#Thing A Week Challenge 2025

[lerios]

Thing A Week 2025 - Week 1

my first attempt a Disco Elysium style portrait, redrawing a screenshot of starkid's Trail To Oregon because jeff blim has a fun face. this almost vibes-based style of painting really doesn't come easily to me lmao but it certainly is interesting.

[momomallowart]

Togachako week 2025 day 5: Date

TogaChako Week 2025 Day 5: Date

ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔっ🍹💗✨

[basalting]

day three of @jasontoddweek2025 - monster - supernatural AU - league of assassins

Jason has always known he was different.

jason todd & catherine todd - changeling!jason - 1092 words

It wasn’t-

Jason always knew he was different. Knew it in how sometimes if he’s really mad, or really sad, things look… different. Knew it in how Daddy would flinch when he saw him sometimes, in how no matter how late he wandered the streets, none of the gangsters ever messed with him. Sometimes they’d try, and then Jason would look at them and they’d run away.

For a while the only one who never flinched, who never ran away, who would look at Jason and smile even when he felt too big and too strange and too different was Mama.

Once he asked her, after none of the kids at the park wanted to play with him, what he was. And Mama, had smiled at him and kissed his cheek and said, “You’re my baby, that’s what you are.”

But it hadn’t been enough, or maybe he got more different as he got older, or something. Cause not long after that Mama started using. Started running though dealers the way Jason ran through books.

Once, when Jason was trying to make her eat while high, she had grabbed his face, pupils huge in her eyes, and whispered, “Forest child, doesn’t it hurt? To be surrounded by cold iron?”

And then she laughed and laughed and laughed until Jason left her and her food and curled up to sleep in the closet.

Things got worse and harder and different after Mama died. Daddy was back in prison and none of the gangsters would mess with him but none of the street kids would let him stay with them either. The different was too different. It made people flinch, made them nervous. So Jason kept to himself, sold tires and scrap and whatever looked kinda pawn-able for food and second-hand clothes and socks.

And then Batman found him. And if Batman noticed the different he didn’t react, or maybe Batman was already so different that he didn’t notice Jason’s different.

But maybe he did.

So Jason kept his different inside, didn’t let it out the way he used to with Mama. Or only sometimes, once Bruce made him Robin.

Jason hid his different, and the way he was too big and too small and too much and too different. Only let it out when in fights or alone in his room. Because Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Babs; they didn’t flinch when they looked at him. He would do anything to make sure they didn’t stop looking at him like they wanted him around.

But Jason got older, and he got more different, and he didn’t stop hiding how different he was.

And then Dick was off planet and Babs was busy and Bruce- Bruce benched him. Bruce took Robin away from him, and- and Robin was- Robin was life! Robin was flying and fighting and helping and Robin was the only time Jason could be different without anyone noticing and getting hurt! Or scared!

He tried to keep it down, tried to keep the different tucked in tight to his bones. But he was so different and it was so hard and- And he wanted someone who wouldn’t care if he was different.

He wanted Mama.

———

Jason knew it was stupid to go back to the shitty apartment building they’d lived in. There wasn’t any way that it wasn’t being rented out to someone else. There wouldn’t be anything of the life he’d lived with Catherine here, but he couldn’t help but hope.

“Jason? Jason Todd?”

It was Mrs Walker, who used to push her kids behind her when she saw him but would also knock and leave leftovers for him to find on their door step. Scared of him but, kind. She smiled sadly, not quite looking at him. She gave him what she’d saved, Mrs Walker at least hadn’t changed. Still scared of him, still kind.

Tucked safely in his room, Jason slowly went through the box. Most of it was junk, old report cards and paperwork, not anything anyone still alive needed. A family photo, a tiny Jason cradled in Catherine’s lap with Willis standing behind her. And- And his birth certificate.

His birth certificate that did not say Catherine Todd was his mother.

———

Jason wasn’t stupid, he knew that blood wasn’t everything. Before the drugs Mama had been his Mama, had loved him even when he was different.

But.

But he couldn’t help but hope, couldn’t help but want this new mother. This blood mother to love him. To look at him, different and all, and not flinch. To love him anyway.

So he went, to Israel. To Lebanon. To Ethiopia.

Sheila Haywood didn’t flinch, she’d been surprised but she’d smiled. Told him about Willis, explained why she hadn’t been around.

Maybe. Maybe she was safe, to be different around.

———

And then the Joker.

———

Jason gasps awake, gags on blood and bile.

It figures, he thinks, the one time I want someone to flinch. They don’t.

“You’re awake.”

It’s Mom, Sheila. Tied to a support pillar, cheek and swollen and bruised. Her eyes look strange.

“I’ll-“ He swallowed thickly, “I’ll get you out Mom.”

“There’s a bomb.” She said it casually, like she didn’t care. Jason dragged his hurting, bleeding body towards her. Reached out broken hands to untie her.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her voice was sharp and mean.

“M-Mom-“

“I am not, your mother. You are a foul little monster. A disgusting creature that- that steals real children and then pretends to be them. This? This suffering and death? It’s what you are. What you bring. And what you deserve.”

Jason flinched, tried to swallow back the tears, couldn’t.

“P-Please- just let me-“

“I woke up and I knew,” Sheila’s eyes were cold and cruel, Jason didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. She said it anyway. “I knew you weren’t my son! Something happened, something took my son away and left me you. I couldn’t.”

Sheila shook her head, eyes haunted, “I couldn’t even look at you, not without seeing all the ways you weren’t my Jason, so I left you with Willis. And I never found my Jason again.”

Tick. Tock. Went the bomb.

“But at least,” Sheila sighed.

Tick. Tock.

“I’ll finally,”

Tick.

“See him again.”

Tock.

[luulapants]

25 ways to be a little more punk in 2025

Cut fast fashion - buy used, learn to mend and/or make your own clothes, buy fewer clothes less often so you can save up for ethically made quality

Cancel subscriptions - relearn how to pirate media, spend $10/month buying a digital album from a small artist instead of on Spotify, stream on free services since the paid ones make you watch ads anyway

Green your community - there's lots of ways to do this, like seedbombing or joining a community garden or organizing neighborhood trash pickups

Be kind - stop to give directions, check on stopped cars, smile at kids, let people cut you in line, offer to get stuff off the high shelf, hold the door, ask people if they're okay

Intervene - learn bystander intervention techniques and be prepared to use them, even if it feels awkward

Get closer to your food - grow it yourself, can and preserve it, buy from a farmstand, learn where it's from, go fishing, make it from scratch, learn a new ingredient

Use opensource software - try LibreOffice, try Reaper, learn Linux, use a free Photoshop clone. The next time an app tries to force you to pay, look to see if there's an opensource alternative

Make less trash - start a compost, be mindful of packaging, find another use for that plastic, make it a challenge for yourself!

Get involved in local politics - show up at meetings for city council, the zoning commission, the park district, school boards; fight the NIMBYs that always show up and force them to focus on the things impacting the most vulnerable folks in your community

DIY > fashion - shake off the obsession with pristine presentation that you've been taught! Cut your own hair, use homemade cosmetics, exchange mani/pedis with friends, make your own jewelry, duct tape those broken headphones!

Ditch Google - Chromium browsers (which is almost all of them) are now bloated spyware, and Google search sucks now, so why not finally make the jump to Firefox and another search like DuckDuckGo? Or put the Wikipedia app on your phone and look things up there?

Forage - learn about local edible plants and how to safely and sustainably harvest them or go find fruit trees and such accessible to the public.

Volunteer - every week tutoring at the library or once a month at the humane society or twice a year serving food at the soup kitchen, you can find something that matches your availability

Help your neighbors - which means you have to meet them first and find out how you can help (including your unhoused neighbors), like elderly or disabled folks that might need help with yardwork or who that escape artist dog belongs to or whether the police have been hassling people sleeping rough

Fix stuff - the next time something breaks (a small appliance, an electronic, a piece of furniture, etc.), see if you can figure out what's wrong with it, if there are tutorials on fixing it, or if you can order a replacement part from the manufacturer instead of trashing the whole thing

Mix up your transit - find out what's walkable, try biking instead of driving, try public transit and complain to the city if it sucks, take a train instead of a plane, start a carpool at work

Engage in the arts - go see a local play, check out an art gallery or a small museum, buy art from the farmer's market

Go to the library - to check out a book or a movie or a CD, to use the computers or the printer, to find out if they have other weird rentals like a seed library or luggage, to use meeting space, to file your taxes, to take a class, to ask question

Listen local - see what's happening at local music venues or other events where local musicians will be performing, stop for buskers, find a favorite artist, and support them

Buy local - it's less convenient than online shopping or going to a big box store that sells everything, but try buying what you can from small local shops in your area

Become unmarketable - there are a lot of ways you can disrupt your online marketing surveillance, including buying less, using decoy emails, deleting or removing permissions from apps that spy on you, checking your privacy settings, not clicking advertising links, and...

Use cash - go to the bank and take out cash instead of using your credit card or e-payment for everything! It's better on small businesses and it's untraceable

Give what you can - as capitalism churns on, normal shmucks have less and less, so think about what you can give (time, money, skills, space, stuff) and how it will make the most impact

Talk about wages - with your coworkers, with your friends, while unionizing! Stop thinking about wages as a measure of your worth and talk about whether or not the bosses are paying fairly for the labor they receive

Think about wealthflow - there are a thousand little mechanisms that corporations and billionaires use to capture wealth from the lower class: fees for transactions, interest, vendor platforms, subscriptions, and more. Start thinking about where your money goes, how and where it's getting captured and removed from our class, and where you have the ability to cut off the flow and pass cash directly to your fellow working class people

[girlwithrituals]

GLOW UP GUIDE FOR 2025⠀

READ: On average, it takes more than 2 months before a new behavior becomes automatic — 66 days to be exact. And considering that 2025 is precisely these many days away, why not start with our glow up plan already?

Physical Glow Up-

BODY

— 5-10K steps a day.

— 7-8 hours of sleep.

— workout everyday for 1 hr atleast- yoga/stretching/pilates/cardio/lifting weights. a workout may take one hour, but your mood will be boosted for the next 12 hours.

— posture training.

— sunlight exposure after waking up for at least 10 minutes.

NUTRITION

— 2-3 liters of water every day.

— limit your caffeine intake.

— avoid sugars as much as you can.

— high protein diet, pre and probiotics.

— more fruits and veggies (+ green smoothies if you like).

— no junk/processed food/trans fat.

— no eating after 8 pm.

SKINCARE

— be clear on your skin type (oily, dry, combination, sensitive).

— once you're clear, use these accordingly- cleanser, toner, targeted serum, eye cream, moisturizer, sunscreen (≥50 spf).

— keep your bedding clean as well.

— no picking of skin on your lips, cuticle etc.

— gua sha to help improve blood circulation and lessen toxins.

— cold therapy may take three to five minutes of being uncomfortable, but your energy levels will be boosted for the rest of the day.

— remove makeup before you go to bed.

BODY CARE

— shower every day.

— exfoliate 2x a week.

— use body lotion (shea butter/aloe vera gel/coconut oil).

HAIR CARE

— wash hair 2-3x a week

— oil your scalp 2x a week, at least 3 hours before shampoo.

— hair mask 1x per week.

— never brush wet hair.

— use silk pillow case.

HYGIENE

— brush your teeth 2x a day, clean tongue and the roof of the mouth daily.

— floss daily.

— cut your nails 1x a week, never remove the cuticles.

— glycolic acid under arm for odor and discoloration.

— never use soap on your coochie.

Mental Glow Up-

MINDSET

— set clear goals- define and breakdown your aspirations.

— start your mornings with positive affirmations.

— surround yourself with uplifting content and people.

— be shamelessly selfish to your career and mental health, remove anyone or anything that doesn't align with your priorities and wellbeing.

— boost your brain health by these 4 neuroscience tools:

difficult first: start your day with the most difficult task (cortisol and dopamine are high in the body meaning that your body/mind is primed to work).

rest your eyes: introduce a micro-pause after learning by resting/closing your eyes - will help retain information better.

tomorrow's worries: write tomorrow's to-do list before bed as it is proven to be effective in helping you fall asleep.

find time to play: engage in low-stake play. can be anything you find fun but where the outcome doesn't matter (induces neuroplasticity + reduces stress).

MIND

— meditation might take as low as ten minutes, but your focus will be improved for the rest of the day.

— no social media after waking up and at least an hour before bed.

— keep aside 1 hr of time to read daily! reading a new book may take five hours, but you will keep the knowledge forever.

— journaling, gratitude.

— digital detox once a week or for 12 hours.

— limit unnecessary screentime, unfollow or cut off people you don't want to see.

JOURNALING

— choose a regular time each day to journal, making it a part of your routine.

— find a quiet, comfortable place free from distractions. light a candle if you want.

— allow your thoughts to flow without censoring or editing.

— write about your feelings and emotions to understand them better. write about things you are thankful for to boost your mood. write about your short-term and long-term goals. identify what triggers certain emotions or reactions

— set a timer for 5-10 minutes and write continuously during that time.

— reflect on both positive experiences and challenges.

— make lists, journal your thoughts on these questions.

— journal at night to clear your mind before bedtime, because emotions and thoughts lose their power once we acknowledge them.

— a gratitude practice may take five minutes, but your mindset will be shifted for the rest of the day.

AFFIRMATIONS

— customise affirmations to your needs.

Personal Life-

WEEKLY TASKS

— initiate small changes: begin with small, manageable tasks such as making your bed or cleaning your room every sunday.

— celebrate your success: reward yourself when you achieve your goals or have a consistently productive week. consider treats like buying flowers for yourself or watching your favorite show.

DAILY WORK

— set achievable goals: establish realistic goals for the day, week, or month ahead.

— track your progress.

— organise your work space, declutter your shelves etc.

— embrace the power of lists: keep a list of tasks to be done and their deadlines. this way, you start each day with a clear plan. to make it visually appealing and motivating, consider using productivity apps like evernote, habit tracker, or notion.

PRODUCTIVITY TIPS

— wake up early.

— plan ahead everything, do scheduling. you can use:

google calendar / notion / tasks .

— if the task takes less than 2 minutes to finish, do it immediately.

— countdown rule, if you are procrastinating, count 1-2-3-4-5 and jump.

— start slow, don't rush and try to do everything at one time.

— follow a proper routine, use app locks based on screentime.

— pomodoro technique, 25 min work, and 5 min break.

— schedule longer break times as well e.g 30 min nap.

[infamous-if]

May 2025

Happy May! It's my favorite month because it's my birthday month and I'm one of those annoying people who treat their birthday like it's a national holiday (sorry)(yes im a gemini). I'm turning MC's age (26) so that's cool. I will now be auditioning for a big reality tv show pls watch out for it and vote for me.

I am CONFIDENT chatper 4 will be done in may. It's written. I just had a lot of logistical things i needed to work out. Plus I made a mistake in the earlier chapters that i didnt realize about until it came to bite me while writing this chapter (i fixed it). I have been doing a lot of moving around and even had to move my outline around—the same outline i barely rearrange—in preparation for the upcoming chapters. I've kinda been all over the place with this chapter because now things are happening. like actual things. real things. and im trying to prepare myself so im not a mess later. (ive learned from past experience). There are some things in chapter 4 that don't see a solution until later and it has me screaming. (i like instant gratification and this is the opposite of that)

But it is my favorite chapter. I'm really happy with how it turned out.

Something happens in this chapter that can go many ways which is why this chapter feels longer. Not only because of the Challenge but because of how this Challenge pans out. I think what this character and this week does will surprise some, maybe not others. But I'm excited to see the reactions of *that* anyway. heh.

I realized with every update the stats are my biggest problem and i realized it's because they don't feel like they're representing what i want them to represent. personality stats being measured in the story and will still influence flavor text so that hasn't changed but i've reworked the stat page to hone in on what truly matters in the story. for example, i made the attached/detached stat visible in the "band" part of the stat page. I've also added a Castmate/Competitor stat that ive always measured but i've renamed it and made it visible. That felt like something I didn't want to keep hidden. Stuff like that. You'll see it in the next update. All of this in preparation for the rest of the story.

This sounds like a huge change but it's not haha. I've just streamlined it so it better suits the story.

Yeah! This, like the other chapters, is a biggun. But I'm happy and proud of myself.

I've been asked again and i want to reiterate that patreon gets everything first, band tier and then fan tier and then to the public. The Seven POV should be up tomorrow.

Thanks guys! Can't wait to release Chapter 4 :)

[salemlunaa]

ᥫ᭡∘˚That extra push for pure consciousness ᥫ᭡∘˚

The secret to being victorious like those with the success stories…

∘˚ᥫ᭡PART I | THE VICTORIOUS

Now that it’s 2025 a lot of you have had enough, although time is a concept you’re a little mad at the fact that you didn’t induce pure consciousness last year and you’re NOT taking no for an answer this time around.

Now when we look at this community. Amidst the complaining and some negativity, there are so many success stories, those who were victorious.

Those who went to bed with a body they hated and woke up with their desired look. Those who went to bed in a one bedroom apartment and woke up in a mansion. Those who went to bed hating their family and friends and woke up with their desired relationships with their desired people. Those who went to bed with nothing to their name and woke up with a fat ass bank account.

Those who with their backs against the wall and their outer man experiencing the most treacherous of circumstances made it out of the trenches with one induction of pure consciousness.

You wanna know how to get there. Spoiler alert: you ARE there

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART II | THE LINK BETWEEN THEM ALL

Before you will ever follow the path of being successful, you must realise what they all had in common.

They realise they that all this complaining was doing nothing for them. They decided that in that moment they had their dream life, no matter what they saw, they were a master at inducing pure consciousness. No matter what the 3D showed their outer man, their inner man was victorious.

No more reaffirming failures, no more revelling in the fact that they fell asleep while trying a few times. No more doomscrolling. No more looking at others success stories wondering when it was gonna be them when it could be them NOW.

They realised it was time for them to adopt a new mindset: That the state of pure consciousness is just first nature to them. That they are gods no matter what. That as god, the 3D and time doesn’t exist to them, nope! not real anymore. That circumstances weren’t a thing anymore. That the void state is the easiest thing a person can induce. That pressuring themselves for a timecrunch is pointless because their inner man doesn’t experience time and they get everything they want instantly. That pure consciousness is just a state consciousness that is something as effortless as being in the state of awake and the state of asleep.

It doesn’t take long to flip your thoughts. So many people with success stories have said so many times that if they knew how easy it all was, they would’ve done it sooner. Challenges are nice but you don’t need to spend weeks on them, never did never will.

∘˚ᥫ᭡ PART III | THE APPLICATION

Another thing they did was fucking apply. You’re tired of hearing that? great! because bloggers are SO tired of repeating it.

Yes failure and procrastination can be comforting. This is a great community, but don't stay here longer than you need to. And yes memes about how you "woke up in your cr again 🙄" and how little time you actually spend trying to shift awareness can be funny and relatable. But those who have success stories under their belts had to choose between comfort, relatability + aesthetically pleasing scripts and actually living their dream life. And to be victorious you must make that choice too.

So go do it, stop this dumbass belief that you are exempt from the success of inducing pure consciousness. Yes, you are the operant power and your reality relies on you and you alone, HOWEVER, if so many can do it, it's evidence that you can too. No more looking at those success stories for motivation or looking at them in jealousy when that can be you now.

To be victorious you must think like them. Believe you are successful and you will be. No you’re not “faking it till you make it” YOU ARE SUCCESSFUL. you ARE one of them.

