#quite an old headline!

[xephsuggestions]

hes got a degree in ligma

Oh, no, you are NOT fooling me with this again.

( Rolling up a newspaper )

[mariocki]

A young Peter Wyngarde guests as journalist Andrea Bakolas (a fictionalised version of the real Gregorios Staktopoulos) in Overseas Press Club - Exclusive!: The George Polk Case (1.9, ABPC, 1957)

[leaawrites]

Coincidence (MV1)

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: a rare moment of peace is disturbed by none other than his ex-girlfriend.

Warnings: angst, indicating cheating (emotionally), this is all fiction, none of this is real and I don't mean to attack anyone by this.

Wordcount: 0.5k

Masterlist, Short n'Sweet Series

A text was all it took for everything to change again.

With her head on his chest, finally breathing for a second, one text had the ability to make her run again. Max was focused on the movie playing on the screen, that he didn’t even notice the vibration of his phone on the coach, his hand mindlessly playing with the hem of her shirt. He didn’t notice the second message. He didn’t even notice her budging him to gain his attention.

It wasn’t up until she had enough and moved a bit to take the phone herself that he looked away from the TV. Watching her take his phone and unlocking it. It was never a problem for them in the time they were dating, using the other’s phone for texting their parents or friends or googling whatever. It was always just about which one was nearer.

“Who is it?” Max asked, moving his fingers up and down her chest.

Looking at the contact name and message for a second longer to make sure she read everything correctly, she finally answered, “Kelly. She says P misses you.” At the mention of her name, Max took the phone from her hands. She wasn’t too sure if it was because of Kelly or P. She hoped the latter, but with the way he would still step away from her whenever they met Kelly at a party was making her doubt herself more and more.

What a coincidence that she missed him now when Y/n finally had him for herself in a long time. No racing, no meeting, just them. And her.

Lifting her head up, Max stood up, walking out of the room and dialing her number in the process of leaving his girlfriend.

Max talked for longer than usual on the phone, all while Y/n was left by herself, the TV only being a background noise to not make the thoughts get too loud.

“I’m gonna meet P and Kelly for brunch tomorrow,” Max announced, walking past her, kissing her head and continuing his path into his gaming room.

All of their freedom stolen once again.

She sat there, watching the screen but not the show. She was watching her life flying past and soon enough she was laying next to him in bed, wide awake. Hearing his voice vibrating on his bedside table, her name probably lighting up the screen. Whatever it was, Y/n was sure she wouldn’t be one knowing. Whatever effort she put into the relationship to make it work and keep it safe and hidden from the media, it would all be over once he came back the next day from brunch. He would only be half of the person she used to know and love.

The next morning Y/n without Max by her side. The bed was cold and empty. He must’ve been gone for quite some time already. He hadn’t even asked if she wanted to join them.

Turning on her phone, the first thing she saw shouldn’t be surprising.

Headline: Formula 1 Star Max Verstappen seen out and about with ex girlfriend Kelly Piquet and her daughter Penelope. Is there an old romance brewing once again?

She couldn’t blame them. Barely anyone knew that they were dating, Max wanting to keep it private for her own safety.

What a coincidence.

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom Cass progress post

(masterpost)

Far Too Young: Cassandra Wayne, Teen Mother Debutante?

Danny cringed away from the headline on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “I am so sorry,” he said miserably. Someone must have reported on that first day in the city. Why'd they sit on the story for so long? That was the only time he'd been in public with Cass. So far, he'd only left Wayne Manor with Damian and Alfred to volunteer at the animal shelter.

Cass blinked up at him, from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Don't be,” she said. “It's fine. They will always talk.” Her face twitched into condescension. “It means nothing.” 

He wrung his hands because it really did look like something. She hadn't given him the article and he wasn't quite bold enough to request to read it. But it couldn't be nice. Even the headline was judgmental. 

“It would probably be for the best if we made a statement.” Grandfather Bat said out of nowhere.

Danny startled and jumped straight up. The chair creaked unhappily when he landed back on it.

“Brucedad,” Cass complained.

He huffed and held his hands up. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to startle anyone.”

Danny hunched a little more into his hoodie. Well. Tucker’s hoodie. It was way too big for Danny, especially after the weight he'd lost. But it was weirdly comforting. He fiddled with the sleeves.

“Cass, could we talk about it in my office?” Bruce said. His tone was calm and even. Danny sort of suspected it was for his benefit. “Danny, Damian is looking for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny let his heels drop off the chair, onto the carpet. “Yeah, okay. Where's he at?” 

Danny found his 13 year old uncle out in the barn with his cow. Danny hopped the wooden gate to go inside and sneezed at the dust in the air from dried hay. 

“Danny,” Damian acknowledged. He was brushing Batcow. “I hope that you are well this morning.” 

Danny made that weird white person smile-grimace where only his lips moved. “Good morning,” he said, instead of either lying or being a bummer. “Are we going to the shelter today?” 

Damian didn't pause. “Unfortunately, I have been told that it will not fit in Pennyworth’s schedule today,” he said primly. He dragged another long, precise stroke down Batcow’s fur, exactly lining up with his last stroke. Danny eyed his sure, confident motions. “Instead, I wondered if you would join me in a project in the barn. Have you any experience with wood working?”

“Nope.” Danny drifted a little closer. “Do you?”

“No.” Damian dropped to a crouch to take care of Batcow's hooves. “It is of no importance. We can overcome.” 

“Hell yeah, Uncle D,” Danny agreed genially. Why not? He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are we making?”

“Storage shelving, for materials intended for art therapy.” Damian made one final brisk movement and rose in a smooth motion. He hung up the tools and brushed his hands off. Danny followed Damian as he started to leave.

“Art therapy?” Danny echoed curiously. “That's neat. For ….you?” He ventured. 

‘It’s for me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘This 13 year old takes his responsibility as my Uncle seriously. He'll say it's for him, but want me there, and-’

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. “It is for Jerry and Batcow. They have unresolved traumas.” He pulled the door shut behind them. “We will require lumber from the storage unit, as well as an assortment of power tools. I am disallowed from using them without the presence of someone who is taller than 5 feet, or older than 20.”

“That is awfully specific.” Danny eyed Damian suspiciously. “I'm not going to get in any trouble for this, right?” He followed even as Damian picked up the pace a little as they crossed the huge green lawn towards a shed. 

“Tt.” Damian tapped in a code at lightning speed and then hefted open the door. “No. You will be fine.” He said flatly. He stalked into the dark space. Danny followed and sneezed at the dusty interior. “Can you lift 50 pounds?” 

Danny sniggered. “Yeah, easily,” he said with confidence.

Damian hummed in the back of his throat. “Good. You shall be the beast of burden.” 

That was such a wild thing to say that Danny blinked twice while processing it. Beast of burden?!? Who said that?

“... I'm not sure I like that,” Danny teased. “Have you heard that I'm the baby?” He gestured at himself. Weedy as he was, he was still noticeably larger than Damian. 

“You should be proud,” Damian said in a dry tone. “to be such an accomplished baby. Here.” He pointed at a bundle of lumber. “I require this.” 

Danny was a burdened beast back and forth between the shed and the barn for three trips to assemble everything that Damian thought they would need. The preteen oversaw it all with perfect aplomb, dark eyes glittering as his plan started to come together. 

There was a learning curve. 

“That's why they say to measure twice and cut once, huh,” Danny observed. He pursed his lips at the board that was only about half an inch too short for their purpose. They couldn't like, glue or nail on a slight extension, could they?

“We shall throw this in the woods so that no one discovers our failure.” Damian lifted one side of the poorly cut plank and dragged it to the back of the barn into an unused stall. It dragged a line through the loose straw cushioning the floor. 

“He's so little,’ Danny thought hysterically. He could not laugh at Damian. He absolutely could not. The little guy took himself so seriously. Danny was actually shaking with the effort not to laugh or coo.

Damian seemed to have no idea. “For the moment I will store it out of sight here.” He let the plank fall to the ground from an inch or so and then shut the stall door. Danny watched with his head cocked to the side and a hand pressed over his lips to hide his grin. 

“We have two more excess planks.” Damian went back to business. 

[pupuyvs]

Race of Your Life

pairing: sophia laforteza x fem!reader

wc: 5k+

warnings: car accident???? its in f1 though so..

a/n this is a req which can be seen here and here, sorry anon for how long this took 😅 anyways i may further this universe we’ll see though 🫣 ps. this is inspired by romain grosjean crash at 2020 bahrain grand prix (dw no one died he actually got away with burns on his hands and sprained ankle) so if ur curious as to what everyone wouldve seen u can search it up (its not graphic so again dw)

Formula 1. A sport known for its riches, flashiness, and speed; all aspects that pulled you in.

You were ten when you went to your first grand prix, the seats terrible due to them being a bonus given to your dad by his company, but you didn’t let that hinder you. Hearing the sounds of the cars as they raced by, the crowd cheering, feeling adrenaline as the cars came close to each other — you were hooked.

Your parents were hesitant when you showed interest, karting was expensive, and well, you were a girl. But you were determined, telling them you would die if you couldn’t do it, you regard this memory as being very dramatic, but it worked. Your father, clearly exasperated by said dramatics, made a deal with you, he’d help you in karting, but you couldn’t quit, no matter what. And being the stubborn ten year old you were, you agreed.

And thus you started.

The first year was the hardest, girls weren’t the most common in karting, add on to the fact you weren’t rich it was like you practically had a sign on your back saying, “pick on me!” But you didn’t care, you were there for one thing and one thing only, racing. While your parents fought for you verbally, you fought on the track.

You found yourself more often than not on the podium, losing was not something you could afford.

As the trophies racked up so did the respect, arguments were hard to have when you couldn’t back it up when it came down to it. And it continued this way as the years went by, karting turned into Formula 4, then 3, then 2, and it stayed that way for a while.

Women hadn’t made their break into Formula 1 yet, you were good, but it seemed not good enough for them. You watched as your friends began to make their transition into the top of the league, and you were happy for them, but it was also bitter to watch them get chances that you couldn’t afford yet.

Until 2021.

Mclaren had just released their driver line up for a younger, newer lineup for the 2022 season. Your longtime friend Oscar got called up first, you were happy for him, he was one of the few people in karting who was kind to you, so to see him awarded for his talent you couldn’t be happier. But you didn’t know that Mclaren didn’t just want Oscar, no, they wanted to be first in everything, not only racing.

Your signing made headlines everywhere making Mclaren happy, especially with the word “history” attached to their name. But with this came pressure, a huge amount of it too.

Your first season was much like your first year in karting — rough. The drivers are kinder this time around, well most of them, it’s the garage this time. You were iced out from most of your team, aside from the team managers and Oscar most of the team didn’t want you there.

That wasn’t the top of your worries though, sure it sucked, but you had bigger issues.

A drivers car is essentially a part of them, an extension of them if you will, they can only drive as well as their car runs, and your car did not want to work with you.

You knew it wasn’t because of the team, they would never purposely sabotage you, winning was more important to them than anything else.

It was hard on you going from top of the grid, podiums a normalcy, to being in the back of the pack. What used to be single digit placements became double digits with a swiftness, with each result you could feel your seat being taken from you, you needed a win.

The Italian Grand Prix was famous for its long straights, practically begging for speed. It was one of the later races in the season, a race meant for grabbing points to cement your position in the driver’s cup or the team cup. But it wasn’t just that for you, there was talks about replacing you if you didn’t give results soon, and you couldn’t allow that.

You were starting in fifteenth place, not an uncommon place for you, and you had to get at least in the top ten if you wanted even a chance of being considered to stay. Adrenaline coursed through you as the lights turned off and the race began. It was a battle for places in the first turn as always, and you luckily succeeded in snatching two leaving you now in thirteenth place, a good spot but you needed more. And it seemed your car understood that too.

For the first time that season you felt like you were back to your old self. The joy you felt as you passed car after car was euphoric after months of not having it.

The race ended with you seventh place, but it might as well have been first to you. An eight position climb was uncommon and hard to accomplish, but you somehow had done it and your team was ecstatic. Your career only went up from here, no longer were you in the bottom, you had found yourself back in the top, not quite podium but it didn’t matter you were still scoring points for your team.

At the end of the season you and Oscar ended up in the top ten for the drivers cup, and were re-signed immediately.

But as the new year rolled around you felt something was missing.

The 2023 race season started off strong, the team had worked vigorously on the car and your team was faster than ever. Now instead of finishing in just the top ten you often found yourself in the top five, which should’ve made you happy, but something was off and you wouldn’t know what it was until Miami.

Celebrities weren’t an uncommon sight in Formula 1. The glitz and glam of it practically called to them like a siren song. Hence why when Katseye's schedule had coincided with the Miami grand prix Hybe had immediately sent them.

The company had gone all out getting them all access passes, anything for promotion they had stated.

The tour around the paddocks was fun, even with the cameras in their face due to content being filmed. But of course something had to go wrong.

Sophia wouldn’t say she had a terrible sense of direction, just not the most perfect. And truly it wasn’t her fault!

She had stepped away to get a closer look at one of the cars, and when she turned around her group was missing.

The leader part of her would’ve asked for help, after all it’s the responsible and smart thing to do, but the new idol side of her didn’t want to be a burden so she decided she’d find her members herself.

It wasn’t the smartest idea, and she’ll admit it each time she looks back on it. This sport comes down to milliseconds at times, each team making changes to beat the others, so none of them will take kindly to a random person walking around.

As one of the employees of the team yelled accusations at her, Sophia only had one thought she was getting fired. That is until you showed up.

Sophia will always say she found you charming when she first laid eyes on you. Your voice, your calming smile and the way you lightly grabbed onto her wrist to guide her away, everything about you was just charming.

