#So... yeah they like to talk and listen to each other :)

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 34: October 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

It started with Max googling “how to swaddle a newborn.”

Which led to YouTube.

Which led to a deep dive into baby vlogs.

Which somehow landed on a video titled “Our Baby’s Christening (ft. emotional godparent reveal!!)”

Max blinked at the thumbnail. “Do we have to do that?”

Belle, curled sideways on the couch with a pregnancy pillow squashed under one knee, looked up from her book. “What? Swaddle? We should probably learn that, yeah.”

“No,” Max said. He pointed at the screen. “The christening.”

She tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Ah. Right. That.”

Max paused the video and turned toward her. “You want one?”

Belle let out a breath. “My grandmother would probably claw her way out of the grave and personally haunt me if we didn’t.”

He snorted.

“I’m serious,” she added. “She made Maman promise we’d all be christened Catholic, and that our children would be too. I think the woman crossed herself more than she blinked. She literally sewed crosses into every one of Charles’ race suits.”

Max laughed again — but softer this time. “Okay. So… we do it?”

Belle gave a small nod. “I’d like to. If that’s okay with you.”

He reached for her hand without hesitation. “If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

She squeezed his fingers, then added, “But no vlog. No TikTok trend. No godparent cupcakes. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Noted,” Max grinned. “Subtle drama only.”

They were quiet for a beat, and then Belle said, without looking at him, “I want Emilie to be the godmother.”

Max didn’t even blink. “Obviously. She’ll be both protective and terrifying.”

Another pause.

“Do you know who you want?” Belle asked, quieter now.

He nodded slowly. “GP.”

Belle looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Max shifted slightly, his voice gentler now. “He’s been there for every moment that mattered. He’s steady. He’s smart. He puts up with me.”

She smiled. “That last one should qualify him for sainthood.”

Also Max, after a beat: “Plus, he’s Italian. He has a terrifying Catholic grandmother of his own. He’ll understand the stakes.”

Belle burst out laughing.

“Are you saying he’ll bring his own incense?”

“I’m saying he’s probably been guilted into mass more times than he can count. He knows the drill. He’ll kneel on command.”

Belle was still giggling as she wiped her eyes. “God, that’s perfect.”

“Exactly,” Max said, grinning. “Emilie and GP. Chaos and calm. Fire and structure.”

“They’ll balance each other out,” Belle said softly.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling as he glanced down at her belly. “I think he’ll need that.”

***

Leclerc Brothers Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo)

Charles: ok we need to talk we cannot mess this up

Arthur: bonjour to you too what is the emergency now

Charles: the baby shower, Arthur Belle’s baby shower the baby is coming in like. weeks we have to get her something meaningful something GOOD like heart-wrenching

Arthur: You’re only saying that because you forgot it’s this weekend

Charles: I did NOT forget. I just didn’t realise it was THIS weekend.

Lorenzo: You’re panicking again. This is worse than the time you tried to write your own Christmas card and cried at the word “warmth.”

Arthur: “with all the warmth of a snowy heart” 💀

Charles: SHUT UP both of you I’m being serious this is our sister’s first baby and I wasn’t the best brother for a long time but I am trying now and we CANNOT show up with like. A teddy bear and a shrug

how do we say “we love you and we’re trying and sorry we were trash for so long but now we want to be the kind of uncles that get called first before any emergency”

Arthur: ok ok calm down we won’t get her a shrug I was thinking maybe like… custom baby shoes?

Charles: how is a baby supposed to know they’re custom?? that’s just for Instagram!

Lorenzo: that is not a gift. that’s just emotional damage control. we need to get her something ACTUALLY USEFUL

Charles: ok mr tax accountant what’s “actually useful” for a baby?? diapers??

Arthur: baby monitor white noise machine one of those things that stops the baby from eating electrical cords

Lorenzo: you just googled that didn’t you

Arthur: shut up i’m TRYING

Charles: can we please just buy something cute and emotional?? like a tiny ferrari onesie??

Lorenzo: absolutely not do you want Max to fight us in the parking lot

Lorenzo: Okay then, what do you want? A monogrammed bassinet? A tiny race suit with Verstappen on the back?

Charles: you are making it WORSE I want something that says “I love you and I see you and I’m sorry for every birthday I missed and also your child will be so loved he’ll never doubt it for a second”

Arthur: so a card?

Charles: arthur i will drive to your apartment and throw a diaper at your head

Lorenzo: we could put together a basket things for her. not just the baby. like pampering stuff??

Charles: like bath salts??? she’s not allowed hot baths isn’t that a pregnancy thing

Arthur: ok so NOT that what about like a robe. nice robe. soft. hug-adjacent.

Lorenzo: robe fuzzy socks giant water bottle snacks that Max isn’t allowed to touch

Arthur: gift card for foot massage???

Charles: matching pyjamas for her and the baby 😭😭😭😭

Lorenzo: now you’re crying aren’t you

Charles: OF COURSE I AM SHE’S GROWING A WHOLE PERSON

Lorenzo: yes done group letter, gift basket, and we each pick one thing for the baby too

Charles: dibs on tiny hat

Arthur: dibs on bedtime book. i’m starting his library.

Lorenzo: i’ll sort the blanket. cashmere. he deserves cashmere.

Charles: guys we’re going to be uncles 😭😭😭

***

Belle hadn’t meant to fall in love with that stroller.

It wasn’t even on the list. She’d made a list — a sensible one, full of safety reviews and budget considerations and real-world feedback from exhausted parents online. The plan was to look at a few models, ask questions, keep it practical.

She had not planned to stand in the middle of the baby store cradling the handlebar of a €1,500 dutch-engineered stroller that folded with one hand and rolled like a dream, her heart inexplicably full.

It was beautiful.

Matte black. Compact. Sleek enough to look like it belonged on a Formula 1 grid. The kind of stroller that could survive cobblestones and airport chaos and whatever post-apocalyptic terrain a toddler might drag it through.

But it was also—

Ridiculous.

Belle let go of the handle and stepped back quickly, like maybe that would dull the sting of wanting something so wildly over-the-top. She turned toward the more modest display beside it.

“This one’s nice too,” she said, gesturing vaguely at a midrange model. “The safety ratings are almost identical and the basket is bigger. It’s more—reasonable.”

Max didn’t answer immediately. She could feel him behind her, that quiet hum of attention he always gave her even when he wasn’t saying a word.

“Schatje.”

She turned. He was still standing by the expensive stroller, one hand on the handle, frowning slightly.

“You like this one.”

“I mean, yes,” she said quickly. “But we don’t need it. It’s just—it’s a stroller, Max. It’s wheels and a seat and—honestly the cheaper one is probably better for the city anyway.”

He tilted his head. “Do you like it?”

“Max—”

“Do you like this one?” he repeated, quietly.

Belle hesitated. Then nodded, almost sheepish. “Yeah. I do. It’s stupid, I know. It’s just—smooth. And quiet. And it folds up in one hand and looks like a spaceship and I kind of imagined walking him around the paddock in it.”

Max’s mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile too hard. He looked at the stroller again. Gave it a slight push. It rolled half a metre in near-silence.

“You’re right,” he said. “It does look like a spaceship. I like it.”

Belle crossed her arms. “That doesn’t mean we should spend—”

“I’m not looking at the price tag,” Max said gently. “I’m looking at you.”

She blinked.

“You’re trying to downplay how much you want this,” he said, stepping closer. “Because you think it’s too much. Too expensive. Too...extra. But Belle—” His voice softened further. “You’re growing our child. You can have the spaceship stroller.”

She looked down, a little overwhelmed. “I just don’t want to be stupid about money.”

“You’re not stupid,” Max said. “You’re thoughtful. And kind. And responsible. And if the only irrational thing you do this year is fall in love with a stroller that turns like a kart, then I think we’re doing pretty well.”

Belle laughed — a short, breathless sound that cracked under the emotion welling in her throat.

“Besides,” Max added with a sly grin, “I’ve seen the way you push shopping carts. You deserve a machine with proper steering.”

She rolled her eyes and wiped at the corner of one, now-damp eye. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m absolutely helping,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “We’re getting this one. And we’ll find the car seat with the same level of unnecessarily perfect suspension while we’re at it.”

Belle rested her head against his chest for a moment, letting herself breathe.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Don’t thank me,” Max murmured. “You’re the one doing the hard part. I’m just here to carry boxes and make you laugh.”

She stepped back and looked at the stroller again — really looked at it. “Alright. We’ll take it.”

Max turned to the sales assistant. “Hi, yes, we’ll take this one. And whichever car seat she points to next, no questions asked.”

The assistant blinked. “Um. Do you want to see the matching bassinet—?”

“She wants it.”

“I do,” Belle admitted.

“Then we want it too.”

And that was that.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: you had a kid right?

GP: …yes why? what did you do

Max: nothing?? yet i just have a question

GP: go on

Max:

what’s the one thing you didn’t think you’d need for the baby

but you absolutely needed

GP: Oh. Hands down? The snot sucker.

Max: the WHAT

GP: The little vacuum thing that pulls snot out of their nose. You’ll think it’s disgusting. You’ll use it at 2am during a cold and swear it’s the greatest invention since DRS.

Max: 😭😭😭😭😭

GP: Also:

A white noise machine that doesn’t sound like an airplane

About 30 burp cloths

Nappy cream that costs more than you think it should

Somewhere to put the baby when you both need your hands free and he’s awake and plotting chaos

Max: ok writing all this down you’re like the FIA of fatherhood

GP: Don’t make me enforce a penalty for incorrect swaddling.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hülkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll, Valtteri Bottas, Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda)

Alex: any news from max + belle land? baby update?? does the baby have eyebrows yet??

Pierre: what kind of question is “does the baby  have eyebrows yet”

Oscar: technically not the worst question asked in this chat

George: …so? anything new?

Lando: not really?? they’re chill max is full dad mode already and Emilie is planning this jungle baby shower thing with victoria and it’s kind of elite actually—

George: Baby SHOWER??? EXCUSE ME??

Carlos: I wasn’t invited. Were you invited??

Lewis: …there’s a baby shower?

Fernando: What is a baby shower and is there alcohol

Lando: i didn’t say when it was or where or if it’s happening at all could be a metaphorical shower

Sebastian: There’s nothing metaphorical about you being the worst secret keeper on the grid.

Alex: Can someone confirm: is this a real event is there a dress code do I need to bring a onesie

Pierre: I WILL BRING A ONESIE

Yuki: I AM LEARNING TO BAKE COOKIES CAN I COME

David: Are we seriously doing this. Are we all going to Max’s house with pastel cupcakes and nappy cakes.

Mark: I’ve RSVP’d emotionally and spiritually. When’s the flight.

Oscar: Guys. There is a guest list…

Sergio: too late. i’m already designing a balloon arch.

George: Do we need a theme? Should I coordinate my shirt? What if there’s a group photo?

Fernando: I repeat: will there be alcohol.

Valtteri: I’ll bring gin.

Zhou: I’ll bring matching baby sneakers and also a mini car seat in Ferrari red 😌

Nico R.: As a father  I consider it my duty to attend and to offer unsolicited stroller advice

Esteban: What do babies want though?? Do they want socks? A small hat? A tiny car??

Sebastian: They want love. And safe sleep environments. And emotionally intelligent parenting. Also probably a stuffed turtle.

Lewis: i already have three gift ideas none of them are practical all of them are fabulous

Fernando: does anyone know if there’s a registry

Lance:  wait so we’re all invited???

Lando: no one’s invited i literally JUST said that

Alex: so it’s like a stealth party and we’re the chaos agents

Nico H. : i refuse to be left out i am exceptional at baby showers

Sebastian: what does that mean

Nico H: don’t worry about it

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Emilie Abadie

Lando: hi hey hello

Lando: please don’t kill me but like hypothetically how flexible is your headcount for the baby shower

Emilie: … what did you do

Lando: ok so someone asked if there was any news about max and belle and the baby and i said no not really and then i MAY have mentioned the shower and the jungle theme and victoria’s iced coffee and now i think there might be 30 more people coming?

Emilie: THIRTY?1?

Lando: it was accidental!!! they asked!!! i panicked and told the truth like a GOOD PERSON

Emilie: you are not a good person you’re a flight risk in high tops

Lando: accurate but like harmless??

Emilie: you told Fernando Alonso there’s a baby shower do you know what kind of unhinged energy that man brings to a jungle-themed event

Lando: to be fair he’s bringing his own wine

Emilie: EXACTLY. that’s not comforting. that’s alarming.

Lando: i’ll help i’ll bring chairs i’ll build the balloon arch i’ll inflate things

Emilie: you’re already inflating this situation

Lando: i’m sorry 😭😭😭 can i at least bring the mochi yuki found

Emilie: yes but you’re on damage control duty

Lando: fair 🫡

***

Belle looked tired.

Not the kind of tired Emilie was used to seeing on her — not the jet lagged, I’ve-been-working-until-3AM-on-a-pitch tired. This was slower. Deeper. A quiet sort of exhaustion that lived in her shoulders now, settled into the lines under her eyes and the cautious way she moved around the apartment.

Still, she looked happy. Different. Softer, in some ways. Sharper, in others. Like becoming someone’s mother had rearranged something fundamental in her bones.

Emilie watched her from the couch, flipping through a book of baby names that had no business being as long as it was.

“I’m vetoing anything that ends in ‘-aden,’ by the way,” she announced, drawing her finger down the page. “Caden, Braden, Jaden—no child of yours is going to sound like a forgotten High School Musical extra.”

Belle gave her a look — dry, affectionate. “You’re not even on the naming committee.”

“I’m your best friend,” Emilie replied. “I am the committee.”

Belle laughed — quietly, with the kind of smile she used to have before everything got complicated. Before the distance and the silence from her brothers. Before therapy sessions and phone calls that never came.

And then, suddenly, her expression shifted. Her hand slid to rest over her belly — protective, thoughtful — and she looked up.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Emilie straightened. “Everything okay?”

Belle nodded. “Yeah. Just…”

Her voice faltered slightly.

Emilie felt the weight of it before she even heard the words.

“I’ve been thinking about… about the kind of people I want in his life. And I realized… it’s always been you. It was always going to be you.”

“Belle—?”

“I want you to be his godmother.”

The air seemed to still around them.

It hit Emilie square in the chest — that kind of quiet statement that felt like it split the world into before and after.

She blinked.

“Me?” she said, and hated how her voice cracked. “You want me?”

“You’ve been my person since before I knew how to fight for myself,” Belle said. “And you’ve never let me forget who I am, even when I wanted to. You’ve seen all the ugly and stayed. You’ve been my mirror and my sword and my sister in everything but blood. And now…”

She looked down, one hand covering her belly.

“…I want him to have you, too.”

Emilie didn’t trust herself to speak.

So she didn’t.

She just set the book down, crossed the room, and knelt next to Belle. Her palm flattened instinctively over the small swell of Belle’s belly, the other hand reaching for hers.

“I would be honoured,” she said, her throat tight. “And I swear to you, Belle—no matter what happens, I will always be in his corner.”

Belle let out a breath, smiling even as her eyes welled up. “Thank god. Because Max chose GP and I need someone to balance out the Italian Catholic chaos.”

That made Emilie snort, even through the emotion. “Oh god. That poor child’s christening is going to be like a Formula 1 team meeting with incense.”

They both laughed — the kind of laugh that felt like coming up for air.

And as Emilie rested her head lightly against Belle’s shoulder, she felt it.

A tiny kick beneath her hand.

A life.

A future.

And the unwavering, unquestionable knowledge: this baby was hers too, in every way that mattered.

***

***

Belle had suspected something was off the moment Emilie told her to wear something cute, but not too cute, but maybe something with a bit of jungle energy, but also neutral enough for casual lunch dining.

That sentence had seventeen warning signs in it.

But she hadn’t pressed.

Mostly because she was tired. And pregnant. And when she asked Max if he thought Emilie and Lando were acting weird lately, he just blinked at her and said, “They are always weird.”

Fair point.

So she’d put on a soft green wrap dress, pulled her hair into a loose braid, and let Max drive them to Overture, the place of their first date and wedding reception, that always looked like a painting.

“Maybe they just want to feed us,” Max had offered helpfully on the way there. “You’ve been craving that fancy tomato salad.”

Belle had narrowed her eyes. “You remembered my craving down to the exact vegetable.”

Max had shrugged. “Your cravings have a rota. It’s tomato week.”

And she’d laughed, because of course they’d made it a routine. That’s what they did—weathered things by naming them. Max kept track of her cravings like he kept track of tire degradation. Belle loved him for it more than she could ever say.

But still.

Something felt off.

Belle should’ve known something was up when Lando was on time.

Not just on time—early. Waiting outside Overture in a pressed shirt that he hadn’t spilled anything on yet, sunglasses perched in his hair, hands suspiciously empty.

Max parked the car beside him and narrowed his eyes instantly. “He’s being too still.”

Belle smothered a smile. “Maybe he’s maturing.”

“I’ve met Lando,” Max said. “That’s not maturity. That’s guilt.”

He had a point.

Lando spotted them and waved a little too enthusiastically. “Hi! Hello! You look so normal and unsuspecting!”

Belle blinked. “…What?”

“Nothing. I mean—nothing,” Lando added quickly. “Just. Great weather for… lunch. With friends. And not… other things.”

Max gave her a look that clearly read: he’s blown something up, hasn’t he?

“Where’s Emilie?” Belle asked, shifting slightly in the passenger seat. At 7 months pregnant, shifting at all required strategic maneuvering, and the sudden hush in Lando’s tone was not encouraging.

“She’s inside. Setting up—I mean—sitting down. Already. For… soup.”

“…Soup?”

“Yup!” Lando opened her door with the exaggerated cheer of someone trying very hard to pretend everything was fine. “Come on, let’s go. I hear the risotto is life-changing.”

Belle stepped out slowly, one hand on Max’s for balance, her other resting instinctively on the curve of her stomach. Max grabbed her hand and gave Lando one last suspicious squint.

“If there’s a marching band in there,” he muttered, “I’m turning around.”

***

Belle took three steps into the restaurant and immediately knew.

It was the flowers, first—bright tropical blooms clustered around a jungle of greenery and gold balloons. Then the smell of cinnamon and vanilla from the table in the corner. Then the sound of someone shushing someone else behind the doors to the private terrace.

Then—

“SURPRISE!”

A chorus of 40+ voices hit her all at once.

Belle stopped breathing.

For a second, all she could do was blink at the explosion of green and gold. Banners that said A LITTLE WILD ONE IS ON THE WAY. Monkeys hanging from paper vines. A table stacked with animal-shaped cookies,  Donuts and baby books.

And then—the faces.

Victoria. Emilie. Max’s parents. Her mother (gasping into a tissue). Half the Grid. Half the WAGs. GP and his wife. Oscar and Lily waving beside a massive jungle-themed cake. Sebastian Vettel in a pastel button-up. Mark Webber next to him. Yuki Tsunoda in a lion costume for some unknown reason. 

And Max—

Max was frozen beside her, eyes wide, expression somewhere between awe and mild existential terror.

“I knew it,” he muttered. “Lando can’t be trusted.”

Belle turned in stunned, slow motion toward Emilie, who was beaming.

“You knew,” Belle breathed.

Emilie looked smug. “Of course I knew. You would’ve cancelled if I’d told you.”

“I—” Belle looked around again. The room swam a little. “This is so much.”

“Exactly,” Emilie said. “Because you deserve everything.”

Belle opened her mouth. Closed it. And then did the most Belle thing possible: started crying.

“Oh no,” Victoria said, bustling over with a fan. “We made her cry already. You owe me five euros, Emilie.”