Believe and assume like a victor and you will be one, the 3D will always conform. That’s law.

🍦🩰 To be victorious like the others, you must believe it now.

[cressidagrey]

Off the Record

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Lara Rosberg (Original Character)

Summary:

Lara Rosberg is F1’s answer to Amal Clooney and (unfortunately) Nico Rosberg’s little sister. Lewis Hamilton is a seven-time- world champion and (unfortunately) the guy Lara’s brother has sworn to never forgive. 

Lara and Lewis have also been secretly dating for nearly two years, which was going perfectly fine… until a single grainy photo sets off a media firestorm and sends Nico into a full public meltdown.

Warnings and Notes: 

Welcome to the thing that stopped me from writing anything else until it was done.

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

📸 Instagram Post — @/f1gossipzone

Comments: 

@/f1teaaccount: can we talk about how good she looks tho?? mysterious blonde doing it right

@/gridwivesanonymous: 2025 drama already heating up and it’s only March 😭🔥

@/gridtea: that “mysterious blonde” is giving very Lara Rosberg energy 👀

↳@/f1girliesunite: wait. WAIT. is that NICO ROSBERG’S SISTER???

@/drs_daddies: 😭 not the Rosberg-Hamilton peace talks happening over risotto

↳@/f1memesdaily: someone please check on Nico

@/rosbergstan: That’s definitely Lara. She was wearing that jacket in her cousin’s birthday pics last week.

↳@/f1stanbby: wait WAIT—like Nico Rosberg’s sister???

↳@/carlando_supremacy: WAIT WAIT WAIT. NICO’S sister??? 😭

↳@/hamiltonnation44: you’re telling me lewis hamilton is dating his archrival’s little sister???

↳@/beigeinteriorsofthegrid: does this mean Lewis is gonna be part of the Rosberg family Christmas chaos because I need that

@/f1teaqueen: wait… is that… Lara Rosberg???

↳@/leclercslens: THE LARA ROSBERG???

↳@/gossipgasly: not nico’s little sister and lewis in one frame, i’m gonna SCREAM

@/mercedesmemes: they said enemies to lovers but made it real life

↳@/hamiltonheartclub: no bc they look good together why am i invested

↳@/softlaunchcentral: not a Rosberg-Hamilton alliance in 2025 I wasn't ready

@/f1dramasociety: Hamilton really said “let’s keep it in the family” 💀💀💀

↳@/nrosbergfan89: someone tell Nico before he combusts on main

@/f1drama_daily: NO WAY. LARA ROSBERG AND LEWIS HAMILTON???? THIS IS 2016 FANFIC REALNESS

↳@/paddockcryptid: imagine nico finding out like this 😭

@/nicorosberg: Are you joking.

@/nicorosberg: That’s not a “mysterious blonde,” that’s my sister.

@/nicorosberg: Tell me this is edited.

@/nicorosberg: You’ve got to be kidding me.

@/nicorosberg: This is some kind of weird angle. That’s not who I think it is.

@/nicorosberg: NOPE. No way. Absolutely not.

@/nicorosberg: Why would LARA be out with him?? WHY??

@/nrosberg: IS THIS FROM LAST NIGHT OR IS THIS OLD?? 

@/nrosberg: ANSWER ME.

@/gridgirlboss: the way Nico is unraveling in the comments 💀

@/tifosiwifey: Lara Rosberg dating LEWIS HAMILTON wasn’t on my 2025 bingo card

@/dramatictifosi: “mysterious blonde woman” PLEASE she has a surname. A FAMOUS one.

@/rosbergstan: this is worse than Abu Dhabi 2016 for Nico I fear

@/itsgivingiconic: Nico said “not on my watch” and proceeded to detonate in public

@/dts_demons: can Netflix film the Rosberg-Hamilton family summit please

@/mclarens_mistress: max is gonna hear about this and scream laughing

@/charlesleclurrrr: nico going through the five stages of grief in real time 💀

@/notdanielricciardo: someone check on him before he challenges lewis to a duel

@/f1gossipgirlxoxo: confirmed: mysterious blonde is Lara Rosberg ✅

@/beigeprada: this is so Shakespearean. forbidden dinner. dramatic brother. the collapse of peace

@/hamilover44: if they’re dating i need them on the cover of vogue immediately

@/mclolaren: the secondhand anxiety I’m getting from nico’s comment spree is unmatched

@/tiredeprgirl: and just like that, the Monaco group chats are in flames

***

Vivian Rosberg had just finished tucking their youngest into bed—nightlight on, water glass full, lullaby playlist playing something suspiciously emotional about moonlight—when she padded back downstairs, fully expecting a moment of peace and perhaps a glass of wine.

She’d been gone ten minutes. Twelve, tops.

And in that time, apparently, the apocalypse had unfolded in their living room.

“Nico?” she called, rounding the corner.

There he was—half-on, half-off the couch like a man possessed. His phone gripped in one hand, stress ball in the other, jaw clenched, foot tapping, eyes darting across the screen like he was preparing to launch a full-scale military op via Instagram.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice already tinged with dread. “Nico?”

He looked up. Wild-eyed. Sweaty. Dramatic.

“It’s Lara,” he said, like it was code for imminent disaster.

Vivian’s stomach dropped. “What happened? Is she okay?”

He wordlessly flipped the phone toward her. She squinted.

A blurry pap shot. Lewis. Lara. Laughing. Her head tilted toward him, his hand on the car door. Caption: Mysterious Blonde. The comments? Screaming. And smack in the middle: Nico Rosberg. Multiple times. In ALL CAPS.

Her brow rose slowly. “You commented nine times?”

“She was on a date,” Nico burst out, leaping to his feet. “With Lewis Hamilton. Lewis. As in: my former teammate-slash-rival-slash-walking ego complex!”

Vivian took a very slow sip of her wine. “Maybe they just had dinner.”

“They don’t look like just dinner!” he gestured at the photo like it physically hurt him. “They look like… like a rom-com poster! She’s laughing. He’s opening the door. There’s eye contact, Viv!”

Vivian squinted again. “I don’t know. Could be a really good punchline.”

He started pacing. “I have to go over there. Right now. Before she does something she can’t undo. Like fall in love with him.”

Vivian nearly choked on her wine. “What?”

“I’m serious. She’s clearly emotionally compromised. I need to speak to her before it’s too late.”

“Nico,” she said sharply, “you are not going to storm her apartment like she’s fifteen and you caught her kissing a boy behind the go-kart trailer.”

“I’m just going to talk to her.”

“You’re going to yell at her.”

“I won’t!”

“You will,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ll yell, she’ll cry, Lewis will emerge from somewhere shirtless and smug, and I’ll have to spend the entire night repairing your sibling relationship and your blood pressure.”

He faltered.

Vivian stepped closer, her voice softer now. “She’s an adult. A brilliant, terrifying, completely capable adult. And if this is real—if something’s going on—don’t you want her to tell you because she wants to, not because you showed up with steam coming out of your ears?”

Nico deflated like a balloon. “I just… I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s not the one blowing up the internet right now,” Vivian said gently. “You are.”

He stared at the floor. Then the couch. Then the photo again. His fingers twitched like he still wanted to go—but didn’t quite need to anymore.

Vivian reached out, took his phone, and calmly locked it.

“Nico.”

He looked up.

“Sit down,” she said, already turning toward the kitchen. “And if you even think about driving to her place, I will call Toto and tell him you’re having a full emotional crisis over a blurry dinner photo.”

He sat.

But not without muttering, “It wasn’t that blurry.”

***

📚🌍 user: f1filesanonymous [DEEP DIVE] Who Is Lara Rosberg, and Why Is She Basically F1’s Amal Clooney? …and why has she just casually been on the arm of Lewis Hamilton this whole time like it’s NBD???

Okay so you may have seen THOSE photos of Lewis Hamilton leaving a Monaco restaurant with a stunning blonde woman who is clearly trying not to be recognized and failing spectacularly because—surprise!—that “mystery woman” is Lara Rosberg, and she is not new here.

She’s just been quietly running laps around us all for years.

🧾 BASIC PROFILE:

Name: Lara Marie Rosberg Age: 35 Profession: International environmental lawyer, policy advisor, human weapon in heels Known for: — Suing actual oil giants — Getting called “a necessary force of disruption” by the UN Climate Chair — Being the only person alive who can make Nico Rosberg shut up with just a look

👩🏻‍⚖️✨ SO WHO IS SHE?

Nico Rosberg’s younger sister

Studied at Oxford, then took a research fellowship in The Hague

Wrote an article on international water rights that got published in a UN journal before she was 25.

Interned with the UN Environmental Programme 

co-founded Rosberg & Bauman, a high-profile legal firm specializing in climate litigation and international law

Has been quietly advising multiple EU climate initiatives. Probably helped write half the green policies we tweet about and never read.

She’s essentially Amal Clooney for motorsport and climate reform, but with slightly messier buns and a terrifyingly dry wit.

Media Moments You Probably Missed:

2020: led a case that blocked a billion-euro fossil fuel infrastructure project in North Africa.

Gave a TED Talk in 2021 titled “Legal Leverage: Holding Polluters Accountable” that made half the oil industry visibly sweat

2022: Appears at FIA’s sustainability roundtable looking elegant and terrifyingly competent in a black suit. Spoke once. Killed the room.

2023: Profiled in Die Zeit for her work helping establish carbon accountability standards in multi-national litigation. Interview included the quote: “Motorsport is a spectacle. My work is a responsibility.” Everyone on Lawyer Tumblr melted.

🎓 THAT OXFORD MOMENT THOUGH:

The last public sibling appearance was in 2024 when she joined Nico at a Rosberg Ventures panel at Oxford.

Here’s what happened:

Nico gave a 12-minute talk about green tech.

Lara stood politely next to him in a grey silk blouse and minimal makeup.

The Q&A began.

It spiraled.

By the third question, law students were exclusively addressing Lara. Topics included:

The legality of carbon offset schemes

Her thoughts on climate reparations

Whether she preferred the European or Canadian legal frameworks for prosecuting ecocide

If she would consider mentoring

And—direct quote—“How does one become you without selling their soul to McKinsey first?”

Nico, to his credit, took it well. Kind of.

📸 Now About the Photos…

This week, Lara and Lewis were spotted leaving a private dinner in Monte Carlo.

No visible PDA. No statements.

But the vibes were LOUD.

Her laughing, him opening the car door, same vehicle—this is not “just friends and quinoa.”

⚖️ Important to Note:

Lara has always been incredibly private. She avoids PR events unless it’s climate-related, and she has zero public relationship history—despite being, and I quote, “absurdly beautiful in a terrifying EU commissioner sort of way.”

This is likely why the fandom is spiraling and the gossip accounts are eating their microphones.

📝 Conclusion:

Lara Rosberg is what happens when you cross elite academia with Monaco lineage, give her a law degree, an international caseload, and one (1) deeply chaotic brother.

She’s elegant, brilliant, unbothered by fame, and apparently—if the latest photos are to be believed—Lewis Hamilton’s dinner date.

And honestly? As a couple? It’s giving world peace. It’s giving intellectual dominance. It’s giving “He calls her Counselor and means it.”

***

Text Messages — Vivian Rosberg → Lara Rosberg

Vivian Hey. You might want to turn your phone off for the night. Your brother is currently pacing the living room like he’s prepping for a title decider.

Vivian Did you have dinner with Lewis?

Vivian I told him you’re probably just friends. He’s choosing to believe that. Please don’t prove me a liar before sunrise.

Vivian Text me when you’re awake. And maybe warn Lewis if he’s in Monaco. Nico’s dangerously close to printing flyers.

***

Text Messages —  Nico Rosberg → Lara Rosberg

Nico Lara. LARA. Are you kidding me??

Nico Tell me this is a joke. Tell me that’s not you in those pictures. Tell me you have a TWIN I don’t know about.

Nico I SWEAR TO GOD. LEWIS???

Nico Answer your phone. ANSWER. YOUR. PHONE.

 Nico: I SAW THE POST. Don’t even TRY to act like that wasn’t you.

 Nico:  Are you DATING him??? Are you out of your ACTUAL MIND???

 Nico: Call me. NOW.

 Nico: I’m not kidding. This is not a “haha oops paparazzi” moment. This is LEWIS. LEWIS HAMILTON, LARA.

 Nico: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW????

 Nico: I FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS THROUGH A GOSSIP ACCOUNT. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND????

 Nico: Was that a DATE??? Are you DATING HIM?? Why is he TOUCHING YOU????

Nico: Why is he LAUGHING WITH YOU?? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING WITH HIM???

 Nico: I feel ill.

NICO: Are you INSANE? Have you lost your mind? Did he hypnotize you? Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.

NICO: Why didn’t you tell me? Wait—how long has this been going on? NO. I don’t want to know. YES I DO. TELL ME.

NICO: Are you DATING him or was this just dinner? Be honest. Because you’re smiling in that photo like you’re in love.

NICO: I cannot believe this. My archrival. My nemesis. The man who once parked half an inch too close to me in the garage in 2015.

 Nico: You know what this is? This is betrayal. Family betrayal.

***

Voicemail Transcriptions:

[Voice Note 1] “Okay. Look. I’m going to be calm. I’m going to be respectful. I’m just asking. Are you—ARE YOU SERIOUSLY DATING LEWIS HAMILTON?! Because I—sorry, no. I’m not calm.”

[Voice Note 2] “What happened to standards? What happened to self-preservation?! I taught you how to ride a bike! I protected you from jellyfish! And this is how you repay me?!”

[Voice Note 3] “I saw the way he looked at you in that photo, okay? I’ve been looked at by Lewis Hamilton. That’s not just dinner. That’s strategic affection!”

[Voice Note 4] “I just—Lara. You had dinner with Lewis Hamilton. You had dinner with Lewis Hamilton and you didn’t tell me and now the internet knows and I’M COMMENTING UNDER A GOSSIP ACCOUNT LIKE A TEENAGER—”

[Voice Note 5] “This is fine. I’m fine. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe you were… helping him understand nutrition. I don’t know what you do anymore.”

[Voice Note 6] “You are grounded, by the way. I don’t care that you’re an adult. Grounded.”

[Voice Note 7]

 “Vivian is telling me to calm down but she doesn’t understand what this means. This is like…this is like if I just casually showed up married to Sebastian Vettel and didn’t warn anyone. Which I wouldn’t do. Because I HAVE MANNERS.”

[Voice Note 8]

 “Okay, I just think it’s funny—no, you know what? It’s not funny. It’s absolutely deranged. Of all the people in the entire paddock, you go out with Lewis bloody Hamilton. The man who once called me ‘calculating’ like it was an insult. LARA. I—I'm not even mad, I’m just—NO, I am mad. Call me back.”

[Voice Note 9]

 “I’m coming over. No, Vivian says I can’t. But I will. I will climb your balcony if I have to. I know your security code. Actually, you changed it, didn’t you? Was that because of him?!”

**

LARA’S PHONE – 07:12 AM

Missed Calls (16) – Nico Rosberg New Voice Messages (9) Unread Texts (19)

***

Sunlight sliced in through the edge of the blackout curtains, soft and golden as it spilled lazily across the rumpled white sheets. The apartment was quiet. Peaceful. That rare kind of stillness that made it easy to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Lara stirred beneath the covers, warm and content, tangled in one of Lewis’s oversized T-shirts. For a few precious seconds, everything was calm. Safe.

Then her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

She groaned, blindly reaching for it, eyes barely open as she fumbled with the screen.

Her breath caught.

Missed Calls (16) – Nico Rosberg New Voice Messages (9) Unread Texts (19) 1 from Vivian Instagram: You’ve been tagged in 56 new photos

She blinked. Then blinked again.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Beside her, Lewis hummed sleepily, still curled under the covers. “What?”

Lara didn’t answer right away. She just held her phone up, screen angled toward him.

“He knows.”

Lewis rubbed at his eyes and took the phone from her hand. His eyebrows rose as he started scrolling.

“My archrival. My nemesis. The man who once parked half an inch too close to me in the garage in 2015,” he muttered. “Wow. I forgot how theatrical he gets.”

“I didn’t.” Lara collapsed back onto the pillows with a groan. “I was really hoping we had one more week of peace.”

Lewis swiped through the notifications and found it—the photo. A grainy shot of them outside the restaurant. Her head tilted back in laughter. Lewis mid-smile, hand on the car door. The moment looked effortless. Intimate.

He turned the phone toward her. “We look good.”

She shot him a glare. “Lewis.”

He smirked, still half-asleep. “Sorry.”

“We were careful,” she muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “We used the back entrance. We didn’t even kiss. I didn’t even touch you.”

“You smiled at me like I invented light.”

She threw a pillow at him. “You smiled first.”

He caught it easily and shrugged. “You were the one who wanted to keep it a secret.”

Lara turned to look at him, eyes sharp. “Did you want to come to Rosberg family dinners?”

Lewis winced.

“Yeah,” she snapped, “I didn’t think so.”

She exhaled hard and dropped back onto the mattress. “God. He’s going to go full 2016. Vivian’s probably hiding his passport as we speak.”

Lewis hesitated before speaking again. “We are going to have to tell him eventually.”

“Define eventually,” she groaned into the pillow.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for her, palm brushing gently along her side, resting just over the soft swell of her stomach. Barely showing. But not for long.

“You’re going to start showing any day now, Lara,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting you hide.”

She closed her eyes. Her voice came quieter. “I’m not trying to hide.”

“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I just want to be allowed to love you out loud.”

Her throat tightened. She reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, grounding herself in him.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just… maybe give him a decaf tea and ten hours of sleep before we break the news?”

Lewis grinned. “So… no baby announcement via Ferrari Instagram post?”

“Don’t you dare.”

***

Lara startled, barefoot in the kitchen, a mug of tea halfway to her mouth. Her phone, resting on the counter, lit up again—more messages from Nico, one from Vivian, and at least six from various overinvested cousins.

She froze.

Then she heard it.

Banging.

“LARA! Open the door. I know you’re home!”

Her eyes went wide.

“Oh no.”

From behind her, Lewis appeared in the hallway, shirtless, towel slung around his neck. He looked unbothered. Warm. Glowing.

She hated him just a little for it.

“That sounds like Nico,” he said mildly.

“I know.”

“He’s here?”

“I know,” she hissed, voice rising with every syllable.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “So… are we telling him?”

Lara spun to face him, panicked. “No.”

The banging continued. Louder.

“LARA. I’M NOT KIDDING. I SWEAR, IF HE’S IN THERE—”

She spun on her heel, threw open the hallway closet.

Lewis stared at her. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not. Closet. Now.”

“Lara, come on.”

“Do you want to be murdered by a man who still hasn’t emotionally processed Abu Dhabi 2016?”

He blinked.

“Closet, Lewis!”

He looked at her like he might argue—just for a second. Then he saw the full extent of her panic and swore under his breath before stepping toward the closet.

“I am a seven-time world champion,” he muttered, ducking inside, “and I’m hiding in your linen closet.”

Lara grabbed the door handle.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he added darkly.

She shut the door in his face with a soft click. Then inhaled deeply, set her mug down with trembling hands, and marched toward the front door like a woman preparing for war.

Because Nico? Nico was banging on the door like he absolutely intended to blow her life apart.

She barely got the handle turned before the door flew open, Nico barreling inside like a man on fire.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening online?!” he demanded. “You’re trending. I’m trending! Vivian had to turn off comments on our wedding anniversary post because people think Lewis is now my brother-in-law! Is he here?!”

