#and I probably deviated a bit

[elphilim]

>> To the one anon who send me this ask about posting a promo and me having so less interactions etc.:

PS: long post! But it's kinda important, cause there is some parts in the tumblr rpc that also annoys me pretty much.

Yeah I know I could post a promo and maybe it would attract more followers etc. and I would have done so already if I wanted to do this. But the fact is, I don't. I barely have time to engage with the people I'm already writing with and those are really not many.

I mean just look at my tracker, there are once again threads who haven't been answered since the beginning of May and we have June now.

Ofc I'm not closed to new people, if anyone stumbles over my blog and wants to interact or if I stumble over a blog I find interesting, I still follow (back) and write with them. But I try to keep my list small, not just for my sanity but also because I know, just because you have a lot of mutuals doesn't mean you have many interactions. For most of them you're just a number to make their followerlist look bigger and I'm not interested in being food for people's ego...

I mean right now I follow 19 people, 25 are following me and out of them I'm actively writing with only 8 and out of those 8 people it's like only 2-3 who really like and comment my stuff or talk ooc with me, without waiting for me to make the first step (not judging or blaming anyone here, only stating facts)

I have 8 threads, 31 drafts, my inbox: empty, activity: almost every day at 0; sometimes I get a like or a comment but that's it, DMs: you can hear crickets chirping and if you want to write there you first have to dust off the chat. My notifications almost never go over 5 per week. It happenes almost every time that I come on here and I got nothing: No dm, no ask, no like, no comment, no nothing. And if I do have more than this, I can be sure the bots have found me again...

And still I barely have any time to answer to this 8 threads like once a week or get to post the 31 drafts I have saved. It's not like I'm drowning in stuff to do here on tumblr, that I get so much stuff to answer to or anything like that and still, I'm happy if I manage to answer to everyone's thread at least once a month or write the starters I promised in the same month.

Do I wish people would engage more around here, sure I do. Who isn't happy when people show interest in something you created and stuff. But it is what it is, you can't force people to do so and it's also not fair to ask for more interaction, if you yourself can't do much either.

I always say: "You get what you give."

If you give much but won't get anything in return: Stop giving. But if you don't give anything yourself, don't be surprised if you don't get anything either.

The one thing I'm mostly dissapointed here on tumblr is, that everyone here kinda sits back and wait for the others to make the first step and then complain when no one does it. I see a lot people here on tumblr complaining about this, and with each one of them I always ask myself "Yeah I get it, but how much did you gave first?" You don't get to lean back and put your feet up, waiting for the sun to shine upon you and then complain cause everyone else is doing the same.

I get it, it's annoying if it's you who always has to be the one to write the first dm, to send all the ideas or pitching plots. It's frustrating if you always have to be the one to write starters and don't get them back or the one to reblogg, like, comment and send asks etc. while everyone around you is kinda like just sit there waiting and only respond to what you give them. There I can understand people complaining, that everyone else is just waiting to get served.

But in a community as broken as the rpc seems to be someone has to be the "bigger guy" and suck it up and idk start somehow. Otherwise you won't get anything started at all. Over time you learn who of your mutuals appriciate you and your efforts and who you can just drop again. I prefer to make the first steps, hoping that something like a friendship builds between us, than to be yet another person who just sits back and waits for the world to do all the work for you. There are still people here on tumblr who, when they see the effort you give to them, they give the same effort back to you again. You just have to find them which can take very long and be very exhausting, but they're still around here.

I mean sure, beside the threads I sometimes send in memes or asks, or comment, like or reblogg stuff from others, but again I can't force anyone to do the same.

But don't get this wrong: I'm fine with doing the first step and I'm also very patient. But if this continues and it's ALWAYS me to make the first step, at one point I'll be dropping you again. I always observe my mutuals a little. I observe who makes the effort to write to me first every now and then or who only waits and replies when I write first. I see who comes to me of their own accord, checking on me, sending stuff in, throwing ideas at me etc. and who doesn't. I see exactly who only seems to be interested if I was the one to write first and then just forgets about me again if I don't. At a certain point, my patience will run out too and I'll stop sending you stuff. If even more time passes and you still don't get your arse in gear, I'll unfollow you again. It's that simple. I'm fine with doing the first step, I'm fine with reaching out and interact first. But I'm not stupid and I won't waste my time on people who just take and won't give.

As I said: I'm not here to feed people's ego. No matter how cool your blog or how special your muse is.

[pillowbugs]

month of ingo, day 1: train

gear station

funny story: while trying to figure out certain elements (mostly the style of the pillars + the window panels), i searched up references of grand central and (old) penn station as the listed design bases for gear station, and oh gods it's beautiful look at the arches the vaults the light shining through the huge windows the scale -

needless to say, i got verrrry sidetracked. the architecture brainrot is real. (i almost want to write up a design analysis of gear station and the inspiration it takes from the aforementioned two IRL stations, but i'm still a novice and so any analysis would probably be very surface-level stuff.)

timelapse (feat. a very rough sketch from memory i did while recovering from my own presentation at school)

[ineed-to-sleep]

What if we fell in love and you died LMAOOO what then

[anniebanannie0]

.

[dracocheesecake]

Kai's Hair Routine

A drabble inspired by @skauni

Kai let the water pour over his head. Usually, he didn't bother with this-bathing, even at the end of a campaign, felt lavish on the edge of frivolity- but there had been a comment made by a certain someone that he couldn't let slide.

He took out a bottle of the rice water he had made (rice water! During the war, like he was some sort of noble in the Emperor's court!). It was poor stuff, really, having been fermented only a day, with water from nearby streams and rice from his own provisions- of which there was plenty. All that the soldiers ate most days was just rice.

Kai gritted his teeth as he poured some of it over his head, and smoothed it into his mane. It felt somewhat sticky, and he wasn't certain that this would even work- but if it knocked that smug look off of that lip-smacking wannabe buddha's face-

He grumbled and combed his hair out with his fingers (as best as he could- it was thick, and heavily tangled). This was a long process, but by the end he felt he had done something right. He rinsed himself off, dried as quick as he could, put his hanfu back on, and reentered the yurt he shared with his co-general.

Oogway was reading a report, but looked up when Kai's form blocked his light. Kai smirked down at him, his hands on his hips. His mane, freshly dried, hung over his shoulders in shining, black tresses that curled slightly at the ends.

"See?" He said, "I do know how to wash it."

Oogway chuckled. "Yet you still haven't learned to brush it."

Kai's eyes widened. He grit his teeth, flushing to his ears. "I did too!" He snapped, "It's just-"

His jaws shut again. Then he crossed his arms and turned his face away. For all the fearsome titles he had acquired, at that moment he looked like a pouty toddler. Oogway laughed again, but there was a more gentle lilt to it that made Kai soften.

"I know. Come here and we'll see if it can be amended. Maybe you'll end up looking like we can present you at the next treatise signing."

Kai's ears flickered back. He grit his teeth again. "I didn't look that bad," he grumbled. But he still sat down on a mat in front of him, his back turned towards the tortoise so he could work. Oogway picked up a nearby lacquered box, green and gold, and opened it. Inside was a selection of shubi- combs of different fineness.

From amongst these he plucked the largest, a thick-toothed shu of polished jade. He hummed again, then took up a section of Kai's mane, brushing it.

"You were still covered in blood," Oogway noted colloquially, "and mud, and who knows what else. And your mane caught fire after you passed the torches and stayed lit, probably because of all of the grease in it."

"It. Wasn't. That. Bad," Kai insisted. He crossed his arms again, huffing and grumbling under his breath. Oogway rolled his eyes, but dropped it for now. After a moment he continued humming.

"It was thoughtful of Lord Boqin to send you these combs," he said as he worked, rooting out each tangle- and there were plenty of them. Kai snorted.

"And those calligraphed scriptures for you. But if the terms we lay down tonight go over- they will, he doesn't have a choice- he'll be sending assassins next."

Oogway separated the layers and pinned them back with a few fine-toothed bi. "Oh, undoubtedly. But at this point, that just comes with being a warlord. Have to get them first."

He paused after he said this. There was something in his mind that seemed to ring every time he thought like this, every time this subject came up, something that had been bothering him more and more throughout their bloody career; something he would never bring up in front of Kai, of course...But sometimes he wondered: did it have to be this way? Why? Where would it all lead?

Was there another path they could follow, one not so full of bloodshed and treachery, one that would lead them to a life of peace and fulfillment that the glories of war could not provide?

He had been so caught up in these thoughts that he didn't pay mind to his brushing- not until Kai cried out. Oogway blinked out of his reverie, the worry dissipating like a cloud in the wind. He smirked.

"You didn't so much as groan when you got stabbed by a spear," he said, "but you cry when someone tugs on your hair."

"I'M NOT CRYING! YOU'RE TRYING TO PULL MY SCALP OFF, YOU FU-"

Oogway pulled the comb, pulling the mane taut, and Kai's head followed. He winced. Oogway chuckled and eased up some. With more gentleness this time around, he ran his claws through the knots, untangling them. A few more moments, and he began to remove the rest of the combs, finishing by tying Kai's mane partially up in a top bun.

"There. Now you look like one of the Supreme Warlords of All of China," Oogway teased lightly. Kai snorted and rose.

"As long as it doesn't catch fire again," he murmured.

"Well, that depends on how often you wash your hair." He seemed to think for a moment. "...You know, actually- don't wash your hair anymore."

Kai looked at him, tilting his head. "What? Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could start gathering the grease from your hair. We might be able to save on lantern oil- don't hit me!" He dodged Kai's blow, giggling.

[problemsynth]

I think I've decided to start solstice with little snippets of sols life the day of her embrace and then just start post trial maybe...

[kalloway]

Faust is an absolute menace of a man... but at least he's charming, right?

...

right?

[discountsoysauce]

This is gonna take a while to finish so here's some Eli & Marcella interactions from my outline bc I love them (with a single line about Victor)

[sonknuxadow]

my dream voice for movie shadow would be if they got david humphrey back but i know they wouldnt do that so at this point im just hoping that whoever they pick is an actual voice actor or at the very least fits the role and cares about getting the character right even if they don't have the most voice acting experience . please

[floral-hex]

Hey, do you got doctors appointments you need to schedule but haven’t for whatever dumb reason (for me, laziness. probably. no no, complacency. That sounds better)? Well, go do it! Now! or soon! You need to just hurry up and schedule that shit! I’m sorry! Make the call! You gotta! You’re probably gonna have to wait multiple weeks for the appointment anyway, so if you wait until the problem is really bad, then you’re just condemning yourself to waiting extra long to get checked out. Jeez!

[wigglebox]

One of the first times it really hit home to me how Dean can't win with Sam ever is during Faith.

