#the whole idea of feeling like me the person has something to express and it’s there

[the-boy-meets-evil]

(not so) secret santa | jww

(where you think you're surprising your office crush and he's the one that surprises you)

pairing: wonwoo x reader genre: office!au/coworkers | straight fluff rating: e is for everyone (but this blog is still 18+) word count: ~1.8k warnings: mentions of eating/drinking? and an office holiday gift exchange, that's it

note: merry christmas @highvern! i just thought that you deserved a little treat since you worked so hard on the secret santa collab for @camandemstudios 💕 special thank you to @ugh-yoongi for the office crush concept and the recipe idea. also thank you to @gyuswhore for some brainstorming. i tried to keep to the collab guidelines but it's fine because it's not technically part of it. love you cam!

“Hao I need your help,” you say quietly to your work bestie. 

Despite the hush of your voice, it seems to carry more than it should. Or maybe that’s just your nerves over what you’re about to ask. Minghao turns away from what he’s working on and raises one of his perfectly manicured eyebrows at you. He’s really got that down and you hate him a little for it.

“What could you possibly need now?” he asks with a sigh.

“It’s about the office gift swap,” you say, quieter still this time. 

“Need a little pointer? Maybe some fashion advice?” he asks sympathetically and you swat at him. That makes him crack a smile where nothing else has.

“No, I need to trade,” you say.

This happens every year in the office. The picks are random and nobody is supposed to know. But, inevitably, several people end up swapping for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they’re looking for a specific person. Sometimes they have a present in mind and their current person won’t like it. It could be anything. This year, you’re the one that’s looking to swap and you’re kind of hoping your bestie won’t ask you exactly why. 

“Who do you have?” he asks, which is a little surprising that he’s not asking who you want. 

“Mina,” you say immediately. He might be a complete pain in the ass, but you know that you can trust him. Nobody knows more about what’s going on in the office than him and nobody keeps their mouth shut tighter. 

Without another word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that you recognize as the slips for the gift swap. One hand holds the paper out to you while the other opens for you to deposit your own paper in it. You’re just confused looking at him because you haven’t said anything other than who you have.

“I don’t think you get it, I want…” you start and he cuts you out.

“Just take the paper and then see if you still need to say anything to me,” he says.

It’s unusual, even for him, yet you do as he says. You deposit the slip with Mina’s name on it into his hand and take his piece of paper. When you open it, somehow everything makes more sense. Kind of, at least. It’s the person you were actually hoping to get. 

“How did you…” you ask, trailing off at the end.

“You’re not that subtle,” he says with his own version of an affectionate smile. 

“Thanks, Hao. I owe you!” you say in a low voice.

“I’ll add it to your tab,” he says and turns back to his work.

The best part about the gift swap at your work is that it’s up to each person how they handle giving their gift. There’s no big party where everyone has to swap in front of everyone else. It’s a little non-traditional, but also helpful for people that are a little more introverted. Some people expressed it being easier to just leave the person’s gift at their desk instead of going through some whole big thing. 

That suits you just fine. It gives you the opportunity to plan something a little more personal to exchange your gift. Which is how you end up at lunch on a day off with one of your coworkers and feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. You try to tell yourself that you’re confident and he is just a man. But, you also have the fattest crush on him and it makes you a little stupid. (A lot stupid, actually, but that’s your own business.) 

Wonwoo comes walking in looking the coziest you’ve ever seen him. It makes you very glad that you got to the restaurant first because this is worth it. The smile on his face when he notices you is soft and it makes your heart skip a beat. He pushes up his glasses and shakes some snowflakes out of his hair. By the time he’s at the table, he’s removing his jacket to reveal a soft sweater. You take a minute to remind yourself that he’s just a man before putting the smile on your face. What’s even better, you don’t say anything stupid.

He lets you make it through ordering before he brings up the obvious. “I’m happy you asked me to lunch, but I was a bit surprised.” 

You try to play it off and shrug a bit. “We haven’t gone out to lunch in a while like this and sometimes it feels like we have to rush during work. I just figured…” 

“Why not ask me out to lunch to give me my Secret Santa gift?” he asks knowingly. You, being the coolest person in the world, choke on the sip of your drink that you take.

“What?”

“I was sure that Minghao had me because he was asking questions about gaming stuff and then Mina told me about the beautiful scarf that he got her.”

“And that means you think that I have you?” You’re not really sure you follow his logic even if he is right.

Wonwoo only shrugs. “He’s your best friend. I thought he was asking for you. Or maybe he had me and trade.” 

“He did have you, but I wanted to switch,” you admit for some reason completely unknown to you. 

“You did?” This seems to catch him off guard considering he seems two steps ahead.

Since he wants to bring it up now, you figure that you might as well give him his present. You pull the box out of your bag and hand it over to him. He eyes it for a second before reaching out to take it. His face looks adorably perplexed when he lifts it.

“This doesn’t feel like something gaming related,” he says finally.

You huff out with an eye roll. “Why don’t you just open it?” 

He looks amused at your tone and goes to work at opening the paper. He takes a very different approach to you and unwraps it gently instead of pulling it all off. But then, his eyes go a little wide at the gift. It’s hard to read, at least for a moment. Does he like it? Did you do too much? Are you being too obvious?

“How did you…?” His eyes are filled with affection. Like nobody has ever given him something like this and it catches you off guard. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, a little unsure. Mostly just to fill the space.

“I love it. How did you find it?” he asks. 

“I love fragrances and there are a few small shops that I go to. It’s kind of a hassle because you have to search through the shops, but that’s fun for me. I overheard you telling Hao that you couldn’t find this one anywhere,” you say like it’s nothing. 

“And then you traded to get me just to give it to me?” he asks. 

“I just thought…” you start and he shakes his head. “Actually, hang on a second. I have to run out to my car and I’ll be right back,” he says.

Wonwoo is up from the table before you can even react to what he’s saying. Even though you know this is just how his brain works, it takes a second for your heart to catch up with that knowledge. It still feels weird to be sitting there by yourself when the server comes back with food, though. When he turns back up, his cheeks are a little rosy from the trip outside and you can’t miss that he’s holding a larger box. 

“I’m sorry to run out. I just didn’t want to bring this in if it was really just a lunch,” he says and that doesn’t really explain anything.

“Did you get me in for the gift exchange too?” you ask, confused. 

For the first time, he looks a little shy. He looks down for a second like he’s preparing himself. “No, I just really wanted to get you a present. Open it, please.” 

You’re skeptical because it’s kind of big and clunky. And, on top of that, you’re confused about why he felt like he should get you a present when you’re not really that close. Or not as close as you’d like to be. When you tear off the wrapping paper, your first reaction is to laugh. There’s a cute little popcorn maker with a container of kernels along with it. But what really catches your eye is the seemingly homemade mustard to go along with it. It probably looks like the weirdest gift to anyone else. To you, though, it’s perfect. 

“How on Earth did you come up with this?” you ask through a laugh.

“You hate it,” he says looking a little dejected. 

“No, no, no,” you assure him and calm back down. “No, it’s perfect. But, I’ve had people give me such a hard time about popcorn dipped in mustard so I can’t imagine you just thought of it.”

“I actually talked to Minghao about what you might like,” he says sheepishly and your eyes go wide. 

Leave it to your traitorous bestie to know that your crush had something like this planned and not even tell you. Of course he’s just sitting there like a little matchmaker. “That little shit. When did you ask him?”

“Before we picked people for the gift swap. I didn’t even think of trying to switch for you,” he says. “It seemed like a good way to say that I kind of like you, especially since you traded to get me.” 

There’s something so matter-of-fact about the way he says it. Like it’s just another thing to say. The weather has been really cold. The food is amazing. Work is a pain. Oh, and by the way, I like you. Wait a minute. Your brain finally catches up to what Wonwoo said. It must be clear on your face, too, because he looks amused. 

“Did you say you kind of like me?” you ask and that actually makes him laugh. 

“Why else would I get a recipe for homemade mustard from Minghao just to surprise you for Christmas?” he asks like that should all be obvious.

“You made it yourself?”

“I had a little bit of help from my roommate because he’s much better in the kitchen, but it’s still homemade,” he says. 

“I cannot believe Hao set this all up. You’re over here planning a whole ass present for me and Minghao is letting me stress over whether or not you’re going to like the present I got. And making fun of me for having a crush while you’re over here making me mustard from scratch.”

“Is that really how you’re going to tell me that you like me too?” he asks, impossibly amused by your grumbling. 

“Can we have a do over?” you ask and he smiles at you.

“As many as you want.” 

i hope you like it and that you're surprised!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

this blog has helped me so so much !! if u haven't answered something like this already, could i ask for some help/tips w southern vocabulary and how to go about writing it ?

Some Southern Vocabulary

A Month Of Sundays - This expression is another way of saying something has taken a long time or that something is unlikely to happen.

Bless Your Heart - It can be deployed sincerely, but if you're hearing "bless your heart" in the South, it probably has an edge to it. It's almost always accompanied by a good-natured, perhaps slightly exasperated, shake of the head. It can express empathy or judgment, or it can be said in place of a person's true feelings.

Icebox Pie - Any dessert prepared in a pie crust that has to be kept refrigerated.

Kinfolk - People to whom one is related.

Knee High - Small child (I’ve known her since she was knee high.)

Meat and Three - A main dish meat served with three sides of your choice.

Mess - The word mess generally has a negative connotation, but in the South, it takes on a whole new meaning—one with a positive spin. The context around mess matters. The entire phrase is usually something along the lines of you a mess or you’re a mess, with the discussion before it centering on something you’re doing. Think of it as a compliment, a way of saying you’re adorable or possibly clever or witty.

‘Nanner Pudding - Banana pudding made with sliced bananas, vanilla wafers and vanilla pudding; usually topped with whipped cream.

Over Yonder - When you're in the South, "over yonder" is a distant direction—any direction. The phrase may be accompanied by a gesture indicating north, south, east, or west. Over yonder down the road. Over yonder past the field. Over yonder toward the water tower. This phrase can be intensified by the addition of the word "way," as in "way over yonder."

Piddlin' - A piddlin’ is a small amount that’s not worth bothering with. Someone who is piddlin’ in the yard is wasting time and not doing a whole lot.

Preachin’ To The Choir - When you are preachin’ to the choir, you are trying to convince someone who already agrees with you. Save your breath. You’re all in solidarity.

Pretty As A Peach - This is a high compliment in the South since Southern states are known for their peaches. In fact, Georgia and South Carolina produce more peaches than any other states in the South.

Slower than Molasses in the Winter - If someone is moving very slow pace, you could say that they’re “slower than molasses in the winter.” The origin of this one is pretty straightforward: if you’ve ever tried to pour molasses out of a bottle in the cold, you’ll know that the thick liquid takes a long time to make its way out. Since molasses is a staple of Southern cooking, it makes sense that this phrase caught on and stuck around.

That Dog Won't Hunt - An idea, plan of action, or suggestion that simply isn't going anywhere. It's maybe a slightly nicer way of outright rejecting or disparaging an idea.

We’uns - Us; multiple people, including the speaker (We’uns love to get together for Sunday dinner.)

And here's a post that includes tips on writing accents and dialects (scroll to the end).

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your lovely words, hope this helps with your writing! You could also look through the links above for more references that I wasn't able to include here.

[catcze]

I see you miss writing for his grace wriothesley,

Maybe, you can try with, uh,

you who drop by his office everyday, literally everyday whenever the man is by the fortress?

Bringing lunch and always kiss him wherever, be it by the cheeks, temples, forehead, or lips before leaving him alone again to continue his work?

Making him always anticipated for the short moment of solace, making him looking forward to your kisses—?

Only for you suddenly just stopped kissing him and only drop the lunch box, and left him behind. Earning a sad puppy all alone by the office?

You can ignore/delete this if there's already a similar fic of yours with this prompt 🙌🏻

— anywho, have a great day! 💜

!! This is sooo cute? I can just imagine the sorta shocked/hurt puppy dog look he gets on his face when you skip the kiss one day lol TT

Wriothesley is pouting. The man is honest to archons pouting, and you have no idea why.

Ever since you had returned to the fortress from your daily toil at the palais mermonia, your beloved has been huffy and pouting, only giving you curt answers and all but sulking in his chair when you ask him what's wrong. He's wrapped himself up in his paper work rather than wrapping himself up with you, even going so far as to seclude himself in his office during the usual dinnertime.

"I don't know either," Sigewinne whispers to you as you both have dinner in the cafeteria. "He's been like this for the whole afternoon. When I walked into his office after lunch he was sulking in his chair, looking mopey, when he looked completely fine this morning."

The melusine's words scratch a part of your brain, the one that tells you that you forgot something today, but that you're not entirely sure what it is. You wouldn't be surprised if you did, honestly— the palais was jam-packed with things that needed doing, papers that needed moving, and people that needed talking to. In the hustle and bustle of today, it's inevitable for you to miss something.

it all comes to a head after dinner, when you're relaxing in your and Wriothesley's shared quarters. It's late in the evening at this point, and you're already relaxed in the warm bed, a book in your hand as you wait for Wriothesley's sulking to crack and for him to eventually come and tell you what's got him in such a funk.

And it doesn't take long, either— soon enough, the door to your quarters opens and shuts quietly, and your beloved is standing by the bedside, looming over you, still with that pouty expression that, too anyone else, might seem out of character.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you. Instead, you bookmark the last page you were on and set it on your side table before pulling off the blanket and opening your arms— a clear invitation. One that Wriothesley takes immediately, all but dropping into your hold and wrapping his arms around you. He buries his face in your neck, his heavy weight pressing down on your person and pinning you to the bed, but you can't be bothered to really care about that.

With one hand running through his hair, petting him while he holds you, you ask— "Something happen?"

Wriothesley huffs a breath to your neck and the warm air dances on your skin. You can feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment, maybe, as he mumbles something incomprehensible.

"Hm?"

He does it again, and you tug on his hair in retribution, drawing him away from the crook of your neck enough that you hear what he says.

"...didn't kiss me during lunch," the fearsome duke mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes, scowling with embarrassment at his own childish admission.

You blink, turning the words over in your mind as you try to recall the events of today's lunch and— yeah. He's right. Your brain had been so muddled up with things you had to get done once you returned to the palais that you had left his office in a flurry after dropping his lunch off at his desk.

At the realization that that was why he had been pouting and sulky the whole day, you can't help but giggle.

Wriothesley, in turn, scowls at you, even as the flush on his cheeks darken considerably at the admission.

"Oh, I'm sorry my love," you coo once your giggles die down, your cheeks hurting from smiling at how sweet and funny and needy this big scary warden of yours is. "Let me make it up to you, hm?"

Wriothesley is still pouting as your hands weave in his hair and you tug him down, but the expression is quickly wiped off of his face as you make up for lunchtime— you pepper kisses on his forehead, his nose, his temples, his cheeks. Your lips seek out every inch of his face, layering it gently in your amused, endeared affections.

It's only when Wriothesley is smiling softly, melting bonelessly into your embrace and all but humming as you kiss him that you stop, pulling away to grin at him.

"There. I think my debt has been repaid, no?"

[lemongrasstea1677]

Switcheroo

Jin x MC

Sypnosis: Due to an anomaly accident, Jin and the Honor Student switched bodies! how would their whole day go with each other's body?

(MC/Reader will be called Honor Student here)

||•||

"Captain? Are you awake yet?"

Tohma knocked on the door of his captain, a firm but not too loud knock as he knows how it irritates Jin when someone is making too much noise in his presence

and due to the accident yesterday, an anomaly was acting out where Jin and the honor student happened to be passing by and got both dragged into, both are lightly injured yet still needing some medical assistance from a nearby "medical" dorm

the captain of the Mortenkranken hesitated to treat Jin even if he was offered tons of paycheck but as soon as he heard that the Honor Student needed treatment he practically jumped at it saying something how he's the most befitting to do their treatment.

seriously that narcissistic self important doctor should be put in his place for once

"Good morning Tohma-kun..." a soft deep voice cut Tohma off his thoughts, Jin opens his door and yawns at the sight of him

"Oh? it's unusual for you to greet me, did something good happen today?" Tohma smirked, he's going to use this gesture later to tease his captain to no end

"Huh? why would something good need to happen for a greeting? anyways do you need something?" droopy half lidded eyes looked back at him, giving off the impression of a vulnerable and defenseless handsome man who just woke up

a man who is the total opposite of Jin Kamurai

"You are acting quite strange Captain, are you perhaps sick?" Tohma brought his hand to Jin's forehead before putting his forehead against it

"T-Tohma-kun!?" Jin jumped back at his gesture, face completely flushed and embrassed before letting what he said sink in and finally the confusion stir

"Wait... captain?"

