#was just so much more beautiful to me than any kiss

[httpswritings]

messages and more messages

(I had so much fun writing kisses and more kisses so here's another part of messages between reader and alexia) — there's some nsfw content, so beware

"Alee, I miss you"

"I'm watching you on TV :p"

"You look very beautiful"

"Tell me you don't have a gf because I'll be heartbroken"

"Would you go out with me?"

Alexia always took time to read your messages. They were usually very sweet, and that's what she loved the most about you.

She loved having a tender and lovely girlfriend.

"I miss you too, mi amor."

"But I have a girlfriend, I can't go out with you romantically"

You loved when she played along. She never initiated these types of games but when you did, she usually roleplayed very well.

Alexia wasn't safe from your texts when the two of you were home.

Whenever she got up earlier than you, usually most times, she'd receive messages from you while you were still in bed.

"Baby"

"Just wok e up"

"Allonne"

She always laughed about your typos early in the morning, picturing you still in bed, with one eye open and the light from the screen bothering you.

"I'm on my way, princess"

"Stay awake"

Most of the time, you did, but there were times where Alexia entered your room and all she found was you back to sleeping.

You also had some fun teasing Alexia, especially in reunions with friends or with family, but never in public where a camera could take a photo of your conversation.

Alexia still blushed at the thought of the first time teasing her in front of her lifelong friends. You were deep in conversation with some of them, or at least that's what you looked like, when you quickly messaged Alexia.

"Ale… Look at me"

"But shhh."

When Alexia did, she frowned, not knowing what you meant.

"What, bebé?"

"Your body looks very beautiful in those tight pants"

"Did you know that?"

"I'm having some trouble not looking at you."

":("

Your messages almost made Alexia squirm. It was no secret to herself the power you had over your girlfriend, knowing that with a look, with a word, with the ease of a gesture, you'd have her on her knees.

"Not here."

That was her final response.

You didn't expect more, knowing she would leave it there, because you knew it was a fact how much your words had affected her.

When both of you got home, she asked you to never do that again, and so you didn't. It took her less than two weeks to tell you that you could, but only in closed spaces. Easy, you knew from the moment she asked you to stop the teasing, that she’d ask to repeat it.

Alexia took her role as a stern captain very seriously, but deep down, when it came to you, she liked to be a little bit naughty.

Both of you agreed on never sending explicit photos.

Any explicit content was reserved for messages and calls, but never video calls.

When Alexia teased you, it was a nightmare not to watch her, but when it was your turn, you loved hearing her whimpering in your ear, through the phone.

Although your favorite part was when Alexia would text you out of nowhere.

Sometimes it was an image of a funny tree she saw, or a beautiful flower that "tried to emanate your beauty, but failed", or maybe it was a selfie of her wishing you a good day.

"Good morning, bebé"

"Good morning, baby"

[wbbpls]

Platonic Plus One

Chapter 8-Azzi POV

Word count: 3.2k i can't wait to hear all your thoughts on Azzi's pov. don't hate me guys

Azzi is even more confused. This whole fake dating thing has opened up a door Azzi isn’t sure how to close. She isn’t even sure if she wants to close it. How can fake dating someone feel more natural than any date she’s ever been on? And this isn’t just someone. This is Paige. This is her best friend. Her best friend who holds her every night until she falls asleep, who brings her favorite snacks, who knows when she is overstimulated, who tries so hard to make her laugh, who protects her from gross guys, and who buys her little gifts just to see her smile. Her best friend that she is totally and completely in love with. Fuck.

Azzi has Paige telling the story of when she fell in love with her on repeat. That weekend was so special to Azzi because it was the moment when she knew she wanted to be in every part of Paige’s life. She knew that life wasn’t complete without her. But it’s not just the story Paige told; it’s how she said it. Her voice was so tender and vulnerable. That can’t be fake. Yeah, Paige has a lot more experience with dating, especially when it comes to girls, but there is no way someone can fake that level of affection. When her mom asked Paige that question, she expected Paige to say some sarcastic comment making fun of Azzi. From that moment on, the craving Azzi had to touch Paige was more than ever before, and Paige let her. If anything, Paige touched her back just as much. 

When they fixed their hair and makeup before the party, Azzi noticed that Paige kept looking at her. Specifically her shorts. Azzi is fully capable of picking out her own clothes, but then she’d miss out on all this fun. There have been times over the past few years that she has noticed Paige looking at her, but Azzi always made up some excuse as to why. But after the drinks started flowing, the boundaries left the room, and Azzi decided to put the power of her shorts in motion, literally. After hours of Paige’s hands getting lower and lower on her hips, she was desperate to feel those hands even lower, especially after Paige had the audacity to call her babygirl. Jess promptly teased Azzi about this for the next three minutes. 

Once they started dancing, Azzi kept grinding on Paige’s front, thriving under the sound of Paige’s wavering breath each time Azzi pressed down harder. Paige began to grip harder on her hips, adding a layer of control Azzi wasn’t expecting but gladly welcomed. Paige peppered soft kisses across the back of her neck, and Azzi lost any semblance of control. Were the boundaries ever in the room with them in the first place? 

Azzi thinks she might be dreaming and slips out a moan and the words, “Fuck, P, you feel so good.” If it weren’t for Paige's harsh bite and suck in response, Azzi probably would have panicked. 

Then Paige finally spoke, “I love these shorts on you, fuck, Az.” Mission accomplished. That’s when Azzi finally broke as she spun around, pulling Paige in for a passionate kiss. It feels like no one is in the room but them. All Azzi could feel was the warmth of Paige’s tongue and her hands pulling her closer. Paige finally moved her hands down to squeeze Azzi’s ass, a feeling she was praying for ever since she put those shorts on. Azzi can confidently say, she’s never been so turned on in her fucking life. 

Azzi has always avoided talking about her sexuality. Everyone else just seemed so confident and comfortable with theirs, and people assumed she was straight anyway, so she never corrected them. But after that kiss? There’s no way in hell Azzi can ever say she’s straight again. 

What Azzi didn’t expect was for Paige to whisper how beautiful she was in her ear before kissing her neck again. The tenderness in her voice was somehow more powerful than the lust she just saw in her eyes. Azzi was immediately brought back to dinner, reliving how Paige said she fell in love with her. This has to be real. Azzi pulled hard at the nape of Paige’s neck, desperately trying to get closer to her, and Paige received the message loud and clear. Her kissing, nipping, and sucking got more intense, almost like she was the one on a mission now. Azzi wouldn’t be surprised if there were a mark later, and maybe she should be upset about needing to deal with a hickey in front of her entire family. Still, the thought of Paige claiming her so publicly makes the hassle worth it, even if it's a reminder on her skin of what she can’t have. 

From there, Azzi stopped thinking. She let herself enjoy being with Paige. They were still best friends, and there was something almost reassuring about how easily they fell back into their banter after a heated makeout session. Anyone else would think that happens every day. Even when Jonathon came to speak to them, it still felt like Paige and Azzi. When Paige so easily answered about Azzi taking her last name, no one else mattered. Azzi let herself imagine that happening, something she had never seen with anyone else. It felt like everything was finally starting to line up. Everything felt perfect.

Until it wasn’t. 

One of the girls had to ask Azzi about sex, probably trying to get her to talk about Paige. This shouldn’t have been hard, but ironically, Azzi is a pretty bad liar, despite her fake dating her best friend. She is especially bad at lying to Paige, making her night with Jonathon so difficult to not tell Paige about. 

Azzi remembers it all so clearly. Not because of Jonathon, but because all she could think about was the blonde-haired girl she had left behind the entire time. When Jonathon asked her to prom, she said yes. He was nice, and they were in the same friend group, so she thought it would be fine. When Azzi called Paige on Facetime to tell her she was going with him, she saw a flicker of something in Paige’s eyes she had never seen before. She said she was happy for Azzi, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Maybe it was because she lost her prom to the pandemic? Azzi started to ask her about it, but Paige quickly ended the call. Considering that they usually fell asleep talking to each other, Azzi was left to fill in the blanks by herself. The following weeks, Paige was distant. Azzi tried everything to get the girl to open up, but nothing worked. Did something happen at home or school? Was she mad at Azzi for something she said? Paige has always been charming and easy to talk to, making her even more skilled at talking herself out of a conversation she doesn’t want to have. Even with the distance between them, Paige never said no to talking to Azzi whenever she wanted. Azzi took the chance and asked her to come visit her at the end of the school year. Although hesitant, she said, “Of course, Az.” in a soft voice that feels like it's reserved only for Azzi. Hearing that was reassuring because she was starting to wonder if Paige didn’t care about seeing her anymore.  

Once visiting, things were awkward but better. However, Katie invited Paige to come over before prom. She was shocked when Paige said she’d be there. Getting ready with Paige was honestly really fun, and it was such a relief. When the doorbell rang, silence loomed over the two girls. Paige’s face tensed, and there was a quick pulse in the back of her jaw. Finally, almost as if someone heard us, everything would break, she whispered, “You look so beautiful, Az.” She believed her.

The photos were awkward. Azzi couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Shouldn’t this be fun? Once Azzi got to prom and saw her friends, the night felt a little more at ease, but she knew she was missing a certain blonde that night. Jonathan told her how beautiful she looked, too. She didn’t believe him. 

Her friends kept encouraging them to spend time alone together. They sat outside in the courtyard, discussing basketball, something Azzi always knows how to talk about. The issue is that it just made her miss Paige more. Unexpectedly, Jonathan moved in for a kiss, her first kiss.  

You’re supposed to do that with the nice cute boy in high school, right? It was a fine kiss, if anything a little awkward. Then he asked Azzi to be his girlfriend. Azzi said yes because what reason does she have to say no? Her friends kept pressuring her to date him, so she must be the problem, right? All her friends have been on dates, and she’s just been too scared to do anything. 

When she told all her friends that they were official, they were over the moon excited for her. Paige would react that way, too, right? Then, they all asked Azzi if she was going to have sex with him that night. Her heart dropped. They all said that now that they’re dating, of course they’d have sex, and how romantic it is to do it on prom night. When Azzi hesitated, they all reminded her she was going to regret not losing her virginity before college. 

Once the after-party was in full swing, Azzi could only think about how she would tell Paige about her new boyfriend. But then he asked if she wanted to go for a drive together. Once they stopped, he played music and asked if she wanted to move to the back where they could chill more. Azzi’s heart was racing. He made the first move, and Azzi didn’t have it in her to stop him. She is supposed to want to have sex with her boyfriend. She’ll regret it later if she doesn't get it over with now. That’s what she kept telling herself the rest of the night. 

It was painful and uncomfortable. Isn’t sex supposed to be this life-changing, amazing experience with sparks flying? Azzi thinks she might regret having sex with him more than regretting waiting until college. He was so nice to her, so she convinced herself she wasn’t being fair to him. 

When she got home, she was relieved to see Paige fast asleep in her bed. And then guilt washed over her. She just had sex with her new boyfriend, and she is coming back to share a bed with Paige. The bigger issue is that sharing the bed with Paige is what she’s wanted all night. She feels guilty for not telling Paige. Guilty for wanting to be with her in bed more than Jonathon. Guilty for having sex with him. The guilt of Paige telling her how beautiful she was on repeat in her mind all night, while Jonathon saying the same thing went out the window. The guilt of saying yes to being his girlfriend when she realizes now she wants to be Paige’s girlfriend. 

Azzi slipped into bed, wrapping her arms around Paige’s stomach. She immediately cuddled into Azzi’s neck and sighed as Azzi started to rub her back. 

“I love you, P.” For a moment, she had Paige back.  

====================================

The following day, Azzi woke up first, anxious about the conversation she needed to have with Paige. Paige slowly woke up, and with her bright blue eyes, she said, “Good morning, Princess. How was last night?” She earned the term princess during Team USA and hadn’t heard it in a few weeks. 

“Uh, it was good. Fun.”

Paige looked at her curiously as she got up and dressed for the day. “That it?”

“I need to tell you something.” Azzi’s heart started to race. Paige looked at her with so much concern that it practically broke her heart. “You okay, Az?” 

She struggles to get it out. “Azzi, you’re scaring me. Did something happen last night?” 

She held it until she just burst it out. “Jonathonaskedmetobehisgirlfriend.”

“Oh.” There is no emotion on her face. What is she thinking? What isn’t she saying? 

“That’s it? Oh?” 

“Did you say yes?” 

“Yeah.” Azzi almost couldn't be heard with how quietly she responded. The guilt came over her again. She isn’t cheating on anyone, and she told Paige right away. There’s no reason to feel guilty. 

“Cool. Happy for you guys.”

“Oh, uh t-thanks.” 

“For sure, you’ll make a perfect couple.” Paige couldn’t meet Azzi’s eyes when she said that. “Anyway, I’m gonna head out.”

“Wait, you’re not staying to hang out?”

“Nah, I got stuff to do,” Paige spoke so nonchalantly, as if Azzi said nothing of importance, but she has still yet to make eye contact until she stops at the door. “Bye, Azzi.”

Something about the goodbye felt permanent. It was a goodbye to what could have been. That day, Azzi knew Paige didn’t want her the way she wanted Paige. 

===============================

“So Azzi, tell us all about it. Who have you had sex with at this party?” Why would anyone even ask that, like go get laid or something. Azzi freezes because prom night comes rushing back to her, reminding her of the Paige that didn’t want her. The Paige that distanced herself all summer. The Paige that doesn’t know she had sex with Jonathon. 

“Uh, yeah, I have.” Azzi can feel eyes on her from the left side of the room, and she glances over at Jonathon, accidentally making it so obvious.  

“Wait a minute. Did you have sex with Jonathon, too?” Azzi felt the perfect night being ripped to shreds each time this girl asked another question. Azzi kept rubbing Paige’s arm around her stomach, trying to ground herself. It was almost like she was trying to remind Paige she was there with her. She stuttered, trying to get any words out, scared to look at Paige. 

Thankfully, Jonathon answered for them both. “Yeah, but it was a long time ago. Old history.” Azzi offers him an appreciative smile for helping her deal with the awkward moment. Everyone moves on, and Azzi shifts to look at Paige, but suddenly, she pushes Azzi off her lap.

“I, uh, I n-need to go to the bathroom.”

“You okay, Paige?” Paige looks pale and emotionless. It was almost the same face she had made when she had told her Jonathon was her boyfriend. But this time, something else was there. She just can’t put her finger on it. 

“Just don’t feel great.” Maybe Azzi is overthinking this, and Paige had too much to drink. 

“Can I come with you?” 

“No,” Paige snapped. It startled Azzi because Paige was rarely ever anything but sweet to her. Sure, they make fun of each other or play fight, but never like this. 

Azzi began to go after Paige, but then Jonathan stopped her. “Hey, Az, I’m really sorry about that. It was pretty shitty of them.” 

“I mean, it’s not your fault. Thanks for bailing me out at the end there.” 

“Do you, uh, mind if we talk for a minute?” God, he has the worst timing. 

“Sure, what’s up?” They move to sit on the same couch Paige was just occupying, suddenly cold without her. 

“I don’t know what has been said or not, so I’m just putting it all out there. That girl Bailey came up to me after talking to Paige and starting saying random shit about all of us. I think she overheard me talking to Brandon about maybe hanging out with you later and that it’s been a while. When she came up to me, she told me Paige was angry at me, and I swear, Azzi, I didn’t mean anything by asking you to hang out. I just don’t want either of you to think I’m disrespecting your relationship.” 

“Wow, I don’t even know what to say. For starters, that girl is clinically insane, so none of this surprises me.” They both laugh, breaking the ice. “And I really appreciate you saying all of that. I don’t think Paige is mad or anything. We honestly just moved on.”

“Okay, good. I genuinely mean it when I say I mean no disrespect. I miss when we were friends without all the complicated shit, you know?” 

“Life does have a way of complicating things, doesn't it?”

“Seriously. But when it comes to you and Paige, man, you guys have always been inevitable. Life can’t get in the way of that, at least.” If only that were the case. 

“Wait, what do you mean inevitable?” 

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just always been Paige and Azzi. No one could ever get you to smile or open up like Paige does. It’s not like I didn’t try to be that for you. But I remember this one day at the end of the summer, your parents threw that going-away party before you left for school. I’ve just never seen you light up like that with anyone but Paige. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, and I just knew something was different between you guys.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I didn’t fully understand my feelings for Paige at that time. I never meant to string you along in any way, I promise.” Azzi tried so hard that summer to stop thinking about Paige as anything other than a friend or teammate, but apparently, it was something she had never been capable of.

“Dude, I know you didn’t, you’re Azzi Fudd! You’re like the nicest person ever to exist. Plus it was the end of high school, we were all trying to figure our shit out. I’m just really happy that you guys figured out yours.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

The two kept talking, reminiscing about funny stories and weird teachers, but Azzi was stuck in her head. All these years later, Azzi is talking to the same boy, wishing she was with the same girl. She’s tired of it. She needs to talk to Paige. 

“It’s been so awesome talking again, really.”

“It really has. I hope we can keep talking. Paige too!” 

“Of course! I’m actually gonna go to the bathroom to check on her. She said she wasn’t feeling great.”

Azzi made her way to the bathroom and knocked a few times. On the last knock, the door opened, but it wasn’t Paige. Confused, Azzi looked around the room desperately for her tall blonde. Then, she pulled out her phone to text her, seeing a missed text from Paige.

Paigey 💗: went back to the room to lay down.

Princess 💗: Paigey? Are you okay??

Princess 💗: I wish you got me, P. I’d go with you in a heartbeat

Princess 💗: I was waiting for you to come back out. I’m leaving the party now.

Princess 💗: Paige??

Azzi runs back to their room, opening the door to darkness. Paige is fast asleep. Maybe Azzi was exaggerating, and Paige was being honest, and she didn’t feel well. Azzi changed into sleep clothes and slipped into bed. Just like the night after prom, Paige cuddled into her neck, and Azzi rubbed her back. 

“I love you so much, P.”

[matchpointfaist]

dilf sugar daddy!art paying for my european vacation please my beloved

well yes 😁😁😁

a/n: got a little carried away w my freak

art wanted you to have all the best things in life, especially the experience of traveling. he’d swipe his card on any flight without batting an eye. scotland for the summer? of course! amsterdam for the spring? well why wouldn’t he! he’d fund your traipsing around paris, italy, anywhere you heart desired, so long as you sent him plenty of photos if he couldn’t go with you.

your birthday gift was an all expenses paid, two week trip to london with your best friend. he was so excited for you to see it, telling you all about how he’d enjoyed his stay when he’d played tournaments in the city.

you spent days packing, every outfit meticulously put together, all your days planned out to perfection. art was so patient, so helpful, sitting eagerly watching you try on everything you’d packed. he was no real help, of course, simply telling you you looked beautiful in every single thing you put on, but the effort was nice regardless.

when he dropped you off at the airport, he’d gone through a checklist twice, making sure you had everything you needed and that you were ready. he kissed you desperately at the gate, mumbling that he’d miss you against your lips, holding you as close as he could until it was time for your departure. as soon as you landed, you’d send him a selfie, all big smiles and glittering eyes, and he knew it was all worth it.

you sent him photos all week, calling him at night just to hear his voice for a moment, making sure it was really alright that you went to a number of places on his dime. the answer was always yes, of course. he’d just smile when he got each bank notification, his heart warmed at the thought of you swiping a card with his name on it.

he couldn’t keep his hands off of you when you finally came home, kissing you dizzy as soon as you walked into the baggage claim, picking you up and spinning you around just like the movies. “missed you so much, pretty girl,” he told you between kisses, “so so much,”

he couldn’t even keep his hands to himself long enough to drive, having called a driver to escort you back home just so he could spend more time with your lips on his. “art,” you giggled as his kisses trailed lower, “we can’t-“ he shook his head, rolling up the partition and continuing down your chest with a grin, “it’s fine, baby. just be quiet, yeah?”

his hand crept past the waistband of your sweatpants, his fingers sliding underneath the lace your of your panties easily, a soft groan leaving his lips at the slick already collected there. “god, you greedy thing,” he mumbled, circling the pad of his finger against your clit. you muffled your moans against his chest, clinging to his shirt, praying the driver couldn’t hear you.

“show me how you missed me, baby,” he hummed, his free hand cradling the back of your head, running his thumb against your hair gently. “missed you s’much, art,” you practically whimpered, “god, you have no idea,” “that’s my girl,” he smiled, speeding up his motions against you, your thighs shaking around his hand, “go on, pretty. come for me,”

you came so quickly after that, clenching your thighs around him, biting down on his shirt to keep from moaning any louder than you already had. he withdrew his hand after working you through your high, tapping his finger against your bottom lip. you opened your mouth, practically trained, and wrapped your lips around his fingers, cleaning them off with a soft sigh.

“such a good girl,” he praised, kissing your forehead, “gonna suck my cock like that tonight, baby? hm?” you nodded, eager with need, “of course,”

what was a week away from you when he had you like this so soon after your return, he thought to himself, what was a week when he’d have you forever?

[ssentimentals]

59 with cheol🩷🩷

hello-hello! this one is definitely going to end up being angsty, hope you're okay with that, thank you for requesting! 💜

prompt: 'lying curse/forced to lie about something'

for the greater good, my ass. seungcheol never believed in all this high and mighty bullshit and he also never thought that he'd somehow end up in a position where 'for the greater good' will ever make sense to him, but life has funny ways of teaching him a lesson. a cruel one, but a lesson nonetheless.