I feel like because of the big deal made at the end of season 2 folks think Dean is the first one to ignore instinct and what he knew to be right just to save a family member but no, it was Sam.

And in that episode Dean is accepting he's going to die. That hey, he saved some kids, but something went wrong, he doesn't have much longer, and it is what it is. It sucks, but it is what it is. Sam was the one who couldn't stand that and decided to ignore his own instincts, and Dean's protests, and dragged him to Roy and pressured him in front of everyone to go up on that stage.

And then once they learned the cost of what Roy was doing, Dean had that weight on his shoulders that some poor bastard died just to save him, when he didn't even want to be saved in any capacity.

I think that was also the first time I had really understood and processed just how reckless Sam could be. You'd think he was the more understanding one but I think that's just that young 20's something, college boy earnestness but in reality, there's a reason why Sam and John are often grouped together instead of Dean and John. Especially when you think about how John sacrificed himself and burdened Dean with the guilt of having to take out his own brother if push came to shove.

And the fact that Sam continued to try to push Dean after John's death to talk about it, despite clearly seeing the signals that he doesn't want to or isn't ready at that point, is sad.

And THEN you pile all that on top of the guilt Dean already felt by pulling Sam from school and basically back into a life he had 'successfully' left [i say successfully because we learned later on that Lucifer and his cronies were essentially tracking his every move anyway] and because Dean had pulled Sam away from Jessica just for a few days, she died in that time.

Now, at the time, they didn't know it was part of a wider plan, but that doesn't matter. Feeling guilt is feeling guilt.

That was even brought up in 7.04, Defending your Life where Osiris calls Sam to the stand to try and get him to admit that Dean essentially ruined what would have been a promising future as a lawyer. By now we know that wouldn't have happened regardless because of the apocalypse stuff but that doesn't change Dean's guilt whatsoever.

And he really has no one to talk to about this. It's why in 4.16, On the Head of a Pin, that conversation Dean has with Cas after he's all beat up and stuff and talking about being disappointments to their fathers and the like, I really liked that heart to heart because he can't really talk to anyone else who is essentially on the same level as him: Guilt over ruined plans, shame, seen as nothing more than a tool, expectations they put on themselves through pressures of their family, so on and so forth.

There were two heart-to-hearts in season 4 that stood out to me, particularly because they were so early on in their time together: 4.07 and 4.16. Both times, they're on an equal plane while talking. Cas isn't standing in 4.07 but sitting next to Dean on an adjacent bench. And Cas in 4.16 is sitting next to Dean, who is in a hospital bed rather than standing by the door or something. And the conversation in 4.07 was one that he'd have to really trust Dean on because he was admitting he has feelings of doubt. He's barely known this man.

And I believe this guilt that Dean carries over a myriad of things obviously carries all the way to Season 15 where it's also manifested into existential dread.

It always frustrated me that for a good portion of time, Sam just never stopped to thnk about what Dean was constantly going through. There were some moments and some moments he acknowledged that Dean raised him and stuff but I don't think he ever fully understood and a lot of the times they talked about stuff, it came from a Sam-centric place and the outcome wasn't always favorable. Like OP says, Dean couldn't really win. Even sometimes with Bobby he'd lose and Bobby is their father figure.

It's why I loved the addition of Cas into the mix and was happy he stayed around because Dean needed someone on his level metaphorically and "role" wise.

It's why he was so angry at the end of season 14 and part of season 15 at Cas. At first it's like 'Oh he's mad because Cas omitted the truth about Jack and that caused Mary to die' but I think once Dean understood that Chuck had been pulling strings, that Mary was likely going to die anyway.

If you rewatch those episodes, especially beginning of season 15, Dean isn't mad at Jack. He's mad at Cas, and that's because that trust between them was broken. That trust that had been there since they met in season 4, that understanding they both had.

Obviously there had been trust issues in earlier seasons from time to time but that didn't change the fact that they were equal and by season 14/15 they should have trusted each other more.

Dean constantly had his trust broken, and whenever he would let one or two walls down [Cassie, Sam, Bobby, so on and so forth] he'd get hurt.

He's never had anyone in his corner.

You really just can't unsee it once you see it though, can you?

Sam starts blaming Dean for what he's going to do (work with Ruby) way back in 3.09 because Dean isn't going to be around to be Sam's mommy, which is going to force Sam's hand.

After Dean comes back, Sam actually blames Dean for him working with Ruby by saying Dean wasn't there to protect him (4.04).

Dean repeatedly begs Sam not to work with Ruby and is ignored repeatedly (3.03, 3.04, 3.09, 3.16, 4.01-4.04, 4.12-4.22).

After telling Dean to open up to him and trust him (4.08), Sam calls Dean weak and pathetic for being traumatized by hell and says Dean is holding him back and therefore deserves to be lied to because he can't be of use (4.14) Sam says it's not what he really thinks when they both know it is (and Sam repeats it to other characters in 4.16, and 4.18) and then he admits it's the truth again to Dean's face in 4.21.

Sam accuses Dean of not trusting him enough (4.21).

Bobby blows up at Dean for not supporting Sam enough and calls him a pansy after Sam strangled Dean near unconscious, and tells him family is supposed to make you miserable (4.22).

Dean tries to reach out to Sam and Zachariah and Cas actively prevent him from doing so (Cas only at first) (4.22)

Zachariah (5.01) and Cas (5.02) both tell Dean the apocalypse is his fault because Dean didn't reach Sam in time to stop him from killing Lilith.

Dean says Sam hurt him, Sam is the one Dean depended on the most and Sam hurt him in ways he can't even voice (5.01). Sam apologizes, but then in the very next episode, shoves Dean into a wall for not trusting him like Dean is crazy and irrational when Sam doesn't even trust himself (5.02).

Sam says he thinks they should go their separate ways and is shocked when Dean agrees easily. Dean says that he spends more time worrying about Sam than he does doing the job right and time apart would be good. Sam reiterates that he's sorry and Dean gently says he knows Sam is (5.02).

Cas asks Dean if he's okay even without his brother, and Dean says "Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I’ve had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I’ve had with Sam in years, and you’re not that much fun. It’s funny, you know, I’ve been so chained to my family, but now that I’m alone, hell, I’m happy." (5.03)

Sam says he wants back in. Dean objects, on the basis that he thinks they're stronger apart. Dean says they're each other's weaknesses and it's being used against them (5.04, but the weakness line is repeated from 3.03 and 3.16).

Zachariah pushes Dean into a future 2014 where Dean never met up with Sam again, and as a result, Sam said "Yes" to Lucifer, and billions of people died. All because Dean didn't want to be around Sam after being hurt and never reconnected with him (5.04).

Dean reconnects with Sam (5.04) even though he clearly doesn't want to, because the first case we see them on again, Dean struggles to trust Sam and leaves to go drink alone because he doesn't want to be around Sam (5.05).

Sam says part of the reason he went off with Ruby was to get away from Dean, because Dean is smothering. Dean is the problem in the relationship, because Sam feels inferior compared to him. Dean apologizes for being too smothering (5.05).

What does all of this tell you? Dean can't win. Dean will always be the bad guy in the family. He loves too much, or he isn't loving enough. Sam needs him and Dean wasn't there for him and so Sam went down the wrong path, but also Dean is smothering and Dean being smothering is the reason Sam went down the wrong path. Sam is not a trustworthy person, but Dean doesn't trust him enough. Sam not being trustworthy is Dean's fault. Dean doesn't deserve trust, but Sam deserves Dean's trust no matter what and not giving Sam his trust is the worst possible thing in the entire world and also again makes him smothering. The apocalypse is Dean's fault. Every single thing Sam does every single mistake he might ever make in his life is always at least partly Dean's fault and Dean's responsibility.

[morganalatina21]

Too Sweet - OP81

When Lando tries to play matchmaker with his two friends, the negative response comes from someone he did not imagine

or

When Oscar wants to prove you wrong

warnings: English isn't my first language, not proofread, mentions of alcohol and weed, smut, unprotected sex, car sex. Smut have warning before it starts and after it ends! - MDNI!!!!

word count: around 2k

"What do you mean 'no'?" Lando looked at you as if you grown a second head. "Don't play nonchalant about this, that's his thing. I've heard you ramble about him before."

"Yep." You agreed, sipping your drink.

"So why the fuck not?" He crossed his arms. "You'd be bloody great together."

"Do you really think that, muppet?" You bit back, eyes still lifeless staring back at him. Lando nodded. "You don't understand man. I like him? Yes. Very much. So much is inebriating." You confessed, looking almost... tired?

"But I've come to the terms that we would never work." Your shoulders moved up and down. "We are so fucking different Lan, and you know that. He's like, kind and a ray of sunshine. I'm a mess, you should know this, I'm friends with you, that's telling."

"I'm gonna ignore this outrage statement because I'm on a bigger mission here." He continued, knowing you were deviating the conversation. "The fuck is that coming from?"

"When you like someone that much, you star to try and match your stuff with them." You shrugged, adjusting your hair on the mirror. "And as much as I want to, we just- don't. That's like you said, he is nonchalant, I'm way too chalant. He is so sweet, Im bitter. He is all composed and... I dunno... Like those fitness influencers who have insane wellness routines? You know. And I'm the entire opposite. He's sweet as a grape."

"Are you quoting Hozier's Too Sweet at me right now?" His green eyes looked at you in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

"Kinda."

"Okay I know you may be having doubts, but why not try? It's better than not try, right?"

"Okay now you're just quoting The Good Place at me." You mocked, hearing people bang on the door to the bathroom. "But you know that I'm way too down bad for him to just try and go along with it. I'm usually cool with this kinds of stuff, but... I know I'll just be delusional and want more with him."

"So make us both a favor and drop it, because I don't wanna have my heart broken, and you don't wanna hear me whining about it, sir Norris."

Oscar's eyes were trained on you the moment you left the bathroom with Lando at his house party. You and Lando knew each other since kids, and it was very obvious to everyone in that house, including him, that nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

You noticed his glance and just offered him a small smile before turning and starting a conversation with Max Fewtrell, yours and Lando's best friend.

"Thought you said that'd work." He commented when Lando came up to him. "I really shouldn't trust your matchmaking skills, remember the redhead you tried to hook me up with in Vegas?"

"Hey, she was hot! And liked koalas."

"She liked spiders."

"You grew up with both, mate, whatever." Oscar shooked his head with a smile on his face. "And she wants you, she's just worried you might not want her."

"What?"

"She didn't believe when I said you were down to meet her. She thinks I'm setting her up with someone who does not want her."

"Why would she think that? You did that before?"

"Not the case right now. She thinks that because she basically doesn't think she's good enough for you."

