#dont even know how these fans knew i was talking about them in the first place but they can go off i guess

[tanzakukun]

“It’s a contrived plot, simple as that”

Actually, it doesn’t matter what it is or what the author even intended. As a reader, we’re supposed to play with interpretations and looking at things from what we can learn and understand from the characters.

[diamonddaze01]

Full Throttle (i)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 20.6K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOOOOOW BURN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // eventual smut.

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record 

summary: jeonghan's not used to someone who pushes his buttons as easily as you do, and you're not used to someone who challenges you as quickly as he does. maybe it's time to go full throttle, both on and off the track.

a/n: this one is gonna be long. buckle in. this is dedicated to kae @ylangelegy , who was the one who pushed me to write this in the first place, and also graciously beta read this // this is also dedicated to alta @haologram , who watched me lose my mind over this for so long and gave me so much love and support as i wrote this. // huge thanks to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading and giving me their thoughts, especially about when things were too technical // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 2 here! <3

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit 

The Australian Grand Prix had come to an end, but the buzz from the race still lingered in the air. The paddock had started to quiet down, though the echo of cheers and the scent of champagne were still fresh. Jeonghan stood at the edge of the pit lane, watching as the last of the mechanics began to clean up, the high of the win beginning to settle into a low hum of satisfaction.

His fingers absentmindedly brushed over his helmet, the familiar weight grounding him after the chaos of the race. But his mind wasn’t on the mechanics or the trophy waiting for him. No, it was on you.

You had walked away with that smug grin of yours, and even now, hours later, the image of you—cool, collected, and far too clever for your own good—lingered in his thoughts. The way you’d turned the tables on him, effortlessly making him feel like the one caught off guard. For once, it hadn’t been about the race or the rumors swirling around his personal life—it had been about you and the way you knew how to press all his buttons without breaking a sweat.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. "I should’ve asked her to dinner."

But there was no time for that now. The press was waiting. The fans, too. He needed to play the role of the cool, collected champion for the cameras, the last thing he needed was another round of gossip, another round of teasing from the people who loved to stir the pot. And yet, the thought of you, the way you’d made him feel a mix of frustration and something else entirely, was almost too tempting to ignore.

The crew cheered as he finally made his way back to the motorhome, the world still swirling in a whirlwind of victory and flashing cameras. But inside, it was quieter. More personal.

"Jeonghan!" His manager greeted him with a smile, the kind of smile that signaled the end of a long race and the beginning of yet another whirlwind of interviews, photos, and meetings. But Jeonghan only half-listened as his manager spoke, his mind flickering back to the conversation earlier.

"You sure know how to keep things interesting, don't you?" His manager chuckled, noticing the distraction in his eyes. "The headlines are still buzzing. You planning on setting the record straight anytime soon?"

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "Let them talk," he muttered, flashing a grin. "It’s part of the game."

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. It was you. The way you’d baited him, just enough to make him feel the heat of the moment. He had never been this distracted by anyone—or anything—before.

"You have a minute?" a voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was his publicist, holding a phone in one hand, the other gesturing toward the press conference set up for him in the next room.

Jeonghan looked at her, then glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see you again. But you were gone, just like that. He gave a small sigh, almost imperceptible to anyone watching.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this," he muttered, before stepping forward. Jeonghan’s footsteps echoed through the motorhome hallway, the thrum of victory still running through his veins, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the way you’d looked at him—those piercing eyes, full of challenge. He'd seen that expression before, but this time felt different. You weren’t just some reporter stirring up a bit of drama—you were someone who knew exactly how to get under his skin.

His publicist was waiting outside the press room, ready to brief him on the upcoming interviews and meetings. "You’ve got a full schedule, Jeonghan," she said, giving him the rundown with practiced precision. But Jeonghan barely heard her, his mind still distracted by the way you’d turned the tables.

"Hey," he cut in, slowing to a stop in front of her. "What do you know about Y/N?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The publicist blinked in surprise, and beside her, his manager gave a short laugh. "Y/N? You mean the reporter?" the manager asked, voice dripping with amusement. "The one you’ve had run-ins with over the past couple of seasons?"

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Run-ins?" he repeated, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. "What exactly are you implying?"

The publicist shrugged, exchanging a look with the manager. "She’s been covering F1 for a while, pretty sharp with her articles," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "Some of them have definitely gotten attention, especially that one a few weeks ago... the one about you and the whole ‘mysterious love life’ thing." Her eyes flicked to his manager, who made a face at the mention of that piece.

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d tried to forget about that article, but your earlier conversation (read as: challenge) had baffled him. "I shouldn’t have said anything," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But you know she always gets a rise out of me, don’t you?"

The manager snickered. "Oh, we know. It’s not every day we get to watch you struggle to keep your cool. She’s got a way with words, that one." He winked. "But hey, I get it. She’s a great reporter—sharp, clever—and always knows where to find the juiciest stories. You just might want to be a little more careful with what you say around her next time."

Jeonghan smirked. "Careful? Since when have I ever been careful?"

His publicist gave a pointed look, clearly not impressed. "That’s not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s that you tend to forget she knows exactly what buttons to push."

Jeonghan chuckled, his eyes glinting with a new energy. "Oh, she’s good, I’ll give her that. But I’m not so easily rattled." His mind wandered back to the way you’d smirked and walked off, leaving him standing there feeling like he'd just been served a dish of his own medicine.

"Don’t underestimate her," the manager added, half-joking. "You’ve been in this game long enough to know, no one gets a rise out of you like that without knowing exactly what they’re doing."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you’re right. But maybe..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing as a plan started to form in his mind. "...Maybe it’s time I gave her a taste of her own medicine."

The publicist and manager exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. They knew that look—the one Jeonghan got whenever he was plotting something, usually with a dash of mischief and just the right amount of charm to make it impossible for anyone to say no. The same charm that had gotten him into trouble more times than they cared to count.

"You’ve got your interviews now, Jeonghan," his publicist reminded him gently, pulling him back to reality. "We can revisit this later. Just keep your head in the game for now."

He nodded, though his mind was still fixated on you. "Yeah, yeah. Later."

As he entered the press room, he was immediately hit with a barrage of questions. The usual ones about his win, his performance, and his plans for the rest of the season. But even as he answered, his thoughts lingered on you and that damn article. You were always one step ahead, always stirring the pot just enough to keep things interesting. But now, it seemed you had caught his attention for real.

And maybe—just maybe—he was going to have some fun with this.

FORMULA 1 MSC CRUISES JAPANESE GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Suzuka Ciruit

The neon lights of Tokyo cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the bustling streets, the city alive with energy even late into the night. After a long day of prepping for the upcoming race, you’d decided to wind down with a quiet drink in a tucked-away bar that promised a moment’s reprieve from the chaos of the paddock.

The bar was small and intimate, the kind of place that felt like a secret only locals knew about. Jazz music hummed softly in the background, and you found a seat near the corner, ready to savor your drink in peace.

But of course, peace wasn’t in the cards tonight.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you freeze mid-sip. Turning your head, you found none other than Yoon Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his face lit with mild surprise and unmistakable amusement. He wasn’t in his Ferrari team gear for once—just a sleek black jacket and jeans, looking effortlessly casual in a way that somehow made him even more irritatingly attractive.

“Jeonghan,” you replied evenly, setting your drink down. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding onto the stool beside you without an invitation. “Same as you, I’d imagine. Taking a break from the madness.” His eyes flicked to your glass. “Whiskey? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

“And what type is that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into that trademark smirk. “The type who drinks whiskey alone in a bar and pretends they’re not thinking about work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not thinking about work. I’m thinking about how nice it is to not deal with questions about lap times and tire strategies for five minutes.”

Jeonghan chuckled, signaling to the bartender for a drink. “Fair enough. Though, if memory serves, you’re usually the one asking those questions.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shot back. “And if memory serves, you’re usually the one avoiding them.”

“Touché.” He raised his glass when it arrived, a silent toast that you reluctantly mirrored with your own.

For a while, the conversation meandered through safer topics—Tokyo’s sights, the food, the insanity of race week—but there was an undercurrent of something sharper, a game of verbal ping-pong that neither of you seemed willing to let go of.

“You know,” Jeonghan said after a particularly clever jab from you about his less-than-stellar start in Australia, “I think I’ve finally figured you out.”

“Oh?” you asked, amusement dancing in your tone. “Do tell.”

“You act all cool and collected, but deep down…” He paused for dramatic effect, leaning in slightly. “…you love the chaos. You thrive on it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though a grin tugged at your lips. “And what about you, Mr. Reigning Champion? Aren’t you the one who said chaos is just part of the game?”

“True,” he admitted with a lazy shrug. “But I like to think I’m more strategic about it.”

“Strategic?” you echoed, incredulous. “You literally said ‘let them talk’ after crossing the finish line in Australia. That’s not strategy, Jeonghan—that’s reckless arrogance.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how it made your chest tighten just a little. “Maybe. But it keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, sipping your drink instead, determined not to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you with a knowing glint. “This feels familiar.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “What does?”

“Let’s just say you have a knack for leaving me with something to think about,” he said casually, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

A flicker of amusement crossed your face. “Still losing sleep over it, Jeonghan?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low, laced with mischief. “Not quite. But I’ve been wondering if you’re all talk or if you actually mean half the things you say.”

You smirked, leaning back just a little. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” he said smoothly, signaling to the bartender and slipping his card onto the counter.

You frowned, catching on quickly. “Jeonghan, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I don’t,” he replied, his smirk growing as he leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, intimate and teasing. “But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat you every now and then?”

“A terrible one,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, standing up and adjusting his jacket. “Always so quick with the comebacks.”

You tilted your head, not backing down. “And yet, here you are, still trying to keep up.”

He grinned, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “Oh, I’m not just keeping up, sweetheart. I’m leading.”

With that, he threw on his jacket, turning to leave, but not without one last playful remark. “Enjoy your night, Y/N. And next time…” He flashed a grin over his shoulder, his voice dipping lower. “Try putting that mouth of yours to better use.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you could hear his laugh as you watched him disappear into the neon-lit streets. 

Damn him.

The Suzuka Circuit’s air was heavy with anticipation, the disappointment in Ferrari’s garage palpable. Jeonghan leaned against the barrier in the media pen, his crimson Ferrari suit contrasting with the growing dusk. Despite his relaxed posture, the tension radiating off him was hard to miss.

"Yoon Jeonghan," you began, stepping forward with your mic. "P11 today—your first time not making it to Q3 since your rookie season. What happened out there?"

His smile was thin, masking the fire simmering beneath. "Suzuka’s a tough circuit. I put in a solid lap, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. A couple milliseconds make all the difference."

"Kim Mingyu of McLaren knocked you out in the dying seconds of the session," you pointed out, your tone as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, Mingyu had a great lap," he said, though his smirk betrayed a hint of frustration. "Kudos to him for that. It’s the nature of the game—sometimes you’re the one knocking others out, and sometimes you’re the one being knocked out."

You tilted your head, pressing just a little. "Ferrari’s upgrades were supposed to shine here at Suzuka. Do you think the car—or the driver—fell short today?"

His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Is that your way of asking if I’m losing my edge?"

You smiled faintly. "Just doing my job, Jeonghan."

"And doing it well," he replied smoothly. "I’ll make sure to give you something better to write about tomorrow."

Yoon Jeonghan’s Q2 Knockout: A Sign of Ferrari’s Struggles or a Driver Underperforming?

Your analysis was live before the sun set over Suzuka, dissecting Jeonghan’s performance lap by lap:

"While Ferrari’s SF-24 showed promise in Q1, Jeonghan’s Q2 lap exposed cracks in execution. Hesitant braking into Spoon Corner cost him vital time, and a wide exit through Degner 2 raised questions about his confidence under high pressure. Kim Mingyu’s decisive lap in the McLaren only highlighted the contrast, leaving Ferrari fans wondering if Jeonghan can rebound from this rare stumble."

It didn’t take long for the article to ripple through the paddock—and reach its subject. The article was sharp, critical, with the same bite that you had become a household name for. And Jeonghan read every word.

He must have been an idiot to assume you would be kinder after the way he’d left you gobsmacked a few nights prior at the bar. 

You had just wrapped up your interview with Mingyu, the day’s pole sitter, when Jeonghan found you.

"Got a minute?" he asked, voice deceptively light.

You glanced up, startled to find him so close, still in his Ferrari suit, his hair slightly damp from the cool-down lap.

"Something on your mind?" you replied, keeping your tone professional.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. "That article."

You raised an eyebrow. "Specificity helps, you know."

He chuckled darkly. "The one where you ripped apart my Q2 performance like you’re a technical director." He took a step closer, and for the first time, the calm façade cracked - his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Hesitant braking? Lack of confidence under pressure? You really think I’m losing my touch?"

"I think Suzuka demands perfection," you replied evenly. "And today, perfection wasn’t what we saw."

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You love this, don’t you? Watching me stumble so you can tear me apart in print."

"Jeonghan," you said, straightening, "if you want me to write glowing reviews, give me something to work with."

"You should’ve mentioned how close I was to Mingyu’s time," he shot back.

"Close isn’t enough," you countered, coolly. "Not in this sport."

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Careful, sweetheart. Don’t let them think you’re this obsessed with me."

"Careful, Jeonghan," you shot back mockingly. "Sienna Hartley might not like hearing you get so worked up over me."

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could walk away. "Here’s an exclusive for you," he said, his voice sharp. "Me and Sienna? Not together."

You blinked, thrown off for just a moment before you schooled your expression. "Good to know. Now let go."

He released you immediately but lingered just long enough to murmur, "Don’t think this is over."

The Suzuka chaos worked in Jeonghan’s favor. 

When the lights went out, Jeonghan’s start was perfect—clean, aggressive, calculated. By the first corner, he had already gained two places, capitalizing on a sluggish Alpine and threading the needle between a Williams and an AlphaTauri. 

The midfield battle was fierce. Suzuka’s notorious esses demanded precision, and Jeonghan attacked them with surgical efficiency, his Ferrari responding like an extension of his own instincts. He overtook the Aston Martin of Lee Seokmin into Turn 11 with a move so bold the crowd audibly gasped. 

Each pass felt like a small victory, but it wasn’t enough. The podium still felt miles away. His fingers tightened on the wheel as he navigated the sweeping Spoon Curve, catching a glimpse of the orange McLaren far ahead—Mingyu.

The memory of your post-quali interview slipped into his mind. Close isn’t enough. Not in this sport.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Jeonghan approached Degner 2, the car planted firmly under him. He could feel the wear on his tires but knew he still had grip to spare. He glanced briefly at the digital display on his steering wheel, calculating the gap to the car ahead—P5, the Red Bull of Choi Seungcheol.

As he accelerated toward the Hairpin, your voice echoed in his head again. Hesitant braking. Confidence issues.

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t anger—it was something more complicated. Why did you always manage to get under his skin? He should’ve been focusing on tire wear, fuel management, or his next target, but instead, his mind betrayed him.

He thought of the way you’d smirked during the interview, how your tone had been sharp, almost daring. The way you’d walked away, leaving him with more to say.

Focus. He snapped himself back, braking perfectly into the Hairpin. The slip of attention hadn’t cost him, but it had been close. Too close.

A well-timed pit stop under a virtual safety car catapulted him to P4. He rejoined the track with fresh mediums, slicing through the field with an aggression that stunned even his team.

By Lap 40, he was staring down the rear wing of Kwon Soonyoung—his own teammate. The team’s radio lit up, the pit wall hesitating.

“Jeonghan, Soonyoung ahead on a different strategy. Keep it clean.”

He didn’t wait for a direct order. Into 130R, the fastest corner on the track, he swung to the outside. His car shuddered with the force of the maneuver, but he held his line, leaving Soonyoung no choice but to yield.

“P3, Jeonghan. You’re on the podium now. Great move.”

With only two laps to go, he was in P2, chasing Mingyu, who had a comfortable lead. Jeonghan knew catching him was impossible, but that wasn’t the point anymore. This was about proving something—to his team, the fans, and maybe even to you.

The Ferrari hummed beneath him, a symphony of power and precision. Every turn, every braking zone, every shift felt like redemption. When he crossed the line in P2, the roar of the crowd was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

The media room was packed, buzzing with questions for the podium finishers. You started with Mingyu, still glowing from his dominant victory.

“Kim Mingyu,” you began, “another win for McLaren. How does it feel to catch up to Jeonghan in the driver’s championship?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning into the mic. “It feels incredible. The car was perfect today, and the team did an amazing job. Credit to everyone back at the factory.”

Before you could move on to the next question, Jeonghan interjected from his spot.

“Must feel nice to start up front and stay there,” he quipped, his tone light but pointed.

Mingyu grinned, unfazed. “You would know, Jeonghan. But you kept me looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

The room chuckled, and you shot Jeonghan a warning glance, which he ignored entirely.

Later, when a question was directed at Jeonghan about his race recovery, his response was pointed. "Oh, you know. I’m pretty good at managing tire degradation. And I had a lot of people doubting me on this track specifically, so I had to prove them wrong too."

His gaze locked on yours as he delivered the last line, and the meaning wasn’t lost on you—or anyone else in the room.

Jeonghan barely made it three steps out of the press conference room before Soonyoung intercepted him, leaning casually against a stack of Pirelli tires like he had all the time in the world. The amusement on his face set Jeonghan’s internal alarms blaring.

“What the hell was that about?” Soonyoung asked, arms crossed in mock authority.

Jeonghan blinked, expertly schooling his expression into one of pure confusion. “What was what about?” he replied, his tone dripping with innocence.

“Oh, don’t even try to play dumb with me, Jeonghan. I know you too well.” Soonyoung’s grin widened as he stepped closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You were doing something during that press conference. I’ve never seen you look that smug unless you’re—”

“I was answering questions,” Jeonghan interrupted smoothly, plucking a water bottle from the cooler without breaking his stride. He unscrewed the cap with deliberate calm, taking a slow sip. “That’s what press conferences are for, in case you forgot.”

Soonyoung squinted at him, unconvinced. “Right. And here I thought press conferences were for you to pretend you’re unbothered while delivering backhanded digs at Kim Mingyu.”

Jeonghan barely managed to keep a straight face, though he felt the tiniest flicker of pride. He had been particularly good with his barbs today. Still, there was no way he was admitting that. “Don’t project, Soonyoung,” he drawled. “Not everyone uses media day as therapy.”

Before Soonyoung could retort, a new voice joined the conversation.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee.

“You know what?” Jeonghan asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

“That look you had during the Q&A,” Sunwoo continued, leaning casually against a tool chest. “You were staring at her, man. Like, full-on laser focus. It’s like you were trying to send her a message.”

Jeonghan’s grip on the water bottle tightened. He felt his ears heat up but refused to let it show. “I was answering her question,” he said evenly. “It’s called eye contact. You should try it sometime—people like that sort of thing.”

But Sunwoo wasn’t done. “And don’t think we didn’t notice you getting all flustered when Mingyu’s name came up,” he added, his smirk widening.

“Flustered?” Jeonghan repeated, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. “Right. That’s definitely the word I’d use to describe me.”

“Come on, dude.” Sunwoo shrugged, undeterred. “Admit it. You’ve got a crush.”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jeonghan froze mid-sip, choking slightly as the water went down the wrong way. He coughed, spluttering as Sunwoo and Soonyoung erupted into laughter.

“Alright,” Jeonghan said sharply once he’d recovered, pointing a finger at Sunwoo. “You’ve been spending too much time on TikTok. Get back to work before I have you polishing rims for the rest of the season.”

But Sunwoo only grinned wider, completely unbothered. “Jeonghan’s in loooove,” he teased, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice.

“I said that’s enough,” Jeonghan snapped, the slight pink tinge creeping up his neck completely betraying his forced composure. “Shouldn’t you be tuning an engine or something useful?”

Soonyoung, meanwhile, was doubled over laughing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. When he finally straightened, he clapped Jeonghan on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man. If you need advice, just let me know. I’m great with women.”

Jeonghan groaned, brushing him off. “The day I take advice from you, Soonyoung, is the day I retire. He shoved past them toward his motorhome, muttering under his breath. “Insufferable. Both of you.”

But even as he slammed the door behind him, Jeonghan couldn’t stop the echo of Sunwoo’s words from rattling around in his head. 

You’ve got a crush.

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, tossing the water bottle onto the couch. But as he sank down beside it, arms crossed and jaw tight, he couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering.

Jeonghan didn’t want to be here.

The club pulsed with energy, a humid swirl of bodies pressing too close, the bass reverberating in his chest like a persistent headache. Strobe lights sliced through the haze, and the air smelled faintly of spilled drinks and cheap cologne. Somewhere in the chaos, Soonyoung had disappeared, leaving Jeonghan to fend for himself.

He’d been ready to make his exit the moment they walked in, but Soonyoung had insisted. “You need to loosen up, Jeonghan. Let the adrenaline from the race wear off. Have a drink, maybe dance.”Jeonghan had scoffed at the idea, knowing full well that his reason for not wanting to stay wasn’t exhaustion.

No, it was you.

Even when you weren’t in the room, you lingered in his mind like the ghost of a song he couldn’t stop humming. The podium had been a nice distraction. But now, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and the clinking of glasses, his thoughts drifted back to the press conference and the pointed, teasing look you’d given him when he spoke.

And then there was Mingyu—always Mingyu—whose name you’d said with just a little too much warmth. Jeonghan had pretended not to notice, but it had been impossible to ignore.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan pushed through the crowd, determined to leave. He had almost made it to the exit when someone collided into him, hard enough to send him stumbling forward.

“Whoa—watch it!” a voice slurred, sharp with irritation but unmistakably familiar.

He turned, already scowling, but the expression froze on his face when he saw you.

“Jeonghan?” you said, blinking up at him, your voice teetering between surprise and amusement. Your cheeks were flushed, lips curling into a slow smile as you adjusted your grip on the drink in your hand.

“You?” he blurted, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

“What are you—?” you started, only to trail off as a giggle bubbled out of you. Shaking your head like you were trying to clear it, you added, “Wow. Small world, huh?”

“I guess so,” Jeonghan said, his tone carefully even, though his gaze lingered on the way the dim light caught the sheen of your hair, the curve of your smile. His eyes dropped to your drink, then back to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly, before adding with a sheepish laugh, “Okay, maybe. Just a little.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to curve into a smile. “Sure looks like it.”

You waved him off with a dramatic flourish, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be... I don’t know, brooding on a podium somewhere?”

He tilted his head, pretending to be affronted. “I don’t brood. And besides, this is a celebration.”

“Oh, right,” you said, stepping closer. Your gaze softened, and your voice dropped just enough to make the words feel like they were meant for him alone. “The big comeback.”

“Lots of doubters, huh?” you added, the slight slur in your voice doing nothing to dull the edge of your words.

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard, before a chuckle escaped him. “Well, your article did the talking for you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes a little too bright, your smile a little too slow. “What a way to get my attention, pretty boy.”

His breath caught, his carefully built façade cracking for just a second. “You think I’m pretty?”

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, a hand landed firmly on your shoulder.

“There you are!”

Jeonghan looked up to see one of your friends glaring at him as they steadied you. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re... what? Flirting with Yoon Jeonghan now?”

“Not flirting,” you protested weakly, though your lopsided smile said otherwise.

Your friend wasn’t convinced, nor were they interested in his response. They tugged you into the crowd with an apologetic glance over their shoulder. “Sorry about her—she’s had a night.”

Jeonghan stayed rooted in place, his gaze following your retreating figure. His lips curved into a faint smile as your words replayed in his mind.