•||•

Meanwhile, the Honor student of the Clementia dorm was seen striding towards the Frostenheim, with a frown that seemed permanently pasted on their face. Their blazer wrinkled as if they slept on it, some buttons of their shirt and tie almost undone

walking fast as you can might not have been a good idea after all as they bump to the captain of Sinostra, Hoshibami Taiga

"Huh? who the fuck're you?" Taiga scowled down at the person he bumped to

now, the normal Honor student would've apologized immediately whether they are in a bad mood or not and it doesn't even matter if it is Taiga, they'll apologize no matter who it is they are too kind for their own good. it'd be a bonus if Taiga decided to pull them somewhere and include them in his hijinks

but instead they acted completely out of character

"You're in the way, move." They scowl at him trying to walk past him, but instead stopped as he Taiga gripped their arm pulled them closer to his face

"Ha!? who do you think-- oh its you little kitty!" Taiga lightened up, finally recognizing their face up close

anyone would expect the honor student (?) would be embarrassed by his words but the anger deepens in their face instead

"call me that again and i swear I'll-"

"Jin-san!" a deep hearthy voice calls out interrupting the Honor student (?) from digging their grave by talking like that to Taiga

"Haah..... I'm glad I've found you, um I'm sorry Taiga-san but I'll steal the Honor Student from now!" Jin (?) apologizes to Taiga before hurriedly grabbing the Honor Student (?) and walking off together towards Frostenheim leaving the red haired man stunned with a baffled face

"...did that bastard just say sorry to me?"

||•||

"this feels so weird to look at" Kaito mumbled watching the two

"It is... very strange indeed" Luca agrees crossing his arm watching the same scene as Kaito

"I cannot agree more" Tohma added with a smug smile amused by what he is watching

Jin Kamurai, the cold king of Frostenheim is with a kind expression pouring tea for the Honor Student who is the opposite; having a neverending scowl plastered on their face whilst laying down on the sofa one will normally find Jin laying in

"Jin-san, I'm done with the documents as well I'm going to class no-"

"Good, now go tell the chef i want meat for today, don't disturb me until its lunch time I'm taking a nap." The Honor student or Jin in their body cut them off before turning his back and sinking in further to the sofa

"B-but...!"

"And also, don't do anything weird with my body, if i hear you go running around doing shit that would get people talking you'll pay for it" He threathens them, striking with a glare

"But what about my classes Jin-san? i also have gym today...." a moment of silence before he grumbles in their voice and propped him themself up

"....tch, The two of you lead the way" Jin walked out of the door, followed by Luca and Kaito sharing glances at each other before striding off after him

"Ah, remember to act like the Honor student Jin-sama if you don't want for people to be figure out what's going on and spread rumors about y-"

Jin slammed the door shut cutting off Tohma, who lets out an amused chuckle

"My, My, the honor student is so grumpy" Tohma snickered while The honor student in Jin's body sighed and slumped at his statement

"Can't we really just go on our day as usual? i mean its just our bodies that switched..." the honor student asked sitting down on the sofa Jin on their body laid down on earlier

"You can't at all, Jin tend to really care about his reputation and he's the future president of Japan's anomaly branch, we can't have him acting not like himself for a day... even if it is for the better he acts like you for once" Tohma explained while picking up and fixing the documents from the tea table

"I see... i kinda know Jin-san's schedule, but seeing as he is the captain he must have tons of work" They say picking up the untouched teacup and bringing it back to the tray as the real Jin left it not even touching it before he left.

Tohma grinned darkly, seeing an opportunity he won't get the real Jin to do even if he begged and dropped to his knees

"Well now that you mentioned it, he mostly help me with my paperwork during his free time" a lie, Jin wouldn't do that unless he is interested in the paperwork Tohma is working on and it's not even called helping when he blows a cloud of smoke at his face and give his own statement here and there while laying down lazily listening to some classical music

"That seemed like a lie but okay, I'll do my best then!" they beamed, Tohma's grin widen.

||•||

"what's their first class?" The honor student (Jin) asked them in a nonchalant voice, eyes half lidded looking bored

"U-uh well we both have Anomalous Information Studies today." Kaito nervously glanced at the sight of them, the approachable and kind honor student he have a crush on, acting cold and uninterested aches his heart a bit

"...okay" Jin doesn't seem to argue about it continuing to walk infront of them, Luca observes Jin in their body and thought to himself how the honor student would walk together Luca and Kaito, talking to them about something and perhaps their position sometimes in between of the two since him and Kaito act as a barrier for them if anything happens but now it seems like the honor student is leading them two acting more of a captain than a friend to them, though he must say he do love to see the honor student in a more cool aura and he can't help his mind wandering about the cool version of them and not Jin inside their body

"Oh if it isn't the honor student!" Ruistops at his steps and turns his attention at the honor student (Jin) as walks up to the trio, his charming smile brightens up the hallway making the passerbys turn their heads

"You look cuter today! did you do something with your appearance?" he looked at them with a smile and a flirtatious gaze, it took them a moment to answer before stepping forward and looking at gim properly

"...take a guess" The honor student (Jin) smirked at him crossing their arms

"Uhh, yes? i won't know if you don't tell me the deets--"

"Figure it out, if you can't then don't talk to me" The honor student (Jin) walked past him, their face returns to the same irritated scowl they are wearing earlier

"they seem... odd today don't they?" Rui scratched his chin confused, by how they acted towards him

"Yep, must've woked up in a wrong side of bed...or wrong body..." Kaito whispered that last bit but Luca heard him and nodded his head

The honor student (Jin) entered the classroom, some of their classmates looks at them before turning away instead to whisper, in Jin's case this isn't new at all he's used to this treatment ever since he was young, being an heir does get people talking alot. some even approaching him to get his favor

But this is different, the hushed whispers don't speak of compliments and opportunities, but instead of pity and concern

"They look grumpy today...."

"I wonder what happened that made them so angry"

"it's probably those ghouls huh? I'd be stressed out too if i have to spend my days running around them"

Jin was about to turn his back and snap at the hushing stufents before remembering Tohma's words, the servant would probably just be quite in their seat and it would be a bonus if they actually defended the ghouls

What a bother this day is

Luca and Kaito later on entered and sat next to him

||•||

"Do these men just go after them all the time?" Jin grumbled in the Honor Student's voice in P.E. uniform as he strut down the hallway

From the vice captain of Hotarubi, then to Alan and his first year to that happy go lucky anomaly carrier from Jabberwock. he can't believe how many ghouls had stopped on their tracks just to talk to him or the honor student in question

they just really even have to piss him even more off when he got lingering touches from them that stayed longer to be considered as a gesture. A pat in the head, a tuck of his hair in his ear, even going as far as hanging their arms in his shoulder...! just how touchy feely is HIS servant to these people really?

He can't also believe he had to dress himself in the dark and close his eyes the whole time he was dressing himself on their gym clothes

he clicked his tongue before walking to up the tracks, he stretched his limbs before preparing for his turn at the tracks watching the other general students finish a lap

Jin might not be the fastest runner in the world but he isn't bad when it comes to physical classes

so he sprinted as fast as he could

but he absolutely forgot he was in their body and gave it too much sheer force that he felt their legs almost give up with every stride he took when the adrenaline rush lowered bit by bit

he slowed down near the finish after a lap, the anomalous coach blew its whistle writing down something in the clipboard before he limped to the side with his laboured breaths as he felt the cramp finally getting to his or he meant their calf.

"Woah!!" few heads including Jin's turn to the usual deep cold voice that looks down on others is now toned with amazement for someone he considers his servant, Jin (The Honor Student) is here, in the shade of trees with admiration in his eyes while he gazed at the Honor Student

Everyone thought that was unnerving

"What are you doing here?" Jin whispers as he strode up to them slowly clearly tired from the whole running he just did in their body

"Ah, Tohma let me take a walk since I'm done with my work and i forgot i was in your body so i thought i was late for class and rushed to the tracks and..." Jin (the honor student) noticed how their legs shakes as the real Jin in their body gripped his body's shoulders with force they couldn't imagine they had in their fingers in the first place

"Jin..?"

"Well since you're here, carry me to the nurse's office i think i ran too much with this weak ass legs of yours" The honor student (Jin) slung their arms in Jin's (The Honor Student's) shoulders as they limply walked together with the cold tyrant captain of Frostenheim that who is seemingly to be in their mercy

The general students is going to mind their business on this one.

||•||

from a far, it seemed romantic really

in fact one would think like this;

the stoic stone cold captain of Frostenheim finally warming up to the wholesomeness the Honor student always seem to carry around them and now its Jin's turn to carry them and cheer up the Honor Student with the same warmth who's actually being so frowny and snappy today

"You were so cool Jin, i never ran that much in that class so seeing myself run that fast, it's so amazing!" It was really astonishing seeing his features smile like he have no problems to worry about, but he figures his face can only smile like that if they were in his body, only they can smile in his place.

he smirked at them

"If you think I'm that amazing for giving you a good grade in your records then do me a favor and--" a sudden force in his back cut him off as he slipped away from his body and slumped down together with the person who decided to just back hug him all of the sudden

Flowery scent filled up his nostrils as soft cotton invaded the stomach of the body he's currently on

"~~!!"

it's the lavender haired weirdo from Jabberwock, clinging to him-- no to the Honor Student this guy probably thought of

"Towa-kun? please let go of my- i mean the Honor Student" They say with firmness, trying to imitate the stoic Jin Kamurai, the real Jin in another hand find it amusing

"..." Towa stared at Jin (Honor Student) for a moment with a unreadable expression before letting go of the Honor student (Jin) and instead jumping and hugging Jin before enclosing his leg in his waist

"Woah! what's this all of a sudden?" Jin (the Honor Student) was taken aback by Towa's sudden change of target as the boy hums happily in his hold of them

"~~~! ~~!" Towa nuzzles himself further into Jin, hugging tightly as he could

the real Jin watched in awful shock at the scene before him, he doesn't know on which he'll be more appalled at;

at the blatant display of unwanted affection in his body or at the blatant display of affection for them infront of him

"Towa, you can let go of me i have to take Jin to the infirmary" Jin (The Honor student) tried prying Towa away from his body therefore only furthering Towa's clinging to be even tighter

"...---!!" Towa pouts at Jin (The Honor Student) before letting his legs slide down but not his arms that is still wrapped Jin's torso

"Didn't you hear them? they told you to fucking let go" The honor student's spoke with venom as Jin spites at Towa with their voice

"...." Towa silently glared at The Honor Student (Jin) as dark clouds started to brew outside with thunders that can be heard in the distance

"Towa..! I'll visit Jabberwock later, so please let go? I'll bring you a pretty flower later, okay?" they promise to the lavender haired boy in Jin's voice before accepting it with a smile and letting go of Jin's body before skipping down the hallway away from them

"Are you okay Jin?" They crouch down at him, he stared daggers at making them immediately nervous at his contact

"No, now help me up i think that guy dislocated my- i mean your ankles" Jin grumbles in a condescending tone as The Honor student helps him up finally slinging him back at their- his shoulder

"now about that favor, i want you to not let the other guys touch you THAT much anymore" their eyes widen at Jin's request as if its the most baffling thing he'll make them do

"...They don't touch me alot" They protest at him, fixing him up their shoulder before he slips again from their hold

"Oh yeah? i had five of them touch you everywhere earlier without me telling them to do so, actually make it six if you also consider that boy suddenly attacking me from behind " He clicked his tounge remembering the whole ordeal earlier, who the hell does that boy think he is glaring at him like that

"Towa didn't mean it, it's just that... he's very clingy you should understand him" They open the infirmary door alerting the sleeping nurse cat to wake up from its nap on the desk with the lunchbreak tag nearby it

"No, now do it or I'll ask your physical ed to take down the score i did for you today" Jin reprimanded them, it's a bit weird for him to be this worried for some little touches by other ghouls, but to be honest it's cute

"what are you giggling at?" he raised his eyebrow at them as they giggle at him even further

"i guess i can do what you asked" They beamed at him once again, he can't really get used seeing his face with that warm expression

but maybe, just maybe.... someday he'll experience to smile like that

if only....

"good, because if you don't then I'll tell them myself to fuck off forever in your body or not so you'll stay with me forever" he turns himself away from them before plopping and laying down in a infirmary bed ignoring the cat nurse that's sitting by in the nurse's desk that picked up a document, waiting for him to sign

"is that a promise?" Jin ignored them too but he guess they knew the answer

by the next day the two turned back to their original bodies, but Jin's promise remains if he sees one of those assholes try touching them once again

||•||

i got bored so.... ye

(I'm posting this at 1:36 am so i might be regretting this later on but its gonna be fine iguess)

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere Artist x GN!Maid-Reader

Julian (or Jules as you nickname him), an esteemed artist in Victorian society, becomes captivated by a forgotten maid who moves through life unnoticed by others. Obsessed with finding ways to capture the adoration he has for you on canvas.

You’d been a maid at the gallery Julian visited, and the reason he returned over and over. He, a man of great status, an esteemed artist too, became drawn to you beyond his own understanding.

On one of Julian’s many visits, he found the courage to speak to you. "You work so hard, yet make it look as graceful as a dance", he murmured, his voice soft but sincere. You were startled—maids weren't meant to be noticed by men of his status. But Julian wasn’t like the others.

It was only after weeks of shared glances, whispered conversation and quiet sketches that Julian dared to ask you for more.

Losing sleep over the way you made him feel, emotions so deep and unexplainable he began going mad over trying to express it. His current models and pieces of art just weren't good enough compared to you and the way you make him feel.

A type of suffocating love he never thought could exist.

“Forgive me for being so forward,” he said, his voice gentle and earnest. “I understand this may come as a shock, but if you’d allow me, I would be honoured if you would be my muse."

Though you were hesitant to overstep and cause a scandal, he promised you everything you could want if you were to only be his muse, he’d give you a place to stay and all you could ask for, you wouldn’t have to be a maid anymore. But then being his muse, turned into friendship, then lovers.

He fell in love with how you so effortlessly inspired his work -but fell harder for how you grounded him as a person. Smitten by the little things- your soft laughter, the gentle way you spoke. He loved the small gestures you made without thinking, the way you’d hum as you worked. He'd notice it all.

While initially hesitant from the intensity of not being spared a glance to having a man tripping over himself at the sight of you -you grew to enjoy his presence. The idea of being someone who inspires him, someone who is at the centre of his world. After living your whole life in the shadows.

...

Many hours a week are sat in his study as he paints you, his work taking on a new life, new meaning that only makes it so much more beautiful.

Julian loves to draw you absentmindedly—it’s almost like an instinct, something that he can't stop even when he's lost in thought. He has many books filled with fast sketches that are almost abstract that he scribbles without even looking at the page, to incredibly detailed sketches that almost look like photos.

Parts of your day are recorded in those books like his own form of videoing you. Some are so attentive they could be made into a seamless stop motion.

Sometimes he even finds himself sitting on the bathroom floor as you bathe, talking to you as he once again absent-mindedly draws. finding inspiration for his next piece.

He’s obsessed with the little details. He gets lost in those details, and every sketch is a desperate attempt to capture your essence. But not necessarily just when he’s drawing either.

When he’s not drawing, Julian traces his fingers over your skin studying every part of you.

His love language is physical touch, though it’s always gentle and respectful. Gently running his fingers through your hair or resting a hand possessively on your waist.

But that doesn't mean he lacks in the other 4 departments. Like how he loves to whisper to you just how much you mean to him.

His feelings for you are intense, to the point of worship, though he doesn’t fully realise how deep his obsession runs, he doesn't do anything to correct it either.

Sometimes that can be overwhelming for you, especially going from such an ignored life to one in a lovely house, a handsome gentleman of a husband and the title of being a muse.

But you can't bring yourself to make him stop, he’s Prince Charming in your eyes.

You don’t see the way he glares or scowls at men who dare talk to you when you accompany him to town or an event. Or how he makes borderline cruel verbal jabs to women who try to take his attention from you even for a moment.

[nix-illustrating]

Something incredible to me in Beast is just how... wrong Dazai was so often (and, by concequence, Gin). And how he was wrong in a very opposite was from og!Dazai's thinking.

Getting the memories from og!Dazai gave him many advantages, but it also held him back when it came to actually seeing the other people around him. Especially Atsushi and Akutagawa. He was convinced about being born good or evil and innate natures, which is something the story disproves time and time again.

In his mind, it didn't matter that he'd groomed Atsushi for almost five years into being the white reaper. It didn't matter that he killed himself infront of him after making himself the central point of Atsushi's frail sanity. It didn't matter that he fired Atsushi from his one remaining purpose. Why? Because Atsushi was "born good" in his mind because he was good in the original world and therefore any evilness groomed into him would be easily undone without any lasting consequences in his mind.

If he saw Atsushi being reformed slowly by Mori, he'd get to the wrong conclusion. He'd attribute it to nature rather than to Mori being able to rehabilitate him.

And this also shows in his treatment of Akutagawa. He thinks of Akutagawa as being inherently bad because he was in the mafia originally. The whole story is him being victim to confirmation biases when it comes to him and, because of that, the same happens to Gin. His idea with Akutagawa was never, at least to my understanding, to make him into a good man of the Agency, but rather have the ADA hold him under their care to unleash against threats. He didn't believe Akutagawa could become a proper ADA member (because he wasn't originally) but believed that the Agency would take him in anyway (because they took in Dazai and Kyouka in the original universe) and keep him from lashing out unless there was an enemy ahead of him.

And Gin gets fed this belief. It's why she doesn't talk like there will be a point in which Akutagawa might be reformed into a good person. Or that what he needed was to learn to calm down and organize his priorities. She believes he cannot change because that's what Dazai has taught her. Akutagawa's objective by the end of Beas isn't finding her anymore because he needs to better himself for himself and to prove Gin wrong. Not to reach her expectations or demands, but to prove her wrong, to show he is capable of change.

And, surprisingly enough, it's Atsushi who has the best take about Akutagawa in the final chapters, even though in Akutagawa's mind all of their judgements were put as if the same. From Atsushi's words, at least, Akutagawa is described as someone who is bad, who can't understand or separate violence from their objectives and who'll prioritize the violent option above even his objective, but he never expresses the opinion or feeling that that's his nature or he was born, likely because Atsushi know better than anyone how much someone can change or be changed. Atsushi doesn't think Akutagawa is a good person, but doesn't see him as someone incapable of becoming one (which does have some beautiful implications of SSKK always being able to understand esch other better than other can, even if they don't react or deal with the knowledge all that well).

