’t?

“Are you coming?” He shouted.

You poked your head from the hallway into the bedroom and looked at him nervously. “I forgot about the presentation, you go ahead and sleep and I will join you later.” You told him and ran to the living room to prepare your presentation.

The next morning Alhaitham woke up and noticed that you never really went to bed. So he headed out into the living room to see if you fell asleep there but you weren’t on the couch. He could see documents and papers stacked on the table and the couch but you weren’t there.

He looked for you in the rest of the rooms and still nothing. So he had no other choice but to ask his roommate if h e had seen you.

“Kaveh, have you seen [Name] today or last night?” Alhaitham shouted through the door.

Kaveh opened it and looked at the scribe a little confused.

“Yeah, last night around 4 in the morning. They were in the living room writing something. Why?”

“Well, they are nowhere to be seen.”

“What- let me check.” Said Kaveh, not believing that you would just disappear.

He walked into the living room scanning it when he heard Alhaitham speak up from behind him.

“Do you really believe that I would just miss them?”

That’s when Kaveh’s eyes focused on something - you…on the floor under the table.

“Yes, I believe.” Kaveh replied, pointing at your direction.

Alhaitham walked up to you and called out for you, but you didn’t bulge. So he sighted and picked you up, carrying you into your shared room and plopping you in bed.

(( _ _ ))..zzzZZ

Bonus: Jing Yuan

After working the whole day, not having time to even lift his head up, Jing Yuan loves to just lay in bed under the warm covers with pillows all over the place, hugging his lover.

While there is nothing in the universe that can make him even consider skipping cuddle times, there is one thing that can make you. The scorching heat. It’s warm, and you can’t stand it.

So when you go into bed that night you know that you will have to fight your way into freedom. But he just kept dragging you over to him again and again.

“It’s hot as hell in here I cannot handle the heat, just let me gooo…” you keep on trying to fight him off of you.

“Relax a little and you will cool down.” He whined, just wanting to sleep already.

“Let me go! You are like a heater!” You complain as you try to crawl out of his grasp, but to no avail.

He just grumbled and buried his face into your hair. You stopped moving for a moment and sighed. That’s when you pulled the ultimate move - the tornado. You started spinning in the direction opposite of him and in the process pulling a bit of his hair causing him to let go.

Which wasn’t exactly calculated in your plan…you straight up rolled off the bed and onto poor mimi who was sleeping on the floor right next to the bed.

She jumped and looked at you as if prepared to attack until she recognised your face in the dark and calmed down.

Meanwhile Jing Yuan crawled over and peeked his head to see what happened and started laughing at you.

“Very funny, yes, ha ha. Mimi almost bit my head off.” You said sarcastically.

“Are you really going to blame me for this?”

I felt like another part was needed, but idk if I should continue with this series or start another one. I do know that us fatui fans have been starved of fanfics so maybe I should add even more of them?

And yes we did have a special guest in this one ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

[teddybeartoji]

in my head shiu has a wife and a little daughter and they both absolutely ADORE toji. the kid always greets him with a big grin and a hug whenever he comes over and toji always brings her something sweet – he scoops her up into his arms while letting her talk his ears off about whatever she's into at the moment and he fucking loves it. he's nodding along and asking stupid questions to make her laugh while getting comfortable.

he's always more than welcome at their place. always. it is like a second home for him in a way. and the wife really does care for him – toji has been there for both her and shiu when they've had their ups and downs, he's always ready to help them out with whatever they might need, he's ready to do errands whenever shiu has to go out of town for work and he's always ready to babysit the kid.

because they're the only family he's got.

the kid makes him cards for every occasion and holiday and toji keeps them all in a very special drawer. the wife makes sure to gift him something nice for his birthday and for christmas, no matter how much he tries to tell her that it isn't necessary, that she should just buy something for the girl instead. but she always does it anyway and toji appreciates it more than she could ever imagine.

despite looking all big and tough, he will always play whatever games the kid wants to play – he will sit down behind the miniature table and he will drink the imaginary tea like it's his job. he lets her use him like a jungle gym and he will take pride in the little bursts of laughter that spill from her whenever he picks her up and places her on his shoulder. when the wife manages to snap a few candid picture of the two of them together, she always sends them to him without him having to ask. toji doesn't really thank her for it, but she knows.

the kid feels so safe with him and it's the sweetest sight. you couldn't possibly count all the times she has fallen asleep in his arms while resting her head on his shoulder when he's not even trying to put her to sleep or anything. it's cute.

whenever they have dinners or barbecues together, toji is quick to help with everything. he picks up the groceries and he chops up the vegetables and he 'scolds' the kid when she steals a few carrots from his cutting board. him and shiu will always bicker over the meat like an old married couple and the wife finds it so amusing. the friendship the two men have makes her incredibly happy, she's so grateful that shiu has somebody like toji in his life.

they're all always there for him, even when he claims that nothing is wrong. they invite him over to eat with them because they know he might not do so properly at home by himself and when they notice the bags under his eyes grow a little darker, they make sure to invite him over even more. they care for him, they love him. they consider toji to be a part of the family, too.

[sunnie-angel]

miss july you absolutely killed this fic (and me. i'm dead. deceased. cause of death: julymusings). tbh my only thought about the wound marinating for a half hour was "oh no, the ice cream is gonna melt" and not, you know, the medical side of things. i don't know how but you've captured such a specific anxious meltdown that i could feel myself getting worked up too (this is meant as a compliment). you deserve all the flwoers (and ice cream) for putting out this incredible thing, if it feels like i highlighted half the fic below, no i didn't but i was very tempted.

You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes.

miss july are you in my mind? are you living my life? are we the same person?

Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

there is something so visceral about this passage. i've never been in this exact situation and yet i feel like i have.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

can't defend myself, my brain just went hot here

You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut.

god the frustration is so real and palpable and catty. (honestly miss july, are you in my head bc this is almost exactly what my reaction would be in this scenario)

You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

you know how some people complain about how they can't get into x reader fic bc 'they wouldn't do that'? well i DON'T have that complaint bc this is literally me

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—” “Okay.”

jason trying to be nice and problem solve because he can sense there's a problem but he doesn't know what it is but by trying to be helpful he thinks he can maybe make it better? me. reader not having the emotional bandwidth to deal with his attempts to help and shutting him down before she can implode anymore? also me.

First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined.

real talk, i would be sobbing at this point. i don't care what kind of tricks jason has to get blood out of light coloured fabric, these pyjamas have now been tainted by the moment

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

this!!!!! oh my god when your mind is noticing but you're trying to not notice because then you'll spiral but you're already spiraling so all it does is make you feel guilty but because you're spiraling you don't have the emotions or energy to deal with the full weight of it so you're just back to guilt

You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out.

who hasn't been here before, am i right?

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

reader gets to exhale. it just feels like they've been holding their breath for the first part of the fic but now they can't anymore. this is the exhale, this is catharsis.

You know why.

jason, honey, sugar pie, darling. USE YOUR WORDS. YOUR ACTUAL WORDS

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe. There’s a half-pint of ice cream left in the freezer, you remember, and store that information for later.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[admirationandromantics]

Camping Date

So cute, so adorable, it's great! I love date ideas, whether it's a spa night, or going out. Already being an established couple takes out the awkwardness and uncertainty of it all, I think. My writing is not top notch at this time, so I have to apologise for that, but the fact that you still like stuff is absolutely marvellous. Thank you all for requests, and the fact that you read what I write. It's incredible, and I appreciate it so much!! <3

Word count: 1,8k (Unedited)

🍋‍🟩Hello skilful writer, imagine briefly mentioning in a group setting (around Josh) that you haven’t ever been camping before because your family wasn’t that type of family to go and you’d never got the opportunity and you get an invitation to the lodge during the summer just for a casual hangout thinking nothing of it. You are welcomed by Josh at the door and you’re surprised by the fact it’s so quiet and he said he just wanted to hang out with you, he covers your eyes with his hands while he leads you out to the back garden and there’s a lovely tent (not huge but enough space for sleeping bags, a fridge as well as a tv and console and you guys game and stuff, you’ve never felt so seen and he admits he has never felt what he feels with you (delusional, I know) -@b3rryb3t

“Yeah, I love mountain climbing, camping comes natural with that as well” Sam explains, taking a sip of her drink. I’m sitting on the floor, using the edge of the couch as back-support. Josh is sitting on the cushions next to me, occasionally reaching out his leg for me to give him some attention. 

“You know, setting up camp on a wall, looking out into the abyss, it’s gorgeous!” 

“Sounds a little too much like extreme sports to me” Jess chimes in. 

Everyone was sharing some types of camping stories, Josh and his family, Sam when climbing, Jess and Emily who were basically forced out because they needed family time. Mike told us about that one time he and the rest of the boys went, and we all listened with curious ears. 

“Well, Josh was the only one who really knew what to do, so while he fixed everything, we made the fire” 

“Wow, they made the fire like real men” Ashley whispers sarcastically to the other girls, and we all laugh. 

“Tell us, how much time did you use to get it going?” 

“Well…” 

Josh interrupts him with a scoff, leaning back on the couch as everyone’s eyes fall on him. 

“They didn’t manage, when I was done with setting up, they had at least used forty minutes, and weren’t even close blazing it up” 

Everyone starts laughing while Matt, Mike and Chris silently look down on the floor, not daring to say anything else. I shift my gaze upwards, leaning back against Josh’s leg. His hand comes down to stroke my hair, fingers tangling down until he reaches my neck. Thumb rubbing soft, warm circles as I lean my head back. 

“And what about you? Got any good camping stories?” 

I think back, but I can’t remember. My family never went, and usually my friends have gone on family holidays, so they couldn't exactly invite me. 

“Never gone camping before” 

“What?” Josh exclaims, a bit shocked. His fingers stop their attack, and I nudge his leg, urging him to continue. 

“Lucky” Emily says, letting Matt wrap a hand around her. 

“Why have you never gone?” Sam asks. These people really couldn’t imagine it. I keep my explanation short, urging them to keep talking about something else. 

“Never had a family like that, and most of my friends didn’t go either. Those who did went with the rest of their family” 

Everyone hums in reply, understanding the situation, and Josh finally resumes the massage. I turn my head, giving his knuckles a small kiss and smiling before turning to the others again. Sam suddenly gets a glint in her eyes, sitting a bit up and exclaiming. 

“We should go camping with the whole group sometime!” 

“No!” “Yes!” People shout out at the same time. Then everyone starts yelling at each other, explaining why or why not this would be a good idea. My hand finds its way to Josh’s leg, slithering around him and using it as a pillow while I sit beneath him. 

***

We’re walking up to the lodge, the path being much easier when there isn’t a bunch of ice and snow in the way. He invited me over for a “summer getaway”, the complete opposite of what we usually do. It’s still cold here, it’s a mountain after all, but we don’t need gloves nor huge jackets. Instead of dark pine trees and white ground, the surroundings are blooming in greens and flowers. The trees look much more lively when the sun shines down and brings their dark colours forth. 

“Okay, we’re here” Josh exclaims, stopping in front of the lodge. 

“The mountain is easier to climb in the summer” I state, looking around. I can’t get enough, the colours and atmosphere. Occasionally seeing a small animal, which normally would have frightened me, but now, feels completely natural. 

“It is, sorry to say, but you’ll not be able to see for a while” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You need to put this on” he says, holding a black piece of fabric in front of me. Usually, I would oblige at once, but considering we’re on a mountain with a bunch of wild animals. 

“Josh, I know I look good, but do you really think this is the place?” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he comes closer. His lips meet mine, caressing them with such tenderness, I can’t help but blush. It’s nice to know that even though we’ve been together for so long, he still makes me all giddy and flustered. As we kiss, I feel something heavy in front of my eyes, his hands making their way to the back of my head, fiddling with a knot. He tightens it, luckily not too tight, before leaning away and taking both my hands in his. 

“Okay, you need to trust me on this”

“Famous last words” I joke, and he snickers, walking backwards in front of me. He leads me away, a couple of turns and swings, occasionally having to tell me if there’s a road block. 

“You know, this is what people do when they’re about to kill someone” 

“Or take them very hard against a tree in the middle of the forest” he adds. 

“Hmm, wouldn’t be opposed to that idea” 

“Then I’ll keep it in mind” 

“Shit” I blurt out, leg walking into something which stumbles me. Josh is quick, letting me fall on him while one hand goes around my waist to hold me up. 

“Sorry, should’ve told you about that branch” 

“I hate being blind” 

“I’m kinda into it” 

“Of course you are” 

We continue a bit more, being even more careful than before. He keeps saying we’re almost there, and I can’t wait to see what he means. He explains each step, making sure that I’m prepared for everything. 

“Okay, this last one is a bit tricky, but you need to sit down” I nod, bending my knees before sitting completely down on the mossy ground. My feet are hanging down, signalling there’s a drop here. I wonder how far. He lets go of my hands, and I call out. 

“Yeah, I’m right down here, I need you to jump” 

“Josh, I can’t jump if I can’t see how far or where I’m going” 

“Yes you can, just trust me, come on” 

“Fuck” I mutter, the idea being terrifying. I take a breath, hands gripping the edge of the rock, scooching from the moss to the hard, stone edge. I jump, hands letting go and body in the air. I’m caught almost immediately, Hands going to my waist, slowly putting me down on the ground. I let out a breath of air, the thought was scarier than the fall. 

“You made me think it was much further down” 

“I didn’t say anything about the height” he laughs with a bit of a cocky attitude. I know he can’t see it but I roll my eyes. Gosh, were we almost there yet?

“Okay, we’re here” 

He moves behind me, hands on my waist, keeping me steady. I take off the fabric, the sunlight immediately blinding. A couple of seconds later, I’ve finally adjusted, and am met with a cozy tent. In the middle is a small fire, not lit yet, with a bunch of pillows and blankets all over. There’s a huge dark one between some trees, set up like a screen, with a projector set up right by it. Consoles are beside it, and a small portable ice-bag is laid next to the tent. 

I can’t even muster up words, everything being completely perfect and fixed. 

“Oh my god” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Josh I love it”

I turn to him, a loving smile on his lips as I capture them in mine. He did all of this for me. 

“Is this why you wanted to come up first?” 