The softest "what" came out of Piastri's lips.

"Yeah, she even quoted Hozier at me."

"I... don't know what that means."

Later that day, when he was in bed, smeling a bit like alcohol and feeling his body light from the drinking, Lando's words came back to him. He was waiting to sober up more, although he was probably the most sober out of everyone in that party, including you, who at some point started trying to teach Pietra how to creepwalk, to which, you failed.

He kept watching you that night, from some distance, of course, to try and understand what you meant to Lando when you said "too different".

And to be honest, he kinda got that.

You weren't necessarily and extrovert, at least with those you didn't know, but with your friends, wow were you outgoing.

You and Max were doing shots at random moments of the night, a bet to see who would fall first. You'd drink whataver he drank, and he'd drink whatever you drank.

He smoked some weed, so you did too.

You took jello shots made purely out of the cheapest vodka you could find, so he did too.

Lando and Pietra were trying to keep up with the two of you, but it was in vain. You two were on fire.

And to be honest, Oscar liked that.

You probably didn't see it, but you were both bold, only on different aspects of life.

And he wanted to show you that.

So, phone in hand, he texted Lando, who was already on his own room, probably with some fling of his. The party had died down and only a few people were left, including you, who were downstairs probably playing truth or dare or never have I ever with the other survivors of the night, and him, who was in a guest room.

[What did u meant when you mentioned Hozier earlier?] seen 2:38a.m.

[she quoted his song to me]

[too sweet, look it up im busy] seen 2:40a.m.

[At least tell me the name of the song so i can search it, man] 2:40a.m.

[are youo actually stupid? the name of the song is TOO SWEET, im not compliemnting you mate.] seen 2:40a.m.

[i knew that] seen 2:41a.m.

[sure you did] seen 2:41 a.m.

Spotify open. He typed down those two words and sure enough, a song by an Irish man popped up. The beat was kinda animated, and he didn't though to bother searching up the internet to see what other thought of that song.

He took his own conclusion.

"If you can sit in a barrell, maybe I'll wait". In his slightly disturbed mind, that meant he still had a shot. He just needed to prove you two weren't so different.

And while drunk, he took an oath to do that.

.

For the 2024 season, Lando had hired you as his personal counselor, which was just an excuse for you to travel around the world with him.

The reason why? Oscar didn't knew, but he wasn't complaining.

That meant seeing you around the paddock a lot, even til the highest hours of the night after each race, post-debriefs and everything.

Today was one of those days.

It was after a session of FP1 and FP2 of the US Grand Prix, and the post-practice debrief had just ended, people moving around and starting to leave.

Oscar gathered his stuff and was ready to walk to his own car and leave.

That's when he spotted you.

On one of the halls from the McLaren hospitality, walking around in a jacket he did not recognize as any of the teams merch.

"Are you switching scuderias?" He asked, nodding the jacket direction, startling you.

You looked down, almost forgetting which clothes you were wearing. "Oh that's just from the next NASCAR winning team."

"You like NASCAR?"

"I was very frustrated when I realized Cars was about NASCAR and not F1, I might switch motorsports." You smiled.

"Good luck cheering for Joe Gibbs."

"Oh which one do you choose? Spire?"

"No, never. 23XI is way better."

You rolled your eyes at his statement, a small smile still on your lips, a huge one on his.

"I'll laugh to your face when Denny Hamlin ends Riley on track next cup, Piastri."

"It's on, Y/ln."

Two days later, after the Grand Prix, Oscar dropped the bomb on the interview.

"... Maybe we should just adopt NASCAR rules and end things on track." A knowing smile on his lips, looking at the camera.

He wanted you to know. He made sure of it, it wasn't just some comment, there was more.

"Mate, NASCAR rules? Are you insane?" Lando asked later, watching you perk up at that mention.

Oscar smiled and watched you, barely giving his teammate any recognition. You searched the internet, the key words you never thought would be put together: "Oscar Piastri + NASCAR".

And sure enough, there it was, the interview.

You looked up at him, slightly flabbergasted and changed your expression to a smile.

And God, did he love that smile.

.

"Disrespectfully, Fuck Papaya Rules."

Oscar phisically perked up when he heard that. He was strolling around the paddock and caught you talking with reserve McLaren driver, Pato O'Ward.

"Not only that's dumb, but honestly, fuck-ass name for a strategy."

He chuckled at that, hearing you from around the corner.

"Honestly I don't know if I'd follow that if I ever fill in for any of them." Pato admitted, shrugging. "I understand when it's for the Constructors Championship but Drivers? Fuck that."

"My favorite moment so far is when Oscar cut him right on the beginning, it was kind of a 'fuck your championship' moment, I live for that."

"Lando's gonna fire you if he hears you say that." Pato laughed. "Remember when you hit him because he didn't spray Oscar on the Hungary podium?"

"And I'd do it again."

"You hit Lando to defend me?" Oscar asked later that day, on the parking lot, as you were waiting for your friend.

You looked up at him and his smug smile.

That actually caught you unexpected. Oscar was coy, you knew that, but he was getting progressively bolder and more challenging.

It messed with your brain.

"You eavesdropping?"

"I just like to hear when people talk about me." He admitted. "Don't you?"

"No. I hate knowing what people think of me."

Oscar chuckled. That was kind of perfect, because he wasn't good with words.

"I promise I won't tell you what I think of you if I can give you a ride back to the hotel."

That was the main difference between you and Oscar: you were provocative, alluring, liked to get under people's skin, while he was straightforward, deadpan and liked to see people's reaction to brutal honesty.

"Sure."

.

It was the last race of a triple header, Brasil.

Five DNFs, the race and the quali delayed so many times, it was exhausting. Oscar finished P8, which, yes, was a bad position, but he was glad he at least finished the race, unlike five other drivers.

He was so tired, and it showed on his face.

No one even dared ask him or Lando how they were feeling because it was obvious, so he pratically slipped away from the mechanics and engineers.

And he found you. Sitting on the floor, back to the wall that separated his and Lando's driver room, texting rapidly.

He wanted so bad to have you to him, to talk to you before media duties, to have you on his driver room alone. But he and Lando weren't exactly on the best terms, so he couldn't just snatch away his friend.

Or couldn't he?

"Lando's gonna be late." He said, snatching your attention immediately. "If you want to come in."

"Yeah, in a sec." You went back to typing right away.

"You texting someone?" You nodded but answered back:

"Since when do you care?"

"I don't know, I just want your attention." There it was again, the honesty. "I mean, the person you might be texting can be cool and all but, do they drive at 300km/h for McLaren?"

You stopped, looking up at him, almost not believing those words actually came out of his mouth.

"He doesn't..." He smiled. "He actually drives for Mercedes and is a 7 time world champion."

"You're texting Lewis?" Oscar asked softly, smile vanishing. "Isn't he too old for you?"

"First of all, Lewis Hamilton could never be 'too old'. And second, It's not like you're thinking." You pushed yourself up, entering his room. "I'm just congratulating him on the Senna homage and asking what he wants to get me tickets for the next Kendrick Lamar concert."

"I don't know how many times I can offer to babysit Roscoe."

Oscar closed the door behind him, a sigh of relief leaving his lips.

He launched himself on the nearest armchair he could find and groaned, feeling his body ache, trying to stop the shakes on his body from being wet with the cold wind.

"Are you okay?" Y/n asked, voice dripping with concern.

"Yeah. My back's killing me, and I think I'm going to have a cold."

"Take a hot shower, I'll grab you some medicine." She instantly put the phone down, marching towards the door, but was interrupted when Oscar held her wrist.

"Stay." The word came out murmured, a gentle plea, his eyes closed. "Please."

It was weird seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so desirous, it made your heart fumble when he opened those soft brown eyes. So you nodded.

"But you're gonna lie down and get warm. I don't want you sick."

He obliged, draggin himself -and you on the processes, because he couldn't let go of you- towards the improvised bed he had on his driver room.

"But what if-" Oscar began, starting to lie down. "I get sick so I can escape from the media duties?"

"Can you do that?"

"It's worth a shot."

You smiled, pulling a chair to be close to him still, to which he thanked with a smile.

Surely after, Oscar fell asleep. You know it wasn't ideal, but you stood by and watched him peacfully sleeping. He was so soft, so cat-like, so pretty.

Your heart ached with how much you liked him.

And maybe, even though he didn't knew, he was showing you how you two could be a match.

When he woke up, half an hour later, you weren't there already, but he found the medicine you said he needed with a small note that said "You snore like a cat purrs (take care), Y/n."

He smiled ear to ear, almost all of the fatigue gone. He folded the note and tucked it in one of the pockets of his bag, leaving to the unfortunate meeting with the media.

Later that day, as Y/n was getting to her hotel room when she noticed something hanging from the doorknob.

It was a keychain in the shape of a cat, with a small note that read "To remember me".

Y/n rolled her eyes, but with a small smile on her face, that turned into a shock expression the moment she saw the things attached to it: two tickets for the Kendrick Lamar concert.

"Oscar Jack Piastri, you little devil."

.

"How was the concert?" Oscar asked, a knowing smile on his lips.

Y/n smiled widely. It has been a couple of months since Oscar Piastri started pursuing you; you ended up knowing what he was up to when Lando commented that he was determined.

And dear God, he was.

And it moved you.

You don't remember ever someone putting this much effort for you. That alone, warranted some points on his advantage.

"It was good, I actually ended up meeting Snoop Dogg also and we talked a lot about West Side." You rambled, watching his eyes get lost, trying to search his brain for any information about any of the words you just said. "I'm just messing with you. It really meant a lot to me so, thank you."

"Anytime."

"You need a ride to the hotel?" He offered. "Think Lando's not going back any time soon."

You looked back to the door for the party, the music still so loud, lights flashing in different colors and you could almos feel the smell of alcohol even from this distance.

Usually, you'd be inside going crazy too, celebrating that the team you work for had finally won the Constructor's Championship after so many years not knowing what that feels like.

But you were tired. So you took Oscar's offer.

His car smelt new, even though he had this car for quite some time now, his cologne, a strong woody scent mixed with the fresh odor of the seats.

"So, how does it feel, huh?" You asked right after he started driving. "Constructor's champions."

"It's amazing." He answered, and you could feel the tiredness and happiness from his tone. "It's exactly that, a reward for all the hard work."

"Driver's championship next?"

"For me I hope so."

"Next season's gonna be amazing." You smiled, hiding the sadness. "I mean, five rookies on the grid, Hamilton at Ferrari, hopefully Max's downfall?"

"May God hear you, Y/n."