“What a way to get my attention,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

And yet, as he stood there, the thought struck him that maybe you’d already gotten his.

FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO 2024Track: Circuit de Monaco

The paddock at Monaco was alive with its usual glitz and glamour, the unmistakable hum of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Cameras flashed, team personnel buzzed around, and the harbor glistened under the sun. Monaco, the crown jewel of the F1 calendar, had a way of amplifying everything—victories felt sweeter, defeats more crushing, and the stakes impossibly higher.

Jeonghan, fresh off securing pole position, had his usual air of nonchalance, but the glow of triumph was undeniable. The fans chanted his name; the cameras adored him. Yet as he stepped off the podium erected for the post-qualifying festivities, his sharp eyes caught sight of something—someone—that brought him up short.

You.

You were standing just beyond the throng of journalists, your press badge gleaming under the midday sun. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, weeks since your sharp quips and piercing questions had filled the air between you like sparks on dry wood.

Those weeks had been… odd, to say the least. You’d been reassigned to cover Formula E, a shift Jeonghan had learned about only after noticing your absence at the paddock in China. He had played it cool, pretending it didn’t matter, but he had found himself seeking out your byline anyway—reading articles that had nothing to do with him or F1, just to feel the rhythm of your words.

Even the searing critiques you usually aimed at him had been sorely missed. It was maddening, really, how much quieter the world had felt without your fire.

Now, here you were again, back in the fray of Formula 1, as though no time had passed. Jeonghan’s expression remained casual, but his stride toward you was deliberate, cutting through the chaos of the paddock.

When he stopped in front of you, his smirk was already in place, a shield against the strange, unwelcome flutter of relief in his chest. “Where’ve you been?” he asked, tilting his head with practiced ease.

You looked up from your notebook, arching a brow at him. “Missed me, Jeonghan?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The word landed between you like a drop of rain on hot asphalt, its simplicity taking you aback. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but notice how the sharpness in your gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

But then, as quickly as the moment arrived, he leaned in, his smirk deepening. “Someone had to keep the paddock interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, recovering your composure. “I see the Monaco air hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“And I see Formula E hasn’t dulled your wit,” he shot back, stepping closer so the noise of the paddock faded slightly.

You shook your head, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve done not too bad these past few races, huh?”

The comment was offhand, tossed in almost as a formality, but it hit Jeonghan harder than he expected. Compliments—genuine ones—were rare from you, and they stirred something unexpected in him.

Jeonghan blinked, the smirk faltering for just a second before he quickly replaced it with mock arrogance. “Not too bad?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I dominated in China, held my ground in Miami, and destroyed Emilia Romagna. Give me some credit here.”

For all his ego, Jeonghan knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d won China by a jaw-dropping 22.3-second margin, Mingyu so far behind that Jeonghan had time to deliver an entire thank-you speech over the radio before the McLaren driver even crossed the checkered flag. In Miami, even a grueling five-second stop-go penalty hadn’t stopped him; he finished P2 (behind Kim Mingyu, annoyingly) and picked up the extra point for the fastest lap, earning him Driver of the Day. And in Emilia Romagna, he was the clear favorite from the moment the race weekend began. The Tifosi were relentless, their cheers in the grandstands so deafening that Jeonghan could barely hear his engineer’s voice over the radio.

When he crossed the finish line first, the sea of red under the podium roared with such thunderous applause that his ears rang for hours afterward. In just three races, Jeonghan had cemented himself as the best contender for the 2024 World Champion.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t as sweet without you there to write about it.

“Alright,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ve been exceptional.”

The word struck like a sucker punch. For once, Jeonghan didn’t have a clever retort. 

"Congrats on pole, Jeonghan," you said, your voice cool but sincere, offering him a small smile. It made his heart skip a beat.

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You called me exceptional."

You glanced up at him, closing your notebook with a flick of your wrist. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk. "Yes. Now, thoughts on pole?"

He's silent for so long that you politely clear your throat, hoping to cut through the sudden stillness. "Maybe this should be my headline for the day, Jeonghan. Monaco's Maze Leaves Golden Boy Spinning Out."

It's like someone doused him with ice water. His easy, sun-soaked posture stiffens, and the small smirk he'd been wearing evaporates.

You're still a journalist. He forgets that sometimes.

"Why do you do that?" he mutters, voice edged with something unfamiliar—disappointment, maybe.

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely between you and the notebook tucked in your hand. The lenses of his sunglasses catch the sunlight, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind them. His gaze pierces, searching for something in your expression. “Bringing the shitty headlines into every conversation."

You arch a brow, tucking the notebook closer to your chest as if shielding it from his line of sight. “Shitty? You mean accurate, Jeonghan.”

His jaw tightens, a subtle movement, but enough to draw your attention. There’s a faint crease forming between his brows now, and you realize it’s not your usual back-and-forth banter. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, voice low and barely audible over the hum of the paddock—the distant rumble of engines, the echo of voices, the clinking of tools in nearby garages.

For a moment, you’re at a loss. Jeonghan doesn’t let things like this bother him—or, at least, he’s always been good at pretending they don’t. His whole brand is carefree charm, a perpetual smirk, and the confidence of someone who knows he’ll always be the center of attention. This feels different.

“You’re upset about a headline?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“It’s not about the headline.” His tone sharpens, but he stops himself, jaw clenching like he’s swallowing something bitter. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his fingers brushing over the brim of his cap. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “It’s about how you never let up, even when it’s me.”

The admission lands heavily between you, unexpected and disarming.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his words, the way they seem to strip away the professional distance you’ve been clinging to. “Why should I?” you counter, keeping your voice steady despite the flicker of doubt creeping in. “You’re just another driver, Jeonghan.”

His laugh is short and humorless, cutting through the charged air between you. “Right. Just another driver.”

There’s something about the way he says it—low, almost resigned—that catches you off guard. The bitterness in his tone isn’t theatrical; it’s real, raw, and so at odds with the image he projects to the world.

You glance at him, searching for the Jeonghan you’re used to—the one who shrugs off criticism with a knowing grin, who always has a teasing retort ready. But for once, he’s not hiding behind a smirk or a cocky quip. He looks tired, the weight of his words pulling at the edges of his carefully maintained charm.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can find the right words. “Forget it.”

He takes a step back, and it feels like a gulf opening between you. The mask of indifference slips back into place with practiced ease, but you’ve already seen the cracks. “You’ve got your job to do,” he says, his tone clipped and distant. “Make sure you spell my name right in that next ‘shitty headline.’”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, hate the instinctive urge to reach out and stop him as he turns to walk away, his figure retreating into the chaotic swirl of the paddock.

But you don’t.

Instead, you grip your notebook tighter, the edges digging into your palm as if the physical discomfort might drown out the ache building in your chest. The buzz of your phone in your pocket snaps you out of the moment. Grateful for the distraction, you pull it out to see a text from your editor: Post-qualifying article. Deadline: 6 PM.

Just another driver.

The words echo hollowly in your mind, unconvincing and painfully untrue.

Because the truth is, Jeonghan has never been just anything to you.

And that’s exactly why this is so damn complicated.

Jeonghan spends the night refreshing his Twitter feed. 

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, honestly. 

Maybe it’s the rush of validation that comes from a clever reply, or the sting of criticism that reminds him he’s still human under the helmet. Or maybe it’s something else entirely—something he doesn’t want to name. The applause of the crowd is long gone, and the adrenaline from securing pole position hours earlier has settled into a restless hum. His phone feels heavier in his hand as he scrolls, tapping at random links and skimming comments that veer between praise and criticism.

The article finally pops up, your name bold and unmistakable at the top. His stomach tightens, a sensation he’ll never admit to anyone, least of all you. 

He clicks it immediately. 

The headline strikes first: 

Kim Mingyu’s Risky Qualifying Lap Keeps Rivals on Edge

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes scanning the words again to make sure he didn’t misread.

Mingyu?

Confusion knots his brow as he scrolls down. The opening paragraph is a glowing analysis of Mingyu’s audacious lap—a near miss in the second sector, a masterful recovery in the final corners. The kind of detailed, evocative writing that Jeonghan knows you reserve for stories you care about.

Then, buried halfway through, he finds his name:

“Jeonghan, true to form, delivered a flawless lap to secure pole position. His consistency and precision were unmatched, placing him at the front of the grid for tomorrow’s race.”

That’s it.

No breakdown of his sector times, no mention of the deft control it took to navigate the tight Monaco corners under immense pressure. Just a single, clinical acknowledgment, overshadowed by Mingyu’s second-place drama.

Jeonghan stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the refresh button. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—a parade in words? A headline with his name front and center?

It’s ridiculous, he tells himself. Pole position speaks for itself. It doesn’t need a poetic article to back it up.

But that doesn’t stop the irritation bubbling under his skin.

He tosses his phone onto the bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hotel room feels quieter than it should, the distant hum of the city barely seeping through the windows.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re making a point. That this is your way of reminding him that while he might be the golden boy on the track, he doesn’t get special treatment in your world.

Not in your writing. Not from you.

It’s infuriating.

And yet, a part of him—one he’s unwilling to examine too closely—wants to know why you didn’t write more about him. Wants to know what he’d have to do to make you look at him the way you clearly look at Mingyu.

Not just another driver.

But the one worth writing about.

The morning of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned with the soft hum of engines filling the paddock and the gleaming streets of Monte Carlo radiating under a cloudless sky. Jeonghan arrived early, his customary calm masking the roiling anticipation beneath. Pole position was his—secured with a lap so clinical it had left his rivals chasing shadows. Yet, the sharp sting of your article still lingered, buried beneath layers of pride and annoyance.

By mid-morning, the paddock buzzed with tension. The Monaco circuit—narrow, unforgiving, and relentlessly demanding—left no room for error. Victory here wasn’t just about speed; it was about precision, strategy, and an unwavering mental edge. Jeonghan knew that all too well.

As he suited up, the familiar ritual steadied his thoughts. Helmet, gloves, fireproofs—each piece transformed him into the driver everyone expected him to be. His engineer’s voice crackled over the comms. “Focus on the start, Jeonghan. Turn One is everything.”

He gave a curt nod, stepping into the car. The roar of the crowd was muffled as the cockpit enveloped him. Lights on the dashboard blinked in sequence, a visual metronome syncing with his heartbeat.

The engine roars to life beneath Jeonghan as he settles into the cockpit, the familiar hum of the Monaco Grand Prix vibrating through the seat, up his spine, and into his very bones. His focus sharpens like a blade, the heat of the sun seeping through his visor, but he’s not thinking about the sweat trickling down his neck or the weight of the helmet that obscures his field of vision. He’s thinking of the laps he’s put in, of the sacrifice, the years of work that led him here, to this very moment, pole position in Monaco.

He has no illusions about the challenge ahead. This track has always favored the one at the front, especially when that one is someone as methodical and precise as Jeonghan. It’s not often that the pole sitter falters here. But that’s not what has his stomach in knots. It’s not the track or the other drivers. It’s you. The thought of your words, your perspective, your gaze.

What if this win isn’t enough? What if I’m still just another driver to you?

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he considers the possibility of failing, of cruising through the race without the sharp, passionate energy that has always pushed him. What if he doesn’t even get the headline he’s chasing? What if all this effort amounts to nothing more than another expected victory, no deeper praise, no recognition?

He blinks, pushing the thought away. He can’t afford distractions. He’s here to win—nothing else matters.

The lights blink, one by one, before finally turning off, and he’s off, the car surging forward into the narrow streets of Monaco, engines screaming in unison. His concentration narrows, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. The first few laps are a blur of tactical moves, maintaining the lead, setting the pace. Behind him, Mingyu is close—too close—but Jeonghan has enough room, enough air to breathe.

The laps tick by, the gaps between drivers stretching and shrinking like the ebb and flow of a tide. In Monaco, you can’t make mistakes. The barriers are close enough to bite, and one slip-up could send everything into chaos. Jeonghan doesn’t think of that, though. He doesn’t think of the press, of his reputation, of the words hanging in the back of his mind.

What he thinks about is the win. The pure, simple joy of crossing that finish line first. He wants to feel the weight of the moment, of the accomplishment, and more than anything, he wants to look up and see you there—see that your words reflect the magnitude of this victory.

He holds the lead through the race, but it’s a quiet victory, one he can feel in his bones but doesn’t fully experience. The lap times are consistent, but nothing spectacular happens. No drama, no surprise overtake, no breathtaking maneuver.

It’s a clean, controlled victory—exactly what everyone expects from the driver in pole position.

By the time the checkered flag waves, Jeonghan crosses the line in first. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Jeonghan doesn’t feel the same rush of emotion. The thrill is absent, replaced instead by a deep, gnawing sense of doubt.

The win is his, but it feels like it’s already slipping away from his grasp.

In the post-race briefing, he sits with his team, nodding as they discuss tire strategies, pit stops, and the things that went right. But his eyes keep drifting to the back of the room, to where you stand, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes with focused intent. Every time he tries to catch your gaze, to make eye contact, you look away, as if determined to keep your distance.

It stings more than it should.

Jeonghan leans back in his seat, the weight of his helmet resting against his neck, the pressure of your indifference pressing down on him. He wants to reach out, wants to tell you that this win—this clean, controlled, expected win—deserves something more. But he stays silent, twisting the words in his mind, unable to voice the insecurity that’s suddenly consuming him.

The press conference follows the briefing, a whirlwind of questions, cameras, and flashing lights. The room is full of journalists, all clamoring for soundbites, all eager to discuss the expected result—Jeonghan, pole position, and now, victory. But Jeonghan doesn’t care about the usual congratulatory remarks. He’s waiting for something more. Something real.

When the article finally drops, hours later, he barely waits before pulling it up on his phone. He knows what it’s going to say, but still, the disappointment claws at his chest as he reads the headline.

Jeonghan Dominates Monaco: Pole Position Translates to Victory

His stomach twists, and he exhales sharply, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through him. It’s everything he expected—a result that leaves no room for admiration, no room for praise. Just the simple, obvious statement that he did what everyone expected him to do. The race was clean, flawless even, but there’s no depth to the words, no recognition of what it takes to win here, at Monaco, the most challenging track in the world.

The thought gnaws at him.

It’s not enough.

The press conference continues, the cameras flashing, but Jeonghan’s mind is far from the words he’s being asked to repeat. He’s not thinking about the team’s success, about the strategies that worked, or even about the crowd's cheers. His eyes find you across the room once again, but this time, you don't look away. Your gaze is fixed on something—anything—but not on him.

He can’t help but wonder if it’s because you don’t see him as more than just another driver. Just another one of the usual suspects who gets a win when it’s expected. He’s fighting for something more—something beyond the surface. But for now, it seems like that’s something he’ll never get from you.

He’s won Monaco. But in that moment, the victory feels like the hollowest thing in the world.

FORMULA 1 AWS GRAND PRIX DU CANADA 2024Track: Circuit Gilles Villeneuve

The Canadian Grand Prix feels like a blur. The rain starts as a light drizzle, but by the time the race begins, it’s pouring, transforming the circuit into a slippery mess. The slick track glistens under the flood of water, making the circuit treacherous, a spinning wheel of danger. The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt, and there’s an ominous tension in the paddock, a murmur that hangs in the atmosphere as if everyone knows something bad is about to happen. 

You catch sight of Jeonghan on the grid. He’s staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect, like the picture of composure. But you can see it in his eyes—something flickers there, a mix of tension and determination. His car, finely tuned for dry conditions, isn’t built for this. The engineers have done what they can, adjusting the setup, but there’s only so much they can do when the weather turns so violently. You know this track—the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve—is not forgiving, and for someone like Jeonghan, a precision driver who thrives when everything falls into place, this is the worst-case scenario. He’s trying to keep his focus, but you can see the strain on his face, the pressure mounting with every passing moment.

The starting lights go out, and the cars roar off the grid, their engines screaming in defiance of the rain. Jeonghan’s car is sluggish in the first few laps. You see him fighting with the wheel, struggling to keep the car in line, each turn a reminder that the odds are stacked against him. The rain is only getting heavier, and the car, built for speed in perfect conditions, is no longer responsive, no longer the finely-tuned machine he’s so accustomed to. It’s like he’s driving a different car altogether.

As the laps tick by, the race feels like a slow-motion disaster, unfolding before your eyes. Jeonghan’s always been skilled in the wet, but this is different—this is more than just rain. This is a mechanical mismatch, an impossible task to overcome. You watch him push, trying to find any way to make up time, but it’s clear he’s just not able to. The car slides wide through the corners, the back end kicking out as he struggles to maintain control. His frustration is palpable, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

And then, it happens.

The rear end of Jeonghan’s car breaks loose as he enters Turn 6, and for a moment, it’s a dance of power and precision, a flick of the wheel, an attempt to save it. But it’s futile. The car loses traction, and before you can even process it, he’s in the barriers. The sound of impact is like a gut punch, a sickening crunch that sends a wave of dread through you. The crowd's collective gasp is drowned out by the static crackle of his radio.

“Jeonghan, do you copy?” The voice of his engineer is urgent, panicked, but there’s no mistaking the defeat in it when the response comes through. Jeonghan’s voice is clipped, emotion stripped away in favor of the cold reality.

“I’m out. Car’s done.”

The message is simple, the weight of it crashing down on you. The race is over. Lap 30. The dream, the chance to prove himself in a season that’s been anything but easy, has slipped away, drowned by the rain.

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. It’s a loss for Jeonghan, but it feels like a loss for you too. Not because of the race itself, but because of the frustration you saw in his face. The disappointment. The feeling of helplessness. It’s all there, and it hits you harder than you expect.

He doesn’t speak to anyone after. He doesn’t go to the media pen, doesn’t stand in front of the cameras for the obligatory interview. There’s no deflection, no distractions. He’s just... gone. You barely see him in the paddock. He doesn’t even go to the Ferrari garage to debrief with his team. He disappears into the background, like he’s trying to erase himself from the scene altogether, retreating into the shadows, avoiding the world that’s waiting to cast its judgment.

And you? You stay away too. The press room feels suffocating, the questions ringing in your ears as you try to focus. You write your piece, a cold, sharp report about the race and Jeonghan’s crash, a clinical dissection of what went wrong. But something feels hollow as you type. The words don’t flow the way they used to. They’re just words, strung together to meet the deadline, to give the readers what they want. It’s not about the story anymore. It’s not about the race. It’s about the loss.

You can’t shake the image of Jeonghan crashing out, of his frustration written in every line of his face, every motion of his hands. You can’t forget the way he looked when he climbed out of the car, shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen onto him. His eyes are distant, like he’s already checked out, retreating into himself. It’s a look you’ve seen before, but it’s sharper now, more pronounced. He’s carrying something, a burden that you don’t understand, a burden you’re not sure you can even help him carry.

But all you can do is write. And even that doesn’t feel like enough.

FORMULA 1 ARAMCO GRAN PREMIO DE ESPAÑA 2024 Track: Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

The Spanish Grand Prix feels different from the moment you step out of the car, the heat oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and the inevitable tension of the weekend. The usual rhythm of the paddock is off-kilter, heightened by the suffocating summer heat, the burning sun beating down on every exposed surface. The heat is more than just physical; it's palpable in the way the drivers move, in the clipped tones of the engineers, in the quiet buzz of conversation that flickers out like static.

But even through the sticky, heavy air, the tension feels electric—charged, ready to snap. The circuit is a challenge in itself, and the drivers know it. There’s no room for error here—just wide, hot tarmac and the constant pressure of chasing that perfect lap.

You’ve done your best to avoid Jeonghan, kept a comfortable distance as much as possible. But there’s something about the way he carries himself now—an edge that wasn't there before. It’s sharp, biting, and yet there’s an underlying vulnerability that makes everything harder to ignore.

When qualifying results flash up, you’re caught off-guard. Soonyoung is on pole, Mingyu in second, and Jeonghan… Jeonghan is in third. 

Jeonghan strides into the paddock after qualifying, his face carefully composed, but there’s a look in his eyes—something sharp, something that makes you hesitate. You haven’t spoken in days, not since Canada, not since he shut you out. You’ve been avoiding him, and he’s been avoiding you, but you both know the silence can’t last forever.

You’re standing near the media area when he approaches, and for a moment, it feels like the world holds its breath. The slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze flicks over your shoulder, pretending not to care, but you see through it.

"Don't do this," he says, his voice tight, but it's not the playful teasing you’ve grown used to. It’s something darker. Something tired.

"Don’t do what?" you snap, your patience running thin. "Pretend everything’s fine?"

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been avoiding me. Why? Because of Canada?"

You blink. The question hits harder than you expect, and you struggle to keep your composure. “You expect me to just forget what happened? You were fine after the crash, Jeonghan. You didn’t even bother with the press. I can’t just pretend that wasn’t... anything.”

The words come out sharper than you intend, and for a split second, you regret it. You see the way his shoulders stiffen, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes before he masks it with that carefully constructed indifference.

"Maybe I didn’t want to deal with your harsh words," he snaps, taking a step closer. “Maybe I’m tired of being the perfect driver for you, the one who’s supposed to be good enough to meet your standards. But I’m not—am I?"

Your chest tightens at the accusation, at the sudden rawness in his voice. "You think I’m too harsh? You think I’m just waiting for you to be perfect all the time?" You laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. "That’s what this is about? You crashing out wasn’t because of me. I write the truth, Jeonghan. And maybe the truth is you didn’t have the car for that race. It was out of your control."

His expression darkens, and you see that familiar flash of anger—one you’ve seen more times than you care to admit. "No," he hisses, taking another step toward you. "The truth is, you're so wrapped up in your narratives, you forget that I’m human. You forget that I have feelings too, and that maybe... maybe I wanted to do this for myself, not for some headline or some article. But you... you don’t see me that way, do you? You see me as another story, another fucking headline to dissect. Just another driver."

His words cut deeper than anything else could, and the final crack in your restraint breaks wide open. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat, the way your breath hitches.

“You want me to treat you differently?” you bite back, furious, stepping into his space. “You want me to hold your hand and tell you it’s okay every time you fail? Because you’re so tired of being just another driver? Well, you know what, Jeonghan? I am tired. I’m tired of trying to keep this professional, of pretending that I’m not watching the same guy who couldn’t even handle his own crash. You don’t get to demand better treatment from me when you can’t even handle the heat.”

For a moment, neither of you move, and the silence is thick, charged with the weight of your words.

He stares at you, eyes dark, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You’re both too close now, caught in this space where words are weapons, and you’re both bleeding out.

Finally, Jeonghan turns away, his expression unreadable, but you can see the tightness in his back, the way his jaw works, like he’s holding something back. "Maybe you should stop writing about me altogether," he mutters, his voice rough, before stalking off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and chest aching.

For a moment, you stand frozen, caught between regret and relief, between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the sudden emptiness that creeps in now that he's gone.

The moment Jeonghan storms off, leaving you standing there with a surge of anger and a pounding heart, you don't realize someone’s been listening. But someone has. The faint click of a camera, barely audible over the sound of your pulse, is enough to make you pause. You turn, instinctively, to see a familiar face from the gossip side of the paddock. It's Soojin, a reporter known for getting the juiciest bits of drama and twisting them into scandalous headlines. She’s got a camera in one hand, her phone in the other, furiously typing something into it with a smirk that sends an uncomfortable ripple through your gut.

Before you can say anything, she’s already gone, blending back into the throng of people milling around the paddock, her steps quick and sure. The damage has been done. You know it, and the prickling sensation in the pit of your stomach tells you that it’s about to get a lot worse.