Max stepped forward instinctively, hand warm on her lower back, his other hand taking hers.

“You okay?” he asked, voice quiet, leaning in.

Belle nodded, overwhelmed and luminous. “Did you know?”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

Yuki trotted up in his lion onesie, holding out a tray. “Mini mochi? I made it.”

Belle laughed, finally—soft and loud at the same time.

There were flowers on every table. Jungle leaves woven into centerpieces. A hand-painted sign that said Little Wild Thing under a tiny Formula 1 flag. Max’s eyes were full of disbelief and something almost like panic, and yet—

He looked at Belle.

At the way she brought his hand to her belly. At the way her face broke open with joy she hadn’t prepared for.

And he melted.

“Okay,” Max murmured. “I think I get it now.”

Belle turned toward him. “Get what?”

“This,” he said. “All of it. He’s already so loved  loved.”

She looked around the garden again. At the friends. The family. The absurd decorations. The stupid jungle soundtrack someone had snuck into the speaker system. The paper racing bibs. The absolute chaos of it.

Then she looked at him.

And smiled. “Yeah. He really is.”

Her mother approached with a trembling smile. Charles was filming the decor like a proud brother. Lorenzo handed her a lemonade and kissed the top of her head like she was still ten years old.

And Belle—

Belle looked around the room at the people who had gathered, the people who stayed, and felt something settle deep in her chest.

Not just love.

Belonging.

“You planned all this?” she asked Emilie, voice thick.

Emilie grinned. “With a little help.”

***

Charles wasn’t prepared.

Not for the decorations (someone (he suspected Alex) had arranged a stuffed orangutan to dangle dramatically off a trellis.), not for the sheer number of people present (nearly the whole grid? really?), and certainly not for the sight of his baby sister glowing in the center of it all.

Belle stood surrounded by balloons and laughter and the kind of joy that fills a room without needing to shout. She wore a soft green dress that curved around her bump, her hair twisted up with a little gold leaf pin Charles was almost certain Max had chosen for her. Her cheeks were pink from laughing, not crying—though she’d done a bit of that too when she first walked in and realized what had been done in her name.

He’d never seen her like this before.

Comfortable. Radiant. At home.

And what truly stunned him was that everyone else seemed to have always known this version of her.

He watched from near the drinks table, cradling a lemonade someone had thrust into his hand, as Belle greeted Max’s mother and kissed both her cheeks. Belle smiled, not shyly, but easily, her hand resting on her belly like it belonged there. Like she had nothing to prove.

When did that happen? Charles thought, swallowing hard.

She used to shrink at family parties. Fade into corners. She used to hover near the kitchen while the rest of them celebrated.

Now—people gravitated to her.

He spotted Victoria Verstappen nearby, fussing over the dessert table, muttering about fondant leaves. Emilie, supervising like a general. And just to Belle’s left, Max hovered with a protective ease that would’ve startled Charles if he hadn’t already spent the last few months watching them gradually orbit closer and closer to something unshakable.

Max touched the small of Belle’s back when someone came too close. Whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Charles felt a flicker of something bitter-sweet crawl into his throat.

And then—Jos appeared.

Charles froze. Reflex, mostly.

But Jos wasn’t the same stormfront Charles remembered from Max’s early years. The man who now stepped into Belle’s space was… soft. Not smiling, not exactly—but his eyes were kind. His voice quiet.

He said something to her in Dutch. Belle laughed, eyes bright. Jos nodded once, then—stunningly—reached forward and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Charles stared.

Jos Verstappen had never been gentle in his life.

And yet here he was, touching Belle like she was something rare and breakable and deeply his. Like family.

That realization knocked something loose in Charles.

Max’s family didn’t just tolerate her. They adored her. They saw her.

And Belle, for the first time in her life, didn’t have to shrink to fit into someone else’s frame. She had carved out a space entirely her own, and filled it with people who loved her without question.

Even Oscar.

Charles’s gaze shifted to where Oscar Piastri stood off to the side, casually handing Belle a leomnade as if it were a normal occurrence. Belle accepted it with a soft smile, and Oscar returned it.

Charles had known Oscar for years. Calm. Steady. Brilliant under pressure.

But now he watched the younger man hover near Belle like a devoted shadow. Not obtrusive. Not obvious. Just quietly, deeply loyal. Like if Belle so much as tripped, he’d catch her before Max even turned around.

And Charles realized something else then.

Max wasn’t the only one who would fight for her.

She had a battalion now.

Loving, chaotic, fiercely loyal people who had chosen her again and again, even when her own brothers hadn’t seen her fully. Charles felt shame, but also something softer curling beneath it.

Hope.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.

He took a sip of lemonade. Let the noise wash over him. And quietly, for the first time in a long time, he said a silent thank-you—to Max, to Emilie, to the whole wild circle Belle had built around herself.

Because she was safe now.

Loved.

Home.

And Charles, standing just a little outside of it all, knew: he would spend the rest of his life earning his way back in.

***

Belle was already emotionally compromised before the gifts started.

She had made it through the surprise. The jungle theme. The personalized cookies shaped like lions and giraffes.

She’d smiled through it all — grateful, overwhelmed, but holding it together.

But the gift-giving?

That was where she started to unravel.

Lando was in charge of “gift passing.” A job he had appointed himself for no reason other than chaos.

“I HAVE GIFTED EXCELLENCE,” Daniel Ricciardo declared, swaggering toward her with an obnoxiously large gift bag patterned with racing flags and glitter. “You’re welcome in advance.”

Belle gave him a look of wary affection. “Do I want to know?”

He grinned, clearly thrilled with himself.

Inside the bag: a series of baby onesies, each printed with increasingly absurd slogans:

DRS = Diaper Release System

My First Sector Time

Rookie of the Year

My Other Stroller is the RB19

Belle laughed so hard she nearly knocked over her lemonade.

“Danny,” she wheezed, holding up the ��Mini Verstappen, Maximum Chaos’ onesie, “this one might start a diplomatic incident.”

“I can live with that,” he said proudly, then pulled her into a careful hug. “Love you, Mama Verstappen.”

Oscar followed next with a sheepish smile and a much softer gift: a plush stuffed koala wearing a tiny Red Bull cap, which he presented with all the ceremony of someone handing over a national treasure. Lily leaned against him and added, “It’s not just cute. He has a little eucalyptus oil pouch inside. Calming. Baby aromatherapy.”

“I love him already,” Belle said, hugging it. “The koala, not Oscar.”

Oscar pouted. “You’re hormonal and cruel.”

Then Lando handed her the next box. No wild wrapping this time — just brown paper and twine.

“This one’s from GP and Eloisa,” he said, much softer than before. “No theme. No chaos. It’s… you’ll see.”

Belle blinked.

Across the room, GP , who had been lingering at the edge of the crowd like a seasoned tactician avoiding a PR camera — stepped forward with his wife beside him. Eloisa smiled, warm and gentle.

Belle sat a little straighter, suddenly nervous.

GP didn’t smile, not fully. But his eyes were soft, his voice steady.

“It’s not flashy,” he said. “But we thought it might be… the sort of thing you don’t realize you need until you have it.”

She peeled back the paper carefully. Inside was a leather-bound journal, thick and soft and already a little worn, like it had been handled just enough to feel like home. Tucked into the front pocket were three pens — dark blue, capped, nothing fancy.

Max went still beside her.

Belle opened to the first page. There, in looping handwriting—Eloisa’s, she thought—was a note:

Write it all down — the moments you’ll swear you’ll remember and still forget.

The 3am feedings. The accidental laughter. The time he sneezed and terrified himself.

Every version of love.

Her breath hitched.

She flipped to the inside cover and found a second note, written in GP’s unmistakable, efficient scrawl:

Max, you’ve driven through worse nights than these.

But these will be the ones that matter.

Keep track.

– GP.

Belle’s throat burned.

GP glanced down at the baby bump, his voice lower now. “I’ve known Max through every version of his life. Debut Max. Angry Max. World Champion Max. But this…”

He looked back up.

“This is the best one yet.”

Belle wasn’t crying. Not exactly. But the tears slid down her cheeks like they had permission.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For seeing him. For seeing me.”

GP nodded once, then looked to Max — who was dead silent, jaw clenched, visibly blinking faster than usual.

GP clapped his shoulder. Not roughly. Just enough.

“You’ll be good at this,” he said.

Max nodded, lips parted like he might speak — then just reached out and hugged him.

Belle didn’t know what broke her more: the hug or the fact that GP hugged him back without hesitation.

Then came the Verstappen family gifts — a beautifully wrapped bundle of Dutch baby books from Sophie, knitted booties from Max’s grandmother…A tiny onesie that looked just like Max’s race suit from Jos. A whole box of baby clothing from Victoria…

And then came the grid-wide chaos pile, which featured:

George presenting a very serious "early childhood development kit" in aesthetically neutral tones (“It's all Montessori and machine washable,” he added, gravely).

Esteban and Pierre accidentally giving her the same exact baby blanket, then arguing loudly about who bought it first. (“You saw it in my cart,” Esteban insisted. Pierre gestured wildly with a croissant. “You think you invented cashmere?!”)

Fernando giving her a velvet pouch with a gold coin in it. Nobody dared to question it. 

Valtteri gave her a small, handwritten booklet titled F1-Themed Lullabies, As Sung By a Very Finnish Man. It included suggested lyrics for hits like “Soft Tyre Sleep” and “Hush Now, No Overtake.”

Sebastian, who handed her a cardboard box filled with native wildflower seed packets and a card that said, “Plant something when he’s born. Grow something with him.”

Nico Rosberg presented Belle with a heavily annotated 40-slide PowerPoint titled “Optimizing Infant Sleep Cycles: A Performance-Based Approach.” There were charts. Graphs. Citations. (“Did you—did you run simulations?” Belle asked. “I partnered with a pediatric sleep coach,” Nico replied, like that was normal.)

Nico Hülkenberg brought a wooden toy race car with “Baby’s First DNF” carved into the underside. (“No one talks about failure enough,” he explained.)

Lance Stroll gave her a gift certificate for a baby-safe yacht cruise along the Monaco coast.  (“There’s a shaded cabana,” he said. “For naps. His or yours.” He refused to say how much it cost. Belle refused to ask.)

Alex Albon had cobbled together a custom colouring book titled Track Limits and Life Lessons, featuring adorable little race cars learning the value of boundaries, tire management, and how to ask for help.

Lando, who had been suspiciously quiet since the chaos began, finally handed her a slim envelope with a handmade card inside that simply read: or when you need five minutes to breathe. Inside: a voucher for weekly baby-free coffee runs with Lando. He'd written "I promise to drive slow" and underlined it twice.

Belle was already blinking fast by the time her brothers stepped forward.

The basket came first. Inside: soft robes. A giant water bottle. Her favorite snacks. Bath oil, a silk eye mask, cozy socks, and an absurdly soft swaddle blanket.

“I didn’t even say half of this out loud,” she whispered, tearing up as she touched each item.

“We asked Emilie,” Arthur said with a shrug, a little too casual to be believed. “She said you wouldn’t buy any of it for yourself.”

The card was handwritten by all three of them.

Lorenzo’s blocky script. Arthur’s chaotic doodles. Charles’ clean lines, reading:

We were terrible at seeing you. You deserved so much more. Let us do better — for you, and for him.

And then Charles, silent, stepped forward.

“This is for when he won’t sleep,” he said softly. “Or when you won’t.”

Belle took the USB with shaking hands. “What is it?”

“I recorded a few lullabies,” Charles said, voice catching. “On the piano. The one Maman made us all fall asleep to. I figured… maybe he should have those too.”

Her heart cracked open in real time.

“I—” she tried, but her voice wavered too much to finish.

She reached for him. He pulled her into a careful hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” she whispered back.

And just when she thought she had nothing left in her heart to be surprised by—

Her mother stepped forward.

Pascale looked elegant and nervous in equal measure, her hands clasped around a small velvet box.

“This was given to me by my mother,” she said softly. “On the day I had Lorenzo. It’s been passed down, from mother to daughter, every time a child is born.” She opened the box, and there, nestled in cream satin, was a delicate gold necklace — thin chain, warm luster, and a small heart-shaped pendant.

Belle felt her breath catch.

Pascale fastened it gently around her neck. “I haven’t always known how to be there,” she whispered. “But I want to try now. For you. For him.”

Belle blinked fast. Her throat tightened. But she nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. And meant it.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/tiregirlie:  🚨🚨 GUYS I’M LOSING MY MIND 🚨🚨 just walked past Overture in Monaco and saw like??? 3/4 of the grid??? plus SEBASTIAN VETTEL??? and possibly Nico Rosberg and David Coulthard?? leaving together????

what the ACTUAL hell???

@/tiregirlie:  updates:

i saw lando literally carrying a gift bag with vines coming out of it

pierre and esteban were arguing about something wrapped in the same paper

fernando was holding a BABY HELMET???

yuki had powdered sugar all over his shirt and looked emotionally wrecked

max walked out holding belle’s hand and looked like he’d been emotionally waterboarded

@/tiregirlie:  this wasn’t a brunch. this was a BABY SHOWER AND THEY WERE ALL INVITED even jos verstappen??? he hugged belle on the way out. i am not okay.

@/tiregirlie: someone make me a list bc i swear i saw: ✔ max (obviously) ✔ belle (STUNNING. glowing. ethereal.) ✔ lando + emilie(covered in glitter) ✔ oscar + lily (hand in hand) ✔ daniel (smiling like he committed a federal crime) ✔ seb?! ✔ george (in monochrome beige. enough said.) ✔ pierre + estaban ( fighting?? unclear.) ✔ fernando (baby helmet. zero explanation.) ✔ charles + arthur + lorenzo (looked like they’d cried.) ✔ jos (looked like he cried??) ✔ GP ???

 ✔ Nico Rosberg (??) ✔ Mark Webber??? ✔ Fernando Alonso IN LINEN?? AND THAT’S JUST WHO I SAW

@/tiregirlie:  also: Belle posted a jungle-themed baby shower pic five hours later. Victoria’s stories match the interior of the private terrace at Overture. That means— Oh my god. OH MY GOD.

We just witnessed a grid-wide surprise baby shower. Max Verstappen was ambushed. By emotions. And themed desserts.

@/tiregirlie:  final thoughts: i don’t know what that baby’s name will be but he already has 20+ honorary uncles and a literal army behind him

i hope he never forgets it. because i never will. 🐒🌿🍼

@/lilypadwithwifi: jos hugging belle is like the emotional equivalent of watching a lion become vegan

@/itsgivinggrid: the entire grid said “we will not let this woman raise a child without 37 handmade gifts, 12 breakdowns, and 4 stuffed animals” and honestly? beautiful.

@/girlsonsofts: the entire grid was invited we’re never topping this

@/teamsoftmax: This is giving — found family — quiet tenderness — emotional side quests — Daniel getting banned from baby gift shops — Belle as the axis around which the whole grid turned for one beautiful afternoon

@/tifosifangirl69: charles, arthur and lorenzo “looked like they’d cried” they DID i know it i feel it this was their apology arc and i support it

***

Instagram Stories: @/victoriaverstappen

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/maxverstappen1: ��🦁🦁

@/victoriaverstappen:  you deserved every balloon, every cookie, every tiny jungle leaf. and yes, max did cry. 🌿🍼💛

@/emilie_abadie: You’re the best mother already and the baby is not even here yet. ily always.

@/danielricciardo chaotic? no. visionary. (you’re welcome for the onesies) 😌🦁🔥

@/charles_leclerc:  je t’aime. toujours.

@/georgerussell63 I accept that the entire family is now neutrally toned. it was an honor.

@/landonorris: i regret NOTHING. (ok maybe the glitter)

@/sebastianvettel: plant joy, always. (He already has the strongest roots)

@/oscarpiastri: congratulations again, belle ❤️

@/babyverstappenupdates: everyone say thank you belle for soft-launching the most emotionally destructive baby shower of the decade 🐒🍼💛

@/softdrsgirl: this baby is already more emotionally supported than i’ve ever been in my life. congrats mama 🫶

@/tiregirlie: hi. it’s me. the one who saw ¾ of the grid leaving that restaurant. thank you for confirming what i felt in my soul. 🍼🌿💥

@/paddocktea: why does Belle’s baby shower look like it was planned by an elite wedding stylist, a Pinterest mom, and a race engineer who cries in secret?

@/pitlaneprophet: victoria verstappen needs to start an events company. i want my funeral to look like that baby shower.

@/leclairsintherain:  all jokes aside, i don’t think i’ve ever seen belle so loved. not by obligation. not by expectation. just… chosen. 🥹

[nablastria]

1. Twin Peaks, POI and X files

2. black 100% cotton half calf

3. no

4. business casual + funky necklace

5. sunny side up

6. bookmark (if not then receipts/teabag tag/movie ticket etc.)

7. black

8. rocks + driftwood

9. silence + myself

10. n/a

11. contacts

12. uhh 20+ years of getting to know each other??

13. pencil

14. beach

15. no

16. I don’t have a favorite ever since I mariekondo’d my wardrobe… so my favorite is whichever one that fits the weather + mood I guess

17. melatonin

18. the first time human race discovered mind-altering plants lol

19. n/a

20. calculus. love a good antiderivative at the end of integration!

21. let’s see… I’ll always be partial to the realism period, and I like impressionists & some baroque stuff in general. favorite famous artwork I’d say… Isle of the Dead by Arnold Böcklin

22. depends on my internal temperature

23. n/a

24. I think so (but my friends & family beg to differ)

25. yes and yes. no and no

26. uh.. I can feed myself i guess? Can bake if provided recipe (last time I baked was like, 2018)

27. yes, whichever keychain nearby when I was handed the key

28. yes. only if it’s alone in a night pool

29. YES!!!! I don’t remember.

30. yes, by season

31. Who Laughs Last by Lord Huron

32. n/a

33. headphone only when it’s too loud outside, otherwise earbuds all the way

34. yes

35. IKEA shark

36. n/a

37. yes

38. all of them lol I don’t usually talk about my music/shows

39. hasn’t happened yet

40. don’t have a preference

41. n/a

42. no

43. off

44. piggy bank

45. not really

46. The Residence (2025)

47. yes

48. yeah… the one I broke earlier this month actually (´･_･`)

49. listen to the rain + let the smell drift in

50. alone in my own bed doors locked

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[alanisinskz]

⋆˚꩜｡ 「 ᢉ𐭩 “i thought you hated me”」

pairing > ot8 x gn!leader (chan’s has mentions of she / her)

summary > reader thinks skz is acting weird or hates them (idk how to put it LOL)

warnings > none

wc > 3,675

authors note ᢉ𐭩 > okay well i tried on this one as well and i feel like i kinda loose plot at some point during the end im sorry😞

BANGCHAN - “hate you? you’re all i think about.”

Bangchan always acted weird around you. You didn’t know why, you got that weird vibe from him. Like his energy was just off.

And for that reason you tried to back off. You were friends with the members, but everytime someone invited you at to go with all eight of them , you declined. Making up excuses that you were sick or had family plans.

The kids noticed it , how you would never go out with them if Chan was there. But if it was them without Chan you’d be the first to arrive. They hadn’t said anything to you about it, letting you deal with it on your own.

-

Soon enough the kids convinced you to go out , with all eight of them. You tried and tried to convince them you were tired and literally anything to get them off your back. Did it work? Obviously not.

Weirdly enough, all of them but one had to step out , take a call , use the bathroom , whatever they had to do. So it was just you and Chan.

You tensed up, not trying to even look at Chan. You kept your gaze down at your feet. Just anxiously waiting for the rest of the boys to get back.

Your head shot up when you heard Chan clearing his throat. You quickly looked at him then moved your eyes back to the table. Chan’s eyes focused on you. He seemed anxious, almost worried.