"This sport was missing some emotion." Oscar stared at you from the side of his eyes as you entered the highway, which was completely desert due to high hours of the night. "I mean, to you guys there's always emotion but that's because you're driving, to us just watching cars go around and no overtakes, no fun business is kinda boring."

A mischiveous glint shone on Oscar's eyes as he pushed the throttle pedal further and further with each word you said.

"Osc, what are you doing?"

"Just thought you'd like a piece of the emotion like we have." He opened the windows, a huge smile on.

The adrenaline rushed through your muscles, eyes blown wide as the velocity increased, starting to grip the seat as you laughed. Oscar was so normal about it he was even driving with only one hand on the wheel.

"Fuck it, Imma act like a dog."

Oscar laughed genuinely as you loosened the seatbelt and propped your head out of the window, the wind forcing your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could barely breathe but that was a whole part of the fun.

"Oh my God this is amazing!"

"Emotion enough for you?"

"God, how are you guys so normal after every race?" You asked, sitting back down, heart beating so fast inside your chest. "I'd feel like I'm on the top of the world, honestly."

The song on the radio pushed your pulse to quicken even more. You opted for keeping your head inside to talk to Oscar, but one hand was out, dancing with the wind.

"God, I'm gonna miss this."

"What?!"

Shit.

He wasn't supposed to hear that, not yet.

You sighed, putting a hand on high thigh, feeling him tense up. "You can slow down now." He did, eyes constantly darting back to your hand, touching him. "The reason I was flying around with Lando and the team was because he wanted to give me new opportunities. And I got one in Italy, as a fashion designer. This is my last night working for McLaren."

Oscar couldn't believe what he was hearing, all his effort, all that he was dreaming for, to have you by his side every race just like this season but this time, as his partner.

He kind of thanked you for telling him to slow down, because his head was spinning.

"Italy is close to Monaco, no?"

"It's in Milan, a three hour drive." You answered, lightly caressing his thigh. "Lando already knew of that possibility, no one was supposed to get attached to me. I'm sorry, Osc."

He parked the car in front of the hotel, both hands now on the wheel as he was trying to calm down and grasp the reality of everything going on.

You were leaving.

He felt your hand lifting up from his pants and immediately grabbed it.

"I'm not giving you up."

"Osc-" "No."

"I didn't come this far just to lose you, not now."

"You're not losing me." He looked at you. "I'll just- I'll be in the country next door." You smiled tightly. "But it's okay if you don't want someone who can't accompany you, I get it."

"You'd wait for me?"

"What?"

Oscar blinked, his grip on your hand tightening, eyes intense as if he was begging.

"Wait for me, to be back from the races, wait for the breaks?"

"Osc that's thing long relationships go through, we don't know if it'd work and-"

He held your face. Gently, sweet, almost too sweet.

"We have until March. I want to try. I could never ask you to give up on something you want so bad, so that's why I'm asking you to not give up on us."

Us. That knocked all the air from your lungs.

"I can see it in your face. You want this just as badly as I do." Oscar's voice was low, sending shivers down your spine with the way he talked. "I already showed you how much of a match we can be, let me show you we can make this work."

You shouldn't, you really really shouldn't. If it all went south you didn't know if you could recover from him.

But it was hard to think when he was this close.

So you made a decision.

Even if it slipped away, it'd have claw marks from you. You were ready to try and keep him in your life with all your strength.

So you launched yourself forward, capturing his lips.

SMUT AHEAD - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

His kiss was desperate, hands full on launching themselves at your body and holding you tight, as if you'd start to slip away right this moment.

"Osc! On the car?" You laughed, breaking the kiss, to which he immediately bent his head down to kiss your neck.

"Just this once." He was almost begging, trying to get you free from the seatbelt and into his lap. "I've wanted you for so long, love, please."

Too sweet? No, just the right amount.

You clicked your seatbelt and pushed it away, hopping onto his seat, back meeting the steering wheel, chest to chest, knees barely on the seat from how big his legs were.

The impression was that Oscar was ravenous, like a hungry man, devouring every inch of your skin he could, levaing behind a trace of his saliva and maybe some hickies, but neither of you cared.

His breathing was uneven, hands roaming your body like it was the curves of a circuit he needed to remember and dominate.

"Osc-" You hummed, feeling his hard-on pressing against you, dry humping it, pulling moans from both of you. "Fuck!"

"Didn't peg you as a tits guy." You laughed upon noticing both his hands lodged around your boobs, guiding you through them to ride his erection.

"I'm a Y/n guy, everything about you drives me insane." He confessed, moving his right hand to your ass, moving your body around his lap, feeling your thighs shake against his hips. "Love, please."

Your hands traveled down his chest, nails grazing his skin on top of the formal suit he had on. He looked like a prince, even though he was ready to fuck you like a soldier. Finally, your hands worked fast to take his belt off and open his pants.

His cock, finally freed from his underwear, was so hard already and leaking with pre-cum. You smeared it around as started playing with his tip, feeling his hips buck upwards.

You were looking at his face atently, seeing his expressions falter at your touch.

Oscar's eyes found your and they were dark like never before.

"You're such a fucking tease." He complained, stirring around, trying to feel more of your touch.

"Someone has to take the lead, huh?"

A spark flew past his eyes, hand moving up and grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking it harshly.

"Osc!" You whined, head thrown back as his grip didn't loosen even slightly, sending a heat wave down your body, allodging itself in your pulsating core.

"Someone has to take the lead, right love?" He snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he watched you shake. "Enough with the teasing, pull your panties to the side and sink on my dick."

Fumbling with your hands, you found the slit of your dress and tucked your hand inside, founding the laced fabric that was already drenched, pulling it to the side.

Oscar helped you lodge on top of him, lining up your entrance and his lenght, one hand still holding you tightly by the hair and the other moving your ass around.

"Fuck, love!" He moaned as you started sitting on him, caressing your head, making you shiver and tighten even more. "When you feel it all inside you, you can take the lead back, m'kay?"

Your lips met each other's, drinking the moans away.

The further you sank on him, the more he sank on the driver's seat, feeling all the tension leave his body, finally feeling your insides.

Fully inside, he let go of your hair as he promised and allodged both hands on your hips, gripping you bot not forcing you to move.

"Think you're gonna last?" You asked, opening the buttons to his shirt, positioning both hans on each side of his chest.

He opened his eyes, the dark hungry was still there, much softer now, he looked drunk and so languidly happy. "We can leave the torture for the next times, can't we love?"

You wanted to tease him, and say maybe, that now the lead was back to your hands, you were going to make him last painfully, but you felt the tight knot on your low womb, and knew even you weren't going to last.

"Okay, Osc."

And you started to ride him, watching him give in and just become a moaning mess, still holding tight to your waist but completely gone.

"Fuck, love, you're- you're too good!"

You also didn't thought Oscar was going to be so talkative during sex, given his nonchalant ways, but when given pleasure he turned into a bubbling mess, talking nonsense.

"So good, so worth the wait." He mumbled, pulling you closer and moaning in your lips as you two kissed again. "You ride me so well." He kept going, as you started kissing his neck, wanting to hear more. "Don't stop, please don't stop, love."

His hands restored to gripping your waist and travelling up sometimes to carress your tits on top of your dress.

"You should be wearing less clothes, love, you're so pretty." He complained. "Are you close?"

"Mhmm."

"So am I. Cum with me, love." He groaned, voice too raw for his own good, messing around with your head. "Come on, baby." His hips started snapping up, meeting you halfway your ride.

A strained whine left your lips, hugging his shoulders and propping your head on your arms, launching your moans directly into his ear, pushing him further down his high.

"I'm- I'm gonna-"

Both your bodies started to shake and his big arms hugged you, pulling you closer, locking you in him as his cum spurted inside you, your knot finally snapping.

"You okay?" He asked a few moments later, feeling you go limp on top of him. "Still with me?"

"Shut it, Osc."

"Yeah, you're back."

You laughed, hugging him one last time before pulling up from him, immediately putting your panties back in place and returning to the passanger's seat as he zipped his pants back on.

He turned on the AC to clear the windows that became foggy from the heat irradiating from both of you.

You fixed your hair as much as you could, knowing it'd probably be ruined again when you went up to his hotel room. He offered you his blazer, to which you happily took and let it engulf you, hiding the hickied left on your neck.

He went around the car to open your door for you, helping you on your feet as he noticed your legs still shaking. He had that smug smile you got used to on the beggining of your flirting and it made you want to kiss him stupid.

"You think your plan of convincing me we're a match was 100% successfull?" You asked, crossing the hotel lobby still holding his arm, heading toward the elevator.

He leaned into you, voice just above a whisper, only for you to hear. "My cum is leaking out your pussy, you tell me."

You suffocated a smile, desperately pressing the button for the elevator.

SMUT ENDS HERE- WELCOME BACK!

.

"Okay so, I need to know." Lando asked, it was the day after the celebration, you were sharing a breakfast on the McLaren private jet with the rest of the crew.

You were sitting beside Oscar, Lando in front of you two, a little hungover but still curious.

"We're not telling you anything."

"You owe me this, I had to sit through one hour meeting with the pr team about not fucking in cars in the parking lot."

You choked a laugh, tecnically your contract with Lando was over, and you weren't a part of the McLaren anymore, so you got to sleep while Oscar and Lando had to be awake for a very stern lecture.

"Honestly, if you keep doing shit like this I'm gonna make you two pay for my therapy."

"Bill me, mate." Oscar snapped back, a huge smile on his face as he took one sip of a milk glass.

"Fuck you!" Lando answered immediately, shock written all over his face. "Honestly, I should've never put you two together."

"You didn't do shit." You retorted, throwing Lando even further down the insane hill.

He started to ramble about how he was the first matchmaker, how he handled you two talking about each other to him and it almost drove him insane, while you and Oscar just smiled.

You layed your head on Oscar's shoulder, sighing.

He was sweet, but never too sweet for you.

You breathed in his scent, a sharp woody masculine perfume that mixed perfectly with your sweet one. Exactly how you two were supposed to be, boldness in sweetness and sweetness in boldness, completing each other.

And whatever was going to happen to the both of you, you'd fight it, like he fought for you.

april 6th, 2025

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated! ♡

[sevsgiirl]

hi! can you write sevika with a shy virgin femme reader? i think they would be cute!