By the time you’ve made it back to the media center, the storm has already hit. Your Twitter feed is flooded with the words “Trouble in Paradise?”, and the accompanying photos. The images are damning—Jeonghan’s angry face, red with emotion, and your own flushed, furious expression, both of you screaming at each other in the middle of the paddock. There’s no context, no explanation, just the raw emotion, raw enough to sell.

The headline isn’t even what stings. It’s the comments that follow. Speculation, assumptions, and a flood of opinions. Some call it a lover’s quarrel, some assume the worst, but most seem content to paint the picture of two people on the verge of breaking. It’s not just your name that gets dragged through the mud; it’s Jeonghan’s too. Both of you, caught in a perfect storm of emotions and bad timing. The last thing either of you needs.

You try to shut it out, but it’s impossible. The text messages from your editor come through, asking for a statement. Your phone rings with calls from the PR team, from your colleagues, and even from your friends, who all seem to know about the situation before you’ve even had a chance to process it yourself.

And then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, the email comes. It’s from Ferrari’s PR team, and it’s almost too professional to be true:

Dear Y/N, In light of the recent events surrounding your interactions with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, we would like to offer you full access to the Ferrari garage for the remainder of the season. This will provide you with the opportunity to write an in-depth feature on the team, showcasing the work and dedication that goes into each race weekend. We believe this move will allow for a clearer perspective on the situation and help ensure that your reporting reflects the true nature of the team and its drivers. We look forward to your continued coverage. Best regards, Ferrari PR Team

It’s a calculated move—a distraction, a chance to smooth things over. And you know it. The message is clear: everything must look fine. Everything must be fixed, packaged neatly for the media and the fans to consume. You’re a pawn in a much bigger game, and they’re making sure you play along.

At first, you think about refusing. You think about how everything feels so wrong right now. About how the image of you and Jeonghan, caught in the heat of an argument, is being used to feed the frenzy. But the PR team doesn’t leave room for argument. You know that declining would only escalate things further, make them harder to fix.

So, you agree.

The access starts almost immediately. They give you a full tour of the Ferrari garage, show you the inner workings of the team, introduce you to the engineers, the strategists, the pit crew. You’re given permission to write about the team’s strategy, their behind-the-scenes preparation, but there’s always a sense that you're being watched—every move, every word.

You can’t help but notice Jeonghan’s absence. Every time you walk through the garage, he’s not there. The driver who once greeted you with a cocky smile and a teasing remark, the one who always found a way to make you laugh, is nowhere to be found. It’s like he’s vanished, swallowed by the thick wall of Ferrari’s PR machine.

It’s as if nothing is real anymore. The false smiles, the calculated interviews, the way the drivers exchange glances with a rehearsed ease. The more you observe, the more you realize how much of this world is a performance, a show put on for the audience, with no room for anything real. It all feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but an empty, fragile façade.

Still, you’re expected to keep writing, to deliver the polished pieces the team expects. You’re supposed to put the headline “TROUBLE IN PARADISE?” behind you and focus on the carefully constructed narrative. So, you do. For now.

But even as you walk the pits, breathing in the scent of burnt rubber and sweat, there’s a quiet ache in the back of your mind. The truth is, you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that everything is fine.

Not when you still feel Jeonghan’s words hanging in the air between you, like the remnants of a storm that’s yet to pass. Not when you still want, with everything in you, to be able to fix it.

And maybe that’s the problem.

The crash happens so quickly, so violently, that it almost feels unreal. One moment, the tell-tale red of Jeonghan’s car is cutting through the circuit with his signature precision. The next, it’s a twisted mess of metal and rubber, skidding off the track, his car spinning wildly as Lee Seokmin’s Aston Martin clips him just before the tight corner at Turn 14. You watch it all unfold from the pit wall, your heart stopping for a brief second as the sound of the crash echoes through the air. 

There’s a collective gasp from the crew around you, followed by the frantic chatter of engineers and strategists, trying to process what just happened. You can see the smoke rising from the wreckage, and your breath catches when the marshals begin to swarm the car, signaling that Jeonghan is still inside. 

The radio crackles to life, but Jeonghan’s voice doesn’t come through. For a second, it feels like time slows down. The pit wall is a blur of motion, but you’re frozen, eyes locked on the track, praying for him to be okay. 

Then, finally, the confirmation comes: “Jeonghan is out of the car. He's fine. We'll move him to the medical center.” 

A wave of relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. The weight of the crash—his crash—still hangs in the air, and it’s clear from the looks of the Ferrari crew that no one knows exactly what went wrong. The tension in the paddock is palpable, and as you’re given full access to the debriefing room afterward, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken frustration. 

Jeonghan walks in with that same seething expression he had after the crash, and the room goes silent. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw clenched, the kind of anger that’s so deep it can’t be shaken by anything or anyone. His usual confident swagger is replaced by a taut, barely contained rage that makes it hard for anyone to even breathe in his presence. His voice, when he speaks, is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. 

“You think this is a joke?” he snaps, looking at his team with a glare so intense it’s almost suffocating. His fists are balled at his sides, his shoulders tense with barely controlled fury. 

The debriefing begins, but it’s clear that no one knows how to handle him. His coach tries to keep things calm, but Jeonghan's sharp words only make the tension worse. The rest of the team sits in silence, unsure of what to say, how to fix the situation. His eyes never leave the table, his posture rigid, as though every part of him is fighting the urge to storm out. 

The meeting goes in circles—strategies discussed, what went wrong, how to move forward—but nothing seems to land. Jeonghan doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to listen to anyone right now. His frustration is palpable, and it’s clear this crash, this failure, has broken something inside of him. 

When he finally stands, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, there’s an air of finality to it. Without another word, he storms out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. No one dares to speak, knowing that anything they say would be pointless. The door slams shut, and the meeting disbands soon after. 

But you don’t leave. You don’t really have anywhere to go. Not yet. 

You make your way to the Ferrari canteen, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. It’s one of those rare moments when you’re not chasing a headline, not following the usual routine, and the monotony of it all feels like a relief. You order two beers without thinking. You don’t need two, but for some reason, it feels right. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the crash, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything—the pressure, the disappointment, the simmering frustration with Jeonghan that you haven’t had the chance to process yet. The beers are cold, the glass bottles slick with condensation, and when you walk outside to the grandstands, you find him. 

Jeonghan is sitting alone, his back against the metal railing, the crowd long gone. The air is warm, the kind of summer heat that clings to your skin and makes everything feel a little heavier. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back as he stares at the sky, and for a moment, you wonder if he even notices you approaching. 

Without saying a word, you sit beside him, the soft crunch of your shoes against the gravel the only sound in the stillness. You don’t offer him a drink immediately. Instead, you hold the bottles in your hands, feeling the chill seep into your palms, letting the silence stretch between you. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hand him one of the beers. He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the faintest shift in his posture, a soft hum of acknowledgement as he accepts it, cracking the cap with a quick twist.

“Jeonghan,” you say, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than you expect it to be. He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. You take a sip of your own beer, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment. You can feel the tension that’s been building between you both, the weight of the unspoken words, but for now, you can’t bring yourself to make him speak. 

Then he does. “Full access, huh?” His voice is rough, the teasing edge to his words gone, replaced by something heavier. The bitterness is unmistakable. “You must be thrilled, getting to see me crash out in front of the entire team.” 

You almost choke on your beer. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuinely hurt, but it stings regardless. 

“I’m not,” you say quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish he would look at you, but he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw still tight, muscles still coiled like a spring. "I don’t want that, Jeonghan. What don’t you get?" 

“No?” He tilts his head slightly, but his gaze stays fixed. “I would think Miss Scathing Articles would relish the chance to tear me down again.” 

A sharp retort sat on your tongue, but you swallowed it. There was no point. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the distant horizon where the racetrack lay, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. "I don’t," you said quietly. "I’m not interested in tearing you down. I never have been." 

Jeonghan’s laugh was hollow, almost like a scoff. "Color me surprised." 

A beat passed between you both, the air thick with unspoken words. You took a sip of your beer, now lukewarm and slightly flat, but it didn’t matter. Neither of you had the luxury of pretending everything was fine anymore. 

He finally turns to you, his eyes meeting yours; there’s something in the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, almost like he’s waiting for the punchline of some cruel joke. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long silence, your voice softer this time, barely above a whisper. You’re not sure if he hears you, but he looks at you with an expression that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a minefield. 

He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he exhales a long breath, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as though the weight of it all is finally catching up to him. The tension between you hangs heavy in the warm summer air, the quiet hum of distant cicadas filling the space where words should be. Jeonghan takes another sip of his beer, the bottle pressed lightly against his lips as though it might cool the heat simmering under his skin. He looks tired—no, more than tired. Worn down. The type of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says finally, the words coming out uneven, almost like they’re foreign on his tongue. His voice is softer now, missing the sharp edges that had cut into you moments before. “You were just doing your job.” 

“Jeonghan,” you start, but he holds up a hand, silencing you. 

“No, really.” He forces a thin smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of expression you’ve seen him use in press conferences—a shield, practiced and perfect. “You’re here because Ferrari told you to be. Because someone thought it’d be a great PR move. You don’t owe me anything beyond that.” 

The words sting, even though you know they shouldn’t. He’s not wrong. This isn’t your world, not really. But you can’t help the knot tightening in your chest as you watch him retreat into himself, the walls going up before your eyes. 

“I’m not here because they told me to be,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I’m here because I wanted to be. Because I saw the crash, Jeonghan, and I—” You stop, swallowing hard as the memory flashes behind your eyes again. The twisted metal, the plume of smoke, the moment you thought— 

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Not as a journalist. Not as someone with a job to do. As someone who—” Jeonghan’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s something vulnerable there, too, something unguarded. 

You don't finish the sentence. 

Jeonghan watches you closely now, his beer suspended mid-air, forgotten. The sharpness in his gaze softens, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe, or an unease he doesn’t quite know how to address.

The air between you feels heavy, suffocating in its quiet. You can still hear the faint echoes of the crash in your mind, the awful screech of metal against asphalt, the split-second horror of thinking you’d just seen him—

He sets the bottle down with a soft clink against the railing, breaking the spell.

“Scared, huh?” His voice is quieter now, and there’s a touch of disbelief, as though he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words or dismiss them.

You nod, throat tightening as you try to push through the lump that’s settled there. “Terrified,” you admit, the word feeling foreign and vulnerable on your tongue. “Not because of what I’d have to write, but because I thought—” You bite down on the rest of the sentence, unwilling to say it aloud.

Jeonghan exhales, long and slow, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back against the railing. “I’m fine,” he says eventually, the words flat and unconvincing. He glances at you, his lips pressing into a faintly wry smile. “A little bruised. A little pissed. But I’m fine.”

It’s not enough to untangle the knot in your chest, but it’s a start. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

He finishes his beer in a few swallows, the motion oddly decisive, before standing and brushing off his pants. For a moment, you think he’s about to leave without another word, the tension between you both left unresolved.

But then he turns, holding out a hand toward you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint curve to his lips that feels almost... playful.

“Friends?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. “If you’re going to be hanging around the garage all season, might as well, y’know?”

You blink at him, taken aback. The man who’d stormed out of the debriefing room in a fit of rage, who’d spat barbs at you moments ago, now stood here offering a truce like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Friends,” you echo, narrowing your eyes as you take his hand. It’s warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if this is another performance—an act to keep you at arm’s length.

But when he pulls you to your feet, there’s something genuine in his expression, something almost relieved.

“You better not make me regret this,” he says, letting go of your hand as he shoves his now-empty beer bottle into your other one. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the shit you wrote.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he smirks.

For the first time all day, the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. You follow him back toward the paddock, your steps lighter than they’ve been in weeks.

And for now, that’s enough.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Red Bull Ring

The Red Bull Ring stretches out before you like a postcard of precision. Nestled in the Austrian hills, the track gleams under the soft morning sun, its curves and straights inviting the first roar of engines. The garage is alive with motion—engineers bent over laptops, mechanics tightening bolts, and the hum of anticipation that comes with any race weekend.

You step into the Ferrari garage, an interloper in a sea of red. Jeonghan’s car gleams in its designated spot, pristine and ready, as though it hadn’t been a crumpled wreck just a week ago. The team works around it like a well-oiled machine, barely sparing you a glance. You’re supposed to be here, technically, but that doesn’t stop the slight twinge of unease as you find a quiet corner near the monitors.

“Back again?”

The voice is unmistakable, light and teasing. You turn, and there he is: Yoon Jeonghan in his fireproofs, the sleeves tied around his waist, his white undershirt faintly clinging to his frame. He looks every bit the picture of calm, like he hasn’t spent the past few days fielding press questions about his crash.

“Didn’t think you’d miss the chance to watch me run into someone,” he adds, smirking as he adjusts his gloves.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying you’re aiming for Aston Martin?”

He laughs, a real laugh this time, and it’s startling how much it changes the air around you. “Not today. But I’ll keep you updated if Seokmin starts driving like a rookie again.”

“Careful, Jeonghan,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “I might put that in my next article.”

He leans casually against the wall, his dark eyes scanning your face with an intensity that’s become familiar in the past few weeks. But there’s no edge to it today, no armor. Just him, relaxed and—for once—almost easygoing.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are,” he says after a beat, his voice low enough that the hum of the garage nearly drowns it out.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the grin that creeps onto your face. “And you’re not as charming as you think you are.”

He tilts his head, considering this like it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. “Fair. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Purely professional,” you quip, ignoring the way his smirk grows.

Before he can reply, the engineer by the monitors calls him over, gesturing to the screen. Jeonghan holds up a finger, signaling for a moment, then turns back to you.

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” His voice is lighter now, teasing but not in the way that cuts. It feels natural, like banter between...well, maybe not quite friends. Not yet. But something close.

You shrug, watching as he walks toward his team, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. The tension that had lingered after the crash feels like it’s finally begun to dissolve, replaced by something steadier. Not quite trust, but something adjacent.

As you settle into the corner, notebook in hand, you can’t help but glance at him every so often. On the surface, it’s just another practice session, another day at the track. But for the first time in weeks, it feels like something close to normal. 

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS BRITISH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Silverstone Circuit

Silverstone roars to life under a blazing sun, the grandstands filled to capacity with fans waving flags and wearing team colors. The overcast sky has burned off, leaving the track shimmering under the summer sun. It’s one of the biggest stages of the season, and Jeonghan delivers a masterclass in qualifying, the finely tuned Ferrari underneath him responding to every input like an extension of himself. The sharp smell of rubber and fuel lingers in the air, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He’s back.

The final lap times on the leaderboard tell the story: pole position. Ferrari’s garage is electric with celebration, engineers clapping each other on the back, a cheer rising when Jeonghan steps into the swarm of red. His team surrounds him, hands gripping his shoulders, voices shouting praise over the din.

He grins, wide and unguarded, the weight of the last few weeks lifting ever so slightly. Spain and Canada had shaken him, but this—this feels like a reckoning. Proof that the mistakes and setbacks weren’t the whole story.

“Perfect lap, Jeonghan,” his engineer says, beaming as he hands him a water bottle.

He nods in acknowledgment, taking a swig, his heart still racing as he glances around the paddock. The sun is high now, glinting off the sleek curves of the cars lined up in parc fermé. Jeonghan’s gaze sweeps over the crowd, soaking in the energy—until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren garage, the vibrant orange of their branding a stark contrast to the reds and blacks of his world. You’re leaning against a barrier, the breeze tugging at your hair as you laugh at something Mingyu says. Your face is so open, so full of light, that it’s almost magnetic.

Mingyu gestures animatedly, clearly in the middle of some ridiculous story, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. You throw your head back with a laugh, and Jeonghan feels a tightness in his chest he can’t quite place.

The joy that had filled him moments ago flickers.

Why does it bother him?

The thought lingers as he watches you, his water bottle dangling forgotten in his hand. Jeonghan isn’t used to this kind of gnawing discomfort. He’s competitive, sure, but this is something else entirely.

Jealousy.

The sun is lower in the sky when he finds you, his long strides purposeful as he weaves through the paddock. The golden hour light makes everything seem softer, but Jeonghan’s mood is anything but. His thoughts from earlier have been simmering, the warmth of victory eclipsed by a frustration he can’t shake.

You’re leaning against a railing, scrolling on your phone when he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Ferrari garage?” he says, his tone sharper than he intends.

You blink up at him, startled. “I was just catching up with Mingyu.”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Funny. I thought you were doing a full-access piece on Ferrari, not McLaren.”

There’s something in his voice—an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “I am,” you reply slowly, standing up straighter. “What’s this about?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why your articles about Mingyu are always glowing? What, are you sleeping with him?”

The accusation is like a slap, cutting through the air with a harshness that leaves you stunned.

Your expression shifts, disbelief giving way to anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight. The regret in his eyes is fleeting, buried under the weight of his own misplaced frustration.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. “It’s always one step forward, two steps back with you, Jeonghan.”

His lips part as if to reply, but you don’t wait for him to dig himself deeper. You storm off, your footsteps echoing against the paddock floor. The sting of his words lingers, but so does the look on his face as you walk away.

Jeonghan stands there, watching you go, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knows he’s crossed a line, and the weight of his own stupidity settles heavily over him.

The knock on your hotel room door comes before sunrise, soft but insistent. You groan, burying your face in your pillow before dragging yourself to the door.

When you open it, the hallway is empty. But at your feet sits a bouquet wrapped in crisp white paper, tied with a simple satin ribbon.

Roses. Soft blush pink, their petals perfectly unfurled, paired with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

The arrangement is beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so, the kind of bouquet that feels like a story in itself. You crouch to pick it up, your fingers brushing over the velvety petals. The faint, sweet scent of roses fills the air, mixing with the crisp morning chill that seeps into the hallway.

Nestled among the flowers is a small envelope.

You pull it out, your thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as you open it. Inside, scrawled in a slightly messy hand that’s unmistakably Jeonghan’s, are two simple words:

I’m sorry.

You glance down the hallway instinctively, half-expecting to see him lingering in the shadows. But it’s empty, as silent as it was before you opened the door.

You stand there for a moment longer, the bouquet in your arms and the note trembling slightly in your fingers. The apology feels heavier than the flowers, weighted by the memory of his words from yesterday.

He didn’t need to apologize like this, you think. He could have texted, could have mumbled something in passing when you inevitably crossed paths today. But instead, he’d gone to the trouble of figuring out your favorite flowers—roses and baby’s breath, a detail you don’t even remember telling him.

The realization stirs something in you, softening the edges of your anger.

The roses sit on the desk as you get ready for the day, the baby’s breath adding a delicate touch to the arrangement. The card leans against the vase, its two-word apology a quiet presence in the room.

Somewhere in the city, Silverstone is waking up, the air already buzzing with anticipation for the race. But here, in the stillness of your hotel room, you take a moment to breathe, to let the gesture sink in.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes faintly in your mind, the memory of yesterday’s confrontation still fresh. And yet, as you glance at the roses again, the sting of his words begins to dull, replaced by something softer, something not yet ready to be named.

The pre-race buzz was electric. The roar of engines echoed faintly in the distance, a constant backdrop to the paddock’s chaotic rhythm. Mechanics zipped between garages, reporters hustled to get last-minute quotes, and fans outside the barricades chanted their favorite drivers’ names. Amid all this, your footsteps fell heavy against the asphalt, your target in sight: Yoon Jeonghan.

There he was, leaning against the nose of his red Ferrari, his race suit a striking flash of scarlet that caught the sunlight and made him look annoyingly pristine for someone who had caused you so much grief. He was chatting with an engineer, that easy, charming smile plastered on his face like he hadn’t thrown baseless accusations your way less than 24 hours ago.

You marched toward him, purpose sharpening your steps. The bouquet from this morning was still vivid in your mind—blush pink roses, soft and elegant, their delicate petals almost glowing against the green of the baby’s breath, a stark contrast to the seething frustration you still carried. And the note—just two infuriatingly simple words—burned in your pocket, a reminder of the apology you hadn’t quite accepted yet.

“Jeonghan,” you called, your voice cutting through the low hum of conversation around you.

He glanced up, his casual demeanor faltering for a split second when he saw you. Then, like a switch had flipped, his smile returned. “Oh, hey.”

You stopped a foot away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “How did you know my favorite flowers?”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, and he leaned ever so slightly against the car, as if the conversation were a game he’d already won. “Oh good, they got delivered to the right room.”

“Jeonghan,” you said, your tone sharper now, “don’t deflect.”

“Deflect what?” He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with that infuriating glint of mischief that made you want to throttle him and laugh in equal measure.

“JEONGHAN.” The snap in your voice turned a few heads nearby, but you didn’t care.

He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. A certain papaya-colored birdie told me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Papaya-colored birdie... Mingyu?”

Jeonghan hesitated, his grin faltering for just a moment. You saw the gears turning in his head, calculating whether to deflect again or come clean.

“Spit it out, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, stepping closer, “or I’ll never write a single kind thing about you for the rest of your life.”

His mouth twitched, caught between amusement and resignation. Finally, he shrugged, his voice almost too casual. “Childhood friends, eh? You and Mingyu? That explains yesterday.”

You blinked, thrown by the abrupt shift in topic. “Don’t change the subject,” you snapped, though his words tugged at something in the back of your mind. “You really went to Kim Mingyu for help? After accusing me of—”

“I might have... aggressively encouraged Mingyu to spill everything he knew about you,” Jeonghan admitted, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised a brow. “Aggressively encouraged?”

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I threatened to steal his steering wheel from the McLaren garage if he didn’t talk.”

Despite your irritation, a snort escaped you. “And he just handed over my life story, huh?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, mirroring your stance. “What can I say? He’s surprisingly chatty when he thinks you’re in trouble. Very protective, that one.”

You clenched your jaw, the pieces clicking into place. “So, that’s why you jumped to conclusions yesterday. You thought—”

He cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know. I was out of line. That’s what the flowers were for.”

For a moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade. The wind carried the faint scent of burning rubber, and the distant cheers of fans reached your ears like a muted hum. Jeonghan’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, his tone lower now, “I really am sorry.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of the last day lifting slightly from your chest. “You’re lucky I like roses.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin returning, lighter this time, almost boyish. “Good taste, huh?”

“Good recovery, at least,” you muttered, your lips twitching despite yourself.

Jeonghan’s laughter followed you as you turned and walked away, the sound less grating than it had been the day before. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it felt like a start.

FORMULA 1 HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Hungaroring

The Hungarian Grand Prix paddock was buzzing, but you could tell something was off. The sound of chatter and engines felt like distant echoes as you stood by the garage, watching Jeonghan’s Ferrari pull back into its stall after a less-than-stellar FP1. The car’s engine quieted as the mechanics immediately went to work, inspecting it. But it wasn’t the car that caught your attention—it was Jeonghan himself.

He was unusually quiet, his usual cocky confidence buried beneath the furrow of his brow as he stripped off his helmet and gloves. His gaze was focused on the car, but it was clear his mind wasn’t in the garage. He seemed... distant, almost frustrated. The others in the team were busy talking strategy, discussing the data, but Jeonghan barely spoke up during the debriefing. It was strange.

The team finished up, but you noticed Jeonghan lingered near the back, hands on his hips, staring at his car like it had personally betrayed him. It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, especially not after a session where he was so used to being in control. You could practically feel the weight of his thoughts from where you stood.

You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t ignore it—something was wrong.

You walked over, careful not to disturb the mechanics who were still busy at work. "Jeonghan," you called softly, stepping beside him. He turned to you, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. They were focused on something distant, like he was seeing the track or the car but not really seeing them.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the concern out of your voice, but it slipped through anyway. “You’ve been quiet since the debriefing.”