“Well, had to set everything up” 

“I love you so incredibly much” 

He deepens the kiss, hand coming behind my head, pulling me closer. My arms fall around his shoulder, hugging him tightly. What a wonderful guy, I must be the luckiest girl on earth. 

“You said you’ve never been camping before, and I know having all this tech-stuff here is not quite traditional, but-”

“It’s amazing, I can’t believe you did this for me” 

I give him another small kiss, taking his hand and leading him into the area. Everything is planned out, the daylight slowly giving out already, making the projector visible. We sit down, and he opens a drink before handing it to me. The clearing is beautiful, rocky moss ground and trees. A little squirrel climbs up, curiously looking down at us. 

“How did you get the idea?” I ask, curious about his creativity. 

“Well, you told me you never had been camping before” 

My heart melts at the memory. A small thing, really, but he remembered it, and did something about it. He wanted me to have this experience, and he wanted to have it with the both of us. He walks up, turning on the projector and grabbing a couple of consoles before sitting back down beside me. 

“So, have you done this with a lot of people?” I ask teasingly, leaning against him as he takes a sip. 

“Nah, none have been that special. I’ve never quite felt before what I have with you” 

“Neither have I” 

He puts the drink down, hand going to my arm, urging me to do the same. I oblige, letting him lead me down, back pressed against the moss. His lips find mine, capturing them in a passionate manner. I open my mouth, letting my tongue roam over his lip. His hands wander over my body, groping and massaging every tender area. A small moan escapes my lips, and I feel him smile against me, slowly moving down to my exposed neck. 

I open my eyes a bit, seeing the squirrel watching intently. I almost let out a laugh from the sight, and use my fingers to nudge him in the side. 

“Josh…” “Mhmmm” he mumbles, continuously attacking my neck. He’s focused, working his mouth with magic. 

“Someone’s watching us” 

“What?” 

He stops immediately, looking around worriedly. I laugh, pointing up at the animal. He looks in the direction, a foul expression on his face as he notices. 

“Damn that thing” 

“You know, you have made so much ready here, let’s play a couple of games before spending the night in the tent” I tease, sitting up and taking another sip of my drink. 

“I promise you, no one sleeps well when camping” 

“Then it’s good we’re not planning on sleeping”

[rubyuji]

Full Throttle (Kim Mingyu) ϑ : 🏎️ 🏁 🛞

“Dinner? What makes you think I’m the kind of woman who falls for candlelight and compliments?” ᝰ.ᐟ

Genre: Slowburn, Fluff

AU: Formula One AU!

Pairing: Ferrari Driver!Kim Mingyu x Seungcheol’s Sister!Reader

Warnings: Cheating (not Mingyu though), nothing much honestly

Synopsis: Mingyu, Scuderia Ferrari’s rising star, has quickly captured attention both on and off the track. Fans can’t help but notice his pursuit of a familiar face in the paddock—Choi Y/N, the younger sister of veteran driver Choi Seungcheol—sparking buzz about a potential romance brewing in the F1 world.

Note: Hi everyone! It's been quite some time since I published anything here since I was so preoccupied with school and F1 (which explains why this is an F1 fic you feel me). Anyway, I'm so glad to be back on here, and I hope you enjoy my fellow F1 and Kpop nerd besties. Don't forget to like + reblog as a form of support for me and other writers!

W.C: 12.9k (Holy shit ???)

Everyone knows breaking into Formula One is no small feat. It takes years of relentless dedication, countless hours on the track, and significant financial investment to secure sponsors and world-class training.

Add to that the sheer exclusivity of the sport—only 20 seats are available globally—and the odds are anything but favorable. 

For Kim Mingyu, however, the dream became a reality. His rise through the motorsport ranks, culminating in a dominant streak in Formula 2, had not gone unnoticed. It felt surreal when Scuderia Ferrari extended an offer for him to join their team.

From karting as a wide-eyed child with ambitions of professional racing to earning a seat at one of Formula One’s most prestigious teams in just his second season, it was a story worthy of the history books.

“Kim Mingyu does it again! What an incredible performance in his second season, claiming his first win at the Italian Grand Prix in Imola!”

The commentator’s voice reverberated through the circuit, electric with excitement as Mingyu crossed the finish line in his Ferrari, trailed closely by his teammate, Jeon Jungkook, and Red Bull Racing’s Choi Seungcheol.

“P1, Kim! What an absolute day. You fought brilliantly, mate,” his race engineer, Eunwoo, radioed in, pride evident in his voice.

Behind the visor of his helmet, Mingyu grinned, his heart pounding with exhilaration. As he drove his victory lap, he raised a hand to wave at the roaring fans in the grandstand, soaking in the moment.

This wasn’t just a race—it was proof that years of sacrifice, grit, and belief in his abilities had paid off.

“Congrats, Mingyu! You crushed it!” Minghao cheered, slapping Mingyu’s helmet affectionately before pulling him into a bear hug.

Jeon Jungkook, who had finished just behind him in P2, was quick to join the celebration. As his teammate and closest friend, Jungkook beamed with pride, clapping Mingyu on the back as they made their way to the podium together.

The air was electric as champagne sprayed over the three drivers, their laughter mingling with the thunderous cheers of the crowd. For Mingyu, it felt like a dream—a surreal, euphoric moment frozen in time.

Standing on the podium, the magnitude of his achievement began to sink in. If this was what victory felt like, he was determined to make the podium his second home for the rest of the season. 

As he gazed out over the roaring fans, one thought crystallized in his mind: becoming a world champion wasn’t just a dream anymore—it was his next goal.

“Congratulations on your first podium, Mingyu!” The reporter greeted him with a warm smile as he stepped off the podium.

“That was a phenomenal performance, especially this early in the season. After qualifying P19 and missing out in Q2, how did it feel to work your way up to P1 from such a position and then maintain the lead to secure the win?”

Mingyu paused, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears, as he prepared to relive the race that had just changed his life forever. He smiled earnestly at the camera, still feeling as if he was on cloud nine. 

“It’s an absolute honor,” Mingyu said, the adrenaline from his victory still coursing through him.

“Honestly, I expected to stay within the top ten threshold like I did in my first season, but somehow, I managed to push through and claim P1. I gave it everything I had out there. I’m incredibly grateful to secure this win, especially with such an amazing team supporting me every step of the way, and to achieve this in just my second season—it feels surreal.”

The reporter nodded, thanking him for his time before Mingyu was ushered to another group of journalists. Question after question about the race flowed his way, from strategies to pivotal moments.

By the time the interviews concluded and Mingyu finally made it back to his hotel, he felt utterly drained.

“Good job, Mingyu! Second season and already a first-place finish—you’ve proven your potential in the best way possible,” Minghao, his manager and best friend, said with a grin as they walked into the hotel room.

Mingyu sank into the nearest chair with a deep sigh, exhaustion catching up to him. From starting P19 on the grid to crossing the finish line in P1, it had been a grueling but rewarding weekend. The memory of every overtaking move and every strategic call from the pit crew replayed in his mind.

He knew maintaining this level of performance would be crucial if he wanted to achieve the ultimate goal: becoming a world champion.

“Finally made it to the podium, but how does he still not have a girlfriend?” Seokmin’s teasing voice echoed from the other side of the room as he lounged on the couch.

“Did you see how some of those reporters kept trying to dig into his love life? They were relentless! It was hilarious watching him answer every question about qualifying or race strategy with confidence, but then totally shut down when someone asked if he had a special someone waiting to celebrate with him. Or better yet, if he’d date a fan!”

Mingyu couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “I just wanted to talk about racing, but they always find a way to steer it into personal territory.”

“Don’t worry, Mingyu,” Minghao chimed in with a laugh.

“You’ve got bigger things to focus on—like keeping that P1 streak alive. Love life or not, the entire grid knows you’re the one to watch this season.”

Mingyu smiled faintly, the weight of expectations pressing lightly on his shoulders. Despite the exhaustion from the weekend, the thrill of victory reignited the fire within him.

This was just the beginning, and he was determined to keep climbing.

Grabbing a pillow, Mingyu then launched it across the room with a smirk.

“Is it seriously a requirement to have a girlfriend around here?” he quipped, watching as Seokmin dodged dramatically, letting the pillow bounce harmlessly off the window.

“I know I’m hot, but my time will come sooner or later. I guess the internet just can’t handle the fact that a sexy racer is single,” he added, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Minghao and Seokmin burst into laughter, their snorts filling the room. Mingyu rolled his eyes at their reaction, though he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

Ever since his Formula One debut, he had earned the title “King of Visuals” on the grid—a moniker bestowed by fans who were captivated by his striking looks and undeniable charm.

So when he casually admitted during an interview that he was one of the few single drivers on the grid, the revelation had spread like wildfire across social media.

Memes, hashtags, and fan cams flooded every platform, leaving fans reeling with equal parts disbelief and excitement.

Mingyu had unwittingly become the internet’s favorite enigma—a talented driver with looks that could kill and no one to call his “special someone.”

“I guess being single just adds to the mystery,” Minghao teased, nudging Seokmin.

“Or the drama,” Seokmin shot back, winking at Mingyu.

Mingyu groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “If only winning races caused this much chaos,” he muttered, though a faint smile lingered on his lips.

Fans were relentless, swarming Mingyu at every opportunity—asking him out on dates, flirting shamelessly, or even making bold moves in the paddock.

While he’d be lying if he said a few gorgeous fans hadn’t caught his eye, Mingyu remained firm in his priorities.

He wasn’t opposed to dating; he simply wanted to let things flow naturally. Right now, his focus was on himself and building a career that was still in its infancy.

Not everyone believed his resolve, though.

“I doubt Mingyu will stay single for long,” Minghao said with a sly grin. “I caught him staring at Choi Seungcheol’s sister right before qualifying on Saturday.”

Mingyu froze, his jaw tightening as the memory resurfaced. He had noticed a stunning woman at the Red Bull garage, her presence impossible to ignore.

Her confidence was magnetic, her aura so captivating that he’d found himself stealing glances in spite of himself.

“What?” Mingyu’s voice rose in disbelief. “That woman talking to Jeonghan at the Mercedes garage is Seungcheol’s sister?” His eyes widened comically.

Minghao’s smirk deepened as Seokmin stifled a laugh.

Mingyu felt a chill run down his spine as the realization hit him. This wasn’t just any woman—this was Choi Y/n, a renowned model and the younger sister of his current rival, two-time world champion Choi Seungcheol.

And if that wasn’t enough, she was also infamous for her high-profile breakup with Jeon Wonwoo, a long-standing Mercedes driver whose questionable reputation had only worsened after their split.

The weight of it all sank in, leaving Mingyu feeling lightheaded. If he so much as looked at Y/n for a second too long, let alone entertain the thought of dating her, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The media would have a field day, and Seungcheol would probably want his head.

“Relax, Mingyu,” Minseo’s voice rang out as she strolled into the room unannounced.

Mingyu groaned inwardly at the sight of his younger sister, whose knack for knowing everyone’s business on the grid was unmatched.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she continued casually, “Y/n prefers to keep her private life actually private. She’s been clearing up the mess with Wonwoo, but fans are still warring over her. Not that I blame them—imagine getting cheated on, kept in the dark, and then watching your ex parade his new girlfriend around right after the breakup. Absolute trash behavior.”

Mingyu scowled. “Great. My life was already complicated, and now you’re giving me the full exposé on Choi Y/n.”

Minseo shrugged, completely unfazed. “You brought me here, genius. If you didn’t want the gossip, you should’ve left me at home.”

Mingyu groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Please, tell me more, oh esteemed and most beloved F2 wag,” he quipped sarcastically, earning a snort from Seokmin.

Minseo rolled her eyes, unfazed by the title. She had gained quite the reputation for her insider knowledge, thanks to dating Lee Chan, a rising star in F2 and the McLaren driver academy.

Mingyu had no one but himself to blame—he’d introduced her to the world of other F1 and F2 wags, unknowingly giving her a front-row seat to the intricate web of grid drama.

“Don’t be mad because I know things,” Minseo teased, crossing her arms.

“Besides, you’ll thank me when you need the inside scoop on how to avoid getting on Seungcheol’s bad side.”

Mingyu groaned again, burying his face in his hands. Racing might be his job, but navigating the social minefield of the paddock was starting to feel like an entirely different sport.

Minseo plopped down beside her older brother on the bed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “She’s a tough nut to crack, I’ll give you that,” she began, nudging him lightly.

“Jiheon told me she’s here for one reason only: to support her brother. She’s not looking for anything romantic, especially after what her ex put her through. If you’re hoping to catch her attention, Gyu, you’re going to need to be more than just a hotshot driver with a nice smile.”

As Mingyu groaned, Minseo pulled out her phone, her expression turning thoughtful.

“Honestly, I look up to her. Y/n’s the type of woman who’s got it all—well-educated, graceful, kind, and, let’s be real, totally charming. Spending the weekend with her and the other wags was eye-opening. She’s not just beautiful; she’s smart and grounded, too. You’d better bring your A-game because she’s not going to fall for someone who’s only about muscles and pole positions.”

Minseo paused dramatically before adding, “Oh, and let’s not forget—she just got out of a toxic relationship with Jeon Wonwoo, the guy everyone calls the next Lewis Hamilton. She’s not exactly eager to dive into another mess.”

Mingyu grimaced, running a hand through his hair as her words sank in. He couldn’t deny the truth in them.

The paddock had been buzzing a year ago when the news broke that Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend—none other than Choi Y/n—had been the one he cheated on.

The revelation had sent shockwaves through both the racing world and social media, making Wonwoo public enemy number one for a while.

But time, as it always does, had softened the uproar. Wonwoo’s reputation for brilliance behind the wheel had gradually eclipsed the whispers about his personal life.

On the track, results often spoke louder than scandals, and the noise had all but faded into the background.

Still, the thought of trying to win over someone like Y/n—a woman with her own storied history and a grace that made her untouchable—felt daunting. Mingyu sighed, leaning back on the bed.

“Why do I feel like this is going to be harder than winning a championship?” he muttered under his breath.

Minseo chuckled, her teasing grin returning. “Because it is. But hey, maybe if you stop grimacing and start acting like the guy everyone thinks you are, you might have a shot.”

Seokmin, who had been quietly observing, chimed in with a laugh. “No pressure, though. You’re only competing with her brother’s protective instincts, her ex’s reputation, and, oh yeah, the rest of the paddock. Easy, right?”

