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[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[oscpstri]

love to hate | verstappen

verstappen x fem albon!reader, 6.9k

max verstappen was a menace to formula 1 and an even bigger menace when it came to you. he didn't like you, you didn't like him either. he glares at you, you glare back. he kisses you, you kiss back.

INCLUDES: use of y/n, rivals to lovers, many crashes, slow burn gone wrong (its fast), set in 2025 but not accurate timeline, profanity, max and george beef, so much tension that even i'm scared, lotta f1 jargon, max and george beef, reader is george's damage control, reader is also a russell apologist (she gets schooled obv), THIS IS A MAX FIC I SWEAR, YOU GET MORE OF JUST HIM BY THE END BELIEVE ME PLEASE

NOTE: inspired by NA NA NA minus the toxic relationship aspect of it. max is soooo rivals to lovers man im gonna puke

( moments series | more MV1 )

Being Alex Albon's sister was probably the easiest thing in the world. No PR nightmare, no huge scandals, no overall gossip— Alex was a saint. Being George Russell's non-biological sister, on the other hand, was a major headache. Especially when your personal goliath was a fiery Red Bull driver who always had it out for the Brit.

Max Verstappen was a force to be reckoned with, but you loved a challenge. Every scratch, every bump, every hit that Max and George have on track somehow always leads to you.

Alex thought bringing you with him everywhere would mean him protecting you. So when did it switch to you defending George? You went from being Alex Albon's sister to George Russell's PR manager (unofficially)— a permanent figure in the paddock who always manages to get tangled up in Max and George's headlines. Some even wonder if its George beefing with Max or you.

You hate Max. He's arrogant, unapologetic, and always has something to say. Max hates you. You're loud, opinionated, and always ready to catch him on his bullshit whenever he tiffs it out with George on track.

You both had been going at each other ever since you stepped foot into your first race weekend. And what went from rants to Alex about the sheer stupidity of Max Verstappen was now glaring at each other from across the room, targeted subtweets after a race, and insults thrown via other drivers. It had even come to a point where you would deliberately walk past his motorhome when he had a bad race just to shove it in his face. Of course, he did the same back to you.

Had it all gotten out of hand? Maybe. Did anyone care? No. Did everyone else on the grid enjoy the free entertainment? Absolutely. Was Alex constantly developing a headache? Chronic.

Sure, maybe this wasn't your fight to fight, but you were defensive over the people you loved and that included unofficial brother figures.

Which is exactly why Alex was stood in front of you, Carlos holding you back. You're sure your face was probably red, fists clenched by your sides, jaw tense, and eyes looking everywhere but towards your brother.

"Calm down," Alex urges, holding you by the shoulders. "You're more worked up than George."

Your head snaps to look at Alex, eyes carrying a fire that was far too large to be burned out. "Calm down? Golden boy was all up in his face!"

During the race, Max and George were side by side. A miscalculation in distance by Turn 5 left the Red Bull with a damaged sidepod and the Mercedes a broken rear wing. This all could have glazed over if it weren't for Max beefing it out with George in parc fermé.

Alex was telling the truth, you were more worked up over this than George was. Hell, George was probably in the Mercedes motorhome continuing on like nothing happened. Yet here you were, about to throw hands over something that happened all the time.

"You're too close to George to be able to look at this objectively," Alex points out, running a hand through his hair. You could only look at him like he was a crazy person. Objectively?

"I agree, Y/N," Carlos perks up from behind you, letting go of your wrists.

You huff at this, annoyed that both drivers were on a different page than you were. "Whatever. I'm going."

Alex and Carlos turn to each other. The older quirked an eyebrow, indirectly asking if you were okay. Your brother merely sighed loudly, nodding once in reply. It's not like you would run off, it wasn't like you to run from what you were scared of. Usually when this happened, you would go to George to talk to him about it. It would only infuriate you more to hear from a first person perspective, but it's a bonding experience.

As you make your way towards the Mercedes motorhome, you spot a hoard of people in navy blue walking towards your direction. You wouldn't have thought much of it, until you notice who was in the middle of their flock.

You roll your eyes at the sight, speeding up the pace of your walk to refrain from a blood-bath erupting in the middle of the motorhomes. But of course, the devil talked— "Albon!"

You stop dead in your tracks, huffing once before slowly turning around. There, in all his glory, was the one driver you would pay to see not stand on the podium for once. The usual glint was in his eyes, blonde hair a mess. One hand was holding his helmet and the other was holding the water bottle whose straw was still in his mouth. He smirked at your rough appearance, quickly catching the way your nostrils flared and the fists you held by your sides.

"Gonna visit George?" He asks. No reply from you. This only stirs him even more.

"Nonverbal today? Interesting," he clicks his tongue, a grin appearing on his face. "See you next week then, Albon. Hope you find the courage to talk by then. Kinda missed it."

He turns on his heel, continuing his trek towards god knows where.

"What an ass," you mutter under your breath, walking away from the scene of the crime and heading into the Mercedes motorhome.

"What an ass!"

You were stood up from your seat, headphones still in as everyone around you gasps and groans at the screens. Max and George had just crashed into each other and it wasn't a cute scene. Both leading cars were now in the wall and neither drivers were happy.

George was ahead when it happened, Max right behind him. The Brit had gained a place while the Dutch was sent to pit— an effective undercut on Red Bull's part. What wasn't effective was the crazy lunge Max did when they both rounded turn 1. It was a ballsy move but there was no intention of making that corner. Next thing they know, they're both nose first into the wall.

The two drivers were furious and everyone could tell. They didn't even look at each other as they got out from their cars. Hell, they even went the opposite directions in heading back to the pit lane.

You were even more furious. You knew Max was stupid but to try and pull a move like that? He knew he couldn't make it.

So here you were, barging into navy blue and energy drinks territory with a crazed look on your face. You don't know if people didn't notice you or they did but just didn't care. All you know is that now you were in a room with a red-faced Dutch who had a ticking time bomb strapped to his body.

"You bitch! You knew you couldn't make that corner!" You stop in front of him. Max was sitting on the makeshift bed in his driver room, a towel around his neck. His hair was disheveled, suit pulled down revealing the navy blue fireproofs he wore underneath. His eyes carried a tidal wave in them— dark blue, cold, looming over like you would drown once it snapped and came down.

He placed his water bottle down, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly before standing up. He didn't tower over you, god bless the Albon genes, but he was tall enough that you had to look up. And for some reason, you felt small.

"Did you even see what happened?" His voice mirrored his gaze— cold, quick, deep. "Or are you too high up the Russell praise train to not notice that he fucked up first."

The fire in you burned brighter, the fire in your eyes matching the ice in his. "Don't you dare put this on him. You were the stupid one."

Max could only scoff at this, a smirk on his face. "Y/N, I was stupid. But he was reckless."

He could tell from the look on your face that you wouldn't back down— wouldn't even blink at the raging possibility that maybe George was at fault too. So he grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you outside to where the screens were. You were too shocked at his quick movements to realize the contact, eyes growing wide when you notice the Red Bull mechanics who definitely saw you now.

"Watch." Max's voice brings you back to reality, your eyes going to the screen in front of you that showed the replay of what had happened before their crash. You scoff at this, arms crossing over your chest.

"Are you about to mansplain Formula 1 to me, Verstappen?" You look over at him with a smug expression on your face, eyebrow quirked in question. His face remains stoic, eyes still on the screen.

"You know this stuff as well as I do. You tell me."

You look back at the footage, shaking your head in disbelief. You were about to yawn from what you thought you had already seen, until the camera pans to another angle that shows the crash up close.

What you thought was Max being idiotic was actually Max merely responding to what George had left on the table. The Mercedes driver defends for the position like crazy, so much so that he brakes late into turn 1— illegal and egoistic. Max simply takes the move and lunges from where he is at. It was a race of egos— no one lifted.

You could only blink at the screen as it continues to replay the moment like a ghost who's mission is to torment your life. What was even worse was that you were wrong and Max Verstappen was right beside you with a stupid smirk on his face that you wish had left with the car he broke.

"Moving under braking, Y/N. Real smooth that one," he shakes his head as he chuckles sarcastically, tilting his head to look at you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You turn to look at him, sending him a hard glare before stomping your way out of there. Admitting to Max that he was right was one thing. In front of his own team? Even worse.

"That's even worse!"

You were sitting in the McLaren hospitality, wanting nothing to do with any team that would remind you of the embarrassing encounter you had with Max last week. Until of course, you decided to tell Lando about what happened. Safe to say you wouldn't be back at the papaya home anytime soon either.

While Alex was your real older brother and you regarded George as one as well, Lando was more of your annoying twin brother who you couldn't get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Because the both of you were the same age, you would always find yourself talking to him whenever the trio would get together. You had your fair share of inside jokes with the man, and this was an added one.

"God, please don't remind me," you groan, head falling to your hands. You could hear Lando's giggles echo throughout the empty driver room, his TV playing a random race replay in the background.

"Mate, George has been doing all this illegal shit," he starts. "It's about time someone bursts your bubble."

You look up at this, eyes narrowing at the curly-headed driver. "Are you saying I shouldn't defend George?"

Lando puts his hands up in mock surrender, eyebrows raised. "Hey, I didn't say that. I just meant... maybe you should start looking at this stuff from a bigger picture."

You hate to admit it, but Lando was right. Ever since the interaction with Max, you couldn't help but go to bed every night wondering if you were jumping the gun. If George isn't mad then maybe you shouldn't be pumped up as much either.

Lando left to get ready for the sprint race ahead and you followed suit. As you walk past all the bustling hospitalities, you rub shoulders with the man of your nightmares. A small smirk appears on his face again, stupid eyes lighting up with a glint. "You still on the Russell parade, mini?"

Your eyes twitch at the nickname, holding your chin up. "Why do you ask? Want me to switch to yours?"

He chuckles at this, adjusting the hat on his head. "Cute. Don't cause a fuss after the sprint, now. Wouldn't wanna prove you wrong again."

You roll your eyes at this, walking away. You promised yourself you'd lie low, stay quiet, especially after last week. And that's exactly what you did. Until shit hit the fan again.

The sky was already gloomy to begin with, dark clouds casting over the circuit despite it still being early in the afternoon. The sprint started like it usually would, engines roaring, fans shouting, engineers yelling. But by Lap 4, the rain poured like a madman.

Cars started swerving, people started retiring— it wasn't worth it to hold out this long, not when qualifying and the actual race were on the line.

The FIA being the FIA kept the race going, deeming the thunder above a sign that it was still "raceable" despite the track being halfway turned into a swimming pool. Of course, the top teams being who they were raced like pride and ego was on the line.

And that's when it happens. Red flag and the same damn Red Bull and Mercedes stuck in the gravel just like how it was last week.

It wasn't until Charles almost spun on debris when race control finally called the whole race off early. You were a thunderstorm— furious, raging, quick. Because just as soon as it had happened, you found yourself back at the garage of navy blue again.

"This was your fault," you barge into his driver's room again, eyes narrow and ablaze. The Dutchman turns to look at you, eyes the same icy cold blue that it normally was, and scoffs. "Word moves fast."

"Don't fuck with me, golden boy. This one was on you." You point a finger at him, stable, angry, confident. You were right this time, you know it.

Max puts his hands up in mock surrender, eyes carrying a certain glint you had never seen before. "Fine. Caught me. I squeezed him off the track. I admit it."

You were almost taken aback at the confession, lowering your accusatory finger. "What?"

"But," Max starts, taking a step closer towards you. "He kept his foot on the pedal. Mate thought that wet grass was the perfect time to go full Senna."

You step back, mouth slightly agape. He was right. You saw it happen. You scolded George in your head when it did— he tried to overtake Max on the outside where there was barely any grip. And on a track that was practically a puddle? He had to have known it wouldn't work.

Suddenly the air around you felt hot and you felt your knees about to give out. No way was this happening. No way were you admitting that Max Verstappen was right.

Your eyebrows were still furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. You leaned forward, practically inches away from his face.

"I hate you," you spat, turning on your heel.

"You only hate me 'cause I'm right. You know I'm right." You couldn't see him, but you could hear the smile on his face. Envision the way his lips were upturned into that stupid smirk you so badly wanted to slap off.

But as you walked back toward the Williams motorhome, your couldn't wipe off the burning feeling in your chest. It was rage alright, but something else was lingering— waiting to be let out. The feeling went away though as you spot the other half of the problem outside his own motorhome, talking with his Team Principal about what had happened.

You sigh in relief as you get closer, noticing that he wasn't injured.

"That was stupid, George."

"He didn't leave a space! I did what I could."

Toto sighed at this, a hand going up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But don't do this again. It cost you the race. You were in good pace."

George nods at this, earning a fatherly pat on the shoulder from the team principal. As Toto walks away, the Brit notices you standing off to the side. A soft smile appears on his face, urging you to sit next to him. "Twice in a row I haven't finished a race. I'm a clean guy but I might start raising my voice if this happens next week."

You chuckle at his posh violence. George wasn't the type to get physical, he would hash it out verbally and fire deep cuts that run through your soul— complete opposite of the raging lion back at Red Bull.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. "He could've just let me through. I can't believe that is our four-time world champ."

Normally you would back George up, mumble an 'amen' and add more whispered insults to drag Max's name, but for some reason you held back this time. You don't know if George noticed, but you felt your eye twitch slightly at his words.

Silence falls between the two of you. It was deafening. The usual banter you would have engaged in by now was nowhere to be found. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out— not an insult, not a funny metaphor, not a useless threat.

The older Brit looks up at you, a hint of worry in his face. "You okay, mini? You haven't said much."

You take a deep breath, opening your mouth to say some snarky comment so your misery would be over. Instead you say, "You never should've been there."

George twitches at this, eyebrows slightly furrowing. He sits up, blue eyes piercing into your. "What?"

You mirror his stance, gaze wandering elsewhere as you explain your point. "Sure, Max squeezed you too wide but... you tried to do the impossible in the wet."

George pauses at this, face stoic and eyes narrow. "Are you defending him?"

Your eyes grow wide at the accusation, snapping to look at the Mercedes driver who sat in front of you. You start shaking your head frantically. "No! What? Absolutely not."

George continues to look at you with the same expression. Unconvinced.

"I'm just saying... maybe don't go full Senna next time."

And that was when you knew you fucked up.

You were an F1 fan sure, but you didn't start getting into the sport once your brother was placed in it in 2019. Your knowledge of the motorsport only dated back to when Lewis Hamilton won his first championship in 2008, any hall-of-famers prior to that era you knew but weren't the most knowledgeable on. So an Ayrton Senna reference, especially when the oldest lore you knew was Crashgate, was a head-turner. And George— sweet, older brother George— definitely wouldn't be fooled.

"Full Senna?" He was intrigued, perking up at the name. "Where'd you get that from?"

Your eyes feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets. You start fiddling with your hands, not being able to maintain eye contact with George. "Just... heard it somewhere. No big deal."

He was still unconvinced but slowly nodded his head. You, on the other hand, were short-circuiting internally. You excused yourself from George, hastily walking towards the Williams motorhome so you could hide in Alex's driver room until you had to leave.

"Fuck this. What am I doing?"

"Fuck that! What's he doing?!"

That was the first thing you heard when you stepped out from Alex's driver room. George's voice echoed through the televisions that showcased the live broadcast. You hurry over to get a view as to what the fuss could be and lo and behold, the two paddock idiots had done it again.

After the back-to-back DNF's, both drivers actually stayed out of each other's hair for an entire month of races. Four weeks, not too bad. This gave you enough time to cool off and rethink the defenses you had made for George. At least, that's what you thought.

Those four weeks were the most draining weeks of your life. You were up every night rethinking every single crash, every single DNF, every single fight that you had stood first line of defense for for driver 63. You wondered if your anger was unnecessary, if you were acting out of pure emotion, if you were merely going with it because you hated being wrong.

And then when you consulted Lando about it, the only thing he gathered after an hour of ranting about how you felt, was: "Maybe it's because he's the only person who looks at you differently in the paddock."

You had frozen over the phone, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

"He's the only one who doesn't call you 'mini', right? Despite being each other's arch-nemesis."

For the first time in a long time, Lando Norris was right.

Mini was a nickname that the grid gave to you when you first entered the paddock with Alex. The nickname simply meant a mini Albon, and unfortunately that's what everyone saw you as— just Alex's little sister. When you started defending George like a madman, the title changed to George's fiery non-biological younger sister.

You were always babied growing up, especially with Alex and George watching out for you. Hell, even when you and Lando were the same age, you were the one with the paddock princess title. You hated it.

Max only referred to your nickname twice. The second time he did, you called him out for it and he immediately backed off— hasn't said it ever since.

You thought he was just being an ass. Had worse things to call you or even deemed it insulting to Alex that you were related. It took you until now to realize that he never overstepped that boundary, even if it was a clear shot to the heart.

Then you remember the first time you stomped into the Red Bull garage— the day your perspective on George changed. When he dragged you to the replay, he didn't explain it for you, in fact he knew that you would get it with your own knowledge. He respected you, even when you were at each other's throats.

"You know this stuff as much as I do. You tell me."

You thought he was being condescending, talking down on you. But no, he was challenging you— respecting your brain, your take, your insight.

It all comes crashing down like a cold tide— Max Verstappen saw you for you, and that scared the living hell out of you.

So when Max and George had another tiff during qualifying, you stayed in your seat. You kept your focus on your brother, not bothering to get the details as to how they could have possibly fucked each other up during a pre-race.

You hear the familiar echo of footsteps walk through the motorhomes, not having to look up to know that Max was walking by. But when he looks at you, you don't look back. You could feel eyes digging into your side and it took everything in you not to look, not to spark another flame, not to glare at him as if your insides weren't turning to mush just at the thought of him.

Unbeknownst to you, the smirk on Max's face faltered. He blinked comically, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowing. Where was the snarky comeback? The glare you normally shared even between five motorhomes?

When Alex walks back into the garage, you go up to him and give him a big hug. "P10! That's amazing, Alex."

He stammers slightly, arms slowly going to wrap around you. When you both pull back you notice a confused look on his face. You mimic his expression, "What?"

"You're not gonna do anything about what happened out there?" Your face falls into a deadpan expression.

"Do you want me to?"

Alex immediately straightens up at this, furiously shaking his head. "Please no."

You shake your head in disbelief, patting your brother on the shoulder one last time before making your way out of the Williams hospitality. As you do so, you come across Carlos and also give him a hug, congratulating him for the P6 he garnered right behind Alex.

You were all smiles and hugs, making your way down the motorhomes and congratulating anyone you came across regardless if they had scored points or not. And then Max is beside you. You don't know where he came from, just appeared like a gust of wind.

You turn to look at him, a blank expression on your face. "Not interested in your bullshit, Max."

You didn't fail to notice how his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, how his usual smirk didn't rest on his lips. Instead, he slightly tilts his head. "You okay?"

This makes you stop in your tracks, "What?"

Max looks around as if you weren't talking to him, closing the gap between the both of you with one step. "Are you okay?"

Your eyes bore into his. And for the first time, the looming tidal wave you usually saw was still. His eyes were like the soft waves by the seashore, warm and gentle. You look between them, blinking at his question.

"I'm fine." You swiftly move out of the way, walking as fast as you could towards the Mercedes motorhome. Max just stands there, watching your retreating figure walk into silver territory.

When you reach the George's driver room, you see him sat on the floor, head in his hands. You smile gently, an empathetic look on your face.

"Saw your laps. Unfortunate you got P8." You close the door behind you, sitting on the makeshift bed. George scoffed in reply.

"Yeah well, my prep lap was fucked 'cause Max backed up on me. I mean, what the hell was he thinking?!"

You nod at his outburst, remembering the terrible qualifying session for both drivers. "Max was petty."

"Thank you! He was!"

"But," you start. "That was crazy that you didn't get out of the way."

George snaps his head to look at you, towel dropping from his hand. "He wrecked my lap on purpose. How was I supposed to know?"

"He was on a flying lap, George. Plus, there's a reason you have side-mirrors on the car."

It was silent for a beat. You were nervous as hell. You were sure that George was already suspicious from that Senna reference you made a while back, then this? Even Alex called you up afterwards to question it.

"Who's side are you on?" George breaks the quiet. The fire inside of you started burning. You continued to stare at the ground, afraid that one look at the Brit would only add fuel.

"There are no sides here, George. I know what I saw. You fucked his lap, he fucks yours. Don't you think that makes a little sense?"

The silence was deafening but made you mad. Was he always like this? Did he always assume you'd die on this hill?

"You got that Senna reference from him, didn't you? He told you that?"

You look at George, fists clenched by your lap. "Does it matter?"

You stood up and turn on your heel. You walk out of that room before George could even get up himself and walk as fast as you can back to safety. You couldn't breathe in there, it felt like you would suffocate from the silence, the rage, the emotions.

As you reach the Williams hospitality, you fall straight into the arms of your older brother, the one person you knew could somehow immaculately fix all your wounds even if they were phantom. Alex embraces you with open arms, worried of course, but not probing. And you talk when you're ready. Talk about how heavy your mind was from babysitting an idiot. Talk about how Max left an impression on your being.

And it was in that moment, with you crying to your older brother, that you realized that you probably liked Max Verstappen. And that shattered your whole world.