— carve your name into my bedpost.

sevika week 2025: first time, day 2.

synopsis: after nearly a year, you were still wary about disclosing your lack of sexual experience with sevika in fear of disappointment. but she doesn’t mind. plus first time for everything right?

word count: 3k.

tags: soft dom!sevika, bottom!reader, loss of virginity, choking, strap-ons referred to as cock, oral sex.

note: thank you so much for the req, anon! luckily your req matched the prompt for day 2 of sevika week so I just had to use it. you were probably expecting something more cute and wholesome and this might’ve deviated from that a little bit 😅 nevertheless, I hope you like it!

you never wanted to keep secrets from her.

you knew damn good and well it wouldn’t take long before sevika found out your dirty little secret - mostly because you didn’t do that great of a job at hiding it anyways.

in hindsight, you can see why she would think you had an aversion to her at this point. with you constantly dodging moments where you felt like things were becoming a bit too heated, pulling away just in time when you felt like the kisses grew hot and heavy - all of that just to avoid the one thing you felt like you weren’t ready for.

losing your virginity.

it seemed like such a silly thing to fuss over but it means a lot to you. you weren’t the type to wait until marriage but it tethered the line of something similar - you yearned for a connection before you even thought of getting to that stage with someone.

but it’s close to almost a year since you and sevika got together, and you’re actually surprised sevika was so patient in holding off sex with you until she knew you were ready.

it’s a well known fact that between the two of you, sevika was always the more experienced one - from the age all the way to the day she approached you like she had nothing to lose, sevika maneuvered through your entire relationship like it was familiar to her right from the very beginning.

unlike you, you’ve always been squeamish. about everything. you were non confrontational when it came to others and you had a more calm and collected way of handling matters in your life compared to sevika who was always more straightforward.

and you liked it because it balanced the two of you out. she was never impatient with you, she took her time in figuring out the inner workings of your mind and behavior.

it was in those moments of consideration and patience that you realized that damn, she was the one. because it wasn’t often you came across partners who were as tolerant as her, who in spite of your clumsiness and indecisiveness, she was always understanding.

that’s why when your one year anniversary neared, you debated over the idea many times before you came to the conclusion that if you were going to lose your virginity to someone - it was going to be her.

it was nerve wracking because not only was it your first time being intimate with sevika, it was your first time being intimate with anyone. ever.

you weren’t as skilled or knowledgeable with sex as sevika so of course, it was only understandable to be scared that you might fuck things up the first time.

but it was either now or never, because you knew if you keep pending it off god knows it’ll take until your next anniversary before you bring it up again, and although you don’t doubt sevika would be willing to wait for you, deep down you knew you were going to crack regardless.

so when the time came and sevika took you to a nice picnic date where she showered you with great food and gifts, the moment you two came home you immediately stopped by the doorway and squeezed her hand tightly.

she paused in her tracks and looked back at you, her height imposing as she towered over your smaller frame and god, you never realized just how intimidating she was up until this moment.

she was all hard muscle and sharp edges, you don’t blame others for doubting that underneath her hardened exterior laid a provider and protector - someone who constantly looked out and cared for you.

“something wrong, baby?” she asked softly, stepping into your space as she pinched your chin in between her fingers and tilted your head so you could look at her directly.

making you even more nervous because it felt like she was putting you on the spot.

“I-I’ve… been thinking.” you stuttered out as she continued to stare you down “I think it’s time.”

she didn’t quite get it at first, but it wasn’t until you lifted your hand and put it against her toned stomach, that everything suddenly clicked inside her head.

she blinked “are you sure?”

you couldn’t suppress your smile seeing as how that even after a whole year together, she was still willing to let you take your time and see if you actually wanted this.

“I’m sure,” you sighed, looking down at your feet “it’s just… I don’t wanna disappoint,”

“baby, you know that’s impossible. we’ve been together long enough and it’s not like we haven’t already been familiar with each other’s-“

“it’s not-“ you let out a shaky chuckle “just that. sev, I never really told you this but… I haven’t done it with anyone. like ever.”

she froze by the threshold of your apartment and looked at you, dumbfounded. processing your words just for a moment before her eyes softened and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm as she nudged her nose with yours. an affectionate gesture, one that soothed your nerves in an instant.

“no wonder it took you a while. I just thought maybe you weren’t sure about me at first,” she admitted and you immediately shook your head.

“trust me, I’ve never been more sure about doing it with anyone more than I am with you. you…” you paused to gaze into her eyes, feeling your heart clench at the way she was looking at you like you hung the stars “you make me feel so safe, sev.”

she could’ve crumbled right here and there. she might never say it outright like how you just did but the truth of the matter is, no one has ever left this much of an impact on her not until you came along.

before you, she was used to meaningless flings and hookups - dropping by at the gardens to fulfill her needs with any of the girls there because for the longest time, she thought commitment wasn’t for her.

then you proved her wrong.

so you could only imagine she wanted this to be special for you, but also from the deepest pits of her subconscious lingered a thought - one she was too ashamed to confess but the truth is, your inexperience turned her on more than anything.

perhaps it was the juxtaposition between you two. whereas sex was almost like second nature to her - for you it was a foreign language, but sevika savored the thought of being the one to take your virginity. of being the one to set the standard.

because if there was one thing she was certain about - not only was she going to be your first, but she was also going to be your goddamn last.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

fidgeting on the edge of your bed, you were like a leaf in the wind.

sevika could sense your nerves already. she told you to wait for her in your shared bedroom as she got herself ready.

you were still clad in your underwear and an oversized shirt. having taken your makeup off from the date earlier, you waited for sevika to emerge from the bathroom - your knees bouncing and your palms sweaty.

by the time you heard the door creak open however, the whole atmosphere froze as sevika stepped out and your whole mouth went dry.

because there she was, in nothing but her tight boxers that accentuated her thick, muscular thighs while she was left bare everywhere else.

you eyed her from head to toe - she’d taken off her prosthetic and you focused on her right arm as she flexed her bicep. her toned abs were on display as well as her visible V line that led your gaze down to her crotch where you noticed a happy trail peeking out from beneath her briefs.

you felt like a pervert.

your cheeks reddened as she walked closer to where you sat on the bed, trapping your legs together with her own as you clenched your thighs and she couldn’t help but smirk at how visibly nervous you were.

“relax for me, baby.” she purred, caressing your cheek before she pulled away to approach the dresser.

she rummaged through the insides for a bit and you tried to take a peek at what she was looking for, but all your curiosity died down the second you saw it.

a pool of heat suddenly flooded your insides the second you caught sight of the harness she had in her hand, as well as the girthy, long black dildo that was attached to it as she walked back to you.

she stopped in front of you with her eyebrow raised “you know what this is?” she asked and you were silent for a bit before you sheepishly nodded your head.

her eyes glinted mischievously “good,” she thrusted the strap to your open hands.

“because I’m gonna fuck you with it.”

your entire body grew hot as soon as those words left her mouth “is that alright with you?” again, you nodded your head, a little bit too eagerly and she could only chuckle.

“okay, now help me put it on. then we’ll prep you.” she said and you quickly got out of your daze as you helped her.

once it was on, the harness was snug tightly around her hips while the faux cock bobbed up and down the air.

you gulped, eyes wide and sevika was quick to ease your worries “don’t worry, we’ll take things slow.” she said as she bent down to give you a kiss.

it was warm, soothing but quick before she straightened her posture, hands finding purchase at the back of your head as she guided your mouth to her cock.

“open up for me, sweetheart.”

it was less of a request and more so a demand, nevertheless you parted your lips willingly and took her in your mouth inch by inch. meanwhile she made sure you didn’t go too fast as to not gag right away.

“shhh, that’s it. take it easy,” she muttered, licking her lips as she took in the sight of you struggling to swallow her cock “ease your jaw a bit, and relax your tongue. you don’t need to go all the way.”

you looked up at her with teary eyes and followed her instructions as sevika gently pressed her hand at the nape of your neck.

helping you as you slid your lips up and down her shaft while the obscene, wet sounds of your mouth swallowing her dick filled the room.

meanwhile, her breathing grew heavy as she lets out a groan “fuck, baby. you take my cock so well. so fucking good for me.”

she abruptly but gently pulled you away and you couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, making her chuckle.

“don’t worry, we’re just getting started. you were doing so good already though, weren’t you?” she cooed, wiping away a stray tear from your eye “now lay down for me, beautiful.”

and as you were about to follow her orders she suddenly stopped you “lose the shirt.”

you obliged, taking it off to reveal you with nothing but your underwear and no bra on. her eyes darkened as she reached forward and took one of your breast in her hand, kneading it before she carefully pushed at your collarbone as your back hit the mattress.

she kneeled in front of you and parted your knees, her hand sliding one side of your underwear down for you as you helped her pull down the other.

she lets out a curse once she saw your glistening folds “jesus,” she was dumbstruck, her eyes nearly obsidian “all this just from sucking my cock?“

you squirmed and instinctively tried to close your legs, but she pinned them down “I don’t think so.” her fingers glided along your inners thighs as she drew her head closer, her breath fanning against your clenching hole and you shuddered.

words couldn’t even describe the sensation when her tongue did a languid swipe at your needy cunt, your back immediately arching off the bed as sevika did her best to anchor you down with one arm. her eyes gazing up at you like a predator watching its prey before it decided to devour it whole.

and devour you whole she did, because one moment she was soft and gentle with the way she licked across your puffy walls then all of a sudden she took your clit in between her lips and sucked. hard.

you yelped because the feeling was just too intense. you’ve touched yourself before on multiple occasions but nothing could’ve compared to the real thing. laying down as your lover spread you open and savored every inch of you.

not to mention the sounds. the way she slurped at your cunt like it was the finest of delicacies while she moaned, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine as you jolted.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. sevika…” you cried as she added in a finger, pushing it in and out of you before adding another - scissoring them back and forth inside you as she curled them at the right angle that had you seeing stars for a moment “oh my god!”

you poured into her all sticky and warm, your slick dripping off her chin and she hummed, wringing your orgasm out of you.

“god, you take me so fucking well, baby.” she crawled up on top of you and kissed you like she was starving for it. the taste of your cum still fresh on the ends of her tongue.

“I think you’re ready now,” she claimed “if it gets too much you tell me, okay? we’ll stop right away. push me away if you have to.”

you shook your head “I’m fine, j-just… fuck me, please.”

she didn’t need to be told twice, with how desperate you sounded and the way your body responded to her, she was a lost cause.

before you knew it, she was guiding the tip of her cock and sliding it back and forth along your pussy lips, sinking into you little by little and you immediately held onto her shoulders for stability. feeling so deliciously full as you began grinding your hips onto hers, seeking friction.

“w-we’ll take it slow.” she said but even she wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, especially with how you looked up at her - all blissed out and opened mouthed.

stroking her cock in a careful back and forth before she bottomed out, punching a broken moan out of you as you felt the ridges of her cock massage your inner walls.

“it feels so good, sev. oh my god. so fucking good, baby. I love your cock.” you were practically slurring your words at this point and sevika had to physically restrain herself from driving herself into you with vigor.

this was your first time and she didn’t want to overwhelm you, but all of that simply got thrown out the window when she felt you dig your claws into her back, pulling her in.