When you finally reached a seemingly neutral spot you let go of her wrist and turned to her, a soft smile on your lips.

“I’m assuming you’re part of that girl group touring today?” The question shocked Sophia, she hadn’t expected any of the racers to know about them.

“Yes, and I swear I wasn’t trying to steal anything or spy or whatever else that man said. I truly got lost. I didn't mean any harm or anything like that, me and my group are good peopl-” You cut her off with a laugh and a shake of your head.

“Calm down, I know,” you told her, “I doubt other teams are using singers to spy.” You hold your hand out for her to shake.

“I’m Y-” It’s her turn to cut you off.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I think I’d be crazy not to know who you are.”

And it was true, you were a sought after prospect due to just how much of a commercial success you were. After the Italian race the endorsements practically came running in which Mclaren praised, their name attached to such big names did nothing but raise their stocks and publicity, it also helped their sales skyrocket since more and more women were buying their cars. With all these positives teams were practically foaming at the mouth to sign you and your publicity.

You laughed shyly at her response, “Right.” You said as you rubbed the back of your neck. You cleared your throat once the red in your ears disappeared.

“What’s you and your group's name?” Sophia gasped at the question, feigning offense. She laughed as you panicked rushing to apologize. Sophia stopped you before you could ramble.

“I’m just joking with you,” she started, “I wouldn’t expect you to know us just yet, we’re pretty much in that stage before debuting.” You sighed out in relief at her words, nodding in understanding.

Sophia realized she still hadn’t said her name, “I’m Sophia, the leader of Katseye.”

She cringed slightly at the clear training that was drilled into her. And you noticed it too as you struggled to not laugh.

“Well Sophia, leader of Katseye,” the playfulness is clear in your voice, “Where is the group you are currently leading?”

She rolled her eyes at the clear teasing, before she realized she had no idea where her members nor staff were.

“I…actually don’t know.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Well, did they mention where they were going next?”

She stops to think about the schedule the guide had told them, furrowing her brows, “Mercedes?” You groaned at her words, which had worried her.

“Did I say something wrong,” she asked.

You quickly shook your head, “No, it’s just it will be a bit difficult to bring you given..” you trailed off as you raised your hand to point to your team logo on your shirt.

She nodded in understanding however before she could offer to leave you alone and somehow find her own way, you spoke once more.

“I’ll just have to bring you just outside their garage, so I don’t get encaptured in rumors of cheating and conspiracy and all that.” You stopped with a laugh at just how ridiculous it was.

“Okay, but are you sure?”

You nodded, “I am. Come on.”

As you two walked, you found yourselves falling into a natural conversation. She told you about the show her group formed from, which you promise to watch later, and you told her about the first race you won.

It was the happiest you had felt in awhile, it’s there you realized what was missing.

So when you had reached your stop you found yourself struggling to say goodbye. What you hadn’t known was Sophia was struggling too.

“Thanks for walking me,” she finally said, breaking the silence you both created to avoid it ending.

“Yeah of course, it was fun.”

“Really,” she asked while raising an eyebrow. You nodded, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

“Well,” she trailed, clearly trying to buy time, “I should go in and find my members.”

She waited for you to say something, and when you didn’t she frowned believing she had read the whole situation wrong. When she turned to walk away though, you called for her.

“Can I have your number?”

Sophia stopped, silent as she felt relieved by not being wrong. However, her silence gets read wrong by you and you beat yourself up for possibly having overstepped.

“I don’t have my phone on me right now, you know filming and stuff, but if you give me your phone I can put my number in and you text me, when I get my phone back I can text you back.” You nodded and handed your phone to her, quite desperately too. As she entered her number her members walked out of the Mercedes area, and practically screamed when they saw you and her.

You jumped as they barrelled towards the two of you.

“Hi, you’re Y/N, right?” Lara asked you. You nodded with a small smile.

“You must be the Katseye members.” The girls all started to freak out as they realized you knew them. You laughed as you accepted your phone back from Sophia, which garnered the attention of Daniela, but she stayed silent as she remembered that there were cameras around.

And she wasn’t the only one that remembered the cameras as the girls’ managers came forward, “Would it be okay if we took a picture and you guys filmed a quick video together?”

You hesitated, “My manager isn’t around,” you watched as Sophia pouted slightly and immediately changed your mind, “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

And based on the girls’ reactions you know you had said the right thing. After taking a picture with them and recording a video saying people should check them out, you said goodbye to them, sending Sophia one last smile.

You and Sophia started talking frequently after this day, messaging each other whenever you could. You asked her out on race day, seeing it as the best time since her and her group would be leaving the next day.

She had said yes immediately, and so after the race instead of attending the usual party you had raced over to your hotel to get ready.

When you had arrived at her hotel she hesitated when she saw your car, her friends had warned her to be careful with you, racers didn’t have the best reputation for dating. It hadn’t helped your case when you showed up in a clearly expensive and flashy car.

She pushed the warnings to the side when she saw you leaned against your car, a gift bag in hand and a shy smile.

Her members, who had followed her under the guise of safety, though she knew it was out of pure nosiness, all rushed to get a closer look at the car. The rushing clearly shocked you as you jumped, she laughed when you looked at her for help.

When she hadn’t moved you instead moved away from your car, which was now being opened by Megan and Yoonchae, who screamed when the door went up instead of out. You stopped just in front of her and took in her beauty, a smile had automatically found its way on your face.

“You look stunning,” you had breathed out. You blushed when you noticed she had heard you. You cleared your throat to fight the blush that fought its way to your face.

Sophia jumped when you held up a small gift bag in her face. Shock had crossed her face when she opened a jewelry box and found a diamond bracelet in it.

“I hope that’s okay,” you said. “My manager and the lady at the store said it was a perfect gift for the first date.”

Sophia could only scoff in disbelief, “They said diamonds are great for a first date?”

You nodded, but quickly shook your head when you had seen the look on her first. “I knew it was stupid, I should’ve got the necklace, if you want I can take it back and get it traded.”

However when you tried to grab the bag Sophia had immediately pulled it back, “I never said it was bad, just surprised. Thank you.”

You nodded once more before you gestured towards your car, which her members had been taking pictures in, “Ready to go?”

She simply nodded and you both entered the car, after saying goodbye to her members and promising Daniela that she could drive it one time.

You had taken her to an expensive steakhouse that resided along South Beach. It was awkward at first, you being nervous and her trying to figure out if this was all a ploy to feed your ego.

It wasn’t until she spilled her wine on your shirt trying to hand the menu to the waiter did the awkwardness finally stop. You laughed as she tried to wipe your shirt with a napkin, a dried one at that, and reassured her that it was fine, because truly you liked her so much it didn’t bother you even a bit.

You had stopped laughing when you noticed she was truly panicked, you lifted your hand and lightly grabbed hers and reassured her once again that it was okay.

When she noticed you were serious she calmed, and your dinner finished without a hitch. After dropping off the five extra meals you had bought for her members at your car you both walked along the beachfront and enjoyed the business of the nightlife.

You two talked about nothing and everything until her manager texted her telling it was time to come back.

This date marked the beginning of what would be your two’s relationship. It was rough at first, with you traveling so often due to races, facetime had been essentially a third in your relationship.

However, you didn’t let the distance hinder you guys, as you had bought a house close to the group’s apartment and had visited her every break they had given you.

Which led you guys to where you are now.

“God I don’t know how you guys don’t get lost here, this place is huge,” Manon says as she places the snacks she bought on the table. She doesn’t receive a response as all the other members rush to get their favorite snacks first, the slight chaos makes your parents laugh.

It’s an action that would’ve gotten them scolded by Sophia but she was too busy eyeing the door to the room.

It wasn’t often Sophia could come to your races, being an idol in her first year meant she was busier than ever, but any time she did get to go she was always a nervous wreck, only being calmed when she would see you before you went down to the grid.

When she saw the door knob move she immediately stood, running when she realized it was you. She jumped on you leaving you to drop your bottle of water to catch her.

“Happy to see you too baby,” you whisper in her ear. She responds by tightening her hold on you.

You laugh as you move to put her down, though she latches onto you still. She had an extremely bad feeling since this morning and it made her not want to let go of you.

You moved her to your side and wrapped one of your hands around her waist, while she kept both of her arms circled around yours.

You both walked over to where the rest were standing, Sophia moving so you can greet your parents and her members, and when you finished she went back to her previous spot by your side.

“You excited? Only two more races after this then you’re off,” your father asks.

You shake your head, “I’m more so nervous.” Sophia perks when she hears that.

“Why?” She feels you jump slightly at her intrusion, not expecting a voice to come from her direction.

“Just not used to the track and its turns yet.” Your dad comes beside you and pats the shoulder Sophia is not currently resting her head on.

“You did great during practice and quali, I mean you’re starting fifth.”

You nod your head at your dad’s words, “Yeah, it’s probably just preracing jitters.”

The room door opens again and in steps one of your team members. “Hey, Y/N, it’s time to get ready.”

“Alright.” You turn to your parents first, Sophia stepping away momentarily, but she stays near watching you. You hugged your dad first and then your mother, who pressed a quick kiss to your head. Each member wishes you luck, Yoonchae even showing you the sign she made you with Megan and Manon, which made you laugh and thank them.

Everyone in the room moves back to let you and Sophia say your goodbyes.

“Hey,” you say as you lift her head, “You okay? You’ve been very quiet.”

She tightens her grip slightly. “Just…anxious.”

You smiled at her to reassure her, when you still see the fear in her eyes you lean down and give her a peck. You feel her ease slightly, “Everything will be okay. I’m gonna win and then come back up here with the trophy and you and the girls can sign it.”

She nods, but you can still see the hesitation, “Baby-”

You're cut off by the staff coming back again, motioning that it’s seriously time to go. You sigh before looking back at Sophia.

“I have to go now, It’ll be over before you know it.” You kiss her once more and she tries to pull you closer, but you pull away much to her dismay.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She makes sure to say back, the bad feeling in her is overwhelming at this point. And when you walk out with one final wave, she finds herself struggling not to cry.

“Hey, you good?” Manon asks her, concern clear in her voice. She nods and when she turns back she sees everyone else also looking at her with worry. A blush raises on her face due to embarrassment.

“Just nervous, that’s all.” Manon nods, she clearly doesn’t believe her but drops it for her sake.

Down in the garage you fasten your helmet, assuring that it's tight on your head before lowering yourself into your car. One of the engineers taps the top of the helmet and holds his thumb up and you respond by putting yours up too.

You feel them lift the car and begin to bring it to the grid.

You hear your team manager’s voice come alive on the radio in your helmet, “Y/N do you copy?”

“Yup, all clear.”

You and him check through everything ensuring the car is ready as your crew take care of the outside.

“Alright, the grid is clearing for formation lap, try to warm the tires as much as possible, they’re a little cold today.”

“Alright.” The grid clears and the formation lap starts, you feel the car stall at certain points, but your team manager assures you it’s nothing too serious, and it’ll go away during the race.

The lap ends and everyone takes their spots. The silence that falls over the grid before the start of a race is peaceful. You breathe in before bringing your hand to where your lips would be and press it against the number printed on your helmet, 31, representative of Sophia’s birthday.

As the lights lit up you held your breath, your heart pounding against your chest loudly, the hum of your car coursing through your body. And then the lights shut off.

Accidents weren’t an uncommon occurrence in Formula One, drivers crashed regularly. But none to this level.

It started off fine, you made the first turn perfectly fine, but when you went into the second your car stalled and you went straight into the wall. It would’ve been fine, if it wasn’t for the fire.

Sophia swears she’ll never get your mother’s screams out of her head. She feels the air get sucked out of her body as she falls to her knees, someone comes to her side almost immediately, and by the coldness of their hands she can tell it's Daniela.

She hears her saying something, but she can’t process them, all she can think about is the fact you’re still in that car. She watches as medical people try to get close, but the fire is even too hot for them, and Sophia doesn’t want to think about what that could mean for you.

Time seems to go slowly, though it’s probably only been fifteen seconds it feels like years as red flags go out on the track, an ambulance now racing onto the track.

Sobs fill the room as each second goes by, and Sophia thinks she’s going to throw up.

Until Lara yells.

It almost seems fake at first, a hand bursting out from flames, but then another follows. And suddenly you’re out of it, two medical personnels grabbing onto you as you shake your hands, others spraying you and the fire with some sort of chemical. You limp your way to the ambulance as cheers erupt from the circuit, but Sophia doesn’t pay them attention as she’s already running out of the room to somehow find you.

She hears Daniela call for her, but she doesn’t listen, her entire being is out of place and it’ll only be fixed if she sees you. But before she can run onto the track cold hands grab her, and she curses Daniela’s unbelievable stamina.

“Sophia-” Daniela cuts herself off when she sees the look on Sophia’s face. It’s clear to her instantly that Sophia isn’t mentally there with them anymore, she won’t stop repeating the same phrase between quick breaths, borderline hyperventilating.

“I need to see her.” She repeats for what must’ve been the hundredth time and Daniela knows she’ll probably repeat it until she sees you. She knew before she did anything else she needed to calm Sophia down, so she brought her into a hug.

Sophia tenses at first, and Daniela can’t help but compare her to a feral animal as she herself tenses for any reaction may come. But to her relief, Sophia sobs, the sounds of them breaking her heart.

“It’s okay, she’s okay.” Daniela repeats this phrase like a prayer as she rubs Sophia’s back. After a while Sophia finally calms enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Daniela immediately shakes her head, “Don’t be. You alright?”

Sophia shakes her head, “No, but I will be when I see her.”

Daniela nods and pulls away from Sophia, her shirt now with a clear wet spot on it, but she doesn’t mention it as she grabs Sophia’s hand.