He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t buying it. You had known Jeonghan long enough to recognize the way he carried his frustration. It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be hidden behind a casual smile, no matter how practiced.

“You sure? You know you don’t have to be okay all the time, right?” you pressed, stepping a little closer. The air around you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words.

Jeonghan exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into his gloves before he slowly pulled them off. He seemed to be gathering himself before speaking. “I hate it,” he muttered, and his voice had a rawness to it that caught you off guard. “Not being perfect. I... I can’t stand it.”

“Not being perfect?” you echoed, surprised. Jeonghan, the ever-cocky, confident driver, admitting that?

He looked up at you then, his eyes intense, as though he was searching for something in your gaze. “Yeah. I know it sounds stupid,” he said with a wry laugh that lacked its usual humor. “But it’s who I am. I’m a perfectionist, always have been. Every little mistake... it sticks with me. I can’t just move on. I think about it. Constantly.”

You watched him, absorbing his words, the vulnerability in his tone feeling like a crack in his otherwise polished exterior. Jeonghan, always so composed on the surface, always teasing and joking, was admitting something deeper now—something more personal.

“Is that why you were so quiet during the debriefing?” you asked, keeping your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to the car again. “I know I didn’t have the best session, but it feels like... like I failed. Like I’m not doing my job right. I could’ve done better.” His jaw clenched as if he were angry at himself.

The silence that fell between you was thick, almost suffocating, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. You hadn’t seen him like this before—not with this level of self-doubt.

“You’re not failing,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re allowed to have bad sessions. Hell, everyone has bad days. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It’s just a part of it.”

Jeonghan glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, nodding. “I mean... it’s not all about being perfect. Sometimes it’s the mistakes that push you to be better.”

Jeonghan looked down at his hands, still clutching the gloves, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I get it,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the side of the garage. “But you’ve got a whole team behind you. And we all know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there. It’s just one session.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes softening. “Thanks.”

There was a long pause, the sound of distant chatter and the hum of the paddock filling the silence. You were so used to Jeonghan’s teasing and cocky attitude that this quieter, more introspective side of him felt like a different person altogether. And maybe it was—it was the side that wasn’t the driver who fought for every fraction of a second on the track, the side that just wanted to be good enough.

“It’s not stupid, you know,” you added quietly. “Caring about being good at what you do isn’t stupid. It’s just... exhausting sometimes.”

Jeonghan laughed lightly, the sound a bit more genuine this time. “You have no idea. But I’m getting better at... handling it. I think.”

You smiled at him, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. There was still that hint of unease in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders, but for the first time all day, he seemed a little more at ease with himself.

As you turned to leave, you shot him one last look. “Just don’t be so hard on yourself next time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, you almost believed him.

The stands were eerily quiet now, a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd just hours earlier. You wandered through the empty paddock, your steps unhurried as the hum of the night settled around you. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint clatter of the Ferrari team packing up, but Jeonghan wasn’t with them.

You’d seen him after the race, his jaw tight as he climbed out of the car. Finishing P5 wasn’t bad by any measure, but it wasn’t what he wanted. And with Mingyu overtaking him in the Driver’s Championship by just twenty points, it was clear Jeonghan had taken it as a personal blow. His disappointment hung around him like a shadow.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he’d gone.

Sure enough, when you climbed up into the grandstands, there he was. Sitting alone in the middle row, still in his Ferrari race suit, unzipped to the waist to reveal his black base layer. His hair was tousled from the helmet, his posture slouched, shoulders hunched as though the weight of the day hadn’t yet left him. Beside him were two bottles of beer, one already open and resting loosely in his hand.

You approached quietly, but Jeonghan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn around when you reached him, your feet crunching softly against the debris of the crowd—discarded programs, empty wrappers, and forgotten flags. He must’ve known it was you, though. He always seemed to know.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, your voice breaking the stillness.

He finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “It’s a free grandstand,” he muttered, gesturing to the empty seats around him.

You slid into the seat next to him, the cool metal chilling through your clothes. Jeonghan’s gaze returned to the track ahead, where the floodlights illuminated the ghost of the race. He took a sip of his beer, silent.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—just heavy. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, the bitterness that came with being so close but not close enough.

“You should drink this before it gets warm,” he said suddenly, pushing the unopened beer toward you.

You picked it up, twisting off the cap with a small smile. “Thanks. Not exactly the post-race celebration you were hoping for, huh?”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Not exactly.”

The silence fell again, but this time you weren’t willing to let it linger. You turned to him, watching the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the neck of the bottle. “You’re still in the fight, you know,” you said gently.

Jeonghan’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you are,” you insisted. “Three points. That’s nothing. You’ve come back from worse.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back, looking up at the dark sky above the track. “You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It’s not just about the points. It’s about everything. The mistakes, the pressure... the expectations. It’s like... like I have to prove that I deserve to be here. Every single time.”

“You do deserve to be here,” you said firmly, the conviction in your voice enough to make him turn to you. “You wouldn’t be in that seat if you didn’t. You’re one of the best drivers on the grid, Jeonghan. Everyone knows it. Even Mingyu. Especially Mingyu.”

Jeonghan scoffed, a flicker of a smile breaking through his stormy expression. “Bet he’s loving this right now.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning back against the seat. “But knowing Mingyu, he’s probably already plotting ways to rub it in at the next race.”

That earned a laugh, small but real, and the sound was enough to make you smile too.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his tone softer now. “Talking me off the ledge.”

“Someone has to,” you replied with a shrug. “And honestly? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. One race doesn’t define you, Jeonghan. You’re not just a number on the leaderboard.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering. There was something in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Thanks,” he said simply, the word weighted with more than just appreciation.

You clinked your bottle against his. “Anytime.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the weight of the day slowly lifting as the quiet of the night wrapped around you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And as Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles, you knew he’d be okay. Eventually.

You took another sip of your beer, the chill of the bottle grounding you as Jeonghan’s earlier tension began to melt away. The ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips, and for the first time since you’d climbed up to find him, his shoulders seemed lighter.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice tinged with a familiar mischievousness, “what’s your headline going to be this week?”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. “You’ll see it when you see it, Yoon Jeonghan. No spoilers.”

His chuckle was low and warm, a sound that felt like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “Should I be worried?”

“Always,” you replied, the corners of your lips quirking upward. “But maybe not too much this time.”

He gave you a curious look, his expression halfway between wary and amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting back to the track. The night was calm now, the weight of the day’s disappointment tucked into the folds of shared silence.

The headline hit Monday morning, and Jeonghan had to admit, you’d delivered once again.

Ferrari Falters in Hungary: Yoon Jeonghan's Fight for the Title Tightens

The article was incisive, as sharp as he’d expected. You broke down his struggles in FP1, critiqued his race strategy, and even called out the overtaking move that cost him crucial points. It was the kind of detailed, no-nonsense analysis you were known for, and Jeonghan read every word with a mix of frustration and admiration.

But at the bottom, tucked beneath the last paragraph, there was a footnote—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

“Despite Hungary’s setback, Yoon Jeonghan remains one of the most popular and formidable contenders for the championship. With only twenty points separating him from the lead, Belgium offers a more than fair chance for the Ferrari star to close the gap and reclaim his momentum.”

Jeonghan blinked, then read it again, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, the paper still in hand, and shook his head.

“Subtle,” he muttered, though his tone was anything but annoyed. It was gratitude, warmth, and a flicker of hope all wrapped together in a single word.

He might have faltered in Hungary, but you’d reminded him—the season wasn’t even half over. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fighting alone.

FORMULA 1 ROLEX BELGIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

The weekend at Spa began like a dream.

The legendary Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps was a driver’s haven and a monster in equal measure. The longest track on the calendar, its 7 kilometers of asphalt wound through the lush forests of the Ardennes, combining high-speed straights, sweeping corners, and the unpredictable challenges of its microclimate. The iconic Eau Rouge and Raidillon dared drivers to go flat out, while the downhill plunge into Pouhon tested their courage and precision. It was a place where skill separated the good from the great.

Jeonghan thrived on its challenge.

FP1 and FP2 were his playgrounds, his Ferrari gliding through corners like it was made for this circuit alone. The car was responsive and balanced, every adjustment in setup shaving precious milliseconds off his laps. Jeonghan pushed it to its limits, feeling every bump and curve beneath him as if Spa’s asphalt were an extension of himself.

By the time he returned to the garage, his name was at the top of the timesheets, and his team wore expressions of pride and relief. Engineers crowded around him during the debrief, their excitement palpable. Even Mingyu wandered over to toss a mockingly impressed, “Don’t get used to it, Yoon,” in his direction.

Jeonghan, basking in the buzz of dominance, had only winked.

But then came the penalty.

A breach in power unit regulations—an unavoidable technicality that slapped him with a grid penalty. It was frustratingly bureaucratic, a punishment that felt out of his control and yet deeply personal. His pole position was stripped away, and he was relegated to P10.

In the Ferrari garage, Jeonghan leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, the weight of his helmet heavy in his hand. The rhythmic hum of power tools and bursts of chatter around him did little to soothe his simmering frustration.

It wasn’t just the penalty—it was the sting of perfection slipping through his fingers, a weekend that had started flawlessly now teetering on the edge of disappointment.

He glanced up, ready to bury himself in the chaos of the paddock, and froze.

You were there, leaning casually against the pit wall, chatting with one of the mechanics. The glow of the overhead lights caught in your hair, and despite the whirlwind of activity, you were a picture of calm. Your hands moved as you spoke, animated yet confident, the faintest flicker of a smirk playing on your lips.

His gaze lingered.

It hit him—a memory of your words from Hungary, your unwavering belief cloaked in sharp wit: “A more than fair chance to close the gap.”

For the first time since the penalty, the gap didn’t feel insurmountable.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until you caught his eye. Your brows rose, and you tilted your head in mock curiosity before excusing yourself from the mechanic and walking toward him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with a note of amusement and something softer underneath.

Jeonghan shrugged, plastering on his signature cocky grin. “Since when are you worried about me?”

Your lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. “Oh, I’m not worried. Just curious. I wanted to see how Ferrari’s golden boy handles a little adversity.”

His grin faltered for the briefest moment before sharpening again. “Keep watching,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I might surprise you.”

You tilted your chin, your expression a blend of challenge and intrigue. “Don’t disappoint me then.”

The way you said it—like you meant it—sparked something fierce in him.

As you turned to leave, the faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, anchoring him to the moment. Jeonghan watched you disappear into the paddock, your confident stride a sharp contrast to his brooding, and for the first time that day, a smirk tugged at his lips.

It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

P10 to P1. 

It was the kind of race drivers dreamed of—the kind that earned its place in highlight reels for years to come.

The chaos began even before the lights went out. Rain had threatened all morning, dark clouds heavy over the Ardennes, but it held off just long enough to keep everyone guessing. Jeonghan sat in his Ferrari on the grid, surrounded by cars that had no business being ahead of him. He’d spent every second since the penalty recalibrating his mindset, shifting his frustration into fuel.

As the lights went out, his singular focus kicked in.

Turn 1, La Source: Jeonghan dived inside, threading through a gap that barely existed. The radio crackled with his engineer’s voice, commending his clean move, but he barely registered it. Eau Rouge and Raidillon loomed ahead, their uphill sweep demanding precision, bravery, and trust in his car.

He took the corners flat out.

By Lap 5, Jeonghan was in P7. His mind churned as he studied the cars ahead, each one a problem to solve. Every braking point, every shift in weight through the curves—it all required perfect execution.

But then came the rain.

It began as a drizzle at Pouhon, the light sheen on the track turning treacherous by the next sector. Jeonghan’s grip on the wheel tightened as he adjusted his lines, feeling for every ounce of traction.

“Box this lap for inters,” his engineer instructed.

“No,” Jeonghan replied, his voice steady. He could feel it—the balance of risk and reward. He stayed out one lap longer, the gamble paying off as he overtook two cars struggling on the wrong tires. When he finally pitted, the stop was flawless.

By Lap 20, the red flag came out, the rain too heavy for safety. Jeonghan sat in the pit lane during the suspension, helmet off, sweat beading his brow. His thoughts wandered for the first time since the race began.

Your words came back to him.

"Jeonghan’s perfectionism is both his weapon and his curse. When he is at his best, he’s untouchable. But the question remains: can he handle the pressure when the odds aren’t in his favor?"

His jaw tightened. You were right—about the pressure, about the way he held himself to standards so high they sometimes crushed him. But you’d also written something else.

"A more than fair chance to close the gap."

He wasn’t sure why, but that sentence anchored him.

When the race restarted, Jeonghan was a man possessed.

Sector by sector, he clawed his way through the field, each overtake cleaner and bolder than the last. At Blanchimont, he overtook Soonyoung in a move that was half instinct, half calculated risk. His engineer’s voice came over the radio in a disbelieving laugh: “Mate, you’re insane!”

By the final lap, he was leading. The roar of the crowd blended with the steady beat of his heart as he crossed the finish line, victory his once more.

The pit lane was a blur of celebration. His team engulfed him in a sea of red, their cheers drowning out even the din of Spa’s loyal fans. Soonyoung appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Winning in Spa from P10? You better believe I’m buying the first round,” Soonyoung declared, grinning despite his P2 finish.

Jeonghan laughed, the sound ragged and raw from effort, but his mind wasn’t entirely in the moment.

Later, in the quiet of the motorhome, when the adrenaline had settled and exhaustion was creeping in, Jeonghan pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the search bar before typing your name.

The article was already live.

His breath caught as he read your headline:

From P10 to Perfection: Yoon Jeonghan’s Masterclass at Spa

It was glowing, but in your unmistakable style—balanced, sharp, and honest. You praised his overtakes, his strategy, and his ability to rise under pressure. Your writing was like poetry, an ode to his resilience, his precision in the rain, his ability to claw victory from the jaws of defeat.  But what caught him off guard was the final line.

"With the championship fight closer than ever, it’s not a question of if Jeonghan will close the gap. It’s a question of when."

Jeonghan read it three times, his chest tight with something that felt almost like pride.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe them.

The bass thrummed low and heavy, a pulse that seemed to reverberate straight through the packed room. 

Jeonghan leaned against the bar, his drink in hand, his racing suit long since replaced by a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone. The sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his forearms, the dark fabric clinging to his frame in a way that effortlessly commanded attention. Around him, the club buzzed with post-race energy—drivers, engineers, and team members alike reveling in the victory and chaos of the day.

Soonyoung was next to him, buzzing with his usual infectious energy. Jeonghan caught snippets of his teammate’s banter, but his mind was elsewhere.

“God, Jeonghan, if you stare any harder, she’s going to spontaneously combust,” Soonyoung teased, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Jeonghan blinked, startled. “What?”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, nodding toward the dance floor. “Her. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a particularly tricky apex all night.”

Jeonghan followed his gaze.

There you were, dancing with a group of Ferrari engineers, the colored lights spilling across your frame, making your skin glow. You laughed at something one of them said, your head tilting back, your hair swaying with every movement. Jeonghan’s grip on his glass tightened.

“You’re hopeless,” Soonyoung said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just go talk to her. Or better yet, dance with her. God knows you’ll make everyone else jealous.”

Jeonghan scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure, and you just happened to spend the past ten minutes glaring at the poor guy she’s dancing with.”

Jeonghan shot him a warning glance, but Soonyoung only grinned wider.

“Look, you’ve already won at Spa,” he added, leaning closer. “Might as well take another victory tonight.”

Jeonghan shook his head, but the heat in his chest betrayed him. He cast one last glance at you before downing the rest of his drink and pushing off the bar.

The crowd was a blur of movement, bodies packed tightly together under the pulsing lights, but Jeonghan moved with purpose. He found you easily, your energy magnetic even in the chaos.

The beat shifted as he approached, slowing to something deeper, sultrier. He stepped in behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You turned slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a teasing smile, your eyes dancing in the dim light. “Jeonghan. Didn’t think you were the clubbing type.”

He smirked, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “I make exceptions for special occasions.”

You arched a brow, leaning back into him just enough to blur the line between teasing and inviting. “Special occasions, huh? Like winning at Spa?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice a touch quieter now. His fingers rested lightly on your waist, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

You turned to face him fully, your hands drifting up to rest on his shoulders, playful and almost casual. “So? What’s it like being untouchable?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. “You’d know,” he said smoothly, “if you were paying attention during my races instead of writing snarky articles.”

You laughed, a soft, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “I did pay attention,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your lips barely a breath away from his ear. “You were alright, I guess.”

“Alright?” he repeated, feigning offense. “You called it a masterclass. Don’t think I didn’t read your article.”

Your grin widened, the fire in your eyes matching the teasing edge in your tone. “Oh, that? Don’t let it go to your head, Yoon. I still expect a proper interview.”

His hands shifted to your hips, grounding you against him as he swayed slightly to the beat, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“And if I did?” you teased back, your voice soft but no less challenging.

For a moment, the world around you fell away. The music, the lights, the press of the crowd—it all faded as the space between you closed. Jeonghan’s eyes lingered on your lips, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing.

Then, just as you tilted your head, leaning closer—

“JEONGHAN!”

The moment shattered.

Sunwoo’s voice boomed over the music as he appeared out of nowhere, the mechanic’s grin wide and oblivious. “Bro, come on! You can flirt later! Dance with me!”

Jeonghan groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as your laughter spilled over him like warm sunlight.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You pulled back, still laughing, and met his gaze with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN DUTCH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Zandvoort

The paddock at Zandvoort was always one of Jeonghan’s favorites. The smell of fresh sea air mixed with the unmistakable tang of fuel and rubber, while the orange-clad crowd painted the stands in a fiery glow. Jeonghan didn’t even mind the noise—something about the Netherlands had a way of energizing him.

He was walking back from the driver’s parade when he spotted you outside the Ferrari hospitality tent, a coffee in hand, your eyes scanning the throng of people with practiced ease. The crisp breeze tugged at your hair, and Jeonghan slowed his pace, his lips curling into a familiar smirk.

You glanced up just in time to catch him staring. “Don’t you have a race to focus on?”

“Don’t you have an article to write?” he shot back, his voice smooth as ever.

“I’m multitasking,” you replied, raising your coffee in a mock toast.

Jeonghan stepped closer, close enough that the conversation felt private despite the bustling paddock around you. “Let me guess,” he said, crossing his arms, “today’s headline is, ‘Ferrari Driver Jeonghan Looks Extra Handsome Under Dutch Sunlight.’”

You snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Oh, please. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘Can Ferrari’s Yoon Jeonghan Deliver After Spa Masterclass?’”

“Flattering,” he mused, tilting his head. “I thought you’d save the sarcasm for the post-race write-up.”

“I aim to keep you humble,” you said with a shrug, though the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word in—

“Jeonghan!”

A voice cut through the tension like a knife. You both turned to see Soonyoung jogging up, waving enthusiastically. “There you are! We’re late for the strategy briefing!”

Jeonghan sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced back at you. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

You grinned, your eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t let me keep you from your briefing, Ferrari’s golden boy.”

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. “I’ll see you after I win.”

He walked off, Soonyoung talking his ear off as you watched him go, the heat in your chest lingering far longer than it should have.

The race came and went, and though Jeonghan didn’t win—Mingyu’s dominance at Zandvoort was almost an inevitability—he still managed to bring home a solid podium finish.

Later, back at the hospitality suite, you found yourself standing near the balcony, staring out at the ocean waves in the distance.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” came a familiar voice behind you.

You turned to find Jeonghan leaning casually against the doorway, his hair still damp from the post-race shower. He’d swapped his racing suit for a simple white shirt and jeans, but somehow, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Though I was expecting a win. Should I change the headline to ‘Close, but Not Quite’?”

Jeonghan’s laugh was low and smooth as he closed the distance between you. “I think you’re just trying to rile me up.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Is it working?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint freckle on his cheekbone, the way his lashes caught the light. “You tell me.”

The air between you crackled, your banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Jeonghan!”

The door slammed open, and Mingyu’s booming voice shattered the moment.

Both of you jumped, turning to see the taller driver grinning sheepishly. “Uh, sorry. Team dinner’s starting soon, and they’re waiting for you.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, but he plastered on an easy smile. “Of course they are.”

Mingyu left as quickly as he’d come, leaving you and Jeonghan alone again.

“Do people just have radar for this?” Jeonghan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you to focus on racing.”

He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Or maybe it’s telling me I’ll just have to try harder.”

Your pulse quickened, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically, stepping back with a rueful smile. “Guess I’ll have to settle for third interruptions.”

You smirked, folding your arms. “You’re consistent, at least.”

“Don’t forget it,” he said with a wink, his voice smooth as ever as he walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone, the waves crashing in the distance as you wondered how long this game of cat and mouse could last.

another lil a/n: full throttle is probably one of my favorite things i've EVER written and i am so proud of myself for getting this out of my head and onto the page.

[just1cefor4ll]

A Light That Never Goes Out

Joost Klein x reader

summary: you and Joost are both competing in eurovision, you representing {your country} and Joost representing the Netherlands. When Joost gets disqualified you’re both devastated, but you decide to defend your dear partner once you get to the finals.

A/N: first joost klein fanfic, need your honest opinions :,) hope you enjoy tho💙 and dont be afraid to request something joost klein x reader, requests are currently open!

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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Eurovision Song Contest

@Eurovision

We are currently investigating an incident involving the dutch artist. He will not be rehearsing until further notice.

Liked by joostsbeloved, eurovision.lover and 1,482,794 others

@joostswifeyy1 and 402K people commentsd

user210651: WHAT?? WTF HAPPENED

aikoswife: oo drama :0

lorelaixx: eurovision 2024 is so wild

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You looked at the post, shocked, disappointed.. angry? You didn’t know what emotions you were feeling but your first priority was currently Joost. The poor mans feelings and dreams were crushed, his cheerful and bright persona was now forced, and it was more dull than ever. You felt bad for your best friend, the one you started this whole journey with. You met wonderful people, made new memories, and all of it was now thrown away because Joost protected himself from unwanted media. It was unfair, it was quite literally pathetic how the EBU reacted. They shouldn’t be punishing Joost, yet here they were, not letting him rehearse. You walked to Joosts hotel room, things that you thought would cheer him up in hand. You knock softly on the door, loud enough so he could hear, waiting patiently outside the door.

Footsteps could be heard from behind the door a few seconds later the door got opened, revealing a very tired and not so happy looking Joost. He let you in, closing the door behind him as you set the stuff down. You walk over to him and open your arms for a hug, quickly getting tackled into a bear hug. “Mm..s’not fair..” He says, slurring his words as he started to sniffle softly. You pat his back, offering him some comforting words and assurances, trying to cheer him up as best as you could. “Shh.. It’s alright.. you don’t know how proud of you everyone is for coming this far.” He picks you up, walking to his bed and lays down with you, lying down on top of you. “I just failed everyone, I failed my people.” He says and you shush him, playing with his hair. “Hey! Listen to me now.” You say, lifting his head up so he would look at you. “You did not fail anyone. You have a whole community supporting you, so don’t you ever doubt yourself. You did nothing to harm someone, you’re a kind, lovely soul who people cherish.” You say, making him smile softly. He cupped your cheek and kissed you on the lips. It was short, but sweet making your stomach erupt with butterflies.