'was this all a joke to you?' you ask, trying to hide a tremor in your voice but failing. 'all of it? just..some game?'

seungcheol is not a weak man by any means, but looking at you tests all of his limits. he hates it. hates seeing how you're trying not to fall apart in front of him, hates being the cause of your distress. he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, pepper kisses all over your face and tell you that everything is going to be alright. he can't and he knows why, but he can't tell you and fuck. nothing in this life prepared him to have his heart breaking for lying. keeping a poker face is a hard enough job as it is, but when you lower lip wobbles, he has to curl his fingers into a fist to surpress the urge to come closer.

'say something,' you push, trembling like a leaf. 'i think i deserve the truth, no? or are you that much of an asshole that even now you can't say it to me?'

seungcheol bites his lip. he's not an angel, but he is not an asshole. and you will understand everything once you learn the truth, but it's not now. truth will come out much, much later and his actions will make sense to you much later as well - seungcheol knows this, knows why he is doing it all, but hell, it's causing him unberable pain.

'was it all just a game to you?' you repeat, sounding angry. 'have you even felt anything for me at all?'

it's ridiculous. seungcheol felt and still feels for you more than he has ever felt for anyone in his life; what he feels for you is too big for words, too big for this entire world. and yet- 'yeah,' he speaks up, lying. 'got you real good, didn't i?'

it's a low blow. it's a knife twisted deep and seungcheol hates it. hates it cause he knows you will be crying your whole ride back. hates it cause he knows you will be overthinking every moment you two shared, trying to understand how could you be so blind, how could he had you fooled. the truth is - he's protecting you right now. for the greater good and all that idiotic jazz that turned out not to be idiotic at all.

'yeah, you got me real good.' you shake your head, letting tears fall freely. it's crazy how even when you're crying you are still the most beautiful woman he's ever met. 'you know what? fuck you, choi seungcheol. you're such a fucking asshole and i hope someone will play with your heart and break it, i hope you will learn this pain that i'm feeling now.'

seungcheol is feeling it right now, but you don't know it. and when you turn around and walk away, seungcheol can only pray that this 'for the greater good' thing will honestly turn for the greater, because otherwise he just fucked up the biggest love of his life.

a/n: haven't written angst in a while, hope it's good? let me know! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[princesssmars]

thinking of karlach who's obsessed with the new domesticity she has with you. sfw + nsfw.

after years alone in the depths of the hells, never getting a chance to go more than a few minutes at a time to truly feel safe, its safe to say that as soon as she has the opportunity to just be at peace in your new home she takes it with a deep sign and a serene smile.

thanks to helping out weary travelers and friends on your journey to saving the realm (and some very much deserved generosity from the people of baldur's gate), the both of you are able to settle in a quaint little cottage not too far from the city. it took some fixing up, a leaky roof here and a broken gate there, but at the end of the day it was home.

sometimes its hard for karlach to grasp, that after all this time she has a place to call home again. instead of a cramped and hot barracks she rests her head on the plush of your carefully picked out pillows and sheets, the perfect blend of sturdy bet soft that can have her falling asleep in seconds after a long day on the farm or cuddling and talking with you for hours.

and maybe what makes it better, as she so often loves to tell people and friends when they visit, is that she gets to share it with you. every so often during the day you'll catch her admiring you while you do your chores, the red beauty looking at you from inside while you feed your chickens an early breakfast. unable to go without touch for long she'll routinely come out to help you even when you don't need it, hell she's helped you shovel cow shit just to spend a few more minutes by your side.

but maybe she loves every little mundane thing in your routine because every thing is a reminded that she's here, she made it, literally went through hell and back and now gets to live the simple, sweet, and romantic life she's dreamed of.

so she kisses you every time you cook dinner together, wraps you in her arms before you go off to sell some leftover goods at the market, and plucks you a custom bouquet of wildflowers on her weekly walks through the forest with scratch.

and by the gods, did she love to show you her love for you in the most intimate ways possible.

when karlach's engine was first fixed (and even before that, thanks to your shared creativity), the only fitting way to describe your sex life together was phenomenal. like two puzzle pieces you both just fit, giving and receiving in a perfect balance that led to your shared satisfaction nearly every night. it was expected that after a while the excitement and giddiness would cool and you'd settle into a slower pace, but if anything your beloved was only more attached to your body.

it was safe to expect to wake in your early mornings with a shuttered gasp and a hand thrust down into karlach's hair, her hot tongue tracing shapes and her name into your cunt until you came with a loud cry into her mouth. she wouldn't stop until the shake of your legs knocked her head from your center, tracing tender kisses and playful bites up your thighs and stomach before landing on yours, a sweet peck and toothy smile along with an overly cheery 'good morning, baby' bringing you into your day.

as much as you chastised her for it, you couldn't resist when she'd come onto you during your work. good luck trying to pick up one of the hay bales, because as soon as your fingers graze the spiky yellow texture a large red hand is settling on your hand and another is on your waist, joined together by a strong red body pressed right up against your ass. she tries to pass it of as being helpful, that ‘you should leave all the hard work to me, darling!’ but you can hear the truth in her voice, a thinly veiled arousal waiting to burst any moment.

maybe she really catches a glimpse of the sweat trailing down your neck, the flush of your skin from constant movement, or maybe it’s because she just really likes when you’re bent over for her, but suddenly the hay bale is off of both of your minds when she’s impatiently pushing your body over to a hidden corner in the back of your barn, your hands steadying your body on the wood as your lover grinds herself into your behind, the coarseness of her hair and the brief blink and you'll miss it brushes of her clit between your thighs metaphorically (and damn near literally) driving you up the walls.

and sometimes you don't have to look blissful in your garden or hard at work on your farm, something as simple as you walking around the house can get her going. you still blush when you remember the day you accidentally put on one of her oversized shirts in the morning, figuring she wouldn't mind if you wore it just while you read on your couch. when the bleary-eyed barbarian stepped out of the bedroom and was met with the sight of your bare legs thrown over the couch arm and her shirt stopping at the middle of your thighs, she truly showed you the meaning of her class name as she quickly settled on the floor between your legs and ate your cunt like she was starving, only stopping so she could switch to stuffing you with her fingers so she could watch the way your body writhed covered in the fabric.

she wasn't just fueled by lust, however. one moonlit night you asked her what constantly drew her to you like a magnet and she bit the inside of her cheek before quietly responding that you just needed to look happy. you laughed the first time she said it, wondering if there was a time since you met her if you were anything but, but the look in her golden eyes and the tremor in her normally sturdy eyes told you what she really meant. she wanted, needed to know that you felt the same way she did every day, like any of these mornings she would wake up and this would all be a sick but sweet dream before she woke up back in the hell that was her life.

and what can you do but assure her that it's all real? you're glad she gets this way after you've both settled into bed, because you revel in taking hours twisted between the sheets and each others bodies as you bring her apart using your mouth, then your fingers, then both, before finishing with her body underneath yours as you slowly move your cunt above and on to hers, breathily giggling at the sight of her nails digging in to her palms at her barely contained desire to grip your hips and move you how she wants. any other time you'd encourage it, but on nights like these you want to make a point.

its hot and aching and pleasurable to the point of agony, but it's all worth it when she falls apart with a shout and quick falling tears while crushing your body to lay on hers, her moans drifting off into gasps of your name and declarations of love before she settles into silence with you.

"sorry if i get too...i don't know, paranoid," the deep timbre of her voice pulls you from the beginning throes of sleep, combined with her nails gently ghosting along the skin of your back. "all of this, and having it with you, just feels too good to be true."

you smile, pressing a kiss to her chest. "i know. but we earned this, we deserve it. besides, it'd take another army to take you away from me, i can only imagine it's the same for you."

"you've got no idea, soldier."

i wanted to buy a shirt of my #1 baby mama vi at hot topic but all of arcane's merch is ✨dogshit ugly✨ so i bought a karlach shirt instead. then i thought of her railing me in it soooo here we are.

[toppamplemousse]

fairytalestappen part 5/5: sleeping beauty

last one best one!!!!!!!!!!

hope you enjoyed this series, i enjoyed rambling on and on about these two freaks and the many universes where they are abnormal about each other. and also about making them princesses and putting them in dresses. heheheheh.

this one is set in the real f1 world, max and charles are both drivers, but its magical realism where spells, hexes, potions, etc are commonplace

it’s set in abu dhabi 2025, the wdc fight has come down to the last race and it’s charles vs. max vs. lando, any three of them could win it (two hydrogen bombs vs a coughing baby) (if you’re wondering who won the wcc, ferrari already clinched it, that’s not important at all for the story but it’s important for me)

backstory is: charles and max are fuck buddies during the 2025 season. letting out steam during the race weekends etc. convincing themselves that’s all it is. a week before abu dhabi, charles tells max that they need to stop seeing each other until after the last race, because it’s just too much with the championship battle. max was gearing up to tell charles that he had feelings and wanted more and he’s DEVASTATED. some miscommunication here obv.

so max is despondent going into abu dhabi but still determined to win of course.

because they are cheaters and can never win anything legally ever, mclaren have come up with a plan to guarantee that lando will win the wdc: they will slip a sleeping potion into max and charles' drinks and then max and charles will be asleep for the race and lando will cruise to victory

there’s just one small catch of this sleeping potion: the person affected can be instantaneously awoken by none other than True Loves Kiss. but that should be fine, right? neither max nor charles have girlfriends, so there’s no way anyone can wake them up. foolproof plan, zak brown

the morning of the race dawns (lestappen are starting on the front row btw, that’s not important for the story but it’s important to Me) and oh no! charles leclerc has been hit with a sleeping potion and he’s asleep and can’t be roused by anyone! (in my head he’s in his car very peacefully asleep)

max is unaffected bc in my head the red bull was powerful enough to counteract the sleeping potion

max KNOWS it was mclaren who did this but he has no way to prove it. the only thing he can do is figure out how to wake charles up before the race. even though it would be easier for max if charles slept through the race, max doesn’t want to win the wdc because charles isn’t racing, he wants to race charles and win, blah blah blah predestined rivals etc etc you get it

also max loves charles so much, he doesn’t want him to miss out on the chance to race for a wdc just because mclaren are huge massive cheaters. so max decides, even though it pains him, he’s going to find out who charles’ true love is, and get them to kiss charles, so that charles will wake up and can race. because if max can’t have charles, then he at least wants to be able to race charles (the sleeping drought may not have put max to sleep but it may have atrophied his brain honestly)

so anyways max wracks his brain to think of who could be charles’ true love. first candidate: lewis of course. he’s charles’ teammate, and they’ve been getting closer and closer this year. brilliant idea max. he goes to lewis explains the situation. lewis looks at him first with pity and then like he’s objectively insane.

lewis categorically refuses to attempt to kiss charles. vague mention to the fact that he can’t be charles' true love because he knows someone else is his true love (he says this in a very tortured way, implying that it didn't work out with his true love. brocedes you will alwayyyyyyyys be famous). so anyways lewis is not an option.

next up: charles’ FORMER teammate carlos. they always got along, had a good rapport, and many charged moments. max goes to him in the williams garage and begs and pleads with him to try to kiss charles. carlos is willing to give it a whirl. he goes to the ferrari garage and plants one on charles. max sits there and seethes, feels like carlos lingers for too long. it doesn’t work. max doesn’t acknowledge the twist of satisfaction in his gut.

next up: maybe someone that charles works closely with in ferrari, someone he trusts and has a close relationship with. max finds bryan and asks him if he will consider kissing charles to wake him up. bryan casually drops that he already tried it and it didn’t work and max is FURIOUS but doesn't interrogate exactly why the thought of bryan kissing charles makes him so mad. poor dumb loser max (affectionate).

the next person on max’s list isn’t even in the paddock, so he gives seb a call. seb is the best option so far because definitely at one point, many years ago, he was charles’s true love. seb is in switzerland but he could make it in time for the race. max begs and pleads with him to just come try it, seb really wars with himself because. could he be……? no. but he and charles always had something........but no. but will seb always wonder if he doesn’t go? but ultimately seb says he won’t do it. he gives max some cryptic advice that maybe charles' true love is "right under his nose" but max has no idea what that means. classic seb.

max is at his wits end. the race is an hour away. max considers also dropping out of the race in solidarity with charles , but he can’t just let cheating mclaren win. so he has to go through with it and win for charles

max is despondent and goes to find fred in the paddock, to explain that he tried his best to wake charles up, but without any success. fred is like "have you tried EVERYONE???" and max is like "yes, of course, and nothing worked." and fred is like "literally EVERYONE you can think of, they've all kissed charles and it hasn't worked??" and max is like "yes??? that's what i just said. i guess charles' true love doesn't work in the paddock."

finally, fred is fed up with this dumbass, so he's like "hey max, will you humor me, just to rule out all options, just to be methodical, you understand, will you kiss charles, just to make sure you've ruled out every option? just do it for me please max, to put my mind at ease."

max tries to protest that charles doesn’t see him like that and just recently broke off their arrangement they had. fred is like "okay, i just wanted to make sure we ruled out every option, before we sacrifice charles' best chance to win the wdc, but ah well."

so finally max is like. even though it will break my heart to go to kiss charles and have it absolutely confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that charles doesn't love me, but i'll do it for him, because i have to try everything i can to help him have a chance of racing today.

max goes to garage 16. imagine a swell of music as the tension builds. he leans in and kisses charles very sweetly. and -- wait, is that???? charles is waking up????? but that means-- that means that max is.........................he's charles' true love!!!!!

charles eyelashes flutter and his eyes open (many thoughts here about his beautiful green eyes) max kisses him again and again. charles is confused, but max explains everything and charles is like “you made CARLOS KISS ME!!!!!!!!!????!!!!! and then they both are confessing their feelings and are very happy and then bryan pops his head into the garage and he’s like “hey the race is starting in like 10 mins”

and as he leaves charles has a thoughtful look on his face and max is like “yes bryan also kissed you” and charles is like “BRYAN??!!!!!!!??????..............did he say if it was good or not?”

anyways im getting side tracked. max and charles are happily ever after and oh charles goes and wins the race and the wdc and mclaren is disqualified and zak brown is fired. the end.

[slytherinshua]

AKSKS THIS ENDING WAS SO PERFECT CALLI ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ the race scenes were all so tense esp Singapore like god damn I was right there watching it all the descriptions were so good it left nothing to doubt like you could really picture every part of that race IT WAS SO GOOD

And the hug scene DKJDKS WHY WAS THAT LOWKEY MY FAVOURITE EVEN MORE THAN THEIR FIRST KISS LIKE I JUST LOVE WHEN THE EMOTIONS ARE HIGH AND A BIT STRESSFUL BUT THERES SOME SMALL COMFORT TO CUT THROUGH THAT ALL IT WAS REALLY BEAUTIFUL 🥹🥹

I love their banter so much it’s so perfectly in character for haechan AND I ALSO LOVE HOW THEIR CONFESSION WAS SMTH THAT THEY BOTH KNEW WAS COMING FOR A LONG TIME LIKE YES FINALLY ACCEPT IT BOTH OF U !!!!!! and now they’re happy and in love and I am SO NOT OKAY ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

decorating Christmas trees together has me so soft and melting cause Christmas is hands down my favourite holiday and the one that I have the most traditions and memories associated w UGH I WANT TO SHARE THAT W MY FUTURE PARTNER SO BAD ITS JUST SO 🥹🥹🥹

and u finishing this fic right before the season starts is so perfect too like hello!!!! Australia in just a couple days ARE WE EXCITED ARE WE READY RKDJDKSS !! honestly it was so fun to kinda match the kpop guys to drivers irl and see who fits like obv there wasn’t any perfect fit to current drivers BUT STILL SIMILARITIES AND IT WAS FUN TO CONNECT LMAO

love kpop f1 aus there’s only a matter of time before I finish my first one (hopefully I’ll finish it sooner rather than later hehe) YK SOMETIMES I DONT HAVE THE EMOTIONAL ENERGY FOR LONG FICS ESP SLOWBURNS BUT OTHER TIMES ITS EXACTLY WHAT I NEED AND CRAVE BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER THE LONG FICS MONTHS OR EVEN YEARS AFTER READING HEM AND THEYRE JUST SO SPECIAL I CAN IMAGINE THE TIME AND EFFORT YOU MUSTVE PUT INTO THIS FIC IT MUSTVE TAKEN HUNDREDS OF HOURS OF YOUR DEDICATION AND I RLY ADMIRE THAT ☹️☹️☹️ I would love to accomplish writing more fics with a word count this high in the future CAUSE THEY TRULY JUST MAKE U FEEL SO PROUD ONCE UR FINISHED W THEM AND I HOPE U ARE INCREDIBLY PROUD OF THIS FIC CAUSE IT WAS SO GOOD AND FUN TO READ 🥹🥹🥹🥹 and thank god for another break from the race engineer x f1 driver fics cause like I said before SO OVERUSED LMAOOO

LIGHTS OUT PT.2

pairing: f1driver!haechan x PRmanager!femreader

genre: fluff, angst, romance

description: Haechan, bold, aggressive and unrelenting, is back after a narrowly missed opportunity to become the world champion in 2024. This time, he's set his sight on making it all the way to the top. You, as his newly appointed PR representative, are assigned with the task of keeping up with a world of high stakes, unpredictable twists and well, him.

warnings: strong language, stressful situations, descriptions of car crashes and physical exhaustion, slowburn, honestly quite f1 heavy

w/c: part 1 - 17.8k part 2 - 15.8k glossary a/n: the last part!! for any errors in descriptions of any of these places, reminder: i've never been there LOL. Writing Haechan in this threw him back into my bias list (very up high too) and it was so fun :)) this is the biggest fic i have ever written and i think that I'd like to be proud of it. I hope you all like it too! (If you do, i may or may not have a ferrari scoups fic in the working to make this into a series for all my caratzens 👀 so please be on the lookout for that as well!) This might have a few typos ngl...proofread this half late at night so excuse them 😔Please feel free to comment or send an ask about your thoughts on this. Feedback is always appreciated <3

COLOGNE, GERMANY

September 12th

You: Haechan you’ve been to Cologne before right? What was the name of that restaurant you said you really liked? In Alstadt. [12:47]

Lee Haechan (RB): Are you in Cologne rn? [12:47]

You: Yeah!!! My sister and I decided to go on a little girls trip since yk there’s a break. She has a college sem break now too so the timing was perfect haha Anyways, what's the name? [12:48]

Lee Haechan (RB): What the hell 😭 omg where are you exactly rn This is INSANE I’m ALSO here with my SISTER ??? [12:48}

You: NO WAY??? We’re walking back from the cathedral rn Old town’s like 2 mins away by walk where are YOU? [12:48]

Lee Haechan (RB): There’s this lock store thing nearby in old town My sister wanted to buy one for her and her boyfriend so we’re going to head there after lunch 🙄 We should eat togetherrrr ask your sister Mine’s fine with it. [12:48]

“Rina,” You call your sister to grab her attention. She hums as she turns one last time to take another photo of the cathedral looming in the distance, “Promise me you won’t freak out.”

She turns to look at you then, furrowing her brows, “Why?”

“So I asked the friend that I told you I’d be asking…” You grimace as she stares at you for a moment before it clicks.

“Ah! The guy you lowkey have a crush on but will not admit it. Yes, why?” She grins, looping her arm through yours as you begin to walk again.

“Shut up,” You roll your eyes, “Coincidentally, he’s here too and he’s wondering if we can catch lunch together. He’s with his sister too.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the excitement coursing through your sister, a small jump in her next step as her hand tightens around yours.

“Yes! Tell him we’ll come,” Rina giggles, “Oh, I can’t wait to meet this guy!”

You sigh again, regretting your decision already, “Please don’t embarrass me? And don’t say anything I wouldn’t want you to say, okay?”

She nods her head, lips stretching into a smile, “Go on, tell him!” 

You pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

You: We’ll come!! Are you sure your sister is fine w it? [12:50]

To your surprise, your phone buzzes in your hands, Haechan’s profile pic flashing on your screen.

You quickly swipe to answer, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “Hello?”

“Hey,” his voice is casual, but you can hear the underlying excitement. “I figured it’d be easier to call. Are you in Alstadt now? My sister is really excited, by the way.”

You take a moment to look around the old town. It’s a charming sight, cobbled roads with colourful, narrow buildings leaning against each other. The air carries a faint scent of fresh pastries from cozy cafes nestled between quaint shops selling handcrafted trinkets and souvenirs. There’s a relaxed and calm energy in the air from the soft murmur of laughter and conversation drifting out of the many breweries in the area. 

“Yep, where do we go?”

“Awesome. Okay, see the fountain in the middle of the square?” Haechan asks, his voice clear through the phone. “We’re at this brewery right behind it. It’s got these big wooden barrels outside and a green sign. You can’t miss it.”

You look up, spotting the fountain just ahead, surrounded by people taking photos and chatting. “Yeah, I see the fountain. We’re heading over now.”

“Cool,” Haechan replies, his voice light. “I’m standing outside so you can spot me.”

You can’t help but smile. “Alright, see you in a bit.”

“See ya,” he says, and the call stays connected, neither of you hanging up.