Mingyu groaned again, throwing a pillow at Seokmin. “You’re not helping.”

There were undeniable pros to asking you out.

First, you were single and finally free after healing from a traumatic relationship. Second, he had an unexpected advantage—his younger sister, Minseo, who already seemed to have a friendly rapport with you.

But the cons? Oh, the cons were enough to give even someone as bold as Mingyu pause.

You were practically an untouchable goddess in the paddock, your presence commanding attention and reverence.

Mingyu wasn’t oblivious to the fact that other drivers—some of them far more experienced and decorated than him—were already vying for your attention.

To make matters worse, dating you could throw a wrench into his carefully curated reputation.

You weren’t just anyone; you were Choi Seungcheol’s sister and Jeon Wonwoo’s infamous ex.

For a rookie still carving out his place in Formula One, the optics of dating a rival’s sister, much less a former wag, were a minefield.

Mingyu could hear the whispering headlines already. "Rookie Kim Mingyu entangles himself in paddock drama!" It wasn’t the kind of attention he needed so early in his career.

Yet, there was an undeniable pull—a magnetic allure he couldn’t ignore.

He mulled over the idea, torn between his cautious side and the part of him that thrived on risks.

After all, wasn’t risk-taking how he’d clawed his way into Formula One in the first place? ‘Fuck it,’ he thought to himself, but the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him.

Even with all the confidence in the world, this wasn’t a decision he could make lightly.

“Just give it a go, man. You can prove yourself worthy and treat her better,” Seokmin said, breaking Mingyu’s spiral of thoughts. His friend’s voice was casual, but the words hit with the force of an ultimatum.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d faced impossible odds before, betting on himself when no one else did.

He wasn’t afraid of a challenge—Formula One had taught him that much. But this? This wasn’t just about proving himself on the track.

This was about putting his heart on the line, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to gamble.

Still, a spark of determination flared in his chest. If he was going to take this leap, he’d do it the only way he knew how— flat out, full throttle, no looking back.

After all, Mingyu didn’t just race to win; he raced because he thrived on the thrill of defying expectations. Maybe this was just another race he needed to run.

“You should talk to her at the after-party tomorrow. It’s your chance to ask her out once we’re back in Monaco,” Minseo teased with a mischievous glint in her eye, a snort escaping her as she nudged Mingyu’s arm.

Minghao didn’t miss the opportunity to join in, giving Mingyu a knowing look. “She’s right. You’ve got an opening—don’t waste it,” he added, smirking as Mingyu rolled his eyes in exasperation.

The thought of asking you out swirled in his mind, accompanied by flashes of possible scenarios.

You, like Mingyu, currently called Monaco home, a city tailor-made for romance and spectacle.

Mingyu’s mind toyed with ideas—maybe he’d take you out on his yacht, letting the waves of the Mediterranean set the mood, or perhaps a drive around the glittering streets of the principality, culminating in an unforgettable night of vibrant nightlife.

But before he could settle on anything, Minseo shattered his daydreams.

“If you’re genuinely thinking about bringing her out on your yacht, save yourself the trouble. Y/n’s a simple girl,” she remarked, shaking her head.

“She’d prefer a nice dinner with a stunning view and a good glass of wine.”

Mingyu let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Well, that makes things easier. I owe you one,” he said, genuinely grateful for the insight. The last thing he wanted was to overdo it and come off as trying too hard.

On the day of the after-party, Mingyu is scrambling to look his best. He puts on a sleeveless black Vetements top and a pair of black cargo jeans, finishing the look off with tinted glasses. Mingyu hears a whistle from behind him as Minghao laughs.

As he adjusted the glasses in the mirror, he heard a low whistle from behind him.

Minghao, leaning casually against the doorway, burst into laughter. “Look at you, pulling out all the stops. You sure you’re not overthinking this?”

Mingyu smirked, glancing back at his friend. “You can laugh all you want, but first impressions matter. Besides,” he added, tugging on the hem of his top, “I’m not taking any chances.”

Minghao grinned and gave him a pat on the back. “Relax. Just be yourself, and you’ll be fine. And hey, if all else fails, at least you’ll look good while striking out.”

With a groan and a shake of his head, Mingyu grabbed his jacket and headed out.

Tonight wasn’t just another party—it was an opportunity, and he was determined not to let it slip through his fingers.

At the club, Mingyu felt a rare mix of excitement and nerves bubbling beneath his cool exterior.

The pulsing lights and bass-heavy music only amplified the electric energy of the night. He’d decided to be optimistic about his chances, reminding himself that confidence was key. After all, wasn’t that what got him into Formula One?

When he spotted you speaking to Minseo near the bar, he knew it was his moment. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his tinted glasses and ran a hand through his hair.

This was his chance to make an impression, and he wasn’t about to waste it.

As he approached, Mingyu couldn’t help but pause for a brief second to take you in. The flashing club lights danced across your figure, highlighting every elegant detail of your appearance.

You were a vision—draped in a sleek black mini-dress that hugged you perfectly, accentuating your silhouette.

Your hair was styled in a loose bun, soft tendrils framing your face in an effortlessly alluring way. But it was your lips—a stunning shade of red—that truly stopped him in his tracks.

Mingyu felt his throat tighten for a moment as he struggled to gather himself. Keep it together, Gyu, he thought. You’ve driven at 300 kilometers per hour—this is nothing.

But somehow, approaching you felt infinitely more nerve-wracking than overtaking a rival on the track.

Minseo caught sight of him first, giving her brother a subtle but encouraging nod. You followed her gaze, and when your eyes met his, Mingyu felt the rest of the club melt away.

The noise, the crowd, the lights—all of it seemed to fade as a small, curious smile graced your lips.

With renewed determination, Mingyu straightened his posture, his confidence returning. He flashed you a smile and closed the distance between you.

“Mind if I join the conversation?” he asked, his voice smooth but slightly tinged with nervous energy.

You tilted your head slightly, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Well, if Minseo vouches for you, I suppose I can spare a few minutes,” you replied, your tone playful but inviting.

As you exchanged introductions and began chatting, Mingyu found himself relaxing. You were warm and genuine, your laughter lighting up the room in a way that made him forget the pressure of the moment.

And for the first time that night, he realized something important: this wasn’t just about taking a chance—it was about truly connecting. And so far, it seemed like he was off to a good start.

“So, Mingyu,” you began, your voice silky and low, “what makes you think you can just waltz over here and steal away all of my attention? I’m sure there are plenty of women in this club waiting for you to flash that grin their way.”

Mingyu’s lips quirked into a confident smile, but there was a softness in his gaze. “Maybe, but they’re not you. Something about you, Y/n... You make this rookie want to risk it all.”

Your eyebrow arched, your expression playful yet enigmatic. “Risk it all?” You tilted your head, letting your gaze linger on him for a moment too long, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Bold words for someone who doesn’t even know what I like to drink.”

He chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping to match yours. “Let me guess—red wine. Something deep, bold, and unapologetic, just like you.”

You smiled, clearly pleased but refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not bad,” you murmured, sipping your wine, your eyes fixed on him over the rim of your glass.

“But knowing my drink won’t get you very far. Impressing me takes more than pretty words and that charming smile, Mingyu.”

He straightened, undeterred, his grin widening. “Dinner in Monaco. Just you and me. Let me show you I’m more than just words.”

Your laugh was low and sultry, sending his heart racing. “Dinner? What makes you think I’m the kind of woman who falls for candlelight and compliments?” You leaned closer, your perfume intoxicating.

“You’ll need to earn my time, Mingyu. I don’t waste it on anyone who can’t keep up with me.”

The challenge was clear, but something was inviting in your tone—a test wrapped in flirtation. “So, what do you say?” he asked, his confidence unshaken.

You tapped a finger against your glass, pretending to deliberate, though the glint in your eye gave away your amusement.

“Alright, rookie. Impress me tonight, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll consider giving you my time. But I don’t make promises.”

Before he could respond, the moment was interrupted by the presence of two figures approaching from behind him.

Wonwoo and Jeonghan stood there, their expressions unreadable but charged with unspoken warnings.

“Kim Mingyu,” Wonwoo’s voice was smooth, yet there was an edge to it. “Got a minute?”

You stepped back gracefully, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “Don’t let them scare you off, Mingyu. I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

You chuckle, turn, and disappear into the crowd, leaving him to face the two seasoned drivers.

Jeonghan was the first to speak, his usual teasing demeanor masked by a surprising edge.

“Y/n’s... a handful, you know. Complicated in the best and worst ways. You sure you want to dive into that?” His smirk was still there, but his tone hinted at something deeper.

“She’s nothing like any of those ditsy admirers you have, by the way,” Wonwoo interjected, his voice clipped and direct.

“And if you’re thinking of making a move, tread carefully. She’s been through more than you can imagine, and she doesn’t need someone messing around in her life just to back out when it gets tough.”

Mingyu shifted his weight, unfazed by their words. His voice was steady, almost challenging.

“I know about what happened between you two,” he said, looking directly at Wonwoo.

“And I know how much it hurt her. But I’m not here to bring her more pain. If anything, I want to be the one who treats her the way she deserves.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. The weight of Mingyu’s words seemed to hang in the air, his sincerity impossible to ignore.

Jeonghan leaned closer, his smirk deepening as he let out a low chuckle.

“Big words, rookie. Do you think just because you’re sweet-talking us here, you’ll get a free pass? Let me tell you something—Y/n’s not a charity case, and she doesn’t need saving. She’s been doing just fine without you or anyone else.”

“I’m not trying to save her,” Mingyu replied firmly.

“I just... I see her, and I know what I want. She deserves someone who sees her for who she is, not what she’s been through. And I’m willing to prove I’m that guy.”

Jeonghan’s teasing expression softened just slightly, though the glint in his eyes remained.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But this isn’t a race where all you need is speed and a good strategy. This is Y/n. You fumble, and you’re out—not just with her, but with the rest of us watching from the sidelines.”

“Noted,” Mingyu said, his confidence unwavering.

“But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this sport, it’s that the best rewards come from the biggest risks. And Y/n? She’s worth it.”

Wonwoo’s expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something—reluctant respect, perhaps—passed through his eyes.

“If you’re serious, you better be ready. She doesn’t give second chances, and she doesn’t forgive easily.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to,” Mingyu replied simply. Jeonghan clapped a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, his grin widening.

“Well, rookie, if you’re that determined, good luck. You’re going to need it.” His tone was light, but the underlying warning was clear.

As they walked away, Mingyu exhaled, his resolve only growing stronger. This wasn’t about proving himself to the others—it was about proving himself to Y/n.

You were a challenge unlike any he’d faced before, but he was determined to show you that he was ready for whatever it took. For you, he was willing to take the risk—and win.

The low rumble of the Ferrari 812 Superfast filled your ears as you gazed out at the glittering Monaco skyline.

The sleek red car sliced through the winding streets, the hum of its engine almost hypnotic.

You weren’t about to admit it, but the smooth ride and his confident handling of the car were mildly impressive—though it also stirred an uncomfortable familiarity.

Your ex had loved the showy grandiosity of moments like this. The high-end cars, the breathtaking views, and the carefully curated settings screamed perfection but felt empty beneath the surface. A part of you braced for the same facade now.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Mingyu said, breaking the silence. His hand rested casually on the steering wheel, but his tone was laced with amusement.

“I’m just admiring the ride,” you replied coolly, turning to face him. “You really leaned into the whole Monaco-Ferrari cliché. Should I be flattered?”

He chuckled, casting you a glance before focusing back on the road. “It’s not a cliché if it works. But if the car isn’t enough, maybe the destination will be.”

You allowed yourself a faint smile but didn’t respond, letting the glittering city lights distract you.

As the car climbed higher, the roads became quieter and more secluded. When the car finally came to a stop, Mingyu stepped out quickly, moving around to open your door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said, extending a hand with a boyish grin. You raised an eyebrow but accepted his hand, stepping out gracefully.

The view before you was breathtaking—a cozy, secluded restaurant perched on a cliff, its warm lights spilling out onto a terrace that overlooked the entire harbor. The sea stretched endlessly into the night, reflecting the twinkling city lights.

“Points for effort,” you said lightly, brushing off your dress, though the scene tugged at something buried deep in your chest.

Inside, the restaurant was intimate, far from the prying eyes of the world. Your table was set at the very edge of the terrace, offering an unobstructed view of Monaco’s skyline. The warm evening breeze and soft glow of the lanterns set a perfect scene.

“You like to impress, don’t you?” you asked as you settled into your seat, your fingers lightly brushing the stem of your wine glass.

He shrugged with that same confident grin. “I just wanted the setting to match the company.”

You laughed softly, swirling the dark liquid in your glass. “Flattery, Mingyu? I would’ve thought you’d try something more original.”

“I’m not flattering you,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “Just being honest.”

That made you pause. There was a sincerity in his tone that caught you off guard, and for a moment, your playful smirk faltered.

It reminded you of the early days with your ex, back when he’d been convincing enough to make you believe in his charm. But unlike before, this didn’t feel rehearsed.

“Do you always go to this much trouble for a girl you barely know?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you set your glass down.

“Only for the ones who are worth it,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady.

Your heart tightened, the old wounds from your past relationship threatening to surface.

Your ex had always said the right things too—until the truth unraveled, and you realized how hollow those words had been.

But as you held Mingyu’s gaze, you couldn’t find the cracks you’d learned to expect. His determination wasn’t about ego; it was quieter, steadier.

“And what exactly are you expecting in return?” you asked, your voice soft but challenging.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Except a chance. A chance to show you I’m serious.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of pretense. But all you found was earnestness, and it unnerved you.

“Maybe,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “Maybe I’ll consider it.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a satisfied smile, but he didn’t push further.

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable rhythm, the playful edge between you softened by something deeper.

When you slid back into the car for the drive home, you caught yourself stealing glances at him.

He didn’t need to fill the silence with charm or bravado, and for the first time, you wondered if he might actually be different.

The thought scared you—but it also left you with something unfamiliar. Hope. Maybe this rookie was more than just a fleeting moment—and maybe, just maybe, you’d let yourself find out.

After dinner, the night air was cool as Mingyu opened the car door for you once again, the hum of the car coming to life beneath his touch.

Instead of heading straight back, he took a turn that led deeper into the illuminated streets of Monte Carlo.