And Dazai in the original universe thinks a lot more like Beast Atsushi than Beast Dazai (I could write a whole novel about the similarities between Original Dazai and Beast Atushi, because oh my god are they interesting). He doesn't believe in good and evil as something inher of someone nor does he see good and evil as concepts that are set in stone, but rather something personal to individuals. It's why I think even if Dazai was sent back in time to the exact point Beast Dazai received the memories, he would have gone through a completely different route when it came to changing the outcome of things. But also because he's changed since leaving the PM and it doesn't seem like Beast Dazai ever really grew up after getting the memories, he stayed both childish and a child.

[moeblob]

What Deacon thinks: what did that mean? did he want me to wear a collar too? why else would he mention my neck? i mean, if he /asked/ me i would wear one but he didn't so would wearing one be weird?

What Ymber meant: It's nice to be near someone who isn't tethered to this world to serve it with a physical reminder for all to see.

[logicheartsoul]

[ID: A video of a man putting white tape on black paper saying “make trash art” and coloring over it with pink, green, and yellow marker, until he peels the tape away and defines the outline of the words with thicker white marker, and then used colored markers in dot and dash shapes inside in green, pink, and yellow markers. He splatters white paint over it.

During the process of making this art, he voices over saying: Apparently a lot of people have forgotten you can do things just because you want to.

I saw this video yesterday of someone making a bowl. The process was ridiculously convoluted. They stuck a bunch of construction paper together with resin. Chopped it up into pieces. Put those pieces in a bigger bowl. Added more resin. Put it on a lathe to carve it out. All sorts of ridiculous steps. It was so cool. I absolutely loved it.

The comments did not agree. “Or I’ll just buy a bowl at the dollar store.” “So much effort for nothing of value.” “Pointless.” This wasn’t a ‘DIY bowl you can make it at home!’ video. Not a ‘use this hack to make a bowl!’ video. Not a ‘hey you can buy this bowl in my shop for $400’ video. It was clearly an art video. It was showing a wild but super interesting process.

People are so far removed from the concept that you can just do something silly to have fun and see how it works out. That you can make something just because it sounds like a blast to do. That all the extra steps, effort and time is the entire point.

It’s kind of sad to me that this very simple concept seems to go right over a lot of people’s heads. Art doesn’t have to be practical or make money to be great. Hell, it doesn’t even have to look good. It just has to make you feel like you’re expressing yourself. The insane process of making this bowl is what made it so cool.

And despite what commenters were saying, it turned out gorgeous. But even if it came out a hot mess, it still would have been fascinating. This bowl was not trash art. It was really good. But it made me think about how trash art is the most fun to make. You just get to play around free from expectations of perfection or money. To me, that’s exactly what art is.

Start doing weird stuff and make trash art. You’ll have a lot of fun. And hey, it just might turn out pretty cool.]

Co-signed

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[phagodyke]

.

[inbarfink]

One common Undertale misconception that really frustrates me is when Sans is portrayed with a strong innate sense for RESETs and alternative timelines. Like, that he remembers the RESET timelines better than the other characters who only have occasional feelings of deja vu or even that he can sense when a timeline is RESET.

And that’s, like, almost the opposite of the actual text of the game. While pretty much every main character can have slightly-different dialogue in a Not-True-RESET, especially if the Player had previously befriended them, based on the idea that they have lingering memories/feelings from before the RESET - 

Sans has no real dialogue changes based on this conceit. All of his changes are based around noticing Frisk has different reactions based on their memories of the precious timelines. 

Other characters do also make observations like that about Frisk, like Mettaton and Toriel. But Sans is distinctive because this is the only way his comments change between RESETs and there are a lot of them from him.

Because that is what really frustrates me about this misconception. People mention it as one more thing that makes Sans cool - but the actual truth is far more badass. Sans is one of the people in the Underground who remembers RESETs the least. I think memory-resistance to RESETs is probably tied to Determination. Flowey, the second-most Determined person in the Underground after Frisk, can remember everything perfectly.

Everyone else has some vague feelings and deja vus. And Sans, he’s the least motivated person in the Underground - both in the sense he’s lazy and in the sense he’s fucking depressed.

That probably means he has very little Determination. Thus, he doesn’t remember anything that happens between RESETs.

And yet, he is still the character most aware of them. Because he has the technological know-how to read and analyze timelines.

And because he has the observation and analytical skill to notice a RESET from other people’s reactions and behavior. Whatever it’s Papyrus thinking he recognizes someone or Frisk’s behavior implying that they know something they shouldn’t have. Sans main RESET-related skill is just being able to identify these moments and come to the correct conclusion about them. And with that he manages to be the most aware character in the entire Underground.

Like, the one point where it might seem like Sans remembers something from a previous Timeline is the Fake Spare scene during his boss battle. 

But it’s all pretend. Unlike the previous lines from other characters that I mentioned, this dialogue plays even if the Murder Route is the first time the player touched the game. Sans isn’t remembering anything in this scene. But he makes an educated guess that the Immoral Time God probably tried using their powers for good at first, so they were likely ‘friends’ in a previous timeline. And in most cases, his guess is right on the money - tricking many players into thinking this is another case of the game actually reacting to their past actions.

And as always, Sans can only tell if his lil’ trick worked or not based on the expression of the Player Character.

Arguably, Sans even uses his lack of Determination and cross-RESET memory to his advantage in his boss battle. After all, the whole point of this fight isn’t to kill the Player - Sans understands this is impossible. This is a war of attrition, trying to get the Player so frustrated and annoyed with the unfair fight that they just ragequit or RESET the Timeline. And this war of the Player’s patience versus Sans’ stamina and will is infinitely easier for him when he doesn’t actually perceive all the Player’s previous attempts against him.

Like, for the Player this might be the billion time they go up against him, they’re aware of some of his patterns and tricks now but they’re probably also frustrated and angry and exhausted. Meanwhile, from Sans’ POV, this is still the first time this is happening. He knows it’s not from the Player’s behavior and Frisk’s expression - but he doesn’t feel it like the Player does. 

He doesn’t feel the frustration and repetition of the endless stalemate. So he’s always as fresh as a daisy no matter how rugged the Player is getting.

And that’s part of why Sans is so cool in the first place, like, in general. He’s technically the weakest person in the Underground, lacking in every standard evaluation of power in the setting - no ATK, no DEF, no HP, no DETERMINATION. But he’s darn clever enough to overcome these weaknesses and even use them in ways that make them into strengths, enough to be one of the most dangerous and most aware guys in this whole setting.

Sans can���t remember anything, and that makes him awesome.

[pucksandpower]

Do-Over

Logan Sargeant x Andretti!Reader

Summary: Logan drowns his sorrows after being dropped by Williams and passes out in 2024 … he wakes up slightly hungover and very much in 2022 (aka the time travel fix-it fic)

Logan’s hands are shaking.

He’s staring at the email on his phone, reading it over for the third time, hoping the words will somehow rearrange themselves into something different. But they don’t. The screen doesn’t lie, and neither does the cold, detached tone of James Vowles.

Logan, I’m sorry to inform you that Williams Racing has decided to terminate your contract effective immediately. Your performance this season has not met the team’s expectations, and the decision has been made to move forward without you for the remaining races. We believe this is in the best interest of the team as a whole. You’ll find the details of the termination and the necessary steps moving forward in the attached document.

His eyes blur, and he forces himself to blink, trying to hold it together. He knows what this means — his F1 career, the thing he’s worked for his entire life, is over. And it’s not ending with a bang, but with a fucking email.

A knock on the door snaps him back to the present. He looks up, swallowing hard as James walks in without waiting for permission, just like he always does.

“Logan,” James begins, his voice calm, almost clinical. “We need to talk.”

“I got the email,” Logan mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Is this really how it’s going to end?”

James’s face is unreadable. “We’ve discussed this at length. The crashes, the lack of progress … it’s just not working out. The engineers and mechanics are frustrated. We’ve been more than patient.”

Logan feels a wave of anger rising in his chest, but he pushes it down. He knows it won’t help. “So that’s it? Nine races left, and you’re just … dropping me?”

“It’s not an easy decision,” James replies, crossing his arms. “But we have to think about the team. We can’t afford any more setbacks.”

“Setbacks,” Logan echoes, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That’s all I am to you? A setback?”

James hesitates, his expression softening for just a moment. “Logan, you’re talented, but this sport is ruthless. You know that.”

“Don’t,” Logan snaps, his voice sharp. “Don’t try to soften the blow now. You could’ve at least told me in person, before sending the damn email.”

James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it seems cold, but this is the reality of Formula 1. You’ll land on your feet. You’ve got potential.”

“Potential,” Logan mutters under his breath. “That’s not going to get me back in a car, is it?”

There’s a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. Logan feels like the walls are closing in, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” James says finally, and for the first time, he sounds genuine. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, his voice hollow. “Me too.”

James lingers for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but there’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can make it right. Finally, he nods and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

Logan stands there, staring at the door, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. It feels like some kind of nightmare, one he can’t wake up from. But the harsh reality is setting in. It’s over. All those years, all that effort, and it’s over just like that.

He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get a full breath. He needs to get out of here, but he has no idea where to go. Where do you go when your dreams have just been crushed?

His gaze falls on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small kitchen counter. He bought it a few years ago, intending to open it after a win that never came. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Logan pushes himself up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and a glass. He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and puts the glass back. What’s the point of pretending there’s any dignity left in this?

He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink, the burn of the alcohol offering a brief distraction from the pain gnawing at his insides. He leans against the counter, staring out the window at the darkening sky. How the hell did it come to this?

He’s replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every race where he could’ve done better. It’s a torturous cycle, one that he can’t escape. He takes another drink, then another, hoping to drown out the thoughts, to numb the ache in his chest.

But it doesn’t work. The alcohol just makes it worse, amplifying the guilt and the regret. He feels like a failure. No, he is a failure. The team didn’t even have the decency to let him finish the season. That’s how little they think of him.

The room starts to blur around the edges as the whiskey takes effect, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He’s spiraling, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the only way he knows how to cope, the only way to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

Hours pass, or maybe minutes — he’s lost track of time. The bottle is nearly empty now, and he’s slumped on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. What’s the point?

The apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. It’s eerie, this quiet, and it makes the emptiness inside him feel even more profound.

Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked from a previous fall — one of many — but it still works. There are messages from friends, from his family, but he doesn’t open them. He knows what they’ll say. They’ll be supportive, encouraging, but it won’t change anything. They can’t fix this.

Instead, he opens his camera roll and scrolls through the photos. Pictures of him in the car, of the team, of moments that once meant everything to him. Now they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.

He stops on a photo of himself, taken just after he signed with Williams. He looks so damn happy, so full of hope. He barely recognizes that person now.

“What a joke,” he mutters to himself, his voice slurred. “What a fucking joke.”

He takes one last drink from the bottle, then tosses it aside, not caring as it rolls across the floor. He feels the darkness closing in, pulling him under, and for once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets it take him, lets it drown out the pain, the regret, the fear.

And as he finally drifts into unconsciousness, the last thought that crosses his mind is that maybe — just maybe — he deserves this.

***

Logan wakes with a start, his head pounding, the taste of stale whiskey thick on his tongue. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of the light streaming through the windows. His whole body feels like it’s been put through a blender — sore, achy, heavy. But it’s not just the hangover, it’s the weight of everything, of what happened yesterday.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he sits up, his hands pressing into the bed beneath him. Except, the texture’s wrong. It’s not the rough fabric of his apartment’s couch or even the smooth, cool sheets he’s used to.

Logan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, confusion crashing over him like a cold wave. He’s not in his apartment. The walls are different — cleaner, the color a familiar light blue he hasn’t seen in years. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable, with plain white sheets. There’s a desk pushed against the far wall, a locker in the corner with his name printed on it in block letters.

This isn’t his apartment. This is … his driver’s room. The one he used when he was driving for Carlin in Formula 2.

“What the hell …” Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it. He must still be drunk. Or maybe he’s dreaming. But no — he can feel the dull ache in his temples, the dryness in his throat, the uncomfortable press of the mattress beneath him. This is too real to be a dream.

But it doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers is passing out in his apartment after finishing nearly a whole bottle of whiskey. He was a mess. He is a mess. But here he is, waking up in a place he hasn’t seen since 2022, a place that shouldn’t exist in his present reality.

Panic starts to set in. He fumbles for his phone, which is miraculously still in his pocket. The screen lights up, showing the date and time.

September 10th, 2022.

His heart stops. That’s impossible. It’s been two years. Two years since this date. His mind races, trying to piece together what the hell is happening, but nothing fits. He’s not in 2024 anymore. Somehow, he’s back in 2022.

It’s the only explanation, but it’s insane. None of this is possible. It’s not even like those vague dreams where everything’s familiar but distant. This is his life two years ago, down to the worn fabric of the team jacket hanging on the back of the door.

Before he can spiral any further, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Logan barely has time to react before it swings open, and Gary Catt, his manager, strides in with his usual briskness, already talking before the door is fully open.

“Logan, I just got off the phone with Jost Capito,” Gary says, his voice all business, not noticing Logan’s stunned expression. “Williams wants you. They want to lock you in for next season. It’s the best possible scenario. This is it, Logan — this is what we’ve been working toward.”

Logan feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. This conversation — he remembers it. It happened. Gary, standing in this very room, telling him the exact same thing, with the exact same excitement in his voice. The memory is vivid because it changed everything. It was the start of his F1 career. And also … the start of everything that led to that email.

“Logan?” Gary’s voice cuts through the fog in Logan’s mind, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening? This is huge, mate. You’re going to be in F1.”

Logan’s throat is dry, his mind racing with possibilities, with consequences. He remembers how he felt the first time he heard these words — pure elation, followed by a rush of nerves. But now, with the knowledge of what’s to come, all he feels is dread.

This is his chance to change things. To make sure it doesn’t end the way it did yesterday. He’s been given a do-over, a second chance, and he can’t afford to mess it up.

Logan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Gary,” he says, his voice rough from sleep and the alcohol, “I don’t think I should take the offer.”

Gary stops mid-stride, turning to face Logan with a look of utter disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t think I should take the offer,” Logan repeats, more firmly this time, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s too soon.”

“Too soon?” Gary looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Logan, this is Williams. It’s F1. There is no such thing as ‘too soon’ when an opportunity like this comes around. What are you talking about?”

Logan stands up, pacing the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. How does he explain this without sounding completely insane? He can’t tell Gary what he knows — what he’s seen, what’s happened. But he also can’t go down the same path again. Not when he knows where it leads.

“I just … I don’t think I’m ready,” Logan says, finally turning to face Gary. “If I rush into F1 now, it could end badly. I need more time. More experience.”

Gary’s expression shifts from disbelief to concern. “Logan, listen to yourself. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You’re as ready as anyone can be. If you pass this up, there’s no guarantee another chance like it will come along. You know that.”

Logan shakes his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but … I have a feeling that if I take this now, it’ll be a mistake. A big one. I’ll end up in a situation where I’m not able to deliver, where the pressure is too much. And that’s not good for anyone — me, the team, my career.”

Gary is silent for a long moment, studying Logan with an intensity that makes him squirm. “Where’s this coming from? You were over the moon about this before. What changed?”

Logan hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just … I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About what I want my career to look like. And I don’t want to be one of those drivers who gets rushed into F1 and then crashes out because they weren’t ready. I want to do it right. I want to be fully prepared.”

“You don’t get to be fully prepared in this sport,” Gary says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “This is Formula 1. It’s sink or swim, and you know that. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, Logan.”

Logan feels a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knows Gary is right, in a way. This is F1. It’s not supposed to be easy. But he also knows that if he takes this offer, if he goes down the same road, it’ll end in disaster.

“I get that,” Logan says, his voice firm. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to take the seat. Not this time.”

Gary stares at him, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Logan, this could be career suicide. You understand that, right?”

Logan nods, swallowing hard. “I do. But I’d rather take that risk than go into something I know I’m not ready for and crash out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Gary runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “This isn’t like you. You’re not one to back down from a challenge. Why are you doing this?”

Because I know how it ends, Logan thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Because I want to do this right. I want to have a long career in F1, not a short one that ends in disappointment. And to do that, I need to be smart about the choices I make now.”

Gary lets out a slow breath, clearly conflicted. “This is … I don’t even know what to say, Logan. You’re turning down a seat in F1. That’s not something you do lightly.”

“I’m not doing it lightly,” Logan assures him, though his heart is racing. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s the right decision for me.”

There’s a long silence as Gary processes this. Logan can almost see the gears turning in his head, the calculations, the weighing of options. He knows how hard this must be for Gary to accept — hell, it’s hard for Logan to accept, and he’s the one making the decision. But he has to stick to his guns. He has to believe that this is the right choice.

Finally, Gary lets out a resigned sigh. “Alright, Logan. If this is really what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to understand the risks. This could close doors for you. Big ones.”

Logan nods, his stomach twisting with anxiety. “I know. But I also know that if I take this now, it could end up closing even more doors in the long run.”

Gary studies him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll let Jost know. But don’t expect him to be happy about it.”

Logan feels a mixture of relief and dread. “I won’t. But thanks, Gary. I know this isn’t easy.”

Gary gives him a tight smile, still clearly grappling with the decision. “No, it’s not. But you’re the one driving the car, Logan. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Logan nods, watching as Gary turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking in the silence, the surrealness of what just happened. He’s just turned down a seat in F1. The one thing he thought he wanted more than anything. But as the anxiety ebbs, a new feeling takes its place — determination.