“Let’s go find out what hospital she’s in and go.” Sophia simply nods as they go back to the room. When they enter the members all rush to them, but when Manon sees how distraught Sophia is she pulls the others back, which Daniela thanks with a nod.

“Where are her parents,” Sophia asks once she finally gathers the courage to look up.

“They went to the hospital, they wanted to wait for you, but…” Lara naturally trails off and Sophia nods.

“Did they say which hospital?”

“Yeah,” Lara starts, “Mercy.”

Daniela pulls out her keys and lifts them up, “Let’s get going.”

They all go to Daniela’s car, Sophia sits in the front as the others squish in the back, none of them bothering to complain. Daniela puts the address on her phone and immediately takes off, her speed possibly comparable to one of a racer.

When they make it to the hospital Daniela barely gets to stop when Sophia jumps out, refusing to waste any more time away from you. Your dad seemed to have been waiting for her arrival as she barely even gets to the front desk when he calls for her.

“Where’s your members?” He asks. And on cue the other five come rushing in, racing to them immediately.

“Perfect, come on she’s on the fifth floor, they got her a room already.” The elevator ride is quiet aside from the dreadfully happy music and Sophia’s constant shuffling. When the door opens she has to remind herself she just can’t rush past your dad and she has to be patient, you having a room meant a good thing.

And it was as they got closer she could hear you and your mom arguing.

“I don’t want this cast!”

“You broke your ankle, it doesn’t matter what you want!”

And Sophia would have laughed if she wasn’t so tense, when they make their way inside your mother and you turn towards them, your eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

It quiets as everyone takes you in, no one moving. That is until Yoonchae runs and practically jumps on you.

“Yoonchae!” Manon yells going to pull her off of you, but you hold your non wrapped hand up. When Manon stops in her tracks you hug Yoonchae back and Sophia realizes that Yoonchae is crying.

You were close with all the members of Katseye, but it wasn’t a secret that outside of Sophia, Yoonchae was the one you were the closest with. Growing up as an only child you always wanted a sibling so when you met Yoonchae she naturally took that position.

She pulls away sniffling, “You scared me!”

You pout at her, as you use your hand to wipe away a tear. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head before hugging you once more, this one more careful.

“Are you okay,” Megan asks, speaking for the first, and based on the fear lacing her voice Sophia can tell she wasn’t silent by choice.

“Yup, just some minor burns on my fingers, sprained wrist, a broken ankle and probably a ton of bruises.” You finish your list off with a laugh, but quickly silence yourself when no one else does.

“Geez, it’s like someone died.” You thought you had muttered it low enough that no one could hear you, but the slap on your thigh from your mother tells you otherwise.

“Don’t joke like that.”

You raise both hands in surrender before turning your stare to your girlfriend who looks like she’s about to break down.

“Hey guys can you give me and Sophia a couple minutes?” The question causes everyone to stare at the girl and at the way she looks they all agree. When the door closes you try to sit up, wincing slightly from a not yet formed bruise.

At the sight of you in pain Sophia immediately rushes to your side, “Are you okay?”

You nod before pulling her to you. The slight force of being pulled causes her to sit on the edge of your bed as you hug her.

You can feel her trying to pull away and tighten your hold. After a couple more failed attempts she gives up and lets you hold her. She closes her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat, her body calming more and more with each beat.

Tears begin to well up in her eyes as the thought of almost never experiencing your warmth again crosses her mind.

When the first drop hits your hospital gown you look down at her.

“Baby…”

And the dam breaks.

Her sobs break your heart, pain coursing through you as she pulls on your shirt when she clenches it in her hands, but you don’t mind. You place kisses on her head until she calms down and then tell her to look at you.

When she does, you offer her a smile, “Hi beautiful.” You laugh at the blush that rushes to her cheeks, placing a small kiss on one of them.

You let her calm down before speaking once more, “Feeling better?”

She nods slightly, because truthfully she does feel better, but fear still courses through her veins. “I almost lost you today.”

You hum as you rake your fingers through her hair, the feeling of it light due to the numbness of your fingers. You inhale the scent of lavender as you close your eyes, a bright orange slowly fills in the blackness and your eyes shoot open once more. The quickening of your heart causes Sophia to pull away to look away.

“I’m okay,” you quickly say. Before she can question the hospital door opens.

“Sorry, just the doctor here.” You nod at Lara and Sophia stands. The rest of them walk in with the doctor following right behind.

The doctor goes through her regular checkup, when she finishes she turns and jumps when she is met with everyone staring at her expectantly.

She clears her throat. “Right, Y/N seems to be well given everything. We are going to keep her overnight for observation, but other than the obvious, she will be perfectly good to go home tomorrow.”

The doctor jumps once more as the group, sans Sophia, exclaims. When she leaves the girls all take turns writing on your cast with a couple of pens your mother found in her purse. The hospital room becomes even more livelier when your teammate Oscar shows up. Though loud it puts your mind to ease.

They all stay until visitor hours end, the nurse revealing only one person was allowed to stay with you. Your mother and Sophia argued about who should stay, both believing the other should.

Your mother ultimately wins by stating she has to use the hotel room she paid for. You both know it’s a lie, you have never made your parents pay for a hotel for any of the races they have attended, but before either of you can tell her that she pulls your father out the room and leaves.

Sophia stands to the side as a nurse readies the cot for her and does a final check on you. When she walks out you call Sophia’s name, when she’s close enough you pull her into the space you made when she wasn’t looking.

She freezes at first, but before she can move you speak. “Don’t move, just let me hold you.” You can tell she’s hesitant, but after a few moments she laxes in your hold.

A silence falls between you two, her listening to your breathing and you enjoying the heat from her skin.

“You know,” you start, “There was a moment in there I thought I wouldn’t make it.” You pause for a second to take a breath and her grip on you tightens.

“I felt the heat, and saw how it was all around me and I just accepted it. I closed my eyes and thought ‘Well, at least I had a good life.’ But then I heard the noise of Mario Kart.”

You both laugh at the absurdity of it, and you close your eyes to take in the sound of hers, you always loved how it sounded. When she calms you continue.

“As crazy as it sounds, it was that sound that brought me back to being with you, and of course your members. But the thought of leaving you, of possibly not being by your side anymore immediately made me want to fight to live.”

You look down to find her looking at you which causes you to smile, though you’re not sure she sees it due to the darkness, but you don’t mind as you bring your hand up to her face and caress it.

“I tell you this because I want you to know how much I love you. You are my world, Soph. As long as you’ll have me I’ll never leave your side.” She doesn’t respond as she pulls you into a kiss, it’s a bit of a mess due to both of your limited views, but it doesn’t bother either of you.

She pulls away, but you peck her lips once more and lean your forehead on hers.

“I love you,” she whispers, “Don’t ever leave me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

And you meant it, you would always be by her side.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mignon's Halloween

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: The eleventh of my Halloween-centric fics

It's Jana that finds the headline first. It's Jana who opens her phone one day on camp to see it trending.

'Barcelona Superstar to Return to her Childhood Club?'

With her contract running out in the summer, question marks over whether young French star y/n l/n will stay at Barcelona remain but eagle eyed fans think they've solved the mystery.

In a recent TikTok posted on her girlfriend's account, the young star seems to have been pictured wearing her old Olympique Lyonnais jersey.

Click Read More below to see what our experts think of this startling discovery:

It's Jana that slides her phone over to Alexia at breakfast. It's Jana who has to explain that the site looks kind of sketchy and it likely isn't true.

But then you start posting things while you're away on camp with France.

Most of it is harmless stuff. The kind of stuff Alexia expects from a teenager back in their home country - a few harmless pranks on your teammates, a picture of you and your parents, a cute video of you kissing your girlfriend's cheek.

But then there's a random selfie of you in your childhood bedroom.

You're relaxed back on your pillows, your family dog laying on your chest.

His snout is covering the emblem over your heart but Alexia can recognise a Lyon jersey anywhere.

That's when she gets a bit worried.

You left Lyon because you wanted game time they wouldn't give you. You'd pushed a bit too hard for game time and they'd told you they weren't going to renew your contract.

Surely you wouldn't go back to them now.

Surely even if they begged and begged and begged, you'd hold yourself in a high enough regard that you wouldn't go back to them.

But the Lyon shirt pops up a few more times while you're away.

There's even a video of your girlfriend wearing one of your old jerseys as she walks her own dog.

"Don't tell me you're stalking the girlfriend now," Mapi gripes as Alexia stares down at her phone," The kids can have fun without you hovering over them."

"I'm not stalking anyone!"

"You haven't even met her girlfriend yet you follow her on every bit of social media you can find her on."

"That's for safety. I'm making sure she's a good one."

"I think y/n is capable of choosing her own girlfriend."

Alexia makes a face and Mapi corrects herself.

"I think y/n's parents are capable of approving a good girlfriend. Don't be so worried."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Alexia mutters, looking up from her phone when you finally walk in with Vicky.

The both of you are speaking in hushed whispers, giggling to yourselves until you both split off to go to your own cubbies.

Back when Lucy still played with the team, your cubby used to be next to hers but now that she's gone back to England, you've been moved next to Alexia so she can keep an eye on you.

"So," She says, trying to be as casual as she can," How was camp?"

You give her an odd look. "Yeah it was alright. But you know that already. Because you're a stalker."

"Why does everyone think I'm a stalker?!"

"You follow my girlfriend on all your social media. You didn't even create a fake account."

"Fake account? What's that?"

You smile at her, the same smile that Vicky does at camp when Alexia tries to show off one of those dances from TikTok that she knows young people like.

"Don't worry about it." You pull on your training shirt. "Is the Halloween party thing still on for tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Just checking. I might be a little late though. I've got a meeting with my agent."

Alexia tries to make it seem like she's not all that interested in it but she isn't quite sure it works. "Oh? What about?"

"Just contract stuff. I'm going to head off with Vicky before training," You say," We're going to see if we can break into the vending machine again."

Normally, Alexia would try to stop you but her eyes catch on the familiar white of the Lyon shirt you have stuffed in your bag.

The sinking feeling in Alexia's chest returns in full force, staying with her for most of the day to the point that she finds herself glancing at you much more than she usually does.

"She's not going to just up and leave," Patri says that evening at the Halloween party," She loves it here."

"She had Lucy here with her," Alexia points out," They spoke French together. None of us speak French. What if she misses speaking French?"

Irene rolls her eyes, slightly preoccupied with making sure that her son isn't eating all of the sweets that Marta has been spoiling him with. "She calls her parents regularly. She calls her girlfriend. And I can speak French. She's not been missing the French language in the slightest."

"But what if-"

"If she's leaving us," Marta says, reaching across the table to give Matteo another skittle," Then it won't be for Lyon."

Alexia finds it kind of hard to believe Marta when she's dressed in an inflatable pig costume.

"She's meeting with her agent and-"

"And she's here," Patri interrupts, chin jerking towards the door that you've just slipped in through.

"She's wearing it!" Alexia hisses, heart thumping in her chest," The Lyon shirt! She's wearing it! This is it. This is it. She's leaving us."

"No way!" Vicky laughs from across the room," You actually did it?"

You grin back at her, showing off your ripped shirt. "I think Laporta thought I was crazy when I pulled out the scissors and the lighter. What do you think? Do I look axe-murderer victim enough?"

"Do you mind if we add blood?" Vicky asks.

"You have fake blood? You should have led with that!"

You and Vicky barely take a moment to look at the congregation of captains at the table before you're pouring blood all over your head and shirt, really rubbing it all over the white fabric.

Alexia's mouth hangs up just as Jana's phone chimes with a notification from the Barcelona Femení account.

Happy Halloween Culers!

FRENCH SUPERSTAR HERE TO STAY! Find out more below!⬇️

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Okay this one's been stuck in my head all day but I have absolutely time to write it so please share this vision with me

Try as they might, Steve and Robin couldn't get tickets to Chrissy Cunningham's arena tour, but they could get tickets to a festival she was playing.

The last thing Steve ever wanted to do was go and stand in a muddy field for sixteen hours while they waited for the headline act. But he was pretty sure Robin was in love with her favourite musician, and he wasn't about to deny his best friend a chance at love.

So he helped her make personalised t-shirts because honestly all the other bands in the line-up kinda sounded like they sucked.

His read, "Only Here for Chrissy" on the front and "I'm Steve" on the back and Robin's read "Chrissy, Will You Be My Girlfriend?" on the front and "If Lost, Please Return To Steve" on the back.

And it turned out, as they stood against the barrier in a not so muddy field, on a lovely, warm, but overcast, May day, that even bands that sucked could be fun. Even if it was only because they spent their day with earplugs in, so their eardrums wouldn't combust, bitching about each artist's lack of ability to put notes or an outfit together.

During the lunchtime intermission, the pair made friends with the lesbian couple next to them, Kayla and Jess, who were also eagerly awaiting Chrissy's set and similarly liked to mock those who committed crimes against sound and fashion. Steve was glad to have met them, they were really nice, and he felt better about leaving her to use the bathroom or to fetch food, knowing Robin was in safe hands.

He also felt better about letting her wander off, not that it stopped him from stressing out when she and Kayla had been missing for over fifteen minutes. He spread himself out to keep their places against the railing with his back to the stage, watching the crowd intently. Jess wasn't quite as chatty once they were alone, but she seemed content enough, bobbing along to the band that'd appeared on the stage.

Steve didn't turn back around to face the stage until he spotted the girls heading back towards them, he gave them a wave and turned around to look at the guys who hadn't been attempting to destroy anyone's hearing and was met with the face of the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. Pretty face, long curly hair tied up in a bun, muscle tee showing off his many tattoos, piercings and chains and glittery Docs; Steve felt himself owl blink and blush.