“Are you good?” He asked softly.

You looked back at his face. A confused expression growing on yours.

“Uhm , yeah. What - What do you mean?” You breathed out. Slightly coughing out your words. Avoiding Chan’s gaze.

“You’ve been avoiding me, a lot. Even now it’s just us and you won’t even look at me.” He turned in his chair to face you completely. His gaze still strong on you.

You scratched the back of your neck. It was like you physically couldn’t look at Chan. Your gaze was stuck on the ground. “I thought you uh, hated me.” You chuckled nervously.

Chan was physically taken aback by your words. He looked at you , shook. His eyes growing wide.

“Hate you? I think about you all the time.”

Your hands dropped to your side. Your eyes shooting to Chan. Your breath hitched in your throat. He what? You couldn’t believe it. After all this time of you thinking he hated you, you were on his mind.

“I’m sorry, what?” You laughed nervously. Your voice coming out almost broken from shock. You squinted at him, like he wasn’t even there, like you were dreaming.

He nodded. Licking his bottom lip softly. He put his elbows on the table to look at you closer. “Yeah. Why doesn’t she talk to me? Why is she avoiding me? What would happen if i talked to her first? All that stuff.”

You listened as Chan explained himself. Everything that you had in your mind about him hating you, vanished.

LEE KNOW - “hate you ? i could never hate you.”

You and Minho never talked. Barely spoken a word to each other. Minho was naturally very quiet though, so nobody really said anything about it. But you always got a different vibe.

Sure you knew Minho was quiet and didn’t talk much, but with you it was different. He seemed uncomfortable when you were around. You had tried to talk to him, make conversation, but he just kinda brushed you off everytime.

You were at the studio , sitting on the couch as Jisung did whatever he was doing, you tried not to pay much attention. Until Minho got brought up.

Your eyes shot up to Jisung as he kept looking at his computer, acting completely unbothered.

“Minho? What about him?” You coughed out. Shocked by the sudden mention of his name. Jisung turned around in his chair, facing you completely.

“Just wondering. Why are you so weird around him?” He shrugged. Squinting his eyes and tilting his head at you softly. You shot back the same expression to Jisung. Scoffing a bit and moving your gaze back to your phone. Your voice going a bit lower.

“I’m not weird around him, he’s weird around me.” Jisung rolled his eyes and reached over to grab his phone. “We’ll see about that.”

You didn’t look up right away, only until you heard the dialing noises. You put your phone down and screamed at Jisung, frantically trying to grab the phone from his grasp. Falling onto the floor in the process.

“Jisung what are you doing! Stop! Give me your phone!”

But it was too late, not too long after Minho was walking into the room. You had gotten up off the floor and went back to scrolling on your phone. Jisung and Minho talked until ‘suddenly’ Jisung had to go do something. You shot him a glare and just groaned to yourself, but not to were Minho could hear.

After a moment Minho spoke up, completely unexpected to you. You looked over at him, your face blank, his as well. Not even that smirk that was always on his face. “Why do you act like that around me?”

You scoffed, like nothing was wrong. Like everything was normal. Like you didn’t think he had it out for you. Like everything was just peachy.

“Act like what around you?” You barely looked at him. Grabbing your phone off the floor when it had fell. Not even actually doing anything, just acting like you were.

Minho groaned. Pointing at your phone, gesturing to your actions right at the moment. “Like this! You’re acting weird, avoiding me, you’re acting like you hate me.”

You scoffed again, finally putting your full attention on Minho, putting your phone down on the couch once again. You turned to fully face him. You squinted at him. “Are you serious? I was only acting like that because i thought you hated me.”

Minho looked just as shocked as you. “Hate you? I could never hate you. You’re sweet, and caring. You too kind for me to hate.”

He couldn’t believe it either, you both thought one of you hated the other, apparently that wasn’t the case.

CHANGBIN - “hate you ? i’m nervous around you.”

You and Changbin were close, at least you used to be.

You would invite him to do things with you, tried to strike a conversation, nothing. He would either be dry or wait hours to text you back. You guys didn’t even go to the gym together anymore. That’s what was weird.

You had enough. You just wanted your best friend back.

You heard his footsteps walking towards the door, you sat at the door patiently, your hands in fists by your sides. You watched as he opened the door, as soon as he saw you his eyes widened, his body tensing up.

Changbin quickly opened the door and nudged you inside, shutting the door behind the two of you. “Y/n, what’s wrong, what are you doing here?” His voice soft.

The two of you were standing in the middle of his living room. Your expression stern, his soft and worried, confused even.

Your hands were held tightly in fists by your sides. You weren’t angry with Changbin, even though your actions made it seem that way. You were just confused. Confused on why your favorite person was acting so distant.

You walked up to him, the two of you barely inches apart. “Changbin why are you avoiding me? You’re being dry and you don’t text me, we don’t even go the gym together anymore! You’re acting like you hate me.”

“Hate you? I could never hate you. I just get,” He started. He looked down at his feet, wondering if he should say what he really wanted. Your gaze was stuck on Changbin. You couldn’t look away.

You waited for him to respond. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“I just get , nervous. You make me feel a way no one else has before. I just didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. So i just, distanced myself. I was scared you would just reject me.”

Your face softened as Changbin came clean. A soft smile tugged on the corner of your lips. You couldn’t respond right away, you were flattered. But you felt a bit dumb because you couldn’t tell that Changbin felt like this, or that he had been feeling like this at all.

HYUNJIN - “hate you ? you’re my muse.”

You and Hyunjin met in an art class. It went from you complimenting his painting to you two exchanging numbers to meeting up then ultimately becoming best friends.

Normally you two would meet up and paint anytime you could. But here recently, it seemed like it had been forever since you had even last seen Hyunjin.

You two still texted somewhat normally. He seemed like he was still himself over texts, you just wanted to see him in person, paint together like you used to.

You barely ever saw him at art class either. You always went, but only barely saw glimpses of him. Like he would show up then leave as soon as he saw you. You didn’t like the distance, the avoiding. It didn’t feel good at all.

-

You finally saw Hyunjin at the art class before you got there. That was your opportunity.

You watched Hyunjin as he stood up to leave. You quickly ran to him and grabbed his arm, stopping him in the hallway.

He just stopped, not turning around or anything. His back turned to you, like he wanted to move but he couldn’t.

You hesitated a bit before actually speaking. Your eyes scanning the room before you looked back up at the back of Hyunjin’s head. You took a deep breath, sliding your hands behind your back.

“Uhm Hyunjin. I just wanted to ask why you’ve been avoiding me. I’m starting to think you hate me.”

You kept your gaze on your feet. Your fingers intertwining themselves together. Hyunjin turned around slowly, looking down at you softly. He scanned you up and down, noticing your demeanor. He rested his hand on your shoulder, his touch soft and gentle.

“Hate you? I don’t hate you. You’re literally my muse.” Your eyes shot up quickly. Looking at Hyunjin, your pupils growing big. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“What? I don’t understand,”

You shook your head in disbelief. You laughed softly. Shutting your eyes tightly. Hyunjin ran his hand through his buzz. “Yeah. I’ve been ‘avoiding’ you because i’ve been working on this painting of you. I wanted to surprise you with it.”

You stared at Hyunjin. Your mouth opened slightly. You had done all this over thinking for nothing. Beating yourself up over a painting.

HAN - “hate you ? i literally write songs about you.”

You loved music. Your first love was music. That’s how you and Jisung bonded so quickly.

You sent each other voice memos of songs you two were working on, lyrics you thought sounded good. Ideas for songs, beats. Everything. Almost all you talked about was music. But you two still had fun every once in a while.

Going to underground bars for music , music festivals, all that jazz. You always had fun when you went out with Jisung, he was fun. Never a dull moment with him. And you always assumed he had fun with you as well. Until here recently.

It had been weeks since you had went out with Jisung. Weeks since you last heard a voice message from him. No lyrics, no beats, nothing. Silent. You couldn’t text him as often as you would like either, being busy with your own work.

That’s all you thought it was between you and Jisung, just the two of you being busy. But he would normally send you a heads up, or just send you a little text checking in on you. But he hadn’t.

You were bored, sitting at home. No new music ideas, you couldn’t even think of music without thinking of Jisung. It was like he could tell when you were bored and had no ideas. It was like he could read your mind through the phone.

But now, nothing.

You groaned to yourself and decided to text him. You couldn’t deal with the so called distance. “Jisung where have you been? No text, no voice message, nothing. I’m starting to think you hate me lol.”

After sending the message you sat your phone down. Not expecting Jisung to text back at all. You laid out on your bed, limbs all sprawled out. Sighing to yourself. You looked around on your ceiling, nothing new. Just like it always was. Until your phone buzzed.

You didn’t think much of it, just a notification from an app or a text from a friend. You weren’t gonna look, until you thought maybe, just maybe it would be Jisung. You hesitated for a second. Slowly reaching for your phone.

And sure enough, it was Jisung.

You quickly sat up, going into your messages. Multiple replies from Jisung. You read them quickly.

“Oh my god Y/n! I sincerely apologize for not texting you😞 I’ve been SWAMPED.”

“Hate you??? Who possessed my Y/n. I could NEVER hate you. I’ve actually been writing a song for you 🙂‍↕️.”

You covered your mouth in shock. Like Jisung could see you. You felt your cheeks warm a bit. You didn’t know how to respond. After all this time he had been writing a song for you. You couldn’t believe how bad you were overthinking it, like you just needed Jisung.

FELIX - “hate you ? i think about you while im baking.”

Felix had bumped into you at a small cafe one time and it was all uphill from there.

You shared recipes with each other and baked on facetime all the time. You would send each other pictures of new stuff that you would make and try out.

You two even had little bake “dates” whenever you both had the time.

You would find new recipes and try them out together. Some ended up with a sleepover or just a few movies after.

You liked it, it felt like Felix was your person, and the only one you would ever do this with, and honestly, you didn’t want to do it with anyone else.

You hadn’t been in a baking mood recently, but Felix would still send you updates and stuff that he baked. But then one day he just stopped.

You two would still text of course, but no more baking selfies from him. You actually heard him talk about brownies or anything like that in a while.

Sure you weren’t in that mood, but that was you, not Felix. Felix loved baking, and it was just weird to you he wouldn’t talk to you about it anymore.

You also thought his energy was just off with you. Like your connection was just fading.

Felix was going over to yours, movie night, no baking , oddly enough. You texted him telling him the door was unlocked and waited for him to arrive.

Once he did he walked inside, shutting the door behind him and taking his shoes off at the door. He greeted you and sat down next to you on the couch. Taking some of the blanket you had so you two could share.

You silently nodded to him, greeting him as well. Scooting over so he could get comfy on the couch.

You looked down at your hands and took a deep breath before speaking. You wanted to get to the bottom of why Felix wasn’t being his normal self.

“Hey Felix, i was just thinking. You’ve been being kind of weird lately. Do you not like baking with me anymore?” You questioned softly. Refusing to look up at him just in case he said something bad.

Felix quickly grabbed your hands. His free hand cupping your chin and leaning it to face him. He looked at you softly, shaking his head. “No, no. I love baking with you. I bake for you. You’ve helped me love baking more than i did before.”

He smiled after. His soft smile making you shoot him a smile back in return. You pulled one of your hands free from Felix’s, cupping his face as well. Your thumb making circles on his cheek. You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to feel. You just knew that you didn’t wanna be anywhere else, just with Felix.

SEUNGMIN - “hate you ? i hate everything but you.”

Seungmin was always very nonchalant, he always seemed like he just didn’t care about anything. But with you, he was different. You got to see a different side of him. Sometimes he was sort of sweet.

For some reason he started acting like he normally did, too normal. He started treating you like he did his friends, no more heart emojis, no more harmless little jokes. Just pure Seungmin, like he used to be.

You got a weird energy from it. It was so different. It wasn’t your Seungmin. And beat yourself up over it.

Many endless nights pacing around your room , wondering if you should text him about how you feel. And every time, you were too scared to do it.

-

Seungmin had taken you out, nothing important, just a little date. You appreciated him for it, you two hadn’t went out in a while. And now you finally were.

You tried to talk, tell him about your day, just have a normal conversation. Seungmin didn’t seem interested at all.

Once you noticed you just stopped. You looked at Seungmin, your face changed, going blank.

“I know you’re just naturally nonchalant about everything. But why are you acting so different towards me? You’re acting like i’m just one of your friends, like i bother you.”

Seungmin quickly looked at you. Shaking his head. “No, no. Y/n you can’t say that kind of stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused but waiting for Seungmin to continue.

“You know i care about you more than my friends. Just because i don’t act like it anymore doesn’t mean i love you any less. I’m yours. Always.”

You could’ve swore you saw a smile tug on Seungmin’s face. You shot one back. This, this is why you fell in love with Seungmin in the first place. He showed you that sweeter side.

And no matter what you knew he would always care about you.

I.N - “hate you ? you’re the only one i let show me skinship.”

Jeongin hated skinship. You knew that. But you were the opposite. Physical touch was your love language and you were very touchy with anyone you cared about.

Especially with Jeongin. You tried not to be too touchy with him, because you knew he didn’t like it.

He could tell you were holding back hugging him or brushing your knee against his, so he dealt with it, just a bit.

He knew it made you happy, and he cared about you just as much you did about him.

Every once in a while you would get a hug, maybe even a kiss on the cheek. It took you a while to even get a pinky hold. The members started to get jealous of all the touching you were getting from Jeongin.

But Jeongin had been pulling away. You would reach for his hand and he would inch it away. Try to pull him in for a hug and he would back out of it.

You understood if Jeongin just wasn’t feeling it, but this was now all the time. Like he hadn’t warmed up to you anymore. Like he didn’t like your touch anymore.

You decided to talk to him about it. You stood in front of your front door, waiting for Jeongin to arrive. You had practiced what you were going to say for what felt like millions of times.

Then you heard it.

A car door shut, footsteps walking up to the door. The knocks. You froze. Your hands in front of your chest. You swallowed a lump in your throat before yelling telling Jeongin he could come in.

He walked in, stopping when he noticed that you were right in front of the door.

“Y/n? What’s going-“ He started. You cut him off. You rambled your words. Looking down at your feet. If you didn’t say anything now, you were never gonna say it.

“I just think that you don’t like my touch anymore and i’m starting to think you kind of hate it, or me.” You played with your fingers, your hands still directly in front of your chest. You breathed heavily.

Too scared to look at Jeongin, you couldn’t bear to look up at him. Too scared to see his expression, too scared to hear what he’s gonna say.

He stepped closer to you, taking your hands into his softly. You looked up at him slowly.

“Y/n, i could never hate you. I can’t believe you would think that. I’m sorry i’ve been pulling away. I’ll try better, i promise.”

You didn’t expect it but he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. You leaned over and gave him a peck on his cheek. Receiving a soft smile from him in return.

authors note ᢉ𐭩 > wooooo there’s that one. i also might just start making fake texts because 1 i think it would be easier and 2 it wouldn’t take me as long🥀 also i lowkey hate these so you guys have fun reading them LOL

ps: WHY IS CHANGBINS SO SHORT OMG

pss: AGAIN if someone did this first full creds to them

[jaeminvore]

Credit Card Baby | Z.CL — PREVIEW

“Who do I gotta fuck for barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter around here?”

PAIRING: Chenle x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Four days, three broke girls, two possible outcomes, and one solution. What are you willing to sacrifice in exchange for a night seeing a long-awaited Juno pose five feet away from your eyeballs? Your dignity, probably because it just so happens that one (1) Chenle Zhong could be the solution to your current girl problem. Only, you don’t really do well with charity. Nothing in life was free and everything had a price, but Chenle likes to think differently—that he's simply helping a friend out. Like the many times he did before. There should be sugar-daddy-sugar-baby joke around here somewhere.

alternatively: ‘three dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyy’.’ — ‘A sugar-daddy (kinda) au with no age-gap, but with a financial gap that no one asked for’.

CONTENT TAGS & WARNINGS: mildly suggestive themes, crack treated seriously, comedy, college au, fluff, friends to a secret third thing, sugar daddy au (kinda).

TEASER WORD COUNT: 770

FULL FIC WORD COUNT: estimated 15K (more or less)

RELEASE DATE: June 26, 2025 — 11 PM PST

TAGLIST: send an ask if you want to be notified when the full fic is posted!

NOTE: if you listen closely, you can hear me screaming because no one is more excited than me, who finally got around to writing a Chenle fic after so long of telling myself that I will. Eventually. And now we're here YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!

���Guess who might have found a solution to our ticketing problem!”

You slid onto the cushioned seats of the breakfast nook—a breakfast nook, Jesus—right across from Minjeong sipping her to-go cup of thai milk tea. She wordlessly slid one towards you. You took a generous drag of the stuff.

“Actually, it was more of Renjun’s idea—which I am effectively stealing.”

Yizhuo, who was in the middle of plating a hefty amount of pad see ew, looked like she swallowed something toe-curlingly sour. “Oh so you were with Renjun-ge.”

An easy smile curled on your lips as you lifted a shoulder to shrug, sweetly batting your eyelashes. “What can I say? The guy gives good head–” (“I did not need to know that.”) “–anyways, my idea.”

“Mine was probably better.”

“Oh yeah?” you drawled, egging Yizhuo on. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Breaking into the thrift store and stealing everything from the cash register.”

“She claimed if her parents found out about her crimes, they’d have to bail her out from prison and then restore her money privileges,” Minjeong glared at the youngest who simply whistled to Espresso as she carried on with the food. “Then I had to remind her of her reputation.”

“Good thing you did ‘cause that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” you said and you made sure it showed on your face as Yizhuo wilted underneath your tangible disappointment that she would even risk an integral part of her privileged life when she had used it as a counter-argument to the whole OnlyFans thing. “So we’re going with my solution to our broke-ness—Chenle Zhong.”

Yizhuo did not look pleased whatsoever. “What does Caillou have to do with Sabrina Carpenter?”

You ignored Minjeong shrieking with laughter. “Chenle’s got money,” you said as if you were talking to a toddler barely getting a grasp on words having their designated meanings. “And do you know what we need to get tickets? Money, and Chenle has a lot of it.”

“It took Renjun for you to realize that Chenle could be our solution?” Yizhuo exclaimed in disbelief, head in her hands. “Oh my God—it took Renjun telling you, then you telling us that he could be our solution? How could I’ve been so stupid?”

Her head jerked upwards, ponytail swishing along and gave you a look so sharp and abrupt that you jerked in surprise. You fixed your posture so fast that your grandmother would have been proud. For once. “You’re definitely asking Chenle.”

“Uh—first of all, why me? Don’t rich people have, like, some sort of kinship with one another? Like, hey, can I borrow ten-thousand dollars? I’ll pay you back with five-percent interest.” You were sure that wasn’t how deals between rich people were made, but whatever. “Second, why not you, money bags?”

“He’ll never say yes to me,” she said brusquely, clicking her tongue. “I kicked his ass a bunch of times in PUBG and he’s still bitter about it. It’s not my fault he sucks absolute balls. There’s like, a compilation of him complaining on stream about how I was cheating–” Yizhuo made air quotations “–on TikTok. It’s so funny. Actually, I’ll send you the link—”

You turned your gaze towards Minjeong for help, eyes widened a fraction for an added pathetic flair as the younger one focused on scrolling through the damn clock app.

“Don’t look at me. Chenle’s just cheap with everyone—actually, maybe except for you,” Minjeong pointed a long, black almond tipped nail in your direction. “the favorite.”