This time, things are going to be different. He’s going to do it right, even if it means making the hard choices. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. This is his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

***

The 2023 F2 season ends in a flurry of champagne, confetti, and flashing cameras. Logan stands on the top step of the podium, the P1 trophy clutched in his hands, a grin splitting his face. He’s done it. He’s proved to everyone — most of all to himself — that he was ready. This time, he didn’t rush, didn’t let the pressure consume him. And it’s paid off. He’s the Formula 2 Drivers’ Champion.

But as the celebration winds down and reality sets in, Logan faces a new challenge. Despite his victory, the F1 grid is full, and F2 champions can’t return to the series. He could take a reserve role, bide his time, wait for a seat to open up. But that’s not what he wants. He’s not willing to spend another year on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity that may never come.

So when the offer from IndyCar comes, Logan doesn’t hesitate. He’s heard the stories — about the speed, the fierce competition, the thrill of racing on ovals. It’s not Formula 1, but it’s still racing at the highest level. And right now, that’s what he needs.

The decision surprises everyone. The media buzzes with speculation, but Logan remains focused. He knows what he’s doing. This is a new path, one that he’s chosen for himself, not because it was expected of him. He’s determined to make it work.

A few weeks later, Logan finds himself in the heart of Indianapolis, standing outside the office of Mario Andretti. The legendary name still carries a weight of history and reverence, even in this new world of racing. It feels surreal, like stepping into a different era of motorsport.

Inside the office, Mario is all business. The contract is laid out on the table between them, a simple piece of paper that represents Logan’s future. Mario goes over the details with the kind of thoroughness that only comes from years of experience, but Logan can barely focus. His mind is racing, thoughts darting between the past season, the unknown future, and the thrill of what he’s about to embark on.

“Everything looks good?” Mario asks, breaking Logan from his thoughts.

Logan blinks, then nods, forcing himself to concentrate. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Mario slides the pen across the table. “Then let’s make it official.”

Logan takes the pen, feeling the weight of the moment as he signs his name at the bottom of the contract. It’s done. He’s an IndyCar driver now.

Mario nods in approval, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the team, Logan. We’re excited to have you.”

“Thank you,” Logan says, meaning it. This is a new beginning, and he’s ready for it.

They shake hands, and Mario stands, motioning towards the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got to head out. My granddaughter’s picking me up for lunch.”

Logan heads out of the office, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it’s too late. They collide, and Logan’s first instinct is to reach out, steadying the person as they stumble backward.

“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, his hands gripping her arms as he helps her regain her balance.

“It’s okay,” you reply, laughing softly as you look up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you, the apology dying on his lips. You’re beautiful — stunning, even — with eyes that seem to sparkle with life and a smile that’s warm and inviting. For a moment, all he can do is stare, struck by how perfect you seem, like someone who’s stepped straight out of a dream.

“You alright?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study him.

Logan snaps out of it, quickly releasing his hold on you and stepping back. “Yeah, sorry again. I didn’t see you there.”

The door to Mario’s office opens, and the man himself steps out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene. “Everything okay out here?”

You turn to your grandfather, smiling brightly. “Just a little bump, Grandpa. Nothing to worry about.”

Mario’s expression softens as he looks at you, the sternness replaced by affection. “Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt before lunch.”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and Logan finds himself smiling along, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“Logan,” Mario says, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat. This is Mario’s granddaughter? Of course, she is. It makes sense now, the confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. You’re part of a racing dynasty, just like Mario.

“Logan Sargeant,” Mario continues, introducing him to you. “He’s going to be racing with us next season.”

You offer him your hand, your smile never faltering. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Logan takes your hand, feeling a jolt of electricity as your fingers brush against his. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

You glance at Mario, then back at Logan. “We’re heading out for lunch. You should join us.”

Logan’s mind goes blank for a second, and all he can do is blink at you, trying to process what you just said. “Lunch? With you and … Mr. Andretti?”

You laugh again, and Logan thinks it might be the best sound he has ever heard. “Yeah, with us. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“No, no,” Logan stammers, trying to regain some composure. “I’d love to join you.”

Mario claps Logan on the shoulder, his laughter booming through the hallway. “Looks like you’ve made an impression already, kid. Come on, let’s get out of here before the press catches wind of this.”

Logan nods, still somewhat dazed as he follows you and Mario out of the building. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts — about the contract he just signed, the new chapter he’s stepping into, and now, about you. He can’t quite believe his luck. Not only is he starting a new adventure in IndyCar, but he’s also just met someone who, in the span of a few minutes, has completely captivated him.

As they walk to Mario’s car, Logan steals glances at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. You seem so at ease, chatting with your grandfather, your laughter punctuating the conversation. There’s a lightness about you, a warmth that’s infectious, and Logan finds himself drawn to it, to you.

“Logan,” you say, turning to him as you reach the car. “So, what made you decide to join IndyCar? It’s not every day an F2 champion makes that leap.”

Logan pauses, caught off guard by the directness of your question. “Well, uh,” he begins, trying to find the right words, “I guess I just wanted something different. F1 wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to sit around waiting for a seat to open up. IndyCar seemed like the right challenge. Something new, but still competitive.”

You nod, clearly intrigued. “That makes sense. It’s a bold move, but I think it’ll pay off.”

“Bold,” Logan repeats, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you assure him, your eyes sparkling. “I admire people who take risks. Especially when they’re as calculated as yours seems to be.”

Mario clears his throat, a knowing grin on his face as he watches the two of you. “Alright, kids, enough shop talk. Let’s get some food.”

You and Logan exchange a smile before sliding into the back seat of the car. The conversation flows easily, despite Logan’s initial nerves. You ask him about his time in F2, what it was like racing on the different tracks, how he handled the pressure. Logan finds himself opening up more than he expected, the words coming easily under your encouraging gaze.

Mario chimes in every now and then, adding his own insights, but it’s clear he’s content to let the two of you do most of the talking. He watches with an amused glint in his eye, as if he’s already figured out something that Logan is just beginning to realize.

By the time you reach the restaurant, Logan feels like he’s known you for much longer than the short time you’ve actually spent together. There’s an ease between you that he’s rarely felt with anyone else, a connection that seems to have sparked almost instantly.

Inside the restaurant, Mario insists on taking the head of the table, leaving you and Logan to sit across from each other. As you settle in, you continue to ask Logan questions, but now they’re more personal — what does he do outside of racing? What’s his favorite movie? Does he have any hidden talents?

Logan answers as best he can, though he’s still reeling a bit from how quickly this day has turned into something he never expected. He’s just signed with IndyCar, but more than that, he’s sitting across from someone who makes his heart race faster than any car ever could.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Logan,” Mario says suddenly, breaking into the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of young drivers come and go, but you … you’ve got something special. Just keep your focus, and you’ll go far.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andretti,” Logan says, his voice sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Call me Mario,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “We’re family now, after all.”

Logan smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him at the word “family.” It’s strange, how quickly things have shifted, how he’s gone from a solitary driver trying to make his way in the world to someone who might actually belong here, in this new place, with these new people.

As the lunch continues, Logan finds himself growing more comfortable, the initial awkwardness fading away. You keep the conversation lively, sharing stories about your grandfather, about your own life, and Logan can’t help but be drawn to your passion, your intelligence, your warmth. It’s clear that you’re not just Mario Andretti’s granddaughter — you’re your own person, with your own dreams and ambitions.

Eventually, the meal winds down, and Mario excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of you have quite put into words yet.

“So,” you say, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips, “what do you think of Indy so far?”

Logan grins, feeling a boldness he didn’t expect. “Well, it just got a whole lot more interesting.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his voice softening as he looks at you, really looks at you. “I think I am too.”

You hold his gaze, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels almost like fate.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Mario returns, his phone call finished. He glances between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes Logan’s ears burn. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, standing up and giving Logan one last, lingering smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Logan stands as well, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you and Mario head out of the restaurant, Logan lingers for a moment, watching you go. He can’t quite believe what just happened, but one thing is certain — his life just got a lot more complicated, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he walks out into the bright sunlight, Logan can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He’s taken a leap into the unknown, and it feels like the start of something incredible.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, vibrating through the very core of the Speedway as Logan crosses the finish line first. It’s the 107th running of the Indianapolis 500, and he’s just won it. The realization hits him like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He’s an Indy 500 champion. In his rookie season, no less.

The engine growls as he coasts to a stop, and for a moment, all he can do is sit there, hands trembling on the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he lets out a breathless laugh, disbelief and elation mingling into something indescribable.

“Logan Sargeant wins the Indy 500!” The announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers of the crowd. He hears it, but it still feels surreal, like something out of a dream.

The pit crew rushes over, the celebration already in full swing as they haul him out of the car. He’s immediately surrounded by a sea of people — team members, media, officials — everyone wanting a piece of this historic moment. But through it all, there’s one thing on his mind. One person.

You.

He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot you among the chaos. His vision is blurred with sweat and tears, but then he sees you — pushing your way through the throng of people, a look of pure joy on your face. You’re clapping, laughing, your eyes shining with pride, and all Logan can think is how he needs to get to you.

But first, there’s tradition to uphold.

One of the crew hands him the iconic bottle of milk, the symbol of victory. Logan takes it, still in a daze, and tilts it back, taking a long swig. The cold liquid is refreshing, cutting through the heat of the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as he lowers the bottle, milk dripping down his chin.

Without hesitation, he lifts the bottle above his head and pours the rest over himself. The milk runs down his face, soaking into his race suit, and the crowd goes wild, the noise level somehow reaching new heights. He feels on top of the world — unstoppable, invincible.

And then he spots you again, closer now, just on the edge of the crowd. Logan doesn’t think, doesn’t pause to consider anything else. He just moves, pushing through the throng of people until he’s standing right in front of you.

You’re smiling up at him, eyes bright with something that makes his heart race faster than it did on the final lap. Before he can stop himself, Logan reaches out, pulls you in, and kisses you.

It’s the kind of kiss that’s been building for months — the culmination of all the moments, all the glances, all the unspoken words between you. You taste like the victory he’s just claimed, like the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, like everything he’s been chasing since he first set foot in this world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, milk dripping from Logan’s face and onto yours. You laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant,” you tease, licking the milk from his lips with a grin that’s both playful and suggestive. “But honestly? It’d be worth it even if I was.”

Logan laughs, a deep, full-bodied sound that comes from a place of pure, unfiltered happiness. He feels like he’s floating, like nothing in the world could possibly bring him down from this high. Not now, not ever.

“Best win of my life,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, still holding you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment disappear.

You tilt your head, still smiling up at him with those eyes that have captivated him from the start. “I’d hope so,” you say softly. “You just won the Indy 500.”

He shakes his head, a playful grin on his face. “No, I mean this.” He gestures between the two of you, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning.

For a second, you just stare at him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then you’re laughing, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

This one is softer, sweeter — less about the heat of the moment and more about the connection between you, the way everything just seems to fit when you’re together. Logan loses himself in it, in you, in this moment that feels like the culmination of everything he’s ever wanted.

When you finally break apart, the noise of the crowd floods back in, the celebration continuing around you. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world.

“Come on,” you say, tugging him towards the podium. “You’ve got a trophy to collect.”

Logan follows, still holding onto your hand, not willing to let you go just yet. The team is waiting, cheering him on, and as they hoist him up onto their shoulders, Logan realizes that this — this moment, this feeling — is what he’s been racing for all along.

Standing on the podium, the trophy in his hands, Logan looks out at the sea of faces, at the fans cheering his name, at the team celebrating their victory. But his eyes find you in the crowd, and that’s where they stay.

You’re smiling up at him, and Logan knows, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something incredible, something he never saw coming but can’t imagine living without.

As the anthem plays and the confetti rains down, Logan lifts the trophy high, his heart full to bursting. He’s done it — he’s won the Indy 500. But more than that, he’s found something, someone, who makes all of it mean so much more.

And as he looks down at you, standing there with that bright, beautiful smile, Logan knows that he’s not just a champion. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.

***

The soft hum of the office fills the silence as Logan sits across from Mario, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The past year has been a whirlwind — plenty of IndyCar wins, that unforgettable victory at the Indy 500, and the life he’s built with you by his side. It’s been everything he didn’t know he needed, but now, as he sits in Mario’s office, there’s an air of something significant, something life-altering in the way Mario looks at him.

Mario clears his throat, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped. “Logan,” he begins, voice steady, serious. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking — planning, actually — and I need to talk to you about something important.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat, the weight of Mario’s words sinking in. He nods, leaning forward slightly, feeling the anticipation coil tight in his chest. “What is it?” He asks, voice steady despite the flurry of nerves.

Mario takes a deep breath, then looks Logan squarely in the eye. “We’re buying Haas F1 Team. The deal’s already in motion, and we’ll be restructuring everything from the ground up to make our entrance into Formula 1 in 2026.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Logan’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he’s not sure if he’s heard Mario correctly. “Formula 1?” He echoes, almost disbelieving. His mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” Mario replies, his expression unwavering. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Logan. And now, with everything coming together, it’s finally happening. But here’s the thing-” he pauses, his gaze locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “I can’t think of anyone better suited to lead this team as our driver than you.”

The words hit Logan like a freight train. He stares at Mario, unable to speak, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Formula 1 has always been the dream, the pinnacle of everything he’s worked for. The chance he thought he’d lost — twice, if he counts the strange twist of fate that had brought him here in the first place.

“Logan, I know this is a lot to take in,” Mario continues, his tone softer now, understanding. “But I believe in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, in F2, in IndyCar — hell, you won the Indy 500 in your first season. And I know you still have that fire for F1. This is your shot, kid. And I want you to take it.”

Logan feels the lump in his throat as Mario’s words sink in. The room seems to close in around him, the gravity of the moment pressing down like a physical weight. He’s had a lot of success in IndyCar, more than he ever imagined, and it brought him you — his reason to smile, his anchor in the storm. But Formula 1? That’s the dream he’s never fully let go of, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He swallows hard, forcing the words out past the emotion threatening to choke him. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick. “I mean, this is … I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance like this.”

Mario smiles, the kind of smile that’s equal parts pride and encouragement. “I know it’s a lot, Logan. And it’s not an easy decision, especially considering everything you’ve built here in IndyCar. But I have no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person for this. You’ve got what it takes to succeed in F1, and I’m not just talking about talent. You’ve got heart, determination, and the ability to learn from your mistakes. That’s what makes a champion.”

Logan’s mind races, the possibilities spinning out in front of him. He thinks about everything he’s worked for, everything he’s achieved. And then he thinks about you — how you’ve been there with him through it all, supporting him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.

He takes a deep breath, his decision already forming in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. “Okay,” he says, meeting Mario’s gaze head-on. “I’ll do it. I want this, Mario. I want to prove to myself that I can do it right this time.”

Mario’s grin widens, and he stands up, offering Logan his hand. “Welcome to Andretti F1 Team. We’re going to do great things together.”

Logan shakes his hand, the reality of it all starting to settle in. He’s going to be a Formula 1 driver again. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, everything he’s ever wanted all over again. As he stands there, absorbing the magnitude of what’s just happened, he feels a strange mix of emotions — elation, fear, anticipation, and something else that he can’t quite name.

Mario walks him to the door, still talking about the next steps, the plans they have for the team, but Logan’s mind is half-focused on something else, someone else. As the door swings open, the conversation comes to a halt. The sight that greets them both brings a grin to Mario’s face and a burst of laughter from Logan.

You’re standing there, your ear pressed to the door, looking guilty as hell when you realize you’ve been caught. You straighten up quickly, trying to play it off, but the blush spreading across your cheeks gives you away.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” Logan teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. There’s a lightness in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, the news already settling into a place of excitement rather than apprehension.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but failing miserably. “I, um … I might have been curious,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got a new team spy, Logan. Better watch out.”

Logan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He steps out of the office, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You know, you didn’t have to spy,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I would’ve told you everything.”

You look up at him, your smile fading slightly as something more serious takes its place in your eyes. “I just … I wanted to know if it was good news,” you say quietly. “I know how much F1 means to you.”

Logan feels his heart clench at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. You’ve always understood him, always known what drives him, what keeps him going. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “It’s great news,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting a second shot at F1, and I’m not going to mess it up this time.”

Your smile returns, bright and full of the same determination he feels. “I know you won’t,” you say confidently. “You’re going to do amazing things, Logie. And I’ll be right there with you.”

Logan’s chest tightens with emotion, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Good thing you won’t have to find out,” you reply, your tone teasing but laced with affection.

Logan’s heart swells, and before he can stop himself, he lifts you off your feet, spinning you around in a circle. You yelp in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the hallway.

He sets you down gently, your laughter fading into a soft smile as you look up at him. There’s a moment of quiet, the world around you fading away as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Logan leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, a promise of what’s to come.

When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Logan feels a sense of calm settle over him. Everything is falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

With you by his side, he knows he can face whatever comes next.

“Ready to take on the world?” You ask, your voice light but your eyes serious.

Logan grins, squeezing your hand. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, he leads you down the hallway, the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.

***

The sun is barely up, casting long shadows across the Albert Park Circuit, but the air is already alive with anticipation. It’s the first day of preseason testing for the 2026 Formula 1 season, and the paddock is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and nerves.

Teams are unpacking crates, engineers are huddled over laptops, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber is already in the air. But for Logan, walking through the paddock with you on his arm, it feels like stepping into a dream — one he’s worked too damn hard to make a reality.

He adjusts the collar of his Andretti jacket, the weight of the moment not lost on him. This is it. His second chance — though, thanks to the bizarre twist of fate, no one else knows it’s his second. Everyone around him sees a rookie, an American hopeful making his debut with Andretti’s new F1 team. But Logan knows better. He’s here with experience that no one can fathom, and he’s determined not to waste it.