Alex didn't bring it up. Didn't bring up your deep-rooted attachment to Max Verstappen. Didn't bring up your exhaustion caused by George Russell. Didn't bring up that you were cornered off in the Williams garage post-race instead of out and about. And you liked your brother because of that.

You were already suffocating, you didn't want your head to be held underwater as well.

You had already talked to George about it. You weren't going to fight his battles anymore, you weren't going to take the hit for something you didn't do, and you definitely weren't going to defend him for every stupid mistake he starts anymore.

You think it's stupid that it took you this long to realize that this was what Alex had been talking about all along— objectivity. Now you realize why Alex never jumped on the Russell train as quickly as you would even if they were both close as brothers.

A whole two months had passed. Two months of being there for Alex, two months of staying put, two months of sheer bliss. The first crashed that happened within those months, everyone turned to you— the media, the fans, the team. It sparked a flame but it never lit.

Then it happened again.

Big race, big crash. It was stupid, bad, unnecessary. Max and George walked out of it fine, but their cars and their leads were wrecked. One thing led to another and now the two were getting into it post-race— heated words, passive-aggressive jabs, snarky remarks. It carried on for a month. An entire month of endless banter, useless threats, snide comments. An entire month of everyone looking at you, expecting you to make a move. And that struck the match.

You hated it. Hated how everyone would look at you when you passed the paddock. Hated how everyone asked you what you had to say about it. Hated how the first thing you find online about yourself is the crash. You were still in the middle of it.

They both had a moment in the sprint race again. Touching tires like their life would end if a race finished clean. And once again, the paddock was buzzing and the world looked at you.

You had had enough. If George wasn't gonna say anything to make people shut up, you would.

You stormed off from your spot in the Williams motorhome, and you found yourself busting through the doors of Mercedes. You find George surrounded by the PR team, calmly spinning a narrative while the fuse inside of you only burns shorter.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Everyone looks up. Poor Kimi goes still. George blinks like he wasn't expecting you.

"I'm doing media, we can talk la—"

"No, we're talking now."

You were a rage of fury. "I told you I wasn't going to defend you anymore. I told you to sort your shit out with Max yourself. And here we are again. A mess of pride and ego."

George frowns, "Why are you coming at me? He's the one that turned into me. He's the one that doesn't give space—"

"You know exactly how he drives and you still divebombed him like you're in a videogame!"

George opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him.

"You don't even have the decency to tell people to stay out of my business. Everyone is still waiting for me to clean up your mess! To play peacemaker! To babysit the two idiots who would rather die than have a clean race!"

Your breathing starts getting shaky, head burning from all the eyes that were staring at you. "You treat me like I'm your little sister, like I need to be protected, but all I've ever done is protect you."

George's expression falters. "I'm exhausted, George. Please. The least you could do is tell everyone to fuck off."

You step back, catching your breath, before turning on your heel and storming out before anyone could say anything.

You find yourself behind the paddock. Sitting on a curb, head in your hands, sobbing with a rage you couldn't even describe. Your mind swarmed with a million things and your chest felt like it was split open. And of course—

"Are you okay?"

You look up. Eyes red, emotions raw, heart spilled on the floor. The Dutch makes the move to sit beside you, a worried expression cast on his face.

You scoff shakily, "Don't pretend like you care."

"I'm not pretending."

You laugh once. Dry.

He asks again, "Are you okay?"

You sigh at his question, wiping your eyes. You stand up slowly. Too tired to yell. Too tired to fake it.

"Why are you the one who gets it? Why are you always the first one to ask if I'm okay?" You start, turning to look at him. "I was supposed to hate you, Max."

He doesn't smile, doesn't smirk. Just stands up right in front of you.

"Then hate me. But stop lying to yourself— stop hurting yourself. Not anymore."

Beat. The weight between them shifts.

"Why do you make it sound so easy?" Your voice cracks, eyes darting back and forth between his.

"Because when I look at you, I don't see Alex's sister or George's damage control, I see a fire."

She blinks. And all of a sudden, he put her heart back where it belonged. And this time, it wasn't shattered.

"And I'd rather burn in it than hide from it."

You don’t breathe. Not for a second. Not when the words settle over you, not when his eyes don’t flinch. The wind picks up behind you, but you don’t feel it. All you feel is the heat in your chest, the ache behind your ribs, and the way he’s looking at you like you’re real. Like you’re more than a title, more than what everyone decided you’d be.

You take one step forward.

He doesn’t move.

"Then don't hide."

Max’s jaw tenses, like he’s restraining himself. Like he’s waiting for permission. "You're killing me."

You smirk at this, the light coming back from beneath your eyes. The banter coming back to you like it never left. Your hand delicately lands on the back of his neck and you pull him forward, just inches away from your mouth. "Good. Maybe you'll finally shut up."

He surges forward, mouth finding yours. It’s not delicate. It’s not patient. It’s desperate, starved, all teeth and fury and years of swallowed words. You kiss him like you’re trying to erase every fight, every snide comment, every time you said you hated him but didn’t mean it.

And he kisses you like he knew. Like he always knew.

His hands come up fast—one to your cheek, the other gripping your waist like he needs to anchor himself—and he kisses you back just as hard. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

For once, you’re not thinking. Not about George. Not about Alex. Not about the paddock or the cameras or the fact that this is so, so messy.

You’re thinking about how he’s the only one who’s ever met the real you. And for the first time in a long time—you let yourself feel it.

When you finally break apart, gasping, he rests his forehead on yours.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that." His voice was low, deep, a wreck. And you could only smile in return.

"Neither did I."

Max exhales a stunned, breathless laugh— because of course this is how it happens. Of course the kiss feels like war and peace all at once.

"Guess this means you're not the enemy anymore."

Max pulls away to look at your face, a big smile still etched in it.

"I never was."

It happens almost too casually for something this monumental.

Alex is leaning against the motorhome wall, sipping a water bottle and scrolling through his phone, when he hears familiar voices rounding the corner. He doesn’t think much of it, until he catches a low laugh that definitely doesn't belong to George or Lando.

That laugh is Max's. And you're answering it with something soft, something warm. Not your usual exasperated sigh, not the sharp defense of George— this is different.

Curious, Alex glances up just in time to see Max walking beside you, a hand brushing yours before you swat it away playfully. But it’s the look on your face that stops him cold: you're beaming. Not performing, not posturing— just effortlessly, unconsciously happy.

And then Max glances your way like you're the only person in the world worth looking at. Alex has seen that look before— in movies, in stories. Never aimed at his sister— never like this.

You notice him before Max does. Your eyes widen, cheeks flush, and your step falters just slightly. Max, ever oblivious, keeps talking until you mutters his name in warning and nudge him. He follows your gaze, and Alex watches as it dawns on him: you've been caught.

Alex just raises a brow. "So... is this where I give the protective older brother speech?"

Max pales a little. You just groan in response.

But Alex just laughs— warm and full, not a hint of menace behind it. He walks over, pulling you into a one-armed hug and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“About damn time,” he says quietly, so only you could hear it. “I was starting to think no one would ever get you out of your own head.”

Then, to Max, with a wry grin, “Don’t make me regret this, yeah?”

Max nods, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

Alex gives you one last look— not questioning, not protective— just proud.

“You look happy,” he says simply. “That’s all I care about.”

And you are. For the first time in a long time, you really, truly are.

The paddock was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that made George uneasy. No on-track chaos, no media blow-ups, and—most suspicious of all—no fiery rants from you. That alone should’ve tipped him off.

He pushed open the Williams motorhome door, expecting to find you with Alex or Lando, maybe ranting about tire strategy or laughing over some old karting story. Instead, the air shifted the second he walked in.

You were on Max Verstappen’s lap. Laughing.

Max had one arm lazily slung around your waist, and you looked at ease in a way George had never seen before. Not in the paddock. Not with anyone.

The silence cracked like thunder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” George said, his voice low but sharp, slicing through the air like a whip.

You jolt upright, guilt flashing across your face. Max didn’t flinch, only tightened his hold slightly, like he had no intention of pretending this was something it wasn’t.

George’s gaze darted between you two, disbelieving. “This has to be a joke. You’re messing with me, right?”

“It’s not a joke, George,” you said quietly, stepping away from Max but not by much.

His jaw tightened. “So what, you’re with him now? The guy who’s made my life hell for years? The guy you swore you’d never defend?”

Max tilted his head, calm and irritating. “That was your doing, Russell.”

“Shut it.”

“Make me.”

“Max.” Your voice snapped and he stopped instantly. You turned back to George, heart thudding. “Look, I didn’t plan this, okay? It just happened. And for once, I’m not apologizing for something that makes me happy.”

George laughed bitterly. “Right. So you’re just tossing away everything for him? Years of loyalty—for what?”

Your fists clenched.

“Loyalty?” you echoed, voice rising. “You mean babysitting you every time you lost a race? Picking up the pieces after every feud you had with Max? It was fine the first time, but you got used to it. Used to lying back and watching me handle your shit."

His mouth parted slightly. You didn’t stop.

“I’ve been your therapist, your attack dog, your emotional crutch. I’ve been the girl no one takes seriously because I’ve always just belonged to someone else.”

You stepped forward, eyes burning.

“Max sees me. Not as your apologist. Not as Alex’s sister. He sees me. And deep down?” Your voice softened, trembling now. “I needed that more than I realized.”

Silence swallowed the room. For the first time in a long time, George had no comeback.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw it. The quiet strength in your shoulders, the steadiness in you eyes. And Max— damn him—hadn’t let go of your hand once.

George swallowed thickly. “You really like him?”

You nod.

He looked away, then back at Max. Their eyes locked. It was tense, taut, but something unspoken passed between them. A truce. Maybe not friendship— but something.

“If he hurts you,” George muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll drive my front wing through his car.”

Max, to his credit, just smirked. “Fair. But I won’t.”

George exhaled, already regretting every part of this moment. “Fine,” he muttered, turning toward the door. “But I’m never talking to either of you about feelings. Ever.”

You laughed, soft and teary. “Deal.”

He paused in the doorway. “Does Alex know?”

“Everyone knows.”

George groaned. “I hate this paddock.”

And with that, he left— slamming the door a little too hard on his way out.

[fawnedolly]

Toxic!shauna my godddd 🤤🤤i need her to be crazy and obsessive over me

Yes!!!! I love my girls a little toxic… like plss go insane whenni dont answer!

Toxic!shauana who started off the sweetest girl but then her insecurities and doubts start to creep up on her.

Toxic!shauna who genuinely loves you so dearly but the love reshapes itself as your relationship develops.

Toxic!shauna who is constantly checking your location when youre apart. She needs to know where you are 24/7 and when you -to obviously provoke her- turn your location off and she goes absolutely insane..

Blows up your phone, calling & texting.

Why is your location off?

Where tf are you?

Answer your phone

Stop being a bitch

Ur annoying af

Who are you with?

Lmao alr have fun

Ur w another bitch aren’t u?

You text back saying something nonchalant to get on her nerves even more “im out lmao”

Immediately runs out of her house, keys in hand, ready to hung you down. She drives by your house looking to see if your room light is on. She checks all of your friends instagram stories to see if you’re in any of them.

Will gonna far as texting your mom. She obviously wouldn’t sell herself out but she would say something about wanting to “take you out for dinner but you aren’t picking up and she just wanted to check in☺️”

Shauna is D1 rage baiter��� she will go park up in front of her ex’s house just bc she knows ur checking her location and wants a reaction out of u and say something like “if u can fuck around, so can i”

Of course you react.

Now you’re the one blowing up her phone and yelling at her and she is LOVINGGG the attention. But obviously it turns into a real fight when end up getting home and she’s already sitting outside of your house. Windows down, music low, just chilling on her phone. It irks you to your core that she’s so calm now.

You step out of Mari’s car and storm over to Shauna’s, yanking the door open, climbing in, slamming it, and immediately yelling in her face.

“Are u deadass? Wtf is wrong with you? “

She stares are you, smug look on her face.

“You tell me” she says after shrugging and it only seems to add more fuel to the fire brewing in you.

“You’re so weird. You know I was with Mari. You knew. Why tf were u outside of her house?!”

“I didn’t know anything and the streets are free for anyone”

Your scoff and shake your head, angry tears starting to form in your eyes. “You’re disgusting “

“You checked my location though.”

“ Of course I did! You weren’t answering! Then I see you parked at her place?”

“So?”

“So you have history with her, Shauna. Are you fucking dumb? You know how that looks.”

“Not my fault you assumed the worst.”

“You’re so fucking weird. Like actually.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You almost (keyword) open the door to leave right then. But you don’t. You sit there, seething, heart pounding. She leans back, arms crossed, totally unbothered knowing you wouldn’t.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

weekend away

words: 3.2k

a/n: of course inspired by these precious pictures of drew <3

warnings: 18+ only, dad!rafe, mom!reader, established relationship, theyre maaaarried <3, VERY FLUFFY, descriptions of breastfeeding, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (but reader is on birth control), rafe is like the best dad everrr

“okay…” you look into your trunk, mentally going through your checklist. stroller, check, folder up and ready for daisys car seat to be placed on. diaper bag, check, with extra diapers just in case. pump, check. carrier, baby carrier, check. extra change of clothes, check.

you have everything you could possibly need for daisy, not even realizing that you completely forgot about yourself.

“got your suitcase packed, baby?” rafe asks, daisy in his arms, happy to be cradled there, looking up at her daddy with wide eyes.

“shit!” you squeal, before covering your mouth. daisy may be too young to understand your words, but you still try not to curse in front of her.

“hey, it's okay.” rafe can instantly see your nerves skyrocketing. of course you were too focused on getting everything for your daughter that you completely forgot that it's a weekend trip you'll be going on too.

“okay, i um- ill just throw some clothes in a bag then-”

“baby.” rafe easily switches daisy to one arm, wrapping his now free one around your shoulders. you relax into his hold, reminded how protected you feel by rafe. “we aren't in a rush. we can delay taking off for a bit, okay? it's not that long of a drive.”

“okay.” you nod, arms circling around his waist as you turn to face rafe, pressing your cheek into his side as you smile down at daisy. “hi baby. mama is a bit of a mess right now.”

“don't talk about yourself like that.” rafe says softly, leaning to press a kiss to the top of you're head. “you're doing amazing. you juggle so much, it's a surprise you don't forget things more often.”

you let out a little chuckle, which daisy copies as her little mouth turns into a smile.

“okay, ill go get started.” you sigh. you can't believe your mind has been so scattered and focused on getting daisy ready that you completely forgot about doing anything for yourself.

“we will help.” rafe closes the trunk, heading back inside to follow you up the stairs. “not sure how much help daisy will be, but you got me at least.”

you end up packing pretty quickly, especially since you're bringing a big suitcase, way too big for just a couple days out of town, so you're easily able to throw in more than you need, just in case.

“alright.” rafe hums. “both suitcases loaded, we just need to get daisy in her car seat.”

“great.” you groan. daisy recently developed a hatred for her car seat, after you planned a nice weekend trip a few hours away from the outer banks.

“how about i try?” you know it won't make a difference, but you nod, letting rafe carry daisy towards the car, trying to distract with coos and even snuggling his nose into her tummy, but by the time she's over the seat, she turns straight as a board.

you can barely watch as her sweet face turns to one of sadness, tears falling down her cheeks.

“oh my poor baby.” you coo after rafe gets her all buckled in. “you want mama to ride back here with you?”

you're not sure it will help, but you climb into the backseat to sit next to the car seat while rafe gets in to drive.

“it is almost nap time, maybe she'll fall asleep quickly.” rafe shrugs as he pulls the car out of the driveway, always extra careful when he's bringing you or daisy anywhere.

“maybe.” you hum, petting over her forehead and down her nose until her cries stop, eyes close, and her chest begins to rise and fall slower.

you don't even realize as rafe happily drives you to your destination that as daisy falls asleep, so do you, head resting against her car seat as you catch up on some rest.

rafe smiles when he sees you in the backseat completely knocked out, even snapping a picture when he stops at a toll.

he keeps the radio down low to not wake either of you until he arrives to the airbnb, a delightful cottage right on the beach. it's not too different from home, but the bigger city offers more things to do, and you plan to take advantage of your time away and show daisy all the things she hasn't experienced yet like zoos and museums.

“babes.” rafe calls out. “we're here.”

“oh my gosh.” you let out a yawn, stretching your back out from the awkward hunched position against the car seat. “that went by so fast.”

“thats what happens when you sleep the whole way.” rafe chuckles.

“shut up.” you giggle, leaning between the front seats to press a kiss to his lips. “thanks for driving us. we love you so much.”

you know you can speak for your daughter, it's so evident how much daisy loves rafe, even if she can't find the words yet.

“love you too, baby.” rafe looks back at daisy, the mirror set up on the headrest of the seat to give him a view of her face. “we should get inside quick, she's gonna wake up hungry.”

“ugh, my poor boobs.” you whine. you love getting to breastfeed daisy, and feel so lucky that you have a good milk supply, but it is hard on your body as well.

“you're amazing.” rafe says earnestly. you turned his life around completely when you began dating him, and it only got even better when daisy was born. he made a pact while she was still inside your tummy to get his shit together, mend his life that was broken.

“oh, shush.” you blush, rafe still able to make you feel shy to this day. 

you get out of the car, looking at the airbnb. you swear it looks even better in person, the warm sun beautifully illuminating the white stand as you walk in, punching in the code that you had already memorized.

you know rafe is bringing daisy in, so you take a moment to inspect the house, the two bedrooms and one nursery as well as the open living area, big windows pointing out to the ocean.

you hear daisys cries before rafe enters with her in his arms. “she's ready for you.”

you take her quickly, sitting down in the plush armchair as you adjust your shirt and nursing bra to free your nipple, which she quickly latches onto.

you can hear rafe bringing in your bags and everything you need for daisy as you nurse and stare out at the ocean.

“all done, baby?” you ask her after she pulls away, a blissed out, happy look on her face.

“ill burp her.” rafe picks daisy up from your arms before you even realize it, clearly missing his girl as you close up your bra and pull your shirt down. you follow rafe out onto the back deck, wrapping your arms around his waist as you listen to the familiar sounds of waves hitting the shore.

“are you tired from the drive?” you ask him. “you can nap and ill entertain daisy and make us dinner.”

“im okay.” rafe turns around to tug you into his side. “and let's just order pizza or something, this is vacation, you don't have to cook.”

“okay.” you get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before leaning back against his side. you'll order later, after you've started out at the ocean with him, the uninterrupted sea of blue.

--

“ah, ah, ah.” rafe stops you, taking the baby carrier out of your hands. “ill wear her.”

you nod, grabbing the diaper bag and slinging it over your shoulder, which rafe also takes after he puts the carrier on.

“baby, i can carry something.” you laugh as he gets poppy out of her carseat, her cries instantly stopping now that she's free of the car.

“i know you can. but im a good husband, and i got it.”

“okay.” you shrug. “whatever you want baby.”

rafe loads daisy into the carrier, adjusting her to face outward so she can see all of the animals as you walk through the zoo.

“sunscreen.” you remind rafe, putting the cream onto daisys delicate skin. you swipe it across rafes nose as he makes a face.

“you need it too.” you chastise, smearing it across his face, rubbing it all in so he's not embarrassed. you'd already applied sunscreen underneath your makeup at the cottage earlier, so you just refresh your exposed shoulders.

you make quick work of admissions at the zoo, having already bought your tickets online.

“what do you wanna see first, baby?” rafe asks, hand looped together tight with yours. 

“umm, how about the red pandas?” you motion towards the asia section of the zoo.

“sounds perfect.” rafe very willingly follows you throughout, daisy happily watching the animals as well as smiling at anyone who passes by.

“stop, they're so cute!” you coo as you look at the pandas. “i want to pet one.”

“don't tempt me to figure out a way for you to do that, baby.” rafe laughs, your pout quickly disappearing off your face, knowing it's not beyond rafe to bribe a zookeeper to let you feel the red pandas fluffy tail.

“what would you like to see, daisy girl?” you coo, rubbing your fingers over her cheeks.

“let's check out the chimpanzees and then we should probably find a place for you to nurse.” rafe is well aware of daisys feeding schedule, and you had to choose between taking her to the zoo during nap time or having to figure out feeding her during the trip.

“sounds good.” you allow rafe to loop his arm around your waist. 

rafe is just as delighted by the chimps swinging across their play structure as daisy is, her hands clapping together, chubby cheeks pushed up in a happy smile.

she cries when you walk away, but you recognize that the attitude is mostly from her being hungry.

“come on, baby.” you coo, finding a quiet shaded area with a comfortable bench.

you cover your front with a light blanket as rafe sits next to you, gently rubbing your shoulder and stroking over your hair as daisy feeds.

“she's probably gonna take like a 15 minute milk nap after this.” you say to rafe. “we can go check out the natural history museum.”

“good idea.” rafe nods. “i know how much you like to read random ass signs.”

“ugh, not my fault i like to learn information! unlike you, dummy.”

“hey.” rafe tickles his finger into the crook for your neck.

daisy falls asleep when she's done nursing, just as you predicted. you tuck her into the crook of your arm, not wanting to risk transferring her to the baby carrier, she'd most certainly wake up.

rafes hand stays on your back throughout the entire museum. you look through every sign, every taxidermied animal and the prehistoric scenes of the area the zoo has set up.

daisy stirs in your arms as you walk outside, the afternoon sun on her face waking her up. “hey princess.” you tell her, always surprised how quickly she recovers from her naps, now wide awake seconds later.