It’s strange how comfortable it feels, just having him on the other end of the line. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to hang up first or if he’s waiting to spot you. You don’t have the heart to hang up either.

Your sister, on the other hand, has no qualms about your situation. She pokes your shoulder, her voice loud enough for Haechan to probably hear. “Are we going or what?”

You snap out of your thoughts, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, we’re going.” 

The sun shines bright over the square, but there’s still a chill in the air. It’s pleasant and frankly it’s exactly the weather you love. As you pass the fountain, the sunlight glinting off the water, you promise Rina that you can take photos on your way out. Just beyond it, you spot the brewery Haechan described, the wooden barrels outside and the green sign hanging above the door. And there he is, leaning casually against the wall. 

He’s wearing a slightly oversized beige knit sweater that looks warm and comfortable, the fabric soft and relaxed around his shoulders. It contrasts nicely against his black jeans. His hair falls messily over his forehead, tousled by the breeze, and he looks so put-together that it takes you a second to remember how to breathe.

I see you,” you say softly, your heart doing a little flip.

You see him perk up, his eyes searching the crowd before locking on you. A bright smile spreads across his face, and he waves.

You wave back, suddenly feeling shy before you cut the call.

“Is that him?” Rina whistles. Haechan stands a little awkwardly, hands tucked into his pockets as he waits for the two of you to come over. As you come closer though, Rina gasps.

“What the fuck? That’s Haechan.” She stops in her tracks, hand falling out from yours.

You nod sheepishly, scratching your neck, “Yeah…”

“You have a crush on Lee fucking Haechan, shut up.” Her mouth falls open. You grimace before pulling her along again. 

“Please behave yourself.” 

“Do you think I could ask for an autograph?” She pipes up, “I didn’t want to ask you till now cause I didn’t know if it would be appropriate but holy shit, you like him and by the looks of it, he does too so I think it would be fine.”

“Rina, stop.” You grit out, still smiling.

“Hey, you made it!” Haechan’s smile grows wider when you approach. Without thinking, he moves in closer, his arm slipping around your shoulders for a brief second, a quick, casual side hug as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s barely more than a brush, just enough for you to feel his warmth against your side, his fingers resting lightly on your shoulder before he pulls away just as quickly. 

Rina grins at you, making you narrow your eyes as you turn back to Haechan. 

“Haechan, meet Rina, my sister. Rina,” You point at him, “This is Haechan.”

He holds out his hand for her to shake, which she takes willingly.

“I don’t mean to make this awkward,” Rina begins, “And she’s probably going to kill me for saying it so soon, but I’m a big fan! You were really cool in Austria!”

Haechan laughs, eyes flitting over to you once, “Thank you. She’s really mean about it though, isn’t she? She never tells me that I do well.”

“I just don’t want to inflate your ego,” You roll your eyes defensively, “And hey! I do tell you sometimes.”

He nods, but you see the look he shoots your sister, making her giggle in agreement.

“Anyways, let’s go in, Dahyun’s already caught us a seat.”

—

The plates on the table are mostly empty, remnants of lunch scattered between glasses of half-full beer and water. The lively chatter coming from the other side of the table contrasts the comfortable silence between you and Haechan.

You lean back in your chair, eyes fixed on Rina, who’s explaining something to Dahyun, her hands moving wildly as she talks. Dahyun watches her with rapt attention, nodding along enthusiastically, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“They’ve really hit it off, huh?” Haechan’s voice is low and close, his shoulder just barely brushing yours as he leans in.

You smile, nodding. “Yeah. I didn’t expect them to get along so well.”

Haechan hums, “Dahyun’s usually shy around new people, so this is a nice surprise.”

You glance at him, taking in the soft, fond smile on his face, “She’s cute. I was honestly worried that Rina might be a bit too much. She’s—if it’s not obvious already—the extroverted one between the two of us.”

“You talk to a lot of new people, though,” Haechan turns to look at you, “Quite confidently, too.”

“It comes with the job,” You shrug.

“Speaking of, it’s nice to meet outside of work, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re probably glad I’m not eating your ear off about saying the right things, no?” You joke, expecting him to laugh and retort. Instead, he looks slightly taken aback.

“No, I don’t mind it.” Haechan tells you, but when you shoot an unsure look, he continues, “I mean, at first it was a bit weird. You were all business, all the time. But then I got used to it... and now...” He trails off, his eyes flicking to yours before quickly looking away. “Now, I like having you around.”

Your pulse quickens, not expecting him to sound so serious. “Oh,” is all you manage to put out.

He seems to want to say something else when a burst of laughter from across the table catches your attention. Dahyun and Rina are completely lost in conversation, their heads bent close over Dahyun’s phone as they snicker at something.

“It’s kind of crazy how we’re both at the same place, if you think about it.” Haechan scoffs, smiling at them, “And crazy how they’re getting along. So random.”

“I’m pretty sure I overheard them exchanging numbers too.” You giggle, “Guess it was just meant to be.” You glance at him.

Haechan’s gaze is already on you, his eyes softening, “Yeah, maybe it was.”

You’re not sure who looks away first when the moment is broken by Dahyun.

“Oh! The love locks!” she exclaims, her eyes bright as she turns to Haechan. “We’re going after this, right?”

Haechan sighs, “Yeah, yeah.”

Dahyun beams, turning to Rina. “There’s this bridge nearby where couples put locks on the railings and throw the key into the river. It’s supposed to be, like, a forever thing. Isn’t that cute?”

Rina’s eyes widen with excitement. “That’s adorable! We should put one too,” She looks at you.

You laugh, “Hey, you can’t get rid of me. We’re already sisters forever, or whatever.”

“Still,” She insists.

“Oh my god,” Dahyun gasps, “We should all put one together! Like... as a memory of today!”

Her words hang in the air. All of you? Together? Your eyes flick to Haechan only to find him already looking at you. His expression is unreadable, his gaze lingering just a little too long before he looks away, a small smile playing on his lips.

Rina claps her hands excitedly. “That’s such a cute idea! And we can write the date on it too!” She turns to you, her eyes sparkling. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

You hesitate, feeling strangely shy. “I mean... yeah, I guess that could be cute.”

Haechan leans back in his chair, his arm resting casually on the back of yours. “You sure? Thought you’d think it's cheesy.”

You scoff but your lips curve up anyways.

It’s just a lock. It’s just a silly little tradition, you try convincing yourself.

But the thought won’t leave your mind. The image of writing on that lock, snapping it in place on the bridge... standing next to Haechan, side by side, surrounded by hundreds of other locks glinting in the sun. You can almost feel the warmth of his shoulder against yours, hear his soft laughter as you fumble with the key. It’s silly. Completely unrealistic. But the thought makes your chest flutter all the same.

“Okay!” Dahyun announces, breaking you out of your thoughts. “It’s settled then. We’re all getting one!”

She looks so excited that you can’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright. I’m in.”

“To be fair,” you turn to Haechan as you get up from your seat, slipping your arms into your coat, “This seems like the kind of thing you’d call cheesy too.”

He shrugs, helping you pull the sleeve as you struggle with your left arm, “Yeah, but it’s different if it’s with you.”

You freeze. His eyes are bright, reflecting the golden afternoon light. You don’t see the playful spark in them that’s present whenever he pulls pranks on his engineers and mechanics. Are you just imagining it, or does he look the most sincere you’ve ever seen him?

You tear your gaze away, clearing your throat, “What is that even supposed to mean?”

He laughs, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “C’mon, let’s catch up before they leave us behind.”

Without a second thought, he holds out his hand to you, palm open and waiting. You try not to stare, hesitating for a moment before slipping your hand into his. 

Haechan’s fingers curl around yours, slowly, maybe a little unsure now that he’s already done it. You lose your breath at the way it feels so right.

For the first time, as he leads the two of you out, you stop trying to convince yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. Right now, it’s starting to feel like everything.

SINGAPORE, MARINA BAY STREET CIRCUIT

Thursday, Media day October 2nd

Haechan walks out of the meeting room with a lot more on his shoulders than he had walking into it an hour ago. There's a sense of finality, excitement in him as he peeps into the corridor, wondering where you are. At the same time, it feels like the biggest burden ever. Six years he's prepared for this, fought for this and now that the weekend is already here, he is overwhelmed beyond words. Even though he's known that it's been coming this entire season, even though he came close to it last year, Haechan realizes that no matter how many times it happens, he might never get used to it.

He sees you walking towards him, turning into the corridor he's in. Your eyes are stuck on your tablet, strides long and in a rush.

He realizes you're the first one he's going to tell. It's electrifying.

You come to a stop in front of him, beginning to greet him when he stops you by putting both his hands on your shoulders. His hand shakes a little and you notice it.

“Are you alright? Do you feel si-”

“They said I could win the championship this weekend.” 

Haechan watches as you smile, like you already knew. Do you?

Your smile grows, “I know! I just got the news. The press will probably ask you about it.” 

He leans against the wall, hand coming up to his heart, “I can't believe it, honestly.”

“You can do this!” You grin, “I'm so happy for you, genuinely. Finishing the championship with like 6 more races left is crazy and you're so close to it.”

“You think I can do it?” Usually Haechan asks such questions when he's completely confident and digging for compliments, but today you know he really means it.

“I believe in you, come on.” You drag him, “You will be fine. Right now, there's a press conference to get to.”

“You're going in with Seungcheol, Doyoung and Jeonghan.” You inform him as you leave the hospitality and head towards the FIA building. “They will definitely ask you about the drivers championship and since Choi is also there, there'll be questions about the constructors too. There's no need to make digs at anyone right now, so be careful.”

“What do I tell them if they ask about the drivers championship? Fuck, I really don't know what to say.” He sighs, shaking his head, “It feels kind of unreal.”

“It's better to play it safe right now. I'm sure that this weekend decides if you're going to be champion, not Jaehyun, right? So even if you don't win here you don't have to be too worried. Don't freak out so much. You only have to tell them that you're focusing on the race here. There's no need to commit to anything beyond that.” You bite your lip, “Honestly Haechan, you'll be fine. Say what comes to your mind, just don't sound overconfident, alright?”

He nods. You give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder as the two of you enter the conference room. You'll be sitting behind the reporters, right there. He has nothing to be worried about.

The moderator begins to speak as Haechan sits down next to Seungcheol, “Good afternoon everyone. Welcome to the FIA driver's press conference ahead of the Singapore Grand Prix. Joining us today, on my right we have Doyoung from Mercedes, Jeonghan from Williams, Seungcheol from Ferrari and Haechan from Red Bull.”

The first few questions from the moderator are directed towards the other three, with Jeonghan answering questions about how it's getting more competitive in the midfield right now, to Doyoung talking about the problems he's been facing with the car as of late. The next question, though, goes to Seungcheol.

“Seungcheol, Ferrari are in contention against Red Bull for both the Driver's and the Constructors’ Championship, and it seems the team’s focus has shifted more towards Jaehyun’s title fight. How are you balancing supporting the team’s goals with pursuing your own results this weekend?” The moderator asks.

Haechan can tell it ticks off the man beside him.

“The team’s goal is to secure the best possible result in the Constructors’ Championship, and I’m fully committed to contributing to that. Jaehyun’s in the title fight, and it makes sense for Ferrari to back him. But that doesn’t mean I’m just here to play support. I’m still a competitor, and I’m racing for myself too. My focus is on maximizing my own performance, and if that helps the team, then that’s a win-win.” Seungcheol asserts before setting his mic down.

“Thank you, Seungcheol. Moving on to our championship contender. Haechan, you have a chance to secure the driver's championship this weekend. How are you managing the pressure of that possibility, especially at a track as challenging as Singapore?”

Haechan clears his throat, “Yeah, I mean I'd be lying if I said there was no pressure. But it's a part of the job. I've learned that the moment you start thinking too ahead, you lose focus of what's in front of you right now. So I'm trying to take this entire weekend one step at a time. Singapore is a tough track, nothing's guaranteed. I'm going to approach it like any other race. Try to give my best. If it happens, it does. Otherwise we keep pushing.”

The moderator nods, “Well, all the very best to you. We'll now open the floor to questions from the media.”

A journalist in the first row stands up, “My question is for Haechan.”

“Hello,” Haechan smiles, earning polite laughter from the journalists.

“Both Seungcheol and Doyoung have been in your position before. Have you sought any advice from them on handling the pressure of a title decider?”

“I mean,” Haechan laughs a little, “Not really? I've seen first hand how they've handled it and that in itself has been sort of a lesson. But at the end of the day, all drivers experience things differently and deal with things differently. But who knows, maybe I should ask them.” He turns to look at the two world champions sitting near him.

Seungcheol throws a small smile, “You'd have to ask nicely.”

Haechan rolls his eyes at this, playfully poking the inside of his mouth with his tongue in mock irritation.

Doyoung laughs along with the rest of the room before speaking, “Honestly, with the way he's been driving this season, I wouldn't say he needs our advice.”

The next journalist stands up with a question for Seungcheol.

“There have been rumors going around since Monza that you might be in the talks of leaving Ferrari. Do you have anything to comment on about that?”

“Rumors are just that—rumors. Nothing is confirmed till you hear it from me. Right now, I'm focused on the constructors. Anything beyond that, we will talk when the time comes.” He says with an air of finality, giving the hint that he will not entertain more questions about this.

—

Lee Haechan (RB): Can you wait for me? I'm almost out of debriefing We're going to the same place anyways, I'll drive you [20:29]

You: stalker much? I'm in front of the Ferrari hospitality. [20:34]

Lee Haechan (RB): More like I saw you leaving in the morning Where are youuuu [20:36]

“Hey,” Haechan greets as he walks up to you.

You take his arrival as an excuse to leave, bidding farewell to Jaehyun's PR manager.

“God, you came at the right time, really.” You groan as the two of you walk into the parking lot.

“Why? She's that bad?”

“Don't even get me started,” You let out, exasperated, “I pity Jaehyun, honestly.”

Haechan lets out an offended noise as he opens the door of his car for you. You slip inside, too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice the gesture. When he gets into the driver's seat, he sighs.

“You can't pity my competitors, come on. Unless it's because of what's coming for them.” He jokes.

You sigh, swatting his arm, “No that's not it. She's weirdly really open with whatever is going on at their team. I think if we’d stayed a few more minutes she would’ve straight up started talking about the contract situations in Ferrari.”

“My first PR manager was like that too. And I think because I was a lot younger, he thought he could just control me and boss me around.” Haechan exhales as he drives out of the gates. 

It makes you bristle. “I hate people like that, honestly. Like you’ve got one job, it’s really not that hard to stick to it while being a nice person too.”

Haechan hums, nodding his head. 

“You know, thinking back on it, she was like that in college too. Never knew how to keep things to herself. She had this grand nickname— The Leaky Faucet.”

It makes him laugh. You can’t help but stare at him while he drives. He looks like he feels better than he did in the morning, his shoulders are more relaxed and his head gently moves to the beat of the song playing on the radio. The soft, dim glow of the dashboard makes his features look softer and more innocent.

You look away before he can catch you gazing. “Is the hotel far from the track? I didn’t really have the time to notice it in the morning.”

“Nah,” Haechan glances at you for a moment before focusing on the road again, “We’ll be there in like five minutes. Come to think of it, this is the first time you’re sitting in a car that I’m driving.”

You gasp, “Wow, it is! I’d give you a 4.8 rating out of 5.”

“Where did the 0.2 go?” He scoffs.

You sigh, sinking back into the seat, gazing outside the window at the Marina Bay Sands hotel outside, forever illuminated. “Nowhere. I need to keep your ego in check.”

“You wound me,” He says, making you laugh at the way it sounds so monotone, “By the way, I called my parents up today and they were so excited, I’m pretty sure they already booked tickets to fly in for tomorrow.”

You coo at that, unable to stop your lips from smiling, “That’s great! It’s insane honestly. I mean, you’ve probably heard it from so many people already, but I’m truly very excited for you.”

He pulls into the hotel entrance, shaking his head towards the valet to let him know that he’ll park the car himself. Looking back at you, he smiles. “Thanks pretty.”

If his words didn’t make your breath hitch, you’d be rolling your eyes right now, fighting the urge to pull him by the ears. Too bad you actually fucking like the stupid guy.

“Dahyun’s coming too, I think,” Haechan mumbles as he backs into a parking spot. He does it with only one hand, the other resting casually on the center console. He does it with so much ease that you have to blink a few times to snap out of your thoughts. The effortless way he controls the car, barely glancing at the mirrors, makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before. There’s something undeniably attractive about how relaxed and composed he is. You remind yourself that he’s a driver, for god sake. It would be concerning if he didn’t know how to park well.

“I honestly think she’s more excited to see you than see me win.” Haechan speaks again as he turns the ignition off, turning his body sideways to look at you.

Although you scoff, your heart warms at the thought of his sister liking you, “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Believe what you will,” He shrugs, “I’m telling the truth, though.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you. For a second, you let yourself savour the idea of being more involved in his world.

“You’re exaggerating, Haechan. But do tell her I’ll be happy to see her as well.” You say, getting out of the car. He follows you, gently shutting the door before locking it behind him.

As the elevator doors close, Haechan speaks up again. “I'm glad you two like each other, honestly. Hope your sister doesn't mind me either.”

You're about to laugh it off and tell him that Rina would love him anyways when the first part of his sentence hits you. A part of you wants to ask him why, wants to put a name on this, wants everything cleared up. The other part wants to let everything die down before you address anything.

Tonight, you ask anyway, sure that you'll regret whatever answer you hear from him. Both your rooms are coincidentally on the 25th floor giving you plenty of time to talk if you must.

“Haechan,” You begin, carefully, “Really, what do you mean by that?”

He looks at you properly, turning his entire body towards you. 

Haechan thinks you feel the same way that he does. Although you're professional most of the time, he's noticed the way you blush or look away when he throws something flirty at you. He's noticed the way you've become much more comfortable with him, the way you don't seem to mind how close you've become. The lines between coworkers and friends had been erased a while ago, but the line between friends and a little something more lies there in the space between you two, stretching long and thick. He wants to bend over it, hold your hand and jump onto your side to erase that too. He's just not sure if tonight is the night. So he makes himself, and hopefully you, a promise.

“Sunday,” He finally says, sounding a little short of breath but determined nonetheless, “I promise we’ll talk about this on Sunday, after the race.”

You nod. In a way you are relieved, but now that you know you're going to hear something from him, it keeps you on your toes. 

When the two of you get off the elevator on the 25th floor, Haechan stops you by grabbing your hand. You glance at it for a second and it makes him take his hand off. You wish you could tell him that you would rather him not do that.

“I hope this doesn't make it awkward between us for the next few days.” Haechan admits, looking down as he shuffles from one foot onto the other.

“Of course not,” You furrow your eyebrows, “It won't, don't worry.”

Your rooms are on two different ends of the corridor, so he shyly bids you goodbye and promises to leave only after he sees you go inside. You can't help the butterflies that rise in your stomach as you turn on your heels to go back to your room. You don't dare to turn back. You don't know if you can control yourself if you do.

—

Saturday, qualifying October 4th

“Welcome back to a crucial qualifying session here under the bright lights of the Marina Bay Circuit! We’re in for a tense evening, and one of the biggest stories heading into this weekend is Lee Haechan’s grid penalty. After taking a fresh energy store, the Red Bull driver will drop ten places from wherever he qualifies today.” 

“Yeah, and that’s a big blow for him. He’s got the chance to walk away with the driver’s championship this weekend, and on a track like Singapore, which is notoriously difficult on the drivers, that’s going to be a tough hill to climb on race day.”

Usually, you don’t sit through qualifying. There are more important things to do back at the hospitality. Articles to overview, media obligations to manage, last-minute preparations for whatever chaos might unfold post-session. But tonight is different. The Red Bull garage is packed, not just with the engineers and strategists and mechanics but with most of the crew that usually don’t attend. It’s an important qualifying that leads to an important day for not just Haechan but the entire team. The last time Red Bull had a world champion on their hands was a long time ago. 

His family is here too, in one of the corners of the garage where there are normal televisions to watch the qualifying. You see Dahyun wave at you and smile in return. You can’t walk up to her right now, but you’d already met her earlier in the day when her mother and her had stopped by the hospitality to grab a coffee before heading down to the garage during FP3. 

You turn your attention back to the screen when you see Haechan roll out of the garage for his first run. The RB21 glows under the artificial lights as he leaves the pitlane. 

“Out lap now. Track conditions look stable. Let’s build into it.”

“Copy.” Haechan responds. 

He’s worried. 

This grid penalty just had to fall on the weekend that mattered the most and there’s nothing he can do to even protest against it because it’s the team’s decision, and because it was done to maximise his performance this weekend in the first place.

As Haechan begins his outlap, he pushes the penalty out of his mind. He needs to focus on getting pole. It’s the only way he can lessen the damage. 

On the bright side, the car feels good under him. He approaches the corners confidently and the car is well balanced, taking the high speed straights well. Maybe the new energy stores were a good decision after all.

You watch as the first times come in. Doyoung sets the benchmark, a 1:35.982. Jeno follows, then Seungcheol. The screen flickers as sector times update, and you feel the tension build as Haechan’s name lights up purple in Sector 1. 