“You say it like it’s an insult.” You slurped your milk tea at an obnoxious volume, shrinking in your seat. “Maybe he’s just nicer to me because I’m nice to him unlike you two.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Minjeong said, eyeing you curiously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She moved her gaze elsewhere. “Nothing.”

You squinted. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyways,” she said, pointedly keeping her gaze forward. “He started it. I asked him if I could borrow money for my Lyft and he laughed in my face.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing too because, yeah, the image was a little funny. “You’re exaggerating,” you said evenly.

Yizhuo made a half-wince, half-smile sorta thing with her face. “Are we though?”

“Lele’s not that much of an asshole,” you defended. “He drives me home. You could have hitched a ride with us is all I’m saying.”

On the other hand, Minjeong looked like she was heavily debating whether she should smack you upside the head, or not. “For someone smart, you’re real stupid.”

You frowned. “Hey.”

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna

[vettelsvee]

FIRST TAKE, SECOND GLANCE | Charles Leclerc

PART OF ONCE UPON A WISH SERIES ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ 2K FOLLOWERS EVENT ✧ F1 ROYAL AU

⋆ PAIRING: Prince!Charles Leclerc x Driver!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Since you and Charles have been force to fake a relationship and a future marriage in front of the cameras, you have to fake the best you can. When that's not possible, and all you end up doing is failing, Charles decides to set sort of a date to get to know you better... and have some practice ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2286 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Second fic of the 2k event! Hope you like it and, if so, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You didn’t know if the conservatory, despite being far too well hidden in the east wing of the royal palace, was really the best place to try and have what Charles considered a “rehearsal date.”

You crossed your arms and cursed your PR stuff under your breath with every insult possible. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea for the crown prince of Caelondrose and a Formula 1 driver to not only fake a relationship, but also a future marriage, and stream it to the rest of the kingdoms in Euphion?

Of course, with the luck you had, it had to be you going through this shit.

“This is romantic… right?”

You looked up from the red velvet armchair he was sitting in and met his eyes.

The moment you saw his face, that showed more confusion than confidence, you laughed.

“It’s a damn garden shed, Leclerc,” you replied, crossing your legs.

“It’s a conservatory,” he corrected you. “It’s not the same. If it were a garden shed…”

As he began explaining the differences between the two, you stopped listening. That was the least of your concerns at the moment. Instead, your gaze wandered over the plants that, as you’d heard from the palace staff, had been planted and raised by the queen herself.

“Yeah, whatever you say. One is for plants, and the other is for people trapped into faking a relationship with each other,” you snapped once he finished his impromptu speech.

“You’re not trapped. You’re just contractually obligated to be with me,” Charles said sharply.

“Yeah, that. How comforting. Thanks.”

“Do you really think it comforts me? Because, contrary to what you might believe, not at all.”

You chose to ignore Charles because you knew where this could lead to a fight, like most of the ones that had happened in just the three weeks since this little charade for the sake of your reputations had started. 

Silence fell between you both, so you took the opportunity to look at your boyfriend from head to toe. 

That day he didn’t seem to decide to wear that ridiculous jacket full of buttons and medals. Instead, it was just a white shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of black trousers.

You scoffed.

What pissed you off most about him was that he was pretty attractive,and the only thing you were aspiring to with him was starring in some kind of reality show where not only the kingdom but the whole world could watch how much you loved each other and what a perfect future queen you would make.

You, a future queen… Not even in your dreams.

“Does our PR teams really believe this is going to work? A date in a garden shed?”

“First of all, it’s a conservatory, not a garden shed,” Charles replied, sitting up straighter. “Second: yes, of course it’s going to work because we have to make it work. This is our eighth date, and by now we’re supposed to know how to show to the world that we have chemistry.”

“Bullshit. Do we even have chemistry?” you asked sarcastically.

“Not exactly that, but I think we have something.”

“From my side, it’s disgust and anger at this whole damn show, but I don’t know what your take is.”

“If I’m honest, I just feel tension.”

Now Charles was staring directly at you. Your cheeks burned, and you didn’t even know why.

You shook your head, unable to believe the situation you, your parties, and your dazzling personality had landed yourselves in.

“I can’t believe I’m here pretending to be in a relationship and a future marriage with the prince of Caelondrose… And even worse: that we’re doing it for the show. If I’d wanted to be an actress, I would’ve gone to drama school, not karting when I was five,” you snapped. “And I can’t even talk about Formula 1 with you…”

“I watch Formula 1, you know?” he shot back. “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have gone to the party where we got drunk and fucked and, therefore, we wouldn’t be here now.”

The smirk he gave you was infuriating. If he weren’t a prince and you weren’t in this situation, you’d have already sued him for defamation and slapped him with a restraining order just to keep him away.

“You’re an asshole,” you spat, though deep down, you knew he had a point.

“And yet you still agreed to this.”

You hated what he made you feel. You were smiling now. He noticed and counted it as a small victory, which made him smile timidly.

“So, His Royal Highness Prince Charles Leclerc of Caelondrose, why did you decide on the greenhouse for our eighth fake date?”

Charles shrugged and, for the first time in all this time, he seemed to look vulnerable.

You couldn’t help but feel a little, just a little, sorry for him.

“There are no cameras here. I thought it might help us practice without pressure, you know…”

“Practice exactly ehat, Leclerc?”

Your question seemed to make him even more nervous. He swallowed hard, clearly trying to find the right words so you wouldn’t bolt.

“The way we talk to each other, and with each other… How we touch... Overall, acting like we really care about each other...”

“Do you care?” you asked, uncertain.

“If I’m being honest, I’m trying my best to.”

You didn’t know how to answer to that. 

Deep down, although it was hard for you to admit it, you felt the same way as him.

“I thought we could try something,” Charles said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, now a bit closer to you.

“Like what?”

“Imagine that this is real,” he gestured between you. “Just for 60 seconds pretend that you actually want to be here with me.”

“Is this a game you just came up with, or did PR tell you to do this?” you raised an eyebrow.

“It was my idea,” he admitted. “And more than calling it a game, I’d rather call it a rehearsal.”

Of course. You huffed.

“Fine, whatever you say.”

You sat up straighter as you noticed Charles dragging his chair closer, until he was right in front of you, your legs touching.

You leaned in a bit more, opening your legs so that his, still closed, ended up between yours. You extended your hand, offering him a smile like the ones you were already more than used to faking for the press.

“Hi.”

Charles blinked, clearly caught off guard by your sudden shift in attitude and more importantly, your commitment to his rehearsal.

“How was your day, love?” you asked in the sweetest voice you could use, lowering your tone and adding a playful touch.

“Productive, though a little exhausting, to be honest,” he replied, far more gently than usual. “I had a meeting about the new forest protection policy that King Sebastian of Grendwalt proposed for all of the kingdoms Euphion. You know how he is. Then, I had to smile at elderly ladies for two hours straight at the grand opening of the aquagym pool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that last part, and your laughter made him chuckle, too.

“And what about yours?”

“I woke up at five in the morning. Gym. Simulator. Team meeting. Argument with my race engineer about strategy for the next race. Oh, and Carlos asked why I hadn’t told him we’d been dating for so long and then, suddenly announced our engagement alongside an streaming reality show.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I had no idea why he ever thought he could date me when I was already completely in love with you.”

Charles let out a laugh, and you mimicked him.

“So… the usual, huh?”

“Of course, love,” you repeated, making him shiver.

“Do you always talk this much on real dates?”

“And you? Are you always this cautious with the girls you go out with? Or are they all PR too?” you countered, trying to see where he was taking the conversation.

“You talk like you haven’t been on a real date in years.”

Charles said this with a growing smile, playing along. He took your hands in his, and it wasn’t the touch that surprised you, it was how familiar it felt.

Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just PR.

“My life is solely and entirely dedicated to driving,” you replied. “Why am I supposed to waste time going on dates with guys who only see me as someone to occasionally fuck with?”

“Maybe it’d be worth it if you gave that time to the right person.”

You didn’t answer. Neither did he.

You leaned in a little more, still seated, and your foreheads touched just as he began tracing shapes on your hands with his fingers.

You looked at him without fear, and Charles didn’t look away.

“What are we doing?” you asked softly, curious and confused, all at the same time.

“I don’t know. But what I do know is that, right now, I’m not pretending we’re a thing.”

“That’s not fair, Charles.”

He knew what you meant. No further explanation was needed.

“I know.”

His hand moved up to your face, gently brushing your cheek.

To his surprise and yours, you didn’t pull away.

“I won’t lie to you: I still hate you, though, with total honesty, a bit less than before,” you whispered. “When we started all this, you were an arrogant asshole and a PR nightmare who thought he was entitled to everything. And don’t take offense to that last part: this is coming from someone who is definitely a nightmare for her own PR.”

“You told me you’d rather prefer Ferrari dropping you and ending up on a trash team than date me,” he murmured, countering, just a bit.

“And I still have the same opinion. I hate being told what to do at every moment. I hate being told how to act to be liked by others. What’s the point of being someone’s role model if you can’t even be yourself?”

Charles swallowed hard. The contact between your hands broke; he sat up straighter, pushing his chair back and standing. For some reason, you followed his lead.

“Can we try something?” he asked, changing the subject.

“What?”

“A kiss,” he said boldly. “Just one. You know… for the cameras.”

“There are no cameras, Charles…”

“Then let’s make it for us.”

You looked at him.

His stance was careful, but still relaxed. His eyes were shining more than they had since this whole thing started. You got the feeling he was really doing this for you, trying to make this nightmare a bit more bearable, easier to live through, and not more compromising than it already was.

And all of it… All of this was his entirely fault.

You decided to let go of all those intrusive, hateful thoughts, toward Charles and your fake relationship and you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, warm, and somewhat tentative kiss.

You never thought you’d want to kiss a prince like the girls back in school or the driver academy did, but now… you understood them.

You wanted Charles. You desired Charles.

A lot.

The kiss wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rushed either. Your hands went to his cheeks, toying with the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you; Charles’ hands were on your waist, tracing it, touching your body in a way completely different from the night you had sex.

The moment you pulled away, you regretted doing so.

You let out a soft sigh, still filled with the sensation of his touch.

“You call that practice?” you looked at him intently, quite confused by what had just happened.

“Well… I don’t think it is, honestly.”

Instinctively, your body made you step away from him abruptly, brushing off the team hoodie you were wearing. You knew it was a defense mechanism to avoid showing vulnerability in front of him, something you had been doing more than you’d like during this entire date.

“Alright, that’s it. Great… Yep, great.”

Charles followed you and gently took your hand.

“Are you running away?” he asked, saddened.

“No, no…” 

Shit. You weren’t good at lying. Of course you were running away from him.

 “I’m just… trying to process this. That’s all.”

“Did you like it?”

“More than I want to admit,” you confessed.

Charles stepped closer to you.

“You can admit it, sweetheart. After all, we’re dating.”

“Pretending we’re dating, actually,” you corrected him, poking his chest.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re unbearable,” you shot back.

Charles took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. You didn’t say anything, not even when you left the greenhouse and began walking into the palace, fully aware that you were headed toward your shared room.

“You realize this is going to get complicated, right?” you broke the silence quietly, resting your head on his arm as you walked.

“It already is, love…”

You nodded. You looked down at your still-intertwined hands.

“Do you think we should go on another date?” Charles asked, uncertain.

You looked into his eyes.

And this time, for the first time in your fake relationship, you nodded sincerely, though deep down you knew you should’ve said the opposite.

Because if there was one reason you were doing this, besides protecting your reputation and your future in Formula 1, it was to help start the rebellion. 

And the truth was that, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, falling in love with Charles Leclerc was never part of the plan.

[femmesport]

Don't Play About You

prompt: based on the tiktok trend in which protective partners make sure their comments are acting right while they let their loved ones share something they are proud of wc: 1.1k an: hii!! this is my first ever post here, so please feel free to give feedback (though don't be rude pls). if you have any suggestions, please send them my way! i plan on writing for juju, uconn wbb, some wnba, as well as a few other recs.

“baby” juju huffs out with a laugh turning her phone in your direction as you lay with your head on her chest scrolling through your phone.

it was a rare day off and you two had hardly moved from your spots on the couch. juju had a free weekend from her responsibilities and you didn’t have to work. you two wanted to make the most of your time but also just wanted to spend time with each other.

“hmm” you hum, turning around and lifting your head to look at her phone which had a tiktok pulled up and ready.

“look at this, baby” she pressed play again, “we should do this.”

you watch the screen and see an intimidating woman pop up with her arms crossed and a tough exterior. she threatens the viewers into watching her girlfriend share a niche interest. you smile because it was exactly like your dynamic with juju, which you make sure to point out to her with a smile. she has the tough exterior that no one dares mess with. she especially does not play about you.

“what would i even talk about or show off?” you ask, turning back to look at your girlfriend who was staring expectantly.

“well, first of all, you could talk about a brick wall and you know i don’t play about you” juju claims with a kiss to your forehead, “but also, i know you have been working on those lil pottery dishes, why don’t you show those off?” juju offers and you shrug.

“yeah, but those aren’t really that great and it would be such a goofy thing to show off” you shrug and she looks down and uses two fingers to turn your chin so you are facing her.

“baby, they are quite literally perfect, much like everything else you touch” she leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and smiling into your mouth, “also, you know i will kick someones ass if they try to tell my girl she is anything less than perfect.”

“okay, but you have to be extra tough, i can’t handle criticism” you pout and she smiles.

“bet” she says and she puts her hands on your hips to lift you up off the couch, sending you to go grab your little ceramic dishes you have spent the past week creating and painting. as you turn and head to your office, you see her eyes following you the whole way with a dopey smile.

as you get to your office you pick up the little trays and stare with a sigh. you looked down at them and thought about the hours you had spent trying to make them the perfect shape. you wanted to paint a cute design that represented you and juju and spent hours determining the glaze colors that would best match the intentions. maybe the comments could offer up some optimistic thoughts or feedback.

when you returned to the living room, you saw that juju had set up her phone on a shelf and was waiting for you. upon seeing you return, she grinned in that dopey way at you and motioned for you to stand to the side while she got the timer ready. you hear the sound of the tiktok counter and see her stand straight with her arms crossed.

“alright guys,” she starts and you smile at her and the tough act, “today my girlfriend wants to tell you about her pottery. you guys are going to stay, listen to her, and leave nice comments. got it?” she gets closer to the camera really trying to sell the tough act before turning to smile at you.

“baby,” and she holds her hand out for you to grab and pulls you in, “tell them about your work.” she softly says with her hands on your hips as you step into frame with a smile.

“alright, these are the little ceramic dishes i made,” you start holding them both up and taking turns showing them to the phone camera, “this one is the one i made for juju so that she can put her keys and stuff on. i made it the usc colors because of course! and this one is the one i made for me, it is light blue and then has my birthflower and then larkspur, which is the july birthflower.”

you see juju over your shoulder with her arms crossed occasionally making approving gestures. you ramble on about how much work you had put into them and let juju continue on behind you. when you are done, you take a step back and look at juju with an excited smile. as she looked down at you, she couldn’t hold up the tough act any longer. she smiled and leaned down to wrap her arms around your waist laying her head into your neck.

“i love them, baby” she kisses your cheek, “and i know they will too,” she offers up with a nod to the camera and you laugh lightly leaning back into your girlfriend. with one more kiss on your jaw, she lets go and stops the recording.

she grabs her phone and watches through. you can’t help but keep your eyes on her. you notice even as she acts tough, her eyes are on you and you could feel the love. you never doubted that juju loved you, but seeing her with that look in her eyes reminded you that she was in love just as deeply as you were. 

“what do you think?” she asks looking directly into your eyes for any sign of hesitation. you know that if you say the word she would delete the whole video and take you back to the couch to continue cuddling.

“it’s funny, you love me so bad” you smile in return at her and reach out to wrap your arms around her waist.

“damn, ma,” she laughs, “i’m offended that you are just now noticing” she gasps, putting a hand to her chest in a fake offense.

you lean up and kiss her jaw. you then kiss up higher on her jaw. then her cheek, the corner of her mouth, and finally settle on her lips. you feel your body relax into hers as she wraps her arms around you.

“you do know i love you and don’t play about you, right” she asks smirking down and you can just smile in return.

“i did actually, and though i may not be as tough” you point out, “i do the same and i love you.” you lean up on your tip toes and press a final kiss on her lips.

~

@/jujuwatkinss: i don’t play, you guys better act right in the comments

-

@/yourusername: i hope yall like my little trays (:

@/jujubbaggin: i love the trays!! **i’m terrified

@/yournamecore: acting tough but then dopey smiling at your girl - we know what you are juju

@/yournamecore: also love the trays!! super cute and you are so talented

feedback would be appreciated!! tysm <3

-- tea ★’*•.¸♡

[authorddreamz]

More Than Words Left Between Us... Part 2! Coming Soon 🤞🏾💨🧚🏾

Listen....I'm on a very strict journey to discipline myself as a writer. So, I'm going to drop this on Friday June 20th, 2025 8 PM CST

The grand opening of Club Juke proves to be too much for Annie. Seeing Smoke interact with other women so soon after reuniting with her sets off emotions she's far too fragile to process.

Smoke, riding a high from his reunion with his love, misses all the signals that their paradise is slowly going from a peninsula to a sinking island.

Preview:

Annie forced a smile to her face as Pearline, a locally known singer, pranced in her direction.

"Can you believe it!" Pearline crooned, cat eyes pulled tight as she grabbed Annie's hand. "I've heard so much buzz about this place opening and it's finally happening."

Annie's eyes shifted from Pearline to Smoke as he stood not too far off, in a close conversation with Stack. "Yeah, umm. It's great. I-haven't heard a thing about it though." Annie allowed the vulnerability to slip into her tone.

Pearline stood straighter, frowning. "You ain't know your man and his twin were opening a club?"

Once again, Annie felt like an outsider in Smoke's world. "Nope." Her lips popped as she returned her eyes to Pearline. "No biggie though."

Pearline's shoulders bounced. "Well, you're here and I saw you two walk in arm and arm. Don't let these hoes shake you. That man loves you down." Before Annie could say more, Pearline walked away.

A task. One presenting itself to be impossible. Each time a woman approached him, seductive eyes and intimate gestures, Annie's pulse quickened. Jealously danced in her gut, unapologetic twist and turns as she struggled to keep the rage from her expression. These emotions although new, were perpetual, undeniably draconian.

How does he do this so effortlessly?

Smoke's ability to unravel her both emotionally and physically deserves a prolific dissertation. Someone...anyone would sit through it, take notes and somehow use it to heal the world or set it on fire. She'd die peacefully as a sacrifice, not wanting anything else.

Rudely, her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of yet another woman approaching Smoke. Annie's eyes took in the deep plunge in her dress, coupled with a slit that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Manicured fingers curled around his wrist before she leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. She wasn't the first woman to kiss him tonight and Annie knew she wouldn't be the last.

She couldn't stomach it.

"Fuck this." She grabbed her purse from the table, snapping it close before she started towards the door. The moment she began to move, she knew he was following her, yet she didn't stop in her stride to the exit.

Smoke cut in front of her, gently grabbing her arm before turning her to him. Intense eyes hit her as smoke from his cigar lingered between them like words unspoken. His gaze was centered on her as she shifted her weight in her stance. He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space like it was his to do with as he pleased. His hands moved from her arm to her waist, a gesture of intimacy that didn't hit her the way it usually did.

"Another hour or so before we can go." Smoke stepped closer to her, pulling her into a quick kiss as Annie struggled with returning his passion. Smoke instantly frowned. "Talk to me."

"I was gonnna call a Lyft. I'm a little tired."

He nodded. "Aight. Let me grab my shit and we can go."

"No." Annie grabbed him before he could move. "You should stay with Stack, you know he functions better with you in close proximity."