“wanna go to daddy? yeah?” you hand her over to go back into the baby carrier, heading towards the north america section. you like seeing the moose, and rafe the brown bears, while daisy gets an absolute kick out of the american otters, watching them swish through the water and flip off the glass partition.

you continue through most of the zoo, deciding to rush through the aquarium and skip the africa section as daisys nap time quickly approaches.

you exit the zoo hand in hand with rafe, and for once daisy doesn't fight being put in her carseat as she instantly falls asleep.

--

daisy is sitting in between your legs, giggling as she runs her hands through the sand. you keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't try to experiment and eat any, but you're also distracted by rafe sitting shirtless next to you.

“when daisy is older, we should take her to the west coast so we can watch the sunset over the ocean.” he says, moving closer to you to wrap his arm around you.

“id love that. its so fun bringing her places.” you know daisy is too young to remember this trip, but she has loved staying someplace different, getting to see all sorts of new things. 

you head back home tomorrow, back to the reality of the outer banks.

“baby girl is gonna be beyond spoiled.” rafe laughs softly, leaning forward to readjust the bow on the top of her head.

“if you spoil her as much as you spoil me, she sure will.” you lean into rafes side, gently watching the waves until daisy starts to get tired and bored, crawling back towards you.

“nursing then bedtime, alright daisy?” you coo at her, picking her up as you walk with rafe back into the cottage, dusting your sandy feet off before going in. “it's a long drive again tomorrow and daddy needs a good sleep.”

“mmm, i was hoping after you put her down we could…” rafe clears his throat. your eyes widen, understanding what he means.

“yeah.” you nod, sitting down in the armchair that has become your prime feeding place over the weekend trip. “id really love that.”

“perfect.” rafe bends to press a kiss to your forehead. “im gonna go shower. let me know if you need any help getting her down.”

daisy happily latches onto your boob, pulling off when she's about halfway done as she gets fussy.

“oh, girly.” you giggle. “you're just tired!”

you move into the nursery to change her into pajamas as well as make sure she has a fresh diaper before finishing feeding her. by the time you set her down in the crib, she's out like a light.

you grab the baby monitor and bring it into your bedroom, smiling when you see rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around his hips, hair still slightly wet from the shower.

“she's asleep?” he confirms as you place the baby monitor on the dresser.

“she is.” you move quickly over to rafe, bending to press a kiss to his lips as your hands move quickly to undo his towel, opening the damp fabric to reveal his cock.

you kiss as your hand explores his length, feeling it harden beneath your fingertips before you begin to stroke.

“you're gonna kill me, baby.” rafe groans against your lips. “ive missed your hands so much.”

“missed this too.” you confirm. sex with rafe has been scarce since daisy. your body took a while to recover, and while he was patient throughout that, even once you were ready to have sex, daisy often interrupted you by needing her diaper changed or to be rocked back to sleep.

“come on, i want to see you.” rafe tugs at your shirt.

you stand to lose your tank top, removing your bra next. you still feel a little insecure about your stomach. you lost a bit of the weight you gained throughout pregnancy, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to how you were before.

“hey-” rafe stands, seeming to sense your feelings. “you're beautiful.”

“thank you.” you say, tears welling up in your eyes, but not from your insecurities, but from the sheer love you have for rafe.

“now get on the bed so i can show you how beautiful i find you.”

you take your pants and underwear off as you lay down, placing your head on the pillows as you look up at rafe. you used to be much more adventurous when it came to sex, trying out different positions or even introducing toys, but just like in many other ways, being a parent has made your sex more boring.

rafe drapes himself over your body, his cock rubbing through your folds. until daisy is much older and always sleeps through the night, there's still a chance she will wake up, so speed is of the essence.

rafe lines his cock up, pushing it inside of your tight heat with a low groan, needing to stay pretty quiet to not wake daisy, glad that the ocean out the window is providing her some white noise.

“god, you feel so good.” rafe says, eyelids fluttering closed as he stills, allowing you to adjust to his length.

you let out a moan, reaching up to wrap your arms around rafes shoulders, pulling his body against yours.

your chest rubs together as rafe begins to thrust, thankfully not moving too much as your nipples are so sensitive they sometimes hurt.

“i love you.” you whisper to rafe. “i love you so much.”

“we should have a wedding.” rafe says mid-thrust, making your eyes widen as he continues talking. “we should renew our vows when daisy is old enough to be our flower girl.”

“okay.” you nod. you have no problem with throwing an actual party to celebrate your marriage, considering when you found out you were pregnant and told rafe, you settled for a small and quick courthouse wedding with just a few family members and friends in attendance.

“i just love you so much.” he says, voice slightly strained as he continues thrusting.

“i know.” you lean up again to press your lips against his, his mouth staying slightly ajar as he pants.

“i love daisy too. i love our family.” rafe is moving so fast inside of you, rambling as he fucks you. “i wanna have more kids. after we renew our vows and i give you the wedding you deserve.”

“okay.” you giggle, smiling up at rafe. “we can do all of that, baby. we have all the time in the world.”

rafe nods, eyes closing as he concentrates on moving his hips just how you like it, the same motions that got you pregnant with daisy, now prevented from happening again with your daily pill.

“close.” rafe warns, and you're not far off either, only needing a couple more thrusts before you cum with a muffled shout, having covered your mouth with your hand just in time.

your cunt squeezing around him as your high pushes through your body is all rafe needs to spill inside of you with a soft moan of your name.

his arms give out as he rests on top of you, but you don't mind the weight as you stroke your fingers through his short hair. 

it's comforting, the silence, the way your bodies are pressed together, but it's interrupted by a cry through the baby monitor.

“i got her.” rafe says before you can even react. he pushes himself out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweats before rushing into the nursery.

you take a moment to reach over to the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning yourself off at least good enough for the night as you wrap the blankets around yourself.

you try to stay awake until rafe comes back in, to tell him yet again how much you love him, but by the time he's done changing daisys diaper and gets her back to sleep, you're deep in sleep.

rafe smiles as he reenters the bedroom, seeing you all wrapped up with a slight smile on your face as you dream. rafe lays down next to you, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi!! What do I do if I have an idea for a story but can't seem to develop it far enough? Or, I can't decide on how a certain event or setting should play out?

Writing Tips: Developing Story Ideas

Use a Plot Structure

Example: HOW TO TELL A STORY (Peter Rubie)

Once upon a time, something happened to someone,

and he decided that he would pursue a goal.

So he devised a plan of action,

and even though there were forces trying to stop him,

he moved forward because there was a lot at stake.

And just as things seemed as bad as they could get,

he learned an important lesson,

and when offered the prize he had sought so strenuously,

he had to decide whether or not to take it,

and in making that decision he satisfied a need

that had been created by something in his past.

When Writing a Plot Driven Story, Answer These Questions About Each of Your Main Characters:

What is the character’s back story?

What is the character’s personality?

How was the character’s personality shaped by his/her backstory?

How does each scene develop the character?

What is driving the character’s reaction within the scene (based on his/her back story)?

How does your character change within the course of the story?

What is the character’s internal conflict?

What is the character most afraid of?

How would he/she define happiness?

When Writing a Character Driven Story, Answer These Questions About Your Plot:

What does your character want to happen in each scene?

Is there tension or conflict within each scene?

What action does the character take within each scene?

How does this action move the story forward?

How does each scene contribute to the overall story?

What is the worst thing that can happen to your character(s)?

How does your character prevent it from happening?

What happens if your character cannot prevent it from happening?

What key events change the main characters in your story?

Brainstorm Ideas

Use flash cards. Think of a topic. Take ten blank flash cards and on one side of each flash card, write a line about this topic. Use a mixture of emotional detail, concrete detail, and images when writing these lines. Put all the cards face down in front of you. Turn five of these cards over, face-up. What kind of story is this? What questions remain? Experiment with which five cards should be turned up in order to create a story that is both mysterious and clear enough for the emotions to be anchored.

Eavesdrop. Carry your notebook with you as you go about your daily tasks and write down interesting things you overhear. At the end of the day, go over the snippets of conversation you wrote down and, rather than thinking about the content of the conversation, analyze how it was said. What have you learned about the way people speak? Incorporate this speech rhythm into a new story.

Analyze your every move. In the evening, write a list of 20 things you did that day. Use this form: “I washed the dishes, I ate an avocado, I read the newspaper,” and so on. The only rule is: don’t list the things in chronological order. Review your list of 20 activities and see if any of them spark the beginning of a story. Try to make use of one of these seemingly mundane activities to write a longer story.

Free write. Take your notebook and give yourself 10 minutes to simply write whatever comes to mind, not letting your pen or pencil leave the page, and not revising. After 10 minutes have passed, review what you wrote. How do the subject and tone change from the beginning to the end? Is there anything you might want to lift for a new story?

Explore Your Surroundings

Find inspiration in your environment and everyday activities:

Take a walk. Go on a walk and bring your notebook. Look around and write down observations on what you see: a tree, a person, a neighborhood. Try starting a story by using some of these descriptions.

Find an interesting object. Whether you’re in an office or a kitchen, a park or a library, choose an object you can see and describe it. Does it evoke personal memories? Does it have cultural implications, or elicit a certain emotion? Try starting a story with this object and its associations to guide you.

Play With Setting

Transport your story idea to different time periods and locales:

Write a few lines setting a scene that is easy to accept. Think about the example of snow on pine trees or a dog lying under a hammock. Establish a scene of your own. Then have your story take a twist. Take your reader and yourself somewhere very different—spatially or thematically—from your original scene.

Subvert the norms. Don’t censor yourself. Don’t feel that you have to be serious, or even sincere. You can be playful, even sarcastic in your stories. Think of a subject that may seem outside of today’s literary decorum and write a story about it.

Look Inward

You are the greatest muse for your own story. The following exercises require you to mine ideas from your personal life:

Does your personality make its way into your stories? Think of what kind of social person you are and consider the feedback you get from others about your personality—from family, friends, and others. Write a story that is spoken in your natural speaking voice. This story need not exhibit your best self. Try allowing the story to be controlled by a voice other than the one that shows you off. Write a story that lets the ruggedness of your life drive the voice.

Start a letter to someone you know, would like to know, or once knew. The rule is: assume that they won’t see it. Start this letter by addressing this person directly (think “Dear X”). After you’ve written a few lines or sentences, try to incorporate this as dialogue in your story.

Imitate Writers

Imitation is the best form of flattery. Look to writers you admire for inspiration in your own writing. The following writing exercises borrow concepts from other authors:

Mimic voice. Think of some of the writers or stories you admire. These could be books you’ve discovered in this course or longtime favorites. Pick one of these and read it over and over again, noting the methods the author uses to achieve his or her voice? Notice how the story develops stage by stage. How does it find its way through itself? See if you can write a story that follows a similar style of organization or path of development. This is more than an exercise; it’s a way of opening yourself to the influences of other authors.

Create tension. Use space to create suspense, putting the reader on the same level of knowing and not knowing as the speaker. Write a story that describes one large action and uses spacing as a way to force the reader to pause, creating tension and suspense as the action of your story progresses.

Use a Writing Template. Examples:

A 7-Part Book Development Template. Take your story from a vague book idea to an impactful first draft.

Plot Planning Worksheet. Acts 1-3.

The Story Circle by Dan Harmon. A basic narrative structure that writers can use to structure and test their story ideas.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Writing References on Plot ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hi, here are some tips and templates from previous posts, a few were modified to better answer your questions. Choose which ones you would like to try and see which works. You can find more tips in the sources. All the best with your writing!

[thanosscross]

Your Man - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P X Race Car Driver! Reader

Summary: After Y/n L/n starts to rise to fame with her new racing career, she ends up in contact with an older celebrity, Seung Hyun, leading to one of the best things to ever happen to you, even if he was a little older.

Warnings: The highly requested, age gap story, lovelies! Reader is 23-24 and Seung Hyun is 36-37, so quite a gap, but everybody is of legal age! <3 other than that, I feel like it's mainly just fluff and angst with a hint of plot, so please enjoy lovelies <3

Whenever you entered your early twenties, you had high hopes, you had just graduated college, and your training to finally go on the race tracks for your agency. You knew from a very young age who you wanted to be, a race car driver, and you stuck with that idea throughout your childhood and teen years, until you finally made your idea a reality, becoming one of the newest drivers in this year of races.

Along with new found fame with your profession, you also came into contact with a lot of different famous people, people you felt were a lot more famous than you, but nonetheless they were still fans of yours. Including one person who ended up gaining your interest and almost all of your attention at first, Choi Seung Hyun, an older retired Idol, and actor. You didn't care that he was older, a lot older than you, he was sweet, and you both clicked together immediately, always talking in your free time, showing your new friend all your new car adjustments, seeing all of the artwork he had made or purchased, or just talking about upcoming events for you both. It didn't take very long for you both to develop feelings for each other, Seung Hyun was very, very skeptical at first, not wanting to cause any more drama or upstir with social media, especially not your fans, for being with someone who was 23 while he was 36. With your persistence and reassurance for a few months, Seung Hyun and Y/n L/n had finally made things official though, you both deciding to just come out with it to the media, before someone else got the chance to spoil it for you both.

So now you were going a year strong, you had your issues every now and then, but you both were each other's home, somewhere you felt safe, no matter where you were, what the environment was like, you'd always be home with each other.

As you laid on your apartment floor, you huffed, looking up towards your boyfriend who was visiting from South Korea, who was currently having an argument with himself in his head about how to bring up something to you. "Jagiya..are you okay?" You whispered, running a hand through your f/c dyed hair, it being part of your contract for promotional and appearance purposes, that you always had to match your style towards your current car, something Seung Hyun secretly hated. "Hmm?..Oh, I'm sorry, Aein, yea, yea I'm okay, why?" He replied after a moment, glancing back down towards you, you smiled softly at him, falling in love with him all over again as his hair fell in front of his glasses slightly. Slowly moving to sit on your knees, resting your hands on his knees as you tilted your head "I can tell somethings bothering you, don't make me pull the full name card" You threatened, giggling loudly as he gave you a confused look, not understanding exactly what you were threatening. As you moved to sit next to him, you smiled "Choi Seung Hyun, what's going on?" You asked softly, Seung Hyun nodded softly as he understood finally what a 'full name card' was, he was slowly catching onto the slang and phrases you used. "Now that my interviews are all wrapped up for now..I was thinking of staying to watch your race coming up?.." He offered nervously, it wasn't something either of you had spoken about before, yes you had been on set with him, often visiting him for his lunch breaks, but he hadn't ever been to one of your races in person. It wasn't because he didn't want to, of course he wanted to be there to support his #1 girl, but being seen like that in public felt very real for the both of you, it would just confirm everything and multiply any hate you'd get for your age gap. "R-Really? That'd be amazing, Jagiya! Please! Oh it'd be so awesome having you there! Everybody on my pit crew already loves you!" You rambled excitedly, placing your hands on his cheeks as he smiled at you, you looked absolutely beautiful to him, all the time, but especially whenever you were excited about something. "I'd love to, Aein, anything for my girl" He smiled softly, blushing still as you pressed your lips against his gently, resting one of your hands on his chest as you moved your lips against his. "Thank you! thank you" You cheered as you slowly pulled away, Seung Hyun laughing softly as you were still just as hyped up after the kiss you just had.

As Seung Hyun held you gently as you slept, he couldn't help but let his mind wander on how exactly he ended up with you. You were a famous 24-year-old American race car driver, and he was a retired 'controversial' 37-year-old actor, you could literally date any person you wanted, you were absolutely stunning, but you still chose him? He couldn't understand it, yes, he absolutely loved being with you, and loved loving you, but he just couldn't understand why out of everybody, you decided to be with him. The longer he let his mind ponder the thought, he could feel himself starting to doze, eventually falling asleep as he kept his arms around you, feeling a lot more comfortable with you close to him.

The next week would be hectic, none of your training or promotional gigs going as planned the week of the race, first your wheel malfunctions as your taking the first curve of the track during practice, then an interviewer starts asking wayyy too personal questions, and of course, to top it off, your brakes for some reason, stopped working, mid final practice. You were starting to lose hope until the day of the biggest race in your career currently, Daytona 500, as you walked out onto the track, finding your way towards your pit crew and family who were separated by a barricade, keeping press and other drivers' families away from the cars and track. As you approached the area, you frowned, seeing your mom, dad, and pit crew, but no Seung Hyun anywhere to be found "Hey mom, have you seen Seung Hyun? He said he'd be here" You asked, using the bar of the barricade to lift yourself up slightly to try and spot your boyfriend, but still, nothing.

Seung Hyun sat on a small platform above the starting line, he wanted to be with your family by the track, but after a few hundred people swarmed him at the entrance, security grabbed him away from the crowd, hiding him in the one spot they could think of at the moment. As you looked around, you finally sighed, glancing at your parents, shrugging sadly before turning towards the press, ready to get the race started, and hopefully figure out where the hell he is. While you spoke to the press, you failed to notice your boyfriend quickly moving across the empty track, two security guards escorting him towards your family finally. Moving back over to your car, you smiled brightly seeing the familiar face of Seung Hyun "Jegiya! I thought you wouldn't make it" You smiled brightly, leaning over the gate to hug him tightly, ignoring your mom's judgmental look, sure she supported you, but that didn't mean she liked the idea of you being with a much older man. "Of course I'd make it, I wanna see my aein kick some ass" He smiled brightly, cupping your cheeks as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before all racers were called to their cars.

Climbing in through the window, you made sure to clip on your helmet, making sure your coms worked before starting up your engine, waiting for the greenlight from your pit crew to move over to the starting line. "Y/n, this is going to a smooth race, don't let this week get to you, all that matters right now is getting through this race" your Crew Chief, Jacob, said through your headset, causing you to shake your head gently "I know, I'm gonna try and make this one my best one yet, let's just keep everything quick, smooth, and keep lines open" You replied, pressing the small buttons on your helmet to start your playlist, 'Case 143' by Stray Kids starting to blast through your headphones as you watched the flag holder closely, getting ready to line up with the pace car.

The first thirty laps were going smoothly, you made your way from 27th place all the way up to fourth place without any issues. You knew most of the other drivers, either training with them, or just meeting them at different races, but there were still a handful you had never met, including the driver in fifth place behind you. "Y/n, fifth is right on your ass! Be careful!" Jacob shouted, watching nervously as the driver bumped the hood of his car against the rear of yours, causing you to lose control for a moment, somehow recovering just in time to block him from passing you. "Nice save, hun! Keep that quick mindset and get yourself to first, y/n/n!" He shouted, watching as you zipped past them quickly, your speedometer reading well over 100 miles per hour. As you attempted to pass the car in front of you, you felt your heart fall as you realized you were trapped between the wall and third place driver, along with another car close behind you, basically boxing you in. As you glanced over, you shot the driver a dirty glare, knowing damn well he'll get a penalty if anything happens, so all he was doing was being a dick by trapping you. As you managed to get your car free from his and the wall, you were flung against the seatbelt by another car slamming into your back fender, sending you into a spinning wreck as your car spun out into the turf in the center of the track. "Y/n!? Y/n! Get the hell back on the track!" Jacob pleaded, begging every god out there for you to fucking move already, you wouldn't be able to though, your padded suit and leg getting caught between your seat and gearshift, making it almost impossible to press the gas or breaks "J-Jacob I can't move!" You shouted, starting to panic, feeling a sense of dread as you watched cars starting zip past quickly, if you didn't figure out something quick, you were surely going to lose your spot, and become so far behind, it unfixable. Slamming your other foot on the gas, you felt the car jerk forward, sending you speeding back onto the track as you merged back in with the race.

Seung Hyun could feel his body being consumed by nerves, hating the idea of him not being able to help you in any way, but as you zipped past quickly, passing two other cars in the process, he knew you had this as under control as possible. You could feel your heart start to hammer in your chest as you raced side by side with the driver who was currently in first place, your nerves too high to notice any glares or hand gestures he sent towards you through his window. "Now Y/n! Go!" Jacob screamed into the headset, noticing you only had one curve left to pass this guy or else the race would end in a tie, or with you in second "I'm going!" You shouted, growling whenever the driver next to you did the same thing, both of you speeding up as you whipped around the corner quickly. As you pressed harder on the gas, you could feel the pain in your leg start become a lot worse, but your mind was only focusing on two things. Winning, and the sounds of Seung Hyun in the background of Jacob's chants, cheering you on to be badass and to take the gold. As you passed the driver, taking on first place, your tires crossed the finish line, causing cheers to erupt from everywhere, the stands, barricade line, and your headset. Taking a victory lap to help slow down your high speeds before parking, letting the panic wash over you as you realized how much pain you were truly in from your leg being stuck. As you glanced down, you tried your best to assess the damage without freaking yourself out more, your knee was stuck between the gear shift and seat, and your foot was twisted in an unnatural way as it was caught in the track on your seat. “J-Jacob, I-I’m stuck bad, I need a medic” you whimpered, trying desperately to pry your helmet off of your head so you could at least get some freedom “okay, okay! We’ve got a medic on her way, we’re gonna try and get you out of the car until then okay?” His voice came through the coms as you tried your best to pry the plastic pieces apart to free your knee at least, only causing you even more pain.