He’s faster than Doyoung by a tenth in sector 1. As Haechan approaches Sector 2, you’re on edge. If he can stay ahead here, sector 3 won’t be too hard. The screen flickers, and there it is—another purple. Faster than Doyoung again.

"Yes!" someone mutters under their breath. You can’t help but feel a surge of pride, even though it’s far from over. 

He hits the final stretch, and you watch as the seconds increase. The timing screens update, but this time, it's Haechan’s name that dominates. A 1:34.926. Purple across the board.

The garage erupts. The engineers shout in excitement, high-fiving each other. The team principal gives a nod of approval, but his focus is already on what’s next. Haechan’s provisional pole doesn’t guarantee anything yet, but it’s a damn good start.

The team radio crackles on Haechan’s side, “Mega job, Haechan. Mega. You can head in if you’d like.”

Haechan doesn’t have room to be satisfied with his performance. He will not, until he has a clear lead over the others. He wants to push, see how much more than a second he can go. Plus, Singapore is a track where the grip increases with more rubber lay-down.

“I’ll stay out.”

After a slow, recharge lap, the team watches as he winds up for another flying lap. It’s a gamble, his tires will have lost some of their peak performance, but if he nails the lap, it won’t matter.

“Alright, you’re clear,” his race engineer says. “Push now.”

Haechan’s first sector is clean and precise. He shaves off time where he can and maneuvers through the corners perfectly. Then comes sector 2. The garage watches as he approaches Turn 14, braking even later than before. The car responds sharply. The rear wobbles, side pods almost grazing the wall, so close that for a moment, everyone in the garage holds their breath. It’s the kind of moment where, if he gets it wrong, that’s the lap over.

But Haechan doesn’t lift. Doesn’t hesitate.

“That’s a purple sector 2. Doing good, push harder if possible.”

“I’m trying, man,” Haechan grits out. He’s already wringing every bit of performance out of the car.

He storms through sector 3, showing insane speed on the straights. You think that the people back at the factory who are most definitely watching right now, deserve to be really proud of themselves.

When Haechan crosses the line again, the times update.

1:34:582.

“What’s the gap?”

A beat of silence, then his engineer’s voice,“P1 by 1.4 seconds. You can box, box.”

And that is pole position occupied for the rest of quali, you think, unable to help the grin on your face as you watch his family celebrate.

The pitlane is still buzzing as the final cars complete their laps, but no one comes close. Haechan’s time remains untouchable. One by one, the names shuffle on the board, but his stays on top.

When the session ends, confirmation comes through. “Session over, P1 confirmed,” his engineer tells him. “We’ll start P10 tomorrow. Lots of work to do but good job, you did your best.”

Haechan knows it too. He climbs out of the car, removes his helmet, and though his face is calm, you know him well enough to see the flicker of frustration behind his eyes. Pole position means nothing when you have to give it up.

He barely has a moment to breathe before his family surrounds him, his mother pulling him into a tight hug before he can even react. He stumbles back a step, but his hands come up instinctively, resting on her back as she murmurs something only he can hear. Whatever frustration was lingering in his posture melts just slightly, replaced by something softer. 

Dahyun grins beside them, waiting for their mother to let go before nudging Haechan in the ribs. “Fastest man on track,” she teases. “Shame you’re not starting there.”

Haechan rolls his eyes, but there’s the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he wants to be annoyed but can’t help himself. His father claps him on the shoulder, saying something about how he drove well regardless, and for a moment, the tension of the session is forgotten.

You hesitate a few steps away, watching the scene unfold. You don’t usually get involved in moments like these. They’re personal, belonging to the drivers and their families, not to you. You know when to blend into the background, to let them have their time. But you also know when to step in, because there’s still a job to do.

Still, approaching feels different this time.

Adjusting the collar of your team polo shirt, you take a breath before stepping forward.

“Haechan,” you say, voice level, “we need to head to the media pen soon.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes flicking to you before he gestures for you to come closer. “Oh, right—Dad, Mom, this is my PR rep,” he says casually, “She makes sure I don’t say anything that’ll get me fined.”

His father chuckles, holding out his hand, “Well, that must be a full time job.”

You shake it firmly, offering a small smile, “Some weekends more than the others. But he’s fine.”

“We appreciate it,” his mother says warmly. “This one can be a handful.”

Haechan groans, throwing his head back as he sets his helmet on the table, “Come on, I’m really not that bad, she said it herself!”

He turns to you, “Can we please leave before they say something that would actually look like I’m a PR liability?”

You laugh at that, smiling and nodding at his family before you leave behind him.

The paddock is still alive and will be for a few more hours to come. Mechanics start packing up, Jeno’s side practices a pit-stop, engineers bent over their data. Haechan walks ahead, his pace unhurried. He doesn’t look particularly frustrated, but you can tell the result is still sitting with him.

“You’re quiet,” you say as you catch up.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Just thinking.”

“You drove well.”

He hums, “Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It could’ve been worse,” You point out, “You’ve done all that you could have.”

He sighs softly. “Yeah. Still feels shit, though.”

You don’t have anything to say to that.

The media pen is bright and waiting. You can see the other drivers and their representatives and trainers hanging around the area, probably waiting for their turn or coming out after finishing. The journalists wait, cameras and mics ready.

Haechan breathes in deeply, dragging a hand through his hair, fingers catching briefly before falling back to his side. Then, with barely a pause, he steps forward, and you follow.

—

The hotel is quieter than expected when you walk in. It’s a little late, but you did expect to see at least a few people from the team in the lobby. You step into the elevator, pressing your floor number before leaning back against the wall, already half distracted by your phone.

The doors are just about to close when a hand slides in between them.

Haechan.

He steps inside, the doors shutting behind him. You blink, caught off guard. It’s late. Too late for him to just be getting back.

“You’re back now?” you ask, brows furrowing.

He leans against the railing on the glass back-wall, hands stuffed into his hoodie’s pockets, eyes trained on the floor. “Meetings went on forever. The debrief was long and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

You nod to yourself. Of course there is.

“What about you though?” Haechan looks up, “Why were you down so late?”

“I went to dinner with a friend,” You shrug.

“How was it?” He hums before looking up at the floor that the elevator stops on. 16. Someone gets on and you step behind, closer to him.

“It was fine,” You reply, a little softer, “Did you eat?”

Haechan nods.

“In your dressing room like a lonely little kid?”

“I didn’t feel like sitting with anyone. Everyone’s just going to talk about strategy and I felt like I was going to lose my mind.”

The person gets off on floor 19.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask softly. He can feel your stare on him, but it doesn’t feel harsh or expecting.

“It’s been a while since I’ve mentally dreaded a race this much.” Haechan sighs, looking at his shoes again, “It’s going to be really hard. Singapore always is, but with this championship hanging on the line, it’s going to be worse.”

You shift, leaning against the railing beside him. “Yeah,” you say, because what else is there? He already knows what tomorrow is. He doesn’t need you to tell him he’ll be fine, or that he can do it. He just needs to say it out loud.

He exhales, pressing his lips together. “I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“If it makes any difference, I don’t think you will.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You sound confident.”

“Someone has to be.”

That pulls a quiet laugh out of him. His fingers rake through his hair, messing it up worse than it already was. “I’m supposed to sleep properly tonight, but I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

The elevator dings, doors sliding open. You step out first, Haechan falling into step beside you. When he doesn’t say anything else, you pause, looking back at him. He’s still stuck in his own head.

Before you can think too much about it, you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down slightly.

You feel him tense for a second, like he wasn’t expecting it. Then, slowly, he exhales, his shoulders dropping as he leans into you. His hands come up hesitantly, resting against your back before wrapping around your waist. 

He sighs when you gently rub your palms up and down his back and it sends a chill down your spine. Haechan is warm and soft and smells like fabric softener. His grip tightens, just slightly, like he doesn’t want to let go yet. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and for a second, the weight he’s been carrying all weekend seems to melt away. His body molds easily against yours, the space between you completely gone, like this is exactly where he needed to be without realizing it.

“You’re good at this,” he mumbles, voice low and muffled against your shoulder.

You huff out a small laugh. “At what?”

He shifts, his chin grazing your shoulder. “Making things feel less bad.”

—

Sunday, Race Day October 5th

“Welcome to race day here in Singapore,” the commentary plays in the background. “Today, there’s more than just a race win at stake. For the first time in the track’s history, it may see a driver crowned world champion tonight. Red Bull’s Lee Haechan has a chance to clinch the 2025 World Championship at the Marina Bay Circuit.”

A slow pan across the grid shows the top ten, cars lined up in neat formation, waiting. 

“But it won’t be easy,” the commentator continues. “After taking a grid penalty for a new energy store, Haechan starts tenth, meaning he’ll need to fight his way through the field if he wants to leave here as champion.”

“There’s more,” His co-commentator picks up. “He needs to finish in the top two, and Jaehyun who is still mathematically in the fight, must finish P4 or lower. If that happens, the title is his.”

The team is gathered around his car, making final adjustments. His race engineer says something to him, but Haechan only half listens, nodding out of habit. He already knows what he needs to do.

“And let’s not forget—his teammate, Jeno, starts from P3,” the broadcast continues. “He’s not in the championship fight, but he could be a major factor today, whether that’s helping Red Bull control strategy or playing a defensive role later in the race.”

Haechan exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders back as the national anthem begins. He stands among the other drivers, hands clasped in front of him, eyes fixed straight ahead. He barely hears the music. His mind is already in the race.

There’s no point overthinking now. He’s already run through every scenario, every risk, every move he needs to make. All that’s left is to drive.

As the anthem ends, the grid stirs back to life. Mechanics move around him, engineers making last-minute checks. He reaches for his balaclava, adjusting his gloves, but just before he pulls it on, his eyes flick toward the front row.

Jaehyun’s had a bad qualifying, so Haechan thinks that at least he had a little luck on his side as he watches the former get into his Ferrari standing at P6.

Jeno’s car sits in P3, just ahead of the chaos Haechan will have to navigate.

Jeno is already getting ready, helmet on, listening to his engineer. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to.

Haechan knows he’ll be there when it counts.

He exhales, pulling his helmet on. The engineer beside him pats his back.

"Let’s do this."

The grid clears. Engineers step back, mechanics rush off, the final checks are done. Haechan is in the car, helmet on, visor down. You put your earplugs back in as the roar of all twenty engines amplifies, getting ready for the formation lap.

You should be thinking about the media responsibilities that will come if he wins, if he loses, if something goes wrong. That’s your job. That’s what you always do.

But right now, none of that matters.

Right now, all you can think about is him.

Everything he’s worked for. The pressure he’s carried. The way he refuses to let himself enjoy the good moments because there’s always something more to chase. The way he overthinks, the way he drives like he’s got something to prove, the way he wants this more than anything.

Your fingers tighten, nails digging into your palm.

You want this for him. So badly it makes your chest ache. 

Dahyun stands next to you, palms pressed together beneath her chin. She doesn’t talk. For all the teasing and affection she shows for her brother, she understands this moment isn’t one for words.

You glance at her briefly, catching the way her eyes stay locked on the screen, unblinking. There’s no joke poised on the tip of her tongue, no playful jab about how dramatic all of this feels. Just quiet, unspoken hope.

The two of you stand there, side by side, a little away from her parents, watching as the cars snake through the final sector. The pit wall is alive with movement, engineers murmuring into headsets, strategists making their final calculations. But none of it feels real. Not the voices murmuring in the garage, not the bustling of the mechanics as they settle down, just the car marked with the number 66, rolling into position on the grid.

Dahyun lets out a breath, barely audible. You don’t realize you’ve been holding yours until you exhale, too.

Haechan pulls into his slot. The rest of the field follows.

The engines rev louder than before. The first light flickers on.

Haechan’s grip on his wheel tightens. His hands stay still, his breathing steady.

Two.

The tension in your chest coils tighter. The grid is motionless, waiting, but the air feels electric, charged with everything that’s about to happen.

Three.

Haechan’s foot hovers over the throttle. The start will make or break his race.

Four.

Your palms feel sweaty. It feels like everything is balancing on the edge of a knife.

Five.

Make it count, Haechan thinks.

The lights hold. For a second, and then another.

Then, they go out.

Haechan gets a start so good it almost doesn’t seem real.

The second the lights go out, he’s moving—reaction time faster than most of the midfield teams, his car shooting forward while others hesitate for a split second too long. Before they even reach Turn 1, he’s already ahead of one, then another, slipping into the gaps before they close.

“He’s off to a flying start, already gaining places down the straight!”

The onboard feed flickers, his hands steady, engine roaring as he picks off another car before the braking zone. The midfield is tight, but he’s making space where there shouldn’t be any.

“He’s up to eighth already!”

The next car ahead is slower, leaving the inside open just enough. Haechan takes it without hesitation, braking later and edging forward as they go side by side through the corner. For a second, it looks like the Alpine will hold him off, but Haechan keeps his car planted, forcing him wide on exit.

“Nicely done! That’s seventh!”

The camera shifts, showing the cars funneling through the first corners, the Red Bull slicing through cleanly.

The field begins to stretch out as the front row cars start pulling away, but the midfield is still clustered together, the gaps tight. Haechan is right in the middle of it, eyes fixed ahead, mind already calculating the next move.

“He’s closing in,” commentary picks up. “He’s looking for another place.”

His Red Bull is practically glued to the car in front, catching on the straights, losing slightly in the slower corners. He needs to be patient. The driver ahead knows he’s there. One wrong move could ruin everything.

Haechan waits. The dirty air makes the car slide slightly through the high-speed turn, but he corrects it instinctively. It doesn’t shake him. He’s done this a hundred times before.

And then it happens. A small mistake, a hesitation on the throttle, a loss of momentum. Haechan doesn’t wait.

“He’s making a move! Down the inside!”

You barely realize you’ve shifted forward, hands pressed together, breath held. The car ahead squeezes him, forcing him tighter to the inside line, but he holds firm, braking just late enough to slip ahead.

“He’s through! That’s P6 for Haechan!”

The cars behind him start to grow smaller in his mirrors.

Haechan doesn’t need confirmation. He can feel it in the clean air stretching ahead. The midfield is behind him now. No more defending. No more fighting for scraps.

Now, he hunts.

His race engineer’s voice crackles through the radio. “Gap to P5, 3.8 seconds. We’re in a good window. Start pushing.”

“Pace is strong,” the engineer comes back. “You’re faster than the cars ahead.”

Good.

The numbers on his wheel flicker, confirming what he already knows. The gap is shrinking.

Another lap. Another sector. Another second gone.

The laps start blending together.

From Haechan’s perspective, the race has settled for now. No fights, no wheel-to-wheel battles, just the steady determination of closing a gap.

“Gap to P5, 1.6 seconds,” his race engineer updates. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun is right there.

Haechan doesn’t need an engineer telling him the gap. He can see the Ferrari ahead, steady, controlled, the same way it’s been all season. The same team that spent last year pushing him to the limit, waiting for him to crack.

But not this time.

Mathematically, Jaehyun is still in it. He’s over a hundred points behind, but as long as the title isn’t clinched today, he still has a chance. He’s holding on, dragging this battle out for as long as he can.

But Haechan isn’t interested in waiting.

His grip on the wheel tightens, the tension settling deep in his chest. The car is working under him, the balance just right. He doesn’t have to overthink it. He just has to keep closing.

"Gap to Jaehyun, 1.4 seconds," his race engineer says.

In the garage, your hands are pressed together, fingers locked tight, knuckles stiff. You’re not praying, but it feels close to it.

The energy around you is suffocating. No one is talking, no one is moving. The mechanics are barely breathing, eyes fixed on the monitors. You can’t take your eyes off the screen. The energy is different now. This isn’t just about moving up the order anymore. This is the championship fight, laid out in front of you, two cars, two drivers, one of them about to take everything. He’s the last obstacle, the only thing keeping this title fight alive.

If Haechan doesn’t get past him, it all drags on. Another race. Another chance for Jaehyun to claw his way back.

Jaehyun isn’t making this easy.

Haechan knew he wouldn’t. Even with the championship slipping out of reach, Jaehyun isn’t the type to roll over. He’s still fighting, still defending, still forcing Haechan to work for every inch of track.

"Gap to Jaehyun, 0.8," his engineer calls. "You’re in DRS range."

Finally.

The Ferrari stays planted through the high-speed corners, Jaehyun’s placing the car exactly where it needs to be. No mistakes. No wasted movement. Haechan is faster, but faster isn’t enough.

He closes in on the straight, opens the rear wing, gains a few meters, but Jaehyun moves first, covering the inside, forcing Haechan to think twice.

You hold your breath as the onboard flickers on the screen. He’s close, but not close enough. Not yet.

Haechan tucks in behind him, barely lifting through the next corner, tires screaming for grip.

He waits.

Another straight. Another chance.

This time, he moves first.

A sharp flick to the outside, forcing Jaehyun to react and he does. Just a small shift, a split second of hesitation, enough for Haechan to dive back inside.

Side by side.

You can hear the mechanics shout out in encouragement, elbows on their knees as they bend forward in anticipation, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

They brake late, almost too late, tires locking, fighting for control. Jaehyun holds the line, refusing to back down, squeezing Haechan toward the curb but he doesn’t flinch.

He keeps his foot in. Holds his nerve.

For a second, they’re wheel to wheel, neither giving an inch.

Dahyun reaches out for your hand, her grip tight and lips muttering, “Please, please, please don’t touch.”

Then just before the next turn, Haechan edges ahead.

"He’s through! Haechan takes P5 ahead of the Ferrari! It’s an uphill battle now, to make it to P2 and make sure Jaehyun stays behind him.”

Dahyun jumps a little next to you, letting out a cry of relief. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding too. But it isn’t over yet. Not until Haechan sets a solid gap between him and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun is still there, still in his mirrors, still waiting for a mistake. And for a second, Haechan almost expects him to fight back immediately, to dive into the next braking zone and throw everything at it.

But he doesn’t.

The Ferrari stays close, but not aggressive. Not reckless. He guesses that this is the biggest difference between Jaehyun and his teammate.

The radio crackles. "Nice work. Let’s pull away now. Next car, 3.4 seconds ahead. How are the tyres feeling?"

Haechan exhales slowly, adjusting his grip on the wheel.

“Starting to wear, but I can hang on for a few more laps. Tell me when the Mercs and Ferrari pit.”

"Copy. We’ll keep you updated," his engineer responds.

Haechan doesn’t say anything after that, eyes locked on the road ahead. The Ferrari and Mercedes up front are still running strong, but their tires are wearing just as fast as his. The undercut is coming. He just doesn’t know when.

He settles into his rhythm, stretching the gap behind him little by little. Jaehyun is fading in his mirrors now, not close enough to be a threat but still there, lingering just out of reach. 

The radio comes back a lap later. "Ferrari in the pits."

Haechan exhales sharply, eyes flicking toward the pit lane as Seungcheol peels off early. That’s aggressive. Too early for pure tire strategy.

"He’s playing the team game," his engineer confirms. "Seungcheol could be pitting now to put pressure on Jeno. Joshua might try to hold you up."

Not because Mercedes is helping Ferrari, but because Joshua is racing for himself.

Haechan tightens his grip on the wheel. That’s a problem.

Joshua isn’t just going to let him through. And if he stays out too long, Haechan will get stuck behind him, wasting his tires while Seungcheol gains time on fresh rubber. If Red Bull reacts too late, Haechan could come out of the pits behind both of them.

No. That’s not happening.

"Stay out. We’ll extend and cover the overcut," his engineer tells him. "Let’s push now."

Fine. He can push.

Joshua is just up the road, P3 still in his grasp, but the Mercedes is holding position, taking defensive lines. He knows Haechan is coming. And he’s not going to make it easy.

Haechan exhales slowly. So this is how it’s going to be?

Ahead, Jeno still holds P2 and Doyoung leads the race. The fight up front hasn’t started yet, but the midfield is already shifting. One mistimed stop, one second lost, and everything could flip.

The radio crackles again. "Seungcheol is on hards. Jaehyun’s pit right after him. Jeno and Doyoung are still out."

And every lap spent behind Joshua is a lap lost to Seungcheol.

"Gap to Seungcheol, 19.3 seconds," the engineer calls. "They’re warming up the hards, let’s get past Joshua now."

Yeah. He knows.

The next straight is coming up. He tucks in behind, inching closer, feeling the slipstream pull him forward. DRS open. The Mercedes shifts slightly left, not a full move, just enough to discourage a late lunge.

Haechan lifts. Backs off.

Not yet.

In the garage, you feel the frustration creeping in. He’s fast enough to take the position. But every attempt costs time, and the gap behind is closing.

"Seungcheol is matching our pace," the engineer updates.

You feel a little sick.

Haechan has to go now.

He knows it, too. The moment he brakes into the next corner, his mind is already on the next opportunity. Joshua is covering the inside. Fine.

Haechan sets up wide and gets a better exit. If Joshua wants to defend, he’ll have to do it twice.

The next straight comes up fast.

This time, he doesn’t wait.

A sharp flick to the right, making it look like he’s going for the outside. Joshua shifts, just slightly, just enough—

And Haechan dives left instead.

Inside line. No time to react.

They’re side by side.

Joshua holds his ground, braking as late as he dares, keeping the nose of the Mercedes alongside but Haechan is already there, already committed, tires squealing as he forces the car through the corner.

There’s barely any space, but it’s enough.