“Where are we going?” you asked, a curious edge to your voice.

“It’s too early to end the night,” he replied, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Monte Carlo at night was a masterpiece—its streets glowing with golden light, the harbor dotted with yachts shimmering like jewels, and the gentle hum of the nightlife echoing in the distance.

The Ferrari’s engine purred as Mingyu navigated the winding roads, his confidence behind the wheel evident in every turn.

The windows were slightly down, and the cool breeze swept through your hair as you leaned back in the seat, the city lights painting your features in soft hues.

From his side, Mingyu stole a glance at you, his heart skipping at how serene you looked.

For someone who carried such an untouchable aura, there was an undeniable warmth in moments like this.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft, “you’re really something.”

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Something? That’s a little vague, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “Alright, let me be specific. You’re beautiful, but not just in the obvious way. It’s… the way you carry yourself, the way you challenge me. It’s magnetic.”

You looked away, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks as you tried to play it off with a small laugh.

“Careful, Mingyu. Keep saying things like that, and I might start believing you.”

The car slowed as he pulled into a quiet overlook, the city sprawling out before you in a sea of light.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the only sound the distant hum of the nightlife below.

“I used to love nights like this,” you said suddenly, your voice softer than before. “When everything felt… simple. Before it all got so complicated.”

Mingyu turned to you, sensing the shift in your tone. “You mean before—?”

“Before everything,” you interrupted gently. “The spotlight. The rumors. People assuming they know you because of headlines. It’s exhausting.”

There was a vulnerability in your words that he hadn’t seen before, and it made his chest tighten.

“You don’t have to carry all that alone, you know.”

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of pity but finding only sincerity. It caught you off guard, and for the first time that night, you let yourself relax completely.

“Maybe,” you said softly, echoing your earlier words from dinner. “Maybe I don’t.”

The drive back to your place was quieter, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy. Instead, it was comfortable, the two of you lost in your own thoughts as the city passed by in a blur of light and shadow.

When he finally pulled up to your building, you hesitated for a moment before unbuckling your seatbelt.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice warmer than before. “I… I had a good time.”

Mingyu smiled, leaning slightly toward you. “So, does that mean I get another chance?”

You didn’t answer right away, stepping out of the car instead and turning back to face him with a playful smirk. “We’ll see.”

With that, you disappeared inside, leaving him grinning like an idiot.

When Mingyu got home, he found Minseo lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he walked in, immediately catching the glow on his face.

“So?” she asked, sitting up eagerly. “How’d it go?”

Mingyu flopped onto the couch beside her, running a hand through his hair with a dreamy smile. “It was perfect. She’s… amazing.”

Minseo smirked, nudging him playfully. “Did you tell her how much you like her?”

“Not yet,” he admitted, his smile softening. “But I think she’s starting to let me in. Slowly.”

“Well, don’t screw it up,” Minseo teased, though her tone was affectionate. “I like her already.”

Mingyu chuckled, leaning back and closing his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. And as he replayed the night in his head, he couldn’t wait to see where this road would take him.

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the energy in the paddock was electric.

The iconic views of the harbor, the glamorous yachts, and the bustling atmosphere of the streets, combined with the sounds of engines revving and the anticipation of one of the most prestigious races of the season, made for a thrilling backdrop.

Inside the Ferrari hospitality suite, fans were buzzing with excitement, but it wasn’t just the drivers who caught their attention that day.

As the crowd navigated the high-end lounge, all eyes were drawn to Mingyu, who, as usual, effortlessly commanded attention with his tall, lean frame and charismatic smile.

But what had people talking was the stunning woman standing beside him.

You, dressed in an elegant white silk dress with subtle touches of gold—perfectly matching the Monaco glamour—were engaged in a conversation with Mingyu.

Your laughter blended with the excitement of the moment, and the two of you were noticeably close, almost as if the world outside didn’t exist.

There was a natural ease between you, one that made it impossible to deny the undeniable chemistry sparking between you and Mingyu.

As the two of you shared an inside joke, the fans watching couldn't help but whisper among themselves.

Who is she? Is she a lucky charm? The murmurs quickly turned into something more salacious as the gossip began to spread like wildfire.

Wait... isn’t that Y/N? Wonwoo's ex? Some fans gasped, clearly recognizing you from the rumors that had circulated about your past relationship with the Mercedes driver. I thought she was with him, but now she’s with Mingyu?

The whispers grew louder, some speculating that Mingyu had bagged Wonwoo’s ex—someone who had been publicly cheated on.

Others were wondering if it was all some sort of calculated move. She’s with Mingyu now? After everything that happened with Wonwoo?

It was impossible to ignore the buzz around you, but you and Mingyu remained blissfully unaware of the growing gossip.

You were so absorbed in each other, lost in your private world, that the fans’ prying eyes went unnoticed.

But those murmurs were starting to spread rapidly, and no one dared to ask aloud, too caught up in the electric chemistry between you two.

Still, the tension in the air was palpable, the fans too intrigued by the dynamic unfolding before them.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of familiar eyes had been quietly watching from a distance.

Wonwoo, strolling alongside Seungcheol and his teammate Woozi, caught sight of the two of you as he passed by.

His step faltered for a brief moment, his gaze lingering longer than he intended.

His heart skipped, not out of jealousy, but something much more inexplicable.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of something—what was it? Curiosity? Longing? Before he could process the feeling, Seungcheol, ever observant, raised an eyebrow and asked with a smirk, "Who’s the lucky guy?"

"Is it Mingyu?" Woozi added, clearly noticing the dynamic between you and Mingyu.

Wonwoo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply shrugged it off, turning his focus back to the upcoming day’s events. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Back inside the hospitality suite, you slowly began to let your guard down, the intoxicating ambiance of Monaco, mingled with Mingyu's easy-going nature, allowing you to feel more at ease.

It wasn’t often that you felt so relaxed around someone, but Mingyu had a way of making everything feel effortless.

Your conversation flowed like a river, the outside world fading away.

However, with a glance at the clock, you quickly realized that it was time for you to head to the Red Bull Hospitality before the qualifying session.

"I’ll let you get ready for qualifying, Gyu. I’ll be in the Paddock Club cheering you on," you said with a small, warm smile.

Mingyu smiled, his eyes sparkling with appreciation.

"Good luck to me, then. I’ll see you after!" he teased, but there was an undeniable warmth in his voice.

As you made your way toward the exit, your heart fluttered a little, but you pushed the feeling down, knowing Mingyu had his focus on the track.

Meanwhile, the buzz in the hospitality had only grown, fans whispering about the connection they had witnessed between the two of you.

The moment qualifying ended, the energy in the paddock shifted. The Ferrari garage erupted in cheers as Mingyu claimed pole position in a spectacular performance.

The roar of the crowd and the camera flashes filled the air, but Mingyu’s mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking of you, and only you.

However, you had made it clear earlier that you didn’t want anyone to know about the arrangement between you and him. It was a secret that had to be kept, at least for now.

The media and fans were already speculating about the connection they’d seen in the hospitality suite, and you didn’t want to fuel the rumors just yet.

After the qualifying session, you quickly slipped away from the Paddock Club hospitality and headed to Parc Fermé.

Mingyu had specifically asked you to meet him there, away from the prying eyes of the paddock.

You approached the secured area where the cars were lined up, careful not to attract attention.

Mingyu, still in his Ferrari racing suit, was surrounded by his team, but his eyes immediately found you in the crowd. He gave you a small, knowing smile, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

You walked toward him, heart racing in anticipation. "Congrats on pole, Mingyu," you whispered, your voice soft yet full of warmth.

"Thanks," he replied quietly, glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride for him, but you both knew that you had to keep things discreet.

His fingers brushed against yours briefly before he quickly pulled his hand back, a silent reminder of the arrangement you were trying to keep secret.

The chemistry between you two was undeniable, but in this world, it had to remain in the shadows for now.

Before you could say anything else, a familiar face appeared—your brother, Seungcheol. He was making his way toward the press conference area, and his eyes swept over the scene in front of him.

You straightened up quickly, knowing you needed to distance yourself from Mingyu before Seungcheol noticed.

Mingyu nodded subtly in understanding, backing away a few steps to give you space.

"Good luck tomorrow," you said quietly, not wanting to make a scene. "I’ll be cheering for you from the Red Bull Garage."

Mingyu’s smile was both grateful and a little teasing. "I’ll see you there."

With one last glance, you turned and left, making your way toward the crowd, careful not to look back.

Back in the Red Bull hospitality suite, you tried to focus on the race, but your thoughts kept drifting to Mingyu and the moment you shared a few minutes ago.

His performance, his quiet smile, the brief touch of his hand—it all felt electric.

You had just taken your seat when you saw a familiar figure outside, weaving through the crowd. It was Mingyu.

He was making his way toward the Red Bull hospitality suite, without a care and with a determined look on his face.

Fans, noticing the connection between you two, whispered to each other as he walked past, but he didn’t seem to care.

Mingyu wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was looking for you. He was coming for you, and you admired the boldness.

Your ex usually kept you under wraps, but Mingyu was determined.

As he entered, his eyes immediately found yours. Without a word, he walked over to you, a warm smile on his lips, his presence making your heart flutter.

"Ready for tomorrow? I just finished my interviews so I could come visit before my meeting," he asked softly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"I am now, you shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble, you know?" you replied, giving him a small smile, feeling the energy between the two of you intensify.

The murmurs around the room had grown louder, and the whispers that started with Mingyu and the girl from Ferrari soon shifted toward something more intriguing.

Wait a minute... Isn’t she... A fan who had been observing the two of you pointed to you and then to a familiar face in the paddock.

"Isn’t she... Wonwoo's ex-girlfriend?"

The conversation quickly spread, as fans began to piece together your past. Oh, that’s her—Seungcheol’s sister, right?

The whispers turned into speculation, with fans recalling the well-known drama surrounding your breakup with Wonwoo.

Wait... isn’t she the one he cheated on? The room buzzed with theories. So she’s with Mingyu now?

Some fans couldn’t help but wonder if Mingyu had stolen her away after the public mess with Wonwoo. What happened between them?

The gossip was relentless, with fans scrambling to connect the dots of your past relationship with Wonwoo and the secretive interaction they had just witnessed between you and Mingyu.

The more they talked, the more the pieces seemed to fall into place, and the intrigue only deepened.

But neither of you cared about the growing attention. What mattered was the moment you shared, the quiet connection that spoke louder than any rumors or expectations.

For now, it was just the two of you, and that was enough.

Mingyu’s breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his words so soft that they seemed to vibrate in the air between you two.

"No one needs to know everything, right?"

You smiled, a soft laugh escaping your lips, the playful warmth of his tone making your heart flutter. "Not yet."

But as he pulled back, your gaze lingered on him, and for the first time that weekend, a wave of realization hit you.

Being with Mingyu felt... different. It wasn’t just the chemistry or the electric pull that seemed to draw you closer every time he was near. It was more than that.

In the chaos of the Monaco Grand Prix, amidst the flashing cameras, the gossip, and the pressure of it all, you had found something in Mingyu that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

It wasn’t just the comfort of having someone to lean on, though he made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t expected.

It was the way he understood without needing words, how his smile made everything else seem less important, how he could make you forget the world and simply be with you in that moment.

It was as if everything else—the mess with Wonwoo, the drama, the expectations—had faded into the background.

With Mingyu, you felt seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time, maybe ever.

No pretense, no games—just raw, real connection. The kind of connection that made you wonder if it was time to stop hiding, to stop keeping everything a secret.

But then reality crashed in. You couldn’t just throw everything into the open, not yet.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many things that needed to be untangled.

Still, in that brief exchange, in the quiet of the moment, you allowed yourself to think that maybe this was different.

Maybe Mingyu was different.

As he gave you that knowing smile and turned to walk away, you stood frozen for a second, your mind racing.

Maybe you had been too cautious for too long, too afraid to step into something real again.

But with Mingyu, it didn’t feel like a leap—it felt like a step toward something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but something you couldn’t resist.

You glanced back at him, his tall figure moving through the crowd.

Maybe you hadn’t figured everything out yet, but with him, you felt like you were starting to.

Slowly, surely, you could see where this could lead.

As the evening settled over the Monaco paddock, the energy from qualifying slowly began to dissipate.

The buzz of celebration in the Ferrari garage was still palpable, but the crowds had thinned, leaving only a few lingering team members and the two drivers.

Mingyu, having played the role of the victorious pole-sitter all evening, decided it was time to steal a moment for himself—and for you before you both retired to your homes.

Navigating through the quieting paddock, he slipped away from his team’s hospitality, his steps purposeful as he made his way toward the secluded corner where he knew you’d be waiting.

The soft hum of the Monaco harbor filled the air as he rounded a corner, only to come face-to-face with none other than Wonwoo and Hoshi.

Wonwoo’s sharp eyes narrowed as he took in Mingyu’s casual, almost nonchalant demeanor.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he said, his voice laced with disdain.

Hoshi, standing beside him in his McLaren race suit, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall with a slight smirk.

"Well, well, sneaking off, are we, pole-sitter?" His tone was teasing, but his gaze was scrutinizing.

Mingyu straightened, his jaw tightening as he met Wonwoo’s glare. "I don’t see how this concerns either of you," he replied evenly, though there was a sharp edge to his voice.

Wonwoo stepped forward, his expression hardening.

"It concerns me because she’s Seungcheol’s sister. And more importantly, because I know you, Mingyu. You think this is a game? You’re not fit for her."

Mingyu’s eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. "That’s not for you to decide," he said firmly. "Especially not after what you did."

Hoshi chimed in, his voice light but his words pointed. "I think what Wonwoo’s saying is... tread carefully. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?"

The tension between the three drivers was palpable, but before it could escalate further, your voice cut through the air.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The three men turned to see you standing a few steps away, your arms crossed and your gaze fiery. Mingyu’s tense posture softened slightly, but Wonwoo’s face hardened.

You marched up to them, your eyes fixed on Wonwoo.

"Seriously? You’re trying to tell Mingyu what to do? You don’t get to have a say in my life anymore."

Wonwoo opened his mouth to speak, but you didn’t give him the chance.

"You cheated on me, Wonwoo. You made it very clear how little you cared about me back then. So don’t you dare act like you’re some protective ex now. You lost that right a long time ago."