Smoke's brows touched. "You wanna leave alone?"

"It's a short ride..."

"You going to check on ol' boy?" His brow lifted, eyes hard and focused. Such a contradiction to the loud and loose club goers surrounding them. Loose tension moved between them, silently brewing as their eyes had a standoff.

"No." Annie answered finally. "I'm going home."

"To him?" Smoke refused to allow her to leave without real answers.

"No." Annie groaned. "I'm actually just sick of seeing bitches in your face. I need a break."

Smoke's jaw clenched. "I just had my face between you legs for eight hours, Annie. I plan to put your pussy right back in my face when we leave here." Smoke looked around, confused by her words. "I've been licking my lips so much they're chapped because I can still taste you on my tongue. Your juices still linger in my beard and I ain't doing shit to get rid of them because that's where they belong." He stepped into her, forcing her against the wall. "What bitches are you referring to, my love?"

.....

Friday, I swear! On momma grave! - Stack Moore 🥰

[hey-itsdollie]

HEELLLLLOOOOOO POOOKKKIIISIIIIIEESSSSSSSS I'M BAAAACKKKKK >:DDD

Listen why is ness kinda like.... 😍 like he's so baby I just wanna smother him with kisses until he almost passes out like sgsheiueiejehehehehehehhe

So like for the main thing I was thinking... Ness, kaiser and sae x reader (seperately) where we just give them tons of surprise kisses and then they full on malfunction like hello yes 😋😋😋😋

Oh and for the friendship drama, there isn't any update BUT the friend that I had the problem with deleted the main app where the whole class is able to talk (she said it's because of storage problems but I gave her like 4 solutions 😭) but like we see and we don't judge ig

Oh and for a random detail, I randomly decided to pick up on learning how to use a jump rope properly (never learned as a kid) and now it's basically the only thing I'm doing in this summer (other than going to weddings)

Anyways hope you have a great day or night, sending you tonnsssss of bunnies , candy and hugs, and I'll see you later :D

Quick kisses!

awe this is such a cute idea!

‧₊˚ ┊ In which you give your boyfriend random kisses<3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » ness. kaiser. sae. kurona.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, female reader, established relationships, aged up, use of pet names

── .✦ Alexis Ness

Ness and you were currently cooking dinner together. Both scrambling around to either check the food in the oven and other making sure to put the salad together.

It was a normal week night… right?

Wellit would be if each time you passed by each other you didn’t stop him to place a quick kiss somewhere on his face. His eyes widening as his brows raised, turning to look at you but you were off in your own world while cooking.

Throughout making dinner you successfully landed five additional kisses to his face. A sigh leaving your boyfriend as he sat down at the table with you.

“All those kisses and you never aimed for my lips?”

You stared at him blankly before laughing. His pout being quite adorable in your eyes. “Right my apologies honey.”

Just then you leaned over and kissed him sweetly on his lips. Your widened eyes softened to the point they closed as he melted into the kiss. A whine leaving his lips as you pulled away.

“Lex we made all this food, didn’t you say you were hungry earlier?” You laugh as he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah but now I’m hungry for something else…”

── .✦ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser took you out shopping, enjoying watching you run around excitedly when you find a cute outfit. He also enjoyed being able to watch you put a show on for him.

And that is exactly what was currently happening. Kaiser was sitting in front of the dressing rooms, legs spread as he sat comfortably. Waiting for you to come out and show him an outfit you had put together.

Each time you showed him an outfit you placed a kiss on his lips. Never a long nor full kiss just a quick peck. Which the blonde didn’t like that very much; not being a fan of half-assed kisses in the first place.

Though to you, you weren’t thinking much of it. Finding it endearing that he was willing to sit patiently for you. So to your surprise when you were about to give him another kiss, he pulled you down onto his lap.

Gasping, as his hands gripped your hips. Lips connected he kissed you passionately, your eyes widening before you gave in to him.

That was until it clicked in your mind that the two of you were in a public place. Pushing away with a deep flush. “Michael what the hell!”

“You were teasing me with half-assed pecks, what did you expect me to do?” He remarked childishly.

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

You went along with Sae to practice. Enjoying the sight of your boyfriend working out and running across the field. Not failing to notice the small tricks he would slip in just for you.

Sitting near his water bottle, each time he was able to get a break. You would slip a small kiss to his face after using a towel to pat his face dry.

Of course after the first couple Sae was starting to grow agitated. He didn’t like quick shows of affection–it was like you were teasing him.

So when he was currently running up to your spot. Already noticing you get ready to pat him dry and give him his newly filled water bottle. All he did was grab your chin and pull you into a semi-long sweet kiss.

Your eyes slightly widening before you smile into the kiss. “What was that for?”

You ask after he pulls away, Sae shrugged while drinking his water. Muttering “I felt like it” instead of confessing to his agitation.

You laughed, waving him off as he ran back onto the field. Already preparing for his next small water break.

Quickly catching onto the fact he was doing way more for water breaks than normal, due to the looks he was receiving from his team mates. What could you say? Sae loved his girl.

── .✦ Ranze Kurona

Kurona wasn’t much of a people person. Staying relatively quiet in a group setting–only speaking a little bit to his particularly close friends. So when the two of you were invited to a small arcade hangout with his friends from blue lock. You could easily see your boyfriend either hanging around a small group or staying close to you.

“Ranze look!” You smiled pointed at a shark plush in the claw machine. Even before you two started dating you had a fascination with sharks. Which only got worse once you got with Kurona.

Now anything of the animal reminded you of your boyfriend. Meaning you had to have it. The two of you had matching shark plushies, onesies, and even necklaces. You two even had one of those apps where you could raise a virtual pet–of course you two picked a shark and named it Tuna.

So Kurona being the perfect boyfriend he was, he started playing the game to win the plushie. Each time he retried you kissed his cheek, cheering him on as he flusteredly worked the joy stick.

Finally after many kisses and many tries. Kurona won the plushie and handed it to you. His face was blushing red as you gave him a loving kiss as a thank you.

“Shark shark…” He muttered seemingly frozen.

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[4ranghaes]

myung jaehyun x reader [fluff, fem!reader, this is kinda sunshine!jaehyun AND sunshine!reader, you’re both just super lovely and everyone at mcountdown loves you]

a/n: this is kinda stupid and not very well written but i’ve had the idea for ages and i just wanted to get it out

…i’ll stop writing random jaehyun fics after this

14:56 - “hey, but you know who i like?” one of the newest mcountdown interns turned and nudged the other as they walked out the bathroom, “that mc, myung jaehyun. ugh, he was never my type, but he’s so sweet! and funny!”

“you can’t like him!” the other intern laughed, “you have a higher chance of getting with literally any other idol.”

“why? i could pull him if i wanted to!”

“not myung jaehyun. he’s got a girlfriend!”

“what?” the intern hissed, feeling like she definitely should not be knowing this information.

“yeah!” the other nodded, “and he’s open about it too! talks about her to anyone who listens. she’s the girl who always comes and brings him lunch while he’s here! cause she works nearby, so she drops by in between rehearsal and show time to eat with him.”

one intern stood, mouth open with shock while the other just giggled, “and they’re so sweet, everyone here keeps their secret! i told you my mum’s high up at mnet, right? she said she’s never seen anything like it before.”

“oh my god, but– but—”

“there she is!” one of the interns gasped, pulling her friend by the arm as they stood by the wall.

“how’s your wife?” you asked the security guard who held open the door for you. the big, muscly man started smiling bashfully.

“she’s really good, y/n, thank you for asking,” he chuckled, “very pregnant now.”

“i’m sure!” you gasped, “well i hope everything goes okay!”

“thank you! have a good lunch, miss.”

“thank you!” you smiled, continuing to bound down the hallway, steps a bit too enthusiastic as you thought of your love. you greeted all the staff you walked past, remembering how jaehyun introduced to every single person by name the first time you came round. you didn’t want to ruin his well-earned reputation, so you had to keep it up week in week out!

you walked past the interns, smiling and greeting them brightly as you saw their lanyards, “hi girls! how’s the internship going?”

the knowledgeable one smiled, “it’s amazing, thank you, y/n. isn’t it, eunbin?”

eunbin looked at you shocked before smiling, “yes! i’m really enjoying it.”

“well, eunbin, and you’re chihyun, right? i met your mum just the other day!” you smiled, “hope it all goes well! do you know… is jaehyun in his dressing room? his phone ran out of battery and he forgot to bring a charger, the clutz.”

chihyun chuckled, nodding, “yes, he should be in his dressing room, they finished rehearsal just a couple minutes ago.”

“amazing, thank you girls!”

you continued on down the hallway, chihyun shoving her disbelieving friend as you went. you reached jaehyun’s dressing room, the door opening almost as soon as you’d knocked, jaehyun’s bright, smiling face being revealed to you.

“my girl!” he cooed, pulling you into a tight hug. you giggled, returning the favour, your arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“hiya, baby, how was rehearsal?” you spoke, scratching his hair with one hand, the other running up and down his back.

“it was good,” he replied, just as you locked eyes on hanbin.

“don’t keep me trapped here while you greet each other again,” he chastised as you laughed.

“sorry, hanbin!” you exclaimed, moving both you and your loving lump of a boyfriend with clumsy steps back to free up the doorway for the other mc to leave. “jaehyun-ah, you should let go now so we can eat.”

jaehyun whined into your shoulder, giving you a final squeeze before parting. “how was work, my girl? you doing okay?”

you nodded, sitting on the sofa and beginning to unpack the lunch you’d brought for the two of you, “good, good. you don’t need to worry about me. also! youngrae on the door, his wife is about to have their baby!”

“i know!” jaehyun exclaimed, “i asked him about it when i came in this morning.”

“the interns are doing well, too. and the script writer said you did really well today.”

jaehyun smiled, patting your head as he stared at you lovingly. “you’re too sweet, my girl. no wonder everyone here is so nice back to us.”

you shook your head dismissively as jaehyun took ahold of your hand, eating with the other. “no, no. they’re just good people, you know?! and you’re such a good mc.”

jaehyun rolled his eyes, dismissing your comment. “so, tell me about work.”

“you first.”

“no, my girl. you’re already at my work! you first.”

[flaminhotlem0n]

𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞

genre: soft fluff

wc: ~650

pairing: jake x f!reader

cw: established relationship, talk about marriage

not proofread

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷

it was a lazy sunday.

the sun streamed into the apartment through the gaps in the curtains, painting the floor with golden light. jake was lying on the couch, hugging a pillow like it was the most precious thing in the world, at least until you walked in, holding two cups of coffee

“careful, it’s hot,” you said, handing him the blue mug he always chose. he sat up slowly, still with sleep creases on his face, and smiled in that way that made your heart ache.

“you make the best coffee in the world, its even better than the place down street” he said after a sip. “and that’s a huge compliment, ‘cause I’m a loyal customer there”

“of course it’s better. I make them with love”

jake chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “that’s why I want to marry you.”

you nearly choked on your coffee. “what?”

he rested the mug in his lap, looking at you with that calm gaze only him had, the kind that said everything without rushing. “not now. I’m not proposing yet,” he said, scratching his neck. “but I think about it. a lot.”

your heart skipped a beat and it wasn’t because of the caffeine.

“you really think about that?”

jake nodded, taking another sip. “like… sometimes I watch you walking around the house wearing one of my shirts and I think: ‘this is how I want all my days to be like”

you bit your lip, smiling. “jake…”

“I know it sounds silly,” he continued, chuckling softly. “but I love you. and I’m so lucky to have you here. so… yeah, sometimes I imagine what it would be like to call you my wife.”

the word hung in the air, like a sweet little cloud. and instead of scaring you, it warmed you.

“have you thought about where the wedding would be?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“maybe on a really beautiful beach. just us, some friends, our families. you in a light dress with your feet in the sand. me with messy hair ‘cause I’d be too nervous to stop messing with it.”

you chuckled lightly at his silliness

“and what if it rains?”

“it would be even better. getting married in the rain sounds like something out of a movie

you laughed out loud, squeezing his hand. jake turned his face toward you and gave you a kiss on the forehead, long and full of tenderness.

“and after the ceremony, where would we go?” you asked, voice soft and low.

“we could go to bali for our honeymoon and then… home,” he said softly . “our home. maybe we can get another dog, or a cat, me working in the studio and you calling me to eat because I forgot the time.”

“you calling me in to listen to your new demos and asking which one sounds more like you.”

“and you saying none of them sound more like me than when I whisper your name.”

your heart melted. you wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

“you really think you’ll love me that much, that long?”

jake looked at you like the question was impossible.

“loving you is the easiest thing in my life.”

the silence that followed was comforting. a silence of people who really love each other, who’ve already built so much together and still have the whole world to dream of. you two stayed there, just listening to the soft music playing in the background and the clink of mugs gently touching.

jake leaned his face close to yours, breathing in deep. “you make me want to live slowly.”

you laid a kiss on his shoulder and you closed your eyes. “i can say the same… with you, everything feels like it’s at the right pace.”

he smiled, and his breath tickled your cheek. “maybe I’ll propose on a day like this. or on some random night, when you’re laughing at something dumb I said.”

“and what if I say no?”

“I’ll wait,” he said. “or ask again. and again. until you realize I’m not going anywhere.”

you opened your eyes and met his, warm, sincere, full of love.

“jake?”

“yes, my love?”

“when you ask… I’ll say yes.”

[jordiipordii]

TSC / TGR “Spoilers”

☀️ Cat & Jean //

I’ve been thinking about this a bit the last few days; since Nora dropped the lofts floor plan.

So we all remember these iconic exchanges from The Sunshine Court that we all giggle and laugh and eagerly await to come to pass:

Yes, Laila is the one that has apparently thought about getting Jean a toy, but Cat is the one that Jean had this conversation with. And this is well before the two of them got close.

There’s something about Cat being the one to tease Jean here. Something about her getting to see him blush and get antsy when no one else, even post-TGR, has gotten to.

Something about Cat being the one that dared to joke and be silly about something she knew Jean didn’t have good experiences with because she wants him to be able to think of it in a better light in the future.

And yeah, she also just likes to tease him. Big broody Frenchman who folds at the sight of a pretty face or curved waist or the mention of receiving a toy for pleasure. What can you do?

But Cat also, as Jean’s best friend in-canon as of TGR, was one half of this interaction:

Which has nothing to do with intimacy outside of pure emotional intimacy. It’s about love.

Cat was the one that stood on the sidelines and asked Jean if he’d ever loved before. Cat, who saw something in Jean tank at her question.

Cat is the one Jean told “not tonight.” Not “never” but just “not tonight.”

Cat is the one Jean is going to, as best friends, open up to about Kevin. Cat is going to be a big part of Jean finally letting Kevin go, I think.

And with that being said, may I offer:

Cat and Jean talk about Kevin. Cat listens as Jean tells her how the Nest was such an awful place and Kevin was the one person who treated him like a person. Jean telling Cat about how he felt during Kevin’s betrayal.

As they talk Jean finally realizes that hanging onto those memories and that pain will get him nowhere. The one thing he chooses to continue carrying over into the conversation is his crush.

But not on Kevin. On Jeremy.

And Cat laughs because it’s obvious they have a thing for each other. A man doesn’t just throw another man’s douchebag brother off a porch for nothing, you know? Among other things.

But then it clicks. And Cat stares at Jean as he fesses up— really fesses up.

Imagine Jean telling Cat the story behind this and that’s how we get the background of Jean’s fixation on Jeremy’s photos.

Jean tells Cat whatever he has yet to tell us in-canon; Jeremy was so bright and beautiful and he felt a certain type of way. For years— anytime he saw Jeremy in articles or interviews.

And that’s part of how Jean ends up allowing himself to take things further with Jeremy. Cat hearing it all and encouraging him. Cat smiling as she holds Jean’s hand and says, “You should tell him this, too,” and Jean looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “Not today.”

Maybe not right then. But Jean will tell Jeremy about it all one day. Because after all, Cat is his canvas for new things: cooking, biking, even her “Have a winning day!” so…

If Jean can talk with Cat about all this, and about his feelings for Jeremy… surely he’ll be able to do it a second time, right?

Cat is going to be a key component in Jean both taking a leap of faith sexually and emotionally with Jeremy, I’m hoping.

Editing in: if Jean has these conversations with Cat first it’ll be easier for him to have them with Jeremy when the time is right.

[elysiality]

sixteen carriages plays every time I remember Shauna shipman isn’t real, That’s how bad it hurts. Anyways!

can we get a Drabble based off climax by usher(glorious ahh song, give it a listen)?

-🐰

climax. ᥫ᭡ shauna shipman.

a/n · wellll my requests are closed, but it’s a short drabble so…. :3

꒰ ꒱ CW . yellowjackets typical antics. canon compliant. angst, because it’s the only thing I know how to write. infidelity but it’s on Jeff so who cares. suggestive. post-rescue. slight spoilers for s3. (๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘) 1k words. no beta, we die like half the cast.

There was a reason you and Shauna had earned the title ‘Fire and Ice’ before the plane went down. Jackie was gentle rain, extinguishing the inferno that burned in Shauna, melting the ice around what you proclaimed was a heart of stone. The mediator, the martyr, the pariah in some ways garnering resentment from both of you for being so….pure. Innocuous, for lack of a better word.

She didn’t have the burning rage that Shauna had, she didn’t have your frigid demeanour. Her death was preventable and yet you didn’t raise a finger to stop it. If there was anyone who could’ve, it was you. But you didn’t. You brushed it off as a tiny fork in the road that didn’t concern you, didn’t need your involvement. You weren’t the peacemaker and you certainly weren’t the peacekeeper.

The only person to stand up to Shauna, to dump ice water on her flaming head, to match her fight head on and knock her off her high horse of misery and self-pity. It’s what made your love tick— the messy, fervid struggle for control that was more a tug-of-war game between children vying for each other’s attention.

When Shauna rose to power, you were right there— her consecrated consort, the cool one in the face of adversity who managed to somehow talk her down from the murderous rampage she had flown into after finding out about Natalie’s successful operation to call for help.

The attraction between you was stormy, tiptoeing the line of being a danger to both of you. Canines drawing blood, rough nails that had been pared off with a knife coated with the essence of others, digging into scarred skin, hands that touched you like sickles, kisses saccharine enough to rot the harvest.

Now here you lay, Shauna’s head a weight on your stomach where the shirt you stripped off her back has risen up, sprawled out in a tangle of limbs on your childhood bed, passing a blunt back and forth, the scent of hunger and smoke tangling with the innocence of a room that was no longer yours— the picture of domestic indolence. Nobody could tell what had happened to you, what you had been through, if they didn’t look into your eyes, where the light had long since drained.

But then again, you’ve always been a savant at pretending everything’s fine, haven’t you?

“You seem pretty morose for a blushing bride-to-be.”, you comment dryly, your voice holding a serrated edge that sharpens against Shauna’s ears, sharp as the knife she held so treasured out there.

She lifts her head up at you, the same eyes that burned with wildfire once now dimmed down to an insipid black. “You know I have no choice.” She’s searching for pity. Hard luck that she’s forgotten who she’s talking to.

The response comes just as she expects it. “Yeah? I don’t seem to remember you having any such qualms when you were fucking your dead best friend’s boyfriend— willingly, might I add.” Cold air, potent and heavy, stinging her flushed cheeks like it had slinked in through a cracked window.

“Point taken.” Her head droops back onto your lap, groaning. There’s some malaise in the atmosphere now, lingering resentment and angst that won’t fade. There had been a choice to make. It was either you played perfect housewife with Jeff or she did. Mrs. Taylor was insistent on it. And you made Shauna take the fall, of course. Not your crime, not your time.