God's gift to mankind was kneeling centre stage, guitar in hand making the most beautiful sounds Steve had ever heard as his fingers flew over the strings, and it was only when the rest of the band kicked back in that the man looked up, winked directly at Steve, and then jumped back to his feet, spending the rest of the song bouncing around the stage.

Steve only realised his mouth was agape when Robin finally arrived next to him and elbowed him hard in the ribs, giving him the same look she did whenever he was embarrassing in the club. He watched the rest of the Corroded Coffin, according to the backdrop, set in awe. Screaming and clapping along when they wished everyone a great day, throwing picks and drumsticks into the crowd and taking a bow; patting each other on the back as they wandered offstage.

As soon as it was quiet again, Robin wanted to know what the hell was wrong with his face and honestly, he couldn't answer her. He didn't even believe in love, not for himself at least, and he certainly didn't believe in love at first sight. It didn't stop him from spending the next couple of hours watching the faces at the sides of the stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of his new favourite guitarist, though.

As soon as Chrissy hit the stage, Steve got lost, between filming the set and watching Robin trying not to hyperventilate when Chrissy spotted her t-shirt, pointed to her, and giving her a coy little wink, blew her a kiss.

"An old school friend is here with me tonight, and I'd like him to help me out with this next track. Especially for the beauty in the front row, this is Girlfriend!"

The crowd went wild as the beat kicked in, but Steve was still watching Robin because it looked like she'd stopped breathing altogether. That was until she gasped loudly and started smacking Steve in the way she always did whenever she got overly excited; pointing wildly at the stage, and it was only when he looked over he saw Corroded Coffins guitarist bouncing up and down next to Chrissy.

Instead of the black muscle vest and skinny jeans he'd been sporting earlier in the day, he had changed into pale blue board shorts and a baggy white t-shirt that read "Hey Steve!" written in black sharpie with a giant winking smiley face underneath that could only really be seen when he swung his guitar around his back to copy Chrissy's dance moves.

The song ended, and the friends hugged, Chrissy waving him off the stage and calling out, "Eddie Munson everybody!" letting the crowd go wild for her friend before launching into the rest of her set.

By the time Chrissy had actually left the stage, Robin looked exhausted, having screamed and sung and danced herself out. They hung around a bit, said goodbye to Kayla and Jess, wishing them a safe journey home, and they were just taking one last look at the now empty stage when he heard someone yell his name...

[verstappen-cult]

I have a request for max!

Reader is a strategist for Mercedes. Max and her, they got married in secret and have a 2 year old daughter together.

I know this is not much to work with but you do you!

(I love your fics <3)

hi bestie! i left the mercedes’ strategist plot out of this, but i hope you still like it! btw this was gonna be really short and ended up being this other thing. <333

You look out the car window and then to your daughter playing with her favorite plushie next to you. She doesn’t know that you’re about to be the topic of conversation for the next week — month even. She only knows that there are gonna be a lot of people trying to take pictures of you both, and that you’re gonna see Dad’s friends too. 

“Hey, baby.” You whisper, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her face. “You’re ready to see Daddy?” She smiles at the mention of her favorite person in the whole world, forgetting all about her toy. 

“Where are we?” She asks, looking out the window. 

You lift her up onto your lap, placing a kiss on her temple. “We’re gonna watch papa just like we do from home every Sunday.”

“We have fun watching papa.” 

“Yes, so,” You take your bag and her plushie before taking a deep breath. “let’s go and have some fun, then.”

It’s no secret to anyone that you and Max have been dating for quite a few years now. You used to be more public about your relationship, but then you got pregnant and Max decided that it was best if you kept things a little more private, and you were more than happy to do it until you started to miss going to the races and seeing him more often. 

Max was a bit reluctant at first, but after some — a lot — of convincing he accepted. The two of you agreed to put some boundaries and to take things slowly. The first step was going to the Monaco Grand Prix, so, you wouldn’t have to travel and he could be home by the end of the day with his favorite girls. And, if things become too much, you can just go home. 

The moment you set foot on the paddock, you know there is no going back. You feel nervous and like your whole body is on fire, but when you look at your daughter’s smile as you hold her in your arms, you forget about everything.

“Mama, look! Papa!” She points to the giant banner to your left. And there he is, alongside a few of the other drivers. 

“Oi!” Dani calls from a few meters away. You wish he would not have done it because it draws attention you really didn’t want. 

“Uncle Dani!” 

You see the exact moment people recognize you, reporters starting to make their way to you at the same time you hurry to Dani’s side. He has a big, bright smile on his face, he’s always smiling but you think he’s genuinely happy to see you and your daughter. 

“Hi, Dani.” The Aussie wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek as a greeting. 

“Hey, angel.” Your daughter makes grabby hands at Dani and, obviously, he immediately takes her in his arms. “Did you miss uncle Dani?” She nods, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. 

“Have you seen Max?” You ask him, but he shakes his head, too busy paying attention to whatever your daughter is telling him in the ear. 

You don’t feel comfortable. It’s been so long since you’ve been in the paddock that now feels like you’re attending your first race for the very first time. You were nervous then, you are terrified now as you see reporters approaching, calling your name and asking about your daughter. It’s not that they don’t know you and Max have a daughter, you and Max have been pretty open about her but always leaving her face out of the family photos you share on social media. However, this is news to everyone. This is a headline. And you know they’re just doing their job.

“Let’s go find him, okay?”

You barely hear him, trying to politely tell the reporter by your left that you will not give any interview and to stop asking about your daughter. Daniel has to give you a little pat on the back to make you walk, sending death glares to the people surrounding you in the process. 

There are phones and video cameras following you along the paddock, and you think you should’ve accepted Max’s offer of waiting for you at the entrance. But you didn’t want to be a burden. You were pretty confident about handling things by yourself but now… not so much. 

“Hey, are you okay? You’re a little pale.” Dani’s voice is soothing. You’re glad he’s carrying your daughter because you don’t feel strong enough to do it. Someone behind you — one of the many, many people following you — pushes you, making you bump into another person by your side. “Watch out! There’s a baby here!”

Daniel is mad and doesn’t hesitate in wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside the nearest place that turns out to be the McLaren hospitality. 

“I’m gonna call Max, alright?”  

“What’s happening outside? Oh, you’re here!”

“Uncle Lando!” Your daughter’s voice is what finally pulls you out of your head. 

You walk to Dani, taking her in your arms. “Did you miss Uncle Lando too?”

“Is something wrong?” Lando asks again, bopping the little girl on the nose. 

“So many people,” You breathe out, closing your eyes for a second. “I didn’t think it was going to be this way, really.”

“Well, it’s a big deal that you’re here. Both of you.” Lando looks outside, reporters and cameras ready to catch a glimpse for when you have to leave. “Do they know? The media, I mean, about…” He looks to your hand, right where your wedding ring is. 

You groan, hiding your face in your daughter’s neck, making her giggle. “No, but I’m sure it will be worse when they notice.”

There’s a huge commotion outside that draws your attention. When you look, you find Max trying to make his way through the mass of people. Seeing him makes you relax immediately, but then he’s pushing a man when this shoves a microphone in his face and you don’t feel so relaxed anymore.

“Shit, shit” Daniel is quick to open the doors and go outside, a few members of McLaren following him. “Can you hold her, please?” 

Your daughter goes willingly with Lando as you run outside. Daniel stands between the reporter and Max, his hand on your husband’s chest trying to stop him from jumping over him to get to the man. 

There’s a bigger commotion when they see you, everyone shouting your name and asking questions that you don’t pay attention to, but it’s enough to make Max forget about fighting the reporter.

Max runs to you, hands cupping your face. “Hey, baby. Are you okay? Something happened?” 

“I’m okay. Just—let’s go inside, please.” 

Max doesn’t hesitate. He grabs your hand tightly, not caring about being seen going inside McLaren hospitality, not when you and his daughter are there needing him.

“Papa!” 

Your husband’s face lights up, that pretty smile you love so much making its way onto his face. "Mijn mooie meisje.” The tension on his face goes away the moment he takes her in his arms. 

“You wanna go home?” Lando asks you, handing you a glass of water. 

“Yes, you’re going home.” Max answers for you, hugging his daughter tightly against his chest. 

“We are not. We knew this would happen, well, not at this scale but,” You shrug, taking a sip of water. “I don’t wanna go. We should’ve planned this better.” 

“Yeah, you should have.” Daniel jokes, but when no one laughs he just stands there awkwardly. “Look, she’s already here. You’re not gonna send her home, are you?”

Lando bites his lip before saying, “You won’t be able to hide forever.” 

“I know!” Max sighs, putting down his daughter on one of the sofas. “Why don’t you play while I talk with your uncles for a bit?” Unaware of everything, she just takes her plushie and waits for you to be finished. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel unsafe.”

“We’re safe here. Everyone will take care of us, I know that.” You take his hand, thumb caressing the back of it. “It was just the shock of experiencing all of this again. It reminded me of the first time I attended a race.” You say, shyly. 

“Oh, I remember that.” He has that special glint in his eyes that tells you that he remembers every little detail of that day. 

“Uh, gross.” Lando pretends to throw up, earning a playful push from Daniel.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Yes, love. Besides, how are you gonna tell her she won’t be watching papa race?” You look at your little baby, talking with her plushie and showing the toy around. “I don’t know which one of us is more excited.”

“You know it’s only a matter of time before they notice this?” Max takes your hand to his lips, kissing your wedding ring.

“I want them to know.” 

“Oh, thank God!” He exclaims, peppering kisses all over your face. “I hate not wearing my ring on race weekends.”

[alchemistc]

Gonna be pissed as hell if Tim throws out a plotline to replace it with a three episode arc about LA on fire (what will Brad do when his house burns down?), which makes me a hypocrite and a half because here's some ripped-from-the-headlines bullshit.

Tommy's duffle lands on the bottom stair with a thump.

He glances around the space like he's seeing it for the first time - or maybe like he's just taking in the gravity of the situation. There's a quirk of his lip, an ironic shake of his head, and Buck can't quite stop himself from imagining the thought running through his mind. Despite his intentions, he'd landed here anyway.

They're both bone tired. Exhaustion seeping into their marrow, the kind of tired Buck hasn't felt like this since Texas, maybe. He wants a shower and about 48 hours of sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Tommy says, voice raspy, eyes refusing to draw towards Buck.

And the thing is.

The thing is Tommy definitely had other places to go. Other friends who would have put him up as long as he needed, people he trusted, people who cared about him. But it was Buck he'd found as things wound down, the both of them covered in soot and ash, Tommy dropping to sit beside him on the curb as they waited for relief teams to finish up at the command tent.

They'd stared at the burnt out husk of Tommy's home just long enough for the tiredness to really settle in.

"You're not taking the couch," Buck says, and flips the light switch in the downstairs bathroom. Tommy's shower gel is still under the sink, his fancy curl conditioner down to the last few dollops because he'd spent enough nights here to go through most of a bottle. They've already showered at their respective stations, but Buck knows from experience how much Tommy hates the Harbor showers ("You'd think a fire station would have better water pressure, but I'm telling you, Evan, it's about as strong as an eighty-year-old's dribbling piss.") and Buck knows he still feels like he's caked in days of grime.

"Evan," Tommy starts, and Buck can't read into that, refuses despite the way it knocks around in his chest.

"You need the rest just as much as I do," Buck argues, and Tommy's shoulders just... slump. He sighs. Nods his head. Shifts on his feet and accidentally catches Buck's eye.

The contact holds just long enough for Buck to see the tears swimming in Tommy's eyes, and he can't imagine -

It strikes Buck for maybe the first time how dumb he'd been to ask Tommy to move in here. Tommy had a life, a home, a place he'd spent a decade making his own.

He'd made a joke once about a firefighter living so close to the hills, the first time he'd had Buck over, that ironic lilt to his voice while he talked about replacing all the east facing windows the first time he experienced the Santa Ana's after moving in, and Buck had spent a good ten minutes watching the light fade from his backyard, dusk casting the hydrangea bushes in a rose-gold hue.

"If I hug you are you gonna make a break for it?" Buck asks, regretting the spiteful tone when Tommy curls further in on himself, but he ducks his head even as he's shaking it, and Buck doesn't fight the urge any longer, three long strides before Tommy's curling fists around Buck's waist and pressing his nose into the skin of Buck's neck.

("It's just stuff," he'd said, knee knocking against Buck's where they huddled together on the curb across the street, Tommy uncharacteristically fidgety as they both stared straight ahead.

"Come stay with me," Buck had responded, and felt Tommy tense so quickly he'd sort of expected him to bolt to his feet and leave.

Instead, the stillness eased out of Tommy's body all at once on an exhale, and he'd nodded out of the corner of Buck's eye. "Okay."

He hadn't quite been able to stop himself from reaching out to squeeze Tommy's knee. "Okay.")

Tommy's never been one to take more than his fair share. He breaks the hug before Buck can really get into it, sniffs once like Buck didn't notice the wetness against his neck, shifts backwards and sideways. He stops halfway through the doorframe when he catches sight of the canvas bag on the counter.

Buck just hopes Maddie actually bought the specific list Buck had sent her three hours ago. Tommy's particular about his stuff, and he'd pressed the point with his sister despite the eyebrow raise he could see in every text back she sent him. He can see Tommy doing the math - only so many people with a key to the loft, only so many people who weren't there in Tommy's neighborhood for a stretch of exhausting hours that hadn't amounted to much other than saving that purple house down on the end of the street that Tommy was always bemoaning for having a better garden than him.