“Nico—” she tried, but he was already pacing.

“—and to make it worse, you lied to me! You said you were with friends! You said girls night!”

“It was just a friendly dinner,” she said, wildly flustered, stepping in front of him like she could physically block the chaos.

“With Lewis Hamilton?” Nico let out a laugh that sounded half-deranged. “Do you remember 2016? Do you remember what I went through? The psychological warfare?”

Lara pressed her palms together. “Yes! We’ve known each other for years. We talk sometimes. It’s not a big deal. We’re just friends.”

From down the hallway, behind the closed linen closet door— A faint, unmistakable sneeze.

She froze. Nico blinked.

“…Was that—?”

“The pipes,” she said too quickly. “It’s an old building.”

Nico frowned. “You live in a penthouse.”

She didn’t blink. “You are being insane, Nico. We’re not dating. Okay? We are not romantically involved.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then Nico sighed, shoulders deflating slightly.

“…Okay,” he said, though his tone was still edged with suspicion. “Okay. I just—Viv said maybe it was just dinner and I wanted to believe her but the comments were insane and I was spiraling and—”

“I know,” Lara said, voice softening. “It’s okay.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, visibly exhausted. “You’d tell me if something was going on, right?”

Her stomach twisted.

She nodded slowly, resting one hand—casually, carefully—over her still-flat abdomen. Then she smiled and lied, smooth as glass.

“Of course I would.”

Nico exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry for freaking out. I just—he’s Lewis. You know how I feel about Lewis.”

Lara managed a tense smile. “You’ve mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“I just needed to see for myself that you’re not, you know… caught in some post-midnight Hamilton mind control scheme.”

“I’m good, Nico,” she said gently. “Promise.”

He nodded again, slower this time, reluctant but settling. “Okay. I’ll go. Vivian says if I show up without flowers and an apology she’s changing all the Wi-Fi passwords.”

Lara huffed out a quiet laugh, just barely.

Nico pulled her into a quick hug, kissed her forehead like he’d done since they were kids, and walked out with one last suspicious glance toward the hallway.

She waited until the door clicked shut and the lock turned.

Silence.

Then she pressed her back against the wall and exhaled so hard it nearly rattled the windows.

From the hallway closet came a muffled voice.

“Can I come out now, or do I need to wait for the emotional fallout round two?”

Lara didn’t answer. She just collapsed onto the couch and let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled sob, muffled by the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

A few seconds later, Lewis stepped cautiously into the room. Barefoot, rumpled, he looked like a man recently freed from captivity—and mildly offended by the experience.

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you okay?”

Lara lifted her head slowly, resting her cheek against the arm of the couch. Her voice was flat. “Nico showed up unannounced. You had to hide in a closet. I lied to my brother’s face. I’m pregnant. And the father of my unborn child just sneezed in a linen shelf like it was a hostage bunker.”

Lewis raised his hands. “Technically, it was a very well-organized linen shelf.”

She dropped her head back down and flopped dramatically onto her side, arm over her face. “I can’t do this.”

Lewis crossed the room and knelt beside her, hands braced on the edge of the couch. “You are doing this,” he said gently. “You’re just… doing it with flair.”

“I’m going to be showing in, like, two weeks,” she muttered into the pillow. “There is not a single baggy sweatshirt on earth that’s going to save me from Rosberg family chaos when I turn up glowing and hormonal.”

He laughed softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered.

“Then we stop hiding,” he said. “He’ll survive. Eventually.”

Lara groaned again, dragging the pillow over her face. “Will I survive?”

“Barely,” Lewis said, deadpan. “But I’ll keep you stocked in chocolate and foot rubs.”

“Even when I’m mood-swinging like a possessed Victorian ghost?”

He smiled. “Especially then.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with something dangerously close to a smile.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the chaos of the morning finally settling into something quieter. Her breathing slowed. His hand rested gently on her calf.

Then she murmured, almost to herself, “We’re going to have to tell him soon.”

Lewis nodded. “You ready?”

She turned her head and looked at him with the kind of expression only a woman who had recently shoved the most decorated driver in F1 history into a closet could manage.

“I just shoved you in a closet,” she said. “Take a guess.”

***

The office was quiet. Sleek. Clinical.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, sunlight dappling across the glass table by the door. But Lara hadn’t looked at it once.

She sat rigid at her desk, spine straight despite the fatigue pulling at her limbs. Her hair was twisted into a tight bun, her dark blazer buttoned neatly over a flowing cream blouse that had started to feel uncomfortably snug across her midsection. A stack of contracts lay open in front of her—thick paper, heavy with redlining—but she’d read the same paragraph four times without taking in a single word.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her water.

Still nothing in her stomach. No appetite. The nausea had been worse this morning, coiling low in her gut and rising bitter in her throat. And on top of that, she was still reeling from the full-body stress event known as The Nico Incident—Lewis in the closet, her brother losing his mind in the hallway, and the quiet guilt that had settled in after like a slow bleed.

She blinked hard. Rubbed at her temple.

The words on the contract blurred again.

“Paul,” she called, her voice thin and strained.

She hadn’t even finished saying his name before her office door opened.

Paul stepped inside with the precision of a man who had absolutely expected this. Sharp suit, smart glasses, and the kind of unflinching judgment only earned after five years of managing Lara Rosberg’s chaos with military efficiency.

“I knew you skipped breakfast,” he said, striding across the room. He set a protein bar and a bottle of green pressed juice on her desk with a decisive thud. “Again. This baby’s going to come out demanding better scheduling and proper prenatal vitamins.”

Lara managed a ghost of a smile. “You’re dramatic.”

Paul arched a brow at her. “I’m observant.”

She nodded faintly, reaching for the juice without drinking it. “Reschedule the ten a.m. with Duval. I’ll take the Thompson brief in here.”

“Already done,” he said, folding his arms. “And I brought ginger biscuits, a backup charger, and the good pen you like.”

Lara exhaled through her nose. Grateful. Exhausted.

Then the edges of her vision wavered.

She blinked, trying to clear it, but her head swam. Heat bloomed behind her eyes, and her stomach flipped dangerously. She swayed slightly in her chair.

Paul’s posture changed in an instant.

“Lara?”

“I’m fine,” she murmured, waving a hand she couldn’t quite steady.

She tried to stand.

The room tilted.

And the next thing she knew, her balance gave out and her knees buckled, sending her careening sideways into the edge of the desk.

“Lara!”

Paul was at her side before she could fall completely, catching her under the arms and lowering her gently to the carpet. Her skin felt clammy. Her pulse fluttered beneath his fingers—too fast, too light.

He pressed a hand to her cheek, already fumbling for his phone with the other.

“No, no, no—don’t you dare pass out on me,” he muttered, his voice somewhere between a plea and a scolding. “You brilliant, emotionally repressed nightmare. You’ve got a whole child cooking in there.”

***

Lewis had just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang.

He barely glanced at the screen—Paul—before snatching it off the counter, a flicker of unease already tightening in his chest.

Paul didn’t call unless something was wrong.

He pressed the phone to his ear, towel slung around his neck, water still dripping from his hair.

“Yeah?”

There was no greeting. No polite pause. Just Paul’s voice, clipped and urgent.

“It’s Lara.”

Lewis stilled.

Every nerve in his body lit up like a warning flare. “What about her?”

“She fainted,” Paul said. “Collapsed in her office.”

Lewis’s breath stopped mid-inhale. His free hand gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, knuckles whitening.

“Did she hit her head?” His voice came rough, rasping.

“No. I caught her. It was clean. But it was bad. She’s been pale all morning. I think she was hiding how awful she felt—skipped breakfast, looked like she was about to throw up before I even walked in.”

Lewis shut his eyes.

Of course she had.

Of course she’d been pushing through it like always—quietly, stubbornly, determined to pretend everything was fine because that’s what Lara did. Even now. Especially now.

Paul kept talking, his voice dropping slightly. “They took her to Monaco General. She’s stable, but still out cold. They’re moving her to room 208 once she’s upstairs.”

Lewis barely heard the rest.

All he could think about was her curled up beside him the night before, her hand resting absently over the soft curve of her stomach. Still hardly showing, but there. Real. Their baby.

It had been a surprise. For both of them.

A terrifying, beautiful surprise.

He remembered how stunned she’d looked when the test turned positive. How she’d said nothing for a long minute, then whispered, “This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

And how he’d taken her hand and told her, “Maybe not. But I think it’s the best thing that ever could.”

And now she was in a hospital bed, unconscious, and he hadn’t even been there.

“I’m on my way,” he said, already yanking open a drawer, throwing on jeans without bothering to dry off. “Tell them I’m coming.”

“Lewis—” Paul hesitated, then added, “She’s going to be okay. But I think she’d want you there when she wakes up.”

Lewis didn’t respond. He was already moving, already grabbing keys, wallet, hoodie—wet hair forgotten, socks mismatched.

“Thanks for calling,” he said, voice thick.

He ended the call and bolted out the door.

He didn’t care about traffic. About press. About what anyone saw.

The only thing that mattered was her.

***

The phone rang once.

Then twice.

Nico almost didn’t answer.

He was mid-rant—hands flying, pacing the kitchen like a man still trapped in a cooldown room—his voice bouncing off marble countertops and ignored entirely by his wife, who sat at the breakfast bar scrolling through her iPad and sipping tea like his stress was just white noise.

“You should’ve seen her,” he was saying, his voice rising with every word. “Sweating, stammering—wouldn’t even let me into the bedroom. If that’s not suspicious, I don’t know what is—”

The phone rang again.

He snatched it off the counter without checking the caller ID. “Rosberg.”

A beat. Then:

“Hey, it’s Paul. Lara’s assistant.”

Nico stopped moving.

He blinked. “Yeah?” he said, voice still sharp. “What’s going on? Did she send you? I’ve been trying to reach her all morning—she’s not picking up.”

There was a pause. Longer this time. Uneasy.

“She fainted at work.”

Everything inside Nico went still.

“What?” The word came out flat, disbelieving.

“She collapsed in her office about forty minutes ago. We called an ambulance. She’s at Monaco General. They’re monitoring her, but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

The blood drained from his face.

He sank into the nearest chair like the floor had been pulled out from under him.

Across the kitchen, Vivian looked up sharply.

“Is she—did she hit her head?” Nico asked, voice cracking at the end like it betrayed him.

“No. It was clean. I caught her. But it was bad enough they didn’t take chances. She’s been really pale all morning—kind of shaky. I think she’s been hiding how bad she’s feeling.”

Nico’s stomach twisted.

“She didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” Paul said softly. “She’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Nico dragged a hand through his hair, already rising from the chair. “What hospital?”

“Monaco General. Room 208 once they move her upstairs. And—” Paul hesitated, then added, “Look, I don’t know how she’s going to feel about you showing up right now. But I thought you should know.”

Nico nodded, even though Paul couldn’t see it. “Yeah,” he said, voice faint. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He hung up.

The kitchen was silent now.

Vivian was watching him from across the island, her expression unreadable.

“Nico?” she asked gently.

He didn’t look up. His grip tightened around the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Fragile in a way she hadn’t heard in years.

“She fainted,” he said. “And I was too busy losing my mind over one dinner photo to notice she wasn’t okay.”

Vivian set her tea down and crossed the kitchen.

She didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t say anything at all.

She just handed him his car keys.

Nico stared at them for a long second before taking them from her hand.And then he left.

***

The room was too quiet.

Machines hummed in the background, soft and steady—heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, the occasional beep of a nurse’s console in the hallway. Lewis sat beside Lara’s bed, one hand curled gently around hers, his thumb brushing absent circles across her knuckles.

She hadn’t stirred.

Lara was still unconscious, her breathing slow and steady, her hand resting in his. Monitors beeped steadily. The room smelled like antiseptic and synthetic linen. His fingers never stopped tracing gentle circles across her knuckles, as if the contact alone could anchor her here—safe, real, still with him.

He’d spoken to the doctor. Twice. Everything pointed to a textbook fainting spell—dehydration, exhaustion, stress. But knowing that didn’t stop the gnawing panic sitting in his chest like a stone.

She looked small in the hospital bed. Fragile in a way she never was in the courtroom or at home. And he hated it.

Her skin was pale, her hair pulled back messily, oxygen clipped to her nose despite the doctor’s reassurance that everything was stable. That she’d fainted from stress, dehydration, exhaustion—but that the baby was fine.

The baby was fine.

Lewis had held onto that sentence like a lifeline the entire drive to the hospital.

She hadn’t even wanted him to come this morning. Said she had a brief to finish, a call to take. That she’d be home by lunch.

Now she was lying still and silent, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

The door creaked open.

He turned, expecting Paul.

Instead, it was Nico.

He froze in the doorway, eyes immediately landing on Lara in the bed. And then—

He saw Lewis.

The silence that followed was sharp, immediate, and dangerous.

Nico stepped inside, slowly. His face was pale, drawn tight with something between panic and disbelief.

“What,” he said, voice low and brittle, “are you doing here?”

Lewis stood, careful not to release Lara’s hand too abruptly.

“I’m with her,” he said simply.

Nico laughed—short, incredulous. “No. No, no. Don’t tell me—don’t tell me—you knew she was here. You’ve been here this whole time?”

Lewis met his gaze. “Since the moment I got the call.”

“You’ve got nerve,” Nico snapped, stepping forward. “You hide whatever this thing is with her—sneak around like it’s a game—and then show up here like you belong?”

“I didn’t sneak anywhere,” Lewis said, his voice low and controlled. “She wanted space. She didn’t want to deal with you spiraling. So we kept it quiet.”

“Oh, and that makes it okay?” Nico’s voice was rising now. “You don’t think I had a right to know my sister was—was—”

“She didn’t want to tell you,” he said quietly.

Nico crossed the room in three quick strides. “Tell me what, exactly? That my sister’s been sneaking around with you behind my back? That she lied about it for God knows how long?” He gestured wildly. “What is this? Some sort of sick joke? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lewis said evenly.

“You think that makes this better?!”

Lara stirred slightly in the bed. Lewis instinctively glanced down, checking her vitals. Still steady. Still sleeping.

Nico noticed. His voice dropped, but it didn’t lose any venom. “How long?”

Lewis met his eyes. “Over a year.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And she’s not twelve anymore, Nico,” Lewis said sharply. “You don’t get to control her.”

Nico’s fists curled at his sides. “I have every right to be protective.”

“You weren’t protective,” Lewis shot back. “ You were too busy having a public meltdown on Instagram to ask if she was okay.”

Nico flinched. Just for a second.

Lewis didn’t stop. He’d held back for too long.

“She’s been working fourteen-hour days. Skipping meals. Stressed out of her mind trying to hide us—not for her sake, but yours. Because she didn’t want you to react exactly like this.”

Nico’s mouth opened. Closed.

Then—defensively, stupidly— “She didn’t have to hide anything.”

“Didn’t she?” Lewis snapped. “You showed up at her place unannounced, Nico. Do you even know how close she was to telling you that night? And then she saw the look on your face and backed down.”

Silence crackled between them.

Then Nico’s voice, low and disbelieving: “You think I’m the bad guy in this?”

“No,” Lewis said. “I think you’re the brother. But you forgot how to be one.”

Nico stepped forward again, eyes blazing. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think just because she—what, let you in her bed—you’re suddenly part of this family?”

Lewis’ mouth twisted. His pulse thundered in his ears.

He looked at Lara. Pale. Still asleep. The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

Then he turned back to Nico.

Voice calm. Measured.

Devastating.

“I’m not just in her bed,” Lewis said. “I’m the father of her child.”

Nico froze.

Time stopped.

The words settled in the air like dust after a demolition.

“What?” he whispered.

Lewis didn’t repeat it.

Nico blinked at him like he couldn’t comprehend the sentence. Then looked at Lara. Then at Lewis again. His face had gone white.

“You’re lying.”

Lewis didn’t say anything.

“You’re lying.”

He shook his head.

Nico stumbled back half a step like he’d been physically struck. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

The monitor beeped steadily beside them.

Lara didn’t wake.

And Lewis stood completely still, hand protectively on the edge of her bed, watching Nico come apart one slow breath at a time.

***

Nico didn’t remember leaving the room.

One second he was staring at Lewis Hamilton like the man had personally torn his world in half.

The next, he was out in the corridor, back against the cold wall, the sterile white spinning around him like a centrifuge. His breath was too fast. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

She was pregnant.

Lara.

His Lara. His little sister who used to sit cross-legged next to his karting helmet. Who cried when he left for testing in Bahrain. Who called him when she won her first case and who still sent him ridiculous memes when he was stressed out about podcast sponsorships.

She was pregnant. And he hadn’t known.

And the father— Lewis. Lewis Fucking Hamilton.

Nico pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes like that would make the truth disappear. Like he could rub the image out of existence.

He’d been screaming about dinner photos. About hugging. About lies. And all this time—she was growing a life. Their family was growing. And he’d been too busy spiraling into his own ego to notice.

His stomach twisted.

I didn’t know.

He’d said he was protective. That he was looking out for her. But she hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t trusted him. Because on some level, she knew.

She didn’t think I’d be safe with the truth.

And maybe she was right.

Nico stumbled down the hall, past a nurse who looked at him with vague concern, but didn’t stop him. He pushed out through a set of glass doors and into the staff garden—small, shaded, and quiet.

Only then did he sit down hard on a bench, burying his face in his hands.

It was all too much. Too loud in his head. Too heavy in his chest.

His sister was going to be a mother. And he had no idea what to do with that.

Not because he didn’t love her. But because he’d spent so long trying to control her, to protect her from the world, that he hadn’t noticed she didn’t need protecting anymore.

She needed support. Softness. Belief.

And he’d failed. Spectacularly.

A choked sound escaped his throat. Something between a laugh and a sob.

God, she was going to kill him when she woke up.

And maybe she should.

***

The first thing Lara felt was the pillow under her head. Soft. Cool. Tucked just the way she liked it.

The second was the dull ache in her temple. And her mouth—dry, cottony. A strange taste lingered on her tongue, like antiseptic air and faint regret.

She blinked slowly. The room came into focus.

White ceiling. Faint beeping. Clean sheets.

Hospital.

Then—

A warm hand, curled gently around hers.

She turned her head and found Lewis sitting beside her bed. Still in the hoodie from that morning. His jaw was tight. His thumb was stroking her knuckles in slow, silent circles, but his eyes were fixed on the wall like he was holding back a flood.

“Hey,” she croaked, voice rough.

His head snapped around.

“Lara.” His voice cracked like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “You’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.” She tried for a smile. “Did I pass out in court or…?”

He huffed a breath—half a laugh, half relief—and shook his head. “Your office.”

“Ugh.” She sank further into the pillow. “Paul’s going to make this dramatic, isn’t he?”

Lewis didn’t answer right away.

Her brows knit.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.” He hesitated. “Doctor said it was stress. Dehydration.”

She could feel it now. The heaviness. The hollow ache in her ribs. The tremble in her limbs like her body had burned through every reserve and then kept going anyway.

“I should’ve stayed home,” she whispered.

“I tried to make you,” Lewis said, voice quiet.

She turned her head toward him. His face hadn’t softened. If anything, the worry had carved itself deeper.

She swallowed. “Is the baby—?”

“They checked,” he said quickly, firmly. “Everything’s okay. Strong heartbeat. No signs of distress.”

Lara’s eyes filled with tears so fast it caught her off guard.