You take another lazed hit of your joint, rustling her tousled hair affectionately. She jolts up, her ironically frigid hand grabbing yours, a juxtaposition to the warmness of your palm. Ah. There’s that fire you’ve missed. She has an idea. A lurid one, judging by the twitch of her lips. You eye her, leery.

“We could run away.” The cadence of her voice is urgent, breathless— like she’s running to catch a leaving train. You stare at her dourly, and then sigh, exhuming smoke fumes right into her face. She doesn’t so much as flinch as you put it out in your makeshift ashtray.

“Us? Run away together? We’d kill each other before we make it past the edge of town.” You huff, squeezing her cheeks between the pads of your rough fingers— gentle, but stern. A warning. To stop dreaming of what can never happen.

Her nails, no longer jagged as you remember them to be, dig into your thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks that you have no doubt will be covered up by the garishly extravagant maid of honour dress tomorrow. “If you die on me”, she grits out, her voice grating, “I’ll eat your heart.”

It takes a bit of time for you to snap out of your stupor. You sort through the hash in your mind, searching for the appropriate response to what you know is a serious declaration.

“If you die”, you say just as somberly, like you’re attending a funeral, “I won’t write you a eulogy.”

She gives you a once over before letting out a snicker that soon turns into raucous peals of laughter from both of you. You’re just kids here, not the monsters forced to grow up, not the beasts that have been tamed after so long of being rabid.

Shauna’s head goes lax on your lap, melting into your thighs with that devil-may-care attitude you know so well. “We wouldn’t even make it past the gates of the venue, huh?”

“Nope.” You say in a cheerfully chipper voice that does nothing to hide your rancour. “Mrs. Taylor would probably come for us with a gun, locked and loaded.” You clear your throat and assume a falsetto, scrunching up your face.

“And where do you missies think you’re going?” you mimic in what could not be a more terrible impression of a doddery old lady, but is rewarded by the unladylike snort that emits from the dark head on your lap.

You sink back into your low spirits as fast as you emerged. Your hands card through the dark locks that can never truly be washed free of the blood, the scent of woods and bitterness of starvation.

“You’re going to be a married woman tomorrow, Shauna.” your heart is loaded down by the weight of that information. That you’ll be there, in a dress that isn’t white, standing not opposite to Shauna on the aisle, but next to her as she promises her heart to another, expected not to projectile vomit all of duck egg white satin curtains (meticulously hand picked, of course). The girl who’s always been yours.

It’s imperative and it’s inexorable. Nothing you do would stop it. Your fate’s been set in stone since you let her into your heart, since you let her burn off the stalagmites guarding your love. You feel strangely jilted, even if you were never together.

There’s, of course, the unspoken that she’s technically already his. The douche had been too eager, probably more so for the gratuity money than actually for her, and had signed the papers as soon as the word ‘yes’ shaped in her mouth. But that thought rankles you far worse than the others.

“And I’m leaving after the wedding.” you continue, desultory, forcing her chin up to look at you, really look for what may very well be the last time. “I have to let you go.”

How anticlimactic. The souls that were so tangled with each other that their strings were knotted into loops, have now been separated by the looming scenario of her, living a woefully boring life with a milquetoast man and you, off with the wind, letting life do whatever it wishes to you.

No more emotionally charged arguments, no more surreptitious make-up visits, no more of that familiar dance that’s been yours for longer than you can remember. Really, you could almost cry like a child, a lover seeing their darling off at a train station for a sabbatical. Only, this one’s permanent. And she was never yours, not really.

Shauna ensconces you in her arms, hands gripping onto the shirt that still smells like her, looking up at you with eyes you could paint in your sleep. She’ll always be your fire, the heat that scorches your welcoming arms. “Then stay with me. Just for tonight. One last time.”

You can give her that. The final climax of a ‘love story’ (if you could even call it that) that was always hurtling towards an unhappy ending at breakneck speed.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

TAGLIST. @f4riedimples , @scatorcciosbabe

[laceyhearts]

౨ৎ SO HIGH SCHOOL ; LUKE HUGHES !

➪ summary: going into sophomore year she had no expectations, but when luke hughes sits in front of her during trig, suddenly her sophomore year turns into a mission

➪ pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

➪ warnings: none ( i think ? ), not proofread per usual

➪ word count: 7.5k

➪ emma's notes: NOT BASED ON SO HIGH SCHOOL. i just listened to it a lot while writing it so that's what i named with. but it is a little based on what happened to me my sophomore year. i hope you guys enjoy this fic because honestly it took me way too long to write and yeah. for the sake of this fic, they're close to detroit - pls go with it for the plot thanks. UHHHH apologies if some of the scenes are short, they were important to the plot but i just didn't know what else to write. OKAY ENJOY :)

© laceyhearts ; do not copy, repost, translate, or put my work through ai generators. do not copy or remake my themes, graphics, or layouts.

She had no expectations for high school, let alone for her sophomore year. She never thought about meeting Prince Charming and having a cheesy homecoming proposal, never thought about late nights out with a guy that made her giggle at just the mere thought of him, never thought she’d have a press conference about a guy she liked with her favorite teachers. 

And she was right, for the most part. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she stayed in bed, minutes from sleep, eyes fluttering close before opening seconds later, thinking about the guy she had seen in the hallway for a brief second. But she didn’t expect any of those things to happen, and none of those things did happen. Well, except for the press conference.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She met Ms. Wilsher and Ms. McCroix bright and early on her first day of sophomore year. It was first period, all of her friends were in AP Human Geography or AP United States History, but not her. It was a new class, not many people were in it, and she felt like an outsider as a bunch of the students high-fived the two teachers like they’d known each other for years. 

“I’m Ms. Wilsher, and I’m assuming you’re y/n, right?”

She flushed, wiping her hand against her skirt before holding it out, nodding, “Yeah, hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Ms. McCroix, but you can just call me Croix. We’re not too formal around here.”

“Around here?” She questioned, head tilting in curiosity as she set her things down. 

“Uh yeah, a lot of the kids kind of hang out with us, our classes intertwine sometimes, so most of the time it’s the same kids. Us and Mr. Carlson across the hall. Don’t worry, you’ll fit right in.”

And she did. Sure, it took a few days, but she slowly allowed herself to feel comfortable, share things with the two teachers that she’d come to trust and rely on more than she could imagine. Soon, this classroom would become her safe space. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Trig was next, a subject she felt comfortable in, a class she could just be and do her work where no one would bother her, and she didn’t have to second-guess everything she did. And while she thought it was going to be peaceful, she was proven wrong. 

She took her seat in the back of the class, somewhere near the middle of the row, so she could still see the board easily, her go-to spot in any class. One by one, people she knew from middle school trickled in, some more people she didn’t, and one by one, they took their seats. 

She shifted anxiously as guys who were deemed popular two years ago when they were in the height of their middle school years, guys who talked to her during a group project but now couldn’t tell you what her name was, sat next to her. She took a deep breath; she could get through 10 months with them, maybe, hopefully. 

He was the last one to walk in, and at first, she didn’t know who he was. She hadn’t seen him around, she didn’t know his name like she knew the rest of the people around her, didn’t know what he could make her feel with just a small, awkward smile, not yet anyway.

She didn’t talk, didn’t introduce herself, she just gazed at him, shrinking in her seat, acting like her friend just texted her life-changing information as he sat in front of her, dapping his friends up like they didn’t just see each other a few weeks ago at the beach. 

And it was like that for a few weeks, staying quiet because she didn’t know anyone in the class, making a connection with her teacher, Mrs. Cooper, laughing softly at the random things the boys around her said. Nothing happened, sophomore year was starting out as expected, and if she was lucky, it would stay that way.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

Her friends were assholes, it was confirmed. Somehow, someway, she started liking Luke Hughes. She didn’t mean to, didn’t plan to, but her friends were insistent, and professional gaslighters.

The moment they found out that Luke Hughes was sitting in front of her in trig, they knew they had to get her to like him. 

“You guys would be so cute together.” Chloe started, opening her lunchbox. 

“Yeah, you know who else would be cute together? Me and a cow.”

“Luke kind of looks like a cow, a cute one. Like one of those highland cows that stick their tongues out.” Her friend, Stephanie, offered, shrugging as she took a bite of her sandwich. 

Y/n stared at her, a blank expression on her face, before throwing her napkin at her, “Shut up.”

“Seriously, y/n/n. You guys would be cute, he’s nice and funny, and he likes hockey, which you do too. You should at least try. I know the last guy you liked didn’t end up well-”

“I asked him a question and he didn’t respond, he left me on heard. Only my mom does that.”

“Was she on her phone?”

“Yeah, what is with that? They can’t be mad at us for not being able to multitask, and then once they’re on their phone, they forget their ability to hear-”

“Hey! Focus, guys.”

Stephanie and y/n shut up, eyes snapping to Chloe, who gave them a look, “We’re sophomores-”

“Exactly, I have time to experience the high school romance life.”

“But how often are you going to have a class with Luke Hughes of all people?”

“Seriously, guys. I’m fine where I am, I don’t need to like anyone, I’m barely 16, stop acting like I’m 32, and if I don’t find someone now, I’m going to end up lonely forever.”

“Just trust me, you and Luke would break the school. You guys are adorable.”

“I haven’t even said a word to him.”

“You will, with our help. Now c’mon, let’s do this chem homework.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It took y/n until the week after homecoming to say something to him. It didn’t even happen on purpose; they were talking about hockey, and her mind was moving a million miles per hour as she tried to keep up in their conversation. And one off-handed comment later, she found herself snorting in amusement as she kept her eyes trained on her paper in front of her, filling out the unit circle in front of her. 

“What?”

She looked up, face dropping and cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “I- oh, nothing, sorry.”

Charlie, the one sitting directly next to her, raised an eyebrow. “Well, obviously something we said got you to laugh, so I want to know what it was.”

She wasn’t good at this, talking to people she barely knew. She was an introvert, the kind of girl who went through high school quietly, the kind of girl no one noticed until they were paired up with her for a group project. 

“Seriously, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about something-”

“It’s okay, really. Just say it.” She could feel herself relax at the tone of his voice. He’d always been loud with his friends, stealing their phones and laughing like he had heard the funniest joke in the world. She didn’t know why it changed when he talked to her.

“I just- you guys were talking about the Calder, right? I don’t think Dahlin is going to get it, if I’m honest.”

Some of the boys looked at her like she had grown two heads, not expecting her to know what they were talking about, some of them looked at her like she had no idea what she was saying, but Luke? Luke gave her a curious look, a small spark in his eyes as he stared at her, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“And who do you think will be?”

“Petterson. Plays for-”

“Vancouver, yeah. My brother just got drafted there.”

Her eyes narrowed before recognition lit them, “Right. Quinn. I watched the draft, congrats.”

“Thanks… Um, you are?”

“Y/n.”

“Luke.”

“Uh, yeah, I know.”

He grinned, holding his hand out to which she took carefully, their hands lingering for a moment before they pulled away.

Luke turned around, his friends laughing at the slight blush on his cheeks that she didn’t dare to believe was real. She made eye contact with Mrs. Cooper, a knowing smile on her lips that caused y/n to roll her eyes. 

It was nothing, just a fleeting moment that happened because she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself, and that’s all it would be.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

November came quicker than she anticipated. She hadn’t talked to Luke since that day, and if she did, it was brisk, one-word answers that left both of them wanting more. 

She’d been studying until 2 in the morning when it happened; she could feel herself grow exhausted quicker than usual, her nose started to run, and her cheeks flushed even if it was only 60 degrees in her room and the fan was on. 

It got worse in the morning when she woke up, the pounding headache, the twist in her stomach, every symptom of sickness hitting her like a freight train. She tried to get up, tried to take a shower and get ready for the day, but as soon as she lifted herself off the bed, she fell right back down. 

And that was the start of a long week of no school. She completed her homework in bed, binge-watched whatever new show was out, listened to music until she got bored, texted her friends who caught her up on all the random drama she missed, and before she knew it was back at school, sitting through first period with Ms. Wilsher and Ms. McCroix.

“Yeah, I don’t know, it was long, tiring. Probably just a bad flu or something.” She explained off-handedly, focusing on her work they had given out.

“You know, if you’re not ready to be back, you can go home.”

Y/n looked up at Ms. Reed, her social worker, who had stopped in to ask her how she was doing. She shook her head, “I’m going to get anxious if I miss anymore, it was already a struggle to get through today.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you need to talk. Now… how about that boy?”

“What boy?” Ms. McCroix walked over, a smile growing on her face.

Y/n flushed, “No one! There is no boy.”

“Really? Because I went to sub for Cooper the other day, and I overheard a certain someone asking about where you were.”

“As if.”

The three of them gave her a look, one that made her shrink in her seat because she knew she was going to have to talk about it, whether that was now or never.

“Fine, maybe there is, but it’s nothing. They were talking about hockey and I stated my opinion, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Uh huh. Do you like him?”

“No!”

“Do you think he’s cute?”

“Maybe…”

“Do you-”

The bell rang, effectively cutting off Wilsher from asking another question, y/n grinning at the interruption, “See you later.”

“Have fun in trig!” They sang, watching her rush out of the classroom.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She took a deep breath as she entered her trig classroom. There was no one there yet, no one besides her teacher. 

“Hi, Mrs. Cooper.”

“Y/n, welcome back. You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, better than last week, felt like I was constantly getting hit by a bus.” She explained, taking the small stack of papers Mrs. Cooper had given to her.

“Don’t worry about getting caught up right away, alright? You can take the test you missed whenever, just make sure to do it before next Friday.”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

She took her seat without a second thought, riffling through the papers as more and more people filed in. The boys sat down first, none of them batting an eye at her as they talked about their game the other night, all of them going on their phones to play a game. 

Luke came in with a few seconds to spare, halfway to his desk when the bell rang, and plopped his backpack down as the announcements started. 

His eyes fell on the girl in the seat behind him, eyes lightning up once he saw her figure, “Y/n.”

She jumped, slightly startled, looking up at him, “Hi?”

“You’re back!” He exclaimed, sitting down and turning to face her, coughing to lower his voice, “I uh- I mean you’re back. You sick or something?”

“Uh, yeah, the flu.”

“He was really worried about you, you know?” Charlie piped in, leaning over the side of his desk to ruffle Luke’s curls. “Kept asking us if we thought you were okay.”

“I did not, shut up.” Luke huffed, batting Charlie’s hand away and fixing his hair.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with Luke on this one.” Her voice was soft, tentative, a stark difference from the usually snarky tone she had when she talked to them. 

“Why’s that, y/l/n?”

Her eyes narrowed at the use of her last name, casting a sideways glance towards the red-headed boy before letting it settle on Luke again, “Him? Worried? Yeah, sure.”

Luke felt her words low in his stomach, like she was implying that he was incapable of worrying about her. And, to some extent, he couldn’t blame her. The two hadn’t talked before the first day of school this year, hadn’t even made eye contact in the hallway before sitting next to each other. 

But somehow, that didn’t matter to him. Something about her captivated him: the way she talked about hockey, the way she smiled at her phone when she was texting her friends, the way she completed her work with speed and precision, the way she offered help to the girl who sat next to her when she asked. 

So yeah, he did care that she was out of school for a week without prior knowledge - not like it was his place to know in the first place. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It was later in the day when she saw him again, waiting for her friend in the stairwell as she came down from her eighth-period class. She hadn’t even noticed, not until Stephanie approached her, wrapping her in a hug because she hadn’t seen her in a week. 

“Hi.”

Luke’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice, picking it out from the hundreds of other voices, eyes immediately finding hers, stopping in the middle of the staircase. He stumbled as people bumped into him, almost tumbling into the two girls but missing them by a few inches, “Dude, you good?”

Y/n and Stephanie had already started to make their way down the stairs by the team. Luke answered his friend’s question, both of them talking animatedly about their after-school plans, “I uh- yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure, bro? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.”

And if Luke wasn’t about to combust at that moment, the distant sound of y/n squeaking his name out was enough to do it.

“Luke! No way.”

“He totally does, y/n/n. He could’ve been listening to any other conversation up there, but as soon as he heard your ‘hi’, he stopped in his tracks.”

“It’s just a coincidence.”

“Puh-lease. He’s into you, like head over heels into you.”

“We’ve talked like twice,” Y/n replied, pushing open the doors into the November air that was growing colder by the second.

“Doesn’t matter, his heart eyes are so obvious, it’s actually sickening.”

“Why don’t you date him then if you’re so intune with his eyes?” She teased, heading towards her mom’s car.  

“Shut up, I'm not. I’m just making sure he’s good for you, duh.” Stephanie started walking the other direction to find her sister.

“Whatever, later loser.”

“Bye, dweep!”

Y/n climbed into her mom’s car, throwing her backpack in the back seat as she buckled her seatbelt, “Hi.”

“What was that about? Was that about that boy?” 

“Mom.”

“What? Isn’t that him?” She pointed to the entrance of the school, where a group of boys were piling out as they hit each other.

“Mom! Put your finger down.”

“He’s cute.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” She dragged her hands down her face, slumping in her seat to avoid any stares.

“He’s looking at you!”

“He is not, would everyone stop with that?” 

But curiosity got the better of her, and she sat up slightly, peering through her fingers to see Luke, their gazes meeting for the third time that day. 

“Drive, please.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

The following week, everything seemed to slow. Luke talked to her more, his fleeting glances behind him, turning in his seat to “face his friend” when in reality all he wanted to do was talk to the girl who seemed to know hockey like the back of her hand.

Maybe he was growing feelings for her, maybe he liked it whenever she would try to hide her laugh whenever he or one of his friends said something ridiculously stupid, so what if he did? It’s not like anything was going to happen; she barely paid attention to him, acted as if he were just another one of the annoying guys who didn’t care about his academics. 

But he was determined to change that. 

He walked into second period with a plan formulating in his head, nodding to his friends as he took his seat, already taking his pencil case out. He glanced behind him a few times, failing at covering it up, unable to keep the smile off his face as he saw her focused on their homework that was due by the end of class.

“Y/n.”

He watched as her head popped up, eyebrows furrowing as she stared at him, “Luke.”

“What’d you get for number 10?”

“Uhhhh, 43.”

He nodded, turning back to his work, waving his friends off when they made snide comments in his direction. He scribbled down work that he wasn’t sure was correct, but made sense in his head, which at least counted for something. 

His pencil tapped restlessly as Mrs. Cooper started teaching, something about the law of sines, spacing out with every word said. 

It wasn’t until halfway through class that he started focusing again, noticing the stack of two papers that were placed in front of him, sheepishly turning around to hand one to the girl behind him, who was already giving him a tired expression, “Sorry.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, just nodded and grabbed the paper, knocking her pencil off in the process. She sighed inwardly, eyes darting to the writing utensil on the ground, trying not to direct Luke’s attention to it. 

Her cheeks flushed as her foot reached for it, accidentally hitting his foot just as she was about to kick it closer. She buried her head in her hands, avoiding his gaze, unbeknownst to the wide grin on his face. She felt a tap on her desk, peeking through her hands to see him holding out her pencil, “Here, gorgeous.”

His voice was soft, low enough that only she could hear his exact words. She was sure she couldn’t get any redder. 

She took the pencil from him, their hands brushing as she did so. It was innocent, nothing more than a guy being nice to her, but still, she had butterflies erupt in her stomach, a shy smile on her face as she thanked him, watching as he turned back to the board. 

It was only a few minutes later when Luke spoke again. Mrs. Cooper had walked out of the room to talk with another student, leaving the class to their own devices, in some cases literally. He turned just slightly, facing Charlie and Brandon and a few other guys that he was teammates with, “So game tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, bro. Let’s hope we don’t get our asses whooped like last time.”