Joshua tries to hang on, but the exit is compromised. Haechan is already ahead before the next turn.

"He’s through! Haechan into P3!"

The mechanics start falling into position, wheeling out the tyres. 

"Box, box," the engineer calls immediately. "We cover the undercut now. Let’s go."

It takes Haechan a split second to process it, his hands already moving.

"Understood."

Haechan dives into the pit lane, the speed limiter kicking in as he barrels toward his box.

The Red Bull crew is already waiting. The stop is fast. Clean. The car drops, the mechanics move  and Haechan launches back out onto the track.

"Good stop. You’re rejoining P7, ahead of Jaehyun."

He exhales, gripping the wheel tighter. That was the first hurdle. But Jaehyun is still there, still a threat. If he gets caught behind traffic now, that gap could disappear in seconds.

Back in the garage, the tension is barely contained.

The screens flicker, cameras shifting between pit exits and live timing. You don’t blink, don’t move, don’t realize how shallow your breathing has become until your chest starts to ache.

By the time the pit cycle is completed, the cars ahead disappearing into the pits to get fresher tyres on, Haechan is back to P3. 

“Jeno is pitting ahead of you, that is P2. He’s been told to stay back, so he will not chase you.” His engineer informs him.

Haechan barely acknowledges the call. He sees the Red Bull peeling off to the right, diving into the pit lane just as he flies past, officially taking P2.

But he doesn’t feel any relief.

The heat is suffocating.

His race suit clings to his skin, drenched in sweat. His gloves feel heavier, his grip on the wheel tighter than it should be. His mouth is dry, but drinking won’t help—the liquid in his drink packet is already warm because of the heat of the engine. He presses the drink button anyways, cringing once the warm water hits his tongue. 

He blinks hard, forcing himself to focus.

"Jeno is rejoining now… P3, just ahead of Joshua."

Good. That’s good. Jeno held out just long enough to help, but not long enough to ruin his own race.

But Haechan can’t think about that right now.

His breathing is heavier, his body dragging against the weight of the car. His shoulders burn from holding the wheel steady through every turn and his entire body hurts. So much. The exhaustion from all the pushing he’s done until now hits him as he finally comes up to a safe position.

“Where is Jaehyun?” he asks, voice rough, eyes flicking to the lap board.

Lap 61.

Two more. Just two more and it’s done.

The radio crackles back. “P6. He’s not a threat.”

He exhales sharply, but it doesn’t feel like relief. Not yet.

In the garage, no one talks. No one moves. The only sound is the low hum of the monitors, the voices over the team radios, the distant roar of the cars.

Your nails dig into your palms, but you don’t even feel it anymore. Lap 61. Two more to go.

You glance sideways at Dahyun. Her hands are clasped so tightly together that her knuckles are white. She hasn’t spoken since the last pit stops, her usual excitement replaced with something quieter, more anxious.

She exhales sharply, almost a laugh, but it’s breathless. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

You don’t answer. Because so do you.

Over the course of the race, Haechan’s parents have come to stand near you two. His mother holds onto his dad. You think she’s praying.

The camera flickers to Haechan’s onboard. His hands are stiff on the wheel, no wasted movement, but you can see it now—the exhaustion. The way his shoulders don’t sit as steady. The way his breathing is heavier through the radio.

The commentators pick up on it, too.

"He’s done everything right today, but you can see the toll it’s taking now. The heat, the intensity, the pressure, it’s all hitting at once."

Dahyun shifts beside you, biting her lip. "Come on, Haechan," she mutters under her breath.

Lap 62. The last one

He’s almost there.

The moment the lap board flashes past, Haechan’s breathing quickens.

One more. Just one more.

Everything hurts. His arms feel leaden, his fingers ache from gripping the wheel too tightly, his head is pounding.

But the finish line is right there, only one lap away.

“Final lap, Haechan,” his engineer says, voice measured, but he knows they feel it too.

He barely acknowledges it, eyes locked on the road ahead. Doyoung is too far ahead to catch, and Jeno is holding P3. The positions won’t change. It’s just him and the track now.

The crowd is deafening, even through his helmet. He can see the lights flashing from the grandstands, the energy building as he weaves through the final corners.

In the garage, you can’t breathe.

He hasn’t crossed the line yet, but the mechanics are already getting up from their seats to run to the pitwall. There’s not much to go wrong here.

The numbers on the screens blur together, and everything else—the people around you, the cameras, the noise—fades into the background. It’s just him on the monitor, his car flying through the final sector, the realization slowly, finally sinking in.

Dahyun has stopped fidgeting, but her hands are still clasped so tightly together that it looks painful.

He’s almost there.

The final corners. The final turns.

You remember the moment you were told that you’d be his PR rep for this season. It wasn’t meant to be anything special. Just another job, another person to manage, another year of handling media schedules and press conferences. You weren’t supposed to care.

But then the season started.

And you watched him race. You watched the way he carried himself, the way he fought for every position like it was the only thing that mattered, the way he never let himself get too comfortable, the way he refused to believe it was his until the numbers made it undeniable.

You’ve seen him exhausted, frustrated, drowning under the pressure. You’ve heard him at his most bitter, his most doubtful, when he let the weight of it all slip through the cracks.

And you’ve watched him get back in the car every single time.

Now, he’s almost done it. World Champion.

You don’t even realize your fingers are trembling until the moment his car crosses the line.

“He’s done it! Haechan finishes second with Jaehyun at P5, and with that— Lee Haechan is the 2025 World Champion!” The commentator exclaims.

The garage erupts.

Mechanics leap into each other’s arms, engineers cheering into headsets, the pit wall exploding into celebration. Somewhere behind you, someone is yelling, but all you can do is stare at the monitor, at the car with number 66 rolling past the checkered flag.

Dahyun lets out something between a laugh and a sob, hands flying to her mouth before she hugs you tightly. You swallow hard as you hug her back, unable to hold back the grin on your face. It’s an overwhelming kind of relief, not sharp, not explosive, just deep, sinking into your bones, settling in the way you hadn’t let yourself feel until now.

The crowd outside is deafening.

The cheers flood through Haechan’s radio. His engineer’s voice cracks with emotion. Someone from the pit wall is already yelling his name.

But all Haechan does is exhale.

His hands are still locked on the wheel. His arms are trembling, his body aching in ways he doesn’t have the energy to acknowledge yet.

It’s over.

And all he can think about is how long it’s taken.

Every year, every setback, every time he thought he was close only to watch it slip away. Every grueling season where it felt like no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough.

But this time, it was.

His vision blurs—not from exhaustion, not from sweat—just pure, overwhelming relief.

He breathes in. Breathes out. 

Sees the World Champion board where there should’ve been a P2 in parc fermé. 

When he parks, he finally lets go of the steering wheel, slumping into his seat. 

Jeno is the first to walk over, patting his helmet, his voice muffled but warm. Haechan barely processes it, only catching fragments—"Proud of you, man." Doyoung bends down next, saying something he can’t quite comprehend. The words don’t matter. He knows what they mean.

He nods, hands shaking as he reaches up, pulling off his gloves, his helmet, his balaclava. The rush of cooler air hitting his face is almost dizzying.

The moment he’s free of it, his eyes lift toward the barrier.

His team is there. All of them.

The mechanics, the engineers, the people who have been with him through every season, every late-night debrief, every painful loss. His mother, standing close to his father, hands pressed together as if she can barely believe it. His sister, bouncing on her heels, already reaching over the barrier.

And you.

Haechan doesn’t think. Doesn’t stop.

He moves on instinct, throwing himself out of the cockpit, barely registering his own exhaustion as his legs hit the ground.

And then, he runs.

Straight to them.

The second he reaches the barrier, the arms are already there, grabbing, pulling, holding. Someone ruffles his hair, someone yells his name, but he barely registers who is who. He just knows that this is his team, his people, and they’re all here.

Dahyun is the first to properly reach him, throwing her arms around him, squeezing tight. His mother is next, her hand cradling the side of his face for half a second before she pulls him in. His father’s grip is firm when he hugs him, yelling into his ears that he is proud, so proud.

He barely has time to think before another set of arms wrap around him, yours.

His breath catches for just a second. He can feel how tightly you’re holding on, how solid you feel against him despite how hard everything is still hitting him.

He shuts his eyes for just a moment.

It’s real. It’s over.

And he’s really won.

—

Monday, Post Race October 6th

12:05 AM

The dressing room is quiet.

For the first time in hours, there’s no noise, no cameras, no voices in his ear. Just the hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of his team still celebrating downstairs.

Haechan sits on the small bench, head tilted back against the lockers, eyes shut. His whole body aches, the exhaustion hitting now that the adrenaline has fully worn off. 

His damp hair sticks to his forehead and he can still smell the champagne on his race suit that he’s abandoned in a corner of the room. The shower did make him feel better, washing away the litres of champagne that he’d been doused in. His clothes, a normal t-shirt and sweats, feel so much lighter on him after hours of being in the sweat-soaked, heavy race suit. 

The door creaks open.

He knows it’s you before you say anything.

You step inside, letting the door click shut behind you. 

“You’re here,” he murmurs after a moment, voice rough with exhaustion.

“Your parents are waiting downstairs,” you say softly. “I told them I’d check on you first.”

His lips twitch slightly, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Checking to see if I passed out in here?”

“Something like that.”

You cross the room without hesitating, sinking down beside him. He doesn’t move, but when you lift a hand and press it gently against his back, you feel him lean into your touch, his shoulders losing the last bit of tension he’d been holding onto.

For a moment, you just sit there, your hand tracing slow, absentminded circles between his shoulder blades. The weight of the day still lingers in the air, but this moment feels different. Quieter, softer, just the two of you.

You let out a small breath, glancing at him. “You did it.”

His eyes flutter open, meeting yours.

“I did,” he says, barely above a whisper, like he hasn’t fully let himself believe it yet.

A small smile tugs at your lips as your hand moves up to the nape of his neck, raking through his hair. He hasn’t cut it since the first day you met him.

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

He watches you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“Sunday,” He finally answers. You hum, a little confused.

“I told you we’ll talk on Sunday.”

You still. It had been the last thing on your mind during the race, so you’re a tiny bit surprised when he brings it up. You breathe in deeply before meeting his eyes and letting out a small laugh.

“Well, World Champion, I don’t know if you know, but it’s Monday now.”

Haechan shakes his head, turning his body to face you. “No, I know. But—” He cuts off, throwing his head back before he reaches out for your hands, “Hold on, I’ve kind of rehearsed this, but I’ve never done this before so give me a moment.”

You blink, a laugh escaping you as he stumbles over his words. “Rehearsed it? Haechan, what are you—”

“I just…” He takes a breath, looking at you with a sort of quiet, soft determination. “Okay, here goes.” He squeezes your hands lightly, his fingers warm against yours. “I’m not good with words, you know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I—I just need you to know…” He hesitates, and for a split second, his confidence falters.

You watch him, waiting. Despite knowing what’s coming, you can’t help the way your heart races. You feel breathless for a moment.

“I like you,” he says finally, his voice steady despite the nervousness in his eyes. “I like you more than I ever meant to. More than I’ve ever let myself admit.”

The simplicity of his confession knocks the breath out of you. He’s not asking for anything, not trying to pressure you, but it’s clear he’s laying everything out there, raw and open.

“I didn’t expect this. Didn’t think it would be this important, but it is. And I need you to know that,” he adds softly, his grip tightening just a little on your hands as though he’s grounding himself in the moment.

He waits for you to say something, but the words get stuck. Your mind races, and all you can do is stare at him.

Haechan’s brow furrows slightly, unsure of your silence. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice soft but steady as you squeeze his hand. “I’m just… surprised. I mean- I’m not, because you’re not very subtle about it. I just didn’t expect you to say it today, you know, after all that’s happened. But I—” You swallow, the truth coming to your lips before you can think. “I like you too.”

You can see the relief flood his face, his shoulders relaxing as though he's been holding his breath. But then, a playful grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Well, I think I knew too,” he jokes, the tension in his voice lifting with the teasing. “I mean, it wasn’t exactly hard to tell…”

You blink, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You’re a little full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Just a little,” he grins back, his eyes lighting up with that familiar spark as he shifts closer to you. “You know back there, after I got out of the car, I thought you’d go all WAG mode and kiss me on my helmet or something.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your hands away from him, making him laugh, “Oh, so I’m a WAG now? You know I'm really professional. So I’d never do that. In public too? Forget it.”

“I mean, I’m not complaining ‘cause I wouldn’t mind,” Haechan shrugs, “You should do it sometimes.”

You give him an exaggerated look of disbelief, but the warmth spreading through you makes it harder to stay serious. “You really think I would?”

“I’m just saying, it’d be a really nice surprise,” he says, his voice lowering, the teasing fading into something more sincere.

You hesitate for a moment, the playfulness still hanging in the air. And then, before you even fully process it, you lean forward, your hand finding the back of his neck. Haechan’s eyes widen slightly, but before he can react, you close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his softly, with a tenderness that’s more than just a playful kiss.

You can feel the warmth of him, his body moving ever so slightly toward yours, his hand sliding to your waist, fingers gently curling around you, anchoring you to him. The world outside this little bubble of yours fades into the background. Haechan’s lips slot perfectly between yours. He still tastes like champagne. You’re not particularly fond of it, but for him, you think you could make an exception.

 His hand slides up to your cheek, fingers brushing against the soft skin there as he tilts his head just slightly, deepening the kiss. You feel his pulse against yours, a rhythm that matches the way your heart begins to race, each beat a little faster, a little louder. 

When you finally pull away, your lips still humming from the closeness, Haechan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath a little quicker than before, as though he’s still coming back to reality. You can’t help but smile softly, feeling something in you settle, like a weight being lifted.

“Was that surprising enough for you?” you murmur, your voice just above a whisper.

His smile stretches slowly, like he’s trying to still comprehend. “Definitely.”

The two of you stay silent for a moment, processing and acknowledging whatever just happened when Haechan speaks up again, “But… just for the surprise to hit harder you could do it again.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head, but before you can even think of a reply, he tugs you just a little closer, his lips brushing against yours again—lighter this time, but just as sure.

WINTER BREAK

December 21st

You hadn’t meant to spill the news to your mother this soon. It had just sort of… happened.

You had been on the phone with her one evening, catching up like you always did when you were both too busy to visit in person. She had been asking about work, about life, about whether you were eating properly, when she had casually slipped in, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

And because you hadn’t really been thinking, half-focused on something on your laptop, you had answered honestly.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence. Then a distinct shift in her tone, lighter, curious. “Oh?”

Your stomach had flipped. There had been no taking it back now.

“Yeah,” you had said again, slower this time, as if easing yourself into the reality of this conversation.

“Since when?”

You had hesitated, glancing at the calendar on your desk. “A little while now.”

“And when were you planning on telling me?”

You had exhaled through your nose, already hearing the teasing smile in her voice. “Eventually?”

She laughed. “Eventually. Right.” A pause, then, “Well? Who is he?”

You had bitten your lip, then said, “Haechan.”

Silence.

Then, after a few seconds, a sharp inhale. “As in your Haechan?”

You had winced. “Yeah.”

“As in the same Haechan I see on TV? The same one you’ve been working with this season?”

“Yeah.”

She had let out an incredulous laugh, clearly caught off guard. “And when exactly did this happen?”

You had hesitated, because when had it happened, really? There had been no defining moment, no grand realization, just a steady shift, an unshakable pull toward something you had probably always known was there.

“It wasn’t all at once,” you had admitted. “It just… made sense.”

Your mom had hummed like she was turning that over in her mind. “Well,” she had said eventually, “if it’s serious enough for you to tell me, you should bring him home for dinner.”

Your breath had hitched. “What?”

She had repeated it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Bring him home. If you care about him, we’d like to meet him properly.”

You had swallowed. You hadn’t thought this far ahead, hadn’t considered when or how you’d introduce him to your family. Not because you hadn’t been sure about him—you had, you really had—but because the idea of sitting at that table with him, of merging two parts of your life that had always been separate, had made everything feel so real.

But… wasn’t that the point?

You had let out a slow breath. “I’ll ask him.”

Your mom had chuckled knowingly. “Good. Let me know when.”

You don’t bring it up right away.

It’s not that you’re nervous about his reaction—you know he’ll say yes. But when you finally mention it, just a casual, “My mom wants you to come over for dinner,” he still pauses for half a second longer than usual.

Then he blinks. “Dinner? Like, ‘sit at the table, be on my best behavior, answer your dad’s questions’ dinner?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Haechan leans back, tilting his head at you. “So, just to clarify, there’s no ‘pretend you don’t know me and let me sneak out the back’ option?”

“Nope.”

He exhales dramatically, rubbing his hands over his face. “Alright, then. What do I call them? Should I be formal? Or do I go straight to ‘Mom and Dad’ to establish dominance?”

You snort. “If you do that, my dad might actually kick you out.”

“Got it. Saving that for the second dinner.”

You shake your head, watching as he stretches his arms over his head before finally settling back against the cushions. For all his joking, you can tell he’s actually thinking about it. He’s always been quick to roll with things, but this feels like something he’s mentally preparing himself for.

After a beat, he glances at you again, quieter now. “You want me there?”

“Yeah,” you say, just as soft. “I do.”

He holds your gaze for a second before nodding, more certain now. “Alright.”

—

Dinner passes in a comfortable blur.

Haechan is nervous at first. You can tell by the way he sits up a little too straight, the way his fingers drum lightly against his thigh as if he’s reminding himself to stay composed. But as the meal goes on, the warmth of your home eases him in. Your mom fusses over his plate, your dad throws in the occasional dry joke, and Rina’s teasing keeps him engaged. By the time the table is cleared and your mom waves you both off with a “Go relax, I’ve got this,” Haechan follows you upstairs looking much more at ease.

Your childhood room is just as you left it. Familiar, unchanging, a space to return to whenever you visit. You can hear Rina’s Frank Sinatra album playing through the walls. You remember when Rina was still small enough to curl up beside you on lazy afternoons, insisting you play music for her. You remember the way she’d hum along, her voice soft and uncertain, trying to match the notes, how she’d giggle whenever she stumbled over the lyrics. It takes you back to being seventeen, to the quiet comfort of these walls, the long stretches of time where it felt like nothing would ever really change.

But then your eyes land on Haechan as he steps inside, and the memory settles into something different. Not quite distant, but no longer the world you live in.

Seventeen was a lifetime ago. Before flights and paddocks, before conferences and championship fights. Before Haechan.

And yet, here he is, standing in the middle of it all like he belongs. Like there’s room for him here, too.

Because there is, You think fondly.

You watch as his eyes scan the space, gaze moving from the overstuffed bookshelf to the small collection of stuffed animals still tucked into the corner of your bed. He lingers on the little trinkets lining your desk, a few old keychains, a white dreamcatcher from a school trip years ago, a cup of dried-out gel pens you never threw away. It’s a time capsule, a version of you he never got to know.

But it’s the photos on your wall that really draw him in.

He moves closer, his fingers hovering near them but never quite touching. There’s one of you at five, or six maybe, in a navy blue sweatshirt with your hands cupping your cheeks as you smile so wide your eyes disappear. 

Haechan lets out a quiet laugh, turning towards your figure, flopped on your bed. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You were actually the cutest kid alive.”

You grin. “It’s one of my favourite pictures of me too, honestly.”

He nods, but instead of moving on, he lifts his phone and takes a picture. You don’t notice, too lost in the comfort of your bed, the warmth of the moment.

Haechan doesn’t say anything either. Just tucks his phone away and keeps looking, his gaze flicking over another photo from a class trip, where you and your friends are grinning wildly, arms slung around each other. A few graduation photos, one with your parents standing proudly on either side of you, another with Rina making a face behind your shoulder.

You watch as Haechan’s gaze lingers on the framed family photo that sits on your desk, his fingers hovering over the glass like he’s memorizing every detail. There’s something unreadable in his expression, not quite wistful, not quite sad, but thoughtful in a way that makes you want to say something before he gets lost in it.

“That was taken after dinner at my grandma’s house,” you tell him, shifting so you can see it from where you’re sprawled on the bed. “We almost didn’t get a picture because Rina kept running off to play. My dad had to bribe her with extra dessert to get her to stay still.”

Haechan huffs out a quiet laugh at that, his lips quirking up slightly. “I should’ve guessed.”

You nod toward the frame. “It’s one of my favorites too.”

He tilts his head, still staring at it. “I get why.” Then, after a beat, he exhales and glances at you, hesitating for just a second before saying, “This might be a little forward, but… I kind of wish we knew each other before. Like, what if I could’ve been one of those people in your class photos, or—”

“You would have driven me insane,” you interrupt, glancing at him.

Haechan lets out a laugh, tilting his head. “Oh, really?”

You nod, leaning back against your bed. “Absolutely. You would’ve been the kid who never sat still, who found new ways to annoy me every day, who somehow convinced me to break all the rules.”

He smirks, nudging your knee with his. “Sounds like we would’ve had fun.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

Haechan hums, studying your expression for a moment before murmuring, “Still wish I was there.”

The words settle between you, soft but heavy.

You’d never really thought about before. About how your life would have looked if he had been there earlier.

But now, as he sits beside you, fingers tracing the edge of an old photograph, you can’t help but picture it.