“Oh thank God,” she breathed. “I didn’t know. I couldn’t feel—”

“I know,” Lewis murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. “But they’re okay. You both are.”

She nodded, just once, eyes closing for a moment as the fear receded—still lingering at the edges, but no longer swallowing her whole.

A long pause passed between them.

“…What happened?”

He paused. Looked down at her hand in his. Squeezed it gently.

Then: “Nico came.”

Her stomach dropped.

She closed her eyes. “No.”

“He found out.”

“No.”

“He saw me here,” Lewis added softly. “And—he figured it out.”

Lara groaned and dragged a hand over her face. “How bad was it?”

“We fought.”

“Obviously.”

“And then I told him.”

She froze.

Her eyes opened. Slowly. Carefully.

“Told him what?”

Lewis met her gaze. Calm. Honest. Steady.

“That I’m not just in your life. I’m the father of your child.”

Silence.

Lara didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Just stared.

“…You told him.”

“Yes.”

“You told Nico Rosberg—in a hospital—while I was unconscious—that I’m pregnant with your baby?”

“Yes,” Lewis said, with the serene boldness of a man who had fully accepted death as a possibility. “He took it about as well as you’d expect.”

Lara closed her eyes again and muttered something in German that absolutely didn’t belong in a hospital.

***

The room had settled into something almost peaceful.

Lewis hadn’t let go of her hand once. The monitors beeped softly in the background, steady and unbothered, and Lara was beginning to believe she might finally breathe again.

Then the knock came.

Soft. Hesitant. Completely unlike Nico.

Lara’s stomach twisted.

Lewis glanced toward the door but didn’t move.

The knock came again. A little firmer this time.

She swallowed and sat up slightly in the bed, tugging the hospital blanket higher around her waist. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly, and Nico stepped inside.

He looked like someone had hit him with a very polite brick. Jaw tight, posture rigid, but his eyes flicked immediately to her. Then to the IV. Then, very briefly, to Lewis.

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.

“Hey,” Nico echoed, a beat too late.

Silence stretched. The weight of everything that hadn’t been said hovered like a second heartbeat in the room.

Nico cleared his throat. “Paul called me.”

“I know,” she said.

He looked at her again. Really looked this time. The color in her face. The way her fingers curled around Lewis’. The too-big hoodie stretched over her belly.

He blinked. “You’re…?”

Lara nodded once. Quiet. “Yes.”

A long pause.

Nico ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath, pacing two steps into the room like he didn’t know what to do with himself now that he was here.

“I thought you were just friends,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

“I know.”

“You lied to me.”

She didn’t flinch. “I did.”

Nico looked away, jaw tightening. “You could’ve told me.”

“You were—” she stopped herself. Then tried again. “You’ve always made your opinion on Lewis very clear.”

He made a soft, bitter sound. “And you thought I’d what? Lose my mind? Storm into your apartment?”

Lara raised an eyebrow. “You did storm into my apartment.”

Fair.

He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, but—this? This is you. And Lewis. And now—” His voice faltered again. “Now there’s a baby.”

“I know.”

“And I wasn’t even part of it.”

“You still can be,” she said gently.

Nico looked at her then. Really looked. And for a moment, beneath the shock and betrayal and bruised ego, she saw what was underneath:

Worry.

Fear.

Love.

“…Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded, throat tightening. “Yeah. I will be.”

He turned to Lewis, reluctant but not hostile.

Lewis stood, quiet but firm. “She’s doing fine. The baby’s fine.”

Nico gave a sharp nod. “Good.”

Another beat.

“I’m still mad,” he added.

Lara gave a soft snort. “We figured.”

“But I’m not leaving,” he said. Then, to her, more quietly: “You’re my sister.”

Something cracked open in her chest.

“Thanks for not yelling,” she said.

“I’ve already done enough of that,” he muttered.

Lewis, wisely, stepped aside. “I’ll give you two a minute.”

He left without fanfare, the door clicking quietly behind him.

Nico sat down in the chair Lewis had just vacated.

He cleared his throat. “So. You and Lewis.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Still a problem?”

“No,” he muttered. “Yes. I mean—yes, but not because he’s him. It’s just. You didn’t tell me. And it’s you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But you—Nico, you comment-bombed an F1 gossip post like a lunatic.”

His ears went pink. “They called you a mysterious blonde. I panicked.”

“You think?”

They both exhaled, some of the weight lifting between them.

“I just…” He ran a hand over his jaw, voice quieter now. “I didn’t expect to find out like that. In a hospital. With him sitting there.”

Lara nodded. “I didn’t want it to happen this way either.”

“But you’re happy?” he asked, cutting to the core.

She hesitated for just a second—then nodded. “Yes.”

“With him?”

“Yes.”

“With the baby?”

Her breath caught. Then settled.

“Yes,” she said again. “Even though it scares the hell out of me.”

Nico’s expression softened.

He leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. “You’re going to be an actual parent. I’m going to be the insane uncle.”

“You already are.”

He glared.

She smiled.

After a long silence, he asked, “Does Mom know?”

“No,” Lara said. “You’re the first.”

He blinked. “You told me before Mom?”

She smirked faintly. “She hasn’t stormed into my flat waving a copy of BILD, so I’m guessing not yet.”

“You’re doomed,” Nico said.

“Absolutely.”

He paused. Then added, voice a little more sheepish, “You know I’m not actually mad at the baby, right?”

She turned her head toward him.

“I know.”

“I’m just… an idiot.”

“That too.”

A beat.

Then Nico reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a banana he must’ve swiped from the hospital reception area.

He held it out. “Peace offering?”

Lara rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m a dad. We have snacks for every crisis.”

She took the banana.

He hesitated again, then leaned over and pulled her into a one-armed hug, careful of the IV line.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she whispered back.

He pulled away. “Lewis still hiding in the hallway?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll go growl at him in the parking lot. Just to make him sweat.”

Lara snorted. “Be nice.”

“No promises.”

But when he stood, she could see it—the tension easing from his shoulders. The stubborn, protective big brother still simmering under the surface, but no longer ready to start World War III.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And for the first time all day, Lara let herself breathe.

***

The corridor outside Lara’s room was quiet now.

Lewis stood near the vending machine, one hand braced against the wall, the other cradling a black coffee that had long since gone cold. He hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t moved much since stepping out of the room. Just needed space to breathe. To think. To not say the wrong thing if Nico came out swinging again.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The door opened behind him.

Footsteps.

Then: “Hamilton.”

Lewis turned slowly.

Nico stood there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, posture deceptively casual—but the look in his eyes? That same Rosberg intensity Lewis remembered from wheel-to-wheel fights, from press conferences that felt like landmines.

“Nico.”

A pause stretched between them.

Then Nico sighed, stepped forward, and jabbed a finger toward Lewis’s chest—not quite touching, but close enough to make a point.

“If you ever hurt her,” he said flatly, “I will end you.”

Lewis didn’t flinch. “Noted.”

“Like, properly. With lawyers and pettiness and emotional warfare.”

Lewis huffed out a short breath. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“You don’t get it,” Nico bit out. “She’s not like us. She doesn’t do games. She doesn’t do drama.”

“I know.”

“She actually feels things. Deeply. Stupidly. It’s the worst.”

Lewis’s voice softened. “I know.”

Nico’s jaw clenched. “Then act like it. Protect her. Not just with your name or your money or your press team—really protect her.”

Lewis’s gaze didn’t waver. “I do.”

A tense pause followed. Long. Weighty.

Finally, Nico exhaled and looked away. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Of all the people in the world.”

Lewis almost smiled. “I know. You’re devastated.”

“I am! I’ve had to adjust my entire personality over this.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

Nico leveled him with a withering look. “I still don’t like you.”

Lewis nodded. “That makes two of us.”

“But,” Nico added grudgingly, “I don’t hate you anymore.”

Lewis raised a brow. “Is that your version of peace?”

Nico tilted his head. “Do you remember Spain 2016?”

Lewis blinked. “You brake-tested me into a sandpit.”

“You divebombed me on the inside.”

“You closed the door.”

“You didn’t lift.”

“You didn’t leave space!”

They stared at each other for a long beat. Then:

“Yeah,” Lewis said finally. “I remember.”

Nico sighed. “I think we were both assholes.”

Lewis shrugged. “We were thirty and impossible to manage.”

“Still are,” Nico muttered.

A reluctant silence.

Then Lewis added, quieter now, “She grounds me. Your sister. She makes everything quieter. Makes me better.”

Nico’s expression shifted—still tense, but something behind his eyes softened.

“You’re lucky she sees that,” he said.

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then Nico stuck his hand out. Awkward. Begrudging. Sincere.

“Truce?”

Lewis looked at it.

Then shook it, firm and steady.

“Truce.”

He turned to go, then paused at the end of the corridor.

“Oh—and if it’s a boy? I vote Nico Jr.”

Lewis made a face. “Absolutely not.”

Nico smirked. “Just putting it out there.”

And with that, he disappeared around the corner—still a menace, still dramatic, but no longer an enemy.

Lewis exhaled.

Truce achieved.

For now.

***

Lara had faced depositions more civilized than this dinner.

She hovered in the hallway for a moment, just out of sight, listening to the tension crackle like static in the dining room. It was palpable even from here—clinking glasses, too-long silences, the occasional muttered curse from Nico. She took a breath, smoothed a hand over the front of her dress, and stepped into the lion’s den.

Two generations of Rosbergs. One dinner table. Zero warning.

Her mother was placing the last set of cutlery on the table with a serenity Lara knew for a fact was weaponized. Vivian stood nearby, clutching a wine glass with the expression of a woman mentally mapping all emergency exits. Keke was by the fireplace, watching the room like a man who’d once stared down Senna and lived to talk about it. Nico was already halfway into a bottle of something expensive and clearly losing the will to live.

And Lewis—bless him—stood just inside the door, holding a bottle of red like it might grant him diplomatic immunity. His shoulders were squared, posture polite, and face neutral in that calmly unbothered way that only made Nico twitch harder.

“Lewis,” Keke said at last, voice flat as a straightaway. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Not a threat.

Worse—an ancient disappointment dressed as civility.

“Thanks for having me,” Lewis replied, smooth as ever.

“We didn’t,” Nico muttered.

“Nico,” Sina warned without even looking at him.

Lara crossed the room and slipped her hand through Lewis’s arm, letting her fingers rest against his bicep. She felt him relax a fraction under her touch.

She hadn’t planned to do this tonight. Not like this. But the air was thick with expectation, and Nico had been circling like a shark for days. Better to let the blade drop now.

“Right,” she said brightly. “Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”

All heads turned. She lifted her chin and faced the room, shoulders squared like she was delivering a closing argument.

“Lewis and I are together,” she said calmly. “We’ve been together for almost two years.”

There was a sharp inhale from Keke. A visible flinch from Nico. Vivian froze with her wine halfway to her mouth.

“And,” Lara continued, tone even, “we’re having a baby.”

Silence. Thick. Sudden. Almost cinematic.

Sina made a soft “oh!” sound and immediately moved in to hug her, eyes shining. Vivian looked like someone had just dropped an engagement ring, a baptismal candle, and a Molotov cocktail into her lap. Keke blinked once, as if recalibrating reality.

Nico just downed the rest of his glass like it was holy water and he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry—what?” Keke said eventually, voice climbing in disbelief.

“You heard me,” Lara replied.

“We’ve been together for—” Lewis began, but Keke cut in.

“I heard you. I just thought you were joking.”

Lara glanced at Lewis, who gave her a small, reassuring nod.

“I don’t usually joke about lifelong commitments,” he said, deadpan.

Nico groaned and slumped forward into his hands. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around this for days.”

Lara lifted an eyebrow. “You had seventeen years to wrap your head around the fact that I’m an adult.”

“You’re having his baby,” Nico said, like it physically pained him.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You brought Lewis Hamilton to family dinner and announced he knocked you up. What part of that isn’t dramatic?!”

Lara almost laughed. She would have, if her heart weren’t pounding in her throat.

The baby had been a surprise. A quiet, miraculous shock delivered in the bathroom one sleepy Sunday morning when she’d assumed the nausea was just bad eggs and too many long work weeks. She and Lewis had stared at that stick together for a long time, blinking. Neither of them had spoken at first.

She hadn’t planned it. Not now, not yet. She’d always wanted children—deep down, quietly, even if she never said it out loud. But she’d never had the right person, the right moment. Never felt safe enough to imagine it.

Until him.

Until now.

She turned her attention back to her father, who was still staring at Lewis like he might sprout horns.

“So,” he said finally. “Are you serious about this?”

Lewis met his gaze without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Because if you hurt her—”

“I won’t.”

“—I will personally fly to wherever you live and break both of your knees.”

“Understood,” Lewis replied, entirely unshaken.

Vivian choked on a laugh. Nico muttered something rude under his breath that Lara decided to ignore.

She felt Lewis’s fingers brush hers under the table, and she reached for his hand. He laced their fingers together and didn’t let go.

“I love her,” he said softly but clearly. “I love our child. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her mother clapped her hands together, smiling like that settled the entire matter. “Well. Dessert, then?”

Lara exhaled—quiet, relieved—and leaned ever so slightly into Lewis’s side.

They might be chaos incarnate. But for the first time, it felt like the kind she could build a life around.

***

📸 Instagram Post — @/lararosberg

Comments: 

@/rosbergx14: EXCUSE ME

@/f1updatesdaily: BABY????? ROSBERG???? HAMILTON????

@/gridtea: THE WHAT NOW??????

@/f1wagsunofficial: WE WERE NOT EVEN IN THE SOFT LAUNCH ERA HOW DID WE GET TO PREGNANT

@/champagnetrauma: LEWIS HAMILTON. IS GOING TO BE A DAD. LARA ROSBERG. IS HAVING HIS BABY. I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

@/f1memegirl: I blinked and missed an entire relationship arc how is this already a sequel

@/dramat1que: you’re telling me nico rosberg’s little sister and lewis hamilton were not only SECRETLY TOGETHER but also MANAGED TO HIDE A WHOLE BABY???

@/gofasterbaby: this child is going to emerge with a law degree and  a world championship

@/sirlewisfanclub: if this baby doesn’t win the Monaco karting championship by age 3 I will be shocked

@/teamvivi: Vivian Rosberg right now watching the entire internet implode like 👁️👄👁️

@/lando.jpg: wait WAIT am I allowed to be shocked or did I miss a group chat

@/tifositargaryen: they really said enemies to lovers to secret family reveal mid-season and expected us to survive

@/thef1files: somewhere out there, Nico Rosberg is screaming into a pillow and Lewis is already painting the nursery

@/the.mess.paddock: we need a DRIVE TO SURVIVE EPISODE IMMEDIATELY

@/wheresmygridtea I WAS NOT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED FOR THIS AT 8AM

@/carlossainzfan24 rosberg??? hamilton??? baby??? are we in a fanfiction AU???

@/nico_rosberg …I’m going to need a moment. ↳ @/vivian.rosberg: You’ve had a week of moments, Nico.

@/driveitlikelerclerc screaming. crying. shaking. throwing up. calling my therapist.

@/tumblruser194839 So you’re telling me… Lara Rosberg, actual Amal Clooney of F1, who once legally shredded a corrupt climate policy on a live panel, is having a BABY with Lewis “7x world champion, whisperer of dogs and emotions” Hamilton???? ↳ @/thiswasnotonthebingo: I KNOW RIGHT. I THOUGHT THIS WAS A FEVER DREAM.

@/girlsontrackhq: The way this baby is going to have the most elite genetics, style, and social conscience. Just take the Constructors’ Championship now.

@/tifosiburner: Lewis Hamilton becoming Nico Rosberg’s brother-in-law was NOT on my 2025 prediction card.

@/f1teaspill: THE WHAT. THE WHO. THE BABY???????

@/mercedesinsider: not to be dramatic but this has shattered the fabric of the grid.

@/hamilover44: what happened to soft launches?? soft launches with a HAND or a KEYCHAIN?? THIS IS A WARHEAD.

@/rosbergeditqueen: i cannot breathe. i thought they hated each other. what do you MEAN baby rosberg-hamilton.

@/mclarenmeerkat: if this child isn't born with a world championship and a law degree I will riot.

@/vivian.rosberg: Welcome to the family, little one. 💛✨ (Also yes I told Nico. Repeatedly. You're welcome.)

@/georgerussell63: This is more shocking than any on-track overtake in 2024. Congratulations, both of you! 🍼

@/charles_leclerc: Did anyone else know? Like… ANYONE??

@/formulaiconic: wait. WAIT. WAITTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

@/paddockcryptid: imagine beefing with a guy for ten years and then you find out he’s having a baby with your sister like what’s he gonna call the kid, “DRS zone”?

@/wagsupreme: this baby is going to be the most genetically blessed child in motorsport history.

@/engineeredchaos: Hamilton. Rosberg. Offspring. The F1 grid in 2045 is shaking.

@/gptrackerqueen: lewis really said “i’ll see your 2016 title and raise you a niece/nephew”

@/softlyhamilton: i have never in my LIFE been so blindsided by a pregnancy announcement and i follow the kardashians

@/gridteaofficial: [red siren emojis] 🚨WE HAVE A BABY ANNOUNCEMENT. I REPEAT. A BABY. ANNOUNCEMENT. 🚨 Somebody check on Nico.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1GossipGuru 🚨LEWIS HAMILTON IS GOING TO BE A DAD🚨 Repeat: SEVEN-TIME WORLD CHAMPION LEWIS HAMILTON IS HAVING A BABY WITH LARA ROSBERG??? THE DRAMATIC IRONY. THE FANFIC-LEVEL CHAOS. I NEED TO LIE DOWN. 📸 [screenshot of their joint IG post with the ultrasound]

@/lifebylando lewis hamilton getting nico rosberg’s sister pregnant is the most powerful revenge arc in sports history

@/F1Fanatic42 i am once again asking: what timeline are we living in

@/AlonsoWasRight this is giving enemies to lovers. forbidden romance. secretly married in vegas vibes. WHERE IS NETFLIX.

@/RosbergRetired lewis, at christmas dinner, passing the potatoes: “btw i’m the father of your niece” nico: [rage quitting real life]

@/tifosipanic can you IMAGINE the family dinners. Keke staring in Finnish. Nico drinking wine like it’s water. Lewis holding the baby in a Ferrari onesie. this writes itself.

@/formulawhyyy ok but lewis naming his baby after nico i actually can’t breathe (note: they haven’t confirmed the name yet don’t do this to yourself)

@/veganandvictorious the same man who dodged dating rumors for ten years just casually soft-launched fatherhood with an ultrasound pic??? i’m not okay

@/DriveToSurviveAnon when they said Brocedes was the most dramatic pairing of all time i didn’t realize they meant intergenerationally

***

INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT – SKY SPORTS F1 COVERAGE | CANADIAN GP | SATURDAY PRE-RACE SHOW

Simon Lazenby: Welcome back to Montreal! We’re here on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, qualifying coming up shortly. I’m joined, as always, by Martin Brundle and 2016 World Champion, Nico Rosberg.

Martin Brundle: It’s already been a wild weekend, but Nico, I have to ask—because, well, the internet exploded— Congratulations… I suppose?

Nico Rosberg: (visibly bracing) …Thank you?

Simon: Your sister, Lara Rosberg, and—uh—Lewis Hamilton, expecting a baby. I think the entire paddock collectively dropped its coffee over that post. Did you know?

Nico: (tight smile) Eventually.

Martin: (grinning like a fox) You’ve always been protective of Lara. What’s it like knowing you’re going to be an uncle?