Luke shot him a look, as if he was trying to hide how badly they had been crushed in the previous game from y/n. She didn’t even bat an eye at the conversation, her face back to its normal color, pulling out her phone to check something or to do anything but her work. 

He sighed, “Y/n.”

“What?’ This time, she didn’t even look at him, keeping her stare on her phone. She wasn’t sure where Luke’s sudden insistence to talk to her came from, and she wasn’t sure how she should feel about it. Giddy? Put off? Annoyed?

“You should come to the game tonight.” His voice was smooth, cool, and collected, like whatever her answer was going to be, he’d be indifferent about it, but the way his eyes moved around her face, searching for any hint as to what she was about to say, betrayed his attempt to hide his nerves.

“Yeah sure.” She snickered, finally tearing her gaze from her phone. “Let me get right on that, Hughesy.”

He frowned, his hand stilling from where he was spinning his phone around, “Why not?”

Charlie shot him a look, but once he caught whiff of his friend’s intention, he played along, “No, really, y/n. You should come. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay, 1. Since when do you talk to me, Charles?” Charlie blinked, caught off guard by her sudden tone change, “And 2. Need I ask again, why do you want me to come to this hockey game of yours? I have a million other things to do tonight.”

Luke shrugged again, “Just think about it.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She ended up skipping third period, who needed to go to chemistry anyway?

She wasn’t sure what she should do, go to the game or not? Think something of Luke being worried about her and her absence, or don’t? Keep thinking about the way Luke called her gorgeous, like he was sure of it, or block it out of her mind forever?

Wilsher and McCroix were hanging around in their classroom when she entered, the room void of students, and Ms. Reed sat in the back. She spent more time in here than in her office, which only concerned y/n the tiniest amount. 

“I need your guys’ help.”

The first thing the two teachers noticed was the soft blush to her cheeks, the way she seemed out of breath even though her trig classroom was a few doors down. The first thing Ms. Reed noticed was the smile that tugged on her lips, acting like she wasn’t in a full-on mental crisis. 

“What happened?”

“Luke. Happened.” She breathed, sitting in one of the chairs, the other three gathering around the front of the table. 

“Spill.”

She stared at them for a second, trying to gather her thoughts, “Why does it feel like I’m at a press conference right now and I just had a great game?”

“Y/n.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Her cheeks heated, overcome with embarrassment, she reached for her water bottle to have something to fidget with. “We brushed hands.”

“Stop, you did not.”

“That’s lame, this isn’t middle school or a high school romance something, give us something good.” Wilsher interrupted, looking at her expectantly.

“He wants me to go to his game tonight? And he might’ve, sort’ve, maybe called me gorgeous.”

She shrank in her seat as the three adults gasped and squealed, “Can we not make this a big deal?”

“Oh no, we are absolutely making this a big deal, what do you mean?”

“You have to go to the game, right? Please tell me you’re going.”

“I don’t know, it’s a Thursday, I got homework-”

“We all know that’s bull. You have no homework, I didn’t give you homework, you always finish your trig homework, you have a test in two of your other classes, and in the other classes, you never get homework.” Wilsher gave her a blank stare, almost daring her to say no to the invitation.

“Guys-”

“You’re going.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Can we move on from the game? Let’s talk about how he called her gorgeous.” Reed sighed, conveying how much his words meant more than the game.

Y/n flushed again, her cheeks in a permanent state of red. 

“She’s blushing.”

“You like him.” McCroix teased, patting her shoulder.

“So what, maybe I do!”

“Knew it.” “Called it.”

Y/n just rolled her eyes, picking her bag up, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Go to the game!”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She ended up going to the game. Chloe and Stephanie went with her, well, more like they dragged her out of the house into the back of Stephanie’s sister’s car. 

What was even the point of going to this game? She’d make sure they would sit far enough back, out of sight from Luke and the rest of his team, so no one would know she was there. She’d follow the puck lazily, not really caring who scored or who won, but deep down, she knew she’d want to see Luke hit it into the net, celebrating with his teammates. She’d spend time outs and intermissions on her phone, acting like it was a chore even to be there at all. 

Chloe and Stephanie looped their arms through hers, the three of them making their way into the arena. She shivered slightly at the temperature change, pulling her sleeves down to cover her hands as they walked to their seats, y/n narrowing her eyes when she saw where they were leading her.

“We’re not sitting behind the bench.”

“Y/n-”

“No, I’m not. Be lucky I agreed to come anyway.”

“She’s got a point.”

Chloe just huffed, allowing the two to redirect their path, heading towards seats that were higher up and out of the line of sight of anyone sitting on the bench. 

As much as she tried not to, the whole game her eyes were focused on him; wherever he went on the ice, wherever he sat on the bench, wherever he came out after intermission, that’s where her eyes would be. She didn’t admit it, not even to herself, but her friends knew, smirking every time she would lean forward when he got close to scoring. 

“You know, you make it too obvious,” Stephanie murmured, wrapping her arm around y/n’s shoulder, walking out of the arena a little after the game ended. 

“Make what too obvious?”

“You like him. Please stop trying to convince us, and yourself, that you don’t.”

Y/n only sighed, fidgeting with her fingers, “A little.”

“A little?” Chloe scoffed.

“This is a conversation I need to have when I have some food in me. Can we please stop to get food?” She begged, slightly pouting.

“Fine. But you’re not getting out of this conversation this time.”

They waited a while before Stephanie's sister arrived, and right when they were about to climb into the car, she heard a voice behind her, one that she only heard within the walls of her Trig classroom, “Is that y/l/n?”

Her eyes widened, Stephanie and Chloe grinned and turned to face the voice, but not before they were pulled into the car, y/n already pressuring Sam to drive. 

“You guys are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.” “Not one bit.”

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She woke up groggy that morning, moving through her morning routine with the speed of a sloth, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, bleary-eyed, walking through the hallways. It was moments like these where she was thankful to have such a chill first period, a place where she could relax, and her teachers wouldn’t yell at her if she fell asleep 5 minutes in. 

Wilsher looked at her with an amused look, handing her a water bottle from the small fridge she had in the corner of the room, “Have fun last night?”

“I’m never letting you talk me into going to a game on a school night. That was brutal.” She plopped down in her seat, the condensation from the water bottle already seeping into the wood of her desk. 

“Did you see him?” McCroix walked in next, that stupid grin she got whenever something interesting was about to happen in one of her students' lives. 

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to him?” She looked up as Ms. Reed passed through the door like she’d been waiting for her moment to enter. 

“No. Who do you guys think I am? It took me weeks to even tell you guys my favorite food is pizza.”

“Besides the point. You’re never going to date him if you just stare at him longingly.”

“I do not stare at him longingly!”

“I walked in there one time to hand Cooper some papers, and you were drilling holes in the back of his head with your eyes.”

“I was spacing out,” she defended weakly, chin resting in her hand. 

“Mhm, whatever you want to tell yourself. Now… we talked to Cooper, and we came up with an idea so Luke can find out you were there.”

“You guys are way too invested in this.”

The three of them stared at her, blankly, blinking slowly before laughing, “Of course we are.”

“Get a life.” She grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile that was growing on her face. 

They continued to talk for the rest of the period, about the plan and about whatever homework they had last night, barely noticing the time passing after the bell rang.

“Shit-”

“Shoot!”

“Right, shoot. I gotta go, bell’s about to ring in a minute and I am not going to be late.”

“To see Luke!” They all teased, before looking back at their computers when y/n gave them a look. 

She gathered her things, heading out the door and down the hallway towards Mrs. Cooper’s room, stepping inside seconds before the bell sounded. She maneuvered her way through the desks, walking down the aisle to her own, passing by Luke before sitting.

“Oh- I was worried about you.” She furrowed her eyebrows at his statement, cocking her head more or less to herself as she pulled out her notebook. 

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, you were going to be late. You’re always like the first person here.”

Charlie leaned over, tugging at her sleeve, “Yeah, he was really worried. You know, so worried that I think he likes you.”

Y/n paused midway through grabbing a pencil from her bag, peering up through her lashes to see Luke’s already red face, turning to face his phone in front of him. A light pink dusted her cheeks too, continuing her actions like the thought of her crush liking her wasn’t admitted out loud by his closest friend. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Brandon called, eyes looking between the three of them, but no less amused than his two friends. 

Charlie shrugged, already moving onto a new task, no doubt texting someone as his thumbs moved across the keyboard on his phone. 

It was silent for a few seconds, everyone around them doing their work and chatting with their friends, but the back left corner of the classroom, sprinkling into the center, was quiet, unusually quiet. Y/n fiddled with her pencil, eventually reaching for her own phone to type a message, the three-person group chat with her, Chloe, and Stephanie, somewhat messy, filled with typos and grammatical errors the other two weren’t used to seeing.

“We ned ti alk assap at lunch!”

She could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket, but she paid no mind to it, eyes completely focused on the task at hand - do not do anything embarrassing. 

“Y/n, come here.”

She got up, walking carefully through the backpack-littered aisle, trying not to stumble as she stepped over them. Luke watched her from behind, worry in his eyes like he was about to watch her get in trouble or be talked down to because of a test score, but all he could hear was her bright laugh, one that made his stomach flutter like a schoolgirl's giggle. 

As she was walking back to her seat, she heard Mrs. Cooper’s voice, not loud but not trying to be quiet either, “How was the game last night?”

She only froze for a beat before continuing, calling out over her shoulder, “It was good. They won 5-2.”

She could hear three phones clatter as the numbers fell from her lips, looking back at the group of boys. Luke, Charlie, and Brandon stared at her, the few other guys in their friend group exchanging looks with each other, slowing their hands as they worked.

“See any cute boys?”

“Are we really talking about this in front of people?” Y/n flushed, more so than when Charlie’s stupid “You know, so worried I think he likes you” repeated through her head. 

Mrs. Cooper just smirked as she went back to grading. 

She only got halfway through a problem when she heard a cough, looking up to see Luke staring at her. “Hi?”

“So, you went to the game last night?”

She nodded, acting as if it was a casual thing to go to a random hockey game in the middle of the week, “Yep. My friends and I were bored, had nothing else to do.”

“Oh. So, did you see any cute guys?”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, “Maybe. What’s it to you, Hughes?”

He held his hands up in surrender, but jealousy swam in his eyes, “Nothing, nothing. Go back to your trig. I’ll stop bothering you.”

She smiled once he faced away from her, knowing that the stupid plan of her friends and teachers did work. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She did not want to be wearing this, okay, maybe that’s a stretch. When the idea of dressing cute today was brought up on the table, she was reluctant; she’d rather throw on a pair of sweats and her favorite hockey hoodie and go to school like she didn’t care what people thought about her. But then she put it on, and she felt cute. 

Her jeans sat comfortably on her legs, the gray crewneck with “Canucks” written in blue lettering across her chest sat atop a white undershirt that peaked out along the color, and her hair tied up in a half-up half-down hairstyle with a blue ribbon Chloe had given her however long ago. 

She knew this was a stupid, even useless, plan, but she went along with it. She couldn’t really be mad at how it turned out; she’d always favored being comfortable over cute when she went to school, maybe this was a nice change.

She walked the hallways of the school, her black Converse hitting the ground with each step as she made her way to Wilsher’s classroom, where they were already sitting, Chloe and Stephanie too. 

She blushed heavily when she came in, eyes widening when they saw her outfit, “Look at you.”

“Okay, okay. You’re the ones who wanted this.”

“Do a spin! Do a spin!”

She did as she was told, dropping her bag so she could turn around. Chloe stood up, walking over to inspect her hair. “Is that the ribbon I gave you like two months ago?”

“Yeah, not my fault you never asked for it back.”

The other girl shrugged, twisting the fabric in her hand before letting go, taking a step back to look at her again. “He’s going to go insane when he sees you in this.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

“Fine… I guess I look cute.”

“You guess? Girl, I’ve never seen you look hotter.”

“You guys are so annoying.”

First period flew by faster than she wanted it to, constantly fiddling with her crew neck as the nerves consumed her. She lingered in the classroom for a few minutes, waiting until the time between class starting and her arrival would be as short as possible.

She kept her head down as she entered the room, her eyes trained on her hands as she adjusted her rings before sitting down, unaware of Luke’s (and his friends’) gazes on her. 

Charlie poked her side once she settled, hand extended over the side of his desk, “Y/l/n.”

“Yes?”

“You get dressed up for something special?”

She shook her head, not looking up from where she was tracing random shapes on the wood. They could see the small tint of pink littering her cheeks, causing them to urge Luke into saying something, anything. They were tired of him whining like a puppy every time y/n wouldn’t talk to him in class.

Luke didn’t know what to do. She looked beautiful, not that he didn’t think he was beautiful before this moment, but the way she seemed to have a softness about her today, like she knew she looked gorgeous but didn’t want to admit it. 

He couldn’t deny that it flustered him; everything about her made him freeze up. She could brush her hair behind her ear, complete a problem in 30 seconds, or walk down the hallway, and he’d be in awe. He wasn’t sure if that should embarrass him or not, but at this point, he’d wear that like a badge of honor.

“Y/n/n.”

That caused her to raise her head, eyes widening at the nickname. Since when did he address me by a nickname?

She cleared her throat, nodding, “Yes?”

“You busy this weekend?”

“Uh, I don’t know-” she stuttered, eyes blinking fast as he watched her every movement, studying her as if he would have a quiz on her next period.

“We should hang out.”

Brandon coughed from next to him, giving him a look. There was no way this was how he was going to ask her out, not if he had a say in it. 

“Right. Do you want to go on a date?” 

If y/n was holding anything in her hands, the whole school could hear it clatter against the surface beneath her. She wasn’t sure what to say, if she should say anything, or nod her head. Luke saw the panic flash in her eyes, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to! I just thought-”

“No! I um- I would like that.” The two smiled at each other, stilling.

“About time.” Charlie rolled his eyes, typing away on his phone. 

Luke hit him in the arm, y/n giggled softly, causing him to smile once again.

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It was too cold to be standing out on the porch waiting for Luke to show up, but it beat having to sit with her parents awkwardly in the living room while they asked her questions about him. So here she was, in almost 50-degree weather, a light frost covering the ground as the leaves fell. 

She hugged herself tightly, her jacket only providing her with a small amount of warmth. A similar pair of jeans adorned her legs, paired with a black long-sleeved shirt that did little to shield her from the growing cold weather.

She barely registered Luke’s car pulling into the driveway, too focused on shifting her weight from foot to foot, preventing herself from going frigid. It wasn’t until the door closed that she looked up, noticing his figure standing outside, a beanie on his head hiding his curls.

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” 

They stood there for a few minutes, neither of them moving, just watching the other’s movements, studying their faces.

She snapped out of the trance first, walking down the few steps that led to her front door to where he stood, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Hi.”

“Hey.” He repeated, chuckling softly. “You ready to go?”

She nodded, allowing him to lead her to the other side of the car, opening the passenger-side door for her. He climbed in seconds later, turning the heat on full blast to calm y/n’s shakiness, pulling out of her driveway to head to wherever they were going.

“You going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shook his head, grinning, “Nope. Top secret.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Not enough to deter you from going on a date with me.”

“Touché.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“How long were you standing outside for?” He stopped at the stoplight, eyes flicking over to her form, frowning when he noticed her hands still shaking. 

“Uh, like ten minutes maybe? It beat waiting inside with my parents.”

He reached for her hand like it was second nature, as if they’d done it a million times before this moment, letting the warmth of his hand encompass the coldness of hers. He heard her sigh gratefully, continuing to drive as if nothing had just happened. 

It was silent the rest of the way, y/n completely oblivious as to where they were going but paid no mind to it, watching as the trees passed, the lights changed from red to green or green to yellow, and the traffic decreased and increased. 

“One question.”

“Shoot.”

“Does this involve physical labor because I’m not dressed enough for that, and I will not look cute once we’re done?”

“You might have to climb some stairs, but that’s it. And I beg to differ, I’m sure you’d look cute no matter what, gorgeous.”

She smiled as she rolled her eyes, going back to her window-watching and listening to the music that played softly in the car. She didn’t notice the fond expression he had, barely noticed the way his hand tightened around hers because he was scared that this, she, wasn’t real.

It didn’t take long for her to realize where they were once the building came into view, the lettering across it, and the red and white clothing the thousands of people standing outside in line were wearing. Her eyes widened, looking over at him, “Really?”

“Figured you’d like it,” Luke smirked, all too cocky, but neither of them cared. 

“I wish you had told me! I would’ve worn my jersey.”

“Yeah, but then that would’ve given it away.”

The two walked hand in hand into Little Caesars Arena, y/n practically vibrating with excitement. 

“You’re excited about this, huh?”

“Shut up, let me enjoy my hockey.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leading them towards the line, y/n curling into him as they waited in the cold. 

It was the perfect first date. Nothing would ever compare. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

It happened later that night, they were out at a small dinner after the game, sitting next to each other in a booth like a cliché high school movie. She didn’t mind; her head rested comfortably on his shoulder, and his hand was on her thigh. They’d finished their food ages ago, paid ages ago, but none of them had the energy to move even if they wanted to. 

“Y/n/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m sleepy.” She murmured in response, curling into him more. 

He laughed softly, resting his chin on her head, “Does that change your answer then?”

“Nope. I’d still say yes, but if I weren’t tired, I’d be a mess right now.”

“You still are one.”

“Say it again, and I'll take back my answer.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looked up at him, sleep evident in her eyes, but neither of them let it stop their lips from touching, Luke’s arm slipping around her waist to bring her closer. 

⎯⎯⎯ ౨ৎ ⎯⎯⎯

She wasn’t sure when this tradition was established, all of them meeting in the morning in Wilsher’s room, her, Chloe, and Stephanie. And that wasn’t changing, not even when Luke’s hand was in hers as they walked down the hallway. 

“Okay, so they might be a little overbearing-”

“I’ll be fine, I’m extremely charming.”

Y/n gave him a look, “Mhm.”

“I am too!” He gasped, offended, “That’s how I won you over.”

“I’m still regretting that decision.”

“No, you’re not.”

She grinned, looking up at him, “Fine, I’m not.”

He kissed her temple, the two of them coming to a stop right outside Wilsher’s classroom. She went in first, noticing how her two best friends were already sitting at a table, on their phones, and how her two teachers and her social worker were talking about something, most likely another student in their class.

“Hey.” 

She watched as they did a double-take, looking at her and then noticing the figure behind her, the one who stood a few inches taller than she did. 

“Okay, let’s not-”

“So this is the boy we’ve been hearing about.”

“Guys, seriously-” 

“We’ve heard everything about you, Luke. Smart boy, mostly A’s.”

Y/n buried her head in Luke’s chest like she’d been doing it for years before this moment, like it was second nature. He laughed softly, his hands threading through her hair, keeping her head close to him. The five others smiled at them, exchanging looks. 

“Treat her right.”

“Wasn’t planning on treating her wrong.” He admitted, looking down at her with a certain fondness.

LH43 MASTERLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; OTHER MASTERLISTS

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[deadpanjisung]

✧ the collective muse: epilogue ✧

⟢ pairing: graphic designer!lee know x journalist!afab!reader x graphic designer!han 

part one: the collective muse (i recommend you read this first)

⟢ MDNI!!!!! (please make sure you have your age in your bio)

⟢ wc:  1.8 k 

⟢ genre: smut, a lil fluff, colleagues to friends to strangers to lovers

⟢ warnings: unconventional relationship dynamics, threesomes, breast play, fingering, oral (lmk if i missed any). 

♡ likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated

You weren’t sure how things would turn out after you and Jisung had your encounter with Minho, when you weren’t so drunk in lust. 