“faster, sev. please.”

she shook her head, keeping her strokes steady and slow “b-baby, I don’t-“

“p-please. fuck me harder. I wont break, I-I need it so bad, sev. please.”

just like that, it was like a light switch was turned on. one moment her pace was deliberate and careful then the next, she was slamming into you that the head board smacked repeatedly against the wall.

not being able to contain the growl that rumbled from the depths of her chest as your pathetic whines filled her ears.

pounding her cock into you with such fervor that you could instantly feel your second orgasm bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna cum, sev. I’m gonna cum, baby, oh my g-god!-“

“that’s it,” she whispered, reaching out as she wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed. not too tight but just enough to get your mind fuzzy “be a good girl and cum for me. you’re so fucking good.”

beads of sweat slid down her forehead as she continued to drive into you.

“you’re so perfect, baby.” she whispered “never gonna let you go. I’m gonna be the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you hear me?”

your mind was practically blank as you only managed to nod your head in response.

she was panting heavily as she watched you approach the brink of your climax “good girl. I’m your first and last. nobody else.“

and that was the final nail to the coffin. with the band in your stomach instantly snapping, your slick poured out of you. abundant and wet as you cried into the crook of sevika’s neck due to the overstimulation.

“holy shit…” sevika muttered in disbelief seeing the way you squirted all over her.

it took about a minute or two before your pleasure finally subsided. your body deflating as she took you in her arms and pulled out.

the emptiness making you whine but she was quick to soothe it away as she captured your lips with her own. her tongue meeting yours in a passionate kiss as she held you against her you like you were made out of porcelain.

eventually, you had to pull away for air and once you did, she stood up and took the harness off her hips. heading to the bathroom meanwhile you were left in bed with your eyes shut, content.

you heard the faucet running and you felt exhaustion overcome you not until you felt a wet sensation around your inner thighs.

opening your eyes to see sevika cleaning you up with a damp wash cloth, and once she felt your gaze on her she all but smiled.

“I hope it was good for your first time,” she said and you couldn’t help but snort.

“good?” you repeated with a shake of your head “what we just did made me realize that I’m either marrying you or killing you because I don’t think sex with any other person is ever going to top… that.”

she couldn’t help it as she lets out a roar of laughter, making you smile.

“sadly you’re not going anywhere,” you said to which she could only chuckle at.

“yeah well,” she grinned, squeezing your hip affectionately “I don’t think I would want to either. I like it right here.”

[wumiings]

AU where Shen Jiu takes one look at tiny prospective disciple Shen Yuan who looks so much like him but so fucking soft and immediately goes “I must destroy it” but when he tells Yue Qingyuan he wants the boy for Qing Jing Peak, YQY unexpectedly puts his foot down— reason being that he thinks the Shens must be long-lost brothers and he’s afraid that if SJ badly hurts SY and then finds out the truth he’ll regret it. So instead SY becomes a disciple of Qiong Ding Peak.

The thing is, though, that SY knows why YQY took him in. So even though he sees YQY as an older brother figure, he privately believes that the only reason the sect leader is affectionate towards him is that he’s (possibly) related to SJ. Meanwhile, YQY is going around the whole Twelve Peaks like “omg have you met my beloved new disciple?? he’s so cute and smart and he’ll probably inherit the sect some day.” SJ is immensely jealous and furious at himself for it.

Cut forward several years and SY is head disciple of Qiong Ding. SJ manages to corner him after a meeting of the peak lords and is harassing him about something or other until SY finally blindsides him by blurting out the “fact” that YQY still thinks they’re siblings and is really only soft on him for SJ’s sake…. SJ is so incredulous he nearly has a qi deviation.

Afterwards, he tries very hard not to let his feelings towards SY be affected by the most absurd bit of self deprecation he has heard in his entire life, but a week later he breaks and storms into YQY’s study like “ZHANGMEN-SHIXIONG ARE YOU AWARE THAT YOUR PRECIOUS FAVORITE DISCIPLE BELIEVES YOU DON’T ACTUALLY LIKE HIM???”

[ms-demeanor]

TBH another thing that irritates the living shit out of me is how many ADHD tools and guides are inaccessibly expensive.

I searched for ADHD organizational videos today and of the seven I opened up, three were ads (one for something QUITE expensive and unfortunately very useful-looking) and the other four were unbearably rigid in their approach to how to help with organization ("the only way to stay organized is to always put things where they belong immediately and never deviate from that" - you sound like my old GP when I introduced him to the concept of delayed sleep phase disorder. No there isn't only one solution, and no a solution that is going to require a high amount of effort for no visible reward forever isn't going to work).

I get that creators with ADHD have to make a living, and being an ADHDinfluencer is probably one of the better gigs someone with ADHD could land. But also.

Like?

Fuck you a little bit? Like at least a little bit. You're making sponcon about expensive tools for people who are like 20% less likely to be able to hold a full time job than a neurotypical.

Which is exactly why my website is free and it and all of my resources will always be 100% free.

I've said it before, I'll say it again: my mom and I had discussed end-of-life planning and pre-death fill-in-the-blanks tools for years before she died, but I never had the money to go out and order the books about it when I was talking to her about it. That's why I made the death book, and that's why the death book will always and forever cost zero dollars.

Same thing here. I've been searching for good ADHD tools for most of a decade and what I get on free sites is mostly a lot of inspiration porn, tools for neurotypical parents to manage their ADHD children, and ADHD adults feeling helpless. And when I wanted to read the book about managing your ADHD that everybody praised, it was thirty bucks that I didn't have and an 18-month waiting list at my library.

So I want to make sure that other people who feel like they're drowning have something to grab onto that I wish I'd had when I was there. You don't have thirty bucks or eighteen months to wait either, you need to figure out how to keep track of your important papers NOW because you're coping with a loss or a separation or a natural disaster.

(Though if I haven't written it yet you may be waiting 18 months sorry it's getting built but it's not moving fast)

[hanniebaeee]

Hold My Hand

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing much!

Genre: classmates to lovers, fluff

Summary: Your life was a straight line. Graduate top of your class. Marry Minho. Take over your family business. But then there's Han Jisung - the sweet geeky genius, who has completely stolen your heart.

a/n: Needs another round of editing which I'll do soon.

Bonus

You were terrible at this. Numbers? Fine. Business strategy? More than fine. But Python? It might as well have been ancient hieroglyphs. You sighed, trying to remain calm even though all you wanted to do was scream.

Your life was a straight line - graduate top of your class (questionable, considering you may or may not fail your coding class), marry Minho (your father’s friend’s son and your closest friend - because your fathers promised you to each other) and take over your family business. It was a plan carved in marble. No deviations allowed.

But then there was him. Han Jisung. The scholarship guy from a world that was exactly opposite to yours - completely chaotic. He was all messy hair, glasses slipping down his nose, and thrifted hoodies, making your pulse raise for reasons unknown to you.

You weren't supposed to want someone like Jisung. He wasn't part of the plan. But yet, seeing him stumble into the library with his laptop in hand, your traitorous heart stuttered shamelessly. Exactly like how it had, when he lent you a pen during the first week of class, during an emergency pen situation.

You tried to focus on your screen, but your eyes betrayed you, watching as he looked around for somewhere to sit.

Get it together, you scolded yourself.

But Jisung had noticed you, and it was like watching a cartoon character short-circuit. His eyes widened, his foot caught on a chair, and he nearly faceplanted into a table.

“Oh, uh…h-hey, Y/N!” he stammered, pushing his glasses up with a shaky finger.

His voice cracked, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling. He was such a mess, and it was so unfairly hot.

“Hi, Jisung,” you said, your tone cool and measured, though your heart was doing cartwheels.

You crossed your legs under the table, hoping he didn’t notice how your hands were trembling. Well, he wouldn't, since he just stood there, frozen. His hands clutched his laptop like a lifeline.

“You, uh, working on the coding assignment? The one due Friday?” His voice was too loud for the library, and a nearby student shushed him.

He winced, mouthing a silent 'sorry', before taking the seat next to you.

“Yes,” you said, glancing at your screen. “It’s… challenging.”

“Challenging?” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s one way to put it. Um, do you need help? With the coding, I mean! Not that you’re bad at it! You’re probably great! I just…uh…”

He was spiraling, and it was absolutely adorable.

You tilted your head, considering. This was a bad idea. Getting close to Jisung was like playing with fire when your life was already a perfectly curated museum exhibit. But your assignment was due in three days, and you were drowning.

“If you’re offering,” you said carefully, “I wouldn’t mind some assistance.”

His eyes went wide, like you just handed him the keys to a Ferrari.

“Really? Okay, cool, cool, I can do that. Totally chill.” He was not chill.

He vibrated with nervous energy as he dropped his laptop on the table and slid his chair closer to you.

Too close. His knee brushed yours under the table, and you both froze. He quickly jerked his leg back, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, oh god -,” while you stared at your laptop, trying to ignore the electric jolt that shot through you.

“It’s fine,” you said, pointing at the screen. “I don’t understand why my code keeps crashing.”

Jisung leaned in, squinting at your laptop. His arm brushed yours, and you caught the faint scent of his shampoo - something citrusy, that shouldn’t be this sexy, but was. He was muttering about syntax errors and missing semicolons, but you were barely listening, too distracted by the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“See, here’s the problem,” he said, pointing at a line of code.

His glasses slipped down again, and he pushed them up with a pout. His fingers flew over your keyboard as he fixed the error like it was nothing, and you were mesmerized by how confident he was when he was in his element.

This was a different Jisung - not the flustered mess he was a second ago, but a geeky genius.

He finished typing and turned to you, grinning.

“Try running it now,” he said.

You hit the execute button, and - miracle of miracles - it worked.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, genuinely impressed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Jisung beamed, but before he could say something, another voice boomed through the silent room, disturbing its peace.

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your head snapped up as Minho walked over with his designer coat and smug grin.

“Didn’t expect to see you slumming it in the library.”

Jisung shrank back into his chair, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor. You sat up straighter, slipping back into your polished persona.

“Minho,” you said coolly. “I was studying.”

Minho’s eyes flicked to Jisung, and he smirked.

“With him? What, you are hiring tutors from the thrift store now?” he asked, but there was no real bite in his words. Minho was always joking around, and that was just his nature.

Jisung’s face flamed, but he muttered, “At least I don’t need daddy’s money to pass my classes.”

Minho’s smirk faltered, and you bit back a laugh.

“Enough,” you said, standing. “Jisung was helping me with an assignment. But we're done here.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being dismissed.