Nico: Well, it’s… it’s surreal. I mean, Lara’s my little sister. To me, she’s still the kid who used to hide in my karting trailer and demand snacks. And now she’s having a baby—with Lewis. (beat) I’ve had more relaxing weeks, let’s say that.

Simon: There’s some lovely poetry to it, though. Bridging the Brocedes rivalry into the next generation?

Nico: (dryly) Yes. Nothing says inner peace like finding out your former teammate is having a child with your sister.

Martin: You’re handling it quite well, considering.

Nico: I’ve gone through all six stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, wine, and acceptance.

Simon: That’s five.

Nico: Yes. I went through wine twice.

[Laughter from the studio team]

Simon: So—bottom line—you’re happy for them?

Nico: [Laughs in “I have so many feelings”] I mean, look—I’m thrilled for her. I love Lara more than anything. She’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s going to be an incredible mother. As for Lewis— [long pause] We’ve…reached an understanding.

Martin (teasing): That sounds ominous.

Nico: Let’s just say I threatened him in a hospital corridor. 

Simon: …That might be the most Rosberg-Hamilton sentence I’ve ever heard.

Nico: I’m working on being chill. It’s a process.

Simon: Well, congrats again—Uncle Nico! Think you’ll give any advice to the new dad?

Nico (flat): He didn’t listen to me in 2016. I doubt he’s going to start now.

[Studio laughter]

Martin: Fair enough. But all jokes aside—it’s a beautiful thing. You’ll be great.

Nico (finally softening): Thanks. I really am happy for them. Just…no one tell the baby about Abu Dhabi 2016. Let them have peace.

Simon (laughing): We’ll keep that out of the bedtime stories.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1teaaccount:  🚨 NICO ROSBERG JUST SAID ON LIVE TV THAT HE THREATENED LEWIS HAMILTON IN A HOSPITAL CORRIDOR what do you mean this isn’t Drive to Survive already

@/brocedes_fan47:  “Let’s just say I threatened him in a hospital corridor” he says that like it’s a normal sentence??? this is PEAK divorced energy

@/rosberggirlies:  nico pretending he’s chill while drinking 3 glasses of wine and blinking at Lewis like he’s trying to vaporise him with eye contact 🫡 an inspiration to siblings everywhere

@/yelledaboutlewis:  “No one tell the baby about Abu Dhabi 2016” nico said ✨emotional growth✨ and ✨repressed trauma✨ in one breath

@/mercedes_f1_wives:  not Nico saying “As for Lewis—we’ve reached an understanding” like this is the Godfather and Lewis kissed his ring in a hospital

@/karinabergkamp:  nobody: nico: I’ve gone through denial, anger, bargaining, wine, and acceptance also nico: I went through wine twice. ICON.

@/rosberg_defense_union:  he’s trying so hard. he’s spiraling publicly. he’s being soft in-between threats. he’s our girl dad uncle now 🫶

@/lh44_prayercircle:  this child is going to be so powerful. born of a Rosberg and a Hamilton. can already out-strategise the FIA and win a kart race with a juicebox in one hand

@/f1nocontext:  📸 [Screencap of Nico saying “We’ve… reached an understanding”] caption: When your arch-nemesis becomes your brother-in-law

@/lararosbergedits:  me: I’m fine also me, after nico said “she’s strong, she’s brilliant, she’s going to be an incredible mother”: 😭😭😭

@/F1YukiNation:  nico rosberg casually dropping “i threatened lewis in a hospital corridor” like it’s not the most cinematic line in this sport since seb said “tough luck” to mark in malaysia

@/LaraRosbergUpdates:  Lara Rosberg got Nico Rosberg and Lewis Hamilton to behave. She deserves the Nobel Peace Prize and a nap.

@/SilverstoneShambles: you can hear the 2016 trauma in Nico’s voice when he says “we’ve reached an understanding.” like. that man had to meditate in a forest for three days before saying that on live TV.

@/isthatglitteronlando: “You didn’t listen to me in 2016 and I doubt you’ll start now” — rosberg continues his reign as the Pettiest Man Alive™

@/hammy4life: laras pregnancy has now singlehandedly:

revived brocedes

healed family wounds

traumatized nico

given sky sports record-breaking engagement icon behavior

@/landohastaste:  not nico basically saying “congrats, I guess” then softening like a soggy biscuit at the end. we love growth ❤️

@/thisisdefinitelynotvaltteri: “no one tell the baby about abu dhabi 2016” YOU CAN’T MAKE THIS UP. I’M CRYING.

@/lh44daily: The fact that Nico admitted he threatened Lewis and then moved on like it was weather small talk 😭😭😭

@/f1teaspill:THE WAY NICO SAID “I’VE HAD MORE RELAXING WEEKS” WITH THE DEAD EYES OF A MAN WHO JUST FOUND OUT LEWIS HAMILTON IS HIS PSEUDO BROTHER-IN-LAW 😭😭😭

***

📸 Instagram Post — @/lararosberg

Comments: 

@/nico_rosberg: Okay… she’s really cute. You’re still grounded though.

@/vivian.rosberg: Welcome to the world, baby girl 💕

@/charles_leclerc: Congratulations ❤️ 

@/gridteaofficial: BREAKING: humanity restored. This child owns us now.

@/rosbergverses: Rose Hamilton is literally a poetic name. This child is going to be UNSTOPPABLE.

@/f1babytracker: Someone update the charts. She’s officially here. Stats: ✨Iconic✨

@/scuderiaferrari: We cannot wait to meet her. The tiniest team member 💙

@/rosberghamiltontruthers: WAIT WAIT WAIT—ROSE. ROSE-BERG. SHE DID IT. SHE NAMED HER DAUGHTER AFTER HER FAMILY NAME AND I’M SOBBING.

@/formuladrama: baby name: elegant. subtext: chaotic genius. we are witnessing storytelling.

@/gridteagossip: She said “this is a Rosberg baby” with her whole chest and Lewis LET HER. That's called love.

@/hamros_fanficclub: Rose Hamilton already sounds like a Nobel Prize winner / undefeated junior karting champion / poetic soul. I’m obsessed.✨

@/cryingatthewheel: Lewis and Lara naming their baby ROSE is the kind of emotionally layered chaos that rewires your DNA.

@/gridteaofficial: BREAKING: Rose Hamilton born. Grid immediately enters emotional meltdown.

@/rosbergxhamilton_is_real: SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. He’s in a relationship with Nico’s little sister. They named the baby Rose. AND WE’RE ALL JUST BREATHING NORMALLY???

@/georgerussell63: Welcome to the world, Rose 🌹 You’ve already made history and you’re not even a week old.

@/f1fanfictioncentral: Don’t talk to me unless your baby name has an entire decade-long rivals-to-lovers emotional arc embedded in it.

@/mercedesamgf1: The newest member of the Silver Arrows family 💙 We’re already fighting over who gets to babysit.

[janecafe]

SELF-EMPOWERMENT PAC: how does it feel to be in love with you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝘶𝘯𝘰 - 𝘥𝘰𝘴 - 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴

paid reading is available here

masterlist

~ if you can, leave a little tip here on the gratuity jar for me to rent a comfortable and safe place for my pop-up coffee shop. your small amount of donations can make huge changes to someone else's business 🤓

©janecafe 2025

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

it feels very tempting and convincing. if this is a game of gambling then they are willing to bet all of their heart even though the chances are unpredictable. if love was a war they are willing to be a soldier. if love was a prison they are willing to be in jail. if love was means sacrifices they're willing to do for everything. if love makes you better then they're willing to change. that's how love being felt with you, a person who is interested in you is gonna sense the belong, constant and satisfaction.

if you are someone's interest, falling for you was a hard phase because you are giving out an extra ordinary of an "mystic" person. it also means taking yourself at a "risk" and get yourself out in vulnerability.

it's a blessing to be in love with you. safe, maturity and gracious love. you are a dream that cannot escape, a voyage you wanted to repeat again and again and paradox of milk and honey. it's a story about how you love them and how they love you too, it's a very obvious thing but except for these two people.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i felt like i was in a dreamy and deep romantic atmosphere. god i love this pile two people 😌🤌🏻🩷

to be in love with your presence is a feeling of miracle, it's like even words aren't enough to describe you although a song and certain lyrics can be a poetic way to project your aura. it can also exude your whole existence on earth.

even cosmic is beyond explanation—something extraordinary. they can't even compare your divinity to others, it's like they are expressing how deeply they are in awe with your love. while, looking into their eyes brings a sense of something sacred and life-changing.

your love has given a sense of purpose and salvation. it's like a feeling of the friday for having an end of a rough long week that brings joy and relief to individuals. to be loved by you is a wish for the time to stop- so your person can spend more time to show their affection much longer and unbroken and don't want to waste any single moment.

your love compares to an exclusive theater performance where every second is precious and fleeting, making it even more valuable.

this person is worshipping you for real.

★ check the previous pac

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

loving you is like being carried by powerful and unpredictable waves. anyone who would fall for you is gonna be mesmerized by your untamable and wild nature.

although, wild waves cannot be tamed, your person could watch in awe and adore you dangerously. that's how love feels with you.

this can be the sweetest and sad story. loving you was giving the feeling of longing and being captivated. it was the best moment, admiring your beauty despite the hours they might spend. challenges and magic can be felt with your presence. like a beautiful piece of art in a museum, you wanted to stay and explore more but you know you can't have it because of it's values and historic importance.

all you can do is admires it. you are seraphic and everyone are willing to fight just to look in your eyes.

★ check the previous pac

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[whumpay]

little late BUT here we go y'all! many thanks to everyone who recommended prompts! EDIT - FIXED DAY 30 ON THE IMAGES

Welcome to Whumpay 2025! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list as the rules

Rules are the same as usual -

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2025 tag throughout May.

scaled things back a bit this year, so theres no mini challenges or extreme edition, but if you want a smaller challenge choose one prompt from each category and post one each week

I - Trapped

1 - Used as a Weapon

2 - Hostage Situation

3 - Crucifixion 

4 - Toxic Relationship

5 - Incapable of Disobeying

6 - Muzzled

II - Supernatural

7 - Psychic Link

8 - Immortality

9 - Magic Overuse

10 - Loss of Power

11 - Truth Serum

12 - Aftermath of Possession

III - Mundane

13 - Allergic Reaction

14 - Flu/Fever

15 - Forgetting to Eat

16 - Tonsillitis 

17 - Financial Trouble

18 - Falling Out

IV - Dialogue

19 - “Don't make me choose.”

20 - “Let them go!”

21 - “They'll be fine…. Right?”

22 - “I've got you.”

23 - “Please don't leave me.”

24 - “I don't want to scare you, but….”

VI - Post Mortem

25 - Character Death

26 - Funeral

27 - Resurrection

28 - Grief

29 - Time Loop

30 - Mistaken for Dead

31 - Self-Sacrifice 

ALT PROMPTS

1 - Buried Alive

2 - Empathetic Healing

3 - Gossip/Bullying 

4 - “You’re hurting me!”

5 - Came Back Wrong

[lerios]

Thing A Week 2025 - Week 10

call me chappell roan the way she club on my pony til i pink. or some shit idk

shit has been Busy and full of work and getting tf out of france recently, so today you get my most default refuge; when in doubt, hormse.

bet you can't tell which ones i didn't use references for lmao

[readychilledwine]

New Beginnings

Summary - Having two mates was never easy, especially when you all had different homes.

Warnings - Readers boyfriends definitely are not boyfriends, references to smut, swearing, drinking

A/N - you all thought I wouldn't try to get my poop in a group for my beloved @polysjmweek? Wrong. I had drafts. I'm forcing myself to post them. @acourtofladydeath, forgive my lateness. And my dropping of many things late. Closed Vs are something we had talked a lot about, and I wanted to make sure to feature one this year! A closed v is a challenging dynamic that requires 3 very secure people, and it felt so right to start my late posting with this. 

This fic was written for day 1 - who's court is it anyways?

SJM Poly+ Week 2025 Masterlist

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

“Mother, save me,” you murmured as Azriel and Eris started arguing again. Life would have been easier if Azriel and Eris were also mates, but the Cauldron decided this was much more entertaining. You sighed and got between them. They’d been arguing for several hours about which court you three would be settling into as a permanent home. Eris wanted to stay in Autumn, and rightfully so, with his chances of being High Lord so high. Azriel believed the Night Court was the best option and that he owed Rhysand his life, possibly even his first born with how loyal he was.

Your home had been immediately denied. “Why would we move to the coldest place in Prythian,” Eris had asked. Azriel immediately had agreed, stating his wings would freeze in the bitter winds of the Winter Court. 

“Rhysand needs me,” Azriel growled at Eris. “My court needs me!”

“So does mine,” Eris shot back. “I will be High Lord some day, and I have to be in Autumn to heal Autumn!” 

You sighed softly, hands on two strong chests as they glared. “Does anyone care what I think?” Both males seemed to relax at the sound of your voice. “Because I think this is ridiculous, and maybe we all aren’t actually ready to move into one home.” The silence that met that statement was deafening. You had spent the last 7 years having to bounce between Autumn and Night. a  week with Ers. A week with Azriel. A week at home, the Mountain House, a quiet comfort. Dating two males, being mated to two males, especially two males who were not interested in each other, was not for the faint of heart. You took a deep breath, eyes closing as you did. “I think we have a great thing,” you continued. “Our relationship and the dynamic we have is special to me, but I worry it isn’t special to you two. I worry that us moving in together will not be with you not-” You paused. “With you two.. Unable to cooperate and get along.”

Eris and Azriel looked at you, eyes so different. Eris was inquisitive, Azriel was stunned. You had never shown any signs of thinking there were issues within the relationship the 3 of you shared, at least, not issues you had acknowledged to them. You were such a relaxed fae and would go where the wind took you. Eris sat down, knowing this was a serious conversation time, not a fun one. He pointed to the chair across from the couch he was on, his rings sparkling on his long finger as you moved and sat. Azriel sat by Eris, leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. “How long have you felt this way,” Eris was fighting to keep his voice soft. “And why are the two of us just finding out?”

Azriel then added, “And how can we fix it?”

They had similarities, and this process was one of them. They allowed the comfortable silence to fall over the room as you thought and then took a deep breath. “I think I first started feeling this way at our first Starfall all together. I felt pulled and like spending too much time with Azriel disrespected you,” you said to Eris. “But too much time with Eris, and I was hurting you,” you directed at Azriel. “I felt.. Spread so thin.”

Eris nodded in clear thought. He was thinking over everything you had told them first before nodding, wanting you to continue. “I have tried to bring it up to both of you one on one since us in one place rarely happens, but my time with Azriel is spent-”

“Do not finish that sentence,” the Illyrian blushed.

“And my time with Eris is spent acting like the perfect future Lady of Autumn,” you smiled and held in a laugh to Azriel’s sudden shyness.

Eris chuckled, a laugh deep and full like his whiskey, “A shame, really. Sounds like your time with Azriel is much more productive than your time with me. Does she curl her -"

Azriel blushed harder, the faint pinkish-red hiding under his tan skin. “Shut up, Eris. She still has to tell us how to fix it.” They both turned back to you, “Keep talking, salvation.”

It was your turn to blush, the precious nickname Azriel had given you always enough to make your heart flutter and the bond grow warm. “I just would like you two to be friends. For you two to learn to be civil enough that we could spend time as the three of us. I don’t need you two to ever want to have sex, but knowing I could leave you two alone for 2 or 3 hours to head to market without one of you being dead when I came back would be nice.” Both males nodded. 

Another deep breath relaxed the feeling of your heart beating in your chest.  The two of them were studying each other. “It starts with addressing the elephant in the room, Eris,” You said as gently as you could. 

He leaned forward more, taking a moment to center, and he began. He told Azriel everything about his relationship with Mor, the illyrian nodding as Eris explained his choices to Azriel and explained everything he had done was to protect Mor, you, and himself. Azriel then had to explain himself as well, admitting the Night Court had a plan for killing Eris as soon as Morrigan said yes, but they had told Morrigan it would not happen now that Azriel was tied to Eris in a roundabout way. It was several hours of your mates talking, voices low and unhurried. They’d never gotten along this well and for this long. 

The conversation switched at some point, the males going from discussing their issues to the things you had known for a while they shared in common. Dancing being the biggest one. From there it became showing their dagger collection. Discussions on the hounds. Hunting. You.

Beautiful, brilliant you. 

You were the first to retire for the evening, standing in the hall between the guest room and Eris’s. Whenever the 3 of you were together, you had to make a choice on who you slept with each night, bouncing between beds sometimes like it should have been a profession. Soft hands led you by your hips, pushing you into Eris’s room. The warm scent of baked apple and fire was like a pull, drawing you in more and more. Your own hands found the ones holding you, scarred flesh, greeting them. “I think his bed is large enough for all three of us,” a voice like deep night whispered to you. “Think we can make that work? We know how happy it would make you, and it is time for us to try.” If Eris had a scent that pulled like a magnet, Azriel’s was the lock shutting you in. The two mixed, that chilled air and cedar in weaving into fire, felt like the safest combination you had ever wrapped yourself into. 

“I think we’d all fit,” the softness of your voice had him smiling.

“Then lay down. We’ll come in once we finish our drinks.”

And that night, the three of you tucked into one bed together. It felt like something new was beginning. A new chapter. One you had been hoping to welcome for far too long now.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[scarletwinterxx]

maybe maybe - jeon wonwoo imagine

hellooooo ~ i need to give myself a pat in the back for this bcs OH MY GOSH EVEN I WAS GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHILE WRITING THIS. the slooooow burn on this🫠 we love a nonchalant and oa combo (if u know u know)

also i was listening to maybe maybe by lola amour while writing this. give it a listen to get the maximum feels😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

my x acc - niniramyeonie 💛😊

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve liked Jeon Wonwoo for as long as you can remember. It’s not a fleeting crush or some shallow infatuation—it’s the kind of feeling that lingers, like a persistent shadow. He knows it; everyone does. But as much as your friends tease you about your obvious affection for him, Wonwoo has never acknowledged it.

Not once.

Wonwoo is the epitome of calm indifference. He’s polite, sure, but he never goes out of his way to engage with anyone outside of his tight-knit circle of friends, Vernon and Minghao. They’re always together, laughing at inside jokes and radiating an air of effortless cool that only makes him seem more unreachable.

And yet, you can’t help yourself. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even though he treats you no differently than anyone else.

Sometimes you wonder if he even notices the little things you do for him—the way you save him a seat in class when he’s running late, or how you always bring an extra drink to study group just in case he wants one. You tell yourself you’re just being nice, but Mimi, your best friend, sees right through you.

“This is ridiculous,” she tells you one afternoon, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.

The two of you are sitting outside on the campus lawn, the warm sunlight doing little to ease the frustration in her voice. “You’re bending over backward for a guy who can’t even spare you a second glance.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue weakly, though even you know it’s a poor defense. Mimi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Not that bad? Y/N, he’s like a brick wall with glasses. Sure, he’s good-looking, but you can’t build a relationship on eye contact alone.”

“I’m not trying to build a relationship!” you protest, though your cheeks heat at the lie. “I just… I like being around him, that’s all.”

Mimi rolls her eyes. “You like torturing yourself, is what you mean. Honestly, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you enjoy the challenge.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a part of you that holds onto this unrequited crush because it’s safer than the alternative. If you never confess, you can never be rejected. And as much as Wonwoo’s aloofness stings, it’s still better than the thought of him outright telling you he doesn’t feel the same.