Hoshi raised his eyebrows, clearly taken aback by your bluntness, while Mingyu’s lips quirked into a subtle smile, pride flickering in his eyes.

You turned to Hoshi, your tone still firm but less cutting.

"And you? I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself. Mingyu has been nothing but kind to me, and honestly, I don’t need the two of you ganging up on him."

Wonwoo looked away, his jaw clenched, while Hoshi gave a small, apologetic nod. Mingyu stepped closer to you, his hand brushing yours in a silent show of support.

You sighed, your voice softening as you addressed all three of them.

"I’m not some prize to be fought over. I make my own decisions. And right now, I’m choosing to be with someone who actually respects me."

With that, you turned to Mingyu, your expression softening as you met his gaze. "Let’s go."

He nodded, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back as the two of you walked away, leaving Wonwoo and Hoshi standing in the shadowed paddock.

As you disappeared around the corner, Hoshi let out a low whistle. "Well, that was something."

Wonwoo didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the spot where you had stood.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the sting of regret—not just for losing you, but for realizing that someone else might treat you the way he should have.

As you and Mingyu walked away from the tension-filled scene, the quiet of the dimly lit paddock enveloped you both.

The distant hum of the harbor and the faint echoes of laughter from the remaining hospitality areas faded into the background.

Mingyu’s hand lightly rested on the small of your back, his touch warm and grounding.

After a few moments of silence, he finally broke it, his voice gentle. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Standing up for me like that.”

You glanced up at him, your expression softening as you saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes.

“Of course, I did,” you said simply. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.” Mingyu stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

The faint glow of the overhead lights cast soft shadows on his face, making the vulnerability in his expression even more evident.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, though the slight waver in his voice betrayed the truth. “I just... I didn’t want them dragging you into more drama because of me.”

Your heart twisted at his words. For all his confidence and charisma, Mingyu wasn’t as invincible as he seemed.

He was trying to shoulder everything on his own, and it hit you just how much he cared—not just about his image or reputation, but about protecting you from the chaos of his world.

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to gently rest on his arm. “Mingyu,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay? Really?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment as if debating whether to let you see the cracks beneath the surface.

Finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I am now,” he admitted. “But I hate that this affects you, too. I never wanted that.”

You shook your head, your hand sliding down to intertwine with his.

“I knew what I was getting into, Mingyu. And I’m not running away just because it’s a little messy. You’ve been there for me, and I want to be there for you, too.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on your joined hands.

He noticed the way your thumb absentmindedly traced circles against his skin, a small but significant gesture that spoke volumes.

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, the tension in your shoulders easing as you saw him relax slightly. “Good. Because I mean it.”

Mingyu didn’t push further. He could sense that this was a big step for you—letting your walls down, even just a little.

Instead, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his silent way of acknowledging the progress.

“I’m lucky, you know,” he said after a pause, his tone lighter but still sincere. “To have you. Even when things get crazy.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your smile betrayed your affection. “Don’t get used to it just yet,” you teased, but there was no mistaking the warmth in your voice.

As the two of you continued walking, the tension of the evening seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were finally letting someone in, and Mingyu, ever patient, was exactly who you needed at that moment.

Later that night, the warm glow of the city lights filtered through the windows of your apartment, casting soft shadows on the walls.

You sat curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your lap, the faint hum of the Monaco harbor in the distance.

Across from you, Seungcheol sat with his arms crossed, his jaw set as he stared at you with the intensity only an older brother could manage.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mingyu, or do I have to find out from the gossip mill?”

You sighed, tucking your knees under you as you avoided his gaze. “It’s not... it’s not like that,” you started, but the way his eyebrows shot up made you correct yourself.

“Okay, maybe it is. A little.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re seeing him,” he stated bluntly, his tone somewhere between accusation and concern.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I am.”

The silence stretched between you, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He was fuming, you could tell—his tight posture, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, and the sharp edge to his expression.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. “After everything with Wonwoo? Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice firmer than you expected. “Mingyu isn’t Wonwoo. He’s... he’s different.”

“Is he?” Seungcheol shot back. “Because I remember how broken you were after that mess. I had to watch you pick up the pieces, and now you’re telling me you want to jump back into something with one of his friends?”

You flinched at the mention of the past, but you refused to back down.

“It’s been years since then, Cheol. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. And Mingyu—he’s nothing like that. He treats me well. He respects me.”

Seungcheol stared at you, his expression unreadable.

You could feel the weight of his protectiveness pressing down on you, but you held your ground.

“I get it,” you said softly. “You’re just looking out for me. But I’m not the same person I was back then. I’m stronger now.”

His shoulders sagged slightly, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his emotions.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

“I know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“But Mingyu’s not going to hurt me. He’s been patient, Cheol. He’s been kind. And honestly... he makes me feel like maybe I can give love another chance.”

Seungcheol looked at you for a long moment, his gaze softening as he took in your words.

He could see the sincerity in your eyes, the way your shoulders relaxed when you talked about Mingyu.

Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the couch. “You’re a grown woman,” he said reluctantly. “I guess I don’t really have a say in what you do anymore.”

You laughed lightly, the tension in the room easing. “No, you don’t. But I still appreciate that you care.”

He shook his head, a small smile breaking through his stern exterior. “I just hope he knows how lucky he is. And if he screws up—”

“You’ll be the first to let him know,” you finished, grinning.

“Damn right,” Seungcheol muttered, though his tone was more affectionate than angry now.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

For the first time in a long time, you had opened up about your feelings, and while Seungcheol’s approval wasn’t everything, it mattered.

With his begrudging blessing, you felt like you were finally moving forward—ready to see where things with Mingyu might lead.

Seungcheol leaned back onto the couch, his expression softening as the tension eased between the two of you.

After a few moments, he raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity creeping into his tone.

“Alright, fine. But now you have to tell me how this all started. How did you even end up with Mingyu?”

You smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you leaned into the couch cushions.

“It was here in Monaco, actually,” you began. “Right after the Imola Grand Prix.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly. “Monaco? What happened here?”

“Well,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Remember the after-party that was hosted by Joshua Hong? You know, just to let loose a little after a hectic weekend since we all live here anyway. I wasn’t planning anything that night, but then Mingyu showed up. He was there with some of his friends as well, and... I don’t know, we just started talking.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed slightly. “He asked you out at the after-party? Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Don’t make it sound like that,” you protested with a laugh.

“It wasn’t sleazy or anything. He was... charming. Polite. He didn’t push, just asked if I’d like to go out to dinner sometime. Honestly, I almost said no.”

“Why didn’t you?” Seungcheol asked, his tone skeptical but not unkind.

You shrugged, your smile softening.

“There was something about him. He wasn’t overbearing, and he didn’t act entitled like some guys do. He made me laugh. It felt easy.”

Seungcheol hummed, leaning his chin on his hand. “So you said yes?”

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes lighting up at the memory.

“A few days later, he took me out to this beautiful little restaurant overlooking the harbor. It wasn’t flashy, just... nice. Intimate. We talked for hours, about everything and nothing. And after dinner, he asked if I wanted to see more of Monte Carlo. He took me on this drive through the city, and it was... magical. The way the city lights sparkled against the sea—it felt like something out of a movie.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened further, though he still seemed hesitant. “And he’s been respectful? No games?”

You nodded firmly.

“Completely. He’s never pushed me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. He listens, Cheol. When I told him I needed time, he gave it to me. No questions, no complaints. He’s patient, and he’s made it clear that he’s okay with going at my pace.”

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed your words.

“Alright,” he said finally, his tone begrudging but genuine. “I’ll admit, that sounds... better than I expected. He’s really been that good to you?”

“Yes,” you said earnestly, meeting his gaze.

“He’s been amazing, Cheol. He makes me feel like I can trust him, like I can actually let someone in again.”

Seungcheol studied you for a moment longer before finally nodding. “Okay,” he said, his voice low.

“If he makes you happy and treats you right, then I’ll back off. But,” he added, his tone sharpening slightly, “if he ever does anything to hurt you—”

“Again, you’ll be the first one to kick his ass,” you finished, grinning. “I know.”

Seungcheol shook his head with a reluctant smile, leaning back onto the couch. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you didn’t deny it. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I really do.”

For the first time that night, Seungcheol didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

The final day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned bright and clear, the Mediterranean sun casting its golden rays across the iconic harbor.

The air was filled with excitement, the buzz of anticipation almost tangible as fans packed the grandstands and the paddock brimmed with activity.

The Monaco GP wasn’t just a race—it was a spectacle, a celebration of speed, luxury, and prestige, and today promised to be unforgettable.

You stepped into the paddock alongside Mingyu’s sister, Minseo, and your friend Jiheon, a wag whose easy charm made her a favorite among the paddock regulars.

Your off-shoulder white maxi dress swayed elegantly with each step, its flowing fabric catching the light and drawing eyes wherever you went.

The dress, paired with understated gold jewelry and a pair of nude heels, was the perfect balance of sophistication and glamour, effortlessly fitting the grandeur of Monaco.

Your hair fell in soft waves, framing your face as you smiled and chatted with your companions.

The three of you moved through the paddock with ease, turning heads as the collective grace of your group drew admiration.

Photographers snapped away, and fans whispered excitedly as they recognized you.

It wasn’t just the dress or the occasion—it was the way you carried yourself, the quiet confidence and elegance that had people wondering who you were and how you fit into the thrilling world of Formula 1.

Mingyu stood near the Ferrari garage, finishing up a pre-race discussion with his engineers.

His fire suit hung slightly open at the top, the vibrant red of his team unmistakable. As the conversation wrapped up, his eyes drifted across the paddock—and then he saw you.

Time seemed to slow for him as he took in the sight of you. The white dress, the way it flowed effortlessly as you walked, the soft smile on your lips—it all made his heart skip a beat.

You were stunning, a vision of grace and beauty, and the way you lit up when you laughed at something Jiheon said only added to your charm.

Without a second thought, Mingyu excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you.

His long strides carried him across the paddock quickly, his eyes locked on you the entire time.

You noticed him as he approached, and your face lit up in recognition, your smile widening in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes warm as they met yours.

“Good morning,” you replied, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. “Ready for the big day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a small grin, his hands resting on his hips. “How about you? Ready to cheer for the wrong team?”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’ll be watching from the Red Bull garage today,” you admitted, a playful glint in your eye.

“But I’ll still be cheering you on, Mingyu. Even if you’re a Ferrari driver.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Traitor,” he teased, though his tone was laced with affection. “But I’ll take whatever support I can get.”

Before either of you could say more, Jiheon nudged your arm gently, reminding you it was time to head to the hospitality area.

You gave Mingyu one last smile, your voice soft as you said, “Good luck out there. Drive safe.”

“I will,” he promised, watching as you turned to walk away.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, the elegant sway of your dress and the way you carried yourself etching itself into his memory.

The pre-race atmosphere was electric. Mingyu stood on the grid, surrounded by his team as they made final adjustments to the car. But even with the chaos and noise, his mind wandered back to you.

As he glanced at the large screens broadcasting scenes from around the paddock, his heart skipped a beat.

There you were, standing in the Red Bull garage, chatting animatedly with Jiheon.

The camera lingered on you for a moment, capturing the way you laughed, your hands gesturing as you spoke.

You looked completely at ease, unaware of the world watching you. Mingyu’s lips curved into a grin, a soft chuckle escaping him.

The sight of you—so vibrant and natural—was all the motivation he needed.

Shaking his head slightly, he refocused on the task at hand. As he climbed into the cockpit of his Ferrari, he adjusted his gloves, his determination sharpening.

The roar of the crowd filled the air as the engines came to life, the sound reverberating through the streets of Monte Carlo.

Yet, even as the formation lap began, Mingyu couldn’t shake the thought of you.

Knowing you were there, cheering him on despite your seat in the Red Bull garage, gave him a sense of calm and drive that was hard to explain.

You weren’t just a distraction—you were his grounding force, his silent supporter in a world that rarely allowed vulnerability.

As the lights went out and the race began, Mingyu’s focus was absolute. But in the back of his mind, he carried the image of you in that white dress, cheering for him in your own quiet way.

It wasn’t just a race—it was a chance to show you that he was someone worth believing in.

The streets of Monte Carlo buzzed with electric anticipation as the Monaco Grand Prix soon reached its climax.

Mingyu was in the lead, his Ferrari weaving through the narrow streets with unmatched precision and focus.

Behind him, Seungcheol in the Red Bull was closing the gap, his aggressive driving style leaving no room for error.

Not far behind, Wonwoo in the Mercedes was biding his time, waiting for any mistake from the two drivers ahead.

The battle for victory was fierce, every lap a testament to skill and strategy.

In the Red Bull garage, you sat on the edge of your seat, your hand firmly intertwined with Jiheon’s. The tension in the air was palpable, the high-stakes nature of the race reflected on every screen in the garage.

Jiheon gave your hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes flicking to you with a supportive smile.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Mingyu’s got this. He’s driving like a man possessed.”

You nodded, but your heart was hammering. Watching Mingyu fight for every inch on the track made you realize how much you cared.

It wasn’t just about the race—it was about him, about what he was proving to himself and the world.

Out on the circuit, Seungcheol made his move, diving deep into Mirabeau in an attempt to overtake Mingyu.

His Red Bull was so close to the Ferrari’s rear wing that the commentators were holding their breath. But in his eagerness, Seungcheol braked too late, his tires locking up and forcing him to take a wider line.

Mingyu seized the opportunity to pull ahead, his calm under pressure shining through.

From behind, Wonwoo saw his chance.

As Seungcheol recovered, Wonwoo’s Mercedes gained rapidly, but a momentary loss of grip through the Swimming Pool complex forced him to back off.

Frustration flickered across his face, but he knew he couldn’t risk a bigger mistake.

In the Red Bull garage, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, clutching Jiheon’s hand tighter.

“Come on, Mingyu,” you whispered under your breath. Your eyes were glued to the screen, your entire body tense as the final laps unfolded.

With just two laps to go, Mingyu remained untouchable. His Ferrari danced through the streets of Monaco, every apex hit with precision, every straight taken at full speed.

The commentators marveled at his composure, declaring this race a defining moment in his career.

As the checkered flag waved, the grandstands erupted in cheers. Mingyu crossed the line first, securing a hard-fought victory.