As you walk beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, he can’t help but steal a glance at you. There’s a brightness in your eyes, a mix of pride and excitement that mirrors his own. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing your hand gently.

You look up at him and smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart do a little flip. “I’m more than okay,” you reply. “I’m with you, and we’re about to watch you live your dream. What could be better than that?”

Logan grins, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. You’ve been his rock through everything — the highs, the lows, the strange, unexplainable journey that brought him back here. He’s never been more certain that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As you make your way through the paddock, heads turn. It’s not just because Logan is here with the legendary Andretti team, but because of the woman at his side. He catches a few curious glances, some surprised, others appreciative, and he can’t blame them. You’re a sight to behold, and he’s proud to be walking in with you.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan spots a familiar face. Oscar Piastri, decked out in McLaren colors, is standing near the entrance to the pit lane, chatting with a few team members. It’s been years since they last spoke properly — back when they were both climbing the ranks in the junior series, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of track.

They were close once, but life pulled them in different directions — Oscar to McLaren, Logan to IndyCar. And now, here they are, both in Formula 1, albeit on different paths.

Logan feels a wave of nostalgia, and before he can overthink it, he’s steering you in Oscar’s direction. As you approach, Oscar looks up, and for a split second, there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melts into a wide, genuine smile.

“Logan Sargeant,” Oscar says, his Australian accent as thick as ever. He steps forward, hand outstretched, and Logan takes it, shaking firmly. “I’ll be damned. You actually made it.”

Logan chuckles, the sound more relaxed than he feels. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s been a long road, but here I am.”

Oscar’s smile widens, his grip on Logan’s hand lingering for just a moment longer. “It’s good to see you, mate. I was wondering when you’d show up in F1. Figured you were having too much fun in IndyCar to come back.”

“There was a lot to love about IndyCar,” Logan admits, glancing at you with a fond smile. “But F1 was always the dream, you know? Couldn’t pass up a chance like this.”

Oscar nods, understanding clear in his expression. “I get it. And with Andretti, no less. That’s a hell of a team to start with. You’re going to shake things up around here, I can tell.”

Logan shrugs, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounds with the reality of it all. “That’s the plan. But enough about me. How’s life at McLaren? You guys ready to give us a run for our money?”

Oscar laughs, the sound light and easy. “Always. McLaren’s been working their asses off, and I’m feeling good about this season. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re old friends.”

Logan grins, feeling the competitive spark that’s always driven him reignite. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve gone wheel-to-wheel. I’m looking forward to it.”

Oscar’s gaze shifts to you, his curiosity evident. “And who’s this?” He asks, his tone polite but genuinely interested.

Logan’s grin softens as he looks at you. “This is my better half,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “She’s the one who keeps me sane.”

You smile at Oscar, offering your hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Oscar. Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

Oscar shakes your hand, his smile warm and welcoming. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” you tease, throwing Logan a playful glance.

Logan laughs, feeling a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s good to be here, good to be surrounded by the familiar banter and camaraderie that he’s missed. He knows the road ahead is going to be tough — F1 is nothing if not ruthless — but with you by his side and old friends welcoming him back, he feels more ready than ever to face whatever comes his way.

Oscar steps back, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Well, I’d better let you guys get settled in. But hey, we should catch up properly later. Maybe grab a drink after testing?”

Logan nods, appreciating the offer. “Definitely. It’s been too long.”

As Oscar walks away, Logan watches him for a moment, the memories of their shared past mingling with the excitement of the present. It’s surreal, being here again, but this time with the weight of everything he’s learned, everything he’s fought for.

You tug gently on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” You ask, your voice soft and curious.

Logan smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. “Just how different things are now,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’ve got a second shot at this, and I’m not going to waste it.”

You nod, your eyes shining with the same determination he feels. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

Logan feels a swell of emotion, gratitude, and love that he can’t quite put into words. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you continue walking, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you focus on each other. The day ahead is full of unknowns — testing, strategy meetings, the inevitable pressure of proving himself — but with you by his side, Logan feels ready for anything.

As you make your way to the Andretti garage, the team members greet Logan with nods and smiles, and he can see the mix of curiosity and expectation in their eyes. They’re all in this together, building something new, something that has the potential to be great. And Logan is determined to be the driver they need, the one who can lead them to success.

You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “You’re going to do amazing, Logan. I can feel it.”

He smiles, the confidence in your voice bolstering his own. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you reply, your gaze unwavering.

As the day progresses, Logan finds himself falling into the rhythm of the paddock. The familiar sounds of engines roaring to life, the chatter of engineers discussing data, the focused intensity that permeates every corner — it’s like he never left. But this time, there’s a new layer to it all, a sense of belonging that he didn’t fully grasp the first time around.

He exchanges nods and brief conversations with other drivers as they pass by, some offering congratulations, others sizing him up as the new competition. It’s all part of the game, the unspoken dance of respect and rivalry that defines the sport. But through it all, Logan keeps you close, your presence grounding him in the midst of the chaos.

As the day draws to a close, Logan finds himself back in the garage, the car stripped down and the team poring over the data from the day’s sessions. He’s tired, the kind of exhaustion that comes from both physical exertion and mental focus, but it’s the good kind of tired — the kind that tells him he’s exactly where he needs to be.

You’re standing nearby, chatting with one of the engineers, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the garage. Logan watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve always had a way of fitting in, of making everyone around you feel at ease, and he’s grateful for that — for you.

As if sensing his gaze, you look over at him and smile, that familiar warmth in your eyes. You make your way over to him, and when you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you close. The noise of the garage fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

“You did great today,” you say.

Logan holds you a little tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “You’re the one out there driving, Logan. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “It means everything to me that you are,” he whispers.

For a moment, the chaos of the garage and the world outside fades, leaving just the two of you standing together, ready to face whatever comes next. Logan knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but with you by his side, he’s more than ready to take on the challenge.

***

The media room is buzzing with the usual pre-race energy, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling in the air as the drivers settle in behind the table. Logan’s seated between Oscar and Charles, the bright lights overhead casting sharp shadows across their faces. The backdrop behind them, plastered with sponsor logos and the official F1 emblem, feels almost like a stage, the press in front of them the audience waiting for their performance.

Logan shifts in his seat, glancing down at the bottled water in front of him. The press conference has been the usual mix of questions so far — how the cars are handling, expectations for the season, the general camaraderie between the drivers. But there’s an undercurrent, a sense that something more pointed is coming.

A journalist from the back finally stands, her voice clear and direct as she catches Logan’s attention. “Logan,” she begins, holding her recorder up, “there’s been some observation that every time you see James Vowles, your expression seems to … change. Almost like you’re not too thrilled to be around him. Any comment on that?”

There’s a moment of silence in the room, a collective breath held. Logan feels the gaze of every person on him, including the drivers beside him. He lets out a quiet laugh, trying to play it cool, but he can’t help the way his mind flashes back to the last time he’d faced Vowles, the man’s condescending tone, the cold dismissal that had sent him spiraling.

Oscar shifts beside him, giving him a sideways glance, probably wondering where this is going. Logan catches the edge of his own reflection in the shiny surface of the table and forces his expression into something neutral, even though the old bitterness is clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach.

“Bad vibes,” Logan says finally, his voice carrying just enough humor to keep it light, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s what my girlfriend would say. He just … gives off bad vibes.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the room, the tension breaking slightly. But the journalist isn’t done yet. “Bad vibes? Care to elaborate on that?”

Logan shrugs, trying to brush it off with a casualness he doesn’t quite feel. “You know, it’s one of those things. Sometimes you just don’t click with someone, right? It’s nothing serious.”

Charles, on his other side, leans into his mic, flashing a grin. “You’re not going to make us all paranoid about our vibes now, are you?”

The room laughs again, and Logan takes the opportunity to sip his water, hoping the moment will pass. But he can feel the weight of the past pressing against him, the memories of how it all went down before he’d found himself in this second chance. He knows better than anyone that this sport is a game of perceptions, of how you carry yourself, and he can’t afford to let the past taint his future.

Another journalist jumps in, steering the conversation toward safer waters — questions about the new car, how he’s adjusting to the Andretti team. Logan answers on autopilot, the usual lines about feeling confident, about how the team has been amazing. But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about that flash of disgust he couldn’t hide, the way his skin prickled when he saw Vowles earlier that day.

When the press conference finally wraps up, and the drivers are ushered out of the room, Oscar hangs back, falling into step beside Logan as they head toward the paddock. “So,” Oscar starts, keeping his voice low, “bad vibes, huh?”

Logan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know how it is,” he says, trying to keep it light, though he knows Oscar can see right through him.

Oscar just nods, not pushing any further, and Logan’s grateful for that. They walk in silence for a moment, the din of the paddock growing louder as they approach, engineers and team members bustling around them.

“Honestly, mate,” Oscar says after a beat, “if anyone’s going to bring some good vibes into F1, it’s you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan glances over, and there’s sincerity in Oscar’s expression that makes Logan’s chest tighten, the weight of everything he’s carried with him lightening just a bit. “Thanks, Oscar. That means a lot.”

They reach the Andretti motorhome, where you’re waiting for Logan, your eyes lighting up the moment you spot him. He feels a warmth spread through him at the sight, a reminder of what really matters.

You push off the wall you’d been leaning against, falling into step beside him. “So, how’d it go in there?”

Logan smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as they walk. “Let’s just say my reputation for honesty might have gotten a bit more solidified.”

You tilt your head up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That bad, huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad, just … honest.”

You glance at Oscar, who’s still walking beside you, and give him a knowing look. “He always has to make things interesting, doesn’t he?”

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “Never a dull moment with this one.”

As you make your way back into the motorhome, Logan feels the tension of the day starting to ebb away. The familiar scent of coffee and fuel, the low hum of conversations around him, and the comforting presence of you by his side — it all feels right. Despite everything, he knows this is where he belongs.

Once inside, the motorhome offers a brief respite from the chaotic energy outside. The team is prepping for final checks, and Logan knows he should be focusing on the task ahead, but there’s something nagging at him, a need to explain himself, to make sure you understand.

You catch the way his brows furrow slightly, the way his grip on your shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. “What’s up?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “I just … I don’t want to come off like I’m carrying a grudge or anything. That comment about Vowles — it probably sounded harsher than I meant it.”

You step closer, your hand finding his, grounding him. “Logan, it’s okay. Everyone has people they don’t vibe with. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

He nods, the tightness in his chest loosening as he looks into your eyes, seeing the unwavering support there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a gift. Plus, you make it easy.”

Oscar clears his throat, and both of you look over to see him trying not to grin. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Just don’t forget we have a race to focus on.”

Logan laughs, shaking his head as Oscar heads out. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right out.”

When Oscar’s gone, Logan turns back to you, his expression softening. “Thanks for being here. Really.”

You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Always.”

As you both make your way out to the garage, the sounds of the team preparing for the weekend reach your ears, and Logan feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the anticipation of what’s to come. The memory of the press conference, of Vowles, fades into the background. What matters now is the race ahead, the chance to prove himself once again, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you’re right there with him.

He glances over at you as they approach the car, and you catch him staring, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?”

Logan just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile playing on your lips. “You better believe it, Sargeant. Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got.”

He nods, feeling more centered than he has all day. With a final squeeze of your hand, he steps into the garage, ready to take on whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens on the track, he’s already won in the ways that truly matter.

***

The roar of the engines reverberates through the paddock, a constant hum that thrums in Logan’s chest as he steps into the Andretti garage. It’s yet another race weekend, and the energy is electric, a mix of anticipation and nerves hanging in the air.

The team is buzzing around him, mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers buried in data, but Logan’s focus is on the familiar figure leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the hustle with an almost serene smile.

Logan stops in his tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise. It’s not that Mario isn’t around — he’s a constant presence in the team, always keeping an eye on things — but he usually doesn’t show up this early in the weekend, and certainly not with that look on his face.

It’s a smile Logan recognizes all too well, a mix of pride and mischief that means only one thing: Mario knows something that everyone else doesn’t, and it’s going to shake things up.

Logan weaves his way through the garage, sidestepping the organized chaos until he’s standing in front of Mario. “You look like you’re up to something,” Logan says, crossing his arms to mirror the older man’s posture. “What’s going on?”

Mario’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes glinting with a secret. “Now, what makes you think I’m up to anything, kid?”

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Because I know that look. You’ve got news.”

Mario doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pushes off the wall and motions for Logan to follow him to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team. Logan follows, his curiosity piqued. Whatever Mario’s about to tell him, it’s big.

When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Mario leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You remember how I told you a while back that we were working on something big for the team?”

Logan nods, his interest fully captured. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Mario’s smile turns almost wicked. “Well, it seems that James Vowles and Williams think they’re going to secure Adrian Newey for next season.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. Newey is a legend in the sport, the kind of designer who can turn a good team into a championship-winning one. If Williams were to get him, it would be a game-changer. “Wait, you said they think they’re going to get him?”

“Exactly.” Mario’s grin is practically gleeful now. “What they don’t know is that Adrian’s already in talks with us. In fact, we’re just about ready to sign the deal.”

Logan lets out a low whistle, the magnitude of the news sinking in. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. By this time next week, Adrian Newey will be working for Andretti.”

Logan can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. This is huge, a move that will send shockwaves through the paddock. With Newey on board, Andretti’s chances of becoming a front-runner in F1 just skyrocketed. “I can’t believe it,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s going to change everything.”

Mario nods, satisfaction evident in his expression. “It’s a big deal, no doubt about it. But we’ve still got work to do. We can’t get complacent, not with what’s at stake. But this … this is a big step in the right direction.”

Logan’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking about what this means for the team, for his own career. The idea of driving a car designed by Newey is almost surreal. “When are you going to announce it?”

“Not until everything’s signed and sealed,” Mario replies. “But once it’s done, we’ll make sure the whole world knows. And Williams … well, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Logan laughs, the sound coming out more exhilarated than he intended. The idea of one-upping Vowles, especially after everything that’s happened between them, is deeply satisfying. “I can’t wait to see the look on Vowles’ face when he finds out.”

Mario pats Logan on the shoulder, the gesture filled with a camaraderie that Logan has come to cherish. “Neither can I, kid. Neither can I.”

As they walk back towards the main part of the garage, Logan’s mind is still reeling from the news. He’s been focused on the present, on making sure he performs at his best every time he’s out on the track, but this … this opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. With Newey on board, there’s no telling what they can achieve.

When you spot him from across the garage, the look on his face must give away that something’s up because you immediately make your way over, your expression curious. “What’s going on?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

Logan glances around, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in, his voice low. “Mario just dropped a bombshell. Andretti’s about to sign Adrian Newey.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and Logan watches as a grin spreads across your face, mirroring his own excitement. “No way. That’s … huge!”

“I know,” Logan says, still barely able to believe it himself. “This changes everything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, your voice filled with pride. “You’re going to be driving a car designed by Newey. Do you realize how amazing that is?”

Logan nods, the reality of it finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. It’s … I can’t even put it into words.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.”

For a moment, Logan just stands there, soaking it all in. The garage is still bustling around them, the team oblivious to the monumental news that’s just been dropped in their laps. But Logan knows that soon enough, everything is going to change. This is the kind of move that can define a career, that can take a team from being contenders to being champions.

But more than that, it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to prove to everyone — including himself — that he belongs here, that he’s capable of more than anyone ever gave him credit for. The past is behind him now, and with you by his side, and Newey in the garage, the future looks brighter than ever.

Logan glances over at you, seeing the pride and excitement in your eyes, and feels a surge of gratitude. For the second chance he’s been given, for the team that believes in him, and for you, the person who’s been there through it all.

“We’re going to do something amazing, you know that?” Logan says, his voice filled with conviction.

You nod, your smile soft but full of certainty. “I know. And I can’t wait to see it.”

Neither can Logan.

***

Logan’s heart is still pounding from the rush of the race as he stands on the podium, feeling the weight of the Miami sun on his shoulders. The crowd roars below him, a sea of red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, their energy pulsing through his veins. He can hardly believe it. A podium at his home race, in front of a crowd that feels like family, is something he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.

He turns, looking out over the crowd, his eyes scanning for you. You’re there, as you always are, standing with the Andretti team, your smile brighter than the sun. The mechanics are cheering, patting each other on the back, but Logan only has eyes for you. It’s like everything else falls away — the noise, the cameras, the pressure of the season — all of it fades into the background. All that matters is the way you’re looking at him, like he’s your entire world.

He takes a deep breath, the realization of what he’s about to do washing over him. His hands shake, just slightly, as he reaches up and touches the chain around his neck, feeling the weight of the ring that’s been hidden there for weeks, waiting for this moment.

Without another thought, he drops to one knee, right there on the podium. The world seems to stop as he looks up at you, the crowd going silent in his mind. He hears the sharp intake of breath from the Andretti crew, sees the shock on your face as you register what’s happening.

“Hey,” he says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I … I don’t know if I can put into words what you mean to me. You’ve been with me through everything — the wins, the losses, the crazy twists and turns. And I can’t imagine going through any of it without you by my side.” He pauses, the weight of the moment sinking in. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is … will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen, and for a second, you’re frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, you laugh, a sound that’s pure joy, and nod vigorously. The next thing Logan knows, you’re being lifted onto the podium by the mechanics, tears of happiness streaming down your face as you launch yourself into his arms.

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I will!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise deafening as Logan slides the ring onto your finger. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like victory, love, and everything good in the world. The mechanics are going wild, chanting your names, and someone — Logan thinks it might be Mario — pops open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over everyone.