But then there are moments—rare, fleeting moments—when you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath his exterior. Like the time you lent him your notes for a class he missed, and he returned them with a quiet “Thanks” and a small, almost imperceptible smile. Or the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than usual when you bumped into him at the library last week.

It’s those moments that keep you hanging on, no matter how much Mimi scolds you for it.

“You’re hopeless,” she says with a shake of her head. But there’s no real malice in her words, just the weary affection of someone who’s watched you pine for too long. “I swear, one day you’re going to look back on this and laugh.”

You doubt it, but you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you change the subject, steering the conversation toward something less painful.

Later that day, you find yourself crossing paths with Wonwoo outside the campus café. He’s with Vernon and Minghao, as usual, but when he sees you, he slows his pace, letting his friends walk ahead without him.

“Hey,” he says, his voice as steady and unreadable as ever.

“Hi,” you manage, your heart doing its usual somersault at the sight of him.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure of what to say. But before the silence can stretch too long, Wonwoo speaks again.

“Thanks for the notes,” he says simply.

It’s not much, just two words, but the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. For once, it feels like he’s really looking at you, not just through you. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope after all.

It’s a small step, but it’s enough to keep you going.

Mimi is relentless, as she always is when it comes to your love life—or lack thereof. She’s leaning against your desk chair in your dorm room, scrolling through her phone with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, this guy is perfect for you. He’s into photography, loves indie films, and he’s even in your lit class. Plus, he doesn’t act like he’s living in a perpetual state of indifference.” She shoves her phone in your face, showing you a photo of a guy you vaguely recognize from class. He’s cute, objectively speaking, with a kind smile and a soft, approachable vibe.

But you shake your head before Mimi can even finish her pitch. “I’m not interested.”

Mimi groans, tossing her phone onto your bed. “Why do you do this to yourself? It’s not like you’re dating Wonwoo, or that he’s even trying to date you. You’re wasting your time on a guy who can’t even bother to hold a real conversation with you.”

Her words hit harder than she probably intended, and for a moment, you feel the weight of the truth behind them. She’s right—nothing about your feelings for Wonwoo makes sense. You know it’s a losing game, but every time you even consider the idea of moving on, it feels wrong. Like you’d be betraying something you’ve held onto for so long.

“It’s not that simple,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Mimi softens at your tone, sinking onto the edge of your bed. “Then make it simple, Y/N. I get it—you like him. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve someone who actually sees you.”

“I don’t know if I want someone else to see me,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

It’s frustrating—you’re frustrated with yourself.

Every time you see Wonwoo, it’s like all the logic and advice you’ve been given evaporates into thin air. All you see is him: the way his glasses slide down his nose when he’s reading, or the rare laugh that lights up his face when Vernon says something ridiculous. It’s like he’s carved a permanent space in your mind, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make him leave.

Mimi looks at you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not even ready to like someone else, are you?”

You shake your head, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on your lips. “I don’t think so. It’s stupid, right? Holding onto feelings for someone who probably doesn’t even think about me.”

“It’s not stupid,” she says, surprising you. “It’s just… hard to watch. You’re one of the best people I know, Y/N, and it sucks to see you stuck on someone who doesn’t appreciate that.”

You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes on the desk. It’s a notification from the group chat for your literature project, and your heart skips a beat when you see Wonwoo’s name among the participants.

“Speak of the devil,” Mimi mutters when she notices your expression. She doesn’t need to ask who the message is from.

You open the chat to find a simple message from Wonwoo: I have some extra notes from class if anyone needs them. Just let me know.

It’s not directed at you specifically, but your heart still flutters at the thought of him offering to help. Mimi catches the way your lips twitch into a faint smile and groans dramatically, flopping back onto your bed.

“You’re hopeless,” she declares, though her tone is more resigned than annoyed.

You don’t argue with her this time. Maybe you are hopeless, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. Because even though it doesn’t make sense, even though it’s frustrating and irrational and probably a little pathetic, a part of you still believes there’s something worth holding onto.

The next day, you’re determined to take a small step forward.

Wonwoo’s message about the notes keeps replaying in your mind, like a sign you can’t ignore. It’s a flimsy excuse to talk to him, sure, but it’s enough to make you gather your courage and head toward the study hall where you know he likes to hang out.

You spot him right away, sitting at his usual corner table. His laptop is open, and a notebook lies beside it, his familiar neat handwriting filling the pages. But before you can take another step, you see her.

She’s sitting across from him, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. She’s gorgeous in a natural, effortless way that makes you want to disappear on the spot. And the way Wonwoo looks at her—it’s like someone punched you in the stomach. His smile is soft, easy, like he’s known her forever. He’s speaking to her with a comfort and warmth that he’s never shown you.

You freeze in place, your confidence evaporating in an instant. All the what-ifs and maybes that have kept you going suddenly feel childish and naive. You turn on your heel and leave before either of them can notice you.

The rest of the week feels like a blur. You don’t have the energy to pretend everything is fine, and Mimi is quick to notice.

“What’s wrong with you lately?” she asks on Thursday, her eyes narrowing in concern as she sits across from you in the campus café. “You’ve been moping around like someone stole your dog.”

You shrug, poking at your untouched sandwich. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar,” she says immediately. “Come on, spill.”

When you hesitate, she leans in closer, her voice softening. “Is it Wonwoo?”

The look on your face is answer enough.

Mimi lets out a groan, rubbing her temples. “Y/N, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. If he’s making you feel like this—”

“It’s not his fault,” you cut in quickly. “He doesn’t even know how I feel.”

“Exactly,” she says, exasperated. “You’re tearing yourself apart over a guy who doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you.”

You don’t respond, and Mimi sighs. After a moment of silence, she leans forward with a determined look in her eyes.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m not letting you mope around all weekend. There’s a party on Saturday, and you’re coming with me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

“No excuses. You need a distraction, and I’m going to make sure you have fun whether you like it or not.”

True to her word, Saturday evening finds you standing in front of the mirror, dressed in an outfit Mimi picked out for you. It’s a little more daring than your usual style—an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugs your figure in all the right places—but Mimi insists it’s perfect.

“You look hot,” she declares, grinning as she adjusts the necklace around your neck. “Wonwoo who?”

You laugh despite yourself, though the sound feels hollow. Mimi doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, and she grabs your hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“Listen, Y/N. Tonight is about you. Forget about Wonwoo, forget about everything else, and just have fun. You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, even though you’re not sure you believe it.

But as Mimi drags you out the door and toward the party, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Maybe it’s time to let go, even if just for one night.

The bass from the speakers reverberates through your chest the moment you step inside the party venue. It’s dimly lit, with neon lights flashing and a sea of people crowded around the dance floor and bar.

You feel out of place immediately, but Mimi, ever the extrovert, is in her element. She practically radiates confidence as she scans the room, her hand firmly gripping your wrist.

“This is going to be fun,” she says with a grin, already pulling you toward the bar.

“Mimi, wait—” you start to protest, but she’s not listening. Within moments, she’s ordering shots, her energy infectiously bold.

“Two tequila shots, please!” she calls out over the noise, turning to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Come on, Y/N. You said you’d let loose tonight!”

“I didn’t say I’d drink,” you mumble, eyeing the small glasses as they’re placed in front of you.

Mimi rolls her eyes. “One shot won’t kill you. It’s called liquid courage. You’ll thank me later.”

Before you can object again, she’s shoving one of the glasses into your hand. Everything feels like it’s happening too fast—the music, the lights, the crowd, and now this. You glance down at the clear liquid and then at Mimi, who’s already downed hers like a pro.

“Cheers to forgetting about all your worries!” she declares, clinking her empty glass against yours.

You sigh, realizing you have no way out, and tip the shot back. The alcohol burns as it goes down, and you cough slightly, grimacing at the taste. Mimi laughs and pats your back.

“There you go! See? That wasn’t so bad,” she says, already signaling for another round.

As Mimi orders more drinks, you glance around the room, trying to get your bearings.

You don’t notice the way heads turn in your direction, but Wonwoo does.

From his spot in the corner of the room, he’s watching you.

He’d seen you the moment you walked in, though he wasn’t the only one. It’s hard not to notice you tonight. You look stunning, completely different from your usual casual, understated style. The black dress you’re wearing accentuates your figure, and there’s a confidence in the way you carry yourself—even if you don’t feel it.

Vernon nudges him lightly, leaning in to murmur, “Isn’t that Y/N?”

Wonwoo doesn’t reply, his gaze fixed on you as you stand at the bar with Mimi. He’s used to seeing you in hoodies and jeans, always looking comfortable and approachable. But tonight, you’re turning heads left and right, and it’s clear you’re out of your element.

“She cleans up well,” Minghao comments casually, sipping his drink.

Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly. He watches as Mimi drags you further into the chaos of the party, her energy pulling you along like a whirlwind. You seem hesitant, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment, but there’s something endearing about it.

For a moment, Wonwoo feels a strange pang in his chest, though he can’t quite place it. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to seeing you like this, so far removed from the quiet kindness you usually exude. Or maybe it’s the way other people are looking at you—the guys whose eyes linger a little too long, the girls whispering behind their hands.

“Dude,” Vernon says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You good?”

Wonwoo blinks, finally tearing his gaze away. “Yeah,” he mutters, though his voice lacks conviction.

But even as his friends return to their conversation, Wonwoo can’t help but glance back at you. There’s something about tonight that feels different, and for the first time in a long time, he wonders if he’s the one being left behind.

The alcohol was starting to buzz in your veins, making the room feel warmer and the noise more distant. Mimi was in her element, laughing and chatting with a group of students you vaguely recognized from campus. Somehow, you’d gotten swept up in their drinking games, and before you knew it, one shot had turned into two, then three.

Now, you were standing in a loose circle, your nerves on edge as you watched the current game unfold. Someone had explained it a moment ago: take the shot, then grab the lemon wedge held between another person’s lips. It was bold, far outside your comfort zone, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out.

“Your turn, Y/N!” someone called, handing you a small shot glass filled with tequila.

Your hands felt clammy as you accepted it, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t even look at the person who was supposed to hold the lemon for you—your nerves wouldn’t let you. All you could think about was how awkward this was going to be, and how much you wished you could disappear into the floor.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly as you downed the shot in one go.

The burn of the alcohol hit first, followed by a rush of heat in your chest. When you opened your eyes and turned your head to face whoever had volunteered to hold the lemon, you froze.

Wonwoo didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but there you were, standing at the bar with a shot in hand, the challenge in your eyes as you glanced at the person next to you holding a lemon.

And then—before he even realized what he was doing—he found himself walking over.

You blinked, wondering if the tequila was playing tricks on you. But no—he was standing right in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The room seemed to fall away, the noise and chaos fading into the background.

The lemon wedge was between his lips, his sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. His touch was warm, steady, grounding you even as your mind spiraled.

Every nerve in your body was on high alert, the proximity making your head spin even more than the alcohol.

The way you looked at him when you saw him standing there, so close, made something stir in his chest. He was used to seeing you in passing, in casual greetings, but never like this.

Never with this... spark in your eyes, the nervous energy swirling between you two as if the whole room had faded into the background.

His hand found its way to your face without him thinking about it. It was like instinct, like he was meant to touch you, to make the moment real, to ground you in the present. He could feel your breath against his lips as he held the lemon between his teeth, his own heartbeat quickening as he leaned in. The closeness was intoxicating, and even though everything around you was chaotic, there was a stillness between you two—something unspoken that hummed in the air.

His lips brushed against yours, and for a split second, the world stopped moving. The taste of tequila, the sharpness of the lemon, it all blurred together, leaving just the feeling of your presence, warm and electric. It was over in an instant, but the memory lingered like an echo in his mind.

When he pulled away, he noticed the slight tremble in your breath, the flush creeping up your cheeks. His fingers lingered on your skin, just for a moment, before he let go and took a step back. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something else that made him act on impulse, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

“Careful with those shots,” he said, his voice steady as he turned to leave, wanting to disappear into the crowd before he did something even more foolish.

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd.

You stood there, your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering if what had just happened was real—or if it was just another tequila-induced dream.

The morning light is harsh, seeping through the blinds and hitting you like a freight train.

Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and you feel like your body is made of lead. Every movement feels like a chore, and the only thing you want is to pull the covers over your head and pretend like the world doesn't exist.

But then you remember last night. Bits and pieces of the party flash through your foggy mind—Mimi dragging you into the chaos, the shots, the people... and then, the moment with Wonwoo.

You sit up, your stomach flipping at the thought of it.

What had happened? Was it real? Or just a tequila-fueled dream? Your heart sinks into your stomach as the hangover makes itself known in full force. You groan, leaning back against your pillow.

Mimi, ever the morning person, bursts into your room without knocking, as if she doesn’t notice the state you’re in.

“Morning!” she says brightly, a little too brightly, given your current condition. She’s holding a water bottle and some aspirin in her hand. “Here, drink this. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, taking the bottle gratefully, but your eyes are still squinting against the harsh light. “Mimi... what happened last night? What... what did I do?”

Mimi plops down on the edge of your bed, clearly already recovered from whatever wildness the night had thrown her way. She grins, almost too smugly for your current state.

“Let me think,” she says, tapping her chin like she’s in deep contemplation. “Well, first you got a little tipsy, then you got a lot tipsy... You were a little shy at first, but after a few shots, you really started to loosen up!”

You wince, already imagining how embarrassing you must have been. “And…?”

“Then,” she continues, barely able to contain her laughter, “you and Wonwoo had a moment.”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimi says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You two were definitely the talk of the night. You guys played that game, and then...” She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. “...Well, let’s just say the lemon wedge wasn’t the only thing shared.”

Your brain stumbles over the words as the memory floods back. You and Wonwoo, so close, his hands on your face, the taste of tequila and lemon... And then the kiss, the soft brush of his lips against yours, lingering for just a heartbeat.

You feel your cheeks heat up, even as you cringe internally. “That wasn’t a kiss, was it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, it definitely was,” Mimi says with a teasing grin, clearly delighted by the reaction she’s getting from you. “A very brief one, but yeah. It happened.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m going to die.”

“No, no, no.” Mimi leans in, trying to comfort you—though her laughter is a little too apparent. “It wasn’t a big deal! You didn’t embarrass yourself too badly. Besides, from what I saw, he didn’t look like he minded.”

You look up at her, eyes wide. “What do you mean? Did he say anything?”

Mimi shrugs, her grin turning a little more thoughtful. “He didn’t say much”

Your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t even considered that. Did he... stay because he was just being polite? Or was there something else there?

"Did anything else happen after that?" you ask cautiously.

Mimi shakes her head. "No, you two went your separate ways pretty quickly after that. I mean, you were a little tipsy, so I didn't want to push you too much. But trust me, you're not imagining it. Something happened, even if you're too hungover to remember all the details.”

You lean back against the pillows, the weight of her words settling in your chest. Wonwoo. That moment. Had he really felt something too? Or was it just the alcohol making you think there was more to it than there actually was?

"Mimi..." you trail off, unsure how to even phrase your next question. "What do I do now?"

Mimi's expression softens slightly, though she still has that mischievous glint in her eye. "You let it play out. Don't overthink it. If something’s meant to happen, it will. If not, then at least you got a pretty wild story to tell."

You nod slowly, still unsure about everything. The hangover isn’t making things any easier, and your head feels like it’s full of unanswered questions.

But as you drink the water and swallow the aspirin she handed you, you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the beginning of something you’ve been waiting for. Even if you don’t have all the answers yet.

The next few days felt like an emotional rollercoaster, and you were stuck somewhere near the top, trying to keep your balance.

After last night’s chaos, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Wonwoo. You avoided him like the plague, keeping your distance whenever you saw him around campus. It wasn’t because you regretted what happened, but because... well, it felt like you were the only one who cared about it, and that made everything awkward.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge you or the kiss. He acted like it was nothing, like it was just some silly game, just like the other shots and the other people. But the longer you avoided him, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of it—aware of you. And that only made it worse.

His friends had caught on, too. Vernon had laughed it off, saying it was cute how you were avoiding Wonwoo. Minghao seemed amused. They didn’t think much of it, but you couldn’t ignore the tension that built up every time you crossed paths with them.

But it wasn’t just them noticing. Wonwoo was noticing too. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you went to class or sat in the library. His usual nonchalant demeanor didn’t give anything away, but there was something in the way he lingered a little longer, just enough to make you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear.

Then, one afternoon, when you thought you were finally in the clear, it happened.

You were walking home, head down, lost in your thoughts as the weight of the last few days pressed heavily on your shoulders. You should’ve stayed in and avoided the outside world. But, no, you were out here, walking alone, hoping the fresh air would clear your head.

And then, you heard the familiar sound of an engine approaching. You looked up just in time to see Wonwoo’s car slowing beside you. Your heart skipped, and for a moment, everything inside you screamed to turn around and run. You were already panicking, your steps quickening, but before you could escape, the car came to a stop beside you.

Wonwoo rolled down the window, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his voice—his voice was what made you freeze.

“Y/N,” he called out, and your pulse quickened. You turn slowly to face him

"Hey, Wonwoo. Uh what's up?" you casually, trying to hide the fact that your face is burning because of him and not the cold winds

"Just got out of class, are you walking home?"

"Yea, on my way home too. Anyways, I better get going. See you... around" you wave goodbye and started to walk again.

You hear the car door open and steps behind you, "Are you avoiding me?" his question makes you stop on your tracks. Turning around to see him leaning against the passenger side of his car

“Uh... I... It’s just—” you stutter, and then you realize you can’t lie about it anymore. “It’s because of... the kiss.”

His face doesn’t shift, no surprise or confusion. He just looks at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. And then, as if it’s nothing at all, he shrugs.

“It wasn’t even a kiss, Y/N,” he says coolly, as though it’s no big deal. “It was just... part of the game. Nothing to worry about.”

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You’re disappointed, though you try not to show it. You wanted something more. You wanted him to acknowledge the tension, the fact that there was something between you two, something real.

But of course, that was just how Wonwoo was—nonchalant, distant, and always acting like everything was just nothing.

You couldn’t help the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Right. Of course,” you mutter, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the disappointment you feel.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You feel awkward, standing there on the sidewalk, his car still idling beside you. But then he speaks again, his tone softening just slightly, though still with that signature aloofness.

“Get in. I’ll drive you home.” he opens the passenger door, waiting for you.

You hesitate. You should just say no, continue walking, put some distance between you. But you’re tired, emotionally drained, and there's something about his voice—something about the way he’s offering that makes it hard to refuse. You sigh, not knowing what to say but not wanting to make things worse. You step toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat without another word.

As he pulls away, the silence in the car is thick, and you can’t stop the thoughts that swirl in your head. You want to ask him, want to know if that kiss meant anything to him, or if he really did feel nothing about it.

But that’s just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Always distant, always playing it cool, never letting anyone get too close.

The drive to your place feels like an eternity, but in the back of your mind, you know this silence between you two is only going to build the tension more. You just wish he would break it.

It wasn’t easy, but you were getting better at avoiding him. The subtle things you used to do for him—saving him a seat in the library, offering him drinks or homemade cookies—had all stopped. You still couldn’t bring yourself to fully confront your feelings for him, and honestly, it felt like the only way to protect yourself was to distance yourself from him as much as possible.

You told yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that the space you were creating would help you get over him. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always noticing.