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years old. Would he have been the boy who stole your notes in class? The one who passed you secret messages during exams just to make you roll your eyes? The one who always found a way to drag you into trouble, just so he could laugh at how flustered you got?

You exhale, suddenly aware of how fast your heart is beating.

Would you have fallen for him faster?

You sit up properly now, meeting his gaze, searching for something in it that you already know is there.

“I think you would’ve fit right in,” you say quietly.

Haechan’s lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, and he nods once, like he’s tucking the thought away for later. He looks back at the photo as he sits next to you. You take his hand in yours, gently rubbing the back of his palm with your thumb.

“Maybe next time, I’ll get to be in one.”

You squeeze his hand, “You will be.”

The two of you settle into an almost comfortable silence when the music from Rina’s room catches your attention.

"There is nothing for me but to love you… and the way you look tonight."

Haechan’s head tilts slightly, a slow, knowing grin creeping onto his lips as he turns to you. “Well, that’s convenient.”

You groan, already feeling the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Oh, come on. Don’t.”

His grin widens. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

He shrugs, leaning just a little closer. “I mean… if the music insists.”

You smack his arm, but he only laughs before resting his head on your shoulder. 

—

December 23rd

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Haechan pauses, one hand still adjusting a silver bauble on the tree. He turns to you with an incredulous look. “How can I possibly be doing it wrong?”

“You’re clustering all the ornaments in one spot,” you say, pointing at the lopsided section he’s been working on. “It’s all too heavy on that side.”

He scoffs. “Excuse me for trying to create a focal point.”

“It’s not a gallery wall, it’s a Christmas tree.”

“Same concept.”

You roll your eyes and get up from his couch, stumbling a little over all the boxes on the floor. He flinches, rushing forward to catch you. You don’t fall, but you end up in his arms anyway. You reach to move one of the ornaments, but he swats your hand away. “Nope, decoration rights revoked,” he declares. 

You stare at him in disbelief, eyes falling on the hand that swatted you away before moving to the one around your waist. “Hello? You can’t do that.”

“I absolutely can. My tree, my artistic vision.”

You give him a deadpan look. “I was the one who convinced you to get a tree in the first place. Otherwise, your house would just be sad and lifeless. I chose the tree too!” rolling your eyes, you continue, “Besides, your artistic vision looks like it got tired halfway through and took a nap.”

Haechan gasps, clutching his chest like you’ve personally offended him. “Okay, that was uncalled for.”

You bite back a grin as you place a red bauble exactly where he had just moved it from, making him groan in protest.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “I let you into my house, I let you touch my Christmas tree, and this is how you treat me?”

“You’re all bark, no bite,” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get your hands off me then!”

Haechan doesn’t even hesitate. “No.” He smirks, fingers curling a little tighter around your waist. “I won’t. What are you gonna do about it?”

You open your mouth, then close it, then sigh in defeat. “Nothing,” you mutter.

“That’s what I thought.” He grins, rocking you both slightly where you stand. The Christmas lights cast a warm glow over his face, and for a moment, neither of you move. He’s looking at you, not in the teasing, smug way he usually does, but in that softer, quieter way that always makes your chest feel too full.

Then you sigh, glancing at the half-decorated tree. “We’re decorating way too late.”

Haechan groans in agreement. “I know. If we started earlier, this wouldn’t be so stressful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Well, whose fault is that?”

He blinks at you. “Not mine? I won both championships before December. It’s not my fault they don’t let us go until all the races are over. Blame the F1 calendar instead!”

You sigh, relenting. “Okay, fine. It’s the calendar’s fault.”

“Thank you.” He grins, rocking back on his heels. “Finally, some sense.”

You shake your head with a laugh, nudging his shoulder before turning back to the tree. “Still, if we started earlier, we wouldn’t be scrambling to finish before Christmas.”

Haechan hums in agreement, reaching for another ornament. “Guess we just have to get better at this whole off-season thing.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “We?”

Haechan nods, his gaze flickering to you for a moment before he looks back at the tree. “Yeah,” he says simply, looping an ornament onto a branch. “We. We are quite good during the season, don't you think?”

He hooks another ornament onto a branch, “Oh, by the way, there’s fruitcake on the kitchen counter.”

You pause, your hand holding an ornament in mid-air and turn to look at him. “Oh?”

He nods, adjusting a light on the tree. “Yeah.”

You frown slightly. “But… you don’t like fruitcake.”

Haechan shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah, but you do.”

You frown slightly, touched by the gesture, “How do you know that?”

Haechan glances at you, lips curving up. “You’re not as mysterious as you think you are.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please. When have I ever mentioned liking fruitcake?”

He hums, stepping back to take a look at the tree, “I think it was in Budapest. Jeno was talking about how he got sick from eating fruitcake off season.”

You laugh, pleasantly surprised that he remembered that.

“As much as I love fruitcake, it’s definitely not the best thing to have in any month other than December,” You admit, “Also, you really have to get the right ones. Some are loaded with too many spices, some are too greasy… I’d never complain about having too many nuts or fruit but I guess people wouldn’t like that either.”

His laughter is light as he lets his forehead rest against yours, his hands slipping to your waist. The tree lights flicker in the corner of your vision, a warm golden colour. They remind you of Haechan. 

“This is kind of the last thing I expected getting into this year,” he murmurs after a beat.

You blink, the playfulness between you both settling into something more serious and heartfelt. “What? Decorating a tree with me?”

His fingers drum lightly against your hip. “More like all of this. Us.”

You exhale, nudging your nose against his. “Yeah,” you admit. “Me too.”

Haechan hums, thoughtful. “I mean, if you told me at the start of the season that I’d win both championships and have you here at the end of it, I would’ve laughed in your face.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? What part was more unbelievable?”

“The championships, obviously.” He grins, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “You? I think at one point it just became obvious that you were inevitable.”

Your stomach flips, but before you can even think of a response, he reaches past you, placing the star in your hands.

“Go on, then.”

You eye him suspiciously. “No catch?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

You glance at him again, making sure before standing on your tiptoes to place the star at the top. As you adjust it, Haechan’s hands settle at your waist again, steadying you without a word.

Once you step back, the tree finally completed, he lets out a satisfied hum. “Not bad.”

You turn around to look at him.

He looks back at you, tilting his head, a smile playing on his lips before he leans down

The first time you met Haechan, he barely spared you more than a glance, too caught up in the frustration of strategies and a season that hadn’t even begun. 

Now, Haechan kisses you like it’s second nature, like he’s done it a hundred times before and will do it a hundred times more.

His lips move against yours with a quiet sort of certainty, like he’s memorized exactly how to kiss you. Not rushed, not hesitant, just sure. His hands slide up, fingertips pressing into your back to bring you closer, and when you splay your fingers across the fabric of his sweater, you feel the way his heartbeat kicks up under your touch.

He exhales softly against your lips before kissing you again, deeper this time, slower. The world narrows down to the quiet press of his mouth, the steady warmth of his touch, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingering between you. You can feel it in the way he holds you that this isn't something that will slip away.

And then, just for a second, it’s like standing on the grid, the air electric, the whole world holding its breath.

Just before the countdown. Before lights out.

tagging: @yukisroom97 @awktwurtle

[typewritingyip]

There is something wrong with Sideswipe’s brother.

He didn’t notice initially, but after Sunstreaker chose to hang out with Bluestreak over spending the day with him when they hadn't seen each other in two weeks, he knew something was up.

Sideswipe knows his flaws the way a painter knows their brushes. He knows he's loud and prideful and somewhat awkward at times. He knows he's overly attached to his brother.

Sideswipe has hated every person that Sunstreaker has ever brought home. Sometimes it was deserved, cheaters and beaters and everything in between. Sometimes it wasn't, sweet girls and kind men who would kiss Sunstreaker in every beautiful place left in the world if only they had the chance. Sideswipe couldn't stand them.

Bluestreak is no exception to this rule.

Especially since, and Sideswipe emphasizes this, Bluestreak is a fucking alien.

Don't get him wrong, if it came to it, Sideswipe would fight and kill for Bluestreak. That fact does not mean that Sideswipe likes Bluestreak, just that Sideswipe is willing to tolerate a lot for his brother.

Sideswipe calls Hound.

Hound doesn't pick up.

By the way, there is also something wrong with Hound.

Even though whatever is going on between Bluestreak and Sunstreaker started before whatever is going on between Mirage and Hound, (and Sideswipe knows almost exactly when it started now that he's not in denial figured out that they're together,) Sideswipe noticed what was going on between Mirage and Hound first.

Sideswipe doesn't know Mirage well enough to dislike him, but he's friends with Hound, and Hound clearly saw something there, so Sideswipe withholds his judgement on Mirage's personality (for now).

That doesn't mean that Sideswipe isn't going to judge the hell out of Hound for falling in love with Mirage.

Because, and Sideswipe once again stresses this, Mirage is a fucking alien.

Not a bad-looking alien, but still an alien.

Sideswipe calls Jazz next, not really expecting anything back.

Jazz doesn't pick up either.

Jazz is the one person he can forgive for being a xenophile, considering just how odd Jazz is anyway. He and Prowl clearly have something going on there, and while Sideswipe would consider himself a friend to Jazz, he's decided that whatever is going on there is none of his damn business.

Sideswipe calls Breakdown, and while he's not expecting Breakdown (who isn't on Cybertron) to pick up the com, it feels right to have tried all of the pilots he has access to.

Speaking of relationships, Breakdown and Knockout are certainly a pair. Knockout is flamboyant and vain, with a reputation as a 'Mad Doctor', but he doesn't treat any of them the way Shockwave would. Breakdown is more reserved, a soldier before anything else, but Sideswipe can see just how much Breakdown loves his family in every instance they're brought up.

Despite Sideswipe's reservations, (and Knockout being a fucking alien,) Knockout is good for Breakdown.

Still, it's kinda annoying when you're the only person on your entire team that's not a fucking xenophile.

Sideswipe calls Elita next.

She picks up.

"Commander," Sideswipe greets her with her rank, but his tone is far friendlier than that usually implies.

"Sideswipe," stone cold, she's waiting for him to tell her that he pulled a stupid prank or that he needs help (that she will (probably) not give) with a prank.

"Are you busy today?"

She can hear him grinning, even if he doesn't have a mouth (anymore?)

Elita sighs. Sideswipe struggles not to laugh.

"I hope to Primus that you aren't calling to drag me in on another one of your pranks."

While Elita did help with pranks on occasion, she was far more often the victim of them.

"Nah, not this time."

Elita sighed again, this time in relief.

"Why are you calling then Sideswipe?" While he could be lying about the pranking, Sideswipe far more often preferred to dance around the truth than to outright lie, so she was probably safe from being covered in purple paint again. Or helping Sideswipe cover someone in purple paint again. (Where the in the pit did Sideswipe get so much purple paint?)

"Sunny is hanging out with Bluestreak."

Elita paused, the twins hadn't seen each other in two weeks, and while that wasn't long for any Cybertronian, working with Sideswipe had made abundantly clear just how much longer time seemed for their otherworldly counterparts.

Elita also had been working with Sideswipe for long enough to know that Sunstreaker was the most important person to him, enough so that if it came down to it, Sideswipe would only be upset to die for his brother because he knows that it would upset his brother if he died. Even if Sunstreaker killed Sideswipe, Sideswipe would love him.

Still,

"So you called me because you don't have anyone else to hang out with?"

Sideswipe was quiet for a moment, the joviality almost gone from his tone even as he tried maintain it to cover his awkwardness.

"I tried the other pilots too. They're busy. I ah- I don't really want to spend - a perfect fine day - alone, so I -em, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? Or if you were doing an extra training session, or something?"

Sideswipe was trying not to sound desperate. He was failing, but at least he was trying.

"The rest of the squad tends to spend a day together once we get back to Cybertron because we want to maintain our relationships while not under the pressure of combat. We didn't invite you because we know you want to spend as much time as possible with your brother when you're on planet together. If you'd like, I'll send you the coordinates and address of the place we're at and you can join us?"

Elita would normally only send the coordinates or the address of the place she was meeting someone, but Sideswipe had the remarkable ability to get lost literally every time he was on Cybertron.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would like that. I'll see you there?"

"I'll see you soon Sideswipe."

---------------------------------------------

First things first: I broke 1000 words, yippee!

I need to tell y'all the prompt for this one lol:

Sideswipe who doesn’t want a lover what the fuck is wrong with you, you xenophiliacs (get adopted loser)

Sideswipe being annoyed was so much fun

Rambling below, read if you want.

He's so pissed about his team being like this. He's not really upset about it though. Sideswipe has issues, and the main way that affects him is that relationships are really hard for him. So, Sideswipe's real issue here is that his teammates are in relationships with people, which to some degree, he recognizes as unhealthy and chooses to be annoyed about instead of upset. This is also why he's more okay with KOBD and JazzProwl than BlueSun and MiraHound. Sideswipe is closest with Sunstreaker, so he's most annoyed about that, then Hound, which is a lot milder, then Breakdown, which, while he is close to Breakdown, he also views Breakdown in a lot more of an older and mature role, so he has a lot more ability to step back and assess that Knockout is good for Breakdown despite Sideswipes issues, and then Jazz, which he'd be a lot more upset about if it had been before they spend five years apart, but he really wouldn't be that odded out by anyway because he's always considered Jazz to be a fucking weirdo.

I also want to mention the way I write Elita, which is just a little bit mischievous. She's the strict and hard-working commander, but she is fun and kind to the people she cares about. She's not all badass and strong commander, she's also a person, and one that has a lot of experience in life with both her own emotions and the emotions of others, and she's done her best to be as healthy as she can and help others as well. Elita has done terrible things in her life, but she wants to be a good person, and she wants to help people. She should be allowed to have fun while still having a cool exterior. Tldr: Elita's emotionally intelligent and slightly mischievous.

Alright, I'm done with rambling, I hope you enjoyed the snippet.

“By the way, there is also something wrong with Hound.”

This made me laugh so fucking hard, I can’t. But yeah, it would be weird to someone like Sideswipe for all of these people to be dating not only aliens but giant robot aliens!

Sideswipe is having the hardest time adjusting, and that’s okay. Life is hard to adjust to changes to.

Everyone adapts in their own ways and for his crew mates it’s finding companionship among those on Cybertron.

So.. I’ve mentioned time skips coming up, this 100% happens somewhere after the upcoming time skip and before the ending of Arcturus 3. You can take it as canon, cause I love it.

But yeah, super fun and I love it.

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Twenty-Six - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapters 1-25 on the Masterlist! :)

Chapter Twenty-Six - God's Country

Once Tyler had dried off and was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, he put on his cowboy hat and grabbed his phone. You were in a white tank top, light pink light-weight denim jacket, blue jeans, and one of Tyler’s not-so-gross ball caps.

“Ready to head out, princess?” He asked, admiring the beautiful you look. 

“I think so,” you said, putting some chapstick on and grabbing your smaller over-the-shoulder purse. 

“So it’s 2:45 now. What time do you want to head to your folks?” Tyler asked, holding the door open for you. 

“Probably a little before 4, that way I can show you my old room and my parents house,” you said, putting your sunglasses on. 

“Works for me,” he said, grabbing your hand and heading to the elevator.

  “There really isn’t much to do here now though, there’s bars but most don’t have much going on during the day. They only really start getting going around 6pm or later,” you said, “There’s a park a couple of blocks away we can go sit at though. They have swings next to a pond.” 

“Anywhere with you sounds good to me,” he said, pulling you close and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, “You say that now, wait until you get sick of me.” 

“Which will be never,” he said, walking outside the inn and putting his sunglasses on. 

“We’ll see about that,” you said, following suit and putting your sunglasses on. 

“Try me, little lady,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I will,” you said, starting to walk off towards the park. 

“So, are you going to tell me more about Jamie?” He asked. 

“Well, he’s my older brother. He was in the military, had a palomino named Duke,” you said, “Basically the apple of my parents eyes, nothing he did was ever wrong. He would get his heart broken by some chick he met and they’d console him indefinitely until he brought home the next one.” 

“So, their favorite?” He asked. 

“Yes, and now it’s just me and it’s like I’ll never be enough for them.” You groaned, walking over to one of the empty bench swings. 

“I see,” he said, “Does he do rodeos? Or racing?” 

“He did rodeos, Duke passed before he got out of the military,” you said, scooting closer to Tyler once he sat down. 

“What part of the military was he in?” Tyler asked.

“Army, was all he ever dreamed about growing up. Every Halloween it was a soldier,” you laughed, “One year my dad even made him a remote controlled tank to drive on Halloween.” 

“That sounds pretty sweet if you ask me,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 

“Oh, it was, I’m sure they still have it even,” you said, “Jamie and Caleb were in the same troop and were the best of friends. One of those for life type of friends.” 

“Do you have any of those?” Tyler asked, “I have Boone, we met in high school.” 

“I used to be close with Ivy, Caleb’s sister. After I moved to Oklahoma we grew apart. Then I have Willow, but obviously that probably isn’t going to end well,” you sighed. 

“Kinda became the black sheep, huh?” He asked, “Sounds like me.” 

“Growing up we spent a lot of time with my Uncle Oliver and Aunt Vicky, my parents were always out doing something. Cattle shows, butchering cattle. Cattle usually came before me and even Jamie,” you said, “It’s what they live and breathe practically.” 

“I got the impression that Oliver and Vicky were cooler than your folks,” he chuckled, “Super laid back and supportive.” 

“My uncle calls me doodlebug, since I always would doodle at their house and bug him while in the barn,” you said, “My dad? Doesn’t even call me his baby girl or anything you could call a daughter. Just (Y/n).”

“They’ll come around baby, they’ll realize they have an amazing daughter who they’re missing out on,” he said, kissing your cheek and giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

“I hope so,” you sighed, “Otherwise I was close with my mom’s dad, we called him Poppy but his name was Tom. He died when I was 22 and I was crushed.” 

“My Papa, my dad’s dad, was the person I was close to after my folks passed, I was kind of close to Evan but not really,” Tyler said, “I was 17 when they were killed in a car crash out in Wyoming.”

“What happened?” You asked softly. 

“Drunk semi driver and all those mountains don’t mix well,” he signed, “I was stayin’ with Auntie B at the time as it was their anniversary weekend and they wanted to get away.”

“I’m sorry, Ty,” you whispered, kissing his cheek softly, “Is your papa still around?” 

“Oh yeah, him and my GiGi are retired up in Montana; or as they call it, God’s country,” he said. 

“I’d say Minnesota is God’s country, but we can agree they both are,” you said, “My grandpa and grandma have a cabin up in the Duluth area, so when I was 23 I stayed up there for a few weeks in the summer.” 

“Sounds like we need to do some road tripping to Montana and Minnesota,” he said with a smile. 

“I’d love that, I know those grandparents were going to leave me the cabin when they pass because I’m the only one whe’s ever gone up there and took care of the place,” you said while resting your head on Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like we’ll have a great place to vacation in the summer,” he said, resting his head on yours. 

“Oh it’s a beautiful place, it butts up to Lake Superior but it’s far enough away from the shore to not get damage from when the ice comes on the shore in the winter,” you said, “Four bedrooms, big campfire area.” 

“Damn, if it didn’t get so cold up there I’d say let’s move, but I don’t think they get many tornadoes?” He asked.

“There’s some, but they’re further south,” you said, “And they’re not ones we are used to chasing, baby.” 

“A tornado is a tornado,” he shrugged, “I hate to ruin our moment, but it’s almost 3:30 and we should head back to the truck to head to your folks.” 

“Yeah, great way to ruin our moment,” you said, sitting up and stretching out your arms. 

“What can I say, I’m good at some things,” he said, getting up and taking your hand. 

The walk back to the truck was quiet as you were mentally preparing yourself for what the next couple of hours could unfold at your parents. Were you finally going to lose your mind? Were they finally going to turn around? Were they going to accept Tyler? Even though you told yourself you didn’t care, you still did. 

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg @nerdgirljen @winterassassin1804 @smoothdogsgirl @xbox5angelx @ifilwtmfc @djs8891 @watashiwababy @mackevanstanfan80 @x3zerochanx3

[creepsterdreams]

What do you think a relationship between MC, Mhin and Vere would be?

Ooooo this is a tough one

A poly relationship with two people who are the definition of mortal enemies? Yeah good luck MC

TOUCHSTARVED Headcanons: Poly relationships with Vere and Mhin

First off we’ll have to begin with how you even GOT to the relationship in the first place

I would imagine that it was probably these two doodlebobs realizing they both are into you

And uh…it did not go well

“I doubt MC would love a monster who does nothing but think with his dick.”

“Oh really? And I doubt they would like a small fuck who’s nothing short of a pain in the ass.”

So for a while, it was a very very intense game of tug of war

With you in the middle

Vere constantly trying to woo you with his flirtatious comments and charm

Vs Mhin who gave you small gifts occasionally and made sure you were safe from…everything

So unless your like me and have the thought process of an old man, you realized quite quickly what was going on

And you had a verryyyy interesting proposition

"What about...I just date both of you?"

....Huh?

The two people in Eridia whose collective hatred for each other rivaled Vere and Kuras? THESE TWO?

You have to be verrryyy sure of yourself and your plan to even think this is gonna work

And spoiler alert, it doesn’t for a bit

Sure both of them were satisfied that they kind of got what they wanted, aka dating you

But…did your other significant other have to be them?