It’s chaotic, it’s perfect, and it’s a moment that Logan knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life. As he holds you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realizes that this — right here, with you in his arms, and his home crowd cheering around him — is the true victory. The rest is just a bonus.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You know,” he says, his voice low so only you can hear, “I always knew I was lucky. But this … this is something else entirely.”

You smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart skip a beat, and lean in to kiss him again. “We’re both lucky, Logan,” you whisper against his lips. “And this is just the beginning.”

***

The paddock is buzzing with activity, the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics creating a familiar symphony that Logan finds oddly comforting. It’s the start of another race weekend, but this one feels different. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation that has nothing to do with the cars or the track.

Logan slips away from the Andretti garage, his eyes scanning the bustling paddock as he makes his way toward the Williams garage. He’s done his best to stay clear of them ever since re-entering Formula 1, but today is different. Today, he has a reason to be there — a reason that brings a small, almost mischievous smile to his lips.

The Williams garage is a flurry of motion, mechanics and engineers huddled over laptops, surrounded by toolboxes and tires. The sight brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over Logan, but he quickly pushes it aside. He isn’t here for a trip down memory lane.

Spotting Alex Albon near the back, Logan weaves through the chaos, his steps light and easy despite the tension he can feel crawling up his spine. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with his race engineer, but when Logan steps up, he looks up in surprise.

“Logan!” Alex greets, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Slumming it with the backmarkers?”

“Something like that,” Logan replies, his tone light as he pulls a small, cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Alex, who takes it with a curious tilt of his head. “Figured I should deliver this in person.”

Alex flips the envelope over, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the names printed in elegant script on the front — his and Lily’s. He breaks into a grin, already understanding what it is before he even opens it.

“No way,” Alex says, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning the details. “You’re really doing it, huh? Getting hitched?”

Logan chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. “Yeah, we are. And we’d love for you and Lily to be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replies, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Congrats, man. You two are great together.”

Logan nods, grateful for the genuine well-wishes. He’s about to say something else when a flicker of movement catches his eye. Glancing up, he sees James Vowles standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Logan and Alex.

For a brief moment, the past rushes back — the frustration, the disappointment, the sense of being discarded like a broken part. Logan feels a familiar pang of bitterness, but he quickly tamps it down. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s moved on, and he’s got better things — better people — in his life now.

Still, he can’t help himself.

He meets James’ gaze head-on, his smile shifting into something a bit more pointed, more deliberate. “Oh, James?” He says, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the noise of the garage. “Seems like your invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Real shame.”

James’ eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The tension between them is almost tangible, thickening the air around them. Logan holds his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugs exaggeratingly before turning his attention back to Alex.

“Anyway, hope to see you there,” Logan says, clapping Alex on the shoulder before stepping back. “Tell Lily we’re looking forward to it.”

“Will do,” Alex replies, still smiling but with a touch of unease as he glances between Logan and James.

Logan doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and strides back through the garage, the small, satisfied grin still tugging at his lips. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back, but he doesn’t care. Let him stew, Logan thinks. He’s got more important things on his mind.

As he exits the garage and steps back into the sun-drenched paddock, Logan takes a deep breath, feeling lighter, freer. The thought of the wedding, of you waiting for him back in the Andretti garage, fills him with a sense of contentment that he never thought he’d find in the world of Formula 1.

He spots you before you see him, standing with Mario and a few other Andretti team members, animatedly talking about something. Your laughter rings out over the noise of the paddock, and Logan feels his heart swell with affection.

It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. How life has a way of surprising you, of turning things around when you least expect it. He’s come a long way from that lost, angry kid who thought he’d never get a second chance. And now, here he is, standing on the cusp of a future that’s brighter than anything he could have imagined.

He picks up his pace, eager to get back to you, to tell you about the exchange with Alex and the little jab he couldn’t resist throwing at James. But as he draws closer, you turn and catch sight of him, your face lighting up in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, you,” you call out, stepping away from the group to meet him halfway. “Did you get it done?”

Logan nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I did. Alex and Lily are in.”

“And Vowles?” You ask, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Logan chuckles, slipping an arm around your waist as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Let’s just say … he didn’t make the cut.”

You laugh, the sound pure and full of joy, and it’s the best thing Logan’s heard all day. “Good. You don’t need that kind of negativity at our wedding.”

“No, I don’t,” Logan agrees, feeling a rush of relief that you’re by his side, making even the most awkward encounters bearable. “And anyway, we’ve got more than enough people who actually care about us.”

You nod, your expression softening as you look up at him. “Yeah, we do. And I can’t wait to celebrate with them — with you.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through him, the same warmth he’s felt ever since the day he realized just how much you meant to him. It’s a feeling that never gets old, no matter how many podiums or victories he racks up. Because at the end of the day, it’s moments like this — simple, shared moments with you — that matter the most.

As the two of you head back toward the Andretti garage, Logan can’t help but think about how far he’s come. From the chaos of that first season in Formula 1, the heartbreak of being dropped, to the wild success of his time in IndyCar, and now, back in the sport he loves, with you by his side.

He knows there will be more challenges ahead — there always are in this world. But for now, he’s content to focus on the here and now, on the love he’s found and the life he’s building with you.

And as you walk together through the paddock, the sun casting long shadows on the ground, Logan can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Not because of the cars, or the fame, or even the victories, but because of you — because you’re the one thing in his life that makes all the twists and turns worth it.

And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that crashes against Logan as he stands on top of the podium. His hands grip the trophy tightly, the cold metal grounding him as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s done it. Logan Sargeant, the kid from Florida who almost lost everything, is now the World Drivers’ Champion.

The first American to do so since Mario Andretti himself.

He’s fought hard for this moment, clawed his way back from the brink of obscurity, and now here he is, at the pinnacle of motorsport. The champagne sprays around him, but all Logan can focus on is the sight of you, beaming up at him from the edge of the podium. You’re standing beside Mario, who’s wearing a grin as wide as Logan’s ever seen. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and joy.

He barely registers the other drivers beside him, the interviews, or the flashes of cameras. Everything narrows to you and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. You’ve been there through it all, from the moment he took that leap of faith into IndyCar, to the sleepless nights before his first season back in Formula 1. Every high and every low has led to this, and you’ve never wavered.

Logan can’t help the way his gaze shifts slightly to the left, where James Vowles stands at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a tightness to his expression, a bitterness that Logan recognizes all too well.

But as much as he’d love to revel in that small victory, he finds that he doesn’t care. Not really. The vindication is sweet, sure, but it pales in comparison to the sight of you and the emotions radiating from you like the warmest of suns.

You notice him looking at you, and you blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it, holding it to his chest. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, right now, with you by his side.

The ceremony starts to wrap up, and as the photographers move in closer for shots, Logan can see Mario nudging you forward. You’re waving your hands at your grandfather, as if to say no, you’re fine where you are, but Mario’s having none of it. The mechanics and team members part to let you through, and Logan watches with an ever-growing smile as you finally make your way up onto the podium.

When you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms without hesitation, lifting you off your feet as the crowd goes wild. He spins you around, feeling the way you cling to him, your laughter ringing out in his ear.

“You did it,” you say when he finally sets you down, your voice thick with emotion.

“No,” Logan corrects, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We did it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your eyes glisten. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Logan teases, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I really do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mario clearing his throat, and Logan turns to see him holding a bottle of champagne, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, are we celebrating or what?”

Logan laughs, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork, spraying the contents over you and Mario, who both shout in surprise. The rest of the team quickly follows suit, and soon, the podium is a chaotic mess of laughter, champagne, and pure, unfiltered joy.

As the celebrations continue around him, Logan takes a step back, watching the scene unfold. His heart swells with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before. He’s always been driven, always had his eyes set on the next goal, the next race, the next win. But standing here, with you by his side, he realizes that he’s found something even more important than all of that.

He’s found a home.

A family.

And he’s never letting go.

The night carries on in a blur of congratulatory hugs, media obligations, and team celebrations. But as the crowd starts to thin and the energy begins to mellow, Logan finds himself sitting on the edge of the podium, his legs dangling off the side. The cool night air brushes against his skin, the sounds of the city in the distance providing a soft backdrop to the dwindling celebrations.

You find him there, sitting in silence, and without a word, you join him. You lean into his side, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s still sinking in,” Logan admits after a while. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’ve earned it, Logan. Every single bit of it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods, resting his chin on top of your head. “It just feels … surreal. Like I’m living in a dream.”

“Well, if this is a dream,” you say, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “then it’s one I never want to wake up from.”

Logan chuckles softly, his heart swelling with affection. “You and me both.”

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, watching as the final remnants of the celebration begin to fade. The stadium lights dim, and the night sky takes over, a blanket of stars twinkling above you. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and Logan can’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment with you.

“I used to think winning was everything,” Logan says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “That nothing else mattered as long as I crossed the finish line first.”

“And now?” You ask, your tone gentle, inviting him to continue.

“Now I know that it’s not just about the win,” Logan replies, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s about the journey. The people who stand by you, who lift you up when you’re down, who make the victories sweeter and the losses bearable. It’s about finding something worth fighting for, and never letting go of it.”

You smile, your fingers intertwining with his. “Sounds like you’ve learned a lot.”

Logan nods, turning his head to look at you. “I have. And it’s all because of you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Logan says, his voice firm. “You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

You look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Logan …”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond with words; instead, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss filled with promises, with unspoken words, and with a love that has grown stronger with every challenge, every victory, every moment shared.

When you finally pull away, Logan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart full. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he feels.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as soft, just as full of emotion.

The world fades away as the two of you sit there, wrapped up in each other. Logan knows that there will be more challenges ahead, more races to win, more obstacles to overcome. But as long as he has you by his side, he knows that he can face anything.

Because, in the end, it’s not just about the racing. It’s about the people who make it all worthwhile.

And for Logan Sargeant, that person is you.

As the night deepens and the city quiets, Logan realizes that this is just the beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, a new journey, with you right beside him. And whatever the future holds, he knows one thing for certain:

He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

And with you, he’s already won.

[songbirdseung]

pinky ring / sim jaeyun

synopsis: jake made you a promise to marry you when you two were toddlers. he would fake propose until he really did get down on one knee.

pairing: childhood besties jake x reader

wc: 1.1k

To your parents, it was all good fun. Seeing their child being proposed to by their childhood best friend at their favorite beach. Documentation was highly important to them, filming little you and little jake holding a candy ring pop in his hand, asking your hand in marriage. To them, it was adorable.

For young child you, you were petrified. At the time, your dad just gave a small talk on how to stay away from boys and you're definitely too young to get into a relationship. This happened when you called the actor on scene handsome when you were having a family movie night.

"We are too young Jake" pouting your lips, feeling bad for rejecting his proposal. Jake shrugs and hands you the ring pop anyway. "Fine, I'll just wait and get you a real ring".

That didn't last long because fast forward to the next year, he does it again. He has done it so much that for the next few following years, it had become an inside joke to everyone in your immediate family.

"You have rejected me for 4 years now" crossing his arms in a fit, Jake looks at you disappointed. "Maybe because we are only 12 years old?"

At this point, you aren't sure if he's doing this because he really wants to marry you or just to tease you and lead any guy interested in you far far away. Remembering all the instances where a boy would approach you during lunch and sit next to you and confess and say that they think you' re cute. There then comes Jake, wearing a smug smirk and says something along the lines of "I'm actually her future husband, please go away".

It makes you think about how you could never get away from Jake and his antics.

Even when you guys reached your teenage years, almost reaching adulthood, Jake never dropped the fake proposal joke. Like on your 19th birthday, at the restaurant he took you both to, he claims how he's your boyfriend and he's planning to propose soon, the waiter thought he was weird for saying that he wanted to propose soon with you sitting right there but nonetheless, he gave you both free desserts.

You thought at by the age of 14, he'd stop since you both are going through puberty, his feelings would change and he'd drop it due to his own pride and embarrassment, but no.

Now you both were 20, if you had to count how many fake proposals Jake has done over the years, it would reach 100.

"You can't say that we are too young, we're both legal adults and we basically known each other our whole lives." You turn over to him and flick his forehead, causing him wince in pain and shoo you away from him. "You're mean"

"You're the one that wants to marry me, so get used to it"

"Oh, so you're playing along now" He removes his hand from his head and pokes your side. "After years, you're finally warming up to the idea"

"Keep that up, I won't be anymore" Once you said that you realize how you didn't even deny it. Looking back at Jake who went back to playing video games, you take in his appearance and guide your eyes to follow the lines that make his side profile.

Jake was good looking, you knew that. He's always been the apple of your eye since you two were kids, then as you got to know him, his humor, personality, and behavior kind of sealed the deal for you.

"If you keep staring at me, I might disintegrate."

"Then, who is going to marry me?"

"We're still on that? I thought you didn't want to?"

"Make me your girlfriend and I'll rethink it" Now it was your turn to cause a ruckus in Jake's mind. He pauses the game and looks over to you, reading your expression wondering if you were serious or not.

That night, Jake stayed over. Unlike the other past sleepovers that you two had, this one was different because the way you cuddle into him now, it felt different. He was always yours and until now, just a different kind. He was now your boyfriend, not boy-friend.

With your dynamic and bond with Jake, it felt like sunshine and rainbows most of the times, being around each other all the time and knowing each other too well, you always found ways to fix things or any miscommunication that would come along.

Transitioning to relationship from friendship was surprisingly easy from the outside perspective but the thing with you and Jake was he was always a gentleman and treated you right and how you deserved to be treated, and of course vice versa.

When you told your mom the news, she did not show any surprised reaction, simply telling you how she saw it coming and was just waiting for this moment to happen, you dad shared a similar reaction, happy that it was Jake to be the one you were dating.

Fast forward to a whole year of dating Jake. People would say that you two were like a fairytale love, match made in heaven, meant for each other, all that. "Hey yn, maybe you should do that trend where you call Jake your husband"

"I'm pretty sure he's already seen that on tiktok, no?"

Still, even if he did, you were going to do it just to see his reaction. That same day, you two meet up after your last class ended. Waiting for you somewhere in the university's campus, you run up to him and give him a hug. "Someone missed me?"

In the car ride home, you guys both agreed to stop by your favorite restaurant and get some take out. Which was a perfect time to put your little prank in action. Just like everyone else, after placing your order, you ask Jake what he wants and tell the waiter. "Then my husband would like ___"

Once the waiter leaves, you finally take notice of Jake who is wide eyed, staring at you in awe. "There's no way you just called me that" To say he was a lovesick puppy after that was an understatement.

But now since you called him that, you have to keep calling him that. Because if you call him or introduce him as your boyfriend, he'll act surprised and startled. "Are you asking for a divorce?" "Do you not love me anymore?" "I thought I was your husband?" to name a few.

"I'm gonna have to propose now, for real this time"

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬?❝

Headcanons/Scenarios with my favorite boys [ Ace | Kid | Law | Doffy ] Content » Imagine you are pregnant with their child! How will they react? How will they prepare? just cute things ;3 Warnings: In Law's story, we experience an unpleasant birth with a few feelings that could be triggering. NO PROOFREADING

A/N: Not really headcanons… Kind of a mix of HC and scenarios. They're sometimes shorter or longer lol. ^////^

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: all images are by vasan5555

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃. 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰

Telling him you're pregnant: You don't really tell him. lol.

You don't even know how to tell him. On the one hand, you know he'll be really happy, but on the other hand, you're afraid that it won't fit into his plans.

You sought advice from Ikkaku, but her words weren't really helpful. She suggested throwing a little surprise party because she's really happy for both of you, but you know that wouldn't be a good idea. Announcing to the whole crew that you're pregnant without Law knowing beforehand? Better not, that would overwhelm him.

You had already thought about just leaving the positive pregnancy test in the bathroom, but before you could, Law pulled you aside.

“Hey y/n-ya, are you okay? You've been acting weird lately.” You look around a little panicked, trying to think of an excuse.

“Weird? Ah no, it's probably just because… we haven't been on the surface for a long time… The air in the Polar Tang is getting a bit thin?” you mutter.

His gaze rests knowingly on you. He inhales deeply and rolls his eyes… he knows that something is wrong with you.

He gently grabs you by the shoulders and speaks in a calm voice that makes your heart flutter.

“Don't lie to me… There are clear signs, you know?” You look up a little anxiously without saying anything.

He groans a little. You're not usually so secretive… Now he has to do all the talking. He doesn't really like that, but it's about you after all. He tries to argue with facts he's noticed on you.

“You throw up quite often in the morning. At first I thought it was because you might have been drinking with the others, but then I saw for myself how you didn't take a sip of alcohol. You even refused when Shachi wanted to pour you a drink!” You get smaller and smaller under him as he states the obvious but Law is far from finished…

“According to my calculations, you should already be 6 weeks overdue with your period… Besides, I've seen you raiding the fridge at night, eating the strangest combinations. Cheese and chocolate, are you okay?” - “You stalker!” You're blushing… When you saw those two things, you just had to try them together…

The tears started to fill your eyes when he asked you if you were pregnant. With a small nod, you agreed to his assumption and Law wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

“I didn't know how to say it and I didn't know what you were going to say… I was scared, Law. You have your plans and…” Your words spilled out a little hysterically and without hesitation he took you in his arms. With his hand on the back of your head, he tried to calm you down with a few gentle strokes while you sniffed in his tight embrace.

“pshhh. It's okay y/n…” His soft voice against your ear calmed you down and as your breathing relaxed he looked firmly into your watery eyes.