"Tell Maddie thank you," Tommy says, still with that rasp to his voice that under any other circumstance would have Buck vibrating in place. When he digs through it, Buck catalogues his findings - that weird organic toothpaste Tommy swore by, the cheap electric toothbrush he refused to switch out for the better one Buck had a subscription to; a pack of briefs and socks in Tommy's preferred brand.

It's not the first time Buck has wished there wasn't a canyon between them, but he strikes the urge to quip, to smile, to reach out and try to comfort him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he digs it free, glances at the readout and immediately feels the ire rise in his throat again. It's from Eddie, a private response to the group message he'd sent out letting everyone know Tommy had a place to stay.

Is that a good idea?

And Buck gets the point. Understands that Eddie has his best interests in mind, but he's not here, hasn't been here, hadn't been there when they rolled down the street to find three houses already fighting the blaze.

Buck can't hold in the annoyed snort, and when he glances up it's to find Tommy's eyes on him.

"I'm gonna go shower," Buck tells him, and manages three whole steps before Tommy's hand curls around his wrist.

He doesn't seem to have the words to ask, but Buck reaches back to strip his shirt over his head anyway and shuffles them both towards the shower.

It's the least sexy thing they've ever done together, if he's being honest. Buck hasn't felt this tired in years, hasn't felt this grim in years, barely has the energy to do more than scrub at Tommy's back while he rinses his hair. Perfunctory, is a term for it, except for the way Tommy leans into the press of his fingers when he suds up Tommy's hair, except for the way Buck drops his forehead to Tommy's chest while Tommy aims the showerhead at Buck's back.

This is the kind of stupid shit Buck had meant, all those months ago, even if he'd done an extremely shitty job of expressing it. This is the kind of shit he'd pictured while Josh waxed poetic about some television show and wondered if Buck saw a future with Tommy.

By the time they're rinsed off and toweled dry Buck can barely stand, but as Tommy's footfalls echo just behind his up the stairs Buck has just enough sense left to roll open the drawer he'd never cleared out, toss Tommy a pair of clean briefs and one of his threadbare LAFD shirts.

Tommy stares at the drawer long enough for Buck to pull on his own clothes. He blinks himself out of it only when Buck stubs his toe wrestling the body pillow Tommy always pretended he wasn't going to end up curled around out from under the bed.

The drawer closes with an echoing 'snick'. Tommy tosses his own towel in the hamper and makes quick work of dressing.

His hair is gonna be a nightmare in the morning. They're both gonna be absolute messes. Buck's pretty sure the only food in this place is raw flour and approximately seventy-five chocolate croissants - he's pretty sure he used up the last of his eggs trying to perfect his meringue technique.

There's a stiff moment after they slide into bed where they both just lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, oozing into Buck's mattress. Tommy shifts first, and Buck's sure it'll be away - no matter how often they fell asleep tangled together Tommy always ended up hugging the edge of the bed, and it's not like -

"Is this okay?" Tommy asks, even as he's shifting a leg over Buck, hands finding purchase in the cotton of Buck's sleep shirt.

It's like he's been dosed, for the way Tommy's body sliding into place next to his steals all the energy he has left in him. He blinks once, twice, manages to get a hand in Tommy's damp curls in response. The rest of it can wait for tomorrow.

"Evan?" He's sinking into it too, Buck can tell - the weight of his arm and leg pressing Buck further into the mattress, the drawl of Buck's name drifting instead of sharp.

Buck hums. Presses lips into whatever skin he can find without opening his eyes - a temple, or a cheekbone maybe. "Go to sleep, Tommy," he manages, but if Tommy responds he doesn't hear it.

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, “experimented on”- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You’d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

[fairqves]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— LOVE APOCALYPSE

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. stranger! park sunghoon x fem! reader synopsis. in which two lost, lonely, broken souls find love at the worlds end. literally. genre. angst ,, fluff ,, suggestive?? wc. 3100. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog & like !! <3

THE WORLD ENDED ON A FRIDAY,

You remember it clearly because it was a rare day off from your exhausting 9-5 secretary job, one where you had planned to do nothing but enjoy a cup of coffee at your favorite café and catch up on books you have been meaning to read. Instead, the serene sunny morning was shattered by panicked screams, gruesome sights and sirens wailing through the city streets.

The news spread quite quickly, making headlines on news channels before everything had shut down, a mysterious virus was turning people into mindless, flesh eating creatures. Within hours, the city descended into chaos. You barely had time to gather some essentials and flee your un-secure apartment before the streets were overrun with the infected flesh eaters.

As days turned into weeks, you wandered through the overrun city, surviving on scraps and hiding from both zombies and desperate humans. Your optimism, a trait that had always been your guiding light, remained intact despite the unpleasing reality around you.

You clung to the hope that somewhere, there was a sanctuary, a safe haven where people were rebuilding their lives, a place filled with survivors and loved ones, and you would make it one day.

You had seen glimpses of humanity at its worst—looting, violence, betrayal—but you chose to believe in the goodness that could still exist amidst the ruins. Your cheerful demeanor, once a source of joy to your friends, now served as a piece of hope for yourself. You refused to let the darkness win and consume you.

It was during one of these aimless wanderings that you met him.

You had stumbled into an abandoned convenience store, scavenging for anything useful, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind you. Heart pounding, you turned around, with your quite lousy makeshift weapon—a broken broom handle—only to find yourself face-to-face with a stranger, a very handsome one at that..

He was tall and lean, with dark hair that fell over his cold, sharp eyes. His expression was unreadable, a mask of indifference that made your breath catch in your throat. He was armed, a large knife strapped to his belt and a gun slung over his shoulder, the epitome of survival in this new world.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself," he said, his voice low and dangerous with lack of emotion.

You hesitated for a moment, then lowered your makeshift weapon. "I'm not looking for trouble, Just trying to survive." You say with a shaking voice.

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes narrowing at your anxious state. "You won't last long if you keep wandering around like this. The city's not safe, especially for a small one like you."

"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine! Thanks for the tip," you replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice. "What's your name sunshine?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to such direct questions and humour in times like this, he hadn’t seen anyone this happy in a long time. "Park Sunghoon. And you?"

"Y/N." You say with a curious tone.

He gave a curt nod, then turned to leave. "If you're smart Y/N, you'll get out of here before nightfall. The zombies are much more fast and active after dark."

You watched him go, a strange mix of relief and slight disappointment swirling in your chest. He was the first living person you had seen in days, and despite his cold dangerous demeanour, there was something about him that intrigued you.

The next time you encountered Park Sunghoon, it wasn't by chance.

You had found temporary shelter in an old dust filled bookstore, the thick walls offering some semblance of protection. It was there, while sorting through the scattered books for anything useful, that you heard the familiar sound of footsteps again.

"Didn't I tell you to leave the city?" Sunghoon's voice broke the silence, startling you, letting out a little squeak.

You turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I was looking for supplies. This place seemed safe enough."

He sighed, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "You really have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

You bristled at his tone. "I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you very much."

Sunghoon's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. "You're lucky you haven't been caught by a raider or a pack of zombies. Look, I have a safe place not far from here. If you want to survive, you'll come with me."

The offer took you by surprise. You had expected him to mock your optimism or brush you off as a lost cause. Instead, he was offering you an alibi, protection.

"Why should I trust you?" you asked, wary of his intentions.

"Because out here, trust is all we have," he replied, his voice as steady as can be. "And because I could have left you to fend for yourself, or easily killed you already because of how bad you are at covering tracks, but I didn't."

You studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay.. I’m trusting you because you have a very fair point. I'll come with you."

“Smart decision” Sunghoon says with a small smile.

Sunghoon led you through the maze of deserted streets, moving with the cautious and practiced ease of someone who had long ago adapted to this danger filled world. You struggled to keep up, your optimism flickering in the face of his silent determination.

His safe house turned out to be an old apartment building, protection provided with makeshift barricades and booby traps. Inside, it was sparse but functional, a resemblance to Sunghoon's meticulous nature.

"This is it," he said, closing the door behind you. "You can stay here as long as you don't slow me down, or put my life in danger.”

"Thanks," you replied, your voice tinged with sarcasm. "I'll try not to be a burden." You whisper with a small ounce of worry.

To be honest, you were terrified of being alone, and for some reason, Sunghoon’s presence felt like a warm blanket being put over you.

Sunghoon didn't respond, instead turning his attention to a map spread out neatly on the table. As he planned the next day's supply run, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your heart at his cold demeanor. Despite everything, you still believed in the goodness of people and humanity, and you hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could break through Sunghoon's icy exterior, and get to know the true him.

Life with Sunghoon was quite far from easy. His cold, over calculated approach to survival clashed constantly with your care free, compassionate, life risking outlook, leading to more than a few heated arguments.

"Why do you insist on risking your life for strangers?" Sunghoon had snapped one evening after you had returned from helping a group of survivors fend off a zombie attack. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

You glared at him, your temper flaring. "And why do you insist on shutting everyone out? Not everyone is out to get you, Sunghoon. Some people just need help. Have some humanity.”

His eyes flashed with anger. "You don't get it, do you? Out here, it's every man for himself. If you keep putting others first, you'll be the one ending up dead Y/N.”

"And if you keep pushing every possible human being away, you'll end up alone," you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion.

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. Then, without another word, Sunghoon turned and stormed out of the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Days faded into weeks, and despite your constant bickering, you and Sunghoon developed an understanding for each other. You learned to navigate his cold exterior, seeing glimpses of vulnerability beneath the surface. He, in return, began to see the strength in your optimism, though he would never admit it.

It was during a particularly dangerous supply run that the turning point came.

You had made your way into a heavily infested part of the city, desperate for medical supplies. Everything was going smoothly until a horde of zombies ambushed you, forcing you to take shelter in an abandoned building.

As the zombies clawed at the doors and windows, you and Sunghoon found yourselves trapped with no way out.

"Great plan, Y/N," Sunghoon muttered, his voice dripping with venom and sarcasm.

You ignored his jab, focusing instead on finding a way to secure the doors. "We need to block the entrance, hoon. Help me move this shelf."

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, you managed to barricade the door, buying yourselves some time.

"We can't stay here forever," Sunghoon said, his voice laced with frustration. "We need to find a way out."

“Well no shit” You say as Sunghoon shakes his head at your words, his heart pounding slightly calming down with your familiar bickering.

You glanced around the room, your mind racing. "There has to be an exit somewhere. Maybe a fire escape or a back door."

Sunghoon shook his head. "The back door is probably blocked. Our best bet is probably gonna be the roof if we don’t wanna become their next meal.”

The two of you made your way to the roof, careful to avoid attracting the attention of the zombies below. As you stood on the edge, observing the surrounding buildings, you felt a pang of despair. The city’s view out before you, a sea of ruins and danger.

"We're going to have to jump," Sunghoon said, his voice steady despite the look of terror in his eyes.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "We'll make it. We have to." You say with tears prickling into the corner of your eyes.

As you prepared to jump, Sunghoon reached out and grabbed your hand. "Stay close. We do this together."

With a deep breath, you took the jump, your fingers tightly intertwined with Sunghoon's. The jump was terrifying, but you made it to the next building, landing in a heap on the roof.

For a moment, you lay there, gasping for breath. Then, to your surprise, Sunghoon pulled you into a tight embrace. His face hurried into your neck as you feel tears falling onto your skin.

"Don't ever do that again," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I can't lose you, that was too close-“

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Sunghoon, I—"

Before you could finish, he kissed you, despite the dirt on both your faces, and crazy knotted hair, it felt magical, like every puzzle in the world had been connected, him capturing your lips with desperation and passion pouring into each second of it.

Without wasting another second, Sunghoon pulls you onto his lap, going for a softer gentle kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer if possible, leaving soft kisses on his neck.

“Stop doing that, or I’ll really lose control.” Sunghoon says caressing your cheek, with that all-too familiar look of love oozing out of his eyes.

“Then lose control” You whisper, and he doesn’t waste another second.

In the aftermath of the situation, the dynamic between you and Sunghoon shifted. His cold exterior began to thaw, revealing a depth of pure emotion you hadn't ever expected. The arguments continued, but they were now laced with an underlying tenderness, care and love that neither of you could deny.

One night, as you sat together on the roof of your apartment building, watching the stars, Sunghoon had finally decided opened up to you about his past.

"I used to have a family," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "A little sister. She was everything to me."

You listened, your heart aching for him. "What happened?"

"The virus," he replied, his eyes distant. "We were trying to get out of the city and when she was out of my view for a second- she was infected. I had to… I had to end it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to hold his hand and caress his cheek which at this point was now damp with his icy tears. "Hoon, I'm so sorry."

He squeezed your hand on his cheek with his free hand, his grip tight. "That's why I can't afford to be soft, Y/N. I can't let myself care, because caring means losing."

"But caring also means living," you said softly. "It means having something to fight for."

He looked at you, his eyes searching. "And what about you? Why do you keep holding on to hope?"

You smiled through your tears. "Because hope is all I have. And because I believe that no matter how dark things get, there's always a chance for something better."

As Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, then pulled you into his arms. "You’re right Y/N, things really do get better.” He whispers giving you a gentle smile before pulling you into a kiss where you can feel all emotions clashing together.

The days that followed were filled with a renewed sense of purpose. You and Sunghoon worked together to add more protection to your safe house, scavenging for supplies and helping other survivors whenever you could. The bond between you grew stronger, forged in the fires of hardship and tempered by the tenderness of newfound love.

But the world outside remained dangerous, and the threat of the zombies was never far away.

One fateful night, the horde descended upon your building, drawn by the noise of a desperate survivor's cries for help. You and Sunghoon fought for ages now, but the sheer number of zombies was overwhelming.

"Y/N, we have to go!" Sunghoon shouted, his voice hoarse from exertion.