His engineer’s voice cracked through the radio, full of emotion. “P1, Mingyu! Monaco is yours! Incredible drive!”

Mingyu let out a triumphant laugh, his voice filled with joy. “We did it! Thank you, team!”

In parc fermé, the energy was electric. Mingyu climbed out of his car, raising his fists in the air as his team swarmed him.

The weight of the victory was clear in his elated expression.

Seungcheol arrived shortly after, his Red Bull taking second place. Despite the disappointment of missing out on the win, he approached Mingyu with a sportsmanlike handshake.

“Great race, Mingyu,” he said, his voice tinged with respect. “You earned this one.”

“Thanks, Cheol,” Mingyu replied, gripping his hand firmly.

Moments later, Wonwoo pulled in. His Mercedes had claimed third, but his expression was anything but celebratory.

He exited the car with a scowl, his jaw tight as he walked past Mingyu and Seungcheol without a word.

His frustration was evident, the sting of falling short only amplified by the dynamic unfolding before him.

As they made their way to the cool-down room, the atmosphere was tense. Mingyu sat in a chair, catching his breath, while Seungcheol leaned casually against the wall.

Always the one to lighten the mood, Seungcheol joked, “I nearly had you at Mirabeau. You’re lucky I locked up.”

Mingyu grinned, his exhaustion giving way to humor. “Luck or skill? I’ll let you decide.”

Wonwoo, standing silently in the corner, crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Mingyu. The unspoken tension between them was thick, but Seungcheol, sensing the awkwardness, kept the conversation light.

“Track conditions were brutal today,” he said. “It’s a miracle we all finished without incident.”

As they were called to the podium, Mingyu stole a glance at the crowd. His eyes found you standing near the VIP section, your radiant smile sending a surge of warmth through him.

You waved, your expression full of pride, and in that moment, Mingyu felt invincible.

The podium ceremony was a spectacle of celebration. Mingyu stood on the top step, lifting the winner’s trophy high as the crowd roared.

Seungcheol stood beside him, clapping with genuine admiration, while Wonwoo’s expression remained neutral, his disappointment evident.

From your vantage point, your heart swelled with pride. Seeing Mingyu bask in the glory of his win solidified everything you’d been feeling.

As the champagne sprayed and the drivers celebrated, you knew this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. This was the beginning of something real.

After the podium, you waited near the Ferrari garage. When Mingyu finally emerged, still in his race suit, you didn’t hesitate to approach him.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, whispering, “You were amazing out there. Congratulations.”

Mingyu hugged you back tightly, his voice soft in your ear. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nearby, Seungcheol watched the exchange with a mix of protective instinct and acceptance. Walking over, he clapped Mingyu on the back.

“Good race,” he said. “Take care of her.”

Mingyu nodded, his expression serious. “Always.”

Wonwoo, watching from a distance, could only scowl as he turned and walked away, the sight of you and Mingyu together a reminder of what he’d lost.

But none of that mattered.

For you and Mingyu, this victory was more than just a race—it was a turning point, a moment that cemented your connection and opened the door to a future you were both ready to embrace.

Epilogue:

The glitz and glamour of the Formula 1 world always had its fair share of stories, but none felt quite as personal as yours and Mingyu’s.

Months after that life-changing Monaco Grand Prix weekend, your relationship had blossomed into something undeniably beautiful, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to hide.

The world first got confirmation when Mingyu posted a candid photo on his Instagram: you, standing on the balcony of his Monte Carlo apartment, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea.

The caption was simple yet heartfelt: “Worth every risk. ❤️”

You weren’t prepared for the wave of support that followed. Fans flooded the comments section with love:

“Finally! You two are so cute together!”

“She’s his lucky charm—look at his podium streak since Monaco!”

“From heartbreak to happily ever after. We’re here for it.”

Since then, you and Mingyu have embraced the freedom of being open about your relationship.

At races, he’d smile at you from across the paddock, his gaze filled with warmth, while you’d cheer him on from the Ferrari garage or wherever you chose to watch.

The stolen moments you used to have in secret were now shared openly—a hand on his arm after interviews, or a quick kiss on the cheek before he stepped into the car.

At the Singapore Grand Prix, you walked into the paddock hand in hand, the city’s bright lights reflecting the happiness you felt.

You could feel eyes on you, but instead of shrinking under their gaze, you smiled, more comfortable now in your place beside him.

During an interview, Mingyu was asked about the impact of your relationship on his career. He looked straight at the camera, a soft grin on his face.

“She’s my biggest supporter. Having her here makes everything better—on and off the track.”

You couldn’t help but blush, watching from the sidelines.

Later, when you teased him about making you the center of attention, he just shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“What can I say? It’s the truth.”

At home in Monte Carlo, life was a dream. Mingyu often called you his lucky charm, pointing to his string of podiums and victories since you’d been together.

You’d laugh, reminding him that his talent and dedication had gotten him where he was.

One quiet evening, as you both lounged on the couch after dinner, Mingyu turned to you, his expression soft.

“Do you ever regret letting the world in on us?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head with a smile. “Not for a second. Hiding felt safe after the whole mess with Wonwoo, but this... this feels real. I’m glad we took the chance.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, his voice low but steady. “Me too. You were worth every risk, every whispered conversation, every secret meeting. I’d do it all over again.”

As you lay in his arms that night, you couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed. The walls you’d built around your heart were gone, replaced by a trust and love you hadn’t thought you’d feel again.

Mingyu had been patient, kind, and understanding—everything you hadn’t known you needed.

For him, seeing you open up was the most rewarding part. He knew the risks of being with you, the doubts and fears you carried, but it was worth it.

Fans had embraced your relationship, noting how grounded and happy Mingyu seemed with you by his side.

And as the F1 season rolled on, your love story became a part of the sport’s narrative.

Whether it was the way you supported him through the highs and lows of racing, the genuine smiles you shared after a victory, or the quiet moments when the cameras weren’t watching, your relationship was a testament to the magic of taking a chance on love.

Love, it turned out, was worth every risk. And for you and Mingyu, it was only the beginning.

© rubyuji 2025’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[janesmitish]

I adore Worm, it's probably my favorite work of fiction ever, but it's weakest part is definitely it's male characters.

Which isn't necessarily a problem given that the main cast is overwhelmingly female and they're all written so incredibly well.

But Wildbow clearly noticed this disparity when writing Ward, cause he immediately chose to give so so much focus to Rain in the beginning and oh my god it's works so well.

I'm in love with this fucking guy, what a character, a fucked up piece of shit who's terrified of being murdered and wants to do better but has no clue if that want is his own, or bleed-through from the rest of his cluster. It's absolutely incredible.

I love what WB's doing with Vic but I'm at 5B and so far I've been looking forward to every single one of Rain's interludes in a way that I never ever did any of the ones in Worm. Just so immediately compelling.

[ateez-himari]

Hi bb I hope you are doing well! I'm hoping that you are resting, cause I know it's a busy week💓

I had some questionssss and I remembered the question I forgot in my last ask

1.are there any younger female idols who have expressed their admiration towards hima?

2. Since hima is short and mingi is BIG how large is their size difference in perspective?

3. I was wondering if hima wore a swimsuit top during the water bomb festivals and did she have any iconic moments from that festival?

4.is there any other brand that hima is a solo ambassador for other than versace?

5.if you had to describe hima's personality as another idol who would this idol be?

6.Have the ateez members ever been annoyed by the completely innocent sounds mingri let out? And have they called them out for that?

Ily bb take care of yourself mwahh 💓💓

Hi sweet! 🥰 Sorry this took so long I was on a bit of a writer's block 🤧 I'm also unfortunately still sick but I actually have a lot of motivation to write now! Again don't feel bad about sending me so many asks, seeing a notification next to my inbox is one of the best parts of my day

• XG members have been quite vocal about their admiration towards their senior due to her incredible range - from heart wrenching ballads to powerful raps - and have actually met her several times during award shows (only to gush about it later)

BABYMONSTER members have met Himari while they were still trainees and were amazed at the fact that YG Entertainment brought her in as the only mentor due to her ability to take care of every aspect of their training; vocals, rap & dance. To this day they continue to develop in part by watching videos of her

IVE's Wonyoung looks up to the vocalist's strength of character, even more so now that she has begun speaking out about the unfairness of this industry, the mental health challenges, the mistreatment, etc. The vocalist has also worked extremely hard to master many aspects of performance, which serves as an inspiration to her

• Height comparison websites have her barely coming up to the crook of Mingi's neck, however something else makes their size difference so impressive because this man is WIDE while Himari doesn't have much muscle mass. If Mingi wanted to wrap around her waist completely, he would need little less than 1 hand and a half

• Hima wore the black 'Greca Border Bikini Top' from Versace, a cropped white long sleeve shirt (which quickly became soaked) and very low waisted pants with the 'Greca Border Bikini Bottoms' showing

While Jongho was being all cute and watering their little Atiny plants, this absolute menace was body rolling just a few steps away and motioning for their fans to throw more water at her (think Mingi...but female version)

This event was also one of the first times that the couple was seen being somewhat intimate with each other since she came over to her boyfriend, pressed her back to his chest and began to dance on him (more like grinding-)

After drinking from one of the plastic water bottles - which looked more like a whole kiss than a simple sip - she teased one of the fans in the front before motioning her forward and carefully dripping some water onto her head

A sensual 'The Real' dance break...that's all I can say, she even had a fake lip piercing for this performance and it was the first time Atiny got a glimpse of the spine tattoo (the tape put over it slipped slightly because it got too wet)

• There was actually a brand that recently lost any possibility of an ambassadorship (you'll find out soon dw). Calvin Klein is slowly attempting to reel her in. Surprisingly enough she's an ambassador for Porsche, Saint Laurent and Cartier

• Jimin! At first Hima was very similar to Yeosang in the sense that she was shy, wouldn't speak as much, and was somewhat naive (still is) but as she opened up more her personality grew to almost mirror Jimin's

• They deeply respect their members so when they're intimate with one another they make sure that most if not all members are out or somewhere unlikely to hear them (in part why they got the airbnb during the group's break). There's been very few instances when they were heard (usually in the changing rooms after concerts) but since it rarely happens no one has called them out on it

Ily too!! I hope your post exam break is relaxing and that you're taking care of yourself, mwahhh!! 😘❤️

[snoopychris]

Masterpiece

warnings: one mention of sex. that’s it

in which… matt is absolutely whipped.

matt can walk into your house like he owns the place. your father adores him. your mother has more trust in him than she does in you. he even has his own key! it’s crazy to you how he got your parents trust so fast, but you don’t question it. even then, he still knocks. every. single. time.

it could be 8am. it could be noon. it could be late in the afternoon. it could even be the middle of the night. he always knocks.

this time was 5:30 pm. you’re the first to stand from your spot in the living room to get the door, beating out your mom and dad to do it. though you smile at the sight, you still groan when you see matt on the other side of the door. he’s holding your favorite flowers, the same way he does once a week, but this time he’s also holding your favorite chocolates as well. he’s dressed fancier than usual, a nice sweater and a nice pair of dress pants , all tied together by his glasses. “you do know that you have a key to this place right nerd?” you mumble, greeting him with a kiss. he shrugs as he shoves his hand in his pocket, whispering to you.

“are you busy?” your eyes furrow in response, looking over to your parents on the couch. “nope. why?” you whisper, setting the flowers in the vase you’ve kept by your door every week since matt started coming over. he smiles at you, tucking hair behind your ear.

“i’m takin you out. on a date. a real date. to somewhere nice. i even needed a reservation.” your dad overhears and sends him a thumbs up from his spot on the couch, making you giggle.

“y’picked a good one sweetie. he even came over the other day and asked for permission to take you.” he yells, making you blush. you cannot believe just how incredibly lucky you were.

“there’s also no way you’re going to this restaurant in sweatpants. go change. something nice.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you’re ready in record time. your parents parade you with pictures like it’s prom night. you’re giggling the entire time, and matt’s just completely and utterly star struck.

the drive to the dinner is calm. it’s peaceful. matt’s hand rests on your thigh and though he’s tempted to inch it further up, he’s respectful. there’s not a care in the world. nothing matters to matt other than you. nothing matters to you other than matt. every single care is gone, completely out the window. completely forgotten. but every time he looks at you, matt thinks he’s looking at an original Monet. if he could frame the moment, he would. he wants to shrink you down and keep you in a cage forever, just so that he can keep an eye on you the entire time. god, you were perfect.

the restaurant looks nice. it looks like just another steakhouse. the second you sit down, it is not just another steakhouse. you slam the menu down on the table, glaring at matt. “matt a single steak is one hundred and twenty five fucking dollars.” and in matt’s eyes, to deserved this in more. it doesn’t matter to him that he had to work 80 hours to afford it. it just matters that you’re happy.

matt smirks at you, shrugging. “i saved up my paychecks. my girl deserves something nice doesn’t she?” he whispers, adjusting his glasses on his face. you shake your head in disbelief, flipping through the pages for something decently affordable. his eyes widen when you speak. “you’re getting some tonight, kid.”

a/n: fluff won! sorry for you angst whores :///

dividers by @issysh3ll !!!

🏷️: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @chrisscoraline @m4ttg1rl @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ayesha-eroticaa @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.7

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 6 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my masterlist.

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the unfamiliar softness of the bed and the faint smell of something comforting—laundry detergent and a hint of vanilla. You blinked against the morning light, trying to piece together where you were.

Before panic could set in, a soft knock at the door drew your attention. It opened slightly, and Oscar peeked in, his expression a mix of concern and hesitation.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re awake.”

You sat up, the blanket sliding down to your lap. “Wait… where am I?”

“This is my room,” he said, stepping inside. “You fell asleep in the motorhome after, well, everything. I didn’t want to wake you, and it was getting late, so I brought you back here. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness of his gesture. “Oscar, you didn’t have to do that. But… thank you. Really.”

He waved it off, sitting in the chair by the window. “You don’t have to thank me. I just didn’t want you to wake up alone after… everything.”

The memories of the previous day rushed back, sharp and painful. Mark’s betrayal, the headlines, the whispers in the paddock—it all came flooding in, and you felt the sting of tears threatening to fall again.