And, of course, he noticed. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he was observant, maybe more so than he let on. He noticed that you stopped going out of your way to be kind to him. He noticed the absence of the small, thoughtful gestures you used to offer. At first, he didn’t say anything, uncertain of what was going on, or whether he even had the right to ask you about it.

But eventually, he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

It was late in the afternoon when you were walking alone on campus, heading toward the library to meet up with Mimi. The cool breeze made your hair dance around your face, and the noise of the campus life seemed distant, as if you were in your own little bubble.

As you passed by the gym, you saw him. Wonwoo. He had just finished his workout, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his T-shirt sticking to his body in that way it always did after a session. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, but you quickly turned your attention elsewhere, pretending you hadn’t seen him.

But he saw you. Of course, he did.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, his footsteps quickening to match yours. You tried not to flinch as you heard him approaching, but your pulse was racing.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, hoping your expression didn’t betray the nervousness bubbling up inside you. “Wonwoo?” you said, keeping your voice steady even though it felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest.

He stopped in front of you, looking at you for a beat too long, like he was sizing you up. The look on his face was unreadable, but you could see the confusion in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed slightly as he took you in.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

"Stop?" You repeated, confused by his question. What was he even talking about?

"Yeah," he continued, his voice casual, but there was something different in it now. Something that made you feel like you were under a microscope. "You stopped... saving me seats, or bringing me stuff. You used to do that all the time."

You didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to lie, to say it was no big deal, that you were just too busy or distracted with school, but something in his eyes made you hesitate. The truth, the real reason you were avoiding him, was too complicated. You couldn’t say it outright.

“I just… I guess I’ve been busy,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “Things just… changed, I guess.”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, as though trying to understand, but he didn’t push. There was no challenge in his voice, no annoyance. It was just curiosity, genuine and unassuming.

"Okay," he said after a beat, his eyes still locked on you. “I just thought you were mad at me or something.”

You felt a pang of guilt at his words, but you brushed it aside. “I’m not mad, Wonwoo. I’m just... I don’t know." You shook your head, unsure of how to explain your feelings without making things even more awkward. “I guess I just needed space.”

There was a pause, and then, for the first time in a while, he looked almost... vulnerable. "Space? For what?"

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You could hear the underlying question in his voice, even if he wasn’t asking it directly. Why had you pulled away from him? Why had you stopped the small things that used to come so naturally?

Before you could say anything else, Wonwoo let out a small sigh, and though his expression was still unreadable, there was something softer in his tone. “Alright. I just wanted to know.”

Without waiting for you to respond, he turned to leave, his steps slow but purposeful. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him walk away, the weight of his question lingering in the air between you.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were disappointed in. Was it because he hadn’t pushed you to explain? Or was it because, deep down, you were still waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel like your feelings weren’t so one-sided after all?

But that was just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Detached, distant, and never quite giving you the answers you needed.

And yet, even as you watched him disappear into the distance, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe he did want to know.

The cool breeze of the evening felt nice against your skin as you walked through the quiet neighborhood, sipping on your banana milk. The streets were relatively empty, the soft hum of the evening a welcome relief after a busy week. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind—just wanted to clear your head and enjoy the peace for a while.

As you walked past the familiar basketball court, you spotted a figure out of the corner of your eye. At first, you didn’t think much of it, but then the silhouette registered in your mind. It was Wonwoo.

You stopped in your tracks, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, too focused on dribbling the ball and taking shots at the hoop. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the court, and for a moment, you found yourself just watching him. There was something about his movements that seemed different, something tight in the way he played—like he was working through something that was bothering him.

Maybe it was the way his jaw was clenched or the way his shoulders were hunched. He looked almost frustrated, the usual nonchalance replaced by something more intense. You stood there, quietly sipping your drink, lost in thought as you watched him.

You were so absorbed in the moment that you didn’t see the ball coming toward you. It hit you squarely on the head before you could react.

"Ouch!" you exclaimed, wincing as you staggered back a step.

Wonwoo’s head snapped toward you immediately, his eyes wide with concern. He jogged over, his long legs covering the distance quickly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with worry. He stood in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of injury.

You rubbed your head, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t paying attention,” you muttered, but you could tell by the way Wonwoo was looking at you that he wasn’t convinced.

“Are you sure?” He reached up to gently touch the spot where the ball had hit you, his fingers lightly brushing the area. His touch was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest despite the situation.

“Really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, pulling back slightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught up in another one of these awkward moments with him.

But before you could brush it off entirely, something in you gave way. The distance you’d been trying to maintain, the walls you’d carefully built to protect yourself—suddenly, it felt so fragile. Maybe it was the way Wonwoo was looking at you so intently, or maybe it was the fact that it had been days since you last spoke. Whatever it was, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"I just thought I was being too much," you murmured, your gaze dropping to the ground. "And it’s not like you liked it."

Wonwoo froze, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words.

The air between you seemed to thicken, the awkwardness of the situation now mixed with something more vulnerable. You could feel your heart beating faster, the confession hanging in the air like a weight.

You regretted saying it the moment it left your lips, but it felt like the truth—no matter how painful it was. You didn’t want to keep putting yourself out there, offering him small gestures and favors if he wasn’t interested in them, or in you.

For a long moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything. His gaze softened, and he seemed to be carefully considering his next words. It wasn’t the detached, nonchalant Wonwoo you were used to.

This time, he seemed almost... human.

"You’re not being too much," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual coldness. He met your eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw something different in his gaze—something that wasn’t easy to define. "And I didn’t think it was annoying or anything."

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but the sincerity in his voice made you hesitate. Was he really saying that? Did he mean it?

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to keep doing those things for you if you didn’t care.”

Wonwoo’s expression softened even more, and he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was far more human than the usual composed Wonwoo you knew.

“You’re not being too much, and I guess I see why you think I didn't care. I never said I didn't” he says, this time with more conviction. “I just…” He trailed off, like he was searching for the right words. “I just didn’t know what to make of it. You were doing all these things, and I didn’t know how to react.”

There it was. The reason for his distance. The reason for his coldness. He hadn’t known how to handle your kindness. He hadn’t known what to do with the way you made him feel, and so he had kept his distance, just as you had.

“I’m sorry,” he added after a beat, looking slightly embarrassed, as though the admission was a little difficult for him.

You didn’t know what to say, your mind swirling with a mix of emotions. Had you really been wrong all along? Had he cared, but just not known how to show it?

You were so taken aback by his answer that your mind couldn't keep up. The words he had said, so simple, yet so unexpected, rattled your thoughts. I never said I didn’t care. Had you misread everything? Had all your attempts to keep your distance been for nothing?

"But then the kiss..."

"That was me being stupid, I should've apologized for invading your space like that and you look really bothered by it. I was being dumb"

"Well you did say it was just a game" you mumble

"Like I said, I was being dumb and I apologize" he shoots you a quick apologetic smile

Before you could process anything more, your face heated up with embarrassment. You felt suddenly shy, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.

“I—” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt a nervous energy surge through you, a mix of confusion and the rush of emotions you were trying to keep hidden.

“I’m fine, really.” You managed to give him a small, flustered smile, hoping it would make him stop worrying about you.

But Wonwoo wasn’t convinced. He stepped a little closer, eyes scanning you with concern. “You don’t seem fine,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked you over. “You sure you’re not concussed or something? You hit your head pretty hard.”

Your heart raced at the proximity, and you could feel the overwhelming urge to escape before you made a bigger fool of yourself. He was too close.

“No, really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words coming out in a rush as you took a step back. You were panicking, trying to make sense of everything, but all you wanted in that moment was to get away from him. To breathe. To process what had just happened.

Before you knew it, your feet were already moving, backing away from him at a faster pace. You didn’t even think about it—your body just reacted, the instinct to escape taking over.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo called after you, his voice filled with concern, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t deal with this right now. Not with him standing there, looking so sincere and worried, when you were still trying to understand everything that had just happened.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go!” you shouted over your shoulder, not daring to look back.

You could hear him calling your name again, but you didn’t stop. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you turned down the nearby street, running as fast as you could without looking back.

You kept running, trying to outrun the mess of emotions that swirled inside you. The awkwardness, the guilt, the confusion—it was all too much. And you couldn’t deal with it now.

As you finally slowed down, your breath coming in heavy gasps, you leaned against a nearby wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your heartbeat. You’d never done anything like that before—just ran away from a conversation like it was nothing. But in that moment, it felt like the only thing you could do.

What had just happened? Why did his words make you feel like everything inside you was unraveling?

You were doing well—at least, you thought you were.

For the past few days, you had managed to avoid any direct interaction with Wonwoo. You kept your distance, keeping your head down whenever he was around, avoiding his gaze, and hiding whenever you could. It was easier that way. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

But then, on this particular day, as you were gathering your things at the end of class, preparing to leave, you felt a tug on the hood of your jacket. You froze, instinctively jerking away from the sudden contact.

"Y/N," a calm voice spoke, and you looked up to find Wonwoo standing there, looking down at you with a slightly amused, yet nonchalant expression. He didn’t seem angry, just... observing.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and before you could stop yourself, your cheeks began to heat up. His gaze was steady, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as if he was asking you, Are you really doing this?

You didn’t know how to respond. Every part of you wanted to turn away and just leave before things got any worse, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

“I... I wasn’t... trying to hide,” you stammered, but your voice came out weaker than you’d intended.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone spoke volumes. He was just waiting for you to admit what was going on.

You shifted uncomfortably, biting your lower lip as you awkwardly tried to avoid his gaze. “I... didn’t know how to talk to you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been... confusing. And I thought... maybe it was better to just keep my distance.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem angry. In fact, the amused look on his face lingered, but there was something else there, something softer that you weren’t used to seeing from him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now,” he said in that same calm tone, his voice unbothered. “But running away won’t make this go away, you know.”

You winced at his words, feeling the weight of them more than you wanted to admit. But you couldn’t deny that he was right. It wasn’t going to disappear just because you ran away from it.

“I... I don’t know what to say to you,” you confessed, feeling all your anxiety bubbling up again. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I just...”

“Just what?” Wonwoo asked, his expression unreadable now, his voice still quiet but insistent. “You think I won’t understand?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know if you will,” you murmured, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I thought maybe... maybe it was easier to just pretend it didn’t matter.”

Wonwoo studied you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “You think it doesn’t matter?” he asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “You’re the one who’s been giving me things, doing things for me. It matters.”

You felt your heart beat faster, unsure of how to handle this newfound vulnerability in his voice. It was unlike him, and it was making everything even more complicated.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you said quietly, your hands still fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. “I thought... maybe I was just being annoying.”

Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Y/N... you weren’t being annoying. I just didn’t know how to respond to you, okay?” His voice softened further, a hint of frustration in it now, but not at you—at himself, maybe. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."

You stared at him, unsure what to say. His words were hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected, and the confusion that had been gnawing at you for so long started to ebb, replaced by a different kind of uncertainty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed by his own admission, but then his gaze returned to yours. “I didn’t know how to. It’s easier for me to just... not talk about these things." He paused, then gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "But I’m trying, okay?”

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but at the same time, it was replaced by something new—something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

“So... what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.

Wonwoo stepped closer, a subtle movement that somehow felt like the most intimate thing. His expression was still calm, but there was a softness in it now that made your heart race. “Now, we talk. No more running away.”

You didn’t know what that would mean for you, for him, for whatever this was between you. But right now, it felt like you might finally be able to stop avoiding the truth.

You find yourself sitting across him at a diner outside campus. The booth was cozy, the dim lighting giving the place a warm, inviting atmosphere. But despite the warmth of the surroundings, you felt cold. The walls you’d carefully built around yourself seemed to be crumbling, and the closer you got to Wonwoo, the more vulnerable you felt.

You hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, your gaze bouncing around the diner, avoiding his eyes whenever they found yours.

Wonwoo, however, was watching you with quiet amusement, his gaze flickering between you and the menu in his hands. He could tell you were uncomfortable, restlessly fiddling with your hands, your eyes constantly darting away whenever he caught you looking at him.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice calm but carrying a teasing edge. "You seem a little... tense."

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, but before you could say anything, you noticed your own body language—a slight fidget, your shoulders stiff, your legs crossed tightly. You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable, but it wasn’t working. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on you.

“I... I just don’t like sitting across from people,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze still averted. “It’s too much pressure, I guess.”

Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. Without saying a word, he slid out of the booth, shifting to the side next to you. The movement was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. He wasn’t judging you for your discomfort. Instead, he was meeting you halfway, making you feel... seen.

He settled beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned back against the booth, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. He was so close now, and you felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was from the unexpected comfort of his presence.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of unease.

You nodded, but this time, you didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze. The proximity made everything feel a little more real, a little more grounded. And, for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the need to run away.

“Yeah,” you murmured, still a little flustered, but this time, the smile on your lips was more genuine, more relaxed. “This feels better.”

Wonwoo smirked, clearly pleased with your response, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable around me.”

“So…” You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to navigate this new dynamic between you. “What now?”

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though his eyes held a certain sincerity. “Now, we eat, and we talk. You don’t have to worry about running away anymore.” He paused, then added with a small smile, “And no more avoiding me, okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. This wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start figuring things out—with him, and with yourself.

You nodded slowly, the silence between you wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t easy, either. It felt like there were a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air, and neither of you knew how to address them.

Then, Wonwoo spoke, his voice calm and steady. “What’s your go-to drink order?”

You blinked, startled by the question. Out of all the things he could’ve asked, that wasn’t what you expected. “Uh…” You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back down at your hands. “Probably... iced vanilla latte. Or banana milk,” you added with a nervous laugh, gesturing to the nearly empty carton in front of you, you pulled it out of your bag a few minutes ago.

Wonwoo nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I figured you liked banana milk. I see you drinking it a lot.”

Your cheeks heated up at his observation, and you ducked your head, suddenly very aware of how closely he paid attention to you. “Yeah, it’s kind of a comfort drink,” you admitted softly. “What about you?”

“Americano,” he replied easily. “No sugar.”

You scrunched your nose at that, and Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle at your reaction. “What?” he teased. “Not a fan of bitter drinks?”

“Not really,” you admitted, daring a quick glance at him before looking away again. “I like sweet things.”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving you. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

You bit your lip, trying to think. The way he was watching you so intently made your brain feel foggy, and it was hard to focus. “Probably... cheesecake,” you finally said. “Strawberry cheesecake.”

He hummed thoughtfully, as if filing that piece of information away. “Strawberry cheesecake,” he repeated, his voice soft. “Noted.”

“Why are you asking me this?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Wonwoo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just trying to get to know you better.”

That answer caught you off guard. You looked down at your lap, your hands twisting nervously. “But... why?”

He didn’t answer right away, and when you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you found him watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache. “Because I want to,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away again, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Wonwoo didn’t push you to say anything else. He let the silence settle again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. It felt... different. Like he was giving you space to process, to breathe.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe he wasn’t as far out of reach as you’d always thought.

It's suppose to be another normal day. You're in class, sitting next to MImi still feeling sleepy but then something slides infront of you.

You stared at the banana milk on your desk like it had suddenly sprouted wings. Slowly, you turned back to look at Wonwoo, who was casually flipping through his notebook like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Mimi, sitting to your right, nudged your arm, her expression a mix of confusion and barely-contained glee. “What’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes darting between you and Wonwoo like she was trying to piece together a crime scene.

“I have no idea,” you whispered back

You leaned slightly toward Wonwoo, lowering your voice as much as possible. “What are you doing?”

“Attending class,” he replied, not even looking up from his notebook. His tone was so calm, so casual, that for a moment you thought you’d imagined him moving seats altogether.

“Here?” you pressed, glancing over your shoulder again to see his friends Vernon and Minghao, who were both watching the two of you with poorly hidden smirks. Minghao even gave you a small wave, which only made you more flustered.

Wonwoo finally looked at you, his expression as neutral as ever. “Why not?”

Before you could respond, he nudged the banana milk closer to you. “You like this, right?”

You blinked down at the carton, your brain short-circuiting. “I... yeah, but—”

“Then drink it.” His tone was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.

Beside you, Mimi’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Okay, what is going on here?” she hissed under her breath, leaning closer to you. “Did you bribe him? Threaten him? Sell your soul to some matchmaking demon?”

“I don’t know!” you whispered back, your voice frantic as you stared at the banana milk like it held all the answers to life’s mysteries.

Wonwoo, clearly aware of the hushed conversation happening beside him, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Mimi. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his calm demeanor never faltering.

Mimi froze, her eyes wide as she realized he was addressing her directly. “Uh, no? Nothing’s wrong,” she stammered, clearly trying to play it cool. “Just... curious, that’s all.”

Wonwoo nodded, satisfied with her answer, and turned his attention back to his notebook, leaving you and Mimi to exchange bewildered looks.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. You were hyper-aware of Wonwoo’s presence beside you, the subtle sound of him turning pages, the occasional shift in his seat, even the faint scent of his cologne. You couldn’t focus on the lecture to save your life, and every time you caught Mimi looking at you, she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made you want to crawl under the desk.

When the class finally ended, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape before your brain completely melted. But as you stood up, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Walk with me,” he said, his tone more of a statement than a question.

You glanced at Mimi, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes and a grin that was far too smug for your liking. “Go ahead,” she said, waving you off. “I’ll meet you later.”

Before you could argue, Wonwoo gently tugged your wrist, guiding you toward the door. You followed him, your heart racing as you wondered what on earth he was up to now.

You were half jogging to keep up with Wonwoo’s long strides, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the campus. It wasn’t like he was walking that fast—it was just that his legs were ridiculously long compared to yours.

Your steps were hurried, almost clumsy, as you tried to keep up. “Wonwoo,” you huffed, glancing at his back, “can you slow down? Not all of us have tree trunks for legs, you know.”

He glanced back at you, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’ll be late if I slow down,” he said simply, but his pace did ease up slightly.

It was almost cute—too cute, honestly. The height difference, the way you had to trudge along behind him like a kid trying to keep up. And then there was him: calm, composed, and acting like dragging you to your next class was just a normal, everyday occurrence.

By the time you reached the door of your classroom, you were slightly out of breath. Wonwoo, of course, looked as unbothered as ever. He gently let go of your wrist and gestured for you to go in.

“Go,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To my class,” he replied, as though it was obvious.

You frowned, gesturing vaguely in the direction you had just come from. “Your class isn’t here?”

“Nope,” he said, already turning on his heel to walk away. “It’s on the other side of campus.”

You stared at him, your jaw dropping. “The opposite side?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet your incredulous gaze. “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly.

“Then why did you—” You cut yourself off, not even sure how to finish the sentence.

Wonwoo just shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Felt like walking you,” he said simply, as though it was no big deal.

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing at the door of your classroom, completely flustered and at a loss for words.

What is he doing to me? you thought, burying your face in your hands. Whatever game Wonwoo was playing, it was definitely working.

This new routine had become so normal that you almost stopped questioning it—not that you were any less flustered every time Wonwoo waited for you after class or walked you across campus. It was just easier to let it happen, even if your heart constantly felt like it was doing somersaults. Mimi teased you endlessly about it, of course, but you’d stopped trying to defend yourself. What could you even say?

One afternoon, just as class was ending, Wonwoo approached you while you were packing up your things. You were expecting him to grab his bag and lead you out of the room like usual, but instead, he hesitated.

“I have something to do after class today,” he said, his voice soft yet direct, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I can’t drive you home.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. I can just—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, giving you a look that made you freeze. “Are you going to walk home alone?”

You faltered, unsure how to answer. “I mean, it’s not that far...”