You nodded, grabbing your backpack and following him up the stairs. The building shook with the force of the zombies' pounding and moaning, the walls creaking and groaning under the pressure.

As you reached the roof, you realized with horror that there was no escape as last time. The neighboring buildings were way too far to jump, and the fire escape had collapsed.

"This is it," you said, your voice trembling. "We're trapped Hoon."

Sunghoon's eyes blazed with determination. "No. We fight."

He handed you a gun, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch. "Stay close to me." Sunghoon says before leaving a soft kiss onto your forehead.

The two of you stood side by side, ready to face the herd. As the first zombies approached the rooftop, you fought with everything you had, your love and determination for each other giving you the strength to keep going, you didn’t want to give up, not when you had a purpose, someone to want to live for.

In the midst of the chaos, with the last few zombies, Sunghoon was knocked to the ground, a zombie lunging at him. You acted without thinking, firing your gun and taking down the flesh eating creature before it could reach him.

"Sunghoon!" you screeched, helping him to his feet.

He pulled you into a fierce embrace, his breath hot against your ear. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens, I love you."

Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him, pouring all your love, fear and desperation into that one kiss.

To your luck, A group of survivors on motorcycles burst onto the rooftop after hearing all the commotion, guns blazing as they cleared a path through the horde in the streets.

"Come on!" one of them shouted. "We've got a way out!"

You and Sunghoon didn't hesitate, following the survivors down a makeshift ramp that led to a big pick-up truck. As the last of the zombies were taken down, you climbed into the truck, your heart pounding with relief, your hand tightly clasped with Sunghoon’s.

As the truck sped away from the city and terror of the night, you focused on the feeling of Sunghoon's hand, the weight of everything you had been through settling over you like a heavy blanket.

"We made it," you whispered, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief.

Sunghoon squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and a gentle look of admiration and love. "We did. And as long as we're together, we'll keep surviving."

The journey to the survivors' camp was long and bumpy, but you and Sunghoon faced it together, drawing strength from each other. The camp itself was everything you had hoped for in a world gone mad, a place where people were rebuilding their lives and fighting for a future.

As you settled into your new home, you and Sunghoon found solace in each other, your love a guiding light in the darkness. The arguments and angst that had once defined your relationship now gave way to a deep, unbreakable bond.

And in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty, you found happiness. For in a world where survival was never guaranteed, love had become your greatest weapon, your most cherished treasure.

Together, you and Sunghoon faced the challenges of the new world, knowing that no matter what came your way, you would face it together. And in each other's arms, you found the strength to keep going, the courage to keep fighting, and the hope to keep dreaming of a brighter future.

For in the end, love was the ultimate victory, the one thing that even the end of the world couldn’t take away.

˚୨୧⋆｡˖˙ ᰋ ──

@FAIRQVES 2024

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗜𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 - chapter one f1 grid x fem! driver! reader ( fluff / angst ) series summary . . . a mortal who dared to defy the impossible. Of grit forged in fire, and dreams that refused to yield. In a world where heroes are born, and few rise to become legends. You are a force to be reckoned with. Unshakable. Unstoppable. Indomitable. (1.8k words)

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( next )

I - THE FEELINGS WILL PASS BY YOU Your first year of Formula One, 2012.

content warning . . . ( minor mature themes in the last scene, non descriptive smut, Yn is 19 years old in this chapter )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The champagne stings your eyes, but it only adds to the surreal quality of the moment. Standing tall on the second step of the podium, you feel the comforting weight of the silver trophy in your hands, its cool, solid surface grounding you amid the chaos of the roaring Australian crowd. Your cheeks ache from the endless smiling, but you can’t stop. The joy coursing through your veins is unrelenting, an electric current you never want to end. P2 in your debut race. It’s a dream realized, a milestone etched into the fabric of your soul.

The cameras flash, capturing every angle of your elation. You can almost hear the headlines being written, the stories being told: the rookie with a star’s debut. Your mind is a blur, filled with a single, resounding thought—This is it. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

Instinctively, you glance to your left. Lewis Hamilton stands on the third step, his claps measured, his expression unreadable save for the tight smile stretched across his lips. There’s a legend standing just feet away, a man you’ve idolized for years, and now you’re sharing a podium with him. The significance isn’t lost on you, and your grin widens.

“We did it, Lewis! What a start, huh?” Your voice is a burst of excitement, practically glowing as it carries over the deafening cheers. You’re buoyant, wanting to share even a fraction of the exhilaration pumping through you.

He nods, the gesture curt and almost too calculated. “Yeah, we did,” he replies, his tone flat against your enthusiasm. His eyes flicker, betraying something you can’t quite identify—a shadow of something restrained. You brush it off, too intoxicated by the moment to dissect his response.

What you don’t see is the way his gaze lingers on your trophy for just a second too long, or the faint downturn of his lips before he forces them back into a polite smile. You don’t catch the subtle clench of his jaw or the simmer of irritation just below the surface. Why would you?

This is your moment. The cameras love you, the crowd chants your name, and the world feels impossibly bright. You’re too caught up in the high of it all to notice the edges fraying in the background, too focused on this monumental step to sense the quiet storm brewing beside you.

Because in this moment—your moment—the only thing that matters is the realization that this is just the beginning. The dream is no longer intangible; it’s here, real, tangible in your hands. And as the champagne sprays, the confetti falls, and the anthem echoes, you make a silent promise to yourself: this is where you belong.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Cuban national anthem swells through the air, each note resonating deep within your chest, as though it’s synced with the pounding of your heart. You’re at the top of the podium, the metallic gleam of the winner’s trophy clutched tightly in your hands. It’s heavier than you imagined, but the weight is welcome, grounding you as the reality of your achievement washes over you like the tides.

Tears streak down your face, hot and unrelenting, carving trails through the grime and sweat of the race. You can barely hear the crowd over the rush of your own pulse, but the roar of their cheers is unmistakable. They chant your name, over and over, until it blends with the melody of the anthem, becoming a symphony of adoration.

This is everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve sacrificed for. The countless hours of training, the heartbreaks, the doubts—every single one of them led to this moment. You glance down at the trophy in your hands, its polished surface reflecting your tearful, beaming face. Youngest driver to win a race. The words feel surreal, as though they belong to someone else. But they’re yours now, etched into history alongside the greats.

You lift the trophy high above your head, your arms trembling slightly with the effort, and the crowd erupts in a fresh wave of applause. Your team below explodes in celebration, the vibrant red of their uniforms a blur of motion as they cheer, jump, and hug one another. Champagne sprays into the air like liquid fireworks, and you can feel its sticky sweetness in the air even from where you stand.

In the garage, Lewis watches in silence. P8. His day had spiralled from bad to worse, mechanical issues compounding an already difficult race. His body aches with the weight of frustration, but it’s nothing compared to the bitterness blooming in his chest.

His gaze fixes on you, standing on the podium with a radiance that makes his jaw tighten. Your smile is uncontainable, lighting up your entire face as the cameras capture every triumphant angle, every joyful tear. The commentators gush over your performance, their voices reverent as they discuss your flawless drive, your historic achievement.

And then, they say it. Breaking his record. Least amount of race entries before a race win.

The words sting more than he thought they would. He remembers holding that same trophy, feeling the same exhilaration when he set the record all those years ago in his rookie year. And now, watching you bask in the glory of your victory in your own rookie year, he feels a cold shadow creeping over him. Every cheer for you feels like a blow, a reminder of how far he’s fallen.

But you don’t see him. You don’t notice the storm brewing in the corner of the garage. You’re too caught up in the moment, too swept away by the sheer joy of it all.

Your team surrounds you as you step down from the podium, their cheers blending with your own laughter. They pull you into hugs, their words tumbling over each other in a chaotic symphony of pride and excitement. Someone pops another bottle of champagne, and the fizz sprays over you, drenching your race suit. You don’t care. You’re too busy laughing, too busy soaking in every second of this magical moment.

Lewis stays where he is, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s always known this day would come. He just didn’t expect it to sting this much.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’ve always admired Lewis. You can still picture yourself as a wide-eyed kid sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, watching him cross the finish line to win his first race in 2007. The sheer audacity of his talent, the way he carried himself with a confidence that seemed unshakable—it was mesmerizing. That moment sparked something in you, igniting a belief that maybe, just maybe, the impossible could become your reality.

And now, here you are, sharing the same garage, wearing the same team colors. Sometimes, you catch yourself staring at him during briefings, trying to reconcile the Lewis Hamilton you idolized with the flesh-and-blood teammate sitting across from you. He still carries that air of greatness, that effortless poise, but up close, you notice things you didn’t before—the way his brow furrows when something doesn’t go to plan, the weight of expectation in his eyes.

You try to connect with him, to bridge the gap between icon and teammate. In the brief moments between sessions, you chatter to him, throwing out lighthearted jokes to cut through the tension. When he’s poring over telemetry, you offer quiet words of encouragement. You mimic his relentless work ethic, studying every aspect of his process with the kind of awe reserved for legends.

But it doesn’t seem to work.

At first, his responses are polite, if a little distant—a curt nod here, a brief “Thanks” there. But over time, you notice the way his jaw tightens when you approach, the way his shoulders stiffen when you try to lighten the mood.

You tell yourself it’s just his focus, that he’s always been intense, but the truth is harder to ignore. Your optimism, your unrelenting sweetness—it doesn’t inspire him. It irritates him.

Every time you bound into the garage with a smile, brimming with ideas or congratulations, you can feel his patience fraying like a worn thread. To him, you’re too nice, too bubbly, too... much.

And what stings the most, what neither of you ever say out loud, is that you’re outperforming him. Lap after lap, race after race, the numbers don’t lie. The younger, fresher face of the team is rising, and his shadow feels smaller by the day.

He doesn’t lash out, but the tension is palpable. It’s in the way his replies become shorter, his glances sharper. The moments when he leaves the room just as you enter.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Brazil. The final race of the season. Brazil. The championship isn’t in play anymore, but you still push, still strive for excellence. P5 isn’t what you wanted, but you shake it off. You’ve had an extraordinary debut season, and you’re determined to end it on a positive note.

After the race, you join the team in the paddock, grabbing drinks for everyone, your smile as bright as ever despite the pang of disappointment in your chest. You’re halfway back when you hear voices—familiar ones.

“I can’t wait to move to Mercedes,” Lewis says, his voice low but clear, the relief in his tone unmistakable. “I won’t have to deal with her anymore. She’s too sweet, too. . . annoying. Always smiling, always talking. I just can’t stand it.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. The warmth of the evening vanishes, replaced by a cold, sharp ache in your chest. You clutch the champagne bottles tighter, your knuckles white, your vision blurring as tears fill your eyes.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jenson finds you, his expression softening instantly. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks gently, concern lacing his voice.

You try to shake your head, to brush it off, but the dam has broken. The tears spill faster, and your shoulders tremble with quiet sobs. Jenson doesn’t press. He simply wraps an arm around you, leading you away from the noise, away from the crowd, to somewhere quieter.

Later that night, after too many glasses of wine and whispered reassurances, you find yourself in Jenson’s bed. His touch is warm, his hands steady, and for a fleeting moment, you feel safe. Wanted. Seen. The ache in your chest dulls, replaced by the comfort of his embrace.

But as dawn breaks, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling, your emotions a tangled mess. The sport you love feels different, showing its true nature in the light, harsher, colder. It isn’t just about winning or losing—it’s about surviving.

And as you watch the early morning light seep into the room, you make a promise to yourself.

Because survival isn’t just an option—it’s the only way forward.

[hoonven]

❛❛in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.❞

2.6K ⸺ in another life, you and jaeyun are the lovers who made it, but not in this one

‎PAIRING! singer!sim jaeyun x model!female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, lovers to exes trope, a little comedy to lighten the mood? everything everywhere all at once au

WARNINGS! mention of a cigarette but no smoking, and a brief mention of food

The rooftop of an exclusive SoHo venue buzzed with subdued chaos. Neon lights flickered in the distance, the city sprawling out like an endless circuit board of dreams and despair. The East River shimmered, black and silver, winding its way through the arteries of the city, holding the secrets of its inhabitants.

You stood near the edge, cigarette in hand. You didn’t smoke—it was more of a prop, something to hold onto when your hands trembled. You gazed over the city, your reflection caught in the mirrored panels of the building behind you. You were radiant, of course. A goddess in Dior, the tabloids had called you earlier that evening. The faint hum of house music from the party below barely registered in your ears.

“Did you ever think you’d make it here?” a voice breaks through the haze, quiet but unmistakable.

You turned, and your heart felt like it stopped—like it was too ashamed to beat in his presence.

Jaeyun.

He looked just as you remembered, only a little older now. His physique had grown taller and more lean, wearing a sleek black suit. His jet-black hair is styled neatly, with strands softly framing his face, the kind of face that made people believe in angels. There was a melancholic look in his eyes that you don’t remember him carrying before, like he was grieving a love he would never have.

“Jaeyun,” you said, his name catching in your throat like a foreign word.

“It’s been a while,” he said, stepping closer. The faint scent of his cologne mingled with the cool night air. “But you’re still as pretty as I remember.”

You tear your eyes away from him, gazing back out into the glittering city to shield the sudden rush of emotion flooding your chest. “Thanks, I get paid for it.”

Jaeyun laughed softly, the sound as bittersweet as the night. “Still as cold too.”

You flinched but masked it with a sharp inhale. “You look like you’re doing well for yourself.” You gestured vaguely at him, the world-famous singer, the headliner of a sold-out tour, standing before you as if you were still the same two teens who once shared takeout on a dingy apartment floor.

“I am,” Jaeyun said. “And so are you. Look at you, Y/N. You're everything you said you’d be.”

You swallowed hard. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Nah,” Jaeyun said with a shake of his head, his voice dipping low. “But you made it look like it was.”