Oscar seemed to sense it immediately. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning forward. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. None of it is fair.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “You’re apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong. Mark… he’s the one who should be apologizing.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “You’re right, but I can’t help feeling bad for you. You deserve so much better. Honestly, it makes me furious that he could treat you like this.”

The raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. “I feel like such a fool,” you admitted quietly. “I should’ve seen it coming. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy with work, or—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Don’t do that to yourself. This isn’t your fault. You trusted him, and he’s the one who broke that trust. That’s on him, not you.” His voice softened as he added, “If anything, he’s the fool for not seeing what he had. Anyone who loses you… he’s the one who’s lost something incredible.”

The way he said it—so earnest and sincere—made your breath catch. For a moment, you just looked at him, your heart aching with gratitude.

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You glanced at the screen: it was your manager.

“Sorry,” you muttered, picking it up.

“It’s okay,” Oscar said, sitting back to give you some space.

Your manager’s voice was calm but carried a sense of urgency. “I saw the news. It’s already everywhere. For now, lay low. Don’t post anything, and don’t make any public appearances unless absolutely necessary. We’ll handle the fallout later.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. “Understood.”

When the call ended, you sighed and looked back at Oscar. “I should go back to my room. You’ve already done so much for me, and you need to rest. You’ve got a race tomorrow.”

Oscar shook his head. “I’m not worried about that right now. What matters is that you’re okay. Are you sure you want to be alone?”

You hesitated, your exhaustion warring with the fear of being left alone with your thoughts. “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight. Maybe I’ll order some food and watch a movie or something.”

His eyes softened. “You don’t have to do that alone. If you want, we could stay here. I’ll order pizza, and we can watch something together. No pressure, though.”

The kindness in his offer made your chest tighten. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I don’t mind at all.”

So you stayed.

The two of you argued playfully over pizza toppings before settling on a large half-and-half. When it arrived, you curled up on the couch beside Oscar, the awkwardness between you replaced by an easy camaraderie.

As the comedy played, you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks. Oscar’s quiet chuckles were contagious, and every now and then, he’d glance at you to make sure you were still smiling.

“Thank you,” you said softly during a quieter moment in the movie.

“For what?” he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“For being here. For… everything.”

He shrugged, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed how much he cared. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I could help.”

And as the night wore on, sharing pizza and laughter, you felt a flicker of hope in the warmth of his presence—a reminder that even in the midst of heartbreak, kindness could still find its way to you.

@justaf1girl

[oristian]

FANFIC CONCEPT — (something fun that I have been sitting on. may come back and tweak it a bit)

Lucien is a Master’s student in the business department at Columbia University. In early January, he and a group of friends take a pre-Spring semester trip farther up North to visit a Winter Market—the market is famous for the food vendors, ambiance, and an almost childlike nostalgia. Eris attends, only to charge absolutely all expenses to his father’s unlimited gold credit card.

While at the market, Lucien hears chatter about a pigeon-holed booth at the very end of the market lineup where they say a fortune teller resides—her predictions are rumored to all come true. The more townspeople he comes across, the more he hears about this mysterious fortune teller; they claim her to be as old as time itself. Lucien only scoffs, and is determined to prove everyone wrong.

So he waits in line for nearly an hour, only to have to pay a hefty charge once he sits down at the fold-out table. The chairs are made of plastic. “So, I have to pay you to tell me that the longest line on my palm indicates that some incredible and soul-crushing love will find me?” The fortunate teller has a shawl covering the entirety of her hair and face, and the robes she wears only exposes her well-manicured hands. Young hands. “You do not believe,” is all she says, and Lucien bites back a laugh. Yeah, no shit.

The teller informs him that love will, indeed, find him in the most unexpected of ways—but, also that great tragedy will cross his path, as well. When he probes for more information, the teller only points at the sign indicating the service charge and Lucien storms out of her tent.

Two weeks later, and Lucien is sitting, half-asleep, in his first morning lecture when a bundle of curly hair and various shades of pink and purple comes sliding into the only available seat in the room—next to him, of course. He watches her lazily from the crook of his elbow, his head resting against his arm, as she hurriedly removes her things from her bag, a sigh of relief breaking past her glossed lips as the professor enters into the hall. Though, as his eyes traveled downwards, it was her hands that held his attention. Lucien was most definitely awake, now.

“I believe you owe me an explanation—and, a refund.”

[wexhappyxfew]

saw you were taking prompts and am having absolute carrie x dougie brainrot! maybe something with “i can stay the night, y’know. if it’d make you feel better.” or really whatever you see fit for them!

I just think that have such a fun and interesting dynamic that i’m OBSESSED with.

HELLO LOVELY ANON!!!! :) apologies that i am now months late to this prompt - but i am happy to say, i have an incredibly fun piece written in response!!! this has gone through a few iterations i won't lie - with some of the pieces of writing most likely incorporated into other pieces in the future! BUT - for now, please enjoy my take on this prompt. thank you SO MUCH for the love on carrie and dougie! i have so much fun writing them and their entire dynamic and THANK YOU so much for loving on them!!!! carrie x dougie brainrot is REAL!!!! <33333 PLEASE ENJOY!!!!! :D

stay the night

(a/n): carrie x dougie, with a hint of angst, featuring a smidge of episode 5 in all its sad, grief-filled, angsty glory. if you squint, you can get some vivian x blakely in there as well - a prelude to them and an upcoming piece! <3 if you want to read a piece for a bit of an idea as to what both carrie and dougie discuss in the second half of this piece, highly recommend didn't think you'd notice as a starter! as always, please enjoy! carrie x dougie here fill my heart with all good stuff! :)

Carrie's head had begun to nod off at the bar.

Between the highest levels of exhaustion she'd been feeling in ages, the numbing realization that hundreds of men were being lost everyday, and a few piloting crews were out 50% of their men, meant she was on edge now more than ever.

And to top it off, Blakely's crew was missing - no one had seen them go down, nor had anyone seen their plane come back. And it'd been two days.

Everyone was feeling some sort of pain that they were trying to push away with light music, a little alcohol and the remaining crews.

After the Silver Bullets crew was split up, much to the highest distaste and dislike of both Annie and Francis; Annie, Bessie, Kennedy and Margie had gotten transferred to a new plane crew - co-ed. First of it's kind.

They were spread thin, they needed vets with the rookies. Some people got the short end of the stick - where there was no more flying and simply the Operation room as their closest companion.

That was Carrie.

Staring at maps all day, marking bombing runs with some of the navigators, filling holes where they were needed. She wasn't a map-keeper, she was a goddamn bombardier. But she didn't even bother to open her mouth.

Stress was high, tensions thick and everyone was trying to keep it together around her it seemed.

Annie was usually flying in the air or on training duty or in meetings more often than not, staving away any sort of reality that there was at this time.

Francis was nowhere to be found unless she was needed on a mission with her own co-ed flying death trap.

Bucky was gone to England with no idea that Buck, alongside DeMarco, were both MIA, along with Margie doing everything it seemed to ignore the obvious.

Judy was placed into a new crew - Rosie's Riveters - and every time Carrie saw her, squeezed the living daylights out of that poor girl when she could. Judy was a little sister to all of them. Knowing she was separated from the rest of the crew, Carrie considered going to church.

Marianne was stuck in Operations with Carrie - and she always brought Frank - which seemed to be the highlights of peoples' days when that fat orange cat would come around. Though, Marianne was fighting sleep most days, the stress becoming far too much for all of them.

Paulina was still Radio Ops, but she wasn't flying anymore - days and nights she spent beside Operations, translating and recording and writing until her hands damn-near broke.

Now, she was nursing a beer, cuddled up beside Hambone Hamilton across the bar, talking in the quietest voice anyone had ever heard from the woman. They were really all going through it.

And on top of all that, Vivian Ratcliff was spiraling beside Carrie this fine evening, trying not to lose her mind. Everyone knew how rough it was for her after losing James - they were supposed to get married, she wanted to have kids with him, he was planning to pop the question after the war.

Ev Blakely had become a good friend to her, a real good friend, probably closer than either of them had thought or even seen coming, but now, she was onto her second beer and sitting there with nothing but tears in her eyes and a blank face. Carrie was going to tell her to finish her drink and head to bed soon by this point; it hurt Carrie to see Viv like this. Ever since coming to England, it's been bad spell after bad spell for the waist gunner.

"Holy shit, it's Blakely's crew!"

Carrie's whole body froze. There were cheers and yelling and voices and a clammer of footsteps along the wooden floor to her left and she slowly turned her head to see, there coming through the door was Blakely, Crosby and Douglass. Carrie couldn't move, watching as guys hugged one another, slapped each other on the back and fell into their normal banter routine of laughter, cackles and drink offerings.

Carrie could only watch. And her eyes fell specifically right to Douglass. Stood there, his hair unruly, a few bloodied scars on his face, a wide smile on his lips as he laughed and eyes so soft she was sure if she could get her legs moving, she would be over there right now, trying to keep it together.

Carrie watched the group disperse, drinks a promise from Brady and Crank, and took to watching Dougie who was offered a beer which he took with a smile, before his eyes started roaming around. Her heart began to pound inside of her chest. Before-

"Ev!" Carrie looked up and over and watched as Vivian had looked up, jaw dropping open, a few stray tears lingering in the corners of her eyes, as she slid off the stool and hurried over towards Blakely. Carrie's heart warmed as her eyes tore off of Dougie to watch as Blakely whipped his head around, a grin blowing up on his face like some sort of hot air balloon, pushing through a few of the guys to meet Viv halfway.

When they met, it was a sort of bone-crushing looking hug, with her arms wrapped around his neck and Blakely's….rather-large form cocooning Viv against him there.

Carrie watched as Viv's form trembled a bit against him - she was sure Viv was shedding a few tears that she'd been trying her best to hold in the last few days - and watched as Blakely said something clearly enough to make her laugh.

And then, Carrie was looking over towards Dougie again, and found his eyes already on her. A beer bottle halfway to her lips and her eyes blown wide open, she slowly placed the bottle down and awkwardly lifted her hand to wave.

Why the hell was she waving?

The man had probably just seen death and she decided to wave?

Lowering her hand, she watched as Dougie smiled at her, offering a small wave her way. He knocked Brady in the shoulder, stood beside him and then began walking over towards her, a small grin riding his face.

Briefly, incredibly briefly in Carrie's mind, she remembered that feeling of kissing Dougie - and the fact that immediately afterwards, she had been pulling herself from him, mumbling about being drunk, and then avoiding him the entirety of the rest of the night. Only for the mission to be called that night, and she had found herself disappearing for the night to her cot, not telling a soul that she had been kissing James Douglass just an hour previous.

And when the news had broke that Blakely's plane had disappeared and gone down? And she hadn't said a goddamn word to Dougie the next morning, promptly ignoring him, she found herself ripped with guilt.

And now - he was here, he was back and standing right in front of her, and her only thought was that she was speechless. She didn't know what to say in that moment, and was having a rather hard time deciding if she should be upset or angry or overjoyed or pissed off.

She couldn't sort it out.

And with him standing here, after those two days, she was half-convinced she could just kiss him on the mouth and it'd be better than any other reaction she could've had.

"Hi." he said.

"Hi." she found herself saying back, fighting to say more, but keeping her walls up and closed in on every inch of herself. She was pissed the plane had gone down, that she had allowed herself to be beyond worried sick for him. She was pissed she had let herself feel like that. She was pissed he was standing here now and she was speechless and didn't have more to say.

Carrie stared at his face a little while longer, those bloodied scars along his face, his unruly hair, his kind eyes. She felt her heart begin to race.

"You should get those cuts looked at." she said quickly, her voice sounding choppy, her tone sounding fake. She sounded out of place, nervous, and flustered. She didn't sound like her.

"I will." he said with a smile, before drifting his eyes over her form and meeting her gaze again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, almost mechanically, "When I heard-"

"All good." he said, his fingers twitching near his hip, "You?" Carrie's face grew hot.

"Me?" she choked out, clearing her throat, "Fine, fine, I…I should be making sure you are." Her heart was beginning to pound harder inside her chest.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked her, before dropping his voice, "Somewhere not here?" She blinked, feeling her face turn a deeper red, before slowly nodding.

"Yeah." she said quietly, taking one more sip of beer before slowly moving to her feet, closing a few inches between them, the space between their faces minute for a split second before she stepped away from the bar, "Where to?"

"We can go outside." he said, meeting her eyes before patting the bar table and turning.

Following him out of the room and to the darkened outside world made her feel dizzy - she was sweating, red in the face, hyperaware of his presence, the way he had looked at her, and every single urge she had felt upon seeing him. Dougie stepped outside and she followed him around the corner of the hut, where for the time being, they were hidden from anyone's view.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, listening to the quiet rumble of their breathing, the distant voices, the chirping of mid-fall crickets and bugs holed up in trees. In the dark, she found it easier to breathe than when she had been stood inches from him at the bar.

The anticipation was killing her on the inside in every way possible - the lack of speaking (something not at all normal for either of them), they way all they could seem to do was stare (which yet again, was not normal), and the way Dougie was watching her now (she couldn't get her mind to work).

"I thought you were dead." Carrie said - quickly - her voice sounding rushed, as she met his gaze, "When they told us the plane hadn't made it back. And that the others had gone down, gotten hit. After hearing about Major Cleven's plane-"

"Carrie." Dougie said, stepping forward and gently placing his hands on her shoulders, "It's okay." He offered a small smile. "We're here now." Carrie watched him, the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his gaze on her, body inches from her own.

"But you know it's more than that." Carrie found herself saying as she stood there, "You know that." For a moment, Dougie just watched her - as if a bit dumbfounded and confused.

"Whatever is going on between us," Carrie managed out, shakily meeting his eyes, "I can't deal with it. It's suffocating. When I heard the plane had disappeared over IP - that you were on that plane. You, Dougie. I couldn't breathe." She blinked rapidly for a moment.

"Knowing the way we'd left things, and how I'd left things and now you're standing here in front of me and I'm blabbering like an idiot." Carrie said, "And I could barely sleep because I felt so guilty that I'd just left you there and then thought you had died. But now you're standing here and still alive and I….." She trailed off and grew quiet, before meeting his gaze. She knew something was wrong with her because the longer she stared at Dougie's calm and rather composed face, the more she could feel herself calming down. The presence of his hands, his eyes, him.