He frowned at that, clearly not liking your response. “I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s really fine, Wonwoo. I’ve walked home alone before.”

“Not anymore,” he said firmly, pulling out his phone.

You raised an eyebrow as he started dialing, wondering what on earth he was doing. “What are you—”

“Hey,” he said into the phone, cutting you off. “Where are you right now? Can you drive someone home for me?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he really calling someone just to make sure you didn’t walk home alone?

A few moments later, he hung up and turned back to you. “Vernon and Minghao are nearby. They’ll drive you home.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Wonwoo, you don’t have to—”

“I already did,” he said simply, grabbing his bag. “They’ll meet you outside in five minutes. Just wait for them, okay?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t stern, exactly, but it was... serious. Protective. Like he genuinely wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.

You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. “Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He softened at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good. I’ll text you later.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind reeling.

When you made your way outside, Vernon and Minghao were waiting by Vernon’s car, both of them looking far too amused for your liking.

“So,” Vernon said, leaning casually against the hood of the car, “you’re the one Wonwoo’s been babying lately.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Can we not talk about this?”

Minghao chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. “Don’t worry, we won’t tease you too much. Wonwoo’s been... different lately, though. It’s kind of interesting to watch.”

“Different how?” you asked, sliding into the car and buckling your seatbelt.

Vernon smirked as he started the engine. “Let’s just say you bring out a side of him we didn’t know existed.”

You couldn’t decide if that made you feel flattered or even more flustered. Either way, as they drove you home, you couldn’t stop thinking about the lengths Wonwoo had gone to just to make sure you were safe. And even though it was embarrassing, a small, shy smile found its way to your lips.

Later that night, just as you were about to settle into bed, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned when you saw the name.

Wonwoo.

Your heart immediately started racing. He had texted you before, sure, but calling? This was new. Hesitantly, you picked up, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice was deep and smooth, laced with a certain warmth that made you grip your phone a little tighter. “Did you get home okay?”

You felt your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. “Yeah, Vernon and Minghao dropped me off. You really didn’t have to go that far, you know.”

“I did,” he said simply. “I told you, I don’t like you walking alone.”

There was something about the way he said it—calm, steady, certain—that made your chest feel warm. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the giddy feeling bubbling inside you.

Instead, you changed the subject. “How was your thing after class? You never said what it was.”

“Just something for a group project,” he answered. “It took longer than I expected.”

You hummed in understanding. “That sucks.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Anyway, how was your day?”

At that, you perked up, launching into a detailed retelling of everything that had happened since class. You told him about Mimi’s latest antics, how she nearly got into an argument with a professor because she was convinced she turned in her assignment when she actually hadn’t. You talked about how Vernon and Minghao teased you the whole car ride home, about the new café you wanted to try, and even the silly little things that made you laugh that day.

Somewhere along the way, you noticed he had gone quiet.

“Wonwoo?” you called, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Are you still there?”

There was a pause, then his voice came through the speaker—soft, almost gentle.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

There was something different about the way he said it. He wasn’t just saying it to fill the silence. He meant it. He liked listening to you.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you pushed forward, finishing your story despite how shy you suddenly felt.

When you finally ran out of things to say, he let out a contented hum. “You should get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your heart melted at how soft his voice was. “Okay,” you said quietly.

“Goodnight,” he added, and you swore you could hear the smallest smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

The call ended, and for a moment, you just sat there, staring at your phone. Then, all at once, the emotions hit you like a tidal wave.

You let out a loud groan, grabbed your pillow, and screamed into it.

“What are you doing to me, Jeon Wonwoo?!”

Your pillow, of course, had no answers. But one thing was clear—you were so doomed.

It's a few weeks later, you're at the cafe you frequently hang out when you have free time. The usual, you're on your yapping mode while Wonwoo listens. But then you said something you didn't mean to tell him.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze.

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It was just one of those things you only ever admitted to Mimi—how you were so confused about what was going on between you and Wonwoo.

But now, you had just said it. Right in front of him.

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to look at him.

Wonwoo was already staring at you, that small, amused smile still lingering on his lips—but his eyes held something else. Something unreadable.

For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t tease you, didn’t brush it off. He just watched you, as if he was carefully thinking about what to say.

You scrambled to fix it. “I-I mean—” you let out a nervous laugh, waving your hands. “Forget I said that! It was just, um, something stupid I told Mimi—”

Wonwoo tilted his head, his gaze still locked on you. “You’re confused?” he asked, his voice calm.

You swallowed. “I mean... yeah?”

Silence.

The tension was unbearable. Your heart was practically screaming in your chest.

Finally, he leaned back, eyes flickering to the coffee in front of him. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again.

“What do you want us to be?”

Your breath hitched.

You stared at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. Your mind raced, completely unprepared for the question.

“I—” you fumbled, gripping the edge of your sleeves. “I don’t know...”

Another pause. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Liar.”

Your head snapped up. “Excuse me?!”

Wonwoo met your gaze again, eyes knowing, almost too knowing. He didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked fond—like he had already figured out the answer before you even realized it yourself.

Your face burned. “I’m not lying—”

“You’ve liked me for a long time.” His voice was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it left you speechless.

Your entire body tensed.

Oh my god.

He knew.

Of course, he knew.

Everyone knew. You knew he knew. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with no hesitation—it made your stomach flip.

You wanted to disappear.

“I—” You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “Okay, so maybe that’s true, but—”

“But?” He was still watching you, waiting.

“But I don’t know what you want.” The words came out smaller than you intended, but they were honest. “You... you’re always around now, Wonwoo. You drive me home, you wait for me after class, you listen to me ramble all the time. I just—” You bit your lip. “I don’t know what that means to you.”

Another silence.

Wonwoo didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip. Then, with the same infuriatingly calm expression, he set it back down, resting his chin against his palm as he gazed at you.

And then—

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your hands clenched under the table, heart pounding in your ears. You knew what he was implying, you felt what he was saying without words, but you still couldn’t believe it.

And Wonwoo—knowing you so well—could see that.

So, he leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time.

“I wouldn’t do all of this if you weren’t special to me.”

Your brain short-circuited.

You felt like your heart had stopped entirely, like you had forgotten how to breathe.

Jeon Wonwoo—who had spent years acting nonchalant toward you—was now sitting here, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You didn’t know what to say.

So, naturally, you panicked.

“I—um—I need to go to the bathroom!” you blurted out, shoving your chair back as you stood up abruptly.

Wonwoo blinked, a bit startled, before letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re running away?”

“I am not running away!”

“You’re literally running away.”

“I need to pee!” you lied, voice high-pitched as you quickly turned toward the restroom.

Behind you, you heard Wonwoo laugh—actually laugh—before calling out, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

You groaned, covering your face as you rushed away.

This was too much.

Jeon Wonwoo was too much.

When you finally gathered the courage to come back, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You had taken extra minutes in the restroom just to stare at yourself in the mirror, mentally screaming and trying to convince yourself to act normal.

Except—how could you act normal after what just happened?

You cautiously made your way back to the booth, and there he was—Wonwoo, sitting comfortably with one arm draped over the back of the seat, sipping his drink as if he hadn't just dropped that bomb on you.

And then, when he noticed you, his lips curled into that teasing smile.

“You good?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “Took you a while.”

Your face heated.

“I had to—um, you know—actually pee.” You sat down stiffly, eyes fixed on the table.

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced at all.

You fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Now that you knew he felt something for you, you had no idea how to act around him. You weren’t prepared for this. You had spent so long assuming your feelings were one-sided that the moment he admitted otherwise, your brain completely shut down.

And Wonwoo—of course—noticed.

He watched you with that quiet amusement, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, after a beat, he spoke again.

“Are you still confused?”

Your breath caught.

You looked up at him—finally meeting his gaze—and you regretted it immediately because he was already staring at you.

His dark eyes, calm and steady, held a kind of certainty that made your stomach flip.

“I—” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Wonwoo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. “I see.”

You thought that would be the end of it, that he would back off and give you time to process—but no.

Instead, he leaned in.

Not dramatically, not forcefully. Just enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, enough that your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists in your lap.

Then, in a voice so quiet that it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered,

“Then tell me…”

His eyes flickered to your lips before locking back onto yours.

“What do you want me to be?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Your body went completely still.

The weight of the question—the meaning behind it—hit you all at once, and suddenly, everything felt too real.

Wonwoo was still watching you, waiting, his face unfairly close to yours. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He wasn’t joking. He was giving you the choice—asking you to decide what this was between you.

And you…

You had no idea how to answer.

Because for the first time ever—

You realized that your silly little crush wasn’t so one-sided after all.

Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

What did you want him to be?

For so long, you had thought the answer was simple—you wanted him, you always had. But now that he was actually asking you, the words caught in your throat.

You were frozen, caught between the overwhelming weight of your long-time feelings and the terrifying reality of facing them head-on.

Wonwoo didn’t move. He was still leaning close, his dark eyes fixed on yours, waiting patiently. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to answer, but that only made it worse.

You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a small, breathless,

“I—”

And then you panicked.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up—you quickly grabbed your drink and took the biggest gulp imaginable, as if that would somehow wash away the moment.

It didn’t.

Instead, Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, finally leaning back, giving you space.

“You’re cute when you panic.”

You almost choked.

“I’m not panicking,” you sputtered, setting your drink down with a little too much force.

His lips twitched, clearly not believing you. “So, what’s your answer?”

“I—” You exhaled, gripping the hem of your shirt. “This is a lot, okay? You just—you never made it seem like you liked me before, and now you’re—” You gestured vaguely at him. “—doing all this and it’s messing with my brain.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, looking at you with quiet curiosity. “I never made it seem like I liked you?”

You gave him a look.

He hummed, gaze flickering downward for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “That’s not true.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I just… don’t show it the way you do.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, as if it was something you should’ve known all along.

You stared at him, your brain struggling to process his words.

And then, as if to prove his point, Wonwoo reached out—his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling your hand closer to him.

Your breath hitched.

“Do you really think I would’ve let just anyone take care of me the way you did?” His voice was lower now, softer, as his thumb absentmindedly traced slow circles against the back of your hand. “I noticed, you know. Every time you saved me a seat, every time you gave me something without expecting anything in return.”

You swallowed thickly.

Wonwoo glanced down at your intertwined hands, as if realizing he was still holding you. But instead of letting go, he gave your fingers a small, almost hesitant squeeze.

“I didn’t ignore it because I didn’t care,” he admitted. “I just… didn’t know how to respond.”

The confession made something in your chest tighten.

Wonwoo had always been unreadable to you—his quiet, nonchalant demeanor making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. But now, sitting here with him, listening to him actually talk about his feelings, you realized that he wasn’t cold at all. He was just careful.

He let out a quiet sigh. “But when you stopped…” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I didn’t like that.”

You blinked. “You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “No.”

It was such a simple response, yet it made your heart race all over again.

There was a small beat of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I missed you.”

Your chest ached.

All this time, you had thought your feelings were a burden to him—that he barely noticed you, let alone missed you. But here he was, telling you otherwise, proving you wrong in the gentlest way possible.

Your fingers curled around his, gripping back.

“…I missed you too.”

Wonwoo smiled, the kind of small, rare smile that made your stomach flip.

“So,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, “are you still confused?”

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. “…Maybe.”

He chuckled. “Then should I make it clearer?”

You sucked in a breath when he leaned in again, just close enough that you could see the soft curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.

His gaze flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes.

“What do you want me to be?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

"Do I have to answer now?"

Wonwoo just smiled at your question. That soft, knowing kind of smile that made your stomach do flips.

“Take your time,” he said simply, "You waited for me, without expecting anything. It's my turn now" he tells you.

You could barely meet his eyes, your fingers twitching against his. “I just—this is a lot, okay?”

“I know.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “That’s why I’m letting you decide.”

That didn’t help at all.

You groaned internally, dropping your forehead onto the table in defeat. “You’re making this so much worse, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He chuckled, and you could feel his amusement. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the one blushing like crazy.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed again, and you hated how much you loved the sound.

After a moment, you hesitantly lifted your head, still unable to look at him directly. “…So, you’re not gonna, like, be weird about this?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not gonna pressure me?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna… wait?”

Wonwoo leaned back against the booth, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours. “As long as you need me to, as long as you want me here”

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart squeeze at his words.

“…Okay,” you mumbled.

“Okay?”

You nodded shyly, finally—finally—glancing up at him. “I’ll think about it.”

His lips twitched, amused. “Good.”

And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, Wonwoo lifted your hand to his lips and pressed the lightest, softest kiss against your knuckles.

Your brain completely shut down.

“You—” You squeaked, yanking your hand back as if you had just been electrocuted.

Wonwoo just smirked.

“Take your time,” he repeated, looking way too satisfied with himself. “I’ll wait.”

And you knew—you knew—that no matter how much you tried to think about it, your heart had already decided.

[chipper-smol]

ISAT 2025 Art Bang!

After the telephone game lot of people told me that they were interested in joining another project just like it so here we are!

Sign up is available here!

There's a project server invite at the end, you're not required to join it but please don't feel anxious to join! The previous participants have created a very kind community 'v'

The timeline!

What is an Art Bang?

An art bang is meant to create a BANG of fanwork in the fandom! You (and as many authors who sign up) come together to write fanfics from scratch. The fanfic can be an idea that you’ve been wanting to write for a while and just haven’t gotten the motivation to, a fanfic you haven’t been able to continue but want to, or it can be an idea someone else suggests when you join.

Halfway through the writing process authors will be paired up with artists who have read a summary of their work and want to draw for it. When everything is finished, everyone will release their fanfic and fanart in the same week in an explosion of fanworks!

More info below the readmore!

How does it work?

Step 1: Authors sign up and start writing on June 28th. Authors CANNOT add any words to their official word count until after June 28th.

Step 2: After about a month, Authors submit a snippet or summary of their fic which is presented to the artist participants anonymously.

Step 3: Artists choose as many fics that they’d be interested in drawing for and I organize and pair up everyone together.

Step 4: Authors finish up writing, Artists finish up drawing.

Step 5: Works are scheduled to be uploaded to Ao3 and/or Tumblr!

Rules/Expectations

If you use generative AI or AI “assistance” I will trap you in a timeloop ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

AI anything is not allowed under any circumstances and will get you immediately banned from this project and any future projects.

All fics must be uploaded to either Ao3 or Tumblr

Spoilers for ISAT and SASASA:P are not reinforced in the Discord server

Authors

Authors must write at least 10k words in total.

Authors can write as many chapters and fanfics as they want.

Can be about anything! It can even be a continuation of a previous fic that you’ve lost motivation on, but you still must write at least 10k words in total.

Can be any rating! General Audiences to Explicit are welcome 

Authors who want to write Explicit fics must confirm they are 18 years or older.

Artists

Artists must create at least one finished artwork. 

If artists want to create something like an animation or animatic, they can check in with me and we can decide together what is a reasonable finished goal.

Artists can create artwork for multiple fics.

Artists who want to draw for explicit fics must confirm they are 18 years or older.

Can I share snippets of my work before the artist claims?

Preferably no, artist claims are made anonymously so that works are picked without any bias.

10k words seems like a lot?

Altogether, yes, but this challenge extends over 2.5 - 3 months, that’s roughly 3k words a month.

Can I write multiple fics?

Yes, but one of them needs to reach the 10k word mark.

Do explicit fics mean nsfw/sex included things, or is it general heavy themed ones?

Both. Nsfw/sex and general heavy themes.

How 'high level' do the art pieces need to be? i dont want to just do simple sketches of course but how complex should they be?

Since you'll be given a month+ to work on your piece, at the minimum it should be a polished piece. IE Lineart, color, shading

[vague-humanoid]

When lots of people are worried about bubble valuations in stocks or a specific sector, all it takes is a small poke to make the whole thing wobble precariously.

Why it matters: That can cost investors $1 trillion or more in a single day, as happened Monday with the global AI rout.

It can also challenge the fundamental assumptions behind an entire economy, like the nascent Trump administration's push to invest hundreds of billions of dollars in American AI supremacy.

Zoom out: In the 1950s, the Soviets beat the U.S. into space. In 2025, China appears to have potentially beaten the U.S. to building a better AI mousetrap.

Last week, the small Chinese upstart DeepSeek announced a newreasoning model, R1, that appears to outperform the best America has to offer, including OpenAI's ChatGPT, Anthropic's Claude and Meta's Llama.

The problem? Those companies spent billions of dollars building their models, fueling growth for companies like Nvidia, whose chips are the gold standard in that training process.

DeepSeek spent a mere$6 million, figured out how to do it faster and more efficiently with cheaper hardware, and then released the whole thing as a free, open-source platform.

The big picture: President Trump's economic vision relies on massive growth, fueled by the AI boom that his closest advisers have sold as the country's future.

The biggest economic announcement of his first week in office was Stargate, a five-year plan to spend $500 billion on AI infrastructure. (Complicating matters, Trump ally Elon Musk immediately cast doubt on whether anyone actually had the money to fund the project.)

But if China can do AI better and faster at one one-thousandth of the cost, it casts a shadow on the rationale for spending that kind of money and leaves the country playing catch-up.

[reasonsforhope]

"Seventh graders at Thurgood Marshall Middle School in Rockford, Illinois are learning about STEM — but they’re also learning about real-world challenges.

The students have taken on a new project: assembling “solar suitcases” to help bring electricity to schools in Uganda’s Bidi Bidi Refugee Settlement, which is home to 270,000 South Sudanese refugees.

It’s an initiative led by We Share Solar, a nonprofit that provides science and technology learning projects for students that then go on to benefit other students in low-income areas of the world. 

The project introduces middle schoolers to fundamental electrical concepts, like positive and negative charges, voltage, amps, and wiring, ultimately producing a 12-volt DC solar power system that will be distributed among the refugee community.

“We’ve learned many things like positives and negatives, amps, volts, all that stuff, and how to wire stuff together,” Pratham Mehta, one of the Thurgood Marshall students, told WIFR News. 

“We’re taking all this stuff for granted, and other countries don’t have all this stuff, like electricity.”

The suitcases will bring electricity to 40 schools in the refugee settlement, which provide education to over 12,000 students. They are designed to be easily transported (thus the suitcase design), which makes them ideal for off-grid locations, like a refugee camp.

The panels in the suitcase collect sunlight and harness the energy in a built-in battery. It can then provide power to up to five light bulbs for 50 to 60 hours a week. Depending on the capacity of the system, it can also help power small electronics like phones or radios.

For people in the Bidi Bidi settlement — one of the largest refugee settlements in the world — this kind of power can make an enormous impact.

In fact, We Share Solar has deployed over 1,000 suitcases to “energy-scarce locations” across the world, with more than 500,000 students and teachers benefitting from the power they provide.

“The We Share Solar education program serves youth twice,” Hal Aronson, co-founder of the organization, said, “first as an educational experience for American youth and second as a renewable power and lighting system for youth in parts of the world that lack electricity.”

Along with connecting students to learning opportunities, the organization ensures each device is tested by a professional to ensure it is built to withstand energy demands. Then, the suitcases are installed by trained partners in destination countries, and students and teachers alike learn about the new clean energy technologies they have implemented.

At the start of the 2024 school year, the We Share Solar program was implemented in 13 Illinois schools, training educators in the curriculum and setting up the project across the state.

“This is just the beginning,” a Facebook post from We Share Solar states. “These passionate teachers will now guide their students in building solar cases, providing a hands-on STEM experience with real-world impact.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 16, 2025