The next day felt grueling. You barely got up and got ready to go back to arena. You were excited to see all those familiar faces, but it felt forced since you now knew Joost wouldn’t be there by your side for all of it. You walked with Joost, hand in hand trying to talk about random topics like you usually did when you saw a hoard of fans. “We should get out of here.” You say, squeezing his hand. “Oh, but why?” He says, looking towards the crowd who was already standing in line to get in the Arena. Joost was always the social butterfly, you trying your best to not interact with crowds this big, not feeling safe since you didn’t really have a guard with you 24/7. You walk with him, letting him charm the crowd like usual all the fans going crazy. You took some pictures with the fans as well, signing things.. someone even asking you to draw a tattoo for them which you gladly did. Everyone was shouting things like ‘justice for Joost’ or ‘We love you Joost.’ Which warmed your heart knowing people support him, Joosts smile not going unnoticed by you. You walk with him inside the arena when some annoying interviewer had the nerve to comment about his disqualification, in a bad way. You had {your countries name} flag with you, which you used to cover him while you walked to the elevator. You mumble swears in your language, cussing the interviewer out like a mad person. Joost pulled you closer by the waist, planting a quick kiss to your forehead “Ik hou van jou.” (I love you)

After long exhausting hours, listening to the most talented people perform on stage, you go on after Bambie. An idea pops up in your head, smiling mischievously. Joost left already, watching from home since he thought it would be best if he wasn’t here when the incident was fresh. You walk on stage, about 20 or more people rapidly cleaning and getting the props and just everything ready for your performance. You waved at some fans and blew air kisses when the lights dimmed, which meant the cameras were now rolling and it was your time to shine. You pour your heart and passion for music out, the last words of the song slipping from your tongue and you finish it off with one last pose.

Everyone cheers for you, you suddenly take out the Netherlands flag, the words justice for Joost written in black paint on it. You wave it around and you hear cheering, of course some booing as well. You smile one last time before getting off stage, Bambie running up to you to give you a hug. Marina hugged you too, complimenting your performance before rushing on stage since it was her turn to go. “That’s gonna be everywhere babe, good luck.” Bambie says and you nod, joking about it with them. “Well shit, I don’t care if I get disqualified it needed to be said. I don’t even know how I managed to sneak that on stage haha.” You chat for a bit more before heading to a quieter place in the arena. You sat down on the floor, back against a wall as you open your messages to see Apson, and even Stuntje sending you videos. They knew about your little shenanigan and decided to record Joosts reaction.

They were all in Joosts hotel room, Joost cheerinf you on and singing along in your song. You chuckles softly as he mumbled some of the words since he didn’t really speak much of your language. When the song comes to an end he starts to cheer; “That’s my girl!” He screams, jumping up and down and clapping for you. “He’s definitely getting noise complaints.” You think to yourself, smiling at the screen. The TV shows you with the flag only for a few seconds since they tried to hide it as best as possible, but the ultimately failed since it was there for a good five seconds. Joost looked surprised, Apson cheering and Joost looks at him. “Wist u hiervan?” (did you know about this?) “Ja, Ja.” (yes, yes) He says and you see Apson smiling from Stuntjes point of view. The video gets cut off after a few more seconds, Joost visibly emotional so they most likely decided pointing a camera in his face wasn’t a good idea.

{‘My love’ in your language}

—————————————————————————

Y/N

Y/N

Y/N

Whatshaiaidhsjja

you’re literally crazy but i still love u

is everything okay?

did they do anything to u?

ik hou zo veel van je schat 💙

sent 11:09pm

I’m alright love, see u soon ❤️

read 7 minutes ago

—————————————————————————

You decided to watch the others perform, vibing with Bambie to songs and dance with them. After everyone finishes their song, you all go with your own team, the jury votes about to be announced. You blow an air kiss to Bambie and walk with your team, hyping everyone up. You didn’t expect to win, not after the stunt you pulled but you supported your friends to the very end. The final jury votes were given to Nemo by Sweden, you cheered for them since they really deserved the points. Their song was incredible and their vocals were angelic. You snap put of your thoughts, now the public would be able to vote. You would lie if you said you payed attention the whole time, zoning out almost every few minutes.

It was now between Croatia and Switzerland, your bet was on Nemo even though Croatia also did an amazing job. The atmosphere was tense, the silence being a bit more awkward than you liked, just hoping to get this all over with. You hear cheering, looking towards Nemo who looked like a beam of sunshine. You clapped, cheering your dear friend on and sing along to his performance.

It was done. Months of work and stress was finally over. You get a ride to your hotel with your team, scrolling through the hundreds of photos and videos from this wonderful experience. You saw a new place for the first time; Malmö which you were forever grateful for but you couldn’t wait to go back home to Amsterdam with Joost. Your movements were sluggish, your team laughing and joking about it. You chuckle along with them and wave goodbye to them as you all your separate ways to your hotel rooms. You on the other hand were walking to another room. You knock softly, the seconds feeling like hours when you don’t even register the door getting opened and get spinned around. You giggle like a 12 year old girl, Joost putting you down and kissing your soft lips. He closed the door behind him, walking with you to the bed slowly so you don’t fall since he refused to pull away from the kiss. He sits down with you and brings you into his lap. You finally pull away and he looks at you, love struck.

“When did you manage to get the flag you troublemaker?” He jokes and kisses your jaw, going down to your collar bone. “That my love, is a secret.” You say and he groans, lying down with you. “Doesn’t matter anymore.. You don’t know how much you made my day.” He says and peppers your face with kisses. You giggle softly, having to pull him away so he would stop. “Joost that tickles.” You say and he holds you tighter, burying his face in your hair. “You’re the light I needed in my life.”

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

!! Do not copy or repost any of my posts on different platforms !!

[haobubbles]

Riize when you argue and they have to go on tour

genre: fluff, crack n kinda angst?

tw: no foolproof read!!, cursing

roxy yapps: i publicily apologise for taking so long to post smth😭 with my exam's week and now christmas (having family over ALL THE TIME) i haven't had time but well, here it is!! enjoy and if u can leave some ideas for req!!

── . ★ shotaro

after the attitude of fans at the airport and the fight he had had with you, this boy was quite a mess and was in very low spirit.

known as probably the most energetic boy on this earth, that day he would catch their fans by surprise when, even if his performance was astounding, he sounded more tired than usual and he clearly had his mind somewhere else. when he closed the door of his room in the hotel, after the concert, he made sure to send an apologise to briizes on weverse. without a second thought (after cheking the time of your country ofc) he called you.

"if you just need to, pretend we're fine until i come back home. i can't perform knowing i've fucked up and haven't made things right"

── . ★ eunseok

after having a fight with you, eunseok sent you a message about his departure for the tour, and as he didn't receive any message back, he second guessed that you needed your space, which he decided to give. he was sure you'd reach out when you felt better but the wait was slowly killing him.

on stage, he wouldn't seem as if he just had a fight with his significant other, although he kept on thinking about his electronic device, and if it had buzzed with a message of yours. he definetely acted flirty with the camera, sending flying kisses or winks in hopes you were watching it at home and you knew they were for you.

seeing your messages on his lockscreen made his face lit up instantly, which even if he knew he would be made fun of later, he couldn't care less.

eunseok: did you see me on stage? all those flying kisses and winks were for you

── . ★ sungchan

would definetely be pouty and with big ass moodswings.

on stage, he would be the sungchan everyone knew and loved, however, on backstage he would be (for the couple minutes they have) pouty, with his eyebrows furred and maybe even moody.

his teammates would probably need to take part in it by telling him how much you miss him. then he would call you with all his confidence built up and he would curse them out loud for setting him up.

"well, now that i've called you, let's just fix things okay? i miss you and i dont want to be abroad while having an on-going fight with you"

── . ★ wonbin

number 1 sulky boy. he would be confident about you two fixing your diferences but he hated the thought of getting on stage and being in a fight with his first and most important supporter.

either spam messages or he would go silent because he'd be too scared to say something or do things to worsen the situation. however; he wouldn't wait for you to make the first step.

would deadass indirectly tell you things during his speech "don't forget to tell your loved ones how much you appreciate them, no matter if you're arguing or phisically distant from each other.."

would leave everyone stunned and would low-key be very proud of himself when he would see your message "call me when you have some time x"

── . ★ seunghan

another boy with speeches however, he would take your arguing as a possibility to get you back, so he would put up a romantic act just for you to see (even if he was in front of thousands of people)

woulnd't be too worried because he was confident in deeply knowing you. he knew how you acted when you were mad and how he was supposed to act

"i've started listening to (your fav song) recently but i think it lacks some reasoning, could someone explain it to me?" "can i marry you? oh no, no, my heart can receive all the love from everyone but it can only give it to one person back"

── . ★ sohee

he would be lost. not only about what to do, but not talking to you and being currently not in good terms, it wrecked his routine and his "normality" so he wouldn't be sure on what to do.

i feel like he would need to talk it out with another member to ask for advice on how to make things right. he would be too shy to act bold by hismelf, so that's why he recurred to talk with euseok during the flight. even if the older member told him to just call you and have a proper conversation (which he of course would do) he dedided to add his own touch.

during the concert, he would say some words or constructions you usually used and poses and gestures you usually made. he just wanted to show you that even if he hadn't reached out, he kept you wiht him everywhere, everytime, no matter what.

"please call me or text me when you can. i miss you so fucking bad and i refuse to go on like this"

── . ★ anton

wheni tell you this boy would risk losing his flight because he didn't want to leave while you hadn't fixed things.

if he did really had to leave (or they just obligated him), he would be all the time sending you reassuring messages about how much he loves you, or maybe some memes to make you laugh.

on stage, he would be bubblier and happier than usual, but he would go viral for singing a snippet of 'the reason' of hoobastank. when the fans would ask him later on about why did he choose to sing it, he would dismiss the topic by saying that he just felt like it.

"i hope you liked it..i bet you'll even like it more when you know the boys have been making fun of me for 15 mins now"

[barblaz-arts]

I know you've been making a lot of art of it lately, but out of curiosity, what's your opinion on Hazbin Hotel in general? I'm referring to both the show and the fandom here. Just curious.

God. What a loaded question. Are you ready? Bcuz I'm fresh from Vaggie discourse on twitter and I have a lot to say.

I think that Hazbin Hotel seems worse than it is for people who know the fandom but haven't actually watched the show. Honestly, I think it's a fine show. It isnt super incredible and I'm not gonna sing praises about how deep and thought provoking it is or whether it's an artistic masterpiece. It never tried to be that and was never advertised as such(to my knowledge) anyway. I just had a lot of fun. Like, yeh sure the cussing in the dialogue can be a bit much, especially in ep 1, but there are different writers in other episodes, so it gets better. It can be super crude yeh, but I grew up watching things like the Scary Movie franchise and other dumb american movies (yes, i was too young for them. yes, i still watched them), so it's pretty tolerable for me. It also helps that Charlie is the main character. That's one of the main reasons why I watch HH but dont watch HB. It's probably a fun show, but without a sweetheart like Charlie to balance things out, I'd just get tired of the sex jokes and mean jokes.

Compared to my last hyperfixation, I think I have more things to love about Hazbin Hotel, believe it or not. With Netflix's Wednesday, I had already been an Addams Family fan for a while and hung on because I loved the family and eventually Enid and wenclair. The show itself was honestly meh... so far! I'll give season 2 another shot.

But with Hazbin Hotel, it catered to a lot of things I've always loved. Found family with a bunch of misfits? We didnt get to see it much bcuz of the fuckass 8-ep per season format we have nowadays, but its fine its there! The juxtaposition of a kind hearted woman in a harsh world? Love love Charlie for that, I watched the show in the first place because of her. A canon lesbian lover with a "fuck the world cuz my world is you" type of love for the protag? Fuck yes. How very Pearl-from-Steven-Universe of Vaggie. And the music? The music is soooo good. I didn't know the songwriter prior to watching, so I was nervous about the songs, but I knew most of the theater actors they cast(still cant believe Jeremy fucking Jordan is Lucifer) so I figured even if the songs are mid, at least the performances would be topnotch. And they were! But the songs were a pleasant surprise. Sam Haft did real damn well. I still listen to the soundtrack to this day.

The fandom, however, is probably the worst one I've been in. And I've been in a lot in my big age... Just... lacking media literacy, and based on the replies I get when I say something on twitter, it seems a lot of them lack reading comprehension and just plain emotional intelligence too.

There's a lot of criticisms about this show that I honestly think is fair. Pacing, character design, overuse of the F word, whatever. But in my opinion, claiming that Hazbin is a male-centered show is an unfair misconception that is mostly the fault of the fandom.

Bcuz, sure, the male characters are uber popular. Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust and the many web of ships they're involved in went trending every few business days. But come on now. How often does a fandom even have their main protag as the most talked about character? This has been going on for ages. Just because the boys have the most merch and fics and fanarts and thirsty fans doesn't mean that they had the spotlight for most of the show itself. It only meant that they were the ones the viewers paid attention to, in a fandom filled with people drooling over the next tumblr sexyman and toxic yaoi ship of the month.

But if you actually look back at what the show gave us so far, the boys didnt outshine the women. I actually think the women got to do more and be more as characters than the men did. Let's take a look at the male characters.

Alastor was not in all the episodes. In fact, he was MIA in two out of the eight episodes. In all the episodes he was in, he was a mere side character. His purpose in season one was to stir the pot and be the intriguing mystery that occasionally quips. But he was not the one whose deeper thoughts were explored and whose character and goals was challenged THROUGHOUT the show, merely alluded to at the VERY END of the season, which is hardly him taking the spotlight away from Charlie. If you merely looked at the fan content of him, you'd think he were a father figure to Charlie(or a love interest. whatever) and that he has developed a soft spot for the Hazbins deep down in that cannibal heart of his. But if you pay attention to the show, he never had even a meaningful one on one conversation with the Hazbins. The only time that happened is when (a)he threatened Husk's life (b)when he constantly mocked Charlie while she was down in the dumps and used this as an opportunity to manipulate her and (b)when he told Niffty watching the crew sure can "make one sentimental", even tho he had taken no prior opportunity to bond with them! There's no foundation for all the fandom's claims that he could be redeemed bcuz of a budding fondness for the group, but that's all you see of his fan content(aside from the horniness). I dont have any problem with his lack of an actual relationship with the Hazbins bcuz I believe redemption for him is not what the show is going for, but it's frustrating to see people interpreting it that way BUT not seeing how horridly developed it would be if that is the case, meanwhile they turn around and say that Vaggie and Chaggie as a ship "had terrible development".

Then we have the male Vees. Vox was only ever in episode two, and was essentially a youtube reactor in episode 8. He was in ep 4 but had no speaking lines. We only know of his obsession with Alastor and the toxic relationship he has with Val. Val, meanwhile, is merely shown as the sex obsessed fiend behind Hell's sex industry and Angel's abuse. They did what they needed to do with minimal screentime. It was fine, but that's IT. Despite what little CANON gave so far, you have hundreds of people writing essays and fics and fanarts about them being complicated characters. But to reiterate, this does not mean that they are bad characters or that they don't deserve the fame. But to say that these men are better written within canon than the women is such a bold statement when most of the depth they knew of these characters were lore drops given before the show and their own speculations as they dug into the shallow soil of what the show has so far.

I'm not gonna speak about Angel and Lucifer. Because I think they were characters who were legitimately well-explored so far.

Now onto the women. So many of them were given the opportunity to have their characters challenged or given the agency to push characters and the plot forward or give you intrigue about implications of what's to come for the characters and the plot. I've talked a lot about Charlie and Vaggie. So let me talk about the other, terribly underrated women of Hazbin.

Velvette and Carmilla were the ones who advanced the subplot in the war against Heaven. Because of Carmilla's love for her family despite being a demon, an angel was killed. It gave Heaven the excuse to escalate things, but it also gave Charlie hope later on in the season that they're not powerless. Carmilla was also the first demon shown to make selfless actions that is contrary to what is expected of demons, making it proof that Charlie's belief that demons deserve a second chance isn't unwarranted. She's an interesting character, as an overlord who hangs on to power but clearly has morals. But how often do you see people writing essays about her? Eating up the fact that she's a powerful overlord but would sacrifice anything for her daughters? If Carmilla were a man, hundreds of girlies would be drooling over the crime boss who has a soft spot for his daughters.

Meanwhile, Velvette got to demonstrate why exactly she's an Overlord despite being the youngest demon in there. She's calculating and observant. She gives off a haughty vibe and constantly boasts about how she's young and fresh, but she isn't naive. During that meeting, she paid attention to Carmilla and Zestial's relationship. In order to find out who killed the angel, she riled everyone up, and when she got the feeling it was Carmilla, she mocked Zestial so that Carmilla could slip up. By playing these Overlords who are older and more experienced than her, Velvette showed what exactly her asset was to the Vees and why she's a threat, something that Vox and Val have yet to be given the opportunity to do when they were busy eye-fucking Alastor and literally fucking Angel. But in fan content about the Vees, Velvette is almost treated as an after thought to the boys...

Then we have the Seraphs. Not only were their designs gorgeous, their dynamic and presence as characters had impact to the plot and main characters.

Emily is a much needed character to show that this story isn't meant to tell you that Heaven = bad; Hell = good. There is good and bad in both, and it is so important for the protags to know that they have an ally in Emily who represents the true virtues that heaven is supposed to uphold. And I love the confrontation she had with Sera when her own view of what's right and good was challenged. We got to see the strength of her character and started the seeds of what could be heaven's acceptance of Charlie's goals.

Sera is such an interesting character to me. She was also important to show that not all angels were sadistic like Adam and Lute, but not in the same way Emily was. I have no idea so far which direction this show would go with her. But I'm intrigued by the fact that she seems to be driven by fear, unlike Adam and Lute's cruelty. She knew Lucifer and was there when he was cast out for his disobedience. Whether everything she's doing is to prevent that from happening again remains to be seen, and I'm looking forward to this kind of subplot for her.

And then Rosie! I really really look forward to seeing more from her. Spoilers aside, something I barely see people talk about is how interesting it is that Rosie is every bit the leader that Charlie hopes to be. Rosie is able to be a respected overlord in her own faction without needing to sacrifice her love for showmanship and music and her positive disposition. When we were officially introduced to her, they show how she seems to care about actually taking care of her people, not JUST ordering them around, by talking to them personally and giving advice. That's exactly what Charlie wanted to do for her people, isn't it? The hotel to Charlie was what the emporium was to Rosie. They have a lot of similarities that could set up for Rosie to be the one to teach Charlie in becoming a leader. Now whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen, but it is rather compelling.

So yeah! With all that said, I really dont think this show ignores its women at all. Just because a bigger part of the fandom gravitated towards the men doesn't necessarily mean its a misogynistic show so far. But if certain people are claiming that the women are badly written, then I hope they also own up to the fact that their blorbos are just as shallowly presented within the show, maybe even more so. Which wouldn't even be a bad thing! Since when did a show or character have to be amazingly written for a person to like them? That's just no fun at all. All I'm saying is... Fuck this fandom's double standards, hiding behind claims that it's the writing's fault when the problem is they couldn't be bothered to think about the women.

[gavisfanta]

UNUSUAL SURPRISE- GAVI

summary: after gavi left the spanish camp during the world cup some people get scared, but he returns with an unusual surprise.

warnings: shittalk?, not proofread

"Where's Gavi?" Pedri looked around the table after he found the empty chair which was Gavi's place.

"I don't know, ask Lucho." Ferran answered and Pedri immediately looked to their coach.

"He'll tell you himself." Enrique shortly answered and then went back to typing something on his ipad. Something specific about the spanish coach is that every day, he eats an apple for breakfast and drinks a cup of orange juice. The boys have never seen him eat anything else before lunch.

So after Luis had told the boys that Gavi was 100% gone and he's gonna tell them himself, Pedri wanted to call him. Yet it doesn't matter how many times they tried to call him, it always went to voicemail.

Gavi's phone was turned off and nobody knew what he was doing, Ferran was afriad that he might have gotten an injury or he's sick.

"He wouldn't have left then, we have a whole medical team here!" Ansu threw his hands in the aur as he stood up and made his way over to the table where all the flod was. He grabbed an apple and then went back to sit down.

"Well, the best we can do now is wait." Pedri shrugged his shoulders and zoned out. Ferran shook his head, they were obviously worried what happened to their teammate, but Pedri was right, if Gavi wasnt picking up, they had to wait.

"Hey Sergio did you hear that Gavi left camp?" The newsreporter in the tv said. The whole Brazil squad sitting infront of it, waiting for the game to begin in 20 minutes.

"Yes I did hear, but I sadly don't know why." The other guy named Sergio answered.

"Well fans are worried for their starkid, maybe he picked up an injury, it also may be something with his family. Footballers have done this before during an international tournament." The other guy began talking but Rodrygo shook his head as he leaned closer to Vini.

"Good that that shithole is gone, hm?" Rodrygo nudged Vini's shoulder as he laughed. Both Real Madrid players looked at eachother and smiled.

"No more Wonderkid for him." Vini answered and laughed, however he soon received a hit on his shoulder. As he turned to look around he saw Raphinha sitting behind him.

"I know you dont like him but there's no need to talk about him like that." Raphinha leaned forward and ltold Vinicius. He wanted to open his mouth again but decided not to, so instead he just turned around and looked at the tv.

Not even two days later as the Spanish team was sitting at breakfast, they heard the door open. Every member of the staff was at breakfast so everyone suddenly shut up and looked at the door. To their surprise it was nobody other than Gavi himself, a wide smile spread on his face.

"Hola." He smiled and then Enrique stood up and went to hug him. While he did that he whispered into his ear: "Congratulations."

Gavi just returned the smile and looked at everyone while his coach stood besides him.

"Well, I think Gavi owes everyone an apology and an explanation to why he disappeared so suddenly." Enrique said and everyone began clapping their hands. Gavi cleared his throat, he hated talking infront of so mamy people, especially when he saw the camera running in the opposite corner, but he decided to bite through it.

"First of all, I'm sorry I disappeared so quickly and that I didn't answer any of your phone calls. But I have a perfectly fine explanation." Gavi explained in a loud tone so that everyone could hear him. "I don't know if some of you guys have noticed, that you didn't see my Girlfriend in like 6 months," He stopped for a second and most people nodded their head. "That isn't because we broke up, thank god, but I'd like you to meet someone." Gavi said and then turned around to look at the door where you walked in, a newborn baby in your arms, his eyes closed and peacefully sleeping. Everyone gasped as they saw you stand next to your boyfriend, with his child in your arms. Gavi looked at his son proudly and then put his finger up to his mouth. "He's sleeping." He said just loud enough.

Many of his teammates faces were covered in huge smiles and they just looked at the baby in your arms. You then looked at Pedri and saw him smiling while both of his hands are pressed against his cheeks, then you turned to Gavi again.

"I'll go back now, you talk to them."

"Okay, I'll go to the hospital after we're done eating." Gavi explained to you and you nodded your head. You turmed around one time to everyone and waved your head with a huge grin on your face.

Most of them waved back, they waited until the door closed until everyone jumped up and ran towards Gavi.

Gavi laughed as everyonenwent over to him and congratulated him.

"Hermano this is insane!" Pedri smiled as he shook Gavi's shoulders back and fourth.

"I know, I know." Gavi answered with a smile and hugged Pedri.

"How did you keep this a secret?" Ferran asked, everyone was still smiling, everyone was more than happy for Gavi.

"It was so hard." Gavi laughed out as he shook his head. "She didn't wanna leave the house after like 5 months of pregnancy cause she was scared someone's gonna see her." He laughed and Pedri couldn't help but smile too.

"How is she even on her feet just two days after giving birth?" Ferran asked, simply amazed by how fast you recovered.

"Bro I have no idea, I told her to stay a day more but she wanted to show him to you guys." Gavi explained further.

"What's his name?" Morata asked and looked at the midfielder.

"Can't tell you guys yet." Gavi shrugged his shoulders and then began walking backwards.