“Whatever. Let's get going. We have to be at the dinner party in 2 hours, babe.” he said, waiting for you to gather your things, while his eyes lingered on Jisung.

Jisung stared at the table, picking at the edge of his laptop looking like a kicked puppy.

You hated these business parties that your father forced you to attend. But you had to play your part to perfection - Y/N, the poised heiress, future CEO. Your arm looped through Minho’s as he navigated the crowd, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly.

He was all charm tonight, flashing his sharp grin, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You’ve kind of known since you were teenagers that he would most probably be your future husband - the final piece of your carefully curated life.

But tonight, it felt so off. Your mind kept drifting to Jisung and his nervous laugh. And you were mentally preparing yourself to talk to Minho. To ask him that one question that has been haunting you for more than a year now.

You two have been friends since forever. But this friendship has been nothing but a friendship from then. The most platonic one ever. Even after your parents casually mentioned that you'd marry Minho one day - there was literally no spark between you two.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Minho murmured, leaning in.

His hand slid lower, fingers grazing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your gown.

“What’s got you so distracted?”

You forced a smile, tilting your head to meet his gaze, which was playful, but there was an edge to it, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It's nothing,” You lied quickly and Minho hummed, a frown taking over his face.

He stepped closer, his chest brushing yours as he maneuvered you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

“What is it?” he asked again, his hand still resting on your waist.

You were used to this - Minho has always been handsy, and you’ve let him get away with it before, chalking it up to familiarity, to the inevitability of your future together. Even though you two weren't actually together. Or engaged. Just stuck in the purgatory of the in-between situation. Unwilling to say the least.

But tonight, his touch felt… wrong. Like it was trespassing on something that didn’t belong to him anymore.

But before you had to act on it, your phone buzzed in your purse, the vibration cutting through the tension. You jumped back, breaking his hold, and fished it out. The screen flashed ‘Mom’, and your heart leapt with relief. Perfect timing.

“I need to take this,” you said, already turning away.

Minho’s expression clouded, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue.

“Sorry, it’s urgent. I’ll find you later.” you said, scurrying away to a safe distance.

And that's when you knew - you were screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed.

You didn’t plan to end up here. Parties weren't your scene - too loud, too messy, too uncontrolled. But your roommate dragged you along, insisting you needed to “live a little” before the stress of midterms (and an impending engagement) crushed you.

So here you were, in a simple black top and jeans, sipping a beer in a corner, trying to blend into the wallpaper. Your parents would have a heart attack if they saw you here, but for once, you weren't thinking about them. Or Minho. Or the way his face fell when you ran away.

But then you see him. Jisung. He was across the room, looking like he wandered into the wrong universe.

He was clutching a beer as talked to some guy - probably one of his nerdy Comp Sci friends - his free hand gesturing wildly as he spoke. Your heart did a stupid little flip, and you hated it.

But then his eyes caught yours, and it was like the room shrank two sizes. His smile faltered and his cheeks flushed as you raised your beer in a half-hearted greeting, and he grinned, all lopsided and shy, before making his way over.

“Y/N?” he said, like he’s shocked you’re real. “What are you doing here?”

“Needed a break. What’s your excuse?” you said, moving over to make room for him to sit.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, free beer?” He held up his drink, sloshing a bit onto his sneakers. “Oops. Shit. Pretend you didn’t see that.”

“Too late,” you teased, and he groaned, his blush deepening.

He was so himself - clumsy and sweet - and it was doing things to you. Dangerous things.

And just like that you both get into a conversation. And your cups are empty at some point. So naturally, you followed him into the kitchen, where you found a cooler stuffed with beers. You both grabbed one, popping the caps with a bottle opener someone had tied to the fridge. You leaned against the counter, and Jisung mirrored you, his shoulder brushing yours.

As you looked over at him with a soft smile on your face, and he did the same, you couldn't help but realize that you've never felt this way before. No one has ever made your heart flutter like Jisung did.

The night blurred, and one beer turned into two, then three, and soon you were both tipsy, laughing too loud at Jisung’s dumb impressions of your Comp Sci professor.

Jisung was more at ease now, his nerves dulled by alcohol, and you were not much better, your usual prim-and-proper filter slipping. You were close - too close - your knees bumping as you talked, your hand grazing his when you reached for another drink. Every touch felt like a match struck against your skin.

“God, you’re so cool,” Jisung slurred, leaning closer, his glasses fogging slightly. “Like, you’re all fancy and perfect, but you’re here, drinking shitty beer with me. It’s unreal.”

You laughed, shaking your head lightly.

“I’m not perfect, Jisung. Trust me.” you said, the words hitting even though you're drunk.

“You are,” he insisted, his voice soft, earnest. “You’re, like… you. I can’t explain it.”

Your cheeks burned as you said, “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

He gasped, clutching his chest.

“Are you flirting with me, Y/N?” He asked, and it’s so cheesy you burst out laughing, but god, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to grab his stupid hoodie and pull him close until there was no space left between you.

Until you realize that you were sitting so close. So close that you were literally half on his lap. You didn’t know how you got there - maybe you tripped, maybe he pulled you, maybe the beer made you bold. Jisung’s hands hovered over your shoulders, like he was scared to touch you, his face flushed crimson under the fairy lights.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice shaky, “is this-”

You didn't say anything. Just rested your head on his shoulder, your lips brushing the soft skin of his neck (accidentally, to be honest). He smelled like cheap cologne and something uniquely him, and it drove you wild. Your lips lingered, and you felt him tense beside. A soft whimper escaped him, barely audible, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You pressed closer, and he actually moaned, his hands finally settling on around your shoulder, gripping you tightly, like he was afraid you'd disappear.

You were drunk and dizzy, but at that very moment, you knew it - you were in love with Han Jisung. You didn't just want him or just crave - you loved him and his clumsy charm and geeky rants and his heart so big it spilled out of him.

But then, there was something gnawing at you from the inside. A sharp stab of realization that this was just so unfortunate. Because you were promised to someone else. Like a damn object. And it was so unfair.

Reality crashed in, cold and brutal. Minho, your almost-fiancé.

You froze, pulling back with a jerk, and Jisung gave you a confused look.

“Y/N?” he said, voice small, like he was scared he did something wrong.

“I…I can’t,” you stammered, sliding off the couch, away from his warmth, your heart pounding. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I… I have to go.”

His face fell, and it was like a knife to your chest. “Did I-?”

“No,” you said quickly, grabbing his hand. “It’s not you. It’s… complicated.”

You couldn’t explain it, not here, not now, not when you were still buzzing with alcohol and guilt and want. You squeezed his hand, then let go, standing on shaky legs.

“Y/N, wait -” he started, but you’re already moving, weaving through the crowd, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You didn’t look back. You couldn't. If you saw his face, you’d break, and you were already too close to shattering.

---

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting you like a slap. You leaned against a tree, catching your breath, and wiped at your eyes. A sob spilled from your lips, and at that exact moment, you heard Minho’s sharp voice, cutting through the haze like a blade.

“Y/N, what the hell?” Minho was striding toward you, his usual smug confidence replaced with something harder.

It looked a lot like annoyance, maybe, or something deeper. He stopped a few feet away, taking in your disheveled state - your flushed cheeks, the way you were clutching your arms like you’re holding yourself together.

“You’re wasted. What are you doing out here looking like… this?” he snapped and you bristled, straightening up despite the wobble in your legs.

“I’m fine,” you snapped back, though your slurred words betrayed you. “Just needed air.”

“Air?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he scanned you. “You look like you just stumbled out of a bar fight. This isn’t you, Y/N. Getting drunk at some shitty party? What’s gotten into you?”

His tone - condescending, scolding - lights a fuse you didn’t know was burning. You were so fucking tired of it. The expectations, the control, the way everyone assumed that they could dictate your life.

Jisung’s face flashed in your mind - his soft shy smile and his hurt face from a few minutes ago, and it was like a dam breaking inside you. You pushed off the wall, swaying slightly, and pointed a finger at him.

“Tell me this, Minho. Why do you want to marry me?”

He froze, his expression shifting from annoyance to incredulity.

“What?” He laughed, short and disbelieving, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What’s the matter with you? You’re drunk and talking nonsense.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your voice rising, unsteady but fierce.

You took a step closer, your eyes locked with his.

“Why do you want to marry me? Because our parents decided it? Because it’s good for business? Tell me, Minho. Why?”

He faltered, his smirk slipping, and for the first time, you saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it, like he was searching for the right words and coming up empty.

“Y/N, come on,” he said finally, his voice softer. “You know why. We’re good together. We make sense. Our families -”

“That’s not an answer!” you cut him off, your hands balling into fists.

The alcohol made you bold, reckless, and you couldn't stop now.

“I don’t want to be a puppet, Minho. I don’t want to be some trophy wife you control, some box you check off for your perfect life. I’m not a thing you get to own.” you cried, and his face crumpled as the tears flowed freely down yours.

He stepped closer, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You think I see you like that? A puppet? Y/N, I -” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his composure cracking. “I’ve known you forever. I thought… I thought you wanted this too.”

His words hit harder than you expected, a pang of guilt slicing through your anger. For a moment, you saw the Minho you grew up with. The one who snuck you extra dessert at boring dinners, who teased you but never let anyone else cross you.

But it wasn't enough. Not when your heart was screaming for someone else. And it hurt more because you'd promised yourself to quietly go ahead with the engagement and the wedding if Minho told you that he loved you. You obviously would have, considering the fact that you've known him your whole life, and you would never break his heart. But now, you wanted to scream.

“It’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair that I don’t get a say. I don’t want this, Minho. I don’t -”

The words spilled out before you could stop them - sharp and final, and you saw the hurt flash across his face, his eyes widening like you’ve slapped him.

“Y/N…” he was reaching for you, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

You turned and ran, stumbling toward the street. You heard him call your name, his voice raw, but you didn’t look back. The party’s noise faded, replaced by the thud of your pulse and the burn of your tears.

You hated this. Hated yourself, hated the stupid plan that chained you to a life you don’t want.

The morning came with a headache that was literally tearing your head apart. And the weight of last night’s drunken outburst crushed you.

What was worse, Minho didn’t show up to class, and it was unheard of for someone as annoyingly perfect as he was. You panicked all through the day, and felt too scared to text or call him.

The memory of his hurt expression, the way you ran off after shredding your almost-engagement, kept replaying like a bad movie in your brain. So, here you were, standing outside his door with a peace offering: his favorite black forest cake from that overpriced bakery he loved and a large iced Americano, just how he liked it.

You knocked with your heart in your throat, half-expecting him to slam the door in your face. But when he opened it, you almost dropped the cake. Minho’s usually sharp eyes were dull, his hair was a mess. And he was in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, like he hadn't slept at all. It totally broke your heart because you've never seen him like this and you had no one but yourself to blame for this.