You both stood in silence for a moment, the city filling the gaps between. The hum of distant sirens. A honk from a cab far below. The ghosts of memories neither of you dared to say aloud.

“You seem happy,” you said, finally breaking the tension.

“I sing songs about heartbreak for a living,” Jaeyun replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s lucrative.”

“Jaeyun…”

“Was it worth it?” he interrupted, his voice cutting through you like a blade.

You looked up sharply, meeting his gaze. The question echoing in the void of your chest—there was no heart inside there.

There was no kindness or gentleness inside you to offer Jaeyun, because you’re mean, and awful, and selfish. But that’s the only way you know how to survive. Poor you, the girl who spent her life surviving.

“I don’t know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. But for a moment you wondered, and you imagine that in another life you had a better answer.

In another life, in a cozy bookstore on a rainy afternoon, Jaeyun crouched on the floor, flipping through an old songbook. You were perched on a ladder nearby, your fingers trailing over the spines of novels.

“Jaeyun,” you said suddenly, holding up a book with a faded red cover, “this one’s about us. A rockstar and a model who run away to start a goat farm.”

Jaeyun smirked, tilting his head to look at you. “How does it end?”

“Tragically,” you teased.

“Well, good thing we’re writing our own story,” he replied, grinning as he reached up to pull you into his lap.

In another life, you stood at a train station, your suitcase at your feet. Jaeyun was on the other side of the glass, his hand pressed against it, a futile barrier between you.

“I’ll call you,” you mouthed, tears streaming down your face.

“You won’t,” he mouthed back, his expression breaking.

The train’s whistle screamed, and you stepped back. The glass fogged with your breath as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

In another life, on a sunny afternoon at the park. You lay on a picnic blanket, your head in Jaeyun’s lap. He strummed his guitar lazily, singing a melody just for you.

“Write that down,” you said, pointing at his notepad.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the best thing you’ve ever written.”

Jaeyun smirked, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “That’s because it’s about you.”

In another life, at sunset, you stood on a beach, toes buried in the cool sand. You leaned into Jaeyun, his arm draped around your shoulders as you watched the waves crash.

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was filled with a peaceful understanding. The world was vast, and yet you had found each other.

In another life, Jaeyun sped down a dirt trail on a tandem bike, with you laughing uncontrollably behind him.

“Jaeyun!” you screamed, clutching his waist.

“Never back down, never what?!” he yelled back, pedaling harder.

“Never give up!”

The bike hit a bump, sending you both flying into a pile of leaves. You sat up, covered in twigs, and burst into laughter.

In another life, in a cramped one-bedroom apartment, you both sat on the floor surrounded by stacks of unpaid bills. Jaeyun’s hands tugged through his hair as you nervously chewed on your lip.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you said, voice shaking.

“I know,” Jaeyun replied, his voice heavy with frustration. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We’ll figure it out.”

In another life, on a rooftop in Paris, Jaeyun pulled out a small velvet box and knelt in front of you. Your breath hitched as he opened it to reveal a ring.

“Marry me,” he said, his voice trembling but his eyes steady.

Your hands flew to your mouth as tears spilled over. “Yes,” you whispered, and when he slid the ring onto your finger, he kissed you like the world was ending.

In another life, the cramped kitchen smelled of garlic and tomato sauce as you stirred the pot, humming along to the music blaring from the tiny speaker. Jaeyun stood next to you, dramatically rapping Eminem’s verse, waving a wooden spoon like a mic.

“His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy—”

“��There’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti!” you chimed in, voice cracking from laughter.

Jaeyun struck a pose, pretending to look “calm and ready,” while you dissolved into giggles, nearly spilling the sauce.

“Careful, or our spaghetti’s gonna end up on the floor,” Jaeyun teased, stealing a quick kiss on your cheek before turning back to the pasta.

“Focus, Slim Shady,” you shot back, grinning as you twirled noodles onto a plate.

In another life, under an arch of twinkling lights, you and Jaeyun stood hand in hand, surrounded by family and friends.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announced.

Jaeyun dipped you dramatically, eliciting cheers and laughter from the crowd, before kissing you like you were the only two people in the world. When you broke apart, you whispered, “I love you.”

Jaeyun smiled. “I love you more.”

In another life, Jaeyun squatted in front of the washing machine, phone in hand, while you leaned over his shoulder, scrolling through a YouTube tutorial.

“Wait, so we’re not supposed to mix whites and colors?” Jaeyun asked, glancing at the rainbow heap he’d already shoved in.

You frowned. “Apparently not… and why is there, like, five kinds of detergent? Which one do we even use?”

The video continued to play, but neither of you seemed to understand a word. Jaeyun sighed, tossing the phone onto the counter. “Let’s just wing it.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s how we turned your white shirt pink last time.”

“Only Riki and Hoon would crash out over that,” Jaeyun said with a shrug, pressing the start button anyway.

In another life, the dining table was covered in papers, receipts, and a laptop that was dangerously close to overheating. You sat with your head in your hands, glaring at a spreadsheet that refused to balance. Jaeyun was on the other side of the table, furiously tapping on a calculator.

“This makes no sense,” you groaned, shoving a pile of receipts toward him. “How do I owe this much when I’ve already paid so much in quarterly taxes?”

Jaeyun glanced up, his hair sticking out in all directions from running his hands through it. “I don’t know, Y/N. I’m not an accountant. I’m just a guy who thought splitting fries was complicated.”

You let out a frustrated laugh. “Whoever came up with taxes was just a hater.”

“Aren’t you a self-proclaimed hater, though?” Jaeyun raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I'm just a girl.” you deadpanned, gesturing to yourself.

Jaeyun snorted, then sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, new plan. We take a break, grab some coffee, and call an accountant tomorrow. We clearly have no idea what we’re doing.”

You nodded, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we get audited, you’re the one explaining why our expense report has coffee runs listed as ‘essential creative fuel.’”

Jaeyun grinned despite the mess. “Deal.”

In another life, the apartment was suffocating with tension. Jaeyun stood by the window, his hands clenched at his sides, while you stood across the living room.

You were both shouting, your words overlapping in a chaotic mess.

“—You never see my perspective—”

“—You always think you’re right—”

“—Stop talking over me—”

“—You’re talking over me too—”

The room buzzed with both voices, neither willing to stop, neither willing to hear.

Finally, your voice cut through. “You know what? Fuck this! I'm done!”

You grabbed your coat, your movements quick and jerky as you stormed to the door.

“I can’t do this right now,” you said, voice cold and distant.

“Y/N—” Jaeyun started, his voice softening, but you didn’t turn back.

The door slammed behind you, the sound echoing through the apartment. Jaeyun sank into the couch, his head falling into his hands as the weight of the argument crashed over him. For a long time, he didn’t move, the quiet of the empty room pressing down on him like a storm cloud.

In another life, in a brightly lit hospital room, Jaeyun cradled your newborn daughter against his chest, his eyes glassy with tears.

“She has your nose,” he said softly, sitting beside you, who was propped up on the hospital bed, exhausted but glowing.

“And your eyes,” you replied with a tired laugh.

Jaeyun leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Each moment captured a glimpse of your love across universes, a kaleidoscope of experiences that are as fleeting as they are eternal.

Jaeyun nodded, as if he'd been expecting that answer. “Yeah, I get it. Can't be too vulnerable right?” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But I’m not like you. You always said I was too nice for my own good. That I’d let the world eat me alive if you weren’t there to save me.”

Your throat tightened. You looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

“But my kindness,” Jaeyun continued, “doesn't make me weak. It's how I fight. In a world this cruel, it’s the only way I know how to survive. And I knew, even then, that I could’ve been the one to leave. Could’ve been the one to hurt you first. But I didn’t want that.” He took a step closer, his voice quieter now. “I wanted to make sure I was the one who got hurt. So you could keep fighting in your own way.”

You closed your eyes, but the tears still pricked at the edges. The weight of his words, of your shared past, of everything unsaid—it was unbearable.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice gentler now, “You’re not a bad person. You're just trying to protect yourself.”

You opened your eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the city fell away. Just the two of you, suspended in the quiet ache of what could’ve been.

“You know,” Jaeyun said, a faint, longing smile curling his lips, “in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”

The words struck you like a blow, a montage of moments in this life—of what could've been in this universe, flashing before your eyes—walking hand in hand down quiet streets, mornings spent tangled in sheets, laughing over burnt toast, folding laundry in the dim light of a shared apartment.

And then Jaeyun stepped back. The moment shattered like glass.

He smiled at you one last time, a quiet, knowing smile, and then turned, walking away into the neon haze of the party below.

You stood frozen, your heart aching as you watched him disappear. The city continued to hum around you, oblivious to the pieces of your heart scattering like ash into the night.

You were heartless now, just like you always wanted.

In the reflection of the glass, you saw yourself—the goddess in Dior—and felt the crushing weight of everything you had fought for.

It wasn’t enough.

In another life, you and Jaeyun are in a dimly lit laundromat, late at night. The hum of the washing machines fills the air, punctuated by the occasional beep of a dryer finishing its cycle. You sit side by side on a cracked plastic bench, both staring at the spinning drum of a washer in front of you. A basket of unfolded clothes sits between you.

You break the silence.

“I always thought my life would be bigger than this.”

Jaeyun glances at you, but you keep your gaze fixed on the washing machine. “Bigger than doing laundry?”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to look at him. “Yeah. You know, I wanted the world. Lights, stages, all eyes on me.”

Jaeyun nods, he’s heard you say this before, but this time, there’s something heavier in your voice. “You could still have it.”

You lean back against the cold wall, tilting your head toward him. “Could I? I feel like I've spent so much time running toward something I don't even recognize anymore. And now I'm here. Folding clothes and splitting bills. With you.”

Jaeyun looks down at his hands, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. He takes a deep breath, the words hanging heavy in his chest. “Y/N, do you ever think… maybe this is enough? That maybe this—” he gestures to the laundromat, the mundane surroundings “—isn’t just some filler episode of our lives?”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Laundry and taxes? That’s your big dream?”

Jaeyun's lips twitch into a sad smile. “Not just laundry and taxes. Laundry and taxes with you.”

The weight of his words sink in, softening your teasing smile. Your eyes search his face for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time. “Jaeyun, I—“

“I know. You’re not ready to stop running, and I’ll never stop cheering for you. But if there’s a version of us out there, in another life, where we don’t need the lights and the noise—where we’re just… us—I think I’d like that.”

The washer buzzes, startling you both. You blink rapidly, caught between the spinning thoughts in your mind and the sudden, jarring noise. You swallow, picking up a shirt from the basket and holding it in your lap. “In another life, huh?”

Jaeyun nods, leaning back against the wall with a wistful smile. “In every life.”

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes against his as you both sit in silence, and the hum of the machines continues.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[lewisvinga]

fashion icons | zhou guanyu x fem! reader

summary; everybody thought that zhou was single until his classic paddock walks where he shows up dressed all fashionably with an equally as fashionable girlfriend and daughter.

warnings; ?

word count; 555 ( angel numbers 🤗 )

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Over here, Zhou!”

“Zhou, who is that?”

“Is that your daughter, Zhou?”

Zhou has to hold back his smile at the sudden burst of questions from reporters and paparazzi as he makes his way into the paddock with a little girl who was his carbon copy in his arms.

He was holding hands with a woman no one had seen on the paddock before. The three all had matching outfits. Zhou wore an oversized beige button-up with baggy white pants. The woman wore a long white skirt with a beige sweater top. Meanwhile, Zhou’s carbon copy wore a beige overall dress with a white button-up underneath.

With the way the young girl clung to him and the woman held onto his arm, it no doubt that it was his family. Nobody even knew he was dating someone, much less dating someone AND having a daughter with them.

“Zhou Guanyu!” Charles shouted as he saw the Chinese driver strolling by him and another group of drivers. “What the hell, mate?” The Monegasque was as shocked as everyone else. Not even the drivers knew about his family.

“Everyone meet Daiyu,” Zhou said with a smile as the shy almost 2-year-old lifted up her hand to wave at them. “She’s my daughter.” His words caused the others to emit gasps. “And this lovely woman here is-“

“Y/n L/n!” Lewis exclaimed, immediately recognizing her. Y/n laughed as the 7x world champion greeted her with a hug. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

“Too long. I missed the paddock.” She responded, resting her head against his shoulder for a second.

“You had a secret family this whole time?” Lando loudly exclaimed but got shushed by his teammate.

“Mate, since when?” Max asks, feeling utterly confused. “And how did Lewis know?”

“He introduced us actually,” Y/n spoke up with a chuckle, and just like her daughter, she shyly waved at the dazed drivers. “Nice to meet you all. I’m actually a fashion designer and helped multiple big designer companies. I also helped plan out a lot of Lewis’ outfits. He introduced me to Zhou in 2019. Said we’d make a great pair.”

“And I was right!” Lewis said in a prideful tone. He then gestures to Daiyu who seemed distracted by Max’s hair. “They had an equally fashionable baby!”

Y/n laughed as she nudged her boyfriend with her elbow. “Helps when her mama is a fashion designer and her dad likes fashion.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know anything!” Charles exclaimed, still in disbelief about the whole situation. The Ferrari driver seemed more grumpy about being left in the dark but it immediately went away as Daiyu’s focus moved to him. “She is quite adorable though. Wow, she looks just like you.”

Zhou sheepishly smiled and shrugged. “Wanted my privacy I guess. Figured it was time for the world to know the whole reason why I drive.”

“I can already imagine the headlines being about your matching outfits,” Yuki chuckled and glanced over their beige and white outfits. “Zhou Guanyu and Y/n L/n, a family of fashion icons!”