Many of his teammates told him to stay but he went outside where his dad was waiting for him together with his sister.

"How did it go?" His dad asked and patted his sons shoulder. Gavi smile couldn't have been wiped off of his face by anything.

"It went amazing," Gavi said and looked around before shifting his gaze back to his father. "Where is she?" Gavi asked after he noticed that you werent around.

"She went to the car to feed him, don't worry, she's fine." Aurora calmed her brother and he nodded his head while pulling out his phone for a second.

"The posts will go online in 4 minutes." Gavi mumbled under his breath. There were posts scheduled for his account, revealing that you gave birth to your child. Of course you and Gavi have talked about announcing it, you both thought it was the right thing to do before someone sees you two walking around with a child.

But after all of you had arrived at the hotel you were staying in, Gavi went to your room with you.

While he held his child in his arms, shaking him to sleep, he looked at you with a smile. "I'm so proud of you." Gavi mumbled, but just as you would've gotten time to respond there was a knock on the door.

"My god why is that child sleeping in your arms? Here, I'll take care of him." Gavi's mother hurried over to her son, taking her grandchild out of his arms and leaving the room. You smiled a little as you watched her close the door again.

"She's-" Gavi scoffed while shaking his head, he smiled as he walked closer to you and kissed your temple. "But I'm so proud of you amor."

"Why are you proud?" You laughed out and ran your hand along his jaw, caressing his soft skin.

"You're not normal, why are you walking around two days after the delivery. You shouldn't be on your feet, your body needs to rest." Gavi said and grabbed your hand as he walked you over to the bed.

"No, Gavi I'm fine-" You began but he cut you off before you could've finished your sentence.

"No you go back to sleep now." He mumbled and then kneeled down besides you while kissing your cheek.

"I love you" You mumbled while running your hamd through his hair.

"I love you more." He answered with a smile on his face.

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[doitforbangchan]

sorry if it's a little long. I love to come up with plots more than the smut part

you were just supposed to meet them backstage after a concert and get a picture. but hyunjin was obviously interested so chan asked you to stay behind, offering to drop you off since you were there alone. while they were waiting for the fans to leave, hyunjin kept talking to you and managed to get you to accept going with them to the dorms with them to chill after the concert. not the type to be able to say no easily, you accepted. you ended up drinking with them. the members tried making conversations but a tipsy hyunjin was doing all he could to keep your attention on him. after a while, the others left to sleep and since it was too late for you to go home, you had to stay over. hyunjin wanted you to sleep on his bed so you'd be comfortable and he'd be in the living room but it didn't seem fair to him. that's how you ended up in the same bed. the two of you were just talking at first but as you sobered up, things escalated between the two of you...

After party - Hyunjin

Masterlist

Idol!Hyunjin x Fan!Reader (Afab)

The pics are formatting weird and I dont know why :(

CW: Light smut, kissing, grinding, thigh riding, drinking, softdom!Hyunjin, sub!reader, cursing, anxiety (Lemme know if i missed any) Not proofread :) to my requester- I hope you enjoy please let me know what you think lovey &lt;3

WC: 2.4k

Hyunjin was enamored by you. The second you walked backstage for your VIP picture with the group he knew he was doomed. Not only were you beautiful but so kind. You were all smiles as you greeted them each, handing them each little figures you had created for them of their Skzoo animals.

For you, this was the greatest thing to ever happen to you. You had waited so long for this, counting down the days since purchasing your ticket and backstage pass. You only expected it to be a quick meeting, get a picture maybe a hug and then be on your way. You were honestly shocked when Bangchan had invited you to hang out with them for a while.

"Did you come alone?" Chan had asked you when he noticed nobody was with you.

"Yeah, I did." You answered sheepishly, "I don't have any other friends into K-pop so I'm pretty used to attending events and concerts alone."

"It just means you have good taste." Hyunjin winked at you, and you felt the heat rush to your face as you mumbled a 'thanks'.

Hyunjin was sat next to you with his arm slung over the back of the couch you were both sitting on but he wasn't touching you. He just wanted to be close to you without being weird.

The two of you sat there for over an hour as he asked you questions about yourself, of course the other boys would chime in every now and again but generally they liked watching Hyunjin try and be cool with you. It was entertaining.

It was nearing closing for the venue and they had to leave soon, but Hyunjin didn't want this to end. He looked to Chan for a quick second with pleading eyes before he looked back at you and blurted "Do you wanna come home with us?"

You were thrown off by his sudden inquiry, "Huh?"

"Not in a gross way!" He panicked as Jisung burst into laughter watching his friend struggle. "I mean, we're headed back to our dorm and we planned on having a few drinks and hanging out. Our version of an after party. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh uhhh" you looked around at the encouraging looks from Felix and Chan, ignoring the snickering from Jisung and Seungmin. "I mean, I guess if you want me too, maybe an hour or so wouldn't hurt." You were a people pleaser and couldn't say no on a regular day, but especially not when your favorite idol asks you too.

"Perfect" He smiled brightly.

The ride over was more luxury than you were used too, even being shoved into the back of the black SUV. Perspective really was everything huh?

Once back at the dorms the boys wasted no time in getting acquainted with the bottle of tequila Minho had slyly taken from the venue. Though you kindly refused to do shots, you couldn't say no when Felix offered you a mixed drink he made you with some juice from the fridge.

Time felt like it was flying by. Before you knew it, it was nearing midnight. It was easy to loose track of time, though. Since the moment you got here Hyunjin had take it upon himself to keep you company. He had only taken two shots but he was clearly tipsy; his mild slurring and glassy eyes being a dead giveaway.

Not that you were any better, being a lightweight yourself. That's probably why it took you so long to notice the latening time.

"Shit" you cursed after checking your phone, only now noticing how late it was. "It's getting really late, I think I gotta head out."

Hyunjin looked around and noticed you two were the only ones left in the living room, the other members seemingly having gone to bed or to their own dorms. "Damn, how did we not notice how late it was?" He knew exactly how he didn't notice. You were too mesmerizing for him to want to pay attention to anything else.

"I should probably try to call an Uber." You sighed, opening your phone and praying you could get an available ride. Most Saturday nights were impossible to get a ride, since it seemed like the whole city tried to get one at the same time.

Hyunjin spoke before his brain could catch up. "Sleep in my bed tonight." He backtracked at seeing your eyes widen at his proposition. "Uhh what I mean is, it's really late and getting a ride might take hours anyway, so you could just stay here tonight if you wanted.."

"Oh umm." You bit your lip, nervously. "I don't want to be an inconvenience for you."

He shook his head in disagreement, shaggy hair bouncing at his vehement action. "It's no inconvenience, hon. Really, it would even make me feel better knowing you were here safe instead of waiting for a rando or walking home in the middle of the night."

"Aren't you kind of a rando, Hyunjin?" You had a slight tease to your voice.

"A rando who you came home with, yeah." He giggles, standing up and putting his hand out for you to take. He looked at you expectantly when you hesitated to grab his hand in return. "Come on, y/n. You can take my bed and I'll take the couch tonight. No objections!"

You shyly took his hand in yours, giving up on trying to leave knowing he was right.

You found yourself unable to sleep. It has easily been 40 minutes since Hyunjin had made his bed for you and wished you goodnight, and you couldn't stop thinking of just how you ended up in this situation.

You only meant to get a picture with your favorite K-pop group- nothing more nothing less. It's what you had paid for, at least. Never in your life would you have imagined this is where you would be at the end of the night. In Hwang Hyunjins bed. The sheets smelled of him, the silk holding onto both his natural scent and traces of his expensive cologne. Honestly it was quite sobering, your buzz fading by the minute.

As if his ears were ringing, the bedroom door slowly creaks open to reveal Hyunjin, peeking in curiously. The only light in the room was the soft glow of the moon shining through his window. It was just enough for him to be able to make out your still figure in his bed.

"Pssst" his voice was a whisper, "are you awake?" He didn't want to wake you if you were sleeping so he kept his tone low.

"Yeah." You whispered back, equally as soft. "Are you ok?"

He shuffled close to you in the room, "Uh yeah, it's just that.. the couch is really uncomfortable."

"Oh, uh" You stammed, "I can go to the couch so you can have your bed back."

You went to remove yourself from his bed but he stopped you, his hand finding your shoulder to keep you in place, "Well I was thinking, if you didn't mind, I could just stay in here with you."

You blinked in surprise, contemplating it for a moment. He wasn't slurring his speech anymore so you knew his tipsiness was wearing off. " I guess that would be ok." You slowly scooted further into the bed, giving him space to climb under the covers with you.

He situated himself under the warm blankets and turned his body to face you. Now you were both looking at each other through the dim light.

"I do appreciate you coming and hanging out with us tonight." He breathed out, breaching the silence.

You balked, "Are you kidding? You brought me into your home, and now you're letting me in your bed! This whole night has been incredible, really. I should be the one thanking you." You said in a hushed tone, fighting back the urge to word vomit your appreciation.

Hyunjin chucked, "No need to thank me." He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, gathering his nerves. "If I'm being honest, something about you had immediately caught my attention the second you walked backstage to meet us. You were so... Captivating. And sweet. Those little Skzoo minis you made for us are so cute and I can tell you took your time to make them for us. I knew I wanted to know you more." He reached for your hand in the dark and you tentatively let him grab it and laced your fingers together.

Your face was burning hot at his confession. Honestly you were at a loss for words. You hadn't considered yourself special in anyway. Sweet- maybe. But captivating? Never. It was a whirlwind of emotions. You didn't doubt that he was speaking his truth, more so your heart didn't want to believe it.

As if sensing your inner turmoil he gave you a shy grin to ease your mind, "I understand if you don't feel the same. I know it's crazy to spring that kind of thing on someone you just met."

"No its not that!" You protested louder than intended, before sheepishly lowering your voice back to a whisper. " This is all very surreal to me, right now. This isn't how I imagined my night would be, but I am so glad it did. I really liked getting to know you guys, especially you... Who may or may not be my bias." You hid your eyes behind your hand.

You tried to tug your other hand from his grasp but he held on, tighter now after your confession.

"Oh, I'm your bias, huh?" You could hear the smirk on his face as his confidence grew exponentially. You turned your head at buried it into the pillow, unable to meet his gaze.

"Don't be mean." you mumbled.

"I would never dream of being mean to you, sweetheart. You're the one who can't even look at your bias. So really you're the mean one here, angel."

You took a peek at him to see his signature pout gracing his features, the dumpling shape of his lips making you want to bite them.

"You're lucky you're pretty" You huffed, feeling his other hand reach for your waist and pull you closer. You held back a squeal at his action.

"You think I'm pretty?" He abandoned his pout for a boyish grin.

"Mhm" you responded, so quietly he almost missed it.

"Well, between you and me, angel," He leaned in closer to your face, eyes flickering back and forth between your lips and eyes, "I think you're prettier."

The singer left you room to deny his advances, but when you made no move to get away he gently pressed his soft lips against your own. You felt your eyes close on impact, and sighed into him as he swept his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Once you parted for him and allowed him entry into your mouth he let out a low moan; the sound coming from somewhere in the back of his throat.

You fisted his shirt when he let go of your hand, instead his found purchase cupping your cheeks as he deepened the kiss even further. His body pressed as close to you as he could get, letting himself get drunk on your taste as he sobered from the alcohol.

You whimpered when he wedged one of his thighs between yours, the strong muscle creating a friction on your clothes center.

"Mm I liked that sound. I wanna hear you sing more pretty melodies for me, angel." He retracted his lips from yours, choosing to instead pepper smooches down your neck. He ground his thigh into you, eliciting another whimper.

Hyunjin sucked a mark onto your flesh, the extra stimulation causing you to buck your hips, seeking more. "Hyuuunnee"

"That's it baby, ride my thigh. Fuck, I can feel you soaking through both of our clothes, angel." He really means his clothes, as he had given you a pair of sleep shorts to wear. He sped up his movements, the grinding getting harsher against your core.

Your clit was rubbing so deliciously against your panties, and you definitely knew with how much you were dripping for him that he was telling the truth. You couldn't believe how worked up you were getting, already on the verge of cumming and you hadn't even been really touched yet.

His hand traveled down to the hem of your shirt, and he pushed it up to reveal your braless chest. He let out a groan of his own at the sight. "You not wear a bra for me, angel? Being a naughty girl?"

You moaned when he latched his mouth onto the skin of your tit, "Mmmmm, no Hyun. Jus' can't sleep in it." one of your hands found his hair.

"I don't think that's true, angel." He said it between nips to your flesh, "I think you wanted me to come in here and ravish you." He nipped particularly hard and you gasped. "Bet you were laying here, soaking in your panties waiting for me, huh?" He switched to your other breast.

Your panting was getting harsher, getting closer and closer to cumming on his thigh. "Hyune, m' gonna..gonna..."

"Gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess for me, hmm?" You nodded as best you could, "Go ahead, angel. Hyun's got you." At his permission you let go, a soft cry escaping you as you shook against him. The whole time he kept steady in his grinding, working you through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're even prettier when you cum, oh my god. Prettier than a painting."

When the shocks of pleasure faded into over stimulation you tried to give him a light push to signal him to stop. He took the hint and slowly ended his grinding. Your breathing was heavy and your pupils were blown wide, the sight enough for him to crave you even more if that was possible.

Keeping eye contact with you, he gingerly reached into the front of your (his) shorts, his long fingers finding your dripping wetness and collecting some of it onto the pads of his fingers. You bleated a moan at the contact of him sweeping through your wet folds.

You almost came again when Hyunjin removed his fingers from your pussy and brought the shiny digits up to his mouth. He groaned and his eyes rolled to the back of his head when he sucked your essence off his skin.

"Fuck angel, you really are sweet." He was quick to flip you onto your back, causing you to squeal. "Gotta be quiet, sweet girl." He scooted down your body, pulling your bottoms and panties down with him. "Can't have the boys coming in here while I'm eating my new favorite treat, right angel?"

A/n: Yesssss I know its not full smut, but honestly i liked the it this way. i think it fits better :) I hope you enjoy please let me know if you did

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

©doitforbangchan

[ohdeerfully]

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

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You loved antique shopping. 

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

[luminique]

(looking around suspiciously). hey. have u ever thought about. popstar reader on a tour around the outer ring & lighter. (COP SIRENS IN THE DISTANCE) WHY IS SENDING THIS SO SCARY WE'RE LITERALLY MOOTS

HELLO KONNER !! i get it though cuz like sometimes i send in stuff and im like scared about it too. DONT WORRY THOUGH CUZ I WILL TRY MY BEST TO WRITE THEM OUT !!

a song you released becomes the biggest hit in all of new eridu, everyone and their grandma knows of your name. not before long, you're invited to interviews, shootings, magazines, etc. as a guest and one thing led to another, you announced a nationwide tour!

after lots of planning, practicing and perfecting, you decided to start of the first leg of the tour in the outer ring then work your way to the city. initially, you didn't really think there'd be many fans outside of the city but your team decided that it'd be good to get your name out there.

unexpectedly, the tickets sold out FAST. it was your first tour, you and your management didn't want to overestimate your fame. but with this, everyone was begging for more tickets. it was a little hectic but nothing like a little damage control on your social media couldn't help with.

the girls from the sons of calydon were WAITING for those tickets to drop. the moment they found out about your tour, they made sure that they were extra free that day. lucky enough, they got front row tickets for all of them. lighter included because they move as a unit and he wouldn't admit it but they know that he has memorized your songs by heart.

the day of your show finally comes and everyone is buzzing with excitement as they made their way to the venue. the merch lineup was relatively limited but they bought at least one of everything; t-shirts, sweaters, keychains, stickers, posters and two cheering sticks. they decided to let lighter hold the cheering sticks as he was the tallest out of all of them, making him the easiest to be noticed by you.

they screamed their lungs out that night, singing along to every song unapologetically. at some point though, lighter was just waving the sticks around as he watched you, mesmerized by your voice and your looks. he has seen the magazines that lucy asks him to buy, the ones with you on the cover. he has seen those interviews and how everyone would compliment you. however seeing you live, hearing you live, he was starstruck.

you thanked everyone for showing up, it was the perfect way to start your first ever tour. he knew that this was all just you being a popstar but even the way you talked, you seemed so sincere. the girls had to shake him out of this trance-like state that he was in, telling him that it was time to go home. if he wasn't a fan before, he was definitely a loyal fan now.

as they drove back home, the only thing in his mind was your singing, your stage presence. there were times where it seemed like you looked in his direction. did you even notice him in that sea of people? maybe he needs more merchandise. if you ever had a tour again, he'd definitely try to get front row tickets just to see you. just to hear you again.

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Headcannon || You Had Heart Surgery

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

SEOKJIN:

Jin was constantly on high alert whenever it came to your health, he always made sure you avoided stressful situations and kept you away from anything that would make your recovery worse. 

He also constantly educated himself on your condition and everything you were going to need to recover, constantly going to your doctors with questions and concerns for you, which sometimes felt embarrassing but you knew he was only doing it for you.

“They don’t have to give you the answers,” You giggle a little as Jin looks at his sheet of paper full of questions he’d had since your surgery took place

Whenever someone made any kind of insensitive comment about your scars he was the first to jump to your defence and arguing against people who tried to tell you had “ugly the scars were when they were far from it. 

There had been a series of tweets deleted from the managers who were trying to maintain Jin’s good image despite him kicking off about it.

Every night Jin made sure to apply a gel sheeting to your scar, keeping it hydrated and stopping any further damage from coming to you,

“You don’t have to do this,” You whisper, laid down on the bed as Jin carefully applied the sheet to your chest,

“I want to, let me pamper you,” He whines, it wasn’t often he got to fuzz over you so he was going to enjoy it as much as humanly possible

YOONGI:

As soon as you’d had the surgery Yoongi made sure he had all of the information he needed about your health, taking notes whenever the doctors would come into your hospital room to check on you

At home he made sure you never left the bed, bringing you everything you were ever going to need from the living room.

“You really didn’t have to move the TV into the bedroom.” You laugh, watching as Yoongi lugged the huge TV from downstairs into the main room and set it up at the foot of your bed.

“Now you dont have to get up.”

“The doctor said I would be fine to move soon.”

“He knows nothing,” He grumbles at you

As soon as hate started to spread online Yoongi didn’t stand for a single moment of it, he instantly did a live, talking calming but firmly with everyone that if they made any kind of rude comment then they weren’t a real fan and that they needed to care for you in your time of need

Although Yoongi was normally private with his life he was open and honest about all of this, using you to raise awareness for heart health and even helping charities raise money

Every night you went to sleep in his arms and he would make sure you were fully asleep before he ever decided to shut his arms, not wanting anything to happen to you.

HOSEOK:

Despite Hobi normally being the positive and cheery one of the group he’d changed completely when you’d gotten sick and even during recovery, he’d turned a little harder on those who decided to use this against you 

Online Hoseok constantly posted messages about you, showing you how much he loved you and supported you throughout the whole ordeal using his social media to make it a positive experience for you 

He encouraged fans to spread love toward you and those who had been through the same thing. Showing you a lot of other fans who had the same surgery and were giving you tips on how to care for your scars

“This one girl says if you apply cold gel patches they help soothe the itching better,” You eyed up Hoseok who’s eyes hadn’t left his phone since you mentioned your scar was itching 

“Hobi, I’m fine.”

“She said if you put them in the fridge it’ll be even better,” you giggle a little as he continues to research more

Hoseok had become a huge anchor for you throughout everything, offering you a listening ear and always being there whenever you needed him.

NAMJOON:

Namjoon wasn’t afraid to show his support for you publically, and in a big way. He put out a statement letting everyone know he would be gone until you were healed, which hadn’t gone down the best but he handles it well

He shared encouraging messages on social media, praising your strength and resilience, even pushing fans to take lessons in empathy since some of them had been rude about the scars you were now carrying that he constantly complimented you on

“They’re awful.” You grumble as you looked at yourself in the mirror but Namjoon wrapped his arms around you,

“I see the signs of a beautiful and strong woman who fought through a hard surgery to be here with me.”

He was constantly reassuring you that you were loved despite the scars and that just because you had them nothing was going to change anymore between you

All the boys were involved in showing support to you, all of them collectively sending messages as a united front against all of the shit you were facing online

“What’s all this?” You giggled looking at the flowers that surrounded the living room. Namjoon had gone all out, filling the whole place with flowers for you to see when you first woke up

Every vase had a different note attached and a reason why he loved you

When he eventually went back to work he made sure to give a speech to everyone in every concert he went to about the important of looking after their hearts and reminding them to go for regular check ups so they can be well cared for

JIMIN:

Jimin turned into someone you’d never seen him be for himself before and that was a fierce protector. His protective side came out strongly and he constantly stepped up to the plate whenever you were getting hate using his social media to call out all of the negativity taking place

Whenever he was addressing people who hated on you, he was calm about it, urging them to understand the impact of what they were saying to you or about you. Trying to educate them on what your surgery had been about and how it had saved your life

“Jimin, if that’s another gift I swear to god.” You groan as you heard your boyfriend strugglign into the house with a huge box in his hands and a giant grin on his face.

“Surpriseeeee,” he whine and you groan rolling onto the bed. You would have loved it but it was the 10th week of recovery and since then he’d gotten you a gift every single day 

Jimin was there every single step of the way, helping you sit from the bed to the chair. Then walking you up and down the stairs, making sure you knew you were never alone in any of the process

No matter how big or small the victory was in your recovery Jimin made sure to celebrate every single one of them, giving you joy into your life.

He planned dates with you, even when you couldn’t go out, hed bring the dates to you, collectively making you happy and looking forward to when you were allowed out once again

TAEHYUNG:

Taehyung was honest and open about your surgery the moment he knew you were scheduled for it - with your consent of course and you gave him full permission to let him share everything he wanted

He reported on your surgery and recovery the whole time, keeping those who wanted to know updated on everything

He took to hate directly as well, at first he’d been a little on the harsher side but once you’d calmed him down and reminded him that you didn’t care about trolls on the internet he turned calmer. 

“We wanted to address some comments and questions,” Taehyung said into the camera as he kept his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him 

“A lot of you keep asking how I knew something was wrong, or what my first signs were so we’re going to help you all out.” You wanted to use your experience to help educate everyone you could

Tae also did a lot of public interviews or TV appearances, talking about your surgery and addressing the hate by talking about the importance of heart care and health in general

At home Tae constantly tried to keep you happy and having fun despite not really being allowed to move around too much or go outside he tried to bring the fun to you

“An arcade machine? Really?” You giggle looking at the pacman machine that was inside of your garage, the boys all gathered around it before you even had a chance to get on it.

“I thought it could be fun, an arcade date.” taehyung chuckled kissing your cheek softly before kicking the boys off your machine

JUNGKOOK:

Jungkook took the hate personal, he saw it as not only attack on the person he loved but on himself since you were his other half 

He’d tried to distract you as much as possible when you were at home, planning gaming days together, having a movie night and even taking you on a drive (not letting you leave the car of course) 

He was a little overprotective when it came to your health, everything you were eating he was researching it all, googling to make sure it was fine for you to have, or even asking your doctors about it before you could have it

When the hate got a little too much for both of you he finally took a stand, going to the media and taking a huge stand about it. Stressing the importance of everyone spreading love and not hate. Explaining in detail the importance of the scars that you now bared to the world and even asking people to go for checkups 

Jungkook was constantly taking charge of your physical health, joining you in light exercises and stretching, making sure it was in your recovery limits 

Almost every morning you woke up to breakfast and every night you had one of your favourite meals prepared for you, a special date in bed with him as you sat across from one another

“This is so cool.” you giggle staring at jungkook who had placed a TV tray on the bed and sat across from you, a small candle burning as you shared the meal together

“Anything for my girl,” he winks at you, leaning across and kissing your cheek softly

On the nights you were in pain or felt unloveable he spent every single second by your side, kissing your skin and paying you compliments with every kiss to your skin. 