The minute Seung Hyun realized you weren’t getting out of your car and something was wrong, he threw himself over the barricade, rushing along side Jacob to the driver side of your car. “Aein, baby, are you okay?” He asked frantically, reaching through the open window to hold onto your shaking hands gently. “I-i’m…chilling” you whimpered, trying not to cry or panic in front of him, knowing it’d just make him panic and start dismantling your car to get you out, even if it meant totaling it out. “Are you bleeding? What happened?” He continued rambling, not stepping back until the medics pulled him back, as he watched from a few feet away, he made eye contact with your parents, feeling a new kind of anxiousness filling his body as his mind started to spiral. Moving to rush over to your parents to swap them spots, feeling like it was more of your parents’ place to be there, waiting, instead of him. Your mother huffed giving him a confused look “What’re you doing, dear!? Why aren’t you staying over there?!” Your mother asked, tilting her head as she watched him nervously stop in his tracks “I-i, your h-her mom and dad-“ he started to ramble, your mother wasn’t stupid, and she knew exactly how Seung Hyun felt, you weren’t the only one who had started dating an older man, and while she didn’t like it, she wasn’t going to become her own mother. “Honey, she needs you. She’s going to want to see you for comfort as soon as she’s out of that car, so I’m telling you as your future mother in law, go take care of my daughter.” She demanded, watching as her words kind of gave Seung Hyun the push he needed to get into a non-panicked mindset, rushing back over to your car as the medics slowly helped you out of the car, keeping your leg in a wooden splint to keep it stable.

“Aein! Baby I’m here!” He shouted quickly, rushing past your pit crew and press that now swarmed you, he wrapped his arm around you gently, following the medics as he helped you support yourself as you walked with him.

After being sent from the medical building, to the actual hospital, you were finally able to return back home to your apartment, much to your relief. As you laid on your bed, you glared at the bright f/c cast that sat on your leg going from your thigh all the way to your toes, covering your knee, ankle, and foot to help it in the healing process. “You know..glaring won’t make it go away” your boyfriend whispered, his voice still heavenly to your ears as he slowly made his way from the doorway to his spot next to you in bed. “I hate it, you know they said I can’t drive for eight months, if not longer!?” You gasped dramatically, cupping his cheeks “I’m going to die! I swear! How the fuck am I supposed to live laugh and love in these conditions? Honestly?” You ranted, motioning to your leg “because I am not living! Laughing! Or loving! And it’s criminal damnit!” You continued, not noticing your boyfriend’s beyond confused face at all of your phrases that you were throwing around. It wasn’t that Seung Hyun was bad at English, he had actually gotten a lot better since he started talking with you almost daily, but he did get confused about certain things you’d say, one of them being you calling things criminal, how was your leg being broken criminal? Was breaking your leg actually illegal in America? Surely not, but, if not why was it criminal? “Are you going to jail?” He asked softly, feeling his heart starting to break as he genuinely started to believe the longer you rant, the more illegal, and criminal it was to break your leg “Wha-..? Oh Jegiya, my love no!” You giggled, catching your mistake almost as soon as you saw his overly worried expression “h-how is that criminal then?..” he asked tilting his head slightly as he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you close, all while being cautious of your cast and leg.

“It’s just a thing..that people say I guess, it’s not actually criminal though, Jegiya, I promise” you smiled, not being able to hold back your giggles as he nodded gently. You couldn’t help it, he was so damn adorable whenever he was confused like this, it just made you want to hug him and never let go. “Is there anything I can do for you, love?” Seung Hyun whispered after a moment, tracing his fingers over your shoulder as he let out a deep breath “Just you, Jegiya” you whispered, holding onto him tightly as you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax “hey Y/n?…” he whispered gently, causing you to tilt your head up gently to meet his gaze “I’m proud of you, you’re like..the coolest badass I know” he smiled softly, pressing his lips to your forehead gently “ya know, ever since I showed you the word badass in English, you’ve been calling me it every five seconds” you laughed, watching as he just shrugged in reply “because you’re a badass, I’m just saying the truth” he replied playfully, starting to run his fingers through your hair as he took another breath “Aein…how would you feel about getting a home here together?” He asked after a moment, you sat up, tilting your head, silently asking him to repeat himself just to make sure you heard him correctly, after getting confirmation that, yes, he did want to get a house with you, you smiled brightly. “I would be so excited!! Please! I’d love it so much” you smiled, hugging him tightly as you smiled, as you laid there for a little longer, Seung Hyun had one last question for you, it starting to chip away at him way too much for him to stay quiet any longer.

“Why did you ask me out?..like, out of everybody in this world, why some weird guy who’s way older than you? Wouldn’t you want somebody your age? Who’s able to keep up with you?” He rambled, causing you to sit up again, this time highly offended, how fucking dare he, not only questioning your judgement, but also talking down towards himself? What the fuck. “Stop. Just stop it Seung Hyun. I like my weird guy, he’s weird like me, and it makes him fun to be around” you started your lecture, taking his hand in yours gently as you spoke “and for the other stuff? I’ve told you, my love. The same reason you like me, I didn’t fall in love with your age or name, I fell in love with you, and your personality, and trust me, handsome, you keep up with me better than anybody, you’re amazing” you giggled, biting your bottom lip teasingly as he rolled his eyes towards you jokingly “I just mean-“ you cut him off before he could even start his protests “Choi Seung Hyun. I love you.” You demanded, not knowing how to get it through to him without just stating how you truly felt towards him. “Y/n…” he whispered, trying to think of what to say as his anxiety started to take over his body “I love you too” he whispered, pressing his lips against yours, moving his with yours as he gently placed his hands on your side and cheek.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen after you recovered, but you were 100% sure about one thing, just like you were sure about being a race car driver, you were going to marry this man. As you pulled away slowly, you rested a hand on his cheek gently “I’m so sleepy, I just wanna lay here with you” you whispered tiredly, moving to lay your head on his chest, tracing shapes onto his chest as you felt yourself starting to doze “well I would be too, Aein, you had one hell of a day” he replied, continuing to run his fingers through your hair as you slowly fell asleep, leaving Seung Hyun to his own thoughts before finally falling asleep himself.

—

What do we think lovelies? You like? I’m so sorry it’s been awhile, like I said a few days ago, I’ve been stuck in a small rut feeling as if my stories haven’t been coming out that well at all, that or they’re just not good ideas at all, so I tried my best with this one as I’m trying to just push through that rut, trying to keep in mind every artist will always be their biggest critic, but it’s been a little difficult but you lovelies are always such a big help and support 💕 While I'm very nervous to start posting the stories I'm iffy about, your guys' support is definitely helping me through it all, so thank you all truly, for everything you've done for me, it means the world, and universe. 💕💕 I’ve gotten quite a bit of asks and messages about an Age Gap story with Seung Hyun and a younger reader, so please! Please! Please! Let me know what you think, next to be posted is my ‘stepdad! Ji-Yong x single mother! Reader’ story, which I’m very excited about so stay tuned lovelies! maybe after that a part two to this if you'd like? Or another age gap story if you'd like? Let me know! <3 I love you 🫶🫶 and I’m excited to hear from you!! 🫶💕

—

Taglist!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

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@mirahyun

[s-awturn]

Drivers and their romantic tropes || F1 Grid

cw: insults, rivalry, fighting, superficiality, suggestive behavior, almost obscene — if you squint your eyes — romance, age gap, cuteness, love and blah blah blah

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I've probably found a new addiction? Making headcanons is so much fun, I can feel the obsession with this format coming on. By the way, I'd love to hear your suggestions (it's just a tip,I'm not suggesting anything 🤭

LEWIS HAMILTON - Age Gap

Being Charles' younger cousin gave her some privileges like going to parties and the paddock whenever she wanted or meeting the drivers and other celebrities, and that's how you met Lewis. Of course you already knew who the Million Dollar Man was, but in person it was all better — and damn, he was so much better in person. The attraction between you was immediate and for a long time Lewis denied what he felt, You were much younger than him and you were still Charles' favorite cousin, meaning it was obvious that you were overprotected by the Monegasque. Which reduced any possibility of a relationship between you and the British pilot to zero.

However, there are no forces sufficient to prevent the universe from moving its strings in any way it wants, so it wasn't long before you and Lewis were making out in every free corner, be it the driver's lounge, the Ferrari motorhome or one of the secluded spots at the team parties. Eventually, the attraction between Lewis and you grew to the point where it became something strong and lasting, well, Charles' efforts to keep you away from Lewis were in vain.

You adored Lewis, you loved how he took care of you, how he made it clear that you were his priority, Lewis treated you like no other guy your age had ever treated you.

Lewis would never admit that he liked how much older he was than you, he loved the way you trusted his experience and maturity, allowing him to take care of you in the best way possible, because there is nothing he loves more than making sure his little girl is completely happy.

CARLOS SAINZ - Fake Dating

Carlos needed a fake girlfriend to calm the media and you needed a miracle to cover your student expenses, so the two of you ended up combining business with pleasure. The two of you made a deal, you just had to pretend in front of the media and friends — everyone had to believe the charade, even family members — you were supposed to accompany him on some races and root for him, post pictures together, and Carlos would pay for everything you needed until you graduated, which was, more or less, another semester and a half. And most importantly, feelings could not be involved.

With everything combined, what could go wrong, right? But of course, everything went wrong the exact moment you realized that Carlos was the perfect boyfriend material.

How could you not fall in love with the guy who opened doors for you? Or who would pick you up at the university gates with a rose? You were getting involved and this went against the agreement you and Carlos had established. You couldn't tell if Carlos also ended up developing feelings in the meantime, he was a difficult man to scrutinize, and it was easy for you to assume that it wasn't reciprocated and before your heart was broken, you broke the agreement, returned everything Carlos had given you — as part of your act — and the money.

What you didn't know is that Carlos was in the same situation as you and it wasn't at all pleasant for him to find a note from you and all the gifts he had given you. You left and left him with just a "sorry, I can't anymore"; and in a few weeks, you didn't know how, but Carlos found you at the guesthouse where you were staying.

And there, standing in the hallway of that modest boarding house where you were staying, Carlos confessed to you, shouting that you couldn't leave him without him trying to win you over. You laughed and kissed him, because the Spaniard didn't need to try, he had already done it.

CHARLES LECLERC - Marriage of Convenience

Your family and Charles' family had been friends for years — really many years — and it only took one drunken night for your father and his to make an agreement, they would unite their families in marriage.

Her marriage to Charles.

And it was all well and good, if you two hadn't hated each other since the first time you saw each other. God knew you tried to be nice to Charles, but he took immense pleasure in being nothing short of unpleasant to you; he loved to laugh at you, he picked on you for everything you did, he handed you over to your parents when you were up to no good, so it didn't take long for you to start hating the boy.

You exchanged barbs at every opportunity you had, you begged your father to break off the engagement, after all you didn't want to marry someone who openly hated you. However, with the sudden death of Charles' father, any chance of breaking off the engagement fell by the wayside, and you were doomed to a failed marriage from the start because you hated your fiancé and it was completely reciprocated.

You tried to propose a deal to Charles, that you two break the commitment, he was adamant, there would be a wedding. And you didn't understand, why did he want to marry you if he hated you? With this doubt, you tested Charles' patience until he confessed that there was never any real hatred, he provoked you because he thought it was the only way to make you notice him.

Taken by surprise, you didn't know how to react other than to move away from him. You were confused by that revelation, both with Charles and with your own feelings; however, there was no distance really, because Charles almost set up camp on your doorstep. It was his turn to annoy you and it was no different, you fought until you ended up kissing. Not once, not twice, but several times until you both admitted that it was never hate, in fact. You two were married in the middle of spring, in a chateau in France,

LANDO NORRIS - Strange to Lovers

It all started with a blind date gone wrong, Lando ended up getting the wrong table and this resulted in the two of you talking until the restaurant closed and you two were asked to leave the place, only then did you discover that he was not the guy you were dating. Not that you thought it was bad, Lando was great! He was funny, witty and kind, he made sure to drop you off at home and took your phone, so what if he got the wrong table? He even had an amazing date with a stunning girl, so in the end, nothing had really gone wrong.

After that meeting, you unfortunately didn't go out anymore because of your racing schedule, but you exchanged messages every day, it didn't matter what the subject was, it could be something about Formula One or the puppy video you sent him. Talking to Lando was easy, it didn't even seem like you met by chance, when you noticed, you had already been talking for almost nine weeks, you had two more dates. On your first date, Lando insisted on taking you to an art gallery that had recently opened in London, on your second date, you took him to karaoke.

When you really realized it, Lando was no longer a stranger, you had his clothes in your drawers and he kept his skin care products in his bathroom cabinet. You and Lando had a firm agreement, to always talk, never go to bed angry, and never hide anything—not that you could hide anything, since you were already so intertwined with each other that nothing could remain hidden between you anymore.

You attended his races, whenever you had free time, Lando would be attending your exhibitions. Honestly, that wrong meeting was the best thing that happened to both of you.

OSCAR PIASTRI - Friends to Lovers

Friends since childhood, they went through all the stages of each other's lives, Oscar had been in your life for so long that you couldn't even imagine what it would be like without him. You supported him when he decided to become a pilot, you watched every race you could and in return, Oscar was at all of his college presentations.

People always thought you were more than friends, but Oscar always gave a shy smile and reinforced that you were just friends, you don't know when or how, but at some point it started to bother you. And that didn't make sense, because you were really just friends.

There was no you without Oscar and there was no Oscar without you.

When he managed to move up to F1, you made sure to buy a box of orange fireworks to celebrate, so what if you were living on the East Coast of the United States? Oscar deserved the fireworks. He made sure to send you a beautiful bouquet of tulips — orange because that was your color all along — a huge breakfast, and a sweet note when you graduated from college.

Little by little, the obligations of adult life, the racing calendar and everything else began to take up all of your time and this decreased the frequency of conversations between you and Oscar. You didn't even notice that you weren't talking to your best friend as often anymore, you only realized that you hadn't spoken to each other in weeks when the news broke that he was dating.

You didn't understand why it hurt so much, maybe because he didn't tell you or because he was dating an old colleague of yours... Either way, it hurt to know that, but you sent him a message, wishing him well. You talked for a while, but it felt strange, something had changed between you.

But you didn't focus on that, Oscar was happy and you were happy for him, so you put the discomfort aside, the important thing was that your best friend was radiant. Your feelings weren't important.

Maybe the boiling point was Christmas, you returned to Australia to spend the holidays with family, completely forgetting that the Piastri were also part of the family, so there was Oscar. You expected to find his girlfriend there, but it was just Oscar, your Christmas present, and his signature shy smile. When you asked where his girlfriend was, Oscar said he didn't have a girlfriend, and when you wanted to know why, his answer was very succinct: she wasn't you.

Your heart raced like an eight cylinder engine when he kissed you and fuck, that was the best Christmas ever.

MAX VERSTAPPEN - Enemies to Lovers

You were Max Verstappen's new teammate at Red Bull and if love at first sight existed, you and Max created hate at first sight. You hated each other so much, both on and off the track. You found Max to be impulsive, disrespectful and arrogant, concluding, for you, Max was a total idiot.

In Max's eyes, you were stubborn, showy, and nosy, completely irritating. You fought over everything, from the current strategy to the can of energy drink, the journalists loved the fight between you, the team tried to pacify in the best way, but you and Max? All it took was a spark for you to start a fire.

Your fans speculated that there was much more behind all the hate.

You don't remember which race it was, but it was in the middle of a chicane where you and Max were racing for first place when your front wings collided, you don't even know who crashed into who, you just remember spinning on the track and hitting the barrier. Max continued the race and took the podium that Sunday. You were furious when you arrived at the pits, just like Michael Schumacher at the 1998 Belgian GP. You were shaking with anger, your engineer tried to calm you down, your manager, but no one could calm your fury.

That was the worst fight you two ever had, it was bad enough that you decided to cut off all communication with Max, you felt like a pawn in his hands, you really thought he had used you to win the race, and you couldn't even explain how frustrated that made you.

This made things very bad within Red Bull, you deliberately ignored Max, you didn't even respond to his provocations anymore, it was as if Verstappen didn't even exist. And it bothered Max more than he would like to admit, it was like an itch that wouldn't go away. You couldn't ignore him forever.

Max approached you in the hotel hallway, he forced you to listen to him. You had to drag him into your room before the other guests witnessed another fight between the Red Bull drivers. None of you knew when or how, but when you realized it, you were tangled up in your bed, uttering insults between groans and pleas; after that night something changed, the rivalry remained as strong as before, in fact even more so, because you were hungry for the title of world champion, and wouldn't let her future marriage to Max get in the way of that. After all, friends are friends, business is business.

gif credits: lewishamiltongifs, bjeanesthings, cielolercs, formulacuties, delulujuls and isolatingmyself.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[luvwestwood]

"Head Empty" - Gojo Satoru

3,043 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), satoru is your tutor, resolved sexual tension, semi-public sex, he fingers you so you could focus on your studying, sex depr!ved reader, oral (under the table), he eats you out again, library setting, unprotected sex, praising, creampie, fucking you against the library shelves.

notes. i'm literally dripping like a waterfall as I write this. ugh I wish gojo was my tutor, I'd pass all my exams to make sure I receive that good dicking as a reward when I get an A++++.

art used is by @/yunonoai!

The days would only and inevitably count-down until the start of your finals week. You realised you were too much of a procrastinator - someone or something had to tell you to get your shit together to start studying, or at least to receive that ounce of motivation.

You knew who to call for that. A high grade achiever, ladies man, and the college's example of an ideal student. Gojo Satoru. Oh, and boy was he fine. Maybe, getting a little too fine.

You were majoring in law and history, and fuck, was it doing your head in. Luckily, your classmate Satoru offered some help - free of charge. Knowing you were in a sticky situation, of course you accepted the offer. I mean, who wouldn't? Tutoring from the smartest guy in your year is like learning a ground-breaking ability from a top class sorcerer.

Although, you were starting to regret it at some point.

Being with Satoru in the library - almost all day, every day of the week. Your thoughts were clouded with him. Filthy, or pure, the scenarios were endless.

Chin on your palm, eyes dazed into his own. Head empty. You would find yourself staring at his lips for too long, just to be able to hear him scold you playfully for not paying attention. But then having regret when you had to review the same day's topic for the third time cause you just wouldn't listen.

Nothing he taught you would go into that little brain of yours. Not one bit.

You wondered if he was a different type of smart. Intelligent enough to notice how you'd stamp your thighs together after thinking such vulgar thoughts. Like him bending you over the library's table, then and there, just pounding into you in front of ev-

..A slender hand waves in front of your face. "Hey, are you listening?" your train of thought had come to an end as his voice broke you out of your trance.

Your eyes widen, turning to the white haired man beside you. "..Yeah, of course I am." you quickly pull away your chin off your palm, picking your pen up just to stare blankly at the case study in front of you.

He groans, over the fact that this is a recurring thing every time the two of you study. "Then tell me," he continued, "What was I talking about?"

Your eyes flicker into an eyeroll in defeat, and Satoru just grins. Unfortunately you were unable to catch that.

"..Alright," He gently sighed. "Let's just do some quick drilling questions to get you more warmed up."

You stay quiet, mentally slapping yourself before you think; how does he even put up with me.

You fiddle with your biro as you watch his every move. The filthy thoughts come flooding in again as you watched his fingers turn the pages, and you just imagine that the pages were your fo-

"So, tell me. What was the inqu!s!t!on during the Reformation?" Satoru's lips pursed together in hopes of a correct answer from you.

"..That's easy. It was a court..” Developing your answer, your heart thumped as you awaited a 'correct' or 'wrong' result from Satoru. Why were you nervous anyways..? Were you.. seeking validation from him?

He smiled as you gave him the answer, which was in fact, correct. "Good girl," Satoru put a small tick beside the question to note you had it correct. "I knew you had it in you."

You just smile back, no verbal response. His praise towards you immediately had your legs clamped together like always, making you move around in your chair. Fiddling with the fabric of your mini skirt that you just put on for him to see your bare legs.

Satoru goes off on a tangent about another topic in relation to the reformation, and so forth. The words coming out of his mouth just ran straight through your ears, and to some trash can in the library. The thought of him praising you as you please him kept replaying in your head like a broken record player.

Feet tapping out of nervousness underneath the table, your poor biro was so chewed to the point it didn't look like a pen anymore.

A slam of a book was heard on your left, and it was Satoru. Luckily a few people have left the library, so the only person left was someone on the far end of the table, with their headphones on too.

The tapping of your foot had long ended, as you were faced with a distressed Gojo. His hand remained on the cover of the textbook.

"Okay, I know this is hard. You accepted my offer to tutor you, but if you wanted to study on your own that's fine with me." You weren't sure if he hated you, or was just fed up, but no response came out of your mouth.

His hand leaves the cover, and instead his whole body turns to you on the chair. "It always seems like- you're distracted. You're barely listening to me 70% of the time, could you tell me why?" Oh God, if only he knew why.

You lied, hoping you could get away with it. "I'm just tired. Finals week coming up just has me stressed, so I can't sleep." You mutter under your breath, but the library was quiet enough for Satoru to hear it perfectly fine.

"I don't think that's the issue." He slightly leans in closer to your face to whisper sternly. "You act like I don't see you biting your lip, squeezing your legs together or fiddling with the ends of that tiny skirt of yours every time you look at me."