So for some time, it was sharing one on one time with either of them

Because allmother knows that they cannot be within the same vicinity of each other without arguing

Going to fancy places with Vere and occasionally joining him on hunts

Stargazing with Mhin and some “dates” just being hunting down soulless

Not that you minded

But the day that truly brought these two together was when you accidentally bit off more than you could chew

You and Mhin were surrounded by soulless, the only weapons you had being daggers that could only hold them off for so long

As they inched closer, you had the mistake of taking your eyes off them for a mere second, the one closest in front taking that chance to lunge at you

But, as if it was muscle memory, Mhin jumped in front of you, ready to take the hit for you

But it never came.

Instead, turning around you were met with the sight of all of them, now headless and scattered around in a brutal display, Vere in the middle of it all

Did he…save both of you?

As cocky as always, he stepped closer, tutting mockingly. “If I knew you two idiots were going to get in this much trouble I would’ve skipped my nap.”

Mhin, of course scoffed it off, but a part of them couldn’t help but to feel…thankful?

They knew that Vere was skillful in his work, handling almost any monster with ease and precision

But it’s going against both their pride and their refusal to thank Vere for anything to actually be appreciative

But that didn’t stop you from noticing that Mhin almost seemed…a little kinder?

Heavy on the a little bit

You noticed that instead of the usual sass Mhin gave him, they would instead just scoff and walk away? Yeah that’s definitely weird

So during one of your dates with Vere, he points it out, but in the most him way

“I’ve noticed that your little hunter has been a bit more…quieter around me? So to say? If I had to guess I think they’re beginning to fall for me.”

Yeah sure beautiful whatever you say

Except he was absolutely correct

And he was starting to get a little fond of them as well

You noticed the sneaking glances they’ll give each other whenever they pass by, doing their best to appear as if they don’t care about each other that much

But that was until one day Mhin unfortunately ended up snapping, which followed by an argument, which was followed by Vere saying something along the lines of “you wanna kiss me so bad it’s make you look stupid.”

And Mhin took that personally and did in fact kiss him

So now you got to watch your two partners make out angrily while sipping a nice drink

And you also owed Leander $15 because you lost the bet but anyway

So now your nights were spent with Vere in bed begging Mhin to come join you after a day of jobs

Mhin was a bit reluctant to be affectionate but considering who they were dating, they eventually had to get used to at least one of you having a hand on them

SOOOO protective

And I mean Vere is protective over you and Mhin and Mhin is protective over you and Vere

You of course are protective over them too but in your own way <3

Even if they don’t verbally express it

Mhin will keep an eye on you two whenever you drink, making sure no one bothers you and you don’t end up slumped in a alleyway somewhere

Vere follows you both around at night where your hunting for soulless and basically waits to jump in if needed

You watch over them both and make sure no one gives them a hard time, although you might be ashamed of your curse you can put it to use if you need it

You get all of the more kinder pet names, Mhin and Vere get the teasing ones

Vere calls you things like my love, darling, pet, etc

While he calls Mhin shit like little hunter, shorty, short stuff, the worst ones possible

Although if it makes you feel better Mhin calls Vere dumbass, fox, or just straight up his name

But he does get the occasional “yes dear” in a sarcastic tone

Mhin doesn’t really use pet names with you, although they’re version of “dumbass” is more lighthearted than Vere’s

Much to the fox’s dismay

Dates between the three of you look more like Vere dragging you both to see a new performer while having a nice meal

Or just sitting at home and cuddling, whichever the mood calls for

Both of they’re love languages are gift giving and you can’t convince me otherwise

Although, they’re on opposite sides of the spectrum

Vere prefers more expensive things to give you, whether it’s clothes, jewelry or an expensive chocolate he found in high town

Mhin on the other hand likes more handmade things partially due to the bird brain

So sometimes your room ends up being filled with designer clothing and handmade neckles

Which you never mind <3

They will be very happy though if you give them something back, although they won’t show it

Vere though, unfortunately cannot hide the wag in his tail

In a case where the Senobium is giving Vere a hard time, Mhin has no problem causing a stir in another part of the city to take they’re attention away from him

Though they’re comforting ability can use some work, they usually take to making you both food if your in a sour mood

Or if Mhin is facing some trouble from a client, Vere offers some very thinly veiled threats to get them of their back

His comforting skills can also be not the best but he does give some great cuddles🫶🏾

Please pray for whoever thinks it’s a good idea to come after you because of your curse

Because not only will they be dealing with a skilled hunter, but also a monster who’s mercy can only be begged for

All in all, they can sometimes be at each other’s throats over small things, but that doesn’t change that they love you, and each other more than the world could dream of

Mhin crawls through the bedroom window, exhausted and wanting nothing other than to crawl into bed and forget this night happened. Even if that means it’ll just be a repeat of it all tomorrow.

But after shrugging off their boots and cape, they finally take notice of the two forms on the bed, passed out and wrapped in each other’s embrace.

You and Vere were both facing the window, assuming that you were anticipating their arrival, but falling asleep in the middle of it. Vere’s tail was draped over your side, while his neck was tucked tightly in your neck, letting out what could only be described as content purrs. And the bandages that were usually worn on your arms were replaced by softer gloves, ones that you only wore in bed to prevent the worry of bandages unraveling.

Mhin scoffs, silently scolding the two of you for wanting to stay awake until they returned. You knew they only came back far into the night, so why waste precious sleep?

But, they couldn’t help but feel their chest ever so slightly warming at the gesture. To have someone care enough to risk tiredness just to greet them upon entry.

Sliding off the rest of they’re clothes, only leaving undergarments, they slipped into the bed with you both, taking a moment to appreciate the sight, before wrapping their arm around your bodies, leaving a hand to rest against Vere’s back.

Closing their eyes, they left a ghost of a smile, slowly slipping away into a deep slumber.

It felt nice to be valued for once.

[gelphielovebot]

— we never go out of style

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda goes on another obnoxiously big shopping spree which calls for a fashion show just for elphaba. elphaba’s just happy she gets to watch her girl model a bunch of pretty clothes, but she also learns to appreciate her own beauty in the process.

☆ warnings: suggestive talk and glinda like half naked in one part but doesn’t get more than that.

“elphieeee!”

elphaba looked up from her book, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting in pure confusion. she had to be hearing things. she turned her attention back to the book on her lap. until she heard it again, muffled but even louder.

“elphieeeeeee!”

elphaba’s head snapped up again. this time she stood up off her bed, looked around the room. she could easily identify it as glinda voice, simply by the nickname she was calling her by. it sounded as if though she was yelling it from in the walls. glinda couldn’t have possibly gotten trapped in the—

“elphieee thropp!”

the balcony. of course.

elphaba rushed over to the doors of the balcony. she was worried why glinda was possibly screaming her name from down there. she looked down to see glinda standing there with her arms crossed. surrounding her? probably about twenty shopping bags.

“glinda,” elphaba said sharply, noticing the attention being drawn to the two of them already. “what are you doing?”

“i don’t want to carry these bags up i’m tired,” the blonde girl whined. she had gone off on a shopping spree earlier in the day, leaving elphaba to peace and quiet for once. the green witch pinched the space between her eyes, sighing. “elphie pleaseee. i’m so tired. i’ve been on my feet for like five hours now.”

and who’s fault is that, she wanted to say, however, elphie couldn’t argue. as much as she wanted to, almost the whole student body was staring them down right now. and glinda couldn’t seem to care any less.

“fine,” elphaba breathed out, unsure if glinda even could heard it from there. either way, when she walked away from the rail of the balcony, she could hear glinda letting out a happy squeal.

when elphaba made it out of the dormitory and outside, glinda was still standing there with her arms crossed, surrounded by bags. she smiled brightly when she saw her elphie.

“elphie! hi, my sweet,” she wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek, making a mwah sound to accentuate it. elphaba’s cheeks warm up and she tried to suppress her smile. she still got shy when glinda publicly displayed affection towards her.

“i thought you were just picking up a single dress,” elphie said, concerned for the damage it probably did to glinda’s wallet and worrying about how they were going to make space for all of this.

“i was but then i met this really nice lady who showed me to her spring collection that had like so many pink dresses in it and then…”

“then you bought the whole store,” elphaba finished. glinda giggled and rolled her eyes. she had absolutely no self control when it comes to shopping. and so that’s why elphaba usually has to accompany her; because the one time she doesn’t, this happens.

“be a doll and help me bring these bags up.” glinda picked up one of the smaller ones that had, what elphaba assumed, to be accessories in one hand and carried her personal bag in the other.

just as expected, elphaba was left to carry all of the other ones full of clothing. glinda defended herself by making it up to elphaba later that night anytime she made her carry her bags. so really, elphaba couldn’t complain.

glinda walked in front of elphaba so she could open the doors for her. it was the least she could do. elphaba stood there panting right when she entered their dorm after having to walk up many flights of stairs with about five hundred pounds of clothing.

“you can leave them right by my bed,” glinda says with a smile, pointing towards her bed as if elphaba didn’t know where it was.

“sure thing, princess,” elphaba says breathlessly, words grinding through her gritted teeth as she drops all the bags down and collapses onto the pink bed.

“hey, don’t be mad at me. you obviously get a reward for your help,” glinda says cheekily, her eyebrows doing a dance which didn’t go unnoticed by elphaba. glinda walked towards her lover, standing between her legs.

“yeah? what is it,” elphaba’s slender fingers slitter around glinda’s waist, holding her tightly against her. for a moment, glinda’s brain got all foggy and she completely forgot what the reward was. she quickly snapped herself out of whatever fog she was in.

“you’re bad,” glinda corrected, pushing elphaba back on the bed by her shoulder blades. “your reward is a fashion show, silly.”

elphaba giggled, positioning herself back up. glinda was already walking away with a single one of her bags in hand. “stay there,” glinda yelled from the other side of the room, hiding behind a privacy shade as if elphaba hadn’t seen her naked a million times before. however, she took her fashion shows seriously. elphaba wasn’t allowed any sneak peaks.

elphaba sat there impatiently waiting for about seven minutes. she couldn’t possibly imagine why it would take her more than a minute or two to put a dress on, but it wasn’t anything new or unusual for her.

“okay ready?” glinda’s asks, dramatically loud. when she hears elphaba confirm her total readiness, she walks out to elphaba’s view. she slowly strutted in the empty space beside her bed, wobbling in her heels.

her dress was pink, to nobody’s surprise. it had some ruffles on the shoulders and the length didn’t fall past her knees. it had shimmer to it, elphaba noticed, assuming it were to be put with her going out dresses.

“like it?” glinda asked excitedly, showing off the flowy-ness of it by twirling around herself.

elphaba thought she was absolutely adorable; the way she showed herself off. presenting perfectly imperfect. elphaba loved watching the wobble in her step or the way her head bobbled from dizziness after she spun or how her hair fell in her face and tangled in her long dark lashes. she was so extremely imperfect and, to elphaba, that made glinda perfect for her. she loved every bit of it. she loved that she was the only one who could see it.

“i love it,” elphaba says enthusiastically, fighting the urge to grab glinda and push her on the bed and kiss her, “you’re so pretty, my sweet. so captivating you are.”

glinda stood there staring at elphaba, biting her lip while she took in the compliments. she couldn’t get distracted again. i mean, she is running this very important fashion show here.

“thank you,” glinda says, smiley and giddily. then she runs back off to, what she would call, backstage. “next one,” she says sing-song-ily.

this time, glinda take about five more minutes than last outfit change. elphaba imagines that she’s taking her sweet time hanging them up because oz forbid her clothes had a single wrinkle.

glinda finally walks prettily back out to her stage. this time, the aesthetic is completely different. she’s wearing a white skirt, slightly shorter than the dress yet nonetheless loose and moveable. her top is two different shades of pink, light pink and a slight darker pink that isn’t deep enough to be considered hot pink. it’s a thick-strapped tank top and has a flower on one of the shoulders.

“this one is for P.E,” glinda says, putting her hands on her hips and slightly lifting the shoulder with the flower, flashing a pretty smile.

“very pretty,” elphaba says again, but genuinely. out of her large vocabulary, she often became blank-minded around glinda, only finding pretty or beautiful as a way to describe her. but she was simply that. she was that, and glinda knew the rest. “don’t you hate P.E?”

“yes, that’s why i have to look good, elphie. or where’s the fun in it?”

elphaba shook her head and titled it down at her lap, giggling at her silly girlfriend. she then felt glinda’s presence infront of her. her head was tilted back up with two delicate fingers that wasn’t her own. “then, maybe i’ll take you up on that fencing lesson, miss elphaba.”

“you know you’re not gonna learn a thing if i’m teaching you,” elphaba smirked. because it was a cold hard fact. she’s tried. with history. with math. with literature. it was impossible for elphaba to tutor that girl because glinda quickly got bored of the work and distracted by elphaba features. they would only get a couple minutes in before their clothes were on the floor.

“yeah, well,” glinda said quietly, softly. she kissed elphaba’s lips so quickly that it made her ache for more, “maybe i won’t learn about fencing but that doesn’t mean i won’t learn a thing or two about anything.”

“glinda upland, go show me the rest of your clothes. you’re ridiculous.” elphaba sweetly kissed the girls collarbone, which was the closest in reach, and then playfully gave her a little shove towards the rest of the shopping bags.

glinda let out a laugh from deep within her belly, “says you!”

it didn’t take very long for glinda to come running back out. except she wasn’t in any new clothes, simply just a bra and panties. glinda wished she could’ve mentally screenshotted the surprised face elphaba made. it’s not like she hasn’t seen her like this before, she just simply wasn’t expecting it. especially since her heart nearly stops every time she gets to see glinda this way.

“where are you clothes?” elphaba asks concerningly, as if glinda had just…forgotten to put them on?

“i almost forgot, elphie, i bought us matching dresses. you have to come try it on!” glinda says, overzealously.

“oh you really didn’t have—” she couldn’t finish her sentence because she had a half-naked glinda grabbing her hand and pulling her up. she often times was shocked at how strong glinda tended to be. or maybe her body just naturally followed glinda whenever she was being dragged around by her. “glinda, seriously, i’m not wearing pink.”

“it’s not pink, silly,” glinda says, and once they are behind the privacy curtain, as if they need it, glinda drops her hand and starts digging through one the bags.

elphaba catches a glimpse of black fabric, which she’s certain that it isn’t for glinda herself. glinda grabs it, with an excited squeal, and hands it to her girlfriend. elphaba stands there, staring at it confusingly. she still found it strange to have someone gift her something. she didn’t receive much growing up. much her entire life at that.

“okay, turn around and put it on. i’ll put mine on. and then on the count of three we turn around. got it?” glinda says bossily, elphaba hums a simple mhm and turns her back to glinda. it was just that quick and she sometimes hated that she submitted to her so easily. how her compliance slipped out like butter as if it was sitting on her tongue and waiting to be spit out. because that’s simply not how she’s ever been. but a part of her felt attracted to the simplicity of being told what to do in a gentle manner.

elphaba started undressing and slipped on the new dress. it was not something she’d typically pick out for herself. her legs from her knees to ankles were exposed and it was even short-sleeved. she noticed quite quickly that there was a thick hemming at the bottom that was a bright pink. she felt…self conscious. and she also felt horrible for feeling that way because glinda thought of her.

“okay ready?”

“yes,” elphaba responded nervously. and she wondered if glinda could hear it in her voice.

“three, two, one,” instead of going at a normal speed, she said it quite hastily because she was eager to match with her lover, even more eager to see her in a dress that exposed more than she typically showed.

they both turned around. glinda’s was the exact same dress except vise-versa with the colors. it was a bright pink with black hemming. it made elphaba slightly more insecure because glinda looked so good in it and well…elphaba felt ugly. she didn’t have to see herself in the mirror to know that she didn’t look the way glinda did.

elphaba stood there with her arms crossed over her body, her head hung low. if she had been looking up and saw the adoration on glinda’s face, she might’ve not felt so insecure. but either way, glinda knew to verbally express exactly how she felt towards her girl.

“my sweeeeeet,” she says in a higher pitched voice than usual, “you look so beautiful.”

before elphaba gets the chance to lift her head back up, glinda’s already wrapping her in a hug. the girl is touchy, that’s for sure, but elphaba’s coming to realize that having someone who wants to touch her and doesn’t cringe at the thought makes her feel really good.

glinda kissed her soft green cheek, and elphaba can only imagine how she’s looks with a pink lipstick imprint on her green skin now. “i’m so amazing, i just knew you would look good in it.”

glinda pulled back, keeping her hands on elphaba’s waist. she looked her up and down again, and elphaba didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable with her eyes so intently on her as she expected she would.

“oh! come here look at how beautiful you look,” glinda hasn’t given elphaba the chance to speak just yet. it was unbeknownst to her that she was doing it so the attention was completely on elphaba and she herself wouldn’t receive a compliment for once. she knew she was pretty, and she knew what elphaba thought of her, but what was most important now was elphaba knowing how pretty she was.

glinda dragged her over to the vanity mirror. she had elphaba stand slightly in front of her so she was the main focus between the two. glinda kept her hands on elphaba’s shoulders. mainly so she couldn’t run off, but also because she constantly had to have her hands on her.

elphaba stared at herself in the mirror, staring at the way the green didn’t magically stop at her hands. how it went all the way up her arms. and how her legs matched it. she typically tried to cover as much as she could. because maybe wandering eyes could be fooled that she wasn’t entirely green.

“elphaba, look at how beautiful you are,” glinda whispers. her warm breath makes elphaba shudder and she can see that goosebumps are visible on her exposed arms.

“thank you,” she says quietly. she hadn’t found the strength to louden her voice. but for a moment, she believes glinda. maybe she doesn’t think she’s entirely beautiful, but the dress hadn’t made her ugly. she rather liked the way it perfectly hugged her body. and the pink hem reminded her of glinda. and frankly, she didn’t mind matching with her lover that much.

“oh elphie, look at us! we should wears these to class tomorrow!” she spun elphaba back around to face her, causing the girl to feel awfully dizzy for a moment.

and there is was again. the insecurity. the anxiousness. “oh i don’t know—”

“come on, elphie! you look so pretty. i want everyone to see it and know it if they don’t already.”

“glinda, I—” glinda could see her girlfriend still had yet to be compliant. she knew it was from a lack of self-assurance. she’s come to learn that elphaba didn’t have the confidence she presented herself with. she did care how people felt about her. more than anything, she cared.

“elphaba thropp, listen to me,” she says sternly. her hands are wrapped tightly, yet without hurting her, around her wrists to display her seriousness. “you are so beautiful. i wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true. you know i can’t lie about beauty and fashion.” elphaba giggled at her, shaking her head. it was true! “if someone can’t see that then they must be blind or stupid.”

her big puppy dog eyes were hard to deny of anything. the way her lips pursed out, begging her. it was one time. one day…

“okay.”

“okay?!” glinda asks excitedly, trying to confirm what is quite difficult to believe.

“okay. we can wear them tomorrow.”

“elphie!!” she squealed, jumping around herself before kissing her lovers lips. elphaba stood there smiling at her. maybe being a little uncomfortable in herself for a day was worth making glinda this happy. “i love you. i love you!”

“i love you too, sweetness,” elphaba says, much calmer than glinda.

“okay, now i have to finish my fashion show! c’mon!”

[fushiguwu]

Could a kiss kill someone? G. Suguru

CHAPTER 6 from the Summer Fever’s serie!

ft. dilf!getou and gojo’s stepdaughter!reader

warnings. MDNI, nsfw, crying, relationship insecurities, explicit sex description, car sex, public/risky sex, dirty talk, dry humping, use of the petnames ‘love, baby, honey, pumpkin’, desperation/begging, use of ‘daddy’ and ‘brat’ once or twice, choking, spitting, kissing, creampie (keep urself safe), sweet romance, suguru is a sweetheart and a silly man, kinda fluffy and crack sometimes, getting caught.

words. 4.1k

a/n: i am really sorry for the absurd late in this but i really had a creativity block problem and got stuck for a whole month and a half without a clue to do keep this going the way i wanted to. please understand that there are at least two or three more chapters to come and i finished this one like this so it wouldnt take so long to delivery it. thank u so much for everyone that waited for it and i am already working on the next one. not proofread or i would never post it… lol anyways hope u enjoy it!

Guess you broke your promise.

you didn’t pay a minute of attention to the movie nor the girls bubbling about it. Your ears were filled with his oh-so-sweet words, your nose breathed with his scent, your mouth kissed itself for his absence; and yet, doubt: was it the right choice to surrender? feets kicked in excitement by his touch as your heart boils in uncertainty. You remembered now how he smelled so much addictively, how obsessed he got you, like a whole teenager, all again. But you know this situation will hurt more people than satisfact.

It was the very first time within almost a month of vacation that you actually woke up and had breakfast on the dining table with the other six people in the house. As the last one to join, everyone stared, like you were some kind of ghost, not understanding your sudden behaviour change. Besides, of course, the changer — which sat there flawlessly. Suguru gave you the most beautiful sunrise smile you’ve ever seen on anyone’s face. And it did not help you decide your thoughts. at all.

“Good morning, sunshine” you hear him saying and just noticed he is staring at the chair beside. He kept it for you. Your face burned but you had to play it cool. throat clearing. “Good morning, Suguru. Have you slept well?”