“This song is for Yn, and everything she’s been through” he said as he winked at you, it had been months since your surgery and now you stood at a concert watching your boyfriend perform a song he wrote for you while you were ill

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[letmebeyourcrrsh]

the echo of his broken heart

idol!jeongin x reader

warnings: mention of hate, angst?

tell me if there is more-

genre: breakup

summary: you are dating the one and only maknae of stray kids. you two had been in a happy and healthy relationship for very long now.. until suddenly the internet was filled with pictures of you two…

You never thought you'd be here. Never thought the day would come when you'd have to walk away from him. The man who made your heart feel whole.

Jeongin was your secret—your calm in the chaos. You never wanted the world to know about your relationship. It was yours and his, tucked away in a quiet corner of the universe. The late-night phone calls, the stolen kisses when no one was looking, the soft promises to always be there for each other… That was enough. It was always enough.

But nothing stays hidden forever.

It was one photo. One innocent moment. You were both at a small café, tucked away in a quiet corner, laughing at something he had said. It was like any other day. However.. A fan saw. A fan snapped a picture, and from that moment, everything shattered.

At first, it was just curiosity.

“Is this real?” “Who are they?”

People wanted to know. But soon, the floodgates opened, and the hate followed.

They don`t deserve him. They’ll ruin his career. They’re just using him. They dont even look good next to him? ew. Bet they are only there for the money.

Jeongin tried to protect you at first, tried to deflect the hate, tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. But you saw the pain in his eyes. You heard the exhaustion in his voice when he called you late at night, asking how you were holding up.

It hurt him. And it hurt you.

The once peaceful love you had shared started to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to be a part of the world that was judging you, tearing apart your life for the mere crime of loving someone who happened to be famous. But you knew that as long as Jeongin was by your side, you could endure it.

But then came the threats.

They started slowly—comments on his posts, DMs flooding his inbox. It wasn’t just hate anymore. It was fear. The " fans " were relentless. They told him to end it with you before things got worse. They said if he cared about his career, he would choose them over you. They said you weren’t good enough for him, and that you would bring him down.

And then the worst part came.

The messages you received. The ones that told you to leave him. The ones that told you to disappear. They weren’t just cruel; they were dangerous. They said they knew where you lived. They said they knew everything about you.

Your life became a nightmare.

You wanted to fight back, to scream at them that they didn’t know you, that you weren’t some kind of villain. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk your own.

And in the quietest, darkest part of your heart, you knew what was coming. You knew this couldn’t go on.

It was the night after a particularly ugly comment had gone viral. Jeongin called you. His voice was low, almost robotic, as if he had rehearsed these words a thousand times in his head.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

You already knew what he was going to say.

“I think... it’s best if we end this,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Your chest tightened. You had been expecting it. You had known it was coming. But hearing him say the words felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“No,” you whispered. “Please, Jeongin. We can’t just let them win. We’ll figure this out. We can make it through.”

He was silent for a moment. And then, you heard the deep, painful exhale of a man who was already broken inside.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I can’t see you like this. You’re scared all the time. You’re hurting, and it’s because of me. You don’t deserve this. You deserve peace. You deserve a life that isn’t filled with hate and threats.”

Your tears began to fall silently, as if your heart knew the end was coming even before your mind could process it.

“Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I don’t care about the hate. I care about you. You’re worth every bit of pain. I just want to be with you.”

He was crying now, and his voice was barely audible as he responded, “I love you so much, Y/N. I always will. But the truth is… I’m not enough to keep you safe. I can’t protect you from this. I can’t let you drown in a world that doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

Your world felt like it was crumbling. All of the love you shared, all the quiet moments, the dreams you had together—they were slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it.

“Please… don’t ask me to walk away,” you begged, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t do this without you.”

But he was already shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. You’re everything to me, but I can’t be the reason you lose yourself.”

There was no more fight in him. No more hope in his eyes. Just sorrow. Just resignation.

And so, you did what you had to do. You said goodbye. The words felt empty as they left your lips. They were hollow, unable to fill the space between you two, because the truth was, neither of you wanted this. Neither of you wanted to let go.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I promise.”

You wanted to say the same, but it was too much. The tears clouded your vision as you turned away, walking out of his life with the weight of everything you couldn’t change.

And as you walked away, all you could hear was the echo of his broken heart, calling your name in the distance.

first of all.. i really hope you liked this one!

and second:

click here for Part 2

[reallychaoticwoo]

Ok. It's kind of long but. An ateez Yeosamg x fan reader. They go down to the area of the concert day before to get some pics and hang out with some friends. While hanging out the topic of virginity and squirting came about and the reader is the only one in the group who never had sex or even touched herself so she didn't have an idea what squirting was. She was wearing Yeosangs jersey at the time* and as Yeosang and Seonghwa pass through Yeosang hears the girls conversation and notices the jersey. And interrupts them and asks the reader to follow him not telling her where. Etc. He makes her squirt more than once if you don't mind. And gives her mind blowing oral, regular sex and rough. And creampies her? From there he realizes how sensitive she was so he makes her squirt after creampie and does after care

It's alot😔

⛓️ Honestly I LOVE requests that are detailed that way i know im writing what you want🖤 With that being said i did take the liberty of adding some possessiveness in there as well, i hope you dont mind lol! As always, i hope you enjoy and thank you for your support!⛓️

✨️A Tiny Trainee✨️

❤️Pairing: Yeosang x reader

📝Word count: 6,834

⚠️Warnings: MDNI!! cussing, smut: fingering, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup), slight Dom Yeo, subish y/n, dumbification?, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, slightly possessive Yeo, ummm lmk if i missed anything i suck at these🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Hope you enjoy!🖤

It was the day before Ateez's concert and you and your friends could not contain your excitement. You all were currently hanging out in the hotel you'd gotten near the arena they'd be performing at so you wouldn't have to worry about traffic before and after the show.

Wanting to make the most of the day one of your best friends, Hana, asked if you guys wanted to go scope out the area and get a better idea of where you'd be spending the majority of your day tomorrow. Of course, you and your other bestie Fae, agreed.

You all get dressed quickly. You decided on your Yeosang jersey, a little black crop top underneath, and a cute pleated white skirt. You paired the outfit with your black converse and pulled your hair up into a simple ponytail. Finally dressed you all make your way out the door and to the arena.

You couldn't lie, the arena looked a bit small from the outside. You knew it wasn't though, considering how many seats had sold for both of days they'd be there. You walked around for a while, noting the enterances and talking about where they'd probably put the lines for tomorrow. You'd passed a small concrete area that seemed like it'd be a great spot for random dance play. Behind the concrete circle there was a small feild where you and your friends agreed there would probably be merch lines. You guys walked around for about an hour before deciding you all wanted to sit down before continuing your quest of mapping out the area like a trio of pirates mapping their next voyage.

Taking a break from your walking, you made your way closer to the entrance of the building where there were a few trees and places to sit. "So, full delusions speaking, but what would you guys do if you got handed a nda for your bias?" Your friend Hana asked. She was always the first to think of the best (and most delusional) case scenario. "Hmm.. Well besides signing it quickly and jumping his bones?" Fae asked, equally as feral and delusional as Hana. "Well obviously. Okay, okay. Let me ask this then, what would you guys WANT to happen if you got a night with your bias?" Hana asked before quickly answering her own question. "Personally, I'd absolutely die if San did a private performance for me. He'd rip the leather strap off his other sleeve before shoving it in my mouth. Obviously he'd have me squirting repeatedly." Hana sighed daydreaming about her answer. Fae giggled at her friend before giving her answer. "I mean.. I bet it would take less than two seconds for Yunho to make me squirt. Between those hands and the fact we all know that man is hung like a horse, I'd gladly scream his name all night. My only want is that he completely destroys me." You laughed at your two extremely feral friends, not really having anything worthy of adding to their complete smutfest.

Hana noticed you weren't really talking and turned to you, "What would you want to happen if you got a night alone with Yeo? I know you're a virgin but you have to have some fantasies." You thought for a moment. "I mean if i'm being honest, I'd like to just get to know him. I dont even know what squirting is... and I'm not entirely sure if i want to seeing as it has you two loosing your minds. He probably wouldn't even want to take someone to his room that didn't know what they were doing anyways. It'd be nice to just talk.. Get to know more about him then whatever the media posts, ya know?"

What you and your friends failed to realize was that Yeosang and Seonghwa just happened to be walking by and had possibly (most definetly) stopped to ease drop on their fans conversation. They hadn't expected you guys to be dicussing all the sexual things your friends would like to do to their members, but couldn't bring themselves to leave as it was just too interesting to pass up. Seonghwa looked to Yeosang when you were talking and nudged his friend playfully. "You heard her, you can't have that sweet little Atiny thinking you wouldn't enjoy her just because she's a virgin." "Well I also can't just take her virginity for shits and giggles Hwa. That's messed up." Yeosang was quick to reply, a look of disapproval painted on his face at his friends words. "So why don't you at least talk to her? She said that'd be her ideal night with you anyways. See where it goes." Yeosang thought it over briefly as you and your friends continued your chat.

"All I'm saying y/n is it wouldn't hurt to just put yourself out there more." Fae said with a sigh. You looked at your friend with defeated eyes. "I know, but it's not really something I take lightly. I'm not going to mess around with just anyone, and I'm absolutely not just handing over my v-card to someone i don't know won't just take it for granted." A muffled cough caught the attention of you and your friends. Quickly turning your head to find the source of the sound, your eyes widened in shock and awe as you spotted Seonghwa and Yeosang standing mere feet away. They walked closer before greeting you and your friends with a polite smile and wave. "Sorry to intrude on your conversation, but my dear friend Yeosang here couldn't help but notice your jersey. We just wanted to stop and say hi to our fans." The taller of the two spoke with a polite smile, but the gleam in his eyes said there was much more to this greeting than he was letting on. Yeosang was desperately trying to hide the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he turned to you. "Hi, I hope we aren't interupting anything.. I just wanted to say hello and ask if you'd maybe be interested in coming with Hwa and me to talk? It's not very often we get to just converse with our fans, and we're not really supposed to be out and about right now."

You looked to your friends before returning your attention to the etheral looking men in front of you. "We'd love that, thank you." You tried to contain your excitment so you wouldn't scare them off but your eyes were practically gleaming in awe as you looked to them. "No offense to your lovely friends, but we were hoping to chat with just you. I hope that's okay? I can get all of you upraded to VIP and into send off as a thank you for lending us your friend for the evening." Seonghwa directed the second half more towards the two girls staring at you eagerly. "We'd love that!! Thank you so much! We will be on our way then. Take good care of our bestie!" Fae and Hana pulled you in for a quick hug whispering in your ear before they pulled away. "We want ALL the details when you get back tonight!! Good luck girl and please for the love of everything have fun!" With that, your two friends were walking away, leaving you with your bias and your bias wrecker. 'Those horny bitches.' You thought to yourself as they disappeared around the building.

"I hope it's okay we stole you away from your friends.." Yeosang said softly as he turned toward you, bringing your attention back to him and Seonghwa. "Honestly, it was perfect timing. They've been hounding me about my uh.. life choices regarding men so it's a nice break. Plus obviously, I'm a huge fan so I'd be dumb to pass up getting to chat with the two of you." You smiled at him and Hwa as you spoke. The taller of the two spared a quick glance at his shorter friend before focusing his attention on you. "About that, I hope I'm not being too forward, but we did happen to overhear some of your conversation. If you had any questions or wanted to try anything we'd be more than happy to... assist." Seonghwa spoke with such effortless tact. His voice like desire itself, and his eyes pure sin. You gulped feeling a bit insecure under the gaze of someone you were positive knew exactly what he liked and what he was doing. Looking to your feet and shifting from one to the other you tried to come up with a reply that wouldn't have you embarrassingyourself further. Thankfully, Yeosang stepped in before you could open your mouth. "Of course we are more than happy to just keep things friendly! My friend here is just a bit... eager to please. Please don't think we would try and pressure you into anything. If I'm being completely honest I'm perfectly happy just getting to know you." You smiled up at him. "We could uh.. see where it goes then. If that's okay?" You prayed he didn't hear the shaking in your voice. "Of course. Now, are you comfortable coming to my hotel room? We really aren't supposed to be out here right now." Yeosang asked, Seonghwa nodded, confirming his younger members words. You smiled at the two before stepping in between them with a bright smile. "Lead the way!"

The three of you made your way back to Yeosang's hotel room with few words. Once you had all made it inside, the two idols made themselves comfortable. Yeosang took a seat on his bed sitting crossed legged; Seonghwa took to the chair at the desk in the corner of the room. "You can sit anywhere you'd like. You don't have to stay standing. We're hoping you'll decide to be here for a while." Yeosang said while gesturing to the bed and the miniture couch that was not too far away in a small sitting area in the room. "Hah, yeah. I guess it would be pretty uncomforable to stay standing." Your nerves were definately getting the best of you. Depsite the rising anxiety of being in such close proximity to the two idols you most certainly had fantasized about, you made your way to the bed, sitting next to Yeosang.

"Well, it's been a while since we've gotten to have an actual conversation with anyone outside of the company, so tell us about yourself." Seonghwa said as he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. Yeosang turned in his spot to face you as you spoke. "Well, there's not really a lot to tell. I'm in my 20s, I live relatively close by here. I probably have too many hobbies to count.. Umm, I suck at talking about myself.." You started to trail off, embarassment coursing through your body like a tidal wave. "We could ask you questions then if that's okay?" Yeosang offered. "That works for me." You tired to make yourself relax and not seem so tense as you answered their questions.

SH- "I'm gonna ask a couple, so feel free to answer or not answer whatever you want. You said you have a ton of hobbies, can you list a couple of them? Are you more of a homebody or do you like going out? What's your favorite animal?"

Y/N- "Well, I like to draw, dance, sing, crochet, sometimes i make my own jewelry. Basically anything and everything that can be considered artsy or creative. I also read, build legos, have houseplants. I want to think that I like going out but if I'm being completely honest, I really like being at home and reading a good book or doing any of the hobbies I have. And, hmmm, I know it's weird, but my favorite animal is a capuchin monkey. They're insanely smart and funny. But if we're talking your basic house pets though, I don't really have a favorite. I love them all, cats, dogs, bunnies, fish, they're all adorable!"

YS- "That is a lot of hobbies, but it must be really nice having a multitude of creative outlets. I also like reading and plants. Although, I don't really get to have as many plants as i'd like. Do you have any pictures of your plants? I'd love to see them!"

Y/N- " I do! Here let me show you."

It wasn't long before you found yourself more relaxed in their presence. You were now laid back against the headboard of the bed, Yeosang sat next to you but with a modest amount of space between you two. Seonghwa moved closer, now sitting at the foot of the bed criss crossed facing you and his brown haired friend. "I do want to know, why are your friends so adamant about you getting out there more?" Yeosang shot his black haired friend a warning glare at the invasive question. You choked back a shocked gasp and cleared your throat. " They just want me to be happy and think that somehow getting freaky will make that happen." Seonghwa just nodded to himself at your answer, but Yeosang looked up at you curiously. "Why would they think you're unhappy?" His eyes showed genuine concern even though his face remained neutral. "Well, I guess because I'm always the third wheel when we all go out. They both have boyfriends and I don't. Plus I've complained to them before about how I wish I could find someone I felt comfortable enough to be with romantically and intimately. They think i'm holding myself back, but I don't want to feel like i'm settling, ya know?"

The two men nodded at your confession. Naturally Seonghwa was the only one confident enough to speak during the rather heavy moment of silence. "Do you feel comfortable with us?" Yeosang was quick to shut down his older members train of thought. "No offence Hwa, but I don't think that's really appropriate to ask right now." You glanced up at Yeosang then to Seonghwa and back to Yeo. You shakily reached out your hand to the one sitting next to you. To your surprise, he took it. Taking a deep breathe to gather yourself, you replied. "I do feel comfortable with you two BUT.. there's two big problems with that. One, I don't nessecarily want to loose my virginity to two men at once. That seems..uh.. honestly.. really intimidating. And two, I also don't want to have sex with someone i'm never going to see again. I'm not that kind of person. I always thouoght i'd be in a relationship before I ever did that with someone so I don't really know how I feel about that, even if I know the entire fanbase would probably kill me for passing up the two most gorgeous men that have ever walked the earth." Yeosang's blush was bright red and his hand squeezed yours in understanding. Seonghwa, although he tried to hide it, seemed to blush slightly at the compliment as well.

Yeosang looked to the man on the foot of the bed, a silent conversation going on between the two. Before you could apologize for reluctantly turning them down, Yeosang squeezed your hand again and spoke. "Hwa, I'm going to run over to our managers room to see if we can get some food delivered. Will you come with me?" You were suspicious as to why they both needed to go but before you could ask one of them to stay Hwa was already speaking. "Yeah. I'm starving anyways. Pizza sound good y/n?" You nodded, a sweet smile on your face as you leaned back into the pillows. "We'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable!" Yeosang turned to you with a cheeky smile before shutting the door behind them.

"She is considering it, you know. If you weren't so timid you might actually be able to get her to." The eldest spoke as he walked beside Yeosang. "Despite what you may think, that wasn't and still isn't my goal here. She seems like a really sweet girl and we have a lot in common. I was being completely honest when I said i'm more than happy just getting to talk to her." The shorter of the pair replied a bit sharply. "You two do have a lot in common. Like the fact your friends are also tired of hearing you complain about your lack of love." Seonghwa snapped back before letting out a defeated sigh. "Look it's obvious you both are interested in eachother. I don't care if you end up bringing he back to Korea with us if it means you can actually be happy. Just... just don't keep holding yourself back from possible good things." Yeosang just nodded at the eldest's words. He had a point. Yeosang did like you so far. You two have similar intrests, you've been very sweet and polite, albiet a bit timid, during the little bit of time you all talked, and you were stunning. He had to be honest with himself, he's always hoped that one day when he finally got to settle down it'd be with someone like you.

After what seemed like ages, but was really only ten or fifteen minutes, the pair returned to the room. "Pizza should be here in about 30 minutes. I honestly might pass away before it gets here i'm so hungry." Seonghwa whined as he plopped down on the couch nearby. You giggled at his dramatics finding it rather cute compared to his imdimidating seductiveness from earlier. "I think you can make it 30 minutes drama king. Here I was thinking Wooyoung was the most dramatic of you all." You joked. Yeosang choked back a chuckle while making his way to the bed where you still sat, before adding, "Hwa doesn't play about his food. He might actually pass away if it takes too long. But he most definetly can make it 30 minutes." Seonghwa only lazily glared at Yeosang before pulling out his phone to pass the time.

Yeosang scooted further onto the bed so he could make himself comfortable. "Want to watch a movie while we wait?" He asked. You smiled at him nodding your head. "Heck yeah, movie and pizza is my kind of hang out." You giggled, but internally you were cringing at yourself. Yeosang noticed and quickly asked, "What's your favorite movie?" You thought for a second. "That's hard cause there's so many good ones. Have you ever seen The Fifth Element. It's a bit older, but I love it. It's a si-fi movie and there's a scene in it with an opera singer and her voice is absolutely mesmerizing." Yeosang's eyes sparkled at how excited you were telling him about the movie. "I haven't seen it before, let me see if I can find it so we can watch it." You couldn't contain the giddy smile that spread across your face at the fact your bias was eager to watch one of your favorite movies with you. You felt like you were dreaming. "Found it!" He shouted triumphantly as he pulled up the movie on the TV facing the bed. Pressing play, he smiled at you before leaning back into the pillows and making himself more comfortable.

"You know, we could..uh.. would you want to.. maybe come cuddle?" Yeosang asked looking at you out of the corner of his eyes trying to hide the embarassment spreading across his face. You blushed at his question, but scooted yourself up next to him laying your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa, who was still sitting by himself on the couch glanced over at you two cuddled up together and smiled to himself like a proud mother whitnessing her son's first date.

As you two laid side by side, your head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but stare at the man next to you. He was gorgeous, etheral, like something otherworldly. You couldn't bring yourself to fully comprehend how in the world you ended up next to him in his bed watching your favorite movie, but you weren't complaining. Maybe in a different life Yeosang would be the one you gave up your virginity to, the one you trusted to not leave you. Maybe in a different life he could be the one you ended up with. Maybe.

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts. Seonghwa shot up like lighting from his seat and answered the door. Grabbing the food from their manager, he said thank you before shutting the door and turning around to place the pizza on the table in the sitting area. The gigantic grin on his face at the sight of the food was priceless and had you giggling to yourself. "He really does love food." You said, turning your head to look at Yeosang. He let out a soft giggle himself, his shoulder lightly moving your head as he laughed. You looked at him with such softness his heart skipped a beat. "You know, I felt you staring at me a second ago. Care to share what you were thinking?" He teased. You hummed in consideration. "Oh, you did? Uh.. nothing really. I was just thinking." "Uh huh, I figured as much. Tell me what you were thinking about." You glanced over to the man stuffing his face full, praying he was too engulfed in his gluttonous love affair to be listening. Looking up at Yeosang you sighed. "Okay but please don't make fun of me... I was just thinking about how if things were different and we met on normal terms that this would be a great first date. How if you weren't an idol who will obviously have to leave in a couple days, that we could maybe actually have a chance at becoming something down the road. It's stupid, I know.." Something inside you almost whimpered at the truth that was inevitable, but you were determined to make the most of the time you have now. "I don't think that's stupid at all. And who's to say we couldn't continue to get to know each other?" You wanted to laugh in his face. There's no way he could think that'd be realistic, but the hope in his eyes said he very much did.

The two of you had made your way to the sitting area. Yeosang claiming the spot next to Seonghwa, and you sitting on the floor in between his legs. "You don't have to sit on the floor ya know?" He said looking down at you. You tilted your head back to meet his eyes and asked, "Well where do you suppose I sit then? You two take up the entire couch." He chuckled at your sassiness and reached down to lift you onto his lap. "You could sit here. That way I don't have to feel all lonely." He replied, earning him a punch on the arm from Hwa who stared at him like he just committed the biggest act of betrayal. "I am literally right here. But I'm glad to see you two finally opening up more. It's actually quite adorable." The matching blush that appeared on your faces only proved the eldest's words rang true.

After quickly eating together you all made your way back to the bed to continue the movie. Before pressing play you and Yeosang filled Seonghwa in on what he'd missed while he was impatiently waiting on the pizza. After catching him up, you resumed your movie, and your cuddling. Once again, you found yourself sparing numerous glances at the man beside you. The butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildy at his proximity, at the fact you were still here with him and Seonghwa and it felt so natural. Seonghwa, feeling a bit left out and lonely scooted closer to you hoping he could join in on the cuddles. Unbeknownst to you Yeosang was quick to glare in his direction, a silent declaration to back off. What you did notice though, was how the brunette pulled you closer into him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. Seonghwa took it for what it was. Yeosang had finally made his decision, even if he wasn't fully aware of it himself. Seonghwa faked a yawn before looking over to the two of you, "Alright you two, I'm gonna head to my room and get ready for bed. Y/n thank you for hanging out and letting me get to know you some. I'll see you tomorrow at the show! G'night Yeo." You said your goodbyes as Seonghwa made his way towards the door. Before he closed the door behind himself he shot his younger member an encouraging wink.

Grabbing your phone for the first time tonight you checked the time, 10pm, and noticed several messages from your friends.