You could've sworn that your throat went dry as your skirt hypothesis was proven true. "..I swear.. I'm not lying."

Satoru pinches his nose bridge in denial. "Look, I doubt that you would want to fail your finals because you were horny the whole time you were being tutored."

I honestly hope there's something playing in that persons headphones.

The two of you take a few breaths to recollect yourselves, until Satoru quietly speaks again.

"How about, we just ease back into reviewing the same material. Just please, give me your undivided attention. Just for now."

With Satoru knowing your dirty little secrets, there's no hiding now. You had no choice but to oblige. "Yeah okay. I'm all ears."

He opens the textbook again, returning to the same chapter. This time he goes on about the results of the reformation.

But something was different.

His warm hand rested on your bare thigh, almost under your skirt. Dangerously creeping into your inner leg, to the point that his pinky finger could graze against your underwear if he wanted to. Your feet tapping also managed to stop. This was enough to form a pool between your legs.

He paused his reading for a moment to turn to you. "Are you alright with my hand there? I mean, this is the only way I could get you to listen." Satoru caressed the soft flesh of your leg with his thumb. All you were able to do was nod, like an obeying puppy. "..Just, follow along with your textbook like a good girl."

Satoru's fingers brushed against your cotton underwear. He whispered under his breath, "You're so needy, aren't you huh?" Your hand swiftly held onto his wrist out of nervousness, his index finger toying with your panties to move them to the side.

"Just relax, and give me a summary of what you had just learnt."

You coughed, clearing your throat. "W-well, I believe it was for a good cause.. and..." Your breath suddenly hitched, stopping you mid-sentence. You felt Satoru's fingers slide between your folds, only slightly pushing his middle finger into your dripping hole.

Words couldn't describe how embarrassed you felt about the fact you and your panties were absolutely soaked.

Faint squelching noises were heard as he slowly fucked at this rate, two fingers into you under the table. Your words caught up in your throat one after the other, "..And.. attitudes to trade.."

You stopped talking, and your hand rested against your forehead as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. The way you were squirming about in your chair, and the fact that your slick was fully coating his fingers had Satoru's cock straining against his pants.

"That's it.. you're 100% correct. Keep going." The curling of his middle and ring finger picked up its pace, his thumb now lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

You pulled away your forehead from your hand, moving to place it back against his own arm. "Satoru..I can't.. you're gonna.. make me cum.." You swallowed your spit to suppress a moan.

As soon as you said that, he pulled his fingers out. You could almost whimper out loud at the sudden emptiness in your hole, and that he denied you from getting off on his fingers.

"..What the fuck, Satoru?" You whispered angrily, a grin curling up on his face.

You watched as he wrapped his mouth around his fingers, sucking your juices off them before looking around the library. He pulls out a few papers from his backpack, which was another question and answer activity sheet.

"Do these for me, and by the time I'm back it better be finished, and I expect it to all be answered correctly." He slid the sheet to your side, before glancing around the library again.

Confused, you questioned him. "..Where are you off to?"

You could only see another smirk form on his face before he went underneath the table, disappearing off to somewhere. Oh no. You cautiously looked around your surroundings too. Still that one same person from earlier sitting at the end of the table.

A yelp escapes your mouth little too loudly as you felt him tickling the sides of your thighs with his hands, a creaking noise ringing throughout the library as he dragged your chair closer to the table and to him. Luckily no one regarded that.

Trying not to be obvious, you carried on with your work, making an attempt at the questions.

You could still feel him moving about underneath the table, his hands taking a hold under your thigh, placing both above each of his shoulders.

A playful giggle came out of your mouth as his soft hair tickled your legs, your hand sliding down his arm as they made their way behind you on the chair, cupping the back of your ass. His head now underneath your skirt, his pointer fingers going back under as well to tug on your panties, pulling them off and down your legs.

A wet kiss was immediately planted on your bare pussy, your legs jittering about on his shoulders at the ticklish feeling.

Another creak of the chairs legs against the floor was made as Satoru moved you closer to the edge of the chair to have full access to your pussy.

At one point, your thighs almost locked around his head as soon as his tongue made contact with your clit, and as he sucked on it with his lips before using his tongue to fuck your hole.

The writing on the activity sheet turned in to squiggles, now illegible. Your fingers instead twisted the corner of the paper, ruining the quality all together as it became wrinkly.

Your mouth formed an 'O' shape as you felt him fucking you with his fingers, and lapping at your clit at the same time. You had only covered your mouth with your fist to mask it as a yawn.

Meanwhile your other hand repeatedly tapped on his sculpted shoulder, letting him know you were about to cum. And if he didn't move, there'd be a mess all over the library hard-flooring.

The coil in your stomach had finally snap, your silent orgasm washing over you as Satoru lapped at your juices underneath, making sure not to miss a drop.

Satoru's face so messy and wet, it dripped down his chin as he sucked on your clit one last time for good luck.

You felt Satoru gently grab your thighs, placing them back down on the ground and off his shoulders. You honestly felt like you were gloop, your legs felt as if they were made of dough and unable to stand up on their own.

He crawled back up onto his chair, I don't know how the person on the other end of the table didn't suspect anything like at all. Maybe they're just acting dumb or perhaps just genuinely focused on their work.

You slightly looked down underneath the table, seeing your poor underwear left on the cold ground. I'll.. get that later.

"So, did you finish the sheet?" Satoru glanced over to the sheet, wiping and licking around his lips for any excess on his face.

He almost chuckled out loud as he saw the squiggly lines all over the answer boxes. "I'll take that as a no."

You roll your eyes, unamused. "I couldn't focus."

"Really? Well, that beats the purpose of me trying to help you less than thirty seconds ago." Satoru teases, turning around to the book aisles around him. "Ah- think we need to get a certain book. Come with me."

The two of you immediately knew what that meant, and at the speed of light you both got up from your chairs. The textbooks, bags and stationary were just left on the study tables. You remembered to tug on your skirt to make sure your ass wasn't on show before getting up.

Both you and Satoru scurried away into a book aisle deeper into the library, far away from where everyone was studying. Luckily the library was quiet today, and there are literally no cameras here. You always wondered why, but at this moment there was no way in hell you were complaining.

Reaching the 'Ecology' aisle, which was completely irrelevant to what both of you were studying, the two of you jokingly went separately on each side of the shelf, your eyes watching each other like a hawk through the gaps between the books.

Your heart was about to leap out of your chest as you got closer to the other end of the entire shelf. The last step, and Satoru comes jumping at you, pushing you against the entire shelf and started sloppily kissing each other. Almost like you both were yearning for this.

A whimper and grunt came from yours and Satoru's lips as you both melted into each other, a string of saliva connected your tongues as soon as he pulled away.

Your hand quickly snaked down to the waistband of his pants as he planted hot, wet kisses down your neck making you both giggle.

You just couldn’t believe this was happening right now. His heavy cock hanging and pre-cum leaking from the tip as you pulled it out from his pants. Picking you up, Satoru's hands cupped beneath your bare ass as your legs wrapped around his waist.

His weight fully pressed you back against the shelf, to be able to use his free hand to align his tip with your hole before slowly sliding in. You let out a gasp, you imagined him to be big but not so big in girth, as well as length. His cock stretched you out enough that it will probably remember his shape, and only his.

A long grunt came from his mouth as he felt you sink down on him, sliding in and out slowly - allowing you to adjust before immediately rutting into you at an inhumane pace, the shelves slightly shaking from how hard he was drilling into you.

Satoru's hands now had full support on your legs behind your knees, an 'Ecology 101' book falling off the shelf behind you as you moaned his name into his ear like it was a prayer, only to result in him panting against your neck.

"You drive me crazy," Satoru moans out, sounding feral as he panted between each sentence. "Got me pounding into you against the shelves at this library?" The two of you fucked like rabbits. His lips couldn't last ten seconds without yours.

Your ass would ripple each time he deeped into you, noises of your skin slapping against each other echoing throughout the library.

At one point, he thrusted deep enough to hit your sweet spots that you moaned a bit too loud. The two of you just bursted into a small giggle as he placed his palm over your mouth.

Another book, "All about Aquatic Ecology" falls off the shelf behind you. You wonder how someone hasn't check on you two yet, thinking the falling books were a sign of paranormal activity. I mean, you guys chose the shelves far away from people for a reason.

"F-Fuck, Satoru- I'm gonna.." Beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead from how hard he was fucking your brains out, you were bound to cry, but you felt him place more kisses against your jaw. "Too fast.. Satoru-"

"I know baby, tell me," Satoru whispered, his thrusts getting slow and staggered. "What is it, you gonna cum?"

Your hands moved from behind his neck to clutching onto the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders. "..Please... let me cum.." Your head fell back against the wooden panel of the shelf. "And your cum.. I want it in me."

You felt Satoru give you one last deep thrust into your pussy, bottoming into you as he let out his thick load into your hole non stop, some of it leaking out and dripping down his cock.

The two of you moaned as quietly as you can as your orgasms washed over the both you, Satoru resting his forehead against your chest, his balls throbbing as his cum pumped into you continuously.

His arms still underneath your legs, Satoru slowly slid his cock out before grunting at the cum that dripped and leaked out of you, onto the library floor. What a mess.

He planted another kiss on your lips before gently placing your legs back down onto the ground, holding your hand for support.

"Fuck, Satoru. You literally blew my back out."

You could feel his warm cum slowly trickle down your inner leg, regretting the fact that you said you'll pick up your panties later on.

Satoru slapped your ass, grabbing a handful afterwards. "Think we'll need to start tutoring back at your place."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[elliethefroggy]

What if Eddie had been a little less oblivious and had invited to Buck to trivia-karaoke night.

They’re all three going to hang out at the karaoke bar, and at first Buck’s nervous because Tommy is super cool, but once the trivia quiz actually starts, all the nerves go away, and Buck’s sponge of a brain has a chance to shine.

He gets question after question right, barely having to consult the two others. Eddie’s probably used to this side of Buck, but Tommy gets to sit there, mesmerised because not only is Buck exceedingly attractive but he also has brains (does Tommy have a competency kink? Who’s to say).

By the end of the night, Tommy’s probably forgotten all about trying to answer the questions, too busy watching Buck’s eyes light up every time he knows an answer (and those eyes light up an awful lot). Overall, the night goes well, and Buck’s amazing brain probably wins them a pitcher of free beer or something.

Because that night went so well, all three of them start hanging out more and more. Maybe Tommy somewhat discreetly suggests to Eddie that they invite Buck along, just so he has the opportunity to stare in Buck’s eyes some more.

But Tommy doesn’t do anything at about his developing crush, at least not right away.

Firstly it’s because Tommy’s trying to figure out just what the deal is between Eddie and Buck. Are they dating? Are they the most healthy divorced couple of LA? BFFs? Platonic soulmates? Not-so-platonic soulmates?

Maybe it doesn’t take him that long to figure out that those two are not together, but then he still needs to make sure that there isn’t some unrequited or very-requited-but-they’re-both-oblivious crushing going on between Eddie and Buck.

My guess it takes him a while to finally decide that they’re some flavour of queerplatonic life partners (he decides on this after a lot of subtle and not so subtle questions; Christopher is probably his most helpful informant).

(Realistically, Tommy would have probably just straight up asked one of them if they were together because Tommy seems pretty good at communication, but that’s no fun for me.)

But then, once he’s figured out that Eddie and Buck are definitely not a thing, he still needs to figure out what exactly Buck’s sexuality is.

Because, sure Buck’s only ever dated women and is such an ‘ally’. But Buck spends way too long looking at other men’s asses. Tommy notices this because he’s probably caught Buck staring at the same asses Tommy himself was just looking at (remember the hanger scene when Tommy very blatantly checks out Buck’s ass).

So now Tommy’s having to figure out just what Buck’s sexuality is. Is Buck gay? Is he closeted? Is he as straight as he claims to be? Is he repressed? Also what’s with all the flirting (because of course Buck’s going to be unknowingly flirting with Tommy; Buck just can’t help himself).

Eventually, Tommy and Buck are going to have some one-on-one bonding time without Eddie.

Buck takes him up on those flying lessons which means Tommy gets trapped in a confined space with Buck on a regular basis, having to deal with his growing feelings towards what can only be a golden retriever in human form. Buck is kind and sincere and so so earnest, Tommy has no choice but to fall for him.

But Tommy still doesn’t know where Buck’s sexuality lies, and he’s getting to the point where’s pulling his hair out in frustration, trying to figure it out. Because no way can a heterosexual man stare at Tommy’s lips that often. There is no straight reason for that, right?

He then makes the mistake of also offering Buck Muay Thai lessons.

He doesn’t realise his mistake until they’re both sweaty and shirtless. Buck looks very good sweaty and shirtless. But it’s fine, Tommy manages to cope, he just avoids looking at the large expanse of wet skin right in front of him. He’s not distracted by all that skin. He’s fine.

(Luckily, Buck doesn’t know enough about Muay Thai to notice how badly Tommy is fighting.)

Somehow they both get tangled up and they fall to the ground (I don’t know shit about Muay Thai). Buck lands flat on his back and Tommy ends up on top of him. Tommy goes to get off Buck immediately because Tommy’s not exactly light, but then he makes another mistake: just as he places his hands on either side of Buck to push off the ground, he looks at Buck’s face

Buck’s cheeks are nice and red (because of exertion? Because of Tommy’s close proximity? Both?), Buck’s breathing heavily, his breaths getting faster and faster the longer Tommy stays where he is. Buck’s eyes are near black, his pupils leaving only the thinnest band of colour.

Buck’s staring at Tommy, and Tommy’s staring at Buck. Then Buck once again glances down at Tommy’s lips as Tommy is lying over him, their sweaty chests pressing against one another.

And Tommy cracks.

He throws himself off Buck, getting to his feet, and crosses over to the other side of the mat to put some distance between himself and Buck.

When he turns back to look at Buck, Buck is still lying on the ground, now leaning back on his forearms, looking up at Tommy. Which is a sight Tommy would love nothing more than to see again.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Tommy says, “but are you really straight?” Which is definitely not how Tommy wanted this conversation to start, but sue him, he’s having a breakdown. “Sorry,” he repeats, “It’s just there’s been a lot of flirting and a lot of starring at my various attributes,” he tries again, poorly, “Not that I’m complaining; I would love nothing more than to have you stare at my lips and flirt with me for as long as you want. But I need to know where we stand before I lose my mind trying to figure you out.”

And the thing is, Tommy’s not the only one who’s been struggling these past few weeks.

Buck’s been dealing with these weird feelings towards Tommy since day 1. At first he just figured it was because Tommy was so cool (which he is), and then he thought it was because he was jealous that Tommy was spending so much time with Eddie, thinking maybe Tommy was trying to steal his spot in the Diaz household. But is wasn’t either of those things. Buck’s been wracking his brain for weeks, trying to figure out just what he was feeling towards Tommy.

And here’s Tommy, all sweaty and shirtless, so much glistening skin on display, and Tommy’s offering Buck a possible answer to all these feelings he’s been unable to name.

And what Tommy’s implying makes some sense. Buck thinks over all the instances he’s hung out with Tommy, compares his behaviour to the times he’s had crushes on women, and thinks maybe Tommy’s onto something.

Buck, who is a big believer of the scientific method of experimentation, figures there’s an easy way to test Tommy’s theory.

Buck slowly gets up from the mat as his brain goes into hyper-drive, processing the fastest sexuality crisis known to humanity.

Maybe Buck flexes a bit as he gets up because Tommy’s watching him and he’s always liked attention.

By the time he straightens up, the sexuality crisis has been dealt with and he’s ready to act on these newly revealed feelings.

He likes Tommy’s theory a lot.

“I have been staring at your lips a lot, haven’t I?” He says, purposeful flirty.

(Once again they have both been (knowingly or not) starring at each other longingly for weeks, they are both shirtless and covered in sweat, and had their naked chests pressed up together just moments ago; neither of them are thinking very rationally.)

And Buck (flirty Buck who made picking woman up into an art-form) walks/stalks over to Tommy, leaving enough room for Tommy to back away if he wants to.

“Maybe you should do something about that?” Buck suggests, and very deliberately stares down at Tommy’s lips.

Tommy knows they should have a more thorough discussion about where both of them stand, but he’s only one man.

Tommy closes the gap between them, places two fingers underneath Buck’s chin, and slowly leans in to finally kiss Buck.

The kiss lasts no more than a moment, not nearly long enough for either of their tastes, but Tommy needs to be sure that Evan’s sure.

“So?” he asks simply, fingers still under Evan’s chin.

“Yeah, definitely not straight.” And Evan leans in to kiss Tommy again. Tommy does not mind at all.

(They then spend the rest of their Muay Thai lesson making out.)

[didishawn]

Hello!! Can I request pau cubarsi x reader fluff/domestic life, something very cutsie, where they’re possibly roaming the streets of Barcelona, going into stores and trying on random clothes, etc! or even a part 2 to forever? It was so good I loved it!

Personal Manikin (Pau Cubarsí x reader)

Warnings: none that I can think of, reader dreams about being a fashion student, also the same headcanon from Forever about reader and Pau having been together for ages, small make out season and suggestive at the end

Masterlist

As a child, you remember your favorite game was dressing yourselves and others up.

Princess, pirate, thief, astronaut you call it. You loved picking out the right accessories, the right clothing, matching patterns, sequins, lace, all of it.

You started small, making customised clothing for your dolls, then went on big to make your own tops, dresses, pants, anything you can think of really.

You were the type of girl to sell bracelets during your free hours back in school, to customise your uniform to make it cuter.

Still, that doesn't mean you don't enjoy shopping for clothes and only make your own.

You won't lie, when you first met Pau, the first thought that crossed your mind was about making him your own personal manikin to dress him up however you pleased, as if he was your very own Ken doll.

Not your fault really, your twelve-year old self was not that interested in boys back then, but your brother's best friend caught your eye by simply being way too tall.

How it all developed (Lamine's help) a story for another time, the important point is, you two are together, and Pau really is your human sized Ken doll.

You see, the thing with Pau is, that he loves you too much to ever say no to you.

He said yes whenever you asked him to sneak out of La Masia and into your house back when he was too young to leave on his own.

He said yes whenever you puted about taking your 'children' (Hector and Lamine) out for a ride with you.

He says yes, as you hand him a pile of clothing almost taller than you, for him to try on.

"I think I like the blue one on you better, what do you think?" you ask him as you watch him with the baby blue sweater on, spinning around for you to see it from all angles.

"I like whatever you like"

"Pau! I am not gonna force you to buy something you don't like"

"I do like it, just like being your personal manikin even more, so you choose what you see me the most handsome with"

"That's not fair! You are always handsome!"

Almost an hour later and with ample smiles, you walk hand in hand out of the shop with way too many shopping bags.

It's a sunny day in Barcelona, the two of you taking in the warmth as you enjoy the perks of it being the middle of the week with almost empty streets.

You stop dead in your tracks and he turns back confused, your eye having caught sight of a DIY store, you don't even have to turn and pout to go inside before he guides the way, opening the door for you as you excitedly step in.

The shop is one of those perfect for those who want to make accessories and clothes on your own, and you can't believe you have never heard of it before with such good prices.

"This would look good on you" he says, handing to you a piece of teal satin.

"Of course it would" you confidently say, testing the strength of the fabric "It's almost the color of your eyes, and we both now we look good together"

He smiles, and your heart beats faster. You loved when he smiles. He bends down to kiss your forehead as he pinches your cheek.

"Although, I would rather our kids have your eyes"

"Bullshit, I can already imagine mini versions of yourself running around"

Your eye catches some bracelets beads, and you instantly make your way over to them. Searching for the exact color as he once again, looks confused.

You ealk over to him, two strings on beads in hand as you stand in front of him. You raise one of the strings, putting it at his eye level as you watch closely.

"...What are you doing?"

"I saw this trend in TikTok, about making bracelets with our eye colours,that way I can have you always on me"

You are deep in thought as you compare the two tones, finally settling down on the second one.

Pau too, walks over the beads, instantly picking up one string and comparing it to your eyes. "This one it is"

"No way you guessed it that quickly, try again!" you pout.

"Meu amor, I think I would know what your eye color is, even better than yourself. Don't forget, you are the love of my life"

"T'estimo molt" you stand on your tiptoes, yet only manage to place a kiss on his jaw as you smile widely.

Suddenly, you feel the presence of a third, turning to look at a worker of the store, who watches you two closely, before finally sighing.

"Me voy a morir sola" (I am going to die alone)

Half an hour later, you are already on your way back home after consoling the poor saleswoman about her love life, and even getting her number to set her up with one of your friends.

Your house is thankfully empty as you make your way inside all the way to your room, happily settling the bags on the floor as your boyfriend settles on the bed. You pick up the beads, alongside some strings and other necessities you have laying around in your room, and settle next to him.

"Are you making a necklace or bracelet?" he asks, already working on his own bracelets as he starts doing calculations of how much of each color he will need.

"I was thinking of doing a pair of earrings honestly" your hands sketching a design before starting the job.

"Your talent will never stop amazing me, you know?"

"Says one of the best centerbacks of the world"

There is low music playing in the background as the two of you concentrate on your arts and craft, Pau himself skilfully working as after years of being with you, he knows what he is doing.

It isn't that long until the two of you are done, you prettily wearing your new earrings as you help him close the bracelet.