Y/n turns to Zhou with a smile on her lips, her hands fixing Daiyu’s bangs. “Guess we are a family of fashion icons, aren’t we?”

“We’ve been fashion icons. At least I don’t wear my team shirt everywhere I go.”

“Hey! It’s comfortable!”

[shomatoriashi]

08/03/24; 04:25pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

{ oneshot }

soulmate au prompt - all the nicknames your soulmate is called by is written on you.

{ you sold me | if your love is a cult, then i’m in it | sign me up… }

the weakest hunter of all mankind

korea’s 10th s-rank hunter

shadow monarch

6th national level hunter

2nd rate asian hunter

your eyes trail across the words that were now permanently stained against your skin-

words that were, oddly enough, nicknames that your soulmate has been called before. as you kept looking at each and every one of the titles, you tried to somehow piece together the true identity of your soulmate.

“jeez, he sounds like a walking contradiction…”

how could someone be labeled the weakest in the world-

yet have the strength of a national level hunter at the same time?

and he’s from korea, too? well, that made things a bit more complicated on your end, being born in the united states and all. due to your work as a healer, you transferred and moved around a lot, but it was always from state to state. never once were you forced to go on a raid outside of your home country.

as you continue to examine each nickname that described your soulmate, you see your phone light up with what felt like thousands of notifications from your hunter association branch’s network, alerting you of a powerful s-rank who was visiting your city.

your eyes narrow, full of suspicion for such a series of notifications. sure, you’ve seen your fair share of hunters who traveled worldwide and attended conferences, but it was literally not a big deal to you.

with a huff, you pick up your phone and unlock its screen, scrolling for a few moments before feeling your eyes going wide upon seeing the headlines:

[ SUNG JINWOO, KOREA’S 10th S-RANK HUNTER, HAS ARRIVED FOR A CONFERENCE AND FANS ARE EAGERLY AWAITING TO SEE HIS PRESENCE!! ]

you tilt your head upon reading the headlines, mouth open in a gape as you felt yourself staggering backwards. you kept reading the headlines over and over again, recognizing the same nickname that was plastered all across the headlines written on your very skin.

“there’s no way in hell…”

was sung jinwoo your soulmate?

your brain was short circuiting, struggling to keep up as your mind refused to stop spinning. ever since you began seeing these strange nicknames appear all across your body, you didn’t think much of it, being too busy with your duties as a healer to really focus on it.

only recently did you begin to question the true identity of your soulmate-

but never once did you believe that someone so famous was meant to belong to you.

anxiety was felt coursing through your veins, with you letting out a shaky breath at the thought of somehow meeting with jinwoo-

would he be disappointed to know that you were the one that was meant for him?

would he try to tear himself away from you?

or worse yet-

was he going to give you a chance?

{ … }

zero to hero

the efficient one

mercy

those three titles seen across jinwoo’s wrist was the entire reason he came to the states to begin with. ever since he started out as a hunter, being labeled as the weakest in the world, he clung to each title that was held by his soulmate, praying that it would lead him to you soon.

he had known about your existence for quite some time now, yet could never find the means to come to you. when he was old enough to understand the concept of soulmates, jinwoo always assumed that his fated one would be close to home-

so to realize that you were (quite literally) thousands of miles away came as a surprise to him. back when he was barely making enough money to even get by, jinwoo had put the thought of meeting you at the backend of his mind.

but now, since he was made a player under the system’s regimen, he was able to lose his pathetic title and become his nation’s latest s-rank hunter-

meeting you was no longer a pipe dream to him.

jinwoo looks away from his wrist, staring out the window that overlooks the city. he hums, taking out his phone while searching through his contact list, landing on a section simply labeled as fated one.

butterflies were felt erupting all across his abdomen, making jinwoo let out a deep sigh as he hoped that doing so would calm his now frayed nerves. knowing that he couldn’t stall any longer, he presses down on the single name saved on his contact list…

{ … }

just as those self deprecating thoughts threatened to fill your mind, you almost dropped your phone when you found an unknown number calling you. your breathing becomes slightly labored, and you snap out of it on the third ring.

“h-hello…” you state your name, only to hear a rich chuckle on the other end of the line. he repeats the syllables that make up your name before speaking to you, “hello indeed… it is… nice to finally hear your voice.”

he sounds… hesitant, as if speaking a new language for the first time, testing out how it sounded on the tip of his tongue, sounding shy even. “s-sorry if i sound a little strange, english is not my first language… but i wanted to try… for you.”

you could feel the heat settle against your cheeks upon realizing the identity of the person that was speaking to you. “you are… sung jinwoo?”

“haha, yes, the one and only.”

for some odd reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning, feeling the smile spread from ear to ear, “i-i genuinely can’t believe you reached out to me first…”

yet another rich chuckle was heard.

“i will admit, it’s been a long time coming… and, i want to see you and meet you… the healer known as ‘zero to hero.’”

you snort upon hearing such a stupid nickname. “ah, yes, that nickname became a bit of a running joke, since i wasn’t a great healer when i first started out.”

jinwoo ends up laughing even harder on the other line, “i think i understand where you’re coming from more than anyone else, jagiya.”

you felt your breath hitch in response to his term of endearment. you were ready to say something else, but hearing jinwoo’s laughter become louder makes you stop.

“eh? what is it, why are you laughing so much, jinwoo?”

he manages to calm down after several seconds, and you hear what sounds like the shifting of fabric on the other end before he tells you, “it’s nothing, it’s just… on my wrist, i see all of your nicknames and ‘jagiya’ was just added.”

the heat that blossomed against your cheeks was now felt spreading, and you were certain that it had reached the tip of your ears as you struggled to form a single coherent thought. jinwoo seems to catch on and saves you from potentially embarrassing yourself.

“listen, i am in the city and would like to pick you up for a date. if it’s alright with you, can you get ready and wait for me?”

you couldn’t answer fast enough, screaming, “yes!!” on the other line as you kept on nodding. with a slight tremor in your voice, you tell him your address, basking in jinwoo’s kind voice when he promises to come to you within the next 30 minutes.

once you both hang up the call, there was a dreamy expression on your face, with you letting out a sigh as you held your cellphone close to your chest.

it seemed as though jinwoo had long been willing to give you a chance, never once feeling disappointed in you as such knowledge ends up filling your heart with love and joy.

you looked forward to sharing your life with this seemingly amazing man, unable to believe that he had been yours from the start.

end notes: don’t mind me, i just needed to post a simple and true, fluffy story for jinwoo, my favorite hubby (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[arjudy224]

The Billionaire Boys Club

Batfamily x PhD student reader

(This takes place around 6 years after the Intern. )

The Intern Collection

Prequel: Death of a Family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

After interning in her hometown, Y/N was recruited to do her master's degree fully funded by Lexcorp. She had developed an attraction over the 3 years working with Lex Luthor, yet his controlling behavior led to Superman warning Y/N about the CEO's affections. Her master's thesis was on the environmental impacts of Kryptonite use and storage.

Gotham City's explosive tonight. The annual environmental gala has somehow brought fresh life into the sallow streets.

The gala's decorator deserves a raise. Lush vines descend from the high ceiling wrapping around the pillars. I narrow my eyes. Are those real carrier pigeons? Every flower from any climate you could possibly imagine flood the walls in a sweet cascade of fragrance. The sweet aroma tethers me to the present. Dick and Tim give me sly smiles from across the ballroom. Stumbling past the walls of plants, Bruce gives me a thumbs up.

"You clean up nice."

I give him a small smile before glancing down at my Wayne sponsored garb. The long satin dress hugs my hips in an almost risque manner. A respectable slit begins at my mid thigh showing off my red and black pumps. I grimace at the unknown cost.

"You know you didn't have to go all Pretty Woman on me Mr. Wayne." I joke smoothing out my silk gloves, "I do have a paycheck."

Bruce smiles. It takes me off guard. A real smile with squinted eyes and smile lines. As goofy as the most attractive man in the room can be. Compared to his work persona, it's nice to see.

"Ms. L/N, I would never ask you to spend your money to play dress up for a gala I invited you to."

I nod not knowing what else to say. An entire styling team showed up at my door this morning with rack of dresses to choose from... and the shoes... well let's just say it would have made Cinderella run back home and demand to know why she couldn't have gotten Bruce Wayne as her Godmother.

His eyes gravitate to the pendant draped across my neck. A sting of pain registers on his face. I shift uncomfortably once he starts to stare. At my discomfort, Mr. Wayne apologizes.

"I'm sorry Ms. L/N. I haven't seen that necklace in a very long time."

I raise an eyebrow. Mr. Wayne never divulges this much personal information.

"Old flame?" I joke wiggling my eyebrows.

He shakes his head with a pained smile.

"That was my Mother's necklace."

My eyes widen. Martha Wayne's necklace. Instinctively, I reach to take it off. I already couldn't afford a ruby necklace, but a Wayne family heirloom? Hell no.

"I can take it off if you-" I start reaching for the clasp.

Mr. Wayne stops me in my tracks.

"Don't worry about it. That was a long time ago. "

I still hesitate. I glance awkwardly around the ballroom.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mr. Wayne weighs carefully, "Besides, it might make for an interesting headline."

I scowl.

"I'm not going to like this am I?"

A devilish grin appears in response to my dismay.

"Welcome back to Gotham Ms. L/N."

Bruce's sons materialize a few seconds later. If I wasn't used to them suddenly appearing in my office, I would have shrieked.

"Tim. Dick." I greet with a nod, "Always a pleasure."

The younger boy looks at me like I am a puzzle piece he can't quite figure out where to put yet. Dick is as charming as ever.

"Y/N, I can't believe Bruce roped you into being his date. Have you ever considered unionizing?" He teases with a grin.

"At least, I'm getting paid to be here. What's your excuse?" I tease lightly hitting his shoulder. "Don't you have a hot date tonight Bludhaven?"

A painfully familiar shadow interrupts the conversation.

"Mr. Luthor."

Turning around, my legs begin to shake. What a wonderful... surprise. Lex nods to the three men before setting his sights on me.

"Mr. Luthor,"

Saying his formal title feels wrong, yet calling him Lex wouldn't be right either. Not after everything that has happened. Timothy's analytical gaze burns my peripheral.

"Ms. L/N, would you join me for a dance?"

I hesitate eyeing the audience that is forming. Extending his hand, Lex continues, "For old times sake?"

Three people stopped talking to gawk. I don't have much of a choice. With the amount of gossip mongrels here tonight, if I say no my face will be plastered on every gossip column in Gotham... If I say yes, well at least it will only be in Metropolis Gossip columns. I don't have much of a choice.

"Of course... Mr. Luthor." I agree through gritted teeth letting him drag me onto the dance floor.

If I thought agreeing to a waltz would quell speculation, I was poorly mistaken. Dozens of eyes follow our every movement including my boss's.

"You are only feeding into their curiosity." Lex whispers in my ear, "Those vultures know when you are weak."

"Is that what I am?" I question finally looking into his green eyes, "No need for flattery Alexander."

"There isn't any other way to explain your disappearance."

"-That's not fair."

The fire in his eyes leaves me speechless. This was not how I planned to spend my Saturday evening. For a moment, I fantasize on how this night could have gone. I could have had an early night enjoying take out... exchanged my favorite book with the cute guy next door. Slept in. Instead, I am bickering with a man who could be my Uncle over the fact I didn't take a job offer...and potentially start a relationship with him.

"Okay, so I cut you off." I start, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but things couldn't keep progressing like that. My project ended. It was time for me to go."

...and Superman told me that you started tracking my whereabouts... along with bugging my apartment... Go to therapy.

Lex shakes his head.

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

"You were offered a complete stipend. A guaranteed job offer. Why would you turn that down?"

My lips press together into a fine line.

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

1, 2, 3

The orchestra roars into a crescendo. The dance speeds up.

"You know why...." I hiss trying to keep up with his increasing tempo.

I've never been good at multitasking.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3-

"-Say it," Lex demands gripping my fingers tighter, "Tell me."

The ring on his left hand gets caught on my gloves tearing the beautiful silk right down the center. The radiant green draws my attention. Kryptonite. After all this time, he still wears it. Rage causes my face to go hot. I stop dancing to grab his ring.

"This is why Lex," I snarl, "Because I am sick of watching you destroy yourself. You've read my research."

A smart ass grin stretches across his face. The onlookers exchange curious glances at our lack of dancing.

"I paid for it." He replies smugly.

"Then you should know how ludicrous this behavior is. You are going to die before you win."

His eyes get sharp. I must have hit a nerve. A vein in his forehead grows prominent. Another couple dances past us. Lex tears me out of the way before I get bulldozed. A few beats later, we are back in the dance. His hands grow tight around mine like he's afraid I might disappear again. My knuckles turn white from the pressure, but I won't give him what he wants. Pain laces up my palms.

"So, you would rather waste your career working for a halfwit like Bruce Wayne?"

I freeze for a second. This is what this is really about. Lex is jealous that I chose to work for Bruce. If it was anybody else, he could convince himself that I was downgrading, but I went to his direct competition. Thinking of the conversation I had with Bruce earlier, when nobody else is around Bruce has a strange intelligence in his mannerisms. In public, he had initially joked about not reading my research, yet once we were alone the intensity of his questions made me nervous. Considering his extracurricular activities, it's unsurprising that he would want to keep his persona lowkey. How did my job search end with watching the boys club battle it out?

"I will only say this once: My life is mine. What I choose to do is my decision. Say what you want about Mr. Wayne, but at least he respects my privacy." I growl ripping my hands out of his grasp. "Have a nice day Mr. Luthor."

Storming past the "Garden of Eden" display, I slam open the double doors. God.... Everyone there probably thinks I slept with him.

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