Hana: SOOOO how's it going???

Fae: Girl at least let us know youre alive you can fill us in on the rest later

Hana: I hope your lack of reponce means youre enjoying yourself ;)

The most recent message from a few minutes ago being came from Hana. "Are you coming back tonight or do we need to plan a meet up for tomorrow?'

You looked to Yeosang who quickly noticed the expression on your face. "Your friends message you?" A sigh and a nod, "Yeah they're wondering when i'll be back and it's getting kind of late. I should probably be heading out.." Yeosang's heart quivered at the thought of loosing your company so soon. He wasn't ready for this time together to end, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd ever be ready. "You could stay... Ya know, if you want to of course. We haven't even finished the movie and it'd be a shame to have to cut our date short." You glared at him through your lashes, a faint smile spreading across your lips. "Date?" He returned the smile and interlaced his fingers with yours. The simple action sending your heart into a frenzy within your chest. "Yes, date. If you're okay with it being one. I'd like this to be the first of many." You held back your initial reaction to ask him how that would work, how you two would even be able to have more dates. Instead, you squeezed his hand and smiley brightly, your cheeks red and sore from happiness. "I'd love that. Let me text my friends and let them know I'll meet them tomorrow then." He nodded. You quickly typed out a message to your friends, 'Hey, I'm staying the night. I will tell you guys everything tomorrow i promise! We can meet in the lobby in the morning. I'll ttyl!'

Cuddling closely to Yeosang, his arm around you, your head on his chest, your leg draped over his, you felt a pang of want somewhere deep inside you. Deciding to act first for once you looked up at the beautiful man with need in your eyes. "Yeosang..." You whispered softly. He turned his head to look at you, confusion, and something similar to desire swimming in his eyes. "Yes, beautiful?" You couldn't help the immediate blush that dawned on your face. "I...I...I'm comfortable with you.." You couldn't maintain eye contact, looking at his chest as you waited for whatever his response may be. He grinned, softly, sweetly, and lifted your chin so you'd meet his gaze. "Are you absolutely sure?" You gulped, fighting your natural instincts to back out. No. You wanted this, him, it felt right, every single thing about it felt right. "Yes. I'm sure." He nodded and leaned in to take your lips in his own. He pulled back only slightly before he whispered, "Good, I am too."

Before you could so much as question what he meant by that, his lips were crashing against yours yet again. Soft. They were so soft and plush against your own like they had been perfectly made to kiss you and only you. His hand grazed down your side finding its resting place on your hip, his other found purchase at the nape of your neck pulling you closer to him. The smallest of whimpers escaping your lips only to find a home in his. He pulled back to catch his breath, his thumb rubbing gently against your hip. "Lay back for me beautiful. I'll be gentle I promise, and we can stop whenever you want okay?" You nodded as you moved to lay on your back in the center of the bed. Nervousness and excitement washing over you in a melody of increasing desire. Yeosang made his way above you, straddling your hips as he leaned forward to claim another kiss. "Are you okay with me taking off your skirt?" His eyes were soft, caring, and patient. "Y..yes. Please do." You managed to say, already breathless from the rush of emotions you'd long been afraid of letting yourself feel.

Yeosang ever so gently moved his thumbs under the waistband of your skirt. A tingle ran down your spine at the whisper of touch as you lifted your hips enough to let him glide your skirt and underwear down your legs. As the clothing hit the floor he slowly kissed his way up your legs. Placing lingering kisses to each leg slowly moving closer and closer to the place you were now aching most. You absently mindedly spread your legs, a simple but much-appreciated invitation. Two more kisses were placed on the uppermost part of your inner thighs, and Yeosang stopped, hovering right over your needy bud. His eyes met yours, a silent question as if to once again ask if you were sure. The barely audible "Please" that escaped your mouth was all he needed. He placed a soft kiss on your clit before slowly licking it in short precise flicks. The moan that escaped him at the taste of you had your body shuttering beneath him. His kitten licks turned into full-blown laps as he devoured your virgin cunt like it was his last mean. His tongue moving in long lines through your folds before darting inside your walls. You were already lost in pure bliss, a feeling of a spring getting ready to snap slowly building within your core. Yeosang reluctantly pulled himself back so he could insert a finger. Starting slowly, he pumped it in and out at a snail's pace. "Fuuuck.." Your back arched into the feeling as you whimpered beneath his touch. Leaning down to place another gentle kiss on your clit while he slid in a second, then third finger. His pace slowly increased as he found the spongey spot that would have you coming apart for him. Continuing his pace, he moved his thumb to your clit applying gentle pressure as he rubbed in circles. He kissed his way up your body, stopping only long enough to pull your crop top over your breasts so he could kiss them too. He kissed up as his fingers fucked you faster and faster until he kissed your neck and whispered in your ear. "Do you even know how beautiful you sound right now? How fucking good you taste? Fuck... you're going to break me.. and I'm going to let you." His deep whisper echoed through your body like a catalyst that set the spring in your core loose. Your walls clenched down on his fingers as your eyes snapped shut and your world went white. The moan that escaped you was nothing short of sinful, and he only wanted to hear it again and again. As the waves of pleasure and release finally subsided, you opened your eyes, trying to take in your surroundings and bring yourself back to your body.

By the time you were fully past your out-of-body experience, you saw Yeosang at the foot of the bed taking off his soaked clothes. "D..did I.. what was that?" You asked. He only smiled widely as he replied, "You squirted. I can't wait to make you do it again." The tingle that went through your body felt like lightning at his words. You couldn't wait to do it again, for him, because of him, you were far from done. You sat up to remove your jersey and crop top before dropping them to the floor. Yeosang was quick to pick up the jersey though, handing it back to you. "Put this back on, please. I want... I want to see you in it when I finish making you mine." You shivered at his words as you put the jersey back on, leaving it unbuttoned.

Without so much as another word, he was back on top of you, lips against yours, hungry yet patient. His only goal was to make sure you enjoyed yourself. That's what he cared about most, your pleasure. You couldn't help but glance down in between heated kisses, taking him in. He was huge. Way bigger than what you thought he would be, and thick. Your walls clenched around nothing at the thought of him claiming your pussy as his own. Molding your walls to fit him and only him perfectly. As if he could read your thoughts, he smirked and grabbed his generously sized member, sliding it through your slick folds before lining it up with your entrance. You bucked your hips forward, a wordless plea. One that he happily answered as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, inched his way in. He let out a groan as he fully sheathed himself inside."Fuuuckk, you feel so good. So perfect." Your walls clenched around his length as he spoke. He took his time with you, his strokes long, deep, precise. Planting kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your chest, to your perfect tits. You were sensitive but hungry. Finally understanding why your friends would go hardcore feral over their fantasies. You were living a fantasy of your own right now but you wanted, no, needed more. You slid your arms up his back letting your nails gently graze his muscles on their way back down. Again, you repeated the motion but clawed slightly harder. A whine escaped your mouth as you begged for more. "Y- Yeosang p..please.. fuck.. I need more. Please" His soft attentive gaze turned borderline sinister as he grabbed your hips pulled himself out and swiftly flipped you onto your stomach. Lifting your hips so your ass was on full display before spreading your legs and snapping back into you without warning.

You screamed his name at the sudden intrusion, painful pleasure rushing through you causing your toes to curl. He only took that as a sign to continue his torturous snaps, hitting all the right spots, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "So fucking perfect for me. You're taking me so fucking well doll, I could stay here all night buried in this perfect little cunt." You practically purred at the praise. His hand snaked around your front to grip your throat pulling you to your knees, your back flush against his chest. He nipped and sucked at your neck as his grip around your throat tightened. Your walls constricted, your eyes shut, your release so eminent. Just as your body started trembling he reached his other hand around to rub small swift circles on your throbbing clit. "Fuck me... you keep choking my dick like that and I'm gonna bust before I can pull out sweetheart." His release threatened to burst as he lost himself in your warm slick sex. "So don't. Cum in me Yeosang... please. I want you to fill me up..already so full want your cum too.. please.." You couldn't help how pathetic your babbling sounded. You needed him, you needed this, so fucking much. His brutal thrust only became more frantic, hitting deeper and deeper, his fingers on your clit matching his thrusts. You arched further into him, legs shaking furiously, your cunt repeatedly tightening around his dick. "F-fuck...i..g'na..ahhh!" Your voice cracked as you reached your peak. Your orgasm hitting you like a hurricane, your eyes shut as you lost your focus, stars swimming around in your eyes. Yeosang pumped only two more times before your orgasm pulled him over the edge and he was burying himself all the way inside you as he spurt hot ropes of cum deep inside your spasming walls.

Yeosang slowly helped lean you forward pulling out as you laid face first against the bed. You combined release coating his dick and leaking out of your spent pussy as he helped you turn to your back. "I can't believe how sensitive you are... making you squirt could get dangerously addictive, doll." You absent-mindedly hummed in response still reveling in the feeling of floating as you slowly came down from your high. He smirked at how fucked out you looked laying on his bed with eyes still hazy and a spent grin across your lips. "I'm gonna go get some things and then start us a shower. I'll be right back beautiful." You blushed at the term of endearment like he hadn't already called you a few like he hadn't just fucked you senseless. "I don't know if it's the post-orgasm brain talking or the fan mentality, but I'd say you're treating me much nicer than you should be considering you'll be leaving in two days."

The look he gave you was nothing short of disappointed, maybe even a bit pissed. "Me leaving soon has nothing to do with what happened tonight. I thought you'd realized that before we had sex, but since you haven't I guess now would be a great time to tell you. Seonghwa left when he did not just because he was tired but because he went to talk to management and the other members for me. I really like you y/n and I absolutely plan on seeing you again so we worked out a couple of options so you could pick whatever you're most comfortable with. You could come back to Korea with me and we can either set you up a room in the dorms or get you your own place. Or you can stay here and I'll pay for your travel to come and visit as often as you'd like so we can continue to see where things go." Your mouth was agape as you blinked your eyes trying to process what he'd just said to you. The tears in your eyes threatened to escape and you looked at the man before you. "Y..you would do that.. for me?" He stepped towards you and lifted your chin until your lips were mere centimeters apart. "Yes. I absolutely would. You don't have to decide right now, but I do hope I get an answer before we have to leave." His lips met yours in a tender kiss before he moved to get the shower started.

Finally in the shower, after some much-needed help from Yeosang, you leaned into the warm water letting it fall over your body. You took a moment to enjoy the way your body relaxed as the water cascaded down. Once you looked at Yeosang, your heart started singing. How could this man cause you to feel like this within mere hours of knowing each other? Sure, you've been a fan for years, but you were sure that what you saw wasn't always who he was. And, it wasn't, it was so much better. "I think, I think I want to come back with you. It'll be a little difficult figuring out what to do about my lease and all my things, but I've always wanted to leave the States anyway. Plus if this goes as well as I think it will I don't want to be asking you to pay for me to come and see you every weekend." He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Don't worry about your lease and all of that, I'll get it handled. The only thing left to figure out is if you want to stay in the dorms with me or would you prefer your own place nearby?" You faked being deep in thought for a moment before answering, "Well that depends, don't you think I'd be a little fast-moving to have someone you're not even dating living with you?" It was his turn to pretend to think. "I suppose it would be a little weird but that shouldn't be a problem if you say yes." You shot him a curious look, your eyes narrowing as you asked, "Say yes to what?" He pulled you flush against him, his hands resting on the small of your back. "It's definitely moving fast but I don't care if you don't. I think this could be something really amazing. Will you be my girlfriend?" You kissed him so fast he stumbled a step back before steading the two of you. "Yes!"

OBLIGATORY YEOSANG TAGS: @evis-gossip @yeosangcutie0615

[thesimulacrasimp]

Okay, I literally just watched a spooky month short and i wanna kinda break it down a lil bit, cuz we learned ALOT through it. Again, sorry for my terrible english 😭🙏

Okay so in this shot we see Kevins parents (rlly cute) and we see "Rad's bday" on calendar (which is apparently in september, knowing that Kevin started working in candy club in the same month), that means that he knew Radford for a long time, even before he started working in candy club.

Okay, thats really funny, but when Skid and Pump appeared in this short with different masks i was like: "YOOO they finally revealed their hair styles. Wow these fan predictions were really close!" until i remembered that their hair styles were already revealed a long time ago in the house pictures.....

Okay so through Pump we now know that Skids father is dead. Not missing, not left - dead. <= another question that have been answered.

Lila looks so tired, poor soul (SHE EVEN WALKING IN THE STREETS IN SLIPPERS 😭)

Ok, now its my fav part. We saw all the moments w Skid and Pump in candy club. First part of it were just the moments that we have already seen or that have been mentioned (like when Skid n Pump got alot of fake blood in the place), there were also some others moments weve never seen, but i dont think theyre really important since they all happened before even eps 4 and 5, so i dont think i need to break them down (especially because of this stupid fuCKING PICTURE LIMIT—) BUT! The things i WANT TO talk about are all the things that happened after ep 6 - the things we still havent got to. And if its actually the foreshadowing (is that the right word for that?...) for what will happen in the future eps then its kinda a dissapointing cuz we got spoiled, and FUCKING AMAZING at the same time, like I have VERY mixed feelings about this, but i more like it than hate it tbh. SO im gonna break these things down like they are actual spoilers for future episodes, but that can be not true, who knows.

Okay, the first thing we see after ep 6 is another winter situation (the hole from Moloch is still there 😭) w hatzgang, Skid n Pump, and Susie, while the whole place was acreeting w some weird roots w eyes?? Then i suppose Roy was tormenting the poor kids as always, and Susie got mad at him and left, and then Rob and Ross did the same thing while Roy looked offended n pissed (which i cant show you becuz of a FUCKING LIMIT—)

Then, Lila, Jaune, John and Jack came to the candy club. I cant really tell what couldve happened, but Lila n Jaune looked really mad, and then STARTED ARGUE FOR SOME REASON, like I literally have no idea what couldve happened, it could be anything.

Then there was a literal fnf scene, like an actual rap battle between the spooky bois and bf (which i also cant show you, CAN U GUESS WHY?? :) ). I honestly think that this is a simple joke and nothing more, but who knows, maybe it will actually happen in spooky month, that would be pretty cool.

Okay, then the Spider. Like, we already all knew that its gonna be an episode vilian at some point, so its not really surprising honestly. Really curious how its gonna be portrated tho, like what is it gonna do, what its motives and goals are gonna be, what characterization are a LITERAL SPIDER gonna get - its all really interesting.

Then a cult. Also not really surprising tbh, like I think it was obvious that they were gonna get to Kev at some point, interesting why tho. Like how could he be useful or harmful for them? (interesting detail is that after a scene w the cultists Kevin still stayed in the club, so the cult tried to get him but failed? I wonder why and how.)

Okay... MOTHER. FUCKING. SKID'S DAD. HOLY SHIT IM SO EXCITED FOR HIM. If we look at the shot it seems like Skid came here to introduce Kevin to his dad (cute)

And then i suppose Dad got a candy bar for Skid and they both left. Really curious how is Skids dad gonna introduce himself to his son, how Skid is gonna react (well even by these 2 shots we can see that he is really happy, but im more curious about the first reactions, im in for some wholesome fluff please!!!). And Lilas reaction is also reaaaaaally interesting (if she will even know)

And the last shot is this. I also dont think it really means anything (maybe foreshadowing that Kev is gonna die??), the only thing that intrigues me is this sky, like I dont even know what it looks like, some sort of black hole? A fissure? Some ultimate evil that comes from another world? A 4th wall break?? Who fucking knows. But it does look interesting.

And soooo ummmmm idk what else to write, I think i already said everything i wanted to say so.. Bye? Tnx 4 reading?? Ig???

[bainksan]

Could we please get general relationship headcanons for Erza, Juvia, and Mirajane. Preferably with a gender neutral s/o? Thank you!

would love to write for my favorite fairytail ladies !! :) and yes it will be a gender neutral reader

General Relationship Headcanons with Erza + Juvia + Mirajane v❦

Erza <3

Usually in a relationship theres always one person whose mostly in control

and yeah that'll be Erza for sure

She isn't exactly...controlling she just has to make sure at every second of every minute of every hour your safe

So this means she's gonna be walking behind you at most points (Gotta make sure theres no sneak attacks)

To the average person it may seem a little drastic but no this a normal occurrence

An average date is usually and sadly just hanging out in the guild hall splitting any kind of desert that's served that evening

Sadly because you both don't get a moment of peace with the normal shenanigans that happen (by shenanigans I mean Natsu and Grey)

It's hard to go out on normal dates because Erza, as much as she loves you, is the guilds rock and has to always make sure that everything is alright and no ones on fire

When you both do get the time, you love late afternoon picnics

Several desserts and treats

Erza loves how much you love picnics and when you first brought up the little date idea she was already planning your wedding

You and her chat and talk while splitting your favorite foods and treats.

When it gets darker outside she'll put her arm around you and rest her head on your shoulder

This usually ends up with you both falling asleep outside in the cold.

She'll invite you out for cafe dates and shopping trips

No matter what you say she's always gonna pay for you

Juvia <3

oh lord this women adores you

like literally adores you

shes your number one fan and supporter

constant rainy dates is a must

ever since you started dating you both have taken up knitting

so that means alot of knitted gifts to each other like little dolls and animals

sooooo much pda

like so much fricking pda

whether her arm is around your waist or her head is resting on top of yours she always has to be touching some part of you

shes always gonna come off as clingy but thats okay !!

when you first met she lowkey stalked you

and by stalk i mean she followed you around the guildhall trying to build up the courage to talk to you

before she even knew it you were complimenting her hat causing her to practically melt on the spot

she ended up walking you home that night after stopping at magnolia's local antique and tea shop

also dont expect to have many close friends'

as amazing and darling juvia is she is the most jealous woman on the planet

she will not take kindly to anyone getting in between you too

although if she knows them too, someone like wendy or natsu or just basically anyone she's already friends with, she'll probably lay off

dont get any funny ideas because juvia can always detect a love rival

Mira <3

congratulations your dating the sweetest woman on the entire planet

like genuinely the nicest

dates with mira are heaven

surprisingly you both don't go out much on dates

she usually invites you over to her house where she'll prepare dinner and have the both of you bake cookies

sometimes you both end up messy in egg yolk and baking powder

when lissanna and elfman are home she'll lovingly (yeah thats the word for it) kick them out so you both can spend some quality time together

mira loves cuddling

she loves when you can rest your head on her lap or her stomach and you both fall asleep holding each other

you just might be the reason mira's addicted to napping

a really comforting activity your both addicted to now is bubble baths with each other

its never really a sexual thing, more like two adults just floating around a hot tub

you both light a couple candles and bring a couple of books into the bath, and you chat for hours

you end up talking more then you end up cleaning yourself

you talk about the latest gossip like natsu and lucy getting together and all the other romance taking place in the guildhall

you've both non-verbally agreed that bubble baths are your thing and if you end up in the tub by yourself your doing something wrong

Congratulations your dating the sweetest woman ever

halfway through writing this i fell asleep oh my

anyway i love u huns kisses dont forget to request

[certifiedposeidonhater]

what do you have against Poseidon? /gen - asking as a fan of seafam. he wanted to keep Percy and help him avoid his fate, but Sally said no for immortality to both of them so Poseidon respected that and stayed away to not draw Zeus and Hades' attention (bc they would kill Percy).

and after everything's revealed, Poseidon actually does as much as he can for Percy while obeying the no-interference laws? actually no - he breaks them a few times to help Percy. Like by mortal standards I know he's neglectful but by godly standards he's literally the best in pjo?

unless your referring to cotg poseidon which in that case - hate away. cotg poseidon is the worst and feels incredible fake/performative.

love your headcanon posts BTW!! those are some of the best takes I've seen. especially since you dont shy away from the more angsty topics like gabe and the suicidal thoughts.

Okay, so i promise i have many many reasons for this so this might be a bit scattered around so bare with me :))

In the books, we only see him interact with Percy a few times—which is much more than any other godly parent, i’m not denying that—but mainly (practically only) in the first series, before the war and before Percy has to choose between Kronos and Olympus.

So, how much of that do you think was Poseidon being a “good godly parent” and how much of it was Poseidon trying to make his son feel loved so that Percy didn’t turn on the gods. Because after Percy’s 16th birthday, Poseidon basically completely disappears from Percy’s life and when they do interact in say CotG, Poseidon is much more “godly” than he was when he was interacting with Percy in earlier books. He doesn’t try nearly as hard to make Percy feel heard or loved. He acts like every other god Percy has come into contact with.

The idea that Poseidon was just trying to manipulate Percy into choosing the gods’ side would also explain how Poseidon was able to contact Percy so easily without Zeus or the other gods throwing a hissy fit. They all knew that they needed Percy to like them, or at least they needed Percy to feel like they (Poseidon) cared about him.

Again, Poseidon stops interacting with Percy after the Battle of Manhattan. We do not see him at all throughout Heroes of Olympus (except for the final battle, when they fight together. However, they don’t talk after that and Percy is still just a weapon in that scenario. There is no father-son bonding in that scene at all.) I mean, i give him some grace during that time bc he was like tore between Neptune and Poseidon so that kinda makes sense but, with how much he was “present” in the earlier books, it was kinda weird that Percy had ZERO contact with him (if we’re going under the impression that Poseidon actually cared.)

Then, we see him in CotG and he is not like the Poseidon that Percy met in the earlier PJO books. He treats Percy like every other god does; like a weapon. And when he sees Percy in CotG, it’s not to check in and see how he is doing, it’s to give him more quests. It’s to remind him that he will never be anything more than a weapon. It could have just as well been Apollo (well actually not really bc Apollo was kinda all mortal-y at that time so never mind) or Hermes giving him the news and nobody would bat an eye. The Olympians could’ve even planned for Poseidon to be the one to give Percy the information about the quests because they thought it might lighten the blow, or Percy would have the chance of being more calm. It was probably all a manipulation tactic.

Also, i’m still kinda annoyed at Poseidon for him calling Percy a “wrongdoing” and an “unforgivable mistake.” Like i know that might not have been exactly what he meant to say, but he’s literally a thousand year old god. What do you mean you don’t know how to eloquently talk to a child? I feel like that’s just him being lazy. There is NO WAY that a thousand year old being doesn’t know how to put what he means to say into words. I can do that and i’m literally 14. Poseidon saying that and people using the excuse “well he didn’t mean it that way” is giving weaponized incompetence.

And, coming from someone who grew up with a manipulative parental figure, half the “compliments” and praise Percy gets from Poseidon feels very much like…well, love-bombing might be the right word for it? It feels fake and like he’s just trying to make sure Percy isn’t starting to feel bitter toward the gods. Or like he’s trying to distract Percy from the way the gods are manipulating him by showering him with gifts and advice and whatnot. But none of it actually feels real.

The books with Percys interactions with Poseidon are also completely from Percy’s pov, meaning that it’s an unreliable narrative. Percy desperately needs a good relationship with Poseidon because he needs a father figure in his life. There’s a very good chance that the interactions with Poseidon are much worse than what Percy says because he perceives them differently. He makes himself believe that Poseidon is being genuine and that he actually loves Percy because Percy knows he wouldn’t be able to take it if all of it was fake. He knows he wouldn’t be able to handle another person leaving him.

Overall, Poseidon was a manipulative god. He never really saw Percy as his son, he saw him as a weapon, just like all the other gods did. He manipulated Percy to prevent him from becoming bitter toward the gods before his 16th birthday. Paul Blofis is wayyyy better than Poseidon ANY DAY.

Paul>>>>

(also i don’t have time to proofread this so if anything looks weird that’s why)