"....You need to stop lifting, I thought it would look bigger on you"

"...I am sorry for being strong, thought that's what you liked about me"

"I liked your height, not these muscles"

"Wow, never thought I would hear you complain about my muscles"

"They are alright, I guess..."

"You guess?"

You hum, as his arms go around your waist, picking you up and placing you in his lap.

"I don't hear you complaining now"

He kisses your jaw as your hands play with his curls.

"I can complain if you want"

He shakes his head, lips catching yours in a meaningful kiss, switching places as your back hits your bed.

His lips takes yours as you caress his cheeks, his hands on your waist as he keeps you in place.

He leans back for a moment. "How long until they are back?"

"We have more than enough time"

He kisses you once more, staring the perct ending for your day out.

[devixncy]

could you do a dae ho fic please? Like the reader was a barista he has a crush on but never had the courage to ask out previously to the games. And then once they get into the games he protects her and she reveals she always found him cute as well. Thanks :)

so, i may have gotten carried away while writing this one. pretty sure i typed out wayyy too many unnecessary details oops! (but i can't help it i'm sorry). anyways, i love dae-ho so so much like <3333 such a cutie

✧ pairing: kang dae-ho x fem!reader

✧ summary: dae-ho happened to be a regular at the cafe you worked at as a barista, and you had started to grow feelings for him over time. when you find yourself in the games, he ends up there as well and ultimately saves your life. fearing for your life and the fear of the unknown leads to late night confessions.

✧ content: typical squid game violence, mentions of death, i think that's it. literally just straight fluff

✧ word count: 4.8k

Your life was quiet, but you enjoyed it that way. Being a barista was the perfect job for you, it was relaxing and there was nothing you loved more than interacting with customers, especially the regulars. Unfortunately, while you loved your job, it wasn’t enough. You lived in a cramped apartment that was cozy, but your job just barely covered the rent. On top of that, you couldn’t cover your debt. You were swimming in debt, trying your hardest to help pay for your younger sister's medical bills. She was ill, and constant hospital trips and stays started building up fast. It was just the two of you, your parents having passed a few years prior. You would do anything for your sister, but having the loan sharks breathing down your neck constantly was beginning to drive you insane. You needed more money and fast.

Lost in thought, you absentmindedly drew shapes into the counter with your fingernail. The cafe was quite slow, but with the gloominess and light drizzle outside, it made sense. The bell above the door rang, signaling that someone had entered. Looking up, you immediately began to smile. One of your favorite regulars, Dae-ho, had stepped inside.

His eyes immediately met yours and he smiled at you, making your heart flutter. Dae-ho was the most kind, genuine soul you had ever met. He never failed to light up your day, even just by being in his presence. He truly was a gentleman, most likely thanks to growing up with four sisters.

“Just the usual?” You asked as he walked up to the counter.

“What, no ‘hello Dae-ho, how are you’?” He asked teasingly as you rolled your eyes.

“Hello Dae-ho, how are you?” You feigned annoyance, however you truly did want to know how he was doing. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a crush on the man in front of you. He was incredibly sweet to you (and incredibly handsome), so how could you not fall for him?

“I’m great, (Y/N). And yes, I’ll take my usual.” The grin on his face was contagious, and you smiled, nodding as you began to make his order. He was a man of simple taste, ordering an Americano every time he came in. While you made it (and grabbed him a free pastry), you could hear him ask how you were doing.

“Oh, you know. Same shit different day. Just trying to get by,” You replied as you snapped the lid on his drink. Turning around, you slid it across the counter along with the bagged pastry. Dae-ho furrowed his brows at the sight of the pastry, looking at you questioningly. You shook your head before he could say anything. “Just take it, Dae. It’s on me.”

His cheeks turned a little pink at the sound of the nickname, but he nodded gratefully. He placed his money for the coffee in your hand, your skin tingling as his fingers brushed yours. You took the money and put it in the register, handing him back his change. Of course, he took his change and put it in your tip jar.

Before he picked up his items, he looked at you as you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were so full of life, the smile on your lips making his heart thud. But he could see the exhaustion in your face, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Without thinking, he leaned over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His fingers brushed against your jaw gently. Eyes wide, you looked at him, cheeks starting to burn. He smiled softly, dropping his hand and picking up his coffee and pastry.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked, even though he knew your work schedule like the back of his hand. You nodded, still dazed, as he chuckled and walked off with a small wave.

Once outside the shop, he cursed to himself. Oh, how he wishes he were bold enough to ask you out. Every time he thought he could do it, he backed out, fearing rejection. He didn’t want to mess up the friendship the two of you had. One day, he promised himself.

— Once you had closed up shop for the day, you locked the doors to the café and headed towards the subway.

You sat down on a bench, placing your bag directly next to you. While you waited, you stared at the ground in front of you as you absentmindedly picked at your cuticles. When you weren’t working and keeping yourself distracted, the stress started to take over.

Your body tensed as someone sat next to you. Turning your head, you saw a man dressed in a nice suit, a briefcase by his side. Sighing, you scooted away a little bit more. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m definitely not interested.”

“I’m not selling anything. In fact, I would like to let you in on a great opportunity. Would you like to play a game with me?”

You frowned, confusion evident on your face. A game? Seriously? Turning towards him, you studied him for a moment. Something about this man was off putting. As you were about to open your mouth to decline his offer, he opened up a briefcase. The words died on your tongue as you saw the stacks of money.

“I’m sure you’ve played ddakji before, yes?” He asked as he picked up the red and blue squares. You nodded slowly. “Play a few games with me. And each time you win, I’ll pay you a 100,000 won.”

You stared at the money as you pondered. You needed this. A couple games of ddakji couldn’t hurt, right?

And you played. You had won most of the rounds, earning a couple of slaps in the face when you didn’t. By the time the game was over, you had accumulated a decent amount of money. Of course, not nearly enough to cover what you needed it for. As you sat there counting the money, the salesman began to speak.

“You know, miss. There are more games like this where you can win even more.”

You paused, looking up at him. It sounded too good to be true. As you were going to decline, he began to list all of your personal information. He knew your name, your occupation, the amount of debt you had accumulated. Your mouth dropped, unable to get a word out. He smiled smugly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to you, and you snatched it.

“We don’t have many spots left.”

Those words resonated with you as you sat in your apartment. Taking a deep breath, you called the number on the back of the card.

“Do you wish to participate in the game? If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate.”

Next thing you knew, you were standing on a street corner in the dark. You rocked back and forth on your heels anxiously as you waited. Soon enough, a car pulled up next to you, rolling down the window. A masked person donning a pink suit turned his head in your direction.

“Ms. (Full name)?”

You nodded, following up with the password they had given you over the phone. The back door slid open and you climbed in, noticing the other people in the seats who were seemingly asleep. You shook off the uneasiness, trying to get comfortable in the seat. Seconds later, steam began to fill the car, making you cough. And then the world went dark.

~

When you awoke, your brain felt fogged and you were incredibly groggy. You screwed your eyes shut as the overhead lights threatened to blind you. Classical music filled your ears, and you groaned as you sat up. Opening your eyes, you scanned your surroundings. Numerous people were getting out of their beds, all wearing the same green tracksuit with numbers plastered on the back. Quickly looking down, you saw that you wore the same thing. Then you noticed your number in bold white, 301. You got out of the bed, making your way down the stairs the same way everyone else was. As you were taking it all in, the doors at the front of the room underneath the screen opened. Multiple masked figures stepped out, walking forward. The one in the front began speaking.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six games over the course of six days. Those who win will receive a handsome cash prize.”

Players began to speak up. All made good points, and you agreed that you all being basically kidnapped and the masked guards were a little strange.

Then, you gasped as multiple players were shown on screen playing the game of ddakji, announcing their names and how much debt they were in. Thankfully, your name didn’t come up.

When it came time, you got in line and signed the consent form. You didn’t bother reading it, you were just here to play some games after all. You were sure it was just some dumb fine print that didn’t really mean anything.

Soon enough, yourself and all of the other players filed into a multi-colored room. There were stairs leading up, and as you looked around you noticed multiple guards stationed in different spots. Shaking off your unease, you stepped up to the photo booth and turned to face the camera. Upon hearing the ‘smile!’, you mustered up a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“The first game will begin momentarily. After having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.”

You followed behind the other players up the stairs, coming up to a large door where everyone was filing into.

“Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field.”

You entered the large clearing in front of you, squinting as the sunlight hit your eyes. As your eyes adjusted, you looked around at the four large walls and the comically large doll with the tree directly ahead. There were two guards standing on either side of it.

Suddenly, the three large doors slammed shut behind you with a loud clank. You gasped and turned around, as did many others.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light. Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass.”

Suddenly, someone pushed past you to get to the front of the group. He seemed frantic, turning towards everyone.

“Everyone!” he shouted, waving his arms in the air. He had your full attention now. “Everyone listen up, pay attention!”

“This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!”

Your breath caught in your throat. There’s no way he was serious, right? How could you possibly die playing a children’s game? Others seemed to think the same thing, as someone asked him what the hell he was talking about. “We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?” someone asked with a scoff.

“Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! Stay on your toes. That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, no one seeming to take his word for it. Many were voicing their thoughts that this was just some ploy to get all of the money for himself.

“You have to believe me!” His voice was laced with desperation. As he finished his sentence, the doll began to whir to life, turning to face the tree. Its arm raised up, placed against the tree. The man, player 456, whirled around, panic evident in his movements.

“Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. Something in your gut told you to believe him. He seemed way too genuine to be making this all up.

“Let the game begin.”

The timer across the room flickered to life, displaying a red five minute timer.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to move forward, freezing as the doll whirled back around and player 456 held up his hands. “Freeze!” He yelled out. Everyone stayed as still as a statue.

“Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!”

Once the doll turned again, you started to run forward, freezing again moments later. The doll's head turned, its eyes calculating everyone’s movement. Player 456 continued to yell out instructions, and so far everyone seemed to be listening despite calling him crazy.

Mugunghwa Kkoch-i Pieossseubnida

You began to run forward again, stopping dead in your tracks along with everyone else. This continued successfully for a couple of cycles. For a moment though, while you were all paused, someone began to scream. Yourself and many others side eyed the girl in shock.

“Crap. I just moved.” And with that, moments later, a gunshot rang out. Your eyes widened, unmoving, but terrified.

“NOBODY MOVE!! You must not move!” Player 456 shouted frantically, not wanting panic to ensue. Unfortunately, it was far too late for that. Multiple gunshots began to follow the first, people dropping around you left and right. Blood began to cover the field. It seemed non-stop. Your body began to tremble, feeling nauseous as the chaos unfolded around you. Player 456 was screaming at this point, trying to save everyone that he could.

“Let me repeat. You can move forward while the tagger shouts ‘Green light, red light’. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

After the announcement, the game resumed. This time, nobody dared to move from their spot. Once the green light was given again, the only person to move was player 456. And then again, he was the only one to move. Everybody was glued to their spot, too terrified to move. He began to shout instructions again, telling everyone to get behind someone bigger than you. That’s exactly what you did at the next cycle, getting behind players 120 and 124. You stayed close behind as they moved forward, trying to make sure your movement was minimal. This continued until you were almost at the finish line.

“LETS GO!” Player 456 screamed, everyone beginning to push forward as fast as they could. You did the exact same, until your foot slipped as you were trying to come to a stop. Fear coursed through your body as the ground got closer, the doll about to turn around. Everything was moving in slow motion. This was it, this was how you were going to die. Your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the impact from the ground and the bullet. Suddenly, though, you weren’t moving anymore. The back of your jacket was held tightly by somebody behind you, right as the doll said red light and turned. Your eyes flew open in shock, not daring to move a muscle. It was the longest moment of your entire life, praying whoever had their grip on your jacket didn’t lose it. As soon as the doll turned back around, whoever was behind you instantly pulled you back up. Your arm was grabbed and you were hastily pulled towards the red line, being shoved over it as the doll said red light. You stumbled and fell to your hands and knees, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. Then you paused, whipping around to see who it was.

And there he was, standing mere inches from the finish line. You stared at him, mouth agape. Dae-ho was standing right in front of you, the number 388 plastered to his jacket. Your heart thudded in your chest, your ears ringing. You couldn’t even process it, that he was in this mess just like you were. Moments later, he crossed the line, running straight to you. He crouched down next to you, gripping your face in his hands like he was making sure you were real. Your lips parted, but words refused to come out. He had just saved your life and there you sat trembling like a leaf, not even able to muster a ‘thank you’. However, he didn’t say anything either. His eyes said it all. He was completely terrified.

“Dae-ho…” You whispered, your voice shaking. Before he could respond, everyone’s heads shot up towards the sky. A retractable roof was closing over the top of the arena, closing you all in like animals in a cage.

Before he could say anything, you were all being herded back to the main room. The guards gave you no time to process anything, forcing you to get moving. Dae-ho stayed right next to you, a gentle grip on your upper arm. The atmosphere entering back into the main room was dark, the obscene amount of death and bloodshed looming over everyone’s head like a dark cloud. You sat next to Dae-ho, silent as a mouse. Everyone was silent. What could possibly be said after what you had all just witnessed? Your gaze bore into the ground in front of you, knees tucked into your chest with your arms wrapped around them. Dae-ho was lost in thought, his side pressed up against yours. The touch kept you somewhat grounded, though just barely.

Suddenly, the bright overhead lights flickered to life and the door opened. Everyone's attention turned towards the guards that stepped into the room. Upon seeing them, everybody scrambled back further, clearly terrified. You were no exception, pushing yourself backwards up the stairs behind you. Dae-ho did the same, a protective grip around your body.

“Congratulations for making it through the first game. Here are the results from the first game.” The board above them began to change, the number 456 changing to 365.

More chaos began to ensue. People begging for their lives, the promise of a fair voting process. The voting process was anything but smooth, tensions beginning to rise between the players. You chose X with no hesitation. While you needed the money, you had to be there for your sister. You couldn’t help her, the only family she had left, if you were dead. Dae-ho had voted X as well, much to your relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short lived, as you lost the vote to leave by one. You were devastated, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry. Showing weakness may not be the greatest idea, though. Not in a place like this.

Once it was meal time, you sat on the stairs with your tin of food in one hand and water bottle in the other. You had zero appetite. Dae-ho, who was sitting next to you, wasted no time in digging into his. You turned your head towards him and he paused.

“What?” He asked halfway through shoveling food into his mouth. You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You need to eat something too, (Y/N). You can’t let yourself go hungry, gotta retain your strength. Here,” He said, scooping some of his onto his spoon and putting it up to your mouth. Your lips tightened into a thin line, silently refusing. He frowned. “I’m serious-”

“What are you even doing here, Dae-ho?” You cut him off, turning towards him a little more. He swallowed, frown still on his face.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His tone was completely serious now, setting his tin down next to him. You set yours down as well, refusing to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both in this mess, and now we both have to somehow make it out alive.” You hoped you didn’t come off as hopeless as you felt. Dae-ho decided not to press any further. He nodded in agreement. There was nothing the two of you could do about it now.

“We’re going to get out of here, you and I. Together. I swear to you,” He grabbed your hands in his, running his thumb across your knuckles. That was his typical positive attitude coming out. You sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “Now come on. I was serious before, you need to at least try to eat.” He said, his usual grin returning to his face. You couldn’t help it, your lips twitched up into a smile. If it were possible, his smile got even wider, gently pinching your cheek with his fingers. “Aha! There’s that smile that I know and love.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove. He laughed, and you gave in, picking up your tin. You ate in small bites, finally realizing how hungry you truly were. Dae-ho resumed eating, scarfing his down before you were even a third of the way done with yours. He patiently waited until you were finished with yours, taking your tin from you and setting it aside.

After meal time, you and Dae-ho had begun conversing with player 456 and player 399 who were nearby. As it turns out, player 399 whose name you found out to be Jung-bae, was a former marine just like Dae-ho. They saluted each other, their interactions causing you to giggle, letting some of the tension leave your body. Dae-ho’s eyes lit up at the sound, warmth spreading through his body. The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could save for the scuffle that occurred between players 230, 124, 333 and 001.

Then, it was time for lights out. Most players were fast asleep, but you laid in your bed, staring up at the glowing piggy bank. Alone with your thoughts, your mind was racing. There was no way you could sleep. Your head was pounding and you sighed as you turned onto your side. Lucky for you, Dae-ho’s bed was right next to yours. Realistically, he had claimed it as soon as he saw it was empty, assuming the person who was there previously was eliminated. From what you could tell, he was fast asleep. However you really needed some company and reassurance at the moment.

“Dae,” You whispered. He didn’t budge. Of course, you thought as you rolled your eyes. He would be a heavy sleeper. “Dae-ho!” You whisper-shouted, hoping you didn’t have to say it again. Thankfully, you saw him starting to stir. His eyes fluttered open, opening completely as he realized it was you who had awoken him. Quickly, he sat up.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He whispered, concern gracing his features. You shook your head, starting to feel a little silly for waking him.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up. You can go back to sleep.” You whispered back, realizing he was probably exhausted.

He shook his head, getting up from his bed and coming over to yours. He knelt down next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt pitiful.

“Will you lay with me?” Your voice came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear. His heart skipped a beat, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Of course, love. Scoot over.”

You blushed at the nickname but immediately moved over to make room for him. Without hesitation, he hopped into your bed, laying on his side so that he was facing you. He cupped your face gently, running his thumb over your cheekbone. You didn’t say anything, but he read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

You could feel a lump forming at the back of your throat, and you stared into his eyes. Truth be told, you were so terrified. This was a fear you had never felt before in your life. If it wasn’t for the man next to you, you wouldn’t even be alive. How did you go from casually flirting with each other in the coffee shop, not a care in the world, to arriving at death’s door together? Tears burned at the back of your eyes, threatening to come to the surface.

“I’m scared, Dae-ho. I’m so scared,” Your voice cracked, tears spilling over your eyes slowly. Dae-ho was quick to wipe them away, his heart breaking. “I just wanted to save my sister. I thought that if I joined the games and won some money, I could take the stress off of both of us. I wouldn’t have to worry about the medical bills, or the loan sharks, or anything. I would be able to work without having the weight of the world on my shoulders, and it would just be us in the cafe, and nothing else would matter. You and my sister were the only things keeping me going, and now you and I are both here and one or both of us could die.” You cried quietly as Dae-ho looked at you sadly. He pulled you into his chest, shushing you as you wept into his shirt. He let you cry it out, not saying anything as he rubbed your back. Eventually, when you became silent, he pulled back so he could look at your face. Your eyes were red, cheeks tear streaked.

“(Y/N), listen to me. As long as we’re in here together, I won’t let anything happen to you. Truly, you’re the light of my life and if something happened to you I don’t think I could forgive myself. You’re my anchor, especially in a place like this. I have something here to keep me going, you know?” He murmured. You sniffled and nodded, but he kept going. “The moment I saw you in that cafe I knew I was in trouble. I thought you were the most perfect thing to grace this earth, and if I wasn’t so stupid, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

Your eyes widened at that, looking at him as he smiled at you. “You really mean that?” Your pulse quickened at the confession.

“Every word,” He chuckled as he drew shapes into the fabric of your jacket. “This is gonna be awkward for me if you don’t feel the same.” At that, you gave him a light shove and he laughed.

“Of course I feel the same, you idiot. Why do you think you were getting so many free pastries?” You joked, then became serious. “Seriously though, Dae-ho. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I wish you would’ve asked me out a long time ago, I’ve had a giant crush on you for a while now. I thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious,” you rolled your eyes at that. “I was just too scared to do something about it. I didn’t wanna mess anything up between us. And now here we are, in the worst possible situation, and I’m finally confessing this to you.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as he thought about the circumstances. “How about when we get out of here, I take you out on a date, yeah? We’ll go somewhere nice with my share of the money.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, Dae-ho. As long as I’m with you it doesn’t matter,” You said sincerely, a small smile gracing your lips. “But I would love to.”

He grinned at that, his entire face lighting up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You grabbed one of his hands and he gave it a gentle squeeze. To his surprise, you craned your neck up and placed your lips directly onto his. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel him smile against your lips as he moved his free hand to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He pulled away after a few moments, before leaning back down and placing another quick peck to your lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.” He teased, excitement present in his voice. You giggled, feeling over the moon with happiness even if it was just for a moment. Dae-ho shifted to lay flat on his back, pulling you with him. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He had his arm around you and you threw your leg over the top of his, making yourself comfortable

“Thank you for saving my life earlier.” You spoke quietly as you wrapped your arm around him, soothed by the rise and fall of his chest. He was quiet for a moment.

“I would do it all over again. I’m not leaving your side so long as we’re still playing these games.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear, shutting your eyes as you finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber as you could feel him pull the blanket over the two of you. For the first time in a while, your body felt at ease. You felt safe, like there was nothing in the world that could harm you. Even if it was just for the night.

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[emeritusemeritus]

One, two, three? [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: one, two, three?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader.

Timeline: Non-specific.

Summary: Fred gets up to mischief pretending to be his twin.

Warnings: None? Slight deception, pranks, humour. Fred’s a menace. Sorry Cho, I needed a victim.

Word count: 1.3k

In honour of our April fool’s birthday kings, HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRED AND GEORGE. Please accept this little prank-filled drabble as a gift.

"Hi, um George?" You heard a voice behind you say meekly, causing you and your companion to turn around in confusion.