He sighed, long and heavy, when he saw you.

“Y/N,” he said, voice flat, but his gaze flicks to the cake and coffee.

He stepped aside, taking the offerings without a word, and let you in. No snarky comment, no smirk. Just silence. That was scarier than any lecture he could’ve given you.

You hovered by the door as he shuffled to his bed, flopping onto it with the cake box and coffee in hand (picking up a fork from the little kitchen on his way). He popped open the box and started eating, not even looking at you.

The silence was deafening, and you felt like an idiot, standing there like a statue in your pristine sweater and skirt.

He finally glanced up, mid-bite, and raised an eyebrow.

“You coming in to share this or are you leaving?” His voice was tired, like he’s too drained to care.

You hesitated, then nodded, kicking off your shoes and climbing onto his bed, and cuddling up beside him like you always did. The familiarity of being in his space made your throat tight.

You curled up closer, tucking your legs under you, and whispered, “I’m sorry, Minho.”

He didn’t say anything, just took another bite of cake, the fork scraping softly against the box. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until he set the cake on his lap and looked at you, his eyes searching.

“Who is it?” he asked quietly, no venom, just curiosity tinged with something resigned. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You froze, your heart slamming against your ribs. You weren’t ready for this. Not now, not here, not with him looking at you like he already knew the answer and just needed to hear it.

“I…” you started, but the words stuck, your mouth dry.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Y/N. I have known you from when we were in diapers. I know this isn't some random impulsive thing. Who’s got you throwing away our whole… whatever this is?”

His voice was steady, but there was a crack in it, a hint of the hurt you saw last night.

You swallowed, your hands trembling in your lap. If there was one thing you could never do, that would be lying to Minho. So you just told him the truth.

“Han Jisung,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minho blinked, then leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, he was silent, and you were bracing for anger, for a fight. Or tears even. But then he started laughing. A loud, almost manic laugh that filled the room, like he was possessed.

You scowled, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he gasped, wiping his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at you, still chuckling, and shook his head.

“Really? Geeky is your thing? Han Jisung? The guy who trips over his own backpack and talks to his laptop like it’s his girlfriend?” he laughed and you huffed, shoving him.

“Shut up! He’s not like that!” you argued.

Okay, maybe he was, but it’s cute, and Minho's laugh pissed you off. You cross your arms, sulking.

“He’s… he’s sweet. And smart. And -”

“Okay, okay,” Minho said, holding up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “I get it. You’re into the hot loser vibe. No judgment.”

His smile faded, and he leaned forward, his expression softening.

“It's a relief you left me for love and not for someone richer. So…there’s no use of me fighting him, is there? You’re set on Jisung?” he said, and you nodded, your throat tight.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I am.”

He exhaled, long and slow, and looked down at the cake, poking at it with the fork.

“Have you told him?” He asked.

“No.” You said, sighing. “Not without talking to you first.”

“Ok.”

“I’m so sorry, Minho,” you said, reaching for his hand, squeezing it, desperate for him to understand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I can’t keep pretending this is what I want. It’s not fair to you either.”

He looked at you, and for a moment, you saw the Minho who has been your closest friend for years.

“It’s okay,” he says finally, his voice soft. “Thanks for being honest.”

You didn’t know what possessed you - guilt, affection, the need to hold onto something familiar, because you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed, his arms looping around you tight. You buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of his cologne grounding you even as your heart aches.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your chest. “Babe, are you breaking up with me or trying to start something here? Mixed signals much?”

You pulled back, flustered, and shoved him lightly.

“Minho!” you squeaked, your face burning hot.

He laughed again, softer this time, and ruffled your hair, the gesture so familiar it hurt.

“You’re a mess, Y/N,” he said, but there was no malice in it, just sad fondness. “Go figure your shit out with Jisung. But if he breaks your heart, I’m not buying you cake to cry over him.”

---

The days that followed your break up (can you even call it that), your mother has been driving you up the wall with her dramatic crying and angry screeching and lectures.

It had become a daily ritual. Waking up to her scolding you and threatening to disown you. And then begging you to get back together with Minho. When you tell her you were never actually together in the first place, she flipped again. And it was all a loop.

You were not sorry for choosing yourself, for wanting Jisung, but the weight of your family’s disappointment was suffocating.

You spent the mornings venting, Minho listening and cracking jokes to lighten your mood. It was funny how much better your relationship with Minho was, now that you two were just friends. In the evening, he would order takeout, and you would end up cross-legged on his floor, eating dumplings and laughing at his stupid jokes.

It was the only thing helping you forget about your mother, the company, and the mess you’ve made.

---

But across campus, Jisung wasn't laughing. In fact Jisung was a walking tragedy, and he was leaning into it hard. In the days since the party, he had transformed into a melodramatic shadow of himself, moping around campus in his heartbreak.

He was in your shared Comp Sci class, slouched in the back row, his hoodie pulled up and completely heart broken. He had watched you leave the party in tears and arguing with Minho. And now he has been seeing you and Minho together, walking across the quad, you leaning into Minho’s side, lost in conversation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

To Jisung, it looked like you were something, like the party was a drunken mistake, and it’s eating him alive.

He was quiet in class, not his usual fidgety, joke-cracking self. When you tried to catch his eye, he ducked his head, pretending to focus on his laptop. You wanted to talk to him, to explain, but every time you got close, your nerves betrayed you.

What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he thought you were just some rich girl playing with his feelings?

The jealousy festered over the next few days. Jisung saw you and Minho at the campus coffee shop, your head on Minho’s shoulder as he scrolled through his phone.

He slumped over his tray, poking at a sad pile of fries, muttering to his roommate, “What’s the point of life when you’re just the guy who gets kissed and ditched?”

His roommate sighed, used to the theatrics, and slid him a soda, but Jisung just stared at it like it betrayed him too.

Then he saw Minho sling an arm around you at the library. This was proof enough for Jisung - you were Minho’s, always have been, and whatever happened at the party was a fluke.

His chest ached with it, a mix of longing and hurt that he buried under late-night coding sessions and too-loud music.

You noticed Jisung pulling away - if ever you caught his attention, his smiles were forced, his eyes avoiding yours. It hurt more than you expected, especially after the party, when you felt so sure he wanted you too. You were so in love with him, but the chaos with your family and Minho’s constant presence made it impossible to bridge the gap.

---

You’ve been psyching yourself up for this all day. Your mother’s morning tirade still rang in your ears - another lecture about ruining the family legacy by ditching Minho. But you were done letting her control you. You were here for Jisung, to clear the air, to tell him how you felt.

You knocked on his door, clutching your bag like a shield. When Jisung opened it, he looked like he'd been through a war with his own brain. He froze, one hand gripping the doorknob.

“Y/N?” he said. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

But he stepped back, letting you in. You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and the air felt charged, like you were both standing on the edge of something big.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, trying to sound calm, but your voice wavered. “About the party. And… other stuff.”

Jisung’s face paled, then flushed red, and he started pacing, his hands flailing.

“The party? Oh, you mean the party where you…where you kissed my neck?” He pointed dramatically to the spot on his neck, where your lips had been, his finger jabbing like he was marking a crime scene. “Right here, Y/N! You did that, and I was, like, losing my mind, and then you just bolted! And now you’re, what, playing house with Minho? I see you two everywhere! Laughing, cuddling, sharing coffee like you’re married or something! What am I supposed to think? That I’m just some drunk mistake you made for fun?”

His words spilled out in a torrent, his voice rising with every sentence, and he wasn’t even looking at you now, just ranting to the air, gesturing wildly.

“I mean, I’m not an idiot, okay? I know I’m not, like, Minho. He’s all cool and rich, but I thought - god, I thought maybe you liked me, you know? Because you kissed me! Here!” He pointed to his neck again, his cheeks flaming. “And now you’re back with him, and I’m just the nerd who got too excited over nothing, and -”

“Jisung!” you tried to cut in, but he was on a roll, pacing faster, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“- and it’s fine, really, I get it! You’re you, and I’m me, and we’re not even in the same universe, but it hurt, Y/N, because I’ve been crushing on you since, like, the first day of class when you asked me for a pen, and I gave you my favorite one, and you never gave it back, by the way, but that’s not the point! The point is, you can’t just go around kissing people’s necks and then -”

You couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn't shutting up, and every word was like a knife, twisting your guilt and frustration tighter. So you did the only thing you could think of - you grabbed the front of his T-shirt, and kissed him.

It wasn't not gentle. It was desperate and messy, your lips crashing against his to silence his rant. Jisung froze, his hands hovering mid-gesture, and for a second, you thought you'd broken him. Then he melted, a soft, surprised whimper escaping his throat as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you’ll vanish. His lips were warm, a little chapped, but absolutely perfect. Your heart pounded, hands sliding up to cup his face, and you poured everything into the kiss - every apology, every feeling you’ve been too scared to say.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were panting, and his eyes wide, like he’s just seen a miracle.

“W-what… what was that?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were still catching your breath, your forehead resting against his.

“That,” you said, “was me shutting you up because you wouldn’t listen.”

You stepped back slightly, but kept your hands on his shoulders, grounding yourself.

“Jisung, I’m not with Minho. We’re not together. We never really were…not like that. It was… arranged, by our parents, and I broke it off. He’s just my friend now. A really good one, but that’s it.” you said, and Jisung blinked, processing, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Wait, so… you’re not… with him?” His voice was small, hopeful, but still wary.

“No,” you said firmly, your thumb brushing his cheek, and he leans into it, almost unconsciously. “I’m not. I broke it off with him, because I love you, Jisung. A lot. And I’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep avoiding me, and I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same -”

“Feel the same?” he interrupted, his voice rising again, but this time it was laced with disbelief. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since you stole my pen! I was losing my mind at that party, thinking you’d just…ugh, I’m such an idiot!”

He groaned, tipping his head back, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. You laughed, the sound shaky with relief, and leaned into him, your arms looping around his neck.

“You’re not an idiot. Well, maybe a little. But a cute one.” You bit your lip, your heart racing. “So… you like me too, then?”

He stared at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Like you? Y/N, I’m obsessed with you. My roommate’s ready to kick me out because I won’t shut up about you,”

He cut himself off, blushing furiously, and you couldn’t help it - you kissed him again, softer this time, but just as needy.

He moaned into it, a low, soft sound that sent heat curling through you, and you’re both stumbling back until you hit his bed, collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs. His hands roamed your back, and the kiss deepened, all tongue and need, until you’re both gasping.

“Okay,” he panted, “so we’re… we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,”

“For real?”

“For real.”

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