“Plans change sometimes and I'm ready for any adventure.” He smirks at you with a sly expression.

His behavior / During pregnancy: Well, let's say he has 'studied' all the books about pregnancy.

You will spend most of your time with the Polar Tang underwater, as Law finds this safest while you are pregnant. However, he is aware of the importance of fresh air and sunshine, so you are regularly on the surface to breathe in the fresh ocean breeze and feel the sun on your skin. You're more than happy to be pregnant because normally you don't surface that often…

-

As your partner and doctor, he personally ensures that you have a balanced diet. He has even asked Sanji for advice. It was only a small call with the Den Den Mushi, but Law doesn't like Sanji very much, as he always fawns over you without any shame. Law knows which ingredients are nutritious but are they tasty? That's where Sanji is a big help.

Law passed on Sanji's greetings to you while you were reading a book on the sofa. You looked after him in surprise as he sat at his desk.

“Um, thanks… Sanji? How come you're on the phone with him?” You know what Law thinks of him. In his eyes, he's a perverted womanizer.

he froze a little when he realized that he had unintentionally told you that he was in contact with Sanji. But now it's too late to talk his way out of it.

“You know, I tried a few dishes that are supposed to give you strength, but they were awful… so I called Black Leg-ya…” He scratches the back of his head as he tries to avoid your gaze.

Belly round, you get up to walk over to Law and rest a hand on his shoulder. Law leans back a little as he looks you in the face. His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink and he makes room for you to sit on his lap.

Without saying much, you thank him and give him a loving kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for always being so thoughtful, Law.”

-

You are freed from your daily chores on the Polar Tang, but sometimes you get so bored that you find yourself doing little chores like washing and hanging up the laundry. No big deal, you think to yourself, but Law sees it quite differently.

“But babe, I'm so bored! It's just laundry…” you pout.

“If you're bored, then do something else, but not housework.” - “How about spending a bit more time with me?” You put your hands on your hips. You're the only one on the ship who has nothing to do while the others are busy and you can't keep them from working all the time…

Law wanted to say something but decided to close his mouth to think.

“Yeah, you know what? You're right. Meet me in the library at noon, I've got an idea.” Determined, Law set off, leaving you dumbfounded. You were expecting a little excuse, but not this. Law just has a few things to do and then he'll make time for you.

You wait for him in the library, a little excited, wondering what Law has prepared.

With a pile of books, he came into the shared library right on time at 12 o'clock and took a seat next to you on the huge sofa.

His idea was to read books with you that you had both bought for the child and so it became routine for you to read the books to each other every day. It was a lot of fun and you had a great time practicing your silly voices and matching it to the story. You are sure that your child will love it when you read to him or her.

Birth/when the baby is around: The birth is turbulent but Law is the perfect man by your side.

He wants to help bring the baby into the world but you are STRICTLY against it! You never want that in your life. He may be a doctor himself, but that's just not for you.

It took a while, but you managed to agree that a doctor from the city would come to you on the ship. A week before your due date, you docked in front of a small island with a peaceful town.

The mood on the entire ship became more and more restless from day to day, because your child wasn't making a move. You're long past the due date and even Law is starting to worry, but you're not making it any easier for him either, because you're refusing any help from Law.

The day you went into labor, the whole ship was on full alert. Bepo, Shachi and Penguin rushed into town to get the doctor on the ship while Law held your hand and did breathing exercises with you.

The birth was slow and you felt like days had passed, the pain was so numbing. Slightly distressed, the doctor began to change the preparations as it turns out your baby hasn't fully rotated yet.

“We have to prepare the operating room for a C-section!” - “C-section???!” Although you can barely hear because of the pain, you have clearly understood 'that'.

“I have to perform a scan while we move to the operating room…”

Things are moving way too fast for you as everyone around you rushes to get your bed and the ultrasound machines ready to head to the operating room.

Law doesn't even leave your side as you scurry down the corridor.

“The umbilical cord has wrapped around your son's neck!” Said the doctor. Desperation spreads through you, you can't relax and are afraid that you will push your son further out of you and strangle him. Wait a minute, a boy? You didn't even know the gender yet…

“Did you hear y/n? It's a boy! Let me make sure our boy gets out of you safely.” the tears run down your cheek uncontrollably. Your emotions are dancing the tango, you are so happy to be bringing a little boy into the world, but you are still afraid of the umbilical cord.

“Please Law, get our Rosinante out of me!” You squint your eyes because you can't see anything through all your tears. Law freezes for a millisecond when he hears the name but quickly pulls himself together.

“Doctor, please move aside.” Somewhat taken aback, the slightly older doctor moved aside and made room for Law.

With the help of Law's devil fruit, he gently extracted your child from your womb and held the crying baby in his arms.

His eyes widened at the sight of the helpless baby and the feeling inside him was as overwhelming as it was beautiful.

You look at him with a weary expression and watch this precious moment until exhaustion overcomes you to the point where you have to close your eyes.

The atmosphere is still very tense and even though you are no longer aware of it, everyone is doing their best to take care of you and Rosinante.

When you open your eyes for the first time, you find yourself in a hospital bed. Your gaze wanders around the room and lands on your side, where Law is asleep holding your hand. The movement wakes him up and he quickly gets up to ask you about your well being. After some time, when Law was sure you were okay, he brought your little boy into the room.

The dark circles under his eyes are nothing compared to the bright smile on his face as he holds your boy in his arms.

“Look Rosinante, mommy is awake. You can finally meet your mother.” The way he looks down at Rosinante… This is how Law always looks at you, full of love. He gently places him in your arms and the little one immediately snuggles up to your chest.

He is so beautiful that it brings tears to your eyes. He has his hair, his wonderful raven black hair. His little eyelids are closed and he sleeps contentedly in your arms. In his mother's arms. In Law's eyes, there is no sight more beautiful than looking at the two of you. He's happier than ever.

“He has your eyes, y/n…” he whispers as he strokes your cheek with gentle fingers.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐃. 𝐀𝐜𝐞

Telling him you're pregnant: You could scream! No wait a minute, that's exactly what you're doing! XD

Every now and then you take a pregnancy test to be on the safe side. Since you both do it like animals in heat and neither use condoms nor can you be trusted to take your pill regularly, it's better to pee on the strip every now and then.

You look impatiently at the screen of the pregnancy test… A child wouldn't actually be such a bad thing. You and Ace have been a couple for a long time and have an unshakeable bond. Even though you're pirates, you're sure that you can lead a carefree life.

You have good cards with the Whitebeard pirates on the Moby Dick and if things get too rough, you're sure that Whitebeard will find an island within his territory where you'll be safe.

It feels like an eternity as you sit on the lid of the toilet with the test still in your hand. You wonder how Ace will react...

Will he be happy? You bet he will! As you daydream, you notice out of the corner of your eye how a second strip appears on the display.

Your eyes widen. I'M PREGNANT!

You scream like crazy, and when I say crazy I mean so loud that everyone on the ship should hear it.

Tears of joy gather as you do a happy dance in the small bathroom.

All of a sudden the door opens with a bang and Ace looks down at you in panic. He must have thought something else had happened because of your loud scream. It almost sounded as if you had been stabbed. At least that's what he must have thought from the look on his face.

“Babe, WHAT happened?!" He scans your body to see if you've suffered any damage, but you're fine.

With a shrill voice, you throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly. Ace is visibly confused about the situation. He saw that you were crying but you're acting overly happy.

“What's going on?” His voice is a soft laugh as he hugs you tightly and buries his face in your hair. You lean back a little to look him in the face.

“Ace you're going to be a father!!!” At first he doesn't seem to fully grasp what your words mean but as the realization kicks in his eyes widen.

“ARE YOU PREGNANT?!” he grabs you by the shoulders and shouts in your face.

“YEEEESSS!” you shout back as the tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don't mess with me, are we really going to be parents?” His voice cracks a little and you nod silently to him and show him the test you took.

“That's awesome! We have to celebrate!” Just as he was about to leave the bathroom, he stops abruptly and looks at you with a serious face.

“But you're not allowed to drink alcohol!” Even though you roll your eyes, you have to giggle.

“I'm aware of that, my darling.” You go up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek and gently squeeze his hand.

Before you share the happy news, you share a loving moment together and kiss before walking out.

His behavior / During pregnancy: You know he's going to be the dad of the year after how he treats you.

He has taken time off for the duration of your entire pregnancy, with the clear permission of Whitebeard, to be at your side whenever you need him.

You never ask for anything in particular, but he is actually quite attentive and if he sees you putting your feet up with a heavy moan and relaxing on the deck, he comes straight over to pamper you with a foot massage.

-

He once made the extra effort to go to a special island for over 2 days because there was fruit there that you had an extreme craving for.

The funny thing is that he got you so many that at some point you couldn't see them anymore. He had tried to get more creative to avoid wasting the fruits and so he woke you up every morning with a glass of freshly squeezed juice.

He had even tried his luck at baking, but that went terribly wrong… But you found the idea incredibly cute and that's how you found your shared hobby - baking!

Together you created the most delicious things from the leftover fruits and jokes quickly started going around that if you two should settle somewhere, you should definitely open a small bakery.

You don't think that's such a bad idea. A perfect plan B.

-

He is literally glued to your belly and loves to feel your child through your skin. He didn't just cry once, but actually every time he felt your little one kick.

“Oh wow y/n did you feel that?” with his cheek resting on your stomach, he looks excitedly up at your face. You run a hand through his black hair and giggle in response.

“Of course I can feel it, after all, the baby is in my belly.” A little red in the face, he cuddles you and wraps his arms around you.

“Hehe that's true, you're right. I'm just so excited.” - “Me too, Ace…”

Birth/when the baby is around: If one of you is panicking then it's definitely Ace.

You approached him with weak feet to tell him that your water had broken and he immediately jumped up in panic to dash to you.

He definitely didn't know what to do with himself and ran back and forth in a panic to pack some of your things.

You look at him in confusion, not understanding what he is packing all your things for…

“Ace… Ace, stop!” you reach for him as he rushes past you.

“Why are you packing these things, I'm going to give birth on the Moby Dick, remember?” Ace suddenly seemed to remember and dropped the suitcase, which was barely closed.

There were various things scattered on the floor that had fallen out of the suitcase. A short glance at the floor and you burst out laughing.

What on earth has he packed? A few things are halfway understandable, but why would you need a bikini now? Not to mention that you're only going to Marco's infirmary to give birth. If you need anything, then someone else will get it… After all, your room is only a few meters away.

He carefully carried you in his arms to the infirmary and luckily for you, the birth took place without any complications.

When Marco wanted to hand the baby over to Ace, Ace didn't want to hold your little one in his arms at first.

“Oh no, give it first y/n, she had all the hard work so she should be first.” Even though he wanted you to have it first, he gazed longingly after the baby as Marco placed it in your arms.

He sat down on a chair next to you and clasped his hands together, watching you with pure pride.

You can hardly believe it yourself, but you are overjoyed…

“Ace, we're parents now…”

-

Ace loves to play with the child, even changing diapers is no problem. He is already looking forward to running around the deck of the Moby Dick with your child.

-

He always has a few bottles filled with milk on his belt and with the help of his devil fruit he can heat them up. It's like he's wearing a belt with grenades, you know? :D He skillfully spins the bottle in his hand and warms it to the perfect temperature to feed your hungry baby. You don't have to say anything or rush to the child because Ace is a responsible dad and loves to look after the little one.

-

Your child is just as much a ray of sunshine as you are and has the wild features of Ace. A combination that is impossible to resist.

Ace is definitely the fun parent of the two of you. You can already see how difficult it will be for him to stand his ground later on.

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨

Telling him you're pregnant: He wants you to bear his child.

You don't need to 'confess' it to him because it's a planned child. You are actively trying to get pregnant and as active as you are in bed, it didn't take long for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

“Wonderful news my little dove… You should be rewarded. What do you say? What does my little dove want, huh?” He leans down to you and lifts your chin with his finger.

There's a slight blush on your cheeks because Doflamingo's voice always sounds so seductive, no matter what he says. For a moment, you think about what he said. You're still a little excited that you're carrying his child.

“fufufufu… Is there anybody home in that pretty little head of yours?” a crooked grin graces his lips as he flicks your forehead.

You quickly regain your composure but your face turns red.

“Ah, I'm sorry my love, I'm just really happy that I've lost my voice.”

His laughter rings deep through the room as he pulls you onto his lap.

When you came into his office, he knew exactly what kind of message you had for him because when he's working, even you can't disturb him unless he calls for you.

He lavishes your hand with soft kisses and travels along your arm with more kisses until he gets past your neck and to your mouth.

You enjoy his tender touch as if it were already the reward, but you know that Doflamingo wouldn't accept this, so you think about it while you kiss sensually.

His big hands run over your figure and find a hold on your ass. He interrupts your kiss and if you pay close attention you can guess where his eyes are behind those red sunglasses.

“Tell me my love, what would make you even happier, huh?”

His whisper tickles your lips a little and in the back of your mind you already have an idea of what you want the most.

“Doffy, I really want to go shopping with you and buy things for the baby…” - “Your wish is my command.”

His behavior / During pregnancy: Hardly any different than before, but you'll be even more pampered.

Doflamingo will provide you with all the necessary servants to look after your wellbeing, and when you go into the city, more bodyguards than usual will follow you wherever you go.

His remark is still stuck in your mind: “…After all, there are 2 people to protect now…” he said to you as you were baffled by the amount of guards.

-

Even if he has to work a lot as king, he will always find time for you. He likes to take you out, and with luxurious appointments at the spa or a private visit to a hot spring, he'll make sure you're always relaxed.

Princess treatment is nothing new to you but since you are pregnant you have at least one professional massage a day besides the other appointments you have for your own comfort.

Manicure, pedicure, hairdresser, face masks, aqua aerobics to relax your tired bones, you name it.

-

The chefs are warned that whenever you are hungry for whatever, they have to prepare your every wish. No matter how late.

You fancy a special dish from the South Blue? Doflamingo had brought someone specially for you who can prepare any specialty with brilliance. He shows you his love through acts of service.

Birth/when the baby is around: He is smitten with the little miracle you have created and is already filled with pride.

He won't be there at birth but he will be the first one you see when you open your eyes. Just when you are at your most vulnerable, he will leave it to no one but himself to protect you.

-

You never thought Doflamingo could be so loving to a baby, but when you thought about it, he was always good to the kids in the gang. From the outside it may look like he's only interested in the skills, but you know for a fact that he respects and loves each of them as a member of the family.

At first you were a bit worried because you gave birth to a girl. After all, you were supposed to give him an heir to the throne.

“My dearest, that you have given me a daughter who is just as beautiful as her mother is like a gift from the gods.” While a few servants took care of your sweet girl to give you a break, he made certain insinuations.

“And who says one child is enough for me?”

His fingers gently stroked your skin while you had brunch on a picnic blanket in the castle garden. You blush immediately because you know exactly what he's getting at.

Another child with Doffy? You look after your daughter as she plays happily wearing a little pink feather dress that resembles Doflamingo's cape.

You shyly confess to him that you would love to have more children from him and before you could really finish talking he took you in his arms, ordered the servant to continue looking after your daughter and whisked you away to your bedchamber.

-

Doflamingo actually loves to dress your child :3

You know… You, him and your daughter in matching clothes… You're always well dressed.

𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐝

Telling him you're pregnant: He thinks you're joking and laughs as he turns his back to you and continues fixing his metal arm.

“I'm sorry Kid but I'm serious. I'm pregnant!”

He turns around because of your serious yet trembling voice.

You're not entirely happy either. You'd like to be happy, but you and Kid? Is that such a good idea? You stroke your arm feeling a little insecure as you stand in his workshop like a lost mess.

“Pregnant women have no place on the Victoria Punk…” - “What's that supposed to mean? Are you kicking me off the crew?!” You interrupt him with a raised voice. Your face is already turning red, but not from anger. You try to suppress your tears.

He grits his teeth in annoyance and approaches you with a pulsating vein on his forehead.

“What the fuck y/n! NO. Of course not!” You should just let him finish before you imagine something stupid.

He grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you close so that your noses are touching.

His eyes are filled with rage. You are always too hasty with your assumptions…

You look a little startled, but you know he's no threat to you when he gets this close because his grip is still gentle... You immediately regret accusing him of something like that. You know he would never kick you out of the gang. You were just too emotional…

His behavior / During pregnancy: He is constantly thinking of ways to do something useful for you and the baby but you hardly notice any of that.

His behavior doesn't really change in front of you. He's still a short tempered dickhead and that often leads to problems between you, especially now that you're having such hormonal swings.

-

It can always be dangerous on the Victoria Punk and sometimes you'll have to fight in the middle of the open sea. If Kid isn't around then Killer definitely is, because you are not 'allowed' to lift a finger.

You found this quite annoying in the first few weeks, after all you are still able to move quite well and you love to jump into the fight with the others.

After your first argument regarding this, you went your separate ways in a rage. A very typical picture after an argument between you; Kid disappears into his workshop and you flee to the crow's nest. What follows is days of ignoring each other until one of you can't take it anymore. But this time Killer followed you.

Killer broke the silence between you by simply telling you that Kid had a valid reason why you shouldn't fight and that you should please let him finish his explanation without butting in. A little offended, you wanted to say something at first, but you drop your shoulder and close your mouth. Even if you're angry, Killer doesn't deserve to suffer your rage. Kid is the one your anger is directed at. Your silence is Killer's signal that he is free to speak.

Your angry face quickly changed to a tearful one. The reason is as simple as it is understandable and you curse at Kid in a sobbing voice.