You'd been in the library for most of the afternoon with Fred, studying for your end of term potions exam whilst he looked up ingredients for a new project him and George had been developing, some new potion that made the drinker glow like a candle. To your surprise, Fred was actually concentrating for the most part and had actually allowed you to get some valuable studying done without much interruption, though you could sense his concentration wavering and boredom taking over him as he got increasingly fidgety.

George had managed to get detention with Mcgonagall today before dinner, though Fred had managed to avoid the punishment entirely on account of being the first to flee. George had mentioned in passing that his charms partner would be meeting you all in the library after the last class of the day for them to work on their homework together and of course you thought nothing of it when Cho joined you in the library.

Charms this year had been a little different as you were sorted into classes of grouped abilities with some students able to take a short course for their OWLS from the year below, so that they could study another elective if they wished. Due to this, a few students from the year below had entered your class at the start of the year and you were no longer lumped with just the Slytherins, the short course students were mixed houses.

"Oh hey y/n," Cho said as you turned, offering you a shy little wave with her free hand as she clutched a handful of books to her chest. You'd never really talked much with Cho but she always seemed nice and friendly. You greeted her and began to correct her previous misstep when Fred leapt to his feet, pulling out a chair for her.

"Hi Cho, what are we working on today?" He said with a wicked glint in his eye, pretending to be George. You looked at him momentarily with a disbelieving look before rolling your eyes, knowing that he would deeply enjoy playing along as his twin to cause a little mischief.

"I thought we could start with the non verbal spells?" She says, taking a seat and spreading out an array of books, parchment and quills for the task.

You barely paid attention to them as they talked, though your attention was drawn in every so often when Fred would drop little hints that he might not be the right twin, though they went entirely over Cho's head. She had no clue that she was actually talking with Fred and you had to say that it did amuse you slightly, though not as much as it did Fred. Around half an hour had gone by, George still hadn't showed and you could tell that Fred was getting bored of the act and was getting close to actually doing the work which he had no intention of doing, so he decided he would feign needing to meet Fred.

He shot you a wink as he stood, subtly kicking his bag under the desk towards you and walked out, leaving you and Cho alone. You chatted for a little while, mainly asking her how Quidditch was going, before a familiar red head rejoined you.

He had taken off his school jumper, untucked his white shirt and you noticed that his hair has been tussled slightly with a little more of the short, front strands pushed back. It didn't fool you for a second but you were intrigued to see if it could pass with someone that didn't know them, like Cho.

"Cho right? Hey," Fred says with a smirk and a nod of his head before he slumped down onto the seat beside you where he'd occupied only minutes before. He stretched out his arm around your shoulders as he took a seat and had said a simple, "hey gorgeous," to you as he grinned ear to ear.

"Hi, Fred right?" She says sweetly, her eyes squinting a little as she looks at him, hey eyes flicking between the pair of you and his arm around your shoulders, deducing that it must be your boyfriend.

"Yeah, this is Fred," you confirm, your tone a little drier than usual as you pointedly looked at him. He squeezes your shoulders tighter in a mock warning before offering a warm smile to Cho.

"You're George's charms partner right? Have you seen him? I've been looking everywhere for him," he says with a smirk. You roll your eyes and shift out of his hold to hunch yourself back over your potions book, subtly shaking your head at his actions, knowing he was enjoying himself way too much. Cho however, nods enthusiastically before looking around slightly with her eyes as if searching for her charms partner.

"He actually just left, he was looking for you," she says shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear where it had fallen out of her headband.

"Really? Interesting," Fred says, leaning back in his chair. "I'll go find him." Fred leans forward and kisses you on the head before walking casually out of the library doors, leaving you alone with Cho once again.

"They spend a lot of time together don't they?" She says, breaking the somewhat comfortable silence and you have to hold back a laugh as you look up from your book.

"Yeah I've always said they're more like conjoined twins than identical," you joke, sending her a warm smile. You knew she was probably uncomfortable having never spent much time around you and the twins and so you tried your hardest to be nice to her, despite Fred's silly prank.

"Sorry about that," Fred says rushing back in, now wearing his school jumper once again, pretending to be George.

"Oh Fred’s just been, he was looking for you," Cho says as she looks at 'George', pushing the textbook over to him as he takes his seat.

"Really, so he's around?" 'George' says with a tone of surprise, suddenly looking around as if he'd just missed his twin.

"I'm gonna scout out the courtyard, he's supposed to be meeting me, bloody Fred," he says playfully, rising from his seat once again and walking back through the doors.

"Couldn't see him," Fred says, walking back in not two minutes later, once again without his shirt and with slightly more tussled hair.

"He went looking for you in the courtyard," Cho says, looking up briefly from where she was taking notes on a piece of parchment. If she was annoyed by the constant disruption, she didn’t show it.

He shrugs and takes a seat next to you, trying to slide you closer to him by scooting your chair up towards his as he smiles widely at you, beaming with pride that his little prank was working.

"Hi, sorry I'm so late," George says, the real George, as he rushes in, throwing his bag off his shoulder and placing it onto the table looking a little puffed. He takes off his robe, placing it down on the back of the chair and you immediately notice that he'd not wearing uniform, or rather he is but he has a thick wool jumper on over the top that's zipped right up to his throat, hair soaking wet from the rain.

Cho suddenly looks between them and then to you with a face of alarm, trying to process what was happening as she takes in his different appearance.

"Wait, there are three of you?!"

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[the-midnight-blooms]

ME AND MY HUSBAND | psh

pairing: CEO!park seonghwa x scientistwife!reader AU: modern au word count:  6.3k

masterlist

In the midst of a fragile soul dwindling under the aches of animosity, the married couple laid in bed with their backs facing each other. The husband, Park Seonghwa, an esteemed CEO of a pharmaceutical company ‘Park Pharmaceuticals.’ had the front board of the book lodged into the silk casing of his pillow with his other hand steadying it so he could still, quite painfully, scan his eyes over the text. Agitated, he got up with a grunt before sitting up to finish the chapter of his book. With his scientists publishing reports on the latest medicine they were developing, he immediately rushed back to his university textbooks to affirm he was still equipped with the necessary knowledge to understand the science. Meanwhile, Mrs Park- a research scientist at Park Pharmaceuticals' rival company, ‘Kim Pharma.’ was battling against her insomnia despite motherhood knocking her straight off her feet. Their daughter, Park Dami, was fast asleep in the room next door to Seonghwa’s study cuddling the little Toothless toy he had gifted her when she was still a cherub. It had seemed that Mrs Park was prone to falling asleep at the most odd times of day, whether it be during dinner or cleaning the home.

Perhaps it was the heartache she was suffering from. The love that she had held for her husband was a permanent fixture, a vow that she had promised not to break, and one she had not and never would for as long as she lived. However, the increasingly distant behaviour from her husband in light of his burgeoning role as CEO had her heart yearning for him. Being a mother was difficult and of course, so was Seonghwa’s job. Yet, he also had duties as husband and a father, which he seemed eager to abandon altogether.

“Why can’t you try to understand how difficult it is for me to do all of this? So much pressure at work, then I come to you going on about some stupid dinner with your parents!” He shouted, she flinched at the dissonance of his noxious tone reverberating off the walls of the small study- biting down at her lip.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Sorry, my arse. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t be fucking nagging in my ear all the time, would you?” He barked, as she sped out of the room. It had been three weeks since she had, politely and quietly, asked her husband if he was free to attend her mother’s dinner party. He refused, erratically, and despite having apologised with saccharine kisses and diligent promises, he didn’t turn up to dinner in the end.

“Oh he’s busy Mum. He’s seeing to some of the lab work, you know how stressful it was for me.” Her father complained light-heartedly, raising how unfair it was of him to neglect his family.

“Do you want to me have a chat with him? I can give him a good word.” Hastily, she steered her father away from that direction. The last thing she needed was Seonghwa to turn around and blame her for the earache her father would give.

With a relentless sigh, she sat up reaching for the bottle of water on the nightstand. His eyes flickered at her movements, lips moving up and down to form the shape of the words as he silently committed them to memory, forming judicious links between the knowledge and application.

“Seonghwa.” She called out for him, he hummed in return, barely reeling his eyes off the page. Please look at me. “I was thinking about going back to work again. I contacted my manager about restarting and at the moment I would only need to go in for about two days or so.” Shutting his book close, he finally met her stare, deep in contemplative thought.

“Do you think you can work and take care of Dami at the same time?” He questioned. She had thought about this several times before she dialled in her manager’s number. As much as she had inherited her father's kind-hearted nature, stunning beauty, and soft-spoken voice in the end it was the passivity she had drawn from her mother naturally rendering herself subservient to prioritise ones needs over her own. Essentially, if she had told Dami to keep her lips on a tight seal and remain of the sofa the whole day: she would.

“I’m sure I can as long as she's in sight. She'll be in nursery from September, so I'll be able to start work.” He fell a little quiet, turning to drop his book onto the night stand.

“Ok, if that’s what you want. If you need me to come home earlier, I mean I can’t at the moment, but in a few weeks time if you need me to-then I will.” Nodding, she sent him a grateful smile before sliding back under the covers to turn her night light off.

Her heels clicked, exasperatedly, on the porcelain white floor dashing straight through the double doors; her heart pounded furiously against her chest, a violent ache gnawing at her arteries. With her body almost barging into a number of figures, her anxious apologies echoed into the swamped corridors, in which her colleagues shook their tired heads in annoyance. Finally, reaching the top floor she scuttled out of the elevator catching the eyes of Mrs Lee.

"Lab coat, darling, lab coat." Squealing, she unbuttoned the off-white coat, scowling at the permanent pen marks and splashes of iodine before handing it to Mr Kim's assistant. Mrs Lee, threw the coat onto her seat, gesticulating for the young scientist to follow her. After a short knock, the heavy glass door was pushed open; several pairs of eyes darting their way.

"Ah, Miss Cheong! How nice of you to join us!" Hongjoong exclaimed, a teasing glint in his eyes that wanted to make her wipe the smirk of his lips.

"My apologies, Mr Kim, we ran into a problem down at the lab." She explained, a blush forging on her cheeks as a grave set of eyes burned into her skin.

"No worries. This is Miss Cheong, she will be our project lead on the next Kim-Park program." The Kim-Park program was founded by Kim Hongjoong of Kim Pharma and Park Seonghwa of Park Pharmaceuticals. With both companies leading the pharmaceutical industry, both founders decided in order to produce a greater economic boom, and serve an excellent supply chain of mandatory medicine; both of their greatest minds could work together to create poignant breakthroughs in the scientific sector. After all, the two companies had the countries top scientists working for them but together they could very well improve the nature of modern medicine. Hence, today both CEO’s came together for a kick off meeting establishing the blueprint for their next, biggest projects.

"'No worries?'" A derisive voice arose from across the room, where she snapped her head to find a man with wide eyes and thin-rimmed square glasses that sat at the bridge of his long nose, staring back at her. His long, slicked back hair that fell past his ears as he, mockingly, cocked his head to the side in amusement. "I didn't know Kim Pharma tolerated tardiness, Mr Kim." Returning his stare back to Hongjoong, he raised an eyebrow anticipating his answer.

“What was the problem down at the lab?”

“House fire." She retorted, "And I had to assign interns some lab work. Kim Pharma doesn't tolerate tardiness Mr Park but your project manager doesn't seem to be here? We'd have valued him being present at the kick off meeting." His face heated red in embarrassment as he gritted his teeth.

Park Seonghwa was insufferable.

The worst thing about him wasn't even that he was pedantic and scrutinised her work with a keen eye, or that his sharp attention-to-detail left her wanting to force him to chug a beaker of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It was that under his strictly co-ordinated demeanour, he was a beautiful man blessed with an angel's aura. It was that he was tall and that his voice could hypnotise her; send her lunging over a precipice into the expanse of uncharted oceans. At times his allure had her wanting to excuse her pathetic hatred. They bickered at every meeting, every email was sent with 'Regards' rather than 'Kind Regards'. It wasn't long before the bickering had transgressed to shouting in the boardroom as he began to question her teachings, snickering at every intellectual point she made as if she had not graduated from university with the same degree as himself.

"You forgot to add that cisplatin is a cis isomer." He stated, as she sat across from her in his office. This time, she didn't bother to retain herself from rolling her eyes. "A problem, Miss Cheong?"

"Who's reading this report, Mr Park? A high school student or the manufacturer? Any man with common sense and college level chemistry knows that cisplatin is a cis isomer. Do you want me to also write down that it has a square planar shape with a bond angle of 90 degrees?" She snapped, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted look. He smirked taking off his glasses, cleaning the lens with the hem of his blazer sleeve. Dear god. Sedate me.

"No, but you do need to explain how cisplatin works in detail. It only works as cis isomer, not trans. You didn't specify that."

"You're incredibly pedantic." Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his perfectly defined nose, the smirk remained fixed on his lips. "I'm not surprised people are handing in resignations, at your company, every week."

"They can leave if they wish, lazy people don't contribute to Park Pharmaceuticals' success." Oh and he was cocky too. As well as being a pretty face full of wits, Park Seonghwa was also wrought with egotism that made her want to wrangle his gorgeous, slender neck. "Have you ever considered joining our company?" A snicker escaped from her lips which eventually transcended into a laughter that wholly baffled him.

"I'm afraid I'd be a part of that sorry statist-,"

"I'm sorry for being an arsehole, Miss Cheong. Can I make it up to you?" And when she questioned him how he would make it up to her, he proposed the idea of a date. All he wanted was her, regardless of her much she was everything he was not. “Go on a date with me, please.” He blurted, with her feet rooted to the ground and lips falling into a thin line his heart palpitated within his chest. He sought the way her hair fell over her shoulders in light waves having ripped it from its knot after she walked out of the lab. Her pink lips were practically begging to be touched by his, he wanted to soothe the symphony of weary sighs that dispersed from her, and the headache that wracked her brain from his abstruse behaviour. Above all, he was falling in love with Miss Cheong because he despised her in such a paradoxical way. He hated the way she was smarter than him and beautiful in the way that she must have been carved from the clouds of heaven.

It often made her giggle at Hongjoong's astonishment when she handed him the wedding invitation. His excitement when he ripped open the seal to read Seonghwa's name as the groom, dropped the smile from his face as he looked at his college friend.

"You're marrying the enemy?" She shook her head at him, almost scolding him for deeming Seonghwa the 'enemy'. "This isn't what I meant when I said 'Fuck Park Seonghwa." Lobbing the pillow at his head, he dramatically sunk into his sofa as their childlike laughter eructed into the blithe atmosphere.

It had felt like a distant dream now, to be loved and adored in the ways that he once did. To be held as if every touch was their last, to be kissed as if their lips would never meet again and they were lovers in the midst of an age-old war that would tear their nimble hearts apart. To have her husband again and not a dispassionate demon who tore past the gates of hell and inflict all the condemned’s curses on her.

Giving you my all, giving you my everything. Laying my life down at your feet, stripping myself of my own honour just to feel something by you. A glance, a breath, a sigh. You tell me to leave- I don’t mean anything to you anymore.

"Hwa, you could have at least told me you weren't going to go in the first place. Then I wouldn't have gone to the company party." Sat at the foot of the bed, he pulled the jumper over his torso, pulling his trapped hair out from the neck hole. He bit his tongue as his wife rebuked him for his absence, once again. "Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be the only one sat without her husband there?"

"I told you I was going to run late."

"You were four hours late, and you're a half an hour drive to the office! Why didn't you say no, in the first place?" Tearing the earring out from her lobe, she sunk into the chair trying her hardest to not slip into tears; the sympathetic stares of hundreds etched into her memory. How stupid did she look for being dressed so ostentatiously, when the real jewel was not even in her possession? The clatter of pearls emptied into the drawers, nails buried into the palm of her hands closing her eyes to relive the myriad of dejection. They never said marriage was this painful. Hard, yes. But not painful. "Hwa, do you love me?" She inquired, turning around in her seat.

"What?"

"It's as simple as you think. Do. You. Love. Me?" Her voice wavered as she asked him, the distant stare in his eyes revealed the answers to the questions that she did not want.

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. Or given you a beautiful daughter. I miss one, silly, company event and you start throwing a tantrum.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve completely abandoned me!” Her shout restituted off the thin light blue walls, jumping up from her seat at his petty arguments. “You are such a terrible husband and you make me feel trapped in this marriage!”

“And you fucking suffocate me! You suffocate me!” He roared across the room, his strident tone penetrating through her, grazing down the surface of her heart. Rupturing the weak seams that held it together. Stumbling backwards, her palms gripped onto the mahogany table; shaking, biting down her lip to prevent a sob from escaping. "The only time I felt like I could ever breathe, in this marriage, was when I was not with you. When I was at work, or with the others, or just anywhere else. But never with you." Dipping her head, away from him, she shut her eyes as tight as she could.

"Please stop." she whispered, a plead so quiet it almost went unspoken. Yet Seonghwa heard it anyway because no matter how angry he was, their souls were still intertwined. Their hearts beat as one, they were uniform, one whole being. Slowly, he treaded towards her, mimicking the dip of head.

"Why? Can't you take the truth?" he mocked. Full tears pooled in her eyes, her chest burning from holding in her breath. "I should divorce you." He proclaimed, without a stutter. That was enough to break her. An obnoxious wail infiltrated into the void of the room. Was that what he wanted? To provoke some sort of emotion from her to satisfy his ego? He scoffed, before darting from the room—slamming the door shut behind him. Wrought with tears she trudged to her bed, slipping under the covers; sobbing herself unconscious.

"Mummm. Ammiii. Ammaaa." A small voice whispered, the softness soothing the persisting ache in her chest. Holding back the smile ready to break through, she fixed her eyes shut waiting to see what her daughter would do next.

"Dami, let your mother sleep. Come on." The urge to smile had dropped instantaneously, the familiar sense of forlorn gushing into her again; his sweet, addictive voice puncturing holes into her heart.

"I'm hungry." She could hear the pout on her daughter's lips. Huffing, she groaned loudly snapping at her daughters attention, who jumped up and down in excitement of her mother awakening. Reaching out for her child, she picked her up settling her down on her laps. "Mama, I'm hungry." She squeaked.

"Have you washed up yet?" She shook her head. "Ok, let me go to the bathroom first. Then I'll help you."

"I'll help her wash up." Seonghwa offered. Refusing to look at him, she simply gave him a curt nod, the sight of his face wanting to make her erupt into a fit of sobs.

"I promise I'll never make you cry." He had promised, before their marriage. They sat under the stars, the cool wind brushing at their cheeks. Astronomy books sat scattered around her as she attempted to map out constellations in the beaming night.

"And if you do?" She challenged, playfully smirking. With a cute frown he gave her a nudge.

"I promise I won't but in the 0.00001 percent chance that I do, then you should leave me. You’re worth more than the moon to me, and to hurt you is the deadliest sin I can commit." He immediately leaned forward to swoop her into a deep kiss- both of them smiling as they did.

The memory of his now-broken promise brought tears to her eyes again. Tightly pressing her palm to her mouth, to hold back her cries, she sucked in yet another breath

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Gripping onto the bathroom sink until her knuckles bled white, her knees hit the floor. Nicking the handle of the tap- tears freely flowed down her cheeks as the water rushed through the basin at rapid speed.

I want my husband back.

Feeling the heavy burden of a collapsing marriage, her shoulders sunk as she chopped at the onions, preparing their dinner. Dami sat on the stool by the kitchen island, with her mini crayons scribbling over the pictures in the colouring book.

“Mama, why did Appa sleep in my room yesterday?” Scraping the onions into the pan, she grabbed the wooden spoon to stir it.

“He was missing his little princess. He wasn’t causing you trouble, was he?” She teased, sending her a forced smile. God, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay happy. To smile was to pain her cheeks, they felt more contented relaxed than to uplift and radiate an aura of joy that didn’t seem to exist within her anymore.

“He’s so big, I fell off bed.” She snorted, laughing at her child’s proclamation. It was not long before a thought occurred to her that whenever they slept in the same bed- it was always her that took up the most room—rather than him. A fond memory occurred to her, specifically a night where her body was plastered to his.

“Ah, jagi, can you move a little? I’m up against the window?” Her body shuffled slightly to the left, giving him room to breathe a little bit more. “Thank god.” He huffed out a sigh of relief, her lips fell into a pout—as she rolled further away from him towards the edge of the bed. If space was what he wanted, then she was going to give it to him. Seonghwa’s arm outstretched for her, the cold air battering his skin was no comfort, he wanted her again. A tantalising laugher infiltrated the air, he shuffled closer to her pressing his lips to the top of her head.

“Never mind I need my cuddly bunny.” He sang, nestling his face into the crook of her neck.

Now, she couldn’t remember the last time he had held her so close to himself. If anything, he needed the space now and rested just less than a metre apart from her each night.

“It was nice! Appa is a teddy bear.”

“Am I, my princess?” Turning away from the doorway, she opened the cupboard to reach for the spices, shielding her melancholic face away from him. The sweet dissonance of giggling entered her ears, if he had no love to spare for her at least he had enough to spare for his daughter. “Ahem, I’m going on a business dinner tonight.”

“Ok.” Seonghwa watched her, resting his hand on the top of his daughter’s head who went straight back to colouring in the flowers in her book—switching to a pink crayon at that. “What time will you be home?” He shrugged, then quickly noticed that with her back to him she wouldn’t see.