The next morning, you awkwardly said goodbye to Minho in silent hope that he didn’t regret what had happened. Minho let you know that he had arrived at his house safely. But then, you had no contact until two days later; when Minho knocked on your door at 5pm with two bento boxes: one contained an order jjajangmyeon and cheesecake for Jisung and the other one had bibimbap and a brookie for you. 

“I hope you don’t mind me coming around unannounced like this.” 

Of course you didn’t.

The three of you ate in relative silence, mentally reliving what had happened the night before. You clenched your thighs at the thought of watching Minho and Jisung kiss again. Minho always had more composure, but you could make out that Jisung was hard as a rock beneath the sofa cushion on his lap. His cheeks were flushed, and he kept fumbling with the cushion’s loose threads. You, then, noticed Minho’s leg started stirring.

“We should talk about this, I guess…” Jisung started. You and Minho looked at each other, nodding. 

You talked things over after eating, agreeing upon the mutuality of your feelings for each other. But also confused at them, you were a stranger to having feelings for two people at once. It turned out that Minho and Jisung weren’t sure how to handle that phenomenon either. You agreed that it was worth a shot, because why not? You had lost so much time fearing ‘what ifs. 

✎ᝰ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ♬⋆.˚A year in the making… ⋆.˚♬ ‧₊˚ 𓎩⋅‧₊˚ ⋅✎ᝰ

Minho threw your gigantic mattress in the middle of the room. You smiled, looking at the unfurnished yet full room, boxes rested in every corner of it. Your new room. Deciding to move was easy enough after formalizing your relationship with Jisung and Minho. 

You walked to the kitchen.

Minho didn’t expect to move in with you so soon, still, he couldn’t bear knowing that you and Jisung could have little dates throughout the week and cuddle at night without him. And you and Jisung would beg him to stay over, anyways.

 Minho decided he had enough when one day he arrived unannounced to see you and Jisung entangled with each other on the sofa. Jisung’s hands caressed your ass as you eagerly bounced on his cock. Listening to your sweet, sultry moans and Jisung’s delicious groans were a dream come true to him. Instead, you were too engulfed with each other to notice that Minho was standing in front of you. His mouth hung open and his cock twitched beneath his pants. 

Yeah, he couldn’t miss things like this anymore. It wasn’t fair.

After that, Minho officially moved to your apartment, which wasn’t too convenient since he still had to travel most days for work. Your apartment eventually became too small for the three of you. You, Jisung and Minho decided that you needed to get a bigger apartment. But you didn’t expect was you, Minho and Jisung putting every extra dollar that you made to purchase a house —in this economy. Living with Jisung and Minho had its perks, too. The few times you did go out to dinner with Hyunjin or exhibits with Changbin or other friends, you would find Minho and Jisung curled up to each other, sometimes naked and kissing. 

And it was beautiful to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung shouted at you from the master bedroom. You walked towards the room again, unsure of what motivated Jisung to call you. You stood in the threshold and stared at Minho and Jisung who were cuddled on the bed. 

It was beautiful like this. 

“It’s time to take a break. You’ve been at it for a while now.” Minho smiled at you.

“It’s time to christen the house, you mean.” Jisung teased Minho, who pushed him off him and opened his arms as an invitation for you to join them.

You obliged, unable to resist them, despite having so much cleaning and unpacking to do. The mattress felt too soft and unstable without its frame. You had sunk into it, sandwiched between Minho and Jisung’s s equally strong holds.

“Jeez, Jisung. You get some tattoos and start going to the gym and I’m left helpless.” You remarked as you attempted to wiggle out of his stronger hold. Minho was always softer when it came to you whilst Jisung’s banter knew little to no limits. You looked at Jisung, his mouth was reddened from the friction that came from making out with Minho. 

And you couldn’t comprehend how this was real life. 

Jisung straddled you; he gave you a peck before lowering down your body, his lips kissed all over your still-clothed torso. He slid your shorts along with your underwear with a swift movement of his hands and subtle lift of your hips. Minho, on the other hand, stared at you with such loving eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Like how he always looks at you and Jisung.

Jisungs plushy lips found your aroused, throbbing clit. His tongue flicked at it, making you gasp in pleasure. Minho, in return, placed his lips upon yours in a desperate kiss. 

“Take it off.” You begged, tugging at his shirt. Jisung looked up at you and you could feel his gummy smile on your core. 

Minho took off his shirt in a swift movement, you let your hands roam all over his strong yet soft torso, caressing his muscles as his lips found yours once again in a mess of spit, teeth and tongue. Your greedy hands tugged at the string of Minho’s shorts, too. He chuckled before shrugging them off. His hands found your clothed breasts, lifting your shirt to grope one. His fingers tugged on your swollen nipple, heightening your feelings of arousal. 

“Ji-… Min-, f-fuck…” you moaned at the feeling of both of them. 

Your hand slipped down Minho’s torso, taking hold of his beautiful and swollen cock. Your thumb caressed his tip, in attempts to spread his precum down his shaft. You tugged at his now-lubricated cock, setting a soft pace. Minho moaned at the feeling, tightening his hold on your breast. 

Meanwhile, Jisung slipped a finger inside your cunt. 

You moaned at the feeling of his long, slender fingers curved inside you after what seemed like an eternity. His tongue kept lapping up and down your folds, nearing you to your climax as you kept a similar pace on Minho’s throbbing cock. You lowered your hand to tug at Jisung’s hair between your legs, making him moan into your cunt. You looked down at Jisung who happened to look up at you, one of his hands grasped your thighs whilst the other jerked off his perfect cock. Minho’s lips found your neck, trailing love bites from your ear to your shoulder blade. Your senses were overstimulated, the pleasure you felt when you were with both Minho and Jisung was unmatched. 

You loved having sex with Jisung alone, and you loved having sex with Minho by yourself too. But this — feeling both of them loving you; loving them both, felt the best. You felt your climax approaching, one of your hands tightened on Minho’s cock, earning a hiss from him, while the other desperately tugged at Jisung’s hair. The quickening of his pace on your cunt announced that he, too, was close. You jerked Minho off faster, harsher, making him moan so deliciously. You could barely concentrate on your actions as the pleasure became exhilarating. 

That’s when you felt it. 

Your body clenched around Jisung’s fingers, convulsing at the feeling of his tongue on you; and Minho’s teeth, then, tugging at your nipple. 

“F-fuck!” Jisung cursed, sitting up, pulling his cock out of his sweats. He jerked himself off above your glistening cunt. It only took three strokes for him to shoot his warm, creamy cum on your cunt. 

“Shit!” Minho agreed, admiring the sight of your and Jisung’s arousals covering your body. “Y-you’re perfect.” He sat up as well, looking at you hazily as the mattress dipped when Jisung laid down next to you. You and Jisung kissed, passionately. As if you couldn’t pull away from each other. But you did. 

You opened your mouth, urging Minho to cum inside of it. 

Minho straddled you; his glorious cock faced your hungry mouth. Minho jerked himself off in front of you. You took the opportunity to fondle his heavy balls. His balls were so sensitive that having your hands on them, looking him over the edge. Minho released generous amounts of cum into your desperate tongue. He kissed you when you swallowed his cum — tasting you, Jisung and himself. 

The most beautiful taste — the taste of love. 

⋆.˚♬ ‧₊˚ 𓎩⋅‧₊˚ ⋅✎ᝰ

You, Jisung and Changbin were still running The Collective Muse, now with Minho’s help. Minho took charge of the cuisine section again whilst Changbin developed a new section centered in cinema. Changbin’s decision to move to a cinema section was a hit, bringing a whole new audience to the magazine and significantly increasing the number of readers you had. Minho kept his other magazine job, Jisung secured a gig as an illustrator, and you worked closely with Hyunjin when you weren’t running The Collective Muse’s administrative tasks. 

You still weren’t at a place in your life where you could fully dedicate your time to The Collective Muse without external income, but you were getting there. Minho and Changbin’s protagonism in their respective areas were of utmost importance for the magazine’s further development. You moved to Busan, relatively close to Hyunjin’s gallery and Minho’s job. Jisung quit his old job and found a new one at a publishing company. 

You didn’t know where life would take you. But, for now, you felt content with where you were. Being able to be with who you love, doing what you love was enough to make you feel satisfied with yourself. You still had a dream of expanding The Collective Muse, and you would work hard to do so. You were happy to have Minho and Jisung with you through it; the three of you like you were always meant to be —but you wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a few cats along the way.

Minho sat down in the middle of the room with the framing pieces of the bed and a toolbox. You decided to leave him working on that alone with a kiss on top of his head. Jisung was in one of the other rooms, assembling his desk in its usual spot, next to yours.

To know Minho was to love Jisung; to know Jisung was to love Minho. To know both Minho and Jisung was to love you.

a/n: *sigh* i love both of them so much, everyone. you have no idea. this hits different after the concert too </3

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・

Copyright Ⓒ 2025 by deadpanjisung

All rights reserved.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・

[mysecret02]

Hello lovelies!

Jason Todd idea.

He had been „dead” at the beginning of 2000’s. I like to think he was the kind who still used phoneboots to call Alfred ont he landline once he accidentally left his phone home.   

With this information and with the knowledge that most proggrames like Word or PowerPoint got new updates around the end of 80’s, beginning of 90’s or so I can imagine Little!Jay writing period-drama fanfiction on a REALLY old wersion of Word.

And I just see him needing to juggle studying, social-life and being Robin, sometimes even going to places with Bruce and being „kidnapped” for a weekend by an overly affectionate Dick who wanted to show off his little brother even if he wasn’t sure of their bond yet and sometimes felt resentful towards him. On those occcasions specially he took him for a weekend, just plucked him up from the pavement in fron of Gotham Academy and even though Jay protested because he „still has homework to do”, he actually found it so cool that his big brother came for him on a motorbike.

So because of these circumstances he started to record himself reading his favourite books or songs he liked ont he radio and put them on casettas. If he had left some at Dick’s place and Dick had found them and couldn’t stop listening to his dead baby brother’s voice articulatedly telling him about handsome ladies and gentlemen falling in love and he was crying with his little brother at the happy end, well nobody needed to know.

Time went by, Jay came back to life, got thrown into the pit, started training with the All-Caste, than with different teachers all around the world. He didn’t really have time nor did he pay any attention to the new things. Obviously Talia sent him to study about programming and stealing information but that didn’t really include mobility aid programms or „how to download music”.

After his bloddy Red Hood arc and with the truce with the Bats he started to look back into his old hobbies. It’s around 2010’s by this point . He went to an electronics shop and the guy at the counter could’t even give him a walkman OR a disckman for that metter. Everybody was trying to sell him USB drives because „that’s the future”. It had been so awkward he gave up, until he saw his old walkman at Dick’s bedside table. The evil thief even put blue batstickers on it! Naturally he took it back because that was rightfully his, he got it as a present from B for his secound Christmas at the manor.

All hell broke loose.

Dick yelled at Slade and Bruce, accused the old Titans of cruelly pranking him, sobbed to Clark over the phone until he came over ehrn Dick worked himself into an anxiety/panic attack.

Unbeknowns to this Jay tried to get clean casettes so he could record the new books he found while travelling. And where did he know they had those things? In the cave, he remembered hiding some behind a stack of files so he went to get them.

The next night when he thought nobody would be there he went tot he cave and run into a sad moping Dick who has been told by Bruce he must have misplaced his walkman and he will not be let out on patir in his near frantic condition.

They run into each other and „OMG why would you scratch up my sticker!? I got that from Wally” „ME? Excuse me you FUCKING THIEF!” They start arguing and fighting for it, when Oracle checks the Cave cameras she sees two angry vigilantes yelling at each other while wrestling ont he floor:

D: Give it BACK!

J: These are MINE! Record your own you filthy thief!

D: I’m not a thief, you LEFT it at my place!

J: OH YEAH! Then now I’m taking it BACK!

D: NO! Bruce said I could keep it!

J: Bruce can SUCK MY-

O: Guy, what are you doing?

At the same time: „He took away my walkman!”

J: Of course I took it BACK! Do you know how long it takes to record these???

D: But you can just download the audiobooks! Why do you act as if you didn’t have the money for it!

J: BECAUSE I- what? What are you talking about?

O: *long sigh* You two are both idiot.

The three of them spend the night at the Watchtower. They bicker and yell and there’s popcorn everywhere while they try to teach Jason how to use smartphones in the smart way. They show him how to use text-to-audio converters, QCR programmes and how to download audiobooks. Jay is very pleased with his new knowledge and Dick gets to keep the old casettes with the walkman in exchange for Dick and Barbara’s help with no laughing at him if he needs something with technology.

By the time the Sun comes up they all passed out, Babs being ont he couch and Dick and Jason sleeping ont he foor with the couch pillows. Jason started hogging the blanket and Dick is hogging Jason’s right arm.

It doesn’t solve everything, Jason negotiates Dick with the casettes he still has at the manor when he wants something and Babs blackmails Jason with the photos of him and Dick sleeping together while Jason periodically bothers Barbara for new updates for his book-programmes(there’s a folder on his phone with this name). But it’s nice, the dynamic between the three of them has changed but they know now for sure they can still count on each other.

[exia1-blog]

Prayers for the Evanuris

Solas kept his head purposefully up as they approached the statue of the wolf. This was nowhere near the first statue of the sort he had seen since he had awoken and it most certainly would not be the last. There were hundreds of the damn things scattered about, of varying sizes of absurd, and every last one of them had that same rune carved into its chest. He would not give it any more attention than he had given any of the others he had encountered. He would not avoid it, he would not honor it. It was, to him, to be nothing more than a roadside curiosity, easily acknowledged and easily forgotten.

He wasn’t counting on the Herald.

“Hold on a moment,” she called to Cassandra and Varric where they were walking ahead, still bickering.

“What’s that then, Herald?” Varric called, back slowing to a stop.

Cassandra continued to steam ahead, only coming to a stop when she realized she was the only one doing so. “What are you doing?” She called back. “We don’t have time for this. There is a rift just over there.”

“I know,” the Herald said, ripping embrium out of the ground, roots and all. “This will only take a moment.”

Solas stood to the side, watching in curiosity as she twisted the length of herb into a rough loop, knotting the roots around the stem. Then she dropped it between the wolf’s paws, reached out with her left hand, and delicately touched the closest paw with the tips of her fingers. He felt her magic swell in undirected magic, knew the hidden rune caught it and responded.

Solas knew she was talking - praying - he could see her jaw move, though he was too far away to hear the words. An offering and a prayer to the Dread Wolf. Why had only the terrible things remained?

She was done in moments, then the four of them were back on the road.

“What was that?” Varric asked, dropping back to walk with the Herald.

Cassandra continued on ahead. Solas chose a point close enough to eavsedrop without being so near as to be drawn into the conversation.

“That’s a statue of Fen’Harel,” Lavellan offered casually. “I was offering a prayer.”

“Oh,” Varric said in recognition. “Daisy mentioned him a few times. One of your gods?”

“Of lies and betrayal, yes. He’s the only one we have left.”

Solas closed his eyes briefly. Of all the things to get right.

“And you pray to him?” Varric asked. “I don’t remember Daisy doing something like that. Is it specific to your clan?”

“Not just us, no. I think prayers to Fen’Harel are the only things each clan has in common, actually. A lot of things are varied and different between us - drift over the years as each clan finds different things in ruins, focuses on different aspects of our worship. The only thing we really all do the same is how we handle Fen’Harel. It’s the one topic that is always brought up and agreed upon in the arlathvhens we hold every ten years.”

“What’s that thing?” Varric clarified. “Daisy never mentioned any of this.”

“Daisy is not a dalish name, another of your nicknames, I supposed?” Lavellan asked in bemusement.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. Her name is Merrill.”

Lavellan looked shocked. “Of clan Sabrae?”

“...yeah.” Varric said, suddenly seeming upset. “You’ve heard of her, then.”

“You…could say that,” Lavellan said, seeming to choke on her words. “She was the topic of much conversation in our last arlathvhen, for what happened to her clan.” Lavellan paused, as if unsure of how much to say. “The envoy’s brought news of the clan to the arlathvhen so all would know of the clan’s fate. It was the first time in a hundred years that a clan sent someone who wasn’t a Keeper or First to the meeting.” She looked at Varric, saw how Cassandra had dropped back to listen, shot a glance at Solas, and sighed. “Fine. The arlathvhen is a meeting between all clans every ten years. Sometimes it’s the only time we get to see old family or friends. Its location is secret, and changes so we never meet in the same place twice. There is a discussion between the clan leaders - the Keepers and their Firsts - to go over decisions that affect the dalish as a whole. That’s where I heard of Merril and clan Sabrae.”

“Not great news,” Varric ventured.

“Great?” Lavellan barked sarcastically. “The Hero of Ferelden came from clan Sabrae. Then Merrill goes and gets her Keeper killed by practicing blood magic. To say the clan has had a tumultuous history is an understatement of the ages!”

Solas dropped back more, unwilling to hear more of the conversation. He did not want to know what had happened to yet another clan. What terrible fate had befallen yet more of these remnants. Wisdom kept insisting that there was value to them, but all he saw were children bumbling about without the insights or complexity they used to hold.

Then, he felt it. A spirit of purpose settled on his shoulder, separated from him by the veil, but still undeniably there as it pressed close to whisper to him.

Solas dropped back even more, moving beyond easy hearing range. It would not do to let his new companions know how close the spirits truly were. That this one came close was incredibly unusual. The breach was far, but it’s effects were still felt in the hinterlands, the smaller tears in the veil driving the more complex spirits away in fear, and turning the younger ones to demons before they had a chance to develop into something more.

“Fen’Harel,” the spirit whispered, and he had to strain to hear it through the interference caused by the nearby rift.

“I am here,” he whispered under his breath.

“Prayers for you from one known as Lavellan. From your altar in the hinterlands, but a few minutes walk down the road from where you are.”

Solas’s heart sank into his shoes, and his feet dragged nearly to a stop from the weight of it. No. This could not be. Surely they weren’t still…how had he not had this happen before? He’d been awake for years, the spirits had been told he was. But this was the first prayer delivered to his ears since he had awoken.

“Lavellan prays for your protection and guidance. There is a great hole in the sky she seeks to close, but does not know how. She is surrounded by enemies who once would have docked her ears, but now call her the Herald of Andraste. She prays you lend her your trickery, to keep them from killing her.”

Solas closed his eyes in grief, but kept walking. He could only hope that his companions would not notice. The spirit would continue until it had delivered the whole prayer, and he could not stop it without risking that he might twist it from its purpose. But oh, how he wished that he dared. It was not to blame for the message it delivered in kindness.

“Lavellan goes now to convince a priestess of the Maker that she is to be trusted. She prays you guide her tongue so she can be convincing. In sacrifice for her prayers, Lavellan will hunt a druffalo and offer it in whole to you.”

Solas stumbled down the road, unable to respond. Thankfully, he didn’t need to. The spirit, message delivered and purpose fulfilled, slipped away and went back to settle around the statue it inhabited, to wait for the next supplicant that would deliver prayers. Prayers it would then deliver to Solas’s ears, as it had for thousands of years before he entered uthenera.

What a practice he had initiated, what a thing he had done. What had meant to be a quick way of him hearing when people needed him, had turned into a method of worship. Worse, he had enabled the same for Mythal and the others. Each altar and temple constructed had been inhabited by a spirit of purpose, coaxed there by Solas himself ages ago. To help the guardians of the empire hear more quickly when the People had needed them. But in the end, had turned into yet another reason for the People to see the evanuris as gods. For weren’t their prayers heard no matter where they were made? Did the gods not hear and reply? Grant the wishes of the faithful, smite those who were too proud to properly genuflect?