“Why doesn't he fucking tell me like you just did!” Your masked friend shrugs. That's a question that even Kid himself might not be able to answer.

“I think he's pissed off why you don't just let him do it, like you don't trust his decisions and then he gets…” “…Furious.” you finish his sentence. That's what Kid is like, a hothead but your hothead.

“Yep. Furious.” - “Argh! My fucking goodness no! I just don't want to be a burden and join the fight!” You feel bad.

Kid knows that you don't have a round belly at the beginning of your pregnancy, but Killer told you in secret that he's been reading books about pregnancy. Kid can read? That's the first thing that surprises you and then the fact that he reads pregnancy books of all things!

Not even you thought about it and suddenly you feel like a bad mom. Kid is really worried about you because he has read that stress and physical activity are a risk no matter what stage you are in.

The same evening you two reconciled. You apologized to him and didn't question anything, because otherwise Killer would be in serious trouble. Since then, you've simply accepted your fate.

-

You made an unexpected discovery in his workshop... There was a rather large object 'hidden' in the room, covered up so that you could only make out a rectangular shape.

Kid never covers anything in his workshop, so you got curious and looked what was hidden under the big cloth. You could hardly believe your eyes as you rubbed them in disbelief.

There was a crib in front of you and you're pretty sure he built it. The frame is up for debate, as the crib is made entirely of metal and almost looks like a cage that is open at the top… The metal bars give you prison vibes but your heart melts at his efforts.

On closer inspection, it actually looks quite cute too. He's even made a mobile with small figurines that look like fish and sea kings.

You don't even notice how the door opens behind you as you spin the mobile.

“So you found it, huh?” Startled, you turn around with one hand on your chest. You were so immersed that you didn't hear Kid coming up behind you.

With tears streaming down your face, you throw your arms around Kid's neck.

“I LOVE IT!”

Kid is generally proud of his work but your words are like music to his ears and with a grin he returns your embrace.

-

“What are you doing y/n?” You jolt as you push the furniture around in your shared room. Still standing on the doorstep with his hand on the handle, Kid looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You were just about to push an armchair across the room and in the middle of your movement you stop and grin at him, somewhat caught off guard.

“Uh, I… I'm just making some space…” - “Space?” A little annoyed, you raise an eyebrow; he could help you rather than ask you weird questions, after all, you're heavily pregnant. You put your hands on your hips a little bitchily.

“Yes, space! Don't just stand there and start helping. I'll make room for the baby?” Kid grumbles and sits down on the armchair. Confused, you gesture to him what this is supposed to mean, that clearly isn't any help. Kid's behavior confuses you a little, because his attitude is so different than usual.

Somehow he looks 'thoughtful'… Normally, he would have grabbed the armchair with his metal arm and taken it to where you want it. Why is he sitting down and looking at you with that confusing expression?

You raise your eyebrows questioningly and wait for a reasonable explanation. Struggling to find the right words, he scratches his chin, with his eyes focused elsewhere.

What's wrong with him? He seems to be lost in his thoughts? You don't recognize that from him. He seems to be preoccupied with something, but instead of ranting out loud or speaking rashly, he sits in front of you almost calmly.

His gaze tends to avoid you as he stares absently into space and you lean down towards him, visibly confused. His eyes look directly into yours and he groans a little irritated.

“Listen, you don't have to make room here because the baby's not moving in.” With your eyebrows drawn together, you lean back again and look down at the redhead. Well, not really down because Kid is pretty tall, let's say you're looking at him at eye level.

“Excuse me? The baby's not moving in here? The baby is not a roommate who we don't want to move in with… The…-” You stop your sentence abruptly and look down at your lips, where Kid's hand is resting. Kid doesn't have the nerve to listen to your rambling. You're taking it the wrong way again. But that's more his fault, because he always says things so stupidly, he's aware of that, but he's trying his best.

“Shut up for once, will you?” - “Excuse me?” You let out a muffled voice through his hand.

He growls at you a little as he lets go of you and stands up. Your gaze goes up to him while his goes down to you. There you both stand in front of each other, each with an annoyed look on your face.

“Do you remember that the Victoria Punk is no place for babies?” You think for a moment. You remember that and the fact that you thought he was going to kick you from the crew. You didn't really discuss what he meant by that, but now you're all ears.

“You and the baby will live in our hideaway.” - “WHAT?!” You're so perplexed that you spit a bit at him. Without taking his eyes off you, he wipes the spit off his chin. A little blushed, you mumble an apology.

Kid has no intention of leaving you there alone. He'll stop by often and try to stay as long as he can, but as captain, he has a duty to run his ship. He has made it clear to you in a surprisingly calm voice that it would not be a good environment for your child to grow up on the Victoria... If at all. It's too dangerous and what if something happens to your child? He's made the decision, that's how it's going to be done and there's no changing that.

You can more than understand his thoughts, but it would be nice if he had discussed this with you.

“You know Kid, you may be the captain but I'm still the mother of our child and before you make decisions like this you should talk to me!” You have to tiptoe a little as you point your finger at him. Rolling his eyes, he takes your hand away and gently pulls you towards him.

“You can make all the decisions in the hideout… For example, you can decorate the house however you like. No matter what it costs.” Your eyes light up at his words, “Apology accepted!”

Birth/when the baby is around: You will never see this man cry again. Only in your memories…

When he saw the sleeping face of your picture perfect child for the first time, a switch flipped in him. Who would have thought that Kid would ever have such feelings? The feeling of unfathomable love. The love he has for you is completely different, because he has learned to love you. But this baby? For your child, a love had been born in him that brought tears to his eyes. He will not learn to love this child. No. He will simply love your child more each day!

-

He is a bit reluctant to hold the baby, he even confessed to you that he is afraid of it because of his arm. He doesn't want to crush the baby. Watching him look at you with a crushed look on his face while you hold the baby is making you sad, so you think of something. You wrap a scarf around him and put your little one in the pouch so that he is lying on his chest. The sight is so wonderful. This tall, broad man with a baby carrier! How adorable.

Masterlist

'Hope you enjoyed it <3

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unhinged

Jason Todd x Reader

MDNI wc: 0.7K summary: your roommate finds your messages you send your friend about him. warnings: suggestive themes, no y/n used, actually kind of cringe a/n: my dear friend accidently gave me this idea while spamming me with delicious Red Hood edits (@dollyure), evidence will be shared at the end. enjoy!!

You never thought this could happen. You were so careful to leave your own thoughts to yourself and never let Jason see the things you tell your friend. But of course, nothing really goes your way for some reason.

It took one thing for you to end up in this situation. One thing. And that was leaving your phone unattented on the sofa for a minute. Unlocked.

It was a typical evening as any other, just getting to relax and wind down at the end of the week on your favourite spot at the couch with your roommate. Jason was always pretty quiet but respectful of the shared space, a good friend if you want to wind down together. You rarely get to see him in the evenings but on days like this, when he stays in, it feels like a small reward for you.

Of course he doesn‘t know about any of this. Doesn‘t know anything about what your silly texts between you and your friends. You keep it a secret pretty well, so he won‘t think you are a complete weirdo.

Well, until that evening. Setting your phone quickly aside to get to your boiling tea kettle, you forgot to lock it. Jason sits at the other end of the fluffy couch and watches how you scurry away to get the boiling water to a stop. With an amused grin he gets back to his book but keeps getting distracted by the bright phonescreen just a little away from him. Glancing over, he sees the outlines of text bubbles but he can‘t see what‘s written in there yet.

He isn‘t trying to pry or get into your privacy, but the way the other person spams you non-stop is making him more curious. Whatever this conversation is about, he wants to know if it‘s a conflict or some sort of gossip.

Jason checks if you are still in the kitchen and sees you preparing your tea and some sweets. He technically has enough time to snatch your phone while it‘s still open and gets to have a look over the texts. Who knows, maybe he will find out some interesting things on there. So, with these weak excuses, he grabs your phone and starts reading through them.

UNTIL YOUR TONGUE FADES COLOUR??? I mean every word I say. Wow. Just…

His brows furrow. What does this even mean? Are tongues even capable of fading colour? With a quick glance to the kitchen, he scrolls up, reading through the older messages.

From the couch, to the shower, to the bed, from the wall to the floor from missionary to cowgirl, straddled on top JUST LET ME HITTT

His jaw drops. Jason quickly composes himself and sits up, clearing his throat. He is sure he will need extra therapy after this. Ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling in his lower abdomen, he continues to read through them. Unsurprisingly, he finds a picture of himself in the chat. His profile picture, some random pictures he didn‘t even you had in the first place.

Until my throat memorises every vein.

That‘s the last message he sees from you before you appear in his sight again. Tea in hand, some cookies in the other. But most importantly, your flushed cheeks and regretful expression. His hand drops your phone and his cheeks also flush.

You can‘t look into his eyes anymore. This is the next worst thing that‘s ever happened to you so far. There is no way you can talk yourself out of this situation at all. He knows basically everything now. From the fact that you crush on him to the fact that you literally want to devour him whole.

Silently, he sets your phone back to its original spot and gets off the couch to stand up. Again, he clears his throat and speaks up first.

»I‘m gonna pretend I didn‘t see all this...«

And before you could apologise or say something to your defense, he is gone, retreating himself into his own room. Maybe even for the better, you can‘t imagine how awkward it would‘ve been if you were to sit next to him for the next few hours.

here is the so called evidence ( from my friends perspective)

and this was the final message that made me do this:

hope you enjoyed it somehow(★‿★)

part two

←MASTERLIST

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Love, Money, Fame

The three times that Seungcheol tries to show you he cares, and the one time you finally let him.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and poor mental heatlh. A tiny bit of angst.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

Seungcheol likes you. He’s liked you since he laid eyes on you. Admittedly, one of the things he likes most right off the bat is that you’re on the shy side. He thinks it’s cute that you flush bright red at the tiniest bit of attention. And heaven forbid he lightly touch you or flirt with you. He’s actually incredibly surprised when you agree to go out with him and he swears he’ll be on his best behavior for it. 

The first sign is actually when he’s walking you home from the first date. He puts you on the inside of the sidewalk so he can walk along the street edge and casually reaches for your hand. It’s sweaty and you apologize for it. He smiles kindly. “Do I make you that nervous?” It might sound like a tease, but he really hopes your answer is no and there’s another reason for it.

You can’t quite meet his eyes but he’s relieved that you don’t pull your hand away from his. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you. “Maybe. The whole concept of dating does, to be honest.”

He hums. “Haven’t dated much?” He hopes you don’t take the question as a jab, because it’s not. He just wants to know where you’re at so he can meet you there.

However, you shrug. “I wouldn’t say that… I’ve just been burned pretty badly before. The idea of starting over is kind of intimidating.”

He loves that you can be honest with him despite your shyness. He squeezes your hand lightly. “It’s your pace, Y/N. I’m not in a hurry.”

You glance up at him and give him a shy smile and squeeze his hand back lightly. The two of you fall into conversation again as he walks you home, but once you’re safely inside your apartment, his mind wanders to what exactly you meant by being burnt badly before. It kind of makes him heat with anger. You’re so sweet. How dare someone mistreat you or take advantage of your love?

Later, while staring up at a dark ceiling, he resolves to make sure he doesn’t burn you too. 

Two

He brings you to a house party. Things are going really well between you it seems. You’re still shy, but there are moments that you seem to warm up to him over the last couple months. This is one of those warm moments. You’re leaning into his side while standing in the kitchen and talking to a couple of his friends. He’s kind of touched that despite your nervousness about meeting new people you’re braving through it next to him, and because of him, because he asked you to accompany him. He gently rubs your back as you stumble over the words you’re trying to get out. 

He’s also relieved that Jeonghan bites back the grin at your little stumble. He’s already warned all of them that you’re pretty shy and he doesn’t want to have to hit his friend for embarrassing you. 

You’re mid sentence when there’s a loud sound that echoes through the kitchen. Someone’s popped a balloon. He feels you tense against his hand and glances down at you. You don’t look nervous. You look scared, every muscle in your body tensed and tears pricking your eyes. Instincts take over because he absolutely does not like this look on you. “Come on. Let’s step outside.” 

Your feet are planted and he has to nudge you a few times to get you to move. By the time he slides the back door open and you step out into the night air, your breathing is a little jagged. He does his best to be gentle, because he doesn’t want to startle you anymore. “Talk to me, Y/N. How can I help?”

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” There’s something mean about your expression all of the sudden and it takes him by surprise. He really tries not to take it personally, especially when you back up to keep him at arms length. You pace for a second and he lets you. When you stop and place your hands over your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Something inside him plummets at the crack in your voice. 

Cautiously, he steps forward, placing a hand on your back. “It’s fine. You were startled, I get it. Does that happen often for you?”

You nod and he thinks you look a little numb now. He hates it. “Why don’t we sit out here for a while? We can stick our feet in the pool.” 

Your eyes light up a little at the offer and he feels kind of proud when you lead him to the side of the pool and start peeling your shoes and socks off. You seem to do a 180 when your feet hit the warm water, the tension leaking from your shoulders. 

He loses track of time there by the pool while he talks to you. He decides he’ll ask you if you really want to go to something like this next time. Maybe this isn’t the best environment for you.

Three

Seungcheol is at dinner with you and some of your friends. He agreed immediately when you asked because you’ve already met many of his friends and he thinks it’s important to show the same courtesy. Your friends are nice. A little protective perhaps, but that’s something he can appreciate. 

They ask him more about what he does for a living - the long nights, the traveling, the working with other idols. He feels like he has an answer for all of this. He loves his job, but it is ultimately just a job and won’t last forever. This seems to be acceptable. 

They ask him what his intentions are with you. Again, a valid and totally expected question. He has an answer for this too. He’d like this to be long term and he really has a soft spot for you. He watches you flush from across the table and grins. He seems to pass this part of the test with flying colors. 

Then they ask how he intends to protect your privacy given what he does for a living. He knows this is a trick question. Either your relationship is out and your privacy is gone, or you’re like a dirty secret. He’s always hated the catch-22 of dating in the profession he’s in, because it will always be anything but normal. But the only reasonable answer is kind of a cop out. He’d follow your lead on it. If you want the relationship to be out, then it will be and he’ll be proud of it. If you want privacy, he’ll do everything he can to preserve it. Your friends seem to recognize it for the cop out that it is but don’t say anything else about the topic. 

Then the threats begin. If he makes you cry, if he mistreats you or cheats on you or lays a hand on you, they’ll be coming after him. He almost laughs and starts to brush it off, but the whole vibe at the table has changed. They’re deadly serious and you’re squirming in your seat, picking at your food. 

“I won’t be doing any of that, but if I ever do, I’ll deserve whatever you guys have planned.” 

He means it and he hopes you can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t need to know your history to know he doesn’t want to repeat any of it.

Four

You’ve dropped off the face of the earth. At first he thinks you both have just been busy. But when he gets a couple days off and reaches out to you, his texts and calls go unanswered. He starts to panic as the hours tick by. Has he done something wrong? Are you okay? 

He’s impatient and worried, so he stops by your apartment with dinner as a peace offering just in case he really has done something wrong. It takes a long time for you to come to the door and when you do his heart drops. “Baby, what’s wrong?” The food is unceremoniously dropped onto the entry table and he’s cupping your face. You look like you haven’t slept much recently and your face looks thinner like you haven’t eaten much lately. 

“Seungcheol, what are you doing here?” You look surprised to see him. 

“I hadn’t heard from you lately and I was getting kind of worried.”

You give him the same look you did by the pool a while back. Despite the red in your eyes, you look a little angry at the intrusion. “Well, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Fine, huh?” Seungcheol grinds his teeth. You nod. “Don’t make me do this the hard way, Y/N.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about getting you to open up a little bit. I’m here to help and I will not hesitate to throw you over my shoulder and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Seungcheol’s words bite more than he meant them to, but he’s frustrated. You disappear for nearly a week and this is the condition you’re in when he finally sees you?

“Have you always been this pushy?” You scoff. 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Have it your way.” 

You let out a little cry when he scoops you up, tossing you over his shoulder just as promised. With a free hand, he grabs the bag of food. In the kitchen, he carefully places you on a stool. “I had no clue you were such a brat,” he chuckles with the tiniest bit of humor as he unpacks the bag of food, placing a few items in front of you. You have your arms crossed, glaring at him, but he smirks. “Now do I have to feed you? I will.”

“We should break up.” 

His eyes narrow at the threat. “We’ll talk about that after you eat. Now what will it be?”

You huff, peeling off the lid of the take out container, refusing to look at him. The dish isn’t even a quarter of the way empty before he’s abandoning his own food to stand and wrap his arms around you. You realize you’re crying. He doesn’t say anything, just holding you against him, placing a light kiss on the top of your head. It makes you crack open. 

“I’m sorry. It seems like I have to keep apologizing,” you sniffle. 

“I guess it depends on what you’re sorry for,” he mumbles. 

“Being mean. Ghosting you like that. It’s just been a bad week.”

“Just talk to me, baby. I want to help.” He wipes your tears, sitting on the stool next to you. “You don’t have to tell me everything until you’re ready. But tell me how I can help when you’re like this.” He picks up your chopsticks, reaching for a bite of chicken to feed you. You push it away with a chuckle. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to break up with me?” You ask nervously. You didn’t mean anything by the threat earlier and you hope he didn’t take it seriously. 

“I’m sure.” He says it so solidly that there’s little room for doubt. He kisses your cheek for good measure. “Now, come on. You need to eat more.” You don’t fight him this time when he picks up the chopsticks again. There’s something warm in your chest at the way he takes care of you and you aren’t sure why you resisted for so long.