“I don’t know. Don’t wait up.” How could he say that knowing that there wasn’t a night in their marriage where she didn’t sit patiently on the sofa, waiting for him to come back home. Even on the days where he warned her he’d be back a lot later than usual. Regardless, she’d stay plastered to the sofa switching from the tv, to her phone, to a random book-eyes continuously flickering to clock- skipping to the kitchen to shove snacks into her mouth, as she’d never eat without him.

The urge to erupt into a fit of sobs inclined, chewing on her lip violently provided her with enough solace to finish making dinner, feed her daughter and put her to bed. Then at last, when she closed the curtains to her bedroom, a hushed cry escaped her; spending the rest of her night as she did prior, wailing and wailing until fatigue had lulled her weary heart to sleep. The creak of the door went unnoticed to her, Seonghwa crept in; her sleeping figure rested in the bed, the comforter dragged over her head. He sighed, contemplating whether to slip beside her or retreat back to Dami’s room for the night.

This sequence continued for the next few weeks, every night she would cry herself to sleep and Seonghwa would sleep in Dami’s bed. It wasn’t even their room at this point, it was hers with Seonghwa’s things in it-just like her flat pre-marriage. Her room with Seonghwa’s books, few pieces of clothes and odd bits of trinkets. One morning she woke up to find a stack of papers on her nightstand. Fear coursed through her blood, were these the divorce papers that he had suggested to her? Rifling through the papers, her heart soothed as soon as she realised they were just Dami’s crayon drawings. Stick figures of Appa, Amma, and little Dami in the middle. Drawings of flowers, then one just of Amma and Appa, a big heart between them. If only that were true. If only his heart still beat for her the same way hers beat for him.

She heard his voice trail out of the study, as she almost raised her hands to knock and summon him downstairs for lunch. The rapid muttering halted her movements, instead she tentatively pressed her ears against the door to assess the situation.

“Yes, honey, I’ll be there soon…She’s pissing me off right now. I’m trying to get the papers set at the moment…I don’t know about a few more weeks?” Slapping her hand to her mouth, she squeezed her lips shut to prevent any pained sounds from releasing. Honey? There was another woman? And the papers? Was he really, truly, trying to divorce her? Rushing to the bathroom, she slammed the door shut, flipping the tap back open to relive the same endless cycle.

“I’m going on a work trip to Japan, for a week. We have an important business meeting. I might need you take care of Dami by yourself.” His head snapped from up Dami’s unfinished Lego project. She’d fallen asleep when playing, so her father took it upon herself to finish building the set.

“You should have asked me beforehand. You can’t just accept to go offshore, and then give me a week’s notice.” He scolded, playing with the pink block between his fingers.

“I only got told today. I tried to call you whilst I was still in office, but I couldn’t get through to you.” Sighing, his shoulders slumped as he shook his head in disappointment. It appeared that Mrs Park was also refraining important matters from her husband; making decisions of her own that they promised they’d always make together. An uncomfortable silence remained suspended in the tense air, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she awaited for him to say something else. Even if it was to belittle her, she urged to hear the sound of his voice.

“If you cared enough about me, you’d know I’m busy too.” Chewing down on her lip, she held back a painful sigh. There it is. “We’ll be with my parents for a week while you’re gone. When’s your flight?”

“Sunday night.” Nodding, he scooped up the remaining pieces on the floor pouring them back into the packet before getting up himself. “I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

The work trip to Japan was just as tranquil as she anticipated, the host company was as hospitable as they could be. The days were cut short, the air silent subsiding one into deep thought, even if they denied themselves the pleasures of having to think. With her knees tucked up to her chest, she stared out onto the vast market of skyscrapers, the teeming arena beneath contributing the noises that fell deaf at her ears. She needed to leave the home, its confining airs strangling the lumen of her windpipe. She didn't exactly know what to do now that it was confirmed: Seonghwa did not love her. The declaration was enough to send her into delirium, enough to have her jolting up at night; drowning in cold sweats, preaching his name like a mantra. The flight home did not come soon enough, she boarded the plane with such eagerness and drenched even further in pain when she was assigned the seat next to her colleague and her husband.

Nervously, she dialled in his number once more hurriedly, tapping her feet against the cobbled footpath; her free hand latched onto the sweaty handle of the suitcase. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Being met by the voicemail service was disheartening, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind blew harsh against her skin sending a ripple of goosebumps over her.

"Mrs Park, is your taxi late?" Whipping her head around to find her colleague, she shook her head in dismay. "Do you need a lift? We don't live too far from each other."

Pushing through the large wooden gates of his childhood home, she adjusted the straps of her back pack lifting her head to find the blaring of orange lights through the slits between the window blinds. A small bustle of activity could be heard from the other end, tentatively, her fingers rose to provoke the silver door knocker.

"I'll get the door!" His voice floated through the surface, reaching out to caress the aches on her skin bruised wholly by him. As soon as their eyes met across the doorway, the smile was wiped clean from his lips. “Oh god, I’m sorry, it had completely slipped my mind-,”

“You don’t forget things, Hwa. The truth is: it didn’t slip from your mind, you just didn’t care.” You haven’t cared about me for a very long time. You haven’t loved me in a long time. I am no longer your wife but just Dami’s mother, to you. Though some sort of vile emotion named fear had prevented her from saying those words, becoming lodged at the crux of her throat, floating on the tip of her tongue.

The worst thing was, he didn’t say anything. He was silent, unwilling to reckon against her and fight for their marriage again. When did he become so passive? Up until now, when was there a day in their relationship when he didn’t fight to keep her at his side? Trudging into the household, the warmth lacerated her skin, taking off her shoes as the pattering of small feet came her way. A small body engulfed her larger frame, the delightful giggles of her daughter infiltrated her ears as her mother finally came home to her.

"We ate sooo much food. We had tteokbokki, dakgalbi, ramen. Halmeoni tried to make me eat yaksik but it was nasty." Letting out a tired moan she fell onto the floorboard, Dami crawling on top of her, as her mother-in-law stuffed her with enough food to last her a century.

"Ugh, Dami. Please get off Amma, my tummy is going to explode."

"Halmeoni! Amma ate too much!"

"Your Amma didn't eat enough!" Eomeonim shouted back from the kitchen. Seonghwa ambled into the room settling a cup of green tea in front of her, whilst simultaneously lifting Dami from her stomach. There was an uncomfortable silence amongst them as their daughter, oblivious to the obvious tension between her parents, entertained them nevertheless by dancing around the room and singing. He left the room in between to see to his mother in the kitchen. Feeling terrible for leaving her to tend to the mound of dishes, she carried behind walking straight into the enemy's territory.

“Are you stupid, boy? How could you even suggest a divorce?” She hissed. “It was only yesterday when you came running to me, with your eyes so full of love. Where is that love now?”

“People change.” He deadpanned, hot tears fulfilled her eyes, blurring her vision as she rushed back to the front room.

“We’re going, now!” She ordered, a pout on her daughter’s face grazed the surface of her heart. She couldn’t stand here, and hear her husband declare that he didn’t love her anymore. She couldn’t watch the love of her life slip from the tips of her fingers, whilst she sunk beneath the earth under her feet. She reached for his car keys, from his jacket, “We’re going home, eomeonim. I need to go into the office, tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking care of Dami.” Kissing the top of her mother’s head, she slipped on her shoes before carrying Dami out of the home. Seonghwa followed hot on her heels.

“Where do you think you’re going at this time of night?”

“Home, Hwa.” The lock clicked out of the place, she jerked open the car door to fasten her daughter into the seat ignoring her cries and pleads to stay at her grandmother’s. “Dami! Quiet!” She roared, the same way Seonghwa would shout at her for nights on end for doing nothing other than being his wife.

“Stop acting like a child and come back inside right now!” He commanded.

“I won’t, Hwa. Because the next time I go back in and let myself be hurt by you, I’ll have no one to blame but me.” He fell quiet, swallowing the heavy lump in his throat. “I am the still the girl who would wait nights for her husband to come home to her. But you are no longer the boy that would walk straight into her arms.” Choking on her sobs, she jerked open the car door to slip inside, her daughter calling out for her father. After all, they were the same woman. Both so utterly in love with the same man that could not love them both in the ways one could dream of being in love. For being in love with him was asking for annihilation, his devotion unreachable like the stars studded in the midnight sky. Was he not made from the stars? An angel borne from light, whose banner was a celestial plane that would diminish the human essence in a heartbeat? Steering the car out of his driveway, Seonghwa stood plastered to the floor a single tear dropping from his eye as he felt his soul meander away from him.

That night, when they reached home, Dami was tight in her arms after having cried the whole journey home from missing her father. Eventually, exhaustion overpowered her and she reluctantly slept in her mother’s arms. She was so sure now that her daughter thought she was the villain for ripping her away from her father. Nuzzling her small face deeper into her mother’s neck, she felt her bottom lip tremble as she called out for her father.

There was no need to frantically run to the post box every time a letter slipped through, meeting the ground with a loud thud. Though, she did it anyway, with little Dami scuttling behind her as if she was expecting a letter herself though deep down Mrs Park knew that she wanted her Appa to come home. It had been a month having not heard back from him. No messages or calls. After work, she ventured over to his office only to be turned away by his assistant; catching a quick glance at his shadow through his window.

“I have to make an appointment to see my own husband?” She uttered through gritted teeth, though the woman in front merely nodded, disinterestedly. “When is Mr Park next available?” The jarring clatter against the keyboard gnawed at her ear drums, annoyance roaming within her.

Fuck this. Rushing to the handle of his door, she keeled it open storming inside-the loud slam of the door jumping him up from where he sat in his seat. The assistant rushed behind, squawking about how she had to leave.

“Cilla, it’s ok. Go do your job.” He ordered, softly with his eyes fixated on his wife. She didn’t expect him to look this way, the clean, composed Seonghwa now with tousled hair and small dark circles under his eyes. Eyes bloodshot red as if he had been crying for weeks on end, exhaustion piling in them. His sunken face as if he had not eaten for weeks—Seonghwa, not eating? The same man who used to kiss her hands and go for seconds, claiming there must have been some magic in them for she made such delicious food?

“Dami is getting upset. She misses her Dad. The least you could is come home and see her, so she doesn’t think that her father abandoned her too.”

“I’ve been busy—,”

“You’ll always be busy, Hw-Seonghwa. But not busy enough that you can’t spare an hour or two to see your daughter.” She spat, storming straight out of his office, sending the assistant a dirty look on her way to the elevator.

“Appa!” Dami’s animated tone weighed down her father’s heart, his arms wide open as she jumped into them. Fixing her spot by the kitchen doorway she watched as her husband played with her daughter. After a few hours, when they had put Dami to sleep, they sat with each other in the front room Seonghwa pulling out an envelope from his work satchel.

“The-uh- papers. Divorce papers.” A pang struck through her, hands shaking as she reached out for them.

“As her mother, I’ll have custody over her. You should be allowed to see her every week, so maybe the weekend?” Her voice quivered, slightly as she opened up the seal of the envelope, its woody scent wafting up her nose. With little energy, to pull out the form- she settled it onto the coffee table. “We’ll move to my mother’s house…” She trailed off biting down on her lip as Seonghwa closed his eyes shut.

“That’s fine. You can just post it to the lawyer. I’d like to see Dami at my office next week, could you do that?” Nodding diligently, she owed him that much. He’d be counting down the days soon until he’d rarely see his daughter. How would they tell her Amma and Appa weren’t as happy as they were in the drawings?

Her eyes scoured over the woman sat in front of him, as she opened the door to his office. God, she was beautiful with her long, black, silky hair, siren eyes, her chic office look. Everything she was not, though she had managed to pick herself up and put a lot more effort than she usually did with her fitted suit, hair tied back into a sleek bun-held up by the closest pen she could find on her dressing table since her silver claw clip was nowhere in sight. Was she the woman he was going to leave her for? She couldn’t even blame him at this point, why keep something expired when you could throw it away and have something new? Gripping onto the straps of her handbag, she slowly let go of her daughter’s hand who ran to her father’s side.

“Gaeun, this is my wife Mrs Park.” Timidly, she shook her hand. Gaeun saw Mrs Park as an intimidating woman, with her silent face as she ambled into the room with her daughter, her neat hair, pointed heels and tailored skirt that accentuated her curves. She matched Mr Park’s daunting presence perfectly, and of course her intelligence was known to all as well as her insistence to remain at his rivals’ company. “Dear, this is Gaeun- she’s one of the project leads on the next Kim-Park collaboration.”

“I see.” Her head picked up, giving both parties a short nod before leaving the office. She reckoned there was enough to time to make it to her own company and break down in the toilets before beginning the work day.

The rain thundered down from the sky on a solemn afternoon, the clatter of dishes being returned to the cupboards entailing the home; followed the thundering knock at the door. Peeking into the peep hole, she swung the door open, pulling her husband in immediately, rushing around him like a flustered hen as he jerked off his shoes.

“Into the shower now.” Without hesitation, he grabbed his clothes from her bedroom before soundlessly making his way into the shower. She only assumed he had come to their home for the signed papers, perhaps it had been a month at most with their interactions being limited to passing Dami between them like a ball. Their daughter was now no longer oblivious to the tension between them, silently reeling in their odd behaviour.

“Amma, why does Appa not live with us anymore?” Mrs Park’s breath hitched in her throat, glancing at her daughter in the rear-view mirror; only to be met back by those wide eyes; horrifically resembling her father’s.

Oh those eyes. Those gorgeous eyes she wanted to press her lips over, until they went red and numb. Those eyes that had bored into her with silent devotion; how he was so benevolent enough to pass it down to his daughter. Those jokes that hammered through the construction of her weakened soul, “Nine months in my tummy and she looks like you.” He stuck his tongue out at her, ever so deviously; roaming his gaze over the length of her body. She was still so beautiful as ever, despite the curves and extra weight that she detested.

“Dami I—,” Explanations became lodged in her throat, she had simply dismissed her daughter’s innocent question.

All that love, and he was willingly to through it away for another woman. Goodness, how her heart burned— to think that Seonghwa may have been different creature of some sort. But at the end of the day: he was still a man.

The door to the study creaked open, as she bit her lip with the unsigned line glaring back at her. “I haven’t- I haven’t signed the paper, yet.” His breath hitched in his throat, inching closer and closer to her. With the tickle in her throat pervasive, the pen neared the line her heart shattering with every second that her hands rebuked the damned sheet in front. How did she even do her signature?

“I’m sorry that you fell in love with me. I’m sorry that you married me. I’m sorry that I’m not enough. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the perfect wife for you.” She blurted, the pen dropping from her fingers onto the table. He called out her name, drawing forward, his arms outstretched to encircle her into him. To hold her as tight and as true as she deserved. To fulfil her of kisses that he had deprived her of, to ease her of her pain. Though she stopped him in his tracks, with a palm to censor his movements. “No, Hwa. I haven’t been enough for you for a very long time. I must have done something wrong for you to hurt me like this. I must have done something much worse than what you’ve done to me. I just wished you spoke to me than gave me this stupid sheet and trying to end us in a single heartbeat.” An agonising wail left her lips, as she dropped to the floor tucking up her knees to her chest. Her lungs burned, desperate for air running her fingers through her hair as she slowly breathed out to ease the throbbing sensation loitering at her temples. He sunk to the floor with her, engulfing her frame within his. His jumper so soft, drenched in the scent that she adored. The same scent that he wore when they first met. Her bottom lip quivered again.

“You did nothing, it was all me. I forgot who I was, I forgot it was you who gave me life.” Her tears stained his shirt, he held her closer to his body. “I came to here to change your mind. I didn’t want you to sign those papers. I was so scared you had.” Their bodies rocked back and forth as the painful sound of her sobbing gradually declined.

“I couldn’t do it.” She whispered, her throat sore from this prolonging nightmare. Kissing away her tears, his fingers gently tilted up her head so he could bore his eyes in her beautiful ones. “I just need to know if there’s another woman. If there is, and you love her the same way you loved me, you can have her.”

“There was never another woman. It was always you I swear.” He pledged, as his own tears rushed down his face tickling his jawline before pattering carefully on his sweater. “I was just a poor excuse of a man, a poor excuse of a husband. I admit that I felt like you’d never leave me, but when I realised you really could it hurt me so much.” Drawing lines over his sweatshirt she listened to the sweet sound of his voice whisper into her ears.

“I’ll be a better man. I’ll work on me, and you can just keep on being a great wife and mother.” Their lips met in a frenzy of emotions, their palpitating hearts enamouring their befallen entities as passionate kisses filled the wounds that penetrated through them. His hands snaked around her waist, as hers ran through his long hair emitting a husky groan out of him. “Do you think Dami would like a sibling?” He joked, before being met by whack to the back of his head, they deepened the kiss before she happily rested her head against his chest.

“Maybe, but not now. Right now, you need to come home to us.”

“It’s just you and me now. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby.”

All Rights Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

cheong meaning 'quiet' 'eomeonim' means mother-in-law (husband's side) 'halmeoni' means grandma

A/N: i'm sorry if the ending seems a bit rushed, i'm going on some meds soon and i have no idea how shit i'm gonna feel while on them. wanted to update in case i have no energy to release something else for a while😖 Hope you guys liked this one! ✨✨

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[forsaken-headcanons]

Since 007n7's lore seems to be getting a rewrite (the actual 007n7 is helping! A!) I would like to throw my hat in the ring, as I've had an interesting concept hit my brain.

At first, 007n7 was just an average person, just with some shifty connections. He worked at Builder Brothers and was good friends with Elliott. He got his paycheck at the end of every week, and was a hard enough worker he earned several bonuses. He lived alone, and had a mostly comfortable life. Sure he had to cut corners to make ends meet once in a while, but who didn't skip a meal every now and again?

He and Noli were friends in college, and Noli highly encouraged him to take up hacking and/or join his group (which was rapidly transforming into a cult,) but there was no pressure. 007n7 refused every offer - he was perfectly happy the way he was. Noli, while extremely disappointed, accepted his refusal, while reminding Seven that he could always call him up for a favor, big or small. They would chat every once in a while, and Seven wouldn't report Noli to the mods. Life was good.

Then that little red pillbaby got left at his doorstep. At first, 007n7 tried to give the little guy to the foster care system, because he didn't think he had what it took to be a single father. But one night, he had a nightmare of the baby looking hurt and scared, reaching for him with tears in his eyes. That did it for Seven - he adopted c00lkidd outright the very next day. And he never regretted it.

But as c00lkidd grew, 007n7 found it exponentially harder to take care of the both of them. He took on more hours. He got another job. He tried to homeschool c00lkidd in his free time. They moved into a smaller house. He got another job. He got more hours. He skipped more meals in favor of feeding c00lkidd. He got his cousin to watch the house. They moved in with 007e7. He didn't sleep. E took on extra hours at his job.

It wasn't enough.

Seven called Noli. Noli taught him the basics. He started teleporting to work. He used different glitches to boost his efficiency. His mind locked onto coding easily, and he started developing the c00lGUI. He tried to get a more tech-focused job but was rejected. He used clones to work all his jobs at once.

It wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

He realized he wasn't really valuable to these people.

He realized c00lkidd wasn't valuable to these people.

He snapped.

He continued to work on the c00lGUI, enhancing it, making it bigger and better. He discovered hacks that shocked even Noli.

E saw what was happening. He tried to talk N out of it.

He didn't listen.

He founded Team c00lkidd, and enlisted several like-minded individuals to his side. He made c00lkidd the face of his madcap endeavor. So they could see who they were robbing. So he would never forget who all this was for. Was it dangerous? Of course. But if they wanted his family, they would have to go through him first. And he would not make it easy.

He returned to the place it all began.

And he brought hell down upon their heads.

C00lkidd was four at the time. He made sure it would be a show that would bring a smile to that precious face. He even let the little guy help stir up the chaos.

Elliott didn't recognize the monster in front of him.

It was almost two years before 007n7 got caught. Noli actually got caught before him, and he broke him out of jail.

It would have gone a lot worse for both 007n7 and c00lkidd if Shedletsky hadn't intervened. He saw a bit of himself in the "little Firebrand" and his hotshot father. Maybe he saw something he had lost long ago...?

007n7 was sentenced to exhausting community service for a while, but there was no fine, and all in all, it could have been a lot worse. At least c00lkidd hadn't been sentenced to anything, and didn't have to suffer for his father's actions.

But then c00lkidd went missing. He was only seven. 007n7 was devastated. He searched desperately for him. Even Shedletsky helped.

But three years passed and no sign of his little Firebrand. He became increasingly depressed. He had given up everything for c00lkidd, and now he was gone, seemingly for good. He started pushing everyone else away. Noli and E both tried getting through to him, with no results. He continued his downward spiral. His little red pillbaby, gone.

We all know what happened next.

oh this is so fucking good jesus christ. we have no words other than THIS IS AMAZING like GOOD LORD??? ok anon. hope you don't mind if we yank this out of your hands /silly. THE WRITING IS IMPECCABLE OGUHG (STOPP WE KNOW WHO YOU'RE REFERRING TO 💔💔💔 shed missing 1x realcore...)

this concept is delicious got damn. argh. JUST. THE PROGRESSION OF 7N7'S HACKS GETTING WORSE???? Michelin star type meal holy shamoly. everyone please read this it's so peak