“Could’ve been better.” and you spot him stating your steps with his sided sharp eyes. He's smiling foolishly —certainly worries were not running through his own head, and you envy him. You glance off before making it too obvious to everyone you guys are definitely into something unnameake. So you greet the same to the rest of the table too.

Your mom speaked about something you couldn’t fully understand, as for the moment she opened her mouth and got their attention, Getou slipped his hands through your knees. you reflectively closed it; knew what he wanted, and it panicked your system, looking with scared eyes quickly at him like saying “not here”. He whispers an almost unheard “that’s okay” to you and his gentle tone almost made you feel like it was, actually. And his hands didn’t go any further, just kept caressing your thighs, as he just wanted to feel your warmth. It made you more than a bit nervous, yet enjoyed his touch secretly.

“Honey, once you finish your food, could you go to the market for me, please?” your mom got you out of trance, and you had to recapitulate her sentence in your dizzy head for a few seconds to fully understand it. You nod twice in response.

“I can take her, if you allow.” The black haired man by your side speaks and you feel your spine shiver. You and Suguru. Alone. Far from this house. Alone. You gulp hard.

“Oh, Getou! Wouldn’t that be a bother, my dear?” your mom sounds sincerely surprised.

“Not at all, miss. It’s not like I have much to do” he tries bringing humour to soften the mood. So your mom agrees. They talk like you are not present —which makes you feel like a child being tutored.

“Waif’, we fwere goinf’ fiffing’ tofay!” Satoru says with his bread hanging on his teeth, outraged —now that is the child who needs tutoring. “We can go later” is all Suguru says before giving your leg a soft squeeze and getting up. It gives you the cue to not delay yourself on.

Your blood pounded abruptly in your throat as you geted in his now well-known car. Suguru was by your side already, and had definitely put on an expensive perfume while you changed yourself upstairs. You don’t speak about it, though. Nor about anything. He could say you are nervous and after a failed try or two to chitchat, chose to follow your lead in silence.

You watched the city change outside the car window with so many thoughts running through. You didn’t want to like him, it harmed everyone in your life: his daughters were never going to talk to you and never trust their father again; it’d be the end of Gojo’s longest friendship. Or maybe his marriage with your mom, and you couldn’t let it happen for a silly summer passion.

“We’re here. Are you good, sweetheart?” Suguru’s words took you out of your cloudy mind at last. You just wave your head and smile for him. You now see he had gently opened your door.

“Thanks, Sugu’.” your voice was weak. you don’t answer his question.

You bought everything your mom wanted while he helped push the increasingly heavy cart. The insight that you two actually look like a couple alone gave you shivers —the goods and bad ones. It was silent most of the time, besides for when he asked something about the shopping list. At the end, Suguru putted the bags into his car alone, as insisted, and you wait for him inside. It was a few minutes before afternoon in your clock when you heard him closing his door; he doesn’t turn the car on, though. You look at him uncertain.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he finally speaks. “About what?”

“What you’re keeping to yourself. You’re clouded the whole day.” Suguru speaks like it is obvious. “Is it about last night?” You hesitate, so he knows the answer. His gaze softens. “My love, if I made you uncomfortable, I am profoundly sorry. Truly am. It’d never be my intention. But I would really appreciate it if you spoke to me about it, can’t stand your silence anymore” he’s just so fucking delicate with his words that it made impossible not to fall into, so you take a deep breath.

“No, you did nothing to make me mad, Sugu’, and that’s the problem.” you surrendered. He had a stupidly confused expression now. “Yesterday made me realize I am still in love with you, and it’s crippling my head. We can’t do it. We are bound to stay apart. What we did yesterday made me happy, but so fucking confused. What would I say to my mom, to your daughters, to Satoru? They are going to hate us” you felt the tears burning your eyes but refused to let it fall, and he knew it. Suguru turns to you and holds your face tenderly in hands. His thumbs caressing your cheeks, his eyes staring deeply into your oceaned ones.

“dear, don’t suffocate yourself with things you can not control.” you were now sobbing within his grasp. “I want you as much as you do want me, you know it, love. And that’s what matters. We’re not doing anything wrong.” He, then, takes your own hands and leads to his face, smelling your scent, kissing your palms to your wrists.

“I swore to my friend I’d never look at you again…” you finally confess what was weighing on your shoulders, and hear Suguru giggling. His hands once holding your arms were now pulling you closer, lips meeting your trembling chin.

“So you shouldn’t promise things you won’t do.” he stops to look into your eyes and make sure you are okay with his intimate touching, and what a surprise to see you gazing into his mouth with those wetted eyes. The smile Suguru gives you with his lip bitten now is even better than the morning one. “You look so pretty when you cry, my love.” he whispers as dries your watery face with kisses —and actually enjoys the salty taste. you whimp in response to his praise, as well as for the hasty tighten into your waist. “your little fuzzy face’s starting to make me have a hard time…”

and you turn your head enough to take his mouth within yours, which he accepts as fast as he feels your touch. You give Getou a little scream when he pulls you into his lap and his car honks as you bump into the steering wheel; his laugh makes you laugh too, until suddenly remember you’re in a market parking lot. “People are going to see us, Sugu.” you lower your head from the window and whisper.

“Lucky them” is all the black haired man says before seeking your lips. He didn’t feel like telling you the windows were tinted, but the longest the kiss lasted the harder it made you care about it. Or about anything at all.

“That’s why you parked at the farther lot, huh? To fuck me in your car?” you started rolling your hips over his growing bulge, and the sounds of his low whimpers had you seeing stars already. He tried kissing you again, but you kept pushing off to see his fucked up face while you hump him dry. Suguru gives your ass a hard smack, and that’s your turn to whimper. He comes closer, smiles against your mouth and squeezes your flesh. “fucking brat.”

“yeah, you’re ‘bout to.” every answer you gave made his cock squint below. “huh? Weren’t you crying out just now?” Getou says as takes your shirt off. No bra. He smiles and licks his lips. “My love, how I missed you” and you could feel that he was not talking to you as his mouth started sucking from your right to left breast so hungrily. Seeing him, such a gorgeous mind-freaking man, get this insatiable from your bare scent only got you so aroused, you started unconsciously moaning loudly to his stare. You felt him pumping his groin up into your both covered intimacies to have some relief. He suddenly gets off your chest and starts unzipping your shorts, almost desperately. “M’sorry, love, can’t foreplay anymore. Gotta fuck you or think Imma‘ go nuts”

You got up from his lap to help get your clothes off and can finally see his aching bulge. You cross your actions with his for a moment of messily to get his own pants down. You let a gasp escape once taken: it was huge. Fucking huge. Bottle thickness huge. Mouth drooling huge. After a second or two of staring, Suguru finally finds your eyes and chuckles. “What’s the matter, love? Never seen one?” you gulp and look at his face, raising the index and middle finger. He thinks for a moment. “Two? You’ve had dick only twice?”

“T-this is the second one, actually.” you could see his smile growing, finding it cute that you’re quite inexperienced. But it only got you nervous.

“Aw, I got late, then. But that’s okay. Wouldn’t want your first fuck to be in a parking lot.” Suguru jokes, trying to make you feel more comfortable. He grabs your beltline and pulls you closer. Your pussy now touching his cock, barely. Your whimp rubbing his mouth. “And who’s bigger, pumpkin? Me, or the other one?” He already knew your response, but it made him harder to hear.

“Oh, my,” you give him a nervous giggle as one of his hands starts rubbing his dick up and down your soaked syrup cunt lazily, just waiting for you to speak. You gaze at his horny half-closed eyes, half-opened mouth. You couldn’t lie even if you wanted to. You feel him positioning it in; as you take too long to answer, he helps to clear your mind. And that’s when your brain starts working again: “Yours—oh, god, your cock—so fucking huge, fuck.” that’s it. music to his ears.

“And you can take it, right, baby? Gon’ be taking it like the good fucking girl you are.” Suguru answers what he wants to hear from you, and slowly pushes it inside; your mouth falls open for every centimeter of it. Your nails marking red into his shoulders. Your head buzzes in crave. It felt like a dream coming true, after more than a year of denial. “Fuckk—, that’s it. Not even fully inside and you’re already so fucking full, love. Your pussy’s so tight.” he babbled almost unconsciously. Suguru looked so pussy drunk you could feel a bit pity for making him wait for so long to have you, but was too busy trying to sink completely into his dick to do so.

You knew he was desperate when took no more time waiting for you to adjust to his entire length, using both hands on your ass cheeks to bounce it and make you sit entirely in way less time than you would’ve done alone. You screamed silently, opening your mouth fully in front of his face; so teasingly he couldn’t help but hold your chin closer and spit inside; it was so filthy you almost felt your face burning. The fear for people noticing the car moving up and down suspiciously was fading within his very actions. You felt him everywhere: his breath on your nose, tongue on your mouth, hands on your curves, hair through your nude skin. Suguru was madly in love with you for a long time now, and could barely remember wanting something else —and neither did you.

“Tell me how much you like it, honey. Wanna hear you say it. Say that u’ want me, please.” he grabs your face with both hands as for you not to look anywhere else, not think of anything else, anyone else. Suguru wanted your attention all over him. No distractions. No thinking of people outside. Not when he is finally getting you. A man this big in every aspect, with such baggage and experience, dying for your validation, looking stupid, for you; it felt as a crime not to give him what he craves for.

“Fuckin’ love your cock, hitting so good inside me, Sugu. I wan’u deep into my guts. Want u’ to ruin me, need you to ruin me, please. fuckin’ love it.” You felt he could cum from your words only; his breath failing, his gaze getting darker. Suguru could not hide how lost he got into your voice saying such words to him and him only. Your hips doing the hard work up unto him, your foreheads connected as his grip lowers to your neck; he kept you tightly close, so close your blurred vision could not see anything but his deep eyes cutting in your deepest wonders. “Choke the fuck outta’ me, daddy, go on.”

Suguru firmed his feet and abruptly pushed into you for your said sentence. He moved his right hand and pulled the hair of your scalp deliciously. He got you everywhere; his opened mouth never leaving yours, the fluids of your bodies converging. It was just so romantic, so intimate, even throughout the circumstances.

”Call me that again” Getou starved. You gave him a small laugh and answered a low ‘what?’. You just didn’t expect him to quickly give up on your neck and smack your cheek with a controlled slap —it didn’t actually hurt and you knew he was capable of doing it painfully if wanted. And you kind of enjoyed it. “You fucking know what. Don’t tease me.” His hoarse voice made you bite your tongue.

“Hm-mmh” the black haired man seized your ass back and forth, his tip meeting with your g-spot again and again until you could control your whimpers no more. “Like t-that, oh, my, ffuckk-k—feeling s-so good, daddy”

“Ain’t u’ too nasty for a brat that’s been fucked only once? Were u’ this fuckin’ kinky with the other one too?” you got a bit awakened by his jealous words about someone you couldn’t remember the bare face at this very moment, even more for Suguru not letting off his pace for a single second inside you.

“N-no, he couldn’t fuck me this good. Not even—oh, close, Sugu. Promise.” the pride look he gave you made your stomach shiver, you started feeling weird on your down belly. You felt him in your stomach. “S-shit..! Think m’ gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Gettin’ all worked out for ur daddy. Sucha good girl f’me, love.” Getou leaned you against the steering wheel and started biting and sucking onto your breast and ribs, his right hand holding you by the throat again, but this time you knew it would left a mark. You shared glances from underneath and your fucked up eyes made the dark haired man want to be inside you forever, for a hundred times, like you got him in a fucking leash. “Wan’ everyone to know you’re mine, fucking mine. M’ close too, baby, fuck.” you pant out loud as his two fingers start moving heavy circles on your clit greedly; legs shaking, thoughts blurring, dozens of ‘ah,ah,ah’s escaping your mouth uncontrollably. Your head hitting the car windshield at each trust.

“Inside me, daddy, please. Want u to cum inside me, fill me up—get me fucking full.” You didn’t even know how desperate you were until heard yourself speak.It took your words only for him to release his whole soul within your gummy and diabolically luscious walls. Suguru hips meet yours rougher and rougher till it hurts deliciously on your cervix, and you knew it was coming. You almost screamed at him; your body keeps spasming for seconds in a row, eyes rolling back enough for you to see stars. Your hips moved involuntarily into his and you were almost sure you stained his shirt with your pussy. You couldn’t stop the ’fuck’s pantingly off your lips, as you finally took his soft member from your dripping cunt.

“…You’re on pill, right?“ is all you hear Getou say after a whole minute of deep breathing silently.

“Seriously, Suguru?”

“Uhm, sorry. It’s just, you know, to make sure…” you don’t answer him. “It was pretty hot, though. The cum thing.” as if you did not understand at first.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Like, really fucking hot.” he happily giggles, looking down at his clothes, while you started putting yours back on, not speaking a word, not wanting to believe he was behaving like that after fucking your guts off.

You stayed in silence for a moment or two, what made you not pay much attention when the raven haired man stared at you and called your name, tenderly. A second went by as you give him an impatient ‘what?’

“I want to be with you. For real. A real couple... I—, I just can't hide this—,us, anymore, love.”

Suguru looked right into yours. It was sincere. You knew it was. And you didn’t know what to say.

“Suguru, I—“

“I don’t care if you don’t. Just needed to say it.” he gulped, clearly trying to be a mature adult. “I want to give you nice things, take you on dates, do all those normal couple things.” At this point you were back in your seat, locking the belt and fixing your hair.

“But we ain’t a normal couple, Getou.”

silence.

“Don’t u’ wanna try to be?”

You thought about it the whole way back. You wanted it to be different, too. Everything. Perhaps, if you were older, more mature, or somehow not involved in his family, it would have been easier. Perhaps you would not have to worry about loving. You wanted to be with him too. He holded your hand until you got home.

The stupid excuse of the large market queue you gave your mom worked out, after all. The lunch took an hour or two later to get ready than it usually did, Suguru and Gojo went out fishing right away. You sat on the beach sand, reading the book from before, watching them from afar, seeming like little ants in the deep blue ocean; sometimes you could see Satoru jumping out of joy for catching a big one. You stayed there until the sun started setting —or else, until they returned to the mainland. Satoru left the boat with his big fish in hands, ready to make it for dinner, and you looked away, a bit disgusted by the sight. You could now see Suguru finishing anchoring the boat and coming to you; it made you feel goosebumps up in the belly. You don’t break eye contact until he is right in front, still and wet.

“I went out fishing to find a mermaid in land? Lucky me, I guess.” you laugh at his flirting words. It really was not his thing, but, somehow, it worked on you. Getou gets to his knees and comes closer, too dangerously close, you try to get back to keep a respectful distance but he follows you, not caring about it. What happens is that he falls on top of you and now you’re both laughing and full of sand.

“Gosh, wasn’t your pick-up line bad enough?” you say, holding yourself in the elbows. Suguru got his arms keeping him up beside your waist. Your faces were two fingers sized apart. “…And you smell like fish”

“Ouch, love, can’t you be less cruel to this poor old man?” he gets you a giggle and it makes him guess an opening to hold your chin nearer, but you turn away.

“We can not do this here, Sugu.”

“Could a kiss kill someone?” He always has a way to retrucate your words.

“It depends on who you’re kissing.”

Then, he gives your lips a slow peck. Slow enough for you to get nervous, fast enough for you to miss him afterwards.

“Now, have you died?” Getou rubs your lips on his, ahead of getting up and leaving, but you kept there a bit more, smiling only for the sea to see. For a second, you were not afraid.

You two watched a random horror movie dvd your grandma had on the couch later that night, tv so old the screen cutted at the edges.You were laid covered in a thin blanket, the fireplace was on and Suguru, the big spoon, caressed your hair— and secretly sniffed it, sometimes. It was just a properly normal couple activity. No sexual intentions, just silly little jokes and love. Love?

“Did you fall asleep?” Getou whispered to you, moving the hair covering your ear, as for helping you hear him, but he actually just wanted to see your face better. “You got so quiet suddenly”

“Uhm, no, sorry. I’m awake, Sugu.�� You got your head back on, but still feeling dizzy. Your mind nonstop on processing your feelings. Hearing his voice made your stomach shiver in anticipation. “U’ want something?”

“Yeah, could you get us some popcorn?” Excuse me? What an asshole.

“Are you serious? The movie’s almost over and now you want me to get you some popcorn?” he did notice how stupid he sounded when you were the one saying it. But, still, he shaked his head. For god’s sake.

You get up from the sofa and pause the movie in a bloody scene directly on the tv button. It’s not as if you were paying much attention to it, anyway. You can see his shadow following you from behind like a ghost as take the way to the dark kitchen. Once you stopped in front of the higher cabinet to reach the corn, his left hand intertwined your waist tightly, forcing it to come in touch with his own abdomen, and his right one grabbed the package for you. Asshole. You turn around to meet his nasty smile on that beautifully stupid face. A hundred times asshole.

“If you were coming to the kitchen anyway, why didn’t you make the popcorn yourself?” you cross your arms in front of him, staring with the cockiest eyes you could give. It did not work, Suguru opened his smile even more; it was almost like he enjoyed pissing you off.

“What’s the fun in that?” his gorgeous face coming closer and closer to your nervous one as he made you forget what you were mad about just every centimetre of proximity.

He purposely kept staring down into your gaze until his lips touched yours oh-so-tenderly. Almost as if he was afraid to close his eyes and miss you. The black haired man embraced you so naturally, your body moved for itself within his. His perfume inebriated your soul as a spell you would willingly fall for. You never wanted to leave this trance; never wanted to have the consciousness of time and place again. Suguru swiped his fingers into your body circumference, not skipping a single corner; like he wished to memorise it from head to toe, like he did not see a single flaw.

His silky kisses downed almost carefully to your ear, and jawline, and neck, and collarbone, and your eyes opened in excitement.

And you see your mom entering the kitchen.

And she looks at you.

And you feel the time and your heart stopping for a whole second. Your body frozened in absolute shock, like you had never felt since the teenage years. It was when Suguru noticed you were acting weird and looked up. “What happened, love?” you did not answer. You didn’t even blink. He followed your gaze slowly, afraid of seeing a ghost, or a demon. It was actually worse. “Fuck.” it’s all he said.

Yeah, yet again,

Fuck.

[terrorbitch]

"why do you say that? someone like you?" she knew her power scared people. it never scared anna, even if she acted like it. she had just been jealous and curious and obsessive. she was glad that all turned into something so much... better, but she wondered what would happen if she hadn't became friends with kiara. if she wouldn't be fighting off logic and reason just to be able to hold her and move against her like she was. her movements slowed, the seriousness of the convo shifting her needs momentarily. she wanted to pretend like neither of them had brains, or hearts, or anything. and just go off of feelings alone. but when ki looked away, anna sat up a little (knee still slotted) and gripped her chin, forcing her to look back at her. "you are more special to me than any single person on this planet, kiki. i promise on my my flawless set of pink diamond hairpins!" her brows furrowed and she tried searching her eyes. "can't you turn that beautiful brain of yours off for a minute and stop trying to figure it out? it's easy for me. to turn my brain off. and then, we can keep kissing and touching each other and... and tomorrow night do it all over again. or maybe, between classes if you want⸺i'm sure gavin can find something to do⸺a-and figure it out another time." she paused and then nodded her head. "we can ask the wizard. if we ever see him."

dark brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of why anna would care what people said about her.... but any sense she tried to make of the idea was interrupted by the way anna's fingers combed through her hair, drawing her in even closer. the compliments made her feel dizzy, lips parted as the other's knee pushed harder against her and further fueled the hunger she suddenly felt (even if she couldn't quite place what the burning sensation was that she was feeling). "you... your lips are really soft, too. and.... you're so beautiful, i can't figure out why you would want to keep kissing someone like me." someone who was not only inexperienced, but largely regarded as a piranha amongst their peers. she couldn't even begin to make sense of it, but she wasn't even given a chance to try before anna had posed another, more difficult question. "i..." it was hard to decipher just what it was she felt there was between them because, until anna, she'd never even had a best friend, let alone someone who she felt was more than that. "i don't know, i mean— i've read a lot of books, but i've never felt.... i guess it could just be that we're friends, but i think i want—" she avoided anna's gaze, torn between the anxiety of pushing her away and the excitement of having her possibly feel the same. "i want to be more special to you than anyone else and i want.... to keep kissing you and touching you and doing more with you but... i don't know what that means."

[munsons-mutiny]

I keep seeing everyone talking about Jayce being the only person capable of saving Viktor. How in every universe Viktor chooses him.

But I don’t see anyone talking about how that means in every universe Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the hex core. In every universe Jayce can’t let him die, can’t let him go, chooses him over his morals, his integrity, his common sense.

These boys are gonna be the death of me.

[sebdoesthings]

I'm so glad i watched Sk8 the Infinity as an adult and not a teen so I didn't turn into one of those annoying idiots who complain about "renga not being canon because they didn't kiss"

[skunkes]

i loooove when ocs unrealized development makes them feel like real people like no i dont know whether talon is genuinely attracted to women after years of both clinging to them for safety and years of putting them onto that untouchable idealized Perfect Protector Pedestal that must remain untainted by any bad experiences, so he doesn't even try to Be With any. He doesn't know either