"I know." Dougie said quietly, taking a small step forward between them, that small smile on his face growing as she peered up into his eyes, "You okay? Don't need you losing your breath, huh?" Carrie managed a crack of a smile on her lips, before she found her eyes welling with tears.

"You're just saying that to not rile me up." she managed out, hoping her attempt at a joking tone was evident.

"Oh am I?" he asked with a laugh, his warm hand appearing on her cheek, his thumb brushing over the scars left behind from her time in the sky, left behind by the war, the memories scathed across her face, "You think that's what I'm trying to do?"

"It's usually what you're trying to do." she whispered, eyes flicking to his lips for a brief moment before meeting his gaze upwards again, "You're just like that."

"With you I am." he said, his face lingering closer, his dark eyes inviting her into him it felt.

"With me?" she whispered, her hands finding their way to the front of his B3, gripping the leather tightly as she stared up at him with a slightly watery gaze, "So, you do it just to piss me off?"

"Sometimes." he said with an almost surprised, gruff chuckle to follow that made her heart twist, "I also know it makes you laugh so…."

"Makes me laugh, huh?" she whispered as his other hand traveled down to her waist, his grip tight as he watched her in the darkness, "Not always."

"How so?" he whispered back, "I know you, Bergie." Carrie watched him - and she could feel her insides calm. It was true. He did know her. He really did. Just like in this moment.

He knew her.

With Dougie pressed so close to her, his gaze persistent in front of her own, her own eyes scoring the blood across his face, the damage of war done to someone she wanted to protect suddenly with her life, she couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.

"What're you laughing at now?" he whispered, "I didn't even get the chance to say anything funny." Carrie laughed again and shook her head.

"You know the first time I met you, I couldn't stand that carpet on your face?" Carrie whispered quietly, "I thought it looked like a squirrel, or….I don't know…a mangled bird." Dougie let out a laugh.

"A mangled bird, are you crazy?" he whispered, his thumb brushing on her cheek as his grin grew.

"Maybe." she whispered back.

"At least Ev appreciates the 'stache." he said and Carrie chuckled at his words, before going quiet, simply gazing up at his eyes, her own smile growing.

"What?" he asked her, "You always got that look on your face, you know that? When you look at me."

"I know." she whispered, her smile growing, her boldness flickering at the edges. Dougie watched her, his tender eyes quiet and content, and Carrie was sure she could spend the rest of the night simply staring at his face, memorizing that look in his eyes, the closeness of his face, all those little bits of his eyes you never saw until you were up close. She almost couldn't take the pounding of her heart anymore.

"I had wanted to kiss you, by the way," Carrie said quietly, "when we had danced together. And I guess….it scared me what it could mean. Especially during the war. And then it sort of came true. The possibility of losing you then. After they told me." Dougie smirked at her, before leaning closer to her, his eyes looking tired and lazy, his smile wide.

"Fuck the war." he whispered, before he leaned forward fully, his lips meeting hers.

It was a desperate kiss, she will admit fully - especially from herself. Clinging onto him, hands curled into the front of his B3, trying to pull him as close as she could, her mind a scattered array of thoughts as all she could focus on was his lips on her own.

Of course, the first time it had happened, she had been slightly buzzed, a little out of sorts, and taken off guard. Yet she had enjoyed every second.

Now, it was familiar, comfortable and safe. And she had never felt more wanted. It felt as if there was a million unsaid words between them in this moment, rooted in passion, desperation and grief that couldn't be described in any other way. Her hands were in his hair at one point, his cradling her face, her heart continuing to pound inside her chest. She felt out-of-body, like she didn't know what was happening to her.

When they had pulled apart, faces still inches from each other, trying to catch some sort of breath in this moment, all Carrie could do was stare up at him.

"What?" he asked her, his voice rich with warmth and what nearly felt like adoration in his tone.

She couldn't seem to get words in her mind and out of her mouth.

She was in love, she knew that much.

Softly, she gave him a gentle kiss before pulling back.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little face about." she whispered, as he chuckled. In that quiet moment, where they could only just watch the other, a soft red lit clicked on somewhere around the corner, near the door to the flying club. It hit the side of Dougie's face gently, and in a sinking realization, she saw the smile on his face drop, mirroring her own.

They both knew what that meant - another mission. Another mission. Dougie let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her own.

"I can stay the night, y'know. If it'd make you feel better." he whispered. They were walking a very thin line.

"Please do."

[rosenclaws]

Can i also have one for Charlie Keaton with this smut prompt “I was good while you were gone! I didn’t even touch myself.” ?

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, fingering, dirty talk, blow job, dom charlie.

a/n: ty for submitting a prompt!! Sorry it took so long asdlf;kh

wc: 608

600 follower drabble masterlist

Charlie was got home much later than intended. A bot fight across the state took longer than he thought it would. Plus traffic was a real bitch. But he won and him and Max had a great time. He glances at his phone and sees a text from you as he drops Max off.

Miss you :(

Man does Charlie miss you too. He can't wait to get back to you. His pants grow tighter as he drives home, his mind thinking of you and the...celebration that was to come.

"Baby?" He calls as he steps through the door.

"Charlie!" Your head peeks out from the bedroom, a tired but happy look on your face. He wastes no time throwing his things to the floor and hurrying over to hug you. His arms feel nice and warm as you finally get to kiss your boyfriend.

"Missed you so much baby." Charlie purrs as he sees the loose pajamas you have on. His hand playing with the hem of your shorts.

"I missed you too." Your hands rest on his chest, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to reveal his bare chest.

“I was good while you were gone! I didn’t even touch myself.” Your lips form a small pout as you slip into the submissive role.

Had it not been so long you would have waited but you just can't, you need him now. Charlie groans as he slips his hand down your shirts, the lack of underwear incredibly clear.

"Good girl," He praises as he slowly slips two of his fingers into your cunt.

"So wet baby, you think of me while I was away?" He teases as you melt under his touch.

"Yes, the whole time you were gone." You sigh as your head falls onto his shoulder.

He coos mockingly as he continues to pump his fingers into your cunt. Bringing you to the bed where he lays down and brings you with him.

"I think you deserve a reward for being such a good listener." Charlie's thumb comes to rub against your clit. You're squirming against his hand as the pleasure rocks your body. You want more, grinding your hips against his rough hand.

"That's it baby, fuck yourself on my fingers." He watches his hand move under your shorts, enjoying the absolutely sexy scene in front of him. Your back rubs against his clothed cock and he groans at the friction. He whispers sweet praises until he feels you come on his hand.

"That's it, just relax." He hums as you claw at the sheets, one of his arms resting on your stomach to hold you close.

"Fuck Charlie, missed you so much." You whine as he stops his movements.

To your disappointment he pulls his fingers out. He sticks them in his mouth and groans at the taste, if he wasn't so impatient he'd spend all night between your thighs.

"Feel good baby?" He asks as he gently kisses your forehead. You nod eagerly, turning to sit on your hands and knees. He watches with curiosity as you unbuckle his pants and pull his cock free.

"You won your match," You purr as your hand warps around his cock. He puts his hands behind his head and grins as your tongue teases his cock.

"Wanna make you happy." Charlie groans as your lips wrap around the tip.

His hand coming to the back of your head and shoving it down, you choke slightly but moan at his dominance. You glance up and see his eyes growing darker, a smirk on his face.

"Get to work baby, we have all night to celebrate."

[riverashifts]

I know you are probably focused on Siwan but how did you and Jay come together?? Yes, I'm asking for both y'all's love.story cause you both seem iconic-

EEEEEE i LOVE talking about jay and i's story so this is gonna be a LONG one

okay so . it all starts when we first meet in i-land—mind you iland works a little differently in my dr but it doesn't affect our story that much. i'm known as the "monster trainee" because i would always dominate monthly evaluations — and now, since the female and male trainees aren't evaluated together, jay (and the others) didn't really know what to expect. so when i absolutely blow everyone away with my entrance performance (i still haven't decided what it'll be cause im indecisive..) jay gets a little intimidated

meanwhile,,,, he and sunghoon perform the seventh sense and im like ???? oh so this is what they're bringing to the table. and i am ALSO intimidated but mostly because i have Issues and compare myself even more to the guys cause . yeah Why Wasn't I Born A Boy — oh i did not mean to get into That right now but anyways

so we're two people who are intimidated by each other and incredibly stubborn so that evolves into us hating each other for no legitimate reason lmao😭😭 and this goes on during the entirety of part one of iland like we CANT STANDDDD each other, we always argue about the dumbest things and even have to be seperated

and then we're selected to move onto the second part of iland alongside the six other selected members, so now we know there's a high chance we debut together and we DONT want to mess up our own chances, so we try to be civil.

for the first test in part two guess what... we get paired to do a duo performance of on by bts 😐 amazing song! less favourable partner.

but we get through it and kinda distantly realize that "hey the other isn't so bad" but yes again we are Stubborn and won't actually reconcile like normal human beings, so we kind of start ignoring each other from that point forward

UNTIL. at the end of the third performance jay got a lot of criticism so he was scared of being eliminated and taken out of the group. so, he wrote all those letters. and when i saw he was giving people letters, i didn't actually expect him to give me one, but he did.

i decided to read it while i was alone in the kitchen while everyone was asleep, and erm i started crying lol! cause jay apologized for how rude he was and all his bad behaviours and ended it with "in another life, i hope we can start over and be friends" and what do you know jay walks in while im crying into his letter...

so then we spend the rest of the night (we have a day off the next day) basically just talking and getting to know each other, properly "restarting" our relationship—and we realize we actually get along quite well when we're not off in our own worlds of assumptions

fast forward we end up debuting together and everything is fine and wonderful until i'm like Oh. i Like him which is fine and wtv cause i scripted i don't get awkward 🥸 (i realize my feelings in like january-february 2021)

then in the summer of 2021 during one of enhypen's breaks, jay and i are the only ones who stay at the dorm (a week long break) (no that's not how breaks work in this reality but i DONT CARE)

anyway we don't really interact much cause we're relaxing and wtv but then he asks if i want to order food with him, and how can i say no to free food??? so we end up eating together and then watching a movie and then Wabam something in the air happens that we kiss 😱😱

but then right as we pull apart jake comes back to the dorm 😒 so we don't really talk about it and just go to bed

and then the next day i spend it at the studio cause im Awkward and can't face jay after That but he ends up coming to my studio and we actually just work on music basically all day (we write young (og cix) which will feature on the dimension : answer album)

after we finish the song (the demo) jay kinda just goes "so... we Kissed ." and that kinda starts a conversation which leads to him confessing and then i confess to him and Yeah 😁

sorry this is so long LMAO i hope the explanation was clear cause i kinda just ranted without plans

[geneviveleocardius]

könig and his way of loving you

but dark, obsessive, psycho könig..

könig’s love is possessive, consuming, and overwhelming in the best and worst ways. he doesn’t just love you—he owns the idea of you being his. his attention is laser-focused, and he has no problem telling you (and anyone else) that you’re the most important thing in his life. he craves control and constantly ensures you’re safe, even if it means being a little too watchful.

he’s incredibly protective, to the point where you might feel suffocated at times, but he always pulls you back in with that intense, knowing gaze and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person that matters.

he’s obsessed with your neck. it’s vulnerable, delicate, and an easy place for him to mark you as his. he’ll kiss, bite, and trace his fingers there, watching your reactions with an almost predatory satisfaction. seeing his marks on you gives him a rush—proof that you belong to him.

his hands are almost always on you. his favorites? your throat and your lower back. he’ll rest his hand lightly on your neck when you’re close, a subtle reminder of his dominance and his connection to you. when you’re out together, his hand is always at your lower back, guiding you, showing everyone that you’re his.

könig’s kisses are demanding and consuming. he doesn’t just kiss you; he devours you. he’ll press you against walls, pull your head back by your hair, and take his time tasting every inch of your mouth. sometimes, they’re rough and bruising, other times slow and tantalizing, but they’re always intense.

physical touch and words of affirmation. könig’s need to touch you borders on obsessive—he’ll always have a hand on your leg, your arm, or your face. his words are equally intense; he’ll constantly remind you how perfect you are, how lucky he is, and how no one else could ever love you the way he does. his affirmations are sometimes possessive but always heartfelt.

on your period he’s surprisingly attentive, though he has a teasing edge. he’ll make sure you have everything you need—snacks, blankets, whatever—but he’ll also relish in the intimacy of taking care of you. if you’re feeling snappy or moody, he’ll smirk and say something like, “oh, you’re fiery today, meine liebe. good—i like you like this.” he’s not shy about making you lie down and letting him massage away your cramps, his strong hands both soothing and suggestive.

he loves showing off for you, especially during workouts. when he’s doing pull-ups, he’ll purposefully slow down, flexing just to see your reaction. if you try to help by holding his legs, he’ll chuckle darkly and say something like, “you’re not really helping, but i like having you there.” sometimes, he’ll suddenly pull you up against him mid-workout, pinning you against a wall just to feel you close.

könig’s jealousy is intense and borderline frightening. he won’t yell or cause a scene, but his eyes will darken, and his demeanor will shift immediately. if someone flirts with you, he’ll make it clear—calmly, but with a quiet menace—that you’re taken. he won’t hesitate to pull you into his lap or kiss you in front of them, just to prove his point.

absolutely. könig’s possessiveness is borderline obsessive. he doesn’t just want you—he needs you to know you belong to him. he’ll mark you with bites or hickeys, subtly test your loyalty with questions, and always keep a protective eye on you. but his possessiveness comes with an intense devotion—he would destroy anyone who tried to hurt or take you away from him.

he loves towering over you and uses it to his advantage all the time. he’ll pin you against walls, hold things out of your reach just so you’ll pout at him, and lean down to whisper things in your ear in that low, teasing voice of his. he also loves how small you feel in his arms, picking you up effortlessly to remind you of his strength.

intimacy with könig is an overwhelming, almost primal experience. he’s confident and intense, always in control but deeply attuned to your needs. he takes his time exploring every inch of you, learning what makes you gasp and tremble. he’s dominant but not cruel—he worships you in his own dark, obsessive way, making sure you know that you’re his and his alone.

he has a habit of whispering possessive things in your ear, like “you’re mine, do you understand?” or “no one else will ever touch you like this.” he’s not shy about leaving marks on you, taking his time to ensure you’re completely undone by